“That’s the spot!” he exclaimed to himself, as he lowered the instrument, and looked at it sharply with the unaided eye, until he felt he had fixed it in his memory. “There’s the door to one of the cellars where Oregon has stored something rich, and into which Old Ruff Robsart means to take a peep one of these days.”
Nothing remained now to be done but to resume their journey toward their own lodge, and the three descended the ridge, Old Robsart taking the lead and the boys following silently. A half-hour later they reached the stream, beside which Little Rifle was walking when we introduced him to our readers in the first chapter. Here a canoe was drawn from its concealment, and the three entered and were paddled across by Old Ruff, who was in an especially good-natured and humorous mood.
When they once more placed their feet upon terra firma, he took great care to conceal the boat, so that it would not be likely to attract the eye of any one unless he stumbled directly upon it.
“I used to cut my name on my boats,” he said in explanation, “so that the varmints could know what chap they belonged to, and consequently what trouble he’d get into if he ran away with ’em; but you see the varmints ain’t well up in their eddycation, and I s’pose they sometimes thought it was thar names instead of mine. Leastways they run off with so many of ’em that it bu’sted me for a time, and arter that I’ve made it a practice to hide ’em.”
“Hide whom?” asked Harry, with a laugh—“the canoes or the Indians?”
“Both, whenever I got the chance, but thar’s one question I could never settle in my mind, and you seem to be rather a cute chap, mebbe you kin settle it for me.”
“I’ll do the best I can,” replied the lad; “let me hear what it is.”
“A couple of years ago thar was a Government expedition sent out here, and they engaged me as scout and hunter for ’em. They had a couple of india-rubber boats with ’em, that had a powerful stretchiness in ’em. They used to roll ’em up when they was in camp, and play football with ’em, and then stretch ’em out for tents at night. So you see they war mighty handy any way you fixed it.”
“I’ve heard of them,” said Harry, “and I think if I had had one of them when I went over the falls, I might have bounded out again. I’m sure I’m bound to try it if I ever get the chance.”
“Wal, they tied ’em up one night, on the shore of a purty good-sized stream, intending to cross over at daylight; but while all war asleep, a Nez Perce Injin stole up and crawled into one. I s’pose he meant to steal what he could lay his hands on, and the first thing he grabbed was a whisky bottle. One snuff of that settled his hash, and he never stopped guzzling till he had swallered the last drop, by which time he was so drunk he couldn’t set up, so he tumbled over into the bottom of the boat and went to sleep. I happened to be on the watch on the other side the camp, and the feller that was guardin’ here didn’t hear nothin’ of what was goin’ on.