A FOREST LETTER.
Leaving the amiable Captain Kidd for the time being, but promising not to be slow in returning to him, we hasten to Old Nick's Jump, where we left a character as important and far more agreeable.
After having carried out their project in favour of the white women and their captors, the hunters deemed it wise to remain sheltered in the cavern. It was not from any likelihood of the Crow Indians making reprisals; it was clear enough that they had not recognized them, and had not lately been trying to trace them. The reason of their "laying low," i.e., lying perdu, was more powerful; Jim Ridge had to wait for intelligence before he would strike out.
The only persons excepted from this embargo were Filditch and Cherokee Bill, thanks to which exception Lottery Paul received the drubbing that gave him "funny bones all over."
These two were outliers to the rest, beating the bushes beyond the Jump-off incessantly.
In their exploration, they found out that they had not helped honest emigrants but the Half-breeds, and that the women were more likely to be their captives than their wives and children. They had been carried almost too far in their love for humankind, and the border law that colour must defend its own colour.
It is only fair to the Yager to admit that, even on learning that he had defended mongrels he was not sorry. He did not trouble himself any farther about them, but still thought of their prisoners.
Such was the state of things four days after the Crows had been beaten off. Some forty trappers, hunters, and the Scotch Canadians were actively cleaning up their firearms, and packing several days' provisions, all in anticipation of an expedition.
It was about midday, and the remains of deer meat and broken biscuit denoted that dinner had not long been finished.
"How are you getting on, boys?" demanded Jim, who had been busied in the same way as the others.
"First-rate, all ready!" replied one for the troop.
"That's the prime article! Now then, put out your feet! We must camp down tonight, a goodish stretch from here."
"You mean business?" inquired a Scot.
"Decided busy business," was the reply; "come this nightfall, we shall know jest whar we are located."
"But Bill and the Californian left us, as usual, at sunrise; whar 'bouts do we gather 'em in?"
"Don't you flurry," said Jim, "they have run on ahead, not to frolic, but to clear the trail and select a camping ground."
"Nothing to keep us here, eh?"
"Not a thing."
"Then we're off!" cried the party, all afoot, and everything buckled on.
"Come on!"
The whole band quitted the retreat by the subterranean way already described.
It was a cold but fine morning, the air pure, the sky blue. The sun had pretty well thawed the snow, and as a grizzled old trapper said: "Just the weather for a feller to go ten miles a-sparking his gal." The party moved in Indian or single file at a good, regular pace, which took them briskly away from the starting point. As the horses were useless, they were left behind under guard.
The course brought the long string of men past the Red River company, and Ridge remarked with some surprise that they who had been so long quiet now showed signs of pulling up stakes and departing. It was to coalesce with Kidd. This set Ridge thinking, and even made him uneasy. Still, he let no evidence of this appear, but went on in meditation. He was not the man to neglect any precaution, or learning what this movement portended. Whilst walking on he was fingering several pebbles which he had merely mechanically picked up, as an observer would have thought.
On coming to a place where their route made an elbow, he stopped, without saying anything to his followers, whom he let pass in review. When the last had utterly gone from sight, and he was sure no one else had an eye on him, he picked out three trees, which naturally formed a very regular triangle. Into each of these three he climbed to the crotch, where he scratched a ledge in the mossy bark, very like what a bird would make hunting for grubs. He kept the moss and grated wood carefully, and laid the stone in the little shelf, where it rested almost invisible, unless to an experienced eye, and that, too, looking for it. After having executed this operation on all three trees, we say, the Yellowstone Yager made a heap of all the moss and débris at the foot of the one which was apex to the trio. Leading up to this cone, scattered over with leaves, he placed lines of stones, to say nothing of other arrangements of pebbles which, though to all seeming in disorder, undoubtedly conveyed a meaning, for he went over them, and, like a printer correcting his types, modified them scrupulously.
Having once more scrutinised the neighbourhood, to be certain he had no spy on him, he took up his rifle and strode off, merrily whistling to himself, to overtake his comrades, who had not slackened their gait for him.
As remarked, Bill the Cherokee and Filditch had gone out scouting at daybreak. Ridge had given them particular instructions, and perhaps was thinking of them when he accomplished the enigmatical work described. It was presumably a signal message. The Yager was much too serious a man to lose his time in jokes. When he rejoined his men he said never a word on his doings, and no one questioned him; they do not question "the old man" of a party when out on the warpath with a variety of deaths at hand.
All the afternoon they marched on without anything notable happening except that a couple of bucks were killed, but shot with arrows, so that no noise was made.
About five p.m., a little after sunset, the band arrived where the halt for the night was decided.
It was on the edge of a rather wide clearing, as generally is the case, to prevent a surprise and attack under cover. Awaiting them, seated near a fire only just kindled, Filditch was puffing at a cigar.
The Cherokee Half-breed was not visible.
Old Jim put no questions concerning him, and did not even seem astonished at not seeing him.
A camp is not long being made by regular hunters. The two or three fires soon burnt up in that clear, smokeless, intensely hot way which is the despair of novices at camping. The supper being "put under the belts," everyone not on watch wrapped up in blankets, and went to sleep with feet to the fire.
At eleven o'clock Jim Ridge rose out of a reverie, went the rounds of the sentries, and finally dived into the underbrush, dropping at once so as to disappear promptly. As soon as he was well out of reach of the low firelight rays, he looked up at the sky and mountain tops to get his bearings, and then strode away, with wide opening of his long legs like one who knew thoroughly what he was about, and how the country was superficially formed.
His course was only an hour long.
Then he stopped at a rock overhanging a waterfall.
He felt that his weapons were in good condition before putting in each side of his mouth one index finger, with which he so changed the shape of that orifice that he was able to imitate to perfection the hooting of the big blue owl. That was a night bird likely to be about at that time.
Almost immediately a swish as of wings in the brambles responded. It was as if a bird had been deluded and rushed to see a mate. But no owl—merely a man emerged from the shadows scarcely twenty paces from the old mountaineer. The man came on with extraordinary confidence, keeping his gun only tolerably ready, and smoking a pipe with its cover off.
"Oh, these young fellows!" muttered the Yager, with a low laugh; "They won't learn nuthin', and it's no use talking to 'em, and, at the same time, this is a most promising one among 'em."