The Great Sioux Trail: A Story of Mountain and Plain

The lariats were a great help, and if Will had not hung on to them so hard his horses would have fallen. But he was right in his judgment that the face of the wall was not so steep as it looked. Moreover there were little shelves and gullies, and the tough clumps of cedar were a wonderful aid. The horses justified their reputation as climbers, and, although Will's heart was in his mouth more than once, and his hands and wrists were cut and bleeding by the pull on the lariats, they did not fall. Always he heard in front of him the low and cheerful whistling of the Little Giant, to his mules, which, sure-footed, went on almost without a slip.

At last they drew out upon the crest of the slope and the three human beings and the six animals stood there trembling violently from exertion, the perspiration pouring from them.

"My legs are shaking under me," said the hunter. "I'd never have believed that it could have been done, and I know it couldn't, but here we are, anyhow."

"It wuz young William who thought of it, and who dared to speak of it," said the Little Giant, "an' so it's his win."

"Right you are, Giant," said the hunter heartily. "When I looked at that cliff it stood up straight as a wall to me. It was like most other things, it wasn't as hard when you attacked it as you thought it was, but I still don't see how we ever got the animals up, and if I didn't see 'em standing here I wouldn't believe it."

Will, holding to a cedar, looked into the gulf from which they had climbed. As more of the stars had gone away he could not now see the bottom. The great defile had all the aspects of a vast and bottomless abyss, and he felt that their emergence from it was a marvel, a miracle in which they had been assisted by some greater power. He was assailed by a weakness and, trembling, he drew back from the ledge. But neither the hunter nor the Little Giant had seen his momentary collapse and he was glad, pardonable though it was.

"The ground back o' the cliff seems to be pretty well covered with forest," said the Little Giant, "an' I reckon we'd better stay here a spell 'til everybody, men an' animals, git rested up a bit."

"You never spoke truer words, Tom Bent," said Boyd. "I can make out a fairly level stretch of ground just ahead, and I'll lead the way to it."

They crouched there. "Crouch" is the only word that describes it, as the horses and mules themselves sank down through weariness, and their masters, too, were glad enough to lie on the earth and wait for their strength to come back. Will's senses, despite his exhaustion, were nevertheless acute. He heard a heavy, lumbering form shuffling through a thicket, and he knew that it was an alarmed bear moving from the vicinity of the intruders. He heard also the light tread of small animals.

"I judge from these sounds," said Boyd, "that we must be on a sort of plateau of some extent. If it was just a knife edge ridge between two chasms you wouldn't find so many animals here. Maybe we'd better lay by until day, or until it's light enough to see. In the dark we might tumble into some place a thousand feet deep."

"What about the Sioux who were on the heights throwing down the rocks?" asked Will. "Mightn't they come along the cliff and find us here?"

"No. The way may be so cut by dips and ravines that it's all but impassable. The chances are a thousand to one in favor of it, as this is one of the roughest countries in the world."

"A thousand to one is good enough for me," said Will, stretching himself luxuriously on the ground. Presently he saw Boyd and Bent wrapping themselves in the blankets and he promptly imitated them, as a cold wind was beginning to blow down from the northwest, a wind that cut, and, at such a time, a lack of protection from the weather might be fatal.

The warmth from the blankets pervaded his frame, and with the heat came the restoration of his nerves. There was also a buoyancy caused by the escape from the Sioux, and, for the time being at least, he felt a certain freedom from care. His comrades and the animals did not stir, and, while not thinking of sleep, he fell asleep just the same.

He was awakened by a long, fierce shout, much like the howl of hungry wolves, and full of rage and disappointment. He sat up on his blankets, and was amazed to hear the two men laughing softly.

"It's them thar Sioux, Will," said the Little Giant. "They've found out at last that thar was no outlet at the end o' the pass, an' they've come up it to the end, jest to run ag'inst a blank wall, an' to find that we've plum' vanished, flew away, hosses an' mules an' all."

"But won't they find our trail up the cliff?"

"No, they won't dream o' sech a thing, but in case they do dream o' it we'll all three creep to the edge an' set thar with our repeatin' rifles. A fine time they'd hev climbin' up thar in the face o' three sharpshooters armed with sech weapons ez ours."

Will saw at once that their position was well nigh impregnable, at least against foes in the defile, and he crept with the others to the edge, not forgetting his invaluable glasses. A lot of the stars had come back and with the aid of the powerful lenses, he was able to penetrate the depths of the pass, seeing there at least a score of Sioux in a group, apparently taking counsel with one another. He could not discern their faces, and, of course, their words were inaudible at the distance, but their gestures expressed perplexity. Their savage minds might well believe that witchcraft had been at work, and he hoped that they had some such idea. The climbing of the cliff by the animals was an achievement bordering so closely upon the impossible that even if they saw traces of the hoofs on the lower slopes they would think the spirits of the air had come down to help the fugitives.

"What are they doing, young William?" asked the Little Giant.

"Nothing that I can see except to talk as if puzzled."

"I almost wish they would strike our trail and start up the cliff. We could pick off every one of 'em before they reached the top."

"I'd rather they went back."

"That's what they're likely to do, young William. Even if they saw our trail going up the cliff, they won't follow it. They've had a taste of our marksmanship, an' they know it would be certain death. It looks to me ez if they wuz goin' to drift back down the trail."

"You judge right, Tom. There they go. I wish I could read the expression on their faces. They must be wild with rage. They're moving a little faster now, and the sooner they disappear from my sight the better."

He handed the glasses to the Little Giant, who, after taking a look, passed them to Boyd. The hunter had the last glimpse of them as they turned a curve and were hidden by the rocky wall.

"That settles 'em, for the time, anyway," he said, "and now I think we'd better see what kind of a country we've come into. You stay here with the animals, Will, they like you and it's easy for you to keep 'em quiet, while Giant and me scout about and see the lay of the land."

Will promptly accepted his part of the task. The horses and mules, alarmed perhaps by such a wild and lonely situation, and tremulous, too, from memories of that frightful climb up the cliff, crowded close about him, while he stroked their noses and manes, and felt himself their protector.

The hunter and the Little Giant vanished without noise, and Will waited a full hour before either returned. But he was not lonesome. The horses and mules rubbed their noses against him, and in the dark and the wilderness they made evident their feeling that he was the one who would guard them.

The noise of a light footstep sounded and the hunter, who had gone south, stood before him.

"It's good news I bring," said Boyd. "We're cut off to the south by a cliff that no one can climb, and it seems to run away toward the west for countless miles. The Sioux can't reach us from that direction. Ah, here is Tom! What has he to say?"

"What I hev to say is always important," replied the Little Giant, "but this time its importance is speshul. A couple o' miles to the north a great transverse pass runs out o' the main one, an' cuts off toward the west. It's deep an' steep an' I reckon it bars the way thar."

"That being the case, we're on a peninsula," said Boyd, "and this peninsula rises in the west toward very high mountains. I can see a white dome off in that direction."

"All these facts now bein' diskivered," said the Little Giant, "I think we've shook off them Sioux fur good, though thar ain't no tellin' when we'll run afoul another bunch. But we'll take the good things the moment hez give us, an' look fur what we need, wood, water an' grass."

"Wood we have all about us," said Will. "Water is bound to be plentiful in these forested mountains, and we may strike grass by daylight."

They began an advance, making it very cautious, owing to the extremely rough nature of the country, and all their caution was needed, as they had to cross several ravines, and the ground was so broken that a misstep at any time might have proved serious. In this manner they made several miles and the general trend of the ground was a rapid ascent. Toward dawn they came to a brook flowing very fast, and they found its waters almost as cold as ice. Will judged it to be a glacial stream issuing from the great white dome, now plainly visible, though far ahead.

A short distance beyond the stream they found an open space with grass for the animals, and very glad, too, they were to reach it, as they were shaken by their immense exertions and the hard trail in the dark.

"This valley jest had to be here," said the Little Giant, "'cause we couldn't hev stood goin' on any more. The hosses an' mules theirselves are too tired to eat, but they will begin croppin' afore long."

"And it's so cold up here I think we'd better light a fire and have warm food," said Boyd. "We can smother the smoke, and anyway it will pay us to run the risk."

It was a task soon done, and long before breakfast was finished the horses and mules were peacefully grazing. Will then took his rifle and examined the country himself in some detail, going as far as the great precipice on the south. It was not a gulch or ravine, but the ground dropped down suddenly three or four hundred feet. Beyond that the forest extended as before.

The view to the west was magnificent and majestic beyond description. Up, up rose the slope, cliff on cliff and the imperial white dome beyond! That way, too, apparently, they had to go, as they were cut off by the precipices on all other sides, and at the moment Will felt no particular sorrow because of it. The gold had taken a second place in his mind, and with these two wise and brave comrades of his he would penetrate the great mysteries of the west. The southward turn into the plains, following the diagram of the map, could wait.

When he returned to the camp he found the animals still grazing and his comrades sitting by the fire, which had now burned down to a bed of coals.

"I don't see anything for us to do except to go straight on toward the great snow mountain," he said.

"That's about the same conclusion that Tom and I have come to," said Boyd. "We're likely to get up pretty high, where it's winter all the year 'round, but it's better than running into the hands of the Sioux, or any of the mountain tribes. I vote, though, that this army of three spend the rest of the day here, and since storms gather at any time on these uplands, we'd better build another wickiup."

"An' make brush shelters for the animals, too," said the Little Giant.

The wickiup was built and they arranged crude, but nevertheless excellent, protection for the horses, a precaution that was soon justified, as it began to rain the following night, and they had alternating rain, snow and sleet for two days and two nights. The animals were able to dig enough grass from under the snow for sustenance, but most of the time they spent in the shelter devised for them. When the fair weather returned and the snow melted, they left the second wickiup, resuming the ascent of the mighty slopes. They were all restored by their rest, and despite the elevation and the wildness they were able to find plenty of forage for the animals.

"We've got to be mighty partic'ler with them hosses an' mules," said the Little Giant, "'cause even ef we should reach the mine without 'em we're bound to hev 'em to pack out the gold fur us. I expect we'll hev to ketch an' train 'bout twenty wild hosses, too, ez we'll need 'em fur all the gold that I'm countin' on findin'. Didn't you say thar was that much, young William?"

"I didn't give the exact amount," replied the lad, "nor do I suppose anyone can tell from surface indications how much gold there is in a mine, but from the word my father brought we'll need the twenty wild horses and more."

"O' course we will. I knowed it afore you said it. I've hunted gold fifteen to twenty years without findin' a speck, an' so it stands to reason that when I do find it I'll find a mountain of it."

Although the slope rose steadily, the ground, for the present, was not much cut up, and they were able to ride in comfort. Much of the country was beautiful and parklike. While far below there were endless brown plains, here were great forests, without much undergrowth, and cold, clear streams, running down from the vast snowy dome that always loomed ahead, and that never seemed to come any nearer.

"How high would you say that peak wuz, young William?" asked the Little Giant. "You're an eddicated lad, an' I reckon you know 'bout these things."

"You give me too much credit," laughed Will in reply. "One has to have instruments with which to calculate the height of mountains, and I couldn't do it even if I had the instruments, but I should say from what I've heard about the country and the tales of explorers that the peak we're looking at is about 14,000 feet high."

"I've seen it once before, though from the south," said Boyd, "and I've also met an exploring geographer kind of fellow who had seen it and who told me it rose close on to three miles above the sea. Different Indian tribes have different names for it, but I don't remember any of 'em."

"I think I'll call it the White Dome," said Will, examining it for the hundredth time through his glasses. "From here it looks like a round mountain, though it may have another shape, of course, on the other three sides. It's a fine mountain and as it's the first time I ever saw it I'm going to call it my peak. The forest is heavy and green clear up to the snow line, and beyond that I think I see a vast glacier."

Two days later they made another stop in a sheltered valley through which ran a mountain torrent. The hunter and the Little Giant shot two mule deer and a mountain sheep, and they considered the addition to their larder very welcome, as they had been making large inroads on their stores. The weather, too, had grown so cold that they kept a fire burning both day and night. Far over their heads they heard a bitter wind of the mountains blowing, and when Will climbed out of the valley and turned his glasses toward the White Dome he could not see the peak, it was wrapped around so thoroughly by mists and vapors and falling snow.

They built the fire large and high on the second night, and as they sat around it they held a serious consultation. They feared incessant storms and blizzards if they rose to still higher levels, and attempted to pass around on the lofty slopes of the peak. It would, perhaps, be wiser to follow the torrent, and enter the plains below, braving the dangers of the Sioux.

"What good will the gold be to us if we're all froze to death under fifty feet o' snow?" asked the Little Giant.

"None at all," replied the hunter, "and it wouldn't be any good to us, either, if we was to slip down a precipice a thousand feet and fall on the rocks below."

Will shivered.

"I believe I'd rather be frozen to death in Tom's way," he said.

"Then I vote that in the morning, if the wind dies, we turn down the gorge and hunt the plains. What say you, Will?"

"It seems the wise thing to do."

"And you, Giant?"

"Me votin' last, the vote is unany-mous, an' I reckon ef we wuz to put it to the four hosses an' two mules they'd vote jest ez we're votin'. Tomorrow mornin', bright an' early, we start on our farewell journey from the mountings."

They had saved and tanned the skins of three black bears they had slain, and with big needles and pack thread they had turned them into crude overcoats with the hair inside. Now when they put them on they found them serviceable but heavy. At any rate, wrapped in furs they ceased to shiver, though the wind of the mountains was still exceedingly bitter.

Fortunately the gorge down which the stream flowed was wide, and, the descent not being too rapid, they were able to follow it a long time, though the pace was very slow. At points where the gorge narrowed, they took to the water, and were compelled to lead the animals with great care, lest they slip on the bowlders that were thick in the bed of the stream.

When night came they were far down the mountain and there had been no accident, but they were wet to the waist, and as quickly as they could they kindled a big and roaring fire in the lee of a cliff, careless whether or not it was seen by enemies. Then they roasted themselves before it, until every thread of clothing they wore was dry, ate heavily of their food and drank two or three cups of coffee apiece.

Only then did Will feel warmed thoroughly. The older men found a fairly level place with sparse grass for the horses, and then they put out their fire. They told the lad there was no need to keep a watch, and, wrapped in his bear overcoat and blankets, he slept in the shadow of the cliff. But the hunter had seen a trace which he believed to be a human footprint. When the Little Giant knelt in the dusk and looked at it he was of the same opinion.

"It's too faint, Jim," he said, "fur us to tell whether it wuz made by a white man or a red man."

"We don't care to meet either. If it's a white man it may be an outlaw, horse thief or murderer, and that's not the kind of people we want to join us on this gold hunt. If it's Indians, they're enemies, no matter to what tribe they belong."

"An' then, whichever it is, our repeatin' rifles are our best friends."

CHAPTER VI

THE OUTLAW

When Will awoke the next morning he did not open his eyes at once. The air was very cold, but he felt so snug in his bearskin and blankets that he had an immense temptation to turn on his other side and sleep a little more. Then, hearing the hum of voices he opened his eyes wide and sat up, seeing, to his great surprise, that the little party in the camp now numbered four instead of three.

He stared at the addition, who proved to be a man about thirty, tall and well built, with dark hair and dark eyes. He, too, carried a fine repeating rifle, but his dress was incongruous and striking. He wore a felt hat, broad of brim, with a heavy gilt cord around the crown. A jacket of dark red velvet with broad brass buttons enclosed his strong shoulders and body, but his costume was finished off with trousers, leggings and moccasins of tanned deerskin. Will saw the butt of a pistol and the hilt of a knife peeping from under the velvet jacket.

A strange costume, he thought, and, when he looked at the man more closely, his face also looked strange. It was that of a civilized human being, of a man who had come from the old, settled eastern regions, and yet it was not. The eyes, set rather close together, now and then showed green in the early dawn. Will judged that he was one who had become habituated to the wilderness, and, as he sat in a graceful attitude on a great stone, he certainly showed no signs that his surroundings oppressed him.

"Mr. Martin Felton, Will," said the hunter. "Mr. Felton, this is Mr. William Clarke, who is traveling with us."

Will stood up, the last trace of sleep gone from his eyes, and gazed at Felton. Perhaps this was a new comrade, turning their band to four, and strengthening it greatly. But when he glanced at the hunter and the Little Giant he did not see any great warmth of welcome in their eyes.

"Traveling, young sir!" said Felton in a lightly ironic tone. "You seem to prefer paths of peril. I would not say that this is exactly a safe region for tourists."

Now Will was quite sure he would be no addition to their party. He liked neither his tone nor his manner.

"It's true there is plenty of danger," he replied. "But, as I take it, there is no more for me than there is for you."

"The lad has put it very well, Mr. Felton," said the hunter. "However much we may be seeing the sights in these regions, our risks are no greater than yours are."

Felton, seeming not to notice him, continued, looking directly at Will:

"You're right to ask the question, but I can say in answer that your dangers are greater than mine. I have no trouble with the Sioux. I don't think any Indian warrior within a thousand miles of us wants my scalp."

"It was our information that they had declared war upon all white people who entered this country. How does it happen that you're immune?"

Felton smiled, and, in the lad's opinion, it was not a pleasant smile.

"I've been among the Sioux when they were not at war with us," he replied. "I've done them some good deeds. I've set a broken bone or two for them – I've a little surgical skill – and Mahpeyalute, whom we call Red Cloud, has assured me that no harm will ever be done to me. For that reason I'm wandering among these mountains and on the plains. I noticed on one of your horses picks, shovels and other mining implements, and I thought you might combine gold hunting with sight seeing. I'm something of a gold hunter myself and it occurred to me that we could combine forces. I've heard vaguely about a huge gold lead much farther west, and we four might make a strong party, able to reach it despite the Indian troubles."

The lad's heart beat the note of alarm and of hostility. Was it possible that this man knew anything of his father's great mine? He had to exchange only a few sentences with him to understand that he was not wanted as a fourth partner in the venture.

"Mr. Bent looks for gold casually," he replied, "but our main object is hunting and exploration. I doubt whether we'd want to take on anything else, though we thank you for your offer, Mr. Felton."

Felton did not seem at all disconcerted. He made upon Will the impression of persistency and of great strength, although the strength might be for evil.

"And so you don't think four are better than three," he said.

"That was not what I implied," replied Will. "What I meant to say was that our party was made up. Isn't that the way you feel about it, Mr. Boyd?"

"My feelings to a T," replied the hunter.

"And yours, Mr. Bent?"

"You express my state o' mind to perfection, young William. Mr. Felton is the finest gentleman we hev met in the mountings since we met that band o' Sioux, but when a band is made up it's made up."

"Very well, gentlemen," said Felton, no anger showing in his tone. "I will not force myself upon anybody, but I'm no egotist, even if I do say you're the losers. My knowledge of the region and my friendship with the Sioux would be of great advantage to you, would be of so much advantage, in fact, that it would make me worth more than a fourth share in all the gold we might find. But, as I said, I will not stay where I'm not wanted. Good day!"

He strode away among the bushes, and for some distance they saw him descending the side of the mountain, to disappear at last in a forest of ash. Then the hunter and the Little Giant looked at each other significantly.

"We saw a footprint of his last night, Will," said Boyd, "but he came himself this morning, just at dawn. We can't quite make him out. Why does he talk of a great mine for which we're looking? Do you think your father ever mentioned it to anyone else?"

"Not that I ever heard. It must be only a guess, based on the sight of the Little Giant's tools. Did you ever see or hear of this man before?"

"No, but I know he's no friend of ours. There are renegades and desperadoes in these mountains, who make friends with the Indians, and I judge he's one of that kind. I'm mighty sorry we've run across him. He may have a band of his own somewhere, or he may go straight to the Sioux with news of us."