The Great Sioux Trail Part 21

"I look for a mighty storm, maybe a great snow," said Boyd. "All the signs are here, but it may hang about for several days before coming, and the more time is left before it hits the better for us. It was big luck for us to find so deep a valley just when we did. Now, Will, suppose you take the beasts out to pasture and by the time you get back Giant and me will have breakfast ready."

Will found the horses and mules quite comfortable in the new stable and they welcomed him with neighs and whinnies and other sounds, the best of which their vocal cords were capable. The friends.h.i.+p that he had established with them was wonderful. As the Little Giant truly said, he could have been a brilliant success as an animal trainer. Perhaps they divined the great sympathy and kindness he felt for them, or he had a way of showing it given to only a few mortals. Whatever it may have been, they began to rub their noses against him, the big horse, Selim, finally thrusting his head under his arm, while the mules proudly marched on either side of him as he led the way down to the pasture.

"Ain't it wonderful," said the Little Giant, who saw them from the mouth of the cavern where he and Boyd were cooking, "the way the boy has with animals? My mules like me, but I know they'd leave me any minute at a whistle from young William, an' follow him wherever he went."

"Same way with that horse of mine, Selim. He'd throw me over right away for Will. He's a good lad, with a clean soul and a pure heart, and maybe the animals, having gifts that we don't have, to make up for gifts that we have and they haven't, can look straight into 'em. Do you think, Giant, that Felton could have had a line on our mine?"

"What's your drift, Jim?"

"Could he have been out here somewhere when the Captain, Will's father, found it, and have got some hint about its discovery? Maybe he guesses that Will's got a map, and that's what he's after. He wouldn't have followed us at such terrible risks, unless he had a mighty big motive."

"That's good reasonin', Jim, an' I think thar's somethin' in your notion. Ef it's so, Felton will hang on to the chase o' us ez long ez he's livin', an' fur the present, with Sioux on one side o' us an'

outlaws on the other, I'm mighty glad we're hid away here in so deep a cut in the mountings."

"So am I, Giant. I think that coffee is boiling now. Call the lad."

"Young William! Young William!" cried the Little Giant. "Don't you dare to keep breakfus' waitin' the fust mornin' we've moved into our new home."

After breakfast Will and Bent worked on the cavern, while Boyd went hunting on the slopes. They cut many poles and made a palisade at the entrance to the great hollow, leaving a doorway only about two feet wide, over which they could hang the big bearskin in case heavy wind, rain or snow came. Then they packed the whole floor of the cavern with dry leaves, making a kind of matting, over which they intended to spread furs or skins as they obtained them.

"Caves are cold when left to theirselves," said the Little Giant, "an'

it's lucky thar's a good nateral place fur our fire jest beside the door. We'll have lots o' meat in here, too, 'cause Jim's a fine hunter an' the valley is full o' game. Thar must be a lot o' grizzly bears roun' in these mountings, too, Young William. Wouldn't it be funny ef we went out some day an' come back to find our new house occupied by a whole family o' fightin' grizzlies, every one o' them with iron claws, ten inches long?"

"No, it wouldn't be funny, Giant, it would be tragic."

"Ef you jest knew it, Young William, we're mighty well off. Many a trappin' outfit hez been froze in in the mountings, in quarters not half so good ez ours."

Boyd shot another elk and smaller deer, and on the next day secured more game, which they cured, concluding now that they had enough to last them indefinitely. Will and the Little Giant, meanwhile, had been working on the house, and Boyd, his hunting over, joined them. The cured skins of the animals were put over the leaf thatch of the floor as they had planned, and as they procured them they intended to hang more on the walls, for the sake of dryness and warmth.

Although the clouds threatened continuously the storm still held off.

They expected every morning to wake up and find the snow drifting, but the sun always showed, although dim and obscured by vapors. Will still led the horses and mules down to the gra.s.s every morning, and, every night, led them back to the new stone stable. The valley began to wear the aspect of home, of a home by no means uncomfortable, but on the sixth night there Will was awakened by something cold and wet striking upon his face. He went to the door, looked out and saw that the snow they had been expecting so long had come at last. It was thick, driving hard, and for the first time he hung in place the great bearskin, securing it tightly with the fastenings they had arranged and then went back to sleep.

He was the first to awake the next morning, and pus.h.i.+ng aside the bearskin, he looked out to see snow still falling and apparently a good six inches in depth already.

"Wake up, Jim, and you, too, Giant!" he called. "Here's our storm at last, and lucky it is that we're holed up so well."

Boyd joined him. The snow was so dense that they could not see across the valley, but it was not driving now, merely floating down lazily and persistently.

"That means it will come for a long time," said Boyd. "Snow clouds are like men. If they begin to pour out their energy in vast quant.i.ties they're soon exhausted, but if they work in deliberate fas.h.i.+on they do much more. I take it that this snow won't stop today, nor maybe tonight, nor the next day either."

"We can stand it," said Will. "We're well housed up and we're safe from invasion. If you and Tom will get breakfast I'll feed the horses and mules."

They had employed a large part of the time cutting the thick gra.s.s with their hunting knives, and it was now stored in the stable in a considerable quant.i.ty, out of the reach of the longest neck among the horses and mules. They were responsive as usual when he came among them, and nuzzled him, because they liked him and because they knew he was the provider of food, that is, he was in effect a G.o.d to them.

Will talked to the animals and gave to every one his portion of hay, watching them with pleasure as they ate it, and returned thanks in their own way. When he made his way back through the snow, breakfast was ready and, although they were sparing with the coffee and bread, every one could have all the meat he wished.

"Now, there'll be nothing for us to do but sit around the house," said Boyd, the breakfast over.

"Which means that I kin put in a lot o' my spare time readin'," said the Little Giant. "Young William, bring me my Shakespeare! What, you say I furgot to put it in my pack! Well, then bring me my copy o' the Declaration o' Independence. I always like them words in it, 'Give me lib'ty or give me death!' '_Sic semper tyrannis!_'"

"'Give me liberty or give me death' is not in the Declaration of Independence, Giant. Those words were used by Patrick Henry in an address."

"Well, they ought to hev been thar, an' ef Patrick Henry hadn't been so fresh an' used 'em first they would a-been. But you can't go back on '_sic semper tyrannis!_'"

"They couldn't possibly be in the declaration, Giant, because they're Latin."

"I reckon the signers o' the Declaration wuz good enough to write Latin an' talk it, too, ef they wanted to."

"They were used eighteen or nineteen hundred years ago by a Roman."

"I guess that's one advantage o' livin' early. You kin git the fust chance at what's best. Anyway, they did say a lot o' rousin' things in the Declaration, though I don't remember exactly what they wuz. But I see I won't hev no chance to git on with my lit'ry pursuits, so I think I'll jest do ch.o.r.es about the house inside."

He went to work in the best of spirits. Will had seldom seen a happier man. He fixed shelves in the stone, arranged the materials from their packs, and all the time he whistled airs, until the cavern seemed to be filled with the singing of nightingales, mocking birds and skylarks.

Will and Boyd began to help him, though Will stopped at times to look out.

On every occasion he reported that the snow was still drifting down in a steady, thick, white stream, and that he could not see more than thirty or forty yards from the door. About eleven o'clock in the morning, when he pulled the bearskin aside for perhaps the sixth time, he heard a sound which at first he took to be the distant moan of the wind through a gorge. But he had not heard it on his previous visits, although the wind had been blowing all the morning, and he stood there a little while, listening. As he did not hear it again just yet, he thought his fancy had deceived him, but in a minute or so the sound came once more.

It was a weird note, carrying far, but he seemed to detect a human quality in it. And yet what human being could be out there in that lone mountain valley in the wild snow storm? It seemed impossible, but when he heard it a third time the human quality seemed stronger. He beckoned to the hunter and Little Giant.

"Come here," he said, "and tell me if my imagination is playing tricks with me. It seems to me that I've heard a human voice in the storm."

The two came to the doorway and, standing beside him, listened. Once more Will discerned that note and he turned an inquiring face to them.

"There!" he exclaimed. "Did you hear it? It sounded to me like a man's voice!"

Neither Boyd nor Bent replied until the call came once more and then Boyd said:

"It's not your imagination, Will. It's a man out there in the snow, and he's shouting for help. Why he should expect anybody to come to his aid in a place like this is more'n I can understand."

"He's drawin' nearer," said the Little Giant. "I kin make out the word 'h.e.l.lo' said over an' over ag'in. Maybe Felton's band has wandered on a long chase into our valley, an' it's some o' them lost from the others in the storm, callin' to em."

"Like as not," said the hunter. "The snow has covered up most of the traces and trails we've left, and anyway they couldn't rush this cavern in the face of our rifles."

"It's no member of Felton's gang," said Will, with great emphasis.

"How do you know that?" asked Boyd in surprise.

"I can scarcely tell. Instinct, I suppose. It doesn't sound like the voice of an outlaw, though I don't know how I know that, either. Hark, he's coming much nearer! I've an idea the man's alone."

"In the storm," said the Little Giant, "he's likely to pa.s.s by the cavern, same ez ef it wuzn't here."

"But we mustn't let him do that," exclaimed Will. "I tell you it's a friend coming! a man we want! Besides, it's no Indian! It's a white man's voice, and we couldn't let him wander around and perish in a wilderness storm!"

The hunter and the Little Giant glanced at each other.

"A feller that kin talk with hosses an' mules, an' hev the toughest mule eat out o' his hand the fust time he ever saw him may be able to tell more about a voice in the wilderness than we kin," said the Little Giant.

"I don't believe you're wrong," said the hunter with equal conviction.