"He's out!" shouted Frank, scrambling down out of his tree.

"I thought I could manage him," said Adam. "Don't you think my plan was the best? But I say, Frank," he added, as he joined our hero at the top of the hill, "we must fire the rifle once, at least, for we want some supper."

"If we could use a bow and arrow as well as the Black Fox, we would not need the rifle. Now, one of us had better stay here, and build a fire in the cave, and gather a supply of wood for the night, while the other goes out and knocks over a big-horn. The mountains about here are full of them."

"Well, seeing that you are the best shot, perhaps you had better go to market. By the time you get back, I will have every thing ready. You are not afraid to go?"

No, Frank was not afraid, but still he did not like the idea of wandering off alone among those mountains. He would have felt much more at his ease if the big-horn had already been killed, and was ready for the spit. Besides the danger of getting lost, there were the outlaws, who might hear the report of his rifle, and pounce down upon him before he could secure his game and make good his retreat to the cave. He and his companion might have gone without their suppers for that night without serious inconvenience, but they were still eighty miles from Fort Benton, and, while they were traveling across the prairie, they might not find any thing to shoot, for the Indians had doubtless frightened away all the game. If Frank succeeded in killing a big-horn, it was their intention to cook it all, and carry with them a supply of the meat sufficient to last them until they reached the fort.

Adam began looking about for dry wood with which to start the fire in the cave, and Frank shouldered his rifle and started down the cliff. He followed the same course which he, and Archie, and the trapper had pursued on a former occasion, when they went out to hunt big-horns, and presently found himself in the ravine in which his cousin had met with his first adventure with a grizzly. Dick had once told him that if the trees in that ravine could speak, they could relate many a thrilling story about him and Bill Lawson; and Frank thought that, if they could find tongues now, they might have something to say concerning himself that would prove interesting.

The deer-path which Frank was following ran through the ravine for about half a mile, and then led down the side of a precipitous cliff, and terminated on a rocky ledge, perhaps twenty-five feet square, in the center of which was a spring of water. When Frank reached the edge of this cliff, he looked over it very cautiously, and was gratified to see, about a hundred feet below him, a noble elk, with wide-spreading antlers, drinking from the spring.

"Our supper is all right," soliloquized the young hunter, after he had taken a good survey of the ledge, and calculated the animal's chances for escape in case he failed to disable him at the first shot. "That ledge juts out into a gorge which is much too wide for any deer to jump. If he tries it, I am sure of him, for he will fall on the rocks and be killed. He can't scale the cliff, unless he comes up the path; and, if he tries that, I'll be here to stop him."

Frank did not usually spend as many minutes in getting ready for a shot as he did on this particular evening. On ordinary occasions, his rifle was at his shoulder the instant the game appeared in sight; and one quick glance along the barrel made him sure of his aim. But this was not an ordinary occasion. He was working for his supper now, there were enemies all around him, and it was rapidly growing dark. He must kill the elk at the first shot, secure a portion of it (the animal was so large and heavy he knew he could not carry it all), and make his way back to the Old Bear's Hole without the loss of a single minute. He raised his rifle and took a long and deliberate aim at the buck, and just then the animal bounded across the spring and came leisurely up the path. For a single second his breast presented a fair mark; but that second was long enough for Frank. The rifle cracked sharply, and the elk, turning in his tracks, made one tremendous bound, and, leaping clear across the ledge, disappeared among the trees which lined the sides of the gorge. Frank's supper was not all right, after all.

"Now just look at that!" he exclaimed, in a tone of great disappointment. "When one is in a hurry, something always happens to trouble him. The deer is dead enough, but what good will he do me as long as he lies at the bottom of the gully?"

As Frank said this, he jumped to his feet, and, running down the path, looked over the ledge. The bushes were so thick that he could not see the bottom of the gorge; but there were drops of blood on the leaves, and Frank knew that the fall had proved fatal to the buck, even if the shot had not. What plan could he contrive to descend into the ravine was the question that troubled him now; and it was one that was asked and answered almost in the same breath. He chanced to look toward the top of the cliff, and was frightened nearly out of his senses when he discovered two Indians advancing toward him with stealthy footsteps. He was now in the same situation in which the elk had been but a moment before, with this slight difference: He was conscious of the presence of his enemies, while the first intimation of danger the buck had was, receiving the ball in his breast. There was no place of concealment on the ledge, and he had his choice between two courses of action: One was to ascend the path in the face of the Indians, and the other to jump over into the ravine. He was not long in coming to a decision. He took a single glance at the Indians, and, seeing that one of them was in the act of raising his gun to take aim at him, he tightened his grasp on his rifle, which he held in his left hand, and seizing with his right the bushes that grew on the edge of the precipice, he fearlessly threw himself into the gorge, while the bullet that was intended for him sped harmlessly through the empty air. The Indian was just a moment too late.

Both savages uttered loud yells of astonishment as they witnessed this act of desperation, and, bounding swiftly down the path, they leaned over the rocks to see what had become of the reckless young hunter. The bushes, by the aid of which he had swung himself over the precipice, sprang back to their place, but Frank was nowhere to be seen. The Indians thought, no doubt, that he had paid for his temerity with his life, and that he was lying mangled and bleeding at the bottom of the gorge; but could they have looked under the overhanging rock on which they were kneeling, they would have seen him standing erect and unharmed about ten feet below them, with his rifle clubbed, ready to strike the first of his foes who came in sight. His attempt at escape was not so reckless as the Indians imagined it to be. While standing on the ledge, he noticed that the branches of a tree, which grew at the bottom of the ravine, extended almost to the top of the precipice, and he thought he could jump into them with perfect safety. Still he hesitated to try it, until he discovered the Indians, and then he found that he had no alternative. To assist him in his descent, and to render the attempt less hazardous, he made use of the bushes, which, contrary to his calculations, swung with him far below the top of the tree, and out of reach of it. This proved, however, to be a point in his favor; for, to his great surprise and delight, he landed on a broad, flat rock, which was effectually concealed from the view of the Indians by the overhanging cliff. It seemed as if this way of escape had been prepared expressly for him. If he had built the cliff himself he could not have devised a better hiding-place. His enemies, even if they discovered him, could not climb up to him from the bottom of the cliff, for it was so steep that a mountain-goat could scarcely have found footing thereon; and if they descended to him from above, he would shoot the first one who came in sight.

"I am all right yet," thought the young hunter, drawing a long breath of relief, and feeling for his powder-horn. "There is only one way in which the Indians can get the better of me, and that is by starving me out. Adam must go without his supper to-night, for I have business on my hands that will——"

Frank paused in his soliloquy, and his face once more grew pale with terror. He could find no ammunition for his rifle. When Adam removed the powder-horn and bullet-pouch from the person of the outlaw, he had thrown them over his own shoulders, and there they were now. Frank had left his companion without thinking to ask for them. He was in something of a predicament, standing, as he was, almost within reach of two hostile Indians, and without even a charge of powder or a bullet for his rifle. A movement at the top of the cliff drew his thoughts from himself to his enemies. They leaned over the precipice and conversed earnestly for a few minutes, and then one of them sprang into the air and landed in the branches of the tree. Fortunately his back was turned toward Frank, and this gave the latter an opportunity to conceal himself, which he quickly did. The savage, little dreaming that the object of his search was so near to him, descended the tree and disappeared among the bushes which lined the sides of the gorge.

While Frank was waiting to see what the other Indian was going to do, he was sure that he heard the sound of a desperate struggle at the bottom of the ravine. It continued but a moment, and then all was still again. He might have been mistaken in this, but still he was certain that something had happened down there, and so was the Indian, who, after waiting nearly ten minutes for the report of his companion, uttered some words in the Indian tongue. An answer came from below, and the savage sprang into the tree and quickly descended to the bottom of the gorge. Frank thought he had gone down to assist in cutting up the buck; but if that was his intention, he did not carry it out. His companion had been tomahawked the moment he reached the foot of the tree, and a like fate was in store for him. Two trappers, one of them in the disguise of an Indian, were concealed among the bushes in the ravine, awaiting his appearance. The wary savage, always on the lookout for danger, discovered his foes, but just a moment too late. The report of a rifle rang through the mountains, and the Indian, falling headlong to the ground, was instantly pounced up by the trappers, and dispatched as if he had been a rabid wolf. Frank's ears told him what had been going on, and his heart beat high with hope. Friends were near, and he was certain that he knew who they were. Without stopping to consider that there might be more Indians in the vicinity, who would be attracted by the sound of his voice, he called out: "Dick Lewis!"

There was silence for a moment, and then came the reply: "Show yourself, you keerless feller!"

Frank, too overjoyed to speak again, was on his feet in an instant, and preparing to descend into the ravine. There was but one way to accomplish this, and that was to spring into the tree. It was a long jump from where he stood, and, if he failed to catch one of the limbs, or if it proved too weak to sustain his weight, he would fall forty or fifty feet. But Frank did not stop to think of this. Grasping his rifle tightly in one hand, he sprang into the air, and, by the aid of a friendly branch, swung down to the body of the tree in safety. In a moment more he was standing between Dick and Bob, who were wringing his hands with an energy that brought the tears to his eyes.

But little time was wasted in explanations. Frank told the trappers that he had left Adam at the Old Bear's Hole, and that he had come out in search of his supper; and Dick told him that he and Bob were traveling through the ravine, on their way to the cave, when they heard the report of the rifle and saw the buck fall over the precipice. They also heard the voices of the Indians on the cliff, and, supposing that they owned the game, and that they would be likely to descend into the ravine to secure it, they concealed themselves in the bushes to await their appearance. The first savage who came down the tree was easily overpowered; and when his companion called out: "Do you see any thing of the white man?" (that was the first intimation the trappers had that there was a white hunter about) Dick replied: "Yes; he's here, but I can't get at him." "That brought the Injun down, you see," said the latter, in conclusion, "an' when he come in sight, we sent him where he'll never get a chance to attack any more peaceable tradin'-posts, I'll bet a hoss. Fetch along the mustang, Bob, an' we'll start for the Ole Bar's Hole."

The horse was brought up, and Frank fairly danced with delight when he found that it was Roderick. The animal recognized his master, and answered his caresses by rubbing his head against his shoulder. Frank sprang upon his back, and the trappers, after they had raised the elk from the ground and placed it before him, led the way toward the cave. It was quite dark when they arrived within sight of it, but Dick knew in an instant that there was something wrong; and so did Bob, who placed his hand on his companion's shoulder and pointed toward the top of the cliff.

"My eyes aint as good as they used to be," said he, "but if that aint an Injun up thar, I never seed one."

"An' if that aint one of Black Bill's mates standin' at the foot of the cliff, may I be shot!" added Dick.

"Then they've tracked us, after all the trouble we took to throw them off our trail!" whispered Frank, in great excitement. "Who knows but that they have captured Adam?"

"If they have, we'll soon turn him loose," replied Dick. "Now, youngster, you stay here, an' me an' Bob will creep up an' take a look at things. If thar aint nobody in the cave except Black Bill an' his friends, we'll clean 'em out in a hurry. We've got a long account to settle with one of them fellers, an' this is jest the time to do it."

The trappers stole off in the darkness, and Frank sat on his horse and awaited the issue of events with feelings that can not be described. He saw Dick and Bob creep noiselessly upon the outlaw who stood at the foot of the cliff, and seize, gag, and bind him; and so silently was the whole operation performed, in spite of the man's furious struggles, that he did not hear even a leaf rustle. One enemy had been disposed of; but there were still three others, besides the Indian, to be overcome.

"If I had a load for my rifle I wouldn't sit here long," said Frank, to himself. "I know there will be a desperate fight in that cave if Black Bill is there, and perhaps just one bullet may be needed to decide the battle in our favor. What in the world was that?"

A thin sheet of flame, followed by a dense volume of smoke, suddenly arose from the mouth of the upper passage-way. The moment's silence that succeeded was broken by cries of pain and loud yells of anger, and through the smoke, which settled like a cloud over the cliff, the Indian appeared, running at the top of his speed, as if badly frightened at something, and directing his course toward a thicket of bushes at the opposite side of the ravine. The thought that it was the Black Fox had scarcely passed through Frank's mind when he discovered that there were two horses tied to the bushes, and that the Indian was running toward them, evidently with the intention of mounting one of them and making good his escape. Frank leaned forward to obtain a better view of the animals, and, in a moment more, the elk had been pitched to the ground, and Roderick was flying down the ravine with the speed of the wind.

"Stop, you Black Fox!" shouted Frank, swinging his rifle around his head and giving vent to a yell that awoke the echoes far and near. "I've got something to say about this business."

One of the horses was Pete, and the other was King James. While Roderick had been faithfully serving the trappers—he had carried Dick Lewis through that desperate hand-to-hand fight at the fort, and, like him, escaped without a single injury—his swift rival had been equally faithful to one of the outlaws. Black Bill had captured him from one of the soldiers during the fight, and, recognizing Dick's massive form among the struggling horsemen, he had made every exertion to come to close quarters with him. Roderick moved so swiftly, however, that the black could not overtake him; and perhaps that was a fortunate thing for the outlaw, if he had only known it. While Dick was cutting his way through the ranks of the Indians, he was keeping a bright lookout for Black Bill, and if he could have found him, and brought him within reach of the cavalry saber which he was wielding with such telling effect, he would have put a sudden stop to his career of depredation. Pete had carried Black Bill many a long mile since his master last saw him; but now he seemed in a fair way to fall into the hands of his rightful owner.

"Stop, I tell you!" shouted Frank, again. "You are at the end of your rope now, my hearty."

The young Indian heard the order, but paid no attention to it. He ran directly to the horses, and, springing upon King James's back, cut the lasso, with which he was tied, with his knife, and went tearing down the ravine, with Frank in hot pursuit. The time had come now to decide the question which had been so long in dispute. This was to be a fair race, and Frank wished his cousin had been there to witness it, for he was sure of a victory.

A few of Roderick's long bounds carried him through the willows and out on the prairie, where Frank discovered the Indian, almost a hundred yards distant, lying flat along his horse's neck, one hand twisted in his mane, and the other swinging the lasso, which he now and then brought down on the black's side with a sounding whack. Roderick seemed to know what was expected of him, for he increased his speed the moment he emerged from the willows, and then the race began in earnest. The gray gained from the start, and rapidly, too; and, before half a mile had been accomplished, Frank was so close to the object of his pursuit that he leaned forward to catch him by the scalp-lock.

"I guess you'll stop now, Indian!" he exclaimed. "Well, it makes no difference to me which way you take it, on foot or on horseback, for I can beat you."

The Indian, for once, was a little too quick for Frank. Slipping like an eel out of his grasp, he threw himself from his horse without attempting to check his headlong speed, and, landing safely on his feet, started back toward the willows. Frank was on the ground almost at the same instant; and then began another race, which, like the one that had come off the day before at the Indian camp, was decided in favor of the fleet-footed young hunter. The Black Fox, however, was desperate to the last; and, after the race, a fight ensued. One quick, determined blow with the rifle knocked the knife from the savage's hand; but that was not the end of the matter—it was only the beginning of it. The young warrior's strength and agility seemed to have increased wonderfully since their last meeting, and the struggle, which continued at least ten minutes, was decided only by Frank's superior powers of endurance. He came off with flying colors; and when he helped his prisoner to his feet, his arms were fastened behind his back with his own belt.