Frank on the Prairie

by Harry Castlemon

After this, they again relapsed into silence, and as soon as they had finished their breakfast, went out to catch their horses. Frank accompanied them; all his old fears that there was something wrong, revived with redoubled force, and he was anxious to leave the company of his new acquaintances as soon as possible. When he had caught and saddled Pete, he left him standing for a few moments, until he secured his rifle and haversack, and when he turned to mount, he saw one of the trappers seize the horse by the bridle and spring into the saddle. Frank gazed in surprise at these movements, but before he could speak, the swarthy trapper turned suddenly upon him, exclaiming:

“Look a here, stranger! Ye come here last night without nobody’s askin’ ye, an’ tells us some kind of a story ’bout yer bein’ lost, an’ all that. Now, mebbe yer all right, an’ mebbe ye aint. Ye may have friends no great way off, that ye kalkerlate to bring down on us; but ye can’t ketch old foxes like us in no sich trap as that ar’. We’re jest goin’ to take yer hoss to keep yer from findin’ yer friends ag’in in a hurry. Yer young fur sich bisness as this yere, an’ if ye didn’t look so mighty innercent, I’d split yer wizzen fur ye. So now be off to onct, an’ don’t never cross our trail ag’in. If ye do—” The trapper finished the sentence by shaking his head threateningly.

Frank listened to this speech in utter bewilderment. He could scarcely believe his ears. But it was plain that the trappers were in earnest, for the one who had mounted Pete held his own horse by the bridle, in readiness to start. He fully realized his helpless situation, and it almost overpowered him. But, at length, he found courage to say:

“You are certainly mistaken. I am lost. I don’t know where to go to find my friends, and, if you take my horse from me, I may never find them again. Besides, what is your object in robbing me?”

“Wal, now, stranger,” said the trapper, dropping the butt of his rifle to the ground, and leaning upon the muzzle of the weapon, “we jest aint a goin’ to stand no foolin’. We b’lieve yer a spy, an’ ar’ goin’ to bring Bob Kelly an’ the rest of yer friends down on us. That’s jest what’s the matter. The prairy is cl’ar, thar aint no Injuns to massacree ye; ye have a good pair of legs, so trot off on ’em to onct. Ye can be glad enough that we didn’t tie ye up to a tree, an’ leave ye to the wolves. If ole Kelly could get his hands on us, we’d be used a heap wusser nor robbin’, an’ you know it well enough. An’ when ye see the ole chap, ye can tell him that the next time he wants to try to ketch Black Bill, he’ll have to get up a better trick nor this yere. Come, now, mizzle—sally out to onct—an’ don’t stop to talk, ’cause it won’t do no arthly good whatsomever. Yer hoss is gone—that’s settled—an’, if yer shootin’ iron were any ’count, we’d a tuk that too. We’ve left ye three loads, an’ that’ll kill game enough to do ye till ye find yer friends. Come, walk off—make yourself skeerce, sudden.”

There was a wicked, determined look in the trapper’s eye that told Frank that he was in earnest; and, fully convinced that it would be useless to remonstrate, and fearful that if he did not obey the order, the man would fulfill his threat of tying him to a tree, and leaving him to the mercy of the wolves, he shouldered his rifle, and, with a heavy heart, set off on his journey.

When he reached the top of a high swell, about half a mile from the camp, he looked back, and saw the trappers riding off at a rapid gallop, Pete playing and prancing with his new rider as if he was perfectly satisfied with the change. Frank watched them as long as they remained in sight, and then, throwing himself on the ground, covered his face with his hands, and gave away to the most bitter thoughts. What could have induced the trappers to act so treacherously? Did they really suspect him of being a spy, or was that merely an excuse to rob him in his defenseless situation? The whole transaction was involved in a mystery he could not fathom, nor was it at all probable that he could arrive at a solution until he should see Dick or old Bob Kelly. Would he ever see them again, was a question he dare not ask himself. The chances were certainly not in his favor, situated as he was, alone, in the midst of an unbroken wilderness, the prairie stretching away, on one hand, as far as his eye could reach, the Rocky Mountains looming up on the other. But he was not one to look altogether upon the dark side of the picture. It had a bright side as well, and he found that he had reason to congratulate himself that the outlaws—for such he now knew them to be—had let him off so easily. What if they had left him bound to a tree, as they had threatened? The chances were not one in a hundred that he would ever have been released. Although his horse had been taken from him, he had been allowed to go free, and to retain his rifle and hunting-knife. Yes, his situation might have been infinitely worse. He still had much to be grateful for, and, as long as he had life, he would cherish the hope of being able to find his way to his friends. As these thoughts passed through his mind, they brought renewed strength and determination, and, rising to his feet, he again set out at a brisk walk.

He remembered that the outlaws had told him that, in order to reach the old bear’s hole, he must travel in a direction exactly opposite to the one he was pursuing; but he had good reason to believe that they had endeavored to mislead him. When he took his involuntary ride, he was careful to remember the points of the compass, and, as Pete had carried him exactly south, of course, in order to reach his friends, he must travel north. He had no compass, but the sun was just rising, and he was able to calculate all the points from that. Having settled this to his satisfaction, he began an examination of his haversack, and found that its contents had been thoroughly overhauled—no doubt while he was asleep—and that the outlaws had left him three cartridges for his rifle, and his flint and steel. All the other articles, which consisted of several rounds of ammunition for his revolvers (which had gone off with his horse), stone arrow-heads, spear-heads, the claws of the bear that Dick had killed in the cave, and numerous other relics which Archie had collected since leaving St. Joseph, had all been abstracted.

In spite of his unpleasant situation, Frank could not repress a smile, when he thought how indignant his cousin would be, when he received an account of his losses. Having completed his examination, and placed his remaining cartridges carefully away in his pocket, he resumed his journey, and, just as he reached the top of a swell, he discovered a horseman galloping rapidly along the edge of the willows that fringed the base of the mountains. The thought that he saw something familiar, about both the horse and his rider, had scarcely passed through Frank’s mind, when he was electrified by the sight of a large brindle dog, which ran in and out of the bushes, with his nose close to the ground, now and then uttering an impatient bark, which was answered by yells of encouragement from the horseman. There was no mistaking that yell, and Frank ran down the swell, swinging his hat, and endeavoring to attract the attention of the man with a voice which, in his excitement, he could scarcely raise above a whisper. But he was discovered. Both dog and horseman turned toward him, and, a moment afterward, Frank had one arm around the neck of Useless, and his hand was inclosed in the trapper’s vice-like grasp.