Blazing Arrow: A Tale of the Frontier
by Edward Sylvester Ellis · English · Gutenberg #41777 · 302,251 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Blazing Arrow: A Tale of the Frontier
Author: Edward Sylvester Ellis
Release date: January 4, 2013 [eBook #41777]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLAZING ARROW: A TALE OF THE FRONTIER ***
WAR CHIEF SERIES, NO. 2.
BLAZING ARROW,
A TALE OF THE FRONTIER
BY EDWARD S. ELLIS
AUTHOR OF "BOY PIONEER SERIES," "DEERFOOT SERIES,"
"LOG CABIN SERIES," ETC., ETC.
PHILADELPHIA
HENRY T. COATES & CO.
1900
COPYRIGHT, 1899, BY
HENRY T. COATES & CO.
[Illustration: OVER THE FALLS.]
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. LARRY AND WHARTON 1
II. ON THE BRINK 8
III. OVER THE FALLS 18
IV. BLAZING ARROW 32
V. THROUGH THE WOODS 42
VI. A MISCALCULATION 52
VII. A CHECK 62
VIII. A CHAT 69
IX. TURNING BACK 76
X. GROPING IN THE DARK 83
XI. IN A CORNER 96
XII. REVERSING POSITIONS 109
XIII. A BLUNDER 116
XIV. LOOKING ON 123
XV. A HAIL AND AN ANSWER 132
XVI. THE DETOUR 143
XVII. BY THE LAKE 153
XVIII. THE STRANGE SIGHT 160
XIX. ZANY OR LUNATIC 167
XX. ACROSS THE GORGE 176
XXI. A STRANGE PURSUIT 183
XXII. ARQU-WAO 190
XXIII. A SERIOUS QUESTION 199
XXIV. THE TRACKS OF HORSES 206
XXV. A SINGULAR MEETING 213
XXVI. FOOTPRINTS 223
XXVII. RED CROW 230
XXVIII. GOOD NEWS 240
XXIX. RED CROW'S ERRAND 247
XXX. ALL TOGETHER 254
XXXI. THE NEW ROUTE 261
XXXII. THE LAST HALT 271
XXXIII. CONCLUSION 278
BLAZING ARROW
A TALE OF THE FRONTIER.
CHAPTER I.
LARRY AND WHARTON.
"I'll follow him to the right, and you, Larry, go to the left; we'll
have him then, sure."
"All right; it's mesilf that will bate ye, fur all ye're the swiftest
runner in Kintucky."
"There isn't a minute to lose; move faster, Larry!"
"Do you attind to your own business, and lave Larry Murphy to himsilf."
The words were uttered quickly, for the two youths were eager and
excited. They had caught sight of an enormous bear a few minutes before,
as he lumbered into the canebrake in the direction of the torrent which
swept furiously toward the Ohio. The young Irishman happened to be a
few paces in advance of his companion, Wharton Edwards, and took a
flying shot at the brute. Whether he struck him or not was uncertain.
The probabilities were that, despite his skill with the rifle, he only
scratched his bulky body, or missed him altogether. Before Wharton could
bring his weapon to bear, bruin was beyond reach for the time.
It was at this juncture that the fleet-footed youth bounded to the side
of his Irish friend and urged him to hurry to the left, while he circled
in the other direction. One of them must head off the game, and it
mattered little which did it provided it was done.
Larry Murphy was as ardent in his pursuit as his comrade, and was
hopeful of getting the prize away from him. Pausing, therefore, only
long enough to exchange the words quoted, he was off like a deer.
"That young man houlds a high opinion of himsilf," he muttered, as he
crashed forward, "and I've saan worse fellys than Whart Edwards. He can
bate all creation running, but I'm hoping that he may thrip his feet so
as to give mesilf a show----"
It was poetical justice, perhaps, that the fate which the young Irishman
wished might overtake his friend claimed him for his own, for, while the
words were in his mouth, a wire-like vine on the ground did the
mischief. It wound round his ankle like an angry black snake, and he
sprawled forward on his hands and knees, his gun flying several feet
from his hands.
"Bad luck to it!" he growled, climbing to his feet; "that's just the
sthyle I used to thrip up the spalpeens. I'm onsartin whether me neck is
broke off or not, but I'll have to lave it to find out till this little
job is over."
The fall was so violent that he limped for a few paces, and his speed
was lessened; but the stream was not far off, and the rugged lad was
quick to rally from his discomfiture.
"Begorrah, but I've got the laugh on Whart," he exclaimed, a minute
later, as he caught sight of a dark object among the trees; "that shot
of mine landed the beast, and knowing that it's mesilf that's entitled
to him, he has left Wharton and turned off there to wait for me to
finish him."
If this quaint faith were genuine, Larry did not trust it farther than
he was compelled to. Instead of waiting till he could draw nearer and
secure a truer shot, he stopped abruptly, brought his heavy rifle to a
level, sighted quickly but carefully, and let fly.
There was no doubt about his having hit the mark this time. He was a
good shot, and the distance was too slight for him to miss. Forgetting
the law of the hunter, which requires him to reload his discharged gun
before moving from his tracks, Larry lowered his weapon, and driving his
broad honest face through the wreath of smoke before it could lift from
the muzzle of his rifle, he dashed forward toward the game to which he
was sure he had just given the finishing touch.
In his excitement, and with his partly obscured view, he did not observe
that the bear remained immovable. If he had noticed it, he would have
concluded that the beast had been mortally wounded by the first shot and
had collapsed while on the way to the stream of water.
"Now Whart will be filled wid jilousy whin he finds that the bear
surrindered to me. Had it been him that come in sight of the beast he
wouldn't have stopped, but obsarving that it was mesilf, he threw up his
hands and----"
Larry paused in dismay. Crashing through the brush, he stopped close to
his supposed prize, and found that, instead of its being the game he had
in mind, it was the lower portion of an immense tree that had probably
lain for years on the ground. It bore some resemblance to a prostrate
animal, but the youthful hunter never could have made the mistake except
for his flurried condition.
"Wurrah, wurrah, now, but that was a bad miss," he muttered, grinning at
his own blunder. "I don't see any necessity for acquainting Whart wid
all the sarcumstances, but if the stump doesn't say anything about it,
I'll hold me pace."
The slip took away from the youth about all the hope he had felt until
then of bagging the bear. He knew at the time that young Edwards gave
him the better chance, for it was just like the magnanimous fellow to
do that thing, and Larry had lost it through his own stupidity.
He listened for a few moments, uncertain which way to move or turn.
There seemed little use in trying to regain his lost opportunities, but
the doughty fellow mortally hated to give up the peculiar contest
without another effort.
He could hear the dull roar of the torrent as it poured over the falls
only a short way off, and he fancied once that he detected the rush of
some swiftly-moving body through the wood. Of this, however, he could
not be certain, because of the interfering noise of the stream.
"Whist, now, but I forgot the same!" he suddenly added, as he recalled
that it was an empty weapon which he held in his hand.
"S'pose now that that cratur should turn 'round to make my acquaintance;
I would have to ask him to have the kindness to wait awhile until I
could get the gun in shape, and he would be mane 'nough to objict."
Despite Larry's fondness for talking, either with a companion or
himself, and despite the apparent absurdity of many things he said, he
wasted no time when it was of value, and he committed few errors of
judgment.
The proper amount of powder was poured from the unstopped horn into the
palm of his hand and sent rattling down the inclined barrel of his heavy
gun. Then a bullet, clasped in a small square of oiled cloth, was rammed
tightly upon the charge; the yellow flint was drawn back and the pan
filled with the black grains; then the hammer was carefully lowered, and
the old-fashioned weapon was ready for use.
At that moment the report of a rifle broke the stillness, and the
startled Larry, glancing around, exclaimed in a guarded undertone:
"I b'leave Whart is in trouble."
CHAPTER II.
ON THE BRINK.
Meanwhile young Edwards found himself a stirring actor in a stirring
series of events.
He set out with all the ardor of a young hunter to bring down the bear,
which was the most enormous one he had ever seen in the Kentucky wilds.
His fondness for his jovial companion led him to give him what seemed to
be the best chance to secure him; and it may be said that, had the
situations of the youths been reversed, bruin would have quickly fallen
a victim to the prowess of the young Kentuckian. But fate made a turn of
the wheel of fortune of which neither dreamed.
Wharton Edwards possessed wonderful fleetness of foot, and counted on no
trouble in running down the lumbering beast; but when he struck the
point where he ought to have been visible, he was not in sight.
The acute hearing of the youth, however, told him where the bear was
plunging through the undergrowth. It was in the direction of the stream,
and fearful that he would escape him altogether, Wharton took up the
pursuit with all the energy at his command.
The momentary pause had given the bear an advantage which he used with a
sagacity worthy of a more intelligent creature than he. Without turning
to the right or left, he swung ponderously along until he reached the
edge of the torrent, into which he tumbled like a rock falling down the
side of a mountain.
"I've got you now!" was the exultant exclamation of the youth, who
reached the point where bruin had disappeared within ten seconds
afterwards.
An exasperating state of affairs confronted him. The high, rocky bluff
on each side of the swift current shut out all view of the water within
two or three yards of the side on which the spectator happened to stand.
Whether instinct led the bear to adopt the course he did is uncertain,
but it is hardly credible, since his species are well known to be
stupid; but, be that as it may, this specimen, instead of making for the
other bank, kept so near to the one from which he had leaped that young
Edwards could not see him. The only way in which he could gain a view of
him was by lying down on his face and peering over.
He had no time to do this, besides which, under the circumstances, it
was almost impossible to gain a shot at the swimming bear.
The presumption was that he would make for the other bank in quest of
some opening by which to leave the water, but Wharton, in his eagerness,
was unwilling to count upon that.
"If I were upon the other side," was his thought, as he hurried
nervously along the bluff, seeking to keep pace with the rushing
current, "I would have him just where I wanted him. But I shall lose
him, for there is no way to get across--yes there is, and I'll do it,
sure as a gun."
A hundred yards below, and quite near the falls, the bluffs approached
each other so closely that he was sure he could leap from one to the
other. Thus in a bound he could place himself in the best position to
shoot the game against which he began to feel a resentment because of
the manner in which it baffled him.
Had young Edwards been more familiar with his immediate surroundings, or
less enthusiastic in his pursuit of the prize, he would have hesitated,
and, adopting the good old adage, looked before he leaped; but he was
carried away by the excitement of the moment, and did that which no one
would have been quicker than he, under other circumstances, to condemn.
Running rapidly along the bluff, and parallel with the course of the
stream, he reached the narrow portion upon which he had fixed his eye,
gave it a glance, and decided that by no great effort he could leap to
the corresponding bluff on the opposite side.
And beyond a doubt he would have succeeded had he used only ordinary
precaution, but he was in dread lest the bear should escape him. The
falls were but a short way below, and though the raging waters were
likely to finish him, that of itself would spoil everything. No hunter
likes to see another take his game out of his hands, and he viewed such
a loss through the falls in the same light. His blood was up, and he
meant to secure the animal if it was "in the wood."
Stepping hastily back for a couple of paces, he gathered himself, ran
the distance, and, concentrating his strength in the effort, leaped
toward the opposite bluff.
The instant he left the ledge he saw to his horror that he was going to
fall. A leaper or runner always feels what is coming before the crisis
is upon him, and Wharton Edwards knew he had made an awful
miscalculation.
With the desperation of despair he flung his rifle from him at the
instant of leaping, and when it was too late to withdraw. It landed on
the rocks, and the impact of the hammer caused its discharge, the ball,
by a singular concurrence of circumstances, passing within a few inches
of the owner's face.
It was only for a passing breath that the youth was in the air, but it
seemed to him he was held suspended for several minutes over the raging
waters. He struck only a few inches short, but those few inches were
fatal. His chest and lower part of the body collided violently with the
solid wall, and his hands were thrown over the surface on which he had
hoped and expected to place his feet.
He clutched fiercely to save himself, and had there been anything to
grasp must have succeeded; but there was nothing, and, rebounding fully
a foot, he went down into the torrent twenty feet below. As if fate
meant to dally with and mock him, he splashed within a few feet of the
bear, who, with a snuff of fear, turned away and began a wild effort to
swim against the current. The brute had become aware of the roaring
falls close at hand, and saw the trap in which he was caught, and from
which it was impossible to extricate himself until, as may be said, he
was almost on the brink of the falls.
A short distance from the plunge was a gap in the bluff, where the
ground was only a few inches above the surface of the water. If the
brute should hold himself close to the bank on that side until this
favoring point was reached, he could save himself.
And he did, though little credit belonged to him for the feat. Like the
stupid creature that he was, he continued furiously striving to swim
against the current, and without stemming it in the least; but the same
blind instinct kept him clawing at the rocks on the side from which he
had leaped, and thus held him in the only position which gave the
slightest hope.
All at once the beam-like claws struck the rocky bottom. The water
quickly shallowed. By a prodigious effort he checked his swift downward
progress--then he secured a foothold--his massive, shaggy body heaved up
from the water--he plunged heavily to one side, and, with another mighty
putting forth of his strength, walked out upon the solid earth and was
safe.
Beyond peradventure, Wharton Edwards would have done equally well had
the opportunity been given him to study for a few seconds his perilous
surroundings. He would have been quick to see the opening through which
his intended prize escaped, and the gorge was so narrow that he could
readily have swam across to it in the few moments at his command; but
the youth was in a hapless situation.
He landed against the bluff with such violence that the breath was
driven from his body, and when he struck the water he was senseless. The
rush of the chilling current, as he shot below the surface, partly
revived him, and he made an instinctive effort at self-preservation. The
blow, however, had been severe, and his brain was in a whirl the next
moment, the torrent carrying him with great swiftness toward the falls.
Larry Murphy was closer to the stream than he had supposed, while
reloading his rifle. The report of his friend's rifle gave him the
necessary guidance, and he dashed over the intervening distance at the
top of his speed.
A minute later he peered over the bluff, and, without seeing the bear,
which was almost beneath him, saw the head and shoulders of his friend,
who had come to the surface a few seconds before.
"Ye blundering spalpeen, that's no place to go in swimming!" called the
frightened youth, with no suspicion of the mishap that had occurred.
Undecided what to do, and yet unable to stand idle, Larry ran along the
edge of the bluff, and a minute later saw to his amazement the bear
emerge and shake his dripping coat. It would have been easy to shoot him
down, for there could not have been a fairer target; but the youth had
no thought of bagging game in those terrible moments, and he bestowed
hardly a glance at the brute.
A second look at young Edwards told him that something was wrong.
"Swim toward me!" shouted Larry, loud enough for his clear voice to be
heard above the thunder of the waters.
He had bounded headlong down the sloping bluff, and then off into the
open low space, which offered the only hope. It was a high leap, but in
his excitement he did not notice it.
"Swim hard, ould felly, or it'll be too late--hivin save me, but he's
drowning!"
Wharton's head was dipping below the surface, and his arms had ceased
the feeble struggles they made a short time before. The youth was really
drowning.
He was now so nearly opposite the opening in the bluff, and so near the
plunge of waters, that had he been in the full possession of his senses
and strength he could have swam the space, brief as it was, only by the
most desperate efforts. In his senseless condition he could not
accomplish it, of course, had he been in water as still as a mill pond.
Larry Murphy saw and comprehended all this in the twinkling of an eye.
He knew that if he stood where he was it would be to see his loved
friend die, and if he plunged in after him both would go over the falls,
with possibly one chance in a thousand of their escape.
And did he, while quickly weighing the chances, hesitate?
CHAPTER III.
OVER THE FALLS.
Not for an instant. He had decided on his course while leaping down into
the opening which had admitted the imperilled bruin into safety. The
moment he landed he flung his gun away, snatched off his hat, doffed his
coat, seemingly with the same movement, and leaped with might and main
into the terrible current.
The narrow width at this portion caused him to strike within arm's
length of his friend. The left arm of the powerful young Irishman griped
the collar of the sinking youth, and he gave him a shake fierce enough
almost to dislocate his neck.
"Wake up, Whart, ye spalpeen! What's the matter wid ye?"
They were now so close to the falls that the voice of Larry was
indistinct, but the violent shaking did just what was needed. The
half-drowned youth was roused, and stared about him in a bewildered way.
He gasped and began struggling.
"Take it aisy, me boy," added Larry, who could not avoid talking even in
that appalling moment; "ye nadn't try to swim over the falls, for the
water is kind enough to save ye the trouble."
The knowledge that his friend was alive, when he feared he was not, was
enough to send a thrill of pleasure through him, even though the
awakening, as may be said, was on the brink of death itself.
Young Edwards was still too bewildered to comprehend matters. His
struggling continued, but it was instinctive and naturally without the
least result. His companion retained his grasp on his collar until he
saw that nothing could be gained by it. Then he let go and gave more
attention to himself.
By this time they were on the brink of the falls. The torrent moved with
a calm, swift, hurrying impressiveness that was the more appalling
because of its contrast with the churning hades of waters below. It was
as if the volume, gathering itself for the plunge, ran forward with
eager speed and dived off the rocks into the boiling cauldron.
Larry Murphy was too wise to make any resistance. He drew in his breath,
cast one look at the white face of his friend, uttered a prayer for
both, and then over they went.
Neither of the youths were ever able to tell clearly what followed
during the few moments, though their experiences must have been quite
similar. Larry Murphy probably kept better track of events than his
companion, because he had not suffered the temporary daze undergone by
him a brief while before.
It seemed to him that on the very brink of the falls he was thrown
bodily outward and downward by some fearful power independent of the
resistless current. The descent, of necessity, was short, but it
appeared to be tenfold its actual length. Then he went down, down, down,
as though he would never stop, until he fancied that he was driven to
the bottom of a watery cavern of immeasurable depths.
He instinctively held his breath until he felt that the distended
blood-vessels must burst. He was whirled about and tossed hither and
thither amid spray and foam and more sold water, like an egg-shell in a
maelstrom. Then, when he could hold his breath no longer, he made one
spasmodic inhalation. He was almost strangled, but a part of that which
he drew in was air. The next breath was all air, and then he was
swimming in the comparatively smooth water below the falls.
As soon as he could clear his eyes and look about him, he saw that he
was borne along by the swift current, which was double the width of the
stream above. Instead of the rocky bluffs which rendered it almost
unapproachable in that portion, the banks were comparatively low and
lined with large trees, some of which leaned out over the water, with
their limbs almost touching it.
The most pleasing sight that greeted Larry was that of his friend in the
act of lifting himself upon dry land, with the help of one of the
overhanging limbs. He had escaped and was himself again.
"Are you all right?" he called, in a cheery voice, looking around at
Larry, who was swimming hard toward the same point, but would be unable
to strike it until he passed a few rods below.
"I'm not sure, but I think I be; I'll report whin I sets fut on dry
land."
"If you are bruised or hurt, I'll swim out to your help."
"Stay where ye be till I asks ye to do the same."
Wharton moved along the bank, so as to keep pace with his friend. When
the shore was reached he extended his hand and helped him out, and, as
may be supposed, the two greeted each other with warmth and gratitude.
Wharton explained what a woful mistake he made in his eagerness to get a
shot at the bear, but Larry did not refer to the blunder he committed
when he shot at a fallen tree instead of the brute.
"I wonder where that cratur is?" said he, looking around as if he
expected to see the animal at his elbow.
"Safe beyond any harm from us," replied Wharton; "he had enough sense
to get out of the water before going over the falls."
"And it's yersilf that would have done the same, but for the whack ye
got from trying to bust the rocks apart by jumping against them."
"That was the stupidest thing I ever did in my life. If I had taken ten
seconds more I could have made the leap as easy as you can jump over
your hat."
"Ye are mighty good at leaping and running, but I wouldn't want to see
ye try that again."
"Which reminds me, Larry, that it's best to go back and get our guns
before some one else finds them for us."
The clothing of the youths was drenched, but they cared nothing for
that, for it was the summer time, and the weather was seasonable. So far
as Larry Murphy could tell, he had received no injury whatever. His
companion suffered somewhat from his collision with the rocks, but that
was of a nature that it must soon pass away, and was only felt at
intervals.
While the couple are making their way to the point above the falls,
where the elder had left his gun and part of his clothing, we will give
a few sentences of explanation.
Brigham Edwards and his family dwelt in one of the small frontier
settlements of Kentucky. His family consisted of his wife, his only son
Wharton, aged seventeen, and the Irish youth, a year older. They had
lived originally in Western Pennsylvania, where Larry was left to the
care and kindness of the well-to-do settler, who had been one of the
best friends his Irish laboring man ever knew. The mother of Larry died
in his infancy, so that he was an orphan, without any near relatives.
Mr. Edwards was among the prominent members of the frontier town, where
he had lived for nearly three years, when the incident just described
occurred. The parents took it into their heads a short time before to
make a visit to some old friends that had settled in a larger town about
a hundred miles farther east. In order to do so, they mounted their
ponies and followed a well-marked trail, crossing several streams and
mountainous sections, and incurring considerable danger from the
Indians, who, in those days, were nearly always hostile.
About half way between the two settlements stood a block-house, which
was a favorite meeting-place for Boone, Kenton, McClelland, Wells, and
the frontier rangers whose names are linked with the early history of
the great West. It was agreed between the parents and the boys that they
should meet on the return of the former at this post, and make the rest
of the journey together.
Mr. Edwards fixed on the 10th of August as the day he would be at the
block-house. The boys were to arrive no later than that date, and no
sooner than a day before. The parents agreed to wait twenty-four hours
for them if necessary, and then, in case they did not show up, they were
to continue their journey homeward.
The trail was so plain and the route so well known that it was easy to
make accurate calculations, and to figure the time within a very few
hours when the respective parties would reach the block-house. This
figuring, as in these later days, was based on the supposition that no
accident befell any one concerned.
Wharton and Larry had walked about two-thirds of the distance between
their home and the block-house, when they had their flurry with the huge
bear, which certainly did not suffer as much as they. It was early in
the afternoon of the mild summer day, and they were in the depths of the
vast Kentucky wilderness through which prowled the wild beasts and
equally wild red men.
The lads soon reached the spot where Larry had flung his coat and
coonskin cap. The former was picked up, and a short distance off he
found his rifle unharmed. The cap, however, was still missing, after the
two had spent some little time hunting for it.
"Whart," said Larry, stopping short and staring hard at him, "I know
what's become of that fine hat of me own."
"Well?"
"The bear sneaked back here and stole it; he's got the laugh on us so
far, but I'll niver be satisfied till we mate again and adjoost
accounts."
"More likely you flung it into the water in your excitement, and it went
over the falls with us."
"Why didn't I think of the same?" asked Larry, with a relieved
expression on his freckled face. "I don't mind its absince, for I'd
rather be widout a hat than to wear one, but the sun harms me
complexion."
"Come on," laughed Wharton, laboriously climbing his way to the higher
bluffs, whither his companion followed him; "I feel a little uneasy
about leaving my rifle so long."
"How are ye going to get to the same?"
"I'll show you."
It will be understood that they had left the water below the falls on
the side from which they had entered it, so that the weapon lay on the
bluffs just across where the owner had flung it. The athletic youth
intended to repeat the leap he made a short time before, despite the
protests of Larry, who had no wish to make a second descent of the falls
in his effort to help his friend.
"Go ahead, go ahead," he said, "if ye find any fun in the same; we've
got a half day to spare, and I s'pose we may as well spend it in
turning flip-flaps off the rocks and over the falls as in any other
way."
"No fear of that," calmly answered his friend, who, having reached the
place, now prepared to make the leap.
The preparations were simple. There was a run of a couple of rods, all
that he needed. Taking a number of short, quick steps, young Edwards
bounded from the edge of the bluff for the opposite one, whose elevation
was about the same.
He formed a striking picture, with his fine athletic form crouching in
mid-air, or sustained for an instant over the rushing torrent into which
he was precipitated on his first effort. His feet were partly gathered
under him, and his bent elbows were close at his sides in the approved
attitude. Larry, who knew the marvellous powers of his young friend in
running or leaping, never felt any misgiving as to the result, though he
pretended to be alarmed.
He saw him alight more than a foot beyond the edge with the grace of an
antelope, taking only a couple of steps forward from the momentum of
his new leap.
"That's aisy," he muttered, "that is, for him as finds it aisy to do;
I'm sure I could make the leap if they'd move the bluffs about half the
distance nearer to this side than the same is at this moment."
Larry was indulging in these characteristic expressions, when he thought
his friend was acting as though not fully satisfied with things. He
walked a few steps, as if about to lift his gun from the ground, but
abruptly halted, straightened up, and looked about him in a puzzled way.
At this point the two were so far above the falls that they could easily
understand each other's words without elevating their voices to an
unusual extent. The Irishman's waggery was irrepressible.
"I say, Whart, the bear tuk it the same as me cap; he's going off with
both his arms full."
Young Edwards must have heard the badinage, but he gave no evidence of
it. He stood looking at the ground, but not across the stream, where
his friend was watching him.
"I say, what's the matter?" called Larry, beginning to feel uneasy at
the peculiar action of his friend.
In answer, the younger lad turned about and looked hard at him. His face
was pale, as if he were laboring under great excitement; beyond question
he had made some alarming discovery. Glancing to the right and left,
young Edwards now came to the edge of the bluff, and making a funnel of
one of his hands called out:
"Run, Larry, as quick as you can! don't wait a minute."
"What is it, owld felly?"
"Indians!" was the startling reply; "the woods are full of them."
"Why, then, don't ye run yersilf?" demanded the astounded Larry; "leap
back here, and we'll keep each ither company."
"Run, run!" called his companion, frantically gesticulating and
motioning him away. "They've got my gun, and if they see you, Larry,
you're lost!"
The impetuosity of the youth literally forced the Irish lad away from
the stream and among the trees. He retreated a few yards, puzzled beyond
expression.
"What the mischief can I do?" he asked himself; "I can't jump more'n
half way across the stream, and that won't do me any good. What does
Whart maan by sinding me away while he stays and won't jump? By the
powers! I have it!" he exclaimed, striking his thigh and stopping short.
"It's a maan thrick of his to git me out of the way, where I won't be
harmed, while he rolls up his slaaves and fights a whole tribe of
Injins. That thrick won't work! Larry Murphy must be counted in."
CHAPTER IV.
BLAZING ARROW.
At the moment of flinging his rifle from him, when he made his first
leap, Wharton Edwards noticed where it landed, and of course knew just
where to look for it. When he searched that place for it, and saw
nothing of the weapon, he knew, therefore, that something was wrong.
A thrill of alarm went through him on realizing the oversight he had
committed, but he met it with the coolness of a veteran.
He pretended to be still searching for the weapon, and moved back and
forth, and hither and yon, with his head bent, as though his eyes were
fixed on the ground, but the eyebrows were elevated and his vision was
roaming along the edge of the trees only a few rods distant, in quest of
Shawanoes.
None of them were in sight, but he knew that they were there, and more
than one pair of serpent-like eyes were fixed upon him and watching his
every act.
Wharton's impulse was to turn back and leap to the other side of the
gorge. The temptation was strong, but he dared not attempt it. He could
not make the jump without a short run, and that would give the Indians
all the chance they could ask to wing him on the fly, as they most
assuredly would do.
During the few minutes that he pretended to be groping for the missing
gun he did a lot of thinking. He knew he was caught inextricably in a
trap, and for a time saw no possible way out.
Had there been anything to gain by a sudden leap into the torrent he
would have made it; but that insured another plunge over the falls, with
the chances in favor of drowning. That, however, was as nothing compared
to the fact that he would be at the mercy of the Shawanoes from the
moment he entered the water.
Hopeless himself, his concern was for the chivalrous Larry, who had
imperilled his life for him. There was hope that his presence on the
other bluff was unknown to the red men, and Wharton felt that if he
could frighten him into getting out of the way he would be comparatively
safe, and would be at liberty to hasten on to the block-house and secure
help for him.
But Larry seemed to be taken with a spell of obtuseness just then. He
called to Wharton several times in a dangerously loud voice, and
appeared not to see, or at least not to understand, the signals which
were assiduously made to him. The young man became so solicitous for his
companion, who was without comprehension of his danger, that he forgot
everything else, and, advancing to the edge of the ravine, indulged in
the vigorous gestures and words which accomplished what he intended.
"Now, if he will use sense, he can save himself," was the conclusion of
Wharton, from whose heart a crushing weight was lifted; "he has not been
seen, and only needs to keep out of sight until he can take the trail
again."
But he was in a dreadful situation himself. Between the ravine and the
woods, from which he knew the Shawanoes were watching him, was an open
space, something more than fifty yards in extent. This narrowed to a
fourth of that width up stream, and disappeared altogether at the brink
of the falls.
It was useless to pretend longer to hunt for the missing rifle on the
face of the rocks when a minute's scrutiny was sufficient to prove that
it was not there. His actions had already shown that he knew something
was amiss, and the Indians were not likely to allow the farce to
continue much longer.
To go directly away from the stream and toward the wood was to walk into
the hands of the fierce red men, and the youth was ready to take any
risk before doing that. The frightful contingency he feared was that the
moment he made a break for freedom they would fire, and the distance was
so short that he could not escape their aim. That brief, open space over
which he must run was the gauntlet of certain death. If he were only a
little nearer the trees, he would attempt it. He saw but one possible
thing to do, and he now attempted it.
Pausing in his groping for the weapon, he raised his head and looked
inquiringly about him. He did not dare let his eyes dwell on the trees
immediately in front, through fear of exciting suspicion, and the quick
glance which he swept along the trees failed to show him so much as a
glimpse of his enemies. But he knew they were there, all the same.
Fixing his eyes again on the ground, he pretended suddenly to discover
shadowy traces of something in the nature of footprints, but, instead of
leading straight toward the wood, they led up stream, where the open
space rapidly narrowed.
He walked slowly forward, with his gaze seemingly on the earth, but he
was slyly watching the wood, with the alertness of a weasel, on the
lookout for the first evidence that his action was mistrusted.
It was a fearful test to the nerves. With every foot's advance his heart
throbbed faster with hope, and his desperate resolve became more fixed.
His greatest task was to restrain himself from bounding forward at the
topmost bent of his speed as he saw the friendly trees drawing near with
each passing moment; and yet he not only forced himself to do that, but
he came to a dead halt, slowly turned around, bent his head down and
scanned the ground behind him. His action was as if he had suddenly come
upon some evidence, but in that sweep of the head he again glanced along
the edge of the wood that confronted him when he leaped the chasm. This
time he saw a movement so faint that he could not identify it, but it
told him the crisis had come.
He had now gone so far that nothing less than a disabling bullet could
restrain him. He longed more than ever to leap away, but every inch
gained was of incalculable worth, and, repressing his impatience with an
iron will, he continued edging along, his heart throbbing like a
trip-hammer.
To fail to keep close watch of the wood any longer must defeat his
purpose. With little attempt, therefore, to hide his action, he quickly
turned his head, and, without checking his advance, scanned the margin
of the forest. As he did so, he observed a stir among the trees. The
Shawanoes evidently concluded that the farce had gone too far. Without
another second's hesitation young Edwards made a tremendous bound in the
direction of the trees, and was off like an arrow shot from the bow.
He expected a rattling volley from the Shawanoes, and few who have not
been through the ordeal can understand the sensation which comes over
one when absolutely certain of a demonstration of that kind. To his
amazement, however, not a shot was fired, and he dodged among the trees
unscathed. Puzzled beyond measure to know what it meant, the fugitive
glanced over his shoulder. That which he saw perplexed him for the
moment as much as his immunity from the part of a target. One solitary
Shawanoe warrior had leaped to his feet and started in pursuit. Like a
flash the whole meaning of this act came to Wharton Edwards.
When the Indians were not so hostile toward the whites as they were at
the time of which we are writing, they occasionally visited the
block-houses and settlements for purposes of barter, and to engage in
friendly contests of skill in shooting, leaping and running. The red men
were so trained from infancy to this kind of amusement that they were
experts, and held their own well against the pioneers, though it is well
known that the Caucasian race, under similar surroundings and
environments, surpasses all others in physical as well as mental
attainments.
The champion of the settlement was Wharton Edwards, who, despite his
seventeen years, vanquished all contestants. He received the praise of
Daniel Boone and Simon Kenton, who agreed that there was but one
Shawanoe, outside of the unrivalled Deerfoot, who could hold his own
with him. That was the famous warrior Blazing Arrow, who was about
double the age of Wharton, and who claimed to have beaten every one with
whom he struggled for supremacy.
Following this declaration from such high authority came the natural
desire to see young Edwards and the Shawanoe runner pitted against each
other, and efforts were made to bring about a contest between these
representatives of their respective races. The great difficulty in the
way was that the Shawanoe was one of the most vicious and treacherous of
his tribe. He had committed so many crimes against the whites that he
feared to trust himself in their power, and stubbornly refused to come
to the settlement, despite the assurances of the leading pioneers.
He was persuaded, however, to venture out of the woods one day, and the
arrangements were quickly made for a race between him and young Edwards.
Before the trial came off some one gave the Shawanoe a draught of
"fire-water," which roused the sleeping devil in him. Whipping out his
knife, he emitted his war-whoop, and charged upon the astonished youth,
with the intention of slaying him.
Wharton, who naturally had no weapon with him, succeeded in dodging the
miscreant, and before the wrathful settlers could punish him he darted
into the woods with a defiant shout and disappeared.
The glance which Wharton Edwards now cast to the rear, as he started to
flee, showed him that his single pursuer was Blazing Arrow.
CHAPTER V.
THROUGH THE WOODS.
The race between Wharton Edwards and the famous Shawanoe runner, Blazing
Arrow, was to come off at last, but under far different circumstances
than either had ever anticipated.
The wretch, while under the influence of liquor, had attempted the life
of the youth, and now, when his own natural self, he was determined to
run him down, and to his death. He hated the whole race with a consuming
hatred, and his wrath against this lad was more intense than against any
human being. It was he that had the audacity to think himself worthy of
running a race with him, who had defeated the most renowned runners of
the Wyandots, Pottawatomies, and the adjoining tribes, to say nothing of
his own people.
The action of the Shawanoes, when young Edwards made his leap of the
chasm, can be understood. The youth's life was spared, where no other
person would have been permitted to live after placing himself in their
power. Blazing Arrow, as well as several of his associates, recognized
the youth the instant they saw his face, and a hurried consultation took
place as to what should be done.
But for the presence of their champion they would not have permitted him
his slight advantage; but their faith in Blazing Arrow was as complete
as his own, besides which he was one of their leaders. He ordered them
to remain quiet, or rather to devote themselves to bringing down what
whites were near, while he made a little dash and brought back the
fugitive.
This was how it came about that Wharton Edwards, instead of being
pursued by a score of Shawanoes, started off with but a single warrior
trailing after him.
But it is noticeable, further, that the same pursuer carried his rifle,
or rather that of the youth; for, with the characteristic refinement of
cruelty, he meant to add this little triumph to his capture of the lad
when he should run him down and smite him to the earth.
Wharton had no weapon other than his hunting-knife, while his foe took
good care to see that a weapon was at his own command. He was the one
who, if any accident befell himself, would feel pleasure in shooting
down the lad that had never harmed him.
The sight of Blazing Arrow gave Wharton a knowledge of the situation,
and during the few minutes that he was dodging through the trees he
tried to decide upon the right course to follow.
They were but a short way from the main trail. This was clearly marked,
although it was travelled so little that in many places the overhanging
limbs interfered with one's passage. He believed he could dash along
this faster than his pursuer, and but for his anxiety about Larry Murphy
he probably would have attempted to do so, but the report of a rifle
which reached his ears a few minutes later deepened his fears and
increased his anxiety.
If he should put forth all the speed of which he was capable, it was not
likely to surpass that of the Shawanoe, who was accustomed to dodging
among tree trunks. There was little to be gained by speculating at this
stage of the contest, but he concluded to go ahead until the opportunity
was more favorable for turning his own amazing fleetness to account.
Besides, it should be stated that Wharton was not yet certain that he
could beat Blazing Arrow in a contest of speed. The Indian was a
wonderful runner, and the youth was not certain by any means that the
red man would not overhaul him when the test should take place.
"At any rate he has got to do the hardest work of his life before he
captures my scalp," muttered the lad, compressing his lips and ducking
under a limb which would have caught under his chin if he had neglected
the precaution.
He headed for the trail, darting a look behind him now and then to note
their relative speed. As nearly as he could judge, it was about the
same, but as he could not know whether Blazing Arrow was putting forth
his best efforts or not, the knowledge was of little benefit. At the
moment of striking the path, Wharton recalled a fact that had slipped
his mind until then. Less than an eighth of a mile in advance the trail
crossed a natural clearing where, for fully a fourth of a mile, not a
tree or shrub obtruded. Then the two could do their best, and the
question of supremacy would be decided, providing the red man indulged
in no treachery. Blazing Arrow dropped into the path at a point about a
hundred yards behind the fugitive, which was a little more than the
space separating them at the moment of starting.
It was necessary to keep the advantage he possessed, and to gain all he
could before the plain was reached. If Wharton should prove himself
superior to the Shawanoe, the latter would resort to his rifle, and
either kill him or wound him so that he could not run. If the fugitive
was the inferior, he must fall into the hands of his enemy; so that, no
matter how it eventuated, the situation of the youth was full of peril.
"I guess I may as well let myself out while I have the chance," the
latter muttered, a moment after striking the trail.
And Wharton proceeded to "let himself out," while Blazing Arrow, the
Shawanoe, lost no time in doing likewise.
Wharton's aim was to increase the distance between himself and Blazing
Arrow as much as he possibly could before reaching the clearing, half a
mile wide, where the way was open and the test of speed would be
decisive.
Within the same moment that he recalled the existence of the clearing he
was dashing along the trail like a terrified deer. This work proved
harder than he anticipated. The obtruding branches swished his face with
smarting violence, and more than one twig cut his forehead and nose like
the lash of a whip. He thrust out his hands to ward these aside, and
they hurt his hands.
He kept it up, however, for he was now running for life, and what is to
be compared to such a stake? But these obstructions, despite all he
could do, retarded his progress. The alarming truth quickly became
manifest that instead of gaining ground, as he had hoped, he was losing
it.
"Suppose he can beat me?" was the terrifying thought that almost
paralyzed him for the moment; "but," he added, "he hasn't done it yet!"
The Shawanoe did not utter any cry, and he was so far to the rear that
Wharton did not hear him as he came along the trail with the grim
certainty of fate. He was a marvellous runner, and he did not mean to
allow the detested youth, whose beard was not yet grown, to get away
from him.
More than once, while speeding in this fashion, young Edwards asked
himself whether he could elude his enemy by leaping aside or hiding
among the trees. Possibly he might have done it could he have drawn
beyond sight of him for a few minutes only, so that his divergence would
not be seen. But just there lay the difficulty, and he dared not make
the attempt.
It was a sight that would have tried the nerves of the bravest man when
he looked back and caught a glimpse of the Indian warrior, partly
hidden by the brushing limbs and vegetation, as he sped forward like a
furious animal, and knew it was a mortal enemy that was after him,
impelled by a hatred which nothing but death could quench.
The fugitive determined that for the time he would not look behind him.
Almost unconsciously to himself, when he did so, he lost a little
ground.
The straining vision which was now cast forward saw the light made by
the clearing or opening in front. A few more bounds and he struck the
margin of the space, which for half a mile was as free from trees as a
stretch of Western prairie. Here was the place for the supreme test, and
the youth, with a muttered prayer, bent all his energies to the task,
fully alive to the stake at issue.
Not a breath of air was stirring on this mild summer afternoon, but the
wind created by his arrowy-speed was like a gale as it rushed by his
face and lifted the short auburn hair about his neck until it floated
straight out. The arms were bent at the elbows, the chest thrown
forward, while the shapely limbs worked with the swiftness and grace of
a piece of perfect machinery. The feet doubled in and over each other
with bewildering quickness, there seeming at times to be half a dozen of
them on the ground, in the air, and to the rear at the same time.
The stride was tremendous. The handsome face of the youth was pale with
an unshakable resolve, and the thin lips were compressed, his breath
coming thick and fast through the nostrils. The hazel eyes gleamed and
the brows were knitted as with a person who means to do or die.
Ah, that was a race worth travelling many a mile to see! Had Simon
Kenton, or Daniel Boone, or Anthony McClelland, or the Wetzel brothers,
been in that open clearing, they would have stood like statues, wrapt in
admiration and wonder, for never could they have beheld before such a
magnificent exhibition of prowess in the way of speed.
Every thrilling element was present, for not far to the rear rushed a
six-foot Shawanoe, who, like the youth in advance, strained every muscle
to the highest tension. And he was a frightful object as he ran, for
his face was that of a race-horse. The long coarse locks streamed behind
him like a whipping pennant in a hurricane; and one of the stained
eagle-feathers in the crown was snatched loose and fluttered backward.
The naturally hideous face was made more so by the red and black patches
daubed in fantastic splashes over it. The sinewy chest was bare, but the
fringes of the parti-colored leggings and moccasins flickered and
twinkled in the sunlight as the Shawanoe thundered across the clearing,
his black eyes fixed on the flying figure in front, and his countenance
distorted by a passion his terrible race is so capable of feeling.
As Blazing Arrow ran, he carried the youth's rifle in his right hand. It
was grasped just in front of the lock, the muzzle pointing ahead, as
though he had but to press the trigger to bring down the fugitive
without a change of aim. The left hand rested on the knife thrust in his
girdle, the position of the two hands suggesting that he was thirsting
to use both weapons upon the lad whom he sought so desperately to run
down.
CHAPTER VI.
A MISCALCULATION.
The Indian was doing his best. Had the whole tribe been assembled on
that clearing, with eyes fixed on him and urging him on, he could have
done no better. He had run many a race, and, since his manhood, had won
them all. Most were gained by no more than half trying, just as he
expected to gain this one when he ordered his companions to remain
behind in the wood, and leave to him the task of bringing back the white
youth who had the effrontery to appear as a contestant in a trial
against him.
The expectation of Blazing Arrow was that of running down Wharton
Edwards just before or at the time he entered the wood on the opposite
side of the clearing. Stretching forward his massive hand, he meant to
hurl him from his feet, and then drive him back to where the other
warriors were waiting to subject him to their whimsical torture.
Yes, Wharton Edwards was destined, in Blazing Arrow's mind, for the
torture. This had been the fierce savage's purpose from the outset, and
it remained as such for a few moments after the two had burst into the
opening. Then a doubt arose, and by the time half the clearing was
thrown behind him the despised youth in front was running faster than he
was.
The soul of Blazing Arrow must have been humiliated beyond expression
when, despite the most strenuous exertions he could put forth, and the
knowledge that never in all his life had he run with greater speed, that
lithe, graceful youth in front began steadily drawing away from him.
It was an astounding truth. Wharton Edwards could outrun the champion of
the Shawanoes, and he was doing it with such certainty that neither he
nor his pursuer could fail to see the fact.
The youth waited till a fourth of the distance was passed, so there
could be no mistake as to the actual test. He had gone that far with
all the strength of which he was capable. He knew that his pursuer had
done the same, so that when he glanced around, the truth as to their
relative speed must be established.
The result was more striking than he had dared to hope. He had widened
perceptibly the space between them, and was still doing so, even though
his venomous enemy was putting forth the utmost exertions of which he
was capable.
It can be understood how the discovery thrilled the fugitive, and he can
be pardoned if, even in that trying moment, he felt a touch of regret
that the race between him and the Indian did not take place, as it was
arranged, at the settlement. What a triumph he would have won!
Nor can he be blamed because in the flush of victory, and with the
belief that the real danger was past, he deliberately snatched off his
cap, swung it above his head, and uttered a shout of exultation. It was
only human nature, and you or I would have done the same had we been in
his place.
The cry was wormwood and gall to Blazing Arrow, and deep must have been
his regret that at the time when, seized with drunken frenzy, he made
for the lad, he did not finish him. Had he done so, the Shawanoe would
have been saved this humiliation.
Why did not the pursuer stop short and bring his rifle into play? He was
a good marksman, and the distance was not enough to require any special
skill on his part. Doubtless the dusky miscreant was influenced by
several reasons, one of which was the loss of ground he would sustain.
Then, too, a man who has been using his muscles so fiercely is not in
the best condition to aim a rifle accurately. Furthermore, it is not
impossible that the Shawanoe believed that the youth was unable to
maintain his astounding speed. He must soon slacken it, and then the
Indian champion would take revenge for this temporary defeat. Wharton
feared an attempt to shoot him, and he continued his prodigious
exertion, since there was every inducement to increase the gain he had
made, and the sheltering wood was now but a short way in advance. He
glanced back a couple of times, and then threw his thoughts forward, for
he recalled that he was confronted by a peculiar condition of things.
Immediately after entering the forest again, the trail made what may be
described as a horseshoe curve. A deep, wooded ravine interposing in
front necessitated a looping of the path. The circuit was a furlong in
length, the trail coming back to within a few rods of the first turn.
Standing at this point, one could see the slightly ascending course on
the side of the narrow ravine, and a man or animal walking up the gentle
incline was in view of any one at the beginning of the curve.
It will be understood, therefore, that if Blazing Arrow should halt at
this point the instant he reached it, and the youth should keep to the
trail, the latter would come directly under the muzzle of his own rifle,
in the hands of his implacable enemy.
But Wharton Edwards was not the one to throw away an advantage gained by
a display of speed such as it is safe to say no other living person
could have made. It would have been idiotic to do so when no necessity
existed.
Several ways of escape presented themselves. He could leave the trail at
the lower point of the loop, not returning to it until well beyond sight
of his enemy, or possibly he could leap across the gorge, as he had done
in the case of the torrent, and thus not sacrifice any ground.
It was this step which he revolved in his mind while dashing across the
last fourth of the narrow plain, but a single fact restrained him; he
doubted his ability to make a successful leap. Although he had been over
the path several times, and might be considered familiar with it, he had
never studied it closely enough to settle the question without another
inspection, and there was not a minute to spare for making that.
If he could make the leap it would be a great gain; if he should fail,
the disaster would be irreparable, for among the wood, brush and
undergrowth he could neither conceal himself nor travel as fast as the
Shawanoe, who would quickly have him at his mercy. The risk was too
great to incur, and he decided not to take it. He did a thing, on the
contrary, which was like an inspiration. Making the short turn, he ran a
few rods, when he glanced toward the plain. Blazing Arrow was invisible,
and would remain so for several minutes, despite the speed with which he
was approaching.
The youth made a powerful leap aside from the path, and dodged behind
the trunk of an oak large enough to shelter his body. Then he stood
panting, alert and watchful, awaiting the coming of his enemy. He saw
him a minute later, through the trees, running with undiminished speed,
and like an engine that was absolutely tireless. The Shawanoe was more
familiar with the course of the trail than the youth, and therefore knew
of its looping, which had puzzled the latter for a few brief moments.
The course adopted by the Shawanoe was peculiar, and for a time assumed
an almost ludicrous phase.
The quick glance which he cast down the path failed to show him the
fugitive, who he must have supposed was still running over it and would
speedily reappear as he rushed up the incline. By leaping the ravine he
would head him off and have him at his mercy.
The pursuer decided to adopt this course, and with only a slight
slackening of pace he dashed toward the gorge; but when almost on the
brink he must have concluded the chances of success were against him,
and he changed his mind. But he did not succeed in changing the course
of his body, as he meant to do. He would not have failed had the bank of
the ravine been as firm as he supposed it was. He checked himself with
the skill of an experienced runner; but the ground gave way, and despite
everything he could do he went floundering, scrambling and struggling to
the bottom of the ravine, which was almost perpendicular and fully
thirty feet deep.
Had he given less attention to the effort to save himself and looked
where he was going it would have been better; for, as it was, although
the fall was considerable, it was so broken that it would have amounted
to little had not his head come in collision with the base of one of
the trees growing in the bottom of the gorge. The impact was violent,
and must have jarred the tree. It jarred Blazing Arrow to that extent
that he tumbled over on his back senseless.
Wharton Edwards was watching matters like a cat waiting for a mouse.
When he saw the Shawanoe disappearing he ran cautiously forward from his
hiding-place, and, not forgetting to screen himself, peeped over the
edge of the ravine.
"I'm afraid he hasn't broken his neck," he muttered, as he noted the
shock the other had received, "though that crack against the trunk of
the tree was enough to kill anyone."
This unlooked-for incident insured the safety of the fugitive, who, if
he chose, could have continued his flight to the block-house; but two
considerations led him to take a different course. He could not desert
Larry Murphy, who, beyond all question, was in imminent peril, and he
disliked beyond expression to lose his rifle, which was a birthday gift
from his father, and a superior piece of workmanship. It was this act
that led him to attempt a feat worthy of Simon Kenton himself.
Leaping lightly from the edge of the ravine, he grasped the branches of
a tree near at hand. It bent low with his weight and broke; but he
seized another, and that also, after dipping downward, gave way and let
him fall. By that time he was so near the ground that he dropped lightly
to his feet. He paused and glanced at Blazing Arrow lying outstretched
on his back, with his face upturned, as if he were dead. But he was not;
he was only senseless.
"If he will only stay that way for a few minutes I shall be all right;
but if he awakes----"
Aye, if he awoke, what vengeance he would take on the youth who dared
not only to beat him at running, but to steal like a beast of prey upon
him!
But young Edwards had determined upon his line of action, and it was now
too late to turn back.
CHAPTER VII.
A CHECK.
It was characteristic of Larry Murphy and Wharton Edwards that each
should hasten to risk his own life for the other.
When the latter made his leap across the chasm, through which the water
rushed, with his rifle that had been left there, he had no thought of
the peril in which he placed himself. Had he turned on the instant, or
sprang back to the bluff he had just left, he would have had a
companion, with a good weapon between them, even though he possessed no
gun himself.
But that would have placed the Irish lad in the extremity of peril, as
Wharton well knew, and he determined to face the danger alone, reasoning
that it was useless to involve both as long as it could be prevented.
The earnestness of Wharton caused Larry to withdraw from the gorge
until he was among the trees beyond, when he halted for a moment, and,
reflecting on the situation, read the purpose of his friend.
"I see through the trick," he muttered, angry with himself that he had
been duped even for a few moments, "and it won't work on me. Larry
Murphy isn't to be left out of this business."
It was all well enough to form this resolution, but the youth was
confronted by the query as to how his friend was to receive any
practical benefit from his efforts. Peering from the trees in the
direction of the gorge, he saw nothing of him, nor of the Indians who he
was sure were there.
Nothing would have pleased Larry more that to repeat the performance of
Wharton, and thereby place himself on the other side of the gorge; but
he saw no way of doing it without a fatal delay. It was utterly beyond
his power to make the leap which was so easy for the other. He knew that
if he attempted it he would plump down into the torrent and go over the
falls again, unless he swam out, as did the bear, on the same side from
which he entered.
There was no break in the bluffs across stream by which one could climb
out above the falls, so that the only feasible way open to him to reach
Wharton was by swimming the torrent below the falls. That, as we have
said, involved a delay which, under the circumstances, was fatal to all
chance of giving his friend any practical help. But Larry could not
stand idle. In the blind hope of doing something, he hurried down stream
and approached it again at the point where he had entered it before, and
whence the bear had emerged.
It was as he feared. He might as well have tried to climb the smooth
face of a perpendicular wall as to leave the torrent at any point above
the falls, to say nothing of the danger of being swept over the latter.
A slight bend in the stream enabled him to discern the spot where
Wharton had landed when he made his leap. He was looking fixedly in that
direction, hoping he would reappear, when a Shawanoe Indian came into
view and paused on the brink of the gorge.
He held his rifle in one hand and was in war paint. He seemed to be
looking at the water and the other bluff, as though measuring the
distance preparatory to leaping the chasm. This indicated that the red
man knew, or suspected, that another was near at hand, and on the other
side of the stream.
The leap was a good one, even for a trained warrior, and when this one
made up his mind to attempt it, he stepped back several paces in order
to gain the necessary momentum. When he paused, only the top of his head
was visible to the watchful Larry, who knew very well what he intended
to do.
The Shawanoe suddenly ran the short distance, and made the leap with the
ease shown by Wharton Edwards a short time before.
At the moment the crouching form was in mid-air, with limbs drawn
together and muscles set, the rifle dropped from his grasp, his arms
went upward with a wild cry that rose above the waters, and his body,
landing on the edge of the bluff, rolled back in the torrent and
instantly sank out of sight.
"I can jump the stream myself. I don't maan that such spalpeens as ye
shall have the chance of doing the same," muttered Larry, stepping back
several paces and reloading his gun with the utmost haste.
None knew better than he that the occurrence would stir up matters among
the Indians on the other side, and he would have been a zany to invite a
return shot by remaining a fair view to those who would investigate the
matter offhand.
Had he possessed one of the modern breech-loaders and repeating rifles,
he might have secured a good position and held half a hundred Indians at
bay; but with his clumsy though excellent weapon he could not hope to
maintain his ground for any length of time.
The moment his gun was ready he cautiously advanced to the edge of the
stream and peered around the rocks. There was no warrior in sight, but
he was shrewd enough to allow his vision to roam along the bluff on the
other side down to the falls themselves.
So far as he could judge, no one was near. A dark body, however, caught
his eye in the water itself. It was going over the falls, a limp and
inert mass, which he was quick to recognize, and at which he cast but a
single glance.
But the youth was not left long in suspense. His keen eyes were roving
along the edge of the other bluff, which was sharply outlined against
the blue sky, when a small protuberance suddenly appeared at the very
point on which his eyes happened to rest.
"It's anither of 'em," was his thought, as he screened himself so far as
he could behind the ledge of rocks and brought his rifle to a level;
"when his head rises high enough I'll plug him in the eye. Whisht now!"
The Indian was cunning. Instead of bringing his crown into sight, it
sank out of sight again.
Larry was standing with his gaze centred on the point where he had just
seen the object, his gun loaded and ready to fire the instant a fair
target was presented, when it shot up like a jack-in-the-box a dozen
feet to one side, immediately dropping out of view again.
The movement was so quick that the painted face had appeared and
vanished before Larry could shift his aim.
The Shawanoe must have known that some one was awaiting a favorable
chance to serve him as the warrior was served who attempted to leap the
gorge.
"It saams to me," growled the disappointed Larry, "that every one I'm
getting acquainted wid is up to some of his tricks. Why couldn't that
spalpeen have showed himself where he made me expect him? It would be
just like some of 'em to sneak across above or below, where I can't head
'em off. I wonder what's become of Whart?"
CHAPTER VIII.
A CHAT.
It was like approaching a sleeping tiger, likely at any moment to bound
to his feet and rend the helpless victim, and Wharton Edwards, despite
his well-proved courage, felt a misgiving as he drew near the terrible
Shawanoe.
Blazing Arrow in falling held the rifle fast so long as his senses
remained with him; but when he came near splitting the tree trunk with
his head, the weapon flew several feet away. This happened to be the
side farthest from Wharton, who, therefore, was forced to walk around
him in order to secure the gun.
Everything depended on promptness; and when Wharton found himself within
a few paces--too close to retreat--he took several quick leaps, and
bending over, snatched up the weapon from where it lay on the ground.
Words cannot picture the relief that came to him when his hands closed
about his beloved rifle, and he knew that, from fleeing in terror before
the fierce Shawanoe, he was now his master. He could not only defy his
wrath, but Blazing Arrow was at his mercy.
Quickly as all this took place, Wharton was not a second too soon. At
the moment of stepping back and looking at the Shawanoe, the latter
began rallying from the shock that had held him senseless for a briefer
period than seemed to be the case. Doubtless he suffered a good deal of
pain from the accident, but he was too stoical to show it. He moved
uneasily, muttered something in his own tongue, and then came to a
sitting posture with such suddenness that the startled youth recoiled
several paces and grasped the weapon more firmly than before.
The painted face was like that of a demon, as the Indian, fully
understanding what had taken place, sat for a few seconds glaring at the
youth, ten feet away, unable to speak, perhaps because of his
overflowing wrath, but emitting a serpent-like hissing between his
teeth, as if in warning of the blow he was about to strike.
The law of the frontier would have justified young Edwards in sending a
bullet through the one that had sought his life. Perhaps few would have
condemned him if he had fired when Blazing Arrow's face assumed the
expression of hatred which is beyond description; but the lad, despite
his training, could never have condoned such an act, now that his life
was in no danger.
Recalling that the Shawanoe spoke English tolerably well, Wharton,
holding his rifle ready for instant use, addressed him:
"Are you much hurt, Blazing Arrow?"
"Yes--much hurt--can't walk--can't stand."
Had the wily red man been less prompt with his reply he might have
deceived the youth. The latter could feel no pity for him, even though
he knew he was suffering, but there was an eagerness in his manner which
convinced Wharton that he was shamming, and was not injured to such an
extent as to be unable to help himself.
Blazing Arrow spoilt everything by adding, before the other could make
response:
"Help Shawanoe up--maybe he den walk," and he reached out his hand
toward the boy.
"I rather guess not," replied Wharton, with a faint smile and a meaning
shake of his head; "if you can't rise to your feet you can stay there,
for all I care."
"Help little bit," persisted the Shawanoe, making what seemed to be a
futile effort, and sinking back with one hand still extended, as though
he were a child.
"No, sir," replied the youth more emphatically, "I wouldn't trust you,
Shawanoe."
"No speak lie--Blazing Arrow no double tongue."
"You have always had a double tongue; you have always spoken lies. Was
it not you who tried to kill me when we were about to run a race?"
"Shawanoe drink fire-water--didn't know nuffin'."
"You knew enough to run off in the woods before my friends could punish
you. Why have you chased me so far to-day?"
"Want to catch you," replied the warrior frankly, evidently perceiving
that this was an occasion in which truth would serve better than
falsehood.
"What hindered you from catching me?"
"Brudder run faster dan Shawanoe."
"Did you run as fast as you could?"
"Yes--run hard--run like thunder--brudder much run--beat deer--beat
antelope."
"Then I can beat you?" asked Wharton with a meaning look at the subtle
miscreant, who nodded his head with great vigor as he made reply:
"Yes--beat Shawanoe--run faster--much more run."
If Blazing Arrow hoped by "acknowledging the corn" in this fashion to
win the confidence of the youth he was mistaken. He could afford to own
up when the only one that heard him was his conqueror. Little fear of
his ever making the confession to his own people.
"That's the first truth you have told in a long time. What would you
have done to me if you had outrun and captured me?"
"Take back to Shawanoes."
"And what then?"
"Run race wid me."
"Suppose I had beaten you?"
"Den get away--like do now. No hurt brudder."
Wharton little doubted that such a chase would have been arranged, with
the difference that no possible escape would have been left for him.
"If I had outrun you would I have been allowed to go free?"
"Yes--dat so--ugh!--yes."
"Well, being that I have just outrun you, I will keep a good distance
between you and me."
And thereupon Wharton turned about and began walking along the ravine
toward the point whence he came. As he did so he partly turned his head,
so as to keep the wretch in his field of vision; he knew better than to
trust him, even to the smallest degree. He half expected to see him leap
to his feet and dash after him, but the wily warrior remained seated
until the intervening trees shut him from sight. Wharton hurried along
the ravine, and curved again and came back before he struck a place
which permitted him to climb out. He did so, however, with little
difficulty, and, reaching the path once more, began retracing his steps
to the clearing, across which he had run with such great speed.
This brought him to the spot where Blazing Arrow had met with his
mishap. Stealing carefully forward, Wharton peered over. To his
astonishment the Shawanoe was not in sight; he had disappeared as
utterly as though he had never been. At the same moment the youth made
another and more astounding discovery.
CHAPTER IX.
TURNING BACK.
It is singular how, in the most critical moments, certain thoughts will
obtrude themselves. While Wharton Edwards was peering over the ravine
and wondering whither Blazing Arrow had vanished, a sudden suspicion
caused him to raise his rifle and examine its lock.
There was not a grain of powder in the pan and no charge in the barrel.
All the time that it had been in the hands of the Shawanoe and himself
it was as useless as a stick. It seemed incredible that such should have
been the fact, and yet here was the evidence before his own eyes.
What was equally apparent and more astonishing was that Blazing Arrow
must have been unsuspicious of the truth. The youth had not reloaded the
weapon after firing the last time, and it was, therefore, empty when he
flung it across the ravine preparatory to making his leap. It had been
picked up by the runner, who failed, in the excitement, to notice the
oversight, taking it for granted that it was ready for use. In the rush
of the pursuit he had no chance of examining it, and when he recovered
his senses the gun was in the hands of its owner.
But had the Shawanoe known the truth, when the lad stood within a few
paces defying him, his pretended weakness would have gone in a flash,
and, bounding to his feet, he would have leaped upon his conqueror like
a panther.
"That's the strangest thing I ever knew," exclaimed Wharton, with a
shudder at his inexplicable escape; "I can't understand how he and I
missed seeing it."
When it is remembered that the fact of an old-fashioned flintlock being
unloaded is perceptible at a glance, the feature of the mistake is the
more remarkable.
The discovery threw the youth into something of a panic. He felt as if
the venomous old man was about to assail him from among the trees, and,
with a quick glance around, made desperate haste to reload the gun. Not
until the ball was rammed down the barrel and the powder was in the pan
did he breathe freely.
"There!" he exclaimed, drawing a sigh of relief, "when I make that
blunder again I deserve to be shot, but the laugh is on Blazing Arrow
more than on me."
Now that he had a trusty weapon in his possession, and the Shawanoe had
none, the situation of the latter was like that of a wild beast and a
marksman. Could the beast leap unawares upon the marksman he could
overcome him, but the latter had only to maintain his watchfulness.
Had Blazing Arrow rushed toward the lad after he had found his gun was
empty, and before he reloaded it, Wharton's only resource would have
been to take again to his heels; for, active and athletic as he was, he
could not possibly be a match for the powerful, full-grown warrior, and
it would have been foolhardy on his part to take any such risk.
The disappearance of the Shawanoe during the brief absence of Wharton
was proof that the wily wretch was shamming. His fall had given him a
severe shock, but no bones were broken; and had the youth heeded the
request to help him to rise he would have snatched him off his feet in a
twinkling and had him at his mercy.
Whither had he gone? The dread that he might be stealing among the trees
in the effort to surprise him caused young Edwards to make a hasty
withdrawal from the wood to the open plain which had been the scene of
the severest race of his life.
When he stood clear of the trees, and beyond reach of any sudden
surprise, he breathed freely for the first time.
"Now let him come, if he wants to. I can outrun him anyway, but I don't
run any more races," added Wharton, glancing down at his gun.
The Shawanoe, who was doubtless glaring at him from some point of
concealment, must have relied upon cunning to outwit his victim.
"I wonder what sort of yarn he will tell his people when he goes back?"
mused Wharton. "How will he account for his failure to capture me, and
what explanation will he give for the loss of my gun? I suppose he will
say he concluded to shoot me, and broke it over my head and flung it
away. But if I come out of this trouble they will learn the truth some
day."
Not forgetting to be on his guard against his foe, the lad walked slowly
across the clearing, taking the back trail. He was considering the best
thing to do. But for Larry Murphy, he would have made all haste in the
opposite direction. The block-house was almost twenty miles away, and
this flurry had delayed the couple so long that there was no time to
spare. Wharton's parents would become anxious and set out to meet the
boys. If they should become involved with these Indians, direful
consequences were likely to follow.
But Wharton could not desert his comrade. He was a mile or two away,
near the main party of warriors, and Providence alone could prevent his
falling into their hands. Larry would naturally suppose that his friend
was not far from him, and it would be just like the fellow to run into
the worst sort of peril in the hope of doing him service.
"I must get back to him as soon as I can. If he could only know how
fortunate I have been it would be easy for him to steal around the whole
party and join me here. Then we could do some fast travelling, and be at
the block-house before sunrise to-morrow."
Since, however, such a state of affairs was out of the question, Wharton
had only to face matters as they were.
One ground for hope cheered him. The sultry summer afternoon was drawing
to a close, and night was at hand. He could manoeuvre in the darkness
much better than when the sun was shining. He and the Irish lad had a
system of calls and signals by which they communicated when within
hearing distance of each other. He could fall back on this when darkness
fell.
With his controlling wish there was but one thing for him to do; that
was to make his way with the utmost care to the region of the falls,
where he had parted from Larry. If his comrade had been wise enough to
keep out of the hands of the Shawanoes he was hopeful of opening
communication with him. A few more hours must decide the question.
He increased his pace. When he reached the wood on the opposite side of
the plain it was twilight. He walked rapidly, as though in a hurry, but
after going far enough to be beyond sight he came stealthily back and
looked toward the point where he had reloaded his gun. As he did so he
caught the outlines of a figure in the dim light steadily approaching,
and he knew it was Blazing Arrow, the Shawanoe.
CHAPTER X.
GROPING IN THE DARK.
Larry Murphy, after his daring check of the Shawanoes in their attempt
to leap the torrent, was sufficiently wise to see that it would not do
for him to remain where he was. The red men had located the dangerous
marksman, and would soon gain access to him.
If they chose, they could swim the stream below, as he had done, and
there must be other points above where the walls approached near enough
to allow them to jump across. If two or three succeeded in getting to
the rear of his position (and what was to prevent it?) he would be
caught inextricably in a trap.
"I wonder what's become of Whart? What could he do without me? He's
always getting into trouble, and it's the bother of me life getting him
out again. I ought to be with him now."
Nothing was clearer than that before he could do any more service for
his friend, or even learn his situation, he must place himself on the
other side of the torrent. He could do this by swimming, as before, but
he shrank from repeating the performance. The Shawanoes were likely to
watch for such an attempt, and he would be in a bad situation if
discovered in the water.
He believed, too, that at no distant point up stream there was some
place where the passage could be made quickly and without danger; he
decided to find out if such was the case.
"I hope Whart won't do anything rash," he mused, picking his way with no
little skill and with the utmost care, "but he needs me with him all the
time. With all the speed he owns, if he only made a break for the
block-house, he'd be there in an hour or two; but it's just like him not
to think of that, and if he did, mor'n likely the Indians would object."
A hundred yards above the point where young Edwards had leaped the
torrent, Larry began working his way back to it. It would have been a
most fortunate thing had he arrived somewhat sooner, for then he would
have seen his friend starting on his memorable race with Blazing Arrow.
The chance of bringing down the vicious Shawanoe by a shot from the rear
would have been so inviting that it is more than probable that the youth
would have nipped the contest in the bud. But, had he not done so, he
would have gained the information that would have changed his own line
of action, and the whole course of succeeding events.
But the torrent was wider than below, and not even Wharton Edwards would
have been able to leap it. Larry was careful to keep out of sight, and
withdrawing again from the bank, he cautiously made his way up stream,
on the watch for some place to cross.
"I wonder whether any of them have got over yet?" he muttered, feeling
each step of the way; "they're sharp enough to follow me tracks where I
haven't stepped on the stones--whisht!"
He stopped short, for he had heard something moving slowly among the
undergrowth ahead.
"Some of them have come back----"
Instead of a Shawanoe warrior, the bulky form of an immense bear came
into sight.
"And so ye want to mix in this business?" was the thought of the lad on
identifying the animal. "I'm sure neither Whart nor me would have any
objections if you would only turn your attention to them that is making
us so much bother."
He surveyed the lumbering creature a minute or two, strongly tempted to
give him a shot. He would have fired, but the report of the gun would be
heard by the Shawanoes, some of whom could not be far off. The falls
were so distant that the sound was but a faint roar in his ears.
The bear did not seem to be looking for large boys just then, and, after
lumbering into sight, disappeared among the vegetation, which was rank
in that section. He showed no sign of suspecting that one of his natural
enemies was so near. Had he known it, doubtless he would have given him
attention.
In the effort to find a place where the stream could be crossed, Larry
pushed on, never forgetting that he was in continual danger from the
Shawanoes. The day was waning, and night was not far off.
"If I don't strike the right sort of spot," he concluded, "by the time
night is here, I'll find a place where I can swim from one bank to the
other. Halloo!" A dark object on the ground a short distance in advance
caught his eye. Stooping down, he found to his delight it was his lost
cap, doubtless carried thither by this same bear.
It will be remembered that the torrent to which we have made reference
so often was not crossed by the trail leading from the settlement to the
block-house, although the two approached quite closely at several
points. The winding course of the path was mainly with the object of
avoiding a passage over the stream. The boys, therefore, knew little
about it, and the slight journey Larry Murphy was making was in the
nature of an exploration.
When he was about ready to give up hope of finding a method of crossing
other than by swimming, a surprise greeted him. The high banks not only
drew near together, but they were bridged by a fallen tree, whose base
was several feet away from the edge of the other shore. The branches
rested on the ground near the feet of the astonished youth, who felt
like throwing off his hat with delight.
"If I ever meet the gintleman that felled that tree for me, I'll give
him me heartfilt thanks."
Larry would have been pleased had the trunk been larger; not that it
lacked strength, but it would have been much easier to walk it, for it
is no light task to pick one's way along a comparative sapling,
especially when a deep, rapid stream is sweeping beneath.
By this time the sun had set and the light was growing dim in the woods.
He stood back just beyond the dead branches and meditatively scratched
his head. He knew that in all probability the tree had fallen in this
position of its own accord, and perhaps never had served as a bridge;
but, if so, it was because the occasion did not arise, since nothing
could be more opportune.
"I'm wondering whether I'm equal to the job," he added, still scratching
his scrubby hair. "If I step off I'll have to go over the falls, unless
I crawl out at the one spot, and I'm likely to miss that. If the sun was
shining it would be easy enough, and I guess maybe I can do it as it
is."
This was a case where it was idle to delay. He therefore fastened his
rifle in the usual way behind his back, so as to leave his arms free,
for more than likely he would need them before reaching the opposite
side.
"There won't be much use of saving mesilf without the gun, so we'll hang
together or go down, if we must, with our colors flying."
He placed his foot on the upper part of the trunk, just beyond where the
first branch appeared, and tested it. So far as he could tell, it was
sufficiently strong to bear ten times his weight.
He now advanced inch by inch, but had gone less than a fourth of the
distance when he found that his rifle was balanced in such a way behind
his shoulder that it was unsteady, and liable to throw him at any
moment.
It was delicate and dangerous to retreat, but he did it, slowly
struggling until he was so near the shore from which he started that he
was able to turn quickly and leap to the solid ground.
He took several minutes to adjust his weapon, for the slight trial he
had made taught him it would be exceedingly perilous for him to run any
sort of risk. It would be all he could do to get across under the most
favorable circumstances.
In the gathering gloom, when everything was in readiness, he placed his
foot on the narrow portion of the trunk and prepared to repeat the
attempt, but at the very moment of doing so he made the discovery that
some one else had started to cross from the other side.
Larry Murphy learned the truth in the nick of time. Ten seconds later
and he would have been on the trunk at the same moment as the other, and
an advance by both must have caused them to meet over the middle of the
stream.
As it was, Larry was uncertain whether he had been seen, or whether it
was a man or animal that was approaching. The doubt, however, lasted but
a second, when out from the gloom advanced a Shawanoe warrior, who came
along the narrow bridge with the deliberate certainty of a Blondin. No
fear of _his_ making a misstep.
This of itself told the youth that the Indian had not seen him, for, if
he had, nothing would have been more foolhardy than thus to place
himself at the mercy of the one who a short time before had shown his
nerve and marksmanship under more difficult circumstances.
But for the displacement of his rifle, Larry Murphy would have walked
into the arms of the red man. As it was, he had missed doing so, or at
least had missed discovery, by the narrowest margin conceivable.
With the coolness and cleverness of a veteran the lad moved back among
the denser gloom of the trees, where he was confident no one could see
him unless close enough to touch his person. Then he paused and watched
proceedings. Hardly had the sun sunk below the horizon when the round
full moon gave out its light, flooding wood and stream with radiance. It
was the moonlight that revealed the sinewy figure to the watcher in the
darkness.
Larry could not but admire the surefootedness of the red man, who never
stepped off the trunk until standing over solid earth. Then he turned
about and faced the side from which he had come. He was so close to the
edge of the gorge that he was still revealed in the moonlight.
The temptation was strong to give him a quick shove into the water,
leaving him to get out the best way he could; but before the youth could
act upon his mischievous suggestion a second Indian emerged from the
gloom and carefully crossed the primitive bridge used by his
predecessor.
"What does all this mean?" Larry asked himself. "Is the whole party
coming over one by one? It may be that they will bring Whart with them.
Halloo!"
A third Shawanoe crossed, but no more. The three stood for several
minutes so close to the youth that but for the noise of the torrent he
would have been sure of betrayal through the throbbing of his heart.
There was a moment when he believed they had seen him from the first,
and intended to turn like lightning upon him. In case they did so he
meant to make a rush, with the hope of forcing them into the river.
The red men remained but a few minutes, however, when they disappeared
as silently as phantoms. Whither they had gone, or what their business
was and why three of them had come from the other side, were questions
beyond the solution of the puzzled lad, who was certain that he had
never stumbled into such a mixed condition of affairs.
He waited a long time, fearful of venturing to walk over the trunk, lest
he might meet others. When that did not take place, the likelihood of
there being more of the Shawanoes in the vicinity, who would be quick to
detect his approach, was not lessened.
It looked to Larry as though the three had come over to look for him,
though why they should expect to find him in the darkness was hard to
understand. If the sun were in the sky there would be ground for their
hope of outwitting him. The fact remained that, so far as he knew, young
Edwards was still on the other side of the torrent, and his friend could
not hope to do him any service so long as they were thus separated.
"I must git across and put mesilf in such a position that he can lean on
me, but I'm thinking it won't be the best thing to try it at this place,
where so many may observe me."
It was only ordinary prudence that led Larry Murphy to make this
decision. Brave as he was, and often so to the verge of recklessness, he
was not the sort of person to run into danger unnecessarily. While it
was not to be expected that he would find any more bridges to use in
crossing the stream, there was reason to look for such a narrowing of
the banks that he could make the leap, and he set out once more to find
the spot.
To his disappointment the ground over which he was obliged to make his
way changed for the worse. It became so broken that it was impossible in
some places to progress without making detours that led him a
considerable distance from the stream. As there was no saying whether or
not these diversions were not at the very places where the water could
be leaped, he was in anything but an agreeable frame of mind. This was
not decreased when he suddenly tumbled down a cavity deep enough to
bruise him severely.
His efforts to save himself where his eyes gave no help probably made
the mistake worse.
"I'm thankful that I'm alive," was his honest thought when able to pull
himself together. "I've had the best luck--whisht!"
At that moment he became aware that he was not alone.
CHAPTER XI.
IN A CORNER.
Larry Murphy's first thought, when he found he had stumbled into
something in the nature of a cave, was that it might serve him as a
refuge or a fort in the impending fight with the Shawanoes, who were
certainly beginning to crowd him hard.
The night being fully come, his eyes were of little use, but the sense
of feeling told him that he had stumbled down an abrupt incline, perhaps
a rod in length, and into a cavern in the rocks, of whose extent he
could form no idea. It might be only a few feet, or it might extend
backward or to the right or left until its ramifications equalled those
of the Mammoth Cave, afterwards discovered at no great distance from
that very spot.
He was debating the question with himself when a figure appeared at the
head of the short incline down which he had stumbled. There was just
enough arrowy moonlight reaching that portion of the rocks for him to
identify the huge, lumbering mass as that of an immense bear.
He had his rifle at his shoulder, with the intention of letting fly at
him as he came head on, when the thought that the Shawanoes were so near
that they would hear the report caused him to hesitate. If they were
near enough to appear before he could get away he would be in a bad fix,
knowing nothing of the cave, and with no chance to get food or water.
Still, he could not stand still and allow the brute to make a supper
upon him, and, plucky as he was, he had no wish to fight him alone with
his hunting-knife.
He thought and acted quickly. He resolutely walked backward several
paces in the cave at the risk of breaking his neck. His extended hands
told him that the space was wide, and he moved silently to the right, so
as to be out of the path of the animal, provided he followed anything
like a direct course.
The enormous beast swung along in his heavy fashion, and was in the act
of entering the cavern, when he stopped, emitting a grunting snort, and
abruptly withdrew. He had scented something wrong, and did not intend to
rush headlong into danger.
The act of the bear disconcerted Larry for a moment. Standing within the
cavern, he could have fired his gun with little risk of the report being
heard outside. That was one of his motives in retreating, willing to let
the animal alone if he would be equally considerate, but not afraid to
fire the moment it was necessary.
But bruin not only withdrew from the entrance to the cavern, but
clambered up the incline to a point where he could not be seen by the
youth. The discovery on his part that some intruder was in his home had
doubtless decided him to have it out in the open air rather than in the
dark.
This was a wise proceeding on the part of the animal, which is rarely
capable of anything of that nature, and it outwitted the Irish lad--an
exploit not often achieved by others.
He could not leave the cavern without following the bear up the incline
and bringing about a collision, for he was certain the beast was lurking
near, with the intention of attacking him.
After some delay he moved softly toward the opening of the cavern to
gain a view of the exterior, which was faintly lit up in places by the
moonlight. He could see nothing, and he hesitated to venture out through
fear that, despite its size, the bear would pounce upon him before he
could defend himself.
The brave youth, however, fully understood his grave situation. So long
as he remained within the cavern he might as well be a thousand miles
away for all the help he could give his friend. Instead of assisting
Wharton Edwards, he was in need of assistance himself.
Knowing the patience with which most wild animals will await the descent
of treed game, he believed this bear would remain on the outside through
the night, and perhaps a portion of the next day, with the probability
that even then the prisoner would have to make a fight of it before he
could get away. This was more than Larry could stand, and he did not
mean to wait.
If the bear was really lying on the outside, he was not so near the top
of the incline that the youth did not have some chance of eluding him
without firing a gun.
Furthermore, if he was obliged to discharge his rifle, it was by no
means likely that any of the Shawanoes were so close that they could
rush to the spot before he would have the opportunity of getting away.
He had already stood within an arm's reach of them, as may be said,
without discovery; and, although that was because they had no suspicion
of the fact, yet the favoring night, it would seem, ought to give him
all the hope he could ask.
"At any rate," he concluded, "I've stayed here as long as I intend to,
and now I'll take my departure."
Larry Murphy, having decided on his course of action, followed it out
with his usual promptness. With his rifle grasped in his right hand, and
his body slightly crouching, he began climbing the incline which led to
the level ground above. This was so steep that when he stumbled at the
top in the first place, he rolled all the way to the bottom, but with
care he could go up or down without falling.
The stillness was profound--the sound of the falls being dull and faint,
as though they were miles distant in the depth of the wilderness. Though
the fierce Shawanoes were prowling in the darkness among the trees, not
a rustling leaf betrayed their presence.
Near the top of the slope he sank on his hands and knees and advanced
inch by inch. The bear, as we have stated, is not famous for his
sagacity, but at times he shows a remarkable cunning, and this specimen
was not likely to let his supper walk away without causing some trouble.
As the lad's head came to a level with the surface he crouched still
lower and advanced a little farther. This gave him the "purchase" he
wanted. Then, sitting on his heels, he brought his gun around to the
front, the hammer up, and the weapon held with both hands. In this
position it could be fired the instant needed.
He now slowly raised his head and peered intently in all directions. His
height was sufficient to allow him to see all about him, but the intense
gloom rendered his eyes almost useless. It was impossible for him to
identify any object.
Fancying that he might be able to detect bruin's breathing in the
stillness, he listened for a few seconds, but was unable to hear
anything. He was now on the threshold, as may be said, and it was
useless to wait longer.
He assumed the upright position, stepped away from the incline for
several paces, and then stopped. He meant to do this with a certain
dignity, and fully expected that it would compel the bear to uncover
himself so that he would know where to fire.
He began his effort well, but in the darkness he could not observe the
obstructions in his way; so, when at his most dignified point, an
obtruding bowlder sent him sprawling over it.
He was not hurt, and when he pulled himself together, and, with his
weapon ready, stared about in the gloom, he not only saw but heard
nothing.
And then the odd truth dawned upon him. There was no bear near, and had
not been for some time past.
The animal, after his hurried retreat up the incline, on discovering the
intruder in his home, had not lain down to pounce upon him as he came
forth, as that intruder suspected, but had lumbered off into the woods,
apparently as anxious to get away from the young hunter as the latter
was too keep out of his reach.
Larry had waited a long time in the cavern before making this venture,
and naturally he was chagrined on learning the truth.
"It's a big lot of valuable time wasted," he muttered.
He was now once more free to do as he chose, but without any clear idea
of what course to take. His whole anxiety was to find his friend,
Wharton Edwards, and give him what help he could, if he stood in need of
it, but where to look for him he knew no more than the earth's
satellite.
Ah! through the cool hush of the summer night a soft, almost inaudible
sound reached him. It was the faint, tremulous cooing of the wild dove,
but so low, timid, and flute-like, that the bird seemed to mean it
should be heard only in its immediate vicinity.
The heart of Larry Murphy gave a quick throb. That was the call he and
Wharton Edwards had practiced until they could give it perfectly. Could
it be that his friend was not only free from the Shawanoes, but was so
near?
It seemed impossible, and yet, when the signal was repeated a minute
later, all doubt was gone, and, hardly unable to repress a shout, the
lad replied with a precisely similar call.
These signals were of that pure musical quality that, when first made,
neither could tell the point whence the other came. The note was simply
"in the air." Larry, however, suspected that his friend had crossed the
torrent a few minutes before by means of the prostrate tree, and he
began treading his way thither with the utmost caution.
For several minutes utter stillness reigned. Some cause led the first
one to hold his peace for that time.
Larry was so near the narrow, moonlit space bordering the torrent that
he halted, deeming it unwise to venture farther. It was evident, despite
the care he used, he had gone away from instead of toward his friend. To
advance any farther was likely to take him beyond reach, and possibly
complicate matters with the Shawanoes, who could not be far off.
"I wonder where they can be?" he mused, sufficiently prudent to remain
in the shadow among the trees. "He's very careful, which is wise, and
I'll be the same."
He waited minute after minute, without hearing the expected signal, and
a vague misgiving began to trouble him.
"It can't be I'm too far off for me to hear him. I'll give him the call
mesilf, and a little louder."
He was shaping his lips to form the singular cry, when it sounded so
near that he started. With the signal came a thrill of affright, for the
listening ear detected a shade of difference; it was not precisely what
he expected, nor exactly similar to his own.
At the same moment a crouching figure appeared on the edge of the
moonlit space, and advancing with the slow, noiseless motion of a shadow
across the face of a dial.
Larry Murphy saw that it was a Shawanoe Indian. As if the red man meant
to reveal himself beyond mistake, he took a single step forward, held
his head bent for a moment in the attitude of intense attention, and
then slowly looked toward every point of the compass in turn.
At one angle the full moonlight fell upon the painted face, which the
youth recognized as that of the ferocious Blazing Arrow.
"I'll settle you!" whispered the youth, stealthily raising the hammer of
his gun. "Ye have no business with that signal."
He tried to present his weapon without any noise, but with all his care
the hammer, as it was drawn back, made two dull clicks, which sounded
startlingly loud in the situation.
Knowing that the ear of the Indian had caught the noise, Larry brought
his weapon to his shoulder like a flash and pointed the muzzle toward
the spot, less than twenty-five feet away.
But no Blazing Arrow was there. He had disappeared like the coon at the
flash of the huntsman's rifle.
Whether his acute sense of hearing had enabled him to locate the point
whence came the double click, Larry did not wait to see. He had no
intention that the miscreant, knife in hand, should come down on him
with the resistless force of an avalanche.
Lowering his head to help conceal his movements, he drew back several
paces, with a silence and stealth that the Shawanoe himself could not
have surpassed. Then, crouching low on the ground, he waited, watched
and listened.
His rifle was ready to be fired, and he resolved to let Blazing Arrow
have the charge the instant he caught sight of him. The warrior was
cunning, but he was liable to uncover himself in moving about the youth,
whose precise location he could not know.
The danger of the latter was that other Shawanoes besides this one were
near, and might close around him in the gloom. He was ready, and would
fight any number of them if they beset him, but there could be but one
result of such a desperate struggle.
Hearing and seeing nothing of his enemies, he decided to improve his
situation by a further change of base. Inasmuch as the slightest slip
was certain to prove fatal, the work was slow and surpassingly delicate.
The foot was lifted quickly from the ground and suspended in the air and
lowered slowly, while the body leaned gently forward, waiting a long
while before its weight was allowed to rest on the limb.
The tedious work was continued until Larry moved fully a dozen yards
from his starting-point. Then, for the first time, he breathed freely
and felt that it was safe to pause.
Still nothing was seen or heard of Blazing Arrow or his companions, and
the youth, with a shudder, asked himself the startling question: "How
came the Shawanoe to have the signal of Wharton Edwards?"
CHAPTER XII.
REVERSING POSITIONS.
Pausing on the edge of the natural clearing which had been the scene of
the terrific race between himself and Blazing Arrow, Wharton looked
back, and in the gathering darkness saw a flickering figure on the
farther side, where the trail re-entered the wood, and he knew it was
that of the champion runner of his tribe, whom he had not only defeated
in the contest of fleetness, but in the singular battle of wits which
followed.
"I'd wager a good deal, if I had a chance," muttered the lad, "that he
feels just a little impatient with himself. I am quite sure that matters
haven't gone to suit him."
It was in the power of the youth to turn the tables still more
completely on the dusky miscreant. He had but to wait where he was until
he was within easy range, and then shoot him down. It need not be said,
however, after what had taken place a short time before, that this was a
crime which nothing could have induced young Edwards to commit, even
though he knew the Shawanoe was as eager as a tiger to secure his life.
"We're likely to come together again before this business is over," he
reflected, "where I won't feel so much like letting you alone as I do
now."
There was one uncomfortable proceeding which he did not mean to undergo;
that was to have Blazing Arrow dogging at his heels like a sneaking wolf
awaiting the chance to pounce upon him unawares. It is hard to imagine a
more trying situation than that of knowing an enemy is stealing behind
you in the darkness, on the alert to dart forward when your vigilance is
relaxed, and make his attack with the deadly quickness of the
rattlesnake.
Walking but a short way, Wharton stepped aside from the trail and stood
motionless among the trees, where an owl would not have noticed him in
flying along the path. He was not kept waiting many minutes. A soft
tap-tap sounded on the ground as Blazing Arrow, in a loping trot, left
the clearing and plunged into the wood, and then a faint, shadowy figure
was dimly seen moving between the trees.
Directly opposite Wharton it came to a halt. Because of the obscurity he
could not be seen except in motion, but the watcher knew what that
meant. He was listening. He could not be assured what the youth in front
was doing, and since his experience with him, the redskin understood
that he had a young man above the ordinary as his antagonist.
A minute later Wharton saw something flicker in the gloom. The Shawanoe
had started on again. This time he did not trot, for the protruding
limbs interfered and would have made too much rustling. He walked
rapidly enough, however, to overtake any one going at the usual rate.
Waiting until he believed he was at a safe distance in advance, the lad
stepped back upon the trail and continued his journey toward the war
party, where he hoped to be of service to his friend.
Since the white and red men had exchanged situations, Wharton had now to
guard against running into the one in advance. If the Shawanoe should
learn what had been done he would be sure to try some trick on the
youth. By crouching along the path he could leap upon him as he passed
and bear him helplessly to the ground.
It need not be said that young Edwards was on the alert. He could not
have been more so, frequently pausing to listen, or to use his eyes, so
far as possible, in the darkness.
Unable to hear anything through the air, he knelt down and pressed his
ear to the ground. That served him no better, and he slowed his
progress, and stopped more frequently.
"I wonder whether he has any suspicion that I am behind him?" was his
thought. "It may be," he added grimly, "that he is thinking what sort of
yarn to get up to explain why he hasn't brought me with him. If I am not
careful he may nab me after all. I'd like to know whether he still has
the headache, or whether he hasn't set me down as a fool for letting him
off when I had the chance to finish him."
If it should so prove that Blazing Arrow was not aware that, instead of
following the white youth, the reverse was the case, the space between
them was certainly increasing, for one was going slow and the other
fast.
When the distance passed became considerable, Wharton began to feel
hope. They were close to where he had already undergone several stirring
adventures, and he was almost certain the savage runner knew nothing of
his whereabouts. Finally he turned off from the trail almost at the
point where he had started to run away from Blazing Arrow and his
companions.
Attentively listening and watching, he heard nothing, and then began a
guarded examination of the immediate neighborhood. It was there the
Shawanoes had crouched when he bounded across the gorge in quest of his
rifle, but it was not to be expected that they had remained there ever
since. The examination convinced him that all had moved somewhere else.
Wharton's concern being now for Larry Murphy, he did some close
reasoning.
"I know he will, risk his life to help me, whom he naturally thinks is
in a bad way, but how is he going to do it, or how has he got across to
this side of the torrent? He can't make the leap that I did, and I am
quite sure he wouldn't try to swim, because that would compel him to go
below the falls. The chances are that he is on the other side."
This conclusion, it will be perceived, was correct; but had the reasoner
known of that fallen tree spanning the gorge, it is likely his decision
would have been different.
Before repeating the leap he had already made, Wharton spent more time
in what may be called reconnoitering.
It was altogether beyond reason that the Shawanoes should be looking for
any such performance, and with little hesitation, therefore, he walked
out from the shadow, ran across the moonlit space of rocks, and, with
the same ease and grace as before, placed himself on the other bank. He
quickly scurried to cover, and then awaited the result.
It was nothing, so far as he could tell. Still at a loss which way to
turn or what to do, but hoping that Larry might be somewhere within
reach, he made the signal which has been described elsewhere.
"If he hears that he will know what it means. By gracious, he has heard
it!"
From a point close at hand, and directly behind him, came the response,
although, as the reader well knows, it was not the lips of Larry Murphy
that made it.
CHAPTER XIII.
A BLUNDER.
Blazing Arrow possessed the subtlety of a serpent and the cunning of a
fox. Underneath his actions lay his unextinguishable hatred of the white
race. His anger against it seemed always to be flaming at white heat.
But the slyest and wisest of animals and men are liable at times to
overreach themselves. Had the imp been content with what was
unquestionably a remarkable exploit he would have held Wharton Edwards
at his mercy, but he must needs spoil all by his attempt to make
assurance doubly sure.
He had not seen the youth after he watched him disappear across the
clearing where the back trail entered the woods. He never suspected that
he was not on his front on the return, and failed to see his last leap
across the torrent. Confident, however, that he was not far off, he
began a search for him, with the hope of getting matters in better shape
before rejoining his comrades with an account of his experience.
It happened, therefore, that when young Edwards made his dove-call to
Larry Murphy, Blazing Arrow was so near that he heard it. He knew that
it came from none of his people, and consequently must be from one of
the whites.
With extraordinary cleverness he replied by several notes, whose
resemblance to those causing them was so wonderfully close as to be
perfect. Fearful, however, that he might not have hit the exact note, he
repeated the call.
And in doing so he made the fatal blunder. One of the unchangeable laws
governing Wharton Edwards and Larry Murphy at such times was that under
no circumstances was either to repeat a signal without a minute or two
interval. It was the violation of this rule that apprised the youth of
his peril and gave him time to save himself.
Suspecting that it was Blazing Arrow who was near, Wharton retreated
farther into the wood. In making the movement he used all the caution he
could, and believed that no one had overheard him. What followed looked
as though he was right in the conclusion, for the Indian, without moving
from his tracks, signalled again, making the same mistake as before by
repeating it, in his effort to repress his impatience at the delay in
the response.
"I don't think I'll be in a hurry to open a conversation with you,"
thought Wharton; "I'm looking for somebody else."
He was still in a dangerous situation, however, and continued edging
away from the locality where he had come so near falling a victim to the
resentment of the warrior, who was among the most cunning of his tribe.
Wharton's heart sank when, despite the extreme care he used, he caught
his foot in a running vine and narrowly escaped falling. He instantly
straightened up and waited for the attack that he was sure was coming;
but, as the minutes passed, he concluded the Indian was already so far
off that the slight rustling did not reach him. It was probable that
the Shawanoe, in trying to outwit the youth, had moved away from him,
and the two were now separated by a considerable space.
How was it that this Indian was in possession of the signal which the
two youths used when in danger?
In the case of Wharton, however, there was little of the anxiety of his
friend. The latter heard the call before emitting it himself, so that it
was impossible that Blazing Arrow should have got it from him; and,
since Wharton Edwards was the only other person that possessed it, the
misgiving of the Irish lad was warranted.
But with Wharton the case was different. Blazing Arrow's signal
succeeded his, and, therefore, was but a clever imitation.
"It may be that he got it from Larry," reflected our young friend, "but
the chances are against it. Where can the fellow be?"
It was an exasperating reflection that for hours the work had been of a
blind nature, as may be said. The youths had been separated, there had
been a fierce race, fighting, and running back and forth, and all
manner of incidents, and yet matters stood as at the beginning.
While this was a cause for gratification in one respect, inasmuch as the
two were still safe from the most dreaded tribe of Indians in the West,
the disheartening fact was that the boys were just where they were when
the danger broke upon them. They had not advanced a rod along the trail
to the block-house, where Wharton's parents would probably arrive that
evening. The prospect was poor for the boys appearing until long after
the hour they were expected.
"We ought to have had an understanding before we separated; but then,"
added Wharton disgustedly, "I don't see how we could, or what good it
would have done. Larry wouldn't leave as long as he thought I was in
trouble, and I'm sure I wouldn't desert him. I wonder now----"
A new thought had come into his mind--that of withdrawing from the
neighborhood, making all haste to the block-house, and bringing back
aid. There was always a number of the most skilled rangers of the
frontier at this post, and they were ever ready to respond to any call
for help. Probably Daniel Boone or the great Simon Kenton was at hand,
with unerring rifle and marvellous woodcraft.
Wharton could reach the block-house before daylight, and be back while
the day was yet young, with his new friends. Learned in the ways of the
woods and the red men, they would quickly become the hunters instead of
the hunted, and teach the marauders a lesson to be remembered forever.
Had the question presented itself as it did after his vanquishment of
Blazing Arrow, the youth would have continued his flight along the
trail, and been back with his friends before or by the time the sun was
on the horizon. As it was, he debated the question a long time, and then
decided not to continue the journey until he gained some definite
knowledge of Larry; his own movements depended upon that. If the other
had fallen, then Wharton should not lose a moment hurrying away from the
accursed neighborhood. If his comrade was a prisoner of the Shawanoes,
he must be equally prompt in securing assistance, since he unaided could
do no good; but if the other was still his own master, then both would
give an exhibition of rapid travelling toward the block-house.
"No," said young Edwards, resolutely, "I don't go till I learn something
about Larry. I'll do just as he would do if in my place."
And he might have added, truthfully, "and just what he is doing at this
moment."
Manifestly there was but one way to learn the truth, and that was by
investigating, and the only way to investigate was to keep moving, which
he did.
The night was so far along that the Shawanoes were quite certain to have
kindled a camp-fire somewhere in the woods. This was their custom, and
it was this beacon light, as it may be called, for which young Edwards
now began hunting.
CHAPTER XIV.
LOOKING ON.
Wharton Edwards was not long finding that for which he was seeking.
While feeling his way among the trees, with all his senses on the alert,
a point of light suddenly flashed out in the gloom. It was directly
ahead, and he had but to penetrate a short distance farther, when he
came in sight of the camp-fire of the Shawanoes.
He approached with great care, and halted at what he deemed a safe
distance to study the characteristic scene before him.
Careful counting, repeated several times, showed eleven Indian warriors
gathered together about a mass of burning wood, which was kindled in a
small open space. Upon a fallen tree were seated four of them, while the
rest were lolling on the ground in lazy attitudes. Two seemed to be
examining the locks of their guns, and nearly all were smoking.
There were no signs of any food, but the lusty youth felt so hungry that
he was sure they must have had something to eat before he came upon
them. Game was so abundant in the country that it was unreasonable to
suppose any one would go hungry unless he happened to be in a situation
similar to that of the youth himself.
One fact gave Wharton a thrill of gratitude and hope; Larry was not with
the group of Indians, and, therefore, could not be a prisoner.
Young Edwards had been under the impression that there were about a
score of Shawanoes with which he and Larry Murphy had collided, but
counting those that had fallen by the way, there were less.
The absence of the youth from the camp could not be a guarantee of his
weal, for he might have been stricken down in the woods, but the sign
had been so favorable that Wharton felt more hopeful than at any time
since their separation.
He was quick, however, to notice a significant fact: Blazing Arrow was
also absent.
"I would give anything to know where he is and what he is doing,"
thought the youth. "It may be that he is leaning against the tree and
still studying over the yarn that is to prevent the rest knowing I
outran him, but it is more likely he is prowling through the woods after
Larry and me."
The answer to this conjecture came suddenly and startlingly. Wharton,
not forgetting his caution, kept well back in the gloom, with his body
screened behind the trunk of a tree. He was attentively watching the
group around the camp-fire, when something moved between him and the
light, partly eclipsing it.
A second look showed the form of the twelfth Shawanoe, walking silently
toward the blaze; and, as he joined the others, and stood so the
firelight revealed his features, Wharton Edwards recognized him as
Blazing Arrow.
"He has struck it," muttered the youth. "He has got the yarn in shape at
last. I wish I could hear it, and find what sort of a fancy he has."
The great runner was without any gun, and it was evident that he must
have wrenched his inventive powers to straighten out matters so as to
retain his prestige among these warlike people. His position as a great
warrior and the real leader of the party could not fail to help in the
test to which he was subjected.
The arrival of the dusky desperado caused a sensation. Every face was
turned, and those who were seated on the tree rose to greet him. The
silence in the wood allowed Wharton to hear their gruff, jerky
sentences, but since he did not understand a word of Shawanoe, his ears
were of no service.
One of the warriors extended a rifle to Blazing Arrow, who waved it back
until he, standing in the middle of the group, gave his account of
matters.
Some years later the settlers learned the particulars of this amazing
narrative. The great runner said he allowed the youth to draw away from
him for a time in order to put forth his best efforts. When this had
taken them to the natural clearing, with which all were familiar, he
started to run him down, and would have done so before the open space
was half crossed but for the sudden appearance of five or six white men
coming from the other direction.
Of course the new comers were fully armed, but, nothing daunted, the
valiant Shawanoe assailed them. He brought down two, and would have had
the others at his mercy had not a shot broken the lock of his gun. He
then threw away the useless weapon, uttered a defiant whoop, and strode
back toward his own party, whither the whites did not dare follow him.
It was one of the listeners to this stupendous statement who told it to
the pioneers. When asked whether he and the others believed it, a
shadowy smile lit up the dusky face, and he quaintly replied that they
tried to do so.
Having rendered his account, Blazing Arrow and several of his comrades
seated themselves on the fallen tree and engaged in an animated talk,
which lasted for a quarter of an hour or more. The burden of it was
that one of the whites was still near them, and must not be permitted to
steal along the trail in the direction of the block-house, for if he
succeeded in reaching that point he would be safe against anything the
Shawanoes could do.
The dusky prevaricator was cunning enough not to claim that he had slain
Wharton Edwards, for the youth, being alive, was liable to turn up in a
way that would throw discredit on his veracity.
The lad, who was looking on, could only conjecture the meaning of what
passed before his eyes. When he saw a couple of warriors rise to their
feet and come toward him, he supposed it was to make hunt for him and
his friends. He was made to realize, too, the delicately dangerous
position in which he stood.
When the figures plainly outlined against the illumination of the
camp-fire started, he fervently wished himself elsewhere. He dared not
stir, for, as if fate were dallying with him, a lot of wood, thrown on
the blaze within a few minutes before, threw a circle of light to the
base of the tree from behind which he was cautiously peering. Had he
started to withdraw, the two Shawanoes would have been upon him in a
twinkling. He could only wait where he was, and hope they might pass by
without detecting his presence.
He hardly breathed as he heard the rustling of their moccasins on the
leaves, and pressed his upright figure against the bark as though he
would force himself into the very structure of the tree itself.
Fortunately the suspense quickly passed. If the couple were hunting for
him and his companion, they did not expect to find either so near
headquarters, and speedily vanished in the gloom beyond, stepping so
softly that their footfalls became inaudible.
This incident gave young Edwards a good scare. He felt that he had run
an unnecessary risk, and wasted time in staying so long after learning
that Larry was not with the main party of Indians. More of these were
likely to leave the camp, and the danger of his position must increase.
Without delay, therefore, he began his retrograde movement. This was
easy, and he soon placed himself where he could feel comparatively
safe.
His curiosity led him to pick his way back to the torrent that had been
the scene of so many moving incidents of the afternoon. He was somewhat
confused as to the points of the compass, but the faint roar was his
guide, and with little trouble he placed himself quite near the stream,
which coursed between the rocks with such impetuosity.
The youth was too prudent to advance into the moonlight, where the
prowlers were liable to see him, and so it happened that he approached
the rocks at a point that was new to him. To this fact was due a
surprise. He was just in time to see one Indian following the other
across the foot-bridge made by the prostrate tree.
"I never suspected that was there," he said to himself when he
comprehended its meaning; "I thought there was no means by which Larry
could make his way back to the trail without swimming below the falls or
fording some place farther up. I wonder whether he knows about that?"
The action of the Indians gave Wharton a suspicion of the truth. They
had crossed the torrent with the intention of hiding somewhere along the
path leading to the block-house, so as to cut off the flight of one or
both of the boys in that direction. This, seemingly, was an easy thing
to do, provided the fugitives were unsuspicious of what was going on.
Young Edwards saw no way of breaking through the maze of perplexity that
had closed around him. He had done his utmost without learning where his
friend was. More than that, although he was hopeful, he could feel no
certainty that he was really alive.
The occasion justified another appeal to the peculiar dove signal, and
he now made it.
CHAPTER XV.
A HAIL AND AN ANSWER.
Meanwhile Larry Murphy was not idle. He had never received a more
terrifying shock than that caused by the discovery that the signal which
he was confident was made by Wharton Edwards came from the lips of
Blazing Arrow.
On the first thought there was but one explanation of this: his friend
had called to him and had been overheard by the Shawanoe, who instantly
caught it up, well knowing its significance, and had deceived Wharton by
his clever imitation.
This supposition, as the reader knows, was correct; but when Larry went
further, and decided that his comrade had fallen a victim to the
treacherous red man, the reader also knows he made a mistake.
Firm in the terrible belief for the time, he was so overcome that he
sat down on a bowlder, too faint and weak to stand, until several
minutes had passed.
"This is a bad go, is this same," he mused with a deep sigh. "If the
Indians had to take one, why didn't they take mesilf? They're likely to
do the same--it's little I care if they do."
So extreme was his dejection, that had he known that a half dozen
Shawanoes were stealing upon him at that moment he would not have
stirred from his position or attempted to defend himself.
This intense depression, however, could not last. All strong, rugged
natures are quick to rebound from such pressure and soon reassert
themselves. By and by he felt a grain of hope. The rifle lying across
his knees was clasped more firmly; he raised his head and listened; had
he discovered the approach of a foe he would now have defended himself.
"I wish that Blazing Arrow would walk out in front of me and dare me to
tackle him," he muttered, gnashing his teeth. "I wonder where he is?"
He rose to his feet and peeped around in the gloom. A while before he
had shunned the chief, and counted himself fortunate because he was able
to escape a meeting. Now he would have felt doubly fortunate could he
have gained a chance to attack him.
When the Shawanoe was wanted he was somewhere else.
"I wonder," continued Larry, as hope grew stronger within him, "whether
Whart wasn't sharp enough to play the trick on Blazing Arrow that he did
on mesilf? He must have heard the call, to larn how to make the same;
but Whart may have give him the slip."
It was a faint hope, but it did the lad good. He had hunted so much in
the company of his friend that they had not only acquired a good deal of
woodcraft, but were familiar with each other's ways.
Larry recalled that he had heard no gun fired since the discharge of his
weapon. It was fair to believe, therefore, that whatever the fate of
young Edwards might be, he had not been shot. There were other methods
of putting him out of the way, but the belief to which his friend was
rapidly bringing himself was that the one for whom he was concerned was
a prisoner of the Shawanoes.
The way to find out was to discover the camp of the red men, which must
be pitched somewhere in the neighborhood. It will thus be seen that the
lads were reasoning along the same lines, to the same conclusion.
Larry had risen from the bowlder on which he had seated himself, and
decided to move farther back in the woods in search of the camp-fire
that he knew was burning there. In making the search he would have to go
it blind, since there was no means of finding guidance.
But, as in more than one previous instance, he fortunately discovered
that others were near him before he was observed. He stood motionless,
peering and listening under the trees, where the gloom was so intense
that he might have brushed by a man without either seeing the other.
They were there, however, and a moment later were seen more plainly in
the moonlight, across which they passed to reach the torrent whither
they were making their way.
Larry was surprised when he saw two Indians walking with their light,
noiseless tread over the rocks. He had supposed there was but a solitary
warrior.
"I'm hoping that one of them is Blazing Arrow," was his thought.
He was resentful to that degree toward this particular Shawanoe that,
despite the danger from his companion, he would have shot him down; and
there can be little question that in doing so he would have rendered a
service to humanity.
But he could not identify either of the red men in the moonlight, with
their faces turned away from him. He saw them walk to the edge of the
torrent, where the tree lay, and then one followed the other across.
"I'd like to know the meaning of that; they must be hunting for Whart or
mesilf. I'm pretty sure they won't find mesilf there, and I don't know
about Whart. If they haven't got him already, it may take more than them
to find him."
As yet he could not know whether the war party were on this or the other
side of the stream. It looked as if the couple were returning to camp.
If this was so, the youth must follow them to obtain the information he
wanted.
He had reached this conclusion and was about to venture out in the
moonlight, when he was thrilled by the sound of the signal which he
feared he was never to hear again.
He paused and listened, afraid to reply and yet on the point of doing
so.
At the proper interval the call was repeated, and then, so certain that
everything was right was he that, instead of making the proper answer,
he called in a guarded undertone:
"Is that yersilf, Whart?"
"It is," was the reply of the delighted friend, and the next minute they
were together.
It was a joyous reunion, even though the shadow of great danger rested
upon the two youths. Wharton Edwards and Larry Murphy had been
separated, seemingly, with slight prospect of ever seeing each other
again; they had gone through many perils during the preceding few
hours, and at the moment when despair had almost taken possession of
both, they clasped hands and stood side by side.
"Are ye sure it's yersilf, Whart?" asked the elder, squeezing the
fingers of his friend, who fully reciprocated the warmth of feeling.
"I'm as sure, Larry, as you are that it's you."
"Then we'll consider it settled; and how are ye?" he asked, shaking
again the hand which he had not yet released.
"I was never better, and thankful and happy to find you alive when I
feared it was all over with you."
"The same to yersilf; and have ye suffered no harrum?"
"None at all, though matters kept moving; I dodged up the trail, and the
only Shawanoe who followed me was Blazing Arrow."
"And did he catch ye?"
"Not that I am aware of. You remember the natural clearing, a little way
out toward the block-house?"
"That I do."
"Well, when I struck that, Blazing Arrow was not far behind me. He had
my gun and I hadn't any, so that all I could do was to run, and there he
and I had the race that we missed at the settlement."
"Tell me about it," eagerly asked Larry.
"There isn't much to tell, except that I did my best, and I suppose he
did the same, Larry; I beat him badly; I must have gained fifty yards on
him."
"And is that the honest truth now, Whart?"
"It is."
"Heaven bless ye!"
And the enthusiastic fellow struck his friend a resounding whack on the
shoulder.
"Sh!" warned Wharton, "we must talk low, for some of them may be near
us."
"Why didn't ye sind word to me, so that I could have stood by ye and
cheered ye on and watched the sight? Wouldn't it have been a treat!"
"I would have been proud if you and the rest of our friends could have
been there, for I did better than I thought I could."
The friends told the particulars of what had happened to each other
since their separation. Happy, indeed, were they in their reunion.
"Whart," said Larry a few minutes later, "I knowed there was something
I'd forgot."
"What's that?"
"I'm as hungry as I can be."
"So am I, and have been for hours; I wish there was some way of getting
supper, but I know of none. There is something else, however, that is
more important than supper."
"And what is that?"
"We must get away from here at once. We ought to have left long ago."
"I'm thinking ye're right, and I'm ready to do your bidding whenever you
are ready. I came near crossing over that tree a good while ago, and I'm
prepared to do it now if you say so."
"I'm not satisfied that that is the best course."
"Why not?"
"From what you have told me and what I have seen, the Shawanoes seem to
be using that to-night as a bridge. I don't know how many have come and
gone over it to-day. Suppose that a party of them made up their minds to
cross at the same time we do?"
"And that's what some of 'em did when I was about to try it; if me gun
hadn't wobbled behind me shoulder we'd have met on the log."
"The trees grow to the bank at each end of the log, so that if these two
hadn't slanted across that little, narrow space off there to the left,
we wouldn't have seen them until they stepped upon the foot-bridge. What
I mean to say, Larry, is this: we have had such good fortune that we
must not tempt Providence further by trying to cross here."
"How shall we manage it?"
"Go farther up the stream till we're well away from this place, where
the Indians seem to be so plentiful."
"And maybe there isn't such a spot."
"There must be; there are not enough of the Shawanoes to be everywhere."
"Not that, but a place where we can cross; ye must bear in mind that
it's not me that can jump like yersilf."
"There must be some spot where the banks come close together. A stream
generally grows narrower the nearer you approach the source."
"True, if it runs between the rocks all the way, as it does above the
falls."
There was logic in these words, and his friend could not deny it.
"I agree with you, Larry; but if the rocks disappear and the torrent
widens, then it must be so slow that we can either swim or wade it.
There isn't any chance of our reaching the block-house except by the
trail, and that is on the other side."
"But what about the two that wint across a little while ago?"
"We must look out for them, and for the others, too; we are not through
with them yet."
"I agree with ye now."
CHAPTER XVI.
THE DETOUR.
There could be no denying that extraordinary fortune had attended the
boys, but they were too prudent to count on a continuance of what might
be called the run of good luck, except by the utmost circumspection on
their part.
They were together once more, with their guns, ammunition and
accoutrements intact, and without either having suffered any harm.
Nothing would have been easier for them than to cross the ravine by the
fallen tree, which had answered for a foot-bridge more than once that
evening, and in doing so it was not probable that they would have run
greater risk than they had repeatedly incurred during the preceding few
hours; but the necessity for such risk did not exist, and consequently
they did not take it. Wharton suspected the truth. The Shawanoes,
knowing that the lads, or at least one of them, was in the vicinity,
were in ambush along the trail, with the expectation that they would
walk into the trap, which is exactly what they would have done had they
taken the path opposite to where they were standing while holding their
conversation.
The evident and simple course for them to follow was to make a detour,
by which they would return to the trail at a point beyond where the red
men were awaiting them.
This was more difficult than would be supposed, for the route to the
block-house was a winding one, and they were unacquainted with that
portion of the country through which they would have to make their way.
They might lose themselves altogether, though both were too good
woodsmen not to eventually reach their destination.
But having decided on what to do, they wasted no time. Their purpose was
to cross the stream above where they had met, and Wharton picked his way
steadily through the wood, with Larry at his heels. Conversation was
dangerous, and none for a time was had, since there was no call for it.
The roughness of the ground gave them trouble from the first. They were
forced to turn aside repeatedly and flank bowlders, rocks, and wild,
broken ravines, into which they would have fallen but for the alertness
of Wharton, who maintained his place a few paces in advance.
This course compelled them frequently to edge away from the stream,
which still swept between such a high wall of rocks that it was
impassable, but they never lost it altogether. By listening carefully
they could locate it, and at intervals they made their way to the
margin, to learn whether the spot for which they were looking was within
sight.
"Well, I declare!"
It was Wharton Edwards who uttered the exclamation, and his companion
pushed his way to his side to learn the cause of his excitement. As he
did so, he saw they were standing on the edge of a ravine which obtruded
itself at right angles to the course they were pursuing.
But for the fact that it contained no water, they would have believed
that it was the gorge through which ran the stream. But it was empty,
and in the shadows neither could see to the bottom of its gloomy depths.
The trees grew so near the margin that the opposite side was indistinct.
"I didn't expect to meet anything like this," added Wharton, with a sigh
of disappointment; "it means trouble."
"You can't tell till ye find out," was the somewhat superfluous remark
of Larry. "It may not run very far to the right or left, and we've had
so much experience in walking around things that this won't make much
difference one way or t'other."
"I'm afraid we'll get so mixed up that we won't be able to find our way
from it now."
"It may be a lucky thing--maybe the same."
"What do you mean?"
"Who can say where they are waiting for us? It may be five or ten miles
away, or it may be within sight of the block-house. We can get there
without setting foot in the trail agin."
"You may be partly right, Larry, though if we can strike the path five
miles away from the falls, I won't be afraid to keep it until we reach
the block-house. The risk beyond that isn't any greater than what we
have always had to run from the time we leave the settlement till we get
back again."
"It strikes me we are not gaining much time by standing here discussing
the question."
As Larry spoke he turned to the left and moved off.
"Hold on!" interrupted his companion; "that will take us farther away
than ever, and may lead us so far that we'll lose the stream
altogether."
By going to the right they approached the current that had to be passed
before they could recover the trail. Perhaps a passable spot was at
hand, and the means of crossing the smaller ravine was as likely to be
on one hand as the other.
With the same pains and labor as before they reached the stream, where
they found themselves confronted by a peculiar condition of affairs.
The banks were somewhat farther apart, but they remained perpendicular
rocks fully twenty feet in height, between which the torrent flowed so
impetuously that they would have been as helpless as a balloon in a gale
of wind. The crossing-place was still to be sought farther up the
stream.
But to reach it they must place themselves on the farther side of the
smaller ravine, which crossed their course at right angles. This opened
directly into the current, with whose surface it was nearly even. In
times of freshet or flood the dry ravine was probably a tributary
torrent of the other. At present it looked impassable, but after
studying it a few moments Wharton said:
"I believe, Larry, we can both jump that. What do you think?"
"I won't know for sartin till I try it; then I'll know, sure."
"So will we both; but the distance is less than where I made the leap."
"So it will have to be if it's mesilf that's to sail across."
The conformation of the dry ravine near the stream allowed them to see
the other side. Wharton measured the width with his eye, and then,
without a word, drew back a single step, and with little effort landed
lightly on the opposite side.
"What do you think of that, Larry?"
"It isn't much for yersilf, but I would be proud of the same."
"I'm sure there will be no trouble. There is room for you to get a
couple of yards start, and I wouldn't advise you to try it if I wasn't
sure you would succeed."
Young Murphy was plucky, but he surveyed the task before him with some
misgiving. With a depth of about twenty feet, and nothing but rock at
the bottom, a failure to land on the other side meant death or serious
injury.
He stood on the edge, and spent a minute or two peering down into the
gloomy depths. Then he looked across at his friend, who cheered him on.
"I'll thry it," he said, resolutely, and with a shake of his head.
"Fling over your gun to me; it will be easier for you to make the jump
without that than with it."
Larry tossed the rifle to his friend, who deftly caught the weapon.
Then, with the grim comicality of his nature, he threw his cap after it.
"If I do make a tumble of it, I should like ye to preserve that as a
token of remembrance."
He now braced himself for the effort. With all his strength, he could
not compare with his friend in speed and rapidity. The leap, however,
was only a moderate one, and Wharton was confident he would make it if
no mishap intervened.
And, beyond question, he would have done so had no interference taken
place. He carefully backed a rod or so from the edge of the dry ravine.
Everything was going on well, but almost on the edge he stepped on a
small pebble, unnoticed by the eye. The effect was slight, and a
spectator would hardly have seen it, but, all the same, it was just
enough to disarrange his stride, so that when the leap, which he was
forced to make, took place, it was faulty. He lost the impetus that
otherwise would have landed him on his feet on the other side with
hardly a jar to his body.
"I can't do it! I can't do it, Whart!" called the leaper at the moment
of bounding into the air, for he could not fail to know that he was
about to fall short.
The waiting friend said nothing, but braced himself for the shock, for
he, too, knew what was coming.
Larry barely missed landing, but his hands were thrown forward where his
feet should have struck, and had he received no help he would have gone
backward and down the ravine.
But it was for this that Wharton Edwards had prepared himself. Each hand
of Larry was grasped by his own, and he almost lay on his back as he
tugged to draw him out of the gorge and up on the solid support above.
Had not Wharton dug his heels into a projection, he would have had to
let go or be drawn downward with his friend, who could not help drawing
tremendously on him. Larry, however, gave great aid by throwing one
foot on top of the rock, and using that limb as a lever with which to
lift his body the rest of the short distance. This so lessened the task
that the next minute the danger was over, and the two stood beside each
other.
CHAPTER XVII.
BY THE LAKE.
The place for which the two were searching was found within a furlong of
where Larry Murphy, with the assistance of his companion, leaped the day
before. But how different from that which they had in mind! Instead of a
simple widening and shallowing of the stream, it expanded into a small
lake several miles long, with a width one-third or one-half as great.
The sheet of water discharged itself through the narrow, canyon-like
passage, eventually finding its way into the Ohio. The placid surface
gleamed in the moonlight, and was without a ripple. The shores were
shaded by overhanging limbs, and the scene was as lonely, as beautiful
and impressive as at creation's morn. The only sign of life was
themselves.
"Now," said young Edwards, after he and his friend had gazed upon the
water for some minutes in silence, "it looks as if the only way to get
back to the trail is to go round the lake."
"But that may reach a dozen miles or farther yet, and by the time we
have come round the same we'll be forty miles from the block-house, and
not knowing which way to turn to find it. Ye're aware, Whart, how hard
it is to keep our bearings whin we're in the woods without knowing the
course to take to git anywhere. We'll be sure to go astray, and may pass
within fifty yards of the block-house without knowing the same."
"You mustn't forget that the trail which we have been following is not
the only one that leads to the place. They extend out in all directions,
and we'll strike some of them."
"How can we know which course to take? The bother of it is, one may go
farther away from it all the time."
"It isn't as bad as that, but," added Wharton, gravely, "the night is
getting far along, and we must be several miles from the path, unless it
happens to bend around toward the lake. We can't get back to it before
daylight, if we do then. What I am afraid of is that father and mother
won't wait at the block-house for us, but run right into the very danger
we have just escaped."
"Do ye mind now that they won't start before morning, and they can't
reach the falls till about noon?"
"That all sounds reasonable enough," replied Wharton, who was
considerably agitated, "but how do we know we're going back to the trail
inside of the next two or three days?"
Larry looked at his companion in surprise. The two were standing where
the moonlight fell upon them, and their countenances were plainly
visible to each other. It had been the Irish youth that, previous to
this time, had expressed the most misgiving as to the result, but the
other seemed to become, all at once, the most despondent.
The fact was that Wharton was quite buoyant in spirits until they came
to the lake. He had been hoping that long before this they would be able
to turn back toward the trail, and the prospect of several miles'
farther detour naturally caused his discouragement.
Those were not the days when young men carried watches, but they knew it
was beyond midnight. They were ravenously hungry and were fagged out.
They had been undergoing severe exertion for many hours, and Wharton
especially had been forced to tax his endurance to the utmost extremity
during that fearful race with Blazing Arrow.
"Larry," said he, taking a seat on a bowlder just without the fringe of
shadow cast by the trees, "I don't know whether the best thing we can do
isn't to sleep for the rest of the night. I was never so tired in all my
life."
"There is only one thing I want more than sleep."
"What's that?"
"Something to eat."
"And with the woods full of it we haven't a chance to get a mouthful."
"And with the lake there running over with--hould!" exclaimed Larry,
pausing in the act of seating himself by his companion; "help me to
start a fire, Whart."
"I don't know about that," replied the other; "the Shawanoes are likely
to be in these parts, and we must build it back among the trees, where
there is less danger."
"That's just what we mustn't do, me boy; it must be near the water; it's
mesilf that will gather the stuff, and do ye be ready with the flint and
steel."
Wharton, understanding the plan of his friend, lent his aid. It was an
easy matter to collect some dry twigs and leaves, which were carefully
placed in a heap on one of the flat rocks close to the water's edge.
Then, while Larry busied himself in gathering more substantial fuel,
young Edwards brought his old-fashioned flint and steel into play. He
used no tinder, but there was a shower of streaming sparks soon flying
from the swiftly moving metals, and before long one of them caught a
crisp leaf, which was easily nursed into a flame that ate its way fast
into the twigs and larger sticks. In less time than would be supposed, a
vigorous fire was burning on the rock and sending its reflection far
across the gleaming water.
Then Larry had not long to wait. Stooping by the edge of the lake, he
bared his arm and leaned forward, as alert as a cat watching for a
mouse. Suddenly his hand shot below the surface, there was a splash, and
a plump fish flew out beyond the expectant Wharton. He had his hand in a
twinkling on the flapping prize that gleamed in the firelight.
"Cook him quick, Whart!" cried the delighted Larry; "there's no need to
wait till I git more; that's only a starter."
Each did his duty, the elder stopping work when he had landed a couple
more, one of which weighed fully two pounds. By that time the younger of
the two was broiling the first in the hot flames, the appetizing odor of
which made the couple almost irrestrainable. Larry wanted to attack it
before it was finished, but Wharton insisted that the meal should be in
the best style of the art. They carried no condiment with them except
that which excels others--hunger.
It was a most nourishing and toothsome repast that they made. Nothing,
indeed, could have been more enjoyable. The lake was overflowing with
edible fish, for probably no white men had ever drawn one from the
waters, and if the Indians took any they were few in number. The light
of the fire attracted many to the spot.
"Now that we've had such a good supper," said Wharton, "I think it's
best to let the fire go out."
"I'll hurry the same."
Larry scattered the embers with his shoes, so that in a few minutes
little was left of them. Then he seated himself beside his friend, and
was on the point of making some characteristic remark when Wharton
excitedly grasped his arm and whispered:
"Hark! do you hear that? What does it mean?"
"It's a ghost!" replied the awed Larry; "let's be getting out of this as
fast as we can!"
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE STRANGE SIGHT.
From somewhere in the gloomy solitude came a low quavering monotone that
had a most uncanny sound in the weird midnight. The youths never before
had heard anything of the kind, and the bravest men would have been
impressed by it.
Larry, in his fright, sprang to his feet, and would have fled deeper
into the woods, but his companion caught his arm and whispered:
"Wait; let's find out what it is."
"Havn't I told ye!" demanded the other with husky impatience; "it's a
ghost--it's a hobgoblin."
"But hold on, I say; keep still."
They made sure that they were well protected by shadow, while they
waited for a solution of the extraordinary occurrence.
The monotone chant resembled the lower notes of an organ played softly,
and with a rise and fall of no more than two or three notes. It was a
wild song, which came from some point not far away, though neither could
say precisely where. At times it seemed to be overhead, and Wharton
caught himself looking into the sky and among the tree-tops for a
solution of the mystery. It had a way of ceasing at the end of a minute
or two for several seconds, and then was resumed with the same unvarying
monotone.
"It's coming this way!" whispered Larry, gripping the shoulder of his
companion and attempting to rise again; but Wharton forced him back,
though he felt very much like plunging in among the trees himself.
"If it's a ghost he can't hurt us."
"How do you know he can't? I tell ye he's coming this way!"
"What makes you say that?"
"Because I see him; look beyant, right across the lake--don't ye obsarve
him?"
Until that moment Wharton had no thought that his friend saw
anything--but he did. Directly across from where they were seated, and
under the shadow of the opposite bank, where the waters narrowed
preparatory to entering the gorge, so that the distance was barely a
hundred yards, appeared a point of light. It looked like a star gliding
along the shore and keeping in the shadow, so that the fiery glow was
all that was visible to the eye.
This of itself was not the form which ghosts are supposed to take, but
it was in keeping with the dismal monotone, which sent a cold shiver
down their backs. Wharton was more than ever inclined to run, but with a
courage that was rather unusual he resolutely held his ground, and
forced his companion to do the same.
"I'm going to find out what it is," he said in a guarded undertone,
"before I leave this spot."
"All right; when the spook jumps on us and we are dead ye'll learn how
much more I know than yersilf."
"Sh!"
Something was seen to be issuing from the wall of shadow. The point of
light was a part of the object which was moving slowly, while the
strange sound continued. The boys were straining their eyes to learn
what it was, when, at the same moment, they recognized it as the prow of
a canoe, which was leaving the bank of shade and coming out upon the
moonlit surface of the lake.
Neither spoke, and the next moment the whole boat became visible. In the
bow burned a torch, and well back toward the stern sat an Indian. He
faced the boys, and as he swung his paddle, first on one side and then
on the other, he emitted the strange chanting sounds that had so
startled the lads when first heard by them.
The proceeding was so unusual that Wharton knew that it was produced by
some extraordinary cause. It suggested that the red man was mourning for
some of his friends who had perished and been buried in the lake. The
youths had never heard an Indian "death song," and they knew, when a
warrior chanted it, it was generally when his own death was at hand; but
it would have been nothing remarkable had this Shawanoe sung it for
another.
But amid their affright one startling truth impressed itself upon the
awed spectators: the strange Indian, in heading across the narrow space
of water, was placing himself in the control of the torrent which rushed
between the rocks with prodigious impetuosity. In fact, it looked as if
it was his intention to shoot the rapids despite the peril involved.
"That ghost is going straight for the falls," said Larry, "and whin he
reaches them he'll glide over the same without wetting a hair of his
head."
But now took place a thing worth travelling many a mile to see. Never
did the youths witness such marvellous skill in managing a canoe as this
strange Indian displayed. Combined with that was a strength and
quickness no less wonderful.
The frail boat was already moving with the sweep of waters which only a
few rods away shot between the rocks, when the slowly swaying paddle was
dipped deep into the water, and changed from side to side in bewildering
rapidity. The sensitive craft responded so promptly that the prow turned
outward again, and headed toward a point considerably above the
spectators.
It was amazing work, but neither of the spectators believed he could
succeed until he did so. It was like a man paddling from the centre of a
vast whirlpool. That which seemed impossible was accomplished before the
struggle seemed fairly begun.
From the mouth of the canyon itself the warrior forced his canoe, until
the youths saw that the danger was passed and he was gaining on the
tremendous torrent. Having crossed the middle portion, he now headed
toward the other extremity of the lake, and thus fought his way directly
against the swift current.
Had this task been given to either Wharton or Larry, they could not have
succeeded, even with the most desperate exertion; but to the warrior it
seemed only a pastime. With hardly half the exertion he had put forth a
few minutes before, he moved against the rush with an even certainty
that ended all thought of danger.
"It beats all!" whispered Larry, amazed and delighted by the
exhibition. "I never observed the like. Do you think he would take it
kindly if I threw my cap in the air and gave him a hurrah?"
"I don't think he would be offended, but it is better to go down and
shake him by the hand."
No earthly inducement could have led Larry to do this, and Wharton knew
that if he indulged in a hurrah he would instantly take to the woods. He
hadn't the remotest idea of doing either.
"Whist! do ye note what the spook is at?"
The other did observe that the prow of the canoe was turned sharply to
the left, and the question was hardly uttered when it touched the shore
almost at their feet.
CHAPTER XIX.
ZANY OR LUNATIC.
In no respect did the Indian display his matchless coolness more
strikingly than when, amid the terrific exertion he was compelled to put
forth, he never ceased his doleful singing, if such it may be called. It
continued, indeed, while he was paddling directly against the current,
until, when one of his strains was half complete, it ceased abruptly, as
if cut in two.
At the same moment the prow of the craft was turned to the left, and,
shooting across the brief space, slid a few inches up the sloping beach.
It was evident that his keen eye had detected the recent presence of
persons there, and with far less fear of them than they had of him he
proceeded straightway to investigate matters.
By this time the boys were less inclined to run. The spiritual edge, so
to speak, had worn off, and they saw that it was a material creature
before them--a genuine red man, with some of whom they had had
experience, especially during the preceding hours. They had become
accustomed to that business, and could view it with comparative
calmness, inasmuch as each held a loaded rifle in his hand.
Wharton gently touched the shoulder of his companion as an appeal to him
not to speak or make any sound. The two rose noiselessly to their feet
and watched the strange being's actions.
The prow of the canoe having been forced far enough up the stony slope
to hold it motionless, the Indian laid down his paddle, leaned forward,
took the torch in hand, and then stepped from the boat. The torch was a
piece of resinous pine, whose top leaned so far over the gunwale that
there was no danger from the smoking flame. With this in his left hand
he looked down at the embers of the late fire, some of them still giving
forth a faint blue smoke, and he saw the few remaining fragments of the
meal.
With much deliberation he gazed out over the moonlit lake, gradually
coming back to such a position that when he peered into the gloomy depth
of the woods his eyes seemed to be centred on the spot where the two
boys looked silently and wonderingly at him in turn.
The strange being had no gun, but a knife and tomahawk protruded from
the belt around his waist. He was dressed similarly to the Shawanoes
whom they had encountered so recently, and there could be little doubt
that he belonged to their tribe.
No figure could be more picturesque than that formed by this creature
when he raised the flaming torch aloft, bent his head down and craned it
forward, while his black eyes seemed to pierce the impenetrable gloom
from whence the boys silently watched him.
His face was smeared in the truly frightful manner of his people, and
his countenance and features were so irregular that he was forbidding to
the last degree. He stood with one foot advanced, his attitude
suggesting that of a man pausing on the edge of a ravine and peering
across before venturing to leap.
He maintained this attitude for several minutes, as motionless as those
toward whom he was staring. It seemed to Wharton that his flaming black
eyes could look through solid wall or rock, and the youth held his gun
ready to meet any sudden rush from him.
But he did not advance. Suddenly he resumed his weird chanting, and then
began a fantastic dancing back and forth over the rock, keeping rude
time by swaying the torch and the free arm. The exhibition was so
grotesque that the spectators surmised the truth.
The explanation of it was that the Shawanoe was a zany or lunatic. The
latter is as rare with the American race as it was with the African in
the South before the war, but on no other theory could the course of the
Indian be explained.
Neither Wharton nor Larry held a thought of harming him. Had he been
Blazing Arrow himself they would not have done so, except in
self-defence. Believing him harmless, they would have been glad to act
the part of a friend toward him.
Instead of seeking out those who had started the fire, the warrior
returned to his canoe, carefully adjusted the torch in its place, shoved
the boat clear, leaped into it, caught up his paddle, and sent his craft
spinning along the left bank, seemingly with the speed of a swallow on
the wing.
"He's not a ghost," exclaimed Larry, "but he's crazy clear through.
Where has he gone?"
The two stepped to the edge of the water and looked in the direction
where the boat had disappeared. A short distance away the shore made a
curve, and it was this, evidently, which shut the Indian and canoe from
sight. It would have taken rapid motions, but the paddler had proved his
expertness in that.
The occurrence caused the boys to forget their drowsy, tired feeling.
They became as alert and wide awake as during the day.
"Larry, let's push on and around the lake. I'm worried now about father
and mother, and it won't do to lose more time."
"I'm as willing as yersilf."
The rocky shore made travelling easy, and they walked with greater
freedom than at any time since leaving the vicinity of the falls. The
younger kept his place a few paces in advance, and had not gone far when
he stopped again with the exclamation:
"Here's the crazy man again!"
He was not exactly right, for instead of the Indian he saw the canoe
drawn up against the rocky shore, as in the previous instance. The
paddle was there, but the Indian and torch were missing.
"I wonder what that means?"
"Maybe he has grown tired and gone ashore to rest awhile."
It did not seem likely that the fellow was far away, and they looked
curiously in every direction. He had not resumed his chanting after
leaving the scene of the boys' camp, and he was nowhere in sight.
There is no telling what fancy may enter the head of a lunatic, and,
much as the couple would have disliked to harm him, they were always
ready to defend themselves.
Doubtless it was the sight of the fire by which Wharton cooked the fish
that led the Shawanoe to paddle his craft across the lake. It is not
likely that the whole performance was meant to frighten away the
intruders.
"I don't think we have anything to fear from him," remarked Wharton,
after they had waited several minutes; "we may as well use our time in
pushing on."
"It's a long thramp we have before us."
The two looked up the lake toward the end where the wild waters rushed
through the gorge. The outlook was discouraging, for, light as was the
moonlight, they could see nothing of the dark line of forest which must
have marked the uttermost boundary.
Wharton drew a deep sigh.
"I'm tempted to turn back; we can follow the stream and find the trail
again, while now there's no telling where we may bring up."
"I've a better idea," said Larry, with a chuckle.
"What's that?"
By way of answer he pointed to the canoe, whispering:
"The paddle is there."
"We'll do it; it will save us a good deal of hard work, and perhaps
prevent our going astray. But the owner will be likely to object."
"How can he help himself?"
"All right; in with you; there's no saying when he'll be back again."
Larry Murphy was as deft in handling the paddle as his companion, and at
the same moment shoved the prow clear and leaped in. He made a couple of
sweeps with the implement, which sent the boat far out over the gleaming
surface.
It was well that they were so prompt in their movements, for the next
minute the red man burst from the woods, and came rushing and chattering
toward them as if he intended to overhaul them by swimming. His words
were unintelligible, being in his native tongue, but there was no
mistaking his wrath.
"I belave the gintleman is excited," remarked Larry, swinging the paddle
more leisurely.
"It looks that way----"
"Sh! mind your eye!"
Something whizzed by the head of Wharton and splashed in the water
beyond. It almost grazed his cheek, and seemed to be like a cannon ball.
For all purposes it might have been considered such, for had it struck
the youth, the result would have been fatal.
The crazy Indian had hurled a large stone with prodigious force and
accuracy. Little need, it would seem, of such a thrower carrying a
firearm.
As Wharton turned his affrighted gaze around he saw the fellow about to
hurl another.
"Gracious! he will kill us," exclaimed the youth, bending his head
forward to dodge the terrible missile.
"No, he won't, ayther."
As Larry spoke he dropped his paddle, caught up his rifle, and, pointing
toward the red man, fired.
CHAPTER XX.
ACROSS THE GORGE.
"Heavens, Larry, you have killed him!" was the horrified exclamation of
Wharton Edwards.
"Be easy now," coolly replied his companion, putting down the weapon and
resuming the paddle; "he isn't hurt."
"Didn't you aim at him?" asked his friend, who, looking back, saw no
signs of injury on the part of the Shawanoe.
"Not so loud," whispered Larry; "he might hear you."
The youth drove the canoe farther out into the lake, but all the time he
kept his head turned so as to see every movement of the Indian.
Larry had not aimed at him; nothing in the world would have induced him
to shoot the poor, demented creature; but he meant to give him a good
scare, and he succeeded.
Instead of throwing the stone in his hand he dropped it at his feet,
whirled about, and ran for the trees. As he did so he dodged from side
to side like a Digger Indian when trying to distract the aim of his
enemy.
"That's better than killing him," commented Wharton, with a sigh; "he
thinks you intended that shot for him, and he doesn't mean to give us a
second chance."
"But he is taking a second one himself. Look out!"
Wharton saw a shadowy something sailing through the air overhead. It
struck in the water several yards beyond the canoe with a "chung," but
had gone wide of the mark. From the fringe of shadow the Shawanoe had
hurled another missile, but he had thrown it with such vicious
fierceness that it missed the target altogether.
Before he could repeat the attempt with more care, Larry impelled the
boat beyond his reach, and that particular danger for the time was past.
"I wonder if he can throw across the lake?" muttered Larry; "keep a
sharp eye on him, for he may begin a bombardment bimeby that will lay
us out."
"We are surely too far off," replied Wharton, surveying the long space
over which they had passed.
Nevertheless, they kept a close watch for some demonstration, which,
however, did not take place.
The lake where the canoe now crossed was no more than a furlong in
width, and Larry veered as near to the beginning of the gorge as was
safe, for by so doing he effected considerable gain.
In his eagerness to accomplish this he narrowly missed a fatal blunder.
Ere he was aware, he found himself sweeping toward the gorge which had
caused them so much trouble.
He did not approach nearly so close as the Indian, but only by the most
strenuous exertions was he able to save himself. When they reached the
shore at last he was exhausted.
They were secure, however, and inexpressibly relieved to find
themselves, after all their work and danger, on the other side of the
current which had been so long an impassable barrier in their path. They
had come a long way to do this, and more than once they asked themselves
whether it was not a mistake. But for their conviction that an ambush
had been laid along the trail, thus compelling a detour, the attempt
never would have been made.
It now remained for them to follow the gorge down in the direction of
the falls until they were as near the path as prudent, and then strike
out for the block-house, returning to the trail at a point beyond where
they believed the Shawanoes were awaiting them.
But they were fatigued at the time they halted for supper, and they had
not gone far when they found themselves so weary and sleepy that it was
hard to drag one foot after another. The ground was rougher than they
supposed, and would have taxed the strength of stronger persons than
they. They were in need of rest and must have it.
"It can't lack much of daylight," said Wharton, halting where the rocks
were bare and they were near the rushing torrent, "and we may as well
wait until then."
"We haven't gone far," remarked Larry, removing his cap and running his
fingers through his hair, "and we know that we're on the right course.
Do ye mind, too, that we can travel a good many miles atween this time
and sunrise?"
"All right; do you say keep on?"
"Of course."
"Come on, then."
Wharton wheeled about to continue their journey when his friend
interposed:
"Hold on; I forgot that I am so tired. I can't walk half a dozen steps
more to save me."
Wharton laughed, though he had resolved to keep it up until he dropped
from exhaustion.
They were satisfied with any resting-place. The sultry night rendered
unnecessary any protection, and the rocks themselves were as
comfortable, almost, as a downy couch. The protuberances, when their
caps were laid upon them, afforded excellent pillows, and five minutes
after stretching themselves out both were sound asleep.
The spot, which had been selected with little thought, was on the fringe
of the wood, which approached to within twenty feet of the river. The
rocks were rough and uneven, but it was easy to find places that suited
their forms. They lay down just within the shadow thrown out by the
trees, where they could not be seen by any one unless he stumbled over
them.
But for their extreme fatigue they would have adopted the ordinary
precaution of kindling a fire, or taking turns in mounting guard while
the other slept. Each, however, knew that he was incapable of remaining
awake, and the attempt was not made.
True, there was danger abroad, but, except in the case of wild animals,
it was as great with as without the fire. It was likely, indeed, to be
greater.
This complete wearing out also of the bodies prevented either noticing
that the course of the moon would soon cause its light to fall upon
their faces, thus bringing them into plain view of any who might be
lurking in the neighborhood.
And it came about that less than an hour had gone by when the two were
discovered. The figure of an Indian appeared moving noiselessly along
the banks of the ravine, almost in their very footsteps. At every few
paces he paused and looked keenly about him, as if in quest of
something.
Suddenly the owner of the canoe, for it was he, halted. Could any one
have seen his face, he would have noticed the frightful expression of
exultation which passed over it, for he was searching for these two
youths and had found them.
CHAPTER XXI.
A STRANGE PURSUIT.
When Larry Murphy paddled the canoe beyond reach of the missile hurled
by the enraged owner of the craft, the boys were warranted in believing
that they were done with him. He was eliminated from the problem, so to
speak.
But the singular creature was not done with them. The discharge of the
gun startled him almost into spasms, and, as we have shown, he made
haste to bound in among the shadows of the trees; but the belief that
the youths were in the act of stealing his boat filled him with
consuming rage. He threw another stone with might and main, and, though
the feat was an astonishing one, he saw that it accomplished nothing.
He watched the canoe until it vanished under the shadow of the opposite
shore. He could not know the intentions of the thieves, but it did not
take him long to decide on his own.
Emerging from among the trees, where the rocks were bare, he started on
a run toward the opposite end of the lake. He was familiar with every
foot of the way, and the bank offered no obstruction. He bounded as
lightly as the chamois across chasms, and when they were too broad to be
leaped he skirted them without hesitation or fault, never losing a rod
of distance or a minute of time. He never walked for more than ten
paces, maintaining his gait with a uniformity that no one else could
have equalled.
He had a goodly number of miles to travel, for he was obliged to round
almost the entire circumference of the lake. He might have cut off a
large part of the distance by swimming across the water, and undoubtedly
he would have done so had not an important errand drawn him to the
extreme end.
The lake was fed by a narrow, deep stream, across which he sprang with
the ease of Wharton Edwards when leaping the gorge. A brief way farther
and he paused in front of a small structure among the rocks. It was
composed of limbs, bowlders, sticks, and the skins of animals, barely
large enough to give him room to lie down and move around.
This was the home of the strange creature, and was never entered by any
other person. Stooping down, he passed within. No light burned, nor did
he need any. A few minutes later he emerged, carrying a long bow in his
hand and a quiver of arrows behind one shoulder suspended by a thong
which passed under one armpit. These implements constituted his only
weapons, besides the knife and tomahawk, he never making use of any
firearms.
In the moonlight and shadows it was impossible for him to follow the
trail of the youths, which would have been almost invisible under the
glare of the sun; but the Indian seemed to be guided by intuition,
which, in the mentally affected, often approaches inspiration. In what
way he was able to convince himself that the young white men meant to
pass down the other side of the canyon cannot be conjectured, but that
such was his conviction was proven by his whole course of action.
The distance which the Shawanoe was obliged to journey consumed several
hours despite the speed he used, and nearly all of this time was spent
by Wharton Edwards and Larry Murphy in deep, refreshing sleep.
When the Indian approached the spot where the canoe had been abandoned
by the youths his gait became a walk, and he peered cautiously about
him. He uttered a low cry of exultation on observing the graceful
birchen structure, and began a hasty examination. The paddle lay in the
bottom of the boat, which showed no signs of injury. It might be
supposed that this gratifying discovery would have taken the edge off
the Indian's enmity, but he showed no signs of such feeling; if
possible, his anger became fiercer. He leaped away with a speed which
prevented any attempt to follow the trail, but he was proceeding on
general principles, it may be said.
It will be remembered that travelling was more difficult on the side of
the lake. Even such an expert as the Indian was forced to change his
gait from a trot to a walk. Sometimes he was in shadow and sometimes in
the moonlight. At intervals he paused, and bent over as if examining the
flinty surface for signs of footsteps of the youths. It is incredible
that he could have discovered any under the circumstances, and yet he
acted as if he did.
By and by he approached the spot where those for whom he was searching
lay asleep. He passed a short distance beyond, but something displeased
him. He stopped abruptly, looked down at the grass, and then came back
over his own trail.
While he stood peering into the surrounding gloom he saw the inanimate
forms.
In his delight the man repeated the dance he had given on the shore of
the lake. He leaped up and down, keeping time to the swaying of the
long, ashen bow grasped in his left hand, and passed back and forth over
a space of a dozen square feet.
He continually glanced at the youths, who were unconscious of their
danger, and held himself ready to open hostilities at the moment they
showed signs of awaking. Strange that neither Wharton nor Larry thought
of such a peril as that which now impended.
The grotesque dance lasted but a few minutes. That manner of expressing
his exultation was soon satisfied, and he made ready for action.
Reaching over his left shoulder with his right hand, he drew a feathered
arrow from the quiver. A careful examination by moonlight satisfied him
that it was perfect and every way fitted for his purpose. He fitted the
notch in the deer-string of the bow, and then advanced stealthily until
within a few dozen yards of the sleepers, the implement so held all the
time that he could have launched the missile at a moment's warning.
The elder of the youths lay nearest, and he aimed at him. Little fear
that he could not drive the arrow deep into the chest of the sleeper,
after which he probably intended to serve Wharton in the same manner.
But with the whimsicality of an insane man he changed his mind,
evidently concluding that the tomahawk was the most fitting weapon to
be used in dispatching them. With the same deliberation shown from the
first, he relaxed the tension of the string and replaced the arrow in
the quiver. Then he turned about and silently deposited the bow on the
ground, so that it should not handicap him.
This was all that was necessary, and he drew his tomahawk and faced
about just in time to make an unexpected and startling discovery.
CHAPTER XXII.
ARQU-WAO.
An inexplainable instinct sometimes warns a person of the approach of
peril. The experience of most of us confirms this statement, and we are
tempted to suspect that it is another manifestation of that occult
"sixth sense" of which we have only a shadowy conception.
Wharton Edwards and Larry Murphy had been sleeping several hours, for it
will be remembered that they were exceedingly tired. Day was at hand,
and yet, in the usual order of things, they would have slumbered several
hours longer; but, at the same moment, the two became as wide awake as
they were when hurrying along the trail to the block-house.
This moment of awakening came when the Indian was in the act of laying
down his bow behind him. Larry, being nearer to the savage than
Wharton, took upon himself to act promptly.
In an instant he rose upon one knee and levelled his gun at the
astonished Shawanoe. In the act of doing so the youth recalled that he
had not reloaded it since firing the weapon while in the canoe. Nothing
in his manner, however, told the red man this interesting fact.
"Do the same as mesilf," whispered Larry to his companion, "for I forgot
to load my gun."
Wharton was quick to obey, and the Indian stood petrified, absolutely
unable to move hand or foot.
"I've got ye now, ye spalpeen!" said Larry, in a loud voice; "if ye stir
I'll shoot!"
To the amazement of the youth, the Indian replied in their own tongue:
"No shoot--no hurt Arqu-wao--me good Indian."
"Begorra, but ye're not acting like one," was the comment of Larry, who
now rose to his feet. "What were ye trying to do, anyway?"
Wharton imitated the action of his companion, and said, in an undertone:
"Don't hurt the poor fellow."
"That depinds on himsilf," was the resolute response. "I spared him
once, and he mustn't go to heaving any more rocks at us, for he's too
handy at the business."
The Indian, at the moment of turning around, had placed his hand on his
tomahawk, but snatched it away as though it had suddenly become red hot.
He was a picture of abject fear, and trembled in every limb. Had he
known enough to wheel about and run, he would have been safe, for
neither of the boys had the least desire to harm him. But, to use a
modern expression, they had the drop on him.
"Keep an eye on him," said Larry, "while I load my gun."
The Indian must have experienced peculiar emotions when he received the
proof that it was an empty weapon that had brought him to terms. Larry
proceeded to reload his rifle in a deliberate fashion, while Wharton
covered their prisoner with his own gun.
It was while this proceeding was under way that the couple noticed that
the sun was almost in the horizon. The long eventful night was ended,
and they were close upon more stirring events.
"He calls himself Arqu-wao," said Wharton. "I wonder what the name
means?"
"I'm thinking it means an Indian half-scared to death; but, Whart,
what'll we do wid him, now that we've got him?"
"That's what puzzles me. If we hadn't waked up just as we did we never
would have awaked at all, and if we let him go he'll probably sneak up
behind us and drive an arrow through each before we know our danger."
"Let's keep him a prisoner."
"How will we manage it?"
"I'll fix it."
Arqu-wao was still motionless, looking as if he expected to be punished
with death for his attempt upon the lives of the youths. As Larry spoke,
he strode toward him with a stern face and manner. The Indian instantly
began pleading in the most pitiful manner for his life. The youth was
tender-hearted, and said, kindly:
"Be good Indian and we won't hurt, but let me have the tomahawk."
The implement was meekly handed over.
"Now the knife."
That followed the other; and with all the gravity that Larry could
assume he shoved the handle of the first weapon between the waistband of
his trousers and shirt.
"Whart, you can take charge of that," he added, passing the knife to his
companion, who readily disposed of it about his person.
The most dangerous implement of all still remained in the hands of the
Shawanoe, and the captors were perplexed for the moment as to how it was
to be disposed of. It would have been easy to render it useless, and the
arrows might have been cast down the ravine, but they hesitated to take
that step.
The same thought was in the minds of the lads. Arqu-wao might be used as
a friend and an ally in the danger which still threatened, and, if so,
he would need some weapon to be of avail in emergencies.
Wharton now advanced and spoke:
"Arqu-wao, do you know where the block-house is?"
The expression of the Indian's face showed that he did not comprehend
the question.
"Big house--fort--place where white men are?"
"Yes--me know--me been dere," he replied, nodding his head vigorously.
"It's off yonder, isn't it?" inquired Wharton, pointing with his hand in
the supposed direction.
Arqu-wao shook his head.
"Not dere--off dere," he said, indicating a point of the compass fully
forty-five degrees removed from the first.
"I wonder if he's right?" said Wharton, doubtfully, turning toward his
companion.
"Yes, for he's so scared he's sure to play square for a time."
"Very well," said Wharton, looking toward the Indian. "Lead the way; if
you go wrong, we shoot, we kill."
"Arqu-wao go right--he go right--he good Shawanoe--broder of Blazing
Arrow."
The latter remark was startling to the boys, and they looked inquiringly
at each other, wondering what he could mean.
"Begorra, if he's a brother to him, it's a bad ricommindation to
himsilf," remarked Larry.
"He may be the flower of the flock, but we will keep sharp watch on
him."
The Indian, now that he understood that he had chance for his life, lost
most of the fear that had filled him from the moment he was arrested in
the very act of committing a crime.
He showed his knowledge of what was said to him by walking, not parallel
to the course of the torrent, which the boys had intended to take for
their guidance, but diverging at quite a sharp angle from it. Neither of
the youths could be satisfied whether this was favorable or not, but
there was logic in Larry's theory that their guide was so frightened
that he would act honestly, at least for a time.
If he was doing so, he was doing them a great favor, for, instead of
walking a number of miles down the gorge, and then returning over the
same route, this distance would be saved by "cutting across lots," with
the probability of eluding the hostile Shawanoes waiting in ambush.
Whether such was the fact or not must be left to future developments.
The sun was now fairly above the horizon, and the day promised to be as
clear and sunshiny as the preceding one. The hearty meal, eaten the
night before, and the rest, enabled the boys to continue their brisk
walk for hours without fatigue. They would have been glad to keep
straight on, if it were possible, until they reached the block-house.
When they leaped across a small brook of cold, sparkling water, Wharton
called the guide to wait for a minute. He was walking about a rod in
advance, glancing sharply to the right and left, and even among the
branches of the trees, as though he suspected danger lurking there. He
never once looked back while thus engaged until he heard the sharp
summons of Wharton. Then he stopped short and turned half way round, and
stood like a statue.
There was something suggestive in his attitude, for his right hand was
hidden from the sight of the boys. If he chose he could slide it up over
his breast, stealthily withdraw an arrow from the quiver, and fit it to
his bow-string without detection. The launching of the missile would be
done so quickly that no shot from either rifle could anticipate it. But
there were two boys, and this would frustrate any such purpose, unless
one should place himself at such disadvantage that he could not rise and
recover his gun before the firing of the second arrow.
"Keep an eye on him," whispered Wharton; "I don't like his actions."
CHAPTER XXIII.
A SERIOUS QUESTION.
Larry Murphy was in no mood for trifling. He had spared Arqu-wao twice,
and he did not mean to do it again.
He noticed his suspicious action, and raising the hammer of his rifle,
he held the weapon half lifted to his shoulder, while he kept his
threatening gaze fixed upon the guide, who was equally intent in
watching him.
The Irish youth understood what he must do in order to discharge the
arrow, and all he was waiting for was to detect the first preliminary
movement on the part of the singular being.
"Drink away, Whart," he replied; "he won't fool me."
With no fear, the younger lad knelt down and drank deep from the cool,
refreshing brook. Then he rose to his feet, replaced his cap, and picked
up his gun.
"I don't think he'll fool me either," he quietly remarked, imitating the
attitude of his companion.
"I believe he's up to some mischief," remarked Larry, who, nevertheless,
fully slaked his thirst before rising to his feet.
The few moments thus occupied were trying to Wharton Edwards, who was
suspicious of the Indian. He could not explain his peculiar position on
any theory other than that he was seeking a chance to use his bow
against them. He believed that if he once removed his gaze from the
Indian, that instant he would drive an arrow through his body, and then
launch another at Larry before he could rise or bring his gun to bear.
Needless to say, therefore, he closely watched the Shawanoe until Larry
stood at his side.
"Lead on," said Wharton, with a wave of his hand, "and don't walk quite
so fast."
"Me walk just so," replied Arqu-wao, accommodating his gait to that of
his captors.
"I don't know what to make of him," remarked Wharton, when the advance
was resumed. "I have half a mind to take his bow away from him."
"Ye haven't observed him doing anything wrong yet," was the response of
Larry.
"What of his manner just now?"
"It looked bad, but we ain't sartin that it meant anything at all."
"We would be more certain if he had no weapon."
"Hold on a bit; if we stop for dinner or anything else, we won't give
him a chance. I think, between ourselves, we can watch him so sharp that
he won't do any harrum."
Wharton consented to this arrangement, though he could not free himself
of a strong misgiving in doing so.
Arqu-wao continued his guidance as though no thought of anything but the
strictest loyalty to his captors had ever entered his brain, all awry
with its unimaginable fancies.
Perhaps there had not. The truth must become known before the set of
sun.
At intervals the guide turned his head far enough to glance back, but
this was so evidently for the purpose of learning whether his pace was
satisfactory that no suspicion was excited. His conduct could not have
been more satisfactory, so far as appearances went.
The party were abroad in the woods, and the youths had only a very
general idea of where they were. They had made many windings and
turnings, and at last had forsaken the only reliable guide--the
gorge--by which to find their way back to the trail.
This, as we have shown, was a matter of no moment, provided the Shawanoe
was not meditating treachery against them; but how easy for him, if he
chose, to lead them into a trap.
"Halloo, what's up now?" asked Wharton.
"Hold your gun ready!"
The Indian had come to a sudden stop, and, looking back, raised one
hand, which the lads accepted as a request for them also to halt. They
obeyed him.
Standing thus, with his body as rigid as iron, Arqu-wao slowly turned
his head so as to look at each point of the compass in turn. Those
behind him did the same, not forgetting to use their hearing as best
they could, but with no result.
The Shawanoe next knelt down and applied his ear to the ground, as his
people do when suspecting the nearness of an enemy whom their eyes fail
to detect. It was possible, of course, that this pantomime was part of a
carefully laid plan to put them off their guard. If so, though cleverly
done, it failed to succeed.
The result of the guide's test seemed to be satisfactory, for he quietly
assumed the perpendicular again and resumed his walk. He did not look
back, evidently concluding that they knew enough to follow without any
direction from him.
"Larry," whispered his friend, "let's fall a little more to the rear, so
that, if he tries any of his tricks, we'll have a better chance for
ourselves."
"I was thinking of the same thing," said the other, acting at once upon
the suggestion.
They doubled the space heretofore separating them from the guide, who
took no notice, apparently, of the change in their relative situations.
The thought in the minds of the boys was that, if Arqu-wao should
attempt to take them into a camp of their enemies, or to reveal them to
a war party, or, in fact, to attempt any form of betrayal, they would
have a much better chance of saving themselves by a rapid retreat. They
might well doubt whether the prospect of their guide benefiting them was
worth all their mental disquiet. It is probable that, had they taken
more time to consider the matter at the beginning, they would have
disarmed the Shawanoe and allowed him to go in peace.
All at once he made a sharp turn to the left. As he did so, he looked
around, so that his face was in full view, and to the amazement of the
lads they saw a distinct grin upon it.
"That's the first time he has tried to smile," remarked Larry, "and I'm
afeered of it."
"Don't you understand what it means?" asked his friend a minute later.
"No, do you?"
"There it is."
As Wharton spoke he pointed to the ground in front. Larry at once saw
the significance of the words. They were following a distinctly marked
trail.
"But is it the right one?" whispered Wharton.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE TRACKS OF HORSES.
At the moment when neither of the youths had a thought of such a thing,
they found themselves walking along a distinctly marked trail in the
woods, while Arqu-wao, the Shawanoe guide, turned his head with an odd
expression, as if to ask their opinion of the manner in which he had
kept his agreement.
This issue would have been highly pleasing but for the question which
instantly presented itself to Wharton Edwards and Larry Murphy--were
they upon the right trail?
Fully aware of the treacherous subtlety of the American race, they might
well doubt the answer. The Indian must have seen that he was regarded
with suspicion, and knew, therefore, that extraordinary care was
necessary on his part to bring about the ruin of his captors and save
himself.
What more likely to deceive them than the act of taking them to a
plainly marked path through the woods?
But such trails were not common at that day in the forest, and since the
boys had passed over the one connecting the block-house with the
settlement, it surely seemed that they ought to be able to identify it.
They set out to do so, and quickly succeeded.
Wharton was slightly in advance of his companion, and, turning his head,
he said in a low tone, over his shoulder:
"Larry, we're on the right track as sure as we're born."
"I know it. Do ye mind that tree over there to the right, beyant, that
has been knocked all to splinters by lightning? Do ye mind that, I say?"
"Yes; I remember it well. We saw it last fall when we passed here."
It would seem that the splintered trunk should have been an infallible
guide to the youths; but, as if fate wished to toy with them, Wharton
was positive that it was on the right side of the trail as they faced
the block-house, while Larry was equally certain it was on the left.
Neither could dissuade the other, and the question remained as
exasperating as before. One believed that instead of going right they
were walking directly contrary to the proper course, and that sooner or
later they would reach the dangerous section where they had already met
with so many narrow escapes.
Had either been able to convince the other of his mistake they would
have decided what was the best thing to do, for such a decision of
necessity would have determined whether Arqu-wao was playing them false
or not.
It was the younger lad who believed they were going astray, and it was
this fact which caused him to examine the ground, as they walked along,
with closer scrutiny than his companion. In doing so he made an alarming
discovery; the path showed the distinct hoofprints of two horses that
had travelled in the opposite direction.
The woodcraft of the young man told him that the animals had passed that
way quite recently, probably within a few hours. While there could be
no certainty as to who the couple were, he decided at once that they
were his father and mother on their way from the block-house to the
settlement.
"Larry," said he, touching the shoulder of his friend, "the Shawanoe is
acting honestly with us."
"How can ye know that?" asked the other in surprise.
"These are the footprints of father and mother's horses."
Larry bent his head forward and closely studied the ground for some
time, walking slowly, and allowing nothing to escape him.
"Ye are right," straightening up, "which means that two people have
passed this way--pretty lately, too; but how can we know who they were?"
"This trail is little travelled. If the folks left the block-house very
early this morning they would have been near here by this time. We can't
know it is they, but it is certain as anything can be."
"Then ye were wrong and I was right about the course we were
following."
"Yes; I believe the Indian is doing his best to keep his promise."
"I hope so, but I don't feel as sartin as yersilf of that."
The brief delay of the couple had allowed Arqu-wao to gain so much on
them that he was almost invisible. Discovering the fact, he again halted
and looked back, as if waiting for them to come up.
"Obsarve him," said Larry. "He stands jist as he did whin we took a
drink from the brook."
Such was the fact. If he chose to launch an arrow, he could do so with
an instantaneousness that was sure to be fatal to one; but now they were
in a better situation than before, and the result was so certain to be
fatal to him that neither felt much fear of any attempt.
Wharton beckoned to him to wait, and they hurried forward. Pointing to
the hoofprints, clearly showing in the earth, he asked:
"What do they mean, Arqu-wao?"
The Shawanoe merely glanced at the ground. He had noticed the signs
before, and it was not necessary for him to scrutinize or study them in
order to know what the youth meant.
"Horses--so many," he said, holding up two fingers of his hand.
"How long ago did they pass this way?"
While the Indian understood the question, he was puzzled for a moment as
to how to make an intelligent answer. He fixed his keen black eyes on
the face of the questioner, then looked around the trees as if searching
for some aid. These shut out the sun, but it was easy to locate the orb
about one-third of the way between the horizon a
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