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Peril Finders

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<h3>Chapter Thirty Nine.</h3> <h4>Among the Hornets.</h4> It had been a day of severe exertion mentally and bodily, during which the boy’s nature had done its best; but the time came at last when it could do no more, and he rode on at that steady walk, sleeping profoundly, so deeply that he did not know when the mustang suddenly stopped short as if in doubt, and stood with ears pointed forward sniffing at the stones beneath its hoofs, wrested them to the right and again to the left, as if there was some taint in the air. Then the doubt increased, and it bore to the right, stopped, bore to the left again, sniffed more loudly, lowered its head and sniffed again, uttered a low sigh, and resumed its steady walk, on and on, for how long Chris never knew, but hours had passed and he was back again in the square hole which Griggs termed a trap, listening to what he said about the stones which covered the bottom while he made the soft glow of the lanthorn play before his eyes. Then all at once the dream gave place to the real, and Chris was half-conscious. It took some moments before he realised that he was gripping a saddle with stiffening knees and riding forward, and he couldn’t tell why. At last, though, a mist seemed to fade away from his thinking powers, and he knew what it all meant. He was riding, and he had been to sleep. But why? What for? The answer to those questions came in due course, and he sighed with weariness. “Oh dear,” he muttered, “I wonder how far it is now. Nearly as far as before,” he thought, for he couldn’t have been asleep more than a minute. Then for another minute he was confused upon looking at the soft faint glow of the lanthorn held by Griggs in the trap. “What nonsense!” he said peevishly. “How muddled my head is. But that’s a light over there. Why!—I say!—Oh!” His whole feelings changed as he uttered those interjections, and the tones of his voice were as if the words were positive, comparative, and superlative. “We must be close to the valley,” he thought. “The Indians can’t have come, and father has had a camp-fire kept up as a guide for me, and I’ll be bound to say there’ll be something cooking, because he’ll think of how hungry I shall be. “There’s a good old dad,” he said to himself, beginning to feel bright and happy now, and as invigorated as if he had partaken of refreshment. “Well, I am glad, and I am hungry, and I’ll say so too. I don’t care if old Ned sneers when I say I am, and tells me that I’m worse than he is. Oh, hooray! You good old mustang! You’re the best pony that ever lived, and I love you as much as a fellow can love a nag. Just think of you bringing me straight back all through that black gulch—me asleep too! There, old chap,” he continued, patting the little animal’s neck, “I won’t forget your mash. You shall have it before I eat a morsel. I wouldn’t take a hundred pounds for you if any one offered it; but nobody will, and I don’t want it if he did. “Yes,” he continued, as the pony paced steadily on, “they’ve got a good fire, and it must be very near now. Sniff, sniff. Why, it’s meat roasting. My! It does smell good! Shall I coo-ee and let them know I’m so close? No, I’ll ride right up into the light and surprise them. Father will be wide awake watching for me, and old Ned’ll be snoring, I know. He might have sat up too. I should have done so for him, because I should have felt uneasy about what had happened. Sniff! Sniff! I wonder what they’ve got! It smells like mutton. How did they manage to get it? Not one of those mountain-sheep?” A shrill low whinny from right ahead where the fire was burning brightly now and casting shadows from the trees and bushes, and also bringing into sight a tall figure seated as it were in the air, till Chris recognised the fact that it was a mounted man. “Father waiting to ride out and meet me,” thought Chris, as a thrill ran through him, caused by the answering whinny of his mustang. The next moment, as the boy was about to urge it forward right into the light, there was a hoarse yell, more shadows appeared in the bright glow, and Chris stopped to seize his neglected rein, and drag his pony’s head round, urging it with hand and voice to bound away along the returning track, for in the bright light of the fire the boy had fully awakened to the fact that he had been riding straight for an Indian encampment, right in amongst the enemies he had been trying so hard to avoid. <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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