face with a drunken Indian. The fire was flaming up, and its blaze shone
upon the Indian, and threw a baleful glow upon his dusky face. He
sat opposite to them, his long hair tangled and matted, his brows
contracted, his bright, black eyes rolling restlessly in their orbits,
the deep-wrinkled face revealed with startling distinctness against the
dark background of the forest, and showing all the incessant working
of its muscles, and the rapid play of its features. With his bottle
clutched in one hand, and the other hand making fierce gesticulations,
all the time he kept howling out unintelligible sounds in a whining
guttural--a monotonous, but furious sing-song chant. Such was the scene
before them; and it was no wonder that it excited some uneasiness.
What could they do?
They did not know.
What would this Indian do?
This also they could not know.
There was nothing in his appearance that could reassure them. Every
moment he grew worse and worse. If this sort of thing went on much
longer, he might grow violent enough to make an attack upon them.
Already he looked far more like a wild beast than a human being. The
maddening fumes of the liquor might excite the natural ferocity of his
race, and urge him on to deeds of horror. They had no security whatever
against such a suspicion, and no means whatever of defending themselves
from any sudden attack.
As for Solomon, he had been watching the Indian most attentively all
this time, and the sight of this wild associate had produced upon
him quite as strong an effect as upon the boys, though of a totally
different kind. Had the boys not been so fascinated by the Indian as to
be unable to withdraw their gaze, and had they looked at Solomon, they
would have been astonished at the change that had suddenly come over
him.
He had been seated a little in the background, in a lazy, reclining
posture, when his attention was aroused by the conduct of the Indian. He
started up and sat erect for a time. Then, as the Indian grew worse,
he became more excited. He rose up on his knees, and remained in
that position--watchful and eager. At length, as the Indian grew more
furious, the excitement of Solomon increased to a proportionate degree.
He rose gradually to his feet, and stood there, eager, attentive,
vigilant; every nerve on the stretch; his body advanced, his arms bent,
his fists clinched, his brows contracted, his lips compressed, his eyes
kindling with a dull glow; and as the flames illumined his dusky face
and figure, they revealed a sight which was quite as impressive as that
other spectacle upon which the eyes of the boys were fastened.
The old man was transformed. He was no longer the shambling, free
and easy, indolent, gabbling, ridiculous, affectionate, rheumatic,
pottering, and apparently feeble old Solomon, whom the boys had known
and loved. He was changed. He was another being. As the feeble woman is
roused to frenzy, and becomes transformed at the approach of danger to
her child, so Solomon, at the suspicion of possible danger to his boys,
his “chickens,” his “chil’en,” whom he loved with all the strength and
devotion of his faithful and affectionate old heart, dropped his old
self altogether. He became changed into the fierce, watchful, vigilant
champion and defender of those whom he loved. Perhaps there was also
some of the savagery of his African blood, and the natural ferocity of
his race, which, long slumbering, had burst forth at that moment, at
the impulse of his brother savage. But as it is difficult to imagine
any taint of savagery, however faint, in one like Solomon, his
present attitude may best be accounted for on the ground of his living
watchfulness over the boys.
At any rate, there he stood, firm as a rock, and rigid as steel,--like a
watch-dog awaiting the onset of the wolf. His “rheumatiz” was forgot in
the excitement of that tremendous moment, just as the soldier, in the
ardor of battle, is unconscious of dangerous wounds.
At length a crisis approached.
The Indian had gone on as before, growing more and more furious every
moment. His eyes rolled fearfully. He had drunk most of the contents
of the bottle, and his brain was on fire. His voice grew hoarser and
hoarser, his gestures more violent, and his manner more threatening; his
utterances were still of that sing-song character already mentioned,
but they had now become almost unearthly in their intonations. What mad
thoughts there might be in his mind at that time could not be known;
nor could they imagine the exciting visions that were wrought in his
distracted brain. Whatever they were, they at length passed away; and
his eyes, that had been rolling at vacancy, now steadied themselves, and
suddenly fastened themselves upon the boys with a look of concentrated
hate and fury that was terrible.
So terrible was that look, that the boys all shrank back in horror. Then
they started up to their feet, and stood close together, in silence,
each nerving his young heart for the coming struggle, which now seemed
imminent. As they thus stood, they were on a line with Solomon; but
their attention was so occupied with the Indian that they neither
thought of him nor saw him.
“Let’s stick together,” said Bart at length in hurried tones--“it’s our
only chance.”
“Stick it is,” said Pat, who had recovered his coolness, “through thick
and thin.”
Phil said nothing, but stood his ground with the others, and waited.
The movements of the boys had excited the Indian still more. A furious
cry escaped him. He looked at them for a moment, and then moved to the
right, and flung his bottle into the fire. The spirits poured out, and
the blaze threw a bluish, ghastly glare over the scene. Then the madman
gave a terrible yell, and rushed towards the boys.
The boys saw him coming. They stood firm. They gathered up all their
strength.
But suddenly a dark shadow darted forward, and a dark figure flung
itself against the Indian. It was Solomon. Watchful, eager, fierce, he
had waited for the onset, and as the Indian advanced he made his spring.
Rushing upon him, he struck him on the side, and the onset was so
unexpected that the Indian had not time to guard against it. He fell to
the ground. In a moment Solomon was upon him. He twined his legs around
him. He grasped the savage by the throat. To that throat he clung with
a death like tenacity, never relaxing that iron grasp, that convulsive
grip, but clinging, holding, tightening his clutch all the more as his
enemy strove to shake him off.
The boys stood there looking on in speechless amazement. They recognized
Solomon, but could scarcely believe their own eyes. Where had Solomon
gained that bounding activity, that tremendous strength and energy,
which now availed him even against the madman’s fury? Could this be
Solomon--the one who was afraid of his own superstitious fancies--the
one who had just been in miserable thraldom to a drunken wife? It seemed
incredible. Yet that this was Solomon himself they saw plainly.
The struggle was most violent. The Indian gasped, and groaned, and
writhed, and sought to free himself from the grasp of his assailant. But
Solomon’s grip could not be shaken off. He devoted all his strength to
that one thing, and did not waste any of his energies in any useless
efforts. The Indian’s struggles grew weaker. He was suffocating from
that grasp on his throat. Had he been younger, he might have overpowered
Solomon; but he was an old man himself, perhaps quite as old as Solomon,
and therefore he was not so superior in strength as might be supposed.
And now a mighty feeling of triumph swelled through Solomon’s heart, and
chased away the furious impulse that had animated him to this assault.
The fainting efforts and the relaxing limbs of his enemy showed that the
victory was his. A softer feeling now came over him, mingling with his
triumph--he thought of the boys whom he had saved.
He turned his head and raised himself slightly.
“Nebber you fear, chil’en,” he said--“he do you no harm now.”
Suddenly the Indian made one last convulsive effort. Had Solomon not
been speaking to the boys he could have resisted even this last throe of
despair; but as it was, his attention was for the moment distracted, and
he was taken by surprise. The Indian tore himself loose from Solomon’s
grasp, jerked himself up by a mighty effort upon one knee, and threw
himself free from his assailant. Both were now on their feet, facing
one another, panting heavily. Once more the fury of the fight raged in
Solomon’s heart. He stood poised--he prepared for a spring. The Indian’s
strength lay in his madness; the strength of Solomon lay in his devotion
to the boys--in the frenzy of his love and anxiety for their safety.
The boys came forward. This time they would not let Solomon fight their
battle. They would assist him, and lend all their united strength
to crush their savage assailant. It was one common impulse, part of
self-preservation, part of regard for Solomon, that animated them, and
they sprang to his side and waited.
All this was the work of a moment.
Another moment and Solomon would once more have made his tiger-spring,
and flung himself upon the madman.
But that moment had sufficed for the Indian to take breath, and to
receive a new impulse. This, time it was not hate or destructive fury.
It was terror. The terrible struggle from which he had escaped with
such difficulty had given a new turn to his frenzied thoughts. Fear
overmastered him. A stifled exclamation escaped him. He started back.
Then he turned and ran.
He ran for his life; and in a few moments he had passed out of sight,
and was lost amid the gloom of the forest and the night.
VII.
_Passing the Night.--On Guard.--The watchful Sentinel.--Plans.--Through
the Woods.--The winding River.--Fishing.--The overcast Sky. Arrival of
Pat with startling Tidings.--A useless Search._
FOR a few moments the whole party stood, confounded by this new and
sudden turn which events had taken.
“He’s gone, anyhow,” said Pat, who was the first to break the silence.
The other boys said nothing. As for Solomon, he stared for a few moments
all around, and then quietly seated himself by the fire.
“Well, of all de cur’ousest an strornar est things!” he exclaimed.
“Ef dis don’t beat all creation holler, den I’m a niggar. An me in a
fight--a rail battle; no play, mind you; but a fight for life and def.
Clar ef I can understan it.”
And Solomon buried his head in his hands, quite overcome.
“Anyhow,” he resumed after a pause, “ye see how it was, chil’en. Dat
ar demon was a plungin an a jumpin, an I see he was makin for you; so
I ‘termined I’d hab a shy at him. Couldn’t stan dat ar nohow. Ain’t a
fightin man; but dat ar Ingin war so dreadful aggravatin; mor’n flesh
an blood could stan. Anyhow, I did gib him nuff ob it for one spell; an
he’ll tink twicet afore he tackle any ob us agin.”
“I never was so astonished in my life,” said Bart. “And how you did
pitch into him!” he continued, admiringly. “Why, you gave a leap like a
tiger. Down he went, with you on top--at his throat.”
Solomon laughed long, joyously, and uproariously. He chuckled, he
giggled, he slapped his knees, and finally he threw himself flat on his
back, and lay there, laughing, chuckling, crowing, and making a confused
medley of noises, all of which were intended by him to be expressive of
triumph and exultation.
“Clar ef I know what ebber did git hold ob me dat time,” he said, in
the intervals of his laughter. “Specs I mus hab gone clean mad an rabin
stracted. Didn’t tink dar was so much clar fight in me. Ain’t such a
rheumatic old nig, arter all. Fight any drunken Ingin on de face ob de
erf. Ki yi! Yep! Ho-o-o-o-o! Dat’s so.”
At all this the boys looked on without saying anything, wondering at the
change. Could this be the same man, thought Bart, that had always seemed
so helpless? whose “rheumatiz” seemed always to prevent the slightest
exertion? Could this be the same Solomon who allowed himself to be
captured by a parcel of Gaspereaugian boys? Could this be the same man
whom he had seen only a day or two before, cowering and cringing at
the sight of an angry woman? Was the Solomon over whom Black Betsy
had tyrannized so remorselessly indeed the same one who had just flung
himself at the throat of a madman, and overpowered him? It seemed
incredible.
Yet it was no other. Already Solomon was himself again, his old natural
self. Already he began to investigate his joints, and to murmur doleful
anticipations of a fresh attack of rheumatiz. But the boys had other
things than this to think of. The question now was, how to pass the
night. They did not feel altogether safe. The madman who had just
threatened them had fled; but it seemed to them as though he was still
lurking somewhere near them in the shadow of the gloomy forest, waiting
his chance; waiting till they should go to sleep, so that he might rush
upon them unawares. If they wished to sleep at all, it would never do,
they thought, for them to sleep here with the firelight shining upon
them, and revealing them to the gaze of their enemy. They must seek some
other place.
On mentioning this to Solomon, he objected very strongly.
“Dar’s no danger, chil’en,” he said. “Dat ar Injun won’t ebber come back
agin. He darsn’t. He nebber forget my grip. I frikend dat ar Injun away
forebbermo.”
“O, that’s the very reason why he’ll be back,” said Bart. “He’ll wait
till we’re all asleep, and then attack us. He’ll make a sudden spring at
you first.”
“No, he won’t,” said Solomon; “nebba. He don’t do dat ar wid dis chile.”
“How can you prevent him if you’re asleep?”
“Cos I don’t’tend goin to sleep; dat’s how,” said Solomon. “Got him dar,
anyhow. Yah, yah, yah.”
“What! do you intend to watch?”
“Jes so. I pose on dis yar solemn casion, my spected friends, to keep de
fire a goin, and to hole a watch an a guard ober de party.”
“Do you think we’d let you do that?” said Bart. “Do you think we’d go to
sleep, and leave you to watch us all night? No. If there’s going to be
any watching, we’ll take turns.”
“Dat ar am all berry well,” said Solomon, with a dignified wave of
his hand, “stremely well, an proppa for ordnary casiums; but dis yar
casium’s a berry strornary casium. Dar’s danger; and de man dat’s
goin to keep watch mus be able to face de enemy in a fight. Dat ars de
reason, den, why I pose to keep a lookout. I’ll set heah, keep de fire
a goin, an you can all sleep safe an sound. Dar’s no use for you to set
up.”
“But you must sleep,” said Bart.
“O, I’ll wake you up early in de mornin, an hab my sleep den. So now
don’t talk no more, for I’m a goin to do dat ar, an watch dis bressed
night.”
Some further conversation followed, in which the boys insisted on
watching for a part of the time, at least. They were so urgent, that
Solomon at last had to consent. He insisted, however, that he would
sit up during the first part of the night, as the danger would be most
likely to take place then, if it took place at all, and promised to wake
them towards morning. With this understanding the boys lay down by the
fire, and in spite of their recent excitement, they soon fell asleep.
Solomon sat there by the fire keeping watch with all his senses on the
alert. No danger was there of this faithful old sentinel sleeping at his
post. The very possibility of danger to the boys was enough to keep all
his mind wakeful and attentive. After a time he moved back a little, and
rested his back against a tree.
The hours of the night passed on slowly and tediously. The boys slept
soundly, and were lost in the land of dreams. Occasionally Solomon
amused himself and beguiled the time by going forth and collecting
sticks for the fire. The flames smouldered low, and the sticks that
Solomon was able to gather were not sufficient to kindle them afresh to
any great extent, and so the consequence was, that at length it nearly
died out. It was profoundly dark; but still Solomon watched, and felt no
inclination to sleep.
He had promised to awake the boys towards morning, but they slept so
soundly that he had not the heart to keep his promise, and so he let
them sleep on. At length Bart awoke, and, starting up, he looked all
around. It was early morning twilight; the sky was brightening overhead,
and the forms of the forest trees were visible around. As he started,
Solomon got up, and walked towards him.
“Well, Mas’r Bart,” said he, “all right so far. De Injun gone off
forebbamo.”
“Why didn’t you wake me before?” asked Bart.
“De gracious sakes, now, chile!” said Solomon; “dar wasn’t no casium.
’Tain’t mornin yet.”
“Well, you lie down now, and go to sleep,” said Bart.
“All right,” said Solomon; and going back to the tree where he had
been sitting, he curled himself up on the moss at the foot of it, and,
drawing his shawl over his head and shoulders, was soon in a sound
slumber.
And now the morning advanced; slowly the shades of night faded away,
until, at length, the day dawned, and a thousand birds awaked the echoes
of the forest in all directions, and filled all the air with a flood
of melody. Bart looked up at the sky, and noticed that it was overcast.
There was also a very peculiar appearance there which excited his
attention. There seemed clouds overhead; but the clouds had a sickly,
yellowish color, which was unlike anything that he had ever seen. After
a short time, Pat and Phil awoke, and Bart drew their attention to this.
They, however, thought nothing of it.
“It’s only common clouds,” said Phil.
“Deed, an it’s a good sign, so it is,” said Pat, in his usual tone of
confidence. “The trout bite wondherful whin they see a sky like that
over thim. It’s lucky for us we’ve got sich weather.”
Bart had his doubts about this, but he kept them to himself, and then
the boys began to consider what they had better do. The loss of their
Indian guide made a change in their circumstances of a very important
nature. As long as they had him with them, they had no care or anxiety,
for they knew that he would take them to all the best places in the
country. But, now that he had gone, what ought they to do first?
The idea of going back occurred, but it was at once dismissed. To go
back would be very fatiguing, and would be of no particular use. For, if
they did get another guide, he might turn out as badly as the one whom
they had lost; and besides, their experience with Sam disgusted them
with guides and with Indians altogether.
“If I only had a compass,” said Bart, “we’d be all right, for we could
at least be able to choose some direction, and have some idea of where
we went. But, as it is, we shall have to wander at random.”
“Sure and that’s the very best way there is to wandhcr, so it is,” said
Pat. “It’s a mighty sight better to go sthrollin along as you like than
it is to be taggin afther a big drunken Injin, any day.”
“Yes,” said Phil, “that’s the best way. Let’s go strolling along,
fishing at every brook we come to, and enjoy ourselves. We can make
camps, and if we come to any pleasanter place than usual, we can stay
there for two or three days. Why, this is the very best way of enjoying
ourselves. I’m sure I couldn’t imagine anything more glorious.”
“I wonder if there are any fish up that little brook,” said Bart.
“Sure an we’d betther try.”
“One of us had better stay behind with Solomon,” said Bart.
“I’ll stay,” said Phil; “I’ll get some sticks and build the fire again,
and if you do get any fish, we’ll be able to have some for breakfast.”
Upon this, Bart and Pat prepared their rods, and lines, and went off up
the brook. It was not very large, but it had the general appearance of a
good trouting stream; and the appearance did not deceive them, for after
a short time, to their great joy, they succeeded in hooking ten or
a dozen very respectable trout, with which they returned to the
“encampment.” Here they found a brisk fire, beside which Phil was
sitting awaiting their return. As they reached the place, Solomon awoke
from his nap, and joined them at the fire. Then followed breakfast,
which consisted of broiled trout, and, as they had brought plenty of
salt and pepper in their baskets, there was no lack of relish, and the
fish was pronounced delicious.
After breakfast, they once more noticed the appearance of the sky. It
had still that dull, sickly, yellowish hue which had first struck Bart’s
attention. Although the day had advanced since then, the sky had not
changed, and there was no increase of light.
“It’s smoke,” said Bart. “I wonder what’s the cause of it.”
“De woods are burnin,” said Solomon.
“I wonder if it is anywhere near,” said Phil.
“O, no!” said Bart; “it’s some distant fire or other. Perhaps they’re
clearing land.”
“Dar’s alius smoke a floatin about d’ese times in de woods,” said
Solomon. “Dey keep a clearin an a choppin--no end.”
“Sure an it’s all the betther fer us,” said Pat, “for an overcast sky is
the thing for the throut; an sure they niver know the difference whither
it’s smoke or clouds, so they don’t, an they bite all the same, so they
do.”
They now prepared for the day’s work; but before starting, Bart said
that they ought to appoint some place of meeting, in case they got
separated. On discussing this point, however, they soon found that they
were not in a position to appoint any place of rendezvous, since no one
place was known to them except where they were sitting. They did not
care about remaining in the vicinity of this place, but wished to ramble
on at leisure, and at liberty.
“Sure an there’s no nade,” said Pat; “we can all kape widin hearin of
one another, so we can.”
“At any rate,” said Phil, “we can start now, and stay by one another as
long as possible. If we come to any place where we have to separate, we
can easily make an arrangement to come back to that place.”
This last remark seemed satisfactory, and as it was really the only
thing that they could do, they said no more on the subject, but set
forth at once.
They walked on for about an hour, and at length emerged from the pine
trees, and came to woods where the trees were largely birch and maple.
Thus far, their progress had been very easy, as the ground under the
pine trees was smooth, and there was very little underbrush. At this
place, however, it became more difficult. Small trees and underbrush
arose on every side in great profusion, and the ground rose in a
succession of gentle eminences, while an occasional swamp intervened.
Still, it was not very difficult walking even there, and the chief
difference was, that their course became much more circuitous. Through
this they wandered for another hour and more, without finding any place
that was at all suitable.
At length, to their great joy, they found themselves upon the edge of a
small rivulet, which was not more than forty or fifty feet in width. Its
bed just here was strewn with pebbles and cobblestones; but farther up
and down, they saw hollows and deeper places in the river-bed, which
promised some sport. Here they prepared for action. Phil and Pat offered
to go down the stream, while Bart and Solomon could go up. Before
parting, it was settled that they should come back to this place. On
the other side of the stream there were two birch trees growing close
together, which would serve as a sufficient landmark to enable them to
recognize this place on their return; and with this arrangement the two
parties separated, Phil and Pat descending the stream, while Bart and
Solomon went up the channel.
Bart and Solomon went up the river-bed for some distance. They found no
difficulty in going along, for the stream was shallow, and they could
wade it in most places. Occasionally they came to deeper places, which
they traversed by going round them. At length they reached a place that
looked favorable to their designs, and began to try them. A few bites
rewarded them, and two or three small trout were soon deposited in their
baskets. They now began to enter more into the spirit of the occasion,
and continued slowly ascending the stream, stopping sometimes a long
while in some particularly good place, till they had exhausted it, and
then resuming their tramp. The consequence was, that their baskets soon
began to be unpleasantly heavy, and they had to confine themselves
more exclusively to one spot, and indulge to a less extent in their
wanderings. All this time these two had had no occasion to keep a
lookout on each other, for Solomon, with his instinct of fidelity, had
no other idea than that of simply following Bart wherever he went.
All this time the sky had maintained the same yellowish hue, and was as
much overcast as ever. Here and there they reached places where the view
upward was more extensive, and their gaze could command a larger part
of the sky. They saw rolling clouds which seemed most unmistakably to be
smoke, and these they thought the sure indications of some fire,
which, judging from these appearances, was larger than usual. Beyond an
occasional glance upward, however, and a stray remark, these appearances
excited no particular notice on the part of either of them.