ridges was done. By that time the
critter had reached the crack in the hill I told ye of, an' up in the
air he went to clear it, like an Indy-rubber ball. I felt a'most like
to fling my rifle at it in my rage, when bang! went a shot at my ear
that all but deaf'ned me, an' I wish I may niver fire another shot or
furl another t'gallant-s'l if that deer didn't crumple up in the air an'
drop down stone dead--as dead as it now lays there on the floor."

By the time Dick Darvall had ended his narrative--which was much more
extensive than our report of it--steaks of the deer were sputtering in a
frying-pan, and other preparations were being made for a hearty meal, to
which all the healthy men did ample justice. Shank Leather did what he
could, and even Buck Tom made a feeble attempt to join.

That night a strict watch was kept outside the cave--each taking it by
turns, for it was just possible, though not probable, that the outlaws
might return to their old haunt. No one appeared, however, and for the
succeeding eight weeks the party remained there undisturbed, Shank
Leather slowly but surely regaining strength; his friend, Buck Tom, as
slowly and surely losing it; while Charlie, Dick, and Hunky Ben ranged
the neighbouring forest in order to procure food. Leather usually
remained in the cave to cook for and nurse his friend. It was pleasant
work to Shank, for love and pity were at the foundation of the service.
Buck Tom perceived this and fully appreciated it. Perchance he obtained
some valuable light on spiritual subjects from Shank's changed tone and
manner, which the logic of his friend Brooke had failed to convey. Who
can tell?

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

SHOWS HOW THE SEAMAN WAS SENT ON A DELICATE MISSION AND HOW HE FARED.

"Shank," said Charlie one day as they were sitting in the sunshine near
the outlaws' cave, waiting for Dick and the scout to return to their
mid-day meal, "it seems to me that we may be detained a good while here,
for we cannot leave Ralph, and it is evident that the poor fellow won't
be able to travel for many a day--"

"If ever," interposed Shank sorrowfully.

"Well, then, I think we must send down to Bull's Ranch, to see if there
are any letters for us. I feel sure that there must be some, and the
question arises--who are we to send?"

"_You_ must not go, Charlie, whoever goes. You are the only link in
this mighty wilderness, that connects Ralph and me with home--and hope.
Weak and