A MAN IN TROUBLE.
DINGLE waited in the wood until morning, searching and signaling for
Jenkins, but without success. He hoped at first that he had made his
escape; but he was compelled, after carefully watching the village for a
long time, to the belief that he had been captured. In fact, it was a
certainty with the ranger. He understood the actions of the Shawnees
well enough to be satisfied upon that point.
"Now, Dingle, what's to be done?" queried the ranger meditatively. "He's
in their claws--that's a sure case, and it don't look right for you to
leave him thar. But jest hold on a minute. The great moral question is
this: which ar' to be saved--him or the whole settlements? Ef I stay
h'yer, pokin' round for him, like as not, I'll get cotched myself--no, I
won't either, for Dick Dingle don't get that thing done to him. The reds
ar' goin' on a ha'r raise, that's sure; and they'll leave Jenkins till
they come back afore they roast him. Consequently, he'll have time to
look round and git acquainted with his friends, and p'r'aps make a
bargain to let him off on a visit. No, Dingle, you must make tracks fur
home powerful fast."
This decision arrived at, the ranger lost no time in putting it into
execution. He knew he could not get much start of his enemies; and,
although they would be armed at the settlement, yet it was imperatively
necessary they should have more definite knowledge of the intended
assault. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he turned his face to the
south and plunged into the forest.
In the meantime Peter Jenkins _had_ managed to fall into an unpleasant
predicament.
Upon the departure of Dingle, he made up his mind to obey every letter
of his instructions. Accordingly, he squeezed himself into the smallest
space possible, and curled obediently up on the ground. He lay thus
perhaps a half-hour, when he fell sound asleep. This was unintentional
on his part; but the fatigue of the expedition, and the time he had
passed, without slumber, were too much for him, and he finally
succumbed.
He would have slept, in all probability, until the return of Dingle, had
it not been for a purely accidental circumstance. As his slumbers grew
more heavy, he gave two or three jerks, and finally straightened out
upon his back. In doing this, he naturally threw his hands backward, and
by the merest accident in the world, struck a toad that sat blinking a
foot or two distant. The creature made a startled leap and plumped down
square in his face, but immediately sprang off again. It, however,
seemed to awaken Jenkins, who rose to the sitting position, and entirely
unmindful of where he was, commenced talking, in a mumbling tone, to
himself.
"Like to know who that feller was that hit me in the face. Liked
to knocked me out of bed; s'pose it was Dingle, though--just like
him--makes my nose feel awful cold. Queer a feller can't sleep when
he wants to--all-fired mean to 'sturb a person that way. Lay over
on your own side, Dick. Hello! he ain't here! Look at these
bushes!--Thunderation! where am I?"
He stared bewilderingly about him. Gradually a recollection of his
situation came to him. And then he was filled with apprehension lest he
had betrayed himself. He listened carefully for a few minutes, but
hearing nothing, judged that matters were all right; and, as he was
excessively sleepy, he dropped languidly back again, and was falling
rapidly into a state of unconsciousness, when he was waked again.
The fact was he had been overheard by a couple of brawny Shawnees who,
at that moment, were passing within a few feet of him. They dropped
noiselessly to the earth, and commenced making their way toward him, as
he fell back so unconsciously.
In the meantime, one of those little, active, prying dogs, that are
always bobbing around an Indian village, made the same discovery. He ran
fearlessly up to the prostrate man, poked his cold nose against his
cheek, and gave a loud bark that electrized Jenkins completely.
Remembering the parting admonition of Dingle, to "fire and run," in case
of discovery, he seized his gun, blazed away at the dog, and turned on
his heel.
Even then he might have effected his escape, had it not been for the dog
mentioned. The Indians suspecting he was a scout, were taken all aback
by the unexpected manner in which he acted, and hesitated so long before
following, that, as we said, he might have escaped, had it not been for
the dog. The creature was unhurt by his shot, and with a yelp of alarm,
sprang in front of him. Jenkins was too confused to notice him, the dog
got entangled between his legs, and he pitched headlong to the ground.
Before he could rise the Indians were upon him, and yelling with
exultation.
[Illustration: "Before he could rise the Indians were upon him."]
"We kill--if fight--no run," muttered one in broken English.
"Jerusalem! I won't run--don't kill me. I won't run at least with you
two fellers on my back. Don't kill me!"
"Stand up--quick!"
"Yes, I will--don't kill me!"
One of the savages had already secured his rifle; and, as he arose, one
stood on either side of him and took a firm hold of his arms. By this
time there were a score of other savages around, all dancing, shouting,
and yelling; and in the midst of them our friend Jenkins was marched
into the center of the Indian village.
Immediately a score of Shawnees scattered into the wood, to ascertain
whether there were any more whites lurking in the vicinity, while
Jenkins was hurried into a lodge, thrown upon his face, his hands tied
securely behind him, and his feet locked as tightly together, as if they
had been screwed in a vice.
"Consarn it! what's the use in serving a feller that way? I told you I
wouldn't run away, and you shouldn't doubt my word."
Some eight or nine remained to guard, but no one seemed disposed to heed
his request.
"You ugly old heathen, standing there by the door, grinning at me, just
loosen these cords, will you?" said Jenkins. The Indian, still paying no
attention to his entreaties. Jenkins supposed he did not understand the
English language; and he repeated his request in a louder tone, as
though that would assist his understanding. But with no better effect.
"I don't want the cords loosened--wouldn't have them untied if you
wanted to do it," he added, sullenly.
As his captors still evinced no desire to do anything more than watch
him, he resigned himself sullenly to his fate, and ceased speaking.
The night wore slowly away without any noticeable change taking place in
his condition. Sleep, under the existing circumstances, was out of the
question, and Jenkins contented himself--if the expression is
allowable--with maintaining a moody silence, varied now and then by a
gratuitous insult to those around, which, luckily for him, they failed
to comprehend.
While this sleepless guard was being kept upon our unfortunate friend,
there was another tribunal, as sleepless and vastly more important to
him. In the chieftain's lodge was assembled half a hundred warriors,
debating the matter of life or death. It could be hardly said there was
a debate upon that either; for all agreed that their victim should
die--agreed that he should not only die, but _be burned at the stake_!
They were considering only _when_ this should be done. It could not be
expected there would be a single dissenting voice as to his fate, and
there was none. But the question was whether the war-expedition should
be deferred by consummating the torture, or whether it should be left
over until they returned. It was their intention to start upon the
morrow for the settlement which we have so often referred to; and
rightly fearing that every hour of delay was a day's gain to their
intended victims, it was at last decided that Jenkins should be kept
until their return, when he should suffer the awful torture of death by
fire. They knew their passions would be inflamed to that pitch that the
agonies of their prisoner's torment would be the most exquisite pleasure
they could enjoy.
Most fortunate, indeed, for Jenkins was it that the renegade was not
present at that council. Had he been, he never would have seen the light
of another morning; for he had learned long before that no white
prisoner was sure to them until he had been a victim to their vengeance.
The renegade had left only a day or two before for the Indian towns in
the Sciota valley, and consequently knew nothing of Jenkins' capture.
When the morning dawned, there was great commotion throughout the
village. The final preparations were made for the departure of the
war-party.
Jenkins heard the confusion and clamor around him, but he was in no mood
to care what they were doing. A sort of stolid indifference had
succeeded to the excessive fear he had at first evinced.
"Darnation! I don't care what they do! They can burn me and eat me, if
they want to! Let 'em blaze away!"
Shortly after daybreak, the war-party departed. About a dozen men
remained behind to guard the village, and see that no attempt was made
to free the prisoner, while a whole host of squaws and children raised
bedlam. The lodge in which Jenkins was confined was completely beset by
them. At first his guards allowed them to rush in and torment him in
their characteristic manner--such as pulling his hair, pinching, and
striking him with sticks. Finally his patience became exhausted.
"By thunder! if you don't take these things off I'll kill every one of
them!" he exclaimed, furiously wriggling and tugging at his bonds.
The Indians enjoyed the sport hugely, especially the impotent wrath he
displayed. They made no attempt to restrain the excited multitude, until
they became so numerous and boisterous, that for their own convenience,
they cleared the lodge of the tormentors.
"You'd better done that just then," said the prisoner. "I was just
getting ready to knock some of their brains out."
At noon he was given some meat and drink, and he ate ravenously, for his
situation seemed to have little effect upon his appetite. His usual fear
and subsequent indifference had now given way to a perfect recklessness.
Goaded to madness, he cared not a straw what he did. He swore within
himself that he would make his escape before morning, though how to
effect it wasn't plain even to himself.
His guard maintained their sullen watch until dark, when the clamorous
crowd again commenced pressing around. They were restrained from
entering, but they continued yelling and pressing against the lodge
till, all at once, the side gave way, and fell inward. Those pressing
against it were so numerous that they poured irresistibly forward,
piling in a mass upon Jenkins, kicking and struggling to free
themselves, and making the confusion perfectly horrid by their yells. To
make the matter still worse, the sudden incoming of the multitude had
extinguished the burning torches, so that all was in total darkness.
Jenkins, feeling the mass upon him, became doubly enraged and made
furious efforts to free himself. But the cords were too firm, and he
finally gave up in despair.
Immediately he felt some one fingering around him; and to his
inexpressible astonishment found the cords at his feet and hands cut,
and he was now perfectly free. He lost no time in taking advantage of
this providential intercourse of some one. Springing to his feet, he
turned to make a dash through the open side of the lodge. At that moment
a soft hand touched his, and some one, pulling his head downward,
whispered eagerly in his ear:
"Don't stop! run as fast as you can!"
"You may bet I'll do that," he replied, although he scarcely heard his
own voice in the deafening uproar around him.
Of course, in the darkness, it was impossible to distinguish the
prisoner. When the building crashed inward, two or three savages hurried
off for torches, while several more sprang to the opening to intercept
his flight, should he attempt it. As they knew his bonds were too firm
to be broken, they had little fear of this, but adopted these
precautions in obedience to their cautious instincts. But Jenkins
avoided them all. He made a spring outward, a literal "leap in the
dark," ran a short distance in a straight line, until, as might be
expected, he brought up all standing against a lodge that happened to be
in his way. There were none inside, for the tumult in the village had
drawn them out, and he suffered no injury, except a few scratches.
Without stopping to ascertain the damages, he made an abrupt turn to the
left, and hurrying onward, found himself, in a few seconds, clear of the
town and in the dark wood.
The lights were soon recovered and brought to the lodge from which he
had fled. Held in the entrance, they revealed a swarm of dark,
struggling bodies, piled pell-mell upon each other. Under the light of
the smoking-torches, these regained their feet in an incredible short
space of time. Then to the unutterable astonishment of the Shawnees, it
was found that the prisoner had escaped.
The Indians stood completely dumbfounded for a moment, totally unable to
realize that such was the case. But a Shawnee Indian rarely gives way to
his emotions, and when he does, it does not last long. A long, wild,
lengthened howl conveyed the dismal intelligence that the white man had
fled to the woods.
Now the pursuit and search commenced. Lights were gleaming and flitting
through the trees, like frantic fire-flies, and the eager savages were
darting and yelling in every direction. Signals were given and returned,
and all imaginable artifices adopted.
But a pursuit, under such disadvantages, could hardly be expected to be
successful. And it did not prove so in this case. Jenkins knew well how
to use his legs, especially when his life depended upon them; and the
manner in which he flew through the forest would have made an ordinary
Indian despair at once. He had nearly the entire night before him, and
he hardly halted for breathing time until morning. The moon arose toward
midnight, and so lit up the wood that it would have been exceedingly
dangerous for him had his pursuers been anywhere in the vicinity. But
they were not, and he had it all to himself.
At morning he was so exhausted that he threw himself upon the ground, at
the roots of a fallen tree, and slept heavily. Slept until near the
middle of the afternoon, and then he would not have awakened, had not a
visitor helped him to recall his wits. He opened his eyes and started
with unbounded astonishment at seeing before him that mysterious being
known as the Frontier Angel. She stood a few feet away, surveying him
with a look of mild joy, and holding in her right hand a rifle which he
instantly recognized as his own.
"So you made your escape, did you?" she remarked, seeing that he said
nothing.
"Hello! how are you? Glad to see you. How's your folks? Been well?"
asked Jenkins, suddenly thinking he had been remiss in his usual
politeness. These questions were accompanied by a profound bow and
scrape of his foot upon the earth.
The being before him paid no heed to these demonstrations, but repeated
her remark:
"So you made your escape, did you?"
"Very well, I thank you, how's your health?"
"You have escaped, I say?"
"Oh! yes, a pleasant day."
The personage paused and looked at him in astonishment. The truth of the
matter was, Jenkins was so confused that he did not comprehend a single
remark made by her. He continued bowing and scraping and speaking
incoherently until, at last, his senses returned. The Frontier Angel
merely gazed at him with a wondering expression, in which not a particle
of mirth could be seen. Waiting a few moments, she once more repeated
her remark.
"Oh--you spoke of escape, did you? Yes, I managed to get away _myself_."
"Were you not bound?"
"Oh, yes; with tremendous big cords."
"How did you free yourself of them?"
"Broke them all by my giant strength, ma'm," he replied, valiantly.
"You are mistaken, sir."
"Oh! was it you that cut them when we was in the muss?" he asked,
eagerly.
"I cut them and admonished you to fly. You should not take the credit
yourself," mildly replied the visitor.
"I didn't know as you done it, or I wouldn't said so," said Jenkins,
somewhat crestfallen at being so caught.
"How came you to be captured?" she continued, standing in front of him,
and keeping her dark eyes fixed upon him.
"Overpowered by main force! I'd like to see the man that could withstand
forty-three Shawnee Indians."
"Were there that many who assailed you?"
"Well, I couldn't say positively now--perhaps more or less. To speak
within bounds, we'll call it forty-two."
"And where is he who was with you?"
"Who?--Dick Dingle? He wouldn't stay and fight, but run and left me
behind to meet all the danger."
"You were scouts, then, sent to reconnoiter the Indians, I suppose. In
doing so, you were captured by your enemies, while your companion
escaped. But, thanks to the great Ruler above, you were also delivered
from death. Your friend, from what I know of him, leads me to the
belief that he gained enough knowledge of the Indians to answer all
purposes. And he will be able to give all information to the settlements
which I was unable to give."
"S'pect so. Leastways I know, when I get home, I'll be able to give our
settlement a great deal of information that they never knowed or dreamt
on before."
"I have followed your trail, my friend, to come up with you and find out
what I have just learned. I rejoice to learn that it has turned out
thus. And now I will bid you good-by. Do not delay, for, although you
are a great way from the Indian town, there may be many and swift
pursuers upon your trail."
"Say! hold on a minute!" called out Jenkins, springing toward her, first
reaching out his hand, and then suddenly withdrawing it, as he
remembered what he had heard said would be the consequences of such an
act.
"What do you want?" she asked, turning round and facing him.
Now, the truth of the matter was, Jenkins had fallen desperately in love
with this singular personage. And, all things considered, it could not
be wondered at. Arrayed in her fantastic Indian dress, her beauty was
certainly wild and wonderful. Gay, painted eagle and porcupine quills
formed a fiery head-dress, which contrasted well with the long,
luxuriant hair of jetty blackness, that rolled unrestrained down her
shoulders. The face was small and a delicate oval, the eyelashes long
and black, the nose thin and small, and the teeth of pearly pureness.
Viewed from the side, the profile was perfectly straight from the upper
part of the forehead to the base of the nose, from which point it
slightly retreated to the chin. The eyes were dark, and when fixed upon
a person, wore a meek, mild expression; at other times they fairly
blazed with fire. A dress of dazzling colors reached from the shoulders
to the ankles, and was confined at the waist by a band of gleaming red.
The feet were encased in small, ornamented moccasins which displayed the
symmetrical limbs to advantage. Several rows of wampum were hung around
the neck and waist, and the whole dress was such as an Indian chief
would put upon his princess.
When she turned so abruptly and faced Jenkins, he was considerably
disconcerted. Upon any other occasion, he would have hesitated and
stammered much, before he would have come to the point; but, he well
knew there were but a few minutes left him, and he said:
"I just want to speak a word with you. I s'pose you know Dick Dingle,
don't you? that feller that left me so cowardly?"
"Yes," she replied, without changing a feature or removing her gaze from
him.
"Well, I was just going to say--that is--I wouldn't have anything to do
with him. He is an awful mean man; I wouldn't speak to him."
"Why?" was the same quiet question.
"Oh! 'cause he's so everlastingly mean. Darnation! haven't I told you a
thousand times? How many more times are you going to ask me?"
"Is that all?"
"Yes--no--hold on!"
"What else do you wish?"
"I want to know if--if--if you don't like him, do you now?" suddenly
broke forth Jenkins.
The maiden began acting strangely. Her eyes brightened, her lips
quivered, and she seemed striving to say something. She controlled her
emotion in a moment, and sweeping her hand over her eyes, looked calmly
at her questioner, but without deigning a reply.
"Don't you--don't you--don't you _love me now_? I do you!" besought our
friend, going down on his knees in true, sentimental style.
The Frontier Angel gazed calmly on him a moment, then raised her eyes,
turned on her heel, and disappeared in the forest.
[Illustration: "The Frontier Angel gazed calmly on him a moment."]