THE RIFLEMAN AND HURON ON THE TRAIL.
The woodcock, in his moist retreat,
Heard not the falling of their feet;
On his dark roost the gray owl slept,
Time, with his drum the partridge kept;
Nor left the deer his watering-place,
So hushed, so noiseless was their pace.
W. H. C. HOSMER.
On a fine summer day, the one succeeding that upon which occurred the
incident just related, one of the Riflemen of the Miami, was making his
way through the dense forests that at that period nearly covered the
entire portion of Ohio. His short stature, bowed legs, and round,
shining visage, showed unmistakably that he was Tom O'Hara. His rifle
was slung over his shoulder, and as he walked leisurely along, he had
that easy, saucy air which showed him to be totally unmindful of the
opinion of friend or foe. That he had no fears of disturbance was
manifest from the carelessness with which he proceeded, constantly
kicking the leaves before him, and when a limb brushed his face,
suddenly stopping and spitefully wrenching it off with an expression of
impatience. He was in a worse temper than usual, and incensed at
something that continually occupied his mind.
"What can have become of the fools?" he muttered. "He oughter been home
two, three days ago, and we hain't seen a sign of him yet. Can't be
Lew's such a dunce as to walk into the red-skins' hands. No, no, no."
He shook his head as if displeased, and for a time continued his
solitary journey in silence. The great question which he was debating
was regarding his leader's whereabouts, and his ill-temper arose
principally from the fact that he was unable to offer a solution
satisfactory to himself.
"Let me see," he added. "If Lew is took, why the gal's took, and if the
gal's took, Lew must be too; so that p'int is settled. It _might_ be
some of the Injins _have_ got him, but somehow or other I can't believe
it. Don't look reasonable, although Dick 'peared to think so."
Again he bent his head as if in deep thought. Gradually his meditations
brought him nearer the truth.
"He's found out that the shortest path was the safest one--something a
man is pretty apt to think when he is with the gal he loves, and so he
has took the roundabout way home. That's it, sure. But hold on a
minute," said O'Hara, as a new thought struck him; "I'd like to know
the route which it would take them so long to travel over. It's queer,
I'll be hanged if it isn't. That gal will be the death of Lew yet. I'd
like to see the gal that could pull the wool over _my_ eyes."
And, as if alarmed at the thought, he strode rapidly forward, shaking
his head, and muttering more savagely than ever to himself. Gradually
he regained his natural state of semi-composure, and proceeded in his
audible musings:
"Whatever is up, I'm bound to find out afore I go back. Not that I care
a cent for Lew--not a bit of it. If he don't know any better than to
shut his eyes when Injins is about, he oughter suffer. But then I'd
like to know _how things is_. Hello!"
The Rifleman stopped and commenced snuffing the air, like an animal
when it scents danger.
"That's smoke, as sure as I live. Who's been kindling a fire at this
time of day?"
Turning his head in every direction, he, at length, determined the one
from which the vapor came. There being scarcely any wind at all, he
rightly judged it must be close at hand. Stealing carefully along from
tree to tree, he finally detected the faint blue rising through the
wood, scarcely fifty yards away. Approaching still closer, he gained a
full view of the fire, and also of him who had kindled it. The latter
was an Indian warrior, who was seated on the ground with his legs
gathered under him, and his head bowed forward as if sleeping. The
hunter saw, from the nodding of his head, that such was the case.
Occasionally he would incline forward until ready to fall on his face,
when he would start up with a jerk, rub his eyes, look about him, and
then go to nodding again.
"It seems that everybody have lost their senses," muttered O'Hara. "Now
just see that Injin wagging his head at the fire, tryin' to sleep here
in broad daylight. How easy I could send a bullet through him! But
there's no danger of that, as we Riflemen don't fight in that style. Be
careful, my fellow."
Here the Indian fell over on his face and then scrambled to his feet,
looked around, seeking to appear wondrously awake, and then sat down as
before.
"A Huron, as I live," said O'Hara, in pleased astonishment. "What can
_that_ red-skin mean by being in these parts? All alone, too. If he was
only Oonamoo, now, I'd feel glad to see him."
Oonamoo, to whom the hunter alluded, was a Huron scout, well known
along the frontier as one of the best friends the whites possessed. He
had the shrewdness, cunning and skill of his people in an astonishing
degree, and had many times given evidence of his faithfulness to the
settlers. He was well known to the Riflemen of the Miami, having guided
them in several expeditions, and with O'Hara especially he was on good
terms. The anxiety of the latter, therefore, to meet him can be well
understood.
"Oonamoo would unravel the whole thing afore noon," said he, "and I'd
about as lief see him this minute as I would see Lew. Let me get a
better glimpse of his face. I didn't suspect him being a Huron when he
jumped up just now, or I'd noticed his features. It don't look like
Oonamoo, to see him noddin' in that style."
He moved cautiously around, until fairly in front of the savage, when
he uttered a low, peculiar whistle. The latter instantly raised his
head, his black eyes open to their fullest extent, and gave a look that
at once discovered his identity to O'Hara.
"Oonamoo, and no mistake," he muttered; and then repeating the whistle
as a warning that he was about to approach, he stepped boldly forth and
revealed himself. The Huron started with surprise, and then advanced
with an expression of pleasure to greet his white brother.
"Glad to meet," he said, speaking brokenly.
"And I'm derned glad to see you, Oonamoo, for I need your help this
minute. What are you doing? Out on a scout?"
The Huron shook his head.
"No scout--Oonamoo live in woods--like the deer--can't sleep near white
men's houses."
"'Pears you can sleep here though, the way your head was bobbin'
around. Been up late at night, I s'pose?"
"No sleep now--meet 'Hara, white brother," said he, with an expression
of joy upon his swarthy countenance.
"Yes, I smelt the smoke of your fire, and follerin' it up I cone onto
you. 'Pears to me it was rather careless kindling your fire here in
broad daylight. Ain't there any Injins in the neighborhood?"
"Woods full of 'em--Shawnees, Miamis, Delawares, all over, like leaves
of trees," replied the savage, sweeping his arm around him.
"Ain't you _afeard_ they might come down on you?"
The Rifleman indulged in an inward laugh, for he well knew the reply
that would be made. The dark face of the Huron assumed an expression of
withering scorn as he answered:
"Oonamoo don't know _fear_--spit on Shawnee and Miami--he sleeps in
their hunting-grounds, and by their wigwams, but they don't touch him.
He scalp their warriors--all he meets, but Oonamoo never lose scalp."
"Don't be too sure of that; that proud top-knot of yours may be yanked
off yet, Mr. Oonamoo. Many a Shawnee would be proud to have that
hanging in his lodge."
"He never get him though," replied the Huron, with great readiness.
"I hope not, for I'd feel sorry to see such a good warrior as you go
under when he is needed so much. You ain't on a scout or hunt just now,
then?"
The savage shook his head from side to side as quick as lightning.
"Then you'll take a tramp with me?"
It now went up and down with the same celerity.
"To sum up then, Oonamoo, Lew, our leader, is in a bad scrape."
"Shawnee got him? Miami got him?"
"That's what I want to find out. Shouldn't be s'prised if both have
nabbed him."
"How get him?"
There was something curious in the eagerness with which the Huron asked
the questions. It was more noticeable from the fact that O'Hara spoke
slowly and deliberately, so that the short, broken sentences of the
savage seemed all the more short and broken.
"That I can't tell, Oonamoo," repeated the hunter, who, it will be
noticed, evinced the remarkable fact of being in a good temper with the
Indian. "You see, him and the gal----"
"Gal with him?" asked the savage, with amazing quickness.
"Yes; didn't I tell you that?"
"Bad--bad--gal make him blind--see notting, all time--she afore his
face."
"You've got the idea this time, Oonamoo. Lew's in love, above his head
and ears, and can't be to blame so much for what he's done," said
O'Hara, a gleam of pity stealing through his rough nature, like a ray
of sunshine entering a gloomy cave. "He's made a fool of himself, I'm
afeard, 'cause there's a female on his hands."
"What want to do? Foller him--catch him?"
"That's it. The first thing to be done is to find the trail."
"Where lost? Where see him last?"
O'Hara proceeded to relate as best he could what is already known to
the reader, or more properly that portion of it which was known to him.
He stated that he and Dick Allmat had lost the trail in a small brook,
and that their most persistent efforts had failed to recover it. Upon
speculating further, he learned from Oonamoo that they were in the
vicinity of the ravine where Dernor and Edith had so narrowly escaped
the Indians, the latter fact of course being unknown to them. The Huron
added, that there was "much track" in the woods around them, and
O'Hara, thinking that perhaps his leader's might be among them,
proposed that they should make an examination of them. To this the
savage readily agreed, and the two moved forward through the wood for
that purpose.
In the course of a few minutes they reached the ravine, and the Indian,
pointing down into it, as they stood upon its bank, said:
"Full of tracks--many Injin pass there."
"Let us go down and take a look at them."
A few minutes later, they were following up the ravine, on a sort of
half-run, the Huron leading the way, and evincing, at nearly every
step, that remarkable quickness of sight and comprehension so
characteristic of his race. Suddenly he paused so abruptly that O'Hara
ran against him.
"What the deuce is the matter?" he asked, rubbing his nose.
"Look!"
Several dark drops of blood were visible on the ground which was also
torn up by the feet of the combatants. As the reader probably suspects,
this was the scene of the conflict between Dernor and the Miami Indian.
"See," said Oonamoo, walking slowly around, and pointing to the ground.
"Track of Injin--track of white man--tear up ground--fight--till Injin
killed. White man then run--see him tracks there, there, there," he
added, pointing further and further from him as he uttered each of the
last three words.
"But where's the gal?"
The Huron pointed to the spot where Edith had stood spell-bound while
the contest was going on. O'Hara, although a skillful backwoodsman, was
not equal to his savage companion; but he saw at once, from the dainty
impress of the earth, that he was correct in supposing that Edith had
stood there. They now resumed their pursuit, the hunter bringing all
his wood-craft into play, in order to keep up with his companion.
"I can't see her tracks to save my life," said the former, after they
had proceeded some distance.
"Him carry her," replied the savage, without the least hesitation.
"Hang me if you haven't got about as much brains as a person needs in
these parts," muttered O'Hara, admiringly, as he imitated the
monotonous trot of the savage. A moment later and he paused again.
"What's up now?" asked the hunter.
"Track gone."
"But I see plenty in front of us."
"White man's not there--gone."
A minute examination revealed the fact that most of the impressions
were now made by persons passing _backward_ as well as forward, as
though confusion had arisen from some cause. O'Hara suspected the
reason of this, but, without venturing an opinion, questioned his dusky
friend:
"Huntin' for tracks," he answered. "White man gone."
The two now walked slowly backward, their gaze wandering along the
sides of the ravine instead of the bottom. In a moment the quick eye of
the Indian discerned the spot where he judged the exit had been made,
and a short examination proved that he was right. The feet of Dernor
had sunk deep in the soft earth as he made his Herculean efforts in the
ascent, while those of his pursuers were so light that they hardly
disturbed them.
Up out of the ravine came the Huron and hunter, and into the woods they
plunged, following the trail now with the greatest readiness. A short
distance further they reached the banks where Edith had concealed
herself, and here, for a time, even the red-skin was at fault. He saw
that the shrubbery had been passed by most of the pursuers without
their having approached closely enough to make an examination. From the
circuit which Dernor had made to reach these bushes, the quick-witted
Huron rightly suspected that he had turned them to some account.
Accordingly, he cautiously parted them and looked in. An immediate
"Ugh!" showed O'Hara that he had made some discovery.
"Hide gal there--then run on."
"Where is she?"
"Injin didn't git her in bushes," replied the savage, implying that if
she was captured at all it was not done here.
"Go on, then," added O'Hara.
It was now noticed that the steps of the fugitive had shortened, it
following, as a natural consequence, that he had slackened his speed at
this point. Several hundred yards further on, another fact was
observed. The pursuing Indians, instead of adhering to the trail, as
they had done heretofore, separated and left it. This, to both Oonamoo
and O'Hara was evidence that they had either come in sight of Dernor,
or else were so certain of the direction he was taking that they did
not deem it necessary to watch his footsteps. The Rifleman could not
believe the former was the case, inasmuch as it was the very thing,
above all others, which his leader would seek to avoid; for the most
requisite condition to the success of his artifice, was that his
pursuers should still think Edith was with him. Be that as it may, one
thing was certain. The pursuer and pursued at this point were very
close together--closer than the safety of the latter could admit for
any length of time.
A few hundred yards further, the dark face of the Huron lit up with an
expression of admiring pleasure.
"Him run agin," said he, glancing to O'Hara, who was now beside him.
The steps of the flying Rifleman now lengthened rapidly, as if he had
traveled at superhuman speed. As O'Hara saw the remarkable leaps which
he must have taken, he could not help exclaiming, in admiration: "Go
it, Lew. I'd like to see the red-skin that could overhaul you, when
you're a mind to bring your pegs down to it."
"Run much--like scar't deer," added Oonamoo.
"Yes, _sir_; Lew has been letting out just along here, and I reckon
them Injins never seen such steps as he took."
It was very evident that the hunter had "let out" to his utmost
ability, and with the determination of leaving his pursuers far in the
rear. Previous to this he had not called his formidable power into
play; but so rapidly had his gait increased that in many places his
footsteps were fully ten feet apart!
It had not escaped the notice of Oonamoo and O'Hara, that a white man
was among the pursuers, and it occasioned considerable speculation upon
the part of the latter. The trails of the two were distinguishable,
Dernor having a small, well-shaped foot, inclining outward very
slightly, while that of the other was large, heavy, turning outward at
a very large angle.
"Who can this chap be?" asked O'Hara of his companion.
"Renegade--bad white man--Girty--white chief."
"Whew! I see how it is now. That's the dog that hung around the
settlers on the night of the storm, and got fired at a dozen times."
"Why no killed--no hurt?"
"We didn't know who he was, and all shot at his breast."
"Ugh! no hurt him, then."
"No, for, they say, the dog often wears a bullet-proof plate over his
breast, and his life has, more than once, been saved by it. He's a
brave man, for all he's such an inhuman brute; for who would dare to
sit and let us fire agin and agin at him, when it was just as likely
we'd fire at his head as at his breast? It was more of an accident than
any thing else that we didn't kill him."
"Bad man--kill women and children," said Oonamoo.
"No one disputes that. What a pity we didn't know him when we first set
eyes on him. I shouldn't wonder now if he's been fooling Lew, as well
as us. My gracious! hasn't the boy used his pegs along here?" exclaimed
O'Hara, again looking at the ground.
"No catch him," said the Huron. "No Injun run like him. Tracks turn
round pretty soon."
"What makes you think so?"
"Gal bring him back--not leave _her_!"
"You're right. He won't forget she is behind him. But how is he going
to throw the dogs off the scent?"
"How t'row white men off scent, eh?"
"I understand--by taking to the water."
"Take to water agin."
As the Huron spoke, they came upon the edge of a second brook--one, in
fact, large enough to be called a creek. The trail led directly into
this, it being manifest that Dernor had so shaped his flight as to
reach it.
"I will cross over and examine the opposite side, while you do the same
along this shore."
"No, won't," replied Oonamoo, with a decided shake of his head. "White
man no cross--gal behind him--come out on this side agin."
The savage was so certain of this, that he refused even to allow O'Hara
to enter the stream. A moment's reflection convinced him, also, that
the supposition was correct, and they commenced their ascent of the
bank. They had gone scarcely a dozen steps, when they came upon
numerous moccasin-tracks, showing that, if the pursuers had crossed the
creek, they had also returned. At this discovery, Oonamoo indulged in a
characteristic exclamation:
"He hide trail--all safe--no cotch him."
"How are _we_ going to find it?" asked O'Hara.
Marvelous as was the skill of the Huron, he doubted his own ability to
regain the trail in the ordinary manner, and he accordingly had resort
to the same means that he used in ascending the ravine. Without
attempting to search for the trail itself, he carefully examined the
shore in order to find the point at which the fugitive could safely
leave the stream. Oonamoo, from his knowledge of the leader of the
Riflemen, knew that he would walk for miles in the creek, before he
would leave it without the certainty of deceiving his pursuers. The
course which Dernor had taken being such that he had entered the water
at a point considerably _above_ where Edith had concealed herself, the
savages, in case they were aware that the latter was somewhere on the
back-trail, would naturally suppose that, if he came out of it on the
same side in which he had entered, it would be _below_ this point;
which, all being comprehended by the Huron, satisfied him that the
fugitive had disappointed these expectations, and gone _up_ the stream.
Two things, therefore, were determined with considerable
certainty--Dernor had not _crossed_ the creek, but had left at a point
either near or above where Oonamoo and O'Hara were standing. Satisfied
of this, the two moved along the bank, taking long, leaping steps,
treading so lightly as barely to leave the impression of their feet,
and scrutinizing each bank with the most jealous eye.
They had ascended fully a half-mile without discovering any thing upon
which "to hang a suspicion," when O'Hara, who had contrived to get in
advance of the Huron, uttered a suppressed exclamation of surprise.
"Here's where he could have come out," said he.
Oonamoo looked carefully before him, and shook his head. The object in
question consisted of a fallen tree, the top of which lay in the edge
of the stream, while the upturned roots were nearly a hundred feet
distant. It will be seen at once, that the hunter could easily have
walked along the trunk of this without leaving a visible footprint, and
leaped off into the woods from the base and continued his flight as
before. Plain as was this to the Huron, another fact was still
plainer--the Rifleman had done no such thing.
"Why do you think he hasn't used this tree?" asked O'Hara.
"Too plain--_Injin sure to t'ink he do it._"
Oonamoo had told the exact truth, for Dernor had really approached the
branches of the tree with the intention of using them as we have
hinted, when he had seen that his pursuers would be sure to suspect
such an artifice, from the ready means afforded him; and he had,
therefore, given over his first resolve, and continued his ascent of
the creek.
All around the base were the imprints of moccasins, showing where the
Shawnees and Miamis had searched and failed to find the trail. Oonamoo
having noticed all this, in far less time than it has taken us to
relate it, walked out on the tree-trunk as far as it would allow him
without wetting his feet Standing thus, he leaned over and peered out
into the water.
"Look dere--knowed it," said he, pointing out a few feet from the
shore. The water was semi-translucent, so that it required a keen view
to discover the object of the Huron's gaze; but, following the
direction of his finger, O'Hara made out to discover on the bottom of
the creek the _sign_ left by the passage of a human foot. They were not
_impressions_, because there was not a dent visible, the ground being
entirely free from any thing like it; but there were two delicate, yet
perfect _outlines_ of a moccasin. The hunter had stood a few moments on
this spot, and then stepped into deeper water. The tracks thus left by
his feet had gradually filled with the muddy sediment composing the
bottom of the creek, until, as we have said, there were no
_impressions_ left; but, completely around where they had once been,
ran a dark line, as if traced by the hand of an artist, a complete
outline of the hunter's foot. This faint, almost invisible, evidence of
his passage had entirely escaped the eyes of his pursuers.
"What I t'ought," said Oonamoo; "knowed dey'd t'ink he'd come out
dere--go in water agin--come out furder up-stream."
"By thunder," said O'Hara, in amazement, "you make me ashamed of
myself, Oonamoo. I believe you could track the gray eagle through air.
Come, now, where is Lew? you can tell, if you're a mind to."
This extravagant compliment was entirely lost upon the stolid Huron. He
appeared not to hear it. He merely repeated, "He come out furder up,"
and, springing lightly from the tree, continued his cautious ascent of
the creek, O'Hara following behind, and occasionally muttering his
unbounded admiration of the Indian's astonishing skill.
The opposite side of the stream was overhung almost entirely with the
heavy undergrowth so characteristic of the western forests. Beneath
this it would have been an easy matter for a foe to have concealed
himself and to fire upon the hunter and Indian; but the latter scarcely
deigned to look across, well knowing that no such a danger threatened
them. While the savages were searching for the trail of the fugitive,
Oonamoo was certain that, as yet, no one knew that any one was upon
theirs. Even had they known it, they would have cared but little, for
they were too formidable a body to fear the two men who were following
them.
All along the shore were numerous moccasin-tracks, showing how
persistently the Indians had kept up the pursuit. It struck O'Hara that
his leader must have walked pretty rapidly through the creek to keep
out of sight of the enemies, for they, being upon the land, had nothing
to retard their progress. The causes of his success in this matter were
twofold. In the first place, the extraordinary speed at which he had
run had placed him far in advance of his pursuers, upon reaching the
creek, so that he had ascended it a good distance before they reached
it; and, unlike the shrewd Huron, they were deceived by the artifice he
had practiced, believing that he had either crossed the stream, or gone
down it. In this manner he gained a start sufficient to accomplish all
he desired.
O'Hara was just on the point of framing his mouth to ask a suppressed
question, when Oonamoo, who was several feet in advance, suddenly
paused and raised his hand over his head, as a signal that silence and
caution were now necessary.