But Celeste was firm in her determination, and said:

"I have no claim upon you, and, besides, I am very well off, so I shall insist, and, Landlord Larry, I will give you a draft for the amount upon an Eastern bank, and for more, as there will be another demand upon me, in the amount to ransom the one who came here for me, Mr. Bernard Brandon."

"But will you pay his ransom, Miss Seldon?"

"Why not, Landlord Larry?"

"I think," said Doctor d.i.c.k, "that as you came to visit Last Chance, we, the dwellers here, should be responsible, and pay these ransoms."

"So say I," put in Harding quickly.

"And I agree with you," added the landlord.

"Under no circ.u.mstances will I hear to it, for I will pay all, my own and the ransom of Mr. Brandon, so please send the draft through for the money, Landlord Larry, and while here I will take steps to find out all I can regarding my father, who was last heard of in this part of the country."

"Miss Seldon, _I_ can tell you what you must know sooner or later about your father, who, let me say, was also my friend," said Doctor d.i.c.k.

It seemed hard that, in the joy of her release from captivity in the hands of the outlaws, Celeste Seldon should feel the blow of knowing that the unfortunate Bernard Brandon had been captured and she would have to pay a ransom for him, while she also had to suffer still further in learning what was her father's fate, as told her by Doctor d.i.c.k.

It had been a long time since she had seen her father, the last time when she was a little girl, and she remembered that he had left home under a cloud, and she had never expected to see him again.

With her mother dead, and her father a fugitive wanderer, she had been sent by her guardian, left so by the wishes of her parents, to a Northern school, and there had had no one upon whom to lean.

At the words and tone of Doctor d.i.c.k, she nerved herself to bear the worst; and asked calmly:

"What have you to tell me, Doctor d.i.c.k?"

"Of your father."

"You knew him?"

"Yes, for, though my senior in years, we were devoted friends."

"Have you seen him since coming West?"

"I have not; but let me tell you that, when on a scout with Buffalo Bill, the latter was rescued by a person who was alone, and on his way to W----. The scout had with him a prisoner, a deserter from the army and a murderer, who had been taken here in Last Chance, and he was taking him a prisoner to Fort Faraway, when he was attacked by a desperado by the name of Headlight Joe and his gang.

"With his horse shot and falling upon him, Buffalo Bill would have been killed and his prisoner rescued, but for the coming of the horseman referred to, and who put the outlaws to flight. He gave the name of Andrew Seldon, said nothing as to why he was in that part of the country, or where he lived, and went on his way.

"When I came up with Buffalo Bill, and heard his story of his rescue, and the name of his rescuer, it at once recalled my old-time friend, and, with the scout as my companion, we later sought to find him. We trailed him to his home, where he had dwelt with one other comrade."

"And where was that, sir?"

"In the Grand Canon of the Colorado, Miss Seldon."

"And you found him?" eagerly asked Celeste, while the landlord and Harding gazed at her with deepest sympathy at what they felt she must hear.

"We found his house, or, rather, the wreck of it, for, mining under a cliff a thousand feet in height, it had caved in upon them, burying them beneath a mountain of red sandstone."

Celeste shuddered and covered her face with her hands, but very quickly regained her composure, and said:

"Are you sure that my father was in the mine when it caved in?"

"I am very sure, Miss Seldon, that both he and his comrade were. We, the scout and myself, were camped in the canon, and heard the cave-in, and it felt like a mighty earthquake, and was at night.

"We made a thorough search the next day, but could not find any trace of a human being, and their horses shared the same fate, with a dog, also, which we heard barking that same night. Yes, there is no doubt of your father's fate."

"I thank you, Doctor d.i.c.k, for your telling me all; but I must see Buffalo Bill, the famous scout, and ask him to guide me to the fatal spot, the scene of my father's lone life in these wilds, and of his death," said Celeste, in a low tone that revealed how deeply she felt her father's fate.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

A METAMORPHOSIS.

When Harding met with old Huckleberry, the stage-driver, who had so mysteriously disappeared, and whose fate was a mystery to the miners of Last Chance, that old worthy saw the coach drive on its way while he regarded its departure with the complacency of one not afraid to be left alone, and fully capable of taking care of himself.

He stood for some time in silent meditation, after the coach had disappeared, and then, shouldering his rifle, struck off over the mountains, with an evident purpose in view.

A walk of some ten miles brought him to a secluded nook in the mountains, a perfect basin a dozen acres in size, heavily wooded, with plenty of gra.s.s and water.

A narrow pa.s.s, not twenty feet in width, was the only entrance to the basin, and this was securely fastened up with long poles.

Over this old Huckleberry clambered, and as he walked into the basin, a couple of horses feeding there greeted him with a welcoming neigh. In the farther end, among the pines, was a brush cabin, and in it were blankets and a camping-outfit, with saddle, pack-saddle, and bridles.

Old Huckleberry proceeded to build a fire and cook dinner, after which he caught one of his horses, saddled him, and strapped on some blankets and a bag of provisions.

Leading the horse out of the basin, he replaced the barrier securely, so that the other animal could not get out, and, mounting, started off for the fort. As he rode alone, he muttered to himself:

"I can do nothing alone, I feel certain, and by this time the one man whose aid I can best depend upon is at the fort, and he will gladly return with me."

Pressing on at a steady gait, he did not halt until some time after nightfall, and then built no fire, but ate a cold supper, staked his horse out, rolled up in his blankets, and was soon fast asleep.

He rose early, and the coming of day found him several miles on his way from his night camp.

About eight o'clock he halted, built a fire, broiled the steak of an antelope he had killed, some crackers and bacon, his horse faring well on the gra.s.s near-by.

A rest of an hour and a half, and he was again in the saddle, keeping up the same steady gait until noon, when another halt was made for a couple of hours. On through the afternoon he urged his horse once more, halting only after nightfall.

Two hours before daybreak he was in the saddle, and now his horse was pushed more rapidly forward, as though a long rest lay not very far ahead.

It was two hours before noon when the worn-out horse p.r.i.c.ked up his ears as he saw a flag fluttering in the skies a mile ahead.

In through the stockade gate of Fort Faraway rode old Huckleberry, and he asked to be at once taken to the quarters of the commanding officer.

Major Randall surveyed the old fellow keenly, and said pleasantly:

"Well, old man, what can I do for you?"