the Young Lion Hunter (1998) (18 page)

Once more for the hundredth time he came to the rescue with his inventive and mechanical skill. He took the largest pair of hobbles we had, and with an axe, a knife, and wire nippers fashioned two collars with swivels that in strength and serviceability were an improvement on those we had bought.

Darkness was enveloping the forest when we finished supper. I fell into my bed and, despite the throbbing and burning of my body, soon relapsed into slumber. And I crawled out next morning late for breakfast, stiff, worn out, crippled. The boys, too, were crippled, but happy. Six lions roaring in concert were enough to bring contentment.

Hiram engaged himself upon a new pair of trousers, which he contrived to produce from two of our empty meal-bags. The lower half of his overalls had gone to decorate the cedar spikes and brush, and these new bag-leg trousers, while somewhat remarkable for design, answered the purpose well enough. His coat was somewhere along the ca+-on rim, his shoes were full of holes, his shirt in strips, and his trousers in rags. Jim looked like a scarecrow. Ken looked as if he had been fired from a cannon. But, fortunately for him, he had an extra suit.

Hal spent the afternoon with the lions, photographing them, listening to their spitting and growling, and watching them fight their chains, and roll up like balls of fur. From different parts of the forest he tried to creep unsuspected upon them; but always when he peeped out from behind a tree or log, every pair of ears would be erect, every pair of eyes gleaming and suspicious.

Spitfire afforded more amusement than all the others. He had indeed the temper of a king; he had been born for sovereignty, not slavery. He tried in every way to frighten Hal, and, failing, he always ended with a spring to the length of his chain. This means was always effective. Hal simply could not stand still when the lion leaped; and in turn he tried every artifice he could think of to make him back away and take refuge behind his tree. He ran at him with a club as if he were going to kill him. Spitfire waited crouching and could not be budged. Finally Hal bethought himself of a red flannel hood that Hiram had given him, saying he might have use for it on cold nights. It was a weird, flaming head-gear, falling, cloak-like, down over Hal's shoulders. Hal started to crawl on all fours toward Spitfire. This was too much for the cougar. In his astonishment he forgot to spit and growl, and he backed behind the little pine, from which he regarded Hal with growing perplexity.

"Youngster, I hey been watchin' you fer the last hour or so," remarked Hiram. "An' I want to give you a piece of advice. Thar's sech a thing as bein' foolhardy brave. You don't seem to reckon that them critters are cougars, wild cougars, an' not pets."

"But I'm not afraid," replied Hal, boldly.

"Wal, I noticed thet. Mebbe you don't know what danger is. Let me tell you a story I read. Thar was a time onct in the old country when officers of the great French army was reviewin' the troops as they marched out to battle. Presently a big corporal strutted by, bold an' important, swaggerin' himself, an' lookin' fight all over.

"'Thet's a brave soldier,' said one of the officers to Napoleon. The Emperor shook his head, an' said: 'No!' Arter a while a little drummer boy marched by. He was drummin' away fer dear life, as if by drummin' hard he could keep up his courage. But he was white as a sheet, an' his eyes stuck out, an' he was sweatin', an' every step he took seemed to be with leaden feet.

"'Thar's a brave soldier,' said Napoleon. 'He knows the danger.'"

Hiram's story did not appear to have any great effect on Hal. For a while the lad left the lions alone, but presently he was back tormenting them. He was not at all mean or vicious in his teasing; it was simply that they fascinated him and he could not let them alone. Finally, when Hal slipped, in one of his escapes, just eluding Spitfire by the narrowest margin. Hiram ordered him to keep away from them altogether. Whereupon Hal strode off in anger.

"I never seen sich a youngster," explained Hiram.

"Shore he needs a lesson, an' he's goin' to git it," said Jim. "If the boy only hes the temper cooled in him, an' not broke outright, he'll be fine."

Ken gave one of his short laughs.

"That kid is powder, brimstone, dynamite, and chain-lightning all mixed with a compound, concentrated solution of deviltry. Why, he has positively been good so far on this trip."

Hiram groaned.

"Ken, a few years ago you were almost exactly the same kid that Hal is now," I said, with a smile.

"I was not," declared Ken, hotly.

"Youngster, 'pears to me you did some tall scrappin' fer this same bad kid brother," remarked Hiram.

"That's different. I can fight for Hal and still condemn his trickiness, can't I?"

The afternoon passed, then sunset, and the shades spread darkly under the pines; suppertime went by, darkness came on, the camp-fire blazed--and still Hal Ward did not come back. We were not especially worried on this score, but when bedtime rolled around and no Hal, then both Ken and Hiram showed anxiety.

Morning dawned without his return. We had a late breakfast purposely, as we expected him to be in by the time Navvy drove up the horses. But there was no sign of Hal.

"Something has happened to him, sure," Ken said.

Both Jim and I took a different view, agreeing that the lad had slept out for fun, perhaps to cause us concern, and that he would not come in until he was hungry.

Hiram had no comment to make, but it was plain that he did not like the possibilities. Ken showed no desire for lion-hunting, so we did not go out that day. When night came again and Hal had not returned we were at our wits' end. But knowing his singular propensity for tricks, and believing that he would do almost anything in the way of mischief, we still remained in camp, hoping that he would get as tired of the joke as we were, and return.

Next morning Hiram routed us out early.

"Fellars, I think we've been good an' wrong fer hangin' around here waitin' fer the youngster, tricks or no tricks. It's been growin' on me thet somethin' onusual hes come off. We could hey follered his tracks yesterday a tarnal sight better than to-day. Leslie, you an' Ken rim the plateau-wall. Look fer tracks, an' keep signalin'. Jim an' me'll search the pine, an' the cedar thickets, an' the hollers."

"What are you going to search the thickets and hollows for?" demanded Ken, with wide eyes of misgiving.

When Hiram had no answer for him Ken grew greatly perturbed.

"Hiram, you don't think--it possible--a cougar could have jumped the boy?"

"Possible? Sartinly it's possible. It's not likely, though. But I've knowed more than one feller to be attacked by a hungry cougar. I've hed one foller me, more than onct...Now, youngster, don't look sick thet way. Thet boy hed to hey somethin' happen to him somethin' serious. It was jest plain as the nose on his face. I hope, an' believe, of course, thet we'll find him safe. But you'd better prepare yourself fer a jar."

The expression of Ken's face made me almost sick, too; and what little hope I had oozed out.

"Leslie, you'd better see if any hosses hey come up or gone down the trail at the Saddle," called Hiram, as Ken and I rode off.

"I tell you, Dick, I'm afraid Hiram takes a bad meaning from Hal's absence," said Ken. "He meant by what he said to you that those rangers, Belden and Sells, might have got hold of Hal."

"I hope they have, because then we'd get only a scare, and Hal wouldn't be hurt much...Well, go slow now, Ken, and keep up hope."

We separated at the rim and took different directions. It was high noon when we met again on the other side of the plateau. Neither of us had found a trace of Hal. We turned for camp, hoping against hope that Hiram and Jim would have a different story.

They were both in camp when we arrived, and they ran out under the pines to meet us. It was plain that they hoped to receive the news from us which we had hoped to hear from them.

It was a gloomy meeting.

"I failed to foller Hal's tracks, an' Jim, he failed, too, an' Jim ain't no slouch on follerin' tracks. It would take an Injun--"

The same thought came to us and we all shouted: "Put Navvy on Hal's trail."

Hiram called the Navajo and began to try to tell him, by signs and speech, that Hal was lost and that we wanted his trail followed.

"Me savvy," said the Indian.

He threw the bridle of Ken's mustang over his arm, and then, bending over the faint imprints of Hal's boots, he slowly walked into the forest leading the mustang.

"Don't foller him. Let him alone," said Hiram, as Ken and I pressed forward.

The Navajo's snail-like progress was intolerable to watch, yet it was hopeful, too, for it meant that he was able to pick out Hal's trail. A long hour passed before Navvy disappeared in the forest. Another passed, still longer. And a third went by that seemed interminable.

"Wal, them desert Navajos hev the sharpest eyes in the world fer a trail...Youngster, he'll find your brother."

Suddenly I saw a black streak darting in the forest.

"Look!"

It shot across an open space, disappeared, came in sight again. It was a horse.

"Wild hoss, I'm afeard," said Hiram.

"No, it's the mustang," said Jim. "I guess mebbe I hevn't often seen a redskin pushin' a mustang to his limit."

"Oh! it's Navvy," exclaimed Ken. "Look at him come!"

"Youngster, now you're seein' some real ridin'," said Hiram.

The beautiful black mustang swept toward camp at the speed of the wind. He ran on a straight line, sailing over logs, splitting through the bunch of juniper with flying mane and tail. The dark Indian crouched low and rode as if he were part of the mustang. There was something wild in that fleet approach, something thrilling and full of hope. The Navajo gained the camp circle, pulled up the mustang until he slid on his haunches, and leaped from the saddle.

We crowded toward him. He said a few words in Navajo, which none of us could translate. There was no telling anything from his dark, impassive face. Then he made motions with his hands and his meaning became at once clear. Hal had fallen over the rim.

"Oh! Oh!" cried Ken Ward, covering his face with his hands.

It was a black moment for all of us. I Hiram and Jim glanced compassionately at Ken, but I could not bear to look at him. As I turned away I saw the Indian pick up two lassoes and a canteen.

"Tohodena! Tohodena!" ("Hurry--hurry!"), said the Navajo.

That put new life into us.

"Look, Ken, the Indian's grabbed up canteen and ropes. That means Hal is alive."

Ken's face seemed transfigured. He darted for Hal's mustang, which was with our other horses, threw on a saddle and buckled it with nervous haste. We were mounted as soon as Ken. Navvy swung his quirt and the race was on. It was a race and a mad one to keep the Indian in sight. Our lion chases were tame beside this wild ride. The pines blurred all about me; the brown sward seemed to shoot backwards under me; the wind howled in my ears. I kept close at the heels of Hiram's thundering roan. The Indian with marvelous skill held to a straight line. Logs and thickets and hollows, even deep gulches did not make him swerve. Once I got a good look ahead, and there was Ken riding Wings almost a rod ahead of Jim, who had a lead over Hiram. I thought at the moment how proud Hal would have been of Wings. But fast as Ken was driving him the pinto could not catch the mustang.

The pines thinned out and clumps of cedar appeared with patches of sage. The Navajo reined in, leaped off, and waited till we raced up. In a twinkling we were oil ready to follow. He carried the lassoes and the canteen.

We were directly above a cape of crumbling rim rock. To me the great abyss, with its purple clefts and gold domes and red walls, had never appeared so sinister and menacing. The Indian led down a short slope of sage and then went out upon a jutting section of wall. This cape appeared to be cut up into crags and castles and columns of yellow stone. One crumbling mass resembled a ruined pipe-organ of grand proportions. We wound in and out, always dangerously near the precipice, following the rim-wall of this cape. The Indian halted upon the edge of a kind of cove, a cut-in some fifty yards across at the widest, where it opened out into the chasm. I saw that the wall on the opposite side was perpendicular and almost forty feet high.

Navvy dropped to his knees and leaned over the rim. We followed suit. I found myself looking down at a straight wall, then a narrow shelf of debris, and below that a small grassy plot of ground which sloped to the main rim-wall.

Ken Ward let out a bursting yell of joy. Then I saw Hal lying on one side of the plot. There was a bloody wound on the side of his cheek and temple.

"Ah, there!" he said, faintly, and he smiled a smile that was as feeble as his voice.

I could not tell what the greeting was we shouted down to him, for the reason that we all shouted at once. Then we leaped up from the rim, ready for action. The first thing Ken Ward did was to give the Navajo such a hug that I made sure he would crush the Indian's ribs. Navvy smiled at this rough treatment as if he knew what it meant to lose and find a brother.

"Cool down now, youngster," said Hiram, "an' let me engineer this bizness."

Jim was more agitated than I had ever seen him. He kept peeping over the rim.