The opening in the bushes was so small that Oscar was able to obtain but a momentary glimpse of the passing horseman, but that momentary glimpse was enough to satisfy him on two points. It was not the lieutenant, after all, but Lish, the Wolfer, and he had not been to the village for the purpose of getting drunk, as the colonel had intimated, but to lay in some necessary supplies in the way of provisions. The well-filled bags that were slung across his pony’s neck, and the side of bacon which hung from the muzzle of the long rifle he carried over his shoulder testified to this fact. Oscar drew a long breath of relief when he saw the man ride down the path, and told himself that one thing was certain: If Tom was determined to go with the wolfer he would 117have something to eat during the journey to his hunting-grounds, and if he went hungry after that, it would be because his partner was too lazy to keep the larder supplied with meat.
As soon as the wolfer had passed out of hearing Oscar mounted his pony and rode down into the path. He made his way around the brow of the hill; and, when he had put a safe distance between himself and the mouth of the ravine, he checked his pony and proceeded to load his gun.
“Tom has got the matter in his own hands,” said he, as he rested the butt of the weapon on the toe of his boot and poured a charge of powder into each barrel. “If he had nothing to do with that ‘affair’ that happened last summer—I wish to goodness I knew what it was—and has any desire to turn over a new leaf and to go to work in earnest, he will come up to the fort as soon as he has read that note. If he does not come I shall have to look upon his absence either as a confession of guilt, or as a declaration that he prefers the companionship of such men as that wolfer to the society of honest folks. In 118either case I have done all I can, and the business ends right here so far as I am concerned.”
Oscar would have been very much surprised if anyone had told him that he had not seen the end of the business after all; that, in fact, he had seen only the beginning of it.
The note he had written, as well as the clothing he had purchased to keep Tom from freezing, were destined at no distant day to be produced as evidence against him.
Was it a dread of impending evil that prompted him to say, as he placed the caps on his gun and started his pony forward again:
“Mr. Chamberlain was always right, and he shot close to the mark when he told me that I would not find plain sailing before me, simply because I was about to engage in a congenial occupation. I have been at the fort but a few hours, and yet I have wished myself back in Eaton more than a dozen times. Why didn’t I keep away from that ravine? Thoughts of Tom will force themselves upon me continually, and all my pleasure will be knocked in the head. How can I enjoy myself when I know that he is in such a situation? 119Hold on there! I am ready for you now!”
Although he was deeply engrossed in his meditations, Oscar could still keep an eye out for game; and when that flock of sage-hens arose from the bushes almost at his pony’s feet, they did not catch him napping.
Being accustomed to the noise made by the grouse of his native hills when it suddenly bursts from its cover, the sound of their wings did not startle him as it startles the tyro.
He was so excited that he did not think to stop his pony, but still he was cool enough to make his selections before he fired; and when he saw, through the thick cloud of smoke that poured from each barrel, two little patches of feathers floating in the air, and marking the spot where a brace of the finest members of the flock had been neatly stopped in their rapid flight, he knew that his ammunition had not been expended in vain.
There was another thing Oscar did not think of, and that was whether or not his pony would stand fire. But it was now too late to debate that question, and besides, it had been settled 120to his entire satisfaction. Almost simultaneously with the quick reports of the fowling-piece there arose other sounds of an entirely different character—a crashing in the bushes, followed by muffled exclamations of astonishment and anger. These sounds were made by Oscar, who had been very neatly unhorsed.
The pony would no doubt stand fire well enough to suit his half-savage, rough-riding Indian master, but he was not steady enough to suit the young taxidermist.
When the double-barrel roared almost between his ears, his head went down, his hind feet came up, and Oscar, being taken off his guard, went whirling through the air as if he had been thrown from a catapult.
He lost no time in scrambling to his feet, but he was too late to catch his pony. All he saw of him was the end of his tail, which was flourishing triumphantly in the breeze as the tricky little beast went out of sight over the brow of the hill.
“Well, go if you want to!” shouted Oscar, holding one hand to his head, and rubbing his shoulder with the other. “You’ll never come 121that............