Adrift in the Wilds Or The Adventures of Two Shipwrecked Boys Part 21

But the nature of the occurrences made them helpless. Tim had drifted such a distance down stream, and had consequently drawn his enemies so far after him, that they had not the slightest chance of reaching them with their rifles, if they chose to expose themselves. They could only watch, therefore, and pray for their safety.

Floating slowly onward, onward, they observed that Tim's canoe gradually swerved to the left until it disappeared around a curve in the river. It crossed the center and was nearer the western than the eastern sh.o.r.e.

This seemed to show that, despite his unfavorable situation, he was able to impart a motion to the boat, which, slight as it was, would eventually bring him to the opposite side of the stream.

Nothing more was seen of the Indians, although the report of several guns, heard within a half-hour of the disappearance of the canoe, prevented their feeling too sanguine over the position of Tim O'Rooney.

"We can now see the blunder he committed," said Howard. "He did wrong in going to the eastern bank when he could have secured his game as well upon the other side."

"I think he will be able to get away, unless they have a canoe with which to follow him."

"Even then he can take to the woods and hide himself until dark, and then make his way back to us."

"I hope so, but fear he will be prevented or overtaken before he can reach shelter."

"But think, Howard, he has a gun and plenty of ammunition, and there are but three of them. I should say they would hesitate some time before advancing upon him."

"But he is a poor shot, like ourselves."

"He could not miss them if they came very close to him."

"Yes; there seems to be a good chance, if they don't find more Indians to unite with them in the hunt."

This was a contingency that had not occurred to Elwood, and he was almost overwhelmed at its import until he came to reason upon it, when the likelihood of such being the case dwindled away until it almost vanished.

"We have seen no large bodies of savages, and I don't believe they care enough about catching or slaying a single man to go to all that trouble."

"Not so much trouble, perhaps, as you are apt to think. War is the business of the American Indians, you know, as it is of all barbarous people."

"But look at Ned Trimble and his friends. There are but three of them, and I have no doubt that their security is in their strength--otherwise they would not be so indifferent as to what is going on around them. You remember they did not see us until we first spoke to them."

"So it appeared; but I have an idea that they knew of our presence before Tim discovered them."

"They did not show it, at any rate."

"They looked surprised when we came up, but if we had been enemies instead of friends I believe we would have been the surprised parties.

They have lived too long in the wilds of California to permit a party of strangers to steal upon them unaware."

"But what is to become of us if Tim doesn't come back?"

"We shall have to put ourselves under the care of Shasta--that is, if he gets well."

"Why do you call him _Shasta_? Where did you hear that name?"

"The only word I have heard him speak sounded like that, and I do not know of any better name. Can you think of one?"

"No; that is good enough; let him be called Shasta, then. There may be a greater Providence in our coming upon this island than we imagine."

"There is a Providence in everything that occurs, though it may be that we are not always able to see it. Do you remember the copy we had so often at school, 'Misfortunes are often blessings in disguise?'"

"Yes; but like the truths that were driven into our heads so often at school, we fail to appreciate them until some occasion like this impresses them upon our minds. But I declare, Howard, we are turning philosophers."

"What better can we do, when there is nothing else to employ ourselves about? We need all our philosophy at such a time."

"But we must not forget our patient, Shasta."

"True. He had gone almost out of my mind until you referred to him a moment ago. Let us look at him."

The two had been stationed near the lower end of the island, and they now walked back to where they had left the suffering stranger. What was their surprise to see him standing on his feet, his blanket wrapped around him, and his att.i.tude and position such as to raise a strong suspicion that he understood all that had taken place within the last hour or two.

CHAPTER XXIV.

A HUNT.

When Tim O'Rooney left the island and crossed to the eastern sh.o.r.e of the Salinas he had almost forgotten the existence of any such thing as hostile Indians. He was after something to eat, and some how or other it seemed to him that the climate of California had given him a most ravenous appet.i.te, which demanded satisfaction regardless of consequences.

Touching land, he pulled his canoe up the bank to prevent its being carried away by the current, and then plunged boldly into the forest.

The land from the river rose quite rapidly until it reached an elevation of several hundred feet, when it was broken by gorges, ravines and chasms, which made it rattier difficult to travel, and gave it an extremely wild and picturesque appearance.

Fairly among these broken hills, Tim began to look for his game, but for a time saw nothing to draw his fire. Finally he reached a wild-looking gorge which descended over a hundred feet below him, while upon the opposite side it rose to a greater height than the place upon which he stood.

The Irishman was so struck with the wild scenery that he stood a few moments contemplating it in silent admiration, when all at once he became conscious that something else beside himself was engaged in looking. Directly across the gorge, so as to be almost opposite to him, he saw the head of an animal which he recognized at once as belonging to a black-tailed deer.

"Be the powers! but you're jist the gintleman that I'd like to make an acquaintance with, as me mither said when me father axed her hand in marriage."

Tim drew his rifle carefully and rested it upon a rock beside him. The deer gazed at him with that expression of stupid wonder which wild animals a.s.sume when confronted with something, and they seem to be debating with themselves whether to leap away at high speed or to stare a moment longer.

The distance was so slight that Tim was sure of his aim. Nevertheless, he took great care in sighting his piece, and as his finger gently pressed the trigger, he held his breath. The bullet sped true, entering just below and between the eyes, and with such deadly effect that the mortally wounded deer sprung several feet in the air and fell dead within a rod of the spot where it had stood when struck.

"That is plaisant," muttered the Irishman, as he saw the animal fall, "and yez hav the distinguished honor of baing the first deer that Tim O'Rooney brought down; but yez ain't the first he fired at--but whist, Tim, don't be telling your secrets, for somebody else might larn them."

He now began making his way carefully down the gorge in order to ascend upon the opposite side and secure his prize. He had no thought that the report of his gun could reach the ears of hostile persons, and he did not heed anything except the place and manner in which he put his feet in going down and up the ravine.

After no little toiling he reached the dead body, and found that he had shot a rather small black-tailed deer. It was in middling condition, and was the very prize he was anxious to secure for his hungry self and equally hungry friends.

As he stood admiring it, for the first time the thought of personal danger crossed his mind, and he glanced hurriedly around him, but saw nothing to occasion alarm. Then he leaned forward and gazed down the gorge, and as he did so he descried three Indians looking up the side of the chasm. Slight as was the distance his head projected, it was seen by them, and he only drew it back to escape the effect of three discharges of their guns.

"And that is your shtyle of saluting a gintleman is it?" said Tim in some trepidation. "But yez has a forcible way of saying 'how do yez do,'

in this counthry, that a stranger would do well to imitate."

The Irishman hastily debated with himself upon the best plan to pursue to escape the serious peril that threatened him, for he was sure the savages would follow up their shot.

"The best thing I can do is to lave," he concluded. "There is strong raison for belaving that I've given some one slight offinse by walking into their house without ringing the bell."

He stooped over and lifted his game. He found its weight somewhat less than he had suspected.