LITMIR.BIZ

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      CHAPTER XXXIV.

       IN SAND CAVE.

       Table of Contents

      Behind them the enraged Blackfeet began shooting, and the bullets whistled over the heads of the fugitives.

      "I pray none of those hits little Fairy," panted Frank.

      "Ef we could strike some kind o' cover an' hed a minute to spar', we'd be able ter stan' ther varmints off," came from Old Rocks.

      "My rifle is empty."

      "I ain't got mine, an' I'll allow my small guns are empty; but I kin load 'em as we run."

      "We may have to fight anyhow."

      "Right, boy. Ef we do, dog my cats ef we don't make some o' them onery skunks gaul derned sick!"

      Still running, Old Rocks snapped the empty shells from his revolvers, and replaced them with fresh cartridges.

      At times it was not easy to keep track of the Hermit, who ran through the night with the speed of a deer and the tirelessness of a hound.

      Now and then the frightened child cried out, and this aided Frank and the old guide in following.

      Rocks soon replenished his revolvers, and said:

      "Thar, I kinder 'lows we kin make it interestin' fer them varmints ef they press us too hard. Dunno ez I kin find ther place whar I hid my rifle, but I reckons I oughter."

      "If we escape."

      "Ef we escape! Whut's ther matter with you, boy? Think we can't dodge them red whelps in ther dark?"

      "We might alone; but the man ahead of us may make no attempt to do so, and we must stand by him. It would not do to let the child fall into the hands of those wretches again. They would surely murder her."

      "They'd be likely ter, an' that's facts. Oh, we'll back up ther Hermit, an' thar won't be no trouble 'bout gittin' erway, 'less them varmints behind manages ter hit one o' us with a lead pill."

      The flight and pursuit continued, the Blackfeet seeming to have the eyes of owls or the scent of hounds. They pressed the fugitives hard, and Old Rocks feared that some of the flying bullets which whistled around them would find a mark.

      At length the guide gave an exclamation of satisfaction.

      "Reckon I knows whar ther Hermit is headin' fer," he said.

      "Where?" asked Frank.

      "Straight fer Sand Cave."

      "Where is Sand Cave?"

      "Not very fur ahead. Thar is some bowlders at ther mouth o' ther cave, and we oughter be able ter stand ther red niggers off thar."

      "Are you sure the Hermit is going there?"

      "I ain't sure, but it looks thet way. It ain't likely he kin keep up this pace much farther, an' kerry ther child."

      However, Old Rocks feared the man ahead might not be making for Sand Cave, and so he called to the Hermit, asking him if he knew where to find the cave. The Hermit replied that he did, and Rocks urged him to go there.

      "Git in with ther gal—git in out o' ther way o' bullets," advised the old guide. "Ther boy an' me will stand ther red dogs off all right."

      To this the Hermit agreed.

      A short time later, as they were rushing along the base of a bluff, the Hermit was seen to disappear.

      "Hyar's ther cave!" panted Old Rocks, catching hold of the boy. "Right yar behind these boulders. In with yer!"

      Frank saw the dark mouth of the cave behind the bowlders, over which he vaulted.

      The cry of the child came out of the darkness of the cave.

      The Hermit and little Fay were there.

      "Reddy!" hissed Old Rocks, crouching behind the bowlders—"reddy ter repel invaders!"

      The Blackfeet were coming on, and their dusky forms suddenly appeared near at hand in the darkness.

      On his knees behind a bowlder, Frank had drawn a revolver, and he began firing with Old Rocks.

      The flash of the weapons blinded the boy for the moment, and he stopped shooting when he had fired three times.

      Old Rocks stopped at the same moment, growling:

      "Thet's ther way with ther onery skunks! They'll never come up and be shot down ther way they oughter!"

      The Indians had disappeared.

      "Where are they?" asked Frank, wonderingly.

      "Right near yere, you kin bet yer dust," answered the guide. "They drapped down ther instant we begun slingin' lead, an' they're huggin' ther yearth, you bet!"

      "Did we kill any?"

      "Wa-al, I dunno; but I'll allow thet I didn't do any shootin' fer fun. I don't b'lieve in thet under such circumstances."

      "This affair may bring on an Indian war."

      "Let'er bring! It'll be er good thing ef it does, an' ther hull Injun nation is wiped out. But ther chances are thet it'll never be heard of by anybody except them we tell it to. Ther varmints will make tracks outer ther park, fer they're on forbidden ground."

      "If the soldiers should turn up——"

      "It'd be a mighty good thing fer us. Still, I kinder reckon we'll be able ter hold Half Hand an' his gang off till they git weary."

      They took care that their revolvers were replenished with cartridges, and then Frank loaded his rifle.

      A sudden silence seemed to brood over the whole world.

      Old Rocks stirred uneasily.

      "I don't like it," he muttered, speaking to himself.

      "Don't like what?" asked Frank, who felt a foreboding of some coming catastrophe.

      "This yare stillness. Why, thar ain't even an owl hootin'."

      "What do you think it means?"

      "Dunno; but it means somethin'. Keep yer eyes an' ears open, an' be ready fer what may come."

      Little Fay had ceased her sobbing, and the silence was finally broken by her voice:

      "Who's doin' to tate me to my mamma?"

      Then the Hermit was heard trying to comfort and reassure her.

      "Dog my cats ef I wouldn't like ter smoke!" muttered Old Rocks; "but I'll allow thet it w'u'dn't do ter light a match hyar."

      "No; it might be fatal. The light——"

      The sharp report of a rifle rang out, and Frank fell backward behind the bowlder.

      With a grated exclamation, Old Rocks flung up his revolver, and took a snap shot at the spot where he had seen the red flash of the weapon as it was discharged.

      "Did you get him?" asked Frank, as he sat up.

      "Dunno," was the answer; "but I wuz afeared he'd got you."

      "The bullet whistled so close to my head that I felt the wind of it. It must have penetrated the cave."

      To their ears came the sound of a deep groan, and then the voice of the Hermit reached them:

      "The bullet came in here. I am shot!"

      "Holy cats!" gasped Old Rocks.

      "The child!" panted Frank. "What if the red wretches fire again, and their bullets reach her? She must be placed where she will be safe."

      "Right."

      "Can you hold the mouth of the cave?"

      "I kin try it."

      "I

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