AT BAY.
Like lightning from storm-clouds on high,
The hurtling, death-winged arrows fly,
And windrows of pale warriors lie!
Oh! never has the sun's bright eye
Looked from his hill-top in the sky,
Upon a field so glorious.--G. P. MORRIS.
As Oonamoo and O'Hara pressed forward, they found they were gaining
very rapidly upon the pursuers and pursued. As for the Huron, he had an
apprehension amounting almost to a certain conviction that the leader
of the Riflemen, after all, had committed a sad mistake, in believing
that he was safe from his enemies, after being rejoined by Edith. This
belief had led him into some trap, and the faithful Indian felt that
his services were sorely needed at that very moment.
It was yet early in the day, when he and the hunter ascended a sort of
ridge, which afforded them quite an extensive view of the surrounding
wilderness. Here, carefully protecting their persons from observation,
they looked out over the forest in quest of signs of human beings. The
unexperienced person might have looked for hours without discovering
the slightest evidence of animal life in the vast expanse spread out
before him. He would have seen the dark emerald of these western wilds
cut by the gleaming silver of many a stream and river; the tree-tops
gently bowed, like a field of grain, when the breeze rides over it; and
overhead, perhaps, would have been noted the flocks of birds circling
in curious figures; but all beneath would have been silent--silent,
save in that deep, solemn murmur which comes up perpetually like the
voice of the ocean.
But the Huron had scarcely glanced over the sylvan scene, when his dark
eye rested upon what, to him, was a most palpable evidence of the
presence of others in these woods. About a half-mile distant, on the
edge of a small clearing, stood the remains of a log fort. This was
subjected to a most searching scrutiny by both, but, for a time, O'Hara
discovered nothing unusual in its appearance.
"He's dere--he and the gal," said Oonamoo, pointing toward the pile of
logs.
"How do you know that? Have you seen him?"
"See now what he done--he's dere. Look agin."
"I've looked at them logs ever since we've been standing here, but
hain't seen Lew or the gal yet."
"Eber seen logs afore?"
"Have I ever seen them logs before? Yes, often."
"How they look when last see him?"
"The same as they do now, I believe."
"Sure?" asked Oonamoo, in a tone that revealed all to O'Hara. He now
looked again toward the remains of the log-fort, and understood at once
the meaning of the Huron's question. He had passed by the spot during
the preceding autumn, and noticed that the logs were scattered and
thrown down, as if a tornado had passed over the spot. Now, however,
there was system in their arrangement--proof sure that the hand of man
had been employed upon them. The Huron had seen them scarcely a week
before, and knew that all these changes had been made since--that, in
fact, Lewis Dernor had made them, and at that moment was standing at
bay behind them.
While yet they were looking, they saw something gleam for an instant in
the sunlight, and then disappear as if drawn behind the logs.
"That was Lew's rifle," said O'Hara. "He always keeps the barrel
polished up so that it nearly blinds a person to shoot."
"'Sh! look."
At the point where they had witnessed the movement of this bright
object, they now saw a red jet of flame spout out, a wreath of blue
smoke arise, and then came the report of a rifle.
"There's one red-skin the less," said O'Hara. "When Lew pulls trigger,
_something_ is sure to go under."
"Want us there," said Oonamoo, starting down the ridge on his peculiar
trot, and moving off toward what may now properly be termed a fort.
Upon coming in its vicinity, both exercised the greatest caution in
their movements, knowing, as they did, that it was besieged by their
deadly enemies. A half-hour's reconnoitering by both showed that there
were ten Indians, exclusive of one dead one, collected at one end of
the clearing, where each, safely ensconced behind a tree, was patiently
waiting for a shot at the Rifleman, whom they now at last believed they
had fairly cornered.
Upon witnessing this condition of affairs, Oonamoo and O'Hara debated a
proposition proposed by the latter. It was that the Huron, who was very
fleet of foot, should instantly make all haste to the settlement, and
return with the Riflemen and a sufficient force to scatter the
besieging Indians to the four winds. This undertaking would require
more than five hours at the utmost to fulfill it, but those five hours
were so precious, that Oonamoo decided not to make the attempt. He felt
sure that unless Dernor surrendered, the party of savages would attack
the place in a body before two hours elapsed; and, brave and determined
as he knew the Rifleman to be, he could see that a resistance upon his
part would be useless. He, therefore, acted with his usual wisdom, in
deciding to remain upon the ground to render assistance when it would
be needed.
The first plan adopted by O'Hara and the Huron was to keep their
position, remaining carefully concealed, until the savages should move
forward to the assault, when, as the former expressed it, they would
"wade in promiscuously." This project offered to its originators the
great point of excitement and desperate fighting, but was finally
rejected by the Huron for the last reason.
It is a very pleasant thing for a nation to think itself invincible and
able to conquer all others with which it may come in collision. The
same sensations, in a smaller degree, no doubt are experienced by two
persons when, in the flush of the moment, they feel able to combat with
five times their numbers; but, if time be allowed, the "sober second
thought" will prevail, and action will be guided more by prudence than
madness. The Huron was as brave a man as ever breathed, but he was also
as shrewd and cunning. He knew well enough that should he and O'Hara
rush in upon ten desperate, well-armed warriors, no matter how fiercely
they might fight, the result would be that both would be killed and no
one benefited. He, therefore, determined to resort once more to his
powers of stratagem.
The great point now was to make Dernor aware of the vicinity of his two
friends. Without this Oonamoo would be more likely to be shot by him
than by the savages. This part of the stratagem was the most difficult
to accomplish. The Shawnees and Miamis being collected at one end of
the clearing, it could not be expected that any signal, however
skillfully or guardedly made, would attract the notice of Dernor. It
might possibly be seen by Edith, but would not be understood. This
means, therefore, was not even attempted.
The besieged Rifleman of course kept himself invisible. He had become
aware, when within a mile or so of the present spot, that he was again
pursued by his unrelenting enemies, and making all haste thither, had
thrown the logs together as compactly and securely as the time allowed
him would permit. He had brought down one of his assailants, and they
in turn had buried some twenty balls in the logs around him, without
inflicting injury upon either Edith or himself.
In the hope of giving his leader an inkling of the condition of
affairs, O'Hara uttered a whistle, so perfect an imitation of the call
of a certain bird, that the suspicious Shawnees and Miamis failed to
notice it. Pausing a few moments, he repeated it, and then awaited the
action of Oonamoo. Whether Dernor had caught the signal or not, of
course his friends had no means of judging; but the Huron, knowing that
if he had not his own death was certain, now coolly made the desperate
attempt he had decided upon.
Securely sheltered behind his log-fort, Dernor stood with cocked rifle
awaiting his chance to pick off one of his enemies. Every faculty was
absorbed in this, and he scarcely removed his eye once from the spot
where he knew they were collected. He was aware of their exact number,
as he was also of the fact that Girty, the renegade, was not among
them. His lips were compressed, a dark scowl had settled upon his face,
and it would have been easy for any one to have read the iron
determination of his heart. He was at bay, it was true, and he was not
ignorant of the desire of the savages to gain possession of him. He
said nothing to Edith of the resolve he had made, but she needed no
telling to understand it. So long as life remained, her defender would
never desert her.
He was standing thus, gazing stealthily out through a loophole, when
Edith, who was watching every portion of the clearing, placed her hand
on his shoulder and told him that an Indian was stealing toward them
from the side opposite to that on which their enemies were collected.
As quick as thought Dernor wheeled around, pointed his rifle out and
took aim at the approaching savage. The latter saw the movement,
understood fully its cause, and yet made no attempt to escape, relying
entirely upon the chances of the Rifleman discovering his identity
before firing. His faith was rewarded, although Oonamoo came nigher
death in that single moment than ever he imagined. Dernor's finger was
already pressing the trigger, when he saw directly behind the
approaching Indian the barrel of a rifle project from behind a tree and
then disappear again. This served to arrest his attention, and before
he renewed his aim the round face of O'Hara was thrust forth and
disappeared again. This led him to examine the face of the venturesome
Indian. A single glance and he recognized Oonamoo, the faithful Huron.
He instantly drew his rifle in, and the latter, understanding the
meaning of it, sprung nimbly forward, and with one bound cleared the
opposing barricades and came down beside the besieged Rifleman. The
latter grasped his hand and silently pressed it.
"Who is with you?" he asked, after relinquishing it.
"'Hara--short feller--legs like bent Injin's bow."
"Nobody else?"
"Nobody else," replied the Huron.
"You watch that side, then, Oonamoo, and I will attend to this."
"No watch this side--no Injin come here--all on toder side--me watch
with you--come round this side bime-by."
"Do as you please; you're an Injin and ought to understand them."
Oonamoo had been seen by the besieging savages as he bounded over the
logs, and, for a few minutes, they were puzzled to understand the
meaning of so singular an occurrence. Their first impression was that
one of their number, more daring than the others, had taken this
desperate means of getting at the Rifleman, and they listened intently
for sounds of combat and struggles between them; but, as moment after
moment passed without the silence being disturbed, their eyes were
opened to the fact that he had been reinforced by a formidable ally;
and this, too, when a little foresight on their part would have
prevented it. Having felt certain, previous to this, that the white man
had no friends in the vicinity, they had neglected to surround his
fort, so as to prevent their approach. To prevent any thing further
happening like this, a part of the band now proceeded to get on the
opposite side of him.
There was but one way in which this could be done without being menaced
by the rifles of the besieged party. Several of the Indians, being
careful to keep the protecting trees before them, slowly retreated
backward until they had gone far enough in the wood to be safe, when
they passed around and approached the fort from the opposite side. It
was not long before they became aware that the friend of the Rifleman
was fully as sagacious as himself, and that, after all, the parties
were not so unequally matched. The threatening muzzles were constantly
protruding from behind those logs, and it was absolute suicide for any
one to attempt to stand before them.
Dernor having caught a glimpse of O'Hara, his companion, wondered
considerably that he did not follow the example of the Huron, and unite
with him in the fort. Thus strengthened, his confidence would have been
restored, and he would bid defiance to the Shawnees and Miamis. But, as
he waited, and finally saw that a number of Indians had succeeded in
getting behind him, he was compelled to give up this hope. This excited
speculation the more upon his part, because he was fully aware of
O'Hara's defects, and felt that it would have been the most prudent
course for him to adopt. At length he questioned the Huron:
"Where's Tom?"
"Dunno--gone away."
"Why didn't he do as you did--come over and join me?"
"Tom 'Hara goin' _to do sumkin' else_--_he_ know what."
"I expect he does. He'd better move his carcase from where he was a few
minutes ago, or them dogs will move it for him."
"He know--_dey_ won't move _him_--he get out way soon enough."
"He's got too short legs," said Dernor, who, aware of the affection the
Huron bore him, and experiencing a sort of reaction of his spirits
after their continued depression, was disposed to quiz Oonamoo a
little.
"Got _long_ eyes, dough," replied he, quickly.
"Got long eyes?" laughed Dernor. "I don't know as they're any longer
than mine."
"Good 'eal longer. Tom 'Hara neber let Shawnee and Miami get him atween
the logs--he know too much."
Dernor felt the sarcasm of this remark and took it kindly.
"Neither would they have got me here, had I been alone."
It would be difficult to describe the expression that illuminated the
Huron's face at this remark. He turned his dark, basilisk orbs (their
fierceness now subdued into a softer light) full upon Edith, who,
seated upon a portion of one of the logs, was listening to the
conversation. The muscles around the corners of his mouth twitched a
little, a wrinkle or two gathered, his beautiful white teeth became
visible, but she only half-suspected that he was smiling.
"Nice gal," said he, his voice now as soft as a woman's. "White man
love her--fight for her--Oonamoo do so too."
She did not know whether to be pleased or frightened at the look of the
Huron. In her perplexity she turned toward Dernor.
"You needn't be alarmed," said he, understanding her embarrassment.
"Oonamoo here is an old and tried friend, and will stand by you as long
as I will, which," he added, in a lower tone, "will be as long as the
One above gives me breath. He is devoted to me if he doesn't love you."
"Yes, Oonamoo does--he love all white folks--love the gals--clever to
him and feed him when hungry."
Dernor merely smiled, believing that the remark of the savage fully
explained his passion without any qualifying observation of his own.
"Oonamoo love white folks--love missionaries--tell him all about God up
dere"--pointing upward--"spirit land--happy place--Oonamoo don't take
scalp when Injin sleeping--so he go up dere when he die."
"I believe you will, for if there ever was an honorable savage you are
one," said Dernor, warmly.
The Huron made no reply to this compliment, evidently thinking enough
had been said. It must not be supposed that this conversation occurred
in the connected form in which we have given it. Several moments
sometimes elapsed between the different remarks, and hardly once during
its progress did Dernor look at the savage. Once or twice he turned
toward Edith, as also did Oonamoo, but the danger that menaced him was
too great for either to be diverted from it.
Some twenty minutes had elapsed, when an exclamation from the Huron
showed that some new scheme was afoot. Immediately after, a blazing
arrow came whizzing through the air, and buried itself in the logs. The
sharp crackling told that the twist of flame had communicated with the
logs and it was burning.
"My God! are we to be burnt alive?" exclaimed Dernor, losing his
self-possession for a moment.
"Ugh--can't burn--logs too wet--go out," replied his unmoved companion.
So it proved, although an inch or two of some of the logs were
sufficiently seasoned to take fire, they were all too damp and soaked
to burn. Oonamoo had hardly spoken when the blaze went out of itself. A
perfect storm of arrows, tipped with burning tow, now came sailing in
upon them, but the only inconvenience they occasioned was a blinding,
suffocating smoke, which lasted, however, but a few moments.
"Where the deuce did they get their bows and tow from?" asked Dernor.
"Do they carry such articles with them?"
"Sent for 'em after git here," replied Oonamoo.
"Won't any of these logs burn?"
"Too wet--smoke--but won't blaze."
The Indians soon found that nothing could be accomplished in the way of
burning out the fugitives, so they ceased the attempt only to devise
some other expedient. What this was to be, the besieged party for a
long time were unable to determine. The first warning they had was a
bullet, which grazed the face of Oonamoo, coming in at the _top_ of the
fort.
"Ugh! Shawnee climb tree--Oonamoo fetch him out dere," said the latter,
sheltering himself as quick as lightning, and peering out in the hope
of gaining a glimpse of the miscreant who had come so near shooting
him. He was disappointed, however, the savage descending the tree with
such skill and caution that his person was never once exposed to the
eagle eye of the Huron.
For an hour succeeding this last attempt nothing further was done by
the besieging savages. They carefully kept their bodies concealed, so
that the utmost watchfulness on the part of Oonamoo and Dernor failed
to get a shot at them. They saw enough, however, to make them certain
they were surrounded by their enemies, and that for the present, at
least, under Heaven, they had nothing but their own bravery and good
rifles to rely upon.
There were several means by which the fugitives could be compelled to
succumb in the end, if these means were only employed by the savages.
The first and obviously safest was to keep up the siege until they were
compelled to come to terms. Dernor had not a drop of water nor a
particle of food, and consequently this plan on the part of the
besiegers would have been only a question of time. Again, a rapid and
determined assault could scarcely fail to take the Rifleman and the
Huron. There were ten Indians to make the attempt, but those ten knew
well enough that two of their number would never live to reach the fort
in case the rush was made and that there would be desperate work before
the two men could be overcome.
During the hour of silence these plans occurred to Dernor, and he
mentioned the first to Oonamoo. The cunning savage shook his head.
"Won't do that--_afeard_."
"Afraid of what?"
"Settlement two--t'ree--fifteen mile off--_afeard_ other Long Knives
come afore we got starve."
"I hope the boys are somewhere in the woods. Why don't the cowardly
dogs rush in upon us? They could batter these logs down in five
minutes."
"_Afeard_ we batter _'em_ down," replied the Huron, with a sparkle of
his black eyes.
"We would surely knock some of them over, but I don't suppose we could
finish up the whole ten."
"Finish some--don't know which--dat de reason."
"Their heads are so full of their devilish inventions, I should think
they could get up some way to attack us without getting a shot at
them."
"Attack purty soon--keep eye peeled--don't see notting?"
"Nothing at all," replied the Rifleman, who, all this time, was peering
through a chink in the logs and not looking at the Indian.
Taking it for granted that if the Huron saw no danger there could be
none, Dernor turned toward Edith, and asked, in that low, passionate
tone which he instinctively assumed in addressing her:
"And how do you feel, dear Edith, all this time?"
"_My_ courage, I think, will bear up as long as _yours_," she answered,
with a faint smile.
"It will bear up to the end, then," he added. Then looking at her a
moment, he continued: "Edith, how you must feel toward me for bringing
you into this trouble! I have been thinking of it for the last day or
two."
"Did you do it on purpose?" she asked. "That is, did you _know_ we
should be pursued and persecuted as we have been when we started?"
"Know it? of course not. I would have been shot before I would have
come."
"Then why do you ask me such a question? No, Lewis, I do not blame you
in the least. On the contrary, I shall never be able to express the
gratitude I feel for what you have done."
This was the first time Edith had addressed the Rifleman by his given
name, and it gave him a peculiar pleasure which it would be difficult
to describe. He was only restrained from approaching by the reflection
that he would cut a most ridiculous figure in the presence of the
Huron. His feelings were now such that, upon his own account alone, he
would have welcomed several days' siege. In fact, he would have cared
very little had Oonamoo been a hundred miles distant just then.
But these emotions were only temporary. Five minutes later, he felt
heartily ashamed that he should have entertained them.
"I am certain, Edith----"
Further utterance was checked by an exclamation from the Huron. Looking
forth, Dernor saw that the crisis of the contest had arrived!