Lost in the Dance

The scene of this narrative is laid in Southwestern Colorado, and the date is so recent that boys living out there at that time are only just beginning to think themselves young men-and it is really astonishing how soon boys leap into vigorous manhood in that wild, free land.

"We's 'bleeged to hab 'im, for dah ain't de least scrap ob meat in de camp!"

This stirring information was shouted by a stout negro boy of fifteen or sixteen years of age, who, with a long, rusty, single-barrel shot-gun in his arms, stood at the base of a towering mass of bare rocks, and looked eagerly up at two other youths creeping along the giddy heights, and evidently in eager search of something that had escaped them, but which they were determined to overtake.

The lithe form, long black hair, and copper-colored skin of one of the young hunters bespoke him an Indian of the purest type. He wore a close-fitting buckskin dress, and slung at his back was a short repeating rifle.

The other youth up the rocks, though bronzed on the hands and face to a color as dark as the young Ute's, had the blue eyes and curly yellow hair that told of a pure white ancestry. His name was Samuel Willett, and though not much more than sixteen years of age, his taller form and more athletic build made him look several years the senior of his red and black companions.

Sam Willett was armed and dressed like a hunter, and his well-worn equipments told that he was not out masquerading in the costume of a theatrical Nimrod.

The Indian youth, Ulna, and Sam Willett had chased a Rocky Mountain or bighorn sheep into the mass of towering rocks which they were now searching; and that they were not hunting for mere sport was proven by Ike, the black boy's repeated cry:

"We's 'bleeged to hab 'im, foh dar ain't de least scrap ob meat in de camp!"

"I want to get the meat as much as you do, Ike, so have patience!" Sam shouted down, without stopping in his pursuit an instant.

The two daring hunters disappeared, and Ike, whose desire for meat was greater than his love for the chase, began circling about the confused pile of rocks so as to keep his companions in sight.

The bighorn "sheep" is in reality not a sheep at all, but a variety of powerful mountain antelope, whose strength, speed and daring among the rocks and ca?ons are not the least wonderful things about the wonderful land in which he makes his exclusive home.

Even old Western hunters believe that these animals can leap from immense heights and land on their horns without harm, but this is an error.

While Ike was gazing with eager eyes and open mouth at the towering, volcanic cliffs, the bighorn came to view on a rock five hundred feet overhead.

The hunters were close behind, and the creature's only means of escape was to leap across a chasm fully thirty feet wide to another rock of a little lower elevation.

"Shoot! shoot!" yelled the excited Ike, as the bighorn gathered himself up and eyed the terrific gorge that beset his course.

As if stung to desperation by the shout the creature leaped forward with a force that must have cleared the gulf, and an accuracy that would have insured a landing on the other side, but just as it sprang into mid-air two shots rang out within a small fraction of a second of each other, and the bighorn came crashing down and fell dead at the black boy's feet.

In his wild excitement Ike discharged the rusty single-barrel shot-gun, which he had been hugging in his arms as if it were a baby. All the power of the old-fashioned weapon must have been in the report and recoil, for the former sounded like the explosion of a howitzer, and the latter was so terrific as to send the holder sprawling across the carcass of the bighorn.

Sam Willett saw all this as he hurried down the rocks, otherwise he might have thought when he had reached the bottom that the animal had fallen on his companion and faithful servant and killed him.

"Hello, Ike, old fellow, what's up?" asked Sam, as he helped the owner of the shot-gun to his feet.

"Is I all alive, foh shuah, Mistah Sam?" demanded Ike, as he stared wildly about him.

"Of course you are, and here is the meat you have been so eager for," said Sam.

"Wa'll, Mistah Sam, it's dat ar gun," said Ike, gazing sadly at the old weapon which he still held in his arms. "I ain't used her bad; ain't fired her off for more'n six months afore we kem out har from Michigan-dat's five months ago-an' now only to tink she's done gone back on me in dat are way."

The Indian youth, Ulna, had come down by this time, and when he took in the situation his fine, almost effeminate face was wreathed in smiles, that displayed a beautiful set of white teeth.

In a low, musical voice and without any accent, he said in excellent English:

"The sun is setting and we must hurry if we would reach the camp before dark."

"An' more partikler ez we've got to tote dis ar venizon home," said Ike, now wide awake to the necessities of the situation.

Each of the youths had a hunting knife in his belt, and they soon proved that these weapons were not carried for ornament.