THE DEAD HAND.
The deceiving braves whom Hondurah had punished had obeyed his
injunction.
Accidentally discovering the cave that contained Clearwater, they at
once redoubled their search for the vengeful father, who sought her and
her half-breed lover, determined that he should keep his vow, and then
fall himself for the dishonor he had heaped upon them.
Oagla spoke the truth when he said that Hondurah would rouse the
whirlwind if he punished the young braves, and the whirlwind which he
did call into existence was destroying, as the reader has just seen.
The torches that dropped from the hands of the savages at the opening of
the unexpected attack, afforded light for the combatants, whose features
were soon recognized by the Indian girl, too weak to rise and lend
assistance.
The onset of the twain was as the onset of the long-concealed
tiger—absolutely irresistible. Two Indians went down before the battle
fairly commenced, and the remaining three tried to gain the mouth of the
corridor. But in vain, for one of the new foes planted himself before
the aperture, and with the aid of his confederate beat the red-men back.
“No quarter, girl!” he shouted to his helper, as he sprung forward with
uplifted rifle; but the next moment the stock of the weapon was shivered
against the roof of the cave, and the barrel flew from his hands.
Quick as thought he sprung forward to reclaim it, and as he stooped the
tomahawk of the sole surviving savage descended upon his head, and the
great red hand caught him before he could fall.
The Girl Trailer uttered a cry of horror at this, and flew to the White
Tiger’s relief; but the savage held his prey before him as a shield,
leaped backward into the corridor before she could strike, and
disappeared in the gloom, like an arrow!
She followed, but soon paused, and returned to kneel over Clearwater,
weak with fright and anxiety.
“Oh, Clearwater, I am so glad that you, at least, are left me,” she
said, taking the hand of the red girl. “The White Tiger and Silver Rifle
have parted for the last time!”
Clearwater sighed, and gently pressed the white girl’s hand.
“But we will not be alone long,” she said. “Ahdeek will return before
two more sleeps.”
“When was he last here?” asked Silver Rifle, eagerly.
“One sleep ago,” was the reply. “He came back to see that Clearwater was
comfortable. He placed meat and drink within reach, and kissed her
before he left. Yes, he will come back soon with Silver Rifle’s ring.”
“I pray that he may; but tell me, girl, how you escaped the other night,
and why I have believed Ahdeek dead.”
“The red man’s bullet did not strike Clearwater’s heart, and while they
chased White Tiger and my white sister, he came where his dead bird lay,
scalped the dead braves, and bore her here. Clearwater should live for
Ahdeek, the Great Spirit says, and she is growing strong now, and she
will soon be on her feet again. The young braves lied,” she resumed,
after a long pause. “They say they burn Ahdeek; they ’fraid to tell
Hondurah and the old men that they let the enemy escape. Ahdeek run
faster than Chippewa—they no catch him, the swift young deer of Gitche
Gumee.”
Thus, in a few words, was the escape of Ahdeek and Clearwater explained
by the latter.
Silver Rifle listened attentively, and related the story of the battle
in her cave, and Ahdeek’s bravery.
“Ahdeek had red gash on his face when he came back to Clearwater,” said
the Indian girl; “but he no tell her where he got it. He say tomahawk
made it; but never say that White Tiger held the bad hatchet.”
“Girl, we must prepare for defense,” said Silver Rifle, recurring to the
present. “The Indian who escaped will not permit us to lie here long
unmolested. I know the Chippewas—you know them, too. He will not return
alone; but if he finds fellow-braves in the forest, he will step upon
the back trail, and Ahdeek will find a bloody cave when he returns.”
Silver Rifle’s words, so full of startling logic, aroused the chief’s
daughter.
“Silver Rifle load Indian guns, quick!” she said, commandingly. “Mossuit
may return before we breathe six times, and he must meet bullets when he
crawls through yon hole.”
The white girl sprung with alacrity to the task before her. She loaded
the six rifles that lay scattered about the cave, and placed them within
reach of her red sister.
Clearwater smiled as she examined the locks, and raised one of the
weapons, to show Silver Rifle that she was strong enough to handle it.
“Do not excite yourself, Clearwater,” said the white girl. “Harbor your
strength for the hour which shall demand it. I will return ere long,
girl, and then we will wait for the arrival of Ahdeek.”
Selecting the best of the rifles—for her own true weapon still remained
in the Indian village, and she hoped to recover it some day—she bade
Clearwater good-by and plunged into the opening.
The way was dark, but as she had threaded it an hour before, with the
Destroyer, she managed to elude many of the unseen dangers, and at
length reached the lake-shore.
Death’s fateful silence brooded everywhere, but it was the silence that
precedes the storm, and Silver Rifle listened keenly as she stood in the
gloom, at the mouth of the passage.
“Shall I ascend to the forest?” she asked herself twice, and then
answered in the affirmative by stepping forward.
The ascent of the bank was not difficult, and presently the daring girl
crouched beneath the boughs of a tree, and strained her ears to catch
the slightest sound.
Sue knew that Indians were abroad; the forests of Lake Superior were
never rid of their presence, and she doubted not but that some red
prowler would soon manifest himself near.
This thought still lingered in her mind, when a twig snapped and
startled her.
It was the first sound that had greeted her ear since leaving the cave.
Was it brute or human?
A long silence followed the noise; then came the sound of a dozen feet.
Six Indians were filing through the woods directly toward the lake.
To rise and return now would be dangerous, for she could not conceal her
footsteps from the keen ear of her foe, and, thinking of the peril that
menaced Clearwater, she held her breath and resolved to lie still.
She hugged the tree, as the Indians approached, and saw six giant forms
glide so near that she could have touched them with her hand!
They did not notice her, and she breathed freer.
Perhaps, after all, their destination was not the cave.
But she started, a moment later, for the savages had halted, and a voice
fell upon her ear.
It was the voice of Mossuit, the red fiend who had escaped from the cave
with the Destroyer in his arms.
Yes, their destination was the cave, and Mossuit, having disposed of the
White Tiger somehow, was leading his brethren to vengeance and death.
The halt occupied but a minute of time, then the red-men moved on.
“They’re between me and Clearwater now,” groaned the girl, rising
silently. “Heaven help my poor, weak sister, and grant me strength
enough to aid her.”
With her last words, she griped her rifle with stern determination, and
had taken a step toward the lake, when the sound of a single footstep
greeted her ear.
It came from the south, and the owner thereof was on the trail of the
Indians.
Quickly, then, Silver Rifle dropped earthward again, and waited for the
trailer.
He was eager to come up with the savages, for his speed was
considerable, and when Silver Rifle caught the outlines of his form, she
quickly sprung to her feet, and the next moment thrust forth her hand.
It touched the trailer’s bare arm, and he stopped suddenly, like one
shot, then stepped back a pace. Silver Rifle followed him.
“’Tis I,” she whispered, in a low tone.
A cautious ejaculation of surprise followed, and the next moment Silver
Rifle and the plumed man stood face to face, with clasped hands.
“The red-men are near Clearwater,” he said, with fear.
“Ahdeek came upon them in the forest, and he saw them joined by a chief.
He listened, and heard the new chief speak the name of Ahdeek’s love.
How came Silver Rifle here?”
Three brief sentences told the disguised half-breed all.
He darted forward with a cry of mingled horror and vengeance.
They reached the lake-shore, over which brooded the silence of death.
Not a savage was to be seen, and the half-breed looked puzzled.
“They stationed no braves here,” he said; “perhaps, after all, they
turned aside, for these bare rocks show no moccasin-steps. Girl, Ahdeek
find something in woods.”
“My ring—my ring!” ejaculated Silver Rifle, starting forward as Ahdeek’s
hand sought his medicine-pouch. “Give me the ring, chief, that I may
read the mystery of my life.”
She trembled with emotion as she watched the hand withdrawn.
A moment later she caught the sparkle of precious stones in the
starlight, and her fingers closed upon something cold.
Then she bent eagerly forward, and, with a startling cry, discovered
that she griped a dead hand, lately severed from an arm, and that her
ring glittered on one of the icy fingers!
Silver Rifle then did what nine-tenths of her sex would have
done—dropped the dead member, and stared into Ahdeek’s face.
For the hand was that of a white man!
Ahdeek sprung to pick it up, and, as he stooped, four rifles flashed on
the top of the cliff above them!