“MARK TWO TIMES.”
“Hello, Jim,” exclaimed Mark, “you are just the chap I have been looking
for! Now I will show you what a white boy can do in the way of giving a
rascally Indian a good beating.”
Expecting to meet with a most stubborn resistance, Mark’s attack was
furious and determined, indeed; but to his great surprise, the young
savage raised his arms above his head, and suffered himself to be thrown
to the ground without even a show of opposition.
“No hurt! no hurt, white boy!” he exclaimed, excitedly. “Me no Jim—me
Mark; me Mark Two Times.”
Mark, who grew more and more astonished, and who was above striking an
unresisting foe, released his hold on the Indian’s throat, and the
latter began a long speech, talking very rapidly and sometimes in his
eagerness forgetting the little English he knew, and jabbering away in
his native tongue.
But Mark understood the most of what he said, and after listening to him
a short time, he helped him to his feet, brushed off the mud that
adhered to his hunting shirt, and drawing the Indian’s arm through his
own, led him toward the house, talking to him all the while in the most
friendly manner.
What had brought about this sudden change in Mark’s feelings toward the
young savage? I will explain it in my own way, without inflicting Jim’s
broken English upon you.
I do not know that the custom exists among other Indians, but the
Choctaws had a habit of naming themselves. If they met a white man whom
they greatly liked, they adopted his name, discarding the one by which
they had formerly been known. This was a sure sign of friendship, and
the man thus honored could trust his namesake to any extent.
Jim admired the courage Mark exhibited on the day he stood his ground
against Pete and his friends, and out of compliment to him, he had
dropped his own name and assumed the title of “Mark the Second,” or, as
he expressed it, “Mark Two Times.”
Of course, Mark was highly flattered by this show of respect, but
believing, with a good many others in the settlement, that there was
nothing good in an Indian, he did not know how much dependence to place
upon his new ally.
“You’re a grand rascal, Jim,” he began.
“Me no Jim; me Mark Two Times,” insisted the wrestler.
“Well then, Mark Two Times, I am afraid you are a slippery customer. If
you are really a friend to our fellows, as you profess to be, how does
it come that you assisted Luke Redman and his band during the fight at
the camp? Explain that, if you can.”
The Indian could and did. He accounted for that act of seeming
unfriendliness by saying that he had joined the attacking party for no
other purpose than to learn their plans, and that as long as he remained
in their company he was obliged to act with them, in order to avoid
exciting their suspicions. While the Swamp Dragoons and their allies
were taking up their positions preparatory to making the assault, he had
watched and waited in vain for an opportunity to slip away from them,
and warn us of our danger.
He then went on to say that after the fight Luke Redman had given him
two letters—one to be left on General Mason’s doorstep, and the other on
our own. He had delivered the first, but he had given it into the
general’s own hands, and told him just where to go to find the robbers.
After that, he had come to our house and waited for an opportunity to
speak to Mark; and the reason he had dodged behind the bushes was
because his courage failed him at the last moment, and he feared that he
might meet with a warmer reception than he had bargained for.
He wound up his story by telling Mark that I was a prisoner, and that if
he would trust to his guidance, he would lead him by a short route to my
place of confinement.
“Of course I will go with you,” said Mark, highly excited over this last
piece of news; “but bear one thing in mind, and that is, if you attempt
to come any of your Indian tricks over me, it will be worse for you.”
While Mark was conversing with the young savage, mother had twice
appeared at the door and called him to breakfast—a summons that he could
not now think of answering.
In the first place, he did not want to waste an instant of time, and
another thing, he was afraid mother might ask him if Jim had brought any
news concerning me; and as he did not care to alarm her by revealing the
real facts of the case, he thought it best to keep out of her sight.
He crept carefully to the porch, unhitched his horse, and succeeded in
leading the animal out of the yard without attracting the attention of
any one in the house.
The young Indian was already in the saddle, and as soon as Mark came
out, he led the way at a rapid gallop toward the swamp.
They passed the camp which had been the scene of the conflict, crossed
the bayou at the ford about a mile above Dead Man’s Elbow, and at three
o’clock in the afternoon drew rein within sight of the cane-brake in
which Luke Redman’s hiding-place was situated, without having once been
out of the saddle, or even stopping to rest.
During all this time Mark had kept a bright lookout for the settlers,
but had not seen one of them.
“Now, white boy,” said the Indian, after carefully reconnoitering the
ground before him, “no time for foolin’. Do just like me.”
Mark followed his guide’s instructions to the very letter. He dismounted
when the Indian did, and after hitching his horse, followed close at his
heels as he wormed his way through the cane, stepping exactly in his
tracks, and imitating as nearly as possible his cautious, stealthy
movements.
Presently they came to a halt on the bank of the bayou. The Indian
looked up and down the stream several times, carefully scrutinizing
every thicket within the range of his vision, to make sure that there
was no one in sight, and then stepped into the water and struck out for
the island, still closely followed by Mark, who held his gun and
powder-flask above his head with one hand and swam with the other. When
they reached the bank they plunged into the cane again, and in a few
minutes more were crouching in a thicket of bushes at the foot of the
bluff against which Luke Redman’s house was built.
“Now, white boy,” said Jim, “you stay here, and me go and look.”
The Indian glided out of sight as he spoke, and for the next half-hour
Mark sat there in the bushes with his back against a tree and his
double-barrel resting across his knees, awaiting his return.
As he had never been on the island before, he knew nothing of Luke
Redman’s stronghold; but he did know that the outlaw and his gang were
not a great way off, for he could hear the sound of their voices.
The angry tones which reached his ears told him that a heated discussion
was going on—it was about this time that Luke Redman announced his
determination to burn us out if we did not give up the money—and Mark
listened intently, hoping to obtain some clew that would guide him in
his search for me.
Where was I? What sort of a situation was I in? and what could he do to
help me? were the questions he was constantly asking himself, and which
were answered in a way he had not dreamed of.
At length there was a lull in the conversation, which continued about
fifteen minutes, and then Mark saw dense volumes of smoke rising above
the cane. At the same moment he heard voices and a crashing in the
bushes close by, and, looking in the direction from which the sound
proceeded, he discovered Barney and his brother Jake coming up the bank
of the bayou. They seemed to be very much interested in the conversation
they were carrying on, and little dreaming that there was an enemy so
near them, they walked straight to the foot of the bluff, and stopped in
front of a cluster of bushes not more than ten feet from Mark’s
hiding-place.
“Here we are,” said Barney, pushing aside the bushes and disclosing to
view a dark opening which seemed to lead up into the cliff. “Now you
stay here an’ watch, an’ if they come out, holler.”
“What trick do you reckon them fellers is up to, anyhow?” asked Jake.
“They ain’t a-goin’ to stay in them rooms and be burned up, be they?”
“In course not. They’ll be glad to come outen that winder when the fire
gets too hot fur ’em, an’ then we’ll grab ’em.”
“Mebbe they know the way out by this hole,” said Jake, doubtfully. “I
reckon you’d best stay, too, Barney.”
“One’s enough to watch here,” replied the leader of the Swamp Dragoons.
“The rest of us will have to stand by that winder, ’cause they’ve got
guns, you know. You needn’t be afeard, for they won’t come nigh you.”
Barney walked off, leaving his brother to watch the opening, while Mark
crouched lower in his concealment, and thought over the conversation to
which he had just listened.
He had heard enough to suggest to him a plan of action. He knew that I
was in a house, that there was some one with me, that Luke Redman was
going to drive us out by fire, and that there were two ways of escape
for us—one by the window, which was guarded by all the robber gang, and
the other by this secret passage-way, over which Jake alone stood
sentry.
Mark inferred, from what Barney said, that I and my companion were
ignorant of the existence of this last avenue of escape; but he knew of
it, and couldn’t he put his knowledge to some use? Could he not secure
Jake, or knock him over, and go into the passage-way and release us?
The idea was no sooner conceived than he proceeded to put it into
practice. He arose slowly and cautiously to his feet, hoping to creep
upon Jake unobserved; but a twig which snapped under his feet betrayed
him.
The sentry turned on the instant, only to find himself covered by Mark’s
double-barrel, which was aimed straight at his heart.
“Consarn it all, don’t!” cried Jake, turning as pale as death, and
trembling in every limb. “Turn that we’pon t’other way, can’t you?”
“Silence!” commanded Mark. “If you speak above your breath again, you
are a gone Dragoon.”
Just at this moment, when Mark was about to lay down his gun to secure
his prisoner, help arrived.
A lithe, active figure, clad in buckskin, glided through the cane as
easily and noiselessly as a serpent, and before the sentry knew that
there was an enemy in his rear, the strong arms of “Mark Two Times” were
clasped about him, and he was thrown to the ground.
It was an operation of no difficulty to bind him, for Jake, fearing the
double-barrel, submitted without a word of remonstrance.
As soon as the prisoner was secured, the young Indian turned to Mark in
great excitement. He had heard strange things and seen strange sights
while he was skulking about the house.
He had seen Tom and me looking out of our prison and heard Luke Redman
tell us that if we did not come down he would burn the house. He had
seen him carry his threat into execution, and he knew that unless
something turned up in our favor very speedily, our chances for life
were small indeed.
It took him a long time to tell this, for, as was always the case with
him when he became excited, he forgot his English and rattled away in
Indian.
“I understand what you mean,” interrupted Mark. “I know that my brother
is in great danger, and I think, too, that I know where to look for him.
Jake, how long is this passage-way, and where does it lead to?”
“Now hold your grip till I tell you, won’t you?” growled Jake.
“You will tell me now—this very instant,” said Mark.
“Don’t!” exclaimed the frightened Dragoon, seeing that the double-barrel
was once more pointed his way. “It’s about twenty yards long, an’ leads
to the rooms whar them fellers is. Turn that shootin’-iron t’other way,
can’t you?”
Mark did not stop to ask any more questions, because he believed he had
heard all that it was necessary for him to know; and, besides, the light
that now began to shine through the cane warned him that the fire was
gaining headway, and that there was no time to be lost.
At a sign from him, the young Indian seized Jake by the shoulders while
Mark raised his feet, and between them he was carried into the
passage-way, where he was laid upon the floor, and left with the
assurance that his safety depended upon his observing the strictest
silence.
The passage-way was about three feet wide, and quite high enough to
allow Mark and his companion to stand upright.
Luke Redman had doubtless built it in order that he might have a way of
escape in case his hiding-place was discovered and surrounded by the
settlers.
It was as dark as midnight, but perfectly straight, and as there were no
others branching off from it, there was no danger that Mark would lose
his way.
He hurried along with all possible speed, keeping his hands stretched
out before him, and presently they came in contact with some
obstruction, which blocked up the whole end of the passage-way.
Mark ran his fingers over it, and found that it was a wide oak plank,
with a strap nailed to it. This he seized with both hands, and, after
pulling it about in various ways, succeeded in forcing back the plank,
disclosing to view the interior of our prison.
He was astonished and alarmed at the reception he met with. A thick
cloud of smoke, through which the flames were shining brightly, rushed
into his face, almost suffocating him and driving him back from the
door.
He thought the room was on fire, and when he heard my voice, he bounded
through the smoke, expecting to find me badly burned and almost
smothered.
“Can you walk, Joe?” he asked, speaking with the greatest difficulty.
“If you can, follow me. You here, Tom Mason?”
Mark’s clinched hand was drawn back, and in a moment more Tom would have
measured his length on the floor, had I not interposed.
“No violence,” said I. “Tom has stuck to me like a brother, and you owe
him thanks instead of blows.”
I knew by the expression on Mark’s face that he could not understand the
matter at all. He did not stop to ask questions, however, but led us at
once to the entrance to the passage-way.
When we reached it, it was my turn to be astonished, for there stood the
young wrestler. He did not draw back as we approached, and neither did
my brother seize him, as I expected he would.
On the contrary, the Indian extended his hand, and Mark took it to
assist him in leaping through the opening. When we were all in the
passage-way, and I had closed the door to shut out the smoke, we stopped
to hold a consultation.
In order that Mark might understand how Tom happened to be my companion,
I hurriedly recounted the various exciting incidents that had taken
place during the afternoon, and Mark told us of his meeting with the
Indian, and the manner in which he had secured the sentry.
We concluded that our best plan was to trust ourselves entirely to the
guidance of the young wrestler; and this being communicated to him in a
whisper, he conducted us toward the entrance to the passage-way. When we
came within sight of it, we stopped, not a little amazed at the scene
presented to our view.