DANGER AND DELIVERANCE.
The savages, as has been seen, pursued the White Tiger and Silver Rifle
to the edge of the forest, when the chase was given up, and the
fugitives rejoiced to find themselves at liberty.
“We will not remain unmolested long,” said the youth, when they found
themselves near the girl’s cave. “Having slain Ahdeek and the trader,
the red fiends will give no rest to their feet until they have run us to
earth.”
“They will certainly attempt to run us down,” replied the girl, calmly.
“But when they bring Marie Knight to bay, they may lose some warriors.”
“So, then, you are a Knight?”
“Yes.”
“And you came hither in quest of the ring?”
“And a father,” finished the girl. “But he must be dead, else that
half-breed would never have worn the ring. Did he ever tell you any
thing about the ring?”
“But little, girl. He told me that it was a talking ring—that it was
given him by an old man whom the Indians slew; that after he had avenged
the old man’s death, he would seek you beyond the lakes and give you the
ring that would tell you who you are.”
For a moment the girl was silent.
“But,” she said, looking up, disappointedly, “the ring is lost, and I
will never know who I am.”
“Where is your mother?” asked the White Tiger, kindly.
“Dead.”
“Would she not tell you any thing?”
“She told me that on the shores of Lake Superior dwelt a man who
possessed a ring which held my life mystery, and on her death-bed she
bade me hunt him and demand the ring in her name, which he would
restore. She intimated that that man was my father, and I believe he
was. My mother would never speak of the past, and whenever I would ask
where father was, she would point to the North-west and say, ‘Yonder,
perhaps.’ I left Ontario after her death, and once, in these woods,
encountered Ahdeek, your brother. He darted by me like a rocket; but I
saw a ring on his finger, and knew that it was mine. How I trailed him
then; how, not knowing that I was in the country, he eluded me. But,”
with a sigh, “the trail is near an end.”
“Girl, I will hunt for the ring,” said the White Tiger, quickly
following her last word. “You shall solve the mystery of your life. The
ring shall be recovered, though in the search I tramp these woods till
doomsday—though the trail leads into the jaws of death, the mouth of
hell.”
The girl stopped sudden in the starlight, and put forth her hand.
“You are brave!” she said, her great blue eyes sparkling with
tear-pearls. “I have not deserved such sacrifice at your hands. But,
sir, give the ring to me, and I will reward you as best I can.”
He returned the pressure which she bestowed, and held her hand until,
blushing, she withdrew it, and told him that they had best proceed.
They entered her cave-home with extreme caution, and, to their relief,
found it tenantless. The gloom was dissipated by the flint, and igniting
a bunch of bark films, Silver Rifle led her companion to the southern
corner of the cavern.
“I’ll tell you why I shrieked when that Indian crossed our trail in the
forest,” she said, pointing to an excavation at their feet. “’Twas here
that I buried Dohma and Renadah. See, but one remains—’tis the giant.
Dohma escaped from his tomb, and when I beheld him in the wood,
believing him a ghost, I betrayed our presence. I wonder if the trader
killed him?”
“He is dead; they never escape whom Doc Cromer chokes,” answered the
White Tiger, shuddering at the thought of a man digging out of his own
grave. “He has repeatedly choked panthers to death, so, of course, there
is no hope for the Indian.”
“Oh, had I but known that Dohma was not dead when I buried him!” said
the girl, in genuine regret. “But he lay so still that I was completely
deceived. He saved my life, as I have told you, and I would have
rewarded him. We will hope that Cromer did not slay him.”
“Are there no avenues of escape from this cave save that by water?”
asked the youth, when they had returned to the fire.
“There is one other,” was the reply, “and I will make you acquainted
with it.”
So she drew a torch from the fire, which they deadened, and led the way
from the main cavern. Past the grave of Renadah and into a narrow, rocky
corridor the twain walked, and, after many tortuous windings, felt the
cool lake breeze on their faces.
“We have journeyed three miles under ground,” said the girl, thrusting
her torch around a rock, that its light might not attract the attention
of foes who, perhaps, were abroad on the lake. “There are places in the
corridor where we could successfully defend ourselves against a tribe of
red-men. We are below the pictured rocks now, having passed almost
directly beneath the chapel. I seldom use this entrance, because bears
and panthers have been known to lodge in the corridor, and I would not
encounter the brutes unawares. Shall we return now?”
“Yes, it is getting light on the water,” said the youth, “and perhaps
our presence is needed in the great cave.”
“I hope no one has entered during our absence. Dohma, to my knowledge,
was the first Indian who ever visited it; then came Renadah.”
“It seems fatal for Indians to visit here,” said Dorsey Webb, with a
smile. “Hitherto they have met with a warm reception, which is not
encouraging for the red man.”
The torch was lifted again, fanned into a good blaze, and they started
back. The journey was accompanied with much toil; there were masses of
broken rock to surmount, and near two hours were spent in the feat.
Suddenly Silver Rifle reached forward, and took the torch from her
companion’s hand.
“What is it?” he asked, in a low whisper, believing that she had
discovered something.
“I heard nothing,” was the reply. “We must extinguish the fire now, for
we are very near the mouth of the cave.”
He did not reply, but saw the torch put out and dragged at her side.
“Hist!”
Silver Rifle’s lips touched his ear as she spoke the premonition of
danger, and he instantly became as motionless as a statue.
The tread of moccasined feet was heard, and they divined that somebody
was groping along the western wall of the cavern, which was very uneven,
and provided with stony shelves.
The person appeared to be searching for some particular object, for by
running his hand along the shelves, he threw multitudinous pieces of
broken stalactites to the ground, from which emanated ringing sounds as
they struck.
But one person to all appearances tenanted the cavern, and the twain in
the corridor listened intently until they were startled by sounds in
their rear.
Silver Rifle clutched the Destroyer’s arm.
He instantly divined the cause of the gripe, for he had been listening
to the sounds before they became so distinct as to cause alarm.
“Indians in our rear, and the cavern,” she whispered. “What is to be
done?”
“Much, and that quickly,” was the low reply. “This fellow in the cave is
approaching. What can he be looking for?”
“Heaven knows,” breathed Silver Rifle; “he must know that we have lately
vacated the cave, else he would use a torch. But—”
The Destroyer’s hand closed gently over her mouth, and broke the
sentence, and the next moment she felt him leave her side.
A cry of surprise, the fall of a heavy body quickly followed the leap,
and the short, sharp struggle that succeeded was quickly over.
The girl sprung forward and landed at White Tiger’s side.
“I’ve killed him,” he cried. “Now we must fight the devils in the
corridor.”
There was no time to look, for the savages who had followed them from
the lake shore were quite near, and, as the couple waited for them to
turn a curve that they might fire, a low, angry growl issued from the
corridor.
“They’ve roused a bear among the rocks,” said Silver Rifle, “and the
beast is being driven down upon us. He has turned the bend now; I hear
him among the loose rocks; wait till the Indians follow his example.
There! they’re around now. Ready—shoot low to kill Bruin if
possible—fire!”
Simultaneously the rifles cracked, and the howl of brute and humanity
were blended in the darkness.
The next instant the youth sprung to the smoldering fire, and a kick
illumined the cavern with a dim light, which revealed the mouth of the
corridor, beside which Silver Rifle stood with ready weapon.
The entrance was scarcely large enough to admit of the passage of a
bear, and two persons stationed there could defend it against numbers of
an enemy.
The bear had been wounded, and a moment after the shots, he turned with
a howl of pain upon the Indians, who rose with cries of horror, and
poured a volley into the infuriated beast. They shot at random, for they
could not see him; but some of the shots took effect, and more painful
howls followed. Then suddenly, with the impetuosity of a thunderbolt, he
sprung past the young besieged, and confronted them with menacing
attitude and defiant growls in the light of the flickering fire.
Here was a new danger, a new enemy to be met, and the now antagonist
showed fight, and even moved slowly toward our friends at the mouth of
the corridor.
Silver Rifle glanced at the young Destroyer, and then raised her rifle.
He saw this, then was compelled to look away, for the Indians were
moving in the corridor again.
A moment later the report of a rifle resounded throughout the cave, and
the bear rose on his hind feet, and with his front limbs extended like a
two-legged monster, came forward to take vengeance for the shot which
had plowed a terrible furrow through his eye.
Straight at the girl darted the brute, and retreating to the edge of the
corridor with drawn knife, our heroine prepared for the battle.
She glanced at the Destroyer, who, with a low cry, recognized her danger
and leaped toward the animal!
In a second he thrust his rifle forward, till it struck bruin’s breast
with a dull thud, when his finger pressed the trigger.
There was a groan, the great head dropped upon the black breast, and the
vanquished terror of the forest dropped dead at Silver Rifle’s feet.
Then, as the victors turned to the corridor again—for the scene which I
have just described occupied but a minute—a dark, elongated form leaped
into the cavern.
White Tiger struck as it rose erect before him, and a savage reeled away
with a low cry, indicative of death. Another and another Indian made
their appearance, and after a desperate resistance, Silver Rifle and the
White Tiger found themselves captives once more. Their captors numbered
four Chippewas, who quickly assured them that they had caught the
glimmer of Silver Rifle’s torch from the water, and had pursued, little
dreaming, until they found themselves in the corridor, that they were on
the trail of their worst enemies.
Two savages had fallen in the conflict in the cavern, and the captives
were secured with strong ropes, and thrown upon the ground near the
fire, which the Indians had revived.
Young Webb watched the Indians narrowly, and all at once an expression
of surprise crossed his face.
The Indian whom he had dispatched in the darkness was nowhere to be
seen!
True he had not noticed him after kicking the fire into life but having
struck him a terrible blow on the head with his tomahawk, he had
bestowed no second thought upon him, for other and more eventful things
demanded his attention.
Now the mystery of the missing body engrossed his every thought. If the
savage was a Chippewa, and had recovered from the blow, why did he not
make his appearance to his brethren? Why should he depart, when, from
some darkened spot, he could shoot his foes, for the Destroyer also
noticed that the rifle which he had knocked from his hands was missing
also.
Two of the Indians were ransacking the cave, while the others sat by the
fire guarding their helpless captives.
Silver Rifle possessed but little for the fiends to take. A rifle or two
fell into their hands, and these they brought to their comrades, with
many manifestations of delight.
All at once, while the savages were admiring {a} head-dress, which they
had discovered, one of the {red-skins} groaned and staggered from the
fire.
The captives caught sight of an arrow in his side as he wheeled.
The other savages turned as a rifle cracked, and a figure leaped from
the ground with a cry of vengeance.
A second brought the new-comer to his foes, and before they could meet
him, two sweeps of the rifle lowered them to the ground!
The impetuosity of the sudden attack could not be withstood.
The victor’s knife glittered over the prisoners for a moment, then they
sprung erect, and recognized their liberator!
Had the dead arisen? After all, was not their rescuer but the ghost of
one well known?
No; he was flesh and blood, for the gory furrow of the White Tiger’s
tomahawk was visible near the temple.
The avenger snatched a brand from the fire, and resumed the search along
the rocky shelves.
Silver Rifle and the Destroyer watched him in silence.
At last he turned away, with a cry of mingled disappointment and rage,
and flung the torch on the ground.
“Silver Rifle’s ring gone again,” he said. “Ahdeek laid it there not
long ’go. Somebody stole it. Him Ahdeek hunt now, an’ he speak not to
Silver Rifle till he find it.”
Then, with a maddened glance at the rocks, and a farewell look at the
late captives, the half-breed sprung over the dead Indians, and
disappeared down the dark throat of the corridor!
“He is gone,” said Silver Rifle, recovering her self-possession. “Heaven
speed him on his mission.”
“So say I, too, girl,” said the youth, and then his glance fell upon the
slaughtered braves. “I hope these days of blood are drawing to a close.
Oh, Heaven, are they not?”