HARRY OSBURN DECIDES TO PROCEED ON HIS JOURNEY.
LIFE IN SALT LAKE CITY;
OR,
A Visit to the Mormons.
By LEON LEWIS,
AUTHOR OF “THE GIRL HERMIT," "THE BOY MAGICIAN," "THE BROKEN HOME," "RED KNIFE,"
etc., etc., etc.
CHAPTER III.
A HAPPY CHANCE.
Oft what seems
A trifle, a mere nothing by itself,
In some nice situation, turns the scale
Of fate, and rules the most important actions.
Thomson.
For a moment—and naturally enough—Harry Osburn was appalled by the horrors of his situation.
Either his assailants intended to bury him alive, or they meant to kill him and give burial to his body.
As despair, however, seldom takes possession of a truly brave man, the young Gentile was not hopeless.
A traveller might come that way, a hunter, almost any one, and so interfere with the proposed murder, either actively or by the mere fact of their presence.
These chances were slim enough, it is true, but they were sufficient to keep the spark of hope alive in Harry's bosom.
He hoped, therefore, and awaited further developments, watching and listening, without betraying that he had recovered his senses.
The sun had set while his capture was being effected, and dense shadows were now enveloping the mountain gorge, but the prisoner was able to see with sufficient distinctness what was going on around him.
Bull and Bear continued their task of digging the grave, throwing up the earth with such ease and in such quantities as to indicate that the job would soon be finished.
Their leader lighted a cigar, continuing to superintend their operations.
"Why need we bury him, Cap'n?" asked Bear.
"That's the Elder's orders," was the answer. "The Elder wants him to disappear utterly from the face of the earth. He don't want any one to know what has become of him. He don't want even the body to be found, for that'd show foul play."
"But what's True's idee ?"
"Why, his idea is to tell Miss Burton that her lover has dug out; that he isn't coming to Salt Lake City; that he has gone somewhere else, and all that."
"Oh, I see!" muttered Bear. "Bully for the Elder! As the showman says, 'He pays his money, and he takes his choice.' Bury it is, since he pays us well for the business."
These few words threw all necessary light upon Harry's situation.
"It's all up with me," was his conviction.
"And Winnie's peril is scarcely less than mine. A fiendish plot has been formed against us."
Just as the young Gentile reached these conclusions, a hand stole out of the bushes against which he was lying, and touched him warningly upon the arm.
With a suppressed start of astonishment, he looked in that direction.
Through a little rift in the leaves, he saw a diminutive, crouching figure, which he could not at first make out, but which he soon perceived to be a pale, thin, tow-headed girl of about a dozen summers.
She was lying fiat on the ground, and was so entirely screened by the bushes that Harry could not see even the outlines of her form.
To the Danites she was invisible, of course.
She had wriggled to the spot like a serpent, during the few minutes preceding, from the road, taking advantage of the double protection of the bushes and the darkness.
Her large eyes betrayed a terrible excitement, but also a rare courage.
"I'm Mountain Jack's girl," she whispered.
Harry looked at the Danites. The leader had fallen into a reverie and had his back half turned to his prisoner.
Bull and Bear were as busy as ever.
"I have a knife," continued the small voice, as Harry's eyes came back to the girl.
This whisper, like the other, was too low to have reached the leader's ears, even had he been ordinarily observant.
"And I'm going to cut your ropes, Mister," piped the little heroine. "Don't move!"
The revulsion of feeling produced in Harry's soul by these communications was as complete as sudden.
Relief was clearly at hand!
The voice of the little stranger indicated that she meant business, and this indication was instantly followed by action.
An ordinary pocket-knife was thrust carefully but surely against the ropes with which the young Gentile had been bound, and they were all rapidly severed, one after another.
"All clear?" finally asked the girl.
Harry moved his limbs enough to be sure of the fact, and then answered affirmatively.
"Then give me a chance," the girl added.
"A chance to get away?" returned Harry. "All right. I'll wait."
For a few moments he lay perfectly still, while the girl wriggled away under cover of the darkness and the bushes. The joy, the relief, the wild jubilance with which he thus waited can be imagined.
His revolver was still in the breast pocket of his coat, where he had carried it at the moment of his capture. The fact was, the Danites had bound him so securely that they did not care how many arms were in his possession.
He waited until a little pebble came through the bushes against his breast, from the direction of the road, and then he knew that the girl had placed herself in a secure hiding-place and was anxious for him to be moving.
He was about to leap to his feet, revolver in hand, and assail the Danites, beginning with their leader, when an ejaculation from one of the grave-diggers disturbed the silence.
"Got it deep enough?" asked their leader, starting from his reverie. "Plenty," answered Bull. "Then bring the cub to it." The two men laid down their spades, and stumbled their way over the rough ground to the spot where Harry was lying.
How his whole soul made ready for their coming!
They had advanced to within three or four yards of him, when, with a veil that would have startled a Blackfoot, he leaped to his feet, at the same instant levelling his revolver at the foremost Danite and pulling the trigger.
With an answering yell, the doomed man leaped a yard into the air, and fell his full length to the ground, dead.
A second shot was followed by a similar result, the second Danite falling mortally wounded, and then Harry leaped toward the spot where he had last seen their leader.
This spot was now vacant, for that personage, unable to comprehend the assault, and supposing that numerous rescuers were at hand, had taken to his heels, and was bounding with desperate strides toward his horse.
It was in vain that Harry, bounding in the same direction, and discharging several shots in succession, tried to stop the fugitive. In less time than is required to state the fact, the chief of the Danites had reached his horse, leaped into the saddle, and was riding away at full gallop in the direction of Salt Lake City.
Seeing that pursuit was useless, Harry came to a halt, on reaching the road, and replaced his revolver in his pocket.
"So much for Mountain Jack's girl!" he muttered, with the generous gratitude of a true hero. " No human being ever received a more timely aid than she gave me. Where is the little heroine?"
"Here, Mister," said the girl, slipping from a dense copse by the wayside, and approaching him with a jubilance equal to his own. "I was sure you'd kill 'em, Mister, or drive 'em away!"
The tenderness with which Harry saluted her did honor to his heart. It was not enough for him to take her hand, to look gratefully into her face, and into her spirited eyes. He caught her to his breast, with a hearty embrace and a shower of kisses, half lifting her from her feet.
"You're a brave little girl," he then said, releasing her. "I shall never forget how good you have been to me. You have saved my life!"
"I couldn't help coming," she declared simply. "I was digging a sassafras root near the road when the men came along. They acted so queer that I followed 'em and watched 'em. You know the rest."
Harry was deeply touched by this simple explanation. He could not help fevering the ways of Providence, who had made such a mere child the instrument of his preservation.
"But I must hurry home now, sir," added the quaint the speck of humanity. "Ma will be worried about me. Pa is away from home now, and Uncle Tom has gone to Camp Douglas."
"And who is at home with your mother?"
"Only Benny and Tommy." '' Where do you live ?"
"Just out of the gorge," and she waved her hand toward the top of the mountain. "It's only just a little ways to our house from here."
" What is your name ?" " Susan, Mister."
"How old are you?" "Twelve last May."
"And how old are Benny and Tommy ?”
" Benny is six, and Tommy is eight."
Harry glanced at the horses of Bull and Bear, which were still quietly browsing in the dell where the Danites had left them.
"When will your father be at home again, Susan?" he asked.
"In the morning."
"All right. When he comes, here are a couple of horses he had better take charge of until they are called for."
"I will tell him, sir," said Susan.
"And now," proposed Harry, "if you will show me the way, Susan, I shall be glad to see your mother."
Susan led the way, with pleased alacrity, and they soon reached the western extremity of the gorge, where it widened sufficientlv to merit the name of table.
"There's your horse, Mister," suddenly cried Susan.
This was found to be the fact. The animal had fled from the gorge, after bounding from under Harry, at the moment of his capture, and was now feeding quietly by the wayside. The young Gentile secured him, with a thrill of satisfaction, and resumed his way, leading him by the bridle.
"I saw that something dreadful was going to happen," said Susan. "One of the men stood in the edge of the bushes, with the lasso in his hand, ready to throw it, all the time you was talking."
"I understand the whole matter now, Susan," said Harry gravely. "They meant to kill me."
"But why, Mister?"
"Because an old Elder in Salt Lake City hired them to do so!"
"An old Elder!" and the girl started, looking up quickly. "Who?"
"Hyson True."
The girl halted abruptly, facing her companion, so as to bring him to a halt. She inserted her right fore-finger into one of the button-holes of his coat, securing a firm hold. Then she took the button corresponding to that hole between the thumb and fore-linger of her left-hand. And finally she looked up into his face with a bright, roguish, knowing expression.
"I bet I know who you are. Mister," she exclaimed.
"Who I am? Impossible, Susan! I have never been here before."
"I don't care for that. I bet I know who you are."
"Well, who am I?"
"You're Harry Osburn!"
Had lightning burst from the sky at that moment, Harry would not have been more astonished.
He stood as if transfixed.
"An't you Harry?" the girl added, continuing to look up into his face.
"Yes, I am, Susan. But how did you know it ?"
"I won't tell you now, sir." declared the little sprite, releasing her hold of his coat and facing toward her home. "You just ask ma!"
"Your mother, Susan! Does she know me, too?"
"Well, you just see if she don't!"
Tossing her head archly, while her eyes danced merrily, she resumed her homeward walk, and Harry hastened to bear her company, still leading his horse.
The couple had thus advanced a quarter of a mile to the westward, following the windings of the road up the eastern ascents of Little Mountain, when a light suddenly flashed upon their gaze, at no great distance ahead of them.
"There is where I live, sir," said Susan, pointing at the light.
"Indeed ! How far is it from here to the city?" "Fourteen miles." "So far? I thought I was nearer." “No. It is seventeen miles from Big Kanyon Creek station to the City. From Big Kanyon Creek station to the foot of Little Mountain is two miles, and from there to our house is about a mile; so that you see we are fourteen miles from the city."
"Then I shall have trouble to get through tonight, said Harry.
"You can't get through till morning, sir. See how dark it is!"
The darkness was indeed intense, the night having fully fallen, and tin sky being covered by a dense canopy of clouds.
"I'll decide about going on after I have talked with your mother," said Harry thoughtfully. "I'd like to get through to-night if I can."
They went on a little further in silence, and then Harry perceived the outlines of a log cabin, of respectable size, nestled under some tall trees in the centre of a clearing, on one of the tables of the mountain.
"Here we are," murmured Susan, with joyous excitement, "and there is ma in the door-way."
At the sound of her daughter's voice, the mother stepped to her fireplace, selected a flaming brand, and came out into the little in-closure in front of the cabin, holding the brand above her head.
She was a plain, simple-minded woman, with the aspect of a pioneer's wife, although neatly dressed, but was evidently honest, brave and good-hearted, and possessed of more intelligence and refinement than is usually found in such an humble condition.
"Where have you been so long, Susy?" she called. "I have been alarmed about you—"
She interrupted herself, as she perceived that her daughter was accompanied by a stranger.
"Good-evening, Madam," said" Harry, lifting his hat. " I am responsible for the long absence of your daughter. She has been giving me some very valuable assistance, and some very interesting information!"
"You are a traveller, I suppose?" returned the mother, as she came to a halt. "From the East?"
"Yes, Madam," answered Harry, also halting, just in front of her. "I am on my way to Salt Lake City."
"Live there, I presume?" "No, Madam. I have never been there. This is my first trip so far west."
"Got relations or acquaintances there, then?" continued the woman, who was scanning Harry curiously, and waving her improvised torch to and fro, to make it flame up brightly.
"Yes, I have friends there."
"Do you know Doctor Burton and his family?"
Harry's face flushed joyfully.
"Know them?" he exclaimed. "Most intimately. I am now on my way to visit them."
The woman uttered a cry of pleasure, and smiled benignantly upon him.
"I knew it! I knew it!" she cried. "I knew you, sir, the first minute I set eyes on you!" "You did? Pray, who am I?"
"You are Mr. Osburn—Harry Osburn!"
As much as he had been prepared for this recognition by what Susan had told him, Harry recoiled several steps in amazement. For the third time within an hour his name had been pronounced, at first sight, by an utter stranger.
" Well, this is strange enough!" he ejaculated.
"Yes, it is—strange enough that you should come along at just this moment," declared the woman smilingly. "Walk in, Mr. Osburn—walk in. Susy will take your horse to the barn. I was sure that you could be no other than Mr. Osburn. Walk in."
In a maze of wonder, Harry relinquished the bridle of his horse to Susan, who led the animal away toward a small barn at the rear of the clearing, with an injunction from the mother to feed him. Then he followed the lady into the humble dwelling, accepting an invitation to be seated.
"Are you travelling alone, Mr. Osburn?" she asked, as she set about preparing her guest supper.
"At this moment—yes, madam," he replied. "I left the party this morning with which I have been travelling from the end of the railroad."
"They didn't move fast enough for you, I presume, as you neared the end of your journey?" and she smiled significantly.
"Well, no—they didn't," acknowledged Harry, with an answering smile. "Their intention was to stop at Big Kanyon Creek station to-night; but I believed that I should be able to get through to the city to-day, by hurrying a little."
"But you got delayed?"
"Yes, by one cause and another. My horse proved more jaded than I supposed, and it was near night when I reached this little gorge to the east of us. In this gorge I was further hindered, as Susan and I will explain to you."
"Susy has had some talk with you, then? Did she tell you who we are? My husband's name is Jack Weber. He is usually called Mountain Jack."
"Because he lives in the mountains, I suppose?"
"Well, perhaps so. He is a hunter and trapper. you see, and sometimes a guide. We moved here last spring from the city, and have hardly got settled. As you may have noticed as you came in, we're just building a cellar under the house."
"I noticed the fact," responded Harry, "and could not help asking myself why you have come to such a strange place to live. I am told that these mountain passes are full of snow from November to February."
" And so they are," assented Mrs. Weber, busy with her culinary labors. "It is a strange country to live in, as you say," and a faint glow came to her cheeks; "but there's no accounting for tastes, you know. One motive of my husband in coming here to live, is to be near the game of which he is such an ardent hunter."
"He is absent just now. Susan told me."
"Yes, sir. He has gone to Salt Lake City on business. And this brings me to something that will interest you more than what I was saying about ourselves. Doctor Burton was here this afternoon, and even took a lunch with us."
This remark threw an instant light upon the situation.
"Ah! I see!" exclaimed Harry. "Dr. Burton is a friend of your family, Mrs. Weber?"
"Yes, sir. He has been here several times lately, and Miss Winnie and her mother have been here with him once, all riding out here together—last Thursday, I think it was—when my husband, I am sorry to say, happened to be absent."
The light which had begun to break upon Harry's mind became perfect day.
"I understand now, Mrs. Weber, how you knew me," he declared. " You have heard the Doctor speak of me—of my proposed arrival?"
"Yes, sir. Mrs. Burton and Miss Winnie also spoke of you the day they were here, and Miss Winnie made inquiries of me as to the dangers you would be likely to encounter in journeying from the end of the railroad."
"Ah! I see!" repeated Harry. "And all this talk about me put you on the look-out for me?"
"That's the simple fact of the matter."
"Well, all this makes me doubly delighted at making your acquaintance, Mrs. Weber," said Harry heartily. " I shall be a firm friend of your family from this time forward, even as I am a friend of Dr. Burton and his family. I hope Benny and Tommy are quite well?"
"Ah! the boys!" exclaimed Mrs. Weber, with the warmth of maternal affection and pride. "Susy told you their names, then? They are quite well, thank you; but they are still mere children, you know, and went to bed your arrival."
Susan returned from the barn at this moment, and Harry at once availed himself of the bright firelight to regard her more gratefully than ever
Her slight, delicate figure acquired new graces under this gaze, her eyes new brightness, and her features new beauty.
"I told you ma would know you, Mr. Osburn." said she, with the innocent freedom of girlhood, as she seated herself near him.
"What! You know the Gentleman's name, Susy?" exclaimed Mrs. Weber.
"Of course," replied the girl, giving her head a toss of self-importance. "Didn't I talk and talk with Miss Winnie about him? I told her that he was just as likely as not to stop here for a drink of water, or to make some inquiry, and then she told me just how he looked, and I've been looking out for him ever since."
"Well, well," exclaimed Mrs. Weber; "how you did get on with the young lady, for a first visit, to be sure!"
"And pa has said a great deal too," proclaimed Susan. "Didn't he and the Doctor talk and talk about him this afternoon?"
"That's a fact—they did," acknowledged the mother, turning to her guest. "Among other remarks that I remember, the Doctor said your arrival would be a good thing for him, in view of his troubles with the Mormons."
"His troubles with the Mormons!" echoed Harry, with a start.
"Yes, sir. An old Elder—"
"That, old Hyson True you mentioned, Mr. Osburn," interposed Susan.
"Well, there! That child has got eyes and ears for everything!" exclaimed Mrs. Weber, with a surprise that was equalled only by her admiration.
"The fact is, she is almost a woman!" rejoined Harry, extending his hand and stroking her somewhat tangled hair. "It's no wonder that she takes notice of everything, after the service she has rendered me to-night. An old Elder, you were saying, Mrs. Weber—"
"No less a personage, in fact, than Elder Hyson True," resumed Mrs. Weber, "has fallen madly in love with Miss Winnie since her arrival in Salt Lake City."
"That was what the Danite told me!" muttered Harry, half to himself.
"This old Elder has even sought her in marriage," added Mrs. Weber; "but Miss Winnie has utterly rejected his suit—or rather her parents have rejected it for her; and he can't so much as get a glimpse of her, so careful are the Doctor and Mrs. Burton to keep the old rascal at a distance!"
"Ah! this is something the Danite didn't tell me," ejaculated the young Gentile. Mrs. Weber proceeded:
"In consequence of this rebuff, the Elder has made sundry threats—got to be such a nuisance in fact, that the Doctor and his wife have about decided to leave Salt Lake City. My husband has for some days past been assisting them in their preparations for flight, and it is on this very business that he rode away with the Doctor this afternoon, and on which he is now absent!"
"Their flight?" cried Harry, with a profound surprise. "Where are they going?"
"I do not know, sir. But the Doctor will give you every information, of course, the moment you see him."
"Of course, if he does not start before my arrival!"
"Oh, there's little danger of that. They will not start, I think, for some days to come, or if they do, you will be here to go with them."
"And now to tell what we know, Mr. Osburn!" exclaimed Susan, who had for some moments been moving uneasily in her chair, so hard was it for her to retain her secret.
"What you know?" queried her mother.
"Yes, Mrs. Weber," Harry hastened to say, "for Susan and I have very singular news to tell you. I was attacked in the gorge by three men, who soon had me fast, having thrown a lasso over my head, and so taken me at a great disadvantage. Then they set to work digging a grave for me. Their idea was to prevent the discovery of my body, and to give out that I had gone, as the prodigal son did, to a ' far country.’ But Susan crept up in the darkness, with the aid of the bushes, and cut the ropes with which I had been bound, and I then drew my revolver on the three men, and with such good effect that two of them will never give any other traveller any trouble. The third succeeded in making his escape."
"I heard a horseman dash by at full speed a little while ago," rejoined Mrs. Weber. "He must have been your runaway. But who were these men, Mr. Osburn?"
"They were Danites," replied Harry. "The leader said that he was Porter Rockwell, but I doubt the assertion. Whoever he may be, he brought me a letter purporting to be from Miss. Burton, but I saw at a glance that it was a forgery, and told him so in plain terms, whereupon he made instant war upon me. And had it not been for Susan's presence and courage," he concluded, with deep emotion, "I should now be dead and buried!"
The emotion of the groung Gentile awoke an answering feeling in the mother's heart.
"My brave little darling!" she cried, embracing and kissing Susan. " How proud her father will be of her! But what is the secret of this attack, Mr. Osburn?"
"Why, the secret appears to be, that the old Elder has got track of my expected arrival in Utah—"
Mrs. Weber interrupted him with a gesture.
"Stop! let me see!" she murmured reflectively. "Yes, I remember. The Doctor, in speaking of the Elder, told my husband that he had informed the old sinner of Miss Winnie's betrothal to you, in order to make him see clearly that his suit for her hand had not the least chance of being accepted."
"Ah, this makes the whole matter plain!" murmured Harry. "It is easy to comprehend how the Doctor was forced, by sheer desperation, to tell the Elder of my betrothal; and having said that much about the matter, the Doctor doubtless added, for the sake of extinguishing the Mormon's light, that, I was already on my way to Salt Lake City. Yes, this was the way the old Elder got track of me, no doubt."
By this time Harry's supper was ready, and he proceeded to do it traveller's justice, at the same time giving Mrs. Weber the details of his late adventure with the Danites, and of Susan's heroic conduct. When he had finished both his repast and his explanations, he gave the girl a ten-dollar gold piece, for her present gratification, remarking to her mother that lie would prove his gratitude for the priceless service she had rendered him more substantially in the future.
"And now," said he, arising from the table, "I must be thinking about the balance of my journey."
Mrs. Weber stepped to the entrance of the house, looking out into the night.
"As you are a perfect stranger to the mountains," she said, "you cannot go on to the city in this darkness."
Harry stepped out into the inclosure in front of the house and looked about him.
"It is dark," he admitted—"as dark a night as I ever saw, and it is needless to add that I do not know a foot of the road between here and the city. But I am doubly anxious to get, through to-night, Mrs. Weber, after this murderous attack upon me, and especially after what you have told me about, the annoyances to which the Doctor and his family are being subjected."
"I can understand your anxiety to get through to-night, Mr. Osburn," returned Mrs. Weber; " but take my advice, and do not try it You have no idea of the dangers of the road. They are terrible, even in the day-time—"
"But, I think I will make the effort to get through. Mrs. Weber," interrupted Harry. " If I find the way getting too rough for me, after going a mile or two, I will return. Can you give me a lantern?"
"Yes, sir. a good one, that will burn all night, if you insist upon going on," answered Mrs. Weber.
"I think I'd better make a trial, then," opined Harry. " It is still early in the evening. My horse has had quite a bite by the wayside—"
"And four quarts of oats, sir," interposed Susan. " He was quite cool. I led him immediately."
"It is decided, then," said Harry. " I’ll be off at once."
And In five minutes more, after loading his revolver and taking a friendly leave of his new friends, the young Gentile was again on his way to Salt Lake City.
CHAPTER IV.
HARRY IN A TRYING SITUATION.
Blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least we'll die with harness on our back.
Macbeth.
With his lantern in one hand and the reins in the other, Harry Osburn traversed the plateau on which Mountain Jack's dwelling was situated, now crossing a bare crest of granite, and now winding through a deep ravine, under the arching branches of trees. Ere long he ascended, with many a zigzag and many a rise and depression, another slope, leading to an elevation like that on which he had been ambuscaded by the Danites. Traversing this table, he cleared another pass, crossed a deep ravine, and at length gained the summit of Little Mountain. And here he halted and dismounted, giving the horse a chance to breathe.
The darkness of the scene around the young traveller was equalled only by its solitude. Not a break existed in the pall of rain-brooding clouds which had mantled the sky, and not a ray of light reached him from the heavens. The silence, too, was like that of the grave, save that at intervals a low murmur of the wind was heard in the tree-tops.
Looking along the road ahead of him, to the brow of the western slope. Harry saw that it was not so steep as the eastern. Considering that he was about to make its descent, however, instead of ascending it, it presented difficulties far more formidable than he had encountered in reaching the summit.
"I'll walk a while," he thought. "A single stumble of the horse, at many of these steep pitches and angles, would be fatal."
He accordingly resumed his way on foot, leading his horse, and lighting the way with his lantern.
He had barely commenced the descent of this western slope of the mountain, however, when he was startled by a strange sound which suddenly blended with his own footsteps and those of his horse.
Coming to a halt, he listened.
The sound was almost instantly repeated, and Harry at once recognized it as a moan of human agony.
"Some one's in trouble," he ejaculated.
A repetition of the moan enabled him to locate its direction. It came from a few rods further down the mountain, at a point where the road turned abruptly. The young traveller accordingly moved quickly forward.
In a moment more, he saw within the circle illuminated by his lantern the figure of a man lying prostrate in a little hollow by the wayside, and on the verge of a ravine whose high, steep side constituted a veritable precipice. Advancing still nearer, Harry saw that the man was insensible, and that several wounds on his head and features had bled profusely, giving him a gory and terrific aspect.
"Ah! I know him now!" suddenly cried Harry, as he held his lantern close to the bruised and bleeding face. "He is that Danite!"
It was even so. The unconscious man was the leader and survivor of the three ruffians who had attempted the young Gentile's murder.
"He's had a terrible fall," added Harry. "He seems barely alive."
As badly as he had been treated, and as anxious as he was to reach his destination, it did not occur to our hero to turn his back upon the sufferer, leaving him to his fate. Throwing his bridle over a limb, he knelt beside his helpless enemy and made a rapid examination of his injuries.
The nature of these injuries immediately suggested what had happened.
"I see," mused Harry. "His horse stumbled, and threw him forward from the saddle. He struck upon his head and face. But where is the horse?"
A sort of opening in the bushes on the edge of the precipice suggested an answer. Stepping in that direction, Harry flashed the light of his lantern down the side of the terrible declivity, to the rocks far below.
The animal was just visible at the foot of the precipice. It was quite dead.
As Harry made this discovery, the murmur of water fell upon his hearing, and he saw that a small stream flowed through the depths of the ravine.
"The very thing needed," he thought. "It may revive him."
He hastened to descend to the water by a circuitous route, and not without great danger, soon returning with a flask of the cool, restoring element, with which he hastened to bathe the sufferer's ghastly features.
Ere long increased signs of vitality rewarded the efforts of the young Gentile, and he continued his ministrations until the injured man recovered his senses.
"There!" exclaimed Harry, as a glow of animation returned to the pale countenance, and the eyes again beamed consciously. " You’ll weather it! You'll soon be all right again!"
The response was a cry of terror. The Danite had recognized his intended victim.
"Fear nothing," enjoined Harry. "A helpless, prostrate man is sacred to his worst enemy. You have met with a nearly fatal accident!"
"Yes," returned the sufferer with difficulty. "In flying from you, I rode too rashly. The horse stumbled, throwing me over his head. Where is he?"
"Dead, at the bottom of the precipice," responded Harry. "As you can see for yourself, you came very near following him. A single yard more would have taken you over."
He held his lantern in such a way as to show his surroundings, and the Danite shuddered.
"It was a narrow chance," he said feebly. "Do—do not leave me here to die! I cannot stir a step. I—oh, horrible!"
"What is it ? How are you injured?"
" My right leg is broken. Don't leave me here! Some prowling wolf or grizzly'd cat me be-fore morning. They'd smell all this blood a mile. You see that I have bled like an ox!"
"Have no fear," returned Harry. " I will do anything that I can to aid you. Are you sure that your leg is broken ?"
The man made another effort to move, and then broke out in wild exclamations of suffering.
"The bone is entirely shattered," he groaned. " It grinds the flesh with every movement. Oh, what shall I do?"
"Couldn't you sit my horse ?" "Oh, no—no !"
"Then you could not endure the pain of being carried, even if I could carry you. Evidently I shall have to go for assistance."
"And leave me here? Oh, no—no!" protested the sufferer. "If you will put me on your horse, I will make the effort to ride to the nearest house."
"To Mountain Jack's?"
"You called there, then?" asked the Danite, with a keen, sly scrutiny of Harry's features.
"Yes. I called there."
"Well, Mountain Jack's is not the nearest house," declared the Danite, with a strange gleam in his averted eyes. "There's one nearer, the cabin of an old hermit named Upley, a little way to the left of us, on one of the peaks of the mountain. Perhaps I could ride to Upley's."
"Let's try it."
"If you will be so kind."
Harry led his horse to the spot, and then raised the sufferer gently to the saddle, but not without a succession of groans and exclamations from him that were terrible to hear, and not without many grimaces and contortions that were fearful to witness.
At length, however, the Danite settled himself into the saddle, allowing his right leg to hang helplessly by the animal's side.
"I think I can stand it," he declared. " If you will be so good as to lead the horse by the bits, you can moderate his movements and make the ride easier."
"Certainly," returned Harry, taking his lantern in one hand and the bits in the other. "All ready?" " Yes. But start gently." "Straight ahead, I suppose?" " Yes, straight ahead, if you please, until I tell you to turn."
Harry accordingly started, but took every care to make the horse move slowly and gently. The Danite winced not a little, and many groans and ejaculations escaped him, but he avowed his intention of continuing the movement as long as he could endure the pain it caused him.
"We turn here to the left," he soon announced, with a wave of the hand.
Harry nodded assent, taking the new direction.
"This old hermit knows more than any of the doctors," remarked the Danite. "He has lived here ten or fifteen years, all alone, and there isn't a root or a bush in the woods that he doesn't know the use of."
"Then he may help you," suggested Harry.
"He's the very man for the business. If he don't save the leg, nobody can!"
The new course lay along a ridge of bare granite, which exhibited but few traces of travel, for a distance of fifteen or twenty rods, and then it led into a considerable body of dense woods, where the path became wide and deep, exhibiting every sign of frequent use.
"Mr. Upley keeps a horse," said the Danite, as he saw Harry scrutinizing the path, "and he is always riding up and down the mountain."
Harry nodded understandingly. "That explains why the path is so well worn," he returned. " I was about to remark upon it."
The Danite now began to groan again, and more energetically than ever.
"I shall have to stop," he said. " The pain is using me up."
"How far is it from here to the hermit's ?"
"Not far—not an eighth of a mile."
"Then try to hold on a few minutes longer."
"Well, I’ll try."
They went on slowly, Harry continuing to use every exertion to make the horse move gently; but the way had now become so rough, that a certain amount of jolting was unavoidable. Now down into a deep gully, and now up to the ridge of a rocky ledge, the couple toiled slowly onward, the Danite moaning more and more dismally, and Harry continuing to exhort the injured man to firmness and patience.
At length they passed out of the woods, and began the ascent of a barren peak, where there was almost a total absence of soil, and consequently of vegetation, but where the traces of travel became more numerous and prominent than ever.
"We are near the hermit's now," exclaimed the Danite. "His house is in a little hollow of the peak."
"It is not yet late," returned Harry. " I dare say we shall find him stirring."
"As to that, I will let him know that we are corning," said the Danite. " I always give him a hint at about this distance."
And without waiting for any response, he gave utterance to a strange whistle, which echoed and reechoed strangely among the crests of the mountain.
"That'll stir him up," added the Danite. " Ah! there he is already!"
He waved his hand toward a light which had suddenly flashed out of the darkness in the immediate distance.
"Good!" commented Harry. "I shall be as pleased as you will to reach the hermit's."
Not another word was exchanged until they reached the top of the peak and looked into the little tuft of forest by which it was crowned.
"A strange retreat!" then ejaculated Harry. " How lonely it is around us! And yet, the place is of easy access, comparatively speaking."
The Danite did not reply. In good truth, he seemed to have exhausted his powers of endurance. His groans had become almost continual. He clung convulsively to his saddle.
"Courage! Just another moment!" enjoined Harry, continuing to light the way along the well-worn path. "We're nearly there."
"Softly, please." breathed the sufferer. "I shall fall off. Hold!"
Harry checked the animal as gently as possible. "My strength is gone," added the Danite. "Please take me off from the horse."
Harry complied at once, placing the injured man carefully upon the ground.
"Hitch—your horse," gasped the Danite. "And then carry me—to the house."
"The horse will stand," returned Harry. "I will hasten to the house with you. Can you carry the lantern?"
"Oh, yes—yes!"
"All right, then. Here we go!"
He lifted the Danite in his strong arms, and pressed swiftly but gently toward the light which gleamed from the centre of the little forest in question.
In a few moments more they reached a small log cabin of ordinary build, the door of which was standing wide open.
"Carry me right into the house, please," enjoined the Danite, panting with pain and weakness. "Lay me down on the floor."
Harry complied in silence.
The room thus invaded was in no wise different from the idea Harry had formed of it. It contained a fireplace, a table, a cupboard, a rude lounge, and a few chairs. The light which had flashed out upon the darkness was seen to be that of a torch stuck into a hole in the chimney.
"I see nothing of Upley," said Harry, looking eagerly around. " Where can he be ?"
"You had better call him."
Harry complied with the suggestion.
"Hallo, here!" he shouted. "Help! help!" There was no response to the call. Silence continued to reign around them.
"The hermit don't hear you," said the Danite, in a firmer voice than he had before used. "I reckon I shall have to call him. But first—"
He finished with a strange smile, at the same instant leaping nimbly to his feet.
"What! You can use your leg?" exclaimed Harry.
"As yon see;" and the Danite cut a sort of double shuffle jubilantly.
"And the hermit?"
"There is no hermit!" was the retort. " You are sold, Mr. Osburn! This house is our headquarters! That whistle of mine was a signal. And here are my men swarming around you!"
And he pointed to the three windows of the cabin, through which three rifles were already levelled, pointing directly at Harry's heart!
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
