WHEN Julian opened his eyes again the sun was rising. He started up with an exclamation which was repeated as soon as he was fairly awake. His first thought was of his companion. He was gone. A glance about the camp showed him that something else was also missing – his rifle, which he had placed under the eaves of the cabin close at hand and ready for use in case of emergency. A strange feeling came over Julian, and it was some minutes before he could muster up courage enough to place his hand upon the breast of his jacket in which he carried his box of money. But he did it at last, and was immensely relieved to find that his box was safe. He removed the lid, and saw that its contents had not been disturbed.

While he was trying to find some explanation for his companion’s absence, and wondering why, if he had deserted him and stolen his gun, he had not taken the money also, Sanders appeared in sight over the brow of the bluff with Julian’s rifle on his shoulder and several squirrels in his hand, which he had shot for their breakfast. The boy said nothing about the fright his absence had occasioned him, but assisted him in cooking and eating the squirrels, telling himself the while that whatever else Sanders might be he was not a thief. It was plain now that if he had any designs upon Julian, the time to carry them into execution had not yet arrived.

When the two had satisfied their appetites Billy was saddled, the fire extinguished, and the journey toward St. Joseph commenced. Julian rode the horse and Sanders walked by his side, striding along at an astonishing rate and keeping Billy in a trot all the way. He proved to be a very entertaining companion, and told stories of adventure in the mountains and on the plains till Julian became interested in spite of himself. Sanders, quick to notice the fact, again spoke of the home among the gold mines to which he was ready to conduct Julian if the latter would only trust to his guidance; but seeing very plainly that the boy did not believe a word he said, he dropped the subject and did not refer to it again.

At noon they stopped at a farm-house, where both travelers and horse were regaled with an excellent dinner, and about 10 o’clock that night found themselves in a hotel in St. Joseph. Julian asked to be shown at once to his room, and after he had locked himself in and barricaded the door with the washstand and chairs, he drew a long breath of relief, and for the first time since meeting Richard Mortimer believed himself free from danger. The feeling of comfort and security he experienced was certainly refreshing, but it would have been short-lived had he known what his companion in the adjoining room was thinking about.

That worthy was up and doing at a very early hour, and his first move, after he had come out of his room and looked up and down the hall to make sure that there was no one in sight, was to place his ear and then his eye to the keyhole of Julian’s door. He heard and saw enough to satisfy him that the boy had not yet arisen, and this point being settled he went down stairs and out of the house. He hurried along the streets, and after turning numerous corners found himself in front of a small and very dingy public house, which, as the sign before the door indicated, was called the “Hunter’s Home.” It was patronized exclusively by frontiersmen, and some of the guests were already astir and lounging about the doors. Sanders glanced at the groups as he walked by them, and turning the nearest corner passed on out of sight. No sooner had he disappeared than two men arose from the bench on which they had been sitting, and strolling down the street and turning the same corner, presently came up with Sanders, who was perched upon a dry-goods box in front of a store.

“I allowed it was you, Ned, but I didn’t know,” said one of them, advancing and extending his hand, which Sanders shook cordially. “You’re dressed up like a gentleman. What luck?”

“I’ve got him.”

“You have?” cried both the men in concert.

“It’s a fact. He’s in a hotel not more’n a half a mile from here – Julian Mortimer himself, an’ nobody else. I’ve had the wust kind of a time a gettin’ him. Dick Mortimer was thar ahead of me.”

“Sho!”

“Yes. An’ we’re goin to have a wusser time, I am afraid, gettin’ him out of the town to the prairy. He’s sharper’n two steel traps, that boy is, an’ somehow he don’t like the looks of me. He knows a heap about himself, an’ is too smart to swallow a single one of the lies I told him. He’s goin’ to cut loose from me, I can see it in his eye; an’ whatever we do must be done to once. He wants to jine a wagon train, if he can find one.”

“Wal, he can,” replied one of the men, “‘cause thar’s one goin’ out to-day. Silas Roper’s goin’ along.”

“Silas Roper!” replied Sanders savagely. “He’s allers in the way. He musn’t see the boy, ’cause if he does our goose is cooked – done brown. Come with me to the hotel, an’ as we go along I will think up some way to manage this business.”

Sanders jumped off the dry-goods box and walked rapidly away, closely followed by his two companions. When they arrived within sight of the hotel he stopped, for they saw Julian standing on the steps. Sanders’ friends recognized him at once, and declared that they would have known him if they had met him on the other side of the world. They held a short, whispered conversation, after which the two men retreated into a doorway out of sight, and Sanders kept on and accosted Julian.

“You’re an ’arly bird, hain’t you?” said he, with an awkward attempt to appear cordial and friendly. “So am I. I have been findin’ out somethin’ about the wagon trains, an’ I am told that one went out yesterday bound for the very place you want to go. It will pass within a hundred yards of the door of your father’s rancho. I am goin’ to start after it directly. Thar won’t be another goin’ out under a month, an’ I can’t wait so long; fur I’ve no money to waste in payin’ board bills.”

“Neither have I,” said Julian.

“Then you’d best go with me, hadn’t you? We can easy ketch the train by day after to-morrow – ”

Sanders paused suddenly, finishing the sentence with something that sounded very much like an oath. He gazed earnestly down the street for a moment, and then turned and walked rapidly away, drawing his handkerchief close about his face as he went. He did not slacken his pace until he had left the hotel out of sight, and was joined by his two companions, who had made an equally hasty retreat. The expression on their faces indicated that they were terribly enraged about something.

“If they wasn’t worth so much money to us I would make way with both of them in less time than it takes to say so!” exclaimed Sanders, in a very savage tone of voice. “Did you ever hear tell of such luck? I’ve done all that can be done at this end of the route, but I hain’t beat yet. We’ll go to the mountains now, an’ have every thing fixed agin’ the wagon train gets thar.”

For some reason Sanders and his friends now seemed anxious to leave the town with as little delay as possible. They made the best of their way to the Hunter’s Home, which they entered hurriedly, and when they again made their appearance on the street they were all on horseback and carried rifles on their shoulders and revolvers and bowie-knives in their belts.

No one not well acquainted with him would have recognized Sanders as the same man who had gone into the hotel but a few minutes before. His broadcloth and jewelry had disappeared, also the handkerchief which he had worn about his face, and he was dressed in a suit of buckskin, which had evidently seen the hardest kind of service. If Julian could have taken one glance at him now, he would not have felt the least inclination to renew his short acquaintance with him, nor would he have wondered that the man had been so careful to keep his features concealed from view. Perhaps he would have asked himself why he did not continually wear the handkerchief.

His was the worst looking face that had ever been seen in the streets of St. Joseph – one that any man except its owner would have been ashamed of; and even he had thought best to hide it for a while lest it should bear testimony against him and defeat his plans. But as he was now about to leave the country of civilized men and go among those of his own kind, concealment was no longer necessary. He appeared in his true character, that of villain and desperado.

When Sanders and his companions were fairly out of the stable-yard, they put spurs to their horses, and rode swiftly away. They stopped that night long enough to ascertain that Julian was with the emigrants, and to make a demonstration, the result of which shall be related presently, and then resumed their rapid gallop, which they did not slacken in one day, nor two; and even at the end of a week, mounted on fresh horses, which they had stolen or obtained in exchange for their own jaded animals, they were still riding toward the mountains as if for dear life. In this way they gained considerably on the wagon train, and by the time it appeared in sight of Bridger’s Pass, Sanders had mustered assistance, and was ready to accomplish by force of arms what he had failed to gain by strategy.

CHAPTER XVI.

SILAS ROPER, THE GUIDE.

SURPRISED at the abruptness with which Sanders had deserted him, and at the unmistakable signs of rage and alarm he exhibited, Julian stood looking after his retreating form until it disappeared from view, and then directed his gaze down the street.

He could see nothing there calculated to frighten Sanders or any body else. There were but few men in sight, and these appeared to have no hostile intentions toward any one, for they were going quietly about their business, and did not seem to be aware that there were such persons as Julian and his late companion in existence.

Among them was a man who attracted the boy’s attention at once; and he also seemed to be an object of interest to all in his immediate vicinity, for every one who passed him turned to look back at him. He was the nearest approach to a giant that Julian had ever seen. Sanders, large and powerful as he was, would have looked like a boy beside him. He was as straight as an arrow, and moved along as if he were set on springs. He was dressed in a complete suit of buckskin, even to his moccasins, and carried the never-failing knife and revolver about his waist. But little could be seen of his face, for it was covered with immense whiskers, which reached almost to his belt. He walked with his hands in the pockets of his hunting-shirt, looking carelessly about him, as if he had determined upon nothing in particular.

Arriving at the steps where Julian stood, he seated himself upon them, and drawing a pipe from a little pouch which hung at his belt, prepared to fill up for a smoke.

Julian watched all his movements with interest, and felt a strange kind of awe in the man’s presence. He was certainly a trapper, and he must be a daring one, too, unless his looks belied him, for he would have been picked out among a thousand as a man who was not to be daunted by any physical dangers. He must know all about life on the frontier, of course, and perhaps he could give some information concerning the wagon train of which Sanders had spoken.

“Sir!” said Julian, as soon as this thought passed through his mind.

“Wal!” returned the trapper, raising a pair of honest-looking brown eyes, which seemed to invite the boy’s confidence.

“Can you tell me whether or not a wagon train left this place yesterday for the mountains?” asked Julian.

“I can.”

“I understood there was,” continued Julian, after waiting for the man to say something else.

“Then you understood what wasn’t so.”

“Was there none left?”

“No.”

“What object could Sanders have had in view in telling me that falsehood?” thought the boy. “When does the next one start?”

“To-day.”

“How soon?”

“To onct.”

“Where from?”

“From a place ’bout a mile from here, right up this street.”

“Could I go with it?”

“I reckon. Want to go to Californy?”

“No, sir; I am bound for the mountains.”

“For the Peak?”

“No, sir; for the mountains.”

“Wal, wharabouts in the mountains?”

“Whereabouts?” replied Julian.

He gazed at the trapper a moment, and seating himself on the opposite end of the steps, looked down at the ground in a brown study. The question propounded to him excited a serious train of reflections in his mind. He had always spoken and thought of “the mountains” without having any very definite idea concerning them. He had imagined that when he was once safe across the plains his troubles would all be over, and that it would be a matter of no difficulty to find the home and friends of which he was in search if they were still in existence; but the trapper’s last words had opened his eyes and showed him the real magnitude of his undertaking. “Whereabouts in the mountains?”

This was a question that Julian could not answer. He remembered now to have read somewhere that the Rocky Mountains covered an area of 980,000 square miles. How could he hope to find his father in such a wilderness as that? He might be in Mexico, or he might be in Oregon – Julian didn’t know. After all he had endured and accomplished, the obstacles that lay in his path were but just beginning to make themselves manifest. This reflection for the moment utterly unnerved him, and tears began to fall from his eyes. The trapper removed his pipe from his mouth long enough to say:

“Cryin’?”

“I know it is unmanly,” replied Julian, “but I can’t help it. I have been through some difficulties lately, but I can see that there are worse ones before me. But I’ll never give up – never!”

“Stick to that allers,” said the trapper, now beginning to show some interest in what the boy had to say. “Never-give-up has carried many a feller through the wust kind of scrapes. Got any friends out West?”

“Yes, sir – or, rather, I had a few years ago; but I don’t know where to find them. Did you ever hear of Major Mortimer?”

“I b’lieve I’ve heerd his name spoke.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“I can’t jest say I do exactly. Thar’s only two or three men who can tell whar he is now, but I know whar he used to live.”

“He is my father.”

“I know it.”

“You do?” cried Julian. He looked at the man in utter bewilderment, and arose hastily to his feet. “Good-day, sir,” said he. “I am obliged to you for the information you gave me about that wagon train.”

The trapper made no reply. He took his pipe out of his mouth and looked after the boy as he jumped off the steps and hurried down the street, and when he disappeared he arose, thrust his hands in his pockets and sauntered after him. What would Julian have thought if he had known that he was running away from the only friend he had east of the mountains?

“I will have nothing to do with any one who has ever seen or heard of me,” soliloquized the boy, as he hurried along, looking into the different stores he passed. “How does it come, I wonder, that so many men whom I never saw before know me? I am going to depend upon myself until I am satisfied that I am out of danger. If Sanders makes his appearance again I will send him about his business. I will go out with that wagon train, and perhaps before I reach the mountains I shall find some man who doesn’t know me, and who can give me the information I want. This is the place I am looking for.”

He stopped in front of a store, where a boy about his own age was at work taking down the shutters. It appeared to be a sort of variety store, for clothing and furnishing goods were displayed in one of the windows, and weapons and saddlery in the other.

Julian entered, and when he came out again, a quarter of an hour afterward, he had made as great a change in his appearance as Sanders did during the short time he remained in the Hunter’s Home. He was dressed in a full Mexican suit, which the polite and attentive clerk had made him believe was just the thing to wear during a journey across the plains, and in the saddle-bags, which he carried over his shoulder, was another and a finer suit of the same description, as well as a small supply of powder and lead, a brace of revolvers, and several other articles of which he thought he might stand in need. On his arm he carried a poncho – a rubber blanket with a hole in the center – which was to be used in lieu of an umbrella in rainy weather.

When he came out and bent his steps toward the hotel, a tall fellow in buckskin, who was leaning against an awning on the opposite side of the street, straightened up and followed after him. When he sat down to his breakfast the same man walked through the hall, and looked in at the dining-room; and when, after paying his bill at the hotel, he came out with all his weapons and luggage, and sprung upon his horse, the man in buckskin disappeared down a neighboring street, and presently came back again, mounted on a large cream-colored mustang, and rode in pursuit of Julian.

Our hero found that the information the strange trapper had given him concerning the wagon train was correct. The emigrants had been encamped on a common a short distance from the hotel, and when Julian came up with them they were all on the move. The road in advance of him was dotted with white wagon-covers as far as his eyes could reach. It was a novel and interesting sight to him, and he soon forgot his troubles in watching what was going on around him. The day that he had thought of and lived for so long had arrived at last, and he was fairly on his way to the mountains. The road the emigrants intended to follow might not lead him to his home, but what of that? It was enough for him to know that it crossed the mountains somewhere.

Billy, being in high mettle, insisted on going ahead, and his rider allowing him a free rein, was carried at a swinging gallop along the entire length of the train until he arrived at the foremost wagons. The emigrants all seemed to be in excellent spirits, and Julian heard them laughing and talking with one another as he dashed by. On the way he passed several boys, who were racing their horses along the road, now and then stopping to call back to their parents and friends in the wagons. Their merriment had an effect upon Julian. It made him contrast their situation with his own. In all that wagon train there was no one to greet him, no one who knew how he longed for a word of sympathy and encouragement from somebody, and no one who cared for him or his affairs.

“But I am free!” said the boy, who was not long in finding some crumbs of comfort with which to solace himself. “I can go where I please, and there is no Jack Bowles to dog my footsteps and beat me with his rawhide. I can eat, sleep and walk about in perfect security, knowing that there is no one to molest me. I am leaving behind me Richard Mortimer, Sanders and all the rest of my secret enemies, and the dangers and difficulties I have yet to encounter will be such as I know how to meet. If I do not find my home and friends before my money is gone, I have a good horse and rifle, and I know how to shoot and trap. I shall be able to take care of myself.”

There were several men riding in company in advance of the train, and not wishing to intrude upon them, Julian fell in behind, and during the whole of that forenoon never spoke a word to any one. When noon came the wagons began to draw off into the woods one by one, and in a quarter of an hour the entire train had come to a halt, and preparations for dinner were actively going on. Julian, hungry and lonely, would have been glad of an invitation to join one of the happy parties that were scattered about among the trees, but no one noticed him. He dismounted a little apart from the rest of the emigrants, and after tying his horse to a tree, spread his poncho upon the ground, and was about to begin an attack upon the small supply of crackers and cheese stowed away in his saddle-bags, when some one spoke to him.

“Wal, my lad, its grub time,” said a familiar voice.

Julian looked up, and there, leaning upon a rifle that an ordinary man could scarcely have raised to his shoulder, stood the tall trapper whom he had met in the streets of St. Joseph. At the sight of him his old fears were revived with redoubled force.

“Here’s one enemy I haven’t left behind me,” thought Julian. “I must still be on the lookout for treachery. I know it is dinner-time,” he added, aloud; “and I am just about to take advantage of it.”

“In what way? I don’t see that you have got anything to eat.”

“I have, nevertheless,” replied the boy, laying his hand on his saddle-bags.

“Do you keep it in thar?” asked the trapper, with a laugh. “How long do you think it’ll last you?”

“A day or two; and when it is gone my rifle must supply my larder. There must be an abundance of game on the plains.”

“Humph! That shows how much you know ’bout prairie life. Sometimes thar’s game an’ sometimes thar hain’t. An’ sometimes when we know thar’s plenty of buffaler an’ antelope only a little ways off, we can’t go out to shoot ’em fur fear of the Injuns. What’ll you do under them sarcumstances?”

Julian didn’t know. He would be obliged to go to bed hungry, he supposed.

“Yes, an’ you’ll go to bed hungry many a night afore you see the mountains, if this is the way you’re goin’ to do business,” continued the trapper. “We can do better’n this fur you. Come into our mess; we’d be glad to have you.”

Julian thanked the man for his kind offer, but took time to consider before replying. The interest his new acquaintance seemed to take in his welfare made him suspicious, and he wanted to keep as far away from him as possible. But, after all, if the trapper had any designs upon him, what difference would it make whether Julian remained at one end of the wagon train or the other? It would certainly be better to make sure of plenty to eat during the journey than to depend upon his rifle; and, if he saw anything in the trapper’s actions to confirm his suspicions, he could easily avoid being left alone with him.

He arose and picked up his saddle-bags, and the trapper, who had waited patiently for an answer to his invitation, shouldered his rifle and led the way through the woods, presently stopping at one of the wagons, beside which a party of three men were seated on the ground eating their dinner.

These looked curiously at Julian as he came up, and seemed to be waiting for the trapper to tell why he had brought him there; but as he did not appear to think that any explanation was necessary, they made way for the boy, and waving their hands toward the plates containing the corn-bread and bacon, went on with their conversation.

The trapper soon satisfied his appetite, and mounting his horse, which was grazing close by, rode off, leaving Julian alone with the three men. He listened to their conversation, and soon learned that they were from an Eastern State, that they had never been West before, and that their destination was the gold mines of California.

This silenced some of Julian’s fears, and finally, venturing to inquire who the trapper was, he was told that his name was Silas Roper, and that he was the chief man of the wagon train – the guide. The men were enthusiastic in their praises of him, and if they told the truth, as Julian hoped they did, Silas was one in whom he could well afford to confide.

Our hero then explained how he came to be brought into the mess, following up the story with as much of his history as he was willing the men should know, and their hearty words of sympathy and welcome placed him at his ease at once, and almost made him believe that at last he had found real friends.

While the dinner was in progress a horseman came leisurely down the road, gazing earnestly at every group of emigrants he passed, as if he were searching for some one. When he reached the place where Julian and the three men were seated, he drew rein with an exclamation of surprise and satisfaction, and sat motionless in his saddle, staring at them as if debating some point in his mind. Having at last decided upon something he rode up to the party and accosted them.