The Great Sioux Trail Part 24

"And you think we may be seen by some such hunters?" said Will.

"Perhaps so, and in order to avoid such bad luck I suggest that we seek still greater height."

They agreed upon it, though the Little Giant grumbled at the hard luck that compelled them to scale the tops of high mountains, and they began at once a perilous ascent, which would not have been possible for the horses had they not been trained by long experience. They also entered a domain of bad weather, being troubled much by rain, heavy winds and occasional snows, and at night it was so cold that they invariably built a fire in some ravine or deep gully.

Will calculated that they were at least ten thousand feet above the sea level, and that the White Dome, which was now straight ahead, must be between three and four thousand feet higher. They reckoned that they could circle the peak on the left at their present height, and they made good progress, as there seemed to be fewer ravines and canyons close to the dome.

Nevertheless, as they approached they came to a dip much deeper than usual, but it was worth the descent into it, as they found there in the sheltered s.p.a.ces plenty of gra.s.s for the horses, and they were quite willing to rest also, as every nerve and muscle was racked by the mountain climbing. Still holding that time was their most abundant possession, the hunter suggested that they spend a full day and night in the dip, and all the others welcomed the idea.

Will, being younger than the others, had more physical elasticity, and a few hours restored him perfectly. Then he decided to take his rifle and go up the dip looking for a mountain sheep, and the others being quite willing, he was soon making his way through the short bushes toward the north. He prided himself on having become a good hunter and trailer, and even here in the heart of the high mountains he neglected no precaution.

The dip extended about two miles into the north and then it began to rise rapidly, ending at last in huge, craggy rocks, towering a thousand feet overhead, and Will considered himself in great luck when he saw a splendid ram standing upon one of these stony pinnacles.

The sheep, sharply outlined against the rock and the clear sky, looked at least double his real size, and Will, anxious to procure fresh game, and feeling some of the hunter's ambition, resolved to stalk him. The animal reminded him of a lookout, and perhaps he was, as he stood on his dizzy perch, gazing over the vast range of valley, and the White Dome that now seemed so near.

The lad reached the first rocky slope and began slowly to creep in a diagonal line that took him upward and also toward the sheep. It was difficult work to keep one's footing and carry one's rifle also, but his pride was up and he clung to his task, until his muscles began to ache and the perspiration came out on his face. He was in fear lest the sheep would go away, but the great ram stood there, immovable, his head haughtily erect, a monarch of his tribe, and Will became thoroughly convinced that he was a watchman.

His repeating rifle carried a long distance, but he did not want to make an uncertain shot, and he continued his laborious task of climbing which yielded such slow results. The sheep took no notice of him, still gazing over valley and ranges and at the White Dome. If he saw him, the lad was evidently in his eyes a speck in a vast world and not worth notice.

Will felt a sort of chagrin that he was not considered more dangerous, and, patting his rifle, he resolved to make the ram realize that a real hunter was after him.

He crawled painfully and cautiously around a big rock and something whirring by his ear rang sharply on the stone. He saw to his amazement a long feathered arrow dropping away from the target on which it had struck in vain, and then roll down the side of the mountain.

He knew, too, that the arrow had pa.s.sed within a few inches of his ear, aimed with deadly purpose, and for a moment or two his blood was cold within his veins. Instantly he turned aside and flattened himself against a stony upthrust. As he did so he heard the ring on the rock again and a second feathered arrow tumbled into the void.

His first emotion was thankfulness. He lay in a shallow hollow now and it was not easy for any arrow to reach him there. He was unharmed as yet, and he had the great repeating rifle which should be a competent answer to arrows. Some loose stones were lying in the hollow, and he cautiously built them into a low parapet, which increased his protection. Then, peeping over the stones, he tried to discover the location of his enemy or enemies, if they should be plural, but he saw only the valley below with its touch of sheltered green, the vast rocky sides about it, and over all the towering summit of the White Dome.

There was nothing, save the flight of the feathered arrows, to indicate that a human being was near. Far out on the jutting crag the mountain sheep still stood, a magnificent ram, showing no consciousness of danger or, if conscious of it, defying it. Will suddenly lost all desire to take his life, due, perhaps, to his own resentment at the effort of somebody to take his own.

He believed that the arrows had come from above, but whether from a point directly overhead or to the right or to the left he had no way of telling. It was a hidden foe that he had to combat, and this ignorance was the worst feature of his position. He did not know which way to turn, he did not know which road led to escape, but must lie in his narrow groove until the enemy attacked.

He had learned from his comrades, experienced in the wilderness and in Indian warfare, that perhaps the greatest of all qualities in such surroundings was patience, and if it had not been for such knowledge he might have risked a third arrow long ago, but, as it was, he kept perfectly still, flattening himself against the cliff, sheltered by the edge of the natural bowl and the little terrace of stones he had built.

He might have fired his rifle to attract the attention of his comrades, but he judged that they were at the camp and would not hear his shot. He would fight it out himself, especially as he believed that he was menaced by but a single Indian, a warrior who perhaps had been stalking the mountain sheep also, when he had beheld the creeping lad.

Great as was the strength of the youth's will and patience, he began to twist his body a little in the stony bowl and seek here and there for a sight of his besieger. He could make out stony outcrops and projections above him, every one of which might shelter a warrior, and he was about to give up the quest when a third arrow whistled, struck upon the ledge that he had built and, instead of falling into the chasm, rebounded into the bowl wherein he lay.

The barb had been broken by the rock against which it struck so hard, though the shaft, long, polished and feathered, showed that it had been made by an artist. But he did not know enough about arrows to tell whether it was that of a Sioux or of a warrior belonging to some other tribe. Looking at it a little while, he threw it into the chasm, and settled back to more waiting.

The day was now well advanced and a brilliant sun in the slope of the heavens began to pour fiery shafts upon the side of the cliff. Will had usually found it cold at such a height, but now the beams struck directly upon him and his face was soon covered with perspiration. He was a.s.sailed also by a fierce, burning thirst, and a great anger lay hold of him. It was a terrible joke that he should be held there in the hole of the cliff by an invisible warrior who used only arrows against him, perhaps because he feared a shot from a rifle would bring the white lad's comrades.

If the Indian would not use a rifle because of the report, then the case was the reverse with Will. He had thought that the men were too far away to hear, but perhaps the warrior was right, and raising the repeating rifle he sent a bullet into the void. The sharp report came back in many echoes, but he heard no reply from the valley. A second shot, and still no answer. It was evident that the three were too distant to hear, and, for the present, he thought it wise to waste no more bullets.

The power of the sun increased, seeming to concentrate its rays in the little hollow in which Will lay. His face was scorched and his burning thirst was almost intolerable. Yet he reflected that the heat must be at the zenith. Soon the sun would decline, and then would come night, under the cover of which he might escape.

He heard a heavy, rolling sound and a great rock crashed into the valley below. Will shuddered and crowded himself back for every inch of shelter he could obtain. A second rock rolled down, but did not come so near, then a third bounded directly over his head, followed quickly by another in almost the same place.

It was a hideous bombardment, but he realized that so long as he kept close in his little den he was safe. It also told him that his opponent was directly above him, and when the volleys of rocks ceased he might get a shot.

The missiles poured down for several minutes and then ceased abruptly.

Evidently the warrior had realized the futility of his avalanche and must now be seeking some other mode of attack. It caused Will chagrin that he had not seen him once during all the long attack, but he noticed with relief that the sun would soon set beyond the great White Dome. The snow on the Dome itself was tinged now with fire, but it looked cool even at the distance, and a.s.suaged a little his heat and thirst. He knew that bye and bye the long shadows would fall, and then the grateful cold of the night would come.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The body of a warrior shot downward, striking on the ledges.]

He moved a little, flexed his muscles, grown stiff by his cramped position, and as he did so he caught a glimpse of a figure on the south face of the wall. But it was so fleeting he was not sure. If he had only brought his gla.s.ses with him he might have decided, but he was without them, and he concluded finally that it was merely an optical illusion.

He and the Indian had the mountain walls to themselves, and the warrior could not have moved around to that point.

In spite of his decision his eyes at length wandered again to that side of the wall, and a second time he thought he caught a glimpse of a human figure creeping among the rocks, but much nearer now. Then he realized that it was no illusion. He had, in very truth, seen a man, and as he still looked a rifle was thrust over a ledge, a puff of fire leaping from its muzzle. From a point above him came a cry that he knew to be a death yell, and the body of a warrior shot downward, striking on the ledges until it bounded clear of them and crashed into the valley below.

Then the figure of the man who had fired the shot stepped upon a rocky shelf, held aloft the weapon with which he had dealt sudden and terrible death, and cried in a tremendous voice:

"Come forth, young William! Your besieger will besiege no more! Ef I do say it myself, I've never made a better shot."

It was the Little Giant. Never had the sight of him been more welcome, and raising himself stiffly to his feet and moving his own rifle about his head, Will shouted in reply:

"It was not only your greatest shot, but the greatest shot ever made by anybody."

"Stay whar you are," cried Bent. "You're too stiff an' sore to risk climbin' jest yet. I'll be with you soon."

But it was almost dark before the Little Giant crept around the face of the cliff and reached the hollow in which the lad lay. Then he told him that he had seen some of the rocks falling and as he was carrying Will's gla.s.ses he was able to pick out the warrior at the top of the cliff. The successful shot followed and the siege was over.

Night had now come and it was an extremely delicate task to find their way back to the valley, but they made the trip at last without mishap.

Once again on level ground Will was forced to sit down and rest until a sudden faintness pa.s.sed. The Little Giant regarded him with sympathy.

"You had a pretty tough time, young William, thar's no denyin' that," he said. "It's hard to be cooped up in a hole in a mountainside, with an enemy shootin' at you an' sendin' avalanches down on you, an' you never seein' him a-tall."

"I never saw him once until he plunged from the cliff with your bullet through him."

"Wa'al, it's all over now, an' we'll go back to the camp. The boys had been worryin' 'bout you some, and I concluded I'd come out an' look fur you, an' ef it hadn't been fur my concludin' so I guess you'd been settin' thar in that holler a month from now, an' the Indian would hev been settin' in a holler above you. At least I hev saved you from a long waitin' spell."

"You have," said Will with heartfelt emphasis, "and again I thank you."

"Come on, then. I kin see the fire s.h.i.+nin' through the trees an' Jim an'

Steve cookin' our supper."

Will hurried along, but his knees grew weak again and objects swam before his eyes. He had not yet recovered his strength fully after pa.s.sing through the tremendous test of mental and physical endurance, when he lay so long in that little hollow in the side of the mountain.

The Little Giant was about to thrust out a hand and help sustain him, but he did not do so, remembering that it would hurt the lad's pride.

The gold hunter, uneducated, spending his life in the wilds, had nevertheless a delicacy of feeling worthy of the finest flower of civilization.

Will was near to the fire now and the pleasant aroma of broiling venison came to him. Boyd and Brady were moving about the flames, engaged in pleasant homely tasks, and all his strength returned. Once more his head was steady and his muscles strong.

"I made a long stay," he called cheerfully to them, "too long, I fear, nor do I bring a mountain sheep back with me."

The sharp eyes of the hunter and the trapper saw at once in his pallid face and exaggerated manner that something unusual had happened, but they pretended to take no notice.

"Did you see any sheep?" asked Boyd.

"Yes," replied the lad, "I had a splendid view of a grand ram, standing high on a jutting stone over the great valley."

"What became of him?"