THE RESULT OF THE FIGHT.
A chill of horror crept over the frame of Town. Farnesworth as he saw
the bloody face and lacerated shoulders of the savage appear slowly
from the hatchway. He shrunk back from the hideous form as from an
apparition.
The face of the savage wore a ghastly expression--the eyeballs
protruded from their sockets till they rested upon the cheeks--the
jaws stood apart and the tongue protruded from the mouth, which was
filled with blood and foam.
Clutching the tomahawk in a firmer grasp, Town. advanced toward the
savage; but, at the same instant, the form of the giant warrior shot
out of the hold and fell limp and motionless in death upon the deck.
Then, up through the hatchway, popped the head and shoulders of Old
Tumult, the picture of dolefulness and woe, his face convulsed and
his sides shaking in a roar of triumphant laughter.
After all he had proved the victor, and had pushed the body of his
fallen enemy through the hatchway in order to work a surprise upon
his two friends, who, he learned from their conversation, had come
out victors with the savages above. But, the old scout bore many a
mark of the conflict. His face and neck were fearfully lacerated, and
the few locks of yellow hair that were permitted to remain on his
head, clung about his face and neck wet and sadly. His clothes were
nearly all torn from his body, and his back bore many a red furrow
where the sharp nails of the giant had plowed.
Town. stood speechless with happy disappointment.
Something like a scowl passed over Rollo’s face.
Old Tumult was the first to speak:
“Ay, lads!” he cried, “had thar’ been a leetle smell o’ brimstone
down thar’ in that dark hold, I could have convinced myself that I
was tusslin’ with the devil away down in the black pit.”
Town. and Rollo laughed at the scout’s coolness of speech rendered
slightly ludicrous by his doleful appearance.
“If you could come out victor in a life-struggle with Satan, as with
this savage, you’d be equal to Christian, the Pilgrim,” said Town.
“’Zactly,” returned the old scout, and having picked up his rifle
from the deck, he related his adventures below. When he had succeeded
in slaying his foe, he listened and learned from their talk that
Town. and Rollo’s fears had been aroused as to the result of the
conflict. A practical joke was thereby suggested to his mind, and he
proceeded to carry it into execution by thrusting the body of the
savage through the hatchway.
Washing the blood from his hands and face, and bathing his many,
but not very serious, wounds and bruises, the scout declared his
readiness for further business. Thereupon, Rollo headed the boat
shoreward again, and in a few minutes the bank was reached.
Old Tumult and Town. went ashore, but Rollo remained on board.
“Why, ain’t you a-goin’ with us?” asked Old Tumult.
“I can not. I must return for my horse on the other side of the
river,” replied the ranger.
“Oh--’zactly,” responded the scout; “I’d forgotten thet you hed a
hoss.”
“And I am very sorry that we are to lose so valuable a friend,” said
Town.; “I hope we will be able to repay you some time for to-day’s
invaluable service.”
“I want nothing,” replied the ranger, “and if you will appoint a
place of meeting, I will join you in your efforts to rescue the
maidens when I get my horse and cross the river.”
“That’s a fair offer,” said Town., “and we’ll be glad to have your
services, which are worth half a dozen men on an Indian trail.”
“Ya-as, that’s what the red-skin thought t’other day when I spread
his nose all over his face with my fist,” returned the scout, with a
humorous chuckle; “but how’ll the head o’ the Devil’s Staircase do
fur a meetin’-p’int?”
“The place, exactly,” returned the young ranger; “but as it is past
noon now, it may be far into the night before I get there.”
“Wal, we’ll wait thar till ye come,” said the scout.
“Till then, good-by,” said the young ranger.
They separated. The scout and Town. turned their faces westward and
set off through the forest. Had they, however, crept back and kept a
watch upon the movements of the young ranger, they would have seen
sufficient of his proceedings to have justified them in sending a
bullet through his heart. But, “where ignorance is bliss, ’tis folly
to be wise.”