So Haggis'll take the pack-horse. Ay, he'll be better o' Bannock, too.

Dogs are often useless creatures in an expedition that might mean creeping and hiding. Bannock's no' that bad-mannered; but he loves hunting, and a wolf might tempt him."

"How far is it to this Pleasant Valley, as it is called?" asked Holden.

"Aboot fifteen mile as we will travel, twenty at the least by the path Haggis'll follow. Oh, ay, Haggis'll be all right. There's no fear o' him not turning up aboot midnight. He's no' quite ceevilised yet, for he canna mind a' the words o' 'Auld Lang Syne' and 'Rule Britannia.' But he's ceevilised enough to be dependable. You wait at the Old Crossing till we turn up, Haggis!"

"Right, boss," answered the half-breed, who seldom spoke more than two words at a time if he could avoid doing so, and he immediately rose up to make the final arrangements for his departure.

"Then there's no more to be said," the Scotsman concluded. "It's start right away; keep a brave heart and a steady foot foremost, and we'll no'

be that far from our friends come nightfall."

Skipper Mackintosh had spoken nothing but the truth when he said that the direct trail was not one that a laden pack-horse could travel with ease, far less speed.

The earlier portion of the march was easy enough. But after about an hour's walking through the bush the travellers reached a mile of bogland, across which a path could only be found by stepping cautiously from one gra.s.sy hummock to another. Even then the surface of the moss shivered for yards around, and the mud between the tufts oozed, as if its mouth were watering to swallow up the trio.

"Feel for every step before you put your weight on it!" the naturalist instructed. He, of course, had taken the foremost position of leader.

"If you want to disappear quicker than you did in yon muskeg, Master Bob, you can set the tip o' your big toe in yon mud, and you'll travel as quick as electricity."

This part of the journey was certainly fatiguing, but the travellers kept up good hearts by pleasant banter and dogged determination.

Reaching solid ground again, there was another easier spell of bush tramping. Then the trail began the ascent of a hill--a rocky, loose-bouldered slope that could only be traversed by a narrow path that somewhat resembled a strip of ribbon on the side of a house.

Up they went, higher and higher each step, with the sharp slope to the left and a sheer declivity of loose stones at the right.

Once Alf slipped, and the stone against which he tripped went leaping down the slope without stopping, until it was lost to sight some three hundred feet or more below.

"Which of you two laddies is the one that's danced down the hillside?"

questioned Mackintosh, without seeming to look round. His voice was pleasant, but he had taken a quick glance backwards all the same, and his face had paled a little. That was but his kindly way of cheering the boys and helping them to keep their nerves in hand.

After a time the climbing ceased. It was now a level path, though it was none the less ready to trap the unwary, as it twisted round spurs and crossed little ravines. Then suddenly the travellers became aware of a sound like that of a small cataract.

Mackintosh stopped, and as they listened they were able to tell that the sound was one that proceeded from the continuous rolling of innumerable stones that were being propelled down the hillside at no great distance.

"What on earth is it?" questioned Alf, and at the same moment the man pointed towards a cloud of dust that had rounded a spur ahead of them--a cloud that was advancing rapidly in their direction to the accompaniment of loud bleating.

"A herd of mountain sheep on the stampede," was the Skipper's immediate verdict.

"Sheep? Coming towards us?" exclaimed Bob, and as the words were spoken there could be seen amid the dust a lot of woolly animals tearing frantically along the narrow path, throwing the stones from beneath their feet, while now and then one would stumble and roll down the slope as though it had been shot from a cannon.

The noise was bewildering as it echoed among the barren hills and rocks.

"See! There's a black animal chasing them!" exclaimed Holden excitedly.

"A bear," said Mackintosh with grim calmness, as he rapidly slung his repeating rifle into readiness, an example that the boys quickly followed.

"What's to be done?" Bob questioned. Frankly he had not the remotest notion how to meet such an emergency, for it was impossible to climb upwards, as it was equally impossible to descend, while to retire along the path would only be to postpone the threatening disaster for a few minutes.

"Come! Follow me quickly; but be careful," Mackintosh suddenly ordered, he himself hastening forward as the boys followed.

At this position the side of the hill bent to the left in the form of a horseshoe, so that it was quite easy from where the three adventurers stood to throw a stone across the intervening chasm to the path at the other side.

Mackintosh led the way until he had reached the first spur; then he told the boys to wait.

"Keep your hands steady and your guns ready, boys," he said. "I'm going along a bit to shoot down the leaders, if it may be; you empty your rifle and a round or two o' shot into yon bear. They'll all be opposite us on the other side in a few minutes. A steady nerve will do it; so, if ever you were cool in your born days, this is the day to be coolest."

Without waiting for further remark from either side, the man then hastened some yards along the path and took up a position where he could kneel and steady his gun arm on a boulder, and hardly had the several positions been taken up when with roar and clatter and cloud the stampede rounded the opposite hill-spur.

Crack! went the Scotsman's repeater. Crack! crack! And down tumbled three sheep, two of which rolled over the slope, leaving one to bar the way in the path. The others took the downward plunge. Crack! crack!

crack! The rifle spoke rapidly and surely, as each bullet found a billet in a different animal.

The race was checked, but not yet effectually, though the Skipper had now more time to pick off the leaders as they scrambled over their brethren--only to fall victims to the sharp-shooter and help to build up a barrier to impede the others.

It was now a terrible sight of animals in desperation.

There were a hundred mountain sheep at least, and they were scrambling in a dense ma.s.s, trying vainly to advance--fighting, struggling, tumbling down the slope in mad confusion. Now and then one would have a momentary success and almost cross the barrier; then the deadly rifle would again send its message--and the barrier would be raised by one victim more.

Meantime, faithful to their charge, the boys kept their attention to the rear of the herd, but the dust was so dense that they could barely discern the hindmost animals.

Then Bob suddenly exclaimed--

"Look out!"

But Alf had been equally ready. A rifle and a gun darted up to each boy's shoulder at the same instant; a simultaneous explosion came like one from both weapons. Then followed a roar like a miniature thunder-peal, and a brown grizzly was seen to shoot down the declivity in pursuit of the poor sheep that he had driven to destruction in such numbers.

"Bravo!" shouted Mackintosh, letting go his feelings in a wild whoop of exultation. "A grand shot, lads!"

"I guess his day's work is done," returned Alf quietly, though he was none the less delighted with his own and his chum's success.

Finding that the fierce pursuit had ceased, the few remaining sheep turned on the retreat, since they found it impossible to advance farther. Then the adventurers proceeded on their way, though they, in their turn, found it impossible to pa.s.s the barrier, and some time had to be expended in carefully tumbling the carcases down the slope. But soon the work was successfully accomplished, and the path once more clear to permit the three comrades to pursue their urgent course.

CHAPTER XIX

THUNDER-MAKER'S DOWNFALL

During the rest of the journey through the hills and along Trapper's Pa.s.s, no further accidents occurred to hinder progress, and once free of the hills the trail was level and across a stretch of prairie.

Towards night the Pleasant Valley was reached, and the three travellers descended to the part of the river known to trappers as the Old Crossing, though it was a ford where no water flowed.

On reaching this camp-ground there were evidences of the recent presence of strangers. Moreover, these strangers were not travelling in any secret way, since they had taken no pains to conceal their tracks, and the ashes of trampled-out fires were still warm.

Mackintosh carefully examined the surroundings, and came to the decision, from certain signs, that it had been an Indian camp.

"To my mind the best thing for us to do is to rest here for an hour or two," the man said.

"I shan't be sorry," said Bob. "We pressed on rather rapidly, and, to tell you the truth, I'm rather f.a.gged."