The Hunters of the Ozark Read online

  CHAPTER III.

  AN ABORIGINAL PLOT.

  The boys tried the plan of Fred Linden; he swerved slightly to the left,while Terry Clark made a sharp angle to the right. They never thought ofgetting beyond hearing of each other, and, but for the plentifulundergrowth they would have kept in sight. They had taken but a fewsteps when Fred looked around and found that he was alone. He could hearhis young friend pushing his way among the trees, and once or twice hecaught snatches of a tune that he was whistling--that being a favoritepastime of the lad when by himself.

  "It's curious how he could make such a blunder," thought Fred, with asmile to himself; "he will go tramping around the woods only to findthat he was nowhere in the neighborhood of the cow. Ah, the storm is notyet over."

  He was looking to the eastward, where the sky, as he caught a glimpse ofit among the treetops and branches, was as black as if overcast with onehuge thunder cloud.

  "It was there it raged so violently last night, and the rain is fallingin torrents again. We shall find the creek a river when we go back."

  The sturdy youth pressed on fully two hundred yards more, when the oldsuspicion came back to him. There was something wrong. When he could notexplain some things he was satisfied that it was because there was anelement of evil in those things--something that boded ill to both himand his friend.

  "I have traveled far enough since hearing that bell to pass a long waysbeyond it," he said, compressing his lips and shaking his head; "and ifthat was Brindle that rang it the first time, she would have done it thesecond time."

  Twice before Fred fancied he heard something moving among theundergrowth a short distance in advance, and a little to one side. Thenoise was now so distinct that he could no longer deceive himself;there was some specific cause for it.

  "I guess Terry has worked over this way, finding what a mistake he hasmade--no! by gracious! it isn't Terry!"

  Fred started in alarm, confident that it was an Indian that was movingthrough the wood. It will be admitted that there was cause for his fear,if such should prove to be the case, for he was without any firearmswith which to defend himself; but while he stood meditating whether heshould turn and take to his heels, he caught enough of a glimpse of theobject to make out that it was a quadruped instead of a biped.

  This was a great relief, though it did not remove all fear, for he wasnot in form to meet any of the wild beasts that one was liable to runagainst at any time. The next minute, he broke into a hearty laugh, forthat which he saw was the lost cow, quietly browsing on the tenderherbs, as though just turned loose by her owner.

  "Well, that is funny," said the youth, walking hastily toward her; "thisproves that I was right. You are a pretty one, old Brindle, to lead uson such a chase!"

  The cow, hearing the voice and footsteps, stopped cropping, and with hermotionless jaws dripping with leaves and buds, started at Fred as if shewasn't sure of his identity. She knew enough, however, to see that hewas a friend, and so resumed her feeding.

  Assuring himself that she was the estray, Fred looked at her bag to seethe condition of that. It was only moderately full, proving that she hadbeen milked later even than the preceding night.

  Fred Linden had approached close enough to place his hand on thehandsome creature, when he noticed--what indeed he knew before--the bellwas not fastened to her neck; that explained why, after hearing thesound, it was heard no more.

  "The cord has broken just after the tinkle, and let the bell fall to theground; no wonder that it was not heard again. Some one has been kindenough to give Brindle a milking."

  The words were yet in the mouth of Fred when he received a shock thatfor a moment held him speechless; a long distance to the right hecaught the sound of the cow-bell!

  It was precisely the same that he and his friend had noticed, and sincethe bell of Brindle was gone, there could be but one meaning to thesignal; it was made by some one for the purpose of drawing the boys intoa trap.

  Without pausing to think over the dozen questions that came with thisconclusion, Fred set off at the most hurried pace possible to warn hisfriend of his peril.

  "He has no suspicion of any thing wrong, and is sure to do the verything that he ought not to do."

  Fred Linden was right in this conclusion. It can be readily understood,why no thought of peril should enter the brain of the Irish lad, who wasnever so sure that he was right and Fred wrong when the two parted totake different routes in search of the cow.

  "It's a bright lad--is Fred," said Terry, "but there isn't any law thatI knows of by which he is to be right ivery time and Mr. Terence Clarkwrong. I'm going straight for the point where the tinkle of the bellcame from."

  The same thought puzzled him that puzzled Fred Linden; after walkingmore than the whole distance that first intervened, the cow was stillinvisible. There was nothing in the fact that when she had strayed sofar from home, she should keep on in the same direction.

  "It may be that she has heard something about the Pacific Ocean, and hasset out to see for herself whither the reports are correct," was thequaint thought of the Irish lad, as he pushed vigorously through theundergrowth, which was dense enough to turn him aside more than once andcompel him to keep his wits about him to prevent going astrayaltogether.

  Now and then he paused, naturally expecting (as did Fred), that he wouldhear more of the bell; but it is not necessary to say that, like hiscompanion, he was disappointed. He had fixed the point whence came thenoise so firmly in his mind, that he could not go wrong, though a boy ofless experience in the woods would have been sure to do so.

  Now, if any of you lads have ever driven cows or sheep, around whosenecks bells were hung, you have noticed the natural fact that they havea sound peculiar to themselves. Referring particularly to cows, you mayhave observed the _jangle_, _jangle_, made by the motion of the head incropping the grass, varied now and then by the confused jumble caused bythe animal flinging her head over the back of her neck or fore part ofthe body to drive away the insects plaguing her. There is a certainregularity in all this which will continue for hours, and that may besaid to be produced by the natural action of the animal, and which isaltogether different from that made by the swaying motion of the hand.

  But Terry Clark inherited a sharpness of wits from his parents, and,while pushing forward among the trees and undergrowth, it struck himthat there were several curious features about the matter.

  "It was a mistake, as Fred said," he thought more than once, "that wedid not bring our guns with us."

  Then the second sound of the cow-bell fell upon the ear of Fred Linden;Terry was within a hundred feet of the point whence it came, and hecould not have heard it more distinctly had he been standing on the spothimself. The noise was so peculiar that a flood of misgiving overwhelmedhim. The _tinkle_, _tinkle_, _tinkle_, was so regular that nothing wasplainer than that no living quadruped could have made the sound.

  "That was not the cow," whispered the startled Terry; "she has moresinse than to do any thing of the kind, as me uncle used to obsarve whinhe was accused of kaapin' sober; but I'll find out by the same tokenwhat it all means."

  Since he had no firearms with which to defend himself, and since he wassure he was threatened by danger, he ought to have hastened homeward;but his curiosity would not permit him to do so.

  He advanced with all the caution possible, parting the obstructingbushes in front and stepping as lightly on the carpet of leaves asthough he were a scout entering the camp of an enemy. He often stopped,listened and peered, not only in front and the sides, but to the rear.Whatever might take place, he did not intend to be surprised.

  He had advanced a couple of rods in this manner, when a faint sound fromthe bell caught his ear, but was instantly suppressed, as though someone had stopped at the instant he started to sway it. Faint as was thetinkle, however, he was able to locate the precise point whence it came,and after a little hesitation he moved toward it.

  All at once he caught sight of a figure in a crouching
position,stepping softly among the trees and undergrowth. He stood still, and amoment later was able to distinguish the figure of an Indian warrior,bending slightly forward, advancing inch by inch and holding the cow-bellin his hand.