Page:The Overland Monthly, Jan-June 1894.djvu/273

1894.] see without being seen. A man soon hove in sight. As he passed me I sized him up,—"A smuggler, sure!" I let him pass. I could hear him whistling in the distance; and stepped out and hurried along in the direction the wagon had gone. For about a mile it had kept on, then it had turned off into a burn. I did n't care to follow it across the little clearing; I feared that the gentlemanly fellow who had imposed upon me at the hotel might be with the party and expose me. I had now fully made up my mind that I was on the right track; I would crawl up to their camp as closely as possibly, see what kind of cargo they had aboard, listen to their conversation, find out when and where they intended crossing the line, skip back, notify the boys, have everything in readiness, and the minute they crossed the line we would swoop down on them like an eagle on its prey.

I was rigged out in a suit of corduroy and a complete hunter's outfit, carried a repeating rifle on my shoulder, a heavy revolver and a long-bladed hunting knife in my belt, in addition to a belt full of cartridges. I did not fear discovery except from my friend of the inn. If he proved not to be in the camp of the strangers ahead, I would go boldly among them and get full information as to their future movements. With these laudable intentions in view and my head throbbing with wild schemes for foiling the enemy, and for B. Jones's particular benefit and aggrandizement, I slunk off into the brush to one side, circled around back of the point I could see the smoke of the camp fire issuing from.

Reaching a position opposite that from which I had started, so as to place the fire immediately between the two places, and having crawled through the heavy underbrush so quietly as hardly to have made a single sound, tired and heated, I paused for a breathing spell, and to consider my future plans.

My presence was entirely unsuspected. The camp was not over thirty yards away, and I could hear voices talking quietly. I listened intently,—what was that I heard? Was not that unknown gibberish Chinese? I could not distinguish accurately, so I crawled slowly and as quietly as a snake a little closer still, and as I slowly raised up in the shelter of the salmon-berry bushes, I already saw before me the grand battue on the other side of the line, as the trangressors were being taken into camp; I could also read in the near future the glowing pages of the newspapers. Conspicuously at the head of the first column, on the front page, the name in large letters stared me in the face:—

I looked through the leaves, what did I see? A party of Indians! harmless Siwashes; nothing more; nothing less. Gnashing my teeth in rage, I sneaked back into the brush; hurried off down the road, and started in afresh to find a more formidable camp. As I rushed along, making great strides in the direction of the deer trail I had left earlier in the day, I heard footsteps approaching, and not wishing to be seen, I again crawled into the woods. It was a young Indian going towards the camp. As soon as he got to where my tracks left the road, he stopped, examined my spoor, muttered something unintelligible to me, and passed on.

Reaching the trail, I hastened to put as many miles as possible between the Siwash camp and myself. As I rushed along, somewhat regardless of distance and time, I noted suddenly that it was growing dark. Nothing had been accomplished yet. I stopped, considered the situation carefully, but could not