The Black Wolf Pack
Page 16
CHAPTER XVI
With an imperceptible movement, as steady and almost as slow as that ofa glacier, my guide twisted his neck until his face was turned from thepuma and the side of the mouth pressed against the flat surface of hisrock. I was crowded up against Big Pete, who occupied a position butslightly in advance and a little above me. My agony of fear havingsomewhat subsided I ventured to steal a momentary glance at my comrade'sface. To my unutterable surprise I discovered a whimsical twinkling atthe corners of his eyes and a mirthful expression of mischief in hiscountenance. This was incomprehensible to me, for I could imagine nomore awe-inspiring position than the one we then occupied.
While my thoughts were still busy trying to fathom the cause of Pete'suntimely mirth, the long-drawn howl of the big timber wolf floated overthe valley and sent a new lot of shivers down my back. It was therallying call used by the wolves to call the band together when game isin sight. The sound increased in volume until it reverberated among thecrags like the voice of a winter's storm, and then it gradually diedaway. Big Pete was not only a good mimic but he proved himself to be aventriloquist of no mean ability; by the help of the rock against whichhis cheek was pressed he had been able to throw his voice off into spacein such a manner that it baffled me for several moments.
The gray wolves are old and inveterate enemies of the panther or cougar,hunting the cats on all occasions. Consequently all panthers know themeaning of that wild lonesome howl, the assembling call, as well as theoldest wolf in the pack, and its effect upon the lion in our path wasinstantaneous. The hair, which had a moment before been as slick as ifit were oiled, now rose upright until the fuzzy hide gave the animal'sbody the appearance of being twice its original size.
Scarcely had the big cat vacated the path before we scrambled to thefirm foothold and I breathed a great sigh of relief when it was reached.But Big Pete was convulsed with suppressed laughter at the practicaljoke he had played on the mountain lion.
"Gosh darn my magnolia breath! That painter went as if he had a ball ofhot rorrum tied to his tail," cried my guide.
It was difficult for me to realize that it was Big Pete himself who hadgiven vent to that shuddering howl, and now the danger was over Ipleaded with him to give another exhibition of his skill in wolf calls.
The good-natured fellow at first seemed reluctant to repeat hisperformance, but at length consented and put his hands to his mouth,forming a trumpet, then bent forward his body, stooping so low that hisface was was below his waist, after which he began again that wild crywhich so closely resembles in sentiment and tone the shriek of the wind.As the sound increased in volume the man waved his head from side toside; continuing the movement he gradually assumed an upright pose, andended by making a low obeisance as the sound died away.
The imitation was perfect and I was expressing my delight andappreciation when my ear caught a distant sound which put a sudden stopto our conversation.
Was it the wind which I now heard? No! there was not a breath of airstirring, neither was it an echo. There could be no doubt about it, thelong-drawn sepulchral howl which filled and permeated the shivering airwas an answering cry to Big Pete's call.
Scarcely had the sound waves faded away when in the mysterious distancecame another and another answer, until it seemed as if a troop of lostsouls were vocalizing their misery. I unslung my gun and loosened myrevolvers in their fringed holsters, but Big Pete only shrugged hisshoulders and said,
"Come, let's be moseying. 'Taint nothin' but wolves." A fact of which Iwas as well aware of as Pete, but I, tenderfoot that I was, could nottreat howling of wolves with the same unconcern as did my guide.
We soon reached a point where the goat trail turned again up themountain and we forsook that ancient path for a diagonal fracture verysimilar to the one by which we had ascended, which led down the face ofthe precipice "slantendicularwise," Big Pete said, and soon plunged intothe bluish gray sea which filled the valley. We were now enveloped in adense fog, which added materially to the dangers of the journey. I hadhad so many thrills in the last few moments that my nerves were becomingdull and failed to vibrate on this occasion, so that descending thecliff in a fog by a diagonal fracture in the rock became only anincident of our journey; this trail, however, was wider than the one bywhich we ascended.
The Rocky Mountains are full of new sensations and I got a new one whenI discovered that the fog through which we had been traveling was inreality a cloud, and, all unexpectedly, we emerged into the clear mellowlight below the floating vapor. It was an enchanting scene which met oureyes; below us stretched a beautiful valley.
For the first time in months I saw a human habitation. The blue smokefrom the chimney ascended slowly in a tall column and then floatedhorizontally in stratified layers. There were fields of ripe grain,orchards, groves, pasture lands and a winding stream fringed withpoplars, which flowed in a tortuous course across the valley. As Ifeasted my eyes on the peaceful scene a great longing took possession ofmy soul.
Big Pete, too, was lost in thought, conjured up by the scene below us.He stood leaning on his rifle with his eyes fixed on the enchantingpicture; so full of unconscious dignity was his pose, so immovable stoodthe mountain man that he looked like a grand statue done by a masterhand.
But what thoughts were conjured up in the guide's brain by theunexpected sight of this ranch could not be interpreted from theexpression of his countenance, for that showed no more trace of emotionthan an American Indian at the torture stake, or the marble face of aGreek god. Presently he shifted his pose, threw back his head, and BigPete's eyes were fixed on the valley in front of us, as with distendednostrils he sniffed the mountain air, his brows contracted to a frown,his eyes lost their gentle angelic look and seemed to change from Chinablue to a cold steel color, and his tightly closed mouth had a sternexpression about the corners which appeared altogether out of keepingwith the occasion.
"Rot my hide!" he exclaimed, "if I hain't had a neighbor all these yearsand never knowed it. Waugh! Some emigrant--terrification seize him!--hasfound another park an' squatted, t'ain't more'n eight miles as a crowflies from mine, nuther, Le-loo." He looked at the sun and muttered."Hang me, but 'tis t'other end of my own park," then he paused a momentand added fiercely, "if these geysers know when they are well off,they'll steer shy of Darlinkel Park. If I catch 'em scoutin' 'round myclaim, I'll send 'em a-hoppin'."
"Bless me, you are neighborly," exclaimed a voice in smooth, even tones.
"What!" said Pete, looking sternly at me. "Did you speak?"
"I said nothing," I replied.
Big Pete's countenance changed and he ran his hands over the cartridgesin his belt in the old familiar manner, and with a motion quicker than Ican describe it, whipped out his revolvers and wheeled about face, atthe same time snapping out the words, "Throw up your hands!"