BLAZING ARROW.
At the moment of flinging his rifle from him, when he made his first
leap, Wharton Edwards noticed where it landed, and of course knew just
where to look for it. When he searched that place for it, and saw
nothing of the weapon, he knew, therefore, that something was wrong.
A thrill of alarm went through him on realizing the oversight he had
committed, but he met it with the coolness of a veteran.
He pretended to be still searching for the weapon, and moved back and
forth, and hither and yon, with his head bent, as though his eyes were
fixed on the ground, but the eyebrows were elevated and his vision was
roaming along the edge of the trees only a few rods distant, in quest of
Shawanoes.
None of them were in sight, but he knew that they were there, and more
than one pair of serpent-like eyes were fixed upon him and watching his
every act.
Wharton's impulse was to turn back and leap to the other side of the
gorge. The temptation was strong, but he dared not attempt it. He could
not make the jump without a short run, and that would give the Indians
all the chance they could ask to wing him on the fly, as they most
assuredly would do.
During the few minutes that he pretended to be groping for the missing
gun he did a lot of thinking. He knew he was caught inextricably in a
trap, and for a time saw no possible way out.
Had there been anything to gain by a sudden leap into the torrent he
would have made it; but that insured another plunge over the falls, with
the chances in favor of drowning. That, however, was as nothing compared
to the fact that he would be at the mercy of the Shawanoes from the
moment he entered the water.
Hopeless himself, his concern was for the chivalrous Larry, who had
imperilled his life for him. There was hope that his presence on the
other bluff was unknown to the red men, and Wharton felt that if he
could frighten him into getting out of the way he would be comparatively
safe, and would be at liberty to hasten on to the block-house and secure
help for him.
But Larry seemed to be taken with a spell of obtuseness just then. He
called to Wharton several times in a dangerously loud voice, and
appeared not to see, or at least not to understand, the signals which
were assiduously made to him. The young man became so solicitous for his
companion, who was without comprehension of his danger, that he forgot
everything else, and, advancing to the edge of the ravine, indulged in
the vigorous gestures and words which accomplished what he intended.
"Now, if he will use sense, he can save himself," was the conclusion of
Wharton, from whose heart a crushing weight was lifted; "he has not been
seen, and only needs to keep out of sight until he can take the trail
again."
But he was in a dreadful situation himself. Between the ravine and the
woods, from which he knew the Shawanoes were watching him, was an open
space, something more than fifty yards in extent. This narrowed to a
fourth of that width up stream, and disappeared altogether at the brink
of the falls.
It was useless to pretend longer to hunt for the missing rifle on the
face of the rocks when a minute's scrutiny was sufficient to prove that
it was not there. His actions had already shown that he knew something
was amiss, and the Indians were not likely to allow the farce to
continue much longer.
To go directly away from the stream and toward the wood was to walk into
the hands of the fierce red men, and the youth was ready to take any
risk before doing that. The frightful contingency he feared was that the
moment he made a break for freedom they would fire, and the distance was
so short that he could not escape their aim. That brief, open space over
which he must run was the gauntlet of certain death. If he were only a
little nearer the trees, he would attempt it. He saw but one possible
thing to do, and he now attempted it.
Pausing in his groping for the weapon, he raised his head and looked
inquiringly about him. He did not dare let his eyes dwell on the trees
immediately in front, through fear of exciting suspicion, and the quick
glance which he swept along the trees failed to show him so much as a
glimpse of his enemies. But he knew they were there, all the same.
Fixing his eyes again on the ground, he pretended suddenly to discover
shadowy traces of something in the nature of footprints, but, instead of
leading straight toward the wood, they led up stream, where the open
space rapidly narrowed.
He walked slowly forward, with his gaze seemingly on the earth, but he
was slyly watching the wood, with the alertness of a weasel, on the
lookout for the first evidence that his action was mistrusted.
It was a fearful test to the nerves. With every foot's advance his heart
throbbed faster with hope, and his desperate resolve became more fixed.
His greatest task was to restrain himself from bounding forward at the
topmost bent of his speed as he saw the friendly trees drawing near with
each passing moment; and yet he not only forced himself to do that, but
he came to a dead halt, slowly turned around, bent his head down and
scanned the ground behind him. His action was as if he had suddenly come
upon some evidence, but in that sweep of the head he again glanced along
the edge of the wood that confronted him when he leaped the chasm. This
time he saw a movement so faint that he could not identify it, but it
told him the crisis had come.
He had now gone so far that nothing less than a disabling bullet could
restrain him. He longed more than ever to leap away, but every inch
gained was of incalculable worth, and, repressing his impatience with an
iron will, he continued edging along, his heart throbbing like a
trip-hammer.
To fail to keep close watch of the wood any longer must defeat his
purpose. With little attempt, therefore, to hide his action, he quickly
turned his head, and, without checking his advance, scanned the margin
of the forest. As he did so, he observed a stir among the trees. The
Shawanoes evidently concluded that the farce had gone too far. Without
another second's hesitation young Edwards made a tremendous bound in the
direction of the trees, and was off like an arrow shot from the bow.
He expected a rattling volley from the Shawanoes, and few who have not
been through the ordeal can understand the sensation which comes over
one when absolutely certain of a demonstration of that kind. To his
amazement, however, not a shot was fired, and he dodged among the trees
unscathed. Puzzled beyond measure to know what it meant, the fugitive
glanced over his shoulder. That which he saw perplexed him for the
moment as much as his immunity from the part of a target. One solitary
Shawanoe warrior had leaped to his feet and started in pursuit. Like a
flash the whole meaning of this act came to Wharton Edwards.
When the Indians were not so hostile toward the whites as they were at
the time of which we are writing, they occasionally visited the
block-houses and settlements for purposes of barter, and to engage in
friendly contests of skill in shooting, leaping and running. The red men
were so trained from infancy to this kind of amusement that they were
experts, and held their own well against the pioneers, though it is well
known that the Caucasian race, under similar surroundings and
environments, surpasses all others in physical as well as mental
attainments.
The champion of the settlement was Wharton Edwards, who, despite his
seventeen years, vanquished all contestants. He received the praise of
Daniel Boone and Simon Kenton, who agreed that there was but one
Shawanoe, outside of the unrivalled Deerfoot, who could hold his own
with him. That was the famous warrior Blazing Arrow, who was about
double the age of Wharton, and who claimed to have beaten every one with
whom he struggled for supremacy.
Following this declaration from such high authority came the natural
desire to see young Edwards and the Shawanoe runner pitted against each
other, and efforts were made to bring about a contest between these
representatives of their respective races. The great difficulty in the
way was that the Shawanoe was one of the most vicious and treacherous of
his tribe. He had committed so many crimes against the whites that he
feared to trust himself in their power, and stubbornly refused to come
to the settlement, despite the assurances of the leading pioneers.
He was persuaded, however, to venture out of the woods one day, and the
arrangements were quickly made for a race between him and young Edwards.
Before the trial came off some one gave the Shawanoe a draught of
"fire-water," which roused the sleeping devil in him. Whipping out his
knife, he emitted his war-whoop, and charged upon the astonished youth,
with the intention of slaying him.
Wharton, who naturally had no weapon with him, succeeded in dodging the
miscreant, and before the wrathful settlers could punish him he darted
into the woods with a defiant shout and disappeared.
The glance which Wharton Edwards now cast to the rear, as he started to
flee, showed him that his single pursuer was Blazing Arrow.