The Peril Finders Part 84

He looked along the gloomy gulch to see that the light was gone from the crags that shut-in the narrow way, while the bottom of the gulch was black with shadow, so dark that any one approaching would have been perfectly invisible.

"Yes," he said to himself, "it's of no use for me to stay here. I can't see anything, and if the savages rode up it would be too late to try to give warning. I'll go back."

But he did not stir, only sat thinking in a fresh groove.

"Father won't think me cowardly, will he?"

That was a horrible idea, one which made the boy's cheeks burn for a minute, until his common-sense told him that no such injustice could fall to his lot.

"Of course not," he argued. "I was sent here to do my best. I've done my best, and now I can do no more. I say, how black it is," he said half-aloud, and then he felt blank, faced as he was by another difficulty--how was he going to get back along the trackless path enc.u.mbered with stones and with rifts and tufts of very th.o.r.n.y bushes here and there?

It was a poser.

There was a dull streak of sky overhead, in which a star here and there could be seen blinking and looking pale.

"I can't see beyond the pony's head," thought Chris. "Why, it's madness to try and ride along a place like this; but it's horrible to think of sitting here all night, and one couldn't go to sleep. I'm so hungry too, and--Oh, I say, who'd ever have thought of this? What a mess I'm in!"

There was nothing approaching despair in the boy's feelings then, neither was there anything akin to fear, unless it was a dread of being suddenly pounced upon by the Indians now.

This thought had quite a comic side to it, and he laughed softly.

"They'd be precious clever--ten times as clever as they're said to be, with their wonderful sight and hearing--if they did pounce upon me now.

Why, look at that."

It was rather an absurd order which he gave himself, as he stretched out his right-hand at the level of his eye, for to all intents and purposes there was no hand to look at, while as to his pony's ears, he certainly knew that they were somewhere in front, but that was all.

"Oh, I say," he sighed, "I am in a mess, and no mistake! If I'd had any gumption in this thick old head I should have slipped a damper cake in my pocket. But who was going to think of eating at a time like that?

Perhaps Ned would," he added, with a soft chuckle; and the idea was so mirthful that he shook a little, but only to grow serious directly.

"There," he said, "I've done my duty, I'm sure, and though I'm in such a hobble things have turned out capitally, and they've had plenty of time to get our cliff castle fortified and stored. That's splendid, and I won't fidget about the Indians, for they can't come till to-morrow, and perhaps they'll never come at all. But I say, this is coming to search for the old gold city! I believe I'd rather have stopped at the plantation killing blight and scratching the scale insects off the peach-twigs. Here, I say, old chap!"

He addressed this to the pony, but there was no suggestion of his address having been heard, so obeying a sudden impulse he dropped out of the saddle, readjusted the sling of his rifle, and then tightened the saddle-girths before going to the pony's head, to feel the head-stall all over, and stroke and pat the little cob-like animal's neck, ending by pa.s.sing its ears through his hand, and then pa.s.sing the back against the velvety muzzle, with the result that his companion whinnied with satisfaction.

"Now, old chap," he said, "we've got to get home, and I may as well be honest. I can't guide you, and I'll let you have your head all the way, and make you up a nice mash of meal in one of the buckets when we get there for a reward. Think you can do it?"

"Yes," said the boy, after a pause; "silence gives consent, as I once read somewhere. Now, which shall I do, ride or lead you? I shall ride, for if I lead you it will be all a sham, and I shall only be getting you into difficulties. So there: I'll trust you. Take your time. Want any water?"

The boy pulled the little animal's head towards where he believed the water to be, but it did not stretch out its neck, so he mounted again.

"Now then," he said, "back to camp."

The pony started at once, but Chris drew rein.

"No, no; that won't do. That's right, turn round. We don't want to go any farther to-night. Now then, steady. Don't fall and pitch me over your head. The way's right on, and you can't go off right or left.

_Ck_! That's right. When you feel in doubt about a stone or hole or a bush, stop short and I'll get down and feel about for you.--Well done!"

This last was in admiration, for without the slightest hesitation the pony had set off, pacing steadily back along the way they had come, but with its head very low-down, as Chris realised by the steady draw that had been given at the reins.

"Talk about eyes," muttered Chris, "why, they're microscopes. I say, though, I mustn't go to sleep. I believe I could without falling off.

It wouldn't be fair, though, for I ought to let him hear my voice now and then."

All the same Chris was perfectly silent, and spent his time gazing hard upward at the long jagged ribbon of black purple, now gemmed with brilliant stars, which spread along overhead. From time to time he looked forward to try and make out obstacles in front, but he could see nothing; there was naught to do but listen to the pony's footsteps and think of what they were doing at camp and what they would be saying about his non-return.

"Father won't go to sleep to-night," said Chris, with a sigh of satisfaction caused by the idea. "He'll be awake and listening for my pony's steps, and--Oh, how far must it be?

"A good many yards less than it was a minute ago, and it's getting a shorter distance with every step my mustang takes."

And onward they went, cheerfully enough, through the black darkness at the bottom of the gulch, the pony never failing, never setting hoof in hole nor stumbling over stone or bush. It stopped for a moment now and then to turn aside or to make sure of some difficulty which needed an outstretched neck, a touch with the muzzle, or a sigh; but otherwise it travelled on slowly but surely through the earlier part of the night, while Chris thought till he could think no longer, and began to ride with his shoulders up, his chin in his chest, and a tendency to bow right down upon his mount's neck. But he never did that once, only clung with a dreamy feeling of safety, with his knees against the saddle-flaps and his feet fast in the stirrups.

"I must not go to sleep," he muttered once; but he did all the same, instinctively tightening his hold by means of his abnormally-strained muscles the while.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.

AMONG THE HORNETS.

It had been a day of severe exertion mentally and bodily, during which the boy's nature had done its best; but the time came at last when it could do no more, and he rode on at that steady walk, sleeping profoundly, so deeply that he did not know when the mustang suddenly stopped short as if in doubt, and stood with ears pointed forward sniffing at the stones beneath its hoofs, wrested them to the right and again to the left, as if there was some taint in the air. Then the doubt increased, and it bore to the right, stopped, bore to the left again, sniffed more loudly, lowered its head and sniffed again, uttered a low sigh, and resumed its steady walk, on and on, for how long Chris never knew, but hours had pa.s.sed and he was back again in the square hole which Griggs termed a trap, listening to what he said about the stones which covered the bottom while he made the soft glow of the lanthorn play before his eyes.

Then all at once the dream gave place to the real, and Chris was half-conscious.

It took some moments before he realised that he was gripping a saddle with stiffening knees and riding forward, and he couldn't tell why. At last, though, a mist seemed to fade away from his thinking powers, and he knew what it all meant. He was riding, and he had been to sleep.

But why? What for?

The answer to those questions came in due course, and he sighed with weariness.

"Oh dear," he muttered, "I wonder how far it is now. Nearly as far as before," he thought, for he couldn't have been asleep more than a minute.

Then for another minute he was confused upon looking at the soft faint glow of the lanthorn held by Griggs in the trap.

"What nonsense!" he said peevishly. "How muddled my head is. But that's a light over there. Why!--I say!--Oh!"

His whole feelings changed as he uttered those interjections, and the tones of his voice were as if the words were positive, comparative, and superlative.

"We must be close to the valley," he thought. "The Indians can't have come, and father has had a camp-fire kept up as a guide for me, and I'll be bound to say there'll be something cooking, because he'll think of how hungry I shall be.

"There's a good old dad," he said to himself, beginning to feel bright and happy now, and as invigorated as if he had partaken of refreshment.

"Well, I am glad, and I am hungry, and I'll say so too. I don't care if old Ned sneers when I say I am, and tells me that I'm worse than he is.

Oh, hooray! You good old mustang! You're the best pony that ever lived, and I love you as much as a fellow can love a nag. Just think of you bringing me straight back all through that black gulch--me asleep too! There, old chap," he continued, patting the little animal's neck, "I won't forget your mash. You shall have it before I eat a morsel. I wouldn't take a hundred pounds for you if any one offered it; but n.o.body will, and I don't want it if he did.

"Yes," he continued, as the pony paced steadily on, "they've got a good fire, and it must be very near now. _Sniff, sniff_. Why, it's meat roasting. My! It does smell good! Shall I _coo-ee_ and let them know I'm so close? No, I'll ride right up into the light and surprise them.

Father will be wide awake watching for me, and old Ned'll be snoring, I know. He might have sat up too. I should have done so for him, because I should have felt uneasy about what had happened. _Sniff! Sniff_! I wonder what they've got! It smells like mutton. How did they manage to get it? Not one of those mountain-sheep?"

A shrill low whinny from right ahead where the fire was burning brightly now and casting shadows from the trees and bushes, and also bringing into sight a tall figure seated as it were in the air, till Chris recognised the fact that it was a mounted man.

"Father waiting to ride out and meet me," thought Chris, as a thrill ran through him, caused by the answering whinny of his mustang.