“He says he hasn’t got her at all—that he hasn’t seen her for several days—and that he never expects to see her again.”
CHAPTER XIII.
COUNTERPLOTTING.
Harry Northend sat astounded and stupefied at the answer of Old Ruff, and when he had partly regained his self-poise he repeated the words.
“Maquesa says he has not seen her for several days, and never expects to see her again. Is that what the chief said?”
“Them’s almost his words ’zactly—leastways, that’s ’zactly what he meant.”
“In the name of Heaven, what does he mean?”
“He says that he has met the father of Little Rifle—that he met him a couple of weeks ago, and that it was on his account he came through the mountains arter her. Her father waited somewhere for him—down toward the Willamette, I b’l’eve, at one of the forts. Thar Maquesa met him, and thar he turned over Little Rifle to him, and both have started for Astoria, whar they’re going to take ship for San Francisco.”
Here was a revelation indeed, and for several minutes Harry sat with open mouth, hardly able to realize all that had been said. Before he could make any comment the trapper added, in a significant tone:
“That’s a big story to tell, and it may all be true, but somehow or other I think old Maquesa was lying to me, and tryin’ to throw me off the right track.”
“What is it you suspect, Uncle Ruff?”