Shadows of Shasta Part 8

"Why, Carrie, are you afraid here! You are all of a tremble!" said the boy, as she clung close to him, when they turned back.

"Johnny," said the girl eagerly, almost wildly, as she looked around, "if men were to come to take us to that Reservation, what would you do?"

"What would I do? I would kill 'em! Kill 'em dead, Carrie. I would hold you to my heart so, with this arm, and with this I would draw my pistol so, and kill 'em dead."

The two heads of the man-hunters disappeared behind the rocks. The boy pushed back the girl's black, tumbled stream of hair from her brow, and kissing her very tenderly, he went aside and sat down; for he was very, very weary.

A twilight squirrel stole out from the thicket into the clearing and then darted back as if it saw something only partly concealed beyond.

The two children saw this, and looked at each other half alarmed. Then the girl, as if to calm the boy--who had grown almost a man in the past few weeks--began to talk and chatter as if she had seen nothing, suspected nothing.

"When the Winter comes, Johnny, we can't stay here; we would starve."

"Carrie, do the birds starve? Do the squirrels starve? What did G.o.d make us for if we are to starve?"

All this time the two men had been stealing out from their hiding-place, as if resolved to pounce upon and seize the girl before Forty-nine arrived. The leader had signaled and made signs to his companion back there in the gloaming, for they dared not speak lest they should be heard; and now they advanced stealthily, guns in hand, and now they fell back to wait a better chance; and just as they were about to spring upon the two from behind, the snowy white head of old Forty-nine blossomed above the rocks, and his red face, like a great opening flower, beamed in upon the little party, while the good-natured old man puffed and blowed as he fanned himself with his hat and sat down his keg of provisions. And still he puffed and blowed, as if he would never again be able to get his breath. The two men stole back.

"And Forty-nine likes to climb the mountains too, don't he? Good for his health. See, what a color he's got! And see how fat he is! Good for your health, ain't it, papa Forty-nine?"

But the good old miner was too hot and puffy to answer, as the merry little girl danced with delight around him.

"Why, it makes you blow, don't it? Strange how a little hill like that could make a man blow," said Johnny, winking at Carrie.

But old Forty-nine only drew a long, thin wild flower through his hand, and looked up now and then to the girl. He beckoned her to approach, and she came dancing across to where he sat.

"It's a sad looking flower, and it's a small one. But, my girl, the smallest flower is a miracle. And, Carrie, sometimes the sweetest flowers grows closest to the ground."

The man handed her the flower, and was again silent. His face had for a moment been almost beautiful. Here Logan came up with a little wood.

"Oh, John Logan, what a pretty flower for your b.u.t.ton-hole!" and the fond girl bounded across and eagerly placed it in the young man's breast.

The old man on the keg saw this, and his face grew dark. His hands twisted nervously, and he could hardly keep his seat on his keg. Then he hitched up his pants right and left, sat down more resolutely on the keg than before, but said nothing for a long time.

At last the old man hitched about on his keg, and said sharply, over his shoulder: "I saw a track, a boot-track, coming up. On the watch, there!"

The others looked about as if alarmed. It was now dark. Suddenly the two men appeared, looking right and left, and smiling villainously. They came as if they had followed Forty-nine, and not from behind the rocks, where they had been secreted.

"Good evenin', sir! good evenin', sir! Going to rain, eh? Heard it thunder, and thought best to get shelter. Cattle-men--we're cattle-men, pard and I. Seed your camp-fire, and as it was thunderin,' we came right in. All right, boss? All right, eh? All right?" And the man, cap in hand, bowed from one to the other, as not knowing who was the leader, or whom he should address.

"All right," answered Logan. "You're very welcome. Stand your guns there. You're as welcome under these trees as the birds--eh, Forty-nine?"

But Forty-nine was now silent and thoughtful. He was still breathless, and he only puffed and blowed his answer, and sat down on his keg again with all his might.

"You must be hungry," said the girl kindly, approaching the men.

"Heaps of provisions," puffed Forty-nine, and again he half arose and then sat down on his keg, tighter and harder, if possible, than before.

"Thank you, gents, thank you. It's hungry we are--eh, pard?"

"We'll have a spread right off," answered the good hearted Logan, now spreading a rock, which served for a table, with the food; when he observed the two men look at the girl and make signs. He looked straight and hard at the man-hunters for a moment, and seeing them exchange glances and nod their ill-looking heads at each other he suddenly dropped his handful of things and started forward. He caught the leader by the shoulder, and whirling him about as he stood there with his companion leering at the girl, he cried out:

"Hunting cattle, are you? What's your brand? What's the brand of your cattle, I say? I know every brand in Shasta. Now what is your brand?"

Johnny had strode up angrily toward the two men, and followed them up as they retreated. Old Forty-nine, who now was on the alert, and had his sleeves rolled up almost to his elbows from the first, had not been indifferent, but was reaching his tremendous fist towards the retreating nose of Dosson. Yet it was too dark to distinguish friend from foe.

"Why, we are not rich men, stranger. We are poor men, and have but few cattle, and so, so we have no brand--eh? pardner--eh?"

"No. We got no brand. Poor men, poor men."

"We are poor men, with a few cattle that have gone astray. We are hungry, tired poor men, that have lost their way in the night. Poor men that's hungry, and now you want to drive us out into the storm."

"Oh, Forty-nine,--John Logan,--they're poor hungry men!" interposed Carrie.

"There, there's my hand!" cried impulsive, honest old Forty-nine.

"That's enough. You're hungry. Sit down there. And quick, Carrie, pour us the California wine. Here's a gourd, there's a yeast powder can, and there's a tin cup. Thank you. Here's to you. Ah, that sets a fellow all right. It warms the heart; and, I beg your pardon--it's mean to be suspicious. Here, fill us up again. Ah, that's gone just to the spot!

Eh, fellows?"

"To the right spot! Keep him a drinkin', and the others, too,"

whispered Dosson to Emens.

"That's the game!" And the two villains winked at each other, and slapped Forty-nine on the back, and laughed, and pretended to be the best friend he had in the world.

The two men now sat at the table, and Carrie and Johnny bustled about and helped them as they ate and drank. Meantime Logan went for more wood to make a light.

"And here's the bread, and here's the meat, and--and--that's about all there is," said the girl at last. Then she stood by and with alarm saw the men swallow the last mouthful, and feel about over the table and look up to her for more in the dark.

"All there is? All gone?"

"Yes, and to-morrow, Johnny?"

"To-morrow, Carrie?" called out Forty-nine, who was now almost drunk: "We've had a good supper, let to-morrow take care of itself. Eh! Let to-morrow take care of itself! That's my motto--hic--divide the troubles of the year up into three hundred and sixty-five parts, and take the pieces one at a time. Live one day at a time. That's my philosophy." And the poor old man, Forty-nine, held his hat high in the air, and began to hiccough and hold his neck unsteadily.

The girl saw this with alarm. As if by accident she placed herself between the men and their guns. Meantime, the two men were trying in vain to get at the pistols of Forty-nine. They would almost succeed, and then, just as they were about to get hold of them, the drunken man would roll over to the other side or change position. All the time Carrie kept wis.h.i.+ng so devoutly that Logan would come.

"Take a drink," said one of the men to the girl, reaching out his cup, after glancing at his companion. But the girl only shook her head, and stepped further back. "Thought you said she was civilized?" "She, she is civilized; but isn't quite civilized enough to get drunk yet,"

hiccoughed Forty-nine, as he battered his tin-cup on the table, and again foiled the hand just reached for his pistol. The boy saw this, and stole back through the dark behind his sister. To remove the cap and touch his tongue to the tubes of the guns was the work only of a second, and again he was back by the side of the men. Eagerly all the time the girl kept looking over her shoulders into the dark, deep woods, for Logan. The thunder rolled, and it began to grow very dark. She went up to Forty-nine, on pretense of helping him to more wine, and whispered sharply in his ear.

The old man only stared at her in helpless wonder. His head rolled from one side to the other like that of an idiot. His wits were utterly under water.

And now, as the darkness thickened and the men's actions could hardly be observed, one of them pushed the drunken man over, clutched his pistols, and the two sprang up together.

"I've got 'em, Gar," cried Emens, and the two started back for their guns. The girl stood in the way, and Dosson threw his ma.s.sive body upon her and bore her to the earth, while the other, awkwardly holding the two pistols in one hand, groped in the dark for their guns.

The storm began to beat terribly. The mountains fairly trembled from the rolling thunder. As the man was about to clutch the guns, he felt rather than saw that a tall figure stood between. That instant a flash of lightning showed John Logan standing there, the boy by his side, and two ugly pistols thrust forward. The man-hunters were unmasked in the fiery light of heaven, and Logan knew them for the first time.

"I will not kill you." He said this with look and action that was grand and terrible. "Take your guns and go! Out into the storm! If G.o.d can spare you, I can spare you. Go!"

And by the lightning's light, the two men, with two ugly pistol-nozzles in their faces, took their guns and groped and backed down the mountain into the darkness, where they belonged.