So certain was Mainwaring that he had seen the girls that he was determined to satisfy himself on the point, and he never took thought of the danger into which he might be plunging.
The track which he and Norfolk Ben took to reach the top of the cliff did not lead them past the bodies of the Ute braves, or the young rancher might have got some idea of the peril into which he was walking so blindly.
They rode to a spot where the ridge seemed most accessible on horseback and attempted to ride up, but they found it too steep for the horses and hurried up on foot.
They soon reached the crest of the cliff, and not seeing any one there Mainwaring went on a little way and shouted. He thought that if the girls were near they might answer. Indeed, he even imagined that he heard a cry in response coming from some way farther on, and he pushed forward at his best speed.
“Marse Mainwaring, I wouldn’t go dar out ob sight o’ de odders,” said the thoughtful Ben. “I ’clar’ to goodness, I wouldn’t! You dunno what dar is in dem rocks. Maybe painters—maybe wolves.”
There were wolves, indeed—but they were wolves in human shape, and Mainwaring soon found them, as he hurried on, despite of Ben’s entreaties.
“You can go back if you’re afraid,” he said, most unjustly, to the faithful fellow.
“I’se mighty ’fraid, Marse Mainwaring,” was the response. “But I’se comin’ with you.”
Ben followed doggedly, willing to share the danger if he could not get Mr. Mainwaring to shun it.
Just where a small chasm opened in the rocks, and Mainwaring stepped in to see if there was any sign of the girls there, he was confronted by half a dozen men, with leveled guns.
Ben cried out from behind:
“Look out, Marse Mainwaring! Dere’s men wid shootin’ irons!”
Sure enough they were caught in a trap.
A man of tall stature, with all of his face hidden except his nose and eyes by a tremendous black, bushy beard, cried out:
“Stranger, you’re caught in a trap! If you’ve got any prayin’ ter do, do it quick—an’ then shell out! I see you wear a watch—an’ some diamonds. We’ll take them first an’ yer life afterwards!”
“It might pay you better to think twice about taking my life,” said Mainwaring, growing suddenly calm, though at first he had been momentarily startled.
“I can’t see that!” growled the leader of the gang. “Boys, knock that black man on the head! He’s not doing any good standing there!”
“Don’t do dat, Marse White Man! Don’t do it! You’ll spoil dat gun if you do!”
Ben’s expostulation—his look and his words—spoken as one of the men raised his rifle to strike him down, created such a roar of laughter from the gang that the man could not strike.
“An’ it’s no use killin’ such a good cook an’ servant as I is. ’Fore de wah I’d have brought a heap o’ money—you bet I would!”
Another laugh showed that Ben’s appeal had put his captors in something like a better humor, or else the rich spoil they had taken from Mainwaring had done it.
For the man who seemed to lead the gang had found a full set of diamond shirt studs on the rich young rancher, a diamond ring, a fine watch, and a wallet full of money.
“Rich—this chap sure is rich!” said the outlaw leader gleefully, as he showed the plunder to his mates.
“Maybe he’s got more that could be reached, Bill Harkness. Let’s keep him till we find out about that,” suggested one of the men.
“Well, I’ll agree to that,” said the leader. “We can make use of this black man, anyway, when we get to the cave. He says he can cook.”
“I jest kin do dat, Marse White Man!”
“Well, move on! We can’t stay here long, for some of your gang may likely be on our track.”
The next moment a cry of surprise broke from the lips of Mainwaring and one of real joy from those of Ben.
Two young girls, very pale and fatigued, but, even so, very beautiful, stood near some horses guarded by three or four armed men.
“’Clar’ ter goodness, dere’s de cherubims!” shouted faithful Ben, breaking away from all restraint and rushing up to the girls, whose hands he seized and kissed, while he actually wept with joy to see them alive. “Oh, Missie May an’ Missie Gertrude! Jest to think I’m with you once more! Ben’s ready to go now when Gabriel blows his horn—he is dat! Oh, honeys, is it you—all sure alive?”
“The darky knows you?” asked the leader of the band.
“Yes,” said May. “He is my father’s servant.”
“Yes—I is his serbant, an’ yours, too, Missie May. Your old fadder is alive, an’ he jest would give a hunderd t’ousand dollars—an’ he’s got it, too—to see you an’ Missie Gertrude alive!”
“A hundred thousand dollars! Do you know what you are saying, darky?” cried the leader of the bandits, while the rest of the gang talked eagerly among themselves.
“Yes, Marse White Man, I jest do know what I’m sayin’! And de old boss has done got it, all in hard coin.”
“Where is he now?”
“Away back at de fort. He’s dere sure, an’ so is de money. I know he’d give it all to see dese young ladies back with him.”
“Does this man speak the truth?” asked the bandit leader sternly of Mainwaring.
“I believe he does,” said the latter, who had hardly let his eyes move from the face of May all this time. “If there is any doubt of the father of these ladies having the money, I know who has it, and who will give up even that large sum to see them restored, safe and unharmed, to their father.”
“You mean yourself, I suppose?”
“For such a purpose I can command that sum. I happen to be a fairly rich man.”
“That’s as it may be. Why don’t you bargain for your own life?”
“Because I would rather buy their safety than my own. I am young and single—and not afraid of death.”
“Well, you certainly take things pretty coolly! The things you wear show you are rich. What do you say, boys? Shall we take them all on to the cave and hold them to ransom? I guess we can make more by that than by our regular business.”
“Yes; take them to the cave!” cried one of the men, and all the rest shouted their approval of the proposition.
“We must hurry up. There’s a lot of men down below the cliff, and they aren’t in that Indian fight,” said one of the outlaws, who came up at this moment.
“Mount at once! We are lucky to have fresh horses!” shouted the leader of the band. “Mount and away!”
Then turning to Mainwaring he said:
“Stranger, I’ll treat you well if you’ll act square. If you don’t, you’ll die without having time to pray!”
“Treat those girls well, and you shall have every dollar I have in the world, if necessary,” replied Mainwaring.
A grateful look from both girls, but especially from May, made him feel that his fortune could not possibly be better expended.
“They shall be well treated—if we are well paid,” said the bandit.
Now they were all mounted and were moving off up among the rugged hills at a sweeping trot, which was increased to a gallop when the road got better.
Mainwaring now had a good chance to look at the party, for he and the girls were placed in the center, Norfolk Ben following close behind them.
There were in all about twenty-five or thirty men, all well armed and mounted, and all looking what they were—outlaws and murderers of the worst type.
For a time they kept on in silence, the route being through a wild and picturesque country, which Mainwaring would have admired under any other circumstances.
But now he was busy thinking what Buffalo Bill would do when he missed him. Would he discover the trail? And if he did, would not the very fact of his following it up be fatal to the hopes, if not to the lives, of the captives?
He thought that he would explain this to the leader of the band, and get his permission to ride back and prevent the border king from following until the ransom matter was negotiated. But the thought of leaving the girls, even for an instant, with such men deterred him from that course.
He was wondering what to do, when one of the rear guard thundered by him and rode to the front. After he spoke to the leader the pace was increased to a swift gallop, and then the leader of the party dropped back along the column to Mainwaring.
“Young man,” he said, “I’ve got a few questions to ask you, and if you don’t answer them we’ll not bother about that ransom. What party were you with when you happened to hit on our trail?”
“A party of scouts, commanded by Buffalo Bill—whom you have probably heard of.”
“Yes; I’ve heard of him!” growled the bandit. “But were there no troops—no cavalry—in the party?”
“None when I left, but they were expecting some to come up. They were expecting them to come every hour.”
“Young fellow, I believe you have told me the truth, and now I’ll tell you some news. These scouts and cavalrymen are on our trail; but you needn’t think it will help your case much. I’d drop you, Indian fashion, with a bullet before I’d lose you.
“In about half an hour you’ll see them the worst-whipped crowd you ever heard of. By that time we’ll be in a place where their cavalry will have about as much play as a horse in a hencoop.
“So you’d better keep cool and remain quiet, without trying to escape, and then you and them gals will be safe. Remember, I’m not foolin’ in this business. A sign or word that looks to me like getting away—and it means a bullet through your heart!”
Mainwaring knew that every word the man said was meant, and that any attempt to escape would not only bring death upon himself, but upon the helpless girls, whom he longed to protect with his own life, if necessary.
The horses were kept to their full speed now for several miles, and they seemed to have left pursuit far behind, when they suddenly rode into a gorge so deep and dark that it seemed as if twilight had descended when they entered.
The leader of the bandits here checked the speed a little, and Mainwaring looked up, almost awe-stricken by the sight which met his eyes.
Great rocks, red as if burned by volcanic fire, hung from either side, almost over their heads, showing only a narrow strip of sky as he looked far up the dark chasm.
And narrower yet seemed the pass as they kept on, until suddenly they came to a place where it was only possible to ride in single file. Here the leader halted and made the rest pass on.
Mainwaring saw the girls go just before him, and then he followed, just as the crack of a rifle shot and a loud, ringing shout reached his ears.
Only too well did he recognize the ring of the long-range rifle of the border king and the sound of Buffalo Bill’s voice.
Mainwaring glanced back when he heard these sounds, and he saw the last man of the party, who
rode just to the rear of where the leader sat in his saddle, reel and fall from his horse.
At the same moment he saw Bill Harkness, the bandit chief, spur on into the narrow pass, bringing
up the rear. As he did so he managed, by some contrivance which Mainwaring did not understand, to
detach a huge mass of rock. This completely blocked up the road, so that pursuit was made
impossible until it was cleared out of the way.
Not being able to stop even had he desired to do so, Mainwaring had to keep on with the others a
little farther, and then he found himself in the place he had already heard so much about—the
far-famed “Nick’s Cavern,” the principal stronghold of the Death Riders, or of what now
remained of that villainous band.
It was an immense cleft, or yawning mouth, beneath the mountainside, which seemed to have been
hollowed out by a river of fire, so lavalike were its curious and fantastic walls.
The main cave was large enough for a regiment to have maneuvered in handsomely, while away off
into the mountain ran dark halls and avenues. How far these went only a few of the outlaws, who
had explored their secret recesses, knew.
Mainwaring had no time to see more than that there was quite a large party of men there already,
and that fires were burning, which not only served to partially light up the vast place, but gave
several men and a few women the opportunity to do some cooking.
A cheer greeted the arrival of the leader of the band, who seemed to be popular with most of his
men. They greeted him as “Gallant Bill Harkness,” “Brave Bill,” and by other complimentary
terms.
The only answer which he made was a shrill whistle call, which brought all the men from the
interior of the cavern to the spot where he had seated himself when he dismounted from his horse.
As soon as they were all gathered around him he raised his hand to command silence and said:
“Men! We have been followed closely by scouts, some Indians—Pawnees, I think—and a troop of
cavalrymen from the fort. I’ve dropped the cliff rock in their path, but if they’re as spunky
and clever as I think they are they’ll try to get us out of here.
“I’ve left a dozen men at the pass. The next thing to do is to fill the range above with our
best shots and try to clean them out.
“So get up there—about thirty of you—and take care of things there so that you’ll make our
visitors feel too sick to stay. As soon as I and my crowd have had a bite to eat I’ll go up
there and look after things myself.”
The only reply to this speech was a general cheer, and Mainwaring saw the men—all armed—
scattering away to obey orders.
“Who have you got there, Bill?” asked one man, who seemed as rough as Harkness himself,
approaching the spot where Mainwaring, the two girls, and Norfolk Ben were standing.
“Prisoners—to be well treated for the present, unless they try to get away. Then the men are to
be shot and—well, we’ll make the girls stay somehow!”
“Yes,” said the man, with a sardonic laugh. “They’re too pretty to be let go easily.”
Mainwaring could have choked the leering wretch with a good will, but, unarmed as he was, and at
the mercy of armed ruffians, what could he do?
He made up his mind, however, to remain near the girls all the time, and if an unkind hand was
laid upon them, or any open violence offered, he would die in their defense.
With every new glance that he directed at May he felt his love for her grow stronger, until it
filled his whole heart and mind, to the utter exclusion of all thoughts of his own safety.
He had now a chance to say a few words of comfort to her and to her sister. The ruffian Harkness,
however, did not seem to like this. He looked at them suspiciously, and then calling a stout,
red-faced woman to him he said:
“Here, Lize! You take them two girls to your corner of the cave over there, and keep them under
your own eye. Feed ’em well and treat ’em well, but don’t let any man talk to ’em or bother
’em. Mind, now, and do as I say! Hold on! That black man there has been their servant and cook.
He can wait on them and help you.”
“Thank you, Marse White Man. De ole lady’ll jest find me handy.”
“Who do you call old, you black idjit?” cried Lize angrily.
Norfolk Ben quailed before the fury of the termagant.
“Beg pardon, missis! I hadn’t looked at you afore. I ’clar’ to goodness, you is younger an’
han’somer dan any lady I done see eber since I left ole Virginny!”
“That’ll do!” said Lize, completely mollified. “There’s dishes to wash. You ’tend to
that, an’ then get something to eat for the young ladies.”
Ben, only too glad to be near May and Gertrude, went right to work, while Bill Harkness beckoned
Mainwaring over to him.
“Stranger,” said he, “make yourself comfortable here nigh by this fire. After I’ve attended
to them cusses that have followed us I’ll see to that ransom business.
“It’ll take some time, I suppose, for some one of us will have to go for the money; but we’ll
make you comfortable as long as you keep quiet and take things easy. We’ll have something to eat
and drink soon, an’ then I’ll have to be going.
“If those friends of yours push on for a fight they’ll get it—an’ a great deal more than they
’re looking for, too!”
“They’re fighting now, aren’t they?” asked Mainwaring. “I hear guns firing.”
“Maybe they’re wasting some powder. They couldn’t do anything with us here, not if they tried
for six months. We’re walled in from the east, for I had it all fixed to tumble forty tons of
rock down right on the trail. I meant to wait a little longer, so that the rock would fall on
some of them, but the trap worked too easy.
“West from here there’s no opening that isn’t guarded, and only an eagle could get up the
cliffs on that side. So you can make your mind easy about those friends of yours. You needn’t
worry yourself with any hopes that they are going to save you.”
But Mainwaring could not make his mind easy. He loved Buffalo Bill as well as a brother, and he
had been a good comrade with the rest of the border king’s party. And he feared now, seeing how
strong the place was, that the knight of the plains and his fellow scouts would lose their
lives in trying to rescue him.
Supper was now set out on a rough slab of stone for Mainwaring and Harkness, and a very good meal
it was, too, considering the situation.
Mainwaring saw that there was a great deal of dried meat and some fresh game hanging up in the
place, and he also noticed that there was forage for the horses stacked in the upper end of the
cave, where they were tied, to the number of about two hundred.
There was no lack of water. It dripped in springs on every side, finding its way off in little
trickling streams as bright as silver.
The bandit chief noticed how observantly Mainwaring took in the general features of the place,
and he said sarcastically:
“Study things out as much as you like, stranger. You’ll never have a chance to tell outsiders
how we look or live.”
“What do you mean?” said Mainwaring, in surprise. “You are going to release me if the ransom
is paid, aren’t you? That was our bargain.”
“Yes—but we shan’t let you go till the money is paid over. And even then, before we let you
leave, you’ll have to swear by an oath that you dare not break never to expose what you have
seen here. We’ve got snug quarters here, and we intend to keep them.”
“If I gave you my promise to keep anything secret it would be as good as any oath,” replied
Mainwaring, looking the chief straight in the eye.
“Yes, you look honest,” muttered Harkness. “Too honest for this crowd, I reckon. But for all
that you’ll have to take the oath. I would be willing to let you go without it, but the men
wouldn’t. They wouldn’t trust you or anybody on his bare word.”
Mainwaring had now finished eating, and he asked if there was any objection to his smoking.
“None at all. Eat, drink, and smoke when you feel like it. If you are sleepy, there are blankets
for you. But mark me—you must not do any cruising about! If you go over where the horses are,
you’ll get a dose of lead through your carcass!
“You can go one hundred yards up this avenue here, but no farther than that. If you go to where
a light burns beyond that point you’ll be dropped dead in your tracks. We’ve got rules for our
prisoners, and they have to be obeyed.”
“I shall not break them,” said Mainwaring. “It would be foolish. I’m not going to throw away
my life while I feel responsible for looking after those girls. You need not be afraid.”
“I’m not, stranger.”
“It seems to me they’re firing pretty often outside,” remarked the young man.
“Yes. I must go and see. Your friends are only wasting powder.”
As Bill Harkness left the place Mainwaring saw a man brought into the cave, evidently badly
wounded.
“That doesn’t look like wasting powder,” he muttered to himself, taking care not to be
overheard.
It is now time to go outside and see how Buffalo Bill and his crowd get along.
When the trail was taken, Buffalo Bill in the lead, Steve Hathaway following, the horses of the whole party were put to their full speed. For Buffalo Bill argued that to save the life of Mainwaring and the honor of those helpless girls, they must not give those white ruffians any time to rest or to think.
Steve Hathaway was of this opinion, as far as that went, but he knew the country and the stronghold so well that he told Buffalo Bill if the ruffians got to the cave safe there would be no use in trying to attack them, and no hope to drive them out, except by starvation—and that would be difficult—for they had plenty of provisions.
Disguising himself by throwing away his Indian coat and taking a jacket from a soldier, changing hats with Buffalo Bill, Steve now felt no fear of recognition from the band, and, finding no words of his could restrain Cody from charging right on, he rode on with him, showing him short cuts to gain on the others.
Thus it was that Buffalo Bill, coming in sight just before the band reached Nick’s Cavern, got a shot with his long-range rifle, which dropped the last ruffian in the crowd dead from his saddle.
Steve, who knew the secret of the trap, and the peril if the rocks were sent tumbling down, dashed his horse forward at its maddest speed, and got the horse of Buffalo Bill by the rein just in time to rear him back on his haunches and save the heroic rider from being crushed by the terrible avalanche which fell and blocked the way.
Anger flushed the face of the scout for an instant when the horse reared back; but in the next second, when he saw what a terrible death he had been saved from, he turned and said:
“Steve, I owe my life to you. I don’t know how I’ll ever pay the debt.”
“Say no more about it. We’re no more than even, mate. Them hounds are safe now. They’re shut in, and we’re shut out.”
“Is the trail entirely blocked?”
“Yes; entirely. They are all in Nick’s Cavern, where there is enough feed for man and beast kept all the time to last for months. It is shut in every way now.”
“Good! Then they can’t get out?”
“No, but you can’t get in.”
“We’ll see! They went in, and so will I.”
“But they’ll get to the top of the cliff over us, and make it too hot for us here.”
“Will they? Then we’ll make it too hot for them there. If they can shoot at us, we can return the fire. If I see a gun flash, lead will go very near where I see that flash.”
“If you hurt any of them, they’ll murder the prisoners.”
“How are we to know they have not done that already? I tell you what it is, Steve—I’ve done fooling! I have not come this far to go back with my hands down, leaving them here to crow. They’ve got to be wiped out.”
“It will be a hard job!”
“Then I’m just in for it. Here comes Captain Meinhold. What shall I tell him?”
“That you’ve holed your game, but diggin’ for it in a rock will be hard work.”
“Well—why don’t we go on?” asked the captain, who had not been able to hold the wild pace that Buffalo Bill had kept for a few miles back.
“Rocks caved in our way, and the enemy caved in behind them,” said Buffalo Bill.
“Can you see them?”
“No, but I hear them,” said Buffalo Bill, as a bullet flattened against a rock within a foot of his head. “If you’ll get under cover, we’ll talk with Steve here and see what we can do.”
“I don’t like this,” said the captain, as they fell back a little to where some rocks and trees sheltered them partially. From away up in the cliff, out of sight of them, a fusillade was now opened which made it necessary for all hands to take cover.
Two wounded men, a scout and a soldier, proclaimed this necessity.
“Is there no way of getting in and making a charge?” asked the captain. “Hand to hand, saber and revolver, I’ll risk meeting them three to one!”
“Just about the odds, I reckon, captain, but the getting in is the question. There is a passage in and out, besides the one they’ve filled up, where a man can creep, but not where horses can go. But only Bill Harkness and two more know anything about it. It was always kept from the rest for fear of treachery at a time like this,” said Hathaway.
“It can and must be found,” said Buffalo Bill. “I’m going to look for it.”
The brave scout handed his Remington to Steve.
“Take care of it,” said he. “If I don’t get in there, I shan’t need it any more. If I do—I’ll make music with it when they’re on the run among the hills.”
Buffalo Bill started out, determined to climb the cliff. But the instant he was seen near the face of the rock bullets rained at him. That Providence which seems ever to shelter and protect the bravest when cowards fall must have shielded his breast, for he was evidently a target for at least twenty marksmen.
Coolly he dropped back.
“Climbing just now in the face of a leaden hailstorm isn’t in my line. But I’ve got the dot on one fellow. I’ll take the rifle again, Steve.”
Hathaway handed over the rifle to him.
The latter went on to tell Steve that he had seen one gun flash from the limb of a pine which almost overhung the spot where they had first stood.
“I’m going to creep for him,” said Buffalo Bill. “If I can get him between me and the sky, he’ll be dead meat after my rifle sings her song.”
The scout crept from rock to rock under the bushes for some little time, while the scouts and soldiers kept the men above occupied, for the former fired every time they saw a gun flash.
This shooting, however, was entirely at random, and there was no certainty of their hitting a man.
But when the border king’s rifle was heard to crack at last, almost simultaneous with the report came a shriek of agony.
“Buffalo Bill first, last, and forever!” shouted Wild Bill. “Did you hear that wild cat howl? He’ll not keep his den in them rocks any more. I reckon he’s gone up!”
“No—he came down, like Captain Scott’s coon!” said Buffalo Bill, who now crept back. “I let him down out of that tree nicely. But he fell on the bank above. I was in hopes he’d drop over!”
The firing was still kept up, though it was now quite dark, but apparently to no effect, except to show that powder was plentiful on both sides.
After Bill Harkness left Mainwaring, to go up where the firing was now pretty regular, the latter thought he would look around as far as the bounds named by Harkness would allow.
So, after taking a long, earnest look at May, who sat with Gertrude near the fire listening to some droll talk from Ben which kept Lize roaring with laughter, the young rancher strolled back toward the avenue, or chamber, which he was told he could use for a promenade of a hundred yards, if he liked.
It was dimly lighted by the distant fires and torches, but the floor was level, so he walked on and thought.
Thought about home—his good mother, his dear brothers, and the fair sisters who might never see him more, and then, walking back where he could see May with the firelight at play upon her beautiful face, he thought he would risk his very life to get her out of the hands of these ruffians.
Suddenly he became aware that he was approaching a man; and thinking it might be the sentinel who stood at the death line, he began to retreat.
“Halt! Come here, I want to talk with you!” said the man, whoever he was, seen indistinctly in the gloom.
Mainwaring recognized the voice. It was that of the man who had spoken to Harkness, asking who his prisoners were, and what he intended to do with them.
So he made up his mind quickly, as he knew this man was well armed, that it would be folly to refuse his invitation to advance.
He came forward until he was close to the man, who then said, in a low tone:
“Stop—you’re near enough. Speak low, and answer my questions.”
Mainwaring halted, for he heard the click of a pistol as it was cocked. He thought it was rather unnecessary, since he was unarmed, but he made no comments.
“Bill Harkness means to hold you to ransom, don’t he?” asked this man.
“I think I heard him tell you so!” said Mainwaring.
“Ah—you’ve sharp eyes in the dark. I didn’t think you’d know me. But it don’t make any odds. How much are you going to give him?”
Mainwaring hesitated. He did not know if it were prudent to tell this man. If Harkness knew it, it might make him a bitter enemy.
“Come, speak out! It may be the best thing you ever did for yourself. You needn’t fear my telling—I want to know for my own satisfaction, and because”—the stranger spoke in a whisper now—“it might better your bargain.”
Mainwaring did not hesitate any longer. He felt in a moment that there was a man before him whose treachery might be bought.
“One hundred thousand dollars,” said Mainwaring promptly, “for the freedom of those two girls, myself, and the negro Ben!”
“Whew! Bill lied to me! You’ve got the spots, sure?”
“If you mean the money, yes. I’ve got it where, for this purpose, I can command it.”
“You could have it paid into a man’s hand, in the border settlements, wherever he named, and you went quiet, so nobody but him would be the wiser?”
“Yes, I have no doubt of it.”
“Stranger—I can do you a turn, and I can do it twenty-five thousand cheaper than he. I can get you out of here—and the gals, too, for I know a secret passage. There’s only Bill and me and one other man knows of it, and that other man is about past knowing anything—for ’twas him they brought in dying just now. He is shot through the throat, and he can’t speak!”
“Can I trust you?” asked Mainwaring eagerly.
“You’ve got to, you can’t help yourself. And I’ve got to trust you, too, for the captain told me he cleaned you out of all you had on you. But I looked in your eye out there by the fire, and there isn’t any lie in it.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m not talkin’ for thanks—I’m talkin for money! I’m sick of this kind of life. I haven’t been treated fair, anyway. They made me captain and then broke me, because I wouldn’t go down to the railroad and run trains off. But that isn’t business. Swear that if I’ll get you clear, you’ll give me seventy-five thousand, good money.”
“I will, on my sacred honor and by my soul!”
“Well, I s’pose that is as good as an oath. The next thing is the plan to get you out.”
“You understand the girls and the man Ben are in the bargain?”
“Yes—and there’s the trouble. I could get you off from here in twenty minutes. But that Lize is as sharp as a ferret. Bill knew what he was about when he told her to look out for ’em.”
“I will not move without them.”
“There’s but one other way—and I hate to do that. But there isn’t one in a hundred of them that wouldn’t if they had the chance.”
“Wouldn’t do what?” asked Mainwaring.
“Hush! Don’t speak so loud! If ’twas known we were talking here and about this, we’d be burned alive. What I was thinking of was the letting in of your friends in here. If I did, our fellows would have to git, or go under. And then you and the girls would be safe enough, so safe that if you wanted to go back on me I might whistle for my money!”
“I have sworn that if you help me and the other three away, you shall have it!”
“I might get killed, as I surely would, if Bill Harkness could get one sight of me, and then I’d be where money wouldn’t do me any good. I want to get out in the world and live honest once more—and I can’t do that without money.”
“Why not go out, have an interview with Buffalo Bill, show him how to get in, and then stay where you will be safe?” urged Mainwaring.
“I’ll be as safe here as there, if the party was in, and safer, too. It’ll never do for Bill Harkness to know, while he lives, that I’ve done this. He must be snuffed out first thing. Have you anything to write with?”
“Yes—a pencil and memorandum book.”
“Then write a note to Buffalo Bill, telling him what I will do and what he can do. I’ll get it to him. After that, you go and sit down where he told you to sleep—keep cool and be ready to help yourself when others are ready to help you. Here is a revolver. Keep it out of sight till you need it.”
“I will,” said Mainwaring, rejoiced once more to have a weapon in his hand.
“And be quiet. Don’t let Harkness, should he come down from above, see that you’ve got a bit of hope. He is keen, and if he suspects anything the whole job is gone up; for he could block the secret passage just as easy as he did the pass out there.”
“Do not fear for my betrayal by look or word. I will be apparently asleep, should you return, but wide awake enough to do any duty which comes up.”
“All right. Trust me now, as I trust you.”
The man took the hasty note which Mainwaring wrote to Buffalo Bill, and in another moment he was out of sight.
Mainwaring, placing the treasured revolver in his pocket, now went back to the place where a heap of blankets had been pointed out by Harkness as his sleeping place.
Here he sat down, and drawing his hat well over his brows, watched, as calmly as he could, the faces of the girls, the comic looks of Ben, and the mingled expressions that came and went on the face of the creature Lize—for it would be an insult to the sex to call her woman.
And he waited—for what, he could hardly tell. If the man, whose name, even, he did not know, for it was so unimportant he had not asked it, was faithful to his promise in a little while his friends would be there, able and willing to rescue and protect those who had become the objects of his dearest interest.
He had not known May long, yet his whole heart had gone out to her, and he felt as if he would rather die with her there than live and leave her behind.
He could see her beautiful, intelligent face, with the flickering light of the fire now making it a glory and then leaving it in shadow; her eyes, despite all this trouble, so full of womanly expression, telling that no matter where the soul is its mirror is the eye—and he felt as if he could worship her.
A noise from men advancing attracted the attention of Mainwaring now, and he turned, to see Bill Harkness coming toward him, leaning on the arm of one of his men.
“I’ve been hit, stranger, and have lost a little blood, but it is nothing bad, only a flesh wound. I stayed too long before I had it seen to,” said the robber, as he sank down near Mainwaring on a pile of buffalo robes.
Then turning to the man who came with him he said:
“Hunt up Dolph Lowell, and tell the cuss to go up above and watch them fellows, or some of ’em will climb the cliff. They’re the sharpest crowd I’ve ever had dealin’s with. There’s one fellow there that shoots the closest I ever knew.”
“Wild Bill, maybe, is the man you mean,” said Mainwaring. “He is one of the best shots on the plains.”
“’Twas him that hit me, and I didn’t think they could see a square inch when I crept up where I could see what they were doing, for they seemed to be holding some kind of a palaver, but I didn’t get my head out before a ball raked my shoulder.
“Jeff Perkins is dead; he got an ounce ball through his neck while he was in a tree. They’re wide awake; but when it comes to daylight we’ll have a fair show—we can pick them off till they’re sick of staying around here.”
The man who went for Dolph Lowell came back and reported that he couldn’t find him.
“The lazy cuss has gone to sleep, I suppose,” said Harkness, “or hid away somewhere. Since he couldn’t be captain he hasn’t wanted to be anything. Go up above yourself, Jake Durn, and look to the boys. After I’ve had my wound dressed and taken a nip to bring the life back I’ll try and crawl up again myself. I wish it was daylight—we’d make that crowd sick then in a hurry.”
The man called Jake Durn now hurried away, and the robber called Lize over to dress his wound.
She did this with a speed and skill that told she was used to such work, and after the wound was dressed she brought a bottle of liquor to Harkness.
“Stranger, after you!” he said, as he proffered the bottle to Mainwaring.
“Thank you—I don’t drink,” said the young rancher.
“Don’t drink whisky?” cried Harkness, in surprise. “Don’t drink whisky and come from Texas? Why, I thought ’twas nat’ral born for a Texan to drink? And you told me you was one!”
“I’m proud to be an exception, so don’t wait for me,” said Mainwaring.
“Well, I’m beat!” said Harkness, as he raised the bottle and took a pull that was ample for both, had Mainwaring been a drinker.
“Hark! What was that?” said the robber. “I heard something clash.”
“I saw a horse kicking out over there,” said Mainwaring, whose heart throbbed wildly now, for he had recognized the clatter of a saber against the rocks.
The robber appeared to be satisfied, and he called out to Lize to get him a bite to eat to keep that “forty-rod” whisky from going to his head.
The woman cut him off a huge slice of venison from a roasted haunch and was in the act of handing it to him when her eyes, looking back into the gloom, flashed like those of an angered tigress, and she screamed:
“Bill, ye’re betrayed! Look—the soldiers!”
“Kill them gals!” shouted Harkness, as he sprang to his feet, leveling his pistol at Mainwaring, who, with his revolver out, was on his feet just as quickly.
Mainwaring, hearing the cry, “Kill the girls!” had sprung between them and the woman, and Bill Harkness, following his body with his pistol, fired just as the woman turned, and his ball, instead of hitting Mainwaring, pierced her body.
In a second, with a terrible cry, Buffalo Bill sprang forward. As the woman fell, Harkness, turning to meet the onset, received a blow from the knife of the daring scout, which sent him reeling to the earth, while the cavern, filled with soldiers, Pawnee Indians, and scouts, rang with rapid shots as the robbers came rushing out to defend their stronghold.
“Up above—up above, and wipe ’em all out, now your hand is in!” cried Steve Hathaway, who knew the route to the top of the cliff.
“Traitor, your place is below!” cried Bill Harkness, raising up, with a dying effort, and firing his last shot.
As he saw Steve Hathaway fall he dropped back, with a gurgling death rattle in his throat.
“He wasn’t the traitor!” yelled the woman Lize, who had crept up to Bill in her dying agony. “There he stands!”
And she wrenched the revolver from the hands of the dead man and fired at Dolph Lowell just as he, seeing his danger, leveled his gun at her and fired.
Both shots were sure, and while Mainwaring rushed to the girls, to see that they were unharmed, he saw the man fall who would have held a seventy-five-thousand-dollar claim on him.
But it was wiped out now.
Yet the fight was not all over. The men who were above, hearing the shots below, rushed down in a body, thinking to take the soldiers from the rear, while they supposed Bill Harkness and the others held them in front.
But they reckoned beyond their knowledge.
They were received as brave Captain Meinhold wanted to receive them, and hand to hand, with saber and revolver, while the Pawnee “friendlies,” Buffalo Bill, and Wild Bill, with battle shout and whoop and yell, went through them as fire goes through dry grass.
The robbers, asking no quarter, fought, but they fought without heart and were completely wiped out.
When the light of another day dawned men were busy clearing out the narrow road that led from the cavern.
Mainwaring was now happy. He could talk to his rescued love, May, all that he wanted to.
Ben, too, was in what he termed “de sebenth hebben.” His young mistresses were free; he had heard that his old master was alive and getting well, and he was out of the hands of the bad men.
There was not a great deal of plunder in the place, except in arms and horses, and these were indeed quite a capture.
“I wish that Buffalo Bill were back,” said the commanding officer at Fort McPherson. “The report that Indians are thick between here and the Loup is not agreeable. It seems to me that if they are not checked in time we’ll have a general Indian war on our hands this summer. And Buffalo Bill is the best man to go out and talk to the chiefs and try to drive some sense into them.
“The redskins are getting too bold, and if they make a raid on the railway or some of the frontier settlements we’ll have all the trouble on our hands that we’ll know how to handle.”
While he was thus speaking to the post adjutant an old man, pale and feeble, approached him, leaning on a staff.
“Ah, Mr. Doyle! I’m glad to see you out. I trust you are feeling better at last. We are looking with hope for the safe return of your daughters, for it is quite time that the troop which I sent out under Captain Meinhold returned and reported to me.”
“I have hoped until hope seems a mockery,” replied the old man. “My sons died long since, and sometimes, when I think what may have happened to them in the hands of those cruel redskins, I almost wish that I knew my daughters were dead, also. Then I could bow my head to God’s will and go to my grave conscious that I had nothing left to live for.”
“Look—look, general!” cried the post adjutant. “No man save Buffalo Bill rides like that!”
A man, with his long hair flowing out in the sunlight from his bare head, waving a big white sombrero in his hand and sitting his horse as if he and the animal were one, came riding like the wind toward the fort.
As the three men looked they heard a cheerful bugle call sounding from the direction of the Platte.
“Company B is coming in!” cried the adjutant.
“What is the news?” asked the general hastily, as Buffalo Bill rode up to him. “What is the news, Colonel Cody?”
“The very best, general. We have wiped out one of the worst band of outlaws this country was ever cursed with—the Death Riders.”
“My daughters? You don’t say a word about them!” groaned old Mr. Doyle. “Are they dead?”
“They are alive and well, sir. They are just as happy as they can be, and it won’t be many minutes now before they are here with you. I rode on ahead to bring in the news.”
“Quick! Lift him up! The old gentleman has fainted!” cried the general.
He had fainted from sudden and excessive joy, and not until his daughters arrived did he fully come back to his senses and to a realization of the fact that there was yet happiness in store for him.
By this time the general was receiving the report of Captain Meinhold, who had not only done the country the great service of breaking up a most dangerous band of desperadoes, but had managed so well the care of his command, aided by Buffalo Bill, that he had brought it back efficient in men and horses and ready for immediate service. But the gallant soldiers were not needed again for immediate active service, although the captain himself was wanted at once for special duty with a surveying party on the Great Lakes.
Mr. Doyle gave up all idea of going across the plains and the mountains of the far West to California. The perils to which his daughters had been subjected and the great anxiety he had suffered on their account had thoroughly cured him of his desire to do that.
On the second day after the return to the fort Mainwaring sought out the old gentleman, told him that he had won the love of his daughter May, and asked his consent to their marriage.
“If the dear child loves you she must do as she likes,” Mr. Doyle replied. “I would not stand in the way of her happiness. But it seems rather hard that I have got to lose her again after just getting her back.”
“You need not lose her, sir,” replied Mainwaring. “Neither May nor I would wish that. You have decided not to go on to California, have you not?”
“Yes. I have quite made up my mind on that matter. I have been very fortunate in getting my dear girls back, and I won’t tempt Providence a second time. I will expose them to no more dangers.”
“Then why not come to Texas with me, sir? It is a glorious country, especially the section where my ranch is located. You could buy a ranch near by my place, and see May as often as you wished. We could all be happy together.”
The old gentleman caught eagerly at this idea, and it was carried out without delay.
Mr. Doyle, with his great wealth, bought a handsome estate, and at his death, several years later, it passed by his will to the eldest son of his daughter, Mrs. Mainwaring.
Jack Mainwaring himself handsomely rewarded the scouts and troopers for the work they had done in rescuing him and the girl who became his wife.
As Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill could not, of course, be offered money for such work, he sent them each one of the finest Remington rifles he could buy, as a keepsake.
His old adversary, Simon Ketchum, did not return to Danger Divide, and was not heard of in that part of the boundless West for several years.
Then his fate was discovered by Buffalo Bill, who rode into a little frontier settlement in Utah and saw a man swinging to the limb of a tree, surrounded by a party of vigilantes, who had just hanged him for horse stealing and murder.
The dead man was Simon Ketchum, who had met with his deserts at last.
The Great Lakes of the United States—yes, and even some of the smaller ones—are often the scenes of storms as terrible as those which occur on the broad bosom of any ocean on the face of the globe.
But there was never a worse storm on any of them than that which raged one night, soon after Buffalo Bill’s return to Fort McPherson, on the dark waters of a large lake on the edge of the great plains.
Driving before the squall which had come down with awful suddenness was a schooner containing the surveying party that had been sent out from Fort McPherson to make surveys and take soundings of the lake.
The party was under the command of our friend Captain Meinhold, and with him on the Enterprise was his old and trusted friend, Buffalo Bill, who had been requested, at the last moment, to accompany him.
There were several surveyors in the party, and their assistants, besides the sailors of the vessel and a few soldiers from Captain Meinhold’s company, who acted as an escort.
Terrified almost out of their wits by the violence of the wind and the fearful height to which the waves ran, tossing the craft up and down as if it were a mere cockleshell, were also three women, wives of three of the surveyors.
Suddenly, when the storm was at its height, a wave swept over the quarter of the schooner, washing away a deck house and carrying five men with it.
To save them was impossible. Even if the skipper could have worn schooner, instead of merely driving helplessly before the wind, they could not have been found and picked up on such a stormy night in such a raging sea.
A few minutes later the mainmast went by the board, killing two more men and leaving the vessel a helpless wreck.
The skipper was one of the two men killed by the fall of the mast. His mate had been washed overboard. There was no one left who was competent to navigate the vessel, even if she had been navigable.
The well had been sounded a little while before, and it had been found that the craft was leaking badly.
Captain Meinhold ordered one of the seamen to find out if the water was gaining. The man did so, and returned with the terrible news that it was simply pouring in and the schooner was fast settling down.
“She’s nothing but a sieve now,” said the man. “The fall of the mainmast just racked her to pieces and opened the seams.”
It was not necessary, indeed, to sound the well; for it was obvious to the veriest landsman that the schooner was sinking, and must soon disappear beneath the raging billows.
“We must take to the boats at once,” said Captain Meinhold to Buffalo Bill, who was standing calmly by his side, as fearless on sea as on land.
“There is no other course,” the scout agreed. “The schooner is evidently doomed.”
Having anticipated the order which was now given to them, the sailors who survived had already commenced to cut loose the boats, ready for launching.
“I will run down below and get my weapons,” Cody said to Meinhold. “I would not lose them for a trifle.”
He turned to execute this purpose, and as he got to the head of the companionway a tall negro came rushing up the stairs and butted into him. He was Joe Congo, the steward of the vessel, and one of the best specimens of the African race to be met with anywhere.
“No time to go below, Massa Cody,” the black cried to him. “De ole ship go down plumb quick now.”
Buffalo Bill would have gone, nevertheless; but at that moment another wave came sweeping over the vessel, carrying Joe Congo off his feet.
The border king, who was gripping a rail on the companion, caught hold of the man with an iron grip, just in time to prevent him from being swept overboard.
“Golly, massa!” said Congo, as soon as he could recover his breath and speak. “Dat was a near t’ing! I owe you a life. Maybe I pay it some day.”
“All right, Congo. Don’t worry about that. I must go below for my guns.”
As he was about to do so a voice sang out in stentorian tones that sounded clearly above the roaring of the storm:
“All for the boats! We can’t wait any longer.”
“Leave de guns, massa,” said Congo. “T’ink ob your life.”
Buffalo Bill concluded that this was good advice to follow under the circumstances. Helping Congo along, he hurried across the slippery deck to the side where one of the boats was even then being launched.
He helped the three women into it, and then motioned to Congo to enter, following himself.
The other boats were being got away at the same time, and in a few moments all the crew and passengers who survived had left the doomed vessel, which sank below the waves with a heavy lurch after they had got a little distance away from it.
The danger of their position was understood by all, and it is probable that not a soul in the company expected to set foot on dry land again.
All through the long night, however, the men battled manfully at the oars trying to keep the head of the boats to the waves and avoid being capsized.
Again and again large volumes of water poured over the sides and had to be bailed out.
It seemed as though the night would never wear through, but at last it ended, and with the first rosy streaks of dawn the sea moderated somewhat.
The welcome sun revived the sinking spirits of the worn-out men in the boats, and they looked around eagerly for signs of land, but they could see none.
They had little or no knowledge of their location. They had been somewhere near the center of the lake when they were wrecked, but the only men who could have given them any exact idea of their bearings—the captain and the mate—were both dead.
Buffalo Bill, who had been looking around constantly, in accordance with his usual habit, suddenly exclaimed:
“Hello, what’s the matter with that boat? She’s going over, by thunder! Bad management there! See!”
There was no need to call attention to the foundering craft. Yells from a dozen voices in it did that. It was the biggest boat of the lot, and carried the greatest number of men.
Then the oval bottom of the boat was seen, with several men clinging to it for dear life, while others were struggling in the water, upborne by life preservers and floating like corks on the billows.
The capsized boat was perhaps about thirty or forty yards from the one in which Buffalo Bill was sitting, and the other was not much farther off.
Both came to her relief as speedily as possible, not without increased peril to themselves. This was still more augmented when some of the struggling swimmers came clinging to the sides of the boats and begging to be taken in.
These appeals, of course, could not be disregarded, and the sufferers were hauled in as fast as they came.
Some of them, however, being strong and brave men, and seeing that their comrades were making an attempt to right the boat, swam back to aid in it, for the danger of overloading the two other craft was apparent to all.
Captain Meinhold called for volunteers to follow him into the water and help to right the boat, and Buffalo Bill was the first to respond.
Luckily the sea had now gone down still farther, though it was still running high, and thus making the task one of extreme difficulty.
All of the men in the water were buoyed up by life preservers, but unfortunately two soldiers who had not worn any had sunk when the boat first went over.
For a time the violence of the sea defeated all the efforts of the men to right the boat, but at last they got it over on its keel again and with infinite labor bailed it free of the water.
Its crew got back, and the other men swam to their boats and were hauled in.
The men were so thoroughly worn out by their labors that Captain Meinhold realized that it was hopeless to try to head for land at present.
He advised them not to still further exhaust their strength by any attempt at making progress while the sea still continued rough, but merely to keep the heads of the boats straight with the waves and avoid being caught broadside on.
“No matter which way we go or how far or how little,” he said, “let your aim be only to keep from filling and upsetting. After it becomes calmer it will be time enough to try to make progress. A few miles more or less now can make little difference. These waves cannot always roll like this. The sea seems to be going down all the time.”
The advice was followed. The utmost vigilance was observed by all, and every attention was given to “trimming ship” by changing positions at critical moments.
Now and then, when nothing else apparently would have saved the boats, some of the boldest of the men would spring overboard on the elevated side and by clinging to it restore the equilibrium.
Thus the day wore on until afternoon. No one but Buffalo Bill continued to be hopeful, for they seemed to have been saved so long only by a series of miracles—and miracles could not go on like that forever.
Had it not been for the border king’s cheery voice and manner some of the men would have thrown down their oars in blank despair; but his heroic helpfulness inspired new life and courage in many a sinking heart.
Fortunately there was as yet no lack of provisions. The schooner’s larder had been well provisioned for the surveying trip, and some of the food had been brought up and distributed before the boats left the sinking craft. The passengers and sailors carried their rations as best they could in their pockets or in the loose bosoms of their rough shirts.
Buffalo Bill continued to talk a great deal, whatever else he might chance to be doing, and listeners were not wanting; for the sound of a cheerful voice without a tremor in it was very welcome amid a babel of wails and groans and stifled shrieks—welcome even to those who, having lost their nerve, contributed most to the dismal chorus.
The king of the scouts took his turn regularly at rowing and at bailing, for he never shirked a duty—but whether he was doing these things, or taking a brief rest, or clambering with others over the highest gunwale of the boat to avoid a threatened upsetting, he talked incessantly, loudly cheering, sometimes even jokingly.
Many a pallid face in all three boats looked wonderingly into his and caught his infectious hope.
Captain Meinhold acknowledged his valuable services in this way again and again, and at one time said to him, pointing the compliment with an expressive look:
“I begin to think we shall get through safely after all, old fellow. We certainly ‘carry Cæsar.’”
“I don’t know about that,” was the quick response. “Perhaps you carry Jonah.”
It was right that such a man, who had long sustained the despairing hearts of his fellow voyagers, should be the first to discover for them the signs of a well-grounded hope of safety.
About noon the clouds which had been obscuring the sky began to break away, and the sun came out in all its glory, lighting a pathway through the distant haze.
“Land ahead!” shouted Buffalo Bill, in stentorian tones.
“Land ahead!” came back in wild response from the other boats, while cheer after cheer rose again and again, until the glad voices failed from exhaustion.
The land was miles distant, and they had only the vaguest idea of what sort of place it might be.
In all probability it was a wilderness inhabited by savage Indians, who, although nominally at peace with the white man, would yet not hesitate to take their scalps when they saw their weak, if not utterly hopeless, condition.
Buffalo Bill wished now that Congo had not prevented him from dashing down below and getting his weapons. They were likely to be badly needed when that land was reached.
But the rest of the company recked little of the dangers which might confront them ashore. The main fact in their minds was that there in front of them was the solid earth—grass-covered, tree-crowned, and beautiful. Could they but reach it and feel sure that a watery grave no longer yawned for them they felt that their happiness would be complete.
The greatest care was still needed, for there was danger that the excitement of this joy might produce some indiscretion which would result in wrecking them on the shore.
They were no longer content to remain stationary, and the boats were urged forward with moderate speed, instead of being simply kept head-on to the waves. But as every man was now hopeful and vigilant, and ready to plunge into the water, if necessary, in order to prevent a disaster, the peril rapidly diminished.
Their new hope did not deceive them. There began to be more appreciable abatement in the violence of the waves and the wind—slight, yet plainly perceptible.
After an hour and a half of laborious rowing they drew near the shore. Long before the keels grated on the pebbly beach some of the men jumped overboard in their excitement and swam to the shore. They were eager to set their feet firmly on it and make sure that it was no mirage—no mocking dream.
The place where they had landed was utterly unknown even to Buffalo Bill, for he had not hitherto explored the coasts of the lake. For all that he knew they might be a hundred miles from any human habitation, except, perhaps, those of men whom it would be dangerous to meet—the redskins.
While most of the men rested and ate their rations the border king set out with Captain Meinhold on an exploring trip.
The news which they had to bring back when they returned to their party toward evening was not encouraging.
They had discovered that they had landed on an island—and one of no great dimensions, either.
They had seen no signs of human habitations—not even a track or so much as a broken twig to show that the place was visited by men from the mainland.
This was not strange, for it was evident to the two explorers that the island could not support life for any length of time, certainly not for such a large party as theirs.
The men ate their supper gloomily when they heard these tidings. They had had enough of the boats and never wanted to enter them again, but it was evident that they must.
“Let us wait here for to-night, at all events,” said a young fellow named Hare, who was one of the surveyors, and was now having his first taste of Western life, having been born and bred in the East, where he had left his wife and his people when he got his appointment as surveyor in the government service.
Buffalo Bill agreed that this was a good idea, and all of the party made themselves as comfortable as they could for the night. They were too tired to talk, and soon after dark nearly all of them were fast asleep.
The border king and Captain Meinhold did not think it was necessary to set a watch during the night, for they had satisfied themselves that the island was absolutely uninhabited.
Besides, all the men were too tired to do sentry duty, unless their lives certainly and surely depended upon it. Even then it was doubtful if they would have been able to keep awake.
In the morning they were all feeling better for their long and refreshing sleep, but a new difficulty presented itself. Their stock of provisions was running perilously low, and the island afforded apparently no chance of replenishing it.
This naturally hastened the departure from the island, and the men rowed lustily for the mainland, still out of sight. The bad weather had abated, though the sea was still by no means smooth. The work was hard, but not by any means so exhausting as on the previous day.
“It looks as if we shall get through our troubles after all,” said Captain Meinhold to Cody.
“I’m sure I hope so,” said the king of the scouts. “When we hit the land we must try to find out where we are, and then make a bee line for Fort McPherson. It won’t be an easy journey, I’m afraid, in the wretched condition we are in. Why, we haven’t even got a rifle with which to shoot game.”
Needless to say, Cody did not let the men overhear this last rather gloomy view of the case. He whispered it to Captain Meinhold. To them he kept a face as smiling and a manner as cheery as ever.
All day the men rowed, but when darkness fell they were still out of sight of land.
During the night another violent squall sprang up on the treacherous surface of the lake, and again they had to battle desperately for their lives against wind and wave.
When the dawn broke one of the boats was missing. It was the one that had overturned and been righted. After looking vainly for it for some time Meinhold and Cody came to the conclusion that it had been sunk in the squall.
A few hours after dawn, in splendid weather, the shipwrecked party sighted the mainland.