Harry Castlemon - Julian Mortimer

“Whew!” he panted, pulling off his sombrero and wiping the big drops of perspiration from his forehead, “this goes ahead of any thing I ever heard of. I wonder if Silas had any reference to this when he said that there were two men in the world who would be willing to give something nice to get hold of me! I’m done for. If I am not killed by the Indians, that villain, Sanders, will make a prisoner of me and take me off to Reginald. Who is Reginald, and what have I done that he should be so anxious to see me? I never knew before that I was worth $5,000 to anybody. Who is that emigrant, and how does it come that I am in his way? He says that he has talked with me and knows all about my plans, but I am positive that I never spoke to him in my life. I never saw him until I found him with this wagon train at St. Joseph. I have had some thrilling adventures during the past few weeks, and I can see very plainly that they are not yet ended.”

Julian, trembling with anxiety and alarm, clambered out of the wagon, and leaning on the muzzle of his rifle, looked down into the gorge, thought over his situation, and tried to determine upon some plan of action. His first impulse was to acquaint the emigrants with the fact that one of their number had been holding converse with an enemy, and have the traitor secured at once. His next was to provide for his own safety by collecting the few articles of value he possessed and making his way back to the prairie; but he was deterred from attempting to carry out this plan by the fear that while he was fleeing from one danger he might run into another. The savages had probably surrounded the camp by this time, and he could not hope to pass through their lines without being discovered. The best course he could pursue was to wait until the guide returned. He would know just what ought to be done.

Julian was so completely absorbed in his reverie that he forgot to keep an eye on what was going on around him, and consequently he did not see the two dark figures which came stealing along the road as noiselessly as spirits. But the figures were there, and when they discovered Julian they drew back into the bushes that lined the base of the cliff, and held a whispered consultation. Presently one of them stepped out into the road again and ran toward the camp. He did not attempt to escape observation, but hurried along as though he had a perfect right to be there. He seemed to be ignorant of the boy’s presence until he heard his voice and saw the muzzle of his rifle looking straight into his face.

“Halt!” cried Julian, standing with his finger on the trigger, ready to enforce his command if it were not instantly obeyed. “Who are you?”

“A friend,” replied the man. “Don’t shoot!”

“Come up here, friend, and let us have a look at you.”

As the stranger approached Julian saw that he appeared to be very much excited about something, and that he breathed heavily as if he had been running long and rapidly.

“If you are a friend what are you doing on the outside of the camp?” asked the boy.

“Why, we’ve been trappin’ here in the mountains, me an’ my pardner have, an’ to-day the Injuns driv us out,” replied the stranger. “We jest had to git up an’ dig out to save our har, an’ left all our plunder in the hands of the redskins – spelter, hosses, traps, an’ every thing except our rifles. While we were a makin’ tracks fur the prairie we come plump agin somebody; an’ who do you ’spose it was? It was Silas Roper. We used to be chums, me an’ him did, an’ have hunted and trapped together many a day up in the Blackfoot country. We found him watchin’ the camp of Ned Sanders an’ his band of rascals, an’ Silas said that if he had just one more man he could kill or captur’ the last one of ’em. He told me whar his wagon train was, an’ axed me would I come down an’ get one of the fellers to lend a hand. He said that Julian Mortimer was plucky an’ a good shot, an’ he’d like to have him. Mebbe you know him an’ can tell me whar’ to find him.”

“I can. I am Julian Mortimer,” replied the boy, proudly.

“You!” The trapper seemed to be first surprised, and then disappointed. He surveyed Julian from head to foot, and then continued: “Sho! I expected to see a man . What could a little cub like you do with Sanders and his gang?”

“I am man enough to put a ball into one of them if I get a fair chance,” replied Julian. “I know something about Sanders, and have reasons for wishing him put where he will never see me again.”

“Wall, you’re spunky if you are little, an’ spunk is the thing that counts arter all. Mebbe you’ll do as well as any body. Will you go?”

“Of course I will, if Silas sent for me.”

“‘Nough said. Go easy now, an’ do jest as you see me do.”

The trapper shouldered his rifle and started down the road at a rapid run, with Julian close at his heels.

When they passed the first bend in the road a man came out of the bushes, where he had been concealed, and followed after them with noiseless footsteps. Julian did not see him, and neither did he see the dark forms that were hidden behind the trees and rocks on each side of the path; he saw no one except his guide until he came suddenly around the base of a cliff and found himself in front of a camp-fire, beside which lay half-a-dozen rough-looking men stretched out on their blankets.

Julian stopped when this unexpected sight greeted his eyes, but his guide kept on, and seating himself on the ground before the fire, jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the boy, and coolly announced:

“Here he is, fellers. Leastwise, he says that’s his name.”

Julian stood like one petrified. He looked at his guide, at the trappers that were lying around, and then his gaze wandered toward an object which he had not before noticed. It was Silas Roper, who stood on the opposite side of the fire, with his back to a tree, to which he was securely bound.

One glance at him was enough for Julian, who now saw that he had been duped. He understood the trick that had been played upon him as well as though it had been explained in words, and wondered at his own stupidity. If it had been true, as the strange trapper had told him, that Silas was keeping guard over the camp of the outlaws, and needed just one more man to enable him to effect their capture, would he have sent for an inexperienced person like himself when there were at least a score of old Indian-fighters among the emigrants? Julian told himself that he ought to have known better.

These thoughts passed through his mind in an instant of time, and in his excitement and alarm, forgetting everything except that he was in the presence of enemies, he faced about and took to his heels; but he had not made many steps when the man who had followed him from the camp, and who was none other than Sanders himself, suddenly appeared in his path.

“Not quite so fast!” said he, in savage tones. “You’re wuth a heap to us, if you only knowed it, an’ we couldn’t think of partin’ with you so soon.”

As the trapper spoke, he twisted the boy’s rifle out of his grasp, tore the belt which contained his revolvers and hunting-knife from his waist, and then seized him by the collar and dragged him toward the fire – Julian, who knew that it would be the height of folly to irritate the ruffian, offering no resistance.

“I call this a good night’s work,” continued Sanders, who seemed to be highly elated. “We’ve been waitin’ fur both them fellers fur more’n a year, an’ we’ve got ’em at last. This is Julian. I knowed him the minute I sot my eyes onto him, and could have picked him out among a million. He hain’t changed a bit in his face, but he’s grown a heap taller an’ stouter, an’ p’raps is a leetle livelier on his legs than he was when me an’ him run that foot-race eight year ago. Remember that – don’t you, youngster?”