Charlie to the Rescue by Robert Michael Ballantyne (read any book .TXT) 📕

for instance, of what use was my revolver to me? And, for the matter of that, after you had dropped it on the road of what use was yours to you? It only wants one of your fellows to have more pluck and a quicker eye and hand than yourself to dethrone you at once."

"Well, none of my fellows," returned Buck Tom good-humouredly, "happen to have the advantage of me at present, so you may trust me and count this as one o' the `certain occasions' on which a revolver is a most important instrument."

"I dare say you are right," responded Charlie, smiling, as he drew from the breast of his coat a small bag and handed it to his companion.

"You know exactly, of course, how much is here?" asked Buck Tom.

"Yes, exactly."

"That's all right," continued Buck, thrusting the bag into the bosom of his hunting coat; "now I'll see if any o' the boys are at home. Doubtless they are out--else they'd have heard us by this time. Just wait a minute."

He seemed to melt into the darkness as he spoke. Another minute and he re-appeared.

"Here, give me your hand," he said; "the passage is darkish at first."

Charlie Brooke felt rather than saw that they had passed under a portal of some sort, and were advancing along a narrow passage. Soon they turned to the left, and a faint red light--as of fire--became visible in the distance. Buck Tom stopped.

"There's no one in the cave but _him_, and he's asleep. Follow me."

The passage in which they stood led to a third and shorter one, where the light at its extremity was intense, lighting up the whole of the place so as to reveal its character. It was a corridor about seven feet high and four feet wide cut out of the solid earth; arched in the roof and supported here and there by rough posts to make it still more secure. Charlie at once concluded that it led to one of those concealed caverns, of which he had heard more than once while crossing the country, the entrances of which are made in zig-zag form in order to prevent the possibility of a ray of light issuing from the outside opening.

On reaching the end of the third passage he found that his conjecture was right, for the doorway or opening on his left hand conducted into a spacious cave, also hollowed out of the earth, but apparently against a perpendicular cliff, for the inner end of it was of unhewn rock. The roof of the cave was supported by pillars which were merely sections of pine-trees with the bark left on. These pillars and the earthen walls were adorned with antlers, skulls, and horns of the Rocky mountain sheep, necklaces of grizzly-bear's claws, Indian bows and arrows, rifles, short swords, and various other weapons and trophies of the chase, besides sundry articles of clothing. At the inner end of the cave a large fireplace and chimney had been rudely built, and in this was roaring the pine-wood fire which had lighted them in, and which caused the whole interior to glow with a vivid glare that seemed to surpass that of noon-day.

A number of couches of pine-brush were spread round the walls, and on one of these lay a sleeping figure. The face was turned towards the visitor, who saw at a glance that it was that of his former friend and playmate--but it was terribly changed. Hard toil, suffering, sickness, dissipation, had set indelible marks on it, and there was a slight curve about the eyebrows which gave the idea of habitual pain. Yet strange to say, worn and lined though it was, the face seemed far more attractive and refined than it had ever been in the days of robust health.

Buck Tom went to the fire and began to stir the contents of a big pot that hung over it, while Charlie advanced and stood for some minutes gazing at the countenance of his friend, unwilling to disturb his slumbers, yet longing to cheer him with the glad news that he had come to succour him. He chanced, however, to touch a twig of the pine branches on which the sleeper lay, and Shank awoke instantly, raised himself on one elbow, and returned his friend's gaze earnestly, but without the slightest symptom of surprise.

"O Charlie," he said at last in a quiet voice, "I wish you hadn't come to me to-night."

He stopped, and Charlie felt quite unable to speak, owing to intense pity, mingled with astonishment, at such a reception.

"It's too bad of you," Shank went on, "worrying me so in my dreams. I'm weary of it; and if you only knew what a _terrible_ disappointment it is to me when I awake and don't find you there, you wouldn't tantalise me so. You always look so terribly real too! Man, I could almost pledge my life that you are no deception this time, but--but I'm so used to it now that--"

"Shank, my dear boy," said Charlie, finding words at last, "it _is_ no deception--"

He stopped abruptly; for the intense look of eager anxiety, doubt, and hope in the thin expressive face alarmed him.

"Charlie!" gasped, rather than said, the invalid, "you--you never _spoke_ to me before in my dreams, and--you never _touched_--the grip of your strong h--O God! _can_ it be true?"

At this point Buck Tom suddenly left off his occupation at the fire and went out of the cave.


CHAPTER FIFTEEN.


LOST AND FOUND.

"Try to be calm, Shank," said Charlie, in a soothing tone, as he kneeled beside the shadow that had once been his sturdy chum, and put an arm on his shoulder. "It is indeed myself _this_ time. I have come all the way from England to seek you, for we heard, through Ritson, that you were ill and lost in these wilds, and now, through God's mercy, I have found you."

While Charlie Brooke was speaking, the poor invalid was breathing hard and gazing at him, as if to make quite sure it was all true.

"Yes," he said at last, unable to raise his voice above a hoarse whisper, "lost--and--and--found! Charlie, my friend--my chum--my--"

He could say no more, but, laying his head like a little child on the broad bosom of his rescuer, he burst into a passionate flood of tears.

Albeit strong of will, and not by any means given to the melting mood, our hero was unable for a minute or two to make free use of his voice.

"Come, now, Shank, old man, you mustn't give way like that. You wouldn't, you know, if you had not been terribly reduced by illness--"

"Yes, I would! yes, I would!" interrupted the sick man, almost passionately; "I'd howl, I'd roar, I'd blubber like a very idiot, I'd do any mortal thing, if the doing of it would only make you understand how I appreciate your great kindness in coming out here to save me."

"Oh no, you wouldn't," said Charlie, affecting an easy off-hand tone, which he was far from feeling; "you wouldn't do anything to please me."

"What d'ye mean?" asked Shank, with a look of surprise.

"Well, I mean," returned the other, gently, "that you won't even do such a trifle as to lie down and keep quiet to please me."

A smile lighted up the emaciated features of the sick man, as he promptly lay back at full length and shut his eyes.

"There, Charlie," he said, "I'll behave, and let you do all the talking; but don't let go my hand, old man. Keep a tight grip of it. I'm terrified lest you drift off again, and--and melt away."

"No fear, Shank. I'll not let go my hold of you, please God, till I carry you back to old England."

"Ah! old England! I'll never see it again. I feel that. But tell me,"--he started up again, with a return of the excited look--"is father any better?"

"N-no, not exactly--but he is no worse. I'll tell you all about everything if you will only lie down again and keep silent."

The invalid once more lay back, closed his eyes and listened, while his friend related to him all that he knew about his family affairs, and the kindness of old Jacob Crossley, who had not only befriended them when in great distress, but had furnished the money to enable him, Charlie, to visit these outlandish regions for the express purpose of rescuing Shank from all his troubles and dangers.

At this point the invalid interrupted him with an anxious look.

"Have you the money with you?"

"Yes."

"All of it?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Because," returned Shank, with something of a groan, "you are in a den of thieves!"

"I know it, my boy," returned Charlie, with a smile, "and so, for better security, I have given it in charge to our old chum, Ralph Ritson."

"What!" exclaimed Shank, starting up again with wide open eyes; "you have met Ralph, then?"

"I have. He conducted me here."

"And you have intrusted your money to _him_?"

"Yes--all of it; every cent!"

"Are you aware," continued Shank, in a solemn tone, "that Ralph Ritson is Buck Tom--the noted chief of the outlaws?"

"I know it."

"And you trust him?"

"I do. I have perfect confidence that he is quite incapable of betraying an old friend."

For some time Shank looked at his companion in surprise; then an absent look came into his eyes, and a variety of expressions passed over his wan visage. At last he spoke.

"I don't know how it is, Charlie, but somehow I think you are right. It's an old complaint of mine, you know, to come round to your way of thinking, whether I admit it or not. In days of old I usually refused to admit it, but believed in you all the same! If any man had told me this morning--ay, even half an hour since--that he had placed money in the hands of Buck Tom for safe keeping, knowing who and what he is, I would have counted him an incurable fool; but now, somehow, I do believe that you were quite right to do it, and that your money is as safe as if it were in the Bank of England."

"But I did not intrust it to Buck Tom, knowing who and what he _is_," returned Charlie, with a significant smile, "I put it into the hands of Ralph Ritson, knowing who and what he _was_."

"You're a good fellow, Charlie," said Shank, squeezing the hand that held his, "and I believe it is that very trustfulness of yours which gives you so great power and influence with people. I know it has influenced me for good many a time in the past, and would continue to do so still if I were not past redemption."

"No man is past redemption," said the other quietly; "but I'm glad you agree with me about Ralph, for--"

He stopped abruptly, and both men turned their eyes towards the entrance to the cave.

"Did you hear anything?" asked Shank, in a low voice.

"I thought so--but it must have been the shifting of a log on the fire,"