DARK.
THE excitement in relation to the Frontier Angel and the lost Marian,
was greatly increased by two circumstances, that occurred on the day
following the return of Peterson. It had been determined, as the reader
has already learned, by Dingle, that he should start to the Shawnee
towns in search of tidings of Marian. In this dangerous undertaking it
was agreed that Peterson should join him. The latter, having undergone
considerable toil and fatigue, was compelled to remain over night by the
commander, in order to be prepared for what was before him.
Shortly after the sun had risen, and while the two scouts were preparing
to start upon their expedition, the sentinel on the platform of the
block-house reported an Indian canoe visible, far up the Ohio. The
scouts including Abbot, Mansfield, Jenkins, and several others instantly
ascended the platform to view the suspicious object. It was at a great
distance--so great that it resembled a duck, or something similar,
slowly swimming the river. It was not crossing, as first supposed, but
coming down stream, and would if it continued, pass by the settlement.
"Hello!" exclaimed Dingle, "there comes another one right behind it.
What does that mean? Looks qu'ar I declar'."
Our friends continued gazing at the two canoes now visible with an
intense interest. The last one had just rounded a bend in the river, and
followed in the wake of the first. Whether it was in pursuit or not was
impossible to tell at the great distance; but, _if_ so, their progress
was so similar, that they seemed like moving automata, connected with
each other under the water, and propelled by the same power. They kept
the center of the current, in a direct line with each other, and moved
steadily and rapidly as could be easily seen even at the distance they
were away. They did not swerve a foot from a straight line, as
seemingly anxious were they to hurry forward.
"Can't you make anything of it?" asked Mansfield.
"I can see their paddles shinin' in the water," replied Dingle,
"and--I--think--" he added, speaking slowly with his eyes fixed upon the
canoes--"I think--yes,--I know there is only one in the first boat and
there is--yes, two in the last. It is a race, sure as thunder!" he
exclaimed, standing and looking around upon the others.
"Perhaps only a friendly one, between a couple of Indian canoes,"
suggested Abbot.
"We don't have such races on the 'Hio this time of year," replied the
ranger with a quiet smile.
It was certainly singular that the same suspicion should enter the heads
of all at the same time, and yet not one mention it, until it grew into
a certainty. All continued watching the canoes, until it was evident
that one person was pursued by a couple, and that the race was a most
determined one upon both sides.
"Freeze me to death on a stump!" suddenly exclaimed Peterson, "if that
person in the first canoe ain't that _Frontier Angel_, then shoot me!"
"That's so," added Dingle, "and the one as is chasin' of her is our old
friend Mr. McGable and an Injin!"
Several, as said, had entertained suspicions that the mysterious
Frontier Angel was in the first canoe, but not one, save Dingle, had any
idea that it could be the notorious renegade in pursuit. Even as it was,
the commander of the post refused to believe he would venture so soon
within sight of the block-house.
"It's him," continued the ranger with complete assurance, "I never was
mistaken 'bout him, you can bet a powerful heap on that."
"If so, you are standing here and going to see our best friend
captured," said the commander in a tone of severe rebuke.
"She ain't agwine to be captured," coolly replied Dingle. "I guess
McGable and his Shawnee will have to take a few instructions in rowing
of the canoe, afore they'll stand a chance to cotch the Frontier
Angel."
"Can he not shoot her?" asked the commander more sternly than before.
"Dingle, you and Peterson hurry into the wood to her assistance, for she
will need it. Shoot that McGable, and I will give each of you twenty
pounds a piece, besides reporting you to the general."
"He _can_ shoot," said Dingle to himself. "Come, boys, let's hurry. We
orter started long ago, and we might've stood some chance. He can kill
her now ef he takes a notion afore we can draw bead on him."
The two, accompanied by Mansfield, hurried out to the gate, were
permitted to pass out by a man stationed there, and away they sped
across the clearing and into the wood, as fast as their legs could carry
them.
"Foller me!" called Dingle, ducking his head and plunging through the
bushes with a wonderful celerity, while Mansfield and Peterson strung
along behind him with equal fleetness.
In the meantime, those upon the platform were watching the canoe with
intense and painful interest.
"The old rapscallion is gainin' on the beautiful angel," remarked
Jenkins, excitedly. "Oh, if I was only where I could get my grasp on
that feller's throat, I'd choke him to death in five seconds! Oh! oh!
oh! wouldn't I?"
"No; I do not think he has gained at all upon her," remarked Abbot. "At
any rate, the race cannot be continued much longer, for they will soon
be nigh enough to run into danger. If we could only hit them with the
swivel," he added, looking toward the commander.
The latter shook his head.
"The swivel is only to be used in cases of great emergency. We did not
use it when the Shawnees made the night attack, because we could get
along without its aid. Besides, it is not loaded with a single ball, but
filled with slugs, bullets, and bits of iron, so as to do as much
destruction as possible upon an enemy nigh at hand. No; the firing of
the swivel, however well aimed, could effect no good purpose."
"I wonder at the presumption and daring of McGable," said Abbot, turning
his gaze once more up the river. "They say he only differs from Simon
Girty in point of cowardice. His heart is as black, but his face is
often white with fear. But this looks like bravery, to see him venture
so nigh the spot which he knows is so dangerous to him."
"He won't come much nigher. I only hope that Dingle will get him within
range of that rifle of his. It is all folly to undertake to capture him.
If we should secure him, he would manage to get off again through the
help of that fool of a Jenkins."
The commander did not notice that the individual he referred to stood
directly behind, and was gazing completely dumbfounded at him. Had he
known it, he would not have cared, for the thought of the foolish escape
of the renegade was ever a source of irritation to him, and he took no
pains to conceal his opinion of Jenkins' cowardice. But this was the
first time the latter had heard him speak thus, and, as said, he was
astonished in no small degree.
"Why, didn't I tell you how it was? how the Old Boy carried him off, and
I fought like blazes to stop him, but happened to have one of my
fainting fits just then. Think you'd believe a feller when he tells the
truth."
"I do," dryly rejoined the commander.
"I tell you," said Abbot, excitedly, "if McGable comes much further he
will surely run against Dingle's bullet. He is so eager he does not seem
to notice where he is running to. Look how that Shawnee pulls!"
"And they are gaining upon her as sure as the world. She is wearied and
well-nigh tired out. Heavens! it is too much to stand here and witness
that," exclaimed the commander, half beside himself. "Why, in the name
of heaven, don't Dingle shoot him? He would have been nigh enough if he
had only walked. I cannot comprehend it!"
"Look! McGable is going to shoot!"
"It cannot be--yes--"
At that instant, a bright flash was seen to flame out in the front of
the rear canoe, a thin wreath of smoke curled upward, and a moment
after, the faint report of the renegade's rifle was heard.
"Is she hit? Curse it, where is Dingle?" exclaimed the commander,
fidgeting and moving about as though unable to contain himself.
"She is wounded, but not killed. See! she is coming in to shore."
The canoe of the Frontier Angel was now hurrying in toward the Kentucky
shore, swiftly followed by that of the renegade. She had approached so
nigh as to be hidden to the view of those at the block-house, but was
still at a considerable distance. It was at this moment that the Indian
accompanying McGable dropped his paddle, rose to his feet, and had the
gun already at his shoulder, when two simultaneous reports were heard,
and he threw his arms wildly over his head and sprang headlong into the
river, upsetting the canoe at the same time. McGable, who was a most
excellent swimmer, dove deep and came up a long way from the canoe,
whose bottom formed a black spot on the surface. His head hardly
appeared before it sank again, and Dingle and Peterson really believed
he was drowning. But it was only a feint of the wary wretch. His head
was descried still farther down-stream, when it finally disappeared
altogether. But, after a while, he was seen to rise too far away to be
within rifle-range, and walked away in the forest.
The reason of his escaping all the shots of the whites was this. In the
hurry of departure, Mansfield had never once thought of taking his rifle
with him, so that there were really but two shots. Dingle and Peterson
had hurried to their utmost, notwithstanding the remark of the
commander, who was not so situated as to be able rightly to judge of
duration. Upon coming in view, they both raised their guns together and
took aim at the form of the renegade. That instant the savage rose and
aimed at the Frontier Angel. His immediate death could only save her;
there was no time for consultation, so that one might accomplish this.
The danger was too imminent, and, naturally enough, they both fired
together. The canoe instantly upset, and the skillful manner in which
the renegade effected his own escape has already been shown.
Our three friends remained watching for his reappearance, until it was
made at a great distance down-stream. This, of course, was a
considerable time after the shooting of the Indian, and during the
interval their attention had never once been directed to the Frontier
Angel. Now, as they turned to look for her, she was nowhere to be seen.
Remembering the point toward which she was hastening, they searched
along the shore, and, at last, found her canoe, pulled high upon the
bank and secreted beneath the bushes, but there were no signs of her. A
careful examination of the canoe and the ground around, failed to show
the least sign of blood, so that they were compelled to the joyful
belief that she had escaped the shot of McGable without being even
wounded.
How this could be, the two rangers were at a loss to tell, for the
renegade was so close at hand, and the object was so well-presented,
that even an ordinary marksman could scarcely have failed.
"That settles the matter," said Dingle, compressing his lips and shaking
his head; "that's the second time he's tried to kill her and couldn't do
it. I s'pose some will say she ain't a _sperit_ now--but you needn't
tell Dick Dingle so."
"Nor Jim Peterson," added that individual himself.
"There ain't even a trail of her, and she ain't nowhere about
_h'yer_--she's _gone up_, she has. You might shoot at her all day, and
not hurt her. H'yers as don't undertake any such foolery as to warn
her--'cause why? thar ain't no need of it. She ain't in danger, and
never was or will be."
"Wonder why she don't kill that devil McGable?" remarked Peterson,
leaning on his rifle and gazing meditatively down the river.
"She'll give it to him _awful_ 'fore he gets through--see ef she don't.
His time ain't come yet."
Some further time was spent in similar remarks, when the three set out
for the block-house. It was the intention of Dingle and Peterson to
start for the Shawnee towns, but the commander instructed them to remain
over until the next morning, when, if nothing unusual happened, they
would be allowed to pursue their journey. The rangers were not very
unwilling to this, as the sky gave appearance of another storm, and the
adventure with McGable had its effect upon them.
The morrow came, but the rangers went not, and it was ordered that they
never should again.