The trapper shouldered his rifle and started down the road at a rapid run, with Julian close at his heels.
When they passed the first bend in the road a man came out of the bushes, where he had been concealed, and followed after them with noiseless footsteps. Julian did not see him, and neither did he see the dark forms that were hidden behind the trees and rocks on each side of the path; he saw no one except his guide until he came suddenly around the base of a cliff and found himself in front of a camp-fire, beside which lay half-a-dozen rough-looking men stretched out on their blankets.
Julian stopped when this unexpected sight greeted his eyes, but his guide kept on, and seating himself on the ground before the fire, jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the boy, and coolly announced:
“Here he is, fellers. Leastwise, he says that’s his name.”
Julian stood like one petrified. He looked at his guide, at the trappers that were lying around, and then his gaze wandered toward an object which he had not before noticed. It was Silas Roper, who stood on the opposite side of the fire, with his back to a tree, to which he was securely bound.
One glance at him was enough for Julian, who now saw that he had been duped. He understood the trick that had been played upon him as well as though it had been explained in words, and wondered at his own stupidity. If it had been true, as the strange trapper had told him, that Silas was keeping guard over the camp of the outlaws, and needed just one more man to enable him to effect their capture, would he have sent for an inexperienced person like himself when there were at least a score of old Indian-fighters among the emigrants? Julian told himself that he ought to have known better.
These thoughts passed through his mind in an instant of time, and in his excitement and alarm, forgetting everything except that he was in the presence of enemies, he faced about and took to his heels; but he had not made many steps when the man who had followed him from the camp, and who was none other than Sanders himself, suddenly appeared in his path.
“Not quite so fast!” said he, in savage tones. “You’re wuth a heap to us, if you only knowed it, an’ we couldn’t think of partin’ with you so soon.”
As the trapper spoke, he twisted the boy’s rifle out of his grasp, tore the belt which contained his revolvers and hunting-knife from his waist, and then seized him by the collar and dragged him toward the fire—Julian, who knew that it would be the height of folly to irritate the ruffian, offering no resistance.
“I call this a good night’s work,” continued Sanders, who seemed to be highly elated. “We’ve been waitin’ fur both them fellers fur more’n a year, an’ we’ve got ’em at last. This is Julian. I knowed him the minute I sot my eyes onto him, and could have picked him out among a million. He hain’t changed a bit in his face, but he’s grown a heap taller an’ stouter, an’ p’raps is a leetle livelier on his legs than he was when me an’ him run that foot-race eight year ago. Remember that—don’t you, youngster?”