George Manville Fenn (continued 9)

“Could I have done any better than I did?” kept coming as a question which remained unanswered when he dropped off to sleep, to begin dreaming about the reproachful eyes of his pony for a time. Then all was blank.

Chapter Forty Seven.

Councils of War.

Chris awoke next morning to find his father standing over him.

“Well, my boy; better?”

Chris started up, uttered a squeak and screwed up his face with a laugh, and fell back.

“How’s my pony, father?”

“What was the matter?” said the doctor anxiously. “A pain anywhere inside?”

“No, father, only I seem to hurt all over, I’m so sore. But how’s my pony?”

“Let the pony wait, boy. I want to be certain that you have no serious hurt. Wait a minute. Let me try.”

The doctor began his examination, and question after question came. “Does that hurt?—Does this?—Now then, do you feel anything when I press here—or there—or there?”

“Yes—yes—yes!” cried the boy petulantly, as he winced and started and cried “Oh!” and “Ah!” and “I say, father!” and “Oh, please don’t!”

“I must make sure, my boy.”

“But I’m sure, father; won’t that do?” cried the boy, in a tone of remonstrance. “Of course all that hurts me; you pulled and pinched me about so. I was as sore as sore all over before you began, and now I’m ever so much worse.”

“No, you’re not, boy. You’re all right. There’s nothing broken. You’re bruised and strained, but that’s all. You’ll soon come right. Sleep well?”

“Part of the time, father. The rest was all waste, and I lay there feeling as if I ought to be keeping the watch, and thinking that some one else ought to be sleeping who could.”

“But you were sleeping soundly when I came.”

“Of course, father. I wanted to make up for lost time.”

“And you feel now as if you can’t touch food?”

Chris stared.

“Are you saying that as a joke, father?”

“Certainly not. You feel as if you had no appetite?”

“That I don’t, father. I feel as if I could eat anything.”

“Nothing the matter at all but stiff. That will soon pass off.”

“Then you’re not going to mix up anything horrid for me, father?”

“Nothing worse than tea or coffee; and you may have damper and bacon to take afterwards,” said the doctor, laughing. “Have a good wash and rub out in the sunshine before breakfast. Then eat a good meal and lie about all day again in the sunshine.”

“What for, father?”

“To give nature time to get your bruises right.”

“But you won’t tell me how my pony is—and he’s worse than I am. Don’t say he’s tired, father?” cried the boy piteously, for the doctor’s face looked very serious.

“Certainly not. Poor beast, he’s far more stiff and sore than you are, besides having all those bad wounds.”

“But they’re getting better?” cried Chris anxiously.

“They’re no worse, my boy,” replied the doctor, “but they have had no time to get better. I have stopped them from getting into a bad condition, and the poor thing is limping about grazing as if nothing much was the matter. Are you satisfied?”

“Oh yes,” cried Chris eagerly, as he rose and began to try himself in different attitudes. “It has done me good to hear it. I—I don’t think I’m quite so stiff this morning.”

“That’s right.”

“Are we going on to-day?”

“On? No. We’re prisoners; and besides, we couldn’t start with you and your pony in hospital.”

“What about the Indians?”

“We haven’t seen a sign of them. They’re either laying some trap for us, or they have been regularly sickened and have stolen away in the night.”

“Are you going to see?”

“Perhaps,” said the doctor; “but I’m more disposed to keep a quiet lookout, and rest. We’re quite safe here, and provisions are more plentiful than I thought for. Griggs has found the spoor of some big buck and his young does. They have straggled into the valley during the night.”

“That’s good news, father.”

“For the larder: yes. What do you say to taking up land here and making a fresh start in life?”

“Wouldn’t do, father,” said the boy, shaking his head. “Too far away from everybody.”

“Yes, it would be the life of a hermit. Ready to come out?”

“Yes, I’m going out to the water-bucket, as you advised.”

“That’s right; go. It will give you an appetite for your breakfast.”

It was Ned’s turn to keep watch from the observatory, as they termed a little shelter, roughly-made on the top terrace; but Chris would have taken his place had not his father interposed.

“But it seems so hard for him to go up there while we’re having a good meal down here,” said Chris wistfully.

“He shall be looked after,” said the doctor, “and I don’t want you to do much climbing about yet. You must rest.”

Chris was silent, and took an opportunity to have a word or two with Ned before he started to climb up the narrow ways.

“That was very good of you, old chap,” whispered Ned, gripping his comrade by the left arm, with the result that Chris groaned and ground his teeth.

“Oh, you brute!” he said sharply.

“Chris!—I am sorry.”

“What’s the good of being sorry? That’s the sorest place I’ve got.”

“I didn’t know, old chap.”

“I did; and I do now,” replied Chris, rubbing the spot softly. “Never mind.”

“But I do mind. I ought to have thought. Just too when you’d offered to do my work for me so that I could stop down to breakfast.”

“Don’t say any more about it,” said Chris, with a grin of pain in his face dying out before a rather malicious smile. “They won’t let me help you one way, so I will in another. I’m precious hungry, and I won’t let your breakfast grow cold.”

“Oh, thank you, old chap. That’s very good of you, for I’m precious hungry too.”

“I thought you were,” continued Chris, looking quite solemn now. “I’ll eat your lot for you.”

For a few moments Ned’s face was a study. It was so full of dismay. Then there was a look of doubt, and directly after he had read the truth.

“Get out!” he cried, and his hand was raised to give his comrade a heavy slap on the back; but Chris cried “Murder!” and shrank away.

“Oh, I forgot again,” cried Ned hurriedly.

“You’d better be off up now, my boy,” said Bourne. “Don’t forget the glass.”

“No, father. All right,” cried the boy, and exchanging glances with Chris and following up his own with a clench of the fist, he took the binocular and hurried up to the lookout, while the rest applied themselves to the needed meal, but half-expecting to be alarmed, and impressed always by the expectation of attack, every one’s weapons being kept ready to hand.

Chris ate, as his father said laughingly, like an impostor, a remark which Griggs, who did not join them till the meal had been going on for some minutes, readily endorsed.

Chris laughed, and the remarks did not spoil his appetite; but his thoughts were busy all through, and he looked anxiously for the termination of the meal, and when all was over he turned uneasily to Griggs.

“I say,” he whispered, “oughtn’t some one to go and relieve Ned?”

“What for?” was the uncompromising response.

“What for? Why, because he must be starving.”

“Poor fellow! He must have an appetite then,” said Griggs, laughing. “Did you see what I took up to him?”

“Oh,” cried Chris remorsefully. “What a shame! Here was I thinking that every one had been selfish to the poor fellow, while all the time—”

“We had all played quite fair—you most of all. Here, how are all the aches and pains now?”

“Getting better. I have no right to make so much fuss about them and play at being in hospital.”

“You’re not, lad. You’re only doing what the doctor ordered. A fellow can’t fall nearly a mile perpendicular and slantingdicular without being a good deal shaken.”

“How far?” said Chris, laughing.

“Well, say half-a-mile.”

“What nonsense!”

“Say quarter of a mile then,” cried Griggs sharply.

“Divided by what?”

“You are hard to please. I didn’t measure the distance; but I will as soon as we’ve got rid of these precious redskins.”

“Don’t,” said Chris. “I didn’t fall far, and it was most of it sliding down.”

“Turn round,” cried the American, “and set your eyes at the very bottom of the cliff, and then run them up to the sharp edge where we saw you having that battle with your poor mustang before you went over, and then tell me again that you didn’t fall far.”

“Don’t want to,” said Chris, who looked all the same, and felt a little shiver as of something cold running down his back. “There, I’m off.”

“Where are you going? The doctor said you were to rest.”

“That’s what I’m going to do,” said Chris, “but I must go and see how my pony is.”

“Ah, well, I suppose that won’t hurt you. I’ll go up and have a chat with Ned, and see if I can mark down any of the enemy.”

They parted, and Chris walked over the rugged stones and down the slopes till he was at the bottom of the valley, with his feet brushing aside the long rich grass in which the mules were standing knee-deep, and which they neglected for the fresh green branches of the shrubs which grew thickly here and there.

“I forgot all about the snakes,” said the boy to himself; “but there can’t be any here, or the jacks wouldn’t be so quiet.”

Quiet they were, for though he walked right through the browsing herd they hardly turned their heads in his direction.

It was different when he reached the half-dozen ponies, which still kept themselves aloof as if preferring their own more aristocratic company. They were so rested and well fed that they were disposed to turn skittish, and two of them communicated their spirits to three of the others, which joined in, tossing their heads, prancing, and making a show of treating their visitor as one who was hiding bridle and bit behind him, ready to entrap and change their pleasant hour’s grazing there amongst the rich succulent grass to a mouthful of hard iron with the burden of heavy riders upon their backs.

In fact, five of the ponies contrived to keep the advancing lad at a distance, while the sixth, which had been grazing slowly, suddenly raised its head and stood staring at him.

At the first glance Chris set this down to feebleness, and looked upon it as a bad sign. But he altered his mind directly after, when he walked up to the animal’s side, patting its neck and passing its soft ears through his hand, for the poor beast whinnied softly, and slowly advanced its muzzle to rest it against the boy’s arm.

“Why, I believe you’re better, old chap,” cried Chris, as he began to examine the pony’s wounds, seeing at once that they appeared to be drying up, while when he moved a yard or two the animal followed him, limping, it is true, but not in a way that suggested permanent injury. “Why, this is cheering,” cried Chris eagerly. “I thought that you and I were never going to have a long gallop over the plains again, and now you look as if you’ll be ready for me to mount in a fortnight at the most—perhaps in a week, eh, old chap? There, I am glad. I say, I should like as soon as the Indians have gone, for you to carry me up to the head of the valley there, and then for you to show me exactly where it was that you fell, and—Hallo! What’s that?”

Chris looked round sharply, but could see nothing but the groups of grazing horses and mules.

“It sounded as if some one had thrown a stone. Can’t be Ned stalking me and up to his games, can it?—There it goes again.”

He started round to look behind him towards the terraced fortress he had left, but all was quiet there and no sign visible of Ned or any one to play any trick.

Then again something—something, he knew not what; but it was as if a pebble had fallen from the sky.

“Not going to hail, is it?” thought Chris; and then he laughed at the absurdity of the idea, for the sky was perfectly clear.

Rap!

Another something fallen from on high, but the mystery was at an end, for he not only saw it falling but where it had struck, to stick quivering and nearly upright amongst the grass.

An arrow, and from its slope it must have come from the unexplored side of the valley, and been shot high in the air for it to stand so nearly upright in the grass.

“Indians on the other side,” thought Chris, and his first thought was to run round the grazing animals and drive them towards the part where they had made their camp.

He started to do this, but stopped at once, uttering a groan of misery, for in spite of his brave effort, his run proved to be a miserable hobble, and then the agony he suffered in his side forced him to stop.

“Help! help!” he shouted hoarsely, but he felt that his cry sounded like a call to the animals amongst whom he stood, and as far as he could make out there was no one visible to heed his waving hat.

“I must fire my revolver,” he thought, and his hand went to his belt to unbutton the leather flap of the holster; but he did not withdraw the weapon, for he knew that the report would scare the poor beasts and send them galloping in all directions.

The time occupied in this was very short, but it was long enough for two more arrows to fall very near him, one nearly upright to cut its way with a sharp whizz amongst the grass and bury its head in the soft earth at an angle of forty-five degrees.

Then another idea struck Chris—tardily, for he felt that he should have thought of it at first.

Thrusting his hand into his breast, he drew forth a little chain, at the end of which was a metal whistle, and the alarm note he blew sounded piercing and shrill.

He did not stop there, but did what he felt was best. Hobbling to the side of his mustang and talking caressingly to it the while, he took hold of the thick forelock and began to lead it towards where he hoped to find safety.

The docile little animal made no opposition to being led from the pleasant pasture, but started and shivered as there came the sharp whizz of another arrow—too painful a memory to his ear—making the poor beast limp along a little faster in obedience to his master’s effort to get him away.

Then another arrow came terribly near them, and Chris whistled again, his spirits rising though, for the rest of the animals, taking in the fact of one of them being led away from either corn or water, began to neigh and squeal as they closed in after their leader, so that if there proved to be time enough before the arrows took effect, Chris felt, as he blew a long and shrill note again, that he would be able to guide the herd into safety.

“Why are they not on the lookout?” groaned the boy, for his progress was painfully slow; “they ought to see that something is wrong.” But he was ignorant of the fact that nothing was visible from the lookout but himself and the animals trotting about playfully as they kept pretty close to the wounded mustang.

An arrow again, and another, each wonderfully near, but no harm was done. Then another which fell with a dull thud, and was followed by a wild scream which startled the herd into disorder, sending the mules helter-skelter, kicking and plunging, all but one, which galloped away by itself, turning its head the while to bite at an arrow which had buried itself in its back.

That strange scream had done what Chris’s whistle failed in, drawn attention to something being wrong, while directly after a little puff of smoke darted from the upper terrace, followed by its report and the reverberation of echoes. Then another shot, and another, and no more arrows fell, though Chris in his slow progress suffered as much agony as if they had still been dropping all around.

But now the doctor came running out, followed by Wilton, and under the cover of a few more shots the little herd was driven in, slowly enough, for the wounded mule progressed more and more slowly till it hung back close alongside of Chris’s mustang, showing that it was badly hurt.

“Only enough to prove that the enemy are well on the watch,” said the doctor, after he had seen to the wounded mule, “and a warning to us that we must not relax our care.”

Griggs had by this time descended from the terrace, it having been his rifle that had put an end to the coming of the arrows.

“Hardly thought they could have shot so far,” he said; “but after all, they didn’t get an arrow much more than half-way here. Say, didn’t do you much good, Master Chris, hurrying back like that.”

“I’m afraid it’s the mustang that has suffered,” said Chris. “I didn’t hurt, only it was dreadfully hard to find that I couldn’t run.”

“You ought to be very thankful that you can walk, Chris,” said the doctor quietly. “It is next door to marvellous that you should have escaped without a broken bone. But now then, Griggs, matters begin to look serious. What is to be done?”

“That’s just what I have been thinking, sir. The enemy isn’t a bit satisfied, and the next time they begin making targets of us they may be more fortunate.”

“What I am afraid of is that they may now get upon the high ground above us here.”

“And that would be awkward, sir,” said the American thoughtfully. Then after a pause—“We’ve got the whip hand of them with our rifles.”

“Of course.”

“And we’ve shown them a little of what we can do, but not enough. There’s only one thing left now.”

“And what’s that?” asked the doctor, after a glance at his son.

“Give them such a lesson that they won’t stop to have any more, but make off into the desert.”

“That’s very good advice,” replied the doctor, “but how can it be done without risk to ourselves?”

“Let them think we daren’t stir away from here, while we wait for a few days to let some one get well again, and his nag too, while we have not been wasting time, but under the screen of hunting and shooting have been watching, and when once we have got to know where they camp, we must come upon them suddenly some night, and the rifles must do the rest.”

“Well, Chris, what do you think of that?” said the doctor, turning to where the two boys sat listening.

“Can’t be done,” said Chris shortly.

“Why?”

“How are you going to find out where they make their camp? They’re in one place to-day and another to-morrow.”

“Yes, Griggs, that is the difficulty.”

“Well, I know that, sir,” replied Griggs; “but can you think of a better plan?”

“Only that of waiting till we see them some time in the open, and then coming out to attack them.”

“Half-a-dozen of us against a hundred,” said Griggs dryly; “all mounted men who can ride as if they were part of their horses. We could shoot a good many of them, of course, but they’d be too much for us if we killed or wounded fifty of them. For how many of us would go down in doing it?”

“They could spare ten,” said Bourne, who had just sauntered up, “while we couldn’t spare one.”

“No, nor half one,” said Griggs. “What we’ve got to do, gentlemen, is something that will give them such a startler that they’ll have had enough of it; and it must be done without our getting a scratch.”

“Yes,” said the doctor; “but how?”

“That’s what we’ve got to think out, sir. We ought to be a bit cleverer than a set of savage Indians. I vote we all make up our minds to think it out. We’ve got plenty of time, for we’re all right here as to food and shelter, and can’t move for a week certain.”

“On account of Chris and the injured beasts,” said the doctor. “Very well; we must all put on our wisdom caps and puzzle it out. I’ll go and have a chat with Wilton now.”

The little meeting broke up, and Griggs went to spend his short time before going on duty in cleaning his rifle, while, as if attracted to the same spot, Chris and Ned followed him to a sheltered nook near the place where a bucket was standing ready for sending down to the running water and bringing up refilled.

Chapter Forty Eight.

The Other Side.

As the two boys made their way amongst the scattered stones they caught sight of the doctor stepping out on to the terrace where Wilton stood, glass in hand, scanning the opposite terraces and the sharp edge of the top, where the precipice stood out clear against the sky.

“I wonder whether they’ll hit on a good idea,” said Ned. “Here, let’s sit down. I say, Griggs, you might be a good fellow and give my rifle-barrel a brush out too.”

“I don’t say I won’t,” replied the American. “I might give yours a touch up too, squire. I’ll see,” he continued. “I don’t expect you’re in very good trim for pumping water through gun-barrels.”

“No,” said Chris, wincing as he raised his arm and lowered it again as if passing a cleaning-rod through the piece.

“Here, steady!” cried Griggs. “Don’t take yours to pieces yet. One at a time. We might want to have another shot or two at these red Robin Hoods.”

“’Tisn’t likely,” said Ned.

“Isn’t it? You never know what’s likely with those gentlemen. While we’re out here in the wilds we want to be always ready for action.”

The American chatted away as he took his rifle to pieces, washing, carefully drying, and oiling it, in the hot sunshine, while Chris placed himself in a restful position to avoid aches and pains, and Ned leaned back against a stone with his hands behind his head, never once joining in the conversation. In fact, part of the time he seemed to be dozing, for his eyes were half-closed. At last, though, he started suddenly, made a gesture with his open hand as if catching a fly off his leg, and exclaimed—

“I’ve got it!”

“Kill it, then,” said Griggs, without looking up from his task. “What is it—a skeeter?”

“No,” cried Ned excitedly. “The idea!”

“You have?” said Chris eagerly.

“Yes!”

“Let’s have it, then,” said Griggs, “only be gentle. Don’t startle us too much.”

“Don’t you begin sneering,” said Ned, rather haughtily. “Other people may have bright ideas too.”

“I don’t know about ‘too,’” said Griggs coolly; “I’ve got none. My head has grown thick with thinking of how we’re to get out of this hole.”

Ned was silent, and sat frowning.

“Well, let’s have it,” said Chris.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Ned coldly. “Perhaps you’ve got a better idea of your own.”

“Here, don’t make us hungry with keeping it back,” cried Chris good-humouredly. “What a fellow you are to take offence.”

“Oh, I’m not offended, only I don’t think some people need be ready to jeer quite so soon.”

“‘Some people,’” said Griggs softly. “That means me. Very sorry, and won’t do so any more.”

“And you keep on doing it.”

“Well, never mind,” said Griggs, smiling. “I’m only ’Murrican, and you know what we are. Come, let’s have your notion, squire, and if it seems a right one we’ll get out of our trouble like a shot. What was it?”

“Well, I propose,” said Ned reluctantly, “that we take proper steps one night, and startle the Indians’ horses into making a stampede. It could easily be done.”

“And afterwards?” said Chris quietly.

“Why, ride off ourselves and get beyond the redskins’ reach. They’d have no horses to follow.”

“And they’d never think of running after and catching them,” said Chris quietly.

“How could they when the horses had galloped right away? They wouldn’t know which way the ponies had gone in the dark.”

“But they’d find the trail in the morning, and follow it, if the job took them a week.”

“Hear, hear!” cried Griggs, raising the barrels of his rifle to his eyes and looking through them as if they formed a binocular telescope.

“Oh, you’re always so ready with your objections,” said Ned angrily. “Why couldn’t it be done?”

“Just because it would be impossible, I’m afraid, squire,” said Griggs, polishing away now at his right barrel. “If you had all the horses together, and if you could frighten them, they might all rush off, but even if they did it wouldn’t matter much, as Chris here hints, because the Indians would follow the trail, and not lose one. Very sorry, squire. Glad if it would do; but it won’t, so try again.”

Ned uttered a grunt.

“You’d better try now, Chris,” he said scornfully, “and old Griggs’ll sit upon your plan directly.”

Griggs breathed upon the stock of his rifle, and gave it a hard rub with his piece of rag to bring up the polish upon the walnut grain.

“To be sure I will,” he said pleasantly, as he gave Chris a nod. “I’m not going to play with a job like this. Have you got anything like an idea, my lad?”

“I’ve been trying to think out something,” said the boy, turning a little red in the face.

“Let’s have it, then,” cried Ned.

“To be sure, let’s have it,” said Griggs, looking proudly at his well-cleaned rifle, before opening the breech and slipping in a couple of cartridges. “There, that’s ready. Now, squire, I’ll have yours, please.”

Ned passed his rifle, after extracting the ball-cartridge, and the American began taking it to pieces at once.

“What’s your notion, my lad?” he said, turning to Chris.

“I’m afraid to say anything about it,” said Chris modestly.

“Why?” cried Ned.

“Because it seems now that I have thought it out quite extravagant and strange.”

“It can’t be worse than mine,” cried Ned bitterly. “Come, out with it. Play fair. I don’t see why I should be laughed at, and you get off scot free.”

“Don’t you make yourself uncomfortable about that, squire,” said Griggs dryly. “I’ll mind and rub him wrong way if there’s nothing in it. Now then, my lad, let’s have it.”

Chris was silent a minute, and then said—

“One word first. My poor pony came down into the valley where I fell, but you don’t think the Indians could bring their beasts down that way, do you?”

“I’m sure they couldn’t,” said Griggs, working the cleaning-rod up and down one of the barrels.

“I feel sure too,” said Chris. “But do you think they could get them out again that way—I mean, out through the head of the valley?”

“And I’m sure of that,” said Griggs. “They couldn’t unless they taught ’em how to fly.”

“Why, of course not,” said Ned scornfully. “You know it too. Why do you ask?”

“Only because I wanted to make sure,” replied Chris, “and because it has something to do with my plan.”

Griggs left off pumping and squirting water, laid the barrel across his knees with his hands resting upon the former, and gazed thoughtfully in the boy’s face, while Ned seemed influenced by his companion’s manner and sat perfectly silent.

“You know I went to watch for the coming of the Indians?”

“Yes,” said Griggs.

“And I passed by that rough jagged pillar of rock which was of a great height, in the middle of that very narrow part of the gulch. I mean where the rocks close in on both sides and overhang so that it seems dangerous to walk under them for fear they should fall.”

“Oh yes, I remember it well.”

“So do I,” said Ned, quietly now, for he was evidently greatly interested.

“I looked at it intently, so that I got to know the place thoroughly. I can recollect all the loose stones piled-up along the sides and overhanging so that very little would make them block up the rift.”

“To be sure,” said Griggs, going on with his cleaning again. “I know the spot. You might make a strong fort there in no time so as to defend the valley.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” said Ned impatiently; “but go on.”

“I think I’d better leave off now,” said Chris apologetically; “it seems so stupid.”

“Never mind; let’s have it,” cried Griggs.

“Well, this is what I thought,” continued Chris, “that if we could go up there some day and hide along the heights with our ponies and mules, and wait till the enemy came by to get into the valley, and then tumble all the rocks and stones down—”

“One minute,” said Griggs. “You mean that very, very narrow bit where there’s hardly room for two mules to pass?”

“Yes, that’s it; where the rocks high up nearly meet.”

“Yes, I know,” cried Ned excitedly.

“Well, since I’ve been thinking about all this,” said Chris, speaking more freely, “it seemed—”

“One moment again,” cried Griggs, “it’s this side of the gully down which the enemy came.”

“Oh yes, some hundreds of yards.”

“To be sure!”

“I say, Griggs, don’t keep interrupting so,” cried Ned impatiently.

“Right! Go on, lad.”

“I fancied,” cried Chris, “if we could hide and wait till the enemy had all ridden into the bottom of the valley, we might tumble down stones and rocks from up above till the spaces beside that middle stone were all blocked up, and we might keep on till it was made so bad that no horse could be got over.”

“To be sure, nor mule neither. That’s for certain if we worked hard enough, and of course we would. Oh, yes; I could make such a bank there with a bar or a wooden lever as no pony could climb, or man either, if you come to that. Why, Chris, my lad, that’ll do.”

“You don’t think it wild and foolish?” said the boy, flushing.

“I think it’s grand.”

“You do?”

“I do, really, my lad. There’s only one thing that I can see against it.”

“Ah, here it comes,” cried Ned excitedly; “I knew he’d be sure and sit upon it.”

“Of course,” said Griggs, laughing, “or step upon it to see if it’ll bear our weight.”

“What’s wrong, then?”

“Only this,” said Griggs slowly. “How are you going to get your birds into the trap?”

“Ha, ha!” laughed Ned. “To be sure. There you are, Chris: how are you going to get your birds into the trap?”

Chris laughed too, but very gently.

“I’ve been thinking of all that,” he said, “and I don’t quite see yet. I could manage it easily enough if there was a way out that we could climb. Then we could retreat before them some time, and they’d follow us in; and as soon as they had all ridden in the door of the trap could be closed.”

“Who’s going to shut the trap?” said Ned, laughing. “Why, Chris, you’re making a bull.”

“Oh no, I’m not. One or two would be enough to lead the Indians in; the others could shut the trap.”

“And what about the live bait that led the Indians in?” said Ned.

“They’d make for the way to get out, and climb up here.”

“Well, you are a Paddy,” cried Ned, laughing heartily. “You’re going to lead the enemy in, and show them the way out again. Can’t you see that if they followed the two who acted as bait they’d come out too?”

“Yes,” said Chris coolly, “but that wouldn’t matter.”

“What! Why, you’re all in a fog, and can’t see your way,” cried Ned.

“We’re not afraid of the Indians, and we could keep them off easily enough if we wanted to before we got back to our horses and rode away.”

“But the enemy would follow,” cried Ned, grinning.

“Well, suppose they did?” cried Chris; “they’d be on foot. They could climb out of the trap, but their ponies couldn’t.”

Griggs laughed now, and Ned looked uncomfortable.

“Oh! I see,” he drawled, very slowly. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Hah!” ejaculated Griggs, who looked very thoughtful. “Yes, that might be done. I don’t know of any such place, Chris, unless we could find one somewhere up above the terraces.”

“I’ve looked,” said Chris, shaking his head. “If there was a way up there it would be splendid, because we could put big stones ready, or loosen some of the steps so that we could break them away after we’d climbed up; but I can’t find anything. The cliff hangs over so.”

“Was that why you were poking about so up there this morning?” said Ned.

“Yes.”

“Well, you might have told me.”

“Yes, I might,” said Chris, smiling, “but it would have been a pity.”

“Why?”

“It would have spoiled your chance to have a laugh at me and call me a Paddy.”

“Hah!” said Griggs again, as Ned frowned and looked annoyed. “And you couldn’t find any way up there on to the top?”

“No,” said Chris rather sadly. “It would have been so easy then.”

“Yes, we could have worked it then, my lad. One would have been enough. I could have carried out a nice game there, and led ’em on.”

“And what about their arrows?” said Ned.

“Oh, I should have had to chance them. Kept out of reach, or dodged them. I could have led ’em right in so that they wouldn’t have heard the stones being lowered down, and got right away over the top and shut the door after me, while when they saw that they couldn’t follow, and went back, they’d have found themselves shut-in.”

“But—there’s—no way out over the top terrace,” said Ned mockingly.

“Well, I know there isn’t,” said Griggs coolly. “I’ve looked well myself three times over, because I was afraid that the enemy might find a way down some time, and take us by surprise.”

“It would have been so easy then,” sighed Chris; “but I don’t despair. We might find a way, after all, if we had a good search.”

“To be sure we might,” replied Griggs, “and I think I know where.”

“You do?” cried the boys together.

“’M, yes, I think so,” said Griggs quietly.

“Where?” cried Chris. “You don’t mean up at the head of the valley, where I came down?”

“Nay! That wouldn’t do, even if there was a place. Be too far off. You want a spot where one could slip up quickly and shut the way after you so as to stop the enemy from following.”

“Yes,” said Chris, shaking his head; “and that we shall never find.”

“No,” cried Ned, almost triumphantly. “Your plan’s no better than mine, old chap.”

“I don’t know so much about that, squire,” said Griggs, screwing up his face. “Seems to me that we can find such a way out if we try.”

“Where?” cried Ned.

“Over yonder, squire,” was the reply, as the American nodded his head in the direction of the terraces and openings opposite to where they sat talking.

“Ah!” cried Chris excitedly. “Yes, there must, now one thinks of it, be a way down there. Some of the Indians must have got down a part of the way to send their arrows at me when I was seeing to my poor mustang.”

“To be sure! Right!” cried Griggs. “I never thought of that before. Then we’ve been sleeping here with the door open, only the enemy were afraid to come.”

“Then you think we could find a way up there?” said Chris, shading his eyes and looking across the valley at the perpendicular sunlit cliff full of window or door openings similar to those from which they gazed.

“I’m beginning to think we could, my lad. What do you say to going across and having a search?”

“Yes; let’s go at once,” cried Chris.

“Aren’t you too stiff?”

“Stiff? No. Come along!”

At that moment Ned, who had been staring hard at the opposite terraces, suddenly caught Griggs by the arm, gripping it sharply.

“What’s the matter?”

“Keep quiet! Don’t move,” said the boy in a whisper, though no one could have heard from the spot at which he looked. “There’s something moving about on that top terrace across yonder.”

“A bear?” said Chris eagerly.

“Perhaps. No; it’s standing up now.”

“Well, bears do that sometimes.”

“It’s so far-off, I can’t quite make out,” said Ned excitedly. “Ah! There’s another—and another. Why, there are six or seven crawling about yonder.”

“Then they’re not likely to be bears,” said Griggs. “Where’s your glass?”

“Up in the lookout. I’ll go and fetch it.”

“Yes, and be smart,” cried Griggs. Then, as the boy hurried away to climb up to the watching place—“I won’t give any alarm yet till we’re quite sure. But if it’s the enemy they’ve some game on there, and there’s going to be more sharp shooting. Chris, my lad, there’s no doubt about it now. There’s a way down from the top of the cliff to that top terrace yonder, and that means there must be a way up to it from below. Your plan’s cutting two ways. It’s giving us a way to get clear of the enemy, and showing us that we’ve been in greater danger than we thought for. Now see what you can make out. Your eyes are younger than mine.”

“Yes, but yours are better trained to see long distances,” replied Chris, as he shaded his eyes and had a good long look, the American changing his position and doing the same.

“I can only see two,” said Chris at last, “and I think they’re men.”

“I can see three,” said Griggs, “and I’m not going to say I think, for I’m sure they’re Indians.”

Chris’s first thought was of his mustang.

“What about the mules and ponies?” he said excitedly.

“I don’t think their arrows could reach them,” said Griggs thoughtfully; “but the brutes mean some mischief, and the sooner we begin to teach them that they are trespassing the better. Can you help me to take a shot at them? Or are you too stiff?”

“I can manage,” said Chris, and following the American they encountered Ned returning from the lookout.

“Indians,” he cried. “I’ve looked. They’re after the ponies and mules again.”

“Have you given the alarm?” cried Chris anxiously.

“No; I came on with the glass. Do you want to use it, Griggs?”

“No,” was the reply. “I’m going to shoot, and that will give all the alarm we want.”

They proceeded to the second terrace, where the movements of the Indians grew clearer, and going down behind a stone the American took a long and careful aim before firing.

“Missed him,” he said angrily.

The word had hardly left his lips before Chris drew his trigger, and the next moment Ned followed his example.

The reports brought the rest of the party of defenders into the cell from which the firing had been directed.

“Well,” said the doctor, “what is it?”

He took the binocular upon hearing the explanation, but after holding it to his eyes for a few moments returned it to Griggs.

“Is it a mistake?” he said.

Griggs laid his cheek to his rifle, and fired again, to stand gazing across the valley for some moments before he replied—

“No, sir; no mistake, and that Indian knows it.”

“You hit one?”

“Yes, and there were three more just appeared, but, as far as I could make out, they have all gone now.”

There was a little more excitement and watching, but nothing was made out for some minutes. Then the doctor, who had seized the glass and been sweeping the opposite side of the valley in search of danger, exclaimed—

“They’ve gone. Look, Bourne.” He passed the glass to the gentleman addressed. “Across the right, there, over the edge of the cliff.”

“Yes, I see; a large party of them cantering away.”

At that moment Griggs, who had raised the sight of his rifle, fired again after a rapid glance.

“Man and horse down,” cried Bourne.

“Why did you fire again when they were in full retreat?”

“To give them a lesson not to come and interfere with us, sir,” said Griggs shortly. “It’s too dangerous to trifle with them, sir, and they’re getting more daring.”

“Yes, I know,” said the doctor, “and I wish we could get away from this place; but I dare not stir, for the enemy would follow us and hang on to our skirts, go which way you chose.”

“Young Chris had an idea about our getting away, sir,” said the man, giving the boy a wink.

“An idea. I should have thought he had only one, and that was connected with getting well again. Well, what is it, Chris?”

The boy explained, his face feeling like fire the while, and his father listened to the end.

“Well,” he said at last, “that sounds perfectly reasonable and good. And you think we could, or you could, or whoever undertook the task, could get to the terraces yonder and escape—if there proves to be a way up there?”

“Yes, father,” said Chris, flushing with excitement now. “I feel sure there is a way there.”

“And you, Griggs—what do you say?”

“I feel sure of it, sir; but whether we could reach it from down below here or not is another thing.”

“The only way is to prove it,” said the doctor.

“Now, at once, sir?” cried Griggs.

“Well, yes,” said the doctor thoughtfully; “why not?”

He asked the question in a tone of voice that needed no answer, and then turned to Chris.

“We’ll go and examine the place, then, for the Indians must be gone.”

“Oh yes,” said Griggs, “they’re gone, sure enough. But it would be as well for say two to stop here on the terrace and be ready to fire if the enemy should appear again.”

This was soon arranged, Wilton and Bourne undertaking the task, while, after a good look round to make sure that no watching eyes were scrutinising their movements, the little party of four started for the other side of the depression, Chris being so insistent that he felt really well enough to be one, that the doctor shrank from leaving him behind.

The task did not prove very difficult, for they had their previous experience to help them, and they were not long after reaching the foot of the cliff before finding a way up to the lowest terrace, and grasping the fact that the incident that had taken place in the part they had occupied had been repeated here. Whether before or after it was impossible to say, but they found all the traces of a desperate fight, and the defence of a brave people who had held out in cell after cell to the very end.

Then the way up to the next terrace was hunted out and found half buried in stones and dust, and hidden still further by the growth of ages. Here again were the traces of the massacre, and after a hurried examination of these, half-way along the second terrace Griggs came to a sudden stop and cocked his rifle, an act immediately imitated by the rest.

“Danger?” whispered the doctor.

“Don’t know yet,” was the reply, “but we’re somewhere near the cells where those fellows were using their bows the other day, and where I saw them a little while ago.”

He ceased speaking, and pointed downwards.

“What can you see?” whispered Chris.

“Trail. Moccasin-covered feet,” was the answer.

The two boys would have passed that which was pointed out unseen, for the impressions in the dust were very faint to them, but plain enough to the experienced hunter, who advanced cautiously now to the opening into the cell opposite which they were now standing, and looking in, pointed out fresh footprints and, what was more, an opening at the back of the cell which, save in position, proved to be a way into just such a square cell-like place as that which had puzzled them on their own side.

“No one here,” said Griggs, “but it’s not long since there was.”

“Are you going on at once?” said the doctor.

“Oh yes; let’s know the worst, or the best,” replied Griggs; “but one seems to know all there is to know, and it’s what we wanted. Here’s the way up to the next range of cells, and when we get up there we shall find the enemy’s trail, and that will lead right up to the cliff, without a doubt.”

“Yes, there’s proof enough that if the enemy had been enterprising and gifted with brains they could have easily found their way down into the valley by a fresh way.”

“Let’s go on, sir,” said Griggs. “They’ve never been lower than this; that’s evident. We’re the first who have come up that lower way, and it seems to me, Chris, that we’ve learned all we wanted. That was to find a way to the top that a fellow could get up in a hurry. Yes—look here. It’s all clear enough; and once he’s got up he’s got nothing to do but break away a step or two, and no one can follow.”

Griggs was quite right. Just as it was on the other side of the valley, the square pit could be ascended by means of projecting stones, and upon these being scaled the party stood upon the flint terrace and in its range of cells, beyond which there was a step-like path going up a narrow rift, leading right to the level tableland.

They all ascended, and taking care not to expose themselves, were able to sweep the great level for miles, but without seeing the slightest sign of an enemy.

“It’s all right, sir,” said Griggs, as soon as they had finished their inspection. “Here’s what we want to carry out young Chris’s plan.”

“Well, it does make it possible,” said the doctor thoughtfully, “but very risky for the man who is hunted by the enemy.”

“Oh dear no, sir. It only wants a man to be pretty smart. I don’t see much difficulty in it.”

“No, father,” said Chris; “I feel sure that I could do it.”

“Nay, don’t want everything, youngster,” cried Griggs merrily; “let some one else have a chance. This job seems to be about my fit, and I propose that the doctor here picks me out, unless squire here chooses himself as the one to do it.”

“Oh no,” cried Ned; “I couldn’t do it. I mean, I shan’t go. I don’t think I could do it.”

“It’s a grown man’s job,” said the doctor firmly, “one that either Griggs or I will undertake. There, come down, and let’s carefully hide the way by which we came up. The enemy may come here again to get a shot at us, and if they do we must not give them a chance for growing suspicious.”

“If they come, sir,” said Griggs. “I don’t think they will—at all events to-day. What they’ll try in the night no one can say. But now then, Chris, my lad, you and your mustang have got to make yourselves fit for everything. We can do nothing till you’re both quite well, and the sooner that time comes the sooner we shall be strong enough to act.”

Chapter Forty Nine.

Griggs is Stubborn.

The days glided by, with the stiffness in Chris Lee’s limbs growing less painful, and the pony recovering fast, for the clear mountain air seemed to act like a cure for wounds. Every day that came showed the injured animal in better condition. Its efforts to move no longer made Chris wince and forget his own pains in those he felt at seeing the mustang suffer.

Every one was busy, for the keeping watch regularly took up a good deal of time. Then shooting had to be attended to, so as to keep up a good supply of fresh meat, till the birds upon which the party depended grew shy of coming to the spring, and two or three anxious discussions had been held about supplies for the future, the result of which was that a decision had been arrived at, for a departure to be made as soon as possible.

Chris was quite strong enough—so he declared—and at last every hour seemed to make an improvement in the mustang.

“It’s all nonsense, Ned,” cried Chris, “for them to think they are staying on account of us.—Hullo, Griggs! Were you listening?”

“Nay; I was close here, and your chatter came rattling into my ears like peas. We’re not waiting for you now. How did your pony go this morning?”

“Splendid. Just halted a little on the bad leg; but it’s better than it was yesterday.”

“Did you canter this morning?”

“Canter? We went at a good swinging gallop.”

“And what about you?”

“Oh, I’m only a little stiff still. Here, I want for us to be off. We shall get strong more quickly journeying over the plains or climbing in and out among the mountains. I don’t like to bother my father any more, but what does he say?”

“He says we’re to start to-morrow at daybreak.”

“Hurrah!” cried Chris.

“But we shan’t, my lad.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve seen Indians again.”

“Oh! You’re always seeing Indians again. Here it has been—one day and you declared that they were gone; then the very next day you’ve seen them again.”

“Well, they showed themselves to me; I didn’t want them,” said Griggs dryly. “They’re an artful lot. Never been away at all, I believe. We couldn’t see ’em, but if we’d made a start they’d have been close upon our heels directly.”

“Ah, you’ll have to trap them, Chris,” said Ned maliciously.

“Look here; if you say that again we shall quarrel.”

“Hear that, Griggs?”

“Oh yes, I hear. Serve you right. Why don’t you drop all that teasing? If you can’t show us a better way you had better hold your tongue.”

“Very well; I can do that,” said Ned haughtily.

“There, that’s enough,” cried Chris. “Don’t be so petty, Ned. We’ve got something else to think about besides teasing and bantering.”

“That’s right,” cried Griggs. “Look here, lads. I’ve just been trying that place again. I started from the mouth of the valley, and ran in and out among the rocks and trees, got to the foot of the way up quickly, and then acted just as if I had the Indians after me. I’ve no doubt about it now. Once I could get them after me, I could lead them a pretty race, and dodge in and out till I reached the path up to the terrace over the way, scuttle up, and let down stones enough to stop them from coming after me, so that I don’t believe they could clear the way for a week.”

“Then you are ready to try at any time?”

“Any time the doctor likes.”

“But what about the arrows?” said Ned.

“I’m not afraid of them hitting me, my lad,” said Griggs confidently. “Being shot at by fellows with bows and arrows sounds bad enough, but there’s not much risk here.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Chris anxiously.

“Don’t you? Well, I do. I should be running fast and dodging in and out among the rocks and trees. That would make it hard shooting for a man standing still, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes; of course,” said Chris, with a dubious look all the same.

“But the enemy won’t be standing still,” continued Griggs. “They’ll be galloping after me as hard as they can come, not that it will be very fast, for mounted men can’t get along very well among rocks and trees. What’s more, they can’t shoot straight with their ponies cantering. I don’t believe there’s a bit of risk for me. I shall be all right. What I’m afraid of is that when I come along through the narrows with the whole herd full pelt after me, some of the mules and ponies will squeal or neigh, and make the enemy suspicious. If they do hear anything, we’re done.”

“But our animals will be well back in that hollow,” said Chris.

“Yes, my lad; but I want them to be planted farther back still. There’s a bit I’ve been looking out quite a quarter of a mile farther off, and I’m going to propose it to the doctor as being safest.”

“I’m afraid father will say that the ponies ought to be close at hand.”

“Yes, that’s right, if it can be done; but it would go hard with us all if the Indians gave up the bait of the trap and turned upon those who set it. We mustn’t run risks if there’s a way of doing things more safely.”

“Well, you must talk it over with father,” said Chris. “Let’s see; we’ré going to have another look at the place this afternoon, aren’t we?”

“We were,” replied the American; “but we’re not going now.”

“Why?”

“Too many redskins about, as I told you.”

“There are always too many redskins about,” cried Chris impatiently. “I wish we could charge them boldly, and send them flying over the plains.”

“Never to come back again,” said Ned sharply.

“Yes, that would be very nice, my lads,” replied Griggs; “but it will not do to be impatient.”

“Impatient!” cried Ned. “We’ve been patient enough.”

“Not quite, my lads. Don’t you see that we’re playing a very ticklish game? The plan is to get out of this valley ourselves, where we are regularly locked in, and to put the redskins in our place, locking them in. It would be rather remarkable if it wasn’t a ticklish job.”

Just then the doctor came into the shelter where the boys had been talking, bringing with him Wilton, who had been shooting, or rather, trying to shoot, for he had had no success; and they too were talking earnestly about ways and means.

“Oh, here you are, Griggs,” cried the doctor. “Had a good turn at scouting?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And all seems favourable for our attempt to-morrow?”

“No, sir. The Indians have shifted their quarters, and they’re in about as awkward a position as they could contrive for our purpose.”

“Then what do you propose?”

“Nothing, sir, but wait.”

“But we really cannot wait any longer, Griggs. Provisions failing too fast. We must get away from here to some good hunting-ground. Do the Indians seem to be camping, or only on the move?”

“They seem to me to be hatching up some dodge or another,” replied Griggs. “I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if we saw them over the way there—just one or two, scouting; and if we do I should be for a stand at arms all night, for it might mean an attack after dark.”

The doctor stood at the opening, looking across the valley, as if impressed by the American’s words and expecting moment by moment to see one of the Indians creeping along the edge of the cliff.

Then he began to walk up and down slowly, evidently deep in thought.

At last he started, as he suddenly became aware of the fact that every one present was watching him keenly waiting for him to speak.

“There,” he said, “I’ve made up my mind. It is very evident that we may wait here till our stores are exhausted, and be as far off the opportunity we seek as ever. The Indians can wait; we cannot, and they seem to know it. I believe they feel that if they are patient their opportunity will come. I have felt something of the kind, but I am convinced now that it will not, and that we must chance something and make it.”

“Going to give up young Chris’s plan?” said Griggs slowly.

“No; I’m going to put it in force at once. We start to-night.”

A thrill of excitement ran through Chris, and his heart began to beat. Then he was listening, so to speak, with all his might.

“We shall make no particular movement till after dark,” continued the doctor, “only go on as usual apparently, in case there are eyes watching us, as is most likely to be the case.”

Griggs nodded his head.

“But all the same we can be making our preparations. The barrels can be filled with water, and every one’s bottle. Provisions can be packed in our wallets; in fact, everything held ready for a start. Finally, just at dusk the animals can be driven in for food and water, and—”

The doctor stopped, and looked full in the American’s eyes.

“Not allowed to go off again?”

“Exactly,” replied the doctor. “But before any more is said, Griggs, I want to offer you the opportunity to draw back.”

“What for?” said Griggs sharply.

“Because it is a very risky thing to do. You propose offering yourself for a mark to the Indians’ arrows, and—”

“Not a bit of it, sir. I’m going to take care they don’t hit me.”

“Yes, yes, but you know what I mean.”

“Right; I do, neighbour, and it’s very handsome of you to offer me the chance to back out. But I’m not going to. I’ve made up my mind that it’s about twice as risky to hold back, for sure as the United States are the finest in the world, if we stop here much longer these cunning savages will give us a surprise which will end in their losing a lot of men through shot-holes in different parts of their persons; but those who escape being hurt will have the satisfaction of taking possession of all the traps of half-a-dozen folk who came to look for gold, but found only a place to lay their bones alongside of some other folks who got into trouble here ages and ages ago.”

“Then you mean to hold to your plan?”

“I mean to do a bit to carry out young Chris’s plan, and shut up the redskins for a week or two, perhaps a month, while we get right away.”

“There is a horrible side to it, Griggs.”

“Would be if we let them get the better of us, sir.”

“You mean the shutting up the enemy here to starve?” said Bourne.

“Tchah!” ejaculated Griggs, so sharply that the boys started. “Serve ’em right if they did, sir. What business have they to want our scalps? But we shouldn’t shut them up to starve. They’d have weeks of work before they could get their horses out but without horses they’d be out in a week. Starve? Nonsense! They’d have the water; they can make fires, and cook their horses. It takes a deal to starve a redskin. But there, I don’t want to make speeches. It’s all settled, gentlemen. But you’ve got to tell the lookout what’s coming off.”

“I’m going up to have a few words there at once,” said the doctor. “Now, every one understands that he is to be ready, without showing any watchful Indian scout that there is something on the way.”

No one spoke, but the looks directed at the doctor gave answers enough, and the afternoon was spent in preparation for what all felt might prove the most momentous adventure of their lives.

Chapter Fifty.

Working the Oracle.

The evening drew near at last, with everything made ready that was possible. The water and provisions near at hand; saddles and bridles examined; and according to his custom, Chris was about to go out into the valley and see to his pony, examining the wounds and giving him something a little extra in the way of food, when Griggs came and joined him.

“Don’t start,” he said, “but go on just as usual.”

“Something wrong?” said Chris, doing exactly what he had been told not to do.

“Call it something wrong if you like,” said Griggs, laughing; “but it’s only what I expected. I’ve been up at the lookout with your father, and we made out two Indians crawling to the top of the cliff over there, just like a couple of big red slugs on a wet night.”

“Then they’re watching us?” panted Chris.

“Just as they always have been, my lad, and looking out to try and turn us into pin-cushions for their arrows, if we’d only go out far enough, which we wouldn’t do on any consideration.”

“But this will quite upset our plans for to-night,” said Chris.

“Oh no. We shall go on; for this looks promising, my lad. They’ve always been watching us more or less.”

“Then they’ve seen us hunting for a hiding-place for the ponies and mules?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And climbing about among the rocks at the narrows?”

“To be sure they have.”

“Then what’s the good of our going on?”

“Everything is the good. They’ve seen everything we’ve done, but they couldn’t think with our brains, could they, my lad?”

“But what could they think of our hunting about as we did?”

“Well, seeing that I made a point of shooting a bird or two each time we were planning out our places and all we meant to do, I should say that they thought we were providing for the pot. Now then, come and have a turn at your pony, and spend a good deal of time looking at his hurts. You’d better ask me some questions about them, and lift up his hoofs and point at them.”

“Yes, I see,” said Chris.

“P’r’aps I shall act a bit too for our friends’ benefit, so don’t be surprised. Then we shall end up by driving all the beasts in for the night close up under the shelter of our fire.”

“Shall we be saluted with any arrows, do you think?”

“No,” said Griggs; “I don’t think so. We’ve rather sickened them of that. They know there are rifles, and good shots, up at the top yonder, and I dare say some of them have been hit. Now, come along.”

The pair strolled out towards where the animals were grazing, and went through the bit of performance arranged, Chris marvelling the while at the perfect coolness displayed by his companion, who was on the brink of a most daring adventure, the very thought of which sent the blood dancing through the boy’s veins and made the palms of his hands turn wet.

The shades of night were approaching as, after a long examination of Chris’s pony, the animals were headed towards the camp, and driven slowly in towards where they were regularly watered every night; and so well had all the preparations been timed that it was too dark for any scouts on the opposite side to see that after the watering, every beast was hobbled and held in readiness for the start that was to be made.

And now the business preparatory to the start was set about eagerly. The mules were laden with the much-reduced loads. Skeeter had his, but his bell was muffled so that it would be perfectly silent, and the water-barrels were hung in position across the back of their regular bearer.

There was plenty of time, and the doctor’s principal efforts were directed towards arresting hurry, for he had to allow for the Indian scouts to make their way back to the camp from which they came.

“If they have gone back,” he said, in a low voice, as the adventurous party sat together talking in a low tone, each with his weapons ready.

“Yes,” said Wilton, “if they have gone back. Suppose they have chosen this of all nights for an attack!”

“They’ll find that we are quite ready for them; that’s all,” said Griggs coolly.

“But it is possible,” said Bourne sadly.

“So’s everything else, sir,” replied the American. “But don’t you think it’s a pity to begin fancying what might happen?”

“Perhaps so,” said Bourne. “I beg pardon; I’m afraid I do anticipate a good deal. Well, boys,” he added, turning to where the pair sat together whispering, “how do you feel about to-night’s work?”

“Horrid, father,” whispered Ned, as if he felt that Indians might be listening.

“And you, Chris?” continued Bourne.

“I feel as if I shall be glad when it’s to-morrow and we know the worst.”

“Or the best, my boy,” said the doctor cheerily. “There, I think we might start now. The moon has set, and we have a long dark night before us for our work. What do you say, Griggs? Ready?”

“And willing, sir. I go first, don’t I?”

“Yes, with Chris as advance-guard. You know the signal if the Indians are coming on to an attack—one shot each, and then you stand fast to give us time to start the train back before coming to your support.”

“Yes, sir; it’s all cut deep into me, but I don’t think we shall have any trouble there.”

“I hope not,” said the doctor.

Within half-an-hour from these words being spoken the little baggage-train was in motion, dimly-seen beneath the band of stars overhead. These stood out strongly marked against the edge of the black cliffs on either side towering up and seeming to the excited imagination of the two lads double their real height, and overhanging more and more as the valley sides gradually closed in towards the mouth of the gulch.

Chris suffered from a peculiar sense of excitement and dread of attack, as he and Griggs rode cautiously on through the darkness, each with his rifle cocked and resting upon his knee, straining his eyes the while for the first sign of danger. And it was during this ride that the boy began to wonder whether the eyesight of the Indians was much better than their own, for he soon found that once more he was obliged to leave out any attempt at guidance and trust entirely to his pony.

“Think the enemy can see better than we do?” he ventured to say, during a temporary halt to make out if possible what had caused a sudden rushing sound through the bushes in front.

“They’re made differently to what we are if they can,” whispered the American dryly. “I’m leaving everything to my nag, and you’d better do the same.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing,” said Chris. “You don’t think that was an Indian, then?”

“No; only some little animal that we started. It sounded loud because everything’s so still, and we expect that everything means danger. Keep close behind me now.”

Chris had no occasion to trouble himself, for his mustang kept its nose very near to its companion’s tail, and they went on and on through the darkness, till Griggs suddenly drew rein.

“Here we are,” he whispered. “It’s narrow enough, and it oughtn’t to take many minutes to stop this gap so that no horse could get through, while in an hour it might be made so that it would take a week to make it passable. Come along, and mind we don’t miss the gully.”

He led on again slowly, pausing at intervals to listen and make sure, for it seemed to be darker than ever, in spite of their growing accustomed to the gloom.

Once more Griggs stopped short, and Chris’s heart began to beat more heavily than ever during the few minutes’ silence that ensued.

“I’m done,” whispered Griggs at last.

“What do you mean? What’s the matter?” asked Chris.

“The gully ought to be somewhere about here, but for the life of me I can’t make out where it is, and we must wait till morning.”

Chris laughed softly.

“I don’t see anything to grin at,” grumbled Griggs. “I don’t believe any Indian could find his way along here.”

“I was laughing because I could find the place.”

“How?” asked Griggs sharply.

“By coming first. My pony knows his way here.”

“Come in front,” said Griggs shortly, and Chris moved forward, gave the pony his head once more, and the clever little animal paced steadily on for about a hundred yards, and then turned off to its left and began to ascend.

“Hah! Who wouldn’t be a pony!” said Griggs, as Chris drew rein. “Then all we have to do now is to wait till they come up.”

It did not seem long before the doctor joined them, and then the whole train filed up the side gully. Steadily ascending the way ran up towards the tableland, where the grassy patch in a hollow had been selected off the track, and here the halt was made, the beasts beginning to graze at once after they had been hobbled, both ponies and mules, and seeming quite at home as soon as they were left to themselves.

“It’s a risk indeed,” said the doctor. “If the Indians should happen to ride in this direction, where should we be?”

“Shooting at them would be the best thing,” said Wilton.

“It’s a thousand to one against their finding the beasts here,” said Griggs, “even if they did happen to come. But we’ve got to chance it, sir. Everything’s gone right so far, and let’s hope we shall keep on the same track.”

“I hope so,” replied the doctor. “Then now we have nothing to do but get back to the narrow gateway.”

“The sooner the better, sir, for the night’s wearing away fast.”

“But ought we, after all, to leave one of us in charge of the beasts here?”

“No, sir,” said Griggs sharply. “You’ll want all your strength after I’ve passed, to tumble down the rocks. The more the better. It mustn’t be half done.”

“No,” said the doctor gravely. “The entrance must be well blocked. All ready?”

“Yes,” came in a whisper.

“Back, then, at once. Griggs will lead, and all keep in touch, and observe perfect silence.”

The distance seemed to have doubled before they got to the descent, and this slope to be three times as long, as they tramped slowly down into the gulch, where the doctor called a halt once more.

But all was still, and blacker than ever, as Griggs with Chris at his side turned off to the right, to lead the party slowly onward towards the narrows, where all stood at last, hot and weary.

“Everything seems to have stretched out,” said Griggs, in a whisper. “I thought we were never going to get here.” Then to the doctor, “We’d better wait till day begins to break before you climb up the sides, eh?”

“No,” said the doctor; “that might mean failure. Every one must be in his place before the darkness fails us.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right, sir; but make sure as soon as there’s light enough that every one is well hidden. Birds will not enter a trap if they see anything strange.”

“Nor Indians neither,” said the doctor quietly. “We shall see to that.”

“And you’ll let them get well out of hearing before you begin to stop the gap?”

“Of course,” said the doctor.

“That’s all right, then,” said Griggs. “So now, as you are going to divide into two parties, each to take a side, I’ll say good-bye and stop below.”

“One word more, then,” said the doctor, grasping the American’s hand. “Let’s repeat our plans so that there may be no misunderstanding.”

“That’s right, sir. I’ll say my lesson. As soon as it’s daybreak I shall move down the gully right on in the direction where I believe the Indians are encamped, and as soon as I think I’m near enough I’m going to begin shooting wherever I see a chance and picking up my birds, till the Indians hear me and come out to see what’s the matter. Then we suppose they’ll mount, the whole herd of them, and come after me.”

“Mounted men against one on foot,” said the doctor, with a sigh.

“I don’t suppose they’ll catch me,” said Griggs coolly. “Well, naturally enough when I see the enemy after me I begin to run.”

“But suppose they don’t all come, Griggs?” said Chris.

“Shan’t suppose anything of the kind, and don’t you talk so loudly,” growled the American. “They’ve all got to be there, according to my notions, and come crowding after me. I run as I never ran before, straight for the narrow way here, dash through, making for the old camp, and they tear away to cut me off before I can get under cover of our marksmen. But all at once I dodge in among the stones and begin to climb up to the terraces, get up to the top step-way in the square pit, and loosen out the stones there, after blocking the place below. One of these two bits of work is bound to keep those who have dismounted to climb after me from climbing any farther, and when I begin to fire at them pretty sharply they’ll turn back at once, get to their horses, and join their mates, to have a palaver and come to the conclusion that it isn’t safe to stop in the valley, because they’ll be expecting every moment for fire to be opened by us. Then they’ll ride back without another shot being fired at them, for the simple reason that I’m hurrying round to join your people here by the top way and the gully. I shan’t lose any time, and if I’m lucky I may get here soon enough to join you in giving the enemy a few bullets when they come riding back to find their way stopped.”

“As it ought to be,” said the doctor dubiously.

“As it has got to be,” said Griggs sharply. “Got to be—got to be, and must be!” he cried.

“If all goes well,” said Bourne.

“If all goes well, sir,” said Griggs, “and if we all do our parts like men, it will. Good-bye!”

Chapter Fifty One.

Loosening the Stones.

“Stop, Griggs!” cried Chris in a hoarse whisper, for he dared not shout; but it seemed as if their brave companion had not heard. One minute he was talking with them, the next he was gone, and had hardly made a sound.

“Hah!” sighed the doctor. “Now it has come to the point I feel as if we have let the gallant fellow go straight to his death.”

“Lee!” cried Bourne in a voice of anguish. “Don’t say that!”

“I have said it,” said the doctor bitterly; “and now it is too late I feel that it is true. The whole business looks black, and as desperate as our mad search out here for the old golden city.”

He ceased speaking, and Chris gripped Ned by the arm, for he shared his father’s feeling of despair.

The silence was broken by Bourne.

“It is too late to look back,” he said gravely. “We have made the venture, and must carry it out like men.”

“Of course,” cried Wilton firmly. “Come, doctor, you are captain. I don’t call this square of you to put us all out of heart. This is making the worst of it, with a vengeance.”

“Yes, it is—it is,” said the doctor quickly. “You must forgive me. Every man has his weak moments, and this was one of mine. I felt as if I had sacrificed the poor fellow to this desperate attempt to escape.”

“Yes, father,” cried Chris bitterly. “It was my idea, and you ought to have let me go with him.”

“Ha, ha!” laughed Wilton.

“What are you laughing at?” cried Chris fiercely.

“You—your words came in with such a droll ring in them. But there, we ought not to be talking now, but getting up into our hiding-places—eh, doctor?”

“Yes,” was the sharp reply, “at once. You, Wilton, Bourne, and Ned. You, Chris, with me. Have you got the crowbar, my boy?”

“Yes, father.”

“You others have the tent-pitchers, and I the short pole. Take your places at once; lie right down among the bushes till you hear my whistle, and then up and send the big stones down with all your might.”

No more was said, for not one present had the heart to speak. To Chris it was just as if he had said “Good-bye” to the American, who had gone straight to his death.

“And he has gone thinking me queer and ungrateful,” the boy said to himself, “for not insisting upon going with him.”

And even while stumbling up and up among the stones and bushes in the darkness to the spot which he was to occupy with his father, the boy could think of nothing else but the brave fellow going slowly along the lower part of the gulch in the black darkness, to wait until the morning came before starting boldly off into the open to meet the Indians.

“It will mean arrows,” thought Chris. “He’ll be shot down somewhere out yonder, for it’s a mad trick, and can’t do him any good, nor yet us. Oh, I do wish I wasn’t such an idiot! So proud I was in my miserable conceit of having thought out a way to trap the Indians, and a nice mess I’ve made—sent the best friend I ever had to certain death.”

“What are you thinking about, Chris?” said the doctor at that moment.

“Thinking about, father?” faltered the boy.

“Yes; you have turned so quiet.”

“I was thinking about poor Griggs, father, and feeling afraid that he’ll never come back.”

“Then don’t think any more of such things. We none of us know. Wait and see. Now then, how long shall we have to wait before we see our brave fellow come along hunted by the enemy?”

“Don’t ask me, father.”

“Why not? How far are we off the morning?”

“Hours.”

“No; I think not. I dare say we shall be having the day break within one hour, then the exciting time will begin.”

“Do you think we shall see Griggs again?”

“Oh yes, of course. He’s a fleet runner, and I shouldn’t be a bit surprised to see him come tearing along with a band of mounted Indians at his back.”

“Do you really think so, father, or is this only to encourage me?”

“Both, my boy. Come, keep a good heart. I shall be glad when the day comes—shan’t you?”

“Yes, father. But do you think the ponies and mules will stray away?”

“I hope not, my boy. Oh no, it’s not likely. Cheer up; we shall do it, never fear.”

Chris heaved a big sigh.

“Why, hullo, my boy! Do you call this cheering up?” said the doctor.

“Yes, father. That was only the melancholy being driven off,” said Chris with a forced laugh. “I’m going to be cheerful enough, and shoot straight when the Indians come. I’m sorry for them, but I must, for everybody’s sake.”

“Yes, to be sure, for everybody’s sake. Feel better?”

“Yes, father.”

“That’s right. I was low-spirited, too, a little while ago, for I felt doubtful of success. I don’t now. Yours was a splendid idea, and unless something unfortunate occurs we shall succeed.”

“I hope we shall,” thought Chris, but he felt doleful in the extreme, and the idea would force itself upon him that he had sent his old friend to a cruel death.

At last the various objects around seemed to grow plain as the grey dawn began to lighten the sky; but the place looked terrible in the ghastly light. There beneath them was what looked like a black chasm, the one they were to fill up with stones from the jagged shelves upon which they crouched nearly a hundred feet higher, while higher still, right up for another three hundred feet or more, to where the saw-like edge was marked clearly against the ever-lightening sky, wherever the boy’s eyes rested there were masses of stone which looked as if a touch would set them in motion and start others to come thundering down, sweeping all before them into a vast heap which would fill up the chasm, even as high as the rocks amongst which his party was hidden.

The time had come for hiding, and Chris and his father were soon lying down behind some stunted bushes through which they could peer right along the bottom of the gulch far away towards where the side gully ran up in the direction of the tableland in which the great valley with its rock city was cut.

Thoughts began to come fast now through Chris’s brain, and the first were in connection with the mules and ponies they had left to graze up to the right of the gully. Would they stay there peacefully browsing on the green shoots of the shrubs that were abundant, or come wandering down to reach their old pasture? The question was open to many doubtful answers which did not come, and they had to give way to thoughts connected with Griggs, who, the boy felt, must by this time be astir with his gun.

And with what result?

None for a long, long time, during which the sun as it rose had chased away the horrors that had lingered in the gulch, to display all its wondrous glories of light and shade with trickling falls and clumps of dripping lace-like fern.

Everything was so beautiful in the sunshine that Chris found himself wondering how it could have been so dismal in the gloom.

He turned to look across to where his friends were hidden, but they were concealed too well; nothing was visible but the great blocks of stone waiting to be levered to the edge of the shelf and sent thundering down; so turning his eyes from there, the lad gazed along the gulch again in the direction of the side gully and the open land beyond, where in all probability Griggs was now wandering in his fictitious search for game.

Two hours of patient waiting since sunrise, which had given place to painful excitement. Doubt was busy, too, in every brain, for it began to seem as if something had gone wrong, and the intense desire was attacking Chris to get down from his hiding-place and go in search of his friend.

But the orders were to lie still in hiding until the doctor gave the signal with his whistle, and knowing full well that the slightest suggestion of an ambush meant ruin to the plan, Chris forced himself to lie motionless, gazing with aching eyeballs along the gulch for the sight of the figure that as the time went on seemed as if it would never appear.

Another hour, the most hopeless of all, the most wearisome and full of pain, for with the sun getting higher the rays were reflected from the rock-face till the place grew unbearably hot, with the consequence that thirst began to parch the watcher’s throat. He was growing faint, too, for want of food, and though he had an ample supply in his wallet he did not dare to begin eating for fear that something might happen, some sudden call be made upon his energies.

“If I could only get up and move about,” thought Chris.

But he glanced round, and no one else was stirring, while his father crouched there so severe and stern of aspect that for the moment Chris forgot his own troubles and thought of those of others.

“Father’s feeling it all horribly,” thought the boy. “But poor old Griggs! We ought never to have let him go.”

What was that?

Chris strained his ears and gazed upward wildly, for high in front, nearly four hundred feet above the bottom of the gully, there was the sound of galloping horses.

The boy shook himself and stared, asking himself if he were mad or dreaming. For the rocks up there were more than perpendicular, they leaned right over, and it was absurd to think that horses were galloping there.

They could not be. They were not, for they were on the other side of the gulch now, higher still.

“It’s the heat,” said Chris with a sigh. “I’m giddy, I suppose.”

“Hist!”

The warning word came from his father, and a thrill of excitement ran through the boy as he felt that it was no fancy but the echoing of galloping horses to which he was listening, while the next minute as the reverberation grew louder, a spasm, half joy, half fear, ran through him as, like a flash, the familiar figure of the American glanced in the sunshine, disappeared in the shade, and came into sight again, with head down, fists doubled and held close to his breast, as he came running rapidly along the bottom of the gulch.

The next minute he had reached the narrow chasm above which Chris and his friends lay waiting, disappeared, and the inclination that nearly carried Chris away was to spring up, shout words of encouragement, and then clamber to where he could follow the swift runner with his eyes till he went out of sight at some turn of the gulch on his way to the valley.

But the orders were to lie close till the whistle rang out, and like the rest, who were influenced by the same feeling, Chris crouched lower to gaze right away in the old direction, listening with straining nerves to the ever-nearing echoing beat of horses’ hoofs, till about a couple of hundred yards away a mounted Indian, bow and arrow in one hand, rein in the other, bounded into sight, urging on his pony with voice and hand.

“Will he know that it is a trap?” thought Chris, and he fully expected to see the man draw rein, send an arrow amongst the hiding party, and gallop off. But even as the thought ran through the lad’s brain the savage reached the narrow gap and dashed through.

By this time two more were close behind, a party of four some fifty yards in the rear, all galloping hard, eager to overtake the fugitive, while as they passed through at full gallop the echoes of the hoofs increased, for a mob of about thirty came into sight, all tearing along as in a race, and passed through the gap. “Right into the trap!” thought Chris, whose pulses literally bounded with the excitement of the scene that had passed beneath his feet.

“We’ve got them!” he panted. “Now, father, the stones!”

But it was beneath his breath that the words came, and his face flushed and his eyes dilated, for as the echoing of the horses’ hoofs began to die out behind it grew louder in front, and another troop of the enemy came into sight, tearing along after their leaders, to dash through the gap in ones and twos, trailing along till the last had disappeared.

“That must be all,” panted Chris to himself; but he was wrong; the echoes of the rocky walls had not ceased, though greatly softened down, for two dozen more of the savages came tearing along like a rearguard to pass through, and even then more were to come, for a couple raced up, shouting at and beating the flanks of their ponies angrily, as if in fear of being left quite behind.

“The last!” thought Chris, now wild with excitement, for the reverberations had ceased in front, were dying out behind, and then all was still for a few moments, before out of the utter silence came the soft piping sound of a whistle.

“Hurrah!” cried Chris, for he felt that he must get rid of the breath that literally burned in his chest as he sprang up.

Then crash, splinter, and shiver came from below as the doctor forced the first block to the edge of the shelf where the opening was most narrow.

This was almost accompanied by another shivering crash, repeated both from the walls of the gulch like so much smothered thunder.

“Now for it!” panted Chris, as he caught sight of Ned bending down to roll a great block far too big for him over and over. But the one he was himself handling was as big, and Ned, who was not ten yards away from him, laughed mockingly as he got his block to the edge first and sent it down with a crash.

But the noise made by the one sent after it by Chris formed as it were an echo, and he stood for a few moments gazing down in wonder, for huge pieces had been forced off the shelf by Wilton and Bourne, to lie gathered so closely together that already the way was blocked sufficiently to make it impossible for any horse to pass unless at a flying leap, for which there was neither take-off nor landing at the end.

“Don’t shout. Don’t cheer,” panted the doctor. “Work steadily and well, and we shall soon have them fast.”

“I hope there are no more to come and have us,” panted Wilton as he slaved away, making Chris and Ned both glance excitedly away through the gulch towards where the gully struck off.

But the enemy seemed to be all within the trap, and the stones were forced down till nearly all available on the shelves had been sent thundering down, and both parties climbed some fifty feet higher before they continued the work, beginning with the highest blocks that were loose, and having the satisfaction of seeing the heaviest block there, which took two or three to move it, go roaring down, sweeping with it others nearly as big.

They worked for fully half-an-hour, to look down at last in wonder to see the great success of their work, the gap being piled high, and, leaving horses out of the question, forming a barrier that it would be hard work for an active man to climb.

“Stop now,” said the doctor, and all gladly rested, to stand wiping the perspiration from their streaming faces. “No horses can possibly pass by here.”

“Mind! Quick! Down with you!” shouted Wilton, and as he spoke an arrow struck against the rocky wall close to his head and glanced off, to fly far away along the gulch.

Chapter Fifty Two.

The Progress of the Plan.

“A narrow escape,” said Bourne, and another arrow passed over without injury to any one present, for the simple reason that all had obeyed the warning and dropped behind the nearest cover.

“Be on the alert,” cried the doctor from the other side. “That means they are coming back.”

“And Griggs was to have been with us by this time to help in the fight. Father, this looks bad.”

The doctor met his son’s eyes, and then turned to look in the direction from which their companion would be bound to arrive if he had managed to escape over the terraces to make for the gully.

“Don’t judge rashly, my boy,” said the doctor. “He has had very little time yet.—Are you all ready for the enemy?”

“Yes,” came back quickly enough; but there was no enemy visible.

“Could you see who sent that arrow, Wilton?”

“No, but there are two ponies grazing up yonder. I fancy they must belong to the last Indians we saw come by.”

“It looks like it, as only two shots have come. But we shall have the whole body coming back soon.”

“Close upon a hundred,” said Wilton, “and we are five.”

“Yes, five, in a strong fortress, with modern weapons against instruments of barbarism; and what is more, we have dealt the enemy such a blow as will take them long enough to get over.”

“But I wish we were all together, father, instead of being divided. Wouldn’t it be better if we tried to get to them?”

“No,” said the doctor quietly. “We are quite right here for the present, and perhaps we shall have our side strengthened soon by the coming of friend Griggs.”

“Ah!” sighed Chris, “if he only would!”

Another arrow struck the rocks close to where Bourne and his friends were watchfully scanning the gulch between them and the old camp, and directly after a shot was fired, making every one start to look where the little grey puff of smoke arose, and Wilton was calmly reloading his rifle.

“I marked that fellow down,” he said coolly.

“Did you hit?” said the doctor.

“I think so. He has altered his position, and is lying flat.”

“Don’t fire! A friend!” came in a familiar voice from behind them, and the boys gave a cheer, which was answered by Griggs, who now appeared, coming at a trot along the gulch from the direction of the gully, and began to climb up on the doctor’s side.

“I did hope to be in time,” he said, as he reached Chris and lay down, breathing hard. “Not done much, I hope?”

“You are in time,” cried Chris, catching at the American’s hand, to have his own pressed firmly.

“We’ve been in great anxiety about you, Griggs,” cried the doctor, pressing his friend’s other hand.

“You’d have felt worse than that, sir, if you’d seen my wig,” said the American, with a chuckle. “They came so near catching me that my hair began to rise at the thought of being cut shorter than ever it was cut before, and made into an ornament. They nearly had me before I got to the first terrace. You know I—There’s a chap yonder going to send an arrow at us, Chris, lad. You’d better shoot.”

Chris followed the direction indicated by the American’s pointing finger, saw where a big Indian was drawing his bow, showing only his face and arms round a corner, and drew trigger, with the result that he struck the stone and sent splinters flying, and after them the Indian, evidently hurt badly, for he held his left arm with his right-hand.

“Go on, Griggs,” said Chris, reloading. “You were saying, ‘You know I—’ and then you stopped.”

“To be sure,” said Griggs, whose breath was still coming in gasps, as he lay on his chest with his rifle ready now for a shot. “I was going to say, You know I can run fast.”

“Yes, yes,” cried Chris eagerly. “Go on.”

“I did,” said Griggs, “as hard as I could; but a galloping horse is too much for me, and I won’t back myself against one again.”

“But you got into safety,” cried Chris.

“Only just. I believe I saved myself by about one inch and a half. That was enough, though, to let me shut and lock the door we had got ready.”

“Did you fire?” asked the doctor.