HEMMED IN.
When young Sebastian Carsfield started in quest of Katrina Duncan, it
is not to be supposed that he would permit any thing to delay him on
the way.
The fact that she was alone, at such a dangerous time as this, was
enough to give wings to his feet, and in a short time he crossed the
clearing and stood in front of the cabin from which they had departed a
few hours before.
The thought that possibly there might be some of the Indians here
caused him suddenly to check his steps and spring back to the cover of
the wood, where he stood for several minutes carefully scrutinizing the
building and listening.
All was still, and satisfied that none of the Comanches had yet reached
the spot, he advanced boldly, and, drawing the latch-string, entered.
All was dark and quiet within, and he called the name of his beloved
several times without receiving any response.
"She has not returned from looking after the cow," he concluded, as he
came out of the building again, and looked anxiously around, uncertain
what way to turn.
The thought that possibly danger threatened the house caused him to
leave the cabin, and, passing across the clearing, take shelter in
the shadow of the wood, where he could watch without being watched in
return.
He recollected that a cow of Hans Bungslager generally wore a bell, the
better to indicate her whereabouts in the woods, and he listened in the
hope of detecting that. Once or twice he fancied he heard the _tinkle,
tinkle_, but it was so faint that he could not locate it, nor make
certain that he was not mistaken.
In the mean time he was growing more anxious. Time was of the utmost
importance to him; there was little doubt in his mind but that all
these exposed houses of the settlers would be visited by the Comanches,
who moved with wonderful celerity, and struck blows as quick and
powerful as they were merciless.
"Surely she will return to the building," he concluded, referring to
Katrina, "and finding her uncle gone, will hurry on after him. Then
what could have caused her delay?"
He was in this distressing anxiety when he started as he saw a couple
of figures advance from the wood, at no great distance from where he
was standing, and start directly across the clearing toward the house.
A second glance only was needed for him to identify them as
Indians--Comanches who had left their mustangs somewhere near at hand,
and were paying this visit to the cabin.
The Texan watched them as eagerly as a cat watches a mouse, and at the
same time he was filled with the gravest apprehension about Katrina,
for this proved that the location of Bungslager's cabin was known to
the Comanches, and it looked very probable that she had already fallen
into their hands.
The two Indians walked at a leisurely gait, and upon reaching the
cabin, knocked at the door, and in the stillness he could distinctly
hear the words, in broken English:
"White man, let brother in."
Then they knocked again.
"Poor Injin come long way--he tired--white brudder, let him come
in--won't stay long."
No response being made, one of the savages lifted the latch and
entered, and as a matter of course, was not long in discovering
that the cabin was deserted. The moonlight, too, told the story of
precipitate flight, as the red-skins could see that their coming had
been expected and prepared for.
Learning that much, there was nothing left for the Comanches to do,
except to come out again. Carsfield could see them very distinctly,
standing side by side, and the guttural mumble of their voices was
plainly audible, as they discussed some point in their own tongue.
The Texan supposed it was as to whether they should burn the building
or not. He made up his mind that if they attempted to do it, he would
shoot the one who made the first move, relying upon his knife and
pistol to deal with the other.
As it was, by changing his own position somewhat, he could get both
of them in range, and he nervously grasped his rifle, asking himself
whether he should make the shot or not. Two considerations only
restrained him.
It was probable that a large body of Comanches were within call, and
that the shot would be the signal for them to swarm to the spot. If
Katrina were still wandering somewhere in the woods, her danger would
be greatly increased, and so he held the shot which, had he fired,
would have changed the whole course of succeeding events.
For something like fifteen minutes the red-skins occupied their
position, and then they walked away with the indifference that had
characterized their coming.
Carsfield had fought these daring marauders before, and it was a great
trial for him to permit them to walk away unmolested when he had it in
his power to punish them so well for their temerity.
"However, they have spared the cabin, and if they will go and stay
away, I shall not trouble them," he muttered, as he lowered his piece,
and wondered what the next development was to be.
All at once he heard the tinkle of the cow-bell!
It was unmistakable, and he started up, his heart fluttering with fear
and hope, for he concluded right away that Katrina was driving the cow
home, and the departing Indians had not got far enough away to miss
hearing it.
Fortunately it was from the opposite side of the clearing, from where
they disappeared, and it was approaching.
"She will soon be here," he added to himself, as he advanced to
meet her; "the unsuspicious creature has no idea of the danger that
threatens."
It never occurred to the Texan, in his excited condition, that he
was the one who ought to be suspicious, inasmuch as the sound of the
cow-bell had broken upon his ear too suddenly to have been caused by
the gradual approach of a cow.
He was too desirous of meeting Katrina Duncan to observe those
"points," which at another time, would have been certain to have roused
his alarm.
The bell showed that the wearer was close to the edge of the wood,
and from some whim which he could not explain himself, the young man
stepped back into the shadow and waited for the cow to appear.
Fortunate indeed was it for him that he did so, for he had scarcely
taken refuge in the shelter of the wood, when a tall, sinewy Comanche
stepped into view, and in his hand he held the identical cow-bell that
had struck so pleasantly upon the ear of the lover!
The latter could scarcely repress an exclamation of amazement as
he witnessed this, for he had not the remotest thought of any such
strategy as it signified. The Indian had been the first to discover the
cow, and after killing her, the bell had been taken from her neck with
the purpose of using it as a decoy in drawing the owners on to their
destruction.
Could it be possible that Katrina had taken the alarm in time?
This was the question, Sebastian asked himself, as he narrowly watched
the dusky dog who was attempting this piece of shameless deception.
Dark as was the prospect, he began to feel some hope that such might be
the case.
Like a true lover, he believed the mental abilities of his favorite
unequaled by any one else, and taking lesson from the stupidity of her
uncle, she might have detected the nearness of the Indians before they
discovered her.
While these thoughts were passing through his mind, he was watching the
movements of the decoy. With the jingling bell held in one hand, and
his rifle in the other, he walked across the clearing, turning his head
expectantly toward the cabin, as if expecting some response from that.
He even circled entirely around it, and then as if disgusted with the
failure of this enterprise upon his part, he, too, took his departure
into the woods, and the Texan was once more left alone.
Alone and wrought up to a high pitch of excitement. Several hours had
already passed since the departure from the cabin, and the party of
four was separated into three companies, hardly one knowing where to
look for each other, and not more than one understanding how great a
danger menaced them.
The young man was naturally filled with the greatest anxiety to do
something for his beloved, and with a desire to get the rest away from
the perilous spot, but his hands seemed really to be tied.
He could only stand still as it were, and see the procession go by
without taking part in it.
To add to his discomfort, he now began to be haunted by the thought
that she had already discovered her danger, and had followed after the
party, starting at such a time as to miss him.
So strong did this conviction become, that he had decided to do the
same, and make _that_ point clear, when his acutely sensitive ear
caught the sound of a footstep directly behind him.
It was so soft and stealthy, that he was certain at once of its being
made by an Indian, and he sprung behind a tree to protect himself.
"_Sebastian, it that you?_"
There was no mistaking _that_ voice, and, trembling with joy he moved
forward in the gloom, calling out, in a fond but cautious voice:
"My own Katrina, where are you?"
"Here, right before you."
And the next instant she was clasped in his arms.
"Safe and unharmed!" he exclaimed, as he kissed her cold forehead. "I
was in despair about you."
"Where are uncle and Colonel Crockett?"
"Gone on toward the village."
"And why are you here?"
"Do you suppose I could desert _you_ when in danger, my dearest one?
Have I ever given you cause for such a suspicion?"
"No, dearest Sebastian; but what shall we do?"
"Let us follow them at once."
"We can not take the path, for I tried to do so twice, and each time
was forced to turn back."
"Why so?"
"The Comanches are watching for us there!"