there an uprising of those dusky forms that lay about the smoldering
fire. Foot by foot the ground was passed over, and in a brief time they
might hope to gain the shelter of the friendly bushes back of which
Mayhew, it was hoped, would be found.

Still Roger dared not believe the escape would be effected without an
explosion of some sort. He knew that the pioneers classed all Indians
with the cat tribe in regard to craftiness and cruelty. How many times
had he, as a small lad, watched their pet cat catch a mouse, and then
play with the doomed animal, letting it go just for the pleasure of
pouncing on it afresh.

The conviction that pressed so heavily on his heart now was that this
brave was simply waiting until the escaping prisoners had gained a
certain point, when he would give the cry that would send the red
inmates of the camp after them in hot haste.

But now they were at the fringe of bushes, and Dick had even commenced
creeping around one end of the break, afraid to enter lest they cause a
rustling that would imperil their safety.

Roger summoned all his nerve and looked back. To his amazement he saw
that the watchful brave still had his head partly raised, and was, to
all appearances, looking after them.

It was a mystery in the boy's mind that ranked with those strange
things they had continued to discover ever since invading this Land
of Wonders. That the warrior saw them making their escape, and still
refrained from giving the alarm, was a fact beyond his comprehension.

Dick was moving faster now, though still taking pains not to make
any sound that could be possibly avoided. Then Roger caught the low,
tremulous note of a bird, hardly more than a chirp. Was that Mayhew
trying to let them know he was close by? Roger hoped so with all his
heart.

He could barely see Dick's bulk just ahead of him, and it was on it
that he fastened his gaze. If the pilot suddenly came to a pause, Roger
meant to be in a condition to instantly follow suit.

Whispering caught his ear. Surely Dick was not talking to himself, but
must have come in contact with the creeping guide. All seemed going
well, and, so far, there had been no alarm from the camp.

A minute later he knew that Dick was no longer on his hands and knees,
but had gained his feet. This meant that the time had come when they
might take more chances, and increase the swiftness of their flight.

Roger noted, too, that there was another figure ahead of his cousin,
which he knew could be no other than the guide, gallant Mayhew, who
had scorned to seek safety for himself while his young friends were in
peril.

Far away could be heard the dismal howling of a wolf pack. An owl sent
out a mournful hoot from the depths of the pine woods on the side of
the mountain. But back there, where the dying camp fire flickered, and
the red men slumbered, not a sound arose. Roger marveled more than
ever. He knew that his eyes had not deceived him, and that the Indian
had actually watched them making their escape. But what magic had
rendered his tongue mute the boy could not guess.

When half a mile had been placed between them and the hostile camp Dick
broke the silence.

"Do you think we are safe away, Mayhew?" he asked, cautiously.

"It looks that way," replied the figure plodding ahead of the boys;
"and I must say it beats all how you managed to get free from those
deerskin thongs. There are other things that puzzle me, too; but all
that can keep until later.

"Oh! I am glad to hear you say you believe we are well out of that
fix!" exclaimed Roger, who had looked back nervously over his shoulder
many times, and even shuddered at hearing the slightest rustling sound,
dreading lest the tricky Indians might be creeping after them, and
suddenly awaken the echoes of the pine forest with their war-whoops.

"It was one of the closest calls we ever had," admitted Dick.

"And we have known a good many of them," added Roger, with a slight
return of his old feeling of elation, for the reaction was beginning
to set in, so that from the depths of despair he would soon find
himself elevated to the heights of exultation.

"One thing that none of us has thought to notice so far," commented
Dick, "is that it has at last commenced to snow as though it meant
business." When he brought this fact to their attention the others
perceived that it was indeed so, for already the ground had begun to
turn white.

CHAPTER XXIV

AN INDIAN'S GRATITUDE

FOR some time the three fugitives plodded through the pine forest that
lay along the side of the mountain ridge, enclosing the wide valley in
which the camp of the Indians had been pitched.

The snow was coming down in earnest now. It acted as though bent on
making up for lost time; and, unless all signs failed, there would be
an exceedingly heavy fall before they saw the sun again.

One comfort they found in this coming of the white mantle--they could
not be tracked by Lascelles and his allies when their escape was
discovered.

"Dick!" ventured Roger, after quite a long time had elapsed, and they
found the snow getting constantly deeper underfoot.

"Well?"

"We have our guns, it is true, and that I count a fine thing, but of
what use are they to us without our powder horns?"

"That was our misfortune, Roger, but we can borrow from Mayhew here. By
being prudent we ought to make his supply go around."

Imagine the feelings of the two boys when the guide gave utterance to
an exclamation of disgust and chagrin.

"I hate to tell you, lads," he said, "but it must have happened during
my flight. I had fired twice, and given the red hounds cause to be
sorry they chased after me; and then I suddenly missed my powder horn.
It must have been torn loose while I was passing through some dense
bushes."

"Did you go back and try to find it?" asked Dick, while Roger seemed
mute with consternation.

"Yes, but it was no use," replied the guide, "and I had to give it up."

"Then we are in a bad way, without any ammunition for our guns," Dick
continued, though he did not attempt to criticize Mayhew, for he
realized that, after all, it had been an accident, liable to happen to
any one, and he felt sure the frontiersman must be suffering in his
mind on account of it.

"I have the load in my gun, and one in my pistol," said Mayhew.
"Besides that I found a little powder wrapped in a paper in one of
my pockets, enough to charge one of your guns, and some left over for
priming."

"That was lucky, at any rate; how came you to have it with you?" asked
Dick.

"I remember that, some time before I left on that trip back to the
Missouri and down to the outposts of civilization, I was cleaning out
my powder horn, and the little it contained I placed in that paper, and
then in my pocket. I forgot all about it when I filled the horn from
the stores. Now, it may be, that one charge will stand between us and
starvation."

"Oh! I hope it will never get as bad as that, Mayhew," said Dick; and
yet, deep down in his heart, he knew they were facing a desperate
condition, so far away from the rest of the expedition, and surrounded
by perils of every type.

"Two charges in all!" summed up Roger, finding his voice. "That means
that we must make each one tell. And, Dick, I want you to load your gun
with that spare powder Mayhew has. You are a surer shot than I, and
when we use that load it must bring returns."

"We'll see about that later on," was all Dick replied.

"But now that we can talk without running any danger," continued Roger,
anxious to learn whether either of the others had noticed the same
strange happening in the camp of Blackfeet, "I want to ask you why that
Indian, who was watching us go away, failed to give the alarm?"

Dick stopped short. He seemed to be astonished beyond measure at what
the other had just said.

"Do you mean to tell me, Roger, that you believe any such thing?" he
asked.

"I certainly do," came the response. "I looked back more times than
I can tell you, and there he was, craning his neck and watching
everything we did. To the very last I saw him still looking."

"Yes, he is right!" declared Mayhew, breaking in upon the dialogue as
though he, too, had been grappling with a mystery that he could not
understand. "I saw the same thing. The Indian was watching you, I could
swear to that. Once he dropped his head, only to raise it again. He
seemed to be having some difficulty about holding himself up long, for
he was bandaged about the shoulder."

"Oh!"

The way Dick said that one word told Roger that he must have seen a
great light. But why should Dick show signs of satisfaction; for that
was clearly expressed in his tone?

"You have guessed the answer, Dick?" exclaimed Roger, hastily. "Please
tell us what it is, because, for one, I am groping in the dark."

"You heard what Mayhew just said, and how the man who looked was
wounded in the shoulder? Stop and think, and you will remember that
he must be the one who had chased after Mayhew, and came back with a
bullet wound in the muscles of his shoulder."

"Which you dressed as neatly as any doctor could have done it," said
Roger.

"At the time the brave gave little sign that he was grateful,"
continued Dick, as he figured things out; "but you know that all
Indians practice hiding their real feelings. They think it weak to show
signs of fear or anything like that. But, at the same time, an Indian
can be grateful, and I believe that brave proved it."

"He did, oh! he did!" exclaimed Roger, no longer groping in darkness
since Dick had thrown light on the mystery. "He knew we were escaping,
but he could not find it in his heart to betray the one who had been so
kind to him! I shall never believe so badly of Indians after this. My
father was right when he told me they could be reached by kindness; and
surely he and Uncle Bob ought to know."

Somehow all of them fell silent for some time. No doubt they were
thinking how strangely they had been favored by Providence. (Note 9.)

Several hours had elapsed since the escape, and they were some distance
away from the scene of the adventure. The snow was more than ankle
deep, and coming down at a furious rate.

Walking was difficult, especially since all of them were weary, and
in great need of rest. Roger staggered at times, and once fell flat,
though he hastened to assure the others, as he scrambled to his feet,
that he had not suffered by his awkwardness.

"We will have to seek shelter of some sort," declared Dick, finally.

Apparently the frontiersman was only waiting to hear something like
this; for, as a grown man, he did not fancy being the first to call
quits, as long as those boys saw fit to keep on tramping.

"It would not be a bad idea, I think," he now remarked.

"If we could have a fire like we did that other night it would feel
good to me," Roger told them.

"We might try," said Dick.

"And when morning comes, how about breakfast?" continued Roger. "What
meat I had was taken away from me, and you must be in the same fix."

"Yes, they thought it was useless to let me keep on carrying fresh elk
meat when we all needed something to eat. But I am thankful they left
me my ditty bag; and I have my knife too, you remember. How about you,
Mayhew?"

"I still have some meat with me; about enough for one meal around,"
replied the guide. "After that is gone we will have to shoot game of
some sort, either elk or buffalo, so as to lay in a stock."

"Here is a place that looks as though it would afford shelter from
the storm among these fissures in the rock," announced Dick, which
declaration brought cheer to the heart of Roger.

A little investigation, the best that conditions allowed, showed them
that they could enter one of the fissures and avoid the sweep of the
rising wind that was now causing the snow to blow in sheets.

Determined to do all in their power to obtain some comfort, they
selected the best shelter, and then crept within. Roger was the first
to discover some scattered bits of wood lying around, a tree that grew
further up the abrupt face of the mountain having dropped some of its
branches.

Accordingly they obtained a light by means of the tinderbox and flint
and steel. This enabled them to collect some of the fuel, and in the
end they had a cheery fire.

Sitting near this for an hour made them so sleepy that they were glad
to roll over wherever they chanced to be, and give themselves up to
slumber.

The snow continued to fall heavily during the balance of the night.
The wind howled through the adjacent trees in a mournful fashion, but
within that fissure all was peaceful.

Once or twice the old frontiersman would awaken on feeling cold, and
toss more fuel on the smoldering embers of the fire, after which he
would again lie down.

So morning found them. They would not have known that the day had come
if Dick had not made his way to the mouth of the fissure and looked
out. Apparently some hunter instinct had warned him that sleeping time
had passed.

The snow was falling as thickly as ever. There was already a foot, and
more, of it on the ground. Up on the mountain, where a previous fall
had remained, it probably was twice as deep.

To go out while the storm prevailed was hardly wise, much as the boys
wanted to be on the move.

Dick had taken note of certain things while the French trader was
talking to them, and particularly of the fact that, when Lascelles
spoke of the "other camp" in which Jasper Williams was held a prisoner,
he had, possibly unconsciously, nodded toward the east.

It was in that direction the great lake lay of which they had heard so
much, and from one thing and another Dick came to the conclusion that
the camp must be located on the border of this large body of water.

Roger was looking anxiously at the meager stock of meat which Mayhew
had produced from his pockets. There might be enough to satisfy their
present hunger, but, once it was gone, the future did not seem very
inviting.

They cooked it as on the former occasion.

"And it tastes much better than that the Indians gave us," Roger
asserted, for the Blackfeet took little pains to keep the meat from
scorching, and this had given it a taste not at all pleasant to the
boys.

All too soon was breakfast over, and the last scrap of meat devoured.
Roger heaved a sigh of regret as he wiped his mouth on the back of his
hand.

"I wish I knew where we would get the next bite," he remarked. "It
seems to me we eat in queer places on this trip. But I wouldn't mind
that so much if I only felt sure there _would_ be another meal."

After that they sat around and talked as they attended to the fire. Now
and then one of them would get up to make another hunt for fuel, the
stock of which was beginning to get low.

It was far from a pleasant prospect staring them in the face. The
wonder was how Dick could appear to be so cheerful through it all, and
keep on saying he felt certain it would all come out right in the end.

Roger at least had the good sense to keep his fears to himself.
Whenever he felt that he could almost give a shout, such was the
nervous tension under which he was laboring, he would jump up and busy
himself in hunting wood. In action he managed to gain control over his
nerves, so that he could resume his seat, and once more listen to what
the others were debating.

Plans were gravely discussed. To hear Dick laying these out one would
never dream that they were based upon such a slender shred of hope.
Two charges in their guns; many days' journey from the home camp;
surrounded by mysterious workings of Nature calculated to make most
men flee in terror; sought after by a revengeful French trader and his
Indian allies; and now overtaken by a snowstorm that promised to make
traveling additionally difficult--what a prospect for two half-grown
lads and a single man to face!

The last time Dick came back from making an investigation as to the
conditions outside, he brought a little satisfactory news. The snow was
falling in diminished volume, and there was a promise that by another
hour it might cease entirely. Then they could issue forth, and begin to
beat their way toward that section of the country where they believed
the big lake to lie.

Hardly had he imparted this information than they were startled by a
deep roaring noise from without. It seemed as though the foundations of
the mountain were shaken and, remembering what a strange country they
were in, Roger could hardly be blamed for starting up with a cry of
alarm.

The light that came in through the mouth of the fissure suddenly gave
way to darkness; only the flickering gleam of their fire remaining to
show them which way to move.

"Oh, what has happened now?" asked Roger, and as usual Dick seemed to
know.

"It is a snow avalanche," he told them, "and I am afraid it has blocked
our only means of leaving here, so that we are once more prisoners!"

CHAPTER XXV

THE SNOW AVALANCHE

"A SNOW avalanche!" echoed Roger. "Do you mean it has come down from
the side of the mountain, and filled the opening we used to get in
here?"

"Yes," explained Dick, "that is what has happened, as near as I can
tell. But, after all, it may not be so serious a thing. We will see
what can be done about breaking through."

"We have to get out some way or other, that's sure!" declared Roger, as
he hurried along after his cousin, now heading for the place where the
exit had been.

This was now filled by a tightly-wedged mass of snow. When they thrust
the butts of their guns against it they were amazed to discover how
firmly it had become packed.

"Why, it is like so much ice!" exclaimed Roger.

"Almost," added the more conservative Dick, "though you can dig into it
by working hard. If we only had shovels here we might do something."

"But how long ought it take us to burrow through?" demanded Roger, with
a note of dismay in his voice.

"That depends on how thick the wedge turns out to be," replied Dick.
"If it is five feet, we could make it in an hour or so. If deeper
through than that, it would take us much longer."

"And the worst of it is we haven't a scrap of food along with us,"
Roger complained. "If we were well supplied in that way I'd think it of
less importance."

"We must get out, one way or another," continued Dick, grimly, "and the
first thing we ought to learn is where the weakest part of the blockade
lies."

"As it came down on the run," Roger figured, "it seems to me the
greatest amount of snow would gather at the base. How about that, Dick?"

"You are right, and it will pay us to attack the barrier as high up as
we can get. There may be some sticks of wood left back yonder, which we
can use to dig with. Let us take a look."

A close search produced three fragments of branches that could be
utilized as makeshift shovels; at least they would be able to dig after
a fashion into the hard barrier, and then collect the loosened material
by scooping it up in their hands to be thrown away.

It promised to be slow and painful work, but none of them dreamed of
complaining. There was so much at stake that even Roger had to forget
his natural feelings and devote himself to vigorous work.

First of all Dick climbed up the best way he could, and found out how
they could secure a footing in order to attack the snow blockade higher
up. When this had once been settled they began.

Since all of them could not get at the small space marked out, they
tried it in relays. While two dug the third one rested; and when one of
the others gave out he took the vacant place.

The fire dwindled away and finally seemed to go out entirely. They
could spare no time in order to search for more fuel; besides, while
devoting every energy to the task before them, none of them felt at all
cold.

"What are the prospects, Dick?" asked Roger, as he hastened to take
the other's place in turn, having had a good rest.

"It strikes me the snow is packed lighter than what we struck at first;
what do you think about it, Mayhew?"

The frontiersman was always willing to advance an opinion after it had
been asked, though he would seldom speak first. So now he stopped to
take in a few good breaths, and then made reply.

"I was just thinking the same way myself, to tell you the truth. And
it goes to show that we must be getting near the outside, where the
pressure is much less."

"Then we may break through at any time; is that it?" asked Dick.

After a short time Roger gave utterance to a shout.

"I'm through the layer of packed snow!" he exclaimed jubilantly. "See,
here is a place where a stick cuts into it as easy as it would through
a pear. We have won out, Dick; and in a little while we ought to see
the outside world again."

On investigation it was discovered that there was good reason for
Roger's jubilation. They had bored through the bank of snow that
filled the opening, thanks to the wisdom shown in attacking it at its
weakest point.

Five minutes afterwards a hole had been made sufficiently large to
allow of their crawling through it to freedom.

The snow had ceased falling, although there did not seem to be a break
in the clouds overhead. It was much over a foot on the level, and in
some places, where the wind had drifted it, they found it would pay
them to go around rather than wade directly through.

"That way leads to where we had our bitter experience last night,"
said Dick, as he pointed toward the southwest. "We do not want to see
Lascelles and his red allies again, if we can help it, so we will not
turn in that direction."

"If we ever do have to meet him face to face," added Roger, "let us
hope it will be when we have plenty of powder and bullets for our guns.
If the cowardly rascal had not kept himself hidden behind that tree,
while the fight was going on, I would have made sure that my lead found
him. He is the worst enemy our families know, for he would rob them of
their homes."

"I felt the same way," confessed Dick; "but he was too smart for us. I
think he must have guessed he would be the first target for our guns.
Still, we must remember that even Lascelles is not as bad as he might
be. He would not allow the Indians to kill us on the spot, for one
thing, as some renegades would have done."

"Well, after all," Roger continued, "it is a question in my mind
whether he saved us because he had a streak of decency in him, or for
some other reason. Perhaps he meant we should be carried off by those
Blackfeet to their village, and adopted into the tribe."

"It might be as you say," admitted Dick, "for he told us that was what
he meant them to do with Jasper Williams. It would be getting well rid
of troublesome enemies, because there would be little chance of our
ever coming back."

"Now that we have burrowed out of that trap, what is the next move,
Dick?"

"I think we have decided already that we will not start back to the
camp. Badly off as we are, we have come a long way after Williams, and,
now that we know he is not a great many miles away, we must find him!"

"If what that trader said is true Jasper needs us, too," declared Roger.

"If he is a prisoner we are bound to do all we can to rescue him," said
the other boy, although it required no little fortitude to be able to
decide in this way.

In one direction lay comfort and safety; in the other direction they
must expect to find danger in many shapes, privations such as hunger
and exhaustion, and, for aught they knew, death itself might lie in
wait. Yet, in spite of all this, neither Dick nor Roger hesitated.

"Then it is on with us to the Frenchmen's camp!" said Roger.

It was in that spirit they made their start. Just how far away the
mysterious sheet of water lay they could not tell. It might be three
miles, it might be twenty, for all they knew. Vague stories concerning
it had drifted into the explorers' camp from various sources. Trappers
who had caught a glimpse of it gave wonderful accounts concerning its
vast extent. Indians recounted the most marvelous tales of its being
the home of the mighty Evil Spirit that possessed the Enchanted Land.

The boys were not free from a certain amount of superstitious awe; for
human nature had not progressed as far along certain lines a hundred
years ago as in these later days. But they possessed bold hearts, and,
animated by that single purpose of serving those they loved, they were
willing to dare anything rather than give up the quest.

It was in this frame of mind, then, that they began heading into the
east, trudging uncomplainingly through heaps of snow that often came to
their waists, and keeping a constant lookout for either game or human
enemies.

CHAPTER XXVI

TRACKING A BUFFALO

"THEY are all snowed under, I fear, Dick!" Roger thus remarked after
they had been struggling along for some time, without seeing a living
thing save some crows that flew over the tree-tops, cawing at the three
palefaces as though scornfully demanding to know what they were doing
so far away from their kind.

"If you mean the small animals, such as rabbits, foxes, mink and such,"
Dick answered, "I suppose it is so, though in time they must work their
way through the snow or die. But elk can move around still. They are
broad-chested and able to bound over or break through the drifts."

"Then why have we failed to see a single elk, or a lone buffalo?" asked
Roger, as though he took it as a personal grievance.

"I can only give a guess at the answer."

"And I'm sure it will be a good guess then, Dick, for you seem to study
the habits of everything that moves, from a beaver building his dam to
the antelope we coax up within gun-shot by waving a red piece of cloth.
What do you think is the reason all big game is lacking about here?"

"The animals must know of some places, more favored than others," Dick
explained, "where the grass stays fairly green throughout the winter.
Snows may come and melt, and the cold waves be tempered by hot springs
every little while."

"Then I wish we could run across another of those boiling springs
before it gets dark, and find a herd of elk hanging around it," and
Roger undoubtedly meant every word he spoke.

As the day had been pretty well along when they managed to break out of
their snow prison they could not hope, before night, to get any great
distance on the way to the big lake.

This being the case, it was really a matter of greater importance to
Dick and his two companions that they succeed in their quest for food
than that they cover any considerable distance before camping.

The prospect of another long night, without a morsel of food to stay
the pangs of hunger, appalled them. Dick himself felt badly about it,
although he managed, as usual, to hide his growing disappointment
better than Roger, partly for the sake of cheering the other up.

"There is one thing none of us seem to have noticed," Dick observed,
after another half hour had crept by; "the clouds have broken, and we
may even see the sun before it sets."

"That is certainly cheering news," Roger returned; "because if we had
another fall of snow on top of this, winter would set in 'for keeps.'
And we did hope to be safe back in camp before that."

Before Dick could make any further remark an exclamation from Mayhew
drew the attention of the two lads. The guide happened to be a little
ahead of them at the time, and was now seen to be beckoning eagerly.

"He must have struck the trail of an elk at last!" exclaimed Roger,
showing all the signs of the eager hunter.

"It looks that way," admitted his cousin, "because he seems to be
pointing down at his feet, as though something he had discovered
interested him."

"Oh! I hope it turns out that way, and that if it is a trail it was not
made by a file of reds, or some of those ugly French trappers."

They were hurrying forward while exchanging these remarks, and speedily
reached Mayhew's side.

"What is it?" asked Roger, immediately.

"A fresh trail!" came the answer, and, looking down, the boys could see
for themselves where some large animal had pushed through the deep snow.

"An elk?" Dick inquired.

"No, a buffalo, I believe," came the reply.

"One or the other, what do we care, so long as we can bag him?"
commented Roger. "So let us be on the move. Every minute counts, with
the sun so low in the western sky, and night coming on."

There was indeed need of haste, for the short afternoon would soon
be gone and, unless they had the good fortune to overtake the stray
buffalo within half an hour or so, all their hopes would be dashed.

They immediately started forward; but the depth of the snow in places
retarded their progress, and Roger often drew long breaths that stood
for impatience, for he dared not vent his feelings aloud.

Dick, who was always observing little things, discovered that the
breeze favored them. The buffalo was heading up into the quarter
whence the wind came. This is the habit of most animals, since it
allows them an opportunity to scent any lurking danger ahead, such as a
panther stretched on a limb and waiting to spring upon them in passing.

Mayhew, who was a first-class tracker, every now and then took a look
at the trail as though to decide what chance they had of overtaking the
struggling buffalo before night fell.

He made no comment, but Dick, who watched his face, felt that the guide
did not feel any too sanguine. Evidently from certain signs, well known
to one of his broad experience, Mayhew knew that they were still some
distance in the rear of the quarry and that, unless for some reason the
lone buffalo chose to stop while on his way to a feeding ground, there
was little likelihood of their coming up with him.

Accordingly, Dick was already making up his mind to "grin and bear it,"
as Uncle Sandy was in the habit of saying when things could not be
changed, and he had to stand for whatever came along.

Roger kept a bright lookout ahead. He hoped to be the first to discover
the huge animal outlined against the white snow. Perhaps Roger had
even figured in his mind just how they would approach as near as they
could, and then, when their presence was discovered, and the buffalo
tried to escape, they would give chase.

If the animal was tired after floundering so long through the deep
drifts they would likely soon be able to come up with him, when a
single shot might do the business. Roger did not forget that their
ammunition was low, and that it would never do for them to be wasteful
of powder and ball.

The sun presently shone forth, but it was close down to the top of the
ridge far to the west, and liable to dip out of sight at any time.

"The sun has set!" said Roger, presently, in a tone of bitter
disappointment.

"And we will have to give up soon, I fear," Dick told him; "because,
while meat would be a fine thing to have, we must first of all think of
passing the night without being frozen to death."

"It is going to be cold, that's a fact," admitted Roger, trying to show
that he could grapple with the situation and not betray weakness.

Mayhew took a last look at the tracks, while the boys awaited his
decision with the deepest anxiety. When they saw the guide shake his
head in the negative they knew luck had gone against them, and that
this meant a supperless camp.

"We have gained a heap on the critter," Mayhew declared, "but he was
still going strong when he passed here."

"How long ago?" asked Dick.

"Nigh on half an hour, I should judge," came the answer.

"Then we must call quits, and devote all our attention to finding a
camp," Dick determined. "With a fire going we will not feel quite so
badly as in the cold."

"Then we mean to keep up a blaze all night, no matter what the risk?"
demanded Roger.

"Of course we can try to hide the fire some," explained the guide; "but
on a cold night like this the reds are not apt to be moving, and the
risk will be slight."

"Well, if the rest can stand it, I ought to, so now let us begin in
earnest to find a camping-ground," and Roger started looking to the
right and left as though he did not want to lose a minute.

Indeed, at that season of the year in this far northern clime, while
the twilight might linger for an hour or more, once the sun had set
they could not see well under the canopy of pines. These, in places,
had kept much of the snow from reaching the ground, and there was a
reasonable hope that they could run across some spot that offered
shelter from the piercing night wind.

Mayhew was so well versed in backwoods lore that he could be depended
on to locate such a camp ground. If necessary they could build a
windbreak out of branches, and behind this make their fire.

Before long the guide gave them to understand that he had sighted what
seemed to be an admirable spot for passing the night.

"Over yonder you can see where I mean," he told them, pointing as he
spoke; and even Roger was forced to admit that it offered advantages
other places had lacked.

Mayhew took his hatchet and cut several slabs from the bark of a
tree. It was to be noticed that he did this on the side nearest their
intended camp; but neither of the pioneer boys asked why this was done,
because their hunter instinct told them Mayhew was only leaving his
mark so that in the morning they would lose no time in picking up the
trail of the lone buffalo.

Once they arrived at the spot selected as their next camp all started
to work. Dick and Mayhew began to erect a thick screen of brush on the
windward side, while Roger collected fuel wherever he could find it.

When he had made quite a pile of broken limbs, and splinters from
a fallen pine tree, Roger got out his tinder-box and flints, and
presently the rising smoke told that his fire was a success.

As the night closed in around them it was a rather cheery scene that
Roger looked upon, while engaged in gathering a further supply of wood,
perhaps twenty or thirty paces away. His two companions were still
engaged in adding the finishing touches to the barricade; the flames
leaped up with a snap and a sparkle, and the glow of the fire seemed to
give the surrounding snow a rosy tint that did much to take away its
cold look.

Roger sighed as he tightened his belt, drawing it up another notch, a
familiar habit with hungry men.

"I think we will have to call this Camp Starvation, Dick," he remarked,
as he threw down the armful of fuel he had collected.

"No, that would hardly be a proper name for it," the other told him
immediately; "because we haven't reached that point yet. I mean to put
it down in my memory as Camp Hope!"

Roger must have been abashed by the gentle reproach in Dick's
declaration, for he did not make any reply until several minutes had
passed. Perhaps he may have been weighing in his mind the many reasons
they had to be thankful, in spite of the dark clouds hanging over their
heads, for when he did speak up it was to say:

"Yes, we will call it Camp Hope, Dick."

CHAPTER XXVII

FIRE FANCIES

PERHAPS they were taking some chances as they sat there by their fire
that evening; but there was no help for it. Being without blankets or
any furs to keep them warm when sleep overcame them, they dared not
risk being frozen as the cold became more intense with the passing of
the night.

Roger meant to show as cheery a face as he could, but somehow he
could not seem to think of anything but the delights of eating. It is
doubtless so with all who have been deprived of their customary food
for an unusual time.

"Do you know, Dick," he said, as he sat hugging his knees and staring
into the crackling flames, "I was just thinking how, many a night, when
the wind would be whistling around the corners of our cabin, Sister
Mary and myself used to sit and look into a roaring fire like this,
one on either side of the big hearth. I can picture her sitting there
to-night, with mother and father close by. And, Dick, perhaps they are
talking about us, wondering whether they will ever see us again."

Dick moved uneasily as he listened, for, to tell the truth, his
thoughts had also gone roaming back to the dearly loved home, and
in imagination he was following the forms of his mother, father and
brother, as they moved to and fro in the well-remembered living room.

Immediately afterwards Roger's plaint took another turn, induced no
doubt by the feeling of emptiness that caused him such uneasiness.

"Yes, and it seems to me I can even catch the fine odor of the stew
that is cooking in the big black pot swinging over the fire, with the
lid lifting to let out the clouds of steam. And oh! Dick, how splendid
it used to smell, too! What wouldn't I give to be sitting down with a
plate of it heaped up before me, some of mother's tea in a tin cup and
a plate of her fried sweet-cakes to top off with."

Once Roger got started on that strain he seemed to take especial
delight in recollections of about every feast in which he had ever
indulged. Dick let him talk on undisturbed. How vividly he himself
could recall all those special occasions, when they had attended some
country dance among the settlers' young folks at harvest home times.
The faces of all the absent friends came clearly before him and,
spurred on by Roger's graphic descriptions, it seemed almost possible
to get a whiff of the fresh bread being taken from the big old Dutch
oven in which, as a small child, Dick had so often hidden from his
companions when they played games.

Roger prattled on as the hour grew late. It seemed as though his
recollections had no limit, judging from the way in which he kept
calling up events of happy days.

But finally Dick began to notice that he faltered now and then, and his
eyes gave evidences of approaching drowsiness. The warmth of the fire
was getting in its work and in the end Roger stretched out, "just to
rest his back a bit," as he explained to his companions. He soon began
to breathe regularly and Dick knew that he slept.

For a time at least the hungry boy would forget his gnawing pains,
though possibly his dreams would take on the joys of a feast, and the
awakening be all the more bitter in consequence.

"Poor Roger!" Dick said to himself, as he leaned over and gently drew
the flap of the sleeper's tunic closer about his neck, "I wish I had it
in my power to provide a substantial meal against your waking up; but
where it is to come from, unless it rains down from above, I fail to
see."

It was just like the generous nature of Dick Armstrong to forget his
own condition in feeling for another; Roger was as dear to him as his
own brother could be, since they had shared each other's joys and
sorrows ever since they were able to exchange confidences and fight
each other's battles.

That long night would never be forgotten, though they lived to an old
age. Little sleep visited Dick's eyes. This came partly from his sense
of hunger, but also on account of the serious condition that confronted
them.

Their long quest seemed to have been wrecked on the rocks, and that
after success had appeared to crown their efforts, which made it all
the harder to bear. Although Dick would not appear downcast while Roger
could see his face, he had numerous doubts to wrestle with in the
silence of the night, and secretly groaned in spirit many times.

During his wakeful hours he often caught the distant howling of a wolf
pack. This coming of the first deep snow of the winter would make their
task of securing daily food the more difficult, and it seemed to the
listener that there was an additional mournfulness to those long-drawn
sounds.

Once he also caught the scream of some other beast in the pine woods.
Although it was not repeated, Dick believed it must have come from a
panther seeking his prey amidst the snowy aisles of the forest.

Mayhew, too, must have been wakeful, for several times when Dick
happened to be dozing he arose and threw more wood on the fire.

When the stars told Dick morning was at hand he felt as though a
terrible load had been taken from his mind. With ten hours of daylight
before them they must surely be able to obtain meat and satisfy their
craving for food.

While the other two were sitting cross-legged by the fire, and talking
in low tones, Roger suddenly sat up. He stared hard at them, and dug
his knuckles into his eyes, as though he could not believe what he saw.

Dick knew from the indications that he must have been far away in his
sleep, and that the disappointment struck him cruelly.

"So, it was all a dream after all, and mother was not calling me to get
up or the griddle cakes would be cold?" Roger remarked, dolefully. "Oh,
how fine they used to taste, with that wild honey smeared over them! Do
you remember the time when we brought in four heaping buckets of honey
from that bee-tree up on Juniper Creek, and how my left eye was closed
by a sting? But never was there such sweet stuff. And to think that we
have to go without a bite of breakfast this cold morning!"

"Just as soon as it gets a little lighter," said Dick, "we will be on
the move."

"Searching for something to eat, you mean, don't you?"

"Yes, whether it is that stray buffalo, or an elk, we will not be very
particular which," the other declared.

"Why, I think I could eat a--a wolf, almost, I'm that caved in,"
declared Roger, and no doubt he meant it, too.

The dawn was at hand. Eagerly they watched the pink flush spreading
across the eastern sky. With a change in the wind they could hear a
distinct muttering sound, and it was easy to picture some gushing
geyser in action, perhaps miles away.

Just as soon as they could see without trouble they turned their backs
on Camp Hope, and were soon following the trail of the buffalo.

"If I thought we would have any trouble about getting a supply of wood,
so as to start a fire in a hurry after we get our meat," Roger observed
before they abandoned the camp, "I'd be tempted to tote some of this
good fuel on my back."

"No need of doing anything like that," Dick assured him. "If there is
anything that is plentiful around here it is fuel for a fire. I already
have some small bits of choice stuff laid away for a time of need."

The wind had shifted the surface of the dry snow to some extent, so
that in places they found the tracks of the buffalo almost covered. But
Mayhew was a born trailer, and found no difficulty in following the
animal.

"You see," he told the boys at one time, "this may be a good thing for
us, because we can tell where the beast started fresh this morning."

It was not twenty minutes after he made this remark when the scout
joyously showed them where the buffalo had spent the night. They could
plainly see the imprint of his hairy coat in the snow where he had
lain down. The cold had no particular terror for such a rugged beast
and, as he went on in about the same general direction as his previous
trail, they believed they were right in assuming that the buffalo,
through instinct, knew where forage was to be found, and was heading
thither.

All possible haste was now made by the three pursuers. It meant much
to them that they presently overtake the quarry, or else run upon some
other game.

Roger was already feeling weak from lack of food. Only his will power
enabled him to keep alongside the others in that hot chase. He strained
his vision to the utmost, in the endeavor to be the first to discover
signs of the welcome presence of the big animal with the shaggy mane,
which it seemed was their only hope of staving off starvation.

When crows again flew overhead and continued their scornful cawing,
Roger several times aimed his empty gun up at them, as though he would
have liked to give the impudent birds of ill omen something to remember
him by.

"I really believe they must know we have so little ammunition that
nothing could tempt us to waste a grain of powder on them this day,"
he declared, angrily, when the clamor of crow scolding grew worse.

"Oh! at another time you would hardly pay any attention to them," Dick
told him. "Just now all of us feel a bit nervous, and ugly. Let them
scold if it does them any good. We haven't yet reached the point where
we could eat crow, even if we felt like wasting a shot on one."

It was sensible advice, and, just as Dick prophesied, the noisy flock
was soon left in their wake.

"I've heard some queer stories about crows," Mayhew remarked, "and how
they even hold a court to try some bird that has been bad. Once I found
a crow hanging by the neck dead in a wild grape-vine. Of course I could
never tell if it got there by accident, or was hanged by its mates; but
lots of people I told the story to said it looked mighty suspicious."

Dick laughed a little at that, but went on:

"I've sat in the woods many a time, myself, and watched a gathering of
crows. It seemed as though they came by squads from everywhere until
there were hundreds fluttering about the trees. And such a terrible
noise they kept up! It made me think of school when we have spelling
bees, and everybody is trying to call out at the same time."

"Yes," added Roger, trying to take some interest in things that would
cause him to forget his misery for even a brief period of time, "and
then they would fly off in a great cloud, dodging this way and that as
though it might be an army going to attack the fort of an enemy. Yes,
they are queer birds; but I don't like them to make fun of me when I'm
sick for something to eat."

"They acted to me as if they were warning us to go back!" suggested
Mayhew, a little uneasily. "I wonder why, and if there's anything up
this way that would give us trouble."

"It's open country just here," said Roger, "and nothing terrible in
sight. But I'd give a heap if we could only overtake that loping
buffalo. You said a while ago, didn't you, Mayhew, that he could only
be fifteen minutes or so ahead of us?"

"That is what his tracks tell me," the guide assented, "and we are
coming up on him all the while. If we fail to see him in the next half
hour I will be a disappointed man."

"Why, I must be getting weak on my pins, for it seems as if the ground
was trembling under me!" declared Roger, showing signs of sudden alarm.

Dick and the guide exchanged hasty glances. Apparently they were
feeling something of a similar nature, but could not lay it to the same
cause as Roger.

"It is getting much worse now," cried Mayhew, "and I can hear a
terrible grumbling down underneath me that I must say I don't like over
much!"

All of them were by this time aroused to a sense of their sudden peril;
but it was Dick who voiced the alarming truth.

"Run for your lives!" he shouted, "it must be a boiling fountain about
to burst, and we are right on top of the crater!"

CHAPTER XXVIII

WITH HOPEFUL HEARTS

FORGOTTEN at that minute were all their other troubles, as each made
hurried efforts to get away from the spot. The trembling of the rocks
told plainly enough that some convulsion of nature was about to take
place; and Dick's words gave evidence that he himself had discovered
where the yawning crater of the boiling spring lay amidst the half
melted snow.

Hardly had they gone back some thirty or forty feet when there burst
forth a vast volume of spray and steaming water that ascended high into
the air, reaching an altitude of possibly five score feet before it
lost its velocity, and began to rain downward.

Immediately the snow around the entire vicinity commenced to melt
with the heat of the falling water. With the sunlight falling on the
wonderful fountain the two boys thought they had never in all their
lives seen anything so sublime.

Mayhew was more alarmed than pleased by the spectacle. Its terror
appealed more to his backwoods nature than any beauty connected with
the display. Indeed, had he been there alone, the chances were Mayhew
would have taken to his heels, not being desirous of such close
acquaintance with things he could not comprehend.

After staring at the magical fountain for a brief time Roger once more
allowed his other nature to have sway.

"We are losing precious minutes, Dick!" he called out, for the roar
was so great that it was impossible to be heard unless the voice were
elevated. "This may be all very fine, but it doesn't seem to satisfy
the gnawing sensation inside me."

When Dick gave the word, Mayhew only too gladly once more led off.

"That buffalo must have known of this hot fountain, because he came
straight up to where it is," Roger remarked, after they had left the
spouting geyser behind them.

"Yes, but it seems that it rises only at long intervals," Dick
explained. "It may be that days pass without an outburst. That accounts
for the snow around, which disappeared so fast once the flow of hot
water began."

Roger seemed content to accept this version of the strange happening.
In fact it was now a past matter with him; his most urgent necessity
did not concern wonderful fountains at all, but provender. He had a
constant reminder with him that "nature abhors a vacuum," and that an
empty stomach gives its owner no peace.

"If we had stood where we were," said Dick, "the chances are some of us
might have been well cooked. My heart seemed to jump up in my throat
when you stumbled, Roger; but you managed to recover your balance and
come on."

"I confess that I was a bit worried myself about that time, Dick; but
as a rule I'm not so clumsy. Just now my legs seem weak and wobbly. It
must be that hunger is getting a good grip on me."

"All's well that ends well, they say," ventured Mayhew, stealing a
backward look over his shoulder at the still spouting geyser that
filled him with such uneasiness.

"When the buffalo found this place all covered with snow," continued
Roger, "so he could get not a mouthful of grass or fodder, he started
off again in the same general direction. Where do you reckon he is
striking out for now, Dick?"

"Oh, I suppose he knows of other places where he can feed, and is
headed for one of them," was the answer Dick gave.

"There, the noise is dying down back of us," Mayhew announced. "It
seems as though the show is over for this time. Yes, the column of hot
water and steam is only half as high, and getting less right along."

"It may lie quiet for another spell, perhaps days, before it breaks
out again," suggested Dick, which remark proved that he was arriving
at some conclusion respecting these remarkable geysers, in that he
believed they all had regular cycles for displaying their activities,
some frequent, others at much longer intervals, but all working with
clock-like fidelity.

Roger had already quite forgotten all about the recent scare. Once more
he was keeping his eyes on the alert for signs of that lone buffalo
which would mean so much to them.

He had pictured the animal so many times in his fancy that pretty soon
the tortured boy began "seeing things" that did not really exist.

"Look yonder, Dick," he would say huskily, "and tell me is that the
old bull just alongside that rock? Seems as though I can make out his
head as he stands there. Hadn't we better spread out, so as to surround
him?"

When Dick assured Roger that what he took to be the head of the buffalo
was only an outcropping of the massive rock the other seemed deeply
disappointed.

"I was dead sure it must be our game, Dick, indeed I was. But now I
see you are right, and it is a part of the rocky spur. How about that
brush heap ahead there; I may have been mistaken, Dick, but I thought I
could see something moving. It is too low down to hide a big buffalo,
but Indians might be lying there, waiting to knock us over. I hope they
have some pemmican along with them, for we could take it away, you see,
Dick; and even dry pemmican would taste pretty good now."

Dick began to feel a little worried about his cousin. It seemed to him
as though Roger was getting light-headed on account of his privations.

"Oh! if only we could catch up with that miserable buffalo bull," Dick
muttered to himself as he tramped along. "Either that, or else run
across an elk. Something has got to happen soon, or I'm afraid Roger
will keel over, or perhaps go out of his mind."

The situation was getting more desperate. Try as he would, Dick could
discover no way in which it might be alleviated. They must keep on
constantly and hope that before long they would come up with the animal
they had been tracking with the pertinacity of wolves.

He knew they were not making anything like the progress they could have
had to their credit if they had partaken of their customary portion of
food. Weakness had seized upon them, and, while the spirit was willing,
the flesh seemed to be lacking in the power to obey as promptly as they
would have liked.

Roger continued to discover suspicious objects from time to time.
Then his mood would change, and he could be heard laughing softly to
himself, as though the whole thing was appearing to him now in the
guise of a great joke.

"Poor fellow!" muttered Dick, when one of these spasms had passed off,
leaving Roger more morose than ever; "somehow he seems to feel it so
much more than either of us. I've got to the last hole in my belt now,
and I hope there may be no need of my making a fresh one."

When he looked toward Mayhew he saw that the scout's face had begun
to show signs of renewed eagerness. This gave Dick a thrill, as hope
once more commenced to flutter in his breast. Certainly Mayhew would
not look like that unless he had good reason to believe they were now
close upon the heels of the roving buffalo.

Then Mayhew raised a warning finger; at the same time he nodded his
head toward the muttering Roger. Dick comprehended the action; it meant
that some means should be taken to keep the other quiet, lest he warn
their quarry of their coming long before there was any necessity of
such a happening, and thus endanger the success of their stalking game.

Accordingly Dick hastened to get alongside his cousin. He laid a hand
on Roger's arm, and the other, raising his head, turned a pair of red
eyes upon Dick.

"Keep still, Roger!" hissed Dick, holding up a finger. "Mayhew says we
are right on the heels of the game. You must not speak a single word
above a whisper, or all may be ruined. Do you understand what I am
saying?"

"Of course I do, Dick," began the other, cautiously, as though aroused
by the joyous news, and coming back to his senses again. "I hope you
are not thinking me silly just because I've been complaining of feeling
hungry?"

"Never mind, now, it's going to be all right," said Dick, soothingly,
for he was afraid Roger might want to argue the matter with him. "As
you have an empty gun you must let us do the work."

"Oh, never fear about me, I understand!"

"Well, keep still now, Roger. Not another word, but hold yourself ready
to start that fire soon. If you listen hard you may hear the horn blow
for dinner like it does at home when we are out in the field. Silence
now, Mayhew must think he sees our game."

Indeed, the actions of the guide would give any one to understand
something like that. He was moving along with his body bent over, and
gripping his faithful rifle in both hands. Although both of the boys
used their eyes to the best advantage they could not see anything to
hearten them; but then the strain on their nerves, because of all that
blinding snow, may have had something to do with this failure.

Mayhew turned quickly toward them. He said not a word, but his lips
moved, and he nodded his head in a manner that thrilled the boys.

It had long ago been decided just what their tactics should be in case
they were so fortunate as to come up with the quarry. Neither of them
meant to fire until they had managed to get so close to the game that
one shot alone would be necessary to bring the animal down.

Of course, when their presence was discovered, the buffalo would start
off at as brisk a pace as possible, in order to escape from his human
enemies. They believed, however, the animal must be nearly tired out
from breasting the deep drifts so long, and that its burst of speed
could not last any great while.

If it became absolutely necessary, they were prepared to risk
everything on a long-distance shot, and the hope of wounding the
animal. This would hasten its halting at least, when it could be
dispatched at their pleasure, even though they used knife and hatchet
to accomplish this.

Roger must have been greatly impressed with what Dick had said to him,
for he remained perfectly still after that, at least so far as giving
voice to his feelings was concerned.

Dick had pushed on ahead of his cousin, as he had announced he intended
to do on account of holding one of the loaded guns. Side by side with
Mayhew he now advanced along the fresh trail. Even a novice could see
that some animal must have passed only a few minutes before, for there
were places where snow actually fell over into the tracks, as though
it had been balanced on the edge of the depression.

The anxious waiting that almost made them sick at heart ended at last.
Dick caught a scuffling sound that came from beyond the next line of
bushes. Something was moving there, and he could easily imagine that
the hungry buffalo, scenting some sort of grass under the snow, might
be trying to get down to it.

Bending lower still, they pushed on, with eyes glued on the spot where
those significant sounds came from. In another minute they would be
able to look over the tops of the bushes and see what lay beyond. Then,
if all was well, a lucky shot would procure them the meat of which they
were in such desperate need.

No one made a sound so far as Dick could tell, so it could not have
been that which gave warning to the suspicious buffalo. Perhaps a shift
in the wind carried some taint of their presence to his sensitive
nostrils and aroused his fears.

However that might be, Dick heard a sudden snort, and then there came
a shout of dismay from Roger, who, standing more erect than the rest,
must have been able to see what was going on beyond the bushes.

"He's on the run, Dick! Oh! hurry, and shoot, or he will get away from
us!"

As Dick and Mayhew cleared the bushes with great bounds they saw the
buffalo plunging into a deep drift and scattering the snow in every
direction. But what thrilled the two hunters was the fact that, in
dashing headlong into the drift, the beast had entered a trap from
which escape would not be easy.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE HUNTERS' FEAST

"HEAD him off!" Roger called from the rear, while he made all haste to
come up, even though he had an empty and useless gun, and could not be
of any assistance to his comrades.

The others had gauged the situation, and realized that their best move
was to follow directly after the animal, thus causing him to push
deeper into the trap. The heavy fall of snow, that they had grumbled at
so many times when struggling along knee-deep, now promised to be their
best ally.

In this fashion they presently found themselves close upon the
struggling bull. Floundering there he could not make much headway, and
at last in desperation the animal started to turn upon his pursuers.

They knew well what the result might be if they allowed the charge to
be carried out. One of them would be struck down by those wicked black
horns that adorned the shaggy head; and, worst of all, the animal was
likely to escape, since Roger could do little or nothing to stay his
flight over the back trail.

[Illustration: "THE BUFFALO WAS JUST IN THE ACT OF TURNING WHEN THE
FRONTIERSMAN FIRED"]

It had been arranged that Mayhew was to take the first shot, and they
hoped one would be sufficient, with the backing of knife and hatchet.
The buffalo was just in the act of turning when the frontiersman fired,
and in consequence Mayhew could hardly have asked for a better showing,
since one flank was wholly exposed.

At the time the marksman could not have been more than fifteen feet
away, and a miss was out of the question. Mayhew had hunted these huge
bison on numerous occasions, since he was one of those upon whom the
exploring party depended for a regular supply of fresh meat.

This being the case, he knew exactly where to place his bullet in order
to get the best results. As a consequence no sooner had he discharged
his gun, and drawn his hatchet in order to be prepared for the worst,
than he saw the animal stagger and fall in his tracks.

A vital spot must have been reached by the missile that was driven by
that heavy charge of powder; for the long-barreled guns of the pioneers
were powerful in their execution.

When Roger saw the quarry struggling in the snow-drift his
excitement became so great that he could not even shout, much as he
felt like so doing. Hurrying toward the spot, he fastened his hungry
eyes upon the animal whose efforts to rise were becoming more and more
feeble.

Presently Mayhew, watching his chance, stepped briskly forward and with
one well-aimed blow from the back of his hatchet finished the business.

"Hurrah!" gasped Roger, carried away by the importance of their
well-earned victory.

No doubt delightful visions immediately began to flit through his
brain, as in imagination he saw himself seated by a fire, and devouring
ration upon ration of savory buffalo meat.

"Remember your part of the transaction, Roger!" warned Dick, as, knife
in hand, he prepared to cut up the game.

"That means a fire!" answered the other, excitedly. "Hand me over the
fine stuff you said you had packed up, Dick. Oh! you can depend on me
to get things going in a hurry. There's a spot close by where I saw
plenty of wood. The snow was blown away somehow or other. Give me a
little time, and you will see smoke rising!"

Doubtless Roger had started scores, even hundreds, of fires in his
time; but it is certain that he never entered into the task with a
lighter heart than on this particular occasion. His very soul seemed
to be singing with joy as he hastily gathered up some of the wood most
easily obtained, and then, picking a good spot, proceeded to use flint
and steel with hopes of speedy results.

Finding that his very eagerness was delaying him, Roger called a
halt, took himself to task, and after that settled down grimly to
accomplishing his part of the proceedings without a hitch.

In a short time smoke began to curl upwards from his small beginning.
Blowing the feeble blaze he quickly had it taking hold in earnest.
The crackle and snap of the burning wood was music to the ears of the
almost delirious boy.

"The fire is ready, Dick!" he called out.

"Then come for some of the meat, and commence business," was the
welcome answer.

As there was nothing that Mayhew could do to assist in carving the dead
buffalo, he also was given various "hunks" of the meat, and presently
the two sat there by the fire, attending to a dozen or more sticks, on
the ends of which their long-delayed meal was being slowly browned.

Never in all his life had Roger felt so frantic upon smelling the
odor of cooking meat. It would have been just the same had their fare
consisted of venison, bear meat, or wild turkey; all he wanted was
something to satisfy that terrible craving which was overpowering him.

It must be confessed that Roger, unable to stand the suspense and
temptation longer, snatched the first piece from its stick before it
was half-cooked, and commenced to devour it like a savage.

He seemed to enjoy it, too, which fact caused the guide to speedily
follow his example and appropriate one of the sections for himself.

Dick, coming up just then with a further supply, first of all filled
the empty sticks with fresh portions, and then--well, Dick was just
as hungry as either of his comrades, and there was really no sense in
waiting any longer, so he made it unanimous!

After they had taken the sharp edge off their ravenous hunger the pace
was not quite so swift. They were willing to wait until the meat was
fairly well cooked; and by degrees it was noticed that they even began
to slacken in their attack.

At length Dick laughed as he remarked:

"I think I have reached my limit, and, as I hardly want to be called a
glutton, I mean to quit."

"One more piece will satisfy me--for a while at least," Roger confessed.

The guide also admitted that he believed he could contain no more.
Although possibly at another time Roger might have complained about the
fresh meat being tough, no one heard him utter a single word against
it on that occasion. It would be adding insult to injury to find fault
with something that had really been the means of saving their lives.

"While we have this fire," suggested Dick, "it would be a good idea to
cook some more of the meat. We may not be able to start another blaze
later on; the danger of being discovered and attacked might be too
great. What do you think about it, Mayhew?"

"It is a sensible idea, I must say," came the immediate reply.

As that settled it, Dick went over and proceeded to do some more work
with his keen-edged blade. They meant to take considerable of the
meat along with them at any rate; that much had been decided on long
before. With but another shot left between starvation and themselves,
they could not afford to be wasteful when good luck had thrown a chance
like this in their way.

Roger was quite a different sort of fellow, now that he no longer
experienced the tortures of an unappeased appetite. He could even look
hopefully into the future, and see glorious opportunities for carrying
out their plan of campaign. As Dick had truly said, what they had done
once could be accomplished again. Favored by the protecting hand of
Providence, they must surely be able to get the better of that cruel
and scheming French trader.

The big lake where the river had its source could not be many miles
away from where they now stood. They would push steadily on, and, upon
striking its shores, ascertain where the Frenchmen had their camp.

"They must have a fire in such cold weather," Roger argued, and the
others agreed with him, glad to find that he was looking at matters so
cheerfully. "And fire makes some kind of smoke, so we ought to be able
to tell where it is. Then, when the night comes, we can creep up and
set Jasper free."

How simple the program seemed now! The rocks heretofore appearing
almost unsurmountable diminished in size, and no longer stood as a
barrier that could not be scaled. A full stomach nearly always makes
one see things in a rosy light.

Finally it was decided they had cooked a sufficient supply of meat.
The balance that they expected to carry with them was made up in small
packages enclosed in portions of the buffalo hide and tied securely
with thongs.

As they were burdened with little save their guns, now almost useless
to them, these packages would not prove troublesome. Roger was willing
to load himself down with twice the amount, and bravely stagger under
it all, rather than risk the chance of suffering again the misery he
had endured.

"You feel sure the lake lies to the east of us, Mayhew, do you not?"
Roger asked the guide when they were ready to start, feeling ever so
much stronger, and able to push through the drifts where they could not
be skirted.

"Yes, everything points that way," he was assured by Mayhew. "From
the way that Frenchman pointed when he was talking to you both, Dick
figured that the lake was off in that direction. And then the crows
fly that way in the morning, and return again in the evening. That is a
pretty good sign, I take it."

Roger became interested at once. Here was something he had not thought
of noticing, and consequently he wished for more information.

"Tell me why that should be so," he asked, as they started.

"These crows do not drift south in the winter time," explained the
frontiersman. "They stay up here, and, as they must find feed when the
earth is covered under many feet of snow, they have learned that along
the shore of the big lake they can get what they need--dead fish and
all sorts of other things cast up by the waves."

"But what if the lake freezes over, as it may do in very hard winters?"
Roger questioned.

"Oh, they would still find things to eat on the ice," returned Mayhew.
"Being an open stretch, the wind would keep the snow from settling
there. But no matter, that is where they fly each morning; and you know
what hunters say about a direct line being as 'straight as the crow
flies.'"

"Mayhew is right, Roger," said Dick, "and the chances are as ten to one
that we are heading straight for the big lake right now."

For some time they made steady progress. Possibly they covered as much
as two miles when the guide was suddenly observed to come to a full
stop. Both of the boys followed suit. They were not ten feet behind
Mayhew, so it was possible for them to exchange words with him in low
tones. Dick it was who found his voice first, for Roger grew so excited
he became dumb for the time being.

"What is it, Mayhew?" asked Dick, half-elevating his gun, which
contained the only charge of powder and lead they possessed, and under
such conditions might be looked on as their sole means of defense in
case of threatening peril.

"There are Injuns near by," came the answer. "I saw a feathered head
rise above yonder bush; and, as I live, there are others on either side
of us. It looks as though we were surrounded!"

CHAPTER XXX

ALLIES WITH COPPER-COLORED SKINS

WHEN Mayhew made that dire announcement it sent a foreboding of coming
trouble straight to the hearts of his young companions.

If the wily red men had succeeded in surrounding them, so that there
was no chance of escape, they might as well give up all hope of
saving themselves from capture. Poor Roger, who had so recently been
brimming over with confidence concerning the ultimate success of their
expedition to the camp of the Frenchmen, now found himself sinking once
more into a pit of despair.

"What had we better do, Mayhew?" asked Dick, grimly.

"That is for you to decide," replied the scout. "Each one will have to
follow his own bent. As for myself, I know well that capture would mean
death at the stake for me. So I shall fight to the last gasp, and, if
the chance comes, try to make my escape as I did before. A man can die
but once, and better in battle than by fire."

Dick hardly knew what to say or do. He had a charge in his gun, it is
true, and with ordinary luck that might account for a single Indian;
but would it be the part of wisdom to enrage the savages by this rash
act?

He turned to the right and to the left. Yes, even as Mayhew had said,
there were enemies concealed everywhere, for he could see feathered
heads rising from behind various sheltering bushes.

Flight seemed impossible, and, while the thought of surrender chilled
his blood, it began to look as though there might be no other course.

Then all at once Roger heard his cousin give a low cry. It was not
alarm that rang in that utterance, but rather sudden surprise, even
hope. Roger could not guess what it meant, but turning toward his
comrade, he seized hold of his arm and stared in the other's face.

To his amazement Roger saw what looked like an expanding smile
beginning to appear there. He feared Dick must be going out of his
mind when he could show signs of pleasure upon facing such a terrible
condition as that by which they were now confronted.

"Mayhew, look again!" cried Dick. "Pay closer attention to the feathers
in their scalp-locks! Tell me if they are not different from the
feathers the Blackfeet wear!"

It was the frontiersman now who uttered a cry.

"Yes, yes, you are right, boy! These are not Blackfoot braves!"

"They are Sioux warriors, and, it may be, fresh from the village of our
friend, the chief, Running Elk!" said Dick.

Roger found his voice at hearing that glorious news.

"Try them, Dick!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "Give them the sign the
chief taught us! Let them know we are friends, and not enemies! Yes, I
can tell the feathers are those of our friends, the Sioux. It is going
to be all right after all!"

Dick meanwhile took out a piece of white linen he had with him and
started to wave it.

At the same time he made certain gesticulations with his other hand
that would have a meaning in the eyes of Sioux braves, if, as they
hoped, these hidden red men proved to be such.

At first no notice was taken of his signals. Perhaps the wily warriors
suspected that it might be some sort of trap to catch them unawares;
but, as Dick continued his motions, they presently met with a response.

Several Indians cautiously arose to their feet, making responsive
gestures. Then they started to advance toward the spot where the three
palefaces stood.

"Why," exploded Roger, "look at every bush giving up a brave! There
must be twenty of them, all told. How lucky for us they are Sioux, and
not Blackfeet, the allies of Lascelles."

From every quarter the Indians now advanced, forming a complete cordon
around Dick and his friends, who awaited their coming calmly, confident
as to the result of the meeting.

"Dick," said Roger, "I am sure I know that man in the lead, with the
feathers of a chief in his long black hair, and the bears' claws around
his neck."

"Yes," the other remarked, "I was just going to say the same thing. He
is a sub-chief by the name of Beaver Tail. Surely he should remember
us, and what we did to make his chief our friend."

"Will he remember us, do you think?" continued Roger, apprehensively.

"Have no fear," Dick assured him; "all will be well. An Indian, once
a friend, can be depended on forever. I am only too glad now I held my
fire."

As the first of the Indians came up, the boys waited anxiously to
see whether they would be recognized by the sub-chief. To their
satisfaction Beaver Tail immediately greeted them as friends, after the
manner of his tribe.

Others of the warriors must also have discovered that they had seen two
of the palefaces among the lodges in their home village, for there were
numerous grunts and friendly nods among them.

"How can we let Beaver Tail know what we are here for, and beg him to
help us save Williams from the Frenchmen?" Dick now asked. "The chances
are that not one of the braves or the chief himself can speak a word of
English. Shall we make signs in the snow, and tell him that way?"

"Leave it to me, lad," Mayhew told him. "I have a little smattering of
the Sioux tongue, for once upon a time I was a prisoner among their
wigwams for months. With the aid of signs I shall be able to tell him
the story of how we seek Williams, the man who was in your company at
the time their chief set you free. And they will, I feel sure, help us
carry out our plan."

Both the pioneer boys watched Mayhew with intense eagerness as he faced
Beaver Tail and commenced to speak to him in his own language. The
chief looked astonished and pleased as well, for he had never dreamed
that a paleface could talk in the Dacotah tongue. (Note 10.)

While Mayhew was talking Dick watched the face of Beaver Tail. He could
see that by degrees the chief was catching the drift of what the guide
tried to explain. Of course this consisted in the main of their desire
to overtake Williams, who had set off on a hunting trip, and more to
the effect of how he had been unlucky enough to fall into the hands
of the Blackfeet, who were acting in conjunction with certain French
traders.

It was a clever idea on the part of the guide to bring in the
Blackfeet, because, as he very well knew, there was never-ending war
between that tribe and the Sioux. This would make Beaver Tail all the
more willing, even eager, to lend his aid in effecting the rescue of
Williams.

Step by step Mayhew advanced. When his limited stock of words failed
him, the guide resorted to crude drawings on the snow, at which device
he seemed to be quite adept, if the boys could judge from the chorus
of "how-how" that broke from the crowd of braves after each effort in
this line, and which they judged meant appreciation on the part of the
interested onlookers.

Finally the guide had reached the conclusion. He must have asked Beaver
Tail to help the paleface friends of the great chief, Running Elk, to
rescue their companion from the hated enemy, because the Indian was
nodding his head as though the proposition struck him favorably.

Then he commenced talking in return. When he saw from the puzzled
expression on the face of Mayhew that the frontiersman failed to
catch the idea he was trying to express, the chief turned to the sign
language, upon which his race have always relied when communicating
with each other, or to commemorate great events such as glorious
victories.

"What does he say, Mayhew?" asked Roger.

"He knows where the Frenchmen have their camp, and it is, as we
believed, over on the big water," replied the guide.

"Good! And will he take us there, and help us rescue Jasper?" continued
Roger.

"He says he will," Mayhew announced, with a happy smile on his
weatherbeaten face, for things had taken a decided turn in their
favor, and he began to imagine himself back in the main camp, ready to
make another attempt at taking that message down to the mouth of the
Missouri River.

"When?" continued the impatient Roger.

"We can be heading over that way as soon as we feel like it," the guide
explained. "The lake is about seven miles from here, as near as I can
make him out from his sign drawing. Once we get close by we must wait
for night to come. It is against Injun nature to ever make an attack in
broad daylight, when it can be avoided."

"So long as they do not injure Jasper it will not matter much," Roger
admitted.

"If they have not hurt him up to now I do not think anything is going
to happen before night comes around," Dick told him.

As there was nothing more to be arranged Mayhew managed to tell the
chief that they gladly accepted his offer of assistance, and placed
themselves wholly in his hands. Perhaps the artful frontiersman,
knowing the nature of all Indians, managed to convey more or less
flattery in his speech. At any rate Beaver Tail gave evidences of
being greatly pleased by it, and even went around shaking hands with
the three palefaces, in the same way he had seen the head chief,
Running Elk, do on a former occasion.

It was a fortunate thing for the exploring expedition that members
of their party had been able to make friends with this tribe of the
powerful Sioux nation so early in their invasion of the hunting grounds
of these Western Indians.

Dick and Roger had shot a savage panther that was about to leap from
the limb of a tree upon an old Indian squaw and a little girl. Later
on, when the boys found themselves prisoners of the Sioux, this squaw,
who turned out to be a sister of the great chief, Running Elk, and the
child Dove Eye his own daughter, saved their lives; and from that time
on the Sioux, at least that particular tribe, were on friendly terms
with the explorers.

Accompanied by that host of fighting warriors, Dick and his party
pushed on into the east for several hours, not trying to make any fast
time, however, since they were in no particular hurry to arrive before
evening.

"If you have been taking notice of the fact, Dick," Mayhew remarked,
as he drew alongside the others, "we have our backs full on the
westering sun."

"Yes," Dick returned, "I did take note of that, and it tells us you
were right; the lake, and the camp of the Frenchmen as well, lie
straight to the east."

"Look up, Roger; what do you see?" demanded the guide.

"Our old friends, the crows, flying in flocks, all in a straight line,
and heading into the sun. Listen to them cawing; but somehow or other
the sound doesn't 'rile' me as it did before. In fact, I rather like
to hear it, because I can fancy they are saying: 'You are on the right
track, the camp is only a little way ahead, and good luck to you!'"

Dick laughed softly.

"That is only because you are happy now, while before you had a heavy
load on your mind. As none of us can understand crow talk we must let
it go by. See how they rise in the air when they glimpse us. Wary old
rascals that they are, they scent danger a mile off."

"And, as we must be getting near the big water now," interposed Mayhew,
"it may be just as well that we forego talking except in whispers.
There can be no telling about those crafty Blackfeet; some of them may
be roving around, on the lookout for meat, and spy us. Leave it all to
the chief, and let us copy everything they do, so as to show Beaver
Tail we have handed the whole job over to him."

After that not a word passed between the three comrades above their
breath, as they moved along in company with the dusky crew.

CHAPTER XXXI

THE CAMP ON THE BIG WATER

"THERE is the big water, Dick!" said Roger, in the ear of his cousin,
as he chanced to peer through a narrow opening in the dense woods
beyond.

"And the chief has called a halt, which looks as though we were not to
go any further just now," Dick added.

They could catch a glimpse of what looked like an inland sea. The wind
was raising whitecaps on the tops of the waves, as they rolled past
toward the south. As far as the eye could reach the same broad expanse
of clear crystal water lay. The Indians did well to call it the "big
water," though to-day it is marked on the map as Yellowstone Lake.

A spy was sent out while the remainder of the party remained in hiding.
This was about an hour from sundown. He came back as the last glow was
fading in the western sky, and there was a consultation between the
chief and his leading warriors.

"Try to find out how the land lies, and what the plan of campaign will
be," Dick told Mayhew.

The guide returned presently with all the information they required.

"As near as I can tell," he explained to the boys, "the spy brings in
the news that the Blackfeet have mostly departed, and only the four
Frenchmen are left in the camp."

"But I hope they have left Jasper behind also," exclaimed Roger, taking
fresh alarm. "You remember we were told by Lascelles that he meant to
try to get the Indians to carry him far away to their village, and
either adopt him into the tribe, or else burn him at the stake."

"Make your mind easy on that score," Mayhew assured him.

"Then he is still in the camp?" asked the boy.

"Yes, the spy saw him there, tied to a tree," Mayhew continued. "One of
the Frenchmen gave him a kick in passing, like the coward that he is. I
used to believe the French were gentlemen, but my opinion has changed."

"Oh! you must not judge all Frenchmen by these rascals," said Dick.
"They are of the bad kind. Perhaps Jasper will be glad of a chance to
return that kick with interest before sun-up."

"And if he doesn't, I will!" asserted Roger, impulsively, for he hated
a coward and a bully above all things.

"What does Beaver Tail mean to do?" Dick asked.

"I think his first act will be to send the spy back again, so as to
keep track of what is going on in the French camp," Mayhew told him.
"Then at a later hour all of us will creep over and surround the place.
Any Blackfeet who may be found are apt to be given a short shrift,
because they are the mortal foes of the Sioux; but I do not believe the
traders will be harmed, unless they should be unwise enough to shoot
one of Beaver Tail's warriors."

Shortly afterwards Dick saw the same skillful scout go forth, and he
knew that Mayhew had guessed the truth when he said a close watch was
to be kept over the camp on the lake shore.

In good time the signal would be given for the general advance. Until
then, all of them must possess their souls in patience. As the cold of
the night increased it was likely to prove no laughing matter, since
they were unprovided with blankets, and dared not build a fire. Still,
with success so close to their hands, the pioneer boys felt that they
could put up with almost anything.

How slowly the time passed, in spite of all these brave resolutions!
Roger found it necessary several times to get up and, as noiselessly
as possible, thresh his arms around him, so as to start his stagnant
blood into renewed circulation. Had it not been for this expedient he
believed he would be unable to respond when finally the signal was
given to move on.

When it appeared to Roger that many hours must have passed, he was
elated to discover that the chief, Beaver Tail, had begun to show signs
of life. He had been sitting like a block of stone, simply casting a
look up at the stars occasionally, as though one of the heavenly bodies
must reach a certain altitude before the time could be reckoned as up.

This must have been a signal to the others, for immediately each
warrior was on his moccasined feet, and on every side bows could be
seen being strung in readiness for twanging, while quivers of arrows
were fastened over the left shoulder of each soft-footed brave.

Once the expedition was in motion, the chill soon left Roger's body. In
its place he experienced a gratifying warmth that must have started
through the increased pumping of his youthful heart due to excitement.

The boys found as they advanced that the crafty Sioux chief had made
as complete arrangements as any war captain could have done. He had
divided his force into three sections of about equal numbers. One of
these was sent ahead, and it was easy to surmise that the duty of these
warriors was to proceed to the further extremity of the Frenchmen's
camp, so as to cut off escape from that quarter.

A second lot could come up from the rear, while those with whom the
palefaces and Beaver Tail himself were associated advanced along the
shore of the lake, and expected to reach the vicinity of the camp in
that way.

The boys had never gazed upon a body of water anything like the size of
that lake, though accustomed to the big Missouri River in flood-time,
when it was miles from shore to shore. Once they had cruised down to
the Mississippi in company with Roger's father, Sandy Armstrong, who
had built a big canoe and wanted to revisit the place where, as a lad,
he had had a temporary home.

Seen in the sheen of the starlight, the lake looked as though it might
be an ocean in itself, for no further shore was visible. Roger wondered
if this was what the sea resembled, and if he and Dick would really be
permitted to continue on with the explorers, cross the rocky range of
mountains, and finally bring up on the golden strand of the Pacific
Ocean.

But there was a glimmering light close by, which he surmised was a
smoldering fire in the French traders' camp. Carefully they continued
to creep forward. It gave Roger a thrill to realize that he was in the
company of savages such as his father and grandfather had fought in the
years gone by; but who were now their best of friends. What wonderful
stories he and Dick would have to tell should they live through all
these manifold perils to return safely home, and resume their old
places at the domestic fireside.

Both boys were secretly hoping that Lascelles and his compatriots would
not be so foolhardy as to attempt to resist. Bad as these men were,
the boys did not wish to see them butchered, as they undoubtedly would
be should they fire on the Sioux, or even wound one of Beaver Tail's
warriors.

As for any stray Blackfeet who may have remained in camp while the
main body was off somewhere, if they got in the way of the Sioux arrows
or tomahawks that was their lookout; the boys could not be expected to
include them in the scheme of general amnesty.

The attack was not to be started until certain signals announced that
all the detachments had reached the positions assigned to them by the
chief. When he heard the howl of a wolf given with a certain little
twist at the finish, and then also caught the cry of the screech-owl,
he would feel assured that nothing remained to be done but order a
concerted assault.

Indians have always had a certain set plan for their surprises. No
matter how slyly they crept up on blockhouse or camp or border fort,
when a certain time arrived they felt it was absolutely necessary to
break out in ferocious yells. No doubt this was done partly to give
freedom to their pent-up feelings, and, at the same time, add to the
alarm of those whom they were attacking.

Dick and Roger knew this fact. They had had some little experience
themselves in connection with Indians. Besides this, they had heard
innumerable stories from Grandfather David concerning those days along
the Ohio, when the tribes from the Great Lakes to the southern border
of Kentucky were all on the warpath, and seeking day and night to
destroy the hardy pioneers.

This being the case, neither of the lads felt any surprise when there
arose a series of the most dreadful yells. The warriors whom they
accompanied added to the din with all their might, at the same time
springing forward and running in the direction of the near by camp.

From every quarter arose that deafening clamor. It must have struck
terror to the hearts of the Frenchmen, even though they may have
fancied that they were friendly with all the tribes of the far
Northwest, because of their dealings in the matter of buying the stores
of pelts collected by the red men.

There was nothing for the boys to do but keep company with the braves
as they thus closed in on the surrounded camp. Already they could see
signs of tremendous excitement in that quarter, as the inmates, alarmed
by the clamor of many tongues, turned this way and that, hardly knowing
whether to run, or else raise up their hands in token of submission.

Several dusky figures were discovered by the light of the fire darting
into the thickets close to the camp. These must be the few Blackfoot
braves who, for some reason, had been left behind. They knew there
would be no mercy for them at the hands of their mortal foes, the
Sioux, and on that account they preferred taking their chances in the
brush and half-darkness.

Had it not been for that horrid din, perhaps the boys might have caught
the sharp twang of bowstrings; they might also have heard the death
cries of those who met the flight of those swiftly-driven arrows, with
their tips of jagged flint.

Just then it mattered nothing to Dick and Roger whether any of the
Blackfeet managed to run the gauntlet and escape or not; their thoughts
were all taken up with the hope and expectation of finding that one
for whom they had long sought, Jasper Williams, whose signature at the
bottom of a new document would mean so much to the folks at home.

As they entered the camp they saw a cluster of figures standing with
fear-blanched faces. The flickering firelight showed the boys that
Lascelles was there, and the smooth-faced young man, cowering at his
side, must be his son, Alexis, whom accounts reported as being as
great a rascal as his father. Besides, there were two more of the
traders.

At sight of the boys whom he had so greatly wronged Lascelles cried out
something. Neither of them could exactly understand its nature; but
Dick fancied the cowardly Frenchman must be pleading with them to have
his life spared.

"Hold up your hands, and they may not harm you; but under no conditions
try to run away or you are dead men!" was what he flung out at them as
he ran past.

Roger was at his heels. The guide, with wonderful good sense, gave the
fire a little kick in passing, which had the effect of starting up
quite a bright blaze. By the aid of this light they could see what was
going on.

Already a number of the Sioux had entered the camp. Their appearance,
with flourishing hatchets and knives, doubtless chilled the blood of
the Frenchmen, knowing as they now did that these braves of Running Elk
must be on the most friendly terms with Dick and Roger Armstrong.

Dick looked further. It was, however, the keen-eyed Roger who chanced
to be the first to discover what they were searching for.

"This way, Dick; here he is, tied to this tree!" he cried.

As Dick leaped after him he saw that there was indeed some one bound
fast to a tree, a white man at that; and the firelight disclosed the
fact that it was Jasper Williams.

CHAPTER XXXII

A WELL WON VICTORY--CONCLUSION

THE astonishment of Jasper Williams was apparent as he saw Dick and
Roger Armstrong before him. Up to that time he had supposed the attack
to be simply one of those ordinary Indian surprises to be expected
when white men are hunting on ground that the tribes of the Northwest
claimed as their own territory.

"Saving me seems to be getting quite a habit with you lads," he told
them, as his bonds were hurriedly severed, and he could grasp a hand of
each. "How did the news reach camp; and what made the captain allow you
to start out almost alone into this heathen land in order to rescue me?"

Dick quickly informed him concerning the reason for their presence.

"We did not dream that you were in trouble," he said. "Mayhew, who was
taking the document to our people down on the Missouri, was robbed of
the paper. He came back to the camp to let us know; and we could see
the fine hand of that French trader over there back of it."

"François Lascelles!" cried the hunter, as a look of understanding
crossed his rugged features. "Now I begin to see what it all means. He
was afraid you would get another signature from me, and to block the
game he had me taken prisoner by the Blackfeet. Why," he added, in a
burst of anger, "they even threatened to carry me off to their village
and make me teach their squaws how white women sew and bake bread, and
all such civilized ways!"

"We immediately started out to overtake you," continued Dick, "and
Mayhew insisted on being one of our party. What strange adventures we
have met with you shall hear about another time; for I take it that
you do not mean after this to head any further into such a terrible
country?"

Williams shrugged his broad shoulders, and made a wry face.

"I suppose, lads, I would be a fool to try it, since my comrades
deserted me," he told them.

"Yes," replied Roger, "we met them on the way, and both Hardy and
Mordaunt vowed nothing could tempt them to go a step further. What with
the working of the Evil Spirit, and the danger from hostile reds, they
had had enough."

"We are glad to hear you say such a sensible thing," Dick added,
"because this does not seem like a white man's country. Only for our
good luck in meeting these friendly Sioux, who come from the village of
Running Elk, we might have had a much harder time in getting you free.
But it is all right now!"

"The sooner we start back to the camp the better I will be pleased,"
Williams admitted. "Then there's that document we ought to have on its
way. What will you do with the Frenchmen?"

"If we let them go free now," affirmed Roger, "no matter how they
give us their solemn word of honor, I believe Lascelles would try to
intercept our messenger again."

"You are right about that, son," said Williams, warmly. "Better let
the Indians knock them on the head, and have done with it. They surely
deserve little mercy at your hands."

Dick, however, could not agree to such a thing.

"No," he said, firmly, "if Beaver Tail will agree to take them to camp
with us, I believe Captain Lewis will hold them as hostages until
Mayhew has had time to get so far along on his journey east that he
can not be headed again. After that the Frenchmen might be turned
loose."

Between Williams and Mayhew this was explained to Beaver Tail, who
agreed. Nothing was said about a reward, but Dick had already made up
his mind that he would endeavor to induce the two captains in charge of
the exploring party to deal generously with the Sioux in this respect.

"It will not be thrown away, either," he told Williams, "because to
have Running Elk and his tribe friendly with us might mean much for the
success of our trip when spring comes."

Naturally Lascelles and his comrades were very much concerned as to
what their fate was going to be. When they heard what Dick had to say
they seemed rather pleased, though the old trader frowned, and muttered
to himself from time to time, as though he did not like the idea of
being frustrated in his cherished scheme.

There was apparently no help for it, unless he wished to try to escape,
when the chances were he would be quickly hunted down and lose his
scalp to the Sioux.

Accordingly a start was made for the camp, the entire band of Indians
accompanying the boys and the Frenchmen. During that weary march the
old trader was given an opportunity of learning about the character
of the two lads whom he had been pursuing so heartlessly, with the
intention of robbing their parents of the property that he claimed
through a flaw in the title.

Whether this knowledge did him any good or not it would be impossible
to say. He was too old to change his ways of life, and, while openly
protesting to have seen a light, so that he would no longer try
to injure the Armstrongs, Dick and Roger put little faith in his
repentance.

When finally the camp was reached the prisoners were handed over to
the care of some of the soldiers accompanying the expedition, who were
charged with the task of seeing that none of them escaped.

Jasper Williams readily signed another document which Captain Lewis
himself arranged, and both the leaders of the expedition put their
names down as witnesses. Then Mayhew started once more for the lower
Missouri. The other two messengers had agreed to wait at a certain
place for him to join them; and he believed he still had ample time to
arrive before the specified time would be up.

When the two boys waved him farewell they felt that a great load had
been taken from their shoulders.

"This time there should be nothing to prevent him from reaching our
homes and delivering the precious paper, besides our letters," said
Dick.

"Something seems to tell me he will do it," added Roger, "and so I have
decided not to let it worry me any longer. We will keep Lascelles and
his son here for some weeks, so that they will be powerless to catch
up with Mayhew, even if they wished to try it. And Beaver Tail seemed
greatly pleased with the generous way Captain Lewis treated him, too,
so we have made good friends of the Sioux."

"He gave the chief a gun and some ammunition," remarked Dick. "He was
as pleased with it as a child would be with a new toy. And every brave
also received something to show that we wanted them to be our friends.
But the dinner we gave them did not seem to reach the right spot. I saw
more than one slyly throw the tea away when they thought no one was
looking."

"They will stick to roast dog as a feast dish," laughed Roger. "I was
afraid at one time there might be trouble between the Mandans and
the Sioux, for they are old rivals of the chase and the warpath. But
Captain Lewis managed to patch up a truce that may last while we are
here, at any rate, even if the old warfare breaks out again afterwards."

"It took a good deal of talk, though," suggested Roger, "to induce the
Mandans to hide those old Sioux scalps they had swinging about their
teepees. If the braves of Running Elk had glimpsed those nothing could
have kept them from making trouble. But it is simply wonderful what
power Captain Lewis has over men."

"If we ever do set eyes on the great ocean that lies far beyond the
range of rocky mountains," Dick affirmed, "it will be owing mostly to
the cleverness of the President's private secretary."

History has recorded the facts, and the young pioneer in stating his
opinion was only saying what other men have conceded.

A few days after Mayhew left the camp, well provisioned and armed for
his dangerous trip over the back trail, winter set in in earnest. The
boys were well satisfied to be so comfortably housed and among friends,
instead of wandering amidst those strange scenes of which they never
seemed to tire of talking, where the earth appeared to be on fire deep
down under the outer crust, and continually spouted those colossal
streams of steaming water.

The four Frenchmen were kept prisoners until several weeks had elapsed,
and then allowed to go. They had a _cache_ somewhere, they admitted,
with an abundance of ammunition as well as other supplies, so there was
little fear of their perishing in the severity of the winter weather.

As the days and weeks drifted along Dick and Roger carried out many
of their little plans. They hunted when the weather admitted, and
accompanied Jasper Williams on trapping jaunts that covered several
days. They also had intercourse with the peculiar Mandan Indians, and
learned a multitude of interesting things connected with the tribe
called the "White Indians," a race which has always been a mystery to
historians.

As the long winter drew near a close the boys began to feel their
pulses thrill in anticipation of being once more on the move with their
faces turned toward the magical setting sun.

The talk around the fires was all of the wonders that still awaited
them beyond the chain of mountains of which they heard so much. Every
scrap of information was garnered and repeated. Captain Lewis lost no
opportunity to learn new facts, or rumors concerning what they might
expect to meet in their further advance into the country which up to
then had never known the impression of a white man's foot.

It can be easily understood, then, that as the snows began to melt
with the gradual increase of the sun's warmth in the early spring,
preparations were feverishly undertaken for a start. And in that camp
there was none more deeply interested in the final outcome than were
our two pioneer boys.

"I think we'll see some wonderful sights," said Roger.

"Perhaps," was the answer Dick made.

How the forward march into the Great Unknown was resumed, and what
adventures fell to the lot of our young heroes, will be related in
the next volume of this series, to be called "The Pioneer Boys of the
Columbia"; but, come what may, it is not likely that they will witness
anything more wonderful than the marvels they encountered in the
territory of the Yellowstone.

THE END

NOTES

NOTE 1 (PAGE 7)

When, in 1803, the new Republic purchased from France for fifteen
million dollars what was then known as the territory of Louisiana, the
United States extended its boundaries toward the unknown West where it
was believed a mighty range of mountains divided the continent, while
far beyond lay the Pacific Ocean. The territory included practically
what is now covered by the States of Montana, North and South Dakota,
Nebraska, Minnesota, Iowa, Kansas, Arkansas, Louisiana, Indian
Territory, and part of Colorado.

President Jefferson wished to aid the settlers along the Mississippi,
who wanted more room for expansion toward the setting sun, and
accordingly, on his recommendation, Congress authorized the sending of
an exploring expedition to ascertain what lay beyond the limits of the
new land, and, if possible, to go all the way to the ocean.

Captain Meriwether Lewis, the President's private secretary, together
with Captain William Clark, was placed in charge of the expedition,
which started from St. Louis early in 1804. It consisted of nine young
Kentuckians, fourteen United States soldiers, two French voyageurs
to serve as interpreters among the Indians whom they expected to
encounter, and a black servant for Captain Clark. Some frontiersmen
also joined them before they left the last trading post. On May 24th
this little expedition left the mouth of the Missouri, and plunged into
the then unknown wilderness, not knowing whether a single soul of the
party would ever live to come back again with a record of the wonders
they had seen, and the perils they had encountered.

History tells us that they wintered at the Mandan village near the
headwaters of the Missouri and that strange river which the Indians
called Yellowstone, on account of the predominating color along its
banks. The following spring the Lewis and Clark expedition continued on
its way, reaching the Columbia River, and following it down until, at
its mouth, they beheld the goal of all their hopes, the glorious ocean
that lay bathed in the glow of the setting sun.

NOTE 2 (PAGE 26)

In those days, when the Indians of the Northwest did not have the Great
White Father at Washington to supply them with rations and fresh beef,
it was customary for the various tribes to participate in annual fall
hunts, so that sufficient meat might be procured to last them through
the long, cold winters.

Sometimes they went after buffalo, which at that day were to be found
in immense herds, and often the most wanton destruction was indulged
in, traps being laid whereby the great animals were driven by hundreds
over some precipice, so that the Indians hardly bothered taking
anything but the tongues of their victims, which they cured by drying
in the smoke of their fires. In spite of this slaughter the herds
continued to increase until modern man, with his repeating rifle,
made his appearance, at the time the first railroad was being built
across the continent, when they quickly reached the point of practical
extermination.

More often the meat obtained in these fall hunts was venison. This the
Indians cured by drying in the sun. Thus prepared, it would keep for
any length of time, if not allowed to get wet. It is not the nicest
food an epicure might select, being dark-looking, and often as hard as
flint; but pemmican, as this dried venison is called, can be made into
a palatable dish when properly cooked.

When an Indian was sent on a trip of perhaps two hundred miles, to take
a message to another tribe, he would simply carry along with him in his
pouch a handful of this pemmican, which would serve him as a means of
sustenance throughout his long journey, washed down with an occasional
drink from some spring that he would discover on the trail.

NOTE 3 (PAGE 128)

Probably the giant geyser which performed such a splendid service for
our two young heroes was the one known for many years as Old Faithful,
from the fact that, while other geysers in Yellowstone Park may seem
grander on occasion, they are often erratic in their flow, and not to
be depended on. Old Faithful has often been described, and is an object
of such general interest among the visitors to the National Park that a
large hotel has been built so close that one can sit in an easy-chair
within a few hundred yards, and view its spectacular upheaval.

It seems to come every sixty-five minutes, to a dot, and the great
white column rises with a roar from one to two hundred feet into the
air, continuing for possibly the space of five minutes. New beauties
are to be discovered with almost every eruption, according to the
weather, and the hour of the day or night. Sunrise, sunset, moonlight
sway the great steaming column into a thousand fantastic forms. When
the geyser is quiet one may approach the crater, an oblong opening
about two by six feet, with a quiet pool of crystal water.

Some say the deposits around the crater indicate an age of tens, if
not hundreds of thousands of years. When Columbus discovered America
this great column played at regular intervals in the primal solitude;
when Lief Erickson landed it was unspeakably old, but glorious as ever;
when Christ was on earth its strange beauty fell on the eye of the
infrequent savage who gazed on it with superstitious awe; long before
the reputed date of creation it played and coruscated in the sunlight.

No wonder, then, that those, who stop to think, gaze with wonder on
Old Faithful and that the Indians, at the time the Lewis and Clark
expedition crossed the continent, held it in awe and reverence.

NOTE 4 (PAGE 162)

The grizzly bear has never been found east of a certain line marked by
spurs of the mighty Rocky Mountains. At the time the Lewis and Clark
expedition penetrated the wilderness lying between the settlements
along the lower Missouri and the far distant Coast Range of mountains,
in what is now known as California, very little was known of this most
terrible of all the wild animals native to North America; indeed, some
big game hunters put the grizzly ahead of the African lion or the tiger
of the Indian jungle so far as ferocity and toughness goes.

Vague stories drifted to the ears of white hunters about a monster bear
which terrified the red men of the West. They had even seen the claws
strung around the neck of some chief who had won his high position
after having killed one of these fearful creatures in a hand-to-hand
fight.

When the explorers finally returned to civilization they brought with
them the most amazing stories of things they had seen; but undoubtedly
nothing surpassed their descriptions of the grizzly bear's ten lives,
and the fearful strength which the animal possessed.

In these modern days of soft-nosed bullets, and the exploding kind that
do such fearful execution upon striking the game, it may not be so
difficult to bring down old "Eph," as Western men call the grizzly; but
a score or more of years ago men declared that they had known such an
animal to be hit with twenty shots, and yet seem to mind his wounds no
more than if they were flea-bites.

It can be seen, then, that, in slaying a grizzly, Dick and his cousin
Roger were really accomplishing what in those days was a stupendous
feat. Their success must be laid partly to good luck, and the fact that
they were able to send their lead to a vital spot. Ordinary wounds will
have little or no effect upon a tough grizzly, save to further enrage
the beast, and make him more fierce than ever.

Unless they are heavily armed, or can gain the shelter of a convenient
tree, wise hunters usually let such a dangerous animal severely alone
when coming unexpectedly upon him in the rocky canyons where he loves
to prowl.

NOTE 5 (PAGE 181)

The first real intimation the world received concerning the wonders
of what is now Yellowstone Park can be said to have come through the
experiences of a trapper by the name of Colter. He was made prisoner by
the hostile Blackfeet in the early part of the nineteenth century, and,
after being tortured by them, managed to escape. When he afterwards
reached civilization he had some marvelous tales to tell about a land
of steaming pools; of springs of boiling water, that at intervals shot
hundreds of feet into the air; of seething cauldrons of pitch; of
strange lakes and rivers; as well as of rocks and clay that bore the
diversified colors of the rainbow. Of course, his rough friends laughed
at his stories, and gave them little credence. Indeed, it was believed
that the sufferings of the trapper had made him somewhat light in the
head. They treated his accounts with derision, and classed the tales
with those of Gulliver and Munchausen. But, in later years, everything
Colter had told was amply verified, showing that he had actually been
in the region now known as Yellowstone Park.

It was not until 1869 that a well-equipped prospecting party was sent
out by private enterprise to ascertain the truth about this supposedly
mythical region of awe-inspiring wonders. Thirty-six days were spent on
the trip, and the party saw such amazing things that, as the account
tells us, some of them "were unwilling on their return to risk their
reputation for veracity by relating the wonders of that unequaled
country."

To-day, the tourist is taken into the Park and shown everything that is
worth seeing with the least degree of discomfort. And there is nothing
in the Old World that can at all compare with the natural wonders to be
found on the great Government Reservation, the lake itself being the
gem of them all, for it covers something like one hundred and fifty
square miles, and is as clear as crystal.

NOTE 6 (PAGE 191)

As a rule the Indians of the Great Northwest seemed to avoid the region
now known as Yellowstone Park, even though it abounded in game, because
of superstitious fears connected with the mysterious working of the
spouting geysers, which they believed to be the evidence of the Evil
One opposed to the Good Manitou. Occasionally the Blackfeet or the
Crows invaded the borders when in need of fresh meat. Some lodges of
a fragment of the Snake Indians have been found, a miserable tribe
known as Sheep-eaters; but the powerful Sioux, the Mandans, and the Nez
Perces tribes avoided the district as though it were truly accursed.

The most important Indian trail in the Park was that known as the
Great Bannock Trail. It extended from Henry Lake across the Gallatin
Range to Mammoth Hot Springs, where it was joined by another coming up
the valley of the Gardiner. Thence it led across the Black-tail Deer
plateau to the ford above Tower Falls; thence up the Lamor Valley,
forking at Soda Butte, and reaching the Bighorn Valley by way of
Clark's Falls and the Stinking-water River. The trail was certainly
a very ancient and much traveled one. It had become a deep furrow in
the grassy slopes, and is still distinctly visible in places, though
unused for a quarter of a century.

Arrows and spear heads have been discovered in considerable numbers.
Some of the early explorers also found more recent and perishable
evidence of the presence of Indians in the Park in the shape of
rude wick-e-ups, brush enclosures, and similar contrivances of the
Sheep-killers.

NOTE 7 (PAGE 196)

Of all the tribes west of the Mississippi, even including the warlike
Sioux, none gave the venturesome paleface adventurers who wandered
into that country more trouble than the Blackfoot Indians. Like the
Flatheads, and some other tribes, they had their main villages far
up amidst the pine-clad mountains where enemies could hardly reach
them without long and dangerous journeys. From these eyries they were
accustomed to sally forth, either on some grand hunt for a winter's
supply of meat, or else to strike a sudden blow at some tribe with
which they were at war.

When game grew scarce in their customary hunting grounds, some of
these bold braves were in the habit of taking longer hunts, and had
frequently approached the border of the Land of Wonders. As a rule they
avoided the country of the spouting geysers, because they believed an
Evil Spirit dwelt there.

The habits of these Indians differed from those of the Mandans, because
they were by nature of a much wilder disposition, utterly untamable. To
this day the remnants of the old Blackfoot tribe are not to be compared
with other civilized aborigines who have taken to the plow and the
cottage. The Mandans themselves suffered so severely from smallpox,
introduced into the tribe through connection with the whites, that long
years ago they became extinct.

NOTE 8 (PAGE 221)

The usual medicine man of all the Indian tribes of North America in
the days of the pioneers was as big a humbug as could be imagined. He
usually held his position through craftiness, and the ability to make
the tribe believe that he was in direct communication with the Great
Spirit or Manitou. It was therefore a matter of some moment for the
native doctor to "make good" when he had promised that victory would
crown the efforts of the warriors going forth to battle, or otherwise
his life might pay the penalty.

When it came to treating disease he seldom gave even the commonest
herbs, rather trusting to incantations in order to frighten off the
evil thing that had fastened on the sick person. Thus tomtoms were
beaten, chants given, and the medicine man himself would perform
a weird dance around the sick one, making music to accompany his
gesticulations by rattling gourds in which stones had been slipped,
jingling the metal ornaments on his apparel, and in every imaginable
way trying to "conjure" the maker of the spell that had been laid upon
the afflicted one.

Sometimes the invalid got well in spite of everything, and great was
the jubilation of the tribe; on the other hand if death came and took a
victim it was easy for the medicine man to find some excuse.

Perhaps the Blackfoot chief, Black Otter, may have seen white doctors
cure their patients by giving them medicine; or else learned of it
through intercourse with French traders, such as Lascelles. However
that might be, it was not so very singular for some of his braves to
have become afflicted with the same desire to be treated by a paleface
medicine man. This, then, would account for the eagerness with which
those who had received wounds in the affray between the Blackfeet and
the invaders of the Enchanted Land agreed to let young Dick Armstrong
attend to their hurts. Deep down in their hearts they must have
realized that the way of the palefaces was much superior to the crude
methods in vogue with their native medicine man.

NOTE 9 (PAGE 246)

This incident of an Indian's gratitude is not of an unusual character.
The history of early pioneer days shows many such. The red men were
savage and cruel fighters, crafty, and not to be trusted in many ways;
but they possessed several noble characteristics that will always stand
out boldly when the good and bad are contrasted.

Many instances are on record which prove that the Indian could be
grateful for benefits bestowed, though he might sooner choose to die
than ask a favor.

The brave whose wounded shoulder Dick had so skillfully treated
evidently saw no reason why he should call out and alarm the camp when
he discovered the paleface boys escaping. He probably had no special
liking for the French trader, and it was Lascelles who seemed to be
most concerned in the keeping of the two white lads. Perhaps, even, he
had some reason to dislike the trader; or he may have felt, deep down
in his heart, a secret admiration for the boys who could thus hoodwink
a dozen Blackfoot braves.

NOTE 10 (PAGE 308)

The Sioux proper, known among themselves and by other Indian tribes as
Dacotahs, were originally one of the most extensively diffused nations
of the Great West. From the Upper Mississippi, where they mingled
with the northern race of Chippewas, to the Missouri, and far in the
Northwest toward the country of the Blackfeet, the tribes of this
family occupied the boundless prairie.

It was in the country of the Sioux, on a high ridge separating the
head-waters of the St. Peter's from the Missouri, that the far-famed
quarry of red pipestone lay. It was originally deemed a neutral ground
where hostile tribes from far and near might resort to secure a supply
of this all-essential want of the Indian, for all their pipes were made
of this peculiar hard clay.

To use the stone for any other purposes was to the Indians an act of
sacrilege. They looked upon it as priceless _medicine_. At a meeting
of chiefs which Mr. Catlin, the historical writer, attended near this
quarry many years ago he heard some remarkable expressions used. "You
see," said one chief, holding a pipe close to his arm, "this pipe is
part of our own flesh." Another said: "If the white man takes away a
piece of the red pipestone, it is a hole in our flesh, and the blood
will always run." A third expressed his feelings in a still more
remarkable way: "We love to go to the Pipe-Stone, and get a piece for
our pipes; but we ask the Great Spirit first. If the white men go to it
they will take it out, and not fill up the holes again and the Great
Spirit will be offended."

Besides the Sioux there were to be found at times in this region the
Flatheads, the Ojibbeways, the Assinaboias, the Crows, the Blackfeet,
and several lesser tribes. Among them there was almost constant
warfare. While the Blackfeet and others had plenty of game in their own
lands, they were now and then seized with a desire to dare the anger
of the Sioux and hunt the buffalo over the territory claimed as their
preserves by the latter. And many fierce battles took place because of
this belligerency.

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"A book which will appeal to all who care for the hearty, healthy,
outdoor life of the country. The illustrations are particularly
attractive."--_Boston Herald._

=BEAUTIFUL JOE'S PARADISE:= OR, THE ISLAND OF BROTHERLY LOVE. A sequel
to "Beautiful Joe." By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of "Beautiful Joe."

  One vol., library 12mo, cloth, illustrated      $1.50

"This book revives the spirit of 'Beautiful Joe' capitally. It is
fairly riotous with fun, and is about as unusual as anything in the
animal book line that has seen the light."--_Philadelphia Item._

='TILDA JANE.= By MARSHALL SAUNDERS.

  One vol., 12mo, fully illustrated, cloth decorative,      $1.50

"I cannot think of any better book for children than this. I commend it
unreservedly."--_Cyrus Townsend Brady._

='TILDA JANE'S ORPHANS.= A sequel to 'Tilda Jane. By MARSHALL SAUNDERS.

  One vol., 12mo, fully illustrated, cloth decorative,      $1.50

'Tilda Jane is the same original, delightful girl, and as fond of her
animal pets as ever.

=THE STORY OF THE GRAVELEYS.= By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of
"Beautiful Joe's Paradise," "'Tilda Jane," etc.

  Library 12mo, cloth decorative. Illustrated by E. B. Barry      $1.50

Here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and triumphs, of a
delightful New England family, of whose devotion and sturdiness it will
do the reader good to hear.

=BORN TO THE BLUE.= By FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL.

  12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.25

The atmosphere of army life on the plains breathes on every page of
this delightful tale. The boy is the son of a captain of U. S. cavalry
stationed at a frontier post in the days when our regulars earned the
gratitude of a nation.

=IN WEST POINT GRAY=

By FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL.

  12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated      $1.50

"Singularly enough one of the best books of the year for boys is
written by a woman and deals with life at West Point. The presentment
of life in the famous military academy whence so many heroes have
graduated is realistic and enjoyable."--_New York Sun._

=FROM CHEVRONS TO SHOULDER STRAPS=

By FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL.

  12mo, cloth, illustrated, decorative      $1.50

West Point again forms the background of a new volume in this popular
series, and relates the experience of Jack Stirling during his junior
and senior years.

=THE SANDMAN: HIS FARM STORIES=

By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS. With fifty illustrations by Ada Clendenin
Williamson.

  Large 12mo, decorative cover      $1.50

"An amusing, original book, written for the benefit of very small
children. It should be one of the most popular of the year's books for
reading to small children."--_Buffalo Express._

=THE SANDMAN: MORE FARM STORIES=

By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS.

  Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated      $1.50