THE WHITE WIZARD DRUGS THE GUARD.
Chauncy was thrust back into the prison-lodge and two guards posted
around it. The Comanches did not mean to let him escape if they could
possibly help it.
There was altogether about ten men killed, and the Indians intended to
let the whole of their vengeance fall upon Chauncy.
The young hunter walked up and down in his lodge, thinking of the Donna
Iola. Sleeping or waking the Donna was uppermost in his thoughts. What a
pity it was that after coming together in such a curious way they should
be separated.
Where could she be now?
Chauncy knew from the expressive look the lovely Donna had given him, as
in obedience to his command she rode away and left him, that he was the
first object of her affection.
He could not help feeling highly elated as he thought of this, and he
quite forgot for a time that he was a prisoner.
When he did remember this he also remembered the fact that while the
three prisoners were watching the riding of Barry Le Clare, the guide
had whispered in his ear that if he and the Frenchman did get off they
would do their best to rescue the young man.
He had often heard his father tell tales about the guide, and he knew
that when Ralph said he would do a thing he would go through fire and
water in order to accomplish it.
The afternoon passed slowly away and at length the shades of night began
to cover the face of the earth.
The moon being on the decline would not rise until very late, and there
would be several hours of darkness before the earth would be lighted up
with her bright rays.
Whatever was to be done must be done during this period of darkness.
Barry had retired soon after sunset.
An hour passed and then another and another.
The village was quiet, no unusual noise breaking the silence of the
night, but the occasional barking of some dog or the neighing of a
horse. The Comanches were fast asleep and the two guards who walked
around the prison-lodge were beginning to feel drowsy themselves.
They would have to keep watch until midnight, or about an hour after
moonrise, and then they would be relieved.
They were both walking together and talking, when one of them caught
sight of a form approaching them; it did not come in a sneaking way but
walked boldly toward them.
They soon distinguished the form of the White Wizard.
What could he want at this time of night?
The pale-face was soon up to them, and greatly to their surprise he
stopped beside them and spoke.
“My red brothers seem to be on guard,” said he.
“The Wizard speaks with a straight tongue,” replied one of the Indians.
“What is in the lodge they guard?”
“The pale-face captive. Red Buffalo thinks that he will escape, so he
put Red Pine and Snapping Fox on guard.”
“The pale-face can not escape when Red Pine and the Snapping Fox are on
guard. He is as safe as if he was tied to the stake and the fagots piled
up around him,” said Barry.
This flattery greatly pleased the Indians.
“The Wizard is a great man. He knows every thing. He is a great rider,
and would make a big Comanche brave,” said one.
“Is not the warrior thirsty? Would he like a little fire-water to make
him glad?” asked the cunning circus-rider.
The eyes of the two Comanches snapped at the very thought.
“Pale-face great man, he gib Injun drink.”
“Yes; here, take a good sup apiece. There’s plenty more where that came
from,” said Barry, taking out his bottle.
It was a medium-sized black one, and was two-thirds full of brandy.
The circus-rider just after dark had gone out to the clump of trees in
which he had hidden his clothes, and had got the bottle of brandy from
them. It was not pure brandy, however.
He had taken a little vial from his coat-pocket and poured a little of
the contents into the black bottle.
It was a subtile drug which would produce a feeling which for drowsiness
could not be equaled.
Barry intended to get the upper hand of the Comanche guards, and he knew
that to do so he would have to drug the fire-water.
The nearest Indian grasped the bottle. He threw back his head with the
neck of the bottle in his mouth. The bottle was upturned, the Indian’s
eyes sought the heavens and a gurgling sound told both of the others
that the brandy was finding its level.
The other Comanche, Snapping Fox, seemed to think that if Red Pine
waited until his eyes found the star they seemed to be in search of, the
brandy would be all gone.
Accordingly he seized hold of the bottle and was soon in deep
contemplation of the blue dome of heaven (apparently).
Any one, to see these two Indians examining the sky so steadily, would
have felt sure that they were greatly interested in astronomy, and yet
the two did not notice the stars while looking upward.
Their thoughts were all upon the liquor, and when the bottle was handed
back to the owner, it was empty.
Barry was sharp, and he immediately said:
“I just brought this for a sample. If Red Pine and Snapping Fox do what
I want them to-morrow, they shall have a dozen bottles of this fine
fire-water.” He said this for a certain reason.
The Indians might rightly suspicion his motive for bringing them
fire-water when they began to feel the effect of it, if he went right
away. Now by his words he made them believe that he wanted a job done on
the morrow, and that if they did it, he would give them a dozen bottles
like the sample he had brought to tempt them.
“We do what Wizard say,” said Red Pine.
A moment after Barry moved away. He did not go far, however, for he
wanted to go to work as soon as the drug put the two Indians asleep. He
remained within ear-shot, and listened.
The Indians kept talking rapidly about five minutes, and then their
voices became thick and the words few and far between.
Soon Barry knew that both were fast asleep, and he walked cautiously
forward. The two guards were lying close together near the door of the
lodge, tightly locked in the arms of Morpheus.
It was not likely that they would awaken very soon.
Barry stepped over them, and unbarring the door, softly he opened it.
All was dark within and he could distinguish nothing.
“Young fellow, where are you?” he said, in a loud whisper.
It was well he spoke, for Chauncy had managed to unloose his bonds, and
having found a sort of club in a corner of the lodge, he had raised it
and was ready to strike when Barry spoke.
“Who are you?” he asked, for he could barely see the other.
“Barry Le Clare. I saved the others, and have come after you. Hurry out
here,” said the circus-rider.
Chauncy came out, and the door was shut and barred again.
“Come, let us hurry away from here,” said he.
“Hold on, you want weapons. I noticed that Red Pine had a fine rifle,
and a revolver. Get them from him,” said Barry.
Chauncy picked up the rifle, and found to his delight that it was his
own, as were also all the other things the Indian carried.
He quickly transferred them to his own person, and then announced
himself ready. Barry led him to the medicine-lodge in which he had taken
up his quarters, and where his horse now was, and then left him. He soon
came back, leading one of the best horses that was in the corral. He was
an excellent judge of horse-flesh, and he knew what kind of a steed to
pick out.
There were several saddles and bridles in the medicine-lodge, which had
doubtless been taken from hunters and emigrants.
Taking his pick of these, Chauncy put them on his steed, and then the
two went through the village, making as little noise as possible and
leading their horses behind them.
When they got to the clump of trees, the circus-rider changed his
clothes, and with his weapons in his belt and hand, and the bundle on
his horse, he led the way toward the river.
He knew from the direction the two whites had taken when they left the
village where they would strike the river, and he headed for that point.
The moon soon came out, and when the two came up to the tree on the bank
of the river, the circus-rider gave a loud, solemn hoot.
It was answered by the cry of the loon, and soon two horsemen came
toward them.