«j sn^ V«> rMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V ^ij.. /. ^ ^ I. I.I 2.0 % 1^ 1.25 1.8 \A. mil 1.6 % ^ '/ Photographic Sciences Corporation 4" ^\ ^ ^ :\ \ i^ ..^4. ^ n WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^ <> V-'^<^ ^v*#.^^ :<»- CIHM/ICMH Microfiche CIHIVI/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques O \ y!> Tectmical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. D Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur r~| Covers damaged/ Couverture endommag^e Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurie et/ou pellicui^e Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque Coloured maps/ Cartes g^ographiques en couleur Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bieue ou notrel Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material/ ReliA avec d'autres documents n n n Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along intet-ior margin/ La re liure serree peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distorsion le long de la marge intdrieure Blank leaves added during restoration may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajouties lors dune restauration apparaissent dans le texte, mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont pas iti filmies. Additional comments:/ Commentaires suppldmentaires; L'Institut a microfilme le muilleur exemplaire quil lui a ati possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du point de vue bibliograpnique, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la mithode normale de tilmage sont indiquis ci-dessous. I I Coloured pages/ Pages de couleur Pages damaged/ Pages endommag^es Pages restored and/oi Pages restaurees et/ou peiliculdes Pages discoloured, stained or foxe« Pages ddcolorees, tachet^es ou piquees Pages detached/ Pages d^tachees I I Pages damaged/ I I Pages restored and/or laminated/ r~] Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ □ Pages detached/ Pages ^y Showthrough/ Transparence □ Quality of print varies/ Quality indgale de I'impression □ Includes supplementary material/ Comorend du matArial snnnlamAn T tl 7 p fl c b tl si o fi o Comprend du materiel supplementaire Only edition available/ Seule Edition disponible Tl si Tl w IM di er bi rl! re m D Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been reftlmed to ensure the best possible image/ Les pages totalement ou partieilement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata. une pelure, etc., cnt 6t6 filmies d nouveau de facon ^ obtenir la meilleure image possible. This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est film* a j taux de reduction indiqud ci-dessous. ^OX 14X 18X 22X / 12X 16X 20X 26X 30X 24X 28X 32X re letails is du nodifier ir une ilmage IS The copy filmed hare has been reproduced thanks to the generosity of: Library Trent University, Peterborough The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original co^y and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated Impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. The last recorded frame on each microfich shall contain the symbol ^^ (meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many framoA as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: L'exemplaire filmi fut reproduit gr§ce d la g4nArosit6 de: Library Trbnt University, Peterborough Les images suivantes ont 6ti reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et de la nettet« de I'sKemplaire film*, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. Les examplaires origfnaux dont la rouverture en papier est imprimde sont filmis en commenpant par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la derniire page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second plat, salon le c Xonbon NISBET & GO. LTD. 22 BBRNBRS STRBBT, W.l TT P^^'^lS./^ZSi-M niNTSn IN CMAT BRITAIN BY UORKISON AND GIBB P187ti LTD., COINBCIKGg PREFACE ^OT so many years ago, when the facilities for travel were different from what they are now, a great deal of rubbish and erroneous im- pressions were disseminated by so called literature puiporting to deal with adventures and phases of life in certain little-known places of the earth. There are some authors who still think that no matter how absurd and misleading their local colouring may be, the pictorial element is every- thing. I venture to think otherwise. In my rolling-stone experience I have found fact much stranger than fiction, and have gleaned from real life and nature a knowledge of men and things which stands me in better s*^-^ ' th n any flight of the imagination — useful . , «rs of stories as that faculty is. I can, at least, claim truthfulness for this story, as I lived for some years iri . /ild and fascinating portion of "The Great Lone Land," described in these pages, as a mounted police officer in charge of that part of the frontier So, the cowboys, the mounted police- men, the Indians, and even the bears and the smugglers, are all old friends jf mine. John Mackie. 18i.o^i.i. f I TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAPTER I. '*•■ A RuDi AwAKEZ :ng i CHAPTER H. Cast on mt own Resources ..... m CHAPTER III. I Run AWAY 19 CHAPTER IV An Odd Adventure . . . . . . a8 CHAPTER V. The Unexpected Happens ,1 CHAPTER VI. A Duel TO THE Death .j X CONTENTS. CHAPTER VII. The Mor iTED Police arrive . PAGE 58 CHAPTER VIII. The Escape OP Make-Thunder . 69 CHAPTER IX. The Primeval Wilderness ^ I CHAPTER X. A Strange Journey . . . . * • • 90 CHAPTER XI. In THi Laud of the Lost Spirits . » . . ,0, i!^^ if I m CHAPTER XII. * A Mystery Revealed ... • . • • • • 113 CHAPTER XIIL A Grim Aiternativk . CHAPTER XIV. A Mad Smuggler 120 133 PACK 80 90 lOI 113 120 CONTENTS. xi CHAPTER XV FACB A STRANG! Prison ,^ CHAPTER XVI. In Captivity .... ...o • • • . 150 CHAPTER XVII. A Mysterious Friend ,y, CHAPTER XVIII. We Attempt to Escape . . , , . .184 CHAPTER XIX. The Pursuit .196 CHAPTER XX. The Great Fight jog CHAPTER XXI. To the Death ai^ CHAPTER XXII. After the *=torm • . . 230 T XU CONTMNTS, CHAPTER XXIII. Sioux Iwdians on the War Path ... FAei 242 CHAPTER XXIV. A Ride for Life 255 CHAPTER XXV All's Well that Ends Well . 36; FAea 342 255 a6; THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. CHAPTER I. A RUDE AWAKENING. I, Walter Derringham, was sixteen years of age, and had come home from Harrow for my summer holidays. Perhaps I should not use the word "home," for my real one had been broken up years before on the death of my father and mother, so when not at school I lived with an uncle, GUbert Derringham, a well-to-do, middle-aged bachelor, at his comfortable old country house in Middlesex. He loved to sHp through Ufe so quietly, and was so accustomed to getting his own way, that no one dreamt he would risk his independence by taking to him- self a life-partner. When one day, however, he married a society-loving widow, who was reportt^d to have a mind and very decided opinions of her own, and who had, moreover, a family of three, it must be confessed that I, like many more, was considerably astonished, and felt not a little sore on the subject Indeed, my B HI s ■■" ¥ « TffS HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. uncle's old housekeeper. Nanny, who had been ^^'Z "" '^^"'y y^^^' felt so aggrieved that she gave notice to leave on the spot. I fancy Z,r»w T '^*'' ''"Trised, when the day came, that she actually did leave, for he had not been accustomed to take his old housekeeper seriously, and it is unlikely it ever crossed Ws simple mmd that the best of servants do not care about changes, more particularly when elL th'l ""^ '""'*°'"^ *° ^""^''^^^ th«'»- selves their own mistresses. As for the two other servants, thev waited until my uncle brought home his wife, and then tti that^r T"" /' "^^ •>"''« -"-* " them that their days of peace and plenty were norU: VT""' '■'^' ^^'^ sorts%„T could not help feelmg sorry for them. But. at the same time, I did not exactly care about Se tZlTfi't T T'^^^«"8^ """"ner which they thought fit to adopt towards me. They were the r/ ^^^- *"' ^^« positively painf'llTaU iVstA'T? J'"""'' *° ''^^^ left them, and with sad headshakmgs they would r«fer va^ely to certain scheming usurpers, and the altered nature of what they chose to consider my bewT''" • ^ '""""^"^ "'^y ^«'« f«' from bemg complimentary to their master, and on more than one occasion I overheard them speak of him as "that old fool." At the time, I con- sidered their attitude was most unjust and unkind ; now it is evident to me they know my poor uncle better than I did. This admission A RVDE A WAKENING. may savour of ingratitude, but having at least on one occasion overheard Gilbert Derringhara admit as much himself, it is not altogether inexcusable. 6>=>"" The woman he married was unprincipled and scheming, and from the moment she came to the Cedars showed herself in her true colours, particularly to those whose good graces she did not think It worth while to cultivate. Still she seemed to exercise some mysterious influence over my uncle ; for never have I seen a good man so much the slave and the cat's-paw of a bad woman. It often puzzled me to think how a man, whom I knew to be generous and honourable, could give in to a woman's projects which in his heart he must have condemned. ♦ ^J''^ "Jf'/' *^ marriage, but when I stood at the hall door with a few others to welcome my uncle and his wife on their home-coming, I felt instinctively that the Cedars was no longer my home and that I was considered an in^der. Mrs. Gilbert Derringham might have been good-lookmg once upon a time, but when she looked one up and down sharply, with those hard, calculating blue eyes of hers, I wondered what a man could see in a mere mask of flesh and blood, with nothing behind it but what was soulless and sordid. She was socially ambitious, and my elders have told me that some women will sacrifice everything to this fehsh, especially those who ar« not by nature ladies. 4 THE MART OF TRS PKAfRIE. with a high hand, for within a fewdavs ^ mad9 my position puin to me in tte preset- of my uncle. Her assumed air of kindli^^H admitted. seemeJS'al'amiV' T ^ *" view which I will now relate '"**'' She was loth to srv^aV f/% ^« not I was aware that all that was left t„ J I my deceased father's estate I ""* °^ worth!*,. =fc ■ *® ^'^^ * number of S f ' '" ^ Queensland gold mini wS Lrr ''"'' ^^""^^ "O dividends?l^d Which, mdeed was being worked at a loss i. o a~h: ,\tS'7 f°^- P-HaJsTw" the ch^;,*of my i^ ^°"^ »-- Hving upon GUbert Derringham here lifted his I,»„h deprecatingly, and as if to stoThei but t^ woman went on. ^ * ^^^ *"* That had been all verv wpIT c«. i uncle was unmarried, but^now th« ^^^^ ""' responsibilities, it was not ri!» ^ "*' he could afford to ply the hlaw ^^^ *" public school any Wer ? '^^*"'^' °^ " seventeenth year did I L i-?' "°^ '" ""^ Ko out intn IT fi °* *'"'' " '^as time to feif :::"g tttiruid wr"^*'"'^ ^°' -^- help as hefetoforer ^ *^P*=' *^ ^'»- I turned hot and cold on hearing these things. h TRIE. 3anT things »w days she he presence f kindliness reived me if it must be f the inter* >n, she said, e know my whether or t to me of number of g'old mine, dends, and a loss in laps I was ving upon lis hands f, but the ng" as my had new Jcted that uses of a w in my ts time to r for my. the same 5e things. ^ ^^DE AWAKENING. nrif ^T^' '""" "^^^^^^^y ^^'^^itive, and mv pride had received a s^^vere shnot at ^ looked ashamed and de'I^rd ^"u 'at'^^sri ing ll^stllT " "°* particularly edify- hl^'i •!, ^ ^^'"P®^' ^"d told his wife if I had lived upon my uncle's charity it hTd hi done i„ ignorance of my true posl". He ha" aUowed me to think that the money he JlL t. and what he paid for my educatiL , . ' What was due?o me i^or/r^Tvo^t^el^llS but It had turned out cruelly for me I wnnM take nothing from either of them any loTger and so far as sh A mim«^i > -r -^ stinger, «*r d,s sne, my uncle's wife, was concern*.H to send her two sons to school, and was afraM there would not be money enoJgh for al of us I wound up by saying that as she had ost no time m showing her hand, and had taken such Z alwlf """ '" P""'"^ *^ '-* "before me as brutally as possible, I made no apolo^ 7^ speaking as I did. apoiogy for I never before in mv lifo t,=.^ i plainly to anyone anrf ,> • ^P"""^" ^° seemed to have changed from a boy into a m«n ""al^o^f mr;" t^ -^'^ ^« -^ ness that she was incapable of speech My f f! I M I i' I' 6 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. uncle looked more distressed than ever, but I had sense enough to know that he was in the woman's power and so hurried from the room. Had my two half-cousins been like some of my late school companions I would have gone to them at once and told them of my troubles ; but although there was not a great deal of difference in our ages, they aped the ways of men in a manner that was ludicrous, and seemed to prefer the companionship of stable-boys and grooms to that of their social equals, so they were not to be thought of. I was passing through a side door to my favourite nook in the plantation when I almost ran against my third new cousin, whose exist- ence, I admit, till then had hardly given me a thought. Properly speaking, she was not Mrs. Derringham's daughter, but a dead brother's child who had left her fairly well off, and it was currently supposed that it was her income which had kept the whole family going until her scheming aunt's second marriage. She was about the same age as myself, and had what I considered to be red hair. There was certainly lots of it, and though I had heard my uncle say it was very wonderful hair and much admired by people who knew about such matters, it would be outside the truth to say that I did. She was a shy girl, with large hazel eyes which gave one the idea that she was always terribly in earnest and thinking of all sorts of things. I fancy there was something in it, when people W I A RUDE A WAKENING. said they were fine eyes. There could be no doubt about the clearness and the softness of hersk.n; but that could only have appealed to g.rl.s who put such an incon.prehensible value on complexions : such a thing could hardly interest me, a boy. She had hitherto bare y spoken to me, but I Hked the look in her eyes they seemed to say such a lot. and I felt certaiti nice'gtf"' "' '°'°"' °' •'"^ ''^'^' ^"^ --« » I expected she would stand aside shyly to let me pass and so she did at first ; but the moment she looked mto my face with those great, un- canny eyes of hers. I never saw such \ chlnge come over a girl i„ r.y life. Her painM embarrassment left her in a moment, and s^^e stepped right in front of me suSldaUr" ' ''"'^'''''' —"^^ "Walter," she said softly and perfectly at her ease, "won't you tell me about it f Has Mr! perrmgham been saying anything to you > I know she has-Oh, what a%han.e! I didn' think she would have the courage to " '■She got something back that she didn't 'he^^'f' "''"'■'"■" ' '"^--Pted. watching before that there was so much in it. and she really had wonderful eyes. That was doubtless glance. Whichever way it was. there wa.i something so genuine and kindly i^ hlr mannL • THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. that I could not pass by without appearing -o notice her as I had at first intended. " What did you say to her ? " asked the girl anxiously. " Oh ! it's a long story and wouldn't interest you ! " I replied. " By the way, what's your name ? I forget it." I somehow began to think I should like to know her name ; there was something so frank and honest about her. I began to feel sorry that she was only a girl, and not a boy. Other- wise, I am sure she would have made a splendid chum. Why a smile should have dawned and rippled over the girl's face when I asked this simple question I cannot say. But there is no account- ing for a girl's fancy. However, she pulled herself up short and tried to look serious. I noticed, for the first time, that there was a mole like a beauty spot on her left cheek, and two wonderful dimples in the neighbourhood of her chin ; I never thought before that dimples could be nice to look at. To remind her of the fact that I had asked a simple ouestion, I again inquired her name. ** Muriel," she replied, "but surely it cannot interest you ! " She had used ray own words and paid me back in my own coin just as a boy would have done. I thought it rather plucky of her, so told her in as few words as possible what had occurred. She seemed greatly interested and A RUDE AWAKENING, never once interrupted me. When I had tinished, she rather abruptly asked,— " What are you going to do, Walter ? " ^' Clear out," I replied, "and at once. If they won't let me, I'll run away." '*Come into the garden, she said, "and talk n over. 1 know where there^s such a jolly quiet a* :l ''r ,4 i^ if " m CHAPTER IT. CAST ON MY OWN K>:SOURCES. The girl's name was Muriel Wray, and I some- how felt glad that it was not Derringham. When she slipped her arm into mine in order to lead me to the quiet place she spoke about in the garden, I thought it was rather like taking liberties, seeing she was only a girl. But she seemed so very friendly towards me, and there was something else about her — something that I cannot quite describe, but which put me in mind of looking at a very beautiful flower, and was soothing and restful to my stormy frame of mind just then — that made me go passively with her. At the same time, if I had met my half- cousins or even a man-servant, I would un- doubtedly have freed her arm from mine. I thought it was so silly of a boy to be seen going about in sl ,l ti chummy fashion with a girl, even although tliat girl was what might be called pretty. We reached the lonely spot she spx) about, which was simply an old summer-house at the ISair end of the garden, overlooking a little : >1 ji: CAST ON MY OWN RESOURCES. II •; stream, and she led me into it, sitting down opposite. The little table was between us, but I hoped that no one would come and find us there ; I always hated being chaffed about girls. Muriel Wray broke the silence by saying that I was talking nonsense about going away all at once ; neither my uncle nor my new aunt dreamt that I should do such a thing. Of course I could stop at the Cedars until I had made up my mind as to my future career, and then go off to London, or elsewhere, like any other sensible young fellow. I might have to board with people or go into lodgings while I was learning my businrss, but that was a matter of course. She knew Mrs. Derringham was exaggerating my poverty when she declared that I was utterly dependent on my uncle. She had heard that I had interests which might at any time bring me in lots of money. I did not know until long afterwards that Muriel had gone to my uncle and tried to persuade him to use some of her own means on my behalf, on the sole condition that he was never to say a word about it to anyone. As for my running away, she expressed the hope that I would do nothing so foolish. When I told her that the one great ambition of my life- was to travel in strange countries, and ex- perience some of the wonderful adventures I had read about, the warm blood mounted into her white skin for a moment, and her eyes gleamed like two stars. I went on to say that f m i^ k i 12 Tffi: HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. if I were condemned to sit on a three-legged stool in a musty office, I would never have any such opportunities, and that even if I became rich as a Rothschild, I should still regret not having followed my natural bent. The girl's small hands twitched nervously on her lap, and her eyes wandered away to the opposite bank, as I spoke like this. I believe that in her heart the girl v^as brimming over with romance, and that had she been a boy she would not have hesitated one moment to pursue the course I now meditated. But it is my belief that with that odd vein of practicality, which I am told some women possess, she advised me against what she herself would have chosen for my own good. As I watched her sitting, look- ing out into the dim depths of the pine wood opposite with a thoughful look in her eyes, I began to wonder how it was I had hitherto seemed to look upon her only as a girl who was hardly worth the passing notice of a boy in his seventeenth year. She seemed to have suddenly grown ever so much older than myself, and when a little shaft of sunlight straggled in through the lattice-work, and flooded the silky tangles of her hair as with a glory, I wondered how I could ever have called it red and seen no beauties in it. Red it was not; it reminded one of that rare, soft, golden tinge that the setting sun leaves behind it in the fleecy clouds after thfe rain. I began to be rather ashamed of having treated her in such an off-hand way, and I won- I ' \% 1- I CA ST ON MY O WN RESOURCES. 1 3 dered if she had noticed it. The situation, I fancied, required some explanation. I cleared my throat to attract her attention and said something, but what it was it is impos- sible for me now to remember. I came to a dead stop, conscious of having wandered from the point, and thought she looked at me with a gleam of awakened interest in her eyes. " I'm afraid 1 haven't explained myself very clearly,'' I observed, wondering what it was I had said, and feeling my utter inability to explain the delicate nature of what was in my mind. " Then, I wouldn't trouble to, if I were you," she rejoined, laughingly. " I really didn't think there was anything rude in your manner towards me. I did think you were just a trifle awkward, but when you know me better you won't be: boys generally like me." '* I should fancy they did," I said, in a sudden burst of frankness, and then I pulled myself up short, and found myself thinking that it was an awful piece of cheek on the part of the other boys to like her. It was doubtless natural enough on their part, but it seemed to me that if I snould get to like her very much, I would not care about sharing her with other fellows. In a few minutes more I was talking to her just as if she had been an old school-fellow • it was difiicult to believe that a girl should know so much, and seem to enter so heartily into thf» plans and projects of a boy. In a quar. .r of an 14 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. ft' f ii I hour I had agreed to respect the powers that were, and not do anything rash, untfl at least I had proof positive they were going to force me into some line of life utterly unsuited to my tastes. We must have been some considerable time in that summer-house, although strangely enough I hardly noticed it ; for she told me a good deal about herself that considerably interested me, and it seemed to give me an odd sort of consola- tion to think there were others who felt a good deal alone in the world, and who accordingly had to make the best of things. I began to think that girls were not so very bad after all, and that she had not bored me in the least. It was she who first rose to go, and then I felt myself in an awkward fix, as all my old prejudices sprang into life again. I didn't care to be seen going with the girl to the house. When she looked up into my face with those wonderful eyes of hers, I could have sworn she guessed my thoughts, for she came towards me, and holding out her hand as if to ratify our agreement, said " Now, don't forget your promise. You needn't trouble to come to the house with me. I'll see you again at dinner. Be good to yourself till then." It was as good as a glimpse of sunshine to see the cheerfulness on her face. I took her hand, sheepishly enough no doubt, as she came close up to me and looked into my fece with an odd, half shy look of inquiry in it. Iliere was something in that look that sent the i « I i CAST ON MY OWN RESOURCES. 15 blood tingling through m- veins, and for the life of me I could not tell why. I had never until that moment imagined that any face could be so beautiful, and there was such a world of sympathy in her eyes, that for the moment I felt myself the slave of an unreasoning impulse. I caught up her hand in my two, drawing her slightly towards me, and then as her eyes dropped before mine, I took sudden fright and released her. Now that I thmk of it, she must have thought me an awful fool, I know now that I had never before come so near kissing a girl. When she had gone I sat down again, and it was as if a new interest had come into my life. I had always felt very much alone in the world, for my uncle, although kind to me, seemed ever- lastingly engrossed in his own pursuits; and what with having no one older than myself to talk to and advise me as to my future, it is more than likely less thought was bestowed on the matter than is usual witii boys of my age. I had been an insatiable reader of books of travel and adventure, and I had never entertained any idea other than that of leading an out-of-door, free, stirring existence. Moreover, having got it into my head that there was no occasion to trouble about the future in a worldly sense, I had not that insight into my capabilities and dis- qualifications that other boys usually have, who are impressed with the fact that they must depend entirely upon their own exertions to gain a livelihood. Perhaps my uncle was not a little NfH I 16 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. to blame in the matter, but doubtless he had meant well. I know now that it is the greatest curse that can befall a boy to bring him up in the knowledge that his future is assured. Whether it is or not, the greatest blessing and legacy chat a parent or guardian can confer upon a child is a clear understanding and appreciation of that sovereign remedy. Work. I had lived in a world of books and dreams, and had lost sight of the stern practicalities of life. It was but natural that I should have my views corrected in the world of which I knew so little. The base metal must be separated from the true ore sooner or later, and that means the refiner*s fire. But to be brief, Mrs. Derringham hadorevailed upon my uncle to find a situation for me in a lawyer's office in the city. This was done with jut consulting my inclinations in the slight- est, and though my uncle, when he told me the news, was somewhat shamefaced, and hinted vaguely about finding something better for me later on, I felt that the time had come to shift for myself. I felt that an indoor life, such as was proposed, was something quite irreconcil- able with my nature. I thanked my uncle for all his past kindness to me and begged him either to find some out-of-door work, to let me go out and take my chance in the Colonies, or let me shift for myself. I believe he would have given in to my wishes if it had not been for his wife, for she at once tried to ridicule what she called the unreasonableness and absurdity of my fi CAST ON My OWN RESOURCES. ij plans, accused me of ingratitude, and began to exercise a series of mean, little restraints over me that was galling in the extreme. Even her sons would have nothing to do with me, and I believe they were only prevented from showing their dislike in a more marked fashion by the obvious fact that I was rather a strong, weU-set- up lad for my years, and would be likely to resent an insult. For the next few weeks my life would have been unbearable had it not been for Muriel Wray. We had become great friends, and I could not believe that a girl could have entered into a boy's life and ways as she did. Had any one told me a few wf iks before that I would become so chummy with a girl, I would have hit them. I admit that I would have run away long before I did, if it had not been for her. She advised me to be patient, and I knew that she had even spoke to my uncle himself about me. On one occasion she proved herself no coward, for Mrs. Derringham saying something to me a little more bitter than usual, caused her to speak out on my behalf; and she did It in such a plucky way that my views regarding girls were altered considerably. What also surprised me was the spirit in which Mrs. Derringham seemed to take her self-possessed words of disapproval. While she did not actually appear to fear Muriel Wray, she yet seemed disinclined to arouse her anger. I afterwards learned that she had very good reasons for assuming this attitude. Muriel lb THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE Wray was at least mistress of her own income, and Mrs. Derringham owed her a considerable sum of money. The scheming woman also con- templated a marriage later on with her eldest son, so as to have a greater hold upon her. But things came to a crisis at last. One day I told Muriel that I would like to see her after lunch in the old summer-house, as I had some- thing important to communicate. I daresay it was weak and silly of me, but I still did not care that people should see us, a boy and girl, so friendly. I daresay she was secretly amused over my weakness, but fell in with my ways unquestioningly. She never cared what people thought or said about her ; she was one of the pluckiest creatures, boy or girl, I ever met in my life. She was now in my sight quite as worthy of consideration as any boy. What I meant to tell Muriel Wray was that on the following night I meant to leave my uncle's home, make my way to London, get on a ship going abroad, and strike out for myself. I had no vQvy decided plans, but I at least had made up my mind that go I would, without any further delay. ■--*Wm.. CHAPTER III. "I RUN AWAY. >» I HAD not been long in the old summer-house before Muriel Wray came. It was a warm July- day, and she was dressed all in soft fleecy white. I know now that dark colours were her favourite ones, and suited her best, but I did not know anything about such things in those days, and of late I had begun to think that she always looked well in anything. Even to my untutored senses there was an air of finish and daintiness about her that possessed some indefinable charm She, doubtless, saw at a glance that something very serious was the matter with me, but she did not affect a concern she could hardly be expected to feel. In a quiet matter-of-fact way she said, " What is it, Walter ? Tell me all about it." I did, and it amounted to this. My uncle had told me, in the presence of my aunt, that within a week I was to be prepared to take up my resi- dence in London, as he had found an opening for me in a solicitor's office, and I would be duly articled within the next few days. Again there was an unavailing appeal on my part, and when ':it B 30 rJI£ HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, I It was received with contempt, I somewhat in- discreetly remarked that I would take good care never to cross that solicitor's threshold. Where- upon I was forbidden to leave the grounds until such time as it came for me to take my departure To cut a long story short, I had secretly gone to my room, over-hauled my small stock of per- sonal effects, wrote a letter to my uncle which would be found next day on my dressing-table • put such clothes as I would be likely to need into a small black bag, and finally resolved that as soon as the family had retired for the night I would quietly depart to seek my fortune in foreign lands. I knew it was not a nice thing to do, to steal out of my uncle's house at dead of night, like a thief, but no other course was open to me. They would not let me go of my own tree will, and I hated making a fuss. Muriel Wray waited patiently until I had finished and then by every argument she could thmk of she tried to shake my determination. It must be confessed some of the questions she put rather staggered me. Where did I intend going ? What training and knowledge had I to prepare me for the plunge into a rough, wide- awake world r And lastly, what money had I to enable me to get out of the country ? The money question was what cornered me, tor 1 had only a five-pound note in the world. " Then you Ve got to take a loan from me,» she said, when she saw that I was determined to go. « Only a twenty-pound note, and you must I ■■-«*» / RUN AWAF. ai i» promise to write and tell me how you are getting on, and I will write to you." But it was only when I plainly enough saw that the good-hearted girl would be deeply hurt by my refusal, that I consented to take th^^ money, on the distinct understanding that it was to be repaid. I confess that during this interview I had to keep my head turned away from Muriel Wray, lest the sight of her wistful eyes might turn me from my purpose. My friends always considered me of a disposition not likely to be easily moved. In reality I was impressionable to a degree, only it went against the grain to be demonstrative. Muriel Wray insisted on being up to say good- bye to me that night when I left. I was not going to leave the old place, she said, as if I were an outcast, without a friend in the world. There need be no difficulties in the way. It was a large, old-fashioned house, and our rooms were both in the same wing; a separate staircase, and a door at the far end of the passage were pretty certain to be free from interruption. When it struck twelve on the old clock over the entrance to the stables, and it was safe to hazard that the household was asleep, it would be time for me to be off. We discussed many things in regard to the future, in a somewhat sad and half-hearted way, and then the girl took her departure. I shall never forget as long as I live f i .■>ain it occasioned me to go round the old place, and 3 .1 . as THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. say good-bye to everything : for I had looked upon the Cedars as my home, and the familiar surroundings of our boyhood make a deeper im- pression than those which come with the years. I confess I almost cried on looking for the last time at t^e pigeons on the stable roof, on patting each of the horses, and allowing Caesar, the old watch-dog, to push his cold nose into my hands. I was glad when it was all over ; I h^d hardly thought that parting from my dumb friends oould be so bitter. How that evening passed it is not difficult to remember now. All preparations for my depar- ture had been made, and my condition was 'one of feverish excitement as the hours wore on. i really felt sorry to leave my uncle Gilbert in the way I intended ; for despite the stem measures he had of late adopted towards me, I knew they were not the outcome of his own inclinations. There was still a very soft spot in my heart for him, and that evening in the drawing-room I tried to show this by being as attentive to him as possible. As for Muriel Wray, she sat in a great chair apparently reading, but I knew well she did very little of that, for the expression on her face was subdued and thoughtful, and several times I caught her looking at me over the top of her book. Once or twice she made an evident effort to rally and say something cheerful, but the result was anything but successful. When I thought of this afterwards I felt rather glad that it was so. I was very thankful indeed when .Ji, / RUN AWAF. looked ■amiliar per im- 3 years, he last patting the old hands, hardly friends icult to depar- as one on. 1 in the asures V they ations. irt for Dom I him it in a f well on on 3veral top of rident l1, but When glad when n that last evening at the Cedars came to an end. With what an ominous deliberation the old clock at the stables struck the twelve hours that night ! To me each stroke seemed full of pro- phecy, and to herald the beginning of a new life. And a new life truly it was to be, for when the hammer fell for the last time I reali'^ed that the past was done with for ever, and the new life with all its possibilities had begun. I rose from the bed on which I had flung myself; made sure that one precious relic, a fsmall locket which had belonged to my mother, hung safely on my breast inside my shirt, and then— and t^e boy who is ashamed to say as much is a fool-— I knelt down by my bedside and said my prayers. Picking up my slender belong- ings in the small black bag, I went on tip-toe along the corridor and down the old-fashioned, winding stairs. Muriel Wray had said she would be up to see me off, but surely it was more than one could expect. She was only a girl after all. and girls were always saying things they did not mean. Perhaps she repented of that burst of generosity in which she begged me to accept the loan of a twenty-pound note : girls often did such unac- countable things. I was heartily ashamed of such thoughts before they had almost passed through my mind, for in the moonlight that streamed into the hall from the fan-light above the door, I saw the shadowy " i; ', i ^1 14 Tiri: HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. figure of the girl. I approached her without speaking ; in another moment she had caught me by the hand, and, bringing her face close to mine, whispered : — " Think better of it, Walter— think better of It. No one need be the wiser if you change your mind now. You don't know what you're going to do." There was something like a catch in her breath as she spoke these words, and it required all my courage to resist them. "Come outside into the Lime Walk," I replied " we can speak better there." ' We passed into the bright moonlight and the warm summer's night, and soon were out of sight of the house. "Now we have gone far enough," I said, "but Muriel, I can't go back. I've gone so far now that the thing's impossible. I'm not a girl " Then I stopped short and doubtless looked fooli-h as I saw her great, dark eyes gazing wonderingly into mine. But she ignored the latter part of my speech, and it was the best way in which she could have punished me. " If you find you don't get on, and things go w'.'ong with you, Walter, will you come back? Don't let your pride stand in the way of your future. Remember your uncle is really very fond of you, and would be only too glad to have you back. As for Mrs. Derringham, you need not consider her in the matter at all." I told her that such a course was impossible. E*. without caught close to setter of ge your e going in her equired replied, ind the out of i, "but, ar now rl " looked gazing ed the !St way ngsgo back? f your r very 3 have 1 need ssible. I RUN AWAY* n Unless I could come back with an assured com- petency or position I could never come at all ; but I hoped to come back. And looking at her the desire to make my fortune and prove my- self no weakling was very strong within me. As I spoke, it seemed to me that for a moment a pleased look struggled through the wistfulness on her face ; but it was gone again, just as a ray of sunlight is lost in a weary sky. It was quite evident to me, although she did not say so, that she was not over sanguine in regard to my future. But it was time to be off. " I must be going," I observed. ** Let me see you back to the house." But she would iiot hear of it. "1 can go back quite well by myself," she said. '* There is just one thing more I want to speak to you about, and I am sure you won't mind me speaking about it, Walter, you see, there's no one else to do it. Promise me you'll always walk straight, and never do a mean or dishonourable action r " I felt hurt for the moment, but the girl had caught my hands in hers, and was gazing steadily into my eyes. Her face was very close to mine. It was impossible to be angry with her ; she was obviously sincere, and so terribly in earnest. "Yes," I replied, " I promise you." And the memory of that promise kept me straight more than once in my stormy after-life, when I was sorely tempted to take advantage of the moment. i >'] 16 T//£ HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, without considering whether I was pursuing a strictly honourable course or not. As we shook hands she pushed a small packet into my jacket pocket " It's the loan, Walter," she observed, "if you never repay it, it won't matter in the least, and should you want more, youVe only to write to me. I've got more than I require." I wrung her hand and turned to go, but she still held my hands. I looked into her great, brown eyes and saw something suspiciously like tears in them. I wondered why she delayed me, but the next moment I learned the reason. "Won't you kiss me, Walter?" she asked. And I did ; and now that I think of it, this thought is borne home to me. Had it not been for Muriel Wray and her disinterested love for me, I might have gone into the world that night a veritable Ishmael, and with the spirit of Ishmael in my heart: with the thought that there was not a human being who cared for me or who had the slightest interest in my life. I almost fear to think of what might have hap- pened had this been so. When I had kissed her, I turned away with a great lump in my throat, unable to say a single word, and made off through the trees. I turned when I had gone some fifteen or twenty yards and looked back. She was still standing there, a ghostly figure in the moonlight, watching me! Both of us at the same moment raised our hands to our lips, and then I turned and fled. I walked H / RUN A WAV, 2^ sharply down the avenue until I came to within a hundred yards of the Lodge gates ; but I was afraid of being seen or heard, so made a detour, and scaled the old brick wall some hundred yards to the east of it. In a few minutes more I was walking briskly eastwards on the high road to London, with a certain amount of regret when 1 thought of those, and the old life, I had left behind, but with no slight degree of hope and elation in my heart. I was fairly launched on the world now, and all its romance lay before me. I ( n « CHAPTER IV. AN ODD ADVENTURE. I ""If. ^^^" ^'""^"^^ '° ^°™e people that 1 should have chosen to run away at night when the chances were I would have to walk the whole fifteen miles to London, instead of taking train through the day and journeying comfortably in half an hour right into the metropolis. Had I pursued the latter course, however, I would most assuredly have been seen and probably stopped before I got to the end of my journey, whereas, now, even if I walked, I would be in London long belore I was missed and would have booked a steerage to Australia or South America before any one on the look out for me could interfere. 1 was not particular as to which of the two countries named I went to: I would take the hrst boat to either, and keep out of sight until hey sailed. My main desire was to get out of the countty. Never did a ooy place himself more at the disposal of chance than J did It was a lovely night, and at first I enjoyed the walk so much that it seem 3d folly to hail any of the market gardeners' waggons that rattled III AN ODD ADVENTURE. 29 past, loaded up with all sorts of fruits .nd vege- tables for Covent Garden. But my well packed black bag, although small, soon became irksome to carry ; it was a case of shifting it too often from one hand to the other. At Colnbrook my boots began tc hurt, and I sat down close to a watering trough by the roadside. Before many minutes a waggoner drove up. He had a load of cabbages piled up so high that I wondered they aid not topple over. I asked him if he would give me a seat on the front c^ the waggon with him as far as Covent Garden, and I would pay him for the ride. Before many minutes he was the richer by eighteen-pence, and I was sitting on what might be called the box seat of the waggon. I began to feel rather sleepy and at times dozed off; it is more than likely I would have fallen from my seat had it not been that the waggoner, who was a good- natured sort of man, put his arm over my shoulder and held me in my place. On one occasion I must have slept for a considerable time, for on opening my eyes, I was astonished to find that it was broad daylight, and we were jogging smoothly and silently over a wooden pavement with houses on either side. We were in London at last. Then I recognised Holland Park and the High Street, Kensington. A little farther on and Kensington Gardens was on our left. How strange it was to see the Row in the broad light of day without a single human being in it. In Piccadilly there were a 30 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. I ^ ii i. -'■ !' i 'i few hansoms and carts in the roadway, but only a solitary policeman on the pavement. It was only when we came to the Strand, and approached Covent Garden that any consider- able signs of life were apparent in the sleeping city. Saying good-bye to my friend the waggoner, I took my black bag and strolled about the market watching with interest the tons upon tons of fruits, vegetables and flowers that came pouring in from the remotest parts of England and the Continent, to satisfy the needs of the greatest conglomeration of human beings on the face of the earth, and I found myself wondering what would happen if this supply were suddenly to cease. As yet it was only four o'clock in the morning, and, though the sun was beginning to show itself, I felt cold and somewhat stiff, doubtless owing to having slept on the front seat of the waggon. A good wash and a cup of coffee with something to eat appealed to my imagination very powerfully then; but as yet, so far as I knew, there were no hotels open, so I would have to make the best of things for two or three hours at least. Wandering into a little side street, I caught sight of a coffee-stall and made straight for it. There were a few rough, furtive-eyed men who looked as if they had been up all night, loafing round it, but I did not mind that ; the coffee- stall seemed cleanliness itself, the steaming urns and the bread and butter were just what my AN ODD ADVENTURE. 3» system was craving for just then, so going up to one end of the long wooden counter, I boldly asked for refreshments, paid my two-pence, and was soon enjoying ihem, as I had seldom enjoyed a meal of the kind in my life. I remem- bered when at school turning up my nose at exactly the same fare, and the old saying came home to me with peculiar force that hunger was the best sauce. While I stood, slowly eating a second round of bread-and-butter, and drinking another cup of hot coffee, it came rather in the nature of a surprise to me to see a tall, countri- fied looking man, in evening dress and loose, unbuttoned overcoat, step up to the far corner of the stall opposite, and order the same refresh- ments as I had done. But remembering that all sorts and conditions of men in London from city clerks to peers are not above patronising coffee- stalls, not to speak of hot-potato or roasted- chestnut barrows, I overcame my surprise and lazily watched my companion. He puzzled me : he certainly was not a man-about-town, for his dress-clothes were obviously ill-fitting, and he wore a bowler hat. The man himself had a pleasant, open countenance, he was bronzed and bearded, and I at once put him down as a country-cousin who had run up to town on a short visit, and who, having been out all night at some dance or other, had come on to Covent Garden in the early morning, as many people do, to see the wonderful market. So far I was right, only, as it afterwards lijf I ! 32 T/f£ HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. transpired, the country-cousin came from Canada. I noticed that he wore a rather heavy gold chain, and as he unconcernedly drank his coffee, the little crowd of rough, shady-looking youths drew up to the counter and jostled each other against it. Suddenly, and before I had the slightest suspicion as to their intentions, one of them made a sudden snatch at his heavy chain, and in another moment made off with it and the watch. Now, and I say it without boasting, there were few boys at Harrow who could come near me in doing a hundred yards, and that accomplish- ment stood me in good stead on the present occasion. I flung the cup from my hand, and was after him before the others could prevent me. Before he had gone fifty yards I had sprung upon him, and seized the hand in which he held the watch. He tried to throw it from him, but I succeeded in clutching it. Then we both rolled over together, and I was conscious that the other roughs had come to the assistance of their comrade, and were trying to wrest the watch from me. But I stuck to it for all I was worth, and tried to keep them off. Someone kicked me on the side, and I was beginning to feel queer, when thud, thud, and the roughs went spinning right and left as the man who had lost the watch came up and dispersed them with his big fists in a way that was edifying to witness. He had been tripped up by the thief s confederates, which accounted for his delay in ■n ii !<■ I AN ODD ADVENTURE. 33 e from jr heavy ■ank his ■looking [ed each e I had )ns, one 5 heavy with it Te were ir me in mplish- present nd, and prevent I had I which )m him, /e both us that ance of 3st the I I was )meone ning to roughs m who d them ying to I thief s ilay in coming to my rescue sooner. I still held on to the culprit, but I was only too glad to hand him over to the stranger, for one of the roughs had served me a cowardly trick, and all I was good for was to sit down on the stone pavement speechless, gaspinsf for breath. But the stranger did not trouble much about the thief; with his open hand he boxed his ears in a way that made me feel thankful it was not my ears that were being boxed; then, taking him by the nape of the neck, he flung him half across the road and turned his attention to me. Without being able to speak, I handed him his watch ; and then everything seemed to spin round and round about me, and I fell forward on my face. When I came to myself agam, which must have been in a very few minutes, I found myself propped up against the strange gentleman's knees, while a porter stood in front of me sprinkling water on my face out of a pail. ** You'll be all right in another minute, my boy," said the stranger in a voice that sounded very friendly indeed. "Just sit quietly, until you get your breath back again." In a few minutes more I struggled to my feet, feeling not a little stiff and dazed. "Where are you going to?" asked the stranger, slipping his arm into mine. " To the coffee-stall for my bag," I replied " and then to an hotel— it doesn't much matter which one I go to." " Then you'll come to mine and be my guest," jj lit- s 1,1? a I-- f B 34 ra^^ UFA/^T OF THE PRAIRIE. said the big man in evening di ,ss. ** I'm in your debt more than I can tell you. That watch was a presentation one, and I wouldn't have lost it for five hundred pounds." But there was no bag at the coffee-stall ; the thieves had spirited it away as soon as I had started in pursuit of their mate. A horrible presentiment possessed me. I thrust my hand into the breast-pocket of my jacket, only to dis- cover that the packet which Muriel Wray had given me was gone. The thieves had effectually relieved me of it in the scrimmage. I searched for my purse, but it had been in the same pocket as Muriel Wray's money, and I realised that I was without a penny in the world, before almost having begun my journey! Something like a groan escaped my lips. This came of helping a stranger ! And what was the stranger going to do for me ? Nothing, of course ; if I told him, he might only think it was a scheme of mine to get money out of him. I remained silent, and leant against the coffee-stall to think. The stranger must have seen the look of blank despair upon my face, for he asked "What's the matter, my boy, have those chaps gone through you ? '* " Yes," I replied, "for every penny I possess. I can't go with you to any hotel. I haven't even got a spare shirt to my back, they've taken my bag, too." *' And I saw them take it, but was too late to stop them. Never mind ; I'll see what can be AN ODD ADVENTURE. 35 done ; youVe got to come with me. Here, boy," —he turned to a bare-legged urchin standing hard by — "call a cab. You'll come to my hotel." In three minutes more we were sitting to- gether in a hansom, bowling up Regent Street, which was now beginning to show some signs of life. The drive through the fresh morning air seemed to put new life into me. My com- panion asked no questions He merely laugh- ingly remarked that when we got to the hotel, a good tub would do neither of us any harm, and a good breakfast afterwards would do us still less. After that we could have a rest if we felt so inclined. And then we pulled up at the Langham. In an hour's time we were sitting together at a most excellent breakfast. My newly-found friend had exchanged his evening dress for a well-made, orthodox morning suit, and at once I put him down as a country squire or gentle- man farmer; but what puzzlec me about him was that he occasionally used a form of speech which was quite unfamiliar to me. Once or twice I thought I detected Americanism. Break- fast over, he asked me, in a quiet matter-of-fact way, if I belonged to London, and what I in- tended doing. Now, I had been wondering what on earth I should do, seeing that my means of leaving the country had been so un- expectedly taken from me. Back to the Cedars I could not possibly go — I would have broken ! I 36 THE HEART OF THE PKAIRIE. stones by the road-side before doing that-but what to do under the circumstance!, thit was trusty's ,■ ^^ '°'"^^'' ""^^ ^ ■"-" I o^d whf/ y.T^ ^" '''°""' "<" &'^« ""^ «way after possession oi my story I told him, remarking that, of course, I did not do^so under any expectation that he w;uld make "Look here, Derringham," he said, "you did me a good turn this morning, and you did it as pluckxly as anything I ever saw done in my life and I mm your debt. Now, Vn gj^e you the cho.ce of two things. M either p!y yo'^ back that money in full, because I know Vat eve^ word you tell me is gospel truth, or Pi. take 7^ DunbTr I '• ^'^ """"" '■' Dunbar-cL JJunbar. I own a cattle and horse ranche on Ind&f "'"t"" "^^ ^°"''-W-' Territorie" and I sail from Liverpool to-morrow with some It s a pretty wild sort of place, remember and there are a good few Indians-mostly renegade Siouxs-knocking around, not to spe/ hS thieves and whisky smugglers, but if you care to a^r V ™^''^^ ^°" ^ '^^"'^ —J '-^ alter you. 1 11 pay your passage out, and ritr you out as well when you get there. Ce 1 RIE. that— but , that was n I could away after he was in t sort," he t go back J you lose I did not uld make AN ODD ADVENTURE. 37 two other men going out with the stock, but you can lend a hand, and that will keep you from wearying. Nov/ what is it to be ? ** " I'll go with you, sir," I exclaimed, and my heart beat fast with the thought of it **Then here's a fiver in the meantime," he said, "you may want to buy some things. Pd advise you not to go out more than you can help. We'll leave to-night at seven for Liver- pool." *you did did it as I my life, you the ou back it every 'ake you ^ — Colin nche on ritories, th some ranche. >er, and negade horse- care to id look md rig ere are r f CHAPTER V. "THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS." That same evening we drove to Euston, and it must be admitted I did not breathe freely until the train was steaming out of the station. Fearful of being recognised and taken back to my uncle's, I only ventured once out of the hotel that day, and that was to go a few doors down Regent Street and buy a bag, some underclothing, and a few necessary articles for the voyage. I did aot weary in the train, there was so much to think about. It was difficult to believe that it was only a matter of some twenty hours since I had left the Cedars, and said good- bye to Muriel Wray. My uncle Gilbert, despite his somewhat arbitrary action, I still looked back upon with affection, but in the girl it was as if I had left behind the one good friend who really and truly had an interest in my welfare, who would, if she knew of it, be happy in my success, and sorry to hear of my troubles. Why it should be so was to me an unaccountable thing : how any girl could care for one who only treated her as a g^l, that is to say with little is THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS, 39 else than a spirit of toleration, was something that passed my understanding. I had not gone out of my way to make myself agreeable to her at any time, oven although 1 had come to think her the prettiest girl I had ever seeii in my life, and by far the nicest. It could only have befc.i the nobility of her character that made her take such a practical interest in a penniless orphan like myself. How soured ard how utterly an outcp^t would I have felt myself if it had not beer * her sweet friendship. Oh ! how I despised myse. and burnt with shame on thinki^cj of the time — and more than once — when I wa^ ashamed to be seen walking with her, simply because she was a girl. I wondered if she had noticed it, and what she must have thought of me if she did. But she had a soul above such things, and when on one occasion my action ^vas too obvious to avoid remark, she had merely suggested that I was shy. She would not wittingly have hurt anyone's feelings for the world. If only another opportunity presented itself of showing how much I really cared for and respected her, how different would be my behaviour. But I would write to her on my arrival in Liverpool and keep her posted as to my doings, at least so far as it was possible ; this would show that I was not ungrateful. And she would write to me to the ranche ; it would be something for which to look forward. We arrived in Liverpool about midnight, and went straight to bed in the hotel. Mr. Dunbar I JL I li 4» 7Kf Jf^AUT OF THE PRAIRIE. me' a^Tf Tha^t'"'' cons.derate, speaking to him rt=<. • Y °'™ heartiness about wa™ I bLt"'"'"'''^ confidence. Next forenoon was a busy one ; we went down to the docks animals the greatest care had to be exercised There were two hands, odd. nondescript-lookW men who earned a living by going backward! and forwards across the Atlantic with cattJe they managed the timid creatures with a sSl *: sfo^s ?'^ "°"'"^^ ^«"' - °- - '- occasions a suspicious Red Rose cow would deliberately sit down and prop itself up wiTh i s front leet when half way across the gangwaj and refuse to budge. Then Mr. Dunbar fL i would have to go behind it and push for al" we were worth. ^ ^^^ ^® be. „ completed ; the whistle blown warningly t^rZ ' '"^''' '''' gangway withdraw^ begun to revolve, causing a strange quiver hroughout the ship. Then the little group on the pier seemed to swim before my eves and l^cede there were a few cheers that'dM aw^y n a dispiriting fashion; a waving of hats riVrst T"'='"'^' '"' "^ '"^'^ °^''-" the Mersey. There was not a soul on that pier o bid me good-bye or God-speed, but I knew hat in a certain old country house In Middlesex there was one who was doubtless thinking of E. ?akin^ to ts old as 5s about forenoon le docks valuable zeroised, •looking ckwards cattle ; a skill or two ' would «^ith its ngway, • and I all we ns had ningly drawn, w had quiver up on s and away hats, down t pier knew lesex ig of THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS. 4, me then, and the thought was comforting I was glad that I had seized an opportunity of writing to her that morning, telling of my nnexpected fortune, and giving her the address ot the nearest post town to the ranche, which was that of Maple Creek. I felt sorry i leave ^ngland, but, of course, not so much as other boys would have been who were leaving father mother, or relatives behind. While I was watching the receding shore and thinking Well, Derrmgham," he said, in his hearty way, "are you wishing yourself ashore again? If you do, it's not too late yet " "No, sir," I replied, - there's nothing to keep me in England. Tm only too glad to g^ away. ' ® " That's right, and if you don't like the ranche you needn't stop there. Let's go down and get some tea from the steward." It would weary the reader to give an account of my voyage in the Cambrian across the Atlantic. Suffice it, that for the first three or four days the weather was rough for the season of the year, and most of the time I was sick. The cattle were knocked about considerably, but still there were no deaths among them. Despite my sickness, I forced myself to crawl about the pens in which they were confined, and tried to maxe myself generally useful. Two or three times the rancher, Mr. Dunbar, told me to go »nd lie down, but I did not care to see the other I 4» "^"^ HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. two m^n working day and night while I lay on my bunk, it is „,y belief that forcing onTse"" from Th.""^""^' '"'.*"'* •''^*««'"^ ^he m nd from the ailing condition of the body, is more conducive to getting over sea-sickne^'s qu'kW ban anything else, although, perhaps. It may slightly aggravate the sickness for the time be ng Upon the whole I enjoyed the voyage, and when we got to Halifax my appetite was simply appalling. ^ "Ppetite was A few days- rest, and then we put the cattle on the cars, or. as we would say in England the cattle trucks. Then for three days and „tSs we ran right on to Winnipeg, through somf "^ the wildest and grandest scenery one could possibly imagine. The strangeness and nov^y of everything was a continual source of delight warm'^t'^T.^^' warm-almost unpleasantly warm-but I did not mind that much. I took off my coat and waistcoat in the caboose, which was the name of the large sleeping and'eating van attached to the freight train by which w! travelled, and when the train was shunted into the siding at some lonely section-house to let the catt e m my shirt-sleeves, and felt as if I were at least giving some equivalent for my food and passage The other two men were very I do n ; ^v"^ ^^^ * "'""^^ existence indeed ; I do not believe that during the entire journey they ever once took oiF a stitch of clothing THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS. 45 When one comes to think, however, that those men had always to be ready to go at a moment's notice to the help of some valuable animal in trouble, their seemingly careless ways are not without excuse. The great lakes were a revelation to me • it was not difficult to imagine that one looked once more upon the sea. And there were the w. cers and the shores which were steeped in the romantic associations of the past, where the Red Man roamed in the dark pine woods and the picturesque voyageur shot the rapids in his birch canoe. At Winnipeg we rested for twenty- four hours, and allowed the cattle to stretch themselves in a covered yard. It was difficult to beheve that this large, well-laid out city of Winnipeg with its palatial hotels and magnifi- cent buildings was only a few years before the miserable little village of Fort Garry, consisting of the fort itself and a few log, n.ud-daubed nuts. We walked up Main Street, and saw the old gateway of the Hudson's Bay trading post or A. ^ .r' ^^^ ^^^^ remained of that old stock- aded buildmg, the history of which is simply one long romance. Who has not read " The Great Lone Land," of Butler, in which he tells of how in 1 870, Lord Wolseley, then Colonel Wolseley, when in command of what is known as the Red River Expedition, surprised the rebel and murderer, Louis Riel, within its walls. Along the banks of that Red River flowing hard- ^^1 I It ♦+ mU vu I r/f£: HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. by, and not so long ago, has blood been spilt ^^it^T "^^^ ""^'^ ^'"-" f- supremacy Next day we were once more in the tr >in and steammg out of Winnipeg. We were now "n awe sight. Far as the eye could reach the country was as flat as a billiard table There TrrakTheT T.' T ""^^^^'"-^ ^arm-hou^e t break the dead level-the unfettered expanse of ?ee a?t"r'^ """''^"'^ P«-- land-not a tree, a stick nor a stone to relieve the appalline sameness. The horizon seemed to creep up and up as the train sped along and met the S^e ?n Truth ^v" *' ""^''^ '"^^ ''-"^ « -- ^d m truth this great prairie is nothing after all shlnttL^h^sT a'f '"t °' '^^'^ ^"'^ the Red R ver to the R„" V m "^^'^ ''""^ fH.f,„.= ^^'rer to the Rocky Mountains, a distance of nearly a thousand miles. immensely tT" ^' ''"^P^'' "* ^™"^«d me immensely. They were mostly built of wood with raised side-walks, and when a train came in S o Vafet"'"''^ *^'' shirt-sleeves turned ou to gaze at us. The engine-driver told me it was their one excitement of the day, and principal p^^^^^:t^jtjz ukef "^'^ T'- wild -fowl A? 1 ? *"^". "^ '^Kes covered with Mlr.i; r t '^'^ ^'■"^^'^ ^' °"'- destination. Maple Creek, and heartily glad I was to find en spilt f-breed, nacy. ^in and now in emark- ch, the There 3use to anse of -not a palling up and y-line. And ter all ere in h and > from ins, a d me iwith in, all d out t was tcipal n the dless with tion, find r//E UNEXPECTED HAPPENS, 45 myself once more on good solid ground • and I am quite sure the cattle were just as glad as I was. Maple Creek consisted of one little street of wooden houses and stores on the south side of the railway line, or track, as it is called in North America. It was here I saw my first cowboys and very picturesque and strange they seemed to me, with great heavy-fringed leggings, like trousers, called chaperegos, reaching to the waist ; revolver pouches in which were weapons with highly ornamented handles from ebony to mother of-pearl ; buckskin shirts covered with a mosaic wrought in silk and beads, the work of some half-breed or Indian woman ; great jang- ling Mexican spurs with rowels an inch and a half in diameter, and broad brimmed wide-a- waxe hats, the like of which I had only seen in pictures. Some red-coated members of the North-West Mounted Police were on the plat- form, they were of a girth and stature that made me wonder how they managed to get horses strong enough to carry them. They wore the uniform of the British dragoon. I saw the fort or post gleaming white about a mile and a half from the town. But what interested me most of all was a ghmpse of rolling hills away to the south. They were the Cypress Hills, and the first ranching country of any importance in Assiniboia. After having passed over hundreds of miles of dead level, these hills were a very refreshing sight indeed. I was glad to hear that Mr. Dunbar's III i:«|< i hi ' I 4« TffJS HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. ranche lay far away across them to the south- west, beyond civilisation, in a wild uninhabited country where one could travel for days and days nght into Montana and not see a living soul, save predatory Indians, or horse-thieves and murderers fleeing from justice, and of whom It was as well to be very wary indeed. More than one cowboy had gone out from Mr. Dun- Bar s ranche and never come back again. In- deed, even on the ranche a large supply of fire- arms and ammunition, and a sharp look-out were always kept, for occasionally large bands of Blood, Piegan, and renegade Sioux Indians were seen hovering about in the neighbourhood. As yet they had never attacked the ranche bu.ld.ngs. but they haa several times wrought devastat.on among the stock, and of late there had been rumours of a general uprising amongst Ae tnbes. Th.s had made the rancher some- what anxious, and take extra precautions. I found the cowboys had come to drive the cattle to the ranche. There was also a waggon w.th four horses to take out certain necessary stores, and a couple of spare saddle horses with a pack-horse. I was not long in finding out for whom the latter were meant. the waggon w.ll travel with the cattle. Thev wont get to the ranche for four or five days at ^flf ,, I "'I ''f^ "^ "°^ ^« <=«" ^o twenty miles before dark, and camp at Waller's. Grev- Durn Coullee." ' ^ THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS. 47 A Californian saddle with a high peak was something new to me, but I had been accustomed to horses, and was considered a good rider When we had got some ten miles from the little town, the country began to get hilly with a vengeance. We came to deep, wooded ravines ca^^led^coullees," dark, still lakes, high, steep hill-sides, and great plateaus called « benches? It was m following up one of the pine-clad ravmes that the first real adventure I ever had in my life occurred. Mr. Dunbar was riding on ahead along the narrow path or trail, when puff r pmg f and a bullet struck the cantle of the rancher's saddle, and ricochetted into the opposite bank. It was a narrow shave if there ever was one. My companion coolly turned his horse, and came galloping back to where I was leading the pack-horse. He got behind it, and taking a short whip from the horn of his saddle cracked it vigorously behind the latter. ^*Now then, Derringham," he cried, <'weVe got to get out of this ? It's the Indians, and we haven t the ghost of a show here. On with you ! " I dug my heels into the sides of my riding horse, but before it could gather itself together and spdng forward, there was another sharp pmg ! I felt the poor brute quiver beneath me m another moment it had sprung forward and fallen all of a heap, sending me flying over its head. :i w CHAPTER VI. ii r. rt I pi 1» a ! I A DUEL TO THE DEATH. My poor horse had been shot under me. and as I was hurled over its head the halter-shank with which the pack-horse was led, was jerked out of njy hand. The shock when I came to earth was so violent that it was as if all the life had been knocked out of my body. For th-^ moment it was difficult to realise what had happened. The first thing that brought me to my senses was the voice of the rancher shouting— "Derringham,Derringham,getup for good- ness sake and mount the pack; it's your only chance ! It's no use staying here to be killed." Pulling myself together I struggled to my feet and staggered towards the pack-horse. The rancher, seeing my condition, sprang from his horse, and gripped the hooks that held the pack-bags on the saddle. " Now, up you go," cried Dunbar. In another moment I was astride the pack- bags^ Leaping into his saddle, the rancher caught up the halter-shank attached to the pack and as ik with out of th was i been lent it The IS was good- • only lied." y feet The n his I the pack- icher Jack, A DUEL TO THE DEATH. 49 unwound his long whip lash and cracked it vigorously. Like a bolt shot from a cross-bow my steed bounded forward. « j.^^'^t °" "^^ ^""^ '^^^^^'" ^"^d t»^e rancher, its a bit rough on you, but better to feel a little sore afterwards than be scalped by those wretches." Ping! ping! and a couple of shots rang out from unseen depths as we simply tore at break- neck speed up the ravine, between the dense, dark walls of undergrowth and pines. Whiz -^htz, zip! and a couple of bullets passed un- pleasantly close to our heads and buried them- selves with an ominous, hollow sound in the trunks of the opposite pines. How I stuck on the back of that pack-horse is a mystery to me now. Indeed, it could hardly be said that I was on its back, for I was perched like a monkey on top of the bulgy leather bags and blankets, where every motion of the animal was intensified four-fold. Fortunately, I had always been fond of riding, and to indulge my venturesome nature I had stolen many a time down to the meadows, where my uncle generally had two or three horses on the grass, and mounting one of them, without saddle or bridle had galloped like a circus-rider round and round the paddock. Bad spills never seemed to daunt me, I do not think anything short of having my neck broken would have done so How those mad predilections stood me in ^ood stead now I S n I I:. I, 1 1- 11 I SO TJff£ HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. "If one could only get those cowardly brutes out into the open," cried Colin Dunbar, '* there would be no occasion to run like this. But revolvers are of no use against Indians in ambush with rifles, and, besides, we want to live to get back at them. Well done, Derring- ham, hold on ! " Wht'z, zip! and a bullet struck a rock right alongside my horse ; it flattened against it and sputtered off, causing the frightened animal to leap suddenly to one side. I felt myself going but clung to the pack with the frenzy of despair! If a strap snapped it would be all up with me, and the chances were my neck would be broken. " Hold on," cried the rancher, " we'll be out of this in two minutes more." By an effort 1 hardly thought myself capable of, I recovered my seat, and away ive dashed again up that narrow ravine. How its sides echoed with the devil's tattoo our horses' feet beat on the flinty water-course ! The trees and rocks seemed to fly past at lightning speed ; it was a wild, mad ride, but it was a ride for life,' for we did not know how many Indians were concealed in that lonely spot. At any moment a bullet might send one of us to our last account. In another quarter of a mile we rounded the shoulder of a rocky ridge, and found ourselves 3t the bottom of a rather steep incline leading to the summit. Seeing we were now out of the A DUEL TO THE DEATH, ji zone of fire, and that it was rather hard upon the already reeking and overtaxed pack-horse to climb it with me on its back, I jumped off with the intention of walking alongside. "That's right," remarked the rancher, as he drew rein, " a merciful man is merciful to his beast. Hilloa ! what's that over there in that little hollow across the coullee ? " I looked in the direction indicated, but could see nothing ; Mr. Dunbar being on horseback, and having sharper eyes, had seen something very like horses' heads in a little dip on the other side of the valley. " It's the Indians' horses," he exclaimed, with a pleased look on his face. ** They've hidden them there, but I'll reckon we'll turn the tables on 'em yet. If we can only get these horses away, we can send a messenger into the fort from Waller's ranche and have the Mounted Police out by to-morrow morning. If we have Waller's men stationed on the plateau to-night they'll not dare to leave the valley. Luckily it's full moon. Just freeze on to this pack-horse until I go and have a look at their horses." He drew a large size Colt's revolver from its pouch as he spoke, and wheeled his horse so as to cut off through the undergrowth; for at this point the pines had ceased, and in their place there was only a straggling tangle of wild raspberries and gooseberries breast high. "Then look out," I cried, "and don't go straight on to them. I'm almost certain I saw H ' 51 TIfi: HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, tiie head of an Indian above the bank just now." "' As it turned out. the plumed head and lonir black snaky locks that for a moment appeared to bob up over the ridge, was not the creature of my heated imagination, but a stern fact. •; All right, Derringham," cried the rancher, ainly, "if anything happens tomejustyou mount the pack again, give it its head, and follow up the trail ; you'll come to Waller s ranche in less than half an hour. WeVe got to teach those chaps a lesson somehow." He put spurs to the splendid animal he rode, and dashed into the undergrowth, revolver in hand. Colin Dunbar was a splendid specimen of humanity, and sat his horse as if he were part of It. I ascended the hill-side so as to have a bettter view of what happened. Until now I had not been particularly frightened, the shoot- ing and our head-long race had followed so quickly upon each other that there had been no time to think of consequences. But, now that I had to remain passive while my friend, the rancher, rode on to what might be a death trap, my heart grew sick with a strange dread, and my limbs trembled with suppressed excitement. Oh, if I could only have had a revolver and been by his side to second him, there would have been little of fear in my heart ! As it was, my part was only to watch and wait But not for long. The rancher, fortunately lor him, did not ride straight into the huiiow ik just id long )peared Feature t. iricher, mount ow up in less those i rode, Iver in jcimen 'e part have a now I shoot- ed so en no that I 3, the trap, 1, and ment. r and ivould : was, lately uiiow A DUEL TO THE DEATH. „ where the horses were. Had he done so he would have been a dead man. He galloped his horse tnrough the undergrowth until he was abreast of it, and I saw his intention was to slightly ascend the opposite hill-side and then descend. It was quite evident he knew what he was doing, and that it was not the first time he had fought Indians. He was not to have it all his own way, however, for he bad hardly begun to ascend when puff, ping! and Dunbar's hat went flying into the air, spinning round and round like a plate manipulated by the stick of a Japanese juggler. It was as close a call as ever I saw m my life. Then there was as smart a piece of action, both on the rancher's and on the Indian's part, as one could wish to see. It was an incongruous idea, but for all the world It put me in r:and of the manoeuvres of two antagonists in a polo match. Dunbr-r's blood was up. He wheeled his horse and rode down upon the Indian in the hollow at full gallop revolver in hand, but the Indian was too quick lor him. I saw the latter, still grasping his smoking rifle, turn round, s,Az^ a horse by the mane, and leap on its back with the agility of a circus-rider. The next moment the Indian's snaggy, wiry-limbed pony was climbing up the steep hiU-sMe like a jack-rabbit. The rancher bent forward over the horse's neck, steadying himself by grasping a lock of his horse's mane tonly m his left hand, and cut off at an angle to intercept him. When within a few yards of him % mmsam I; I ul If? I* 54 Till: HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. Colin Dunbar levelled his revolver and fired, but it would have been little less than chance work had he hit the Indian, seeing that the pace of the two horses was only a succession of laboured leaps. It was quite evident the rancher had missed his mark. Knowing that the latter was overtaking him, the Indian suddenly changed his tactics, turned his horse in its own length, and bounded along the hill-side in a lateral direction. The rancher did not turn so easily, and I feared the Indian would escape. But the latter, in his excx .ement, had evidently forgotten his bearings, for on getting to the litHe clear space at the bottom of the valley, he essayed to ride right up it on to the plateau, but was confronted by the dense tangle of undergrowth. Right bravely he endeavoured to charge and force his way through, but it was too much for him; apprehensive of being jaught like a rat in a trap, he reared his horse and in a couple of leaps was clear of it again. For a moment he hesitated. Then, catching sight of the upward trail, he turned his horse's head towards it I was partly hidden by a little clump of saskatoon bushes, and in all probability in his excitement he had forgotten my presence. Up the steep trail he came towards me, bending low over his horse's neck. A picturesque figure he was truly, clad in loose shirt and leggings of red flannel, covered with glowing bead-work of red, yellow and blue, and with white ermine tails streaming A DUEL TO THE DEATH, 55 from his arms, breast and legs. A great plume stood upright amid his long, black, braided locks, and even at a distance of sixty yards I could see his black eyes glowing with a baleful light. He guided his steed in a most ingenious fashion, with a single rein attached to its lower lip; in all probability he also used his hands and feet. I he to turn that Indian if he rode me down. Picking up a couple of stones about the shape and size of a cricket ball, I waited for his approach. On he came, and then, when he was within about ten yards of me, I stepped out right in front of him on to the trail. He sat up on his horse's back as if in surprise when he saw me. Now was my opportunity. With all the strength that was in me I hurled a stone at him as one would deliver an overhand ball on the cricket field. It struck him full on the breast, and for a moment he swayed in the saddle. I had drawn the pack-horse across the trail so as to block his progres*^. Quick as thought I seized my second stone and hurled it as before. But I missed him this time, striking his plucky little horse instead ; the latter, scared by the sudden and unexpected appearance of such hostile obstacles, and before the Indian could prevent it, turned right round and bolted down the trail again. Now was the rancher's chance. His horse had missed its footing just as it reached the foot of the valley, and had come down with him, fortunately on good, soft turf. He had the m I I ; $6 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. m \ \ \ I' presence of mind to throw the revolver from him as he fell. He was unhurt, but to pick up the revolver and remount had caused a delay of a few moments. Now I witnessed as exciting a scene as ever it was my lot to behold. The Indian charged Dunbar at full speed on the grassy bottom, although he might have escaped down the trail in the direction in which he had come. The rancher checked his horse and warily watched his approach, revolver in hand. The Indian, who had not been able to re 'oad, seized his rifle by the barrel and came on swing' ing it round his head. The rancher waited until he was within five yards, and fired point-blank in his face. But the bullet struck the stock of the whirling rifle, and before he had time to fire a second shot, the Indian was in upon him, and had aimed a terrific blow at his head. The rancher promptly ducked, and then the next thmg that I saw was the t :o antagonists sway- ing together in their saddles, wrestling as only men wrestle when they are doing it for their lives. My heart was in my mouth, but they were too far off for me to render any assistance to my friend ; the duel would be decided one way or another before I could possibly reach them. Their horses drew apart; they were dragged from their saddles and fell to earth, the rancher on top. Then I saw Colin Dunbar release his hold on the Indian, run a few yards to the right, and pick up the revolver which iiad fallen from his hand when they had been A DUEL TO THE DEATH, 57 wrestling. The Indian sprang nimbly to his feet, drew a long, glittering knife from its sheath on his belt, and darted in upon the rancher. But although quick he was not quick enough, for before he could strike home Colin Dunbar levelled his revolver and fired, and the Indian fell dead at his feet. I s ■ t I CHAPTER VII. THE MOUNTED POLICE ARRIVE. Although the rancher's adventure with the Indian takes some little time to tell in detail, it all happened in a very few minutes. Doubtless, the other Indians down the valley, on hearing the firing, hurried up :o find out whether or not their comrade had made a lucky shot. What they discovered could not have been at all to the liking of these would-be murderers, for when the Indian fell before the revolver of Colin Dunbar, I rushed down the trail in order to help him to secure their horses. I caught the dead Indian's horse— or pony, as it would be called by the Indians themselves— and then secured the rancher's. He mounted his horse immediately as if nothing particular had happened, and said — *'Now then, Derringham, I'd advise you to take that mare to the other side, and try to improvise a pair of reins while I tie these other horses together. We'll drive them in front of us ; they'll follow our pack-horse along the trail. THE MOUNTED POLICE ARRIVE. 59. You'll find riding that pony easier than sitting^ on top of the bags. Hurry up, my so.i ! " He galloped off to where the Indians' horses were concealed in the hollow. I leapt on the back of my ne v steed, and made for the place where I had left the pack. The Indian's saddle was one of the queerest things of the kind I ever saw in my life. It was very low and flat, and thickly studded with brass-headed nails. The stirrup-leathers were so ridiculously short that I considered it better to dispense with them alto- gether. Almost before my arrangements were completed there was a drumming of hoofs behind me, and the rancher aopeared on the scene, driving in front of him two Indian ponies with saddles on their backs. "Just tie that halter-shank round the neck of the pack," he cried, « and let it take the lead. You stay behind with me, and we'll send 'em along in front of us. On to your broncho again ! —fair exchange is no robbery. You took the Indian's middle stump with that first ball of yours, but your second was a bit of a wide. Let's get a rustle on." And away we went again at a gallop, driving the three horses before us; our pack-horse, as Mr. Dunbar had said it would, taking the lead. In a few minutes more we were out of the valley, and to my surprise I found that we were on a far-stretching plateau, or bench, as it is called in North America. It was as fiat as a pancake; there was not a stick or a stone to interfere with * i; In 1 i i; II.: 60 TJIi: HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, the sense of weird desolation and solitude that the unbroken horizon line conveyed, where it stood out sharply against the evening sky. There was a glorious blood-red sunset, and the trail that opened out ahead of us, straight as an arrow, .eemed to lead right into that cloud-world of crimson and gold. Crack ! went the rancher's stock-whip like the report of a pistol, and the pack-horse, as if it really enjoyed leading such an odd procession, kicked out with its hind legs and tore along the trail like a thing possessed, the Indians' horses following, and the rancher and myself bringing up the rear. "We'll soon be at Waller's at this rate,'* remarked Dunbar to me, as we rode side by side ; " but there's more work for us this night. Someone must ride into the fort and fetch out the Mounted Police. These Indians must be captured. I wouldn't have believed it possible that they would try their games on so near to civilisation. Had we been at the ranche, now, I wouldn't have been surprised in the very least. They must be particularly bad Indians ; I fancy by their shooting and horses that there are only two of them. It was lucky for you, it was only your horse that got shot that time." "And it was lucky for you that you weren't an inch taller that time you lost your hat," I rejoined. For despite the fact that I realised how nearly the incident was allied to tragedy, there was something grotesque in seeing a man's THE MOUNTED POLICE ARRIVE. 6i hat go skimming into the air without any apparent cause. The rancher raised a hand and stroked his bare head. " By jove, IM quite forgotten I had lost my hat ! " he remarked surprisedly. «« But here's the dip leading to Waller's ranche; we'll head the horses to the corral— that's the word we use out here, by the way, for a cattle or horse-yard. Steady there!" And to my surprise, a valley with a wide grassy bottom suddenly opened almost at our feet. In three minutes more our horses were standing panting in the middle of a large yard. Forming the four sides of a square were a number of long, low, log-huts with sod roofs. Outside them again, on the left, were two or three long ricks of hay, while in front of what I took to be the dwelling-house was a solitary clump of tall, shady, cotton-wood trees. Hard-by was a wimpling creek, and on either side the brown hill-sides, covered with all sorts of wild berries, rose up towards the bench or plateau. It was the first ranche I had ever seen, and to me it seemed very snug and picturesque. As soon as we entered the yard four or five rough-looking men came out of one of the long low huts. They had evidently just finished their evening meal. They were, indeed, a picturesque-looking lot, and typical cowboys, their chief characteristics being a superfluity of long hair, and a weakness for chaperegos— l> ' 1 h ? I 1 62 TI/i: HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. leather overalls— huge spurs and revolvers. I sometimes wondered if they went to bed wearing the latter, for I do not remember ever having seen a cowboy without such articles. One of these men was Waller himself, but he was hardly distinguishable from the others. It was only on looking into his dark thoughtful eyes that one saw the gulf that brains and energy fixed between their possessor and his less favoured fellows. He had made a home for himself out of the wilderness, and owned a tract of land as large as an English county In as few words as possible, Dunbar gave an account of what had occurred. Waller turned to one who seemed to be the youngest of the cov. boys, and said— *' I say, Billie, you just saddle up and ride to the fort as slippy as you like, and tell 'em about this affair. Michelle, you saddle up, too, and go to the lower end of the valley. Don't let any one enter or leave it. Pete, you stay at the top end. Both o( you look out for yerselves, and don't go too near cover unless you want an ounce or two of lead introduced into your systems. Dunbar, after youVe had something to eat, you can have a fresh horse, and we'll take opposite sides of the coullee. If we can only keep them Indians there till the Mounted Police come up in the morning, it is just possible we may be able to take them alive. Anyhow, it's pretty certain there'll be a high old time." In less than half-an-hour the rancher's wife was giving us a most substantial supper. There THE MOUNTED POLICE ARRIVE, 63 were tender and juicy bear-steaks, a little rich perhaps, but not too much so for men who had been in the saddle for the greater part of the day ; boiled eggs, beautiful butter, rich cream ; the green tea so much used in North America, pleasant enough when one grows accustomed to it; fresh home-made bread, honey, cranberry jelly, and to finish up with, pancakes and maple syrup It was a supper fit for an emperor, and the fresh dry air, and the ride, enabled me to do it full justice. I was glad to think that the Canadians knew how to live. After supper we saddled up, for I had pre- vailed upon the rancher to allow me to accom- pany them. At first they had negatived my request to make one of the party, Mr. Dunbar declaring that I had undergone risks enough for one day without tempting Providence further. He had advised me to retire early and iiave a good night's rest ; as for himself and the others, they were accustomed and hardened to such like experiences. I, however, doubtless showed my disappointment so plainly that the rancher let me come. " Well, look here, Derringham, I feel a certain amount of responsibility in regard to you, just as much, indeed, as if you had been given into my charge. Had anything happened to you to- day, I would never have forgiven myself taking you out here. I would much rather you stayed away, but if you are bent upon coming I sup- pose you must come. But you'll have to obey '-^. r t ' i IP, 1 1 in' m f (' w I I , 1 ! ! 6f THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. me ; and recollect, I'm not going- to let you run any more risks than I can help." I recognised and appreciated the spirit in which he spoke, so readily agreed to do as he desired. In half-an-hour I was mounted on a good, fresh horse, and we were cantering along the trail towards the wooded valley. The moon was fUll, and so clear the night, that with five people on the patrol it would be difficult for the Indians to pass out unobserved. We rightly con- cluded that they would not try to do so until about daybreak, when, having observed us patrolling Che valley all night, they naturally supposed our vigilance would be somewhat relaxed through drowsiness. Arrived at the scene of action, Waller—the rancher—separated from Mr. Dunbar and myself- each party taking opposite sides. We kept well out in the open, as otherwise it might have been a very easy matter for the Indians to have picked us out with cheir rifles, under cover of the bank in the clear moonlight. The night wore on, and it was as much as I could do to prevent myself going to sleep in the saddle. For the first time I realised that I could not stand the same fatigue and go so many hours without sleep as those who were so much older than myself, and whose lives were one long course of training. The rancher hardly spoke at all, but occasionally drew out his pipe and smoked. It began to grow cold, and I was glad to have taken his advice and put on an overcoat THE MOUNTED POLICE ARRIVE. 65 Truly there was nothing like experience in such matters after all. It grew darker, and then the stars began to go out one by one, like lights in a great city at break of day. Suddenly, in the death-like stillness, there echoed out one of the most unearthly howls it was ever my lot to listen to, but the rancher told me it was only a coyote or timber wolf. My thoughts were straying again, and I was noddmg in the saddle, when suddenly a pro- longed whistle shrilled out from the opposite side of the valley, and immediately following it the sharp ring of a rifle. In another second there were two other shots. In the grey dav/n- hght we could see the cause of the commotion The two Indians, on seeing Waller pass, had thought to make a run for it and escape from the valley unseen. But the unexpected had happened, as it generally does, for Waller, looking round, had caught sight of them. He was blowing his whistle for assistance when one of the Indians drew a lead on him and fired. The bullet whizzed unpleasantly close to Waller's head, and the latter, forgetting that it was desirous, for the sake of making an example, to take these Indians alive, grew wroth, and promptly fired two shots from his Winchester at them as they scuttled back to cover. His shots evidently did not take effect. " They are in the coullee, anyhow," remarked Dunbar, " and that is satisfactory. I wonder if one of them can possibly be Make-Thunder \ " F « r If I In If" ; ! I m 11 • ■ ■i i f ' W r^^ HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, " Who is he ? " I inquired. "A bad Indian," replied the squatter; "he used to be the terror of the Saskatchewan dis- trict ; he fhot a policeman who tried to arrest him in the spring, and, knowing that his capture means death, he swears he will kill at least half- a-dozen before he is take i. - I'm afraid though that he'll not see the scaffold; he'll either be shot or shoot himself. It can't bo long now before the Mounted Police come up. They'll soon make short work of him ; it's their trade." A streak of luminous greyish-green showed Itself in the east. It stretched itself along the flat horizon-line of the plateau, and crept up- wards into the heavens. It became clearer, and a sickly, wan, dawn-light took its place. Then a pale lemon-glow struggled into the eastern sky ; a little bird awoke among the pine boughs in the valley and called sleepily to its mate, then another awoke, and another, and another,' until there was a glorious burst of song. The lemon-glow changed to tawny yellow, the yellow to pink, and then the sun peeped over the edge of the plateau like an orb of burnished gold, and the dew sparkled on the grass as if a shower of fine diamonds had fallen during the night. Another day had dawned in that great lone prairie-land. Suddenly Mr. Dunbar sang out " Hurrah ! Derringham, here they come, the Riders of the PAains—the North-West Mounted Police. " Look ! they are coming up in sections -* >eiai5i*' ' THE MOUNTED POLICE ARRIVE. 67 on each side of the valley, and posting a man here and there." I looked, and surely enough two bodies of horsemen were approaching at a canter. In five minutes more a litt^jbodyof ten Mounted Policemen and two Indian scouts had halted hard by, and an officer camo forward to speak to Mr. Dunbar. These policemen looked for all the world like dragoons, only they wore the more sensible and picturesque broad-brimmed felt hat of tha cowboy. I never had seen men so magnificently mounted. They carried Win- chester repeating-rifles at "the carry.'' Round their waists were cartridge belts filled with gleaming brass cartridges, rifle and revolver. On these same belts, and at the left side, were slung Enfield revolvers. Across their breasts were bandoliers, also full of cartridges. Their brown, kharkee coats were relieved by a neat brass iv ^imental button ; blue riding breeches with a yellow stripe, and long riding boots, reaching to the knee, completed their pic- turesque costumes. They were a bronzed, sol- dierly, wiry-looking lot, as smart a set of men as one could wish to see. "A couple of the detachments happened to have arrived at the fort for special duty," re- marked the officer after some conversation with the rancher, "and as I knew that Make- Thunder was in the neighbourhood, and I wasn't exactly sure how many Indians were on this job, I thought I'd give them all a little trip. K' ' 6« THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. We'll surround the valley and close in upon them on foot. I'd like to take Make-Thunder alive if I can. I've left a mounted man here and there, so we'll picket out the rest of the horses, and begin at once." He turned towards his men-^ •* Squad, 'tion! Prepare to dismount," he cried. A m 'k'» he CHAPTER VIII. THE ESCAPE OF MAKE-THUNDER. The horses were picketed at intervals, and two men left in charge. Then the officer, who was an inspector and bore the rank of captain, addressed the troops and gave them his instruc- tions It was to the effect that every man was to observe the greatest caution, and not to expose himself rashly, as the Indians, bein^ desperate, would in all probability fight to the bitter end. At the same lime, as he had told Mr. Dunbar, he wanted to take them alive if possible. The party would spread out and descend the valley, at the mouth of which were four mounted men. He then gave them orders to extend. I did not understand till afterwards why he tound It necessary to warn his men against being over zealous. It seemed that these Mounted Fo.icemen were such dare-devils, and took such a pride in the efficiency of the force to which they belonged, and its unparalleled reputation for bravery, that they were continually running- the greatest risks. 6 ' r I 70 THE niCART OF THE PRAIRIE, Mr. Dunbar would not hear of me going on foot with the troopers and scouring the pine- wood. I begged of him to let me go with himself :ind the officer, and promised to keep well in the background ; but he was obdurate, and told me to proceed with my horse to the head of the valley where I couid look down it and see all that was going on. Remembering rny promise of obedience on the previous night, I at once obeyed. Then the men spread out in the fo- xn of a horse-shoe on either side of the valley, and began to close in upon it. Arrived at the brink they cautiously looked around and began to descend. I followed up. and ensconced myself in the shadow of a little clump of choke- cherry bushes, where I could see right down the rugged pine-clad ravine. Some of the men would have pretty stiff climbing to do to keep in hne. Indeed, I wondered if it were not possible for the moccasined Indians to scale one of those precipitous rocks and hide in some hole or crevasse until the Mounted Police had passed, and then endeavour to make good their escape. But there were still one or two mounted men stationed at intervals on the brink of the valley, and they surely would be more than .1 match for Indians on foot. The first thing I saw on looking down the grassy bottom, and not more than two huiidred yards from where I stood, was the dead b^n. of the Indian who had so nearly killed my iriend. the rancher-, on the previous day. I noticed Uiat THE ESCAPE OF MAKE-THUNDER. 71 the body lay face downwards with hands out- stretched; the sight made mb shudder, there was something about it so rigid, so uncanny. The inspector went down and glanced at it hastily; Mr. Dunbar would not, however, as much as look upon his late foe. Despite his bluff, brusque ways he was in reality one of the most tender-hearted men I ever met. In a few minutes the searchers were lost sight of in the thick scrub. No one was allowed to travel down the trail as there they might prove an easy mark to the Indians. Teii mini tes passed and there was not %. soun(i from the valley, only once or twice I saw a policeman climbing like a cat to skirt the steep face of a ledge of rocks so as to have a good look around. It seemed to me that this appeared verj^ like taking chances on one's life. There was one tall, almost precipitous peak, which resembled a sugar-loaf, on the j outh side of the ravine, with an odd split at the top as if some Titan had hacked it with a mam.noth knife. At the foot of it, where no pines grev', I observed a police- man and Indian scout. They looked upwards, but, naturally enough, ueemitig that even a Rocky Mountain sheep r ,.uld not climb uch a formidable wal, of roc J .^ they passed on and were soon lost sight of in the pine wood. Whether it was fro^i the want of sleep, or the excitemtnt of the previous da}^ I cannot tell, but I found my mind drifting from the present with its stern surroundings and gliding into a by 7» THE HEART OF THE PRAIIUE. no means unpleasant series of dav-dreams. There was one dream or picture that captivated my »ancy immensely, and which stood out in the mirror of the mind with a realistic force that was almost as con vincing as actuality. It was that of Munel Wray, and I thought I could see her as on one occasion she had sat in the old summer- house, looking out into the dim depths of the Pjne wood a stray shaft of sunlight creating a g'ory ,n the silky mazes of her hair. Until I had met her I had hardly thought a girl worth speaking to. Yes, she was something like a Sr. T .""If^t-'^raP^^^d. big-hearted, glorious girl. I believe she would have lived on bread- and-water for a week rather than unwittingly hurt the feelings of the veriest waif. I knew she often denied herself things she had set her heart on, to relieve the needs of others. I thought of he twenty pounds she had lent me, and wondt how long it would be before I was able t, her back again. m > if • i ; II ■' f ' .^K '<■ ^'"^'' ^"^ ™y ^l^«a'" shivered A^f, ^'"■P ""^ .°f "««« broke on the stillness. //«^°-.' A«^./ again and again, and the ravine rang with horrible echoes. From a little knoll halt-way down the valley, and close to an over- hanging clitf with an open space all ro.. id = sunlit air. Then from certain points among the t'f 11 i T//£ ESCAPE OF MAKE-THUNDER. 73 pines came more pale-blue columns sagging among the tree-tops. It was evident that the Indians had been discovered behind that little knoll under the overhanging cliff, and had opened fire on the police. It was a point of vantage from which deadly execution could be done. To rush it would be certain death to many. It would be an easier and better way to wait and starve them out, they could not possibly make their escape. And now the police had iormed up in a complete hall-circle, but as yet no attempt was made to rush the enemy's position. ihe Indians had not even been sighted, for their natural little fort was fringed with thick masses of sage bush, and from behind it they could see without being seen. From where I was I saw that the other men, who had been stationed at various points of the valley, came hurrying up, seeing that, now the Indians were located, perhaps they would have a chance of rushing them with the others. I noticed that even one of the men in charge of the long line of picketed horses had, contrary to his orders, left his post and sneaked away to the edge of th^ ravine to have a good look at what was going on. If the officer, or any of the non-commis- sioned officers, sa v him he stood a very good chance of being put under arrest for neglect of duty, and a breach of discipline. My first impulse was to rush down the valley ana join the others, but I remembered Mr. IV h- ? 74 ri/E HEART OF TI/E PRAIRIE Dunbar's injunctions, and thought it would be but a poor return for all his goodness to dis- regard them now. To break an order one has agreed to observe, is not only dishonourable in the extreme, but a direct insult to those in authority. And, perhaps, we can seldom guess at the pain such an action may occasion others It was indeed a lucky thing for me that I remained at my post, for had I gone down the trail just then under that tall pinacle of rock the chances are I would have experienced a sur- prise fraught with dire results. As my eyes happen to wander towards the rock in question to my surprise, I saw an Indian skirt its base and leisurely make for the pines on the up-side of the valley to where the horses were picketed • he carried a rifle at the trail. My first impulse was to raise an alarm, thinking he was one of the pursued Indians making good his escape, but then I remembered there were only two of them who were now hemmed in, and that the Mounted Police had brought with them two Indian scouts. Of course, this was one of them going back to the horses, probably to carry some message into the fort. How nearly I had been to making a fool of myself in my thoughtlessness and excess of zeal. But what were the police going to do about the Indians? Were they going to rush them or starve them out ? Then my eyes wandered from the scene of action to the obelisk-shaped rock, with the odd split on the top, and from it to the brink of the valley THE ESCAPE OF MAKE-THUNDER. 75 Suddenly 1 saw something that startled me considerably, and filled me with puzzled con- jecture. The Indian, who had rounded the rock a few minutes before, had reached the top of the valley, and, crouching, was warily scanning the pic teau. Being clad in sober, dun-coloured shirt and legging, probably buckskin, just as the Police scouts were, it was only by the merest accident that my eyes had detected him. Why should he observe such extraordinary precautions, seeing there was no earthly necessity for him to do so ; but the man was an Indian scout and could, doubtless, no more help himself behaving in such a fashion than an actor can bring himself to believe he is not walking the boards when in private life. A desultory fire was being kept up down the valley so as to tempt the Indians to exhaust their store of ammunition. The Indian scout had now stepped boldly on to the plateau, and was walking leisurely towards the horses. The remaining policeman left in charge of them was at the far end of the line driving in a picket- pin with a wooden mallet. It seemed to me that the scout looked up and down the long line, as if to find some particular animal. He was looking for the best horse there, but I did not know it at the time. He went over towards the sergeant-major's short- backed, bony, spirited broncho with powerful hind- quarters, the sort of animal that looked " a stayer." The sergeant-major was evidently going back to the fort to take charge, and the il ■' i:i H ; 76 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. officer was remaining in command ; the scout had evidently been sent to fetch the horse. Sud- denly I observed that the trooper, who had been drmng m the picket-pin, had finished his work and turned to come back down the row of horses again. At first he did not seem to take any particular notice of the Indian, but as his eyes rested on him he suddenly came to a dead stop, and the mallet dropped from his hand. Then he shouted at the top of his voice, and ran to the nearest horse. What on earth was the matter ? For a moment I hardly realised the situation. Then the truth flashed upon me : the supposed Indian scout was no other than one of the Indians who had somehow n:ade his escape, and having seen the scouts from some point of van- tage was trying to pass himself off as one of them ! At the same moment as the Indian ran towards the sergeant-major's horse, I fired six shots out of my revolver so as to attract the attention of the others down the valley, and galloped off so as to frustrate, if possible, the obvious designs of the Indian. But he was too quick for us, for with his sharp jack-knife he cut the leather strap of the picket rope attached to the horse's leg, caught up the reins, flung him- self into the saddle, and with a wild whoop of triumph, was off like the wind westward. He had taken Fandango, the best and swiftest horse in the whole troop, there was not one left that could even keep him in sight. But I did not THE ESCAPE OF MAKE-THUNDER. 77 know this, and, trusting to luck, made straight for him. By the time he had cut the picket strap there was not sixty yards between us. The Indian still stuck to his rifle. Doubtless, being afraid of startling his horse he did not fire at me before mounting. Had he done so he could have killed me easily. He waited until he was tearing off at full gallop, then, turning in his saddle with an ease and agility that spoke of long practice, he levelled his rifle at me and fired. The bullet whizzed past my head. The trooper had worse luck ; his horse, contrary to the habit of bronchos, put its foot in a badger- hole, stumbled, and threw its rider heavily. Fortunately no bones were broken. I followed the Indian, who easily outdistanced me, to the brink of a steep and dangerous valley. It had been my intention to keep him in sight, but when he tore down it, leapt the creek in the rocky bottom, bounded up the opposite bank, and disappeared over a ridge, I knew I had followed in vain. When the four policemen, who had been told off to follow, came up, I pointed out the direction in which the fugitive had gone, and they went off in pursuit. They stopped out two days and nights without food, and rode right into Montana, but they came back to Waller's ranche with knocked-up horses, and the sergeant-major's steed as well, to report that they had stuck :o the Indian's trail over the wildest and roughest country imaginable, until, on the edge of a great pine forest, they had found IL!-. mi 78 TIf£ HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, poor Fandango standing dead beat, but other- wise unhurt. It was impossible to follow farther, so they ha^'. returned. The policeman who was thrown hi, i recognised the Indian as Make- Thunder, one of the most daring and dangerous Indians in the Territories. His name was a terror to outlying settlers until at last he was brought to book— but of that, anon. When I rode back to the valley I found the two policemen very wide-awake indeed, looking after their diminished band of picketed horses. One of them at least was liable to get into trouble, but I was not going to say anything about him' if I could help it. As yet the officer very properly would not let his men rush the knoll although they were simply dying to do so. But in the course of the afternoon he gave the order, and with a wild rush the men swarmed up the steep incline. But to their great surprise they did not meet with the slightest resistance. What was the matter ? When they closed in, stood on the brink of the little dip, and looked down into it, they were amazed to find only one Indian sitting calmly on the ground smoking with that stolid indifference which is peculiar to the red man. On the ground lay his rifle, and the reason of his inactivity he coolly explained to one of the Indian scouts when questioned, by saying in the Cree language that he had unfortunately, with- out knowing it, expended his last cartridge. His rifle was a Winchester repeater that he had stolen, which accounted for the police imagining THE ESCAPE OF MAKE-THUNDER, 79 there were two Indians behind the knoll. He also volunteered the information that Make- Thunder and he had thought it best to separate, and that the former climbed what the scouts had considered the unscaleable column of rock and lay flat in the cloven peak until the police had passed. The prisoner and would-be murderer actually held out his hands for the gleaming handcuffs to be put on his wrists. Such are some of the strange ways of the red man. All this, however, was only a foretaste of some of the adventures yet in store for me. R^'I^iJiia %. ^. [^^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) r/ ^// < % / f/i fA 1.0 2.5 I.I 1.25 L£|2.8 |iO ""■* .10 mil 2.0 us lUUU 1.4 1.6 y] w s % > ^> y /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 f/i CHAPTER IX. II ■* itff !.- I i! THE PRIMEVAL WILDERNESS. The Indian prisoner, who bore the strange and rather inappropriate name of Young-Man-afraid- of-the-rain, admitted he had fired upon the rancher and myself on the previous day, but would not say why he had done so. In all probability he could not ; a red skin goes on the war-path for the same reason that a tiger with a taste for blood goes man-hunting. On seeing that the police had captured their man I rode down the trail and met Mr. Dunbar at the place where my horse had been killed. I had very little pity in my heart for the captured Indian on looking upon the poor brute done to death for no reason whatever save to gratify the lust for blood and hate. I am not ashamed to say the tears came into my eyes when I helped to remove the saddle and bridle ; the bullet that killed it had doubtless been meant for me, and even to the beast of burden God-given life is sweet. T would not care to be the man who makes that life a burden also. h 1 THE PRIMEVAL WILDERNESS. 8i We went back with Waller to the ranch. The inspector and a sergeant of police came with us ; the others made a camp in the valley, and before we left, a light spring waggon belonging to the police, with four splendid horses in it, had driven up, and a much-needed and substantial meal was under way. What splendid, jolly, gentlemanly fellows those policemen were ! They seemed to enjoy every moment of their adventurous, out- door lives. I was almost sorry I was neither old nor big enough to become one myself. But I could not affoi'd to spend my years in a police force, however fascinating the life might be ; I had to make my way in the world, and prove that there was the makings of a man in my composition. After the pleasant and much- needed meal which Mrs. Waller prepared for us at the ranche, my curiosity was much aroused by a conversation that took place between the inspector of police and Mr. Dunbar. The others had left the room, and on the officer looking significantly at me, my employer had simply remarked that it was all right, I was going to stay at the ranche ; he knew I was to be trusted. Wherev >on the inspector seemed satisfied. " We 11 have to do something, and that very soon," the inspector observed, " this smuggled whiskey is simply flooding the country, and when the Indians get a hold of it, it simply makes them mad, and leads to crime. It even reaches them upon their reservations, and the Indian Department is blaming the police because they G !r- Ufr II f;< ifi 82 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, can't keep it out. I know it comes in on the railway, but I also know that by far the greater quantity of it is smuggled in by waggons and pack-horses from Montana over the American boundary line. I fancy a good deal of it comes across your country ; you see, it's so wild and broken, and there a_ j so many hiding-places in those great valleys and forests. We can't put out-posts everywhere when we've got a country bigger than Europe to look after, and only a thousand men. If we tried to remove them from any other place there would be an outcry at once. No, I'm afraid all we can do in the matter is to send out an occasional patrol. Besides, the Indians are causing us consider- able anxiety these days. Between ourselves I wouldn't be surprised to see a general outbreak ; the French half-breeds are not to be trusted, the Crees are behaving strangely, as you Lave just seen, and if once the Black-feet rose, well, they would make a clean sweep of the country, police and all ! " " I hardly realised it till I came to Winnipeg," said the squatter, *' and what I heard there rather astonished me. Of course, a rebellion is one of those things that spreads like wild-fire." He turned to me, "I say, Derringham, I came pretty near to leaving you behind in Winnipeg, and sending you back to England again or wherever else you cared to go. You've heard what the inspector has said, and you've had a little specimen yesterday and to-day of what is likely THE PRIMEVAL WILDERNESS. 83 to occur again at any time. Don't you think you'd better go back ? " "It's very good of you, sir, to give me the chance," I replied, ** but with your permission I'm not going back ; it's something I couldn't do. Besides, it wouldn't be fair to throw up the life before I'd given it a trial. I'm certain I'll like it. When you find me lazy or afraid of work you can pack me off at once. And as for being afraid of the Indians, we all run the same risks, and I'm quite willing to accept my share of them." It was quite a speech for me to make, and somewhat conveniional, but I meant it, every word. " All right then, Derringham, I'll be glad to have you with me, but at the same time I feel, in a sense, responsible for you." " Who to ? " I asked, surprisedly. " Well, I don't quite know," he answered, laughingly, with that twinkle in his eyes which betokened the humour of the man, and stroking his long, black beard, " if you were a little older I'd certainly say there was someone. Come now, isn't there someone ? " Of course, I naturally enough thought of my uncle, but somehow the rancher's query did not seem to apply in his case. My poor uncle was already too much under the thumb of his wife to have any will of his own, and I knew perfectly well by this time the latter had convinced him that I was an out-and-out bad lot, and that they were all well rid of me. No, the rancher did not ■■■■ !.l 5 I* nun ■f 84 TN£ HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. owe any responsibility to my uncle. I hardly knew why Muriel Wray should have come into my thoughts just then, but she did come, which was very stupid on my part allowing her to, for, of course, how could a man like the rancher be responsible to a mere girl in any case ! Why the blood should have mounted into my face just then is beyond my comprehension. I was terribly angry with myself afterwards when I thought that my only acknowledgment of Mr. Dunbar's query was to shake my head with un- called-for vigour and look foolish. I also thought it very silly on the part of the two men to laugh- goodness knows what there was funny to laugh at. But the rancher desisted when he saw the indigna- tion on my face, and in a kindly fashion said— " Now, Derringham, I'd advise you, like a good fellow, to go into the next room and have a good sleep; you had none last night. I'm going to have a lay down, too, in a few minutes." I lay down and slept as I had seldom slept in my life. Next morning early we borrowed a saddle- horse from Waller, and saying good-bye to the md people at the ranche, we " struck the trail " as they say in North America, and continued our journey to Mr. Dunbar's ranche, which we reached about six o'clock on the following even- ing. What a glorious morning it was to be sure ! and how beautiful and fresh was wild nature in that lonely wilderness— a wilderness in which the prairie, the creek bottoms and the hill-sides THE PRIMEVAL WILDERNESS. 85 were carpeted with pink and clustering roses, lihes, and nodding sun-flowers that seemed to wink in the gentle breeze as with eyes of fire blue larkspurs, blue-bells, purple and yellow violets, and a hundred other sweet familiar flowers. They say, truly enough, that on the prairie there is a flower for every day in the year. The prairie chickens, which were simply a splendid sample of grouse, strutted about in the bright sunshine on the hill-side, and several times on a grassy ridge, round which the almost imperceptible trail wound, or appearing on the brow of a valley, we startled a large band of graceful antelope, which stood to gaze for a minute or two and then bounded off^ at headlong 1 peed. Now and again we passed solitary bands of cattle and horses, "but as the country grew wilder and wilder, the valleys deeper, the table- lands higher, and the pine forests denser, we left behind all traces of any civilization. It was a veritable No Man's Land, a country in which nobody lived. Acting on the rancher's advice I had brought a fishing line along with me, and when at noon we stopped for dinner at a deep, still lake, the rocky sides of which were shrouded by sweet aromatic, odorous pines, I improvised a fishing rod of wolf-willow, and cast my line. In a few minutes I had landed three or four beautiful lake trout, which very soon were frizzling on a wood fire alongside our camp kettle. How delicious were those trout, how sweet the bread 7 ■V Hi \i w 'M H It ■ , 86 i[( TJ/F HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. 'ft , i i how fragrant and refreshing the tea, and how picturesque our surroundings ! We were, unless the red man was lurking somewhere in the neighbourhood, the sole occupants of that glorious mountain land. One thing I became aware of in the North-West Territories was that the air was always dry and exhilarating, or, as I once heard a doctor say, highly charged with ozone, and the sun always shone down brightly from a cloudless sky. Mr. Dunbar was the very best of companions, and told me many fascinating stories of adventure pertaining to the early days. These I may tell some other time. That night we picketed out our horses in a little grassy valley, alongside a running stream. We cut down slender pine boughs, covered them with a thick layer of dry grass, and rolling our blankets around us were soon in the land of dreams. We were up by daylight next morning and off again, for it was Mr. Dunbar's intention to make the ranche that evening. Then through more wild country until at last we came out on the other side of the mountains, and began to descend a great bench that sloped towards the south. We were now on the Mississippi water- shed. One thing that puzzled me on the open country was the immense quantity of bones and horns that were scattered about everywhere ; indeed, entire skeletons of animals were frequently met with. I asked the rancher what these were. I f i h ^ i THE PRIMEVAL WILDERNESS. 87 u Something rather pathetic," he answered, "they are the bones of the innumerable vast herds of buffaloes that used to swarm all over the North American prairies. Of course, you've read Mayne Reid and Ballantyne and know all about them r They were, only a few years ago, so thick that I've seen the steamboats compelled to stop in the Mississippi until a herd had swum across. From a butte — that's a hill out here — I've seen the prairie simply black with them for miles and miles around me ; there were millions upon millions ! " " But where have they all gone to now ? " I asked in astonishment. ** I certainly have read that they are rather scarce in these days, but it surely cannot be true that they have nearly all disappeared ? " "Quite true," he answered somewhat sadly, *'they were killed for the sake of the skins. When the country was opened up, organised bands of hundreds of hunters literally shot them down by the thousand, and the carcasses — very good meat too, there was on them — were allowed to rot on the prairie ; these dry bones speak for themselves. Sportsmen — save the mark ! — from the Old Country also came out and assisted in the massacre, and went back to boast of how many hundreds of those truly noble and inoffensive creatures — the natural denizens of this great land — they had helped to wipe out." " But would not they have had to go anyhow r » , « < >,i • !M» r*i 88 Till: HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. t ■ I asked. ** You could not have had cattle and horse ranches had they still lived." " That's so," he replied, " we could not have kept our herds together had th(!y remained in such vast numbers ; but there is still room, and will be for many a long year to come, for thousands upon thousands of buffalo If they had been allowed all the country north of the Canadian Pacific Railway, or say the Saskat- chewan River, they would not have interfered with anyone. The great mistake was in not, to a certain extent, preventing them, and stopping the wholesale killing in time. However, there are a few small mobs still in this neighbourhood. I hope you'll have the good luck to see one, for five years from now and they'll be as extinct as the dodo, unless a few are caught and saved by private enterprise." " And what about the deer, and the bears ? " I asked. "As for the antelope I see there are still lots left." "The deer are getting scarcer," he replied, ** but in this particular country, which is still wild and uninhabited, it is, as you have seen, quite a common thing to come across a band of say from fifty to sixty antelope. As for the bears, they're on the increase ; you see the half-breeds and Indians do not hunt them down as in the old days. They are a great nuisance to me, those great cinnamon bears, for they came down out of the woods, particularly in the spring, and kill my calves. We'll have a bear hunt one of these days." 'iff s THE PRIMEVAL WILDERNESS 89 >» About ten o'clock in the forenoon I saw a very wonderful sight indeed. We were still at a very considerable altitude and commanded a prospect of vast proportions, a world of rolling grey, save where a lake gleamed blue in the far distance in its setting of snow-white alkali-covered shores. The day was very hot, and as I looked south- wards, towards what the rr'^cher told me was American territory, I suddenly caught sight of something that hitherto had escaped my notice. It loomed up as Si from the very edge of the horizon, and was a great city with walls and battlements, strangt; irregular build- ings with towers and immense domes as in an Eastern city, only some of these domes were inverted in the most fantastic fashion and seemed top-heavy. I never in my life had seen or read of such a fantastic style of archi- tecture. The tone of < he vhole was a dull grey. " What city is th -ried in astonishment. "It is no city, Jrage," replied the rancher, smiling, is the Bear-paw mountains in Monte.. lose angular walls and buildings you see are the mountain sides distorted by some trick of unequal refrac<:ion, those curious inverted domes are simply part of the mountain tops seen upside down. Quite realistic, isn't it ? However, it's no un- common sight on these prairies.'' In half an hour the weird scene had changed and vanished. About six o'clock in the evening w- caught sight of the ranche buildings. ■>" . 1 ! I \ i \ I Iffi ill CHAPTER X. A STRANGE JOURNEY. The buildiniifs at Mr. Dunbar's ranche were not unlike Waller's, only there were more of them, and mostly s large again. They nestled snugly in a little meadow that cut into a hill-side, and as a creek described a half-circle round them and flowed within a hundred yards of the rancher's house, fringed with a wealth of cotton- wood trees and wolf-willow, it was decidedly a pretty place. Mr. Dunbar said that as there was no room for me in the men's quarters I would have to be content with the dwelling- house. It is my belief that he merely said this as an excuse for keeping some one in the house whom he could talk to, for the only other occu- pant was old Ben, the cook, whose sole topic of conversation was the glory of the old days and the decadence of the new. The cowboys, of whom there were several, were known by some of the most extraordinary nicknames I ever heard in my life. There were Broncho Pett, Bar H. Bill — referring to the cattle brand of some herd with which he had KT A "STRANGE JOURNKV. 9* once been associatdd — Woolly Ned, Roko Jack, and others t>f a like incomprehensible character. Tht'se gentlemen ran to much back hair, leather overalls, stranire forms of speech, and revolvers, after tho manner of most cowboys, but otherwise they were a hard-work'tiy and steady lot. It is only the sham, shoddy article who preys like a parasite upon civilicition in the little frontier towns, and the cowboy of penny dreadfuls, who indulge in unaccountable and indiscriminate shooting and blackguardism. With them at ftrst I was naturally an object of some curiosity, but a I went to the ranche dressed in a pair of mole-skin trousers, a broad -brirrned cowboy hat, and a checked shirt rolled u f at the sleeves, my personal appearance at least escaped com- ment. When they found that I did not " put on side," and was anxious to make myself efficient in the usual duties connected with a cattle and horse ranche, they treated me very considerately indeed, although not infrequently betraying a disposition to practical jokes and romancing. As I mostly went about with Colin Dunbar himself, and he seemed to take a pleasure in initiating me into the details of my work, I soon grew to like it. The healthy out-of-door life, as the rancher himself said, was making a man of me, and I never felt fitter in my life. I had written to Muriel Wray, telling her all about my adventure with the Indians, and concerning the ranche, and I did not forget to tell her how much I owed to my friend and employer, Colin Dunbar, t' ' \&f: fh}. m E 92 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. I had always hated letter- writing, but somehow I enjoyed writing that letter to her ; the remark- able feature of the case was that it should be to a girl. On an average we managed to get a mail about once a fortnight ; it was won- derful how interested 1 became in its probable arrival. On one occasion we were visited by a Mounted Police patrol, which had some strange news to communicate. In the days of which I write it must be borne in mind that the Prohibition Law was in force — that is to say, no spirituous liquors, not even beer, were by law allowed to be sold in the North-West Territories of Canada without special permit. This law was made in the first place in the interest of the half-breeds and Indians, who become speedily demoralised when they have access to the fire-water of the Pale-face. But when the whites began to settle in the country they rebelled against the law, and th(j result was that the forbidden drink was smuggled into the cou itry in greater quantities than if it had been allowed to come in under reasonable restrictions. Bringing the liquor in from the United States, and running the gauntlet of the Mounted Police patrols was one of the favourite methods of the smugglers ; and despite captures, confiscation of propeity, heavy fines, and even long terms of imprisonment, they had of late been operating on a larger scale than ever. But the country through which these smup-glers travelled was of such vast extent that m A STRANGE JOURNEY. 9S when the police with their Indian and half-breed scouts did manage to drop across them, it was little better than chance work. Of late it had been discovered, that somewhere in the neigh- bourhood of Mr. Dunbar's ranche there was some means by which the smugglers managed to bring in their goods without as much as leaving signs of their presence behii d them in the form of tracks. It was indeed a mystery that defied all clearing up, for not even the rancher or any of his cowboys ever came across the smugglers, or any signs of their having passed through the neighbourhood. One of the strangest features of the case was that those engaged in the illicit traffic did not look upon it as either criminal or sinful ; they blamed the law instead. The police stopped a couple of days on the ranche and then went on towards the Milk River Ridge. It was now October, and the Indian summer lingered still in the pine-clad valleys, on the breezy heaven-girt plateaus, and the brown, sun- dried prairies where the dim horizon line and sky become one. We had been over to Waller's to assist him in his big annual round-up, and he with his men had come over to assist us in out's, and a busy time of it we were having. As our cattle roamed over a tract of country several hundred square miles in extent, of course it meant a few weeks' work ; for at various points they had all to be gathered into bands, and the calves and such young animals as had escaped previous round- H- m I 94 T//S HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, ups, lassoed, thrown and branded. We had been shifting camp every day for about a fortnight, on the prairie and in the valleys that ran far into the mountains. Our spell of hard work was nearly over, and we had branded an unusually large number of calves. It was Sunday, and we were at the extreme western limit, if not beyond it, of Mr. Dunbar's country, and wild country it was, with its " bad lands," upon which nothing grew, yawning canyons piercing the mountain- sides, belts of thick pine forests and network of deep, still lakes. Sunday morning on the prairie, and a well- earned day of rest, for Colin Dunbar, wisely, would allow no work to be done on that day but what was really necessary. We were camped in a beautiful valley, close to a shady grove of cotton-wood trees; the men had finished break- fast, and were scattered about engaged in certain little domestic duties peculiar to bachelors who have no womankind to mend their clothes or sew on buttons; the horses were picketed hard by : the cook was overhauling his spacious wagon to fi.id the ingredients for the ever- welcome and invariable Sunday's duff, and the rancher and myself were sitting on the grass outside our tent talking about the difference between a Sunday morning in dear old England and a Sunday morning in that primeval wilder- ness. I had been up early washing my spare clothes, and so was practically free for the day. Somehow that far-stretching canyon, which pre- I I A STRANGE JOURNEY. 95 sented a wall-like barrier to our further progress west, fascinated me ; what sounded like a fairy- tale concerning some long inaccessible lake that lay on the other side of it roused in me afresh all the old spirit of romance and adventure in my nature. I longed to look upon those mysterious and silent waters which even the red man shunned, as certain islands in it were looked upon as the haunts of lost spirits, the place where all bad Indians were condemned by the Great Spirit to wander after death I asked the rancher if he thought it possible for me to get there and back before evening- I could take some bread and meat with me' by way of dmner. He hesitated for a minute before speaking, then said— " I've only seen the Lake of the Lost Spirits once, and then it was only by accident that I dropped across it. You see, the existence of the lake IS generally accepted as a myth because it IS practically inaccessible, and only one or two white men have ever seen it. The Indians regard it with superstitious dread, and can hardly be got to acknowledge its existence. There is no such thing as approaching it on horseback. It is hemmed in by precipitous chffs, and no one knows whether it has an outlet or not. I saw it three years ago, when I set out to look for it from this very camp. It is actually not more than three miles from where we are now. There is only one place in the face of that high cut bank by which you can get to the top. li 96 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. \>. I but I can't let you go alone. I myself have to riile back to the ranche to-day." "Then, sir, I'll get some one to i'-o with me," I replied. " There's Broncho Pete ; he's never seen the place, and is dying with curiosity to prove that it really exists. I know he has grave doubts about it. We had a long talk regarding it yesterday, and he told me how he had tried several times to find a passage over these moun- tains, but had always failed. With your per- mission I'll go and ask him." The rancher gave his consent, and I went over to where Broncho Pete was engaged in spread- ing out a shirt, which he had just washed, on a raspberry bush. He was a typical cowboy in appearance, with this difference, that he was of a much more intelligent and inquiring turn of mind than the generality of cowboys. He had lived all his life on the prairies, and like most thoughtful men who have been much alone with wild Nature, and have carried their lives in their hands from day to day, there was a certain rugged dignity and air of self-respect about the man, because he recognised a higher power than himself. He was one of the cheeriest souls one could possibly meet, and although he was forty years of a;^e, he had the fresh spirits of a boy. We had struck up a friendship shortly after I had arrived on the ranche, and in return for the many things I had to tell him about England, and what I had learned at school, he gave me many valuable hints in regard to my duties. He i A STRANGE JOURNEY. 97 was one of the most successful '* broncho busters" {t.e. horse-breakers) in Assiniboia, which accounted for his odd cognomen. He had a strong love of the wonderful in Nature ; the spirit of adventure also ran hot in his blood. When I got over his brigand-like appearance, his fierce mustachios, his long hair, and expres- sive, if idiomatic, form of speech—simplified in this story—I found him a capital fellow. Would he go with me to the Lake of the Lost Spirits if Mr. Dunbar showed us the way ; Of course he would, and in less than two minutes he had divested himself of his great jangling spurs, and leather chaperagos— why he should have had them on just then is one of those things th^lt only cowboys can explain— and we were talking softly to the cook in order to secure as good a lunch as possible for the occasion. Mr. Dunbar led us up the valley for about a quarter of a mile, then ascended the thickly wooded hill-side until he reached the great precipitous cliffs of clay, which, like a mighty wall, ran north and south far as the eye could reach. It was honey-combed and tunnelled in a most fantastic fashion. Gigantic pillars of clay stood in front of the caves, reminding one of the fluted columns that guard the portals of tombs in Eastern lands. The cliff was at least two hundred feet high. How was it possible to scale it ? But the rancher followed it along for a few hundred yards due north, then stopping at the mouth of a cave, the floor of which shelved H 98 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. (li. n. I|!!' i upwards in a most peculiar fashion, he remarked with no little animation : — " Here it is ; I was just a little afraid I might not recognise it again ; one cave is so like another. But this one is merely a sort of water- course, as you see ; the water in the country above has gradually worn its way through fissures and the soft clay until it has struck this cave and you can guess with what results. If you follow it up, you will reach daylight and the Land Mysterious in several minutes. Whatever you do, for goodness sake don't lose your way, or perhaps you'll not be able to get out of it again in a hurry. I see, Pete, that you've got a tomahawk ; a wise precaution, for you can blaze your way.'* He gave us certain directions how to reach the lake. We then thanked him for his good- ness in taking us so far, and he went back to the camp. Then we turned inwards to the cave. We walked up its shelving, water-worn floor for some twenty yards or so, then found that, doubt- less since the rancher's visit, a huge bculder of clay had become detached from the roof and effectually blocked our way. But we discovered a hole, hardly of greater width than our bodies, through which the water had forced a passage, and crawled through to the other side, where we found ourselves in utter darkness. Lighting a candle, which we had brought with us, we again continued our strange journey. It gave one a A STRANGE JOUFNEF. 99 curious, eerie sensation to be thus, as it were, groping our way into the bowels of the earth. The passage turned and twisted about in a most bewildering fashion, but always led upwards. At one place we had to skirt a deep pool of water ; at another we had to dig steps in what looked like the face of a miniature water-fall, and then we passed into a long gallery where there was a semi-twilight. Immediately our candle was blown out, and the air was filled with a most unearthly shrieking and flapping of wings; for the moment I was inclined to think that we had found our way into the underground haunt of the lost spirits. Broncho Pete gripped me by the arm. " Stidy thar ! " he remarked, in his usual easy and nonchalant way. " It's only the bats ; we shan't be long before we strike daylight again, and to tell you the truth I won't be sorry. There's summat very uncanny about critters that won't face the light o' day." I quite agreed with him as we passed out of the long passage amid the deafening turmoil our unexpected entrance had created. Turning a sharp bend, we came to a spherical chamber which tapered towards the outlet at the top, reminding one of the neck of a bottle, and knew that we had passed through the face of the cliiF, and were once more in touch with the outer world. A fallen tree and some drift-wood lay across the mouth of the opening. Pete cleverly lassoed a short, projecting limb, several feet 100 THE HEART OF THJ. PRAIRIE, above his head, with a short, supple rope of greenhide he had taken the precaution to bring with him, and swarmed up it hand over hand. He managed with some difficulty to get astride of the fallen tree, and then I also followed his example. I had no difficulty whatever in doing this; few public school boys would have had any. We scrambled off the tree on to the bank, and found ourselves at the bottom of a deep, dry pool in a darkened pine-clad ravine. We were now in the Indian's dread Land of the Lost Spirits. i^ CHAPTER XI. IN THE LAND OF THE LOST SPIRITS. It was as if we had found our way into another world and that a weird one, for when we had scrambled out of the deep, brackened-lined, pine-shrouded ravine the trees and plants, and even the formation of the country, were quite different from anything we had ever seen before. There were giant trees of spruce and pine every- where, and a medley of strangely fashioned boulders piled one atop of the other in the most fantastic manner possible. We ascended a long narrow ridge that the rancher had told us to look out for, and had a good Icok around before starting on our journey west. There to the east, in the direction in which we had come, was the brink of the great precipice, with here and there a gaunt, scraggy pine, either dying or dead, leaning in a sickeningly perilous fasnion over the nightmarish depths below. It gave one a creepy sensation to look at them, just as one would get the cold shivers to watch a fool-hardy child get out of a dormer window and run along los THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. \\:\. the parapet of some dizzy wall in order to scare its nurse. Beyond that ledge, swimming in a bluish haze, we could see the distant prairie rolling away in a series of wave-like heights and hollows to a point where the earth and the sky became one. And all around us on this elevated tableland was a scene of savage, primeval grandeur — the sort of place that might have been from the beginning, before the evolving influences of the ages smoothed and toned down its ruggedness and its crudities. " Say, Mister," suddenly remarked Broncho Pete, after an interval of silence, " I guess now you hain't got much to touch thet sort of thing in your country. Reckon you hain't got the elbow-room from what I kin larn. Is that so ? " ** It's a different sort of scenery," I replied, unwilling to concede too much, " but there's one thing that I think you want really in your land- scapes, and that's variety in your skies — they're always the same day after day : nothing but a blank, monotonous pale-blue. You should see ours ; we've got variety, I can tell you — an assortment of clouds, Pete, that would make you turn green with envy." One of Pete's amiable weaknesses was a desire to impress me with the superiority of all things American. " Borack ! " retorted Pete, with a show of contempt. "Clouds — who takes stock in ugly, black clouds thet're always coming and going ? What good are they I'd like to know r " They mean rain, anyhow, Pete," I remarked, ti' IN THE LAND OF THE LOST SPIRITS. 103 " and that's what you stand badly in need of on these same prairies." " G'rlong wid ye ! " exclaimed the cowboy, laughingly, as we both turned and began our journey westwards. In some places the ridge we walked on was so broad that two or three coaches could have driven along it abreast. At other places it became so narrow that it put me in mind of walking upon the top of a wall. Then it would break off altogether, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that we could pick it up again, for off that ledge the ground was covered with such a chaos of rocks, and such a tangle of fallen trees and undergrowth that travelling was rendered impossible. Even the course of that erratic ledge was literally one of ups and downs. At times it rose up in front of us like the wall of a house, and again it shot suddenly down into a hollow. It was no wonder that the rancher had expresrsed his doubts as to whether we would be able to reach the lake. How he had been able to negotiate it alone, spoke volumes for his pluck. At one place, just on the brink of a deep hollow, we had rather an odd adventure. Pete, who was unaccustomed to walking, was limping on ahead valiantly— he would have died rather than give precedence to me- when suddenly he turned, signing to me to crouch and approach with caution. Wonderingly I did so, and reached the rock behind which he had ensconced himself. mhi a , 104 TNE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. "Look thar," he observed, with a look 01 animation in his dark eyes, pointing to some- thing in the hollow. " Isn't it a purty sight ? " I looked, and I confess the " purtmess " of the sight made my heart leap into my mouth, and made me for the moment wish that I was any- where but in that neighbourhood. Climbing the opposite side of the hollow was an immense cinnamon bear, a bear which is so large and fierce that it is often confounded with the grizzly— with two cubi following close at its heels. I knew only too well that a she- bear with its young was one of the most dangerous animals to meet under the sun. We would not have the ghost of a cl- ance to escape from her rage if once she smelt or sighted us. I wondered what Broncho Pete seemed to find amusing in the situation. He took up a stone about the size of a cricket ball and poised it for a moment in his hand. What on earth did he intend doing? Was the man mad that he was thus going to reveal our presence to the fierce brute ! Before I could stop him he had hurled the stone fairly at the bear and struck her sharply on the hind -quarters. Then something happened which even now as I write makes me laugh, althou- h I could not but think at the time that It was a mean trick to serve Mrs. Bruin and her young ones. In all probability this bear had never seen a human being in her life, so not taking any foreign intruder into her calculations, she naturally supposed that one of the cubs was IN THE LAND OF THE LOST SPIRITS. 105 forgetting itself and playing a little practical joke upon her all on its own account. It was an occasion for prompt reprisal. She turned quickly, and not knowing which of them was the probable culprit— they both looked so very inno- cent—she gave each of the surprised youngsters such a sounding smack on the side of the head with a brawny fore-paw that they were knocked head over heels and rolled to the bottom of the hollow. We promptly ducked at the same moment, but Pete seemed so tickled over the success of his little joke, that to my horror he fairly exploded with laughter, and rolled over on his back. I shook him in annoyance and dismay and quite forgetting that my own voice M-as just as audible as his laughter, I cried :— "' Pete, I say, Pete, you silly ass, can't you keep quiet ! If you don't we'll have the old bear on to us, and then we'll be in a jolly nice fix. I say—now then— get up for goodness sake, man—" And I shook him again in order to bring him to his senses. *' Fancied it was the young uns ! " he -asped between his bursts of laughter. " Great C^sar ! it that bear ain't a caution, she " But he did not finish his sentence, for the old lady herself at that very moment poked her nose round the corner of the ledge, and stood within a few paces of us, the cubs bringing up the rear, but at a more respectful distance than they had hitherto observed. The change of expression on Pete's face was ludicrous in the extreme, stiU, 106 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, m. WA It' t f ' i ■' Pi > i!H frr I f even then, with the huge, fierce Uute looking at us, and probably unconscious of the real state of affairs, I could not help laughing. Pete sprang to his feet, seized the Winchester, and, facing the bear, cried : — " Git up a tree, pardner, just as slippery as you like. Til stand the ole lady off." " Then you get up one, too," I rejoined, and ;:urned to obey his orders with all possible despatch. But just at that moment Mrs. Bruin stood upright on her hind legs, and with great ungainly strides came towards us. *' Keep off, you old fool \ " cried Pete, with a coolness for which I had hardly given him credit. *' I don't want to use force to a lady, 'specially when she's got sich an interisting family, but—now then, not an inch farder, please ! *' Nine men out of ten would have fired at the bear then and there, but under the circumstances Pete did not care to shoot. He understood bears by reason of a long axperience with them. I was just preparing to climb a pine tree, when fear- ing that Pete was taking uncalled for risks by his tender-heartedness, I turned and caught up what once before had stood me in good stead, a stone somewhat larger than a cricket ball. I had read that a judicious poke in the ribs will double up the biggest bear that walks. With this stone I would double up Mrs. Bruin. It was an ungallant action, I admit, but there was nothing else for it. In another moment I had done it, and with a hoarse growl the bear fairly as m THE LAND OF THE LOST SPIRITS, 107 hugged herself with dismay and came down on her knees. I turned my attention to the tree and cried to Pete to make himself scarce also. But a bear is one of the most knowing creatures under the sun, and it had no intention of lettmg me escape so easily. Before I had got three feet from the ground Mrs. Bruin had recovered herself, and made a dash at me. I swung my feet clear of her great claws just at the same moment as there was a flash and a roar, and she spun round swiftly, snapping at an unget-at-able part of her body. The bullet had only stung her up a little, and embedded itself harmlessly in a thick layer of fat. I looked at my companion as I swarmed up my particular pine, and saw with satisfaction that he was preparing to follow my example. But the bear turned her attention to Pete, and made a rush in upon him. With an agility that did the cow- boy infinite credit he put the tree between himself and the bear, and watched her narrowly There was no time to put the rifle to his shoulder and fire. Suddenly, and before the bear could divine his intentions, he had sprung into the air caught a branch over his head, and was pulling himself up. The bear arrived just in time to gnp the stock of his rifle. She pulled it from his hand, and then favoured us with a little exhibition of a bear's strength when it is inclined to be nasty. Mrs. Bruin -aught the barrel between her great jaws, ana with one great, lever-like paw gripping the stock, and another io8 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. I gripping the muzzle, she snapped and doubled the rifle up as if it had been made of papier- mach6. Pete's rifle was now, as he himself rue- fully described it, — " an ilygint wreck." " Bad luck to you ! " he cried, looking down with disgust and chagrin depicted on his face, and addressing the bear, **if I'd suspected as how you couldn't take a joke, I'm blowed if I'd have played with you — thet's all ! " When Mrs. Bruin had crunched up the rifle into something unrecognisable, her feelings seemed relieved. She leisurely made for the foot of the tree which contained Pete, and gazed upon him with her small, cunning, dark eyes in a way that was irresistibly comical. She seemed to ask him which of the two had the best of the joke now. Seeing that the broncho-buster's love of fiin and recklessness had brought us into this fix, and that he did not seem to fully appreciate the gravity of the situation, I thought he wanted reminding of these things. " Pete," I cried in a voice of concern. " That's me," was the response. " What's up ? " "Nothing's up," I replied, "but something's down. I'm rather afraid I've let my handker- chief drop and that the bears may get it. Do you mind getting down, like a good fellow, for a minute and picking it up ? " And I looked at him entreatingly. Pete's face was a study. It was one at any time, seeing that his nose could hardly be called « ■ fiin . fix, 3 the nted ?»' < IN THE LAND OF THE LOST SPIRITS. ,09 straight, and owiner to a slight obliquity in his right eye which always made one uncertain as to whom he was addressing. As it was he gazed m my direction solemnly for a moment with- out speaking, and then with an odd twinkle in his whole eye remarked : — "I guess, young man," said Pete, "you'll die young. You're too self-denying to live long I really couldn't think of taking the lead in a case like this,"— he waved his hand with a deferential sweep in the direction of Mrs. Bruin—" after you please." But I was quite comfortable in that pine. As for the cubs, they came to the foot of my tree and went through quite a nice little acrobatic performance as if for my special benefit. Queer little creatures they were, looking for all the world like animated balls of fur. They gambolled and rolled over each other like puppy dogs amusing themselves, every now and again pausing to look up at me with sly side- glances. I verily believe they wanted me to come down and play with them. To tell the truth 1 would have liked nothing better, but I was afraid that their mother might object to their playing with other children, so stayed where I was. When I looked at them and then at the broken gun, 1 thought it was a great pity that bears ever grew up at all. However, Mrs. Bruin evidently did not care about wasting her time at the foot of trees which she could not climb, so a few minutes later she trotted off in a no THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. v< * ■.Ml I southerly direction trying to look as if she had an appointment to keep, the cubs reluctantly following her. " S'long ! " yelled Broncho Pete after their retreating forms, and kissing his hand. " Sorry you couldn't stop to dinner. Guess your old man don't git fooling round you much." We got down from our trees. •' Pete," I ventured, let's bar bears next time " *' You bet, boss," he remarked sadly, with a wan smile playing upon his thoughtful coun- tenance. We were now utterly without firearms; the only weapons we had were the knives in our belts. As the bears had evidently gone for good, there was nothing to fear on their account, but strangely enough, as v/e pursued our way eastward, my fancy converted more than one blackened rock and tree stump into something that looked very like a bear. At last we lost the friendly ridge altogether and continued our journey over some of the roughest country I ever had the ill luck to tackle. We clambered over rocks and forced our way through thorny undergrowth until our clothes were only fit for the rag-man. At last when we had begun to think that somehow we must have gone astray, we came to an untimbered ridge running north and south ; ascending it we came upon one of the most remarkable scenes it was ever my lot to witness. It was the Lake of the Lost Spirits ! TN THE LA/^D OF THE LOST SPIRITS. ,i, We stood on the brink of a mighty, encom- passing cliff, that fell sheer away without a break for four hundred feet and more, and at the foot of It lay the still waters gleaming coldly in the sun- light like a great band of burnished silver. With a lordly, crescent-shaped sweep it stretched out and on to the far south-west, until a great, dun- coloured precipice, streaked fantastically here and there with dull, furtive reds, and glarin^r yellows, cut it off from our sight. Away to the north It opened out and assumed the form of a bay thickly studded with wooded islands. But always hemming it in there were those stern, inviolable cliffs crested with giant sombre pines. But perhaps th . most uncanny feature of this weird isolated scene, was the utter stillness that prevailed ; it was a silence which suggested that of the grave. There was no song of bird or sound of rill in that wild spot-it might have been a landscape in some dead planet whirling m illimitable space. "No wonder the Injuns won't come within miles of this place,^ remarked Broncho Pete after a pause. - Hark ! what was that ? I'm' blessed if it didn't sound like a gun f " /'Nonsense!" I exclaimed, "there's not a living soul nearer than the camp, and that^s four miles off at least." But for all that I had heard something, but ascribed it to some loose rock failing from the chff into the lake. We followed the edge of the cliff round to the I 112 rff£ HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. north for over a mile, and came to a place where it was possible, with care, to descend to the beach below. We had halted, and were scrutin- ising the steep, broken slope, when Broncho Pete suddenly seized me by the arm, and, pointing to a little cove far below, whispe-ed : " Do you see anything down thar ? " I looked keenly for a minute or two before replying. •* Yes, I do," I said, " I believe I see a boat ! *' CHAPTER XII. A MYSTERY REVEALED. A BOAT ! How could there possibly be a boat on the Lake of the Lost Spirits, a place practi- cally inaccessible to the outside world ; hidden away in one of the wildest spots in the Great Lone Land, the very existence of which, indeed, was doubted by many? Had there been any white men in that part of the country for any length of time, the rancher or the police would surely have heard of them. But a boat it was, and that a goodly sized one, we could even see the oars lying across the seats from where we were. It was only by the merest chance that we had caught sight of it, for bein^ moored behind a projecting rock it could not be seen from any other point. Our astonishment on seeing such a proof of occupation in that desolate spot was just as great as if we had suddenly come upon a party of Cockney picnickers among the rocks. For a minute we were too much surprised and lost in fruitless speculation to speak. Pete was the first to break the silence. He dehberately took off his broad-brimmed hat, I WJ H Hi 1 {,. ft' ! 1' r I aii I ! 1 14 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. ran his fingers through his long hair, and ejaculated, " Christopher Columbus ! " "Hardly," I said, recovering somewhat, "he's been dead too long; besides, he didn't come any farther than the sea-coast." " G'long wid ye, poking borack at a chap like that ! " retorted Pete, with a bright light in his business eye. " But who on earth can it be ? " " Let's go down and see," I replied. " There must be some one in the neighbourhood. Look, there is a sort of terrace that runs right down to it." But Pete did not seem in any hurry. He had lived too long in the Wild West to be precipi- tate. He seemed studying every point of the compass. Suddenly he exclaimed, " It may have bin fancy, and it may r^ot, but I could have sworn as how I saw smoke rising from one of them islands a minute or two ago. Can't be anything very desperate anyhow. Yes I guess we'll go and investigate," said Pete. We had to exercise considerable caution des- cending the so-called shelving terrace, for at times It was so steep that the slightest slip would have precipitated us into the yawning depths below. At last we stood on the rocks alongside the boat, the painter of which was simply slipped over a narrow, upright piece of rock. "They've gone ashore," observed Pete. **I fancy I Wcirn't quite so far out after all, when I \ f ; had A MFSTERy REVEALED. ,,5 spoke about hearing a shot. As it's not likely that they'll be back for some little time, I've a notion for jest hevin' a look at theru thar eve- lands. What d'ye think, mister ? " - I'm with you, Pete, it's a white man's boat anyhow, so we can't go very far wrong. Besides the first of the islands aren't more than three quarters of a mile away, and it would be inter esting to find out where that smoke came from Can you row, Pete ? " " Waal, don't know for I never tried as the cove said when he was asked if he could play the fiddle." f J ^^ " Then, I guess, Fll take the oars, which by the way are home-made, like the boat ; there's no time to lose catching crabs." ^ Time enough to say that, young man, when I begin to fish," rejoined Pete, to whom aquatic terms were evidently unfamiliar. " But iumD in and let's start." ^ The oars were rather heavy, but I had always been fond of rowing, and on that still, calm sur- face It was not difficult to make head-way boon we were in among the islands in the middle of the lake, which must have been here at least a couple of miles in breadth. There was a regular group of them, some rising sheer out of tne water to a considerable height, and nearly all covered with timber. It was one of the grandest and most picturesque s. ni. I had ever witnessed, to look around upon that vast sea- clifF plumed with stately pine, surrounding us as m > ml 'in mii ii6 7//£ HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, with a mighty girdle. The water was so clear and calm that looking down we knew our eye- sight was piercing many fathoms of water, but itiU we could not see the bottom It was as if the crater of a great irregular voxcano had been partially filled with water: that through the ages Its lip and islands had been gradually timbered, and we were looking up towards its mouth. We threaded our way among the islands and noticed that the sides of many were honey- combed in an extraordinary fashion, while some of them were of quite a respectable size. There was one right in the centre of the group, which rose to a considerable height above the level of the water. It must have been four or five acres m extent and was well-wooded, while its sides rose sheer up from the water's edge. "Let's land here," I remarked, "and eat our lunch. There's a big cave over there which I think would be worth while exploring. HiUoa » I can see some planks and boxes in it. Some hunting party must have found out this place and established a camp here." "But the boat ? " observed Pete in a puzzled fashion; "that's what gits over me. I say pardner, I'm blowed if I quite likes the look of things." "Nonsense ! " said I, and shot the boat right into the cave, on the other side of which there was a narrow ledge containing the signs of occupancy I had observed. We passed through A MrSrERY REVEALED. „, what we had considered the mouth of the cave, and found that it was nothing more than a natural archway. In a few minutes we were in a tiny bay with s. .ep gravelly shores. To our astonishment we found a small landing-stage and a number of empty cases lying about. We made fast the ,nt„ ""t^°"°"'f ^ ^'"^" f°°'P-'h that led up into a thicket of pine. Then all unexpectedly we came upon a small, circular hollow, and in the centre of it a collection of log-huts with sc. roo.s. From the rude chimney of one smoke W..S issmng. I caught myself rubbing my eyes TabtaZ'ra'pta'crtS ^"' '^'^"^ °'*-"'"^" »i,„ r J P ® *"^' ^^ supposed to be the headquarters of the Indian's ghost-world was something for which no one could expect o be prepared. Pete gripped me by the arm. Lets go back," he said. « I don't quite like the look of things ! 'Pears to me thar's summa^ fishy bout all this. If I had only my shootin'- stick, now. It might be different." JZJy ^°'"*''' °"' '° ''™ *^' *«''' was wefc d^'h'^r °"' °" '*'" P''"""^^^' the owners were, doubtless, on the mainland, seeing we had their boat there could be no harm in having a peep into that shed since we were here Somewhat reluctantly Pete consented, and we walked over towards the building i„ question. It was of such ample proportions, and so pecuharly black and grimy, that instinctively I civined It was used for purposes other than hr ii8 Tlfi: HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, human habitation. I looked at Pete, and he looked at me. There was an odd grin upon his face, and he winked his active-service eye. We entered by the low doorway, and the minute we did so I knew we stood in the bothy of whisky smugglers and illicit distillers ! A large copper still stood on a raised stone platform in the middle of the room, and all around were bags of raw sugar, kegs of molasses, and others that evidently contained raw spirit. On shelves ranged round the walls were two-gallon stone jars, which we afterwards learned contained spirits that had been smuggled in from the States, while on the earthern floor various large tubs were scattered about in various stages of use, indicating, as Pete hurriedly whispered, ^hat preparations were being made for an early brew. Indeed, in a small furnace a fire had evidently been only recently lit. In short, all the necessary requisites and appurtenances of the distiller's trade wa^ here gathered before our eyes. We realised that we had solved the mystery that had baffled the authorities and the Mounted Police so long— the main source from which the constant supply of smuggled and illicit spirits came that flooded that part of the province. Here was the smugglers' headquarters, but where were the smugglers ? We rightly guessed that if they had all gone ashore it was only for a very short time, for on the bench lay one or two articles of wearing apparel as if they had just been recently cast off. ^hat A MrSTERF REVEALED, 119 " Pete," I exclaimed, " it's easy enough now to understand what the police inspector said to Mr. Dunbar about the smuggling mystery. This is the half-way house and hiding place of the smugglers between the United States and the belt of civilisation alongside the Canadian Pacific Railway line." " Thet's so," observed Pete, " and that boat must take the goods from one end of the lake to the other where you can bet theyVe got some secret passages in and out of their own. But I guess the sooner we get out of this the better. If any of them should happen to catch us hp'e they'll po,: us as sure as little apples." "What! Shoot us?" I exclaimed in some surprise. " What would they want to do that for r " "Waal, you air jest green," was the cool explanation. " Do you suppose for one single second thet these 'ere crooks er gcdng to show us perlitely back to the camp so's to let us blow the gaff on them—waal, you do take the cake ! Come on ; let's clear." " y-ust one moment, please. But first put up your hafidsor we'll blow you both into little bits before you can say Jack Robinson ! " We wheeled round in consternation on hear- ing these words, which were uttered in a hard, dry voice. And there, standing in the doorway,' were three men, each of them looking at us from behind a rifle or revolver ! '1 V I i f ■■!i r 'ii\m CHAPTER XIII. A GRIM ALTERNATIVE. I HAD often read about people being told to "put up their hands'' in stories of adventure, without quite understanding- why it was neces- sary to perform such a seemingly idiotic action, but now it flashed across my mind that it was to prevent the hands straying to one's hip- pockets or revolver pouches if such playful little toys were carried. But as it happened we had neither, and even if we had possessed any it would have been the height of folly, and would probably have meant death to let our thoughts stray to them under the circumstances. The three men who stood in the doorway with their respective weapons levelled straight at our heads were desperate-looking customers. They were all in their shirt-sleeves, and two of them were bare-headed. They were not unlike cow- boys, only there was a determined and wide- awake look about them that hinted at the dangerous nature of their calling. The third man who had acted as spokesman to the party, and was evidently the leader of the gang, filled me at once with wonder and aversion. He was A GRIM ALTERNATIVE, 121 tall, clean-shaven, pale, and put me for all the world in mind of a priest. His cold, grey eyes were inscrutable, but there was determination, and something very like asceticism in the in- drawing of his hollow cheeks and the firm set of his thin lips. He wore his pale-brown hair rather short, and there was a hint of intellect and cold-bloodedness about him that plainly denoted he was not to be trifled with. To look into his keen, calm eyes was to recognise a master spi:;it. With something like an exclamation of disgust Broncho Pete raised his hands above his head. But still he took the whole affair so coolly and so much as a matter of course, that I concluded it was not the first time he had been by force of circumstances compelled to perform the same feat. I was more surprised in another minute on discovering that the tall, ascetic leader of the gang had been recognised by my companion. ''Campbell," said Broncho Pete, "guess as how you've got the drop on me this time. Now that you hev got it, what's your little game ? " " Before I can answer that we'll have to tot up old scores. I don't forget that you were on the Vigilant Committee that time on the dig- gings in Dead-horse Gulch when I and a few more of the boys had to quit in the dead of winter and just when we were making a tidy little pile. Yes, I think I owe you something for that, Broncho I " and the ascetic one smiled in an evil fashion. 127. k 1'^ r IP • iij I TIfi: HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. "Yes, thet's so; I remember," coolly rejoined Pete. "You were as crooked a lot of pur- fessional rooks as ever used marked cards or loaded dice. I don't mean to say that some o' them who played with you weren't quite as bad as yerselves an' didn't deserve to be took in, but you were a tough crowd, and if you kin rekelect, it was lucky for you they didn't lynch you over that Simons racket. If it hadn't been for me you'd have got strung up, and you owe me something for thet, Mr. Man ! " " I never forget anything, but at the same time who the dickens invited you into this ranche ? And just be good enough to tell your young friend to put up those hands of his above his head, until he's been searched, or we'll feed the fishes in the lake with him." " You're just what I thought you were— a ^reat big bully ! " I burst out, no lon-er able to contain myself on hearing this fresh avowal of the fellow's cold-bloodedness. « You might see we've got no firearms, and a jolly good job for you we haven't. If we had you'd not look quite so cock-sure of the situation. You're a cowardly brute, that's what you are! " For a moment an ugly glitter came into the long one's eyes, but he only smiled and in that quiet, passionless voice of his observed— " You'd better keep a civil tongue in your head, youngster, or I'll have you birched. Turn out your pockets and look sharp about It ! '* li-l A GRIM ALTERNATIVE. ,,3 There was something so mocking and humili- ating in the command that I fairly lost my head Clenching my fists, I squared up to him. " Yo,- just try and birch me/' I gasped. "If It weren't for that pistol you hold in your hand you d be afraid to say as much. You just try and touch me ! " J •' > "Jim/' said Campbell, turning to one of his followers, " keep Broncho Pete covered with your shooting-iron and blow his blooming head off If he moves a finger. Bill, you give me your revolver and secure that cub. Tie his hands behind his back with that piece of rope you see m the corner." called BUI had handed over his revolver to his chief, ricked up the rope, and prepared to seize me. There was that look in his eyes which I once saw in those of a man who with ha Iter m hand was preparing to strangle a dog. Now, Wally, old stocking,"-this was the nearest approach to a term of endearment that I ever heard Broncho Pete use-" jist keep your Itair on and don't git cutting up rough. It's no "ake'." ''''''' ^°' "'^ ''"■"P °" "' ^"^ "° "■'«- "Now thin, you young whipper-snapper, just give us your paws, will yer r " And the gentle- man named Bill caught me by the nape of the neck and twisted me round before I could quite make up my mind as to whether he really meant to use force or not. 124 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. '.M I admit I did wrong in losing my temper. Had I only remained quiet it is unlikely that they would have attempted any further violence. As it was, Bill's sharp, humiliating action fairly took me by surprise, but with a sudden wrench I freed myself and struck out with both fists. As I stood on the defensive, expecting him to seize me, he suddenly raised his hand with the rope in it, and bringing it down sharply I realised that I was lassoed, the noose settled down over my shoulders. There was a sharp, unexpected jerk, and my arms were pinioned firmly to my sides. Another jerk and I found myself lying face downwards on the earthen floor. A twist of the rope, and it was obvious to me that I was securely bound and utterly powerless. I was chafing with rage, but realised that I had brought it all upon myself. It was a lesson I was not likely to forget for many a long day. "Now then," remarked the ascetic one, "lay him across that bench and give him twenty with the rope's end. Youngsters who don't give in quietly want to be taught how to." Before I could wriggle clear of them. Bill and the other ruffian picked me up and placed me across the bench. I kicked out with my feet ; in another minute they also were made fast. It was an awkward position to be in, so awkward, indeed, that someone had to hold my legs to keep me in position. Being face downwards it was impossible to see what preparations were being made for my punishment. It was not !; it"- i A GRIM ALTERNATIVE. "5 long before those preparations were made plain enough to me. Swish! and the bitter end of the rope de- scended on my back with no slight force. The pain was terrible, and though my first impulse was to cry out, by a strong effort of will I kept silence. " One," sang out Bill with unction. Swish! Again the rope descended and this time it was as if the hemp were cutting into my flesh. It was more than I could bear, and some- thing like a groan escaped from my lips. " 2wOy' cried Bill again. I waited with dread cut number three, and thought it must surely knock all the life out of me. But there was an interruption and I realised that it was Broncho Pete who spoke. "Campbell,'* he cried, "for God's sake stop! You hev got down low. I've known you do many a shady thing, but I'm blest if I thought you'd conderscend to revenge yourself on a youngster." Again the rope descended, and it seemed to me as if I must faint with the pain. As it was I could only moan feebly. " Ihree" cried the ghoulish Bill with a ring of satisfaction in his voice. "Oh, you infernal coward!" gasped Pete, "why can't you flog me as is tough and can stand it? — And I suppose you call yourself men ! " " Shut up, Broncho," snapped Campbell, « or ■I :4. M i V- ■ ■ I 1^6 mi: HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, ril bore a hole in your thick skull ! You kin lav off now, Bill!" he concluded. -I guess the young un 'ill keep a civil tongue in his head for the future. Will you promise me to behave yourself m future, youngster, if I let you up ? " " Yes," I gasped, realising that another stroke or two from that rope's end and I would be as good as dead. Besides what was there to be gained by mere bravado ? They unbound me and I was once more upon my feet, but so great was the pain of the cuts they had given me, and the unnatural, cramped position I had occupied that it was as much as I could do to stand upright. Then we were both searched to make sure that nothing in the nature of a weapon was concealed about our persons. When the smugglers had satisfied themselves that we were practically inoffensive, they ceased to cover us with their revolvers and we were a a little more at our ease. " Where on earth did you come from ; and what the dickens brought you here?" drawled the ascetic one looking at Pete curiously and feeling h,s chin with his left hand. His right held a revolver. " Guess I had as much right to come here as you, retorted Pete. "I needn't ask what brought you here-I say, Campbell, this is a pretty, tidy little 'stablishment, and you've managed to run it a good long time, too, without bemg nabbed." " Yes, and I mean to run it for some time A GRIM ALTERNATIVE. uy kmger in spite of you having dropped across us. The round-up won't see you two jokers for a day or two.'* There was a hard inscrutable smile on the man's face as he spoke that made my blood run cold. " Oh ! " exclaimed Pete, airily, " you're going to give us free board and lodgings are you, and then what after that ? " " You're fishing, but I may as well tell you— . as I daresay you've guessed-^that it's not very likely we're goin' to allow you to go back to civilisation and spoil our game, and perhaps bring the Mounted Police down about our ears." "I guessed as much," remarked Pete, "but what er you going to do with us ? You can't keep us here for ever." " 1 don't know that there's any particular reason why we should keep you at all," retorted Campbell significantly. His thin lips came together, and his clean-shaven face seemed the embodiment of vindictiveness and determin- ation. "You daren't do it, Campbell," said Pete, apparently unconcerned. *' You're not sich a blanked fool as to put a halter round your own neck, and those who are with you, on this side the lines. You seem to forget that they know at the cattle-camp where we were going when we set out, and they'll search every hole and comer of this yere neighbourhood until they find out where we've got to. Then there's the ^* i k r H I 1 \ i Il8 TNE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, Mounted Police with their h-lf-breed and Indian scouts ; and don't suppose they're going- to let us disappear until they've found out what's become of us. You daren't do it, Campbell ! You're a bad 'un I know, but you're not egzactly a fool. Well," said Pete, *' What now? ' Better row us ashore again, and I'll guarantee we'll not split." "There's a proverb which says" grimly remarked Campbell, eying us closely all the time " that * dead men tell no tales.' " " Pshaw ! " snorted Pete, " what're ye givin* us? You've got queer ideas of satisfaction. Do you think it 'ud be worth the facing of a brand- new wooden scaffold behind the Mounted Police Barracks at Regina, and a drop o' six feet." For a second— only for a second— 1 thought a sudden -ash of fear came into the desperado's eyes and for the first time he lost his apparently mditterent manner. "Shut up, you fool!-if you keep jawing me like that, Pete, I'll give you an ounce of lead right now," he cried, angrily. He paused for a moment as if considerinir, then m a determined but somewhat calmer manner, said deliberately : "Now, look here, you two jokers, we're wastin precious time and time's valuable to us just at present ; we've got to put through another brew in a few minutes, and must come to an understanding. You'll admit that when you came here it was on your own invitation A GRIM ALTERNATIVE. ,,9 You ran your own heads into the bees' nest. Of course, it's not likely we're going 10 be such fools as to row you ashore again— you stole that boat from my mates, by the way, and they'll have a bone to pick with you when they get here— you'd only blow the gaff upon us. Oh no, I'm not taking any man's word. You know what the Scriptures say : * All men are liars.' " He paused and smiled upon us as if he were merely imparting some humorous information to boon companions. His reference to the Scriptures, and his obvious callousness, made my blood run cold, despite my efforts to keep cool. He continued .— " There's only one way out for you, and that's to join us. You won't be asked to do any of the risky night work on the prairie, running our supplies and commodities in and out— that's for us old hands— but you can have a jolly good time here if you want to. You can have all the boo-e you want in moderation. Broncho; we live like fighting cocks, cd the youngster 'here can have all the literature he wants from Fort Benton or the cars on the C.P.R. This island's eight acres in extent and is big enough to hold us all ; there's good shooting and fishing, and, besides, there's money in the business. Eighteen months at this game and I'll guarantee you fifteen hundred pounds apiece. I'm going to quit the game in that time myself and ooing down south. You'll not make that in ten years on the ranche. Broncho. As for you, young K H. * ' 's; 'I mm 130 TITB HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. man," he looked at me with less of vindictive- ness in his eyes, and spoke pleasantly enough, " I guess you've got to make your way in the world, and it's one chance in a thousand for you. To have fifteen hundred pounds at the end of eighteen months to go into civilisation with, and to start yourself in some good-going business, is not to be sneezed at. Come now, what do vou say ? " ^ I confess, to my shame, that for the moment I actually entertained the smuggler's project. When 1 was very much younger it had actually been one of the dreams of my life to be a full- fledged pirate in the Spanish Main, but I had long since discarded such an ambition as impracticable. Here, now, was an ideal life, one full of romance and adventure, which would just suit my tastes, and, moreover, there was money attached to it which would aid me in— what of late had been taking definite shape within me— the desire to embark in some specific line of life which would ensure my worldly fortunes. How I would like to go back to the Cedars and prove to my uncle and aunt, and perhaps more than anyone else to Muriel Wray, that I was no weakling, but one who was able to more than hold his own in the battle of life. Somehow, I had been tl ,ag a good deal about my girl friend of late, and wondering when I would be able to pay back that twenty pounds she had lent me. It had begun to weigh upon my spirits like a nightmare m' w- \ A GRIM ALTERNATIVE. ,3, One curious feature of the case was that although I had written to her she had not answered my letters. But again, how was I to herd and associate with such men as Bill and his mates? True, there would be Broncho Pete and there would be many distractions, but would I not soon get tired of the life ? And there was my honest friend Colin Dunbar ; how could I whom he had befriended be the means of causmg him any anxiety, and, perhaps, some- thmg weightier still by my unaccountable dis- appearance? And Muriel Wray, what would she think if she wrote to me and received no answer? Of course, the news would be sent home that in all probability my compan.c.i and 1 had fallen into the lake over the cliff, and been drowned, and what an amount of wanton pain I might inflict on those whom I considered my best friends on earth. And then there was the most important side of the question— the moral side. What would my friends think of me if they knew of the traffic I was engaged in, and what would I think of myself? Fool that I was to even entertain such an idea ! Campbell could kill me if he chose, but I would have none of him or his dirty work. Though these thoughts may take a minute or two to read on paper they flashed through my mind in a very few seconds. Campbell tapped his foot impatiently on the ground. "Now then, Pete," he concluded, *' what do you think of it -: " iji THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, (( If I say * no ' for both us, what then ? " asked tho cowboy (]uietly. " Well, I'm not quite sure," replied Campbell with that curious pursin^r of his lips ai-ain • " but you can hardly expect us to ha.n])(,r our- selves with you. We've vrot the drop on you, and there's the lake," he conclud(>d, sii/ni- ficantiy. ^ Tiien I saw for the first time in my life how under an eccentric manner and rough exterior the soul of true nobility can exist. Pete threw one arm over my shoulder, and with a flush on his rugged, sun-browned face exclaimed, — " J.et me speak for us both, Wally, my boy I've lived longer in the world than you, and I know what I say is right." " Campbell, a clear conscience and our honour is worth more to us than your money. We will have none of i^ ! Shoot us down if you dare but remember there is a God who will call yoii to account it man fails to do it." CHAPTER XIV. A MAD SMMGGLKR. I FULT.y expected that Campbell would puc his threat into execution then and there; he did not look like a man who wasted woids. I confess that Broncho Pete's heroic stand was a revela- tion to me; he was such a grotesque, cheery mortal that I had hardly credited him with a serious side to his character. Even now as I looked at him his irregularity of feature, which to say the least of it was decidedly comical in eifect, became dignified by reason of the high resolve that stirred within him. And I had almost taken it for granted that Pete would join the smugglers and illicit distillers ! How small k made me feel for having entertained such an idea ! Campbell toyed with his pistol for a moment or two with a peculiarly apprehensive look in his eyes as if he had not quite made up his mind what to do. Ruffian as he was, I believe the cowboy's speech alone stayed his hand. I feel certain that but for the fear of that unseen power which would avenge, so cold-blooded and 10 i^ ! 134 TITE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, vindictive was the man that he would have shot us down with as little feeling as he would have shot a couple of dogs. But still he was one of those who having made a threat before the men who looked upon him as being a law unto him- self, he did not quite see his way to draw back from the position he had taken up. I confess to having been at first terribly frightened, but somehow that fearless look upon the cowboy's face, and the feel of his hand upon my shoulder, gave me heart of courage. It is difficult to know what the desperado would have done had not at that very moment a couple of rifle shots rang out in the far distance. Such a remarkable series of echoes followed close upon them that one could have imagined the island was being bombarded from every point of the compass. Campbell listened atten- tively. *' It's the boys," he remarked, turning to his rough-looking mates, '* they've missed their boat and are signalling to us. Bill, you'd better take the boat across to them and pick them up. Tell them we've got visitors who took the loan of the dingy." Bill disappeared and I breathed more freely. It seemed as if we were to have a respite. Campbell turned his attention to us again. " On second thoughts," he said, " I'll not give the fishes in the lake a treat just yet. You may come to take a more sensible view of the situa- tion after a bit." A MAD SMUGGLSR. •35 tu™?H°"R ^°u T* "P°" *^*' Campbell," re- turned Broncho Pete, "we're not going to do it If you choose to row us ashore, as I sa!d before we g,ve you our word of honour we ain't goingTo say a word about you. You're sure tole "Lk sooner or later ! " * "Your word of honour ! " sneered the smuggler ^LWr' ^""' "^ '''^k it was that^iap . mf. X ' u *" ^^^ Testament, who aske^ What is Truth ? ' wasn't it, youngster ? " a ml? I M*u ^?""^«ve. surprised that .uch a man should be familiar with and quote from Scripture. He doubtless saw the look of s^rfs" and speculation in my eyes, for he said- ^ Yoxx think it queer, youngster, to find me famihar with the New Testament, do you "now do^ you remember what ^schyto said aZt hai'sTilf T TT^'' ^^^' *"« ^'^'^ Now Ive got an idea. I owe that chap Dunto a grudge; he's too enterprising by half, and i I4t Tffi: HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. more than once he's been perilously close to our trail. He wants warning off. Do you know what the brigands do in Corsica and other lively places when they want the friends of captives to hurry up with a ransom ? " I did not reply, but only looked steadily into the passionless grey eyes. I did not know what he might do if I took them off him. "Then I'll tell you," ho continued; "they just slice off a part of the captive's ear or chop off a finger and send it through the post to his relatives with the intimation that delays are dangerous, and that generally makes them hurry up. Now, if we sent something of the sort with an intimation to the rancher to keep at a distance, unless he wanted your head on a salver like that girl— Herodias' -laughter I think she was— who managed to bag the head of John the Baptist, I fanc^ Colin Dunbar would lay low and not trouble us." Again he laughed, and for the first time I noticed that the others exchanged furtive and significant glances. Immediately the thought flashed across my mind that this man called Campbell, if not already mad, was fast becoming so, and that the fact was more than obvious to his companions. Pete gave me a sharp nudge with his elbow as if to enjoin silence. For a minute there was a painful stillness. It was Alan who first spoke, and he did so without looking at me, and as if the subject were a matter of indifference to him. A MAD SMUGGLER. ,^j " That's all very well, boss," he said ** ar.H but .t am t, and would simply mean StonJ lor every mothers son of us." No, I guess wo haven't long to run in this show anyhow fo^ learn that the Police are going to establish a new detachment at Pend Oreille, and if so. the game .s up and we may as well quit as long as we ve got the chance. We'd be fools to risk our necks for the sake of two such jokers. No, I vote we keep them here as prisoners until su^h ttme as we make tracks across the lines again and then we-11 let them go decently. It win be so much in our favour if ever we should happen about to keep an eye on them, and we can make them work for their grub. It will be two men'! r":[ fo"r":re'' °' T T '' ""' ^« ^ «°°^ «- rest for the man who does the watching." I looked up into his face gratefully; I had thought the man had the feelings of a h„ma1 betng from the first. But he would not look a" me and thought I divined the reason Two ot the other men seemed to consider Alan's speech favourably. Campbell seemed to be pondering over the matter. Suddenly he ^rJi*^"/"" ^^^^' ^°y*' ''«'» settle their fate with the dice. There's nothing Uke a Ht«e f:S^? n Bin r ^^^t" ^^' ^-^ P^P- ^'^t and tell Bill to come here. A cross-for I know i!j if i ii : i ! 144 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, some of you didn't go to college— -will mean a funeral in the course of the day, and a round nought will mean that they'll have board and lodgings for a few months in return for their enforced services. Come on, boys, into the mess-room and I'll be croupier. It doesn't matter a tinker's curse to me what becomes of them either one way or the other. Pete, would you like a drink of whiskey ? I'll say this for you. Broncho, that you never were mean, and if you weren't much of a boozer yourself, you were always ready to stand drinks for all hands.'* I do not believe that Pete really ^wanted that drink, but possibly he thought it would be bad policy to refuse, so took the glass which the uncanny smuggler-in-chief handed him. "Here's to you, Campbell," he said with a coolness that only a man couid have felt who had little fear of death in his heart. " But I've one favour to ask of you an' thet's thet you only have one ballot ; an' thet's for me. You remem- ber that affair of Simons ? You owe me some- thing for thet. Now, it doesn't matter a red cent what becomes of me ; I've had my day an' the fishes in the lake will find it out when they come to feed on this 'ere tough old carcass, but here's Wally, as is a right good sort as you kin take my word on, and, Campbell, I don't believe you're such a low down chap as to tetch him. Isn't thet so?" "We'll see," answered the strange mortal addressed. " Jim, you keep an eye upon them mean a I round ird and 3r their ito the doesn't >mes of , would this for , and if )u were s.'» id that be bad ich the with a It who iut I've »u only emem- some- jd cent n' the r come here's \ take you're 't thet nortal them ^ MAD SMUGGLER. ,^3 f" H r"i ^."^'' ''^ '^^ '"^^^^- An ounce of lead to the first one who makes a move." He left the building and the others followed nim. To me the next ten minutes seemed an eternity The cowboy sat with his arm passed through mme, but neither of us spoke a word. Where were all my bright dreams for the future now ? Was It not an odd fate for an English boy only fresh from a public school to have hanging over his head-an ounce of lead or imprisonment in a lonely island with i gang of desperadoes ? liut my life had not been a particulariy happy one. My uncle, Gilbert Derringham. had at one time been kind to me, and there were some other boys at Harrow whom I liked immensely. The girl, Muriel Wray, was surely the one human being of whom I had the brightest memories • after her came the rancher, Colin Dunbar, and my present companion. Just then Alan entered the room and handed two pieces of paper to Jim. I thought he whispered something in his ear and the latter nodded his head. I could hear the murmuring of voices come indistinctly from an adjoining room. Were they never going to decide upon our fate? The delay in itself was a liyinc- death. ^ Then Campbell the smuggler entered the room and stood in front of us. CHAPTER XV. i lii I 1:^ A GTRANGE PRISON. "Well, gentlemen, I've come to tell you that you've got some lit.le time to put in yet in this miserable vale of tears," drawled the scholastic smuggler chief, as if he hardly expected that the matter would interest us. " And I may as well tell you, by the way, that you just escaped the fishes by the skin of your teeth. The throws were even, so we let Make-Thunder chip in. We said we'd let him decide about you, and the noble savage said that unless we were prepared to torture you-crucifixion or fire, or something of that nature— he elected to bide his time, and operate upon you in a tonsorial way— scalping I fancy he meant— when opportunity offered in fair fight. ^There's no accounting for the tastes of some people— especially bad Indians." He addressed us in such a communicative and friendly fashion that but for the cold-blooded import of his words one would have imagined he was the best friend we had. The others now returned to the still-room, and the strange beinir continued. ■m: A STRANGE PRISOlf. ,^j understand your position her,. I can't exactly say how long circumstances will oblige us to avail ourselves of your services, but one thing is certam.that until things get too hot you're got to keep us company. I've got some ofthe Greek authors by me, young 'un, which, if you b*-have yourself, I'l, allow you to peruse in your leisul^ moments. I've got an idea you wasted your tin- at school and, anyhow, I don't think that schooU are what they used to be in my time. You'll be allowed a good deal of liberty, and wiil live just the same as we do ourselves, but r-member. an attempt at escape means instant death." - He turned to the others-" You hear, boys, an or. ,ce of lead apiece If you find them up to any mo.,:cey tncks : a four-bushel bag with a big stone in it T 1!^- •! ""f '"" *'^° °"' '"*° *^« Lake of the J-ost bpmts, close to where tne outlet pierces the mountain, and there'll be no chanco of them spoi ing the water for domestic purposes. Jim you keep an eye on them to-day until we make more definite arrangements. Now then, let's have dinner, for I feel rather peckish. Broncho, and Master— er—?" ' "Derringham," I said. " Well, Master Derringham, I'm sorry that we can't exactly invite you to dine at >^he same table as ourselves. It would be tn/ra dir von know to have jailors and prisoners musing together-one s got to study the conventionalities more or less. Jim, you take them i:.to the old I ' • t> 1, m i!t 148 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. mess-room alongside Pierre's kitchen, and see that they get plenty to eat. . . . And I say, Jim, you are a dirty beggar and no mistake ! Did you wash your face this morning ? Now, honour bright, did you ? " " I don't see what it matters to you," was the sulky reply. " What's the use of washin' every day? I washed yesterday momin'. You're alius on the scrubbin' racket." With something like a snort of contempt, Campbell left the room. It was as if a great load had been lifted from my mind on discovering that we were not yet doomed to take our departure from this life in the very unsatisfactory manner that Campbell had advocated. It was bad enough as it ^vas to think of all the trouble and anxiety we must inevitably give to our friends when we did not turn up again. The round-up would doubtless apprize the I.Iounted Police of our mysterious disappearance, and they with their Indian half- breed scouts would make their way into the wild Land of the Lost Spirits and scour the beach — where there was any — a: the foot of the great cliffs for our bodies. There was little chance of them discovering our presence on the island. The buildings stood in a hollow with a thick belt of timber effectually screening them, and anyhow, if they did think of having a look at the islands, which was extremely unlikely, without a boat the task was impossible of accomplish- mei.t. The smugglers would take very good TtZ ""11 :,!" n t "^"^^ f- *e next week oa4:::o;yiLn?Snrr"4ra:s was tolerably certain thnf ^ ^ ' ^"^ ^* they wouM LtTHo'tuS: IIZ S fi™! oetra/ their presence. How Pete and T regt-etted that fatal soirit ^f . • ^ ' riosity which had leTus ° t^TT ^""^ order to find out who «t th e tt Stt'.:! inTh'Ttr w\f "' ' ^^ ^^-^ burrdtr"s^,;; in that lire with a vengeance. My reflections were interrupted by our jailor He was a curious-l.oking customer, truly, and I was by no means surprised that ; sma t a„d seemingly fastidious man lii.e Campbel had taken h.m to t^sk on the score of cleanlness He had a luxuriant head of hair anrl '^f **^- beard, and what was seen cJ^ slt*;„'~d chest was the colour of mahogany. The "S lit t ousers he wore were of a dull, earthy hue. But sti), the man was not iU-looking; rather easv going and good-natured, I thought ^' "Jimmil" he now said to us, "I guess the boss IS concamin' hisself 'bout things fhat don't count, no-how. What on earth has it to dc ^d h.m whether I washes or not? He's dch f crank on soap and wather! It's a ^a'^ ^ time, sez I to him when he gets jawL? I reckon a wash every three n.,vc ;„ J ^ ^- ^ in them r,=,«= • , ^ '" *'°' weather resnectabf. ^T"^ ^°'"^ ""°"^'' ^^ ^"X respectable man, an' once a week in winter. ISO THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. when it's maybe ten below zero. What d'ye think, mates ? " I think Pete must have been meant by nature for the diplomatic service, for he replied that every man was supposed to know best what was good for himself. It was probably, he explained, a matter of early training. He was afraid, speaking for his friend — myself — and himself, that we had been rather recklessly brought up, for we had contracted the rather unfortunate habit of wasting a good deal of time, not to speak of good soap and water, in washing ourselves. " You must be precious dirty blokes ! " re- marked Jim, thoughtfully. "It's them as is clean who don't require to wash. Whoever heerd of a clean man hevin' to wash hisself ? *' I came to the conclusion that Jim's mental calibre was of a delightfully original nature, if it did take .:. somewhat unpleasant turn so far as the prejudices of his comrades were concerned. Pete merely remarked that there was a good deal in what he said, and showed a disposition to change the subject. Jim rose from the up- turned keg on which he had seated himself, and for the first time I realised what a burly giant the man was. " Now thin, gintlemin," he observed, " I guess grub-pile's about a fair thing. Jist walk ahead of me, if you don't mind, out of that there door or the boss is sure to come down wallop. He's been gettin' precious cranky of late — a-goin* bahmy on the crumpet, I reckon.** .J- Tiat d'ye )y nature lied that kvhat was KLplained, s afraid, himself, )ught up, fortunate to speak selves. es »> re- m as IS Whoever self ? *' s mental nature, if so far as )ncerned. > a good sposidon n the up- iself, and irly giant u I guess Ik ahead liere door )p. He's — a-goin* A STRANGE PRISON, ,5, We made no comments upon his rather un- guarded remarks but thought that what he said was extremely likely. Pete and I passed to- gether out of the doorway and entered th^. kitchen indicated. Pierre, who was a French- Canadian and a dapper, middle-aged, shrewd- looking fellow, made a little bow as we entered which Pete and I at once acknowledged by removing our hats~a proceeding which seemed to intensely amuse Jim-and took our seats at the table which the cook pointed out to us "Gentlemen," Pierre said with a politeness that seemed to me misplaced, "pray be seated, and X shall endeavour your requirements to meet. I thanked him, and asked if I could assist him m any way. This mutual exchange of civilj-'es seemed to grate on Jim's susceptibilities. w- A^t ' " ^^ ^'""^^^» " y^^'''^ '^ot in the Windsor Hotel at Montreal now, Froggy. What hev you got to eat P-thet's the main point. Black-tail steak ! Well, I guess them steaks be sufficiently done for any Christian - you knows I likes mine half raw, I does. See Without asking the cooic's permission he lifted the gnll from the wood fire with the evident intention of tossing tho steaks with his dirty fingers into a tin dir.i that stood on the table With a look of horror and indignation on his face, and with his black beady eyes protruding from their sockets, Pierre caught hold of the 1 1 ^,y .1 1S« TJIE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. grill with one hand and Jim's right hand with the other. " Mon Dieu ! " he exclaimed, " what on earth you do? You are an extremely dirty fellow! You will be good enough to seat yourself and I will myself serve. Your manners remind me of the pig-sow ! " And to my no little surprise the little cook wrested the grill— which was merely an ingenious contrivance of fence wire— from the hands of the in no way abashed giant, and pushed him into his seat opposite us. It was quite evident the cook was in no way apprehensive of reprisal. "I reckon, youVe got much the same silly notions as tne boss, Pierre," remarked Jim resent- fully, " but I bears no malice—" He looked at and addressed us—" He's a queer chap, Pierre, he be : a washin' of hisself three bloomin' times a day and eatin' of frogs and snails— Faugh ! some people be mortal dirty and disgustin' and no mistake ! " Pierre merely shrugged his shoulders as if in contempt, and proceeded to dish up the dinner, while our jailor placed his two brown hands upon the table in front of him and regarded them admiringly. Pete suggested to me after- wards that probably he wished to spoil our appetites so as to have all the more food for himself. I was surprised at the quality and variety of the food placed before us. There were deer- steaks, and cold bear's meat which I considered [fl A STRANGE PRISON, ,53 excellent; eggs, good potatoes, spinach, yeast bread fresh butter and cheese. Pierre also offered us a little whiskey and water. We thanked him, but declined the whiskey and took some tea instead. If we were to escape we would have to keep our heads always clear so as to seize our opportunity. Pierre eventually jomed us in our meal, which proceeded in harmony, Jim^s mouth being generally too full to speak, save when he had finished what was on his plate and was obliged to ask for more. Now, them eggs," remarked Broncho Pete to Pierre, in whose good graces he seemed anxious to stand, - if if. a fair question, where did you get them ? You ain't got no cocks and hens here so far as I kin see." « ";^^."on!" exclaimed the little fat cook, and it is no cocks and hens we do want here, ihe crowing of a cock in the morning one would hear for miles ; we get them as we get most other thmgs-when we delivered our cargoes have, and otherwise would empty-harded be But we a good garden cultivate on the island. 1 think It would amuse you to work in it while you are here." I told Pierre it would give me very great pleasure indeed to do so. After dinner, Pete and 1, unasked, assisted him to clean up the dinner things, which simple office seemed to fend favour in his eyes. Then we were marched back to an empty shed where we seated our- selves on an old tarpaulin spread on the around ITT i It. t it- 154 T/fE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, My companion smoked while I watched Jim, who some paces off had seated himself on the mud floor, and with his back to a post, and with his pipe in his mouth, watched us fitfully with eyes that every now and again closed as if in sleep, only to open as suddenly again and to glare at us apprehensively. The rest of the smugglers were evidently resting, for a deep stillness brooded over the little island. The sun beat down on the lake with a fierce vvhit( heat, and the shadows lay black as jet, cleanly cut, palpable. Our surroundings seemed steeped in an air of unreality. It took an effor of will to realise that we were prisoners on a lonely island, the haunt of smugglers and desperadoes, in an almost inaccessible and mythical lake—the dread Lake of the Lost Spirits. How well that sheet of water was named, for surely Pete and I were now well lost to the world. Then I caught myself wondering how long it would be before my uncle and Colin Dunbar would forget that such an unimportant person as myself had ever crossed their paths. And Muriel Wray ; it was odd that a girl should enter into my thoughts at all ; but she was something more to me than a mere girl; she had been a friend to me in the truest sense of the word, she had been so good and taken such an interest in me ; why, goodness only knew, for I realised that in the knowledge of most things she was my superior. Would she soon forget mer I hoped not. If she did, and by some I ed Jim, on the id with iy with as if in and to of the a deep rhe sun tc heat, ily cut, eped in will to island, , in an ce — the ill that i and I caught before fet that id ever a girl he was •1; she ense of n such ew, for things forget ' some i-\ A STRANGE PRISON, 55 occult process I were to become aware of it, that. I thought, would be the most distressful phase of the Situation And the twenty pounds she had lent me ? It galled me to think that I had not paid It back. To anyone with a spark of honour m him. debt ought to be the greatest menace to peace of mind. Truly my schemes to get on m the world seemed doomed to be shelved for an indefinite period. The thought of this enforced idleness was almost unbearable. H. f^ 1 '^^^^P^''^^ to my companion, "what do you tliink about it ? Have you got any idea m your head as to how we can get out of this ? '> I m a-thinkin', Wally, I'm a-thinkin'," here- phed,puiing hard at his pipe and with a far- away 00k m his eyes, -it'll be a precious hard thing to do to get out of this 'ere place, seeing as how we re alius pretty sure to be watched. Them two boats are certain to be kept so it'll be im- thT^l^^ r '•' ^"' ^' '^^'^' I^ ^^ d« break that there dunjin-cell->where we're safe to be capped in every night-it would have to be a raft. We must take stock of the material for it, and what logs we can lay our hands on through the day, so that we can put 'em together quickly during the night. But I'm afraid we mly hev^ to wait days and weeks before we gets our chance. ^ "I've just got an idea, Pete," I remarked. 'Wouldn't It be a good thing if we could only send word to our friends or the police and let tnem know our whereabouts ? " Ii I ^.1 Mi IS* THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. Pete looked at me sharply, and then, I thought, with pity, as if he suspected I had taken leave of my senses. " I'm afeard, Wally; I'm afeard,"he remarked gently, " you see, there's no Royal Mail in them parts, and as that feller Kippler sez in his song : * There ain't no buses runnin' twixt the Bank and Mandalay.' No, Wally, old stocking, that won't cotton on, and as for bribing one o' them chaps to carry a message, they knows such a thing would mean death if discovered. No, thet won't do neither." " Easy, Pete, of course I know that. What I thought of doing was to write a few notes and stick them into bottles and slip them into the lake ; they would in all probability drift on to the mainland if the wind was in the right direc- tion, and the chances are that some search party would pick them up on the beach. I've read of people in books and in the newspapers doing such things." "Bully for you, pardner! bully for you!" whispered Pete admiringly. «* There's lots o' bottles lying round, and I think the sooner we does it the better. But you'll hev' to do the writin' part, as bein' last at school; broncho- bustin' and the three R's ain't got much in common." As luck would have it I carried a tiny note- book in my belt, which they had not thought of taking from me. It had been part of my work on the round-up to keep tally of all the cattle A STRANGE PSISOlf. ,„ Jim st.Il kept but a half-wakeful look-out upon our actions. It was an easy matter to write out hese notes. I did so at once and placed them m the hning of my hat for fear of accidents. We furtively secured some corks, and managed to hide a flat pint bottle apiece in the bulgy folds of our shirts. Luck was in our way, for before dark we had managed to launch a couple of messages on the Lake of the Lost Spirits without any particular trouble. Being late in the fall of the year the days were short and night came on apace. We had supper with Pierre and Jim as before, and then were taken to our prison-house for the night T confess my heart sank within me when I saw it It was the dread dungeon-cell the stra,nge-man- nered smuggler-chief had spoken about m CHAPTER XVI. H' IN CAITIVITY. Our resting place for the night was simply a large, dry species of cave in the precipitous rock that guarded the island on two sides. Advantage had been taken of a large hollov/ running up from the beach, and along the face of the cliff, to build a wall on the lake side until it was converted into a species of long gallery. This had doubtless been used by the smugglers before they grew bolder and built the large wooden huts which they now occupied. At the far end, and high above our heads in the side of the wall, was a little window with an iron bar running across it let into the stone- work. Some twenty feet or so beneath it we could hear the lap of the water against the foot of the cliff. It would be next to impossible to escape that way. At ine lower end of the gallery, screened on the outside by a dense undergrowth of wolf-willow, was a massive door, hung by heavy iron hinges to what seemed undressed door-posts of pine. It seemed made to stand a siege. Kegs and cases and empty bottles were strewed about every- IN CAPTivirr. ,^^ where. At tho far end were two oiles nf a.-, a Our jaiior J.m. who had lit a candle which was thrust i„ the neck of an emntv b^t M waited until we had diveste,! ourso v^of su h garments as wo thought could bo dispensi wi S What fallen m his ijood opmion. because we bad expressed a desire to wash ourselves in the lake before turnmsf in. At first the man. who seldom required t„ wash, had pretended no; to hea oTr entreat.es. but when he found he could no longer ignore them, he gave way with a show of ^^.gnation that testified to tho intensiV of hU feelmgs. He marched to where he Lrt t comrades slept, and from undeT his pal'se produced what seemed to be a dirty ^X' oi a clull brown hii*» an/i o 4.* . ° I 1 J ,., ^" nue, and a tiny piece of whaf uf whfh'' r: ''"^ "^ ^°--"'«' -^--e out Which he assured us was actually soat> He handed them to Pete, who received them vvith apparent gratitude and show of thank^ But with a twinkle in his eve th^ tr»..r cowboy handed them to me '^^'"^herous " '^^"y- °ld stocking," the cunning wretch remarked, "thy neces feeling rather chilly, for as it was now the end of October we had already experier ced some sharp frosts. As there were no signs of anyone approaching, Pete allowed me to mount on to his back and shoulders as he stood against the wall, and I reconnoitred through the narrow window. But I could see nothing save the cold, blue waters of the lake gleaming far below, a neighbouring island or two crested with shapely pine trees, and the great, sombre cliff of the Lake of the Lost Spirits Ijoming up in the background like the Titanic prison walls they assuredly were. My heart sank within me as I realised the almost insurmountable obstacles that would have to be overcome before v^e could make our escape. The Prisoner of Chillon was not more handicapped. "It's no use, Pete," I remarked somewhat glumh-, on descending from my companion's shoulders, " but IVe got an idea. There's lots of bottles here and we can write a few messages, cork them up, and chuck them out of the window. There's a light breeze blowing that will carry them to the eastern shore.'* No sooner said than done, and within the next few minutes we had throw three messages out of the window. We were somewhat apprehen- sive lest the bottles might not get clear of the island before some of the smugglers were afoot, for should any of them be seen by our captors it was hard to say what revenge they might not IN CAPTIVITV w."S."^ J;7 »»n.-l... i„ .bo., „ look ., a.":"!?;?''!™ » "» "..»iv. ness.and of doing thins-s hf. I, f^ ^'^''"""^ *'« '^«' y^" for Pete explained to him that as we S.H r ^H^ *=°"-^^''^'' '''^ ''«'» haMt:;h::tra' cow bath every morning he was afr,;H^ disastrous effects if we broke it off all I It was. he said, like a man wh^'hld been "nre ' ! It' P;:'l liB 164 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. habit of taking a good deal of liquor, and who was called upon suddenly to give it up entirely. It was necessary in such a case to ease off gradually. This home truth seemed to appeal to Jim's sympathies, and on assuring him that we would only dive into the lake and out again, he led us down to a large flat rock where there was deep water alongside. When we took that dive I noticed he held his revol.er conveniently in one hand. But he need not have done so, for that dip, though wonderfully refreshing, dissipated at once anyhalf-formed scheme we may have had of swimming ashore, the water was so deadly, icily cold. No one could have stayed in it for more than three minutes without getting cramp. At breakfast we learned that Campbell, the ruffian called Bill, Alan, and the Indian, had gone overnight with a boat's load of contraband goods. Pete explained to me during the course of the day, that he thought the lake narrowed to the north, ran in a narrow canyon far into the mountains, and that at its extreme end it war. more than likely the smugglers wen met by confederates with pack-horses, who transferred the goods from the boats, and took Uiem by means of some tortuous bridie-track i^p through the dense pine forests and across the Cypress Hills. Doubtless some ostensible farmer on the Plains of Promise was in ieagje wivli them, and took the liquor in wagons cover -d with farming and who entirely, ease off to Jim's 7Q would le led us ^as deep : dive I y in one for that ssipated ay have was so 2 stayed : getting 3ell, the an, had traband J course owed to nto the I it war. met by Inferred iiem by through Cypress • on the "m, and ■arming IN CAPTIVITK ,^^ produce, into the little villag^es thaf in«.^ ^ t^je fr^,ed the ^e. C.JZ:'';'^^^^:^ After breakfast, during which the usual wordv warfare took place between the fastidious pS and our incorrigible jailor, we were niarrh"^ for a hundred yards through the pW l.f *^ came to quite a trim liule ktchen-Sn aW s.de a n,.niature bay. It struck us^as 30^!; fr-it:L:trthiatr„:£ of ground had to be cleared of cerL^ ^^1 stumps and dug over, then left us a^I ntn .^ s:;s wit^thT ^^'^"^'^ -"-■ ^« -e uppiiea with the necessary tools for our ta«;t ourVeck^otl'^'^ ^"^^ ^^ "-'' ""i' «ur necii-s over it, began operations. JcuZ^°' """'" °' ^ "^"^ ^^^' ^^ "ncler the circumstances .c would have been folly to over wor^ O f 7,r:: S' '^" ''^^" •^^"^'^''^ wui jaKor uxted up a rouL^h whp^l barlow on end . .re he could ...nmatd a^gS a. we sh „ ,,, j^^^^ Tu::z^, - ure his revolver, and make him our prisonei He' !^L^ ^z: Tth^r ^^'^"^^ -"''"^-^^- i« nat, .t that^jeiy moment, leaving ff^'.J-'.' 1$!% (■?■; £' '» 166 TIfE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, Pierre out of the question, the sixth ruffian of the gang might be watching us from some point of vantage with a rifle in his hands awaiting an excuse to shoot us down. We must make certain of success before making a move. It was a lovely, bright, clear day — a typical " Indian summer's " day. The dark blue waters of the lake shimmered in the sunlight, and a number of hawks, poising on balanced pinion far above our heads, gave life and animation to the scene. Against our little bay on a neighbouring island, where trees other than pine grew, the dense foliage was one great blaze of rich and varied colouring. There is no place in the world where Mother Nature shows such gorgeous tints in the fall of the year as in Canada. Here olive greens, reds, yellows, and bronzes glowed side by side, like mighty gems set in a bed of turquoise. Our task completed we seated ourselves on a og right in front of the sleeping smuggler and waited for him to awake. " Ain't he a beauty ? " Pete remarked admir- ingly, as with a twinkle in his duty eye he surveyed the great shock of hair that stood up from the walnut-hued face, the long matted beard, and the wide open mouth. To these charms were added a nasal accompaniment that would have made a professional oag-pipe player turn green with envy. " Don't be jealous, Pete," I observed. " If Providence has been kind and given him ;:■ •^:'> uffian of Tie point iting an ;t make Ik ./• L typical e waters tf and a inion far a to the ibouring rew, the rich and ! in the forgeous i. Here glowed a bed of ves on a jler and admir- eye he tood up matted ?o these 3nt that 3 player 1 "If him /iV CAPTIVITF. But I did rot finish the sentence for Ppf» began one of his peculiar mirthless caVks !nd gave me such a dig in the ribs that I ost mv balance, and tilted backwards over the iS 2 the^confusion that followed the ^..^^Z^ "What-ho!" he exclaimed glaring at us stupidly. " I guessed as how that washfn' would Itn-Z T"" M"" ^""^^y- '' I wasn't mgh gom to sleep! Must be close on grub-oill r guess, so let's go to the kitchen." ^ ^ ^ ^ He arose, stretched himself like a e-reat do-" one U had been deeded that we should all have the mid day meal together. As Pete and I were SLirous" tZTZ Z ''"'' '^'°^^ ='"'"^ <^-n to dinner, and not caruiy to court the displeasure of ourjailer further by. .r fastidious preailecdors we covertly showed the condition of our h nis gesticulated and packed the three of us down to the lake s,de to wash. Ji:„ g^^bled and com- tZ^e ,, '" °" *''•" '^^^^"^^te condition of those who were obliged to clean themselves two or three times a day. He dipped his own hands -M -•-//'- i68 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. n. I m [•J I- ,•■! m gingerly into the water, with obvious repugnance, and then rubbed them dry on his dirty mole- skin trousers. At dinner we found that the two smugglers with whom we had not before been brought directly in contact were remarkably silent and taciturn. At the same time it was quite evident that little escaped their notice, and that they were very wide-awake indeed. They had a trick of avoiding one's eyes, and furtively watch- ing one when they thought they were not observed. At any unwonted sound, one of them would rise apprehensively, draw his revolver from its pouch and go outside. One thing I noticed during our stay on the island, was that no one ever went about without fire-arms. This was a precaution which had grown out of that vision of a scaffold — or more likely a tree with a rope and a noose — the ever-menacing Nemesis of black unpunished crime. We assisted n the washing-up after dinner, and then were locked up in the gallery for an hour or so. Later on, one of the taciturn smugglers kept us busy in splitting up some large pine logs ^vith iron wedges. It was while we were thus e igaged that a startling incident occurred. Pete and I had paused for a moment in our labours, when suddenly in the brooding silence, somewhere in the neighbourhood of the cliffs, a couple of rifle shots rang out. They were immediately foil jwed by the remarkable series of echoes which we had heard on the previous day. I gnance, y mole- lugglers brought ent and evident at they had a T watch- ere not of them •evolver thing I /avS that u This of that J with a Jemesis dinner, iery for -aciturn 3 some s while ncident noment rooding of the ey were series of us day. IN CAPTIVITY. ,^ Our jailer started and drew his revolver. Through a vista in the trees we could seethe top of the great chff from which the sounds came It was the way we had come. We all looked keenly for a moment or two at the pine-fringed edge without seeing anything. Then several tiny specks like so many ants, appeared upon the brink, and we knew that the rancher, Colin Dunbar, had not gone back to the ranche after all, but alarmed by our absence had taken all the men composing the round-up, and had followed us into the Land of the Lost Spirits to discover our whereabouts. We saw them group together on the brink of the precipice as ff VrTlf !l!' ""^T^ ^^ *^" mysterious lake. Probably the only man who had ever looked upon ,t before was the rancher himself-the others had doubtless scoffed at the idea of its existence. Suddenly our jailer gave a peculiar low whistle and covered us with his Colt's. "Make a move or a sign,'' he exclaimed - and 1 11 blow you to Kingdom Come in the twinkling of an eye ! ^ He looked as if he meant it. In another mmute he was joined by the other smugglers and Pierre who had also heard the shots, and at once came hurrying towards us. 1-or a moment the unexpected idea that help was so near at hand-that we were actually looking upon our would-be deliverers-caused us to forget the imminent and menacing peril of il^'tl %, u m Vtl 170 Tl/i: HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, the smugglers. Our first impulse was to dash down to the water's edge and try to attract the attention of our friends. But the sharp click of the revolvers brought us to our senses. " It's no use,' said the furtive-eyed one, " if you as much as speak above your breaths, you'll be both as dead as herrings in two-twos. To the lock-up with you ! " And next minute we were being marched towards our prison-cell with three loaded re- volvers pointed at our heads. It was a humili- ating position to be in, but it would have been madness to have made a move. to dash ract the click of ine, "if i, you'll QS. To larchod ded re- humili- 'e been CHAPTER XVII. A MYSTERIOUS FRIEND. We were not allowed out of the gallery a«i„ that da evening m..l being lou.lZZ ren^ar Jble seri:;^; o^tf J^gTuSh! Pete and I wondered if ' '. '' °^ ^"^ '^''^• taini„,the.e"irhll^a:;ed^orar:;"e Ttr atr :: " ')':'°-- '-' ^-^^^'^ -e;ircrCw:^^-L:h"iSer^^^^ rerr":tf " '-" *^ ^--^^ 'f tttboy, uien our rescue was assiir^^ri ti, , would Q,-mr.i assured. The cowboys woum simply construct a lartre raft ,« c sheltered nook and k« ? '^ ^^'"^ island in ^r • ^ bearing down upon the s orm Ti^ "'^^'' ''""^^y '^^^ the place by o wreak their vengeance upon us. We cnnlH easily secure the door so thaf thL ^^.^'"''^^ open it in ca..P of " . ^^^ ^^"^^ "'^t if If Iff;- Wi I 172 TI/£ HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, were so near at hand, and yet quite unconscious of our presence. More than likely the idea of our being on any of the islands never for one njjiiient suggested itself. What was there to suggest any such idea ! There was no sleep for us that night. We strained our ears listening for sounds and voices that came not. Several times I mounted on to Pete's shoulders to gaze out of our prison window. But I saw nothing save a broad band of mellow moonlight quivering on the bosom of the lake, and the edge of the high cliif on the western shore silhoutted darkly against the mil y ways in the heavens. Where were all my plans for the future now ? How was I to make my way in the world if so much precious time was to be wasted fretting my soul out in captivity? It seemed to me as if I had left my boyhood behind, and was at last facing what men called " the stern realities of life." Next morning our jailers were a long time in showing up, and when they did come they were headed by Campbell, the smuggler-chief, who had doubtless come back with the others in cover of night. His face was as pale and passionless as ever, but his eyes glowed with a light that filled me with an odd fear and apprehension. The man looked positively ill, not only physically, but mentally. Although he was tall he was but sparely built — a mere shadow compared to the burly forms of his associates. But there was that in his eyes which made him a ruler of men : nscious idea of for one here to t. We I voices d on to dndow. mellow e lake, vestem y ways ms for iiy way s to be y? It Dehind, d " the ime in y were ho had over of less as t filled The iically, ^as but to the re was f men : A MYSTERIOUS FRIEND, '73 that which only the possessor of brains and .„ iron will possesses. He was, doubrss a man Tad TrvT"; ^^^ ^^"- ^^-^«^ but wTose Til had perverted and jaundiced his moral Z\ mental outlook. The idea migh havf been SSr '" ^^ -'^ - '^-^ of t^: fa'lIL" He held one hand behind his back «.: ».. :"r -set^'^ '^^ "^» -"^ were wiStrha'd Mat something extraordinary was abo„t f„ happen, but what it was, I couTd Tot for the life drew hTh r. """ ''^'' ^°* '"'o- He with- in scra^ f "" '"''"' •''^ •'^'^'^ -'J handed n^^e a scrap of paper torn from my tally book Jlr' ""f °f *« fir^t "O.CS I had pu/into a bottle and consigned to the waters of the like My heart sank within me as I saw it Whai revenge would not this mad being 'LoTto "That's your writing, I know," he remarked f;^.ce^:d™;rnroTx„-:-- *!, u , ^^^" ^n currents that would carrv STur^mt;'^'* '; "^ ^^^^-* - the canyo? ^er had at h' "' °' *^ ^'^^^^^^ '""'^ -« -X^^^Hnrd^xrr;--- component parts of any kind of food by merl^y KMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) A / ^o /Xi :/. 1.0 ^^ m KS 1^ 12.2 I.I 11.25 tu us U 1^ ^ 2.0 \M \A IIIIII.6 V] <^ /2 // c^ %. "^ cW .^^ ^>..^- '>> .^^ /A ''F Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 \ '^^ V r<\^ :\ \ \ o- ^^V^ ) fe w J mm nf= •'» ' ^fll' m 174 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, glancing at it, but he died of starvation after- wards in the Australian bush, with lots of flour and every necessary in his saddle-bags, and close to running water, simply because he hardly knew how to light a fire, far less how to mix flour and water with baking powder and cook it." " Were you ever at Harrow, sir ? " I exclaimed, for the moment forgetting the serious nature of speech in his unpremeditated admission. Some- thing in the man's face seemed to haunt r^e. But, after all, it was only imagination on my part, I could not possibly have seen him before. " Never mind," he snapped, " I could see at a first glace you'd been there. What you've got to answer for now is this letter." "Waal, I guess, Campbell," broke in Pete, "as it's me who's got to answer for thet. It was my idea, and it was me as made him write it, and it was me what slung the bottle overboard." " I can't believe a single word of what you say, Pete," observed the smuggler, eyeing him calmly. " I am afraid you're too chock fall of silly sentiment and romance to I've long. Besides, you hadn't the brains to think of such a thing. Some of you cowboys imagine that you're the smartest men on earth, because you never see any people save blamed hobos like yourselves. Bullocks and horses comprise your every-day world; cards and whiskey when you're in town for a holiday. — Bah i if you could only see yourselves as others see you ! " ! A MYSTERIOUS FRIEND. ,75 I looked at poor Pete ; the blood had mountec^ into his brown, weather-beaten face, but he did not reply to the unmerited taunts of the man whom he had once saved from death by lynching It required more moral courage on Pete's part to hold his tongue than to retort. The smue^ler continued — "Now, Vm afraid you two fellows finding your way into these parts has made it very awkward for us, and the chances are that for the next fortnight or so, and until the first fall of snow the Mounted Police and goodness knows who' will be searching round these parts for your useless bodies, so it will be necessary for all of us to be pretty quiet until they reckon the snow has covered your bones. As to your punishment tor trying to give away this establishment, and to bring the red-coats down upon us, I'll think over the matter. There would be little satisfac- tion m killing you : 'Peace, perfect peace,' won't be yours if I can help it. In the meantime, you 11 go without breakfast until you're beyond the necessity of requiring food at all, and I'll see about leg-irons. Bill and you, Jones, make them clean out the gallery. See that every scrap of wood is removed and that there's not a bottle left for them to lay their hands on. Keep a sharp eye on them, and recollect that they're not to leave this for the next fortnight unless they're carried out feet first. Now, Bill, set them to work." I happened to glance at Pete's face at that ■ mu B 176 rZTiE' ^^^i?r OF THE PRAIRIK moment and saw that it worked with suppressed feeling. The veins swelled on his forehead and his hands were clasped together convulsively. It was well for us that we still had some measure of self-control left ; had we retorted just then, I do not believe our lives would have been worth a minute's purchase. The smuggler-chief turned on his heel and left ; at the same moment Bill ordered us to set to work. I confess it was almost a lelief to do something after the tension of the last few minutes. Our head jailor, Bill, and his mate never once spoke to us save to direct our operations. When dinner time came we were glad to sit down, nd gladder still to satisfy our healthy appetites, which, to do Pierre justice, he did not neglect ; himself bringing us dinner in an fid soap box. That night when we lay down to sleep we were dead tired, and I am afraid that although Pete did his very best to make light of the situation, and to cheer me with his whimsical talk, he was just as down-hearted as myself. Later on there was a sharp frost, and we shivered with cold as we rolled ourselves in our all too scanty blankets. We were glad when daylight struggled in through the narrow casement over our heads, but that day passed much as the other had done. We saw no one save Bill, his mate, anr'. the cook, and when Pete spoke about our blankets having proved insufficient to keep out the cold on the previous night, we were told A MYSTERIOUS FRIEND, ,77 with an oath and a sneer that we did not know when we were well off, for in a short time tha c^^ances were that we would be in a place where blankets were the very last things we would want. Towards the afternoon we had cleared the gall^ of everything superfluous, and swept It out. The enforced idleness that followed was harder to bear than the enforced toil. Four days passed and we had never been allowed outside our cell, save to wash in a bucket of water that was brought and placed just outside the doorway. We asked our jailors to give us something to do so as to break the deadly monotony of our lives, but they simply told us that if we wanted a place of entertain- ment we should not have come to the Land of the Lost Spirits. That night we were startled by hearing shots fired from the western bank of the lake, and, seeing a lurid glare in the sky through the tiny window, I mounted on to Pete's shoulders, and saw two large beacons burning on the top of the cliff some cousiderable distance apart. We knew that these fires were built by those who were out looking for us It was indeed a soul-harrowing thing to know that we were within sight of our friends, and that we could do nothing to apprise them of our presence. If we could only have had a match or a flmt we could have burnt bundles of the dried grass that constituted the greati - part of our bedding, and the watchers seeing it, would assuredly have built rafts and searched the N I78 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. m 'if 'A^ islands next day. But Bill and his mate had taken good care toleave us with nothing that could possibly ignite. Unfortunately, from the high cliffs, so thick was the foliage on this the central main island that not a trace of the human habitations it contained could be detected. The smugglers would also be on the qui vive so long as they suspected there was any of the search party about. No smoke would betray them now, as it had done on a former occasion to us. Next morning we had a change of jailors ; Alan, the man whose face I thought had borne some hint of pity when he first saw us, and our old friend Jim, who, df spite some of his peculiar prejudices, was a decided improvement on the brutal Bill and his taciturn mate. When Alan entered, I confess to having been rather surprised when he did not even vouchsafe us a half-hearted nod, but regarded us sullenly. " Oh, you're up, are you ? " he said. " Jim, go down to the cove for a bucket of water and let them chaps wash themselves. I'll keep my eye and my shooting-stick upon them at the same time." " Waal, I'm darned ! " exclaimed the man, who hated water, with a disgusted look on his face. " Go down and fetch water for them jokers to wash when I wouldn't go the length of my foot to git water for myself ! Waal, if you ain't a daisy ! " "All right," remarked Alan coolly, "if you A MYSTERIOUS FRIEND, yf'.rf "zz XT r r v^^'^^^ ^°' spirits.- ^ "" ^'^ ^^^rg-e of the This fetched Jim, who evidently had ^f i . no preiudirp ^r^ i; -j ""«ntiy naa at least moment he had tur„»H ^- v ^^ '*^'^'- ^he change came over ITal'L^V r™"'^"'^ scrutinized us keen^ "' '""'^'^ ^""^ "Look here," he asked quickly "ar» ^„ * be trusted . Honour bright! miS." '^°" '° seen 1/°" .°"'' *'"'' ^" ^'« fr°™ what you've "Yes"?' 1°" ! '° ''•" "°^^^-«c i_ J »* cixc, saia the smug-o-ler ■Here s a book or two for vn.i n • \^^^' Tat p r ti.is "°Hirr "^^-^ ^-^^'^ "^ your blankets AnH / *^'" ^"-"^where in f "i,. .bj; *?„f ■ «»»■". OM a few months fro!^ ^ ° ''^"" «"^- I" welcome to ; secret f^^th ' T''" "'" '^ just a trifle hot for us But ,' t'T '' ^'"'"^ question to as.7u%h!t '^^7^??: have overlooked. Was th«f ^^ ^ was that message you sent 13 ■\i. Hi I: 181 TlfF hEART OF THE PRAIRIE. off in a bottle the only one you wrote and put into the lake ? " Like a lightning" flash the idea presented itself to me that here, now, was an explanation of the seeming kindness oi the smuggler. He was a mean hypocrite after all, and his attitude towards us was merely assumed for the purpose of finding out our movements and betraying them to his chief. But he did not look like a scoundrel. He had a smart, almost military, appearance, and there was kindliness and strength in his distinctive face, and an honesty in his eyes, that seemed to belie the idea. In another moment I was ashamed of my thoughts, for he had shot a swift glance at me, then turning away said quickly, with what I thought was a note of disappointment in his voice — " Don't answer, it was natural enough for you to thirk that. I can hardly expect you to take me on trust." "I beg your pardon," I rejoined humbly. "We do trust you." I looked at Pete, who nodded. " We have sent four or five messages, but goodness knows whether our friends will get them or not. But if they do, what about you ? They will capture you with the others." " In that case I've a clearer charge-sheet than most of them," he remarked, with a thoughtful look upon his face. But here's Jim coming up with your water. And, by the way, I know you've been docked of your breakfast and that the other chaps haven't been giving you any. 1^ ^ and put presented planation rler. He \ attitude ! purpose Detraying ok like a military, ess and L honesty idea. In thoughts, ne, then '. thought ice — ough for :t you to humbly, ete, who nessages, Bnds will lat about )thers." heet than loughtful iming up , I know and that you any. 1 A MYSTERIOUS FRIEND, ,83 Now they forgot to inform me of the fact, so I just told P.erre the cook to let you have it as before ; I'll risk the racket." Pe^e and I hastily expressed our thanks. Now, stand-by," he said cheerfully "I'm going to give it you hot,"-Jim at that moment entered the cell with the pail. His manner changed in a moment.-" I wish you chaps wouldn't stand there looking as stupid as two owls. Just get a rustle on and polish up your dirty faces. I'll go and fetch breakfast, Jim? f^ir pla^y ^' ^''^ ^'^ ^^^ '''' '^''"- ^"'" ^^^"^'^ As he walked quickly oflf I could not help speculating as to the apparently friendly attitude of the smuggler. Had I not acted impru- dently in telling him of those other messages, Was ,t hkely he was going to remain impassive while the chances were one of the bottles might be found at any time, and his capture by the Police follow as a matter of course ? I 1 fl m^ CHAPTER XVIII. WE ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE. For the next two days Alan and Jim were ouf jailers which, needless to say, was a pleasant change from he brutal and taciturn espionage from which wo had hitherto suifered. For although Alan always addressed us somewhat gruffly before Jim, whenever that gentleman went to sleep— which he invariably did as soon as he had finished his meals— he treated us more like companions than prisoners, and talke ^ with us quite pleasantly. At such times I would take out " David Copperfield " and read, letting Pete, who had a natural antipathy to overtaxing his business eye, carry on the conversation. At night we were locked up and left to ourselves, but as Alan had supplemented our bedding with a couple of pairs of blankets, the rapid lowering of the temperature within the last few days did not disturb us. Strange to say, neither Campbell, the captain of the gang, nor any of the others came near us. I suspected they were keeping a sharp look-out and making preparations for a possible attack. Perhaps Pierre the cook was the most inconvenienced by the presence of the Wy ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE. |8| marchers in the neighbourhood, for he dared not light a fire of wood lest the smoke should betray the presence of the smugglers and had to bum spirit instead. The suspense and enforced inactivity to which Pete and I had been subjected was telling upon us. True, Alan had allowed me to pace up and down the gallery, and to improvise a pair of very rough and ready Indian clubs with which I staved off the horrible feeling of inertia, but still the sense of being almost within sight of our friends, and yet knowing that we were so utterly helpless and at the mercy of the desperadoes, was mental trouble of afar more trying kind. ^ Every night had Pete and I discussed the situation, advancing and abandoning all sorts of mad schemes by which we might eifec an escape. If something were not done, and that quickly, those who were searching in the vicinity for our supposed lifeless bodies must of a neces- sity give up their quest in despair, seeing that now considerably over a week had been spent without any clue to our presence. At times we were tempted to spring on our guards unexpectedly, overpower them, secure their weapons, and make for the little harbour where the boats lay. But we could not entertain the Idea of stealing a march on Alan who had been so kind to us, and the others never gave us a chance. Even had the sleepy Jim been told ott to gu~-d u: witL a man as sleepy as himself, and having achieved our purpose to disarm them 1 86 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, Pi \ we managed to elude the vigilance of the others, the chances were that the boats were stowed away in such a manner that we could not make use of them. It was a hopeless outlook. What made the situation to me all the more annoying, was that doubtless by this time Colin Dunbar had considered it his duty to communi- cate with my uncle in England, apprising him of my dissappearance and my probable fate. Poor old uncle Gilbert, I daresay he would regret the manner of my leaving his house, and be sorry for me in his own undemonstrative way when his studies permitted, but very likely the new family ties he had formed were by this time occupying more of his attention than he had bargained for. I, however, held to the thought that there was one who would really and truly be sorry when she heard the news, and that was my girl friend, Muriel Wray. Somehow of late I had been thinking a good deal about her, and with the broader views of life which I now took, I wondered at and felt ashamed of the occasions when I thought it was beneath my dignity to be seen with her — she who was so good, and so kind. It was a mystery to me now how she could ever have taken any interest in me. What a young prig I must have been in those days! Truly there was nothing like expe- rience and a touch of adversity for taking the conceit out of one and showing things in their proper light. Yes, it was comforting to think that there was some human being in whose fr£ ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE. ,g, heart I would be as a tender memonr, for I knew that she had really liked me, and stilY^he was onl of the most 'indemonstrative girls I ever knew It was quite plain to us that if we did not make some attempt to attract the attention of our fnends m another day or two it would be too late and .t would be difficult to say what might not become of us. It was imperative that we should make some attempt to escape. Alan had hmted that for the last few days his chief had become sua more strange in his manner, and was at times so violent in his behaviour th^t his comrades stood in considerable apprehension as houlTh^""'""'' '^'''^- "^ '=°""^«"«'l "« that should he come to our cell we must not allow ourselves to be provoked into losing ourtemperT what he might do in such a case. One day as Pete was watching the tiny patch of blue that showed through the little window over our heads, a half suppressed ejaculation escaped from his lips; he shuffled his feet un" easily and I knew he had got an idea. We had finished dinner and our guards had gone to theirs, locking us in, so there was notling to prevent us talking. ""ung to " Wally," exclaimed the cowboy, « I ^uess ai how we're two of the blindest ba'is aliverDo you see that there wall and that window?" 1 answered in the affirmative. "Waal, did it niver strike you that it would be an easy thmg to take it to pieces, beginning I 1 88 THK HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, at the window and working our way down stone by stone. It's only been plastered together with mud, not lime." To my inexperienced eye the fact had not been apparent. Now it flashed upon me like a revelation with all its possibilities. " But there's the deep waters of the lake underneath," I said, considering. " And even if we managed to get down to it in safety, how are we to get away ? " " We can drop the stones into the lake until we work down to near the floor, and then we can lower ourselves down by our blankets to the water, an' then it'll only be a few strokes to the shore alongside the doorway. After that it'll be make for the boats, and take our chances in getting clear away." " To-night, Pete ? " I exclaimed. "Yes, to-night," he replied, " but " "Oh, no buts," I interposed. "I'm sick of this, and quite willing to take the risks.'* "But I'm not so sure that I'm justified in lettin' you take 'em. I'm older than you, Wally, and hev had a good innings, so if I should get bowled out it wouldn't so much matter, but vou " "Pete," I expostuJ-^ted, "it doesn't matter about me so much as you think. I'm pretty well alone in the world, and I'd rather die trying to do something to help myself than remain here at the mercy of a mad smuggler and his men. As likely as not they may at any moment WE ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE. ,8, discover that our lives seriously compromise their own safety, and that it would be better to end these lives without a moment's wamine. I m eating my heait out in this place. Besides, 1 don t see what is to prevent us escaping. If they have got the boats locked up, I don't see why we can t hx up a raft from some of the logs and boxes lying about and drift and paddle ashore." All right, Wally, if you're willing to take chances. You're not a chicken now, and a'most as big as a man. Can you swim?" I assured him of the fact, so we at once besran to discuss our risky project. As we knew our jailors would not be back for anotte half-hour or so, I assumed my position on Pete s shoulders, and examined the case- ment, so as to determine the best way of begin- mng operations when it grew dark. 1 discovered ^l ^r ^ ^^ "° '"^*"'' ^" impossible task. When once the thick plastering of mud was removed, the blocks of basalt would not be difficult to detach from one another. For some reason or other I had hidden the strong stave of a cask in my bedding, and that might come in handy to use as a lever. If only the slight breeze that had sprung up continued, there would not be so much danger of the smugglers hearing the stones drop into the lake We more than suspected that two or three times during the night one or other of the smugelers came and examined the door of the galleiy. but the chances were that this inspection would not 190 THE HEART OF THE PRATRIE. extend further. As for Alan, wo had both grown to liko tho man wlioso ono seeming antipathy was to talk about himself. Ho had evidently rocoivod a good education, and with the exception of his chiof, bolongod to a V(»ry different order of beings from Ins mates. We knew he was sorry that wo had fallen into their hands, but wo also knew that if some of the others suspected his sympathies were with us, and that there was any danger of him conniving at our escape, his life would not be wortli a moment's purchase. We would have likeri to tell him of our intentions, but wo thought it was more than likely it would only place him in a most unpleasant predicamimt. It was a mystery to us how a quiet, kindly, evidently right-thinking man should have come ta cast in his lot with a gang of desperadoes. Since that time I have seen so many extraordinary phases of life that 1 have ceased to wonder at any- thing. It was only with difficulty we could conceal our suppressed excitement from the two men who kept guard over us that afternoon, but at last the long day came to an end. It was with an inexpressible feeling of relief that we heard the great key turn in the lock, and the great pine bar put into its place and wedged home. We had carefully examined that door on the first night of our imprisonment, and realised that it was useless trying to tamper with it. The night was cold and dark, the moon was we A TTEMPT ro KUCAPE. ,„ till midnight, wo ,Iolay„,l operations till then. It WHH a» wHl w„ ,Ild so, (i,r juKt as w., noted that a wan ray „( moonlight h«,l stru^Kl,.,! in through tho narrow <:«somont. and wo w.,r., about to rl»e from our I,.mIs. wo l,o„r,l tho »,:umi„^ of feet out- «.d.% th„ romovin^ of tho heavy bar. and the turnn,^ o tho key in the lock. In another moment three men entered. They ,;|„so.l tho door behmd them, struck a li^ht and lit a candle which one of them held in his hand. 1 could see by Its dim liKht that on., of them was Campbell another the brutal Itill. and the third th, seemmsly dl-mated Alan. Campbell was in h.s .sh.rt-sl.M,v,.s, his lace was of a ghastly pallor, and his eyes were wild and glassy. In one hand he held a large Coifs revolver. It was quite evident to mo that either the man was sufiering from the effects of drink, or else ho had passed the stage of incipient madness. The smuirglers had never visited us like this before in the middle of the night. What was their reason for doing so now? That it was for no good it was not difficult to divine. Instinctively J'eto and I drew the blankets close up to our chins, an.l teigned to be sound asleep. Hut still it was an unpleasant thing to think that we were so utterly at the mercy of that mad wretch with the cocked revolver in his hand. The three men came quietly enough towards us, and we knew that they were holding the light so as to see whether we were asleep or not. Both Pete and I breathed ^' f u 19« TII£ HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, heavily, the former indeed supplementing- his part by somethinsr that resembled a nasal note. Suddenly something occurred that required all my powers of self-control to keep me from crying out and springing to my feet. Campbell had made a movement, and someone, whom 1 guessed by his voice was Alan, had stayed his hand in some attempted action. "Don't do any such silly trick," said our smuggler friend, with a temerity for which I had hardly given him credit. " A lot of satisfaction there is in potting a sleeping man and a youngster! I wonder you*re not jolly well ashamed of yourself." " Let me go, you squeamish fool f " hissed the desperado. " You don't seem to realise that if it wasn't for these born idiots we shouldn't be surrounded by a troop of Mounted Police and all the cowboys in the country at the present moment. The powers of darkness take them ! It's only a question of time now before they're exploring these islands on the ice, and the game will be up. In the meantime it's as much as our necks are worth to attempt to run a cargo up the canyon. Oh, curse them! I must be even with them ! I'll have a fit unless I put a bullet through their brains ! ** ** You'll have something else if you don't look out. What right have you to put us all in a hole for the sake of gratifying your bloodthirsty notions of revenge ? You seem to have lost your head completely of late. Why not keep them fr£ ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE. ,„ police find out our whereabouts, you could tell oul^/tt?"'? ^"^^ ''"""^'^ y-'" <=>--S out of the country you would at once do them up There would be more sense in that." ^' " Yes, boss, I guess that's not s bad idea " growled Bill, who, like most brutal men had' bemg. .. That's the ticket! When the red- coats come round, you jest hev' them two bloS thev'^nTe" .""' ' V ' "^^ of g-powder, where they km see em. You stand at the business end of the fuse, and se^ you, < is it a clear trail for u, chaps or is it Kin^^dom Come for them ' The they don t, then you can fire the fuse and intro- rerin^r'-"^''^^"-'^- ^'•---^ thft'r^ ^"k n ^'"'^^^ *'^°"«^'" ^°' but we hoped BiU's a7vit T""":"^" '" thetender-hearS Bill s advice. In another moment we found that It had found favour in his eyes. "That'i not a bad idea. Bill." he said, "and he effect would be quite dramatic. I'm blowed f I wouldn't mind being shot after it merely for he p easure of seeing these two fellows going up xn ht«e pieces to join the stars. Come^on. le"s to Jh ! ^"?*"" ''""'' ^^"'^ I t"™ i" so's L^lP to sleep. They'll be all right till When they had gone and closed the door behind them. Pete and I sprang to our feet with o iH rrrK hkart of trk PftAtRfK, Inexpronsiblo relief. Thoro worn no dnubtN or hesitation as to what we should do. The sooner we vrere out of the clutches of such a truly diabolical crew the bettor. If we were killed in attemptiny to escape we would be tm worse off. I groped my way to the door and picked up a box of matches (hat Campbell had inadvertently placed on a small shelf and forgotten, when he had Jlghteif the candle. They would come in handy, and save Pete from breaking his word with Alan about the matches hc» had got from him. Hesides 1 had a project to attract the attention of any of the search-party who might yet be on the main- land. 1 look the stave, and mounted on to Pete's shoulders. "Now, Wally," ?;aid my cheery friend, «* smash the plaster up, then try and lover out some of them there stomas. When oncet you've^ made a beginning I'll git up and lu^p." I set to work with right good will. In less than ten minutes 1 had removed the mud-plaster and discovered the first vulnerable part in the stone- work. It was with a feeling of joy and exultation that 1 pushed my first stone out through the narrow window and heard it re- bound from the rocks and splash into the lake beneath. Then my blood ran cold with sudden fear; what if the smugglers should hear the noise ? But the wind had fortunately freshened, and the breaking of the little waves against the cliff would surely deaden the sound of the falling im: A TTKMPT TO KSCAPfC. .^g d^brl«. I «craf nd nnd tuKKncl away nt thi, «ton.« with myl.nml^ until thnrn wa/hanJfy « wHc.lc. .nch of Bkin c.n thnrn. but mv.n I had the pInnRurn of locmonl.i^^ thn four Inr^n Rtor.n« that cnn«tltutnrl thn cm^nmont of tf.o window, and purUnnjf t»,nm onn by ono into thn lakn. Ihon I worked dcwnwnrd.s nnd thn rn«t wan rom.mra- tivoly oa«y work, fn an hour'n timn I had made a ho n alino.M jar^n onmi^h to «tand upright In. but I oto lnslfitn.1 on nin taking a n^M, «o f (:limf,nd down and ho took rny placn. Vory «oon ho In- forniod mo that now wo mi^ht ri«k tho lake. Iho soft mollow m(K,nliKht «troamod in throuirh the Krnat ^ap wo had mado in tho wall and floodnd our coll. T)y it« light wo toro our blankots nito Jong strips, which Poto skilfully and quickly convorted into a long ropo. IW moans of tho stavo wo mado ono ond of it fast in tho Btono-work, lotting the other dangle over the ledge outside. And now the time had come for us to entrust our bodies to the icy waters of The Lake of the Lost spirits. CHAPTER XTX. THE PURSUIT. Pete clambered on to the partially demolished wall and peeped into the gloomy depths below. ^' It's a long way down, Wally," he observed, " but the rope's nigh touching the water. I'll go iirst, and you follow me up. Here goes." He took hold of the ropo, and with his foot braced against the cliff, began to lower himself down. When he had disappeared from view I took his place on the wall and watched him, as hand over hand, he gradually neared the cold! black water. It must have been at least thirty feet from where I knelt to its surface. Pete must have been close to it, when suddenly, to my surprise, he stood upright, felt about with his feet, relaxed his hold on the rope, and steadied himself against the face of the cliif with his hands. He looked up towards me and cried— "Come on, Wally, I believe I've struck a ledge ! " In two minutes more I stood by his side It was indeed a ledge, but an exceedingly narrow one. By closely hugging the cliff we could just get a foothold, and no more. It sloped gradu- molished s below. )bserved, '. rUgo f» his foot r himself til view I him, as, the cold, Lst thirty ?. Pete lenly, to out with steadied *vith his Tied — struck a iide. It ' narrow >uld just 1 gradu- THE PURSUIT. '9/ •Uy shoreward,. When we stepped from it on to th. firm aand of the beach, my teeth were chatte„„g in „y head, and I hardly knew whether n,y nether limbs belonged to me or h!,;^ u '* ''"'^'"■''' y^ds of our progress had been through water which reached to our Z^' u "T" '" ""-^ "^* ^""""^ ^«'" «o icily cold It made me shudder to think of what total immersion in it would have r=; ,ant. hniT *!:""' ^'"y- ^«'" h^ve to make for the thW V'^^^'f ^^*«- "^ ^«'='«'" th« best tJrfhrn^" ^°r^ ^ *" "^^' ^'°"r rendered Id then be ne logs or urselves to /ere there, there was ran down se of dis- ered they >ile driven in such a THE PURSUIT. ,^ position that wo could not got at it .o as to spnng the lock by the u.aal means aclopted n S:,rr'^'^^^^^^^'^-^^^^^-with "Wally old stocking," whispered Pete. " it'i iSTi^r""- ""f "^ '""'^"'^ waste\i„,e' 1-C3t s look for some logs-anything at all • k won t do to stop round this 'ere ^hopLg mSteT ''" ''"' ^^'^^ ^'^^^^^^ -^ -nr two boa'ti".'""' ^tantalising sight to see the two boats lying there so trimly sMe by side, with the oars in them, and still so utteriy use^ less for our purpose. But my old faculty of V^^T J """I ^ ^'^'^^^ ^ ^"«^ ^here they keep the key of that padloc' It is kept hun^ the building. I once saw Jim put it there." Aro you quite sure it was the key of this padlock ? " asked Pete. ^ "Tm almost sure of it," I replied ; "at least. It was the key of a padlock -you can always tell Ind ge!T"" ''"' ^^'^^ '^^^ ^"^ '''' ^« Peto wanted to go himself, averring that he knew the ground better than I did, but I would not have It. The suggestion and project were mine, and mine would be the risk. "You run a- much risk of being shot. Pete by staying here," I declared. '* I'm goi^g ^ Its no use your trying to persuade me to the m 200 TIfi: HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. contrary. I can lay my hands on that key I'm pretty certain, and should even the smugglers happen to hear me I can get back again before they can make out what's up. You stand by and be ready to help me. So long, old chap." I hastily shook him by the hand and was off before he could prevent me or say a word. The still-house was the farthest away of the log huts, so I skirted the hollow among the pines in order to enter it by the doorway at the back., It was dark in the shadow and I stumbled against rocks and tree-stumps. Every little noise brought my heart into my mouth, for I thought the smug- glers must necessarily hear it, and I knew that meant certain death for both Pete and myself. Still, I will say this for myself, that it was not so much the actual fear of death that concerned me as the failure or mismanagement of the mission which I had taken upon myself, and upon which the life of another hung. I crouched and crept along as best I rould until I stood on the top of the lip of the little hollow just behind the still-house. Everything seemed perfectly quiet and the huts had a deserted appearance. There was a light breeze blowing, and one or two loose boards on a ruined shed flapped eerily to and fro. I looked across the dim lake to the south where the shadow of the mighty western cliff lay like a great eclipse athwart the dim waters, clearly defined, black as jet, palpable. Suddenly from the blackness there gleamed out a light so TRIE. Iiat key I'm > smugglers igain before u stand by- Id chap." and was off word. The ^e log huts, les in order ck., It was fainst rocks Drought my the smug- knew that md myself, was not so icerned me he mission ipon which 3st I rould i the little everything its had a ght breeze irds on a I looked where the lay like a •s, clearly ienly from light so THE PURSUIT. ,01 intense, so bright, that for a moment it fairly dazzled me. It lit up the weird gulch of watere as If the sun were blazing directly overhead, and the vast cliffs with every tree and scar stood out distmctly. But the cause of that flash itself I could not determine. It was of such infini- tesimal duration that but for the sudden affnght of the bird-world I could have almost fancied myself the victim of some optical illusion. What weird phenomenon of nature was this ? But there was no time to lose in idle specu- lation, and I turned at once to the hut. Quickly I walked over the intervening clear ground. Luckily the door stood wide open, and I stepped mside. It was pitch dark, and owing to the number of formidable obstacles, mostly in the form of tubs and jars, littering the floor, I nearly broke my neck in trying to get to the spot where the key was kept. I would never get there without a light of some kind. The noise caused by my tumbling about would be more likely to be heard than any light employed for a minute or two was likely to be seen. If the key was to be found one would have to take risks in finding it. I struck a wax vesta and made my way quickly to where the key was kept. Thank goodness, there it was, and hastily I secured it I was now close to the door when suddenly the match burnt my fingers, and hastily 1 threw it from me. In another second a great tongue of flame shot up from an open keg close to the wall, and in another moment it seemed 202 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, I I as if the whole place was ablaze. Some kind of oil or spirit must have been left uncovered and my match had done the business. For a moment I stood helpless, incapable of thought or action. To try and stop the progress of that fierce flame would be a fatuous task ; turning, I dashed across the space of open ground and by the \7ay I had come. That hut burned as if it had been made of tissue paper soaked in kero- sene. The breeze fanned the flames through the doors and windows with almost incredible rapidity ; there was a series of loud reports as jars and kegs of spirit were exploded by the fierce heat, and before I had reached the little harbour immense forks of blue flames and red were shooting through the roof. Glancing over my shoulder I could see the smugglers rushing out of their hut evidently in a great state of consternation. Would it serve to distract their attention while we made our escape ^ If so, then the dropping of that match was a fortuitous accident. "Quick, Pete,*' I cried, almost breathless, handing him the key. " Had we not better take b-th boats?" But there was no time for that, for just as we had unlocked the padlock and jumped into one of them, someone, hatless and shirtless, came tearing round the bend of the rocks. It was the brutal Bill, and in an instant I noted that he was unarmed. He was evidently a man of prompt action, for without uttering a word he IE. le kind of ^ered and For a f thought ss of that turning, I id and by 3d as if it i in kero- rough the incredible reports as 3d by the the little s and red icing over rs rushing t state of tract their } ^ If so, fortuitous )reathless, tetter take just as we I into one [ess, came >. It was ed that he L man of % word he THE PURSUIT, 203 rushed headlong upon me like a wild animal, as I stood on the edge of the natural quay. Pete was a little to one side taking aboard the heavy chain that secured the boats. On came Bill with the glare of a savage creature in his eyes. So great was the light from the burning hut that I could see his features distinctly. I waited until he was within a couple of feet of me, then, springing quickly aside, put out my foot, tripped him up, and in another second he had pitched, with a great crash, head-first into the boat. I thought the fall must have killed him, and swamped the boat, for it plunged down in the bows until the water ran in over the sides. But Pete evidently did not want to be burdened by the carcass of the smuggler, for he promptly jumped into the boat after him, caught him by the feet before he could make a move, and tipped him over the side into deep water. "Jump in, Wally, for goodness sake !" cried my comrade; "the/11 be on us in another second. Crikey ! here they come ! No time to trouble about the other boat—in with you and row for all you're worth." I jumped in and, seizing an oar, shoved off; at the same moment three or four smugglers came rushing down towards the quay. As we passed under the archway pmg ! ping ! went a couple of revolver shots, and the bullets flattened agamst the rocks close to our hea^s. Just as we cleared the archway and shot o . into the lake the wild crew of desperadoes had reached the ill I h'l i »04 rjTiE' JIFART OF THE PRAIRIE. quay. Ping / /j'«^ / went their revolvers again. Whiz'iip / went the bullets. But either that lurid wild light was deceptive, or they were too excited and full of rage to take the careful aim necessary to make good shooting with a revolver, for although one or two of the shots struck the boat they did no harm to us. I noticed that the second boat in the meantime had drifted from the quay towards the archway. Pete and I now crouched in the bottom of our boat, and taking an oar I used it as a scull. We noticed that some of the smugglers were helping the hapless Bill out of the water by means of a boat-hook. The smuggler-chief himself stood for a moment on the quay, the very picture of impotent rage. His legs were apart and he shook his clenched fist at us like a maniac. " Oh, you fools ! " he shrieked ; " O, you devils ! I'll make you pay for this! I'll roast your bodies over a slow fire until there's nothing left of you but your bones ! You'll not escape us ! " In another moment he had dived from the quay and made for the drifting boat. He suc- ceeded in catching it up, clambered in over the side, made back to the quay, and was joined by three of his fellows. They shipped the oars and immediately their boat shot through the arch- way in hot pursuit. "Git up, Wally, and row like mad!" cried Pete. " It's some years since I took a turn at the oars in the old Mississippi, but I reckon I can make a fair show yet. We'll give them THE PURSUIT. ,0 £•"••'"* '" " ^"^''°"' ^^^^ ^- ^-e if we Ws bent to our work and the boat churned through the water. It was n„if<. ".'/"""'ed the smugglers ™eant toTaLCaH^^^U'u was not difficult to guess, seeing tharCampbeU stUlhoTf "''"'^ ""^"^"^ the situation '^J:; stUl-house was now one great white column of flame, which shot hitrh intn ti,^ ,• i- , . ""■ " the horrible ^^^^T.T,:^l,:::S::^^^ T. str "f h? -^^ 0^ *e^alT^oI' and stars The wild birds rose from the nei^h night with their clangorous voices. We could hear the unearthly howls of the coyotes and timber-wolves from the shores tor us. It was our intention to make as nearlv found't? : '°'' •"' ^"^^ ^" -*•-" we had firS^ found the boat, jump ashore, and rely upon our i' IM ao6 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, out of the still water and have rounded the last of the outlying islands. '*Pull, sonny, pulli" cried poor Pete, as he bent to his oar like a man possessed. " Never say die ! " But I saw to my dismay that the smugglers were gaining upon us. In a few minutes more we would be in their power. And now Camp- bell, the smuggler-chief, stood up in the bow of his boat and watched us intently,, He was excited to an extraordinary degree and behaved just Mke a maniac. He shook his fist at us and laughed in a way that made our fiesh creep. " Stay with it, boys ! " he cried to his men, "we're gaining on them, and soon we'll have their bodies roasting on the embers of their own fire," — he raised his voice as he cried out to us "Ho, there! you silly fools, you may as well save your wind and knuckle under— you haven't got the ghost of a show ! " To this invitation Pete and I made no reply, but rowed all the harder with the energy of despair. We shot past the point of the last of the islands and stood out for the open waters of the lake. Suddenly that weird dazzling light, which had so startled me several minutes before when on the island, burst out again somewhere ahead of us, but it was no momentary flash this time. Instinctively Pete and I turned to look at it. What we saw was a sight that neither of us are likely to forget to our dying day. There, within two hundred yards of us, were a couple of large rs THE PURSUIT. jo- rafts each with a species rf lug-sail bellying to he breeze, and slowly dnfting down upon us. l-pon them stood a large number of men I was evidently a magnesium light that was being burnt so as to give the occupants some idea of their proper position. My heart throbbed wildly as m the fierce white light I could make out distinctly the kharkee uniforms, slouch hats, and ong boots of Mounted Police troopers ; and the leather trappings and picturesque gearing of the cowboys. We could see them looking at us and our pursuers in evident astonishment. "Hurrah!" shouted Pete. "Pull liVo „,.< Wally ! Thank God we're sa^ed ! " ^' But the smugglers did not intend to let us escape so easily. fi- ■f f I If CMAPTKR XX. ■niK (iKHAT FKillT. Vhrn tho smuKjflors realisod that tliov wor« n.n„.n. nj,ht into tho lio..„ ,„<.u,h th.ybLLT ml co„ster„at,o„. ]Jut only for an instant, for 1„1m1, '"■'-'^' '^'""Pboll raise,! his revolver. otJt :;",'" 'r'""''°" '" ''•"« ""•• <'"<^k«i. w. nt whu^ng over our h.-a.ls. The smugKlera put about and mad.,> back tho way thef had the "aft ' T^'"" """"•" -" --« alongside Colin n 'k ""*' ""''' """*? ^ •'""^ was that Co^m Dunbar, the rancher, was wringing my ftarm. Ihe good man seemed so overcome at . ^^^ ^^ Waller's appeared. With become second nature, he leapt into the boat call,„g on three of his men to follow him * i thoy woro ley backed- KMr much- iiinaz(3ment instant, for has been is revolver, y Poto and id ducked, their way smug-glers they had alongside ' was that iging my Tie bodily 3rcome at ite unable ice officer d. With him had the boat, n. THE GREAT FIGHT, ,09 "You come, too, Dunbar," ho cried ; "and as for you," indicating Pete and myself, "give, up your oars to those who are fresh, but stay in th*^ boat. We'll want you to pilot us to the lair of the real spirits of these parts. We must take these chaps alive if we can. Sergeant-major Wilde, try and place the two rafts one on each Bide of th \land, land the men, keep thorn well under covfc. nd await further orders. Lay to boys I " ' * In less time than it takes to write it, two brawny troopers were pulling together with a long measurcid stroke that sent th.5 boat flyinR through the water. Everything had happened in such an inconceivably short space of time that It seemed almost like the incongruous turn of some vivid and fantastic dream to be chasinj? our late pursuers. It was turning the tables upon them with a vengeance. The magnesium light that had burned on the raft had now gone out, but the glare from the burning hut still shed a weird lurid light on the deep mysterious waters, and threw the rugged pine-crested islands into bold relief. The smugglers made back for their stronghold even more quickly than they had set out from it. We could see the gaunt figure of the smuggler chief as he sat in the bow of the boat, his hands gripping the sides, his head slightly bent forward, watching us with a peculiar concentrated stare. Ho reminded me of some huge ape, behind the bars of a cage which, having spent its strength in a wild m i i, 110 r/tt- ffEJXT OF THE PRAIRIE. paroxysm of rage, was lying back in a state of im- potent senility. He did not attempt to fire at us, but once or twice he seemed to rouse himself, and shook h,s fist at us in a way that would have been ludicrous had it i, ,t savoured of tragedy As our boat churned through the water, Pete and I told our story to Colin Dunbar and the officer of police in as few words as possible, and described the physical peculiarities of the smug- glers retreat. It transpired that one of the notes put by me in the bottle and consigned to the lake, had been found some days previously on a strip of sand by the w..stem cliff. It had been discovered none too soon, for in another twelve hours the search party would have left under the belief that Pete and I were both dead, and our bodies lying in some inaccessible spot in the Land 01 the Lost Spirits. They had lost no time m withdrawing from the observation of the smugglers so as to throw them off the scent, and m building rafts in a secluded cove. Our boat was fast catching up on that of the smugglers, but in another hundred yards the latter wo.-ld gain the archway and then they would to a large extent be the masters of the situation. The two troopers bent to their oars nght bravely, but it was of no avail. The smug- glers, with something that sounded like a wild howl of triumph, passed under the archway, and just ere they did so. the smuggler chief seemed to recover something of his old vindictiveness. for levelling his revolver at us he fired, and one THE GREAT FIGHT. ,„ of the troopers dropped his oar with a bullet through the fleshy part of his right an^ Immedjately his place was taken by another man. th«r? "'• ""^ ^''^ °«5=«' °f police, there s no use exposing ourselves more than is necessary to those wretches, who know well enough It means the gallows for most of them TsZh 'k'^ .1°"'* r '''°'- Well surround the sland when the rafts come up and take them all in good time. In the meantime we'll take care that .,0 one tries to escape. Nicholls,"-_this to the trooper with the injured arm-" you'll be Dn Haultam wUl see to your wound. It was fortunate we brought the doctor with us. I wouldn t wonder, by the way, if these scoundrels rAu-T""' 'r *' "^^'^"""^ disappearance ot Dur.thorne about a year ago." We stood out from the shore' and waited for the rafts to come up. By the light of the still blazing stiU-house we could see the smugtrlers running up from the little harbour towards the remaining huts. It was quite evident they were barncading themselves in, and making prepara- tions for a siege. They might as well shoot a few policemen and cowboys, seeing that in any case their lives would be as good as forfeit ^i The rancher had ripped open the trooper's coat sleeve and was binding it up until such time as the doctor appeared upon the scene. In order that one of the rafts should be stranded at the far end of the island near the kitchen -garden Ii-., IJf- ail THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, we pulled slowly round in that direction ; we would thus be able to signal it on its arrival. We were passing the high rock where our late prison was, when looking up towards the great gap which Pete and I had so lately made in the stone wall, and from which our improvised rope of blankets still dangled, we saw in the imperfect light the dim figure of a man making frantic signals to us. Who on earth could it be, and what were the designs of this person ? *• Don't go too near," I counselled, the past threats and cunning of tlie arch smuggler- chief occurring to my mind at that moment, and visions suggesting themselves of a keg of gun- power wich a fuse attached being dropped into our boat should we approach too near. But to our surprise we saw the man, apparently unarmed, swarm down the rope until he dangled from it with his feet just touching the water. J' Here's something queer," exclaimed the officer. " Pull in, but be very cautious. He's a dead man if there's any treachery." A few strokes from the oars and we were close to the swaying figure. *' Alan ! " I exclaimed in astonishment, for it was indeed the smugrglerwho had all along been our friend, and doubtless to whom we owed our lives, when on the first day of our arrival the ballot-box was called into requisition. The police officer caught him by the nape of the neck and pulled him into the boat. " Dunthorne ! " he exclaimed, with a look of ■? ! THE ORE A T FIGHT. , , Incredulity and amazement which also found a reflection on the faces of the others. « I ntl^^ nal^ •• came T'""'''' '"'^''' ^°" ^«' ^-T* replLrfzwrstXnn" *'^" '^"^ ''''" "^ own life air oirzrrhadt"^^"^ never ,„ betray them! anuthtve Lpf m'j w^ But I made astinulation that they were ne™ expect me topull a triggeror lift a hand ^aTn: St a" htT' '"' '" r'"™ ^ P™""-'' neve t ^LJl ^'""'" *''^"'- Should my name not -d. ts reriTtcixifa r '-^ myself all those weary momh. tx.u ^ °"^' the force have gain/dTlTad' been'lLl ^C '' you tell me my position now, sir r ^^" the officer"" anri"^? "T""™^ ^till." replied fi,« /- . . Victim of circumstances ,inH the Commissioner is a just man V.„ , ^^' ^^'^^ cere s a.h .„, ^ im sryo^^^JfravThr- The officer shook him heartily bv thl h= "i and the action was immediatoly Lowed bAhe anri' Hd "" ^''^ "° "«1« emotion hat pI and 1 did so also Tiiic ^ > Which had before bten s^ch ^^^7:^'^' the officer of police how undoubtedly he hl^ saved our lives more than once TnH k ^ u ? befriend«ri .,= »ii ,,_. " °"*'^' ^"^ '^ow he had befriended us all along. In a few minutes more one of the large rafts i "1 ' i ih r t, I ii "4 rjy^ J5r5^ier tpj?- tite prairie, came bearing down upon the island. The great lug-sail bellied to the breeze, and loomed up vaguely like some uncanny thing, in the lurid half-hght. As it was let down it flapped and shook with a noise like muffled thunder The raft ran into the little bay by the kitchen-garden and grounded on the beach. We signalled it and pulled alongside. Immediately the men sprang ashore. The trooper who was shot through the arm was handed over to the police surgeon, who had with him pII the necessary surgical appliances, and our friend Alan Dun- thorne, smuggler and non-commissioned officer of police, was left to assist him. Pete and I were given revolvers apiece, with a belt of ammunition, and were told by the officer to keep m his neighbourhood and that of the rancher, but on no account to expose ourselves to the fire of the smugglers, as naturally they would blame us for all their troubles. By this time the second raft had pulled in to the rocks on the east side of the island, nearly opposite the little glade and pathway that led down from the burning still-house. The men spread out until a species of semi-circle was formed opposite the hut in which the despera- does had entrenched themselves, but not within a hundred yards of it at the nearest point, as there was the clearing to reckon with ; not to keep well in cover of trees and rocks meant certain death. The officer, who was a plucky fellow, crawled THB GREAT FIGHT. ,,5 irregular succession A T" '^""''^ °"t '» exposed himself from ^^h^T ." '^^''^^ iiice a stone with aTulleM^u^.r I'r^"^ worse than -ke S; i^'ILtlL^'t^ wouldn-t stand out like this Whl^ ort o^h ' Xiie sort of brutes who take a v ■u. ■ thrashing boys, sir." I relied .'Th l^^l "" on the ground and SoglTl Ju "^ '""' "* very first day I was h«r. 1 . *•* * """P* *^'' Then I w VTr ' ''*'=*"«« ^ cheeked them." Then I blushed for myself in the dark tZ surely now I was something mo« th?' "" boy. At least I thought I w!s '" * ""^^ The officer laughed ««q->«. j cheeking your eldfrs-Goodtr.r.'°" "«•" '°' It was my turn to laugh now. A bullet h^ m V' : ai6 TIf£ HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, made the bark fly close to his head ; he ducked in rather an undignified fashion. "Those chaps are no tender-foots/* he remarked, thoughtfully. It was a picturesque if tragic scene-the blazing hut, the little stronghold from which jets of flame kept darting; the clear piece of encircling ground, on which to venture meant death; the dusky group of encircling pines where the sharp ring of the unseen troopers' rifles spurted out the death fire ; beyond that the gleaming lake with its dark isles; above that those great, gloomy, encircHng cliffs, and above all the luminous grey-green of the heavens, in which the stars were beginning to go out one by one, just as the lights disappear in a great city at peep of day. It was beginning to get piercingly cold, for a sharp frost had set in, and in a day or two we knew that there would be ice on the Lake of the Lost Spirits. "I say, Derringham, this won't do, you know," remarked the officer, " you're shivering with cold, and there's hardly room behind this tree for both of us. Creep to the bank and find Dunbar, or your late friend in misfortune—the man with the business eye, and the nose that looks two ways at one time — " " Broncho Pete is as good-looking as you, sir, or anyone else when you get to know him I " I interrupted hotly. "Keep your coat on, Derringham," laughed THE GHEAT FIGHT, Jh!rf.r'' "^^"^*«^g^ee with you. It'sonlv the 1 tti, ^,y ^, ^^^^ ^^ talking'^ou here i^H merely meant to save an^ ^ ' ^^ affection." *°^ demonstration of . ^,|hought of Pete's quaint "Wallv oM .♦ u mg," and kn^w ♦!,«♦ *u vvauy, old stock- what he said I st ' '^ ^*' '°""'"''"« '" crawled ba k" J ttT^;^'^ f « "P°>°gyand Jndin, the ranche^; whf seeLTIotvf L'" anxious as to my safety *^®" Ha:?t 2/.':rcat?t r ''^^' ^-v thing', pretty sure to haonen tT^ ""^-^ome- ■•• bound to r-m o,t w ' ^'^''^ ammunition makeabrlakrAuX".'"* """"^ "'^^ ''"'^•" SuS„iralThe°"ha^°" 'T ""'' ^°'* — thing. hf'saMagaJ^'"' '"' "'=°"'=<='^'' X""- "Py '•'^ way, I had nearly foreotten v won't guess what I've goi hefe fol ^°" Derringham?" ^ ™ '°^ yo». mieht lit^ ,r, ' •. ^ **' J"'* possible you miglit Jike to see it when we found you." I almost snatched it from his hand. I knew it. or^* ^"^ ""^ ""='« <^"'-''' there wL o„,y one other person who was likely to write to m. and that was my girl friend. Muriel Z^. '' U a from her ? " asked the rancher smilingly. m m'- I «i8 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, and watching my face. I had mentioned her existence to my friend. "Yes, sir/' I answered, and somehow could not help blushing, simply because it was from a girl and not from a boy. Then I felt ashamed of myself for being so disloyal, and strove to make amends. " But she's one of the best sort of girls I ever met, sir, a regular brick, and quite as good as most fellows ! " "Don't apologise for her," remarked Colin Dunbar dryly, "I'm quite sure from the little you've told me that she doesn't require it. Put that letter away, there's something going to hap- pen now, and no mistake. Just look there ! " He sprang into an almost upright position. I thrust that dear letter into my pocket and looked too. It was a remarkable sight that met our gaze. Some adventurous trooper had set fire to the coarse, dry grass in the open. A great gushet of fire ran quickly down to the lee side of the loqr hut. In a minute more a pile of fire- wood and rubbish close to the gable end had caught fire, and in two minutes more the whole place was aflame. A triumphant murmur of voices from the troopers and cowboys was heard. " Stand to your posts, men, and look out,*' cried the officer. " They are going to make a rush for it," cried Colin Dunbar. "Now, stick to me or the Inspector, Derringham, and don't be rash. By Jove, they're coming out ! " I CHAPTER XXr. TO THE DEATH. When the stronghold of the desperadoes burs^ mto flames, their fusilade stopped abruptly ^d «nmed.ately the officer passed the sigSo ht whrt^ersho'ivrr^ - r- ^T^^ J tiiey snouid have wasted ammunitinn ,« ^me for The' r ^'^r • --IX^eti^eS come for the desperadoes to surrender. The t~opers closed in cautiously to the edge of ill clearing, the grass of which was burning lUce a m,n.ature prairie fire. Indeed it wasSutat times to see the hut at all through the I .HH murkiness. It was a v,rii^ • V "^ , . ^ ^ ^"°' picturesque scene but one wh.ch I would not care to see agair ft was a terrible thing to think of those ^^ded men rushing on so recklessly to their grim fate Suddenly I heard a voice at my elbow- mttin'T' ^^"^' t^ ^"^'^'"S' ''°n't you be a g.ttm too near. Them coves are oniy foxin' They ,e up to somedevil's work, you kin bet yo^ ft I wMm > I •f i 220 TffF HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. «•!" uv r "^^^ "^^^' ^""^ ^'^ ^"ot^er second, with a blind, wild helter-skelter rush the despe- radoes made a break for one of the rafts. It was doubtless their idea to push off from the shore, hoist the lug sail and let it drift with the wind It was a mad idea at the best, for before such a Slow and clumsy contrivance as a raft could get clear of the shore, it was tolerably certain that the fugitives would be shot down. Bang, ping ! bang, ping ! and as they ran the smugglers faced about and fired upon such of the cowboys and troopers as came too close up«n them. But the desperadoes had somewhat th^ best of the start, for what with the burning grass, the smoke, the uncertain lurid light, and the fact that they had made their exit by a back way, a good many of the troopers and police hardly realised at first that the enemy had fled. But they very soon found out, for as I ran with the officer through the burning grass and blinding smoke towards the huts, we could hear the omi- nous nfle and revolver shots ring out, and the hoarse voices of the men as they rallied to the pursuit. How that flame scorched my face and hands and how that black smoke suifocated us as we stumbled blindly through it ! Pete and Colin Dunbar had attempted to follow, but a gust of wind just th x swept up an impassable barrier of flame in their faces, and they were obliged to desist When the fire caught the drier and ranker grass among the trees, and the whole TO THE DEATH, , marici, fi**- ^ reigned. It was a nio-ht- n,^nsh.fitt.ng scene for the Land of the £s\ hu? anfaf w^"*" ^ ''""'^'^'y P^^''^'^ '"e burning peeping the police at bay;'^L°l fo^r S;: th'~; a7dl:^*^ ^^'^ "Pon wh° h wa^ sight startled me " """"'^"^ '^""P^" The have e?i^:„1,t°" "^ ^"^ ^^^^^^hunder A sudden thought struck me. boat?a%,"rcrfed^'K «"|%^-^-here the wea„d;o.rd.wrc::ir;x°-- Jt was only too true. When \y^^^\ practically surrounded, no one thouil? 7T smugglers' boat in the harW ^^ 1-? ""* lot of the smugglers ran ont r- '^'"'^ °"« and the IndiatXrcr^^g^Xei' ff another and tljey did not run in^vafn TrVe" i'fci I; 112 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. assistance we pushed off. The trooper and I took an oar apiece, making the boat fairly spin through the water. We rounded the rocks, and there, some two hundred yards ahead of us, was the only other available boat, with two white men and an Indian in it, steadily making its way between two islands in the direction of the canyon. I really pitied the officer when he saw how completely he and his men had been outwitted, just when it seemed that he had as good as effected a capture. " I'll never forgive myself," he groaned. " It is the greatest mistake I ever committed in my life ! And to think that we had them as good as surrounded ! But we must capture them, I can't go back without them. They can't go farther than the head of that canyon, anyhow, no matter how long it may be." He sprang from his seat in the stem. "Give me that oar, Derringham," he -ried. "You've done enough for one night, anyhow." I gave it up to him, and to tell the truth, I was not sorry. The strain of the past twenty- four hours had almost been too much for me. It was a wonderful dawn, that in the Lake of the Lost Spirits ; as we sped through the water I had an opportunity of observing it. The wan light streamed in like one vast shaft over the high, dark eastern cliff, and the great gulch of black waters was filled with that luminous grey- ness that one only sees during a thunder-storm. TO TBE DEATH. „, ttS th^H^ \ '""''' ''' " ''^ »'»- ''"owing r«r. ?^ . "''' ^''^»8rling pines on the two T.:^: *' •'"' ^"^' P*^^*''- ^t 1-ked iZ an angry dawn in a world of gloom, but I knew « was only the flare of the burning buildings and thegrass in the fastness of the outlaws. I realised hen to the full the truth of the scriptur" sj' ing-r>5, way of transgressors is hard. I thought of one of the men-Campbell- we were then in pursmt of, and of his misspent life, and it oc- curred to me that probably it was the seeds of in- sanity that had allowed him to drifi so easily into his evl courses. I told the Inspector of his mad fanc.es but he said nothing. Goodness knows I owed the smuggler-chief no debt of gratitude but IS It not better to err on the side of^.ercy- if erring It be? ' On, on we sped, over the dark waters anH through the chiU morning air. "Are we gaining on them, do you think Dernnghamj" cried the officer, with somethTng th^t^^ounded almost like a ring of entreaty if "I think so, sir, in fact, I'm pretty certain of >t. You see, the Indian can't row. and the other two have to do all the work, and they are pretty well played out." pretty It was as I said. Already I could distinguish the occupants of the boat more clearly, and I knew that it was not altogether owing- to the in creased light. And now the great cHffs began" to drawm upon us on either side, until at Lt 8 ] , r Im m I J, lU TIf£ HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, we were in a species of canyon. How high thos>? cliffs were ! Looking upwards and then down at the water, was to make one feel giddy. And how deep was the black water beneath us. There was no strip of shore on either hand— not a broken piece of rock on which even a cat could gain a foothold. To come to grief there meant saying good-bye to this world. On, on we sped. Was the canyon going to pierce into the bowels of the earth for ever? The cliffs were now so high, and came so close together, that it seemed as if twilight had again settled down on the face of the waters. Suddenly I thought the distance between the two boats had considerably lessened. " Let me take your oar, sir," I begged, "they are getting played out. You'll be able to keep an eye upon them better. It is Campbell, Bill, and Make*Thunder, and you'll have to be very care- ful." I daresay it was presumptuous on my part to tender such advice, but I knew the men from experience. He allowed me to take his place ; he then took his position in the stern with a rifle in his hands. It is one of tae regulations in the police force, that firing on a criminal must only be resorted to as a very last resource. The canyon now be- came so narrow and tortuous that at times we lost sight of the desperadoes altogether, but still we were gaining upon them. Suddenly with a warning shout the officer cried — TRIE. How high s and then > feel giddy, beneath us. • hand — not a cat could here meant n going to 1 for ever ? me so close t had again . Suddenly boats had •ged, "they ble to keep 11, Bill, and i very care- my part to men from B then took his hands, olice force, resorted to n now be- ; times we r, but still nly with a TO THE DEATH, ,,3 Wrwthr'V' ^r'^rf^^^'^- goodness sake! we re right on to them ! " The trooper and I obeyed with all the strength that was left in our bodies, but that did rot prevent us running full tilt into the fugitivj^s Theothe7bo"; P'"'''' '"y^eIfupIwas%lone. Ihe other boat was empty, and lay close against the foot of a rough ledge or incline, exactly .ke The"!' '""'' '^/' "" "P"^^''* '"'° -hat seemed the other world of light and day. But great boulders had fallen from the cliff a'Love right o„ to It. distracting the eye and thus preventfng m" feef:: TT^ *l''"'"^" fi^res.'somehuni:d feet or so above who were about to take part In the last scene of a stormy drama. And then the sharp ring of a pistol-shot made me look more clo^ly untax could see plainly what was gX: fV^T^vV^-^ desperadoes had reached the ledge they had jumped quickly ashore, leaving their boat to its fate, and it was ^hen suddenly rounding the bend that ours had crashed intot^ They ran quickly up the steep and shelving ^ope. but the police by this time were close"? their heels, and they knew that there was no- thing for it but to surrender or fight. Campbell faced about and fired one shot out of his revolver at the police inspector but his aim was wild, and the bullet went wide of its mark ihe police being determined to take their quarry auve did not shoot. Then the desperate smug- ly .I'v m^ ••6 m£ HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, Rler-chief called upon the brutal liill and tho Indian to stand and flght. From motives of prudence BiU stood his ground and kept the police at bay with his revolver. Jiut the IndiP-^ with a series of long strides, kept on. Infuriated by this exhibition o{ cowardice and disobedience Campbell, with almost supeihuman aKilitv' bounded after him and caught him in his arms! It was only at this juncture that 1 prop, ly saw what was goinp^ on owing to a turn in the ledge. Ihe sight wav ,h a strange and terrible one that, while ,t U .ted, Bill, the pursued, and the police merely stood still and watched. It was one of the shortest and grimmest wrestlincr matches I ever saw in my life. Make-Thunder, my old would-be assassin, wnggled round quickly when he found himself in tne smuggler's grip, and flung his arms over and about the latter's back, after the most approved manner of wrestlers. Then, for at least two minutes, the two spun round furiously on the brink of that terrible abyss. Now the smuggler would draw the Indian to him, and lift him off his feet. Then the Indian would manage to free himself, and the spinning would begin again. But at last the end came. Campbell had managed to force Make-Thunder close to the edge of the precipice, when suddenly freeing himself from his grip, he struck the Indian a temfic blow on the chest that sent him spinning- over the brink. It was then the police made a rush m upon Campbell. But the smuggler-chief *ill and the motives of id kept the : the Indi;*-^- Infuriated isobodience, an agility, n his arms, ropt ly saw n the ledge, terrible one 3d, and the 3d. It was wrestling '■ assassin, nd himself arms over the most 3n, for at 1 furiously Now the riy and lift d manage Lild begin Campbell ' close to ly freeing Indian a spinning > made a fler-chief TO THE DEATH. „y had as littlo intention of be:r iaken ;irisoner as of going over the cliff in the ..^brace ofr ed^ skn.fo turning towards his would-be car.tors with a mocking grin on his face, he made th«m a abv., i; ''"'^ '^''^"^ ^"'^ *^*' nightmarish abyss. It was a sickening sight to see his body pass through the air. I tried to shut mv eyes, but I could not ; the ..ight seemed to fascinate mo. So perished this strange man and with h.m, probably, the secret of his downfall. But the end of the drama was not yet. When the police rushed in upon Campbell, UiU, .seizing tmrT"!!""^' "'f'' " '^""^^ P""' '"em. and came thundering down the slope. He knew that If he could only kill me, push o£f with the two boats, and round the corner.he was saved, and his two opponents outwitted with a vengeance. My revolver lay in the stern of the boaf, but I had no time to pick it up. The police, some seventy or eighty yards behind him, c .r^ ot fire lest they should accidently shoot me. I seized an oar, determined to receive ,. . ol'- friend Bill in the only way that I thought wov',? impress him. He had evidently made up his mind to make very sure of me, for he did not seem ,n any hurry to fire. But he delayed too long, just ere he reached the water's edge he stumbled and lurched forward. Now was my opportunity. Before he could recover h.mself I stood up in the boat, swung the oar over my head, brought it down heavily on his thick skull. < !, «28 THE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, and in another instant he fell all of a heap, senseless into the boat. "Well done, Derringham! Well done, my boy ! " cried the officer, as he and the trooper reached the boats. "You've made a capture, anyhow, and retrieved our fortunes. If you haven't broken his thick skull he'll make a brave show in hand-cuffs and leg-irons ! " They placed him in an easy position in the boat in which he had come : the trooper taking off his coat and placing it under his head; and then, knowing the desperate character of the man with whom they had to deal, they took the precaution of making fast his feet and hands. I confess that though this was the man who had treated me so brutally, I almost felt sorry for him, fearful lest my blow had killed him. It is not a pleasant thing to think that you have killed any one, even in self-defence. " Can't you do anything for him, sir," I asked. ** Put some water on his face— try to bring him round, or something of that sort ? " The officer shook his head. "It's no use," he replied, "you'll see he'll come round soon enough. Get him back to where Dr. Haultain, our surgeon, is, that's the best thing, I think. Roberts," turning to the trooper, " you stop in the boat with him, and Derringham and I will tow you back to camp. It's well on in the forenoon now, and they'll be wondering what's become of us. It will be four of a heap, done, my he trooper a capture, 5. If you ike a brave ion in the per taking bead; and ter of the they took feet and man who t sorry for lim. It is you have " I asked. )ring him TO THE DEATH, „^ or five o'clock before we i?et bart r» • t. let me shake hands whh fou '' ^'^^'^^^^^^ I could not exactly see what there was to Ste r: ^''°"*' '^"^ ' ''-^ '-^ ^^^ ev?„ts"of/>!"* '""^ '"^ ^^*' ''^^P"^ the stormy S It?^ twenty-four hours. I kept wo7 denng- what was m Muriel Wray's I «r wonderfurcomtrti'"' '"^^' ^^^^^ -- About four in the afternoon dead ti.^ reached the island What ZJ^l ^' ""^ absence? ^hat had happened in our see he'll back to that's the ig to the him, and to camp, they'll be 11 be four CHAPTER XXII. m AFTER THE STORM. When we drew near the island our comrades saw us coming, and hurried down to the little harbour to see how it fared with us. The first to greet me was Colin Dunbar, who seemed vastly relieved when he found that I had suffered no mishap. No less solicitous was my old friend, Broncho Pete— old, I say, for a friendship in captivity, even if only for a few weeks dura- tion, must be more calculated to draw kindred spirits together than years of ordinary inter- course. Pete's manner of showing his pleasure at my return was characteristic of the man. He seemed to have an horror of being demon- strative. "Hello! Wally, old stocking," he exclaimed, looking at me critically, with his business eye, " bin havin' a good time ? " " A lively one, anyhow, Pete," I replied, " all that I know is that I'm precious hungry. Where's the commissariat department ? " " Pierre's kitchen and store be still to the fore, thank goodness!" he replied, "otherwise it would have gone pretty hard with us, you bet." ir comrades ;o the little The first to )med vastly suffered no old friend, iendship in reeks dura- aw kindred nary inter- ns pleasure ; man. He ng demon- exclaimed, siness eye, ^plied, " all s hungry. t?" to the fore, herwise it you bet." I AFTER THE STORM. ,„ The first thing the officer and I did was to have a good wash, and go up to the kitchen, for It was about twenty-four hours since we had broken our fasts. Four of the troopers were sent with the two boats to the mainland, where the police camp was, with orders, and to ff with a in Stony They had t that the g-irons or at first votes in 9n instru- orn being AFTER THE STORM. ,3, received from both. It wa.. only right tha Bome cbstinction should be made iL wet them and the others. I had the Hatisfaction of ^-^rning that their considerate attitude toward, UH would not be forgotten, but be in the lavour when on trial. rittl \ •^^'?' .'^'' ^^^^^^^t-n^aJor related a .thor characteristic incident regarding him ifohad shown himself a model prisoner unUl ordered by his guard to remove^or e of "h Rnme and smoke from his face by going down on. lake and having a good wash, ^ut^o his J.m objected, by saying that it was on y three days since he had washed, and he did nol chances were he would be just as dirty again in r c d-!:"r- ^^'"^ ^^^--^ ^ -n'to the i-ike, he dipped a corner of tho towel in the 2 ' ""t ^^ '' '^^ ^^"^-'3^ ^<^ the tip of one ear that his jailers could stand it no longer Ho was seized by a couple of brawny troopeis and a bucket of water poured over his'head."^ offfnH ' ^""^ recognised as an old offender against the law, and kept heavily roned until lodged in a Mounted PoHce guard^ room. e "''^ my possession and unopened. I was simply £"^1° T'^ ""'.^' '' contained, but still such had been the st.rrmg sequence of events that it was impossible to snatch five minutes for its ■■^ -^ f' f I t J4 TltK HSART OF THE PKA IHIK. perusal. U„«i,io.,, t wanted to bo qulto alone whon m...di..ff it-in .on,,, pl„c„ whnr., I Cd bo fr,.o iron, all distractions. As soon as wo "■"' '""■"'''""* "'"• m"-!' n.- Ml m.uso, the ^boys had storn sido f ground. !d! What liours ! (3rod that nly .soMio uy lifo in hing- so n that it rof)e of nd there St oaton. .d() th<»ir ht, Alan id taken acconl- took out ng very impared 'rdinary said for nd was was to AFTER TIIF. STOKAf. ,„ rocolvo th« I„tt«r I ha.I written her on my arrival at tho ranche, an.l h.m fortunate Mr. Dunbar t-.M my undo ov^rythin^ about my runninir away not forKettin,. hor own shar., in t'ho mat "r" At nr t ho was und,n.l,to,Ily ,li«troH«,.|, although I.O .I.d not say n,„, h l,„(oro tho othor membrr, -f h.s fam.ly. ||. had ^ono hack to hi. b^ok' I cou d ovidently ,ot no oondort even £ tn.m JI„ had como to her and said that if I b":: r;'""" '"^^ ' ""«•" -^ "-""-" '^ substantial sum say.n^r ,hat thoro was no nocd SrlTuI d" 'r '"."T '"^^""■^^ ■'""'"' '»• ""t the not thlk r '■'" ""' """"'-y ■^■'•y'"^' 'hat she did Tho .^ . M ,' '" ""^ i"'m.diate need of it. undo nib , " "" ^""'"' '•'"' «''"'<=• '»>-* -"y uncle Gilbert was very fond of me. aUhough it was not ,n h,s nature to show it. There were other members of the family, she hinted-and beheve she was having a sly dig at mo-who were not far behind him in that respect bhe went on to say that f could not be suffi- goo"d «f' "' r "^"^ '^""" '" -■"' "-ha good fnend as the rancher, Mr. Dunbar, f^e must tea very * ""y aunt, as, doubtless, the eirl m,..* k smded when she put it dow^ „„ pf;!""" '>*^' exprc , an n ''""' T^'' '"'«''» "= '^"owcd to comr a lu'sTrt' \lT ^ /'*^'^<' ^ '° lui^ jusi yet. What cou d I do if I u/^r- ttti^t nr th^ifT - -« why not stay w/tK;"} H^^ ^c^r SLt"^ ' few years so that I might at least aspire o the digmty of „„, ^h„ ,^^ ^^^^^^ ^ P e to th What title to the dignity of manhood could J drone have who had done nothing aH hi life ave loaf about a club in town o^ shoo pit tndges m the country ? She herself was goTn^ o travel about on the continent for a yefr of me° :f r u""' ^""^ ^°"'<' -'-ays w^e to me. and she hoped I would amays write to her r \Ti I ■si r^E BRAMT OF THE PRAIRIE, In two years she would come back to England and it would be jolly if I could manage to take a tnp home then and we could meet again. And then she wound up by expressing the hope that I would take care of myself, and not forget there were those who had an interest in my well- being. I laid the letter down, and it was some time before I could realise its import. A few da^i ago a penniless boy—to-day one with inde- pendent means ! Had I not much for which to be thankful. Hut without experience of life and knowledge of the world there were dangers of money as my girl-friend had pointed out. If I could not realise to the full the truth of this myself, I knew that what she said must be right —she had always been right, and her motives were dismtcresled. Truly her friendship was somethmg more precious than gold ! Her advice would be followed to the letter, and meetmg her again would be something to look forward to. I had hardly noticed that it was getting dark so leaving the cave I found my friend Colin Dunbar in a tent which had been brought from the police camp on the main-land. I at once told him of the news contained in my letter. It some- what surprised me to find he did not betray any particular elation over my good fortune. There was a thoughtful look on his face. I asked him if he did not think it was a piece of good luck. " It may and it may not be, Derringham," he RIE. o England, ^e to take a ?ain. And hope that t>rget there uiy well- some time few da^i /ith inde- r which to )f life and lacgers of out. If I th of this t be right r motives iship was d ! Her itter, and g to look ing dark, nd Colin ght from once told It some- etray any !. There 3ked him luck, ^am," he AFTBH THE STORM. ,3^ more to be pitied than the one who !s born wi h a s-lver spoon in his mouth ; he seldom knows of what metal that spoon i, made. And beX I^ appose you-U want to clear out now and te me. Well I suppose ifs only natural It would have been better for you. I think, if that mon y had just come a little later." ^ «iH?'"l!7,^u°^ °^ y°" '° 'P"'' '"<« that." I going back just yet. Indeed. I'm only too glad to be with you. and I like the life " Then I told him what my girl-friend had said m the etter, and while I took the opportunity of expressing my gratitude to him for his goodness o me m the past-he cut me short when I touched on that point-I said that if he could see h.s way to let me buy a small interest in the ranche he would still further increase my sense of obligation to him. ^ ^ This seemed to please him immensely. He dapped me on the back and seemed 'greatly nJil^'^''' *''°,"'^''* ^°" ^'^ =°'"« =«"«<-• !" your noddle. Dernngham," he exclaimed, "and now ! " TZ °J L*- ^'" ='"«=« *''''' morning when you tackled the thief at the coffee-stall in crent Garden. I thought you were made of the rirtt Btuff, and IVe never been disappointed in/ou n 1 nr Iff: it ffr' i '40 TffS jfB^^r OF THE i-JiAIJilM. an intetr ; heTantr y°" didn. .ant fo. share, there need T„' u' ^°\ ''"^''"K * When you form a be«,r M "^ ''''°"' "''"• ranching propeHv anf ' ", '° *''' "''"« »' one whom he e?n trust f"' ^"" ''" ^"' '°'"" « «• in the meantime I'd keen fh. „. ! yourself R., .u P '"• news to -re tf ,et r 0^::^^^° V"' ''''' "' ^'^''y fK- reward irom Government for beina sir',"?sTid.''"° "' ^""' ^^" ''^ -"y share. .-rwa?:j,oJerdesr'th •^'^™"'" *"' they had it. "^ "'^"' P-'otestations. for?une trr;'oJ r' r*^" °^ "^ ^°°^ Since knlw nHim I uT '"• "P"^'*^' P"^''- respect fo7 hi, '"^ conceived the greatest invLblfchee^fulnera^d "^ ''"^""'^' "'= i.ffi- *^^*iuiness, and even some of hie wit'h mT/ooi n:w\''He^:i:';rf*-.^ "^^ bread and meat with hV dafAnlfe 'X ° found h.m; as I spoke he went on eating Then dehberately finishing the bread and meat he dehvered himself thus— ' "Wally, old stocking, I wishes you luck- but remen^ber though money's a mighty good th/n * to have .f you use it properly, i^s a' mSy bad n' ii hava taken 't want for buying a bout that, ^e value of » get some . we'll see e news to are pretty ' for being n to the tny share, 'ards the estations, rny good ^^y* Pete. J greatest ities, his e of his the cow- t'ng him piece of when I r. Then neat, he AFTER THE STORM. '4' thing if you don't. I think you'll use it nmr. i sonny." ^ "'^® ^^ properly, It was arranged that ne> * da- alter ;. f i . exammation of theisland w. sho^M^V CeT and make our way back to the onen 1 ' country, wh.re we would say g^odTye to""^' friends the nolVe T>,=t • ^^°^°y^ to our rancher's tent and ..i^ . "•'°^' ^ "'"'='' «"« Wand Hurt" W^ay" r Tf^ f ^P^" ""' '^ag that served nTe for ! „m ^ "i*' "''^'«- fcll into a sound ''eepa\^r •^"'' "' ^ open tent d<,or and lo^k at L^' •l'"'^ *' "'^ upon her farp T^ . \^ "^ ^'"^ » smile framedl a ^ea th oT t ''"""'"' '^"^^ = ^"^^ -as do.„ ioose^Tvi^tthSrJt^t? '^"^ =^^H^dri;^r«r•'^r"^-- "in. Bu. it w s her Ls hltt"'" '''''^ '"^ they were dark a,.H i? ^? fescmated me ; in 'brook trJs'Sr, 'h'-'"^ ''^^'^ P°°'« became instinct wi^h ki^dlt:: T T^ '"^^ lifteu o.>..> hand a<: ., , ""^''''- Smihngiy she out mine to her Bu "thT""^' / ''''''''''' as fades the ^Im^ t/'" ^ ''^"' ^^^^ the rays of the ri.?^!. T"'"^' "'■^' ^^^^ore she was gone ^ '"'' ^"^ *" ^"""^^^ '"'"ute >ck; but 3d thing jhty bad ,"! I CHAPTER XXIU. SIOUX INDIANS ON THE WAR-PATH. Sln^'lf^""^""^' '"°™'"»' ''«fo^« *e fall tTrt th. '=°"^"°"^''^-' I experienced in n,y heart the Id sense of heaviness borne of cap- Ind not of ' T "°'f °"^ "'' '•^^'^ "'^ '^f-nvL Ifc^ ^ T' ^""^ '^^ ^°'<=« I ""-'=: was that And In .r r''""' "^''^""^ "'« '° set up^ And then the glorious truth came home to me that I was once more free, and no longer the pnsoner of a godless, desperate set o^f men who any moment might take my life. It was indeed a blessed relief to think of it. The police and con boys were early astir for much had to be done that day. A thoroulh examination of the island had I be made Tie pohcemspector :,ad to prepare notes forhis report and aU had to proceed to the main-land, "Zi LseT *" P'"''" ^"""'^ before thJ^r' '""^^"^ ^ '°^''^ "°"""S' ^"d already the sun was peeping over the high eastern cliff. There was not a cloud in the sky-there seldom lTH. J the full d in my e of cap- of canvas was that -morning ' get up. me to me nger the of men It was astir, for horough ide; the s report, nd, and ^ before already Jm clilT. seldom SIOC^X INDIANS ON THE WAR-PATH. 243 is in the North West Territories-^nd the air was crisp and bracing. The wounded men were progressing favourably, and the light-hearted troopers and cowboys were joking and laughing as If there was n^ such things as danger and tradegy m the world. I sought out Pete and bade himgoorl-morning, for strangely enough I experienced a sense of something wanting when his cheery greeting did not fall upon my ear with a note of comfort in it on awakening. It was not altogether on account of my freedom and unex- pected good fortune that made me feel so light- hearted and in such a charitable frame of mind Z ? ..^^''ir^^' '"°'"^"^' ^' i« ^^^^ than ikely that Muriel Wray's letter, and the fad that I was now in a position to pay her back the twenty pounds borrowed from her, that had something to do with it. Going over to where the prisoners Jim and Pierre were with their guard, I wished them both good-morning. Jim vouchsafed me a surly nod, but the little French-Canadian seemed as usual in the best of spirits and greeted me as he had always done with smiles and bows. I told them that I would beg permission ot the officer to allow them to smoke, whereupon even Jim expressed his thanks if in a somewhat shame-faced fashion. I cou^d see, however, that there was something on his mind which with hi« usual awkward reserve he hesitated to put into words. Asking what it was he wanted to say he replied— ^' .|, ^44 TffE HEART OF THE PRAIRIE, "It's that there washin' business, sonny if you could just manage to ask the boss to let me hev my way in thet, I could be doin' without the baccy. Hevin' to sluice myself in thet cold water twice a day — ugh ! " " Get out your towels," interrupted a grinning trooper at this point, " and we'll go down to the lake where you'll make yourselves beautiful " A look of supreme disgust came over Jim's face on hearing this speech, but he shouldered ^s towel all the same, and with the smiling Pierre walked down to the lake-side followed by nis armed guard. For an hour after breakfast the pol'ce officer was busy with his inspection of the isl^d, and occurred While he was thus engaged the two boats had been employed taking the troopers and the cowboys with their belongings to the mainland. Colin Dunbar and I stopped und! the inspector had completed his work. It was with mingled feelings I went to my old prison- nouse, the cave, and glanced around me for the last time. It is wonderful how the human mind can adapt itself to circumstances, and it is more wonderful still how it can look back with some- thing almost approaching to a sneaking regard even upon a prison cell. Doubtless, some subtle phase of the law of association may account for !7 1; . ..^ ,^'' ^^^'■"' """^ ^^'"^ble ;ossons in that cheerless spot, and I recognised their TRIE. 5, sonny; if >s to let me without the I thet cold a grinning [own to the autiful." over Jim's shouldered le smiling Dllowed by I'^^e officer sltxnd, and what had Jd the two 3 troopers igs to the >ped until ^. It was Id prison- ne for the nan mind it is more ith some- ig regard ne subtle count for ? .A3 issons 5€'d their ^'ovK xr^DiANs ON mz war-path. ,« and Colin Dunbar T? *? '"^P^'^'w, Waller proa.3,ed it, as curious as two chiWrl ^t ^P" stolen boat. So much VlV ^ ' '''* °"'' x;^^'----eraSK-: -nteT-tt^^sntr"-^'- march over the rock !'nH '^^" °"'' ™"&h the subterraneo^rrtXeraUedT' ''/'^^" *° Land of the Lost Spi^ ts i„tn i. "'" ^'""^ *^ less pr irie count^^ It t^ ''''""'' ^°""'^- long ..age. like thTruit of a T-h'tr' ,? *^ s^retched right on to where ^e'S sTSe^^' pomt of eo-rp*;*! Tf „ 1 ^""^^ strike our shut out K^;„„?;- HreTS ^'^^'^ *° the wandering winds f^tt,! I } ""'"'■^ °^ 'ess leagues ^r^ZTl^T.T ""T'' prairie flowers-nothin/sfrr "°'''^'"^ went out to that JrZ. ."°"' "^ ''^a" 17 r H6 Tffe H£AST OF THE PRAIRIE. Dottom of the ravme, and wended our wav bv candle-l.ght down through the long gXies tne toot of the crag on the bare hill-side In another quarter of an hour we stood on the site of our old camp on the creek bottom. Here we found a couple of drays, and the cook's wag Jn awaitrng us. As, however, the police hSes occup,ed the little valley. Colin DunbarTnd prairie, where th: T^rX^ZZ ZZl grass tor each. To my great delight I found mv old stock-horse Barney in the mo!. Mrsad^le and bndle were also intact in th^ """a^e The rancher told me he hTdfelt Z st aTfaTng bet^n •'"'"l'^ *"" "P ^^^■"' *^' he had my belongings kept so that I could find them t"e heTadTn' T^' ^"^ ""'' inJudiciousThing' he had done was to write to my uncle in the Old He haT hT """"^ '•™ °' "^ disappearLce so Wh "■' '^""^'''^-■^d it his duty to do rl.^^^K'"'^''**" '"« """^he that could be TsSiit^ir"'--^"*^-'--- sajg;gr^;r ot\t7s ttp^e td puched our camp for the night. We wet upS JRIE, 1, significant hole at the our way by ig galleries we stood at ill-side. In 1 on the site - Here we k's waggon lice horses unbar and miles or so n the open s could be 3 sufficient [ found my My saddle ' waggon. B all along e had my them the ious thing in the Old •pearance. luty to do could be pie Creek •eek after >lice, and Jre up the S^OUX INDIANS ON THE WAR.PATH. ,„ was to be again in the saddle t" feel »"^ I horse pulsating with life unde^eath tn 'an^d to ozone-charged a r of th.- ^''P^""^ ''''^ ^e ranohef fndVrod: 0^^^"^ ^Thrr ^'^^ ' no trail, only the ^nHno-, • ^®^® ^^^ our hors'es- f^f ^tTTef fnTIerf aT unTf sa^e-bush Af i^.^ .1. "=**"" t^ere a bunch of ctve expressed it, m buttes and couHpac tu rancher had fortunately told them ? it must have been about eleven o'clock in th. andutterafe^aratiof "^ ^--«P" the other siae ot the couUee— Indians • " *v!?^ ?u"'"'^'' ^''° P""*'^ "P- and shading his ngures on horse-back : Indians in the full glory of war-pa,nt and feathers. The air was so c ea^ that we could see them quite distinctly Great oSrtLi r'^^: ^-f- «tood up LsS ta«sdanlr^ ^"-'^^^ '°*« = ^''"« ermine cr r^i T """ '"■^^"'^ ^"<^ ^'««-«« of their w".L Wue "",f "''"'• ''^"^"y ornamented with blue yellow and red beadwork. Their oose leggmgs were fringed and beautified in a is statuer. H^°" '"'''^"^' -'^'^ -' - «t"I shoS^ ' '""^ "'^^ ^'""^ — ">eir " Sioux Indians on the war-path ! " exclaimed the rancher. « What on earth are they dotal over on this side the lines ? Up to some 4chS kin .w • ^'^ ""^ '°^^'^' the™, bu keep a wary eye in your head and your Colt's revolver handy on your belt " toSTr'?'*'^'''^''^^'* '^'^ hand as if in greeting If bdn. . "^ ""'^"""y "^'l "° '"t«"tion «IWH '"'"""^^^<^' fo-- t^n'ing round they galloped off eastward. When we reached the brow of the hill they were almost out of sighf TRIE, ?" asked the eep in some on the other 'hading his i anxiously, picturesque le full glory ^as so clear tly. Great • crest-like ite ermine ves of their mamented k. Their itified in a at as still ross their exclaimed ley doing > mischief, hem, but ►ur Colt's greeting down the intention ind they ched the of sight. SIOVX INDIANS ON THE WAR.PATH. ,„ The Mer seemed not a Httle peT,.exed and " I can't quite make it out," he observed " I never saw Sioux Indians come over he^ vet but What there was trouble. Either it was to s^ up How true his words were we were not lone in find.ngout We kept our spirited horses we.l .n hand and moved along more slowly keepTnl thf t^p':" a-,i^''%''''''^- ^^ ''^^ i- -S th!t fin A \ ""^^^ ^''«" ^" at once a sight our eyes "r "°"'^^ ^"^^ apprehension me s"oux ll:, ^''^ I 8:reat body of mounted bioux Indians on the war-path. They were commg towards us in one long straggling Te one two, and three deep. The braves came first' ZtZ 1- '" '" '•'^'^ ^°'-^«°- and barbaric SLnTi, ^'°"' """ " ""^ '^^'•-l -^e whthconsiin T" ''"^'"^ '"^'^ ''"^^''^^> tie back 'f ^ '°"P'' °' P°''' ^'""^ ^"°«« Sou Jd wi^h . ^°"^' *' '""^^ ^--^'""^ °" tJ>e famn- ' "°«s-pieces on which rested their naif wild dogs slunk after the cavalcade. men ZiX ^ P'."""'^«'l"« ^^' the savage red men of the prairie amid his natural surroundings. i\ Ifi 'i I i »50 rif£ HEART OF THE PRAIRIE. When we caught sight of them the foremost of the Indians was not more than a quarter of a mile distant. So struck and surprised were Colin Dunbar and myself by such a large body of warnors that for a good couple of minutes we stood stock still ,n speechless wonder and admiration. For the moment wc hardly paid any attention to the fact that at sight of us a number of braves broke away from the main body urging their horses in our direction. The first thing that brought us to our senses, and a knowledge of our impending danger, was the /«'/.^of a nfle and a bullet that whistled over our Sscribrbr '^-- ™°'"''" "^^ -^"'' -- ^""-^ Brandishing their rifles over their heads, and pack of hounds in full cry, a score and more of Indians came on at full gallop ; their small wiry fash on~T"^/'/- ^'""""^ ■" truly marvellous int! ^^^1 ^'"^' f'"^' ^""l «« *ey sat m the .saddle they levelled their rifles at us and fired^ Fortunately their bullets went wide rancffr, '^7 J^^''£T'"^'^'^'^ *- dinner ;t the ^amp" ^hese cw'doiJt^'^' '° hncr^ifoKi, • 1- , -»^"ese cHaps dont seem hosp, ably inclined. Right wheel about, and back the way we came. Our good bronchos can lay their cayuses long odds, anyhow." headrsZ^T''"''"''^"'' ^'^'"» ''>«'" their heads started off at a rattling pace. rhere s no particular need to hurry, Derring- TRIE, foremost of terofamile were Colin g-e body of Tiinutes we onder and ardly paid ht of us a I the main tion. The ises, and a r, was the ;d over our vas almost leads, and rid like a id more of •mall wiry larvellous they sat at us and i^ide. med the back to >n't seem ►out, and ichos can em their Derring- SIOUX WDIANS ON THE WAR.PATH. ,5. So"!:" •"'rr^'' ""' ''""=''<'^- " All we've got to do .s just keep a certain distance in fronfand we can easily do that; there's no neces, Uv^f play our horses out. We'll be at the camp "Is -rMerritTHa-tTh. "'■^ -'r "'"^ ^^^^ Indians Jourf ; ^I^ri^tr ^1^ ^ coup e „f hundred fighting men amongst hem " ou? ImTdid r '" "k'' "^^ '~"*'""*f -"- all to^d and ifTh T " "°''" '*'^" twenty men wirhstanH v.'^""'''''''^ *^' *'''' '^"^•'oys could withstand such overwhelming odds. 4 e S^Tritr'^r "''''^'' °"^ •"'-^' -'"^ whenth^r J ^'-'^ ■"'"''"*''' ^« fresh as When the; ..ad set out in the morning. Down valleys and up hill-sides they tore as if posses^d and glorying i„ the doing oHt. How th^ ej tt V leltT '"^ '*°"^ water-courses. and how hey leapt clear of the treacherous wash-outs as LT^tT wantonness! And ever we couM men "'r^""