For a second the idea of self-destruction flashed through Adele’s mind. What so easy as to fling herself away over the rocks, and at once put an end to her troubles, and to life itself? Friendless and alone, in the power of an outlawed desperado, with but little hope of succour, why should she longer live?
It was but for a second. Far behind, from the darkness, echoed the sound of a horse’s hoof striking against a stone—she was not entirely deserted—friends yet sought her; rescue might be near at hand. Why, then, despond? The steeds ceased their upward motion. For the present their journey was at an end.
Apparently proceeding from the solid rock, a stout, squat-figured man emerged, bearing in his hand a small lantern. He glanced at the two a moment; then, in a hard, dry voice:
“So yer comin’ back to the nest once more, Tom Rutter; and you bring a purty bird along. Come in, and I’ll put the hosses away.”
“Shade that light, will yer, if yer don’t want a ball to come up here. Thar’s somebody comin’ through the pass that’s lookin’ for somethin’ he’s lost, and if he catches sight o’ that glim, there may be an extra job put out that I don’t keer about havin’ a hand in.”
“Ho, ho!” laughed the man with the lantern, as he put the slide down. “Ho, ho! somebody looking for a lost thing in Free Trappers’ Pass! There’s lots o’ them things goes in, but powerful few goes out. What’s he lost, Tom? A bit calico, or a back load o’ pelts, or a money purse? Them’s bad things to loose on the prairie or mountains, but nice to find, most mighty nice, most—”
Here his words became indistinct, for he had entered a fissure in the rocks; but something very like an oath emphasized the concluding sentence. Tom Rutter and Adele followed.
The light from the lantern, which was now permitted to stream forth, was but barely sufficient to give the captive some idea of where she was.
The air felt damp and cave-like to her, and, looking around, Adele saw, as, indeed, she expected to see, that the place was part of a cavern, of how great an extent it was impossible to say. The man who was, for the time being, porter, led the horses to one side, and then returned to where Rutter was standing.
“Come on, Tom; we have the kennel all to ourselves to-night. All the boys are out, an’ if Big Dick don’t come back, we’ll hev a nice evenin’ of it. Strike into the room, an’ tell us whar you come from, how you got that bloody face, and whar you picked up that young squaw. I ain’t seen a face for three or four days, an’ am splittin’ for somebody to talk to.”