Boy Land Boomer; Or, Dick Arbuckle's Adventures in Oklahoma

by Edward Stratemeyer

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  A CRY FROM THE DARKNESS.

  Let us return to Pawnee Brown, who, totally unconscious of the fact thatYellow Elk was creeping up behind him, stood beside the body of the deadwildcat, re-loading the empty revolver.

  One of the chambers of the firearm had been loaded, when something aboutthe pistol caused the great scout to examine it more closely. As he wasdoing this Yellow Elk advanced to within three feet of him and raisedthe tomahawk for the fatal blow.

  At this terrible moment it must surely have been Providence whichinterfered in the boomer's behalf, for, totally unconscious of hisperil, he would have done absolutely nothing to save himself. He bentover the pistol more closely.

  "That trigger seems to catch," he thought, and threw the weapon up andfired it over his shoulder, just to test it.

  The bullet did not pass within a yard of Yellow Elk, but the movementcame so unexpectedly that the Indian chief was taken completely off hisguard and dropped back as though actually shot. His cry of astonishmentand fear lasted longer than did the pistol report, and Pawnee Brownswung around to confront him.

  "Yellow Elk!" came from his lips, when whizz! the tomahawk left theredskin's hand and came swirling through the air directly for his head.He dropped like lightning, and the keen blade sank deeply into the treebehind him.

  "Wough!" grunted the Indian when he saw how he had missed his mark. Thenhe leveled the pistol in his left hand at Pawnee Brown's head.

  The great scout felt his position was still a trying one. His ownshooter, though still in hand, was empty. He pointed it and started toback away to the tree behind him.

  "Stop, or I kill!" commanded Yellow Elk, but instead of complying, thescout took a flying leap to a safe shelter. Seeing this, Yellow Elk alsolost no time in getting behind cover.

  With the pistol loaded once more the boomer felt safer. He listenedintently for some movement upon the part of his enemy, but none came.The Indian is a great hand at playing a waiting game and Yellow Elk wasno exception to this rule.

  "Well, if you can wait, so can I," thought Pawnee Brown and settleddown with eyes and ears on the alert. He thought of Nellie Winthrop andof Rasco, and wondered what had become of uncle and niece. He did notwant to wait, feeling it was important to get back to the boomers' camp,but there was no help for it, and he remained where he was.

  Fifteen minutes went by and no sound broke the stillness saving that ofthe water in the brook as it flowed down over a series of rocks. Thencame the faint crack of a single dry twig over upon his left. He turnedaround and blazed away in that direction.

  A fierce but suppressed exclamation in the Indian tongue followed,showing that Yellow Elk had been hit. How serious the Indian chief wasinjured there was no telling. It might be only a flesh wound, it mighthave been fatal and Yellow Elk might have died without further sound,and then again it might be only a ruse. Again Pawnee Brown paused tolisten.

  Thus another quarter of an hour was wasted. It must be confessed thatthe great scout's nerves were strung to the topmost tension. At anymoment a shot might come which would end his life. It was ten times moretrying than to stand up in line of battle, for the enemy could not beseen.

  Again came the crack of a twig, but very faint, showing that the soundcame from a distance. There followed a faint splash, some distance upthe stream. Yellow Elk was retreating.

  "I reckon I hit him pretty bad," mused Pawnee Brown. "But I'll goslow--it may be only a trick," and away he crawled as silently as asnail along the brook's bank.

  Inside of the next half hour he had covered a territory of many yards onboth sides of the brook. In one spot he had seen several drops of bloodand the finger marks of a bloody hand. Yellow Elk, however, hadcompletely disappeared.

  "He is gone, and so is the trail," muttered the great scout at last. Hespoke the truth. Further following of the Indian chief was just then outof the question.

  "There is one thing to be thankful for," he mused. "I don't believe hecaptured Nellie Winthrop again after he left the cave. I wonder what hasbecome of that girl?"

  Bonnie Bird had wandered down the brook for a drink and instantlyreturned at her master's call. With something of a sigh at not havingfinished matters with Yellow Elk the boomer leaped once again into thesaddle and turned back in the direction from whence he had come.

  It was now growing dark, and the great scout felt that he must ere longreturn to the boomers' camp and give the order necessary to start thelong wagon train on its way westward to Honnewell. Little did he dreamof what the government spy and the cavalrymen had discovered and howJack Rasco had been taken prisoner.

  "Pawnee!"

  It was a cry from a patch of woods to the northward, and straining hiseyes he saw Cal Clemmer waving his sombrero toward him. Scout and cowboyboomer were soon together.

  "Well, whar's Rasco and the gal?" were Clemmer's first words.

  "Both gone--I don't know where, Cal. Where are the other boys?"

  "Started back toward Honnewell; thet is, all but Dick Arbuckle. He'sover ter yonder spring gittin' a drink o' water."

  "I am sorry I failed to find the girl," said Pawnee Brown. "She musthave wandered off in the woods and got lost. I am quite certain theIndians did not spot her again."

  "And Jack?"

  "Went off after his horse."

  "Wot do yer advise us ter do--stay here?"

  "I am afraid staying here will do no good, Cal. I must get back to campand start the wagons up. I know they won't move a step unless I ampersonally there to give directions. The old boomers are all afraid ofbeing fooled by some trick of the soldiers."

  "Thet's so. Wall, if yer want me ter stay here I'll stay--otherwise I'llgo back," concluded Clemmer.

  Dick now came up, as anxious as Clemmer had been to know the news. Hisface grew very sober when he heard that Nellie had not been found.

  "I wish I knew more of this territory--I'd go after her myself," hesaid, earnestly. "I hope you won't abandon the search?"

  "Oh, no, lad; that is not my style. But I must get back to the campfirst and start the train along. I'll be on this ground again bymidnight."

  "Then why can't I stay here? I am not afraid."

  "Alone?" ejaculated Clemmer.

  "Yes--if you want to join Pawnee."

  "By gosh, but that boy's nervy fer a city chap!" cried the cowboyboomer, in admiration.

  "Well, you know there's a girl in this, Cal," rejoined Pawnee Brown,dryly. "And I reckon she's a girl well worth going through fire andwater for."

  At this Dick blushed.

  "I want to find out about Rasco, too," he hastened to say. "You know Iwas going through with him, and he was going to do some business for myfather, later on."

  The matter was talked over for several minutes, and it was at lastdecided that Dick should secrete himself in a thicket and stand watchthere or close by until he heard from Pawnee Brown again.

  "Be on your guard, boy, for enemies may be thick here," were theboomer's last words of caution. "Don't uncover to anybody until you arepositive it is a friend."

  "And here's a bite for yer," added Clemmer, handing out some rations hecarried in a haversack. "You'll get mighty hungry ere the sun comes upagain."

  In a minute more the two horsemen were galloping away. Dick watched themuntil they were lost to view, then dropped to a sitting position on aflat rock in the centre of a clump of trees.

  The youth's heart beat rather strongly. He was not used to this sort ofthing. How different the prairies and woods were to the city streets andbuildings.

  "Lonesome isn't a name for it," he mused. "Puts me in mind of one vastcemetery--a gigantic Greenwood, only there aren't any monuments. What isthat?"

  There was a flutter and a whirl, and Dick grasped his pistol tighter. Itwas only a night-bird, starting up now that the sun was beginning toset.

  Soon the woods and the prairies began to grow dark. The sun was lost toview behind tall trees which cast shadows of incalculable length. Itgrew colder, to
o, and he buttoned his light coat tightly about him.

  To pass the time he began to eat some of the food left behind byClemmer. It was not particularly appetizing, and in the city Dick mighthave passed it by for something better. But just then it tasted "justboss," to use Dick's own words. A bracing air and hunger are the bestsauces in the world.

  An hour had gone by, and all was dark, when Dick started up from areverie into which he had fallen. What was that which had reached hisears from a distance? Was it a cry, or merely the moaning of the risingwind?

  He listened. No, it was not the wind--it was a cry--a girl's voice--thevoice of Nellie Winthrop!

  "It is Nellie!" came from his set lips, and his face grew pale. Againcame the cry, but this time more faintly.

  From what direction had that cry for help proceeded? In vain the boyasked himself that question. He was not used to a life in the open andthe rising wind was very deceptive.

  "I must find her!" he gasped, leaping from the rocks. "I shan't remainhere while she is in trouble."

  He had no horse the men being unable to provide him with one when theyhad come together, but for this he did not care. He was resolved to aidthe girl if such a thing were possible.

  Away he went over the prairie at a rapid gait, in the direction fromwhence he imagined the cry had proceeded. Two hundred yards were coveredand he came to a halt and listened. Not a sound broke the stillness,although he fancied he heard the hoof-strokes of a horse at a greatdistance.

  Then he turned in another direction, and then another. It was all to nopurpose. No trace of the girl could be found. He gave a groan.

  "It's no use; she's gone and that is all there is to it. Poor girl!"

  With a sinking heart he set off to return to the spot from whence he hadcome. He advanced a dozen steps, then halted and stared about him.

  Suddenly an awful truth burst upon him. He was lost among the brush!