CHAPTER XXI. INDIANS.

“Well, this is a fine fix!”

“About as bad as it could be.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know yet. But we’ll find a way out somehow.”

Mountain Jim spoke with his accustomed confidence; but it was easy to tell by his puckered brow and anxious eyes that he was by no means quite so certain of finding a way out of their unexpected trouble as he would have it appear.

An examination of the rock showed that it was a huge and heavy boulder that by ill luck happened almost exactly to fit the opening of the cave. Only the crack at the top, which was narrow and irregular admitted light and air.

“Well, we’re in a snug enough place now,” declared[201] Mountain Jim, with a rueful grin, as he completed his examination, “the only objection is that we’re too blamed snug. I could do with a thinner door, for my part.”

Ralph agreed with him. The boy’s spirits were considerably dashed by this misfortune which, indeed, appeared to portend serious, even fatal results if some way could not be found out of their quandary.

They tried shoving the great rock, but their efforts were of no more avail than if they had been a couple of puny babes.

“That settles that,” grunted Mountain Jim, wiping the sweat off his face as they concluded their efforts. “‘No admittance,’ that’s the sign we ought to have hung outside.”

“‘No exit,’ would be more like it,” retorted Ralph, “I don’t see why anyone would want to get in here.”

He spoke sharply and Mountain Jim looked at him with a quizzical look.

[202]

“Now don’t blow up, youngster,” he said, “things might be a lot worse. For instance, you might be under that rock at this blessed minute.”

“By Jove! That’s so, and I owe it to you that I’m not,” spoke Ralph quickly, flushing shame-facedly over his exhibition of temper.

“That part of it is all right,” responded Mountain Jim easily, “but the point is that I’ve been in a heap tighter places than this and got out with a whole skin. Let’s form ourselves into a Committee of Ways and Means—of getting out of here.”

“All right. You start off. Any suggestions?”

“Yep. I’ve got one right hot off the griddle.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, the storm seems to have died down a bit now, and you can go outside and take a look and then report back on what you find.”

“But how in the world am I going to get out?”

“See that crack at the top there?”

“Yes; but——”

[203]

“Hold on. You never know what a narrow place you can squeeze through till you try. It’s my opinion that you can slip through that crack as easy as a bit of thread through the eye of a darning needle.”

Ralph eyed the crack between the top of the stone and the roof of the cave dubiously.

“I’ll try it,” he said, “but first I’ll take off my coat. That’ll make me thinner.”

He shed his stout hunting jacket and took the axe out of his belt. Then, aided by Mountain Jim, he clambered up and looked outside. The storm was rolling away to the southeast, and before long, as he could see, the sun would be shining once more. If only they could get out they could resume their journey without delay.

As Jim had foretold, it was not a hard matter for the lithe, slim boy to wriggle through the crack, narrow as it had appeared to be from below. Ralph stuck his head through and then[204] drew the rest of his body up. In a minute he was on the outside of the cave and free.

“Oh, Jim,” he called back, “can’t you make it, too?”

“Not me. My two hundred pounds would never get through that mouse hole,” responded Jim with perfect good humor. “I guess I’ll have to stay here till I get thin enough to follow you.”

Ralph slid down the rough face of the rock and then fell to examining its base eagerly. It rested on a small terrace just in front of the cave, but it didn’t take him long to see that no ordinary means would dislodge it.

“How about you?” shouted Jim from within his rocky prison.

“I’m afraid there’s no hope, Jim,” was the disheartening reply. “It’s planted as solidly as Gibraltar, outside here. A giant couldn’t move it.”

“Well, as there’s no giants likely to happen along, that don’t much matter,” said Jim in his dry way, from within the cave.

[205]

“But,” he added, “if we had some giant powder, that would be a different thing.”

“You mean blasting powder?”

“Yep, ‘giant powder’ is what we call it up here.”

“If we can’t do anything else, I’d better ride to some settlement and try to get some.”

“Yes, unless any miner or prospector happens along and that’s not likely.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause this is in the Blood Indians’ reservation and the Bloods don’t take kindly to strangers roaming around on their property and hunting and prospectin’.”

“Are they bad Indians?”

“Well, not exactly. Just ugly, I reckon ’ud be about the name fer it. The guv’ment keeps fire water away from ’em all it can, but they sneak it in somehow and a Blood with whisky in him is a bad proposition. They’ll steal ponies, rob houses, do most anything.”

[206]

“Well, I don’t know that I’d mind seeing even a Blood Indian now,” said Ralph, “in spite of their ugly name. Maybe they could help us or at any rate ride for help.”

“Son, a Blood would just as soon shove you off a cliff if he saw you standing on the edge of one, as he would tell you you were in danger of a tumble. But say, get me a drink of water, will you? I’m as dry as an old crust after shoving at this bloomin’ rock.”

Ralph went toward the ponies, where the canteens hung to the saddle horns. But both were almost empty and as the creek was raging and roaring not far below him, he determined to go down to it and refill their water containers.

He found the creek much swollen by the rain, and racing and tumbling on its boulderous bed like a miniature torrent. But the water was clear and cold, and he took a long drink before refilling the canteens. This done, he pushed his way[207] among the alders back toward the blocked-up cave.

All at once, off to the right, he heard the sound of hoofs and voices.

“Good enough,” thought the lad to himself, “here’s some one who can give us a hand to get out of this precious fix we’re in.”

He hurried forward, but the alders were thick and his hands were occupied so that his progress was slow. From time to time a whipping-back branch would slap him a stinging blow across the face, making it smart painfully.

So it was that he did not emerge into the clearing until the voices he had heard had grown quite close. In fact, the appearance of the boy with the canteens and the emergence of three horsemen into the clearing were simultaneous. But as Ralph beheld those horsemen his heart gave a quick, alarmed bound, and then sank into his boots.

They were Indians! Evidently they had just[208] seen the tethered ponies of the white men and were discussing them with animation.

All three were mounted on wiry ponies. Two wore blankets and soft hats, with much patched trousers poking from under the folds of their gaudy wrappings. The third, who appeared to be some sort of a superior being, was garbed in an old frock coat, several sizes too large for him, and in his soft hat was stuck a long eagle feather, as if to symbolize his rank.

But in spite of their semi-civilized garb, all three had cruel, savage faces and eyed the tethered ponies with gluttonous eyes. As Ralph watched them, the one with the frock coat drew out a bottle and handed it in turn to his two companions.

“They’re Bloods and they’ve got hold of fire-water some place,” murmured Ralph. “We’re in for more trouble now, and I left my rifle in the cave!”

He crouched back among the alders, wondering[209] if Jim was aware of what was going forward outside the blockaded cave. So far the Indians had not seen him, and Ralph was not particularly anxious that they should.