Upon returning to the menagerie room the old trapper still retained the rope, of which he had as yet made no use. Seeing that the scout noticed it, he said:
"Yes, I didn't know but yer mought want ter draw yer friend up ter ther openin' uv ther cave, but yer seemed ter hev some other plans uv yer own; so now mebby we'd better improve the time ter go down inter ther kasm."
"I should like to visit it before I leave," replied Kelly. "I am afraid we shall never have another chance."
"What makes yer talk that a-way?" asked Bear-Paw.
"I don't know, indeed, but somehow I feel as if there was going to be some fighting around here, before this time to-morrow; and I have a kind of foreordination that you and I will be mixed up in it."
"An' so hev I," replied the old trapper. "An' more nor that, I've er big notion that I'll git killed, and yer won't! But it's time enuf to think on that bime-by. Only ef I should happen ter go under, an' yer don't, I want ye ter promise me yer will take the nigger gal with yer, an' take good care uv her es long she lives. She's ther only friend I hev on airth, an' I'll leave enuf fur ter pervide fur her es long es she lives. What do yer say?"
"That I will accept the trust, and guard her life as I would my own!" replied the scout.
"I knew yer would, and now let's go down."
He fastened one end of the rope round a projecting rock, and let the other fall into the darkness below.
"Does that rope reach to the bottom of the chasm?" asked Kelly.
"No," replied the old trapper, "not more nor half-way. But I've got er pair uv stairs thar what goes ter ther bottom. I'll go first, with the light, then yer kin foller. Yer see ther rope is knotted, so that yer won't hev much trouble in hangin' on—an' boy, jest stick some torch-wood in yer belt, fur it's orful dark down thar."
The old trapper descended the rope with an agility surprising in one so old, and gave the signal for the scout to follow.
He soon found himself standing upon a ledge of rock, about six feet square, from which he could see steps leading down into the darkness below, evidently cut in the soft limestone rock.
To the scout there seemed no end to the steps, but he soon found himself walking along upon the level ground.
"Light er couple uv torches," said Bear-Paw, "an' I'll show yer more gold nor yer ever dreamed on."
The scout did so, and the old man's promise was fulfilled.
Some great convulsion of nature had rent in twain the mountain of rock, revealing on all sides countless seams—and they were filled with gold. What he had supposed to be pebbles under his feet, proved on inspection, to be nuggets of pure gold.
He thought not of the treasures by which he was surrounded, but of the Great Architect who had planned it all; and reverently he bowed his head, as if in the immediate presence of the Divine Master.
He was utterly overwhelmed by the magnificent grandeur of his surroundings, and could easily have dreamed himself in fairy-land. Perhaps, when he had gone the way of all the living, strangers would come here and the world would be electrified by the intelligence of the marvelous discoveries they would make.
He had pledged his word that he would not tell any one of the existence of gold in that locality, and yet—poor human nature craved more.
The old trapper stood and watched him, as in mute adoration he contemplated the scene, until finally he said:
"Ef yer wants er mule-load instead uv er back-load, jest help yerself! Ef I peg out in ther scrimmage what ar' sure to come to-morrer, then I won't hold yer to yer promise—yer kin take all yer want, an' tell who yer please."
"I hope you may live many years, and enjoy the wealth that is yours!" replied the scout. "May I ask why you remain here in solitude? It is not natural for men to live alone, and I do not believe you are obliged to hide from your fellow-man."
"Sometime," said the old man, "I will tell you my history. Then you will not wonder that I choose to live alone!" Then fearing that the scout had detected the difference in his speech, into which he had momentarily been betrayed, he changed to his customary vernacular.
"Now that yer know ther way, yer kin come down an' help yerself any time. An' now less git back, ur ther rest uv ther folks 'll be wonderin' whar we ar'."
In a short time they presented themselves before the fire; but it is doubtful if Curtiss or the Indian girl had missed them at all.
They were seated where the scout had left them, and seemed no nearer the end of their story than when they first began.
That old, old story, forever new!
When will men cease to tell it? and when will women weary of listening?
At first the scout was inclined to think that Curtiss was trifling with the girl's affections; but he became satisfied that the young man was "really and truly" in love.
Thus far they had given the lie to the remark of Shakspeare (or some other man) that "the course of true love never runs smooth."
The colored gal sat before the fire, smoking her pipe, and utterly oblivious to all earthy matters, croning the air to some old hymn she had learned—where?
She was never more surprised in her life than when the old trapper gave her a slap upon the back, and said:
"Kem, gal, it's time ter go ter bed. This yer young feller hes got all he kin do ter court one gal, an' he's proberbly thinkin' that yer room is better nor yer company, eh? An' jest make a good bed fur ther leetle gal while yer about it."
The old woman did as she was bid, and soon all hands had sought their respective couches.
But did any of them sleep? Doubtful!
As the firelight flickered about, making strange and grotesque figures upon the wall, all were awake, and trying, amid the dim shadows, to solve the problem of life—to work out the destiny in store for them.
It is needless to say that in the doctrine of manifest destiny they were firm believers; and, as they have all night before them, we will leave them for awhile, and record the events transpiring in another quarter.
The runners who had been sent out by Red Pine were particularly fortunate in meeting several large parties of Sioux, who, in view of the reported fun and plunder ahead, hastened to join the chief.
So we find him all ready for marching, on the evening of the same day that Gray Eagle and his band were about changing their quarters to the top of the hill, within the dark recesses of which our friends lay castle-building.
As the darkness began to envelop the earth, Red Pine, at the head of his warriors, cautiously approached the camp of the Pawnees.
He was aware of their being there, and congratulated himself that now he would have a glorious revenge.
But White Wolf was watchful, and his warriors were in readiness to meet the Sioux as soon as they came in sight.
He did not know that any new accessions had been made to the Sioux forces, and did not doubt that he could whip them as easily as he had done once before.
But the Sioux made the attack soon after midnight, and the fortunes of war were decided in their favor. The Pawnees were completely routed.
Daylight revealed to the Blackfeet upon the hill the singular fact that the Pawnees were changed to Sioux.
The only avenue was well guarded, and Gray Eagle did not fear a surprise. His only anxiety, now, was for his daughter.
He had formed his camp very nearly in the center of the plateau, which covered an area of perhaps forty acres, so that discovery from below was an impossibility, as long as they kept away from the edge.
But in this case their curiosity obtained the mastery over their prudence, and an incautious exposure of one's body convinced them that the Sioux were on the alert.
Before long the bill was surrounded by Indians, eager to find the pass to the top, which they had not much trouble in doing, as they had only to follow the trail left by the Blackfeet.
An attempt to go up was met by the most disastrous result, the whole file of Sioux warriors being swept from the path at the first blow. They withdrew to the foot of the hill near the pass, and resolved to wait.
If the thing could be accomplished in no other way, Red Pine had resolved to starve them out.
Gray Eagle had been improvident in not laying in a supply of provisions before going up, and he saw his mistake—when it was too late.
About noon a loud shout was heard, and Gray Eagle, looking from the top of the hill, saw a great commotion in the Sioux camp.
The cause was soon apparent. They had taken a prisoner.
And Gray Eagle did not need a spy-glass to show him that the prisoner was his daughter.
Red Pine did not care, now, for the lives that had been lost. He forgot for the moment his habitual stoicism, and danced for joy.
"Waugh! the Blackfoot squaw has bad luck!" he said. "The warriors of Red Pine have killed the Pawnees, and there is now no help for her. The Queen of the Blackfeet shall yet sit in the lodge of a Sioux chief."
"Never!" exclaimed Snowdrop. "My people are near, and they will sweep the Sioux from the earth."
"Let the Blackfoot maiden look up, and she will see that her father and his warriors are prisoners. There is but one path up there, and Red Pine will stay here until the last of the Blackfeet are starved to death, if Snowdrop does not consent to be his squaw!"
Tradition had handed down to her the legend of the last of the Illinii—she knew how the remnant of a once powerful tribe had sought a refuge from their relentless foes, in just such a place as this. She knew that when the enemy had at last gained the top of the rock, they found only the dead bodies of that ill-fated band.
Was it possible that the tragic scene was to be re-enacted here, and this hill become another Starved Rock?
She knew the fallacy of trying to oppose Red Pine in his ambition, so, like a sensible girl, she closed her mouth and walked away to the lodge assigned her.
Red Pine was not without his misgivings. He knew that as long as he pleased, he could keep the Blackfeet from coming down the pass. He knew, also, that they could make smoke-signals, which would call down upon him more Blackfoot warriors than he could successfully cope with; and though he had secured the principal prize, he dared not go back without his sister.
He was satisfied that she was somewhere among the hills with his late prisoner, Curtiss, and he resolved to find her at all hazards.
The Blackfeet had withdrawn from the edge of the bluff, and an ominous silence reigned around. Subtle influences were working upon the brain of the Sioux chief, and he wished himself out of the scrape.
How came the Blackfoot queen in his power?
Jehiel and Snowdrop, when they left the camp of her father to go in search of the scout, soon came to a stream, up which they turned their horses' heads, and silently traveled on. After an hour's hard toil Jehiel came to where the stream issued from a narrow cleft in the rock, and he was disappointed.
"There hain't any falls here!" he exclaimed. "I wonder why in thunder Lew didn't say where the creek was, and not let a feller lose time in tumblin' over these rocks—to say nothin' of tearin' his clothes?"
They returned to the place where they had entered the stream and again started on. Before long they found another, which Jehiel was sure was the right one, but his search for the falls had ended in precisely the same manner as his first attempt.
And so they kept it up until long after midnight, when they tied their horses and lay down to sleep.
They did not awake until after daylight, but as there was no breakfast to cook, they had not long to wait, and again started on.
Up at least half a dozen streams they went, only to meet with disappointment.
The forenoon was well-nigh spent, when they returned to the place of their last entrance, and again started around the hill.
Presently they came to a stream which was formed of two smaller ones; one upon each side of a spur in the hill.
"Now, Snowdrop," said Jehiel, "you go up one, and I will the other. We'll save time in that way, and if I find the falls I will fire my rifle—then you can come to me. If you find them first then you can fire yours. And if we don't neither one of us find it, then we'll meet ag'in here."
Snowdrop still carried her father's rifle, and she consented to the hunter's plan, and at once began the ascent of the stream.
Jehiel had been fortunate enough to find the falls, and was about to discharge his rifle, when he heard the voice of the scout:
"Don't do that, Jehiel! Get in here as soon as you can."
"But, Lew, I told the little gal I'd shoot my gun off if I found you first."
"Oh, fudge! What did she come along for?" ejaculated the scout.
"You'll find out when she sees you," replied Jehiel.
While they were yet conversing they heard the report of a gun, which Jehiel recognized as that of his companion.
"What in thunder does that mean?" he asked.
Just at that moment there came a loud whoop from the same direction.
"It means that she has been taken prisoner by the Pawnees," said the scout.
"Waal, I'm goin' to find out for sure," returned the Yankee. "Come with me, Lew."
The two men proceeded down the stream until they came within sight of the place where Jehiel had parted with the Indian girl. Kelly caught him by the arm and drew him back behind a projecting rock, at the same time whispering:
"See—there goes a lot of them, and they have taken Snowdrop prisoner. They are not Pawnees, either, but Sioux! I wonder what it all means?"
Then he thought of a plan by which he hoped to entrap them, and rescue the Indian girl.
"Is your gun loaded, Jehiel?" he asked.
"Sartin! Do you think I'm a fool?" replied Jehiel.
"Then let us have a shot at them."
Together they raised their guns and fired, and two Indians dropped dead in their tracks.
The rest, looking up the stream, saw the two white men, and a dozen of them sprung in pursuit.
"Now run for the falls," said Kelly, and he led the way.
They arrived at the opening several rods ahead of the Sioux.
"Here," said the scout; "you stay here, and shoot every one that makes his appearance. I will take care of your horse."
He led the horse to the door leading to the middle room, and giving the signal, was admitted without delay.
Passing in, he tied the horse near his own, and shouted:
"Come, Curtiss, Bear-Paw, get your guns and come out; there is some fun for you!"
The two men sprung up and followed him, and were soon beside Jehiel, waiting for the Sioux to make their appearance.
They soon heard them, moving cautiously up the creek until they arrived opposite the opening, and there they stood gazing at the falls.
They had not yet discovered the entrance to the cave, and were doubtless wondering where the white men could have disappeared so suddenly.
"Fire!" cried Bear-Paw, and four of the Indians found a resting-place beneath the waters of the stream.
The rest turned to run, but the party of whites sprung behind them, and before they could reach a protecting shelter of rock, four more were sent to their final account.
The scout and Jehiel started in pursuit of the remaining Sioux, but the old trapper called them back.
"Jest let 'em go, boys. Ef they don't bring back er pack uv ther varmint, then yer may say Old Bear-Paw's er liar. Then, yer see, we kin captur' a good haul uv 'em."
When they were once more within the cave the old man asked Kelly who the new-comer was.
"He is my pardner—the fellow I was telling you about the other day."
"He's er Yank, ain't he?"
"Yes," replied Kelly, "but he is all right—I will vouch for him."
"Wull, kem inter ther other room. Ther old gal must hev dinner ready by this time, I reckon, an' we'll want er full stomach fur our arternoon's work."
Their dinner consisted of a huge venison roast, strong coffee, and wild honey; and though not an elaborate bill of fare, it was one to which every one of the party could do full justice.
After dinner the old trapper called Kelly to one side, and said:
"Thar's somebody a-top uv this yer hill, an' I'm er goin' ter find out who it ar'. Wull yer go erlong?"
"Certainly," replied the scout.
Jehiel wanted to accompany them, but when the scout told him there was danger of soiling his clothes, he laughed and said he "b'lieved he'd stay there and have a nap."