Read Ebook: The Rival Trappers: or Old Pegs The Mountaineer by Aiken Albert W

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Ebook has 116 lines and 8831 words, and 3 pages

"The scoundrel! It will go hard with him when we once lay hands on him. Where is the daughter of Old Pegs? Tell me quickly before I put a bullet through your head."

"You needn't rare up that ar' way," said Boston Jake, sullenly. "I don't keer two cents what you do with me, and I don't skeer at all so you mout as well let me down easy. That's the way I talk it. Curly-headed Ned hez got the gal."

The forces of Whirlwind satisfied that their sworn enemies--the Sioux--were scattered in the mountains, at once set out in pursuit, breaking up into squads of ten or less for that purpose. Woe to the Modoc Sioux whom they ran down. His scalp quickly adorned the belt of some son of the Blackfoot tribe, and hung afterward in the smoke of his lodge. The prisoners were quickly bound, and leaving ten men as a guard the rest of the trappers began to search for the trail of Rafe Norris. But they missed the keen eyes and subtle skill of Old Pegs, the man who could read in rocks and sod the slightest pressure of the human foot, and the search for a long time was vain, and Dave Farrell began to despair of success. They could find no trail.

In the meantime, Myrtle was a prisoner in the hands of Rafe Norris. He rapidly descended the slope which led to the hunter's cabin, holding her by the hand, and led her in at the open door of her former home.

"Here we are, my dear," he said quietly. "You see that it becomes my province to make you welcome to the home which was once yours. Do not mistake me, sweet girl. I will do you no wrong, unless it is wicked in me to wish to make you my wife."

"It is more than wicked--it is cruel and unmanly. Oh, if my hands could reach a weapon your life would be short."

"Doubtless you are right, Myrtle," he said mournfully. "You would slay one who stands ready to lay down his life in your service, and who is willing to devote that life to make you happy. Can I say nothing to make you change your purpose, my darling?"

"Can you bring the dead to life? Will you be able to call Nicholas Fletcher from the bloody grave your hounds have given him? Oh, how base I should be if I ever forgot or forgave this last crowning crime!"

"Enough," he cried, harshly. "I see that good words are but thrown away upon you, and that harsh measures are necessary. My mind is fully made up, and you will find that I can be harsh if it seems to be needful and can compel obedience to my wishes. Hold out your hands; I must bind you or you will attempt to escape."

She put out her hands as if to comply, but as he stooped to take up the buck-skin thong from the table, she bounded past him, and the sharp click announced that she had opened the trap beneath the bed. Before he could reach it the second click announced that it was closed again. Furious with passion he tugged at the light couch, and literally tore it from its place, but the trap remained firm in its place and all his efforts could not move it in the least. Dashing out into the next room he caught up a heavy ax and darted back.

"Stand out of the way below," he cried, "or you may be hurt."

The boards flew asunder under his furious strokes, and in an inconceivably short space of time he had made an opening large enough to permit him to descend. As he was about to step upon the stairs he heard the clear voice of Myrtle.

"For your life--stand back!"

He looked once--and obeyed! She was standing in the little passage, holding a lighted taper in her hand. Just in front of her stood a small keg of powder with the head knocked out, and as he saw her pale, determined face by the light of the taper, he knew that she would destroy herself sooner than fall into his hands again.

"Mad woman," he screamed. "What would you do?"

"You can find out readily by coming down," was the quiet reply. "If you set your foot upon that step again it is the signal for your death."

"And yours--also!"

"And mine. I think that I should be doing good service in killing you even though I lose my life."

The man hesitated and stepped back into the room with a look of absolute terror on his face. He had not lied when he said that he loved her dearly, and it was terrible to him to think that she hated him so much that she would sooner die than be his wife. He tried persuasion, but to that she would not answer, standing statue-like, holding the taper in her unshaking hand.

"What good can it do you?" he said. "You must yield in time."

"If I feel that I am growing weak," she replied, "at that moment I will fire the powder. At the least I shall go to my Maker pure, and send you to your Judge at the same moment. From this time I will not answer you a word."

She drew a block close to the side of the keg and sat down with a bundle of tapers by her side. The one she held burned low, and she lighted another and waited as calmly as before, while above her the hungry eyes of Rafe Norris looked down at the prize he could not reach. He hoped that she would sleep, but the peculiar brightness of her eyes convinced him that it was impossible. Only fatigue, hunger or thirst could overcome her, and she had sworn that when that time came she would fire the train.

"Ha! ha! ha!" he cried, exultantly; "your lights are gone. In a moment I shall have you in my power."

She spoke now for the first time since she had sealed her lips.

"It will burn for an hour," she said. "I will spend that hour in praying to God to take me in mercy to his rest, and when the taper burns low I will fire the powder."

"You dare not, girl," he hissed. "It is murder. You cannot destroy yourself in that cruel way. Oh, heaven, what shall I do? I will give you up--do you hear? I will give you up."

"I cannot trust you. If I throw away the taper, you will treat your word as you did when my guardian fell into your hands."

"I will not--I swear by everything I hold holy and pure. I will go away and never come back if you will throw away the taper. I swear it, on my soul."

"Swear by something else. I will not trust you. Keep silent, base man, and let me at least spend my last hour in quiet."

"You shall not do it," he screamed. "Here are my weapons, and I have no others--my revolvers. Take them, and then you can surely consider yourself safe."

"Will you give them?" she cried, eagerly. "If you do that, I may put some trust in your promises, for I shall be able to enforce obedience."

He hesitated for a moment, but as she advanced the light in the direction of the keg, he took the weapons from his belt and threw them down to her. Shifting the taper into her left hand, she caught up a weapon and glanced at it, her quick look assuring her that it was ready for service, and she sprung to her feet, hastily hurling away the taper which was burned half-way down. Myrtle was young, and life was in its bloom for her, and she was happy in her escape.

"Go outside," she said, "and let me see your face at the window of my room."

He hurried out at once, and looking up through the trap, she caught sight of his pale face peering through the little window. In an instant she was out of the passage and at the door, holding her revolvers cocked in each hand.

"It is over now, Rafe Norris," she said. "Go, before I forget myself and avenge in your person my murdered friend, my more than father, Nicholas Fletcher."

But he folded his arms and looked at her fixedly, the light of a strange resolve in his eyes.

"You think you have conquered," he said, "because I have given up my weapons. But not yet, my dear, not yet. I swear that you shall either kill me where I stand or go with me."

He made a step in advance, and she brought down her right-hand pistol with a stern, decided movement. Thus they stood at bay, each looking into the eyes of the other.

"If you miss!" he hissed, speaking through his set teeth.

He was doubling himself for a spring, and her bright eyes were glancing resolutely along the barrel of the deadly weapon, when a calm voice said:

Myrtle turned with a wild cry of delight. Old Pegs in the body, to all appearance sound in every part, stood before her.

He passed his strong arm about the slender form of Myrtle, and pressed his lips to her fair cheek.

"Give them yer playthings ter me, darlin'," he said, taking the revolvers from her. "I ain't got ne'er a weepon. Now stand one side and see me mount this cuss."

"Don't fight him, father," she said. "I'm not afraid of him, and beyond the fact that he has kept me prisoner he has done me no wrong."

"I am willing," he cried, anxiously. "I'll fight you in any way you name."

"Wait; I wanter leave the gal safe in case I go under. I don't wanter, but then I mout. Whar's yer carbine, Myrtle?"

"In the cabin."

"Git it and put a new charge in. You've got ter boss this skrimmage, you understand, and see fa'r play. This yer skunk hez lived long enuff, I kalkilate, and the sooner he's wiped out the better."

Myrtle knew the determined character of the old hunter well and that it was useless to oppose him. She hurried into the house and brought out her carbine, discharged it and put in a new load. She had the utmost confidence in her guardian and believed that he was able to overcome Rafe Norris in a fair fight. When she had loaded, Old Pegs turned to Norris.

"We'll stand off at about twenty paces and begin ef you hev no objections. Thar's a shooter."

He tossed one of the revolvers to Rafe, who snatched it up eagerly.

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