“Mind that scouts are left. I should leave at least three at different points on the road. They can give you warning at once. Then gallop back as if you were in a race. We shall be ready to cover you with our rifles if they come on. Now lose no time. Go!”
Bart touched Black Boy with his heels, and went off at a canter, but checked his speed instantly, so that he might the more easily gaze up at the mountain-side, while, thoroughly intent upon his task, the Beaver left scouts at intervals, each man backing close in to the rock, and sitting there like a statue watching the plain.
No Indians were in sight as far as Bart could see, and he rode slowly on, inspecting every opening in the face of the mountain, and so intent upon his task that he left the care of his person to the chief, whose watchful eyes were everywhere, now pointing out rifts in the rock, now searching the plain.
It was a much longer distance, and the importance of the task and its risk gave a piquancy to the ride that made the blood dance through Bart’s veins. He could not help a little shudder running through him from time to time, though it was almost more of a thrill, and he could not have told, had he been asked, whether it was a thrill of dread or of pleasure. Perhaps there may have been more of the former, for he kept glancing over his right shoulder from time to time to see if a body of Indians might be sweeping at full gallop over the plain.
Half the distance was ridden over, and this gave confidence to the adventurer, who rode more steadily on, and spared no pains to make sure of there being no possibility of the Indians reaching the top from that side.
On went Bart, and three-fourths of the way were passed with nothing overhead but towering perpendicular rocks, impossible for anything but a fly to scale. The Indians had been left one after the other as scouting sentries, and at last, when no one was in company with the young adventurer but the Beaver, the edge of the canyon on this side was well in sight, and only a few hundred yards of the rock remained to be inspected.
“We will do this, at all events,” said Bart, pressing his cob’s sides with his heels; and he cantered on, for the face of the mountain was now so perpendicular and smooth that there was no difficulty in determining its safety at a glance.
Only about three hundred yards more and then there was the canyon, presenting a barrier of rock so steep, as well as so much higher, that there was nothing to fear on that side. Only these three hundred yards to examine, and the dangerous enterprise was almost as good as done, for every step taken by the horses then would be one nearer to safety. Bart had ridden on, leaving the Beaver, who had drawn rein, looking back at the plain, when suddenly there was a warning cry, and the lad looked over his shoulder to see the Beaver signalling to him.
“A minute won’t make much difference,” thought Bart excitedly, and instead of turning, he pressed his horse’s flanks and galloped on to finish his task, rejoicing in the fact as he reached the canyon edge that he had seen every yard of the mountain-side, and that it was even more perpendicular than near the gateway.
“Now for back at a gallop,” said Bart, who was thrilling with excitement; and turning his steed right on the very edge of the canyon, he prepared to start back, when, to his horror, he saw a party of dismounted Indians rise up as it were from the canyon about a hundred yards away, the place evidently where they had made their way down on the occasion of the attack during the salmon-fishing. With a fierce yell they made for the young horseman, but as Black Boy bounded forward they stopped short. A score of bullets came whizzing about Bart’s ears, and as the reports of the pieces echoed from the face of the mountain, the cob reared right up and fell over backwards, Bart saving himself by a nimble spring on one side, and fortunately retaining his hold of the bridle as the cob scrambled up.