ii4 



RECREA TION. 



any otjier conclusion than the one generally 

 accepted — that the murderers had entered 

 the road and slipped into Chico. One 

 youth, who presumed to speak lightly of 

 Good, was cut short by Sandy Young. 



" Better not be laughing at Hi Good on 

 an Injun trail, young fellow," he said. 

 " The man don't live that ken give him 

 pointers; so you and all of your stripe in 

 this crowd better scoot to town, for we 

 don't want any such here." The burly fel- 

 low indignantly rattled the butt of his rifle 

 to the ground. 



This reproof from Sandy Young effectu- 

 ally silenced all critics. The captain had 

 laid aside his rifle, then dropping on his 

 hands and knees, he began creeping across 

 the trail, back and forth, returning 3 times 

 to where the creek bank broke off, form- 

 ing a deep hole. Many minutes passed as 

 he crept, inch by inch, across the ground, 

 like a panther moving stealthily on its 

 prey. 



For the fourth time he approached the 

 abrupt bank, this time intently peering over 

 the edge. 



"They've done it!" he suddenly ex- 

 claimed, rising. " Some of the devils didn't 

 jump far enough, and I see where they 

 brushed the dirt when they went over. 

 Now for the other side of the creek." 



The Indians had boldly approached with- 

 in 2 miles of Chico, in the hope of sad- 

 dling their crime on the Rancho Indians. 

 They had then cunningly leaped into the 

 creek, to hide their return trail. This was 

 the theory of Captain Good; and no one 

 questioned it. 



Two parties, made up of trustworthy 

 men, were now formed, one to go up each 

 side of the creek to look for the spot where 

 the fugitives emerged. Good and Sandy 

 Young were the leaders. Tom Martin 

 thrilled with joy when the scout chose him. 

 Denny, the jolly Irishman, was in Good's 

 party; and a wild, reckless fellow, called 

 " Bully," was also selected by the Captain. 

 There were 15 men in each squad, and no 

 sooner were they formed than they started. 



They soon reached a point where the 

 canyon was rugged and steep, and the 

 climbing difficult. At length Good clam- 

 bered down into a deep gorge leading into 

 the creek. In an instant a triumphant shout 

 proclaimed his success. In a narrow bit of 

 sand there were several mocassin tracks, 

 the footprints of Indians. 



As soon as Young's party had crossed 

 the creek, Good said in his clear decisive 

 way: "There goes the trail, straight 

 through the hills for Mill creek. If they 

 hurried it will take some tall traveling to 

 get ahead of them at Grapevine pass; but if 

 they think we're looking for them in Chico, 

 they may loiter through the hills, looking 

 for stray cattle, and may give us a crack at 

 them before they reach the pass." 



It was decided that the Scout's party 



should follow the trail, while Sandy Young, 

 with his party, should return to the valley, 

 secure horses, and ride to Grapevine pass, 

 where the renegades often crossed to their 

 hidden retreats. 



All day, over steep ridges and through 

 rough canyons, the little band moved. The 

 leader, his keen eyes flashing, every sense 

 on the alert, strode on, hour after hour, 

 veering to the right or left, dodging thick- 

 ets or pushing through them, as the dim 

 sign on the ground suggested. A dozen 

 times he dropped to his knees on the bare, 

 lava-covered elevations, and as often broke 

 into a run, where the ground made the trail 

 easy. Tough and hardy though they were, 

 his followers were tried to the utmost to 

 keep at his heels. The sun beat down furi- 

 ously, and the scanty shade of the chapar- 

 ral and scrub oak seemed to mock at their 

 discomfort, while the only water they found 

 was insipid to their parched throats. 



The sun sank behind the distant Coast 

 Range as they toiled up a deep ravine. The 

 wild, deep canyon of Deer cree-k yawned at 

 their feet as they reached the top of the 

 ridge, its bottom already shrouded in 

 gloom. 



' They have dropped into the canyon," 

 whispered Good, to the weary men who 

 stood leaning heavily on their rifles. After 

 a close examination of the ground, he 

 added: " We'll slip down to the water and 

 wait till morning — and hark you, not a 

 word above a whisper; feel your way when 

 you can't see." He disappeared down a 

 narrow trail, followed by the others. 



After half an hour, they stopped on a 

 cliff which dropped almost perpendicularly 

 to the seething, roaring stream beneath. A 

 small gully furnished water, so here the 

 party halted for the night. No fire was 

 kindled. Dry bread with water, furnished 

 the evening meal. Sentinels were posted 

 on 3 sides, the impassable bluff being a 

 sufficient guard on the other. 



An Indian was seen in the night, skulk- 

 ing around the camp. The Captain was 

 notified at once, but no attack followed. 



" I don't understand it," he muttered, 

 " unless they intend to turn the tables and 

 surprise us, toward morning." This con- 

 jecture proved true, for they were attacked 

 at daylight. 



The Captain ordered his men to stay 

 close under cover of rocks and trees; and 

 for every third man, only, to reply to the 

 Indians' fire. These were to keep up a 

 brisk fight as though in a tight place, thus 

 hoping to deceive the enemy as to his real 

 strength. The men formed a half circle 

 with the cliff at the rear. Thus protected, 

 they feared little from the shots fired at 

 random by an unseen foe. 



Half a dozen rifles flashed in the gloomy 

 light of dawn, their sharp reports awaken- 

 ing the echoes of the dark caverns. Then 

 followed a scattering volley from the Ind- 



