Frank Merriwell's Triumph Part 38

"Get up, Black Eyes," said the old fellow, in a whisper. "Pretty soon we fight."

"Those ruffians?" questioned Bart, as he leaped to his feet.

"They coming," declared Crowfoot.

He was right. Bland and his desperadoes were creeping on the cabin, hoping to take its defenders by surprise. Crowfoot pointed them out, and when they were near enough, Hodge called from the window for them to halt. Realizing they were discovered, they sprang up and charged.

Instantly Bart and the redskin opened fire on them, Hodge working his repeater swiftly and accurately, while the clear spang of Crowfoot's rifle was heard at irregular intervals. The ruffians were unprepared for such a defense, and, as they saw several of their number fall and others were wounded, they halted, wavered, then turned and fled. Looking from the window, the starlight showed the defenders a few wounded men dragging themselves away.

"Pretty good," said Joe. "No more bother to-night."

With which he turned from the window, uncovered his roots, and replanted them in a fresh pile of hot ashes.

CHAPTER XVII.

HOW THE MEDICINE WORKED.

Having left their horses picketed in a secluded spot, four men came stealing down the steep and narrow fissure that was the one entrance into the Enchanted Valley. Three days had pa.s.sed since Dash Colvin stole out of that valley in his desperate attempt to carry the message to Frank. The third night had fallen.

Frank had arrived, and with him were Pete Curry, of Cottonwood, an officer who knew him well and liked him, and two deputies whom Curry had called into service. Frank had picked these men up at Cottonwood after his flight from Prescott. The promise of a liberal reward under any circ.u.mstances, and possibly of a big capture, had led them to accompany him. Before seeking to descend into the valley they had seen from the heights above, far away to the southern end, the glow of two or three bright fires, and had heard at intervals something like singing.

Frank feared the entrance to the valley might be in the hands of the enemy and guarded. He was relieved on discovering that this was not so, and his satisfaction was great when, with his companions, he found himself in the valley with no one to block the way.

"What next, Mr. Merriwell?" asked Curry, in a low tone.

"I am for finding out what is going on down there to the south," said Frank.

"All right, sir. Lead on. We're with you."

In time they approached near enough to look down upon that portion of the valley where the unfinished cabins were, and saw two or three fires burning there. Men were lying around on the ground in the light of these fires. Others were staggering about in a peculiar manner. Now and then one of them would utter a wild yell and dance about like a crazy man, sometimes keeping it up until, apparently exhausted, he ended by flinging himself on the ground and seemed immediately to fall asleep.

As Frank and his companions watched these singular movements they saw three men join hands and execute a singular dance in the firelight.

"Caesar's ghost!" muttered Merry, "am I dreaming?"

"What's the matter, pard?" asked Curry.

"Look at those three men--look at them closely. One of them is an Indian."

"Sure thing," said Curry.

"And I know him!" palpitated Merry. "If my eyes don't fail me, it is old Joe Crowfoot."

"Who is old Joe Crowfoot?"

"A redskin I have believed to be my friend."

"Waugh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Curry, in disgust. "There never was a red whelp as could be trusted."

"But you don't know Crowfoot."

"I know 'em all. Here is this yere Crowfoot a-whooping her up with your enemies, Mr. Merriwell. What do you think of that?"

"It's mighty singular," confessed Merry. "Look! look! they are drinking!"

It was true. The dance had stopped and one of the three had flung himself on the ground. Crowfoot bent over this fellow and offered him a bottle, which he eagerly seized. The Indian s.n.a.t.c.hed it from the man's lips, refusing to let him drink all he seemed to desire. It was then given to the other men, and afterward the old redskin pa.s.sed from one to another of the reclining men, rousing those he could and offering them the bottle. Some drank, but others seemed too nerveless to hold the bottle in their hands.

"Well, this yere is lucky for us," declared Curry. "The whole bunch is paralyzed drunk. We oughter be able to scoop 'em in without any great trouble."

"I wonder where Hodge is," speculated Merry. "I wonder if they have killed him."

This possibility so aroused Frank that he was determined to seek Bart without delay. Curry was opposed to this; but Frank had his way, and they stole off leaving Crowfoot and his newly chosen companions to continue their carousal. As they approached Bart's cabin, there came from the window a sharp command for them to halt. Merry recognized the voice and uttered a cry of satisfaction.

"Hodge!" he called. "It is I--Frank."

From within the cabin there was another cry of joy, and a moment later the door flew open and Hodge came running toward them.

"Merry, thank Heaven you're here!" he exclaimed,

"Thank Heaven you're still alive!" returned Frank. "I was afraid I might arrive too late. Tell me what has happened. How have you managed to stand those ruffians off?"

"They attacked the cabin twice," said Hodge; "but we were ready for them both times."

"We? But aren't you alone?"

"I am now; but old Joe Crowfoot----"

"Crowfoot--what of him?"

"He was with me. I don't know what has become of the old man now. He left to-night as soon as darkness fell, saying he was going to take a look at the ruffians down yonder. The old man is pretty well used up; he is nearly dead with rheumatism. He spent the greater part of the time after coming here in digging roots and making them into medicine by drying them at the fire, sc.r.a.ping them, then grinding them into powder between stones, finally preparing a decoction with water and the powder of the roots."

Frank then told Bart what he had lately seen, and Hodge was greatly astonished.

"Old Joe down there with those men?" he muttered. "Why, I don't see----"

"Ugh!" grunted a voice near at hand, and out of the shadows slipped another shadow that unhesitatingly approached. It was Crowfoot himself, as they immediately perceived.

"How, how, Strong Heart!" said the old man, extending his hand to Frank.

"Heap glad to see um."

"Why, you old wretch!" cried Merry. "We saw you a short time ago down there with that bunch of claim jumpers drinking and whooping things up.

What do you mean by such conduct?"

"Old Joe him got very bad rheumatism," returned the redskin. "Him make medicine. Him think mebbe um white men down there got bad rheumatism, too. He give um white men some medicine. He find um white man drinking a heap. Joe he mix um medicine with drink. They like medicine pretty good.