The Silver Canyon

by Fenn, George Manville

  The lad nodded, and then stood trying to shake off the drowsiness that still remained after his deep sleep while he watched the Doctor’s figure grow indistinct as he walked towards the dimly seen tent. He could just make out that the Doctor bent down, and then he seemed to disappear.

  Bart Woodlaw remained motionless for a few moments, and then, as he more fully realised his duties, he walked slowly to where the horses were tethered, patted each in turn, the gentle animals responding with a low sigh as they pressed their heads closely to the caressing hand. Satisfied that the tethering ropes were safe, and dreading no hostile visit that might result in a stampede, the guardian of the little camp walked slowly to where the fire emitted a faint glow; and, feeling chilly, he was about to throw on more wood, when it occurred to him that if he did so, the fire would show out plainly for a distance of many miles, and that it would serve as a sign to invite enemies if any were within eyeshot, so he preferred to suffer from the cold, and, drawing his blanket round him, he left the fire to go out.

  Bart had been watching the stars for about an hour, staring at the distant plain, and trying to make out what was the real shape of a pile of rock that sheltered them on the north, and which seemed to stand out peculiarly clear against the dark sky, when, turning sharply, he brought his rifle to the ready, and stood, with beating heart, staring at a tall dark figure that remained motionless about a dozen yards away.

  It was so dark that he could make out nothing more, only that it was a man, and that he did not move.

  The position was so new, and it was so startling to be out there in the wilds alone as it were—for the others were asleep—and then to turn round suddenly and become aware of the fact that a tall dark figure was standing where there was nothing only a few minutes before, that in spite of a strong effort to master himself, Bart Woodlaw felt alarmed in no slight degree.

  His first idea was that this must be an enemy, and that he ought to fire. If an enemy, it must be an Indian; but then it did not look like an Indian; and Bart knew that it was his duty to walk boldly up to the figure, and see what the danger was; and in this spirit he took one step forward, and then stopped,—for it was not an easy thing to do.

  The night seemed to have grown blacker, but there was the dark figure all the same, and it seemed to stand out more plainly than before, but it did not move, and this gave it an uncanny aspect that sent something of a chill through the watcher’s frame.

  At last he mastered himself, and, with rifle held ready, walked boldly towards the figure, believing that it was some specimen of the fleshy growth of the region to which the darkness had added a weirdness all its own.

  No. It was a man undoubtedly, and as, nerving himself more and more, Bart walked close up, the figure turned, and said slowly:—

  “I can’t quite make that out, Master Bart.”

  “You, Joses!” exclaimed Bart, whose heart seemed to give a bound of delight.

  “Yes, sir; I thought I’d get up and watch for a bit; and just as I looked round before coming to you, that rock took my fancy.”

  “Yes, it does look quaint and strange,” said Bart; “I had been watching it.”

  “Yes, but why do it look quaint and strange?” said Joses in a low, quiet whisper, speaking as if a dozen savages were at his elbow.

  “Because we can see it against the sky,” replied Bart, who felt half amused at the importance placed by his companion upon such a trifle.

  “And why can you see it against the sky?” said Joses again. “Strikes me there’s a fire over yonder.”

  Bart was about to exclaim, “What nonsense!” but he recalled the times when out hunting up stray cattle Joses had displayed a perception that had seemed almost marvellous, and so he held his tongue.

  “I’ll take a turn out yonder, my lad,” he said quietly; “I won’t be very long.”

  “Shall I wake up the Doctor?”

  “No, not yet. Let him get a good rest,” replied Joses. “Perhaps it’s nothing to mind; but coming out here we must be always ready to find danger, and danger must be ready to find us on the look-out.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Bart eagerly.

  “No, that won’t do,” said the rough fellow sturdily. “You’ve got to keep watch like they tell me the sailors do out at sea. Who’s to take care of the camp if you go away?”

  “I’ll stay then,” said Bart, with a sigh of dissatisfaction, and the next minute he was alone. For Joses had thrown down his blanket, and laid his rifle upon it carefully, while over the lock he had placed his broad Spanish hat to keep off the moisture of the night air. Then he had gone silently off at a trot over the short and scrubby growth near at hand.

  One moment he was near; the next he had grown as it were misty in the darkness, and disappeared, leaving Bart, fretting at the inaction, and thinking that the task of doing duty in watching as sentry was the hardest he had been called upon to perform.

  Meanwhile the rough cattle driver and plainsman had continued his trot till the broken nature of the ground compelled him to proceed cautiously, threading his way in and out amongst the masses of rock, and forcing him to make a considerable détour before he passed the ridge of stones.

  His first act was to drop down on hands and knees; his next to lie flat, and drag himself slowly forward a couple of hundred yards, and then stop.

  It was quite time that he had, for on either hand, as well as in front, lay groups of Indians, while just beyond he could distinguish the horses calmly cropping the grass and other herbage near. So still was it, and so closely had he approached, that every mouthful seized by the horses sounded quite plainly upon his ear, while more than once came the mutterings of some heavy sleeper, with an occasional hasty movement on the part of some one who was restless.

  Joses had found out all he wanted, and the next thing was to get back and give the alarm. But as is often the case in such matters, it was easier to come than to return. It had to be done though, for the position of those in the little camp was one full of peril, and turning softly, he had begun his retrograde movement, when a figure he had not seen suddenly uttered an impatient “ugh!” and started to his feet.

  Joses’ hand went to his belt and grasped his knife, but that was all. It was not the time for taking to headlong flight, an act which would have brought the whole band whooping and yelling at his heels.

  Fortunately for the spy in the Indian camp, the night was darker now, a thin veil of cloud having swept over the stars, otherwise the fate of Dr Lascelles’ expedition would have been sealed. As it was, the Indian kicked the form beside him heavily with his moccasined foot, and then walked slowly away in the direction of the horses.

  Some men would have continued their retreat at once, perhaps hurriedly, but Joses was too old a campaigner for such an act. As he lay there, with his face buried deeply in the short herbage, he thought to himself that most probably the waking up of the Indian who had just gone, the kick, and the striding away, would have aroused some of the others, and in this belief he lay perfectly still for quite ten minutes.

  Then feeling satisfied that he might continue his retreat, he was drawing himself together for a fresh start, when a man on his right leaped to his feet; another did the same, and after talking together for a few moments they too went off in the direction of the horses.

  This decided Joses upon a fresh wait, which he kept up, till feeling that, safe or unsafe, he must make the venture, he once more started, crawling slowly along without making a sound, till he felt it safe to rise to his hands and knees, when he got over the ground far more swiftly, ending by springing to his feet, and listening intently for a few moments, when there was the faint neigh of a horse from the Indian camp.

  “If one of ours hears that,” muttered Joses, “he’ll answer, and the Indians will be down upon us before we know where we are.”

  * * *

  Chapter Four.

  The Night Alarm.

  Bart Woodlaw had not been keeping his renewed watch long
before he heard a step behind him, and, turning sharply, found himself face to face with Dr Lascelles.

  “Well, my boy,” he said, “is all right?”

  “I think so, sir. Did you hear anything?”

  “No, my boy, I woke up and just came to see how matters were going. Any alarm?”

  “Yes, sir, and no, sir,” replied Bart.

  “What do you mean?” exclaimed the Doctor sharply.

  “Only that Joses woke up, sir, and I found him watching that mass of rock which you can see out yonder. That one sir—or—no!—I can’t see it now.”

  “Why?” said the Doctor, in a quick low decisive tone; “is it darker now?”

  “Very little, sir; but perhaps Joses was right: he said he thought there must be a fire out there to make it stand out so clearly, and—”

  “Well? speak, my boy! Be quick!”

  “Perhaps he was right, sir, for I cannot see the rock there at all.”

  “Where is Joses? Why did he not go and see?” exclaimed the Doctor sharply.

  “He has been gone nearly an hour, sir, and I was expecting him back when you came.”

  “That’s right! But which way? Joses must feel that there is danger, or he would not have left the camp like this.”

  Bart pointed in the direction taken by their follower, and the Doctor took a few hasty strides forward, as if to follow, but he came back directly.

  “No. It would be folly,” he said; “I should not find him out in this wild. Depend upon it, Bart, that was an Indian fire and camp out beyond the ridge yonder, and he suspected it. These old plainsmen read every sign of earth and sky, and we must learn to do the same, boy, for it may mean the saving of our lives.”

  “I’ll try,” said Bart earnestly. “I can follow trail a little now.”

  “Yes, and your eyes are wonderfully keen,” replied the Doctor. “You have all the acute sense of one of these hunters, but you want the power of applying what you see, and learning its meaning.”

  Bart was about to reply, but the Doctor began walking up and down impatiently, for being more used than his ward in the ways of the plains, he could not help feeling sure that there was danger, and this idea grew upon him to such an extent that at last he roused the men from their sleep, bidding them silently get the horses ready for an immediate start, should it be necessary; and while this was going on, he went into the tent.

  “Maude—my child—quick!” he said quietly. “Don’t be alarmed, but wake up, and be ready for a long ride before dawn.”

  Maude was well accustomed to obey promptly all her father’s orders, and so used to the emergencies and perils of frontier life that she said nothing, but rapidly prepared for their start, and in a few minutes she was ready, with all her little travelling possessions in the saddle-bags and valise that were strapped to her horse.

  Just as the Doctor had seen that all was nearly ready, and that scarcely anything more remained to be done than to strike the little tent, Joses came running up.

  “Well! what news?” said the Doctor, hurriedly.

  “Injun—hundreds—mile away,” said the plainsman in quick, sharp tones. “Hah! good!” he added, as he saw the preparations that had been made.

  “Bart, see to Maude’s horse. Down with the tent, Joses; Harry, help him. You, Juan and Sam, see to the horses.”

  Every order was obeyed with the promptitude displayed in men accustomed to a life on the plains, and in a very few minutes the tent was down, rolled up, and on the side of the waggon, the steeds were ready, and all mounting save Juan, who took his place in front of the waggon to drive its two horses, Dr Lascelles gave the word. Joses went to the front to act as pioneer, and pick a way unencumbered with stones, so that the waggon might go on in safety, and the camp was left behind.

  Everything depended now upon silence. A shrill neigh from a mare would have betrayed them; even the louder rattle of the waggon wheels might have had that result, and brought upon them the marauding party, with a result that the Doctor shuddered to contemplate. There were moments when, in the face of such a danger, he felt disposed to make his way back to civilisation, dreading now to take his child out with him into the wilderness. But there was something so tempting in the freedom of the life; he felt so sanguine of turning his knowledge of metallurgy to some account; and what was more, it seemed so cowardly to turn back now, that he decided to go forward and risk all.

  “We always have our rifles,” he said softly to himself, “and if we can use them well, we may force the Indians to respect us if they will not treat us as friends.”

  And all this while the waggon jolted on over the rough ground or rolled smoothly over the flat plain, crushing down the thick buffalo-grass, or smashing some succulent, thorny cactus with a peculiar whishing sound that seemed to penetrate far through the silence of the night. They were journeying nearly due north, and so far they had got on quite a couple of miles without a horse uttering its shrill neigh, and it was possible that by now, silent as was the night, their cry might not reach the keen ears of their enemies, but all the same, the party proceeded as cautiously as possible, and beyond an order now and then given in a low voice, there was not a word uttered.

  It was hard work, too, for, proceeding as they were in comparative darkness, every now and then a horse would place its hoof in the burrow of some animal, and nearly fall headlong. Then, too, in spite of all care and pioneering, awheel of the waggon would sink into some hollow or be brought heavily against the side of a rock.

  Sometimes they had to alter their direction to avoid heavily-rising ground, and these obstacles became so many, that towards morning they came to a halt, regularly puzzled, and not knowing whether they were journeying away from or towards their enemies.

  “I have completely lost count, Bart,” said the Doctor.

  “And if you had not,” replied Bart, “we could not have gone on with the waggon, for we are right amongst the rocks, quite a mountain-side.”

  “Let’s wait for daylight then,” said the Doctor peevishly. “I begin to think we have done very wrong in bringing a waggon. Better have trusted to horses.”

  He sighed, though, directly afterwards, and was ready to alter his words, but he refrained, though he knew that it would have been impossible to have brought Maude if they had trusted to horses alone.

  A couple of dreary hours ensued, during which they could do nothing but wait for daybreak, which, when it came at last, seemed cold and blank and dreary, giving a strange aspect to that part of the country where they were, though their vision was narrowed by the hills on all sides save one, that by which they had entered as it were into what was quite a horse-shoe.

  Joses and Bart started as soon as it was sufficiently light, rifle in hand, to try and make out their whereabouts, for they were now beyond the region familiar to both in their long rides from ranche to ranche in quest of cattle.

  They paused, though, for a minute or two to gain a sort of idea as to the best course to pursue, and then satisfied that there was no immediate danger, unless the Indians should have happened to strike upon their trail, they began to climb the steep rocky hill before them.

  “Which way do you think the Indians were going, Joses?” said Bart, as they toiled on, with the east beginning to blush of a vivid red.

  “Way they could find people to rob and plunder and carry off,” said Joses gruffly, for he was weary and wanted his breakfast.

  “Do you think they will strike our trail?”

  “If they come across it, my lad—if they come across it.”

  “And if they do?”

  “If they do, they’ll follow it right to the end, and then that’ll be the end of us.”

  “If we don’t beat them off,” said Bart merrily.

  “Beat them off! Hark at him!” said Joses. “Why, what a boy it is. He talks of beating off a whole tribe of Indians as if they were so many Jack rabbits.”

  “Well, we are Englishmen,” said Bart proudly.

  “Yes, we are Engl
ishmen,” said Joses, winking to himself and laying just a little emphasis upon the men; “but we can’t do impossibilities if we bes English.”

  “Joses, you’re a regular old croaker, and always make the worst of things instead of the best.”

  “So would you if you was hungry as I am, my lad. I felt just now as if I could set to and eat one o’ them alligators that paddles about in the lagoons, whacking the fishes in the shallows with their tails till they’re silly, and then shovelling of them up with their great jaws.”

  “Well, for my part, Joses, I’d rather do as the alligators do to the fish.”

  “What, whack ’em with their tails? Why, you ain’t got no tail, Master Bart.”

  “No, no! Eat the fish.”

  “Oh, ah! yes. I could eat a mess o’ fish myself, nicely grilled on some bits o’ wood, and yah! mind! look out!”

  Joses uttered these words with quite a yell as, dropping his rifle, he stooped, picked up a lump of rock from among the many that lay about on the loose stony hill slope they were climbing, and hurled it with such unerring aim, and with so much force, that the hideous grey reptile they had disturbed, seeking to warm itself in the first sunbeams, and which had raised its ugly head threateningly, and begun to creep away with a low, strange rattling noise, was struck about the middle of its back, and now lay writhing miserably amidst the stones.

  “I don’t like killing things without they’re good to eat,” said Joses, picking up another stone, and seeking for an opportunity to crush the serpent’s head— “Ah, don’t go too near, boy; he could sting as bad as ever if he got a chance!”

  “I don’t think he’d bite now,” said Bart.

  “Ah, wouldn’t he! Don’t you try him, my boy. They’re the viciousest things as ever was made. And, as I was saying, I don’t—there, that’s about done for him,” he muttered, as he dropped the piece of rock he held right upon the rattlesnake’s head, crushing it, and then taking hold of the tail, and drawing the reptile out to its full length—“as I was a-saying, Master Bart, I don’t like killing things as arn’t good to eat; but if you’ll put all the rattlesnakes’ heads together ready for me, I’ll drop stones on ’em till they’re quite dead.”