IN WHICH PHIL AND HIS COMPANION ARRIVE AT THE CABIN OF KIT CRUNCHER.
If I had considered the matter a moment longer, probably I should not
have had the courage to open the battle; for, if I failed to hit the
Indian, my situation would become desperate, and with an empty rifle in
my hand, I could only depend upon my legs for safety, while the savages
would be able to escape with their prize before the soldiers could be
brought up.
Fortunately for me, I did not miss my aim. My bullet evidently passed
through the brain of the savage, for he threw up his arms, and dropped
over into the bottom of the dugout. His fall disturbed the boat, and
detached it from the overhanging branch by which he had secured it, to
enable him to fish. The current whirled it around, and carried it down
the river.
Though I could not rid myself of a certain sensation of horror, when I
found that I had actually taken a human life, I was well satisfied with
what I had done. My frame trembled with emotion and excitement as I
hastened to load my rifle again. I expected that the sound of the shot
would bring the other Indian to the spot, and I nervously awaited his
approach; but he did not appear. As the first Indian had come to the
creek to obtain food, his companion doubtless supposed he had fired at
some game. The wind wafted the smell of smoke to me, and I surmised
that the savage at the camp was preparing to cook the fish or game
which the other was to obtain.
The sun went down, and it began to be dark in the shades of the forest.
I had become composed and resolute again, after waiting half an hour
for the coming of the other redskin. I had arrived at the conclusion
that it was not worth while to return to the Castle for the soldiers. I
was sure that the Indian at the camp fire would soon come down to the
creek to ascertain what had become of his companion. To prevent him
from stumbling upon me, I retreated a little farther from the stream
into the forest. I could not be mistaken in my calculation, which was
soon verified by the sound of footsteps in the direction of the Indian
camp.
I found my heart beating violently again, and I dreaded the necessity
of shooting the savage almost as much as I did the consequences if I
failed to do so. It was still light enough for me to see him distinctly
when he made his appearance on the bank of the brook. I raised my rifle
with the intention of firing the instant he stopped long enough to
enable me to insure my aim, for I had not confidence enough to shoot
while he was in motion. But I was so agitated that I was not in
condition to do justice to my own skill. The savage walked rapidly to
the bank of the creek, and halted, looking up and down in search of the
dugout and his companion.
"Ugh!" grunted he, in order to express his dissatisfaction at the long
absence of his associate, I suppose.
Then he shouted, and waited for a response from his absent friend; but
he did not hold still long enough to enable me to cover his head with
the muzzle of my piece. I was so excited by the consideration of the
fatal consequences to me, and perhaps to Ella, if I failed to bring him
down, that I had not pluck enough to fire. I had slain one man, and it
was awful to think of killing another. I would have given all the gold
in my pocket if Kit Cruncher had stood by my side at that instant, and
relieved me of the fearful responsibility of the occasion.
Of course there was no response to the call of the Indian; and, after
glancing all around him, he walked rapidly down the path on the bank of
the creek in search of his lost mate. This movement on his part
afforded me a new hope. As Ella had not come to the stream with her
surviving captor, it was evident enough that he had left her at the
camp fire, probably tied to a tree, or otherwise secured.
I waited till the Indian had disappeared, and then hastened in the
direction of the camp. I did not take much pains to move without noise,
for I concluded that the Indian would have his ear to the ground
frequently, to obtain tidings of his missing associate. I ran with all
the speed I could command. I found Ella fastened to a tree near the
fire. Her hands were tied behind her, so that she was unable to help
herself.
"O, Phil Farringford!" cried she, as I approached.
"Don't make any noise, Ella," I replied, cutting the cords which bound
her. "Follow me, and be very careful."
"Where are the Indians?" she asked, in a whisper, her teeth chattering
with terror and excitement.
"I have shot one, and the other is not far off."
I conducted my fair companion a short distance down the brook, and
taking her in my arms, I bore her across the stream.
"Hark!" said I, as I placed her on the other side.
We listened, and I heard the Indian shouting for his companion. From
the direction of the sound I concluded that he was near the mouth of
the brook. Certainly he had retraced his steps from the point where he
was when I started to rescue Ella. It was probable that he had heard my
steps, but doubtless he supposed they were those of his missing mate. I
had made considerable noise when I scrambled up the steep bank of the
brook with my burden, which was immediately followed by his call.
"He has heard us," I whispered, preparing my rifle for use.
"What shall I do?" asked my trembling charge.
"Come with me. The brook is between him and us now, and I don't think
he will hear our steps, if we move very carefully."
I took her by the hand and led her through the dark forest. I intended
to proceed in an easterly direction till I came to Kit Cruncher's
Brook, and then follow the path along its bank to the Castle. I paused
occasionally to listen, but I heard no more shouting. The savage had
probably gone back to his camp, and discovered that his prisoner was
missing.
"We must hurry along as fast as we can, Ella," said I, finding that my
companion was inclined to go very slowly.
"I am very tired, Phil."
"I am sorry, but we cannot waste our time. If that Indian can find
where we crossed the brook, he will pursue us."
"How far must we go?"
"It is five miles to the Castle, but it is only two to Kit Cruncher's
cabin."
"I am very faint, for I have eaten nothing since we breakfasted on the
island very early this morning," added Ella.
"I think I can find something for you to eat when we get to Kit's
cabin."
"But where is my father, Phil?" asked Ella. "I hope nothing has
happened to him."
"Nothing has happened to him. He is with the soldiers who landed up
Crooked River. Did you not see the troops?"
"I saw them when they landed, but not afterwards."
"Did the Indians use you badly?" I inquired.
"No; they only compelled me to walk when I was so tired that every step
was painful."
"Where did you go after you left the dugouts?"
"I'm sure I don't know. We travelled till we came to another river."
"That was the Great Fish," I added.
"Two of the Indians left us then, and paddled across this river on a
log. They had a talk before they separated, and they pointed often at
me. I knew that it was about me."
"Where did you go then?" I asked, anxious, if possible, to ascertain
the plan of the savages.
"We walked back again till we came to the edge of the forest, not far
from the river. Here one of the Indians lay down on the ground, so that
the soldiers could not see him, and crawled to the stream. The other
led me through the woods towards the Missouri, two or three miles, I
should think; at any rate, I was completely exhausted. At last we
arrived at the great river, in sight of the island where my father
lived."
[Illustration: PHIL BEARING ELLA ACROSS THE FORD. Page 142.]
"But where were the soldiers?" I asked.
"I suppose they were beating about the woods, looking for us. The
Indian drove me down the steep bank of the river to the water-side. I
was terribly frightened, and if my savage conductor had not held my arm
I should have slipped down into the river. Here I was permitted to rest
myself for an hour, and then the other Indian came in the boat."
"Did you see the steamer that went up the river this afternoon?"
"I did; and when the Indians heard the whistle, they ran the boat into
a creek, and kept very quiet until she had passed. Then they paddled up
the river by the wood-yard."
"I saw you when you went by, and followed in your father's barge," I
added.
"Did you come all alone?"
"Yes; there are about thirty soldiers at the Castle; but I thought, if
I went after them, I should lose sight of you, and so I came up alone.
I have some good news for you, Ella."
"What is it?" she asked, faintly.
"Your father and mother met on board of the steamer, and are now good
friends."
"I am so glad! But I do wish we could rest," she added.
"Sit down on this log, Ella," I replied, conducting her to a fallen
tree. "I haven't heard anything from that Indian, and I don't believe
he is on our track."
"O, I hope not; but I couldn't run if I saw him this instant."
"We ought to get back to the Castle to-night, if it is possible," I
added.
"I don't believe I can walk so far."
"Your poor mother is suffering every moment. If she only knew you were
safe, I would not go farther than Kit's cabin to-night."
After resting for half an hour, we resumed the weary tramp through the
woods, and at last reached the brook on the other side of which was the
hunter's log hut. There was a light in it, which assured me Kit was at
home. I carried Ella over the stream in my arms, and we approached the
house. I took the precaution to reconnoitre the premises before I
entered, for it was not impossible that some of the enemy had taken
possession of the cabin; but through the open door I saw the tall
hunter at work over the fire, evidently cooking his supper.
"How are you, Kit?" said I, leading my charge into his presence.
"Are you hyer, Phil, boy!" exclaimed he. "Who's that with you?"
"It's Mr. Mellowtone's daughter."
"I never knowed he had a darter."
As briefly as possible, I told Kit what had occurred since he left the
clearing.
"I've jest kim in from the nor'ard," said he. "The Injuns is on the
rampage. There's more'n a hund'ed on 'em not more'n a two hours' tramp
up the Little Fish, and there's goin' to be more trouble. I was goin'
down to the Castle as soon as I'd eat my supper. I ain't sartin there
ain't some redskins 'tween hyer and the clearing. Leastwise, I don't
think it's safe to go down by the brook path."
I was surprised and annoyed at his last remark; and Kit, after putting
another slice of bacon in the pan over the fire, proceeded to explain
the ground of his fears.