Hank Hazletine and Jack Dudley having failed to find the missing Fred Greenwood, let us try our hand at the task.
Going back to that afternoon when the elder youth from his concealment on the crest of the ridge fired down into the little herd of antelope grazing in the valley in front of him, and secured a supper for the two, it will be remembered that Fred had started along the side of the valley, with a view of placing himself beyond the game and rendering the success of himself and friend certain.
He never dreamed of danger to himself. His attention was fixed upon the pretty animals, and, hungry as he was, he felt a sympathy for them, knowing that in all probability one of the number would be sacrificed. Nevertheless, he put forth the utmost pains to prevent their taking alarm, and there is hardly a doubt that he would have succeeded in his purpose but for the catastrophe which overtook him when half the distance had been passed.
Suddenly, while he was stealing forward in a crouching posture, a low, threatening voice reached his ear. Only the single word, "Stop!" was uttered, but it could not have startled the youth more than the whir of a rattlesnake under his feet. Before he could straighten up he turned his head like a flash. Not a rod distant, kneeling upon one knee, was Motoza, the Sioux, with his Winchester aimed at him!
Believing that he would press the trigger of his weapon the next moment, Fred Greenwood was transfixed. He could only look at his enemy and await the end. He was without the power to raise a finger in his own defence.
"Drop gun!" commanded his master. The words showed the lad that he had a few minutes at least to live, but the "drop" was on him and he promptly obeyed.
"Drop little gun!" added the Sioux, who never wavered in keeping his rifle pointed at the chest of the young man.
Fred withdrew his revolver and flung it at his feet. He was now without a single firearm. An infant could not have been more helpless.
As yet he had not spoken a word. He recalled the warning of Jack Dudley, and knew the ferocious hatred this vagrant redskin held toward him. To appeal for mercy would delight the miscreant and not aid the prisoner. He tried another tack.
"What do you want with me, Motoza?"
The question pleased the Sioux, who, partly lowering his rifle, still held it ready for instant use. His ugly countenance was broken by the old grin.
"Huh! You call Motoza tief, eh?"
"That's what I called you, and that's what you are!"
"Huh! Me kill you!"
"You can do that easily enough, but you'll never live to brag about it. If the officers don't hang you, Hank Hazletine will make daylight shine through your hide! He is only waiting for an excuse."
"White man dog--me not afraid--me kill him!" said the Sioux, with a dangerous glitter in his snake-like eyes.
"You can't do it too soon. But what are you waiting for?"
Motoza had not counted upon such defiance; but if it lessened his contempt it did not diminish his hate nor weaken his purpose.
"You go; me follow; me point rifle if you run; if you call, me shoot!"
"Which way do you wish me to travel?"
The Sioux pointed toward the bend in the valley for which Fred was making when checked in this peremptory manner. To obey was to take him further from his comrade, but he obeyed.
As he moved off, Motoza picked up the two weapons from the ground, thrusting the revolver into the girdle at his waist, while he carried the Winchester in his other hand. Fred heard him a few paces in the rear, as well as the repetition of his threats to fire on the least attempt of the prisoner to regain his freedom or to attract the attention of his friends.
The youth never doubted that he would carry out this threat, and he would have been a zany to draw the explosion of wrath. He walked forward and did his best to obey the orders of his enemy in spirit and letter.
The young man thought intently. The shock of the belief that instant death impended was somewhat softened by the knowledge that the crisis was deferred for a time at least, though it was impossible to guess for how long.
What was the ultimate intention of the Sioux? It seemed probable to Fred that he was afraid to slay him at the spot of capture, since the body would be sure of discovery by his friends, with a good chance of learning the identity of the assassin. What more likely, therefore, than that he was conducting him to some remote place, where his body would never be found?
It was not natural that an active, sturdy youth like Fred Greenwood should submit to be led thus meekly to slaughter, but in what possible way could he help himself? If he wheeled about to assail the buck he was without a single weapon, while the Sioux was doubly armed. A glance over his shoulder showed his enemy almost within arm's reach.
Not the least trying feature of this extraordinary proceeding was that Fred had to hear the report of Jack Dudley's rifle, followed by his shouts, which plainly reached the ears of the one who dared make no reply. He could only continue walking until the bend in the valley was passed, when a change of direction took place.
It was no longer necessary to conceal themselves from observation, for there was no one to be feared. From the facts that afterward came to light there is little doubt that Tozer and Motoza had held a conference previous to the capture and fixed upon a definite line of procedure, for otherwise it is not conceivable that the Sioux would have spared the life of his captive.
With numerous turnings, and with the sounds of Jack Dudley's shouts and firing faintly reaching his ears, young Greenwood continued marching in front of his captor long after the sun had set and night closed in. He had lost all idea of the points of the compass, but the fact that the tramp continued and that no harm was done him inspired the prisoner with a degree of hope that was altogether lacking at the opening of his strange adventure.
Suddenly a roaring noise struck him, and a short distance further he reached the break in the canyon with which he had become familiar. This enabled him to locate himself, and he looked around to learn the further wishes of his master. From the moment of starting Fred had been on the alert for a chance to make a break for liberty, but none occurred. The Sioux was too vigilant to tempt him.
The long immunity from harm had given the lad a certain self-assurance. As yet he had formed no suspicion of the real purpose of the Sioux, but, somehow or other, he believed his own death was not likely to be attempted for a number of hours to come.
"Well, Motoza, here we are! What's the next step?"
The Indian raised one of the hands grasping a Winchester and pointed toward the canyon.
"Go dere--jump on rock!"
"My gracious! I can't do that!"
"Den me kill!"
As if angered beyond restraint, he made a leap toward the startled youth, who recoiled a step, and, esteeming a death by drowning preferable to the one which threatened him, made haste to reply:
"All right; I'll try it."
But it was necessary that the miscreant should give some instructions to his prisoner. These were simple. He was to leap upon the rock nearest to shore, and then, by the same means, ascend the canyon until ordered to stop. From what has already been related concerning Jack Dudley's experience, it will be seen that the task was difficult and dangerous.
There was no choice, however. He had gained a general knowledge of the canyon and felt almost certain he would be overtaken by accident; but in many respects his experience was so similar to that which was afterward undergone by his comrade that the particulars need not be dwelt upon. He found the work less laborious than he expected. The Sioux by gesture indicated the rocks, when they were not clear to the boy, who found no trouble in making the leaps. In every case he had hardly landed when the buck dropped lightly at his side.
A desperate scheme was half-formed more than once while this singular progress was going on. It was purposely to miss his footing and allow himself to be carried away by the tumultuous torrent. He was restrained by two good reasons. Motoza was likely to seize him before he was swept beyond reach, and if he did not he would inevitably drown. Accordingly, Fred kept at it until finally they reached the ledge up which Hank Hazletine climbed twenty-four hours later.
By this time a suspicion of the partial truth had penetrated the mind of Fred. There must be some cavity in the rocks where his captor meant to hold him for awhile as prisoner. The plan of securing a large ransom in payment for his freedom was not dreamt of by the youth. No one would think of looking in this place for him, and he would be secure for an indefinite period.
Motoza had learned several things from his association with those of Caucasian blood, one of which was that a rubber match-safe is preferable to rubbing two dry sticks together when in need of fire, or using the old-fashioned steel and flint.
He managed with some trouble to make Fred understand he was to climb up the ledge, and he followed so deftly that the prisoner was given no chance to try to prevent him. A minute after they stood side by side, Motoza struck a match, and his captive had a glimpse of the cavern which has already been described.
Here, then, was the end of the journey. This was to be the prison of Fred Greenwood until when? When was he to be released, or was he not to be released at all?
Passing well back in the gloom the two sat down, so far removed from the roar and tumult of the torrent that they could talk without difficulty. Fred was still apprehensive of some sudden violence from the Sioux, and, though in the gloom he could see nothing of him, he was ready to make the best struggle possible.
"Am I to stay here, Motoza?" he asked, raising his voice to a high pitch.
Instead of replying directly, the Indian asked:
"Huh! you fader hab heap money, eh?"
This simple question revealed the whole plot and confirmed the statement already made that the scheme for holding Fred Greenwood for ransom by his relatives was arranged before his abduction took place.
It was a great discovery for Fred Greenwood to make. On the instant nearly all his fears vanished and his heart glowed with hope. This being remembered, he can hardly be blamed for drawing matters with rather a long bow.
"Yes," he made haste to say, "my father has money; a hundred times more than I have," all which was true without involving more than a moderate sum.
"He gib heap money fur you, eh?"
"Of course; I come high."
"He gib thousand--gib ten thousand--hundred thousand--million dollar--eh?"
"Well, that's a pretty good sum; I'm afraid my father wouldn't think I am worth as much as that; but there's no doubt, Motoza, he will pay you a good price; is it your plan to sell me to him?"
The Sioux made no answer to this, though Fred repeated the question. The sullen silence of the Indian brought back the misgivings of the captive. He could not doubt that he had been abducted with a view of being ransomed, but it was impossible to credit Motoza with the whole scheme. He must have allies, and, knowing nothing of Bill Tozer, Fred suspected that a half-dozen vagrant Indians, more or less, were engaged in it, though it seemed singular that no one else had shown himself thus far.
Although the prisoner had been in better spirits than would be suspected, his situation was uncomfortable and he lost hope with the passage of the hours. Motoza refused to hold any further conversation, and was evidently brooding over something of an unpleasant nature. By and by he lit his pipe and silently puffed. He was sitting on the flinty floor, with his back against the side of the cavern and his legs thrust out in front of him.
Now and then, when he drew a little harder on the pipe, the glow in the bowl revealed the tip of his nose, a part of the painted forehead, and the glittering black eyes. It was a gruesome picture, for, even when he was invisible, it seemed to Fred he could see the gleam of those eyes fixed upon him.
"Now, I know he hates me beyond expression," mused the youth, "and nothing would delight him more than to torture me to death. If he agrees to give me my liberty, it will be just like him to kill me as soon as he gets the money which father will gladly pay for my safety."
It will be seen that the trend of Fred's thoughts was similar to those of Hank Hazletine, when considering the same matter. Whatever project might be in the minds of others, the youth would be in danger so long as he was in the power of the wretch whom he had unpardonably insulted.
Naturally, Fred had asked himself more than once whether it was possible for him to make his escape from the cavern. It was out of the question so long as the Sioux was his companion, but if he should leave him alone, even for a short time, the youth was resolved to make the attempt.
These and similar thoughts were chasing one another through his brain when he fell asleep. He was very tired from his long tramp and did not open his eyes until the faint light of morning penetrated his prison. He had not forgotten to wind his watch, and when he looked at it he saw to his astonishment that it was nearly eight o'clock. He had slept for more than ten hours.
The next cause of his surprise was to find he was alone. Motoza had left while he was asleep, though how long previous it was impossible to guess. But the hunger which Fred Greenwood had felt on more than one previous occasion was as naught compared to the ravenous appetite that now had possession of him. It was a long time since he had eaten, and it looked as if it would be a long time before he ate again. There was absolutely nothing in the cavern beside himself. He felt in his pockets in the weak hope of finding a forgotten fish-hook that could be used, though he possessed nothing in the nature of bait; but, inasmuch as he had not brought a hook with him, it would not do to say he succeeded in his search, though he displaced the piece of writing-paper afterward found by his friend.
Forcing all thought of food from him for the time, he asked why, now that his gaoler was absent, he should not pick his way down the canyon and make a break for liberty. At the same time he could not forget that one of the most improbable acts of the Sioux would be to give him any chance at all to escape.
It was more than likely that Motoza had laid the temptation in his way, that it might serve him as a pretext for shooting his prisoner. Fred resolved, therefore, to be careful in all that he did. The necessity of drinking and bathing his face was his excuse for walking out to the border of the ledge and letting himself down to the rock underneath. There he dipped up what water he needed in the palms of his hands, and while doing so scanned every part of the canyon in his field of vision.
He noted the narrow strip of sky far aloft, the tumbling waters above and below where he stood, the black boulders protruding their heads above the torrent which flung itself fiercely against them, the craggy walls of the canyon, but nowhere did he catch sight of the Sioux who had brought him hither. None the less, Fred felt so certain his black eyes were watching him from some hidden point that he did not yield to the temptation to leap to the nearest boulder and start on his flight for liberty. Instead, he grasped the margin of the ledge and drew himself up to his former place.
There, however, he paused with folded arms and surveyed the strange scene more leisurely than before. He was anxious to discover the Sioux if anywhere in sight, but the fellow did not show himself.
The roar of the canyon had been in his ears so long that it seemed like silence, and it had lulled him to sleep hours before. He was still suffering from hunger and longed for the return of his captor, for he thought he would bring food with him.
Providentially the lad had stood in this position but a short time when he looked aloft toward the sky. At the moment of doing so he uttered an exclamation of affright and leaped back into the mouth of the cavern. The next instant a boulder that must have weighed a ton crashed upon the ledge where he had been standing, splintered off a number of pieces, and plunged into the torrent below.
Fred did not try to make himself believe that the falling of this mass of stone was an accident. Motoza or one of his allies had been on the watch above for the appearance of the youth, and when the boulder had been adjusted as well as possible it was tumbled over into the canyon. Had Fred remained on the spot a few moments longer he would have been crushed like an insect under the wheel of a steam-engine.
It was a startling occurrence, and in his weakened condition made him so faint that he withdrew still further into the cavern and sat down, trembling like a leaf. His hunger had vanished and hope almost departed.
"It will not do for me to leave the cavern in the daytime, for he is waiting for me to do so. I can't do it at night without some one to guide me. He means to keep me here until I die of starvation."
Fred had come really to believe this. He knew enough of Indian nature to understand that the race rarely inflict instant death upon an enemy when it is in their power to subject him to torture or slay in some horrible fashion. Motoza had not slain him before because he was unwilling that the one whom he hated so intensely should receive such mercy. It would be a hundredfold sweeter to the Sioux to see his prisoner dying by inches.
"If he has a plan for making father pay a ransom for me it will take a number of days to bring the thing to an end. During all that time I am to be left without a morsel of food; he would deprive me of water, too, if he could."
It was a shocking conclusion to form, but the usually clear-headed boy became convinced he was right.
"Poor Jack must be worried almost to death," he murmured, sitting on the stones and giving rein to his fancies; "he will know that something has gone wrong with me, but he can never know what it was. Hank will lay it to Motoza, for he has said there is nothing too wicked for him to do, but the cowman has no way of finding what has become of me, and he can't make Motoza tell him. He and Jack may hunt for weeks without suspecting where I am."
In this declaration Fred Greenwood, as is known, was not quite correct, though the search of his friends was fruitless.
