A STRANGE CHASE.
We know that Joshua Dickson had taken his departure from the valley, leaving it in charge to Harry.
Harry was a fine young man, strong and intelligent, in whom his father had every confidence.
He was the complete juvenile type of the American squatter and pioneer, up to Indian devilries, riding like a centaur, and able to put a ball in the eye of a panther at a hundred yards. His great passion was life in the open air, and the pleasures of the chase in the forest or field.
One fine morning Harry, soon after the rising of the sun, galloped off into the forest. He was bent on a journey to see a fine cutting that was going to create meadows, and make room for sawmills on the banks of the great Missouri.
He had nearly reached the spot, when he was startled by a whistle of a peculiar kind, at no great distance.
At the same moment a horseman came in sight—a man of fifty, tall, thin and gaunt, with parchment skin.
The horse was as bony as his master.
The man was dressed after the fashion of the ordinary American farmer, and apparently carried no arms.
"Eh, eh," cried he, "you are out early. Were you looking for me?"
"No, M. Lagrenay; I was not even thinking of you."
"That is not polite. Why did you stop when I whistled?"
"Because I thought it the whistle of a serpent," he retorted. "But no nonsense, I was looking for you."
"I was certain of it."
"Yes, I wanted to see you. I made your acquaintance I know not how. You talk to me of things which do not please me, because they suggest evil thoughts. I have come to say that henceforth we are strangers. Never speak to me again."
"I suppose you will give me a reason for this odd decision."
"Think what you please. I have said my say."
"Then I assume that you reject my offers."
"Think and assume what you like," cried the young man, angrily; "only keep out of my path."
"Then you have no passion for gold?" sighed the other.
"You take me for a ninny, old squatter. Gold does not grow in the fields like mushrooms. Besides, you would have found it long ago if real."
"I tell you the map indicating the exact spot," cried the old man, "was stolen from me by the outlaws."
"You want to persuade me that you have known of this vast treasure for years, and yet require a stranger to help you."
"I knew nothing of your having camped on the spot, and only offer you a share in consequence."
"Go to the devil with your offers."
"Yes, you have my secret, and can use it yourself."
"Old man," cried the young giant, with rage in his eye, "beware how you try my patience too much."
"Well, well, let us end this conversation. You will not listen to me. Well and good. Only, before we part, remember this, when it is too late, my friend," he added, with a sinister laugh, "you will repent. That is all I say."
And turning round, he rode off.
"He is a pretty rascal," said the young man, as he rode off; "I believe he has some villainy in hand."
At this moment a strong hollow grunting was heard, followed by another at no great distance.
"There are jaguars about," said the American, in a low tone, stroking his horse's ears to keep him quiet.
At that moment there was a fearful, a horrible cry, that rent the air, a desperate shriek for assistance.
"The old squatter, and he is without arms," he cried; "the tigers have doubtless attacked him."
And he set spurs to his horse, which, neighing and smarting with pain, dashed in the desired direction.
In the centre of a clearing crossed by a narrow stream the squatter knelt behind his horse, haggard with terror.
Close to him, on the branch of a gigantic gumtree, was a mighty jaguar, licking his tongue before leaping.
"Save me," shrieked the agonised squatter.
"I will try," said Harry, dismounting, letting his horse loose, and then going close up to the trembling wretch.
The tiger had not moved. He was watching his victim with a feline glance.
"A noble beast," said the young man, with a smile; "I hope not to spoil his beautiful skin."
Suddenly a further grunting was heard in the thicket. The jaguar, without turning his head, responded in the same tone.
"By heavens! There are two of them. It seems almost a pity to part so loving a couple," he said.
At the same moment the tiger leaped. As he did so he turned a somersault. He was dead, shot in the eye.
"One," said the young man, drawing out his bowie knife.
At the same moment the second jaguar burst out, and with one bound seized on the flanks of the horse.
Harry flew at her, knife in hand. The two rolled for a moment on the ground. Then the man stood erect.
"That job's over," said the young man; "what a couple of noble beasts! Get up. Heavens! He's fainted."
Then he took him in his arms, and carried him to the stream, where he bathed his face until he recovered.
But he was then so ill, and his horse so lean, that it seemed impossible he should ever reach home.
In this strait Harry acted with his usual generosity. He took the man up behind him, and carried him home.
He then turned to go without a word.
"Young man," cried the squatter, "wait one moment. You have been my friend. Now take my advice, keep good watch. I dare say no more, but be ever on your guard."
Harry moved pensively away, but soon forgot the hint.