“I can. I am Julian Mortimer,” replied the boy, proudly.
“You!” The trapper seemed to be first surprised, and then disappointed. He surveyed Julian from head to foot, and then continued: “Sho! I expected to see a man. What could a little cub like you do with Sanders and his gang?”
“I am man enough to put a ball into one of them if I get a fair chance,” replied Julian. “I know something about Sanders, and have reasons for wishing him put where he will never see me again.”
“Wall, you’re spunky if you are little, an’ spunk is the thing that counts arter all. Mebbe you’ll do as well as any body. Will you go?”
“Of course I will, if Silas sent for me.”
“‘Nough said. Go easy now, an’ do jest as you see me do.”
The trapper shouldered his rifle and started down the road at a rapid run, with Julian close at his heels.
When they passed the first bend in the road a man came out of the bushes, where he had been concealed, and followed after them with noiseless footsteps. Julian did not see him, and neither did he see the dark forms that were hidden behind the trees and rocks on each side of the path; he saw no one except his guide until he came suddenly around the base of a cliff and found himself in front of a camp-fire, beside which lay half-a-dozen rough-looking men stretched out on their blankets.
Julian stopped when this unexpected sight greeted his eyes, but his guide kept on, and seating himself on the ground before the fire, jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the boy, and coolly announced:
“Here he is, fellers. Leastwise, he says that’s his name.”
Julian stood like one petrified. He looked at his guide, at the trappers that were lying around, and then his gaze wandered toward an object which he had not before noticed. It was Silas Roper, who stood on the opposite side of the fire, with his back to a tree, to which he was securely bound.
One glance at him was enough for Julian, who now saw that he had been duped. He understood the trick that had been played upon him as well as though it had been explained in words, and wondered at his own stupidity. If it had been true, as the strange trapper had told him, that Silas was keeping guard over the camp of the outlaws, and needed just one more man to enable him to effect their capture, would he have sent for an inexperienced person like himself when there were at least a score of old Indian-fighters among the emigrants? Julian told himself that he ought to have known better.
These thoughts passed through his mind in an instant of time, and in his excitement and alarm, forgetting everything except that he was in the presence of enemies, he faced about and took to his heels; but he had not made many steps when the man who had followed him from the camp, and who was none other than Sanders himself, suddenly appeared in his path.
“Not quite so fast!” said he, in savage tones. “You’re wuth a heap to us, if you only knowed it, an’ we couldn’t think of partin’ with you so soon.”
As the trapper spoke, he twisted the boy’s rifle out of his grasp, tore the belt which contained his revolvers and hunting-knife from his waist, and then seized him by the collar and dragged him toward the fire – Julian, who knew that it would be the height of folly to irritate the ruffian, offering no resistance.
“I call this a good night’s work,” continued Sanders, who seemed to be highly elated. “We’ve been waitin’ fur both them fellers fur more’n a year, an’ we’ve got ’em at last. This is Julian. I knowed him the minute I sot my eyes onto him, and could have picked him out among a million. He hain’t changed a bit in his face, but he’s grown a heap taller an’ stouter, an’ p’raps is a leetle livelier on his legs than he was when me an’ him run that foot-race eight year ago. Remember that – don’t you, youngster?”
“No, I don’t,” replied Julian. “I never ran a race with you in my life. I never saw you until to-night.”
“Didn’t! Wol, I’ve seed you a good many times durin’ the last two months, an’ have talked with you, too; but I was dressed up like a gentleman then, an’ mebbe that’s the reason you don’t recognize me now. Dick thinks he knows more about you than anybody else, but I reckon he don’t.”
“Who is Dick?” asked the boy.
“He’s the feller who was talkin’ to me to-night while you were settin’ in that wagon listenin’ to us. I didn’t know you were about thar until Dick had gone back into the camp, an’ then I seed you come down from the wagon. I wanted to get you away from thar, ’cause I was afeared that if you were in the camp durin’ the fight some of the Injuns might send a ball or arrer into you, an’ that would have been bad fur me an’ my mates, ’cause it would have tuk jest $5,000 out of our pockets. I didn’t see no chance to slip up an’ make a pris’ner of you without alarmin’ the emigrants, so I come back here an’ got one of my men, an’ me an’ him made up that story we told you. It worked first-rate, didn’t it.”
“But you have not yet told me who Dick is,” said Julian, without answering the outlaw’s question. “How did he become acquainted with me; and what reason has he for wishing me put out of his way? I heard him say that he would give you a thousand dollars if you would kill me.”
“Them’s his very words. But you needn’t be no ways skeary, ’cause I wouldn’t hurt a hair of your head – not while I can make more money by takin’ good care of you. As fur the reasons Dick’s got fur havin’ somethin’ agin you, that’s his business an’ not mine. Mebbe you’ll know all about it one of these days. But I reckon we might as well be movin’ now. What have you done with the critters, Tom?”
The man who had guided Julian to the camp of the outlaws arose from his seat, disappeared in the bushes, and presently returned leading three horses. At a sign from his captors Julian mounted one of the animals, Sanders sprang upon the back of another, and seizing Julian’s horse by the bridle rode off into the darkness, followed by Tom, who brought up the rear. The boy wondered what the outlaws were going to do with him, and hoped that Sanders, who had shown himself to be quite communicative, might see fit to enlighten him; but the trapper seemed to have relapsed into a meditative mood, for he rode along with his eyes fastened on the horn of his saddle, and for half an hour never opened his lips except to swear at Julian’s horse, which showed a disposition to lag behind, and to answer a challenge from the foremost of a long line of Indians who passed them on the road.
When Julian saw these warriors he thought of the emigrants, and knew that the fight the guide had predicted was not far distant. It was begun that very hour, and the signal for the attack was a single, long-drawn war-whoop, which echoed and re-echoed among the cliffs until it seemed to Julian as if the mountains were literally filled with yelling savages. No sooner had it died away than a chorus of frightful whoops arose from the direction of the camp, accompanied by the rapid discharge of fire-arms and the defiant shouts of the emigrants, which came to Julian’s ears with terrible distinctness. Although he knew that he was at a safe distance from the scene of the conflict, and in the power of men who would protect him from the savages, he could not have been more terrified if he had been standing side by side with the pioneers battling for his life.
“What do you think of it, anyhow?” asked Sanders, noticing the boy’s