LOOKING ON.
Wharton Edwards was not long finding that for which he was seeking.
While feeling his way among the trees, with all his senses on the alert,
a point of light suddenly flashed out in the gloom. It was directly
ahead, and he had but to penetrate a short distance farther, when he
came in sight of the camp-fire of the Shawanoes.
He approached with great care, and halted at what he deemed a safe
distance to study the characteristic scene before him.
Careful counting, repeated several times, showed eleven Indian warriors
gathered together about a mass of burning wood, which was kindled in a
small open space. Upon a fallen tree were seated four of them, while the
rest were lolling on the ground in lazy attitudes. Two seemed to be
examining the locks of their guns, and nearly all were smoking.
There were no signs of any food, but the lusty youth felt so hungry that
he was sure they must have had something to eat before he came upon
them. Game was so abundant in the country that it was unreasonable to
suppose any one would go hungry unless he happened to be in a situation
similar to that of the youth himself.
One fact gave Wharton a thrill of gratitude and hope; Larry was not with
the group of Indians, and, therefore, could not be a prisoner.
Young Edwards had been under the impression that there were about a
score of Shawanoes with which he and Larry Murphy had collided, but
counting those that had fallen by the way, there were less.
The absence of the youth from the camp could not be a guarantee of his
weal, for he might have been stricken down in the woods, but the sign
had been so favorable that Wharton felt more hopeful than at any time
since their separation.
He was quick, however, to notice a significant fact: Blazing Arrow was
also absent.
"I would give anything to know where he is and what he is doing,"
thought the youth. "It may be that he is leaning against the tree and
still studying over the yarn that is to prevent the rest knowing I
outran him, but it is more likely he is prowling through the woods after
Larry and me."
The answer to this conjecture came suddenly and startlingly. Wharton,
not forgetting his caution, kept well back in the gloom, with his body
screened behind the trunk of a tree. He was attentively watching the
group around the camp-fire, when something moved between him and the
light, partly eclipsing it.
A second look showed the form of the twelfth Shawanoe, walking silently
toward the blaze; and, as he joined the others, and stood so the
firelight revealed his features, Wharton Edwards recognized him as
Blazing Arrow.
"He has struck it," muttered the youth. "He has got the yarn in shape at
last. I wish I could hear it, and find what sort of a fancy he has."
The great runner was without any gun, and it was evident that he must
have wrenched his inventive powers to straighten out matters so as to
retain his prestige among these warlike people. His position as a great
warrior and the real leader of the party could not fail to help in the
test to which he was subjected.
The arrival of the dusky desperado caused a sensation. Every face was
turned, and those who were seated on the tree rose to greet him. The
silence in the wood allowed Wharton to hear their gruff, jerky
sentences, but since he did not understand a word of Shawanoe, his ears
were of no service.
One of the warriors extended a rifle to Blazing Arrow, who waved it back
until he, standing in the middle of the group, gave his account of
matters.
Some years later the settlers learned the particulars of this amazing
narrative. The great runner said he allowed the youth to draw away from
him for a time in order to put forth his best efforts. When this had
taken them to the natural clearing, with which all were familiar, he
started to run him down, and would have done so before the open space
was half crossed but for the sudden appearance of five or six white men
coming from the other direction.
Of course the new comers were fully armed, but, nothing daunted, the
valiant Shawanoe assailed them. He brought down two, and would have had
the others at his mercy had not a shot broken the lock of his gun. He
then threw away the useless weapon, uttered a defiant whoop, and strode
back toward his own party, whither the whites did not dare follow him.
It was one of the listeners to this stupendous statement who told it to
the pioneers. When asked whether he and the others believed it, a
shadowy smile lit up the dusky face, and he quaintly replied that they
tried to do so.
Having rendered his account, Blazing Arrow and several of his comrades
seated themselves on the fallen tree and engaged in an animated talk,
which lasted for a quarter of an hour or more. The burden of it was
that one of the whites was still near them, and must not be permitted to
steal along the trail in the direction of the block-house, for if he
succeeded in reaching that point he would be safe against anything the
Shawanoes could do.
The dusky prevaricator was cunning enough not to claim that he had slain
Wharton Edwards, for the youth, being alive, was liable to turn up in a
way that would throw discredit on his veracity.
The lad, who was looking on, could only conjecture the meaning of what
passed before his eyes. When he saw a couple of warriors rise to their
feet and come toward him, he supposed it was to make hunt for him and
his friends. He was made to realize, too, the delicately dangerous
position in which he stood.
When the figures plainly outlined against the illumination of the
camp-fire started, he fervently wished himself elsewhere. He dared not
stir, for, as if fate were dallying with him, a lot of wood, thrown on
the blaze within a few minutes before, threw a circle of light to the
base of the tree from behind which he was cautiously peering. Had he
started to withdraw, the two Shawanoes would have been upon him in a
twinkling. He could only wait where he was, and hope they might pass by
without detecting his presence.
He hardly breathed as he heard the rustling of their moccasins on the
leaves, and pressed his upright figure against the bark as though he
would force himself into the very structure of the tree itself.
Fortunately the suspense quickly passed. If the couple were hunting for
him and his companion, they did not expect to find either so near
headquarters, and speedily vanished in the gloom beyond, stepping so
softly that their footfalls became inaudible.
This incident gave young Edwards a good scare. He felt that he had run
an unnecessary risk, and wasted time in staying so long after learning
that Larry was not with the main party of Indians. More of these were
likely to leave the camp, and the danger of his position must increase.
Without delay, therefore, he began his retrograde movement. This was
easy, and he soon placed himself where he could feel comparatively
safe.
His curiosity led him to pick his way back to the torrent that had been
the scene of so many moving incidents of the afternoon. He was somewhat
confused as to the points of the compass, but the faint roar was his
guide, and with little trouble he placed himself quite near the stream,
which coursed between the rocks with such impetuosity.
The youth was too prudent to advance into the moonlight, where the
prowlers were liable to see him, and so it happened that he approached
the rocks at a point that was new to him. To this fact was due a
surprise. He was just in time to see one Indian following the other
across the foot-bridge made by the prostrate tree.
"I never suspected that was there," he said to himself when he
comprehended its meaning; "I thought there was no means by which Larry
could make his way back to the trail without swimming below the falls or
fording some place farther up. I wonder whether he knows about that?"
The action of the Indians gave Wharton a suspicion of the truth. They
had crossed the torrent with the intention of hiding somewhere along the
path leading to the block-house, so as to cut off the flight of one or
both of the boys in that direction. This, seemingly, was an easy thing
to do, provided the fugitives were unsuspicious of what was going on.
Young Edwards saw no way of breaking through the maze of perplexity that
had closed around him. He had done his utmost without learning where his
friend was. More than that, although he was hopeful, he could feel no
certainty that he was really alive.
The occasion justified another appeal to the peculiar dove signal, and
he now made it.