THE RESCUE.
The Apaches had scarcely halted, when one of their number was observed
to walk back toward the mouth of the gorge where he stationed himself.
The two hunters looked at each other and smiled significantly, while
Lancaster gave his younger companion a nudge in the side.
“How does that look, Fred? All right, aint it?”
“Yes; there hasn’t been a failure to-day in anything you have said or
done.”
“Wal,” said the trapper with a complacent yawn, “if a feller hunts and
traps for thirty years among the redskins, he ought to know _somethin’_
about ’em, hadn’t he?”
“Of course.”
“That’s all about it then; if you had been in my place, may be you’d’ve
knowed pretty near as much. But that’s neither here nor there. Things
look good; now I tell you what must be done, Fred. It’s time the boys
were waked up and got ready; I’ll go up and bring them and the animals
down where they’ll be handy, and then we’ll see what’s to be done,
whether we’re to sarcumvent ’em or to sail in and knock ’em over.”
“Am I to remain here?”
“You’ll stay here till I come back and we’ll arrange things.”
And the next minute the trapper was gone.
Left alone, Fred Wainwright looked cautiously about him, and then, so
far as the gathering darkness of the imperfect light of the small
camp-fire would permit, saw the position of matters. The Apaches had
kindled a fire, and were cooking a large piece of meat over it; Florence
was seated on the ground about a dozen feet back of them, not secured or
bound in any manner.
Why need she be? What chance had she of fleeing? Was there ever a moment
when the black eyes of an Apache were not fixed upon her, and were those
of Cherouka ever removed? No; she was too sensible of thinking of such a
step.
Yet as the keen eyes of the young hunter rested upon the scene, he saw
there was an opportunity which might never come again. If she could only
be apprised of the proximity of her friends, there was no reason why she
should not give her enemies the slip. At any rate, he had looked but a
few minutes when he determined to make the attempt.
Good fortune which had favored our friends so far, caused the encampment
to be on the western side of the gorge, the same as that occupied by the
hunters, and where now Fred Wainwright began creeping stealthily forward
toward the captive.
He was too experienced a hunter to attempt anything like this, unless
there was a good prospect of success. He was as certain, as any one
could be of the most certain of all things, that when his friends were
gathered together, and made a charge upon the Indians, they could
scatter them like chaff, and retake Florence Brandon without the danger
of a scratch to her. Consequently nothing like the present would be
attempted, if there was cause for the least fear of precipitating
matters.
Our hero reached a point about twenty feet not in the rear but at one
side of the girl, and then paused to deliberate upon the best method of
apprising her of his presence. Carefully scrutinizing everything around
him, he finally searched on the ground until he found a small pebble
which he tossed so dexterously that it dropped in her lap. She instantly
raised her head and looked toward the Indians evidently thinking it came
from them. This was the critical moment; and Fred improved it, by
flinging another one as skilfully as before.
This accomplished its mission. Florence Brandon knew that a friend was
near at hand, and she signified her understanding of matters by glancing
quickly in the direction from which the pebble came and giving a quick
wave of the hand.
“Good!” muttered the hunter, “she understands; she is as bright and keen
as ever.”
Creeping still closer until he had reached a point, beyond which he dare
not pass, he paused to make sure that his situation would admit his
acting as he had determined to do in case he made an attempt to rescue
the captive. Behind him the wood and shrubbery were of impenetrable
darkness, so that he could maneuver in them to the best advantage.
Now that he was sure the ear of the girl was strained to catch the
slightest sound, he waited but a moment, and then whispered,
“_This way, quick!_”
She turned her head, glanced fearfully around her, and then rising to
her feet, ran rapidly and lightly toward the young hunter. She had gone
but a dozen steps or so, when an exclamation of Cherouka showed that he
had discovered the attempt, and he darted after her. He evidently
believed it a despairing attempt upon her part, done without the
connivance of any one, and he intended to bring her back with the least
trouble to herself and without any outcry or demonstration, so far as he
was able to prevent it.
The other Apaches witnessed the whole thing, but very probably they
concluded if Cherouka intended to make a wife of the “pale face,” it was
about time he commenced the “breaking in” process, and they therefore
continued their attention to the roasting antelope.
Fred Wainwright stood in a crouching position until Florence Brandon
reached him, when he whispered hurriedly,
“_Don’t stop; we’ll take care of you; run on, and I will attend to this
gentleman._”
Cherouka came straight ahead until he had reached a point only a few
steps behind the girl, and his arm was outstretched to seize her, when a
dark body suddenly arose to his feet, and the next moment to use an
elegant expression, “the first thing he knew he didn’t know anything,”
for he was felled senseless by the crashing blow of Fred Wainwright
dealt straight in his face.
Thus far, thus well. The hunter now whirled on his heel, and started
after the flying girl. She was too startled to comprehend that it was a
friend instead of an enemy who was pursuing her, and she fled all the
faster. Not until they had run quite a distance, and he had called to
her several times in as loud a tone as he deemed prudent, did she pause
and wait for him to come up.
“Oh! is that you, Mr. Wainwright?” she asked trembling like an
affrighted bird, hardly daring to trust her senses, and ready to dart
away again.
“Yes; there is no need of this hurry, Miss Brandon; they don’t suspect
you have had help and we can take matters more leisurely.”
“Where is Cherouka?”
“I don’t think he will trouble you very soon.”
“You haven’t killed him?” she asked, her heart recoiling at the thought.
“No; he merely ran against my fist; he will be alive and kicking and
howling in a few moments.”
“Oh! let us hurry then, for I would rather die than let him get me
again.”
“No fear I think.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes, except there are ten of our men waiting for us a short distance
from here.”
“Oh! how thankful I am; let us hasten to them before it is too late.”
“Please take my arm; and we may be able to travel faster.”
She did so, and they walked forward as fast as the nature of the ground
would permit.
As yet there was no outcry or clamor from the Apache camp, proof that
the real flight of the girl had not been discovered.
“How much farther away are our friends?”
“Only a short distance; we will meet them in a few minutes.”
“And you think they cannot get us—the Indians will not follow and kill
you and take me back again.”
“They may pursue us; but as to getting you into their hands again, that
is a far different matter, and one about which there will be a little
fun if they attempt it.”
“Oh! I cannot realize that I am safe again; and you have followed us all
the way?”
“Not exactly; Lancaster the guide, knew they were making for this point,
and so we hurried and got here ahead of them.”
“Did you see us come?”
“Yes; we or rather I have had my eyes on you for the last hour or more,
but we waited until it was dark——”
“Hark!”
“I swan if I didn’t run my chin over a limb that time, and it nearly
sawed my neck off.”
“Keep your mouth shet or you’ll spile the whole game. Hello! there’s
somebody here. That you, Wainwright?”
“Yes; I am here, Ward, all right.”
“And the gal?”
“Is with me.”
“Good for you! you’re a trump—hello!”
At this instant, a succession of yells was heard from the direction of
the Apache camp, proclaiming that Cherouka had come to his senses, and
the redskins were at work.
“Let ’em yell,” muttered the guide, as he noticed some trepidation among
those around him, “what can they do?”
“But they may get torches—that is, as it were,—and follow us,” ventured
Mr. Swipes, “but, Miss Brandon, allow me to congratulate you on your
successful escape from the Indians.”
“Yes; let’s hear how it was,” said several as the two young persons
appeared among the overjoyed whites, who gathered around them and shook
their hands again and again.
Fred Wainwright related in a few brief words, how he had seen there was
a good chance to get her away from the Indians without waiting for the
return of his friend. At its conclusion the latter said,
“Well, you saved us a fight any way; and I s’pose that suits the gal
better. Let’s mount and be off. Fred, we’ve only ’leven animals and
there be ’leven of us. I’m mighty afraid you’ll have to take the gal on
your hoss with you.”
This was nothing very dreadful, and the young people managed to survive
it. Strange emotions thrilled the heart of Fred Wainwright, as he held
the dear being close to him, and several times he was on the point of
giving utterance to the tumultuous feelings which thronged upward,—but
he restrained himself. The time had not yet come.
All night long they traveled their progress being necessarily slow.
Nothing more was heard of their pursuers, and at daylight they halted on
the ridge not more than half their distance accomplished.
“I will ascend to the top of the ridge and take observations. I swan if
I feel quite safe!” remarked Mr. Swipes as he clambered to the top.
Reaching the backbone of the ridge, he took a careful survey of the
opposite plain which stretched far away to the South and South-West.
The next moment a loud shout was heard from the Yankee, and he was seen
dancing and flinging his arms like a lunatic. All eyes were turned
wonderingly toward him.