Environed by difficulties, with two companions depending upon his inventive genius for escape from a most unpleasant position, no light breaking upon the dark road which seemed to stretch out before him, Parsons did all but despair. Think as he might, no good would come of it, and so, after some minutes, he said:
“Well, Charley, it ain’t no use. We can’t git out.”
A groan was the only response, so he continued:
“But that ain’t no reason why we can’t stay in. They say, ‘what ain’t hid’s best hid,’ an’ we’ll try it. There’s plenty of room to lay by here, an’ ef we can only throw ’em off the scent a leetle, it may work. Jist come along now.”
Diving right into the thick underbrush, Parsons led the way, until they came to the side of the basin which they were in. Here, in a clump of evergreens, he placed them, and then began to retrace his footsteps, first charging them not to move until they heard from him.
As he returned to the spring, he effaced, as much as possible, the marks of the passage of himself and friend.
Stepping lightly into the open space at the spring, he looked carefully around. Nothing unusual met his eye, nor did any suspicious sound fall upon his ear.
“Strange, ther’ ain’t no sound from ’em yit,” was his muttered cogitation. “Tom Rutter must hev got most cussedly careless since he got among the Blackfeet, or he’d hev missed the girl afore this. It ain’t so likely neither; but there’ll be something’ up soon.”
While thinking thus, Jacob was adjusting the saddle of his steed. With a bound he had vaulted into his seat, but scarcely had he settled there, when, from the rocks above him, in the direction of Free Trappers’ Cave, came a wild yell.
Drawing in a long breath, he gave vent to an answering cry, so loud and clear, as even to astonish himself. A moment, horse and rider stood motionless, then, with a renewed cheer, he dashed boldly and at full speed toward the mouth of the basin and the plain.