Story 1—Chapter XVI.
Sailor Bill Captured.
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Mr Rawlings, as he and Ernest Wilton looked at one another for a second in blank consternation—“I hope nothing serious has happened!” And he was just about to dash into the river and wade across to the other side, in the direction from whence Seth’s shout for succour came, when the young engineer stopped him.
“You’d better wait a minute,” said Ernest. “The prairie is a wide place, and sounds seem to come from one point when in reality they emanate from an entirely different spot; so, in hurrying thus to Seth’s assistance, you may take the longest way to reach him. Let us return to the place where he and the boy crossed the stream; and, as soon as we reach the other bank opposite and find their track I’ll put Wolf on the scent, and we’ll come up with them much more quickly than you could do by crossing here and spending some time perhaps in hunting about in the brushwood over there before you could find any trace of his footsteps.”
“You’re right,” said Mr Rawlings. “Two heads are better than one. But, pray lose no time about it,” he added, as Seth’s call was again heard, sounding more loudly than before—
“Help! ahoy, there! Help!”
The path back to where the entire party had halted on the bank of the river before separating, according to Mr Rawlings’ suggestion, was not difficult to trace. Then, fording the stream at the point where Seth and Sailor Bill had waded across, they searched about for their tracks up and down a short distance until they were likewise found, when their task became comparatively easy, as the dog’s aid was now of use.
“Hi, Wolf!” said Ernest Wilton, drawing his hand over the footmarks of Seth’s heavy boots, where they entered the dense mass of brushwood below the pine-trees. “Good dog! Fetch ’em out! Hi!”
Wolf was all attention in an instant.
Looking up into his master’s face with a low whine of inquiry as if to learn what he exactly meant him to do, and then putting down his nose with a significant sniff, as Ernest Wilton again drew his hand across Seth’s track, he gave a loud yelp expressive of his intelligent comprehension of the duty that lay before him; bounding on in advance through the thick shrubbery, and going at such a pace that Mr Rawlings and Jasper had hard work to do to keep up with Ernest, who followed close behind the dog at a run almost.
“Steady, boy, steady!” said Ernest Wilton in a low tone, every now and then, as Wolf would turn back his head to see whether his master was near him or no, and then the sagacious animal would give an eager bark in answer, as if to say—
“I’m going on all right, old man. Don’t be alarmed, I’m making no mistake about the scent.”
Presently the trail diverged from underneath the timber and brushwood by the river-bank, and struck off at an angle into the open prairie, as if Seth had got tired of fighting his way amongst the overhanging branches and projecting trunks of the pine-trees.
From this point the footprints gradually led up to a little plateau above the valley through which the streamlet ran; and, arrived at the top of this, Wolf gave vent to a louder and more triumphant bark than previously, and halted in his tracks, as if waiting for Ernest to join him before proceeding any further.
The young engineer was by the dog’s side in a moment, and one rapid glance round enabled him to see that the prairie extended beyond the plateau in a vast plain as far as the eye could reach, being bounded on the extreme verge of the horizon by a low range of hills or wooded heights, most probably marking, he thought, the southward course of the great Missouri river, although, as he reflected the moment after, they were much too far to the westward for that.
His attention, however, was not much given to the scenery and the picture which the spreading vast plain presented. A figure in the foreground, some little distance from the higher level on which he was standing, was gesticulating frantically towards him, and Seth’s voice assured him of his identity, if he had any lingering doubt on the subject, by shouting out as soon as he had come into sight across the sky line—
“Hyar, ahoy, man! Hurry up thaar an’ help a feller, can’t you?”
“Here he is!” shouted out Ernest back to Mr Rawlings and Jasper, who were a few yards behind him, and, without waiting for them to come up, he hastened down the slightly shelving ground towards where the ex-mate seemed to be in some predicament, as he did not stand up, but was half-sitting, half-lying on the ground, resting his head on one arm as he waved the other to the young engineer.
“Hullo! what’s the matter?” asked Ernest, calling out before he reached him.
“Injuns—been wounded,” said Seth, in his usual curt, laconic way.
“Gracious me!” exclaimed Ernest, quite taken aback by the announcement. “Indians! And where is Sailor Bill?”
“The durned cusses have carried him off!” said Seth with a sob. “I’d a follered and got him back,” added the ex-mate to Mr Rawlings, who now came up, with Jasper at his heels—the negro almost turning white with terror at the very name of the Indians being mentioned, and shaking in his shoes,—“I’d a follered an’ got him back, yes sir! But them durned cusses have sent an arrowhead through my karkuss, and well-nigh broken my fut as well!”