GUESTS NOT INVITED.
Sadie was not easily frightened, but it required the effort of all her
resolution to keep her from uttering a cry of alarm. The young captain
saw that she was deeply moved and ascribed it to her grief at the
situation in which she found herself placed. But she recovered herself
by a great effort of the will and came forward, giving her hand frankly
to the man she loved and who loved her as dearly.
“I am deeply grieved that you have come into this danger for my sake,
Charles,” she said, softly. “But have no fear, for I will save you at
any hazard. Indeed, it is done already, for I have given my word and you
are safe.”
“Safe! What do you mean, Sadie; what promise have you given?”
“Do not be angry with me, Charles,” she said, sadly. “I am sorry that it
is forced upon me but—I have promised to be the wife of William
Jackwood.”
“Black Will! Gracious heaven, Sadie, it cannot be. What madness is
this?”
“I was forced to do it. They threatened you and your brave companions
with a horrible death. I had no one near to advise me and I could not—I
could not see you die.”
“You should have spoken to me first,” he cried, wildly. “You knew that I
loved you. I have never dared to tell you until now, and ought to have
spoken. What is death to dishonor? What a life you have doomed yourself
to bear, that I may live. I would sooner die a thousand deaths than bear
this bitter burden.”
“Charles!” she cried. “You make my load too heavy for me to bear. How
could I see those who had incurred this peril for me, given up to
satisfy the bloody passions of these desperate men. My father is dead—I
am alone in the world and my life would have been a weary one at best,
if I had refused to yield. He told me that if I was obstinate, I should
stand by and see you suffer. I could not have borne that, at any rate.”
“You should have remained in the camp of Black-Hawk, who is a brave man,
although an Indian. My dear girl, I can not blame you for what you have
done. It was in all kindness of heart, but it was wrong for you to
yield. The lives of men who are ready at any time to die for the right
should be as a feather’s weight compared to your sacrifice. As I say, so
would Joe Bent and Tom Bantry, who are more hated by these men than I
am.”
“Can you not escape?” she whispered. “But no—I forgot. My word is
pledged to this bad man and that I hold sacred. But I shall not deem it
a crime to take his life, and although he may claim my hand he shall
never have a wife’s duty from me—for I hate him—oh, how I hate him!”
The white teeth clicked together fiercely as she spoke, and Black Will,
who was listening, laughed a low, bitter laugh, full of malice.
“Sorry to interfere in a social meeting of this kind,” he said,
advancing, “but your language is disgusting to your future husband, my
dear Sadie. Captain Melton, if I hear any more language of this kind
from you, I shall have you bound and gagged, for I will not endure it.”
“If you do that it absolves me from my promise, for you gave me your
word to treat them well,” said Sadie.
“I will not give you even that loop-hole from which to escape,” said
Black Will, after a pause. “I leave the camp to-day in search of a man
who is at one of the Indian stations, a Lutheran missionary. Let me say
to you that he is a man who would not perform the ceremony if you offer
a word of objection, and that you have only to say ‘no,’ and that
ceremony will cease and one of another kind commence, for as there is a
sky above us I will take your friends out and hang them before your
eyes. Git my horse, Jack Fish.”
The man obeyed, and after giving some orders to Dick Garrett in a low
tone, the renegade mounted and rode away through the wood.
Two days passed, and they heard nothing of him. Upon the afternoon of
the third he came into camp accompanied by a pale, intellectual-looking
man in the dress of a clergyman, who looked mildly about on the wild
group in the camp, evidently surprised to find himself in such a place.
He was at once conducted to one of the brush cabins which had been built
up by the men, while Black Will dismounted and ordered that Melton and
the other prisoners should be removed into the woods a short distance
from the camp, for he knew the missionary too well to believe that he
would perform the ceremony if he had any doubt of the willingness of the
lady to do her part, and Black Will feared the prisoners might let him
know the true state of the case.
Five men accompanied the prisoners into the woods, with orders to shoot
them down at the first attempt to escape. When this was done Black Will
approached the brush cabin in which Sadie spent the time, and called her
out.
“I have returned,” he said, cheerfully. “You must excuse me for staying
away from you so long, but I found it difficult to find the missionary.”
“I only wish you had never found him or had received your just deserts,
sir,” was the somewhat unpromising reply.
“My deserts; I deserve better treatment at your hands, I think.”
“Twelve feet of rope and a tree would suit you better,” she replied. “Do
not deceive yourself by the belief that I shall ever change in my regard
for you. The most slimy reptile which crawls through the swamp would be
to me a more pleasant companion. I give my hand to you to save my
friends, but never my heart with it.”
He stood moodily before her, tapping his boot with the riding-whip he
carried.
“I have half a mind to refuse your hand upon these terms,” he said,
gloomily, without raising his eyes from the earth upon which they were
bent. “Your language is horrible to one to whom you are about to join
yourself for life, and the day will surely come when you will repent it
bitterly. There, I will say no more now; but, in half an hour I shall
come for you and we will be married.”
“You need not fear but I will keep my word,” she said. “Will you keep
yours as well?”
“I never broke it yet to friend or foe,” was his answer, “and I do not
mean to commence now. When you have given me your hand in marriage,
these men shall have two days’ grace, but if I catch them after that,
woe be to them, that is all.”
He turned upon his heel and left her to her own reflections, which were
not of the most pleasant type. At times she doubted her firmness in the
hour of trial, and whether she would not give way in the presence of the
missionary, but the thought of his fearful threat against her lover and
friends nerved her, and she determined to bear up as bravely as she
could, and make the sacrifice for their safety. She would have liked to
see Melton once before the ceremony, but feared that she was not strong
enough to endure the meeting. While she sat there with her face buried
in her hands, Black Will came for her.
“There is one favor I would ask you,” she said, “and it is one you can
easily grant. You know I love Charles Melton, but all thoughts of him
must pass in the moment when I put my hand in yours. Under the
circumstances he must not see me again, and I could not bear to see
him.”
“Agreed; you shall not see him, and if he dares to attempt an interview
when you are once my wife, it will be the worse for him. I have removed
him already, and they wait in the woods until the ceremony is over, when
they shall be allowed to go where they will.”
“That will do, sir. Now I am ready, if you will not relent.”
He shook his head savagely, and taking her hand led her out into the
open space among the trees. The band were standing carelessly about,
looking on as the two took their station before the missionary, who
advanced book in hand and stood before them.
He recited that portion of the ritual which was necessary before he
asked the question, “and if any know just cause or reason why these
should not be joined together in the bands of holy wedlock, let them now
speak or forever after hold their peace,” when the crowd scattered
before the rush of a strong man, and the gigantic figure of the Forest
Fiend sprung into the circle and hurled Black Will ten paces backward by
a single thrust of his powerful arm, while he cried, fiercely:
“I forbid the banns!”
“Down with him,” roared Black Will, drawing his knife. “At him, boys.”
“Back!” cried the strange being, “back, for your lives. It is not right
that innocence and youth should be forced to wed with such a thing as
this, and I forbid it. Back, I say.”
They recoiled before the stern figure, especially those among them who
had felt the nervous force of his strong arm, while Black Will looked at
the clergyman.
“Do not mind the ravings of a madman, sir,” he said; “this man is insane
and knows not what he does.”
“It is false, reverend sir,” replied the Forest Fiend. “I am as sane a
man as any here, and know whereof I speak. Fall back, men; don’t press
upon me. Ha, they will have it, then. Melton’s Scout to the rescue!”
As the tones of his sonorous voice rung out through the deep forest,
there came a charging cheer, and the buck-skin shirts and coon-skin caps
of Melton’s Scout showed through the leafy cover, and with wild cries
they poured upon the foe.
Not a shot was fired, for Sadie, the missionary and the Forest Fiend
stood in the midst of the enemy, and the Scout dared not fire. But as
the enemy retreated, snatching up their weapons as they went, at a
signal from the Forest Fiend, Sadie and the missionary fell upon their
faces, and the Scout poured in a single withering volley which strewed
the ground with dead and dying, and then charged upon the foe with
knife, hatchet and pistol.
The Forest Fiend caught up a rifle from the earth, and using it as a
club, headed the charge. Close behind him came Charles Melton, Cooney
Joe and Tom Bantry, striking out manfully for the right, and felling an
adversary at every blow. But none could equal the strange being known as
the Forest Fiend. Taking the ponderous rifle in one hand, he made it
play about his head with lightning rapidity, and the renegades went down
before him like chaff before the wind.
Taken by surprise, it was no wonder that the retreat soon became a rout,
and they scattered to the four winds, closely pursued by their
determined assailants. One man, and that man Dick Garrett, dared to bar
the way of the Forest Fiend, who paused with uplifted weapon and looked
at him.
“At last, villain,” he cried, “your time has come!”
Vain was the interposition of the rifle of the renegade to stay the
blow. It descended upon his head, and Dick Garrett, the friend and
companion in villainy of Will Jackwood lay dead at the avenger’s feet.
At this moment a cry of anger was heard, and turning, the strange man
saw that Jackwood was on horseback, headed for the bushes.
“Fire at him,” he cried. “Bring him down at all hazards.”
Half a dozen bullets sped, but Jackwood was already in the thicket, and
all pursuit was vain. Five minutes later the fight was over, and few of
Black Will’s band remained to tell the tale of that terrible day.
The Forest Fiend turned back to the place where Sadie stood, encircled
by the arm of Charles Melton, and she drew closer to her lover as she
marked his terrible aspect. Raising his hand to his face, he tore off
the hairy mask which covered it, and revealed the face of—_Samuel
Wescott_!
Her father, redeemed from a watery grave! In an instant Sadie was in his
arms, half-delirious with joy, and the tried friends gathered about him,
eager to shake his hand, while Cooney Joe and Tom Bantry danced a comic
hornpipe, uttering yells which would have done credit to Sac warriors on
the war-trail.
When the first transport of the meeting was over, Samuel Wescott turned
to Tom Bantry and shook him warmly by the hand.
“You did your best to save me, my friend,” he said; “but I knew that
both must perish if I clung to you. I went down, as you know, and coming
to the surface, in a death-struggle I caught a floating log, which
quickly bore me down the stream, and I had not the strength to land
until I had been carried two miles down. Near this place I had a
_cache_, in which, among other articles, was this disguise, which I have
sometimes worn in my expeditions among the tribes, and I knew that it
might aid me in the work before me. Had I known that it would frighten
my daughter so much, I would have shown my face when I attacked the men
who guarded her, while you were fighting in the swamp.”
“It’s enough to skeer the life out of any critter,” said Cooney Joe. “I
don’t wonder she run from you.”
“It has served its purpose. I followed you to this place, Sadie, and
having satisfied myself that those I loved were in no immediate danger,
I went back for the Scout, the position of whose camp I knew. We came up
softly, set Melton, Joe and Tom at liberty, and then attacked these
scoundrels. The rest you know as well as I. There is only one thing for
which I am sorry, and that is, that this villain Jackwood has escaped.
But his fate will find him out.”
Half an hour later they were on their way to the river, guarded by
Melton’s Scout. The last week had been one of trial, but they had come
out of the flame triumphant, and the power of Black Will Jackwood was
broken forever. As they reached the river-bank, and the men were
bringing up the flat in which they were to cross, Minneoba suddenly
appeared from the forest, and fell upon Sadie’s neck, weeping for joy.
“Minneoba can bear any thing now, the breaking of her people, the loss
of home, for her sister is safe. Good-by, and do not forget the poor
Indian girl who loves you.”
“Come with us,” said Samuel Wescott. “I will give you a shelter in my
house until the war is at an end.”
But Minneoba shook her head sadly.
“No,” she said. “The Indian girl must not leave her father, who loves
her. Go in peace.”
They parted from her sadly, and as the flat receded from the shore, they
saw her standing in a dejected attitude, leaning on her bow. It was many
a day before they saw her again.
The battle was at its hight. Black-Hawk had risked all upon a cast of
the die, and had found it a losing game. Melton, Cooney Joe and Tom
Bantry were there, fighting gallantly, and as the Indians began to break
up, they charged a resolute knot of warriors who stood their ground
stubbornly, dealing death on every side.
There was a moment of wild confusion, and Charles Melton found himself
face to face with a desperate man, in his war-paint, who assailed him
with demoniac fury. Just then Melton’s horse fell, shot through the
heart, and his adversary sprung at him with a wild cry of joy, raising a
hatchet above his devoted head.
“Death to you, Melton,” he screamed. “I am Will Jackwood, and you die by
my hand. If I lost her, at least you shall never possess her.”
Melton, pinned to the earth by his fallen horse, lifted his hand to ward
off the blow, but hampered as he was he could offer but slight
resistance, and the knife, his only defense, was forced from his hand,
and the hatchet gleamed above him.
He had just time to catch the gleam of ferocious joy in the eyes of his
enemy, and had given up hope, when a rifle cracked, and Jackwood,
throwing up his arms, clutched at the bloody cloth upon his breast,
tried once more to lift his weapon, and then, with a snarl of demoniac
malice, dropped dead in his tracks, while Cooney Joe, with a rifle
smoking in his hand, ran to aid his fallen leader, who was quickly
placed upon his feet.
“Who is he?” cried Joe, angrily. “Ha! Black Will, by the mortal. Rubbed
out at last.”
This was his epitaph. He died as he had lived, boldly and defiantly, and
found a soldier’s grave.
The power of Black-Hawk was broken, and the old chief a fugitive, soon
to be a prisoner in the hands of the whites. Then it was that Samuel
Wescott kept his promise to Minneoba, and gave her a shelter under his
roof. The teachings of Sadie soon changed the forest maiden so much,
that she loved a domestic life, and when Sadie was married, soon after
Black-Hawk’s visit to the east, Minneoba was there, and witnessed the
ceremony. When it was finished, Cooney Joe stopped the clergyman:
“Stop a little, stranger,” he said, sheepishly. “Got another little job
for you, I have.”
And to the surprise of all, Minneoba took his hand, and they were
married.
Unknown to every one, Joe had obtained the consent of the old chief, who
knew that his daughter was better fitted to live with the whites than
with the tribes, and Minneoba became the wife of Joe Bent. She never had
cause to repent it. Rough though he was, he was a true man, and worked
nobly for her sake, and strange as it may seem, became in time, one of
the richest farmers in that region.
Captain Melton also settled there, and the two families were constantly
together. And above the mantel, in Melton’s study, hangs the costume of
the Forest Fiend.
Tom Bantry was for years a successful boatman upon the Mississippi, and
at last a Captain. Samuel Wescott died at a green old age, honored and
beloved by all who knew him.
THE END.
DIME POCKET NOVELS.
PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY, AT TEN CENTS EACH.
1—Hawkeye Harry. By Oll Coomes.
2—Dead Shot. By Albert W. Aiken.
3—The Boy Miners. By Edward S. Ellis.
4—Blue Dick. By Capt. Mayne Reid.
5—Nat Wolfe. By Mrs. M. V. Victor.
6—The White Tracker. By Edward S. Ellis.
7—The Outlaw’s Wife. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens.
8—The Tall Trapper. By Albert W. Aiken.
9—Lightning Jo. By Capt. Adams.
10—The Island Pirate. By Capt. Mayne Reid.
11—The Boy Ranger. By Oll Coomes.
12—Bess, the Trapper. By E. S. Ellis.
13—The French Spy. By W. J. Hamilton.
14—Long Shot. By Capt. Comstock.
15—The Gunmaker. By James L. Bowen.
16—Red Hand. By A. G. Piper.
17—Ben, the Trapper. By Lewis W. Carson.
18—Wild Raven. By Oll Coomes.
19—The Specter Chief. By Seelin Robins.
20—The B’ar-Killer. By Capt. Comstock.
21—Wild Nat. By Wm. R. Eyster.
22—Indian Jo. By Lewis W. Carson.
23—Old Kent, the Ranger. By Edward S. Ellis.
24—The One-Eyed Trapper. By Capt. Comstock.
25—Godbold, the Spy. By N. C. Iron.
26—The Black Ship. By John S. Warner.
27—Single Eye. By Warren St. John.
28—Indian Jim. By Edward S. Ellis.
29—The Scout. By Warren St. John.
30—Eagle Eye. By W. J. Hamilton.
31—The Mystic Canoe. By Edward S. Ellis.
32—The Golden Harpoon. By R. Starbuck.
33—The Scalp King. By Lieut. Ned Hunter.
34—Old Lute. By E. W. Archer.
35—Rainbolt, Ranger. By Oll Coomes.
36—The Boy Pioneer. By Edward S. Ellis.
37—Carson, the Guide. By J. H. Randolph.
38—The Heart Eater. By Harry Hazard.
39—Wetzel, the Scout. By Boynton Belknap.
40—The Huge Hunter. By Ed. S. Ellis.
41—Wild Nat, the Trapper. By Paul Prescott.
42—Lynx-cap. By Paul Bibbs.
43—The White Outlaw. By Harry Hazard.
44—The Dog Trailer. By Frederick Dewey.
45—The Elk King. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
46—Adrian, the Pilot. By Col. P. Ingraham.
47—The Man-Hunter. By Maro O. Rolfe.
48—The Phantom Tracker. By F. Dewey.
49—Moccasin Bill. By Paul Bibbs.
50—The Wolf Queen. By Charles Howard.
51—Tom Hawk, the Trailer.
52—The Mad Chief. By Chas. Howard.
53—The Black Wolf. By Edwin E. Ewing.
54—Arkansas Jack. By Harry Hazard.
55—Blackbeard. By Paul Bibbs.
56—The River Rifles. By Billex Muller.
57—Hunter Ham. By J. Edgar Iliff.
58—Cloudwood. By J. M. Merrill.
59—The Texas Hawks. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
60—Merciless Mat. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
61—Mad Anthony’s Scouts. By E. Rodman.
62—The Luckless Trapper. By Wm. R. Eyster.
63—The Florida Scout. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
64—The Island Trapper. By Chas. Howard.
65—Wolf-Cap. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
66—Rattling Dick. By Harry Hazard.
67—Sharp-Eye. By Major Max Martine.
68—Iron-Hand. By Frederick Forest.
69—The Yellow Hunter. By Chas. Howard.
70—The Phantom Rider. By Maro O. Rolfe.
71—Delaware Tom. By Harry Hazard.
72—Silver Rifle. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
73—The Skeleton Scout. By Maj. L. W. Carson.
74—Little Rifle. By Capt. “Bruin” Adams.
75—The Wood Witch. By Edwin Emerson.
76—Old Ruff, the Trapper. By “Bruin” Adams.
77—The Scarlet Shoulders. By Harry Hazard.
78—The Border Rifleman. By L. W. Carson.
79—Outlaw Jack. By Harry Hazard.
80—Tiger-Tail, the Seminole. By R. Ringwood.
81—Death-Dealer. By Arthur L. Meserve.
82—Kenton, the Ranger. By Chas. Howard.
83—The Specter Horseman. By Frank Dewey.
84—The Three Trappers. By Seelin Robbins.
85—Kaleolah. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
86—The Hunter Hercules. By Harry St. George.
87—Phil Hunter. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
88—The Indian Scout. By Harry Hazard.
89—The Girl Avenger. By Chas. Howard.
90—The Red Hermitess. By Paul Bibbs.
91—Star-Face, the Slayer.
92—The Antelope Boy. By Geo. L. Aiken.
93—The Phantom Hunter. By E. Emerson.
94—Tom Pintle, the Pilot. By M. Klapp.
95—The Red Wizard. By Ned Hunter.
96—The Rival Trappers. By L. W. Carson.
97—The Squaw Spy. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
98—Dusky Dick. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
99—Colonel Crockett. By Chas. E. Lasalle.
100—Old Bear Paw. By Major Max Martine.
101—Redlaw. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
102—Wild Rube. By W. J. Hamilton.
103—The Indian Hunters. By J. L. Bowen.
104—Scarred Eagle. By Andrew Dearborn.
105—Nick Doyle. By P. Hamilton Myers.
106—The Indian Spy. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
107—Job Dean. By Ingoldsby North.
108—The Wood King. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
109—The Scalped Hunter. By Harry Hazard.
110—Nick, the Scout. By W. J. Hamilton.
111—The Texas Tiger. By Edward Willett.
112—The Crossed Knives. By Hamilton.
113—Tiger-Heart, the Tracker. By Howard.
114—The Masked Avenger. By Ingraham.
115—The Pearl Pirates. By Starbuck.
116—Black Panther. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
117—Abdiel, the Avenger. By Ed. Willett.
118—Cato, the Creeper. By Fred. Dewey.
119—Two-Handed Mat. By Jos. E. Badger.
120—Mad Trail Hunter. By Harry Hazard.
121—Black Nick. By Frederick Whittaker.
122—Kit Bird. By W. J. Hamilton.
123—The Specter Riders. By Geo. Gleason.
124—Giant Pete. By W. J. Hamilton.
125—The Girl Captain. By Jos. E. Badger.
126—Yankee Eph. By J. R. Worcester.
127—Silverspur. By Edward Willett.
128—Squatter Dick. By Jos. E. Badger.
129—The Child Spy. By George Gleason.
130—Mink Coat. By Jos. E. Badger.
131—Red Plume. By J. Stanley Henderson.
132—Clyde, the Trailer. By Maro O. Rolfe.
133—The Lost Cache. By J. Stanley Henderson.
134—The Cannibal Chief. By Paul J. Prescott.
135—Karaibo. By J. Stanley Henderson.
136—Scarlet Moccasin. By Paul Bibbs.
137—Kidnapped. By J. Stanley Henderson.
138—Maid of the Mountain. By Hamilton.
139—The Scioto Scouts. By Ed. Willett.
140—The Border Renegade. By Badger.
141—The Mute Chief. By C. D. Clark.
142—Boone, the Hunter. By Whittaker.
143—Mountain Kate. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
144—The Red Scalper. By W. J. Hamilton.
145—The Lone Chief. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
146—The Silver Bugle. By Lieut. Col. Hazleton.
147—Chinga, the Cheyenne. By Edward S. Ellis. Ready
148—The Tangled Trail. By Major Max Martine. Ready
149—The Unseen Hand. By J. Stanley Henderson. Ready
150—The Lone Indian. By Capt. Chas. Howard. Ready
151—The Branded Brave. By Paul Bibbs. Ready April 6th.
152—Billy Bowlegs, the Seminole Chief. Ready April 20th.
153—The Valley Scout. By Seelin Robins. Ready May 4.
154—Red Jacket, the Huron. By Paul Bibbs. Ready May 18th.
BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.
Transcriber’s Notes
—Silently corrected a few typos.
—Retained publication information from the printed edition: this eBook
is public-domain in the country of publication.
—In the text versions only, text in italics is delimited by
_underscores_.