An Indian Story.
BY W. O. STODDARD.
Chapter XIII.
or a moment Murray and Steve stood looking after the retreating forms of Red Wolf and his sisters.
"I say," exclaimed Bill, "you're a pretty pair of white men. Do you mean to turn us three over to them Apaches?"
"Who are you, anyway? Tell me a straight story, and I'll make up my mind."
"Well, there's no use tryin' to cover our tracks, I s'pose. We belong to the outfit that set up thar own marks on your ledge thar last night. It wasn't any more our blame than any of the rest."
"And you thought you'd make your outfit safe by picking a quarrel with the Apaches."
"Now, stranger, you've got me thar. 'Twas a fool thing to do."
"Well, I'll tell you what we'll do. You three stand up and swear you bear no malice or ill-will to me and my mate, and you and your crowd'll do us no harm, and I'll let you go."
"How about the mine?"
"Never mind about the mine. If your Captain and the rest are as big fools as you three, there won't any of you come back to meddle with the mine. The Apaches'll look out for that. There'll be worse than they are behind you, too."
He was speaking of the Lipans, but Bill's face grew longer, and so did the faces of his two friends.
"You know about that, do ye?"
"I know enough to warn you."
"Well, all I kin say is, we've got that dust, bars, nuggets and all, and we fit hard for it, and we're gwine to keep it."
"What can you do with it here?"
"Here? We're gwine to Mexico. It'll take a good while to spend a pile like that. It took the Chinees a year and a half to stack it up."
"Well, if you don't start back up the pass pretty soon, you won't have any chance. Do you think you can keep your word with us?"
"Reckon we kin with white men like you. So'll all the rest, when we tell 'em it don't cover the mine. You take your own chances on that?"
"We do."
"Tell you what now, old man, there's something about you that ain't so bad, arter all."
"You and your mates travel!" was the only reply.
They plunged into the thicket for their horses, and when they came out again Murray and Steve had disappeared.
"Gone, have they?" said Bill. "And we don't know any more about 'em than we did before. What'll Captain Skinner say?"
"What'll we say to him? That's what beats me. And to the boys? I don't keer to tell 'em we was whipped in a minute and tied up by an old man, a boy, two girl squaws, and a red-skin."
"It don't tell well, that's a fact."
Murray had beckoned to Steve to follow him.
"They might have kept their word, Steve, and they might not. We were at their mercy, standing out there. They could have shot us from the cover. That's the kind of white men that stir up nine-tenths of all the troubles with the Indians, let alone the Apaches; that tribe never did keep a treaty."
"The one we saw to-day looked like a Lipan."
"So he did. And he stood right up for the girls. Steve, one of those young squaws was no more an Indian than you or I be. It makes my heart sore and sick to think of it. A fine young girl like that, with such an awful life before her!"'
"The other one was bright and pretty too, and she can use her bow and arrows. Murray, what do you think we'd better do?"
"Do? I wish I could say. My head's all in a whirl. But I'll tell you what, Steve, my mind won't be easy till I've had another look at that ledge. I want to know what they've done."
"The Buckhorn Mine? I'd like to see it too."
"Then we'll let their outfit go by us, and ride straight back to it. Might as well save time and follow those fellows up the pass. Plenty of hiding-places."
It was a bold thing to do, but they did it, and they were lying safely in a deep ravine that led out of the pass, a few hours later, when the "mining outfit" slowly trundled on its downward way.
Long before that, however, Bill and his two friends had made their report to Captain Skinner.
They had a well made up story to tell him, but it was not very easy for him to believe it.
"Met the two mining fellers, did ye? And they're friends with the 'Paches. Wouldn't let 'em do ye any harm. How many red-skins was there?"
"Three. We never fired a shot at 'em nor struck a blow, but one of thar squaws fired an arrer through my arm."
"It's the onlikeliest yarn I ever listened to," said the Captain.
"Thar's the hole in my arm."
"Not that; it isn't queer an Apache wanted to shoot ye—I can believe that. But that you had sense enough not to fire first at a red-skin. You never had so much before in all your life."
"Here we are, safe—all three."
"That's pretty good proof. If there'd been a fight, they'd ha' been too much for you, with two white men like them to help. Well, we'll go right on down. It's our only show."
"That isn't all, Cap."
"What more is there?"
"The old feller told me to warn you that thar was danger comin' behind us. He seems to know all about us, and about what we did to the ledge."
"We're followed, are we? What did he say about the mine?"
"Said he'd take his chances about that. We agreed to be friends if we met him and his mate again."
"You did? Now, Bill, you've shown good sense again. What's the matter with you to-day? I never heard of such a thing. It's like finding that mine just where I didn't expect to."
Danger behind them; they did not know exactly what. Danger before them in the shape of wandering Apaches; but they had expected to meet that sort of thing, and were ready for it. Only they hoped to be able to dodge it in some way, and to get safely across the border into Mexico with their stolen treasure. They had at least made sure of their wonderful mine, and that was something. Sooner or later they would all come back and claim it again, and dig fortunes out of it. The two miners would not be able to prove anything. There was no danger from them.
Perhaps not; and yet, as soon as they had disappeared down the pass, below the spot where Steve and Murray were hiding, the latter exclaimed, "Now, Steve, we won't rest our horses till we get there."
They would be quite likely to need rest by that time, for the old man seemed to be in a tremendous hurry. Steve would hardly have believed anything could excite the veteran to such a pitch, if it had not been that he felt so much of the "gold fever" in his own veins. It seemed to him as if he were really thirsty for another look at that wonderful ledge. They turned their horses out to feed on the sweet fresh grass at last, and pushed forward on foot to the mine.
"They've done it, Steve."
"I see they have. Our title's all gone."
He spoke mournfully and angrily; but Murray replied,
"Gone? why, my boy, those rascals have only been doing our work for us."
"For us? How's that?"
"It was ours. They've set up our monuments, and dug our shafts, and put in a blast for us. They haven't taken anything away from us. I'll show you."
He had taken from a pocket of his buck-skins a small, narrow chisel as he spoke, and now he picked up a round stone to serve as a hammer.
"I'm going to make a record, Steve. I'll tell you what to do about it as I go along."
Captain Skinner's miners had been hard workers, but Steve had never seen anybody ply a chisel as Murray did. He was not trying to make "pretty letters," but they were all deeply cut and clearly legible.
MARKING THE BUCKHORN MINE.
On the largest stone of the central monument, and on the side monuments, and then on the face of the cliff near the ledge, he cut the name of the mine, "The Buckhorn," and below that on the cliff and one monument he cut the date of discovery and Steve Harrison's name.
"Put on yours too, Murray."
"Well, if you say so. It may be safer. Only I turn all my rights over to you. I'll do it on paper if I ever get a chance."
"I only want my share."
All the while he was chiselling so skillfully and swiftly, Murray was explaining to Steve how he was to act when he reached "the settlements," and how he should make a legal record of his ownership of that property.
"You must be careful to describe all these marks exactly; the ruins, too, the cañons, the lay of the land, the points of the compass—everything. After all, it may be you'll never be able to work it. But you're young, and there's no telling. The first thing for you to do is to get out of the scrape you're in now."
Steve felt as if there were no longer any doubt of that.
During the busy hours spent on the ledge by their masters the two horses had been feeding and resting, and both Murray and Steve felt like following their example.
"Start a fire, Steve; it'll be perfectly safe. I'll try for a deer, and we'll cook enough to last us for two days."