The Huge Hunter by Edward Sylvester Ellis (adventure books to read TXT) 📕

raised his head and fancied he saw a large wolf glaring down upon him from the bank above, but the head was withdrawn so quickly that he was sure it was only a phantom of his brain.

So he did not rise from his seat, but sitting still he gradually sunk lower, until in a short time he was sleeping as soundly as either of the three around him.

Another hour wore away, and the fire smoldered lower and all was still.

Then numerous heads peered over the edge of the ravine for a few seconds, and as suddenly withdrew.

A few minutes later a curious sight might have been seen, a sight somewhat resembling that of a parcel of school-boys making their gigantic snow-balls. The fifty Indians, the greater portion of whom had patiently waited in the adjoining grove, while their horses were securely fastened near, issued like a swarm of locusts and began rolling huge bowlders toward the valley. Some of them were so large that half a dozen only succeeded in moving them with the greatest difficulty.

But they persevered, working with a strange persistency and silence, that gave them the appearance of so many phantoms engaged at their ghostly labor. Not a word was exchanged, even in the most guarded of tones, for each understood his part.

In time half a dozen of these immense stones reached the edge of the ravine. They were ranged side by side, a few feet apart, so as not to be in each other's way, and the Indians stood near, waiting until their work should be completed.

Some signal was then made, and then one of these bowlders rolled down in the ravine. Even this scarcely made any perceptible noise, the yielding ground receiving it like a cushion, as it came to a halt near the center of the valley.

When this was done a second followed suit, being so guided that it did not grate against its companion, but came to rest very near it.

Then another followed, and then another and another, in the same stealthy manner, until over a dozen were in the valley below.

This completed, the phantom-like figures descended like so many shadows, and began tugging again at the bowlders.

Not a word was exchanged, for each knew what was required of him. Fully an hour more was occupied, by which time the labor was finished.

The bowlders were arranged in the form of an impassable wall across the narrow valley, and the steam man was so thoroughly imprisoned that no human aid could ever extricate him.


CHAPTER XX. THE CONCLUDING CATASTROPHE.

BALDY BICKNELL, the trapper, was the first to discover the peril of himself and party.

When the Indians had completed their work it lacked only an hour of daylight. Having done all that was necessary, the savages took their stations behind the wall, lying flat upon the ground, where they were invisible to the whites, but where every motion of theirs could be watched and checkmated.

When the trapper opened his eyes he did not stir a limb, a way into which he had got during his long experience on the frontiers. He merely moved his head from side to side, so as to see anything that was to be seen.

The first object that met his eye was the boy Brainerd, sound asleep. Apprehensive then that something had occurred, he turned his startled gaze in different directions, scanning everything as well as it could be done in the pale moonlight.

When he caught sight of the wall stretched across the valley, he rubbed his eyes, and looked at it again and again, scarcely able to credit his senses. He was sure it was not there a few hours before, and he could not comprehend what it could mean; but it was a verity, and his experience told him that it could be the work of no one except the Indians, who had outwitted him at last.

His first feeling was that of indignation toward the boy who had permitted this to take place while he was asleep, but his mind quickly turned upon the more important matter of meeting the peril, which, beyond all doubt, was of the most serious character.

As yet he had not stirred his body, and looking toward the prison wall, he caught a glimpse of the phantom-like figures, as they occasionally flitted about, securing the best possible position, before the whites should awake.

This glimpse made everything plain to the practical mind of Baldy Bicknell. He comprehended that the red-skins had laid a plan to entrap the steam man. More than to entrap themselves, and that, so far as he could judge, they had succeeded completely.

It was the tightest fix in which he had ever been caught, and his mind, fertile as it was in expedients at such crises, could see no way of meeting the danger.

He knew the Indians had horses somewhere at command, while neither he nor his comrades had a single one. The steam man would be unable to pass that formidable wall, as it was not to be supposed that he had been taught the art of leaping.

Whatever plan of escape was determined upon, it was evident that the steamer would have to be abandoned; and this necessitated, as an inevitable consequence, that the whites would have to depend upon their legs. The Missouri river was at no great distance, and if left undisturbed they could make it without difficulty, but there was a prospect of anything sooner than that they would be allowed to depart in peace, after leaving the steam man behind.

The trapper, as had been his invariable custom, had carefully noted the contour of the surrounding prairie, before they had committed the important act of encamping in the gorge or hollow. He remembered the grove at some distance, and was satisfied that the barbarians had left their horses there, while they had gathered behind the wall to wait the critical moment.

By the time these thoughts had fairly taken shape in his brain it was beginning to grow light, and with a premonitary yawn and kick he rose to his feet and began stirring the fire. He was well aware that although he and his companions were a fair target for the rifles of their enemies, yet they would not fire. Their plan of action did not comprehend that, though it would have settled everything in their favor without delay.

'I declare I have been asleep!' exclaimed Brainerd, as he began rubbing his eyes.

'Yes. You're a purty feller to make a sentinel of, ain't you?' replied the trapper, in disgust.

'I hope nothing has happened.' answered Johnny, feeling that he deserved all the blame that could be laid upon him.

'Not much, exceptin' while yer war snoozin' the reds have come down and got us all in a nice box.'

The boy was certain he was jesting until he saw the expression of his face.

'Surely, Baldy, it is not as bad as that?'

'Do you see that ar?' demanded the trapper, pointing toward the wall, which the youngster could not help observing.

'How comes that to be there?'

'The red-skins put it thar. Can yer steam man walk over that?'

'Certainly not; but we can remove them.'

'Do yer want to try it, younker?'

'I'm willing to help.'

'Do yer know that ar' somethin' less nor a hundred red-skins ahind them, jist waitin' fur yer to try that thing?'

'Good heavens! can it be possible?'

'Ef you don't b'l'eve it, go out and look for yerself, that's all.'

The boy, for the first time, comprehends the peril in which he had brought his friends by his own remissness, and his self-accusation was so great, that, for a few moments, he forgot the fact that he was exposed to the greatest danger of his life.

By this time Ethan and Mickey awoke, and were soon made to understand their predicament. As a matter of course, they were all disposed to blame the author of this; but when they saw how deeply he felt his own shortcoming, all three felt a natural sympathy for him.

'There's no use of talkin' how we came to get hyar,' was the philosophical remark of the trapper; 'it's 'nongh to know that we are hyar, with a mighty slim chance of ever gettin' out ag'in.'

'It's enough to make a chap feel down in the mouth, as me friend Jonah observed when he went down the throat of the whale,' said Mickey.

'How is it they don't shoot us?' asked Hopkins; 'we can't git out of their way, and they've got us in fair range.'

'What's the use of doin' that? Ef they kill us, that'll be the end on't; but ef they put thar claws on us, they've got us sure, and can have a good time toastin' us while they yelp and dance around.'

All shuddered at the fearful picture drawn by the hunter.

'Jerusalem! don't I wish I was to hum in Connecticut!'

'And it's myself that would be plaised to be sitting in the parlor at Ballyduff wid me own Bridget Moghlaghigbogh, listenin' while she breathed swate vows, after making her supper upon praties and inions.'

'I think I'd ruther be hyar,' was the commentary of the trapper upon the expressed wish of the Irishman.

'Why can't yees touch up the staammau, and make him hop owver them shtones?' asked Mickey, turning toward the boy, whom, it was noted, appeared to be in deep reverie again.

Not until he was addressed several times did he look up. Then he merely shook his head, to signify that the thing was impossible.

'Any fool might know better than that.' remarked the Yankee, 'for if he could jump over, where would be the wagon?'

'That 'ud foller, av coorse.'

'No; there's no way of getting the steam man out of here. He is a gone case, sure, and it looks as though we were ditto. Jerusalem! I wish all the gold was back in Wolf Ravine, and we war a thousand miles from this place.'

'Wishing'll do no good; there's only one chance I see, and that ain't no chance at all.'

All, including the boy, eagerly looked up to hear the explanation.

'Some distance from hyar is some timbers, and in thar the reds have left their animals. Ef we start on a run for the timbers, git thar ahead of the Ingins, mount thar hosses and put, thar'll be some chance. Yer can see what chance thar is fur that.'

It looked as hopeless as the charge of the Light Brigade.

Young Brainerd now spoke.

'It was I who got you into trouble, and it is I, that, with the blessing of Heaven, am going to get you out of it.'

The three now looked eagerly at him.

'Is there no danger of the Indians firing upon us?' he asked of the hunter.

'Not unless we try to run away.'

'All right; it is time to begin.'

The boy's first proceeding was to kindle a fire in the boiler of the steam man. When it was fairly blazing, he continued to heap in wood, until a fervent heat was produced such as it had never experienced before. Still he threw in wood, and kept the water low in the boiler, until there was a most prodigious pressure of steam, making its escape at half a dozen orifices.

When all the wood was thrown in that it could