“Thar hain’t no need of wastin’ time an’ words over it,” said Dick, hurriedly. “This hoss’s lariat has been cut with a knife, an’ he’s come home. Fred didn’t cut it himself, in course; so something’s happened to them boys, an’ me an’ Bob’s got to see about it, to onct. We’d oughter gone two days ago. I kinder felt it in my bones.”
The Club and Uncle Dick said plainly enough by their actions that if the trappers were going to look for the missing boys, they were not going alone. A general rush was made for bridles, saddles and weapons, and confusion reigned supreme until Uncle Dick took the management of affairs into his own hands. Two of the boys were directed to hitch the mules to the wagon, drive them up to the Fort and request permission of the colonel to leave them there until they should be called for; another was instructed to strike the tent and pack it away in the wagon; another to get out a supply of bacon, hard-tack and coffee sufficient to last them a week; and the two trappers to saddle the horses. Uncle Dick himself bundled up the blankets; and order being thus established, and each one having a certain duty to perform, everything was done in a very short space of time.
Colonel Gaylord readily promised to take charge of such of the Club’s property as they wished to leave behind, and took the trouble to come down to camp to see what the matter was. When he had heard Uncle Dick’s story, he generously offered him a squad of cavalry to assist in hunting up the boys, but the trappers said they didn’t need it.
In half an hour the whole party were in the saddle and the Fort was out of sight. Frank Nelson, of course, led the way. He went at such a rate of speed that the foot-hills were reached a little after midnight, and there Dick Lewis ordered a halt. The storm was by this time fairly under way, and a terrible one it was, too. Walter and the rest of the boys from Louisiana, who had never experienced anything of the kind before, were amazed at its violence, and even Uncle Dick and the two trappers, who had “roughed it” all their lives, said it was something rather out of the ordinary. It continued all night, and the next morning the little hollows between the swells were filled with snow. The wind seemed to blow with redoubled force as the day advanced, but it was at their backs, and by keeping close along the edge of the hills, Uncle Dick and his party were in some measure protected from its fury. They were all warmly clad and suffered but little from the cold. They did not stop again until near the middle of the afternoon, and then a circumstance happened which gave the Club an opportunity to gain some idea of the wonderful skill in woodcraft possessed by their two backwoods companions. Dick Lewis, who was riding by Frank’s side, suddenly drew rein, turned his horse’s head toward the willows which lined the base of the hills, and after snuffing the air a few times, looked inquiringly at old Bob. The latter nodded his head and Dick exclaimed: “It hain’t fur off. We must go back.”
“What isn’t far off, and why must we go back?” asked George.
“I smell smoke,” replied Dick.
The boys looked at one another a moment, but none of them could understand the matter.
“Now I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” said Perk. “Suppose you do smell smoke; what of it?”
“Why thar’s a fire around here somewhere,” answered the trapper; “an’ whar thar’s a fire thar must have been somebody to set it agoin’.”
The boys understood it now, and exhibited no little surprise. They snuffed the air repeatedly, but their senses were not as keen as those of the trappers, and they could detect no smell of smoke. But Dick and old Bob could, and they followed it up with all the sagacity of a brace of hounds. They skirted the hills for a quarter of a mile or more, breasting the fierce wind which almost took their breath away, and then Dick suddenly reined his horse into the willows. He kept straight ahead, turning neither to the right nor left, and presently brought his companions within sight of the fire.