The blow had been a true one, the knife point reaching the beast's heart, and when the animal fell it rolled down among the leaves, dead.

"By thunder! but that was something I hadn't bargained for!" murmured the great scout, as he surveyed the carca.s.s. "That's about the biggest wildcat I ever saw. It's a good thing I didn't meet him in the dark."

Wiping off his hunting knife, he restored it to his belt. Then he picked up his pistol and started to reload it, at the same time whistling for Bonnie Bird, who, he felt sure, must be close by.

As p.a.w.nee Brown stood reloading the pistol and whistling for his mare he did not notice a shadow behind him. Slowly but surely someone was drawing closer to him. It was Yellow Elk.

The Indian chief was on foot. In his left hand he carried a c.o.c.ked revolver, in his right an old-time tomahawk, from which he had refused to be parted when placed on the Indian reservation.

The redskin's face was full of the most bitter animosity it is possible to imagine. The glare of wickedness in his eyes fairly put the look that had lived in the wildcat's optics to shame. His snags of yellow teeth were firmly set.

He was resolved to kill his enemy there and then. p.a.w.nee Brown should not again escape him.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE MEETING IN THE WOODS.

After leaving p.a.w.nee Brown, Jack Rasco followed the trail of his horse through a small grove of trees and along the upper bank of the very stream upon which the great scout encountered Yellow Elk.

"Blamed ef he didn't go further nor I expected," muttered Rasco to himself as he trudged along. But the hoof-prints were now growing fresher and fresher, telling that the animal could not be far off.

The woods pa.s.sed, he began ascending a small hill. At the top of this was a level patch, thickly overgrown with short brush.

He had just entered the brush when he heard a strange sound. He listened intently.

"Thet's a hoss in pain," he said to himself. "Too bad if the critter hez had a tumble an' broke a leg! If that's---- By gum!"

Jack had stumbled upon a large opening directly in the midst of the brush. Before he could turn back the very soil beneath his feet gave way, and over and over he rolled down an incline of forty-five degrees, to bring up at last at the edge of a pool of black water and mud.

Fortunately he was not hurt, although the roll had dazed him and cut short his wind. As soon as he could he leaped to his feet and gazed around him.

The horse he had heard lay half in and half out of the mud. Its leg was caught between two rocks, and it was trying frantically to free itself.

It was his own beast, and at once recognized him.

"Whoa there!" cried Rasco, and did all he could to soothe the animal.

The horse appeared to understand that a.s.sistance was at hand, and became quiet, while Rasco quickly released the locked leg and the beast floundered up to a safe footing.

"Well, we're in a pocket, 'pears ter me," reflected the man of the plains as he gazed about him. On three sides the walls of the hole were very nearly perpendicular, on the fourth the slant was as previously stated, but here the soil was spongy and treacherous.

"Hang me ef I'm a-goin' ter stay here all day," muttered Rasco, after a view of the situation. "Come, boy, it's up thet slope or nuthin'," and he leaped on the horse's back and urged him forward on a run.

Twice did the horse try to ascend to the plain above and fail. Then Rasco urged him forward a third time. This time the beast balked and away went the man of the plains over his head.

Fortunately Rasco landed in a tolerably soft spot, otherwise his neck would surely have been broken. As it was, his head struck the root of a fallen tree, which had once stood upon the edge of the hole, and he rolled back near the pool all but senseless.

It was a quarter of an hour later before he felt like stirring again.

"Hang the hoss!" he murmured half aloud, yet, all told, he did not blame the animal so much for balking. "Couldn't do it, eh, boy?" he said, and the beast shook his mane knowingly.

"Git along alone, then!" went on Rasco, and struck the horse on the flank.

Away went the steed, and this time the top of the hole was gained without much difficulty.

"Now you're out, how am I ter make it?"

It was easy to ask this question, but not so easy to answer it. Rasco tried to run up the spongy incline and sank to his knees.

"Ain't no use; I'll try a new game," he growled.

Fortunately, Rasco was in the habit of carrying, in cowboy fashion, a lariat suspended from his belt. This he now unwound and with a dexterous throw caught the outer loop over a st.u.r.dy bush growing over one of the perpendicular sides of the opening.

Testing the lariat, to make certain it was firm, he began to ascend hand over hand. This was no light task, yet it was speedily accomplished, and with a sigh of relief he found himself safe once more.

But in the meantime the horse had trotted off, alarmed by a black snake in the long gra.s.s. Rasco saw this snake a minute later, but the reptile slunk out of sight before he could get a chance to dispatch it.

The trail of the horse led again back to the ravine, but not in the direction of the cave. Bound to secure the animal before rejoining p.a.w.nee Brown, Rasco loped along in pursuit.

He was in the ravine, and had just caught sight of his steed once more, when he heard several pistol shots coming from a distance. These were the shots fired by p.a.w.nee Brown at the wildcat. He listened intently, but no more shots followed, and being below the level of the surrounding country, he was unable to locate the discharge of firearms.

"Something is wrong somewhar," he mused. "Can thet be p.a.w.nee shootin', or is it d.i.c.k an' the others?"

He secured the horse and began to ascend out of the ravine, when a murmur of voices broke upon his ears. One of the voices sounded familiar and he soon recognized it as that of Louis Vorlange.

Instantly dismounting, he tied his animal fast to a tree that the creature might not wander away again, and worked his way noiselessly through the brush. The voices came from a nearby clearing, and approaching, Rasco saw on horseback Louis Vorlange and half a dozen cavalrymen, among them Tucker, Ross and Skimmy, the trio who had sought to detain d.i.c.k as a horse thief.

"I feel certain they will come this way," one of the strange troopers was saying. "I saw at least two boomer spies along yonder ravine."

"They will come to Honnewell," answered Vorlange. "It may be that instead of making a rush they will try to sneak in during the night, one at a time."

"We'll be ready for 'em," muttered Tucker. "I know my meat," he added, significantly, to Vorlange, meaning that he had not forgotten the reward offered if, in a battle he should lay p.a.w.nee Brown and d.i.c.k low. At the words Vorlange nodded.

"When will the reinforcements be up this way?" asked Ross.

"I have already sent word to headquarters," answered Vorlange. "The lieutenant is sure to respond without delay."

"Do you reckon the boomers know we are on hand to stop them?" questioned Skimmy.

"They know nothing," answered Vorlange. "If p.a.w.nee Brown leads his men in this direction they will fall directly into a trap--if the lieutenant does as I have advised, and I think he will."

"I hope the boomers start to fight and give us a chance to wipe 'em out," muttered Ross.

"There will be a fight started, don't you fear," answered Vorlange.

The spy meant what he said. Too cowardly to meet p.a.w.nee Brown face to face, he wanted to make sure that the great scout should be killed.