Chiquita, an American Novel. Merrill Tileston

from the "States" thrived and grew hardy. No such thing as a cold or bodily ailment of any sort attacked either one.

      The next night found them camped in a protected ravine near a stream from which water was obtained and some pretensions to comfort prevailed. For the first time elk meat formed a part of the evening meal, and a feeling of good cheer followed a hearty repast. The next morning as Jack climbed the side of the long south slope, covered with stunted sage brush, to get the horses that had found plenty of feed, he came face to face with a tawny-skinned animal that came up out of one ravine as Jack emerged from another, about a hundred yards apart. No firearms, not even a hunting knife, were at hand. To flee would be but an invitation to tempt the mountain lion to possible attack, so Jack sauntered along, carelessly as he could under the circumstances, in the direction of the ponies. The lion kept on his own course, crossing Jack's path and eventually disappearing in a deep arroya, or gulch, all the while turning his head from side to side watching but not attempting to molest either Jack or the horses.

      The next camping spot selected was on the bank of Rock Creek, where a bend of the stream deflected by high rocks left a well timbered, protected area, surrounded on three sides by precipitous slopes of the adjacent "benches" covered with sage brush, these "benches" or mesas extending to the high ridges towering above, one facing the north, the other the south, the former bleak and covered with deep snow, the latter, warm and sun-kissed, furnishing feed for horses. The building of a cabin occupied a few days, which, when equipped with a fireplace, a bunk having about eighteen inches of spruce boughs as a mattress, and other frontier conveniences, made a trapper's home.

      Deer were abundant. In an evening or in the early morning hundreds of the great muleheaded species could be seen winding their way to and from the feeding grounds, or wandering aimlessly about. Traps were set out, bait doctored with "dead medicine" or poison tacked to trees and stumps where foxes, wolves and lions were likely to find it, and the regular life of "catching fur" was commenced.

      A band of Ute Indians that had left the White River Agency established their village two miles below the cabin at a point where Rock Creek joined another stream—Toponas, or "Pony"—and then flowed on to its confluence with the Grand River. These Indians became visitors to the cabin and among them Jack found one, Yamanatz, a friendly and peaceable savage.

      The village was destitute of food and ammunition, in fact, no means were at their command for obtaining game, therefore they heralded the trappers' arrival with gladness, for they expected to be able to obtain powder and bullets with which to obtain venison.

      The second visit Yamanatz made to the Rock Creek camp, he was accompanied by his beautiful daughter Chiquita, a girl of seventeen, richly attired in beaded skirt, leggings and moccasins. She rode astride of a magnificent chestnut brown, full-blooded Ute pony, a large Navajo blanket drawn tightly about her, Indian fashion. She carried a bow and from her back hung a quiver of arrows. Her well molded face was set in its frame of straight, black hair, braided in two long strands into which were interwoven pieces of lion skin, beaver fur and other bits of "medicine" charms to drive away evil spirits. A string of elk teeth adorned her neck and bands of heavy silver ornaments bedecked her arms.

      Indians are similar to other folks in many respects. A proper introduction generally puts them on a gracious footing. It did not take long for Jack and Chiquita to strike up a fast friendship, and the old adage of "feed the brute" held good with both Indian buck and maiden.

      The cabin was but partly "chinked" when the old trapper announced his intention of going to Hot Sulphur Springs.

      "I left the old woman without enough wood and must go back to cut some for her. Then there are some other matters to attend to which will take a week or ten days, after which I will come back and bring what mail is at the Springs for you," he explained.

      Little did Jack realize, in fact, he did not suspect, there might be other reasons for this sudden determination on the part of the trapper. It did not occur to him the seeming folly of a man leaving his wife unprovided with wood. The trip of a hundred miles or more in the dead of winter over unbroken trails was not so much of an obstacle for a man experienced in mountain life; but he did not then know that the Utes' camp was made up of some of the worst characters from the White River Agency, nor that the band was there against the wishes of Indian Agent Meeker, who had requested their return more than once.

      Jack took the matter as one of the peculiar incidents in a trapper's life, for he had learned that a trapper has no conception of time, no thought for the days ahead, no particular object in view beyond existence, and no ambition beyond that of the prospector who indulges his fancies of "striking it rich" some day.

      Jack knew there were plenty of provisions to last until summer, that the trapper would leave two horses and the sled, besides quite a valuable lot of traps, et cetera, which would insure his return sooner or later, so there were no misgivings when the mountaineer mounted his horse and rode away.

      He busied himself day after day and accumulated furs and knowledge of frontier life.

      These were the surroundings in which Jack found himself three months after leaving Boston.

CHAPTER III.

       Table of Contents

      CATS, TRAPS, AND INDIANS.

      The steady life of a trapper had become regular diet to Jack, as day after day he visited old traps, set out new ones and explored territory farther away from the cabin. The Indians were daily visitors whether he was in camp or not, but they never molested anything, no matter how curious or hungry. They were seemingly good humored, even though there appeared an undercurrent of dissatisfaction. The first episode to put him on his guard was when one of the Utes, Bennett, hid behind a tree near the camp fire outside the cabin. Yamanatz was there in his customary place, squatted upon the ground. A strange dog ran in and out of the place and Jack inquired of the old Ute how the dog happened to be there. Yamanatz, unconcerned, replied, "Me dunno." This puzzled Jack, but he went about his cooking, carefully watching the trees and rocks. He felt for the first time a species of alarm. Again he inquired, "Ute dog, mebbe so?"

      "Me dunno."

      Jack knew no white man would go along that trail at that time of year without stopping to say "How!" In fact, there was no white man within forty miles, except old Joe Riggs, and old Joe would be there with the dog if the dog was Joe's. The suspense had a sudden termination as the muzzle of a rifle "mirrored" in the sunlight, just the tip of the muzzle being thus accidentally disclosed. Quick as a flash Jack pulled his six shooter, cocked it and held it level at the tree where the bright steel was in full view. Yamanatz made neither sign nor comment, but Jack felt that the cunning old chief was fully aware of all that was going on. Very soon the edge of a woolen turban cap appeared opposite the rifle muzzle, then an ear, then a little of the chin and finally the eye of Bennett looked straight into Jack's six shooter. With a bound the joker jumped from behind the tree and, with a laugh which could have been heard a mile, and in which Yamanatz joined, came forward, palms outward, signifying peace, exclaiming, "White man no 'fraid; heap big joke, heap big joke."

      But Jack began to feel that these jokes might end in something serious, especially if he showed the white feather in the least.

      The next day he returned from the traps just as the last streaks of sunlight were tipping the tops of the cañon where Rock Creek dashed by the cabin. Yamanatz sat by the cold camp fire in the same place and same position in which Jack had left him after breakfast, six hours before. Of course, Jack was surprised at this and wondered what it meant. As Jack swung into the open space Yamanatz immediately arose with hands outstretched, the palms well up towards the comer, accompanying the action with this eager outburst:

      "Yamanatz heap glad to see white man Jack; Colorow come. White man gone. Colorow heap mad, want to see white man. Me tell 'em white man gone, Colorow follow white man; byme by Antelope come look for Colorow; Antelope go back Indian village by Pony Creek. Antelope tell Utes Colorow mean mischief; Colorow's boy come byme by look for Colorow; when Yamanatz