CHAPTER VI.

THE

SKELETON SCOUT;

OR,

THE BORDER BLOCK.

BY MAJOR LEWIS W. CARSON,

AUTHOR OF THE FOLLOWING POCKET NOVELS:

17. Ben, the Trapper.

22. Indian Jo, the Guide.

NEW YORK:

BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,

98 WILLIAM STREET.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by

FRANK STARR & CO.,

In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

THE SKELETON SCOUT;

OR,

THE BORDER BLOCK.

CHAPTER I.

A YANKEE ON A LOG.

The scene opens upon one of those great rivers of the West, in the

country which Tecumseh claimed and fought for so gallantly. The forest

was at rest, save only the songs of birds and the splash of the fish

leaping in the river. A thicket of bushes which bordered the path down

to the water, was suddenly pushed aside and a grim face peered out, a

face rendered doubly fierce by its war-paint, for it was that of an

Indian of Tecumseh's noble race.

Satisfying himself that no one was in sight, the Indian rose slowly,

stalked out into the path, and took his course toward the river.

Another and another followed, until ten had come into view, gliding in

silence down the forest-path.

Each savage was naked save the breech-cloth and moccasins. Only the

man who first showed himself, was differently dressed. He was a tall,

stately warrior, bearing upon his naked breast the totem of his tribe

painted in bright colors, and wearing upon his dark hair the plumed

head-dress of a chief.

Each Indian carried a rifle of the most approved make in the English

service, together with the inevitable scalping-knife and tomahawk.

Not one of them spoke, but followed their chief's cautious steps down

to the water's edge, where, sheltering themselves behind the bushes,

they peered across the stream.

It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was already out of sight

behind the tree-tops on the western shore. But, not upon the glories of

nature did the eyes of those fierce-visaged sons of the forest rest.

What then?

Upon the other shore, close to the river, stood a log cabin of the

largest size, with heavy walls and doors, calculated to resist any

ordinary attack. The fields around it were green with varied crops, for

it was now near the end of summer.

A strong wall of logs, hewn smooth, and leaving no chance to a climber,

surrounded the house. It was plain that the builder, whoever he might

be, was fully awake to the dangerous position he occupied in the midst

of the Indian country, but that he did not apprehend any immediate

attack was apparent, for his huge stockade gates were off the hinges

and leaning against the walls on either side.

The Indians lay under cover of the bushes, their gleaming eyes riveted

upon their expected prize, but they made no movement, for they beheld

a man standing upon the point which stretched out into the stream, a

rifle in his hand, pacing up and down as if on guard.

As they gazed a strange sight greeted their astonished vision.

Something was coming down the river in mid stream. It seemed to be a

man, seated in a canoe.

The current swept him rapidly downward, and, as the nondescript craft

came near, they saw a man seated astride of a log, keeping its head

down the current by the aid of a flat stick which he held in his hand.

As he neared the stockade he began to paddle vigorously, and whirled

the head of the log more toward the shore. By this time the watcher

on the point had run down to the water's edge, and the click of a

rifle-lock sounded.

"Ahoy, there!" he shouted.

"Hello!" replied the man on the log. "How de dew?"

"Hadn't you better come ashore?" said the sentry, persuasively,

pointing his rifle.

"Seeing it's _yew_, I donno but I _had_," replied the navigator,

coolly. "Yew seem mighty pressing, somehow."

"I'd like to persuade you to come ashore," replied the sentry, with a

laugh.

"Ain't I coming?" growled the man on the log. "Yew needn't put on sech

style over me, I guess! I ain't said nothing tew yew, I judge. Don't be

sech a 'tarnal fool tew keep p'inting that weepin at me. It might go

off."

"It will go off, if you don't come ashore, sir," replied the sentry.

"Hurry up!"

The Yankee--there could be no mistake as to his nationality--turned the

head of the log toward the shore, and as it struck the land, began to

rise slowly from the water. The sentry kept up his attitude of command

so long as his Yankee friend showed only the ordinary amount of bone

and muscle, but his eyes opened as foot after foot rose from the water,

and the Yankee stood six feet seven in his stockings! A queer looking

specimen of the _genus homo_ he was, such as, for the good of the race,

nature rarely framed. In breadth of shoulder and girth of body he was

no larger than men of ordinary size, and this added to his imposing

hight. His face, which did not show a particle of beard, was round,

good-natured and smiling, furnished with a mouth of mighty breadth, and

a nose curved like the beak of an eagle. His arms were of extraordinary

length, even for so tall a man, reaching nearly to the knee. His hair

was of a flaming yellow.

He was dressed in a dirty shirt of homespun, which never had known

any other cleansing since first put on than that it received from the

clouds or streams. A black leathern belt was strapped about his waist,

but it bore no more deadly weapon than an ordinary knife. His feet were

covered by moccasins rudely made and tied with buck-skin strings. Upon

his head he wore a cap of beaver-skin, mangy and worn bare in spots,

giving him a far from prepossessing appearance. A certain whimsical,

devil-may-care air marked the fellow, which was irresistible, and the

sentry laughed aloud, as the long stranger faced him on the beach. The

sentry was a young man in the dress of a rifleman, with the bar of a

captain on his shoulders. He was a stout-built, handsome fellow, and

looked with an air of commingled amusement and astonishment, at the

lofty proportions of the new-comer.

"You are a nice specimen of a prize-baby," he said, running his eyes up

the long, lank body.

"Yaas, yaas! My mother always said I was a sweet little infant!"

replied the Yankee. "How's all the folks?"

"Oh, they are in good health. I hope you left your own family in a good

state of preservation, my long friend."

"My fam'ly allers travel with me," said the stranger. "Thar ain't so

many of us so't we kin afford to sep'rate. Got a right neat little

place here, ain't yew? Sort o' like the looks of it myself."

"What were you doing on that log?" demanded the sentry.

"Lord love yew, I thought you knew that! I was riding."

"Any fool knows that," replied the young man, roughly.

"Then what made _yew_ ask me, if yew know'd it so well?" demanded the

Yankee, indignantly. "Yew git eout! kan' a feller-being take a ride if

he wants tew?"

"Certainly."

"Waal, I was a-coming down the river, and I thought I'd ruther ride

than walk, so I took to the water. But look a here, darn and blast sech

contrary logs as that thar. I've bin pitched neck and crop inter the

water four times in the last five miles, and darn my ear ef this ain't

the trewest thing I've said this good while. I got along a darned sight

better when I could get my foot on the bottom and steer that way. Yes I

did."

"How far have you come?"

"I dunno nothing 'bout distances in these dangerous woods. It might

have bin ten miles an' it might have bin twenty, I dunno."

"Do you travel without arms?"

"Not by a darned sight, I don't! What dew yew call them things?"

He stretched out a pair of arms nearly as long as an ordinary man's leg.

"Pshaw! I mean have you no weapons."

"Got a jack-knife," replied the Yankee, coolly.

"Is that all?"

"Ain't it enough? Thunder! yew don't want a man tew be a walking

armory, dew yew?"

"You are an odd chicken. Perhaps you won't object to giving me your

name?"

"No, thank yew, I don't like to give away my name. I dunno whether I

could git a better one."

"What is your name?"

"Oh; yew want me tew tell my name. Waal, try Seth Spink, and see

how that will work. I'm the all-firedest man yew ever did see. I've

traveled from St. Louis tew Bostin, and from Oswego tew New Yorleans.

Thar ain't no place on this created hemisphere where I ain't set my

foot. Yaas," he continued, "I've rode alligators in the bayous of

Louisiana and it make it more lively for a man, 'cause he has to keep

jerking up his legs to keep the young alligators from chawin' 'em off."

"There; that lets _you_ out," said the young captain. "Now I'll return

your confidence. This is one of the outposts of the fur company, and my

father's house at the same time. His name is Matthew Floyd. My name is

William Floyd, and I have the honor to be a captain in the rifles, upon

the staff of Governor Harrison."

"Glad tew meet yew, William," said the Yankee, extending a hand looking

like a side of mutton. "Shake."

"Confound your impudence," said the staff officer. "It passes all

belief. But come into the house and get something to eat, although I am

afraid that long body will breed a famine."

"Don't yew believe it! yew give me a little hog or tew and a small

beef-critter for supper, and I won't complain. I like a light meal, I

dew."

"A small hog or two and a beef-critter? Do you mean to eat the

provisions of the entire garrison at a single meal?"

"'Tain't much of a garrison that don't eat no more nor that! All right;

then bring me a loaf of bread and a ham, and I'll show you how tew eat."

Captain Floyd laughed, and led the way into the house through the open

gate of the stockade. The Yankee had picked up a stick on the bank

and was whittling away dexterously, whistling in the minor clef, but

keeping his eyes about him nevertheless. He shook his head when he saw

the gates off the hinges, and muttered to himself. Floyd turned upon

him quickly.

"What are you growling about there? Let me know at once."

"Git eout! Waal, if yew must know, I was thinking what a darned good

pertection a gate is to a house when it's off the hinges, standing

ag'in' the wall."

"You are inclined to be sarcastic, and are more observing than I gave

you credit for. To tell the truth up to this time we have been in no

danger. The Shawnees have been friendly, and Tecumseh himself has eaten

in our house. The Prophet was here only last week."

"Who?"

"The Prophet; the brother of Tecumseh, who has built a town upon the

upper Wabash near Tippecanoe."

"I dunno much about it, but it seems to me I did hear summers that that

Prophet is a treacherous old cuss," said Seth.

"I have heard the same, but he appeared very friendly."

The Yankee said nothing more, and they entered the house. A girl, who

was reading near a window, rose to receive them, looking surprised as

she saw the stranger.

"Cousin Madge," said Floyd, in a bantering tone, "let me introduce to

you an errant knight who has wandered from the paternal castle even to

the banks of the Wabash. His ancestral name is Spink."

"How can you, Will?" said Madge, laughing. "I am sure Mr. Spink is very

welcome."

She was very beautiful--a strange flower to bloom in the wilderness.

She was not the daughter of Matthew Floyd by blood, but the child of

a dear friend, Herbert Carlysle, who had long ago gone down into the

valley of the shadow, leaving her to his care. And when the hour of

trial came to her adopted father, she followed him boldly, to make a

new home and fortune upon the prairies of the far west. She was, as

we introduce her, a young girl, with hair banded back from a lofty

brow, and rolled in great braids upon her regal head; a face a little

browned by exposure to the sun, but very beautiful. She came forward

immediately and greeted the Yankee with cordial ease and grace, and he

looked down on her with a broad smile.

"A strange place tew bring sech a gal as this, Capting Floyd," he said.

"The towns would be the safest place fur her, now."

"She will not leave my father," said Floyd. "If we could have our way

she would not be here. Madge, our friend is hungry. Will you go to

Phillis and ask her to get him something to eat? She probably will not

do it unless you speak coaxingly to her, for a more obstinate old woman

never breathed."

"W'at?" exclaimed a voice. "Who you's talking 'bout, mass' Will? You

t'ink cause you's white dat dis chile gwine ter lay down so dat you can

tramp on her, but she ain't; no sah! I's a nigger, but Goramity he med

me black hese own self, an' all de water in Egypt can't wash me white,

nohow."

"Now Phillis--" said Will.

"Oh, hold you hush, do, mass' Will! You gwine 'bout to mek mischief,

dat's w'at you's gwine to do! You s'pose I gwine to dirty all my dish

for dis low-lived Yankee truck, gwine 'bout in de woods like a roarin'

lion for to come for to go fur to eat ebbery t'ing? How we give _him_

'nough to eat, a great long shadder?"

Phillis had come up unobserved while they were talking, and stood in

the doorway when Will made that allusion to her native obstinacy. She

was a ponderous female, weighing very nearly three hundred pounds,

being built on the model of the redoubtable Wouter Van Twiller, of

famous memory, who was five feet six inches high, and six feet five

inches in circumference. She held in one hand a dishcloth, and in the

other a frying-pan which she had been washing when curiosity called her

to the door.

"There's a sight to wake the finer feelings of our natur'," said the

Yankee, looking at the negress with a grin. "A good fat, healthy female

like that is a credit to human natur', she is, by Jehosaphat. She

makes me think of my maternal grandmother, only the old lady had the

misfortune to be white, more the pity! 'Cause the good Book teaches

us thar was a good chaince of black men in Scripter times. Now, my

grandmother--"

"See yer," said the old housekeeper, "you's git inter trouble one of

dese days, ef you fool roun' dis chile. G'way, g'way, you's makin'

mischief! Oh, gosh all to pieces, you gwine stan' dar and poke fun at

me all de time? Berry well; wait till I gub you any t'ing to eat, dats

all!"

"But, aunty--" said Madge, coaxingly. "How can you act so?"

"Dar, dar, chile! 'Tain't dat I valley cookin' de leastest bit, it do

mek me powerful mad when dey pokes fun at me."

"Did the old lady think I was funnin'?" said the Yankee, with a solemn

face. "I wa'n't, now that's a fact. My grandmother was a bu'ster, now

you'd better believe! Why, ef you was to put her on one end of a beam,

and this old lady on the other, you'd see this old lady fly like a bird

in the air. She wouldn't weigh a feather alongside of my old lady, that

gal wouldn't."

"Tole 'em I wa'n't so drefful fat," said Phillis, considerably

mollified. "But, dey won't none ob 'em beliebe me, nohow. Dar; I's go

an' see w'at I kin pick up for de gemman. Would you like some venison?"

"Yaas."

"Or mebbe veal would suit ye better?"

"I ain't partic'lar. I'll taste 'em both. Ef ye've got some pickles

handy, throw a bushel or two on the table with a couple of hams, and

two or three loaves of bread. Any thing will dew for a _lunch_."

Phillis looked at him very much as she would have looked at a dangerous

maniac unfit to go at large, and went slowly out into the kitchen,

the floor shaking under her ponderous tread. The next moment a storm

of vituperation directed at the heads of her satellites, announced

that she was at work, and a savory smell was wafted to their nostrils.

Seth pricked up his ears like the war-horse "that smelleth the battle

afar off," and waited. When the table was set, he marched in and gave

Phillis a grand exemplification of the power of a good appetite. Pone

bread in huge masses leaped down his capacious maw. Slice after slice

of venison followed, washed down by various cups of coffee. Phillis,

appalled at his appreciation of her cookery, watched with uplifted

hands, and finally fled to Will Floyd in dismay.

"You git dat wolf outer dis house jus' as quick as you kin! He stay har

one week an' he eat us out ob house an' home."

CHAPTER II.

WILLIMACK, THE WYANDOT.

By the time the Yankee had finished his repast, night had come on, and

he came hurrying out of the kitchen, with his mouth full of venison

steak, and ran to the window.

"How many dew yew reckon in this post, boss?" he said, turning to the

young soldier.

"Myself, my father, two soldiers of the rifles, and two black boys."

"Yaas. Now let me ask yew a little question. Does it look like common

sense for yew tew keep yure gates off the hinges?"

"To tell you the truth, I have some doubts myself, but the Prophet

seemed to think it showed confidence in the Indians on the Wabash to

leave the gates open, and it was more to please him than any thing else

that we did it."

"The Prophet? Now, see here, capting; I ain't bin but a little while in

this kentry, but I know what the Shawnee Prophet is. He's a treacherous

old fox. He's got some plot ag'in' the people of this section, and I

know it, sartin sure! Jest see the raft of villains he's got round

him up thar on the Wabash. Kickapoos, Winnebagoes, Micmacs, Shawnees,

and the Old Scratch knows what other nations--the riff-raff and

off-scourings of the tribes. They're nice fellers to live nigh, ain't

they?"

"I have often thought them dangerous," said Floyd. "But what can we do?"

"Yew kan put up yure gates, anyhow. And say; hadn't yew better call in

yure men, ef yew've got any outlyin', 'cause it's gittin' dark."

"I think you are right," said Floyd.

He took down a horn, and going to the door, took a long breath and blew

a gallant blast, which echoed far and wide through the depths of the

forest. Shortly after, the tramp of coming feet could be heard, and

there emerged from the woods behind the house four men advancing at a

hurried pace. As they entered the stockade the Yankee saw that two of

them were common soldiers of the American army, one an Indian of the

Shawnee nation, and the fourth an old man with white hair. The Yankee

swung himself up on the head of a cask standing within the stockade,

and, taking out a piece of pigtail tobacco, twisted off a mighty

"chaw," and sat there, rolling the sweet morsel under his tongue.

"What made you so late, father?" said young Floyd, advancing.

"Willimack got puzzled in regard to the path, and if we had not heard

your horn, I do not know how long we might have stumbled about in the

darkness."

The Yankee uttered a long whistle and thrust his tongue into his cheek.

The sound drew the attention of the old man to him, and he scanned him

curiously.

"Who is this?" he said.

"A traveler, who has stopped here for shelter," replied the young man,

coming forward. "What did you mean by that whistle, Spink?"

"Sho, now! Don't be so blasted inquisitive. I wouldn't, anyhow. I'll

tell yew by an by; but, the fust thing yew dew is to put up them gates,

do ye hear?"

The Indian had been standing just within the gates, and, as he heard

the voice of the stranger, he cast a quick glance in his direction, and

his hand stole to the handle of his hatchet. But, the Yankee sat upon

the cask, beating time with his heels upon the sides, and muttering to

himself. The Indian stalked gravely to his side, and looked fiercely

into his face. The savage was a rather good-looking brave of the

Wyandot tribe, whose powerful limbs, strong shoulders, and muscular

hands gave promise of great strength. The down-easter endured his fixed

gaze for the space of three minutes without moving a muscle of his set

face, until the savage spoke.

"Who is this?" he said. "Dare you come here to sing an evil song in the

ears of my father with the gray hair, to make him distrust his brethren

of the Shawnees and Wyandots?"

"Oh, git eout! Who said any thing tew yew? The most cantankerous Injin

I ever see in all my born days."

"You laugh at Willimack, the chief? Why should my father put up his

strong gates?"

"'Cause he's a man of sense, I guess. Now, don't rile up, Injin,

_don't_! 'Tain't that I care any thing about yew, understand, but I

sort o' hate to see things go this way. Willimack, they call you?"

"Willimack is my name."

"All right. Been guiding this party on a prospecting tour, so tew

speak?"

"We have been exploring," said the elder Floyd.

"See any Injin signs?" asked Seth.

"A great many," replied the old man. "What of that? The Indians are

friendly now."

"Glad to hear it, 'cause I didn't know it. So this man Willimack _lost

his way_?"

"Yes."

"Youngster," said the Yankee, leaping off the barrel, "you come here a

minnit. I want tew speak with yew."

Young Floyd went with the Yankee aside, followed by the suspicious

glances of the savage, who would have gone aside with them, but Floyd

signed to him sternly to keep back, and he obeyed, chafing inwardly.

"Look here," said Spink, when they were out of ear-shot. "They say we

Yankees are a little gumptious, an' I guess we be, but, it don't need

much smartness tew see threw _his_ gilding. That Injin is a Wyandot,

and knows every foot of the soil along the Wabash, and yit he _loses

his way_! Now, does that sound nat'ral? I only ask yew fair."

"It does look strange."

"Then put up yure gate. I won't tell yew _why_, but it'll be better for

yew. Now I'll tell yew how tew prove Willimack, cuss him! Go out an'

offer tew put up the gates, and yew see ef he don't huff and want tew

hurry away."

"Let him go."

"Umph! No; don't dew any thing of the kind. Keep him all night, by all

means."

"For what purpose?"

"Never mind. Yew will find eout, afore morning. Oh, blame my cats ef it

ain't hard tew git any thing threw _yew_! Why don't yew go an' put up

them cussed gates?"

"I will do it," said the young man, turning back quickly. "Here,

Forbes, Lefebre! I want you to help me put up these gates."

Willimack started and turned upon the young man almost fiercely, for

his eyes burned like glowing coals. The young soldier looked at him in

surprise.

"Let my young brother pause before he puts his hands to something for

which he will be sorry," said the Wyandot. "He has trusted the great

tribe, and they have never deceived him, then why should he do wrong

to them now? Let the gates rest. There is nothing to fear from the

Shawnees and Wyandots."

"The Indians have no right to be angry if we close our doors," replied

Floyd. "There are good warriors as well as bad, and some of these

wicked ones might chance to pass by."

"Then the chiefs of the Shawnee would punish them," said Willimack.

"That would be but little help to us, you understand," said Floyd,

"after they had taken our scalps. No, I think I will close the gates."

"Don't let him waste time talkin'. Shet 'em up now!"

"Ha, dog of the long back," screamed Willimack, "do you come to make a

bad heart between the Indians and their white friends? Willimack will

drink your blood."

"Ah, no yew won't," replied long Seth, with admirable composure,

thrusting his hands into his pockets, and looking keenly at the savage.

"Yew ain't so dry as that comes tew. Shet them gates, darn yew! I tell

yew not tew lose time!"

Willimack suddenly drew his hatchet and rushed at the imperturbable

Yankee, who did not even take his hands from his pockets, but, when the

Indian came within reach, planted his moccasined foot in the region of

the knife-belt, with a force which sent the Wyandot flying against the

side of the stockade, half stunned. The elder Floyd would have helped

him up, but Spink demanded of him angrily to desist, and help them to

raise the gates, while the negro boys brought out the heavy bars and

had them ready to drop into their places. Just as they were about to

raise the first gate to its place, the Indian staggered to his feet,

and turned to go away.

"Farewell, men of the bad heart," he said. "A deep sorrow has come upon

the heart of Willimack. His soul is very sad, because the brother with

the gray hair has turned against him."

"Oh, hush up, _yew_," said the Yankee, releasing his hold on the gate,

"and git intew yure corner ag'in."

"No," said Willimack, "I will stay no longer in the place where I have

been insulted."

"Yew won't, eh?"

"No; Willimack will go."

"I differ; Willimack will _stay_. Yew ain't goin' tew git eout and

call yure comrades up here afore we git the gates in shape. Don't yew

b'lieve it!"

"I really think you are too fast, my friend," said the elder Floyd.

"The Indians have always treated me well."

"I don't care a darn how they've treated yew. That Injin ain't goin'

out of this gate till it's hung; and if yew take my advice, yew'll keep

him till morning, 'cause I b'lieve my soul he's got comrades outlying

in them bushes."

"I will go!" screamed Willimack. "Who will stay the course of the chief

of the Wyandots?"

"This identical cuss. Yew offer tew go eout of this gate, and I'll give

yew a back-hander that will make yew forgit yure parents. Now yew bet

yure boots on _that_."

Willimack was no coward, and made a rush at the immovable figure of the

Yankee, knife in hand.

For the first time the ire of Seth Spink seemed to be fully aroused,

and, rushing at the chief with a snarl like that of a wild beast, he

caught him by the wrist, and, giving it a wrench, shook the weapon

from his grasp. Then, seizing him by the shoulders, he lifted him from

the ground, shook him as a terrier shakes a cat, and dashed him to the

earth with stunning force.

"Bring ropes here!" he hissed. "The devil is in this condemned skunk,

bigger than a woodchuck."

Will Floyd threw him some pieces of buck-skin, with which he bound the

feet of the savage, and then sprung up to work upon the gate.

"Work, ye devils, work!" he shouted, applying his Herculean strength

to the huge door. "Up with her, quick! How a man of yure understanding

could take them gates off the hinges I don't know."

"We thought it would please the savages," said the elder Floyd. "I am

afraid we are doing wrong."

"Ef yew don't sing another song in less than an hour, then I'm a

nigger. Heave with a will, boys; no time to lose. It's the mercy of God

that yure son blew that horn for yew tew-night, mister, or Willimack

would have led yew into an ambush."

"I can hardly believe that, sir," said the old man.

"Can't yew? Take hold of that gate there. Lift away! What's that?

Somebody give the son of a tinker a belt in the mouth."

Willimack, lying upon his back, had begun a succession of fearful

yells, intended to hasten the movements of his friends. He was answered

by a cry so close at hand that the people of the stockade were appalled

by the closeness of their enemies. They worked away with desperate

zeal, and with a cry of delight felt the door swing to its place and

dropped the heavy bars before it. Long Seth turned in a fury upon the

Indian.

"Yew ought to have yure coat tails filled chock full of _boots_--old

boots, big boots, heavy boots, long boots, and moccasins tew match. Ef

I had my way, yew'd git it, tew. Ah, yew pizen critter!"

As he spoke, they heard the sound of rushing feet, and the first of the

savage band who had been lying upon the other bank of the stream, and

who had crossed at dusk, rushed up against the gate and uttered loud

cries of disappointment as they found it strongly barred against them.

The signal of Willimack had come somewhat sooner than they expected;

indeed, they had been waiting for him to lead Floyd and his soldiers

into their ambush, and they were sorely disappointed when they heard

his voice within the stockade. Nevertheless, they expected an easy

prey, for they did not know that the acute Yankee had taken measures to

have the gates put up. He answered their yells of disappointed rage by

wild laughter.

"Haw! haw! haw! Didn't expect _that_, did yew? _Now_ what dew yew say

abeout the gates, mister?"

"I say that you have saved our lives, and we thank you," replied the

old man. "I was foolish to trust a proverbially treacherous race. What

do you think they will do now?"

"Kan't say," replied the Yankee. "Try tew gammon us, mebbe. It would

be jest like 'em, by gosh. Neow I'm green, I allow; I'm awful green,

that's a petrified trewth. But, I dew think Seth Spink is ekal in p'int

of intellect to any Shawnee on the footstool, saving one man."

"And that man?"

"Tecumseh," replied Seth, shortly. "Now look here: We c'u'd hev had the

good will of that man ef we was a mind tew, but we wouldn't hev it.

Neow let me tell yew that he ain't no fool, the sachem ain't. Thar's

wuss Ginerals in our army, tew. Let it go; we've made a mistake, and

he's our inimy, I'm sorry tew say. These chaps want tew speak tew yew."

The Indians were pounding at the door of the stockade, and calling to

the Floyds, under the names by which they were known to the Indians, to

come out and speak to them.

"I will answer them," said Captain William. "In the mean time, load all

the rifles and get out a supply of ammunition. I believe they mean to

make the assault to-night, though how a dozen Indians mean to beat half

that number of whites behind a strong stockade, I can not tell."

He stepped to a loophole and looked out. The warriors were grouped

carelessly about the large gates, striking them with their hatchets,

and making all the noise they could.

"What do you want here?" demanded Will. "Are the night-owls flying low

to-night?"

"The warriors of the Shawnees would rest to-night under the roof of the

Gray Hair," replied one of the braves. "Let him open his great gates,

that we may enter."

"Let my brothers seek other shelter to-night," answered young Floyd. "A

bird has sung in my ears to-day, warning me that the Shawnees and white

men must not sleep under the same roof to-night. Shawnee braves are not

children; let them rest under the bending boughs, and may they sleep

well."

"Hugh!" cried the spokesman. "Does the young war-chief refuse a place

under his roof to his friends?"

"We do not want any visitors to-night," replied the young man, firmly.

A chorus of angry cries arose, in the midst of which the Yankee sprung

to the young man's side and whispered in his ear. He nodded gravely,

and called out to the Shawnees to be silent. A hush fell upon them and

he spoke again:

"I know that the Shawnees have come with malice in their hearts, and

would have slain us if the gates had not been barred. Let them go back

as they came, for if a single Shawnee is in sight when morning breaks,

Willimack shall die."

"Would you slay the great chief of the Wyandots, the beloved of the

Prophet?"

"Yes, and he deserves death a hundred times for his treachery."

"Willimack is the friend of the white man," replied the outside speaker.

"Yes, of the English," replied Seth.

"Dog of a Yengee!" shrieked a voice close at hand, "Willimack, chief of

the Wyandots, laughs you to scorn."

The Yankee whirled quickly, and saw Willimack free from his bonds,

standing upon the summit of the stockade. The next moment he waved his

hand in derision and was gone.

CHAPTER III.

THE SKELETON SCOUT.

To their utter surprise, the Yankee ran madly toward the high wall

of the stockade, and, leaping upward, clung like a cat to the top.

It seemed hardly possible that so heavy a person could display such

agility, and certainly no one in the stockade would have thought Long

Seth capable of it, but for the way in which he had handled the Indian.

He hung a moment upon the edge of the stockade, and then, drawing

himself up by a strong muscular action, looked over. Then, waving his

hand toward the occupants, he slid over the outside and dropped to the

earth. No sound indicated that the savages had heard him, for they

remained pounding at the gate, uttering wild threats against the Floyds

if they did not open.

Somewhat surprised at the desertion of the Yankee, Will Floyd made no

answer until the harsh voice of Willimack came to his ears.

"Hark to my words," shouted the chief. "You have disgraced Willimack, a

chief of the mighty tribe. Dogs could not be used worse than you have

treated him. I am not a fool and I will have revenge."

"Leave the gates," replied Floyd, angrily, "or my men shall fire."

"Let them fire at us if they will," replied the chief. "We will enter

the big wigwam. I will eat the heart of the man who shook me, and

kicked me with his foot."

"I tell you to go away!" said Will Floyd. "I have no desire to quarrel

with you, but if you try to break in here it is your own fault if you

get hurt."

The only reply was the crash of axes against the heavy gate, and the

young man saw that they were determined upon making a persistent effort

to break in. Bringing forward a short ladder which was lying near the

wall of the house, he ran up to the top of the wall and fired his

pistol at the Indians below, and knew by the cry of rage which went up

that he had not missed his mark.

This determined course roused the ire of the savages and they began

to bring up poles to climb the walls, full of hatred of the men

inside. Will shouted to his men and they brought their ladders--for

they had one for each defender, and the walls were manned. The number

of savages was not great enough for an assault; yet they fought with

determination. They climbed like cats up the sides of the wooden fort

only to be beaten back by the defenders. Each soldier, besides his

rifle, had a hatchet and a pair of pistols, and so armed, they were

more than a match for the Shawnees, who retreated to a little distance,

out of reach of the rifles, where they halted and seemed to consult for

a moment.

Just then came a horrible yell, and, to the utter terror of the

Indians, there bounded from a thicket near at hand a fearful creature

calculated to strike terror to the stoutest heart. To the white men

looking on from the wall, there was something supernatural in this

strange appearance flaming out in the darkness. Two blazing eyes

gleamed in its forehead, emitting lurid flashes as it bounded on. In

hight it was nearly seven feet, and the head was that of a skeleton,

grinning and ghastly!

The Indians saw that terrible creature coming down upon them, and,

with wild cries of dread, they broke and ran in every direction, some

seeking safety on the river and others running up the bank. Will Floyd

beheld the figure seize upon a flying savage and drag him shrieking

to the earth; then a great silence fell upon the scene. All was dark

outside; the Indians were gone, and, in the place where the fiery

figure gleamed a moment before, nothing was to be seen. Soon after the

sound of hurrying feet was heard, and the Yankee came climbing over the

rear of the stockade, evidently terrified nearly out of his senses.

"Did you see it?" he cried. "Oh, holy Moses! I never was so skeered in

all my born days! Whew; I'm out of breath!"

"What did you leave us for?"

"Wanted to ketch that Injin. I couldn't, though; he run so like the

devil. Then I calculated I'd git round in the rear and give 'em a

shot, an then holler as ef a hundred sojers was in the woods, when,

Jehosaphat! up got that b'ilin'-hot Image, with his fiery eyes, and

skeered the life out of them Injins, and me too, I guess."

The Yankee sat down on a log and panted for breath.

"Did you see it closely?" said Floyd.

"Close as I want tew, darn it! This beats my fust wife's relations all

tew pieces. Whew! I thought I were a goner."

The men looked at each other in surprise. What was this strange being,

that came and went like a shadow, leaving no trace behind? Will Floyd

was not naturally superstitious, and yet he could not account for this

apparition in any natural way. Long Seth evidently was as much puzzled,

and looked from one to the other in ludicrous dismay. The black boys,

who also had seen the specter, stood with chattering teeth and a sort

of ashy gray color in their faces. Nature had made it impossible for

their hair to stand up straight or it would surely have done so, then.

"Hi, you Pomp," said one, "see dat ar' t'ing, dat time?"

"Iss, Dick; I seen him, an I so skeered I dunno w'at I's gwine ter do.

Oh goodness gracious!"

"Dat's de debbil, Pomp. Dat's juss de Ole Harry, heself, an' notting

else. We's gone chiles dese times."

"That's trew," said Seth, glad of an opportunity to pass his dread onto

some one else. "And I have hern tell that the old 'un is partial to

black fellows. Mebbe 'tain't trew; I ain't enuff 'quainted with the Old

Boy to speak _sartin_, but I've good reason to believe that he duz like

'em."

"Sho, now, _you_!" roared Pomp, raising one leg in agony. "Git along

dar! w'at you a-tryin' to do, say? De old debbil likes a Yankee.

Eberybody knows he likes a Yankee."

"I don't think it," said Seth, as if revolving the subject in his mind.

"May be jest as yew say, but, I think they'd make it tew lively fur the

old man down thar. They'd trade him out of his throne, sartin! They ar'

all-fired hands at a dicker, yew know, and they'd beat him, sartin! So

I guess Yankees are pooty safe. Not _too_ safe, yew understand, but

pooty safe, pooty safe. I don't reckon they'll trouble us a great deal,

nohow. Guess we'd better git a light an' go out an' try them cussed

Injins, and see what's likely to be done."

"Maybe they are hiding somewhere," said Will Floyd. "If they are, it

would not be safe to go out."

"Waal, ef I'm any judge, they ain't hiding anywhar on this side the

river," rejoined Seth. "I hern 'em jump intew the water, an' swim as ef

the devil was chasin' 'em clust. Yew see they're mighty feared of the

devil, and ef that wa'n't him, then I dunno what it was. Old Satan on a

scout, shure!"

"Did you ever hear of this figure before?"

"Yaas," said Spink. "When I was in old man Harrison's camp they said

something 'bout it and they called it the Skeleton Scout."

"The Skeleton Scout!"

"That's the name. 'Tain't a purty name, nyther. Not by no manner of

means. It makes me shake all over when I think the pesky critter is

round here, though I must own he has an all-fired good way of cleaning

out red-skins. Git a lantern or a torch."

Will went into the house for a lantern, and when he came back Seth took

it from his hand and gave it to Black Dick.

"Here, boy, take that and go out and look around to see if any of the

red niggers are hiding anywhere."

"_Me_, massa?"

"Yaas, _yew_! Who else do yew s'pose I mean? Come, don't keep us

a-waiting. Why don't yew git?"

"But, mars' I dunno w'edder I likes to go out dar. Plenty Injin out

dar, I t'inks. How we ebber fine 'em?"

"Oh, go 'long! That's what we want tew find out, whether they are or

not. Ef they should be, why then they'll shoot at yew, and we'll hear

'em."

"S'pose dey hits Dick?" said the negro.

"Why then, Dick will holler like all possessed, and put back ef he kin.

Ef he _kain't_, then we'll bury the sed Dick with the honors of war."

"See yer, marse Yankee, you t'ink I ain't a fool, I ain't. I's gwine

ter stay yer."

"Then mebbe Pomp would like to go, seeing _he_ ain't a coward? Come,

Pomp; distinguish yerself and laugh at Dick."

"Don't tink's I keer 'bout it, marse," replied Pomp. "Dick good fren'

ob mine. What I wants to laugh at he for?"

Long Seth laughed, and taking a pistol from the belt of one of the

soldiers, led the way into the open air. An Indian lay under the wall,

and the Yankee stumbled over him. Seth held the light closer and saw

that the savage had a broken leg.

"Got a knife, boss?" he said, speaking to Will Floyd.

"Certainly I have."

"Stick this man and come along. I'd dew it myself only I've got both

hands full."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't want tew save the red nigger, dew yew?"

"I will not allow him to be killed," replied the young soldier.

The Yankee straightened his long back, and looked at the young man as

if taken completely aback by this speech. "Not kill a red-skin? Not

stick him when yew've got him? By the mortal, ef this ain't pizen.

Not--good gracious, yew raise my dander mortal bad! What yew goin' tew

dew with the critter then, if I may ask 'thout giving offense?"

"Take him into the stockade, cure him of his wound if possible, and--"

"Give him yure skulp when he gits strong enuff tew take it! That's

right! Keep up the repitation of the fam'ly, by all means! Waal, I

won't say no more. Come along, _yew_! But, if the time don't come when

yew jest ez live stick an Injin as eat a b'iled potater, then ther

ain't no snakes in Kentuck'."

They hurried on to the place where the Skeleton Scout had been seen;

the grass was bent and trodden down, and, further on, an Indian was

lying on his face, dead. Floyd turned him over, and saw that it was a

Winnebago, a desperate villain, who had been suspected of the murder

of a white family, years before, but escaped through insufficient

evidence. However, innocent or guilty, he had met his fate at last.

"How was he killed?" said Floyd. "I don't see any blood."

They examined him closely, but not a mark could be found upon the body

to show how he had died. Dead he certainly was, and the stiffened

muscles told that he had not died easily. The puzzled look again came

into the face of Seth Spink.

"Now, don't this beat all natur'?" he ejaculated. "We'll hev tew

believe pooty soon that the Skileton Scout is a skileton, arter all.

Leastways he don't leave no marks upon his victims."

"It is strange indeed," replied Captain Floyd. "Hold the lantern close,

will you? There _must_ be a mark on him somewhere."

A still closer search failed to elicit any further information. The

Indian was dead, but how? He had not been choked, for the face of a man

who dies in that way always shows unmistakable signs of strangulation.

His neck was not broken, as Floyd began to believe, and not a drop of

blood was visible upon his person.

Yankee Seth stood holding the lantern, and looking down upon the face

of the dead Indian, while his young companion was searching him. A

slight noise, so slight that Floyd did not notice it, but Seth heard

it, yet did not turn his head or show that he was aroused. Looking

covertly toward the spot he saw a dark object extended upon the earth,

not ten feet away, and caught the gleam of a rifle-barrel. Giving his

companion a sudden push which sent him rolling to the earth, Long

Seth bounded four feet into the air just as a rifle cracked, and came

down uninjured upon the back of a prowling savage, who, hiding in the

bushes, had crept up unobserved.

As Will Floyd started to his feet, confused and angry, a terrific

struggle was going on upon the grass a few feet away. Seth found his

enemy, whoever it was, "no chicken," to use his own expression, and his

powerful muscles were tried to the utmost.

Will Floyd darted forward, but the lantern had gone out and he dared

not strike in the darkness, fearing that he might wound his friend.

Then, two figures rose; there was a muttered curse, and a heavy blow or

two, and the sound of hurrying feet succeeded, followed immediately by

a splash in the water, and Seth came back, furiously angry.

"He got away, the cussed sneak," he said. "He'd 'a' cooked yure goose

or mine in another minnit. Lucky I saw him."

"Why did you push me down?" cried Floyd, angrily.

"Did it jest tew be mean, young'un," said the Yankee, indolently. "Did

it a-purpuss. Yure head was rite in a line with a rifle-barrill, and

like ez not yew'd 'a' got hurt if yew'd 'a' stood up half a second

longer. 'Tain't no matter."

"I beg your pardon, Spink," said Will, frankly. "I was so confused by

your sudden action that I really did not know what to do or say. So you

pushed me down because the rifle was aimed at _me_?"

"Sorter think I did! There; don't say nothin' 'bout it. Let's git

back tew the stockade. 'Tain't edzackly safe tew stay here now; these

critters mout come back, yew know, and a shot from a bush ain't what I

hanker arter."

The rifle-shot had been heard, and Captain Floyd, with one of the

soldiers, was hurrying out to meet them. He expressed his satisfaction

at their safety, and listened eagerly to their explanations.

"The day of safety is over, then," he said. "All my endeavors to make

friends with the savages have been of no avail. What had we better do,

Mr. Spink? You seem to understand the Indians better than I do, after

all."

"Any one is likely tew git fooled," replied the Vermonter. "Yew can't

bet a cent on an Injin. Mout be friendly tew yer face while he was

stealing out a knife tew take yure skulp. I'm sorry the gal is here;

she ort tew be in the village."

"We can take her there."

"'Tain't safe. The road is full of red-skins. I tell yew that the

Prophet--darned little profit we'll make eout of it--is up, and his

cussid black-and-tan tribe are with him. 'Twon't be many days afore

the woods will be full of the pizen heathen. My advice ain't much,

but, if I was yew, I'd send one of the men tew Guvnor Harrison for

reinforcements, and stay here til they cum."

"You think that the safest plan?"

"It's the only one I think of. Willimack 'll be on the watch, and

yew kain't git eout. Give the man that goes a canoe and send him

down-stream. I'll go with him and show the way."

"Who shall go?"

"I," replied Will, promptly.

"I am afraid we can not spare you, William," said the captain. "Let

Forbes go."

"One more or less won't make no manner of difference," said Seth. "I

think the young 'un is in the right of it, and I'll pilot him till I

think he's safe. Look out sharp, night and day, till we come back. Now,

young 'un!"

There was no time for long partings. Will ran into the house to bid

Madge good-by, and came back with traces of emotion on his face. Then,

pressing his father's hand, he followed the erect figure of Seth Spink

out into the gloom.

CHAPTER IV.

A NIGHT OF PERIL.

The darkness was intense, but the Yankee moved on like a man who knew

the ground well, toward the spot where the canoes were hauled up on the

shore. They selected a light one, and the young soldier found a paddle

and would have taken his place as paddler, but the other took it from

his hand, and stationed himself in that place himself.

The canoe shot out into the darkness at once, and was headed down the

river, gliding in between the green banks, the paddle dipping in the

bright water without a sound! Nothing but long practice could have

enabled any man to use a paddle so dexterously. On they floated down

the tranquil stream in the darkness, while nothing but the cry of the

loon and other night-birds disturbed the solemn stillness of the scene.

Once Captain Will began to speak, but the guide laid his hand upon his

knee with a low "Hist!" Floyd took the hint and was silent. He began to

understand that the danger must be great, or the sagacious Yankee would

not work so cautiously. He also began to feel a sort of respect for the

knowledge of woodcraft which he saw that the strange man possessed, a

great trait in a borderman.

After paddling on for nearly an hour, without making the slightest

noise, the head of the canoe was turned toward the shore at a place

where the overhanging bushes almost touched the water. Parting these

bushes with great caution, Seth pushed the canoe past them, and showed

an open space between the bushes and the bank deep enough for the canoe

to lie in, without being seen from the bank above.

"Yew stay right here, cap.," whispered the Yankee. "I'm going on a

scout."

"Had not you better let me go with you?" queried the young man.

"Yew! Kin yew walk like yew was steppin' on feathers, and hold yure

breath an hour? Dew yew know every inch of ground atween this and

Harrison's camp? and kin yew set down 'thout breaking a stick? Ther's a

deal tew learn 'fore yew make a good scout."

"I know it. Perhaps I had better stay here then."

"Waal, prehaps yew had," said the Yankee. "Gimme that hatchet. All

right; now lay low and keep dark. If yew hear the painter call three

times, that's _me_."

So silently did he move away, that Will hardly knew when he went. Lying

down in the canoe, which was kept in its place by the bushes which

hung low on all sides, the young man waited anxiously for the coming

of his friend. An hour passed, and there came no sound to indicate the

whereabouts of his strange guide. He was about to give him up, and had

almost concluded to take the paddle and attempt to escape in his own

way, when he heard light footsteps on the bank above. Thinking that it

was Seth Spink, and that he was returning with less caution than he

showed in moving away, he was about to rise and meet him, when he heard

a deep voice on the bank above, which was not that of the Yankee.

"Willimack?" it said.

"I am here, great chief," replied a voice which he well knew. "What

would the Prophet say to his brother chief?"

"You have done wrong, Wyandot," said the other. "You have opened

the eyes of the white men, and if the young war-chief gets safe to

Vincennes, we can no longer throw dust in the eyes of Harrison. This

was not well."

"Willimack would have had the scalps of all, but for the tall warrior

who came on the log. He opened the eyes of Floyd, and he saw blood in

the eyes of the Wyandot."

"Who is the tall warrior?"

"My brother has seen him many times at Vincennes. His hair is yellow

as the rays of the setting sun, and his form tall as a pine. He is

very strong and bold. Who is there in the Wyandot nation, unless it be

Tecumseh, who can overthrow Willimack, the Wyandot?"

"The Long Man is very strong," said the other. "He is cunning as the

red fox. But, he is on the river, and my brothers above and below will

give a good account of him if he try to escape."

Floyd raised himself slowly and peered up at the two, but could not

make out who the speaker was. Willimack had spoken of him as the

Prophet, but it might be either Tecumseh, or his brother, Elskwatawa,

the man who was properly known by the appellation of "the Prophet,"

and to whom is imputed the odium of drawing the great Tecumseh into

war with the whites. At this moment the moon rose slowly over the

tree-tops, and shed a light upon the tranquil scene, and he could

see their faces. It was Elskwatawa, the Prophet, and a more cruel or

ambitious man never lived upon the earth. Cunning was the great trait

upon which he prided himself; and while to all appearance friendly with

the whites, he was gathering the Indians for that great movement which

was to sweep the enemy from the face of the earth. Will Floyd was a

bold man, but even he felt a thrill at the imminence of the danger by

which he was threatened. The Prophet leaned against a tree, not ten

feet away, and Willimack, with his hands clasped upon the muzzle of his

rifle, stood close to him.

"The moon shines bright," said the Prophet. "They can not pass unless

we see them. Ha! what is this?"

He pointed with his hand to a canoe with a single occupant which was

crossing the river in front, and heading directly toward the spot where

the two chiefs stood. They disappeared as if suddenly blotted out of

existence, crawling like serpents in the dense underbrush, and Will

turned to watch the new-comer. The moon was now bright, and he could

see him plainly.

It was a chief, in the war-dress of a Pottawatomie, bedizened in all

the bravery these men love to affect in a time of war. He was tall and

strongly made, with a rather handsome face, and dark, brilliant eyes. A

rifle lay in the bow of his canoe, and in the belt about his waist he

carried a hatchet and knife. His keen eyes swept along the bank for a

moment, and then he pushed his canoe up to the beach not ten feet from

the place where Will Floyd lay hidden, and drew it up out of sight.

Then, taking his rifle, he mounted the bank. In doing so, he laid his

rifle down, and when he stooped to take it up, the two men on the watch

rose suddenly and threw themselves upon him. So sudden was the onset

that the warrior was taken completely by surprise, and was bound before

he could speak or move, though he now made desperate efforts to break

his bonds.

"Ha! Dead Chief," cried Elskwatawa. "Dead dog, we have you now! Prepare

to sing your death-song, for the Shawnees and Wyandots will not wait

long before they drink the blood of a fool."

The two seized him, dragged him to his feet and bound him to a tree

close at hand, cursing him in no measured tones.

The name they gave him satisfied the young man as to who the prisoner

was, and he knew that he was a friend to the American cause, who had

boldly offered to confront Tecumseh in his own person, and prove that

he meditated hostile designs against the Americans. He had called both

Tecumseh and his brother traitors, and offered to tax them with it in

the presence of the two brothers and their followers. This declaration

was made in the presence of Tecumseh's friends, and the chief was

quickly made aware of the fact.

Neither had seen the Dead Chief until this time. He looked at them

boldly, with a half-smile upon his face, and Will Floyd fingered his

weapons and longed to spring out to his aid. But, the danger in which

he had left his family, and his fears for the safety of Madge, had

made him wary. Elskwatawa drew a knife and ran his fingers along the

polished edge in a significant way.

"Dead Chief," he said, "you are a Pottawatomie, and the men of that

tribe are brave. But every tribe brings forth dogs, and such a dog are

you. You care nothing for the glory of the race, and will not join the

great Tecumseh in making the people free."

"Tecumseh is a fool," replied the Dead Chief. "He does not know that

the sun warms him and the moon gives him light. Why should we change

masters? The white men will always rule the Indians, because they are

wiser than we. Why do you stop the Dead Chief on his way?"

"The Dead Chief will be dead in half an hour," replied the Prophet. "He

knows too much of Tecumseh and his plans."

"Let me free, and I will go into the camp of Tecumseh and beard him.

Did he dare to give you orders to take the life of the Dead Chief?"

"You shall see. Stay here, Willimack, while I call some warriors to see

the death of a dog who cares not for his race."

"Wait," said Willimack. "If the Dead Chief is to die, we must build no

fire, for that would show the young war-chief and the yellow-haired

scout that the Shawnees and Wyandots are on the trail."

"Good. The Dead Chief shall not die yet, for I have sworn he shall

perish by fire, and so he shall die. Elskwatawa has spoken. Let us

leave the Dead Chief here and look for the young war-chief and the

Yellow Hair, and we'll burn them all at one fire."

The two Indians glided away, and as they went, the Dead Chief began to

struggle furiously with his bonds, but they were too strongly tied to

break easily. In spite of his efforts he remained bound to the tree,

still making impotent efforts. His face did not express fear so much as

anger and humiliation at having been outwitted by the men he affected

to despise. The moment the two captors were gone, Floyd slipped out of

his concealment and approached the Pottawatomie.

"Ugh," said the Dead Chief. "My brother sees a friend tied up like a

dog. Let him loose the bonds upon his hands and feet."

The young man obeyed, and the warrior rubbed his excoriated limbs to

restore the circulation, muttering to himself. Then he searched about

in the moonlight, and carefully covered the trail which the young

soldier had made in coming from the canoe.

"Let the war-chief do as the Dead Chief shows him, and leave no trail,"

he said. Grasping the limb of the tree overhead, after strapping his

rifle to his back, he swung himself back and forth until he had gained

sufficient momentum, when he released his grasp and dropped over the

bank into the water in a place where it was not more than two feet

deep. Floyd followed his example, and then the Indian waded to the

place where he had left his canoe and drew it from the bank into the

stream, and pushed off a few yards until he could look up and down the

stream for some distance. Satisfying himself that none of the Indians

were in sight, he pushed in again.

"Come," he said. "Floyd would go to Vincennes, and the Dead Chief will

show the way."

"I can not leave this spot," replied Will. "Go on and save yourself,

Dead Chief. I must wait."

"What you wait for?" demanded the chief.

"My friend," replied Floyd.

"Speak his name in the ear of Dead Chief," said the Pottawatomie.

"He is known as the Long Man and the 'Yellow Hair.'"

"Ugh," said Dead Chief. "He is a good man and loves the Indians who are

true to the American father at Vincennes. Listen: Dead Chief has a warm

heart toward the Long Man, and will stay. Is he in the woods?"

"Yes."

"Good. One canoe is enough for us. Mine is best. Where is yours?"

Floyd drew it out from the cover, and the savage at once knocked a hole

in the bottom and sent it out into the stream. It filled quickly and

floated out of sight just as a hurried step was heard, and Yankee Seth

came through the bushes, and looked down into the place where he had

left the canoe.

"Will," he said, in a half-whisper.

"All right," said Will. "Here we are!"

The canoe closed in and Seth took his place hurriedly, casting a quick

glance at the Indian to see who he was. He gave a low whistle of

surprise.

"Ha!" he said. "That yew, Dead Chief? Thought yew'd gone under, sartin."

"The Dead Chief of the Pottawatomies does not die so easily."

"Push off, boys. Git intew the stream as soon as yew can. Thar's the

all-firedest pickle in this yer woods yew ever hern tell off. I knowed

I was right. I knowed the Prophet meant mischief all the time, and

mebbe old man Harrison will believe it now. How did you come here,

chief?"

The Indian explained how he had been overpowered by Elskwatawa and

Willimack, and rescued by Floyd.

"Good enuff! We wanted a man with us that knows something of Injin

tricks. Yew must understand, cap., that this chief hez stood up like a

hero for our side, and Tecumseh hez given orders to kill him on sight.

I thought it was done 'fore now."

The Indian shook his head proudly.

"Tecumseh has long arms, and I am dead if I fall into the hands of his

men. What of that? Can he make a chief a dog? No. I will die as I have

lived, a warrior true to our American father and his men."

The canoe was by this time in the midst of the current, floating slowly

down, for they were not using the paddles.

"Push her up-stream, boys," said the Yankee. "Most of the devils is

down below. They've got six canoes, and I guess thar ain't less than a

hundred men in all. Cuss that Prophet! I wish I hed his skulp."

"It would gratify me immensely if you had," replied the young soldier.

"And that scoundrel Willimack! There is no end to the benefits he has

received from time to time from my father and myself; and yet, he would

have killed us all to-night, if you had not foiled him."

"I will wear the scalp of Willimack in my girdle some day," said Dead

Chief. "He is a dog. He cares nothing for either white man or Indian,

if he can get blankets, powder and rifles. He has taken belts from both

sides and hates them all. He talks with a forked tongue, like a snake.

One tongue is for our white father at Vincennes, and the other for the

red-coats. Tecumseh is a slave of Elliot, the red-coat agent."

Zip! Zip!

Two bullets cut through the air close to the canoe, one passing between

the Indian and Floyd, and the other clipping a piece out of the stern,

close to the immovable figure of Seth, who nodded smilingly.

"That means business," he said. "I knowed they'd hev somebody up here

tew watch. They knowed we must go down-stream to git to Vincennes.

Throw yourself, Dead Chief! Up-stream fer yure life."

The canoe seemed to leap into the air under the vigorous strokes of

the Indian, and they quickly passed the point from which the shots had

come.

Just beyond, a great forest swept down the water's edge on both sides,

and the banks lay in shadow for a hundred feet on either side. Seth

uttered some low order in the Indian language to Dead Chief, and he at

once turned the bow of the canoe toward the shore, and they shot up

under the dark bank in exactly such a place as the one in which the

canoe had been concealed when the Yankee went out upon his scout. The

forest seemed to be alive on every side of them, the furious shrieks

of the Indians echoing and re-echoing among the huge old trees. Seth

snatched a hatchet and knife and bounded up the bank, closely followed

by the others. The cries told them that their enemies were about them

on every hand, eager for their blood.

"Tree!" said Seth. "We can't afford tew show in an open canoe in the

moonlight. Mout git hit, yew know! This way!"

He plunged into the woods, heading from the river, and ran for nearly

a hundred yards before he stopped. Then selecting a tree of the right

size, he mounted hastily. His example was followed by the others, and

not a moment too soon, for the gathering cries told that the Indians

were being guided to the spot where the canoe had been seen by those

who had fired into it. The Yankee climbed to the crotch of the tree,

selected a convenient place and sat down coolly, resting his feet upon

the branch beneath. He felt tolerably safe, for, in the dark woods,

trailing them was an impossibility. As the shouts came nearer he only

grinned widely and threw back his head for a yawn, when, to his utter

consternation, he saw a pair of gleaming eyes looking into his, not

three feet away!

CHAPTER V.

IN A TREE-TOP.

The Yankee looked hard at the gleaming orbs close to his own, and could

just make out a dark body stretched along the limbs. He was far from

liking the appearance of the affair. It might be an Indian, or it was

just as likely to be a panther. If the latter, a struggle with him

would bring the Indians upon him, whose footsteps already sounded along

the bank. He loosened his knife in its sheath, though he well knew how

powerless he would be in a tree-top, fighting against an animal which

could light like a feather upon a bending bough and leap to another

with all the quickness of a cat.

"_Jehosaphat!_" he muttered. "What'n thunder will I do now? I guess I'm

gobbled 'up this time, shure. I wish I had a pike, I dew. Thunder and

lightning, this ain't pooty."

The dark object upon the limb did not move, and there was no time to

be lost. Seth determined to know what it was at all hazards. Thrusting

his hand into his pouch, he drew out a box of punk, struck a spark and

ignited the whole piece. As the light flashed up he caught a glimpse

of an Indian, extended at full length along the limb. Dropping the

fire he hurled himself downward, falling upon the prostrate figure and

clasped his long arms about its throat tightly, with his bony knuckles

pressed hard against the windpipe. So quickly was it done that the

Indian had only time to utter a smothered cry before his breath was

stopped completely. The limb bent and swayed under the weight of the

heavy bodies, and they began to slide downward. A fall of twenty feet

was not what Seth wished for, but, locked in the embrace of the savage,

he could not help himself unless he let go his hold upon the throat,

and then the cries of the Indian would bring his friends to the rescue.

They slid down, turned completely over once, and fell with a dull

sound upon the moss-covered knoll at the foot of the tree, the Yankee

uppermost. A fall from that distance would have been likely to shock

the savage some, but add to that the avoirdupois of a man weighing as

much as this Yankee, and the damage is likely to be greater. All the

remaining breath of the Indian went out like the flame of an expiring

lamp, and he lay senseless under the body of Spink, who was somewhat

confused by the fall.

"Dead, I guess," he muttered. "Teach him to tree in _my_ place, the

darned heathen. Ugh!"

Picking up the senseless body he threw it over a log out of sight, and

then, instead of returning to the tree, he crept cautiously back toward

the river. The Indians were scattered along the banks, and, just as he

peeped out, a loud whoop announced the discovery of the canoe.

"That'll bring 'em together," said he to himself. "I guess we'd better

put out for camp."

He turned to go back, when, to his utter surprise, from every direction

the savages bounded out upon him and clung to him like cats. At this

moment the wonderful strength of the athlete showed itself. Stretching

out his long arms, he dragged the Indians who clung to him on either

side from their hold, and dashed them to the earth, and then, placing

his back to a tree, he drew a knife and hatchet, and braining a Wyandot

who rushed upon him incautiously, sent his knife through the shoulder

of another, while he planted his right foot with desperate force in

the stomach of a third, doubling him up and sending him rolling to the

earth with the life nearly kicked out of his body. At the same time

he gave utterance to a terrific yell, which rung through the arches

of the deep woods, rivaling the shouts of his assailants. With savage

screams the Indians rushed at him from three sides, but those long arms

and feet made deadly work among them, and though a dozen rushed at him

together his desperate valor kept them all at bay.

There was a hearty shout and war-cry from the rear, and, the Dead Chief

and Will Floyd rushed in, scattering the savages right and left. They

reached the side of the Yankee, who was fighting with desperate zeal.

"Break for the canoe," he whispered, as he struck down an Indian. "It's

your only chance."

Darting round the tree, and overthrowing the savages who barred their

way, they reached the canoe, which still lay upon the shore. So sudden

was the action that the Indians were stupefied, and the brave trio

gained a rod or so in advance before their foes started in pursuit.

They had gained the canoe, the Dead Chief and the Yankee were already

in it, and Floyd was following, when he fell by a hatchet hurled at

him by Willimack. Seth would have turned back to aid him, but the Dead

Chief seized the paddle and pushed off quickly, just as the Indians

pounced upon the fallen man. A score of them plunged into the water,

each with a hatchet or knife in his teeth, but the quick strokes of the

paddle soon left them far behind. A useless volley from those on shore

followed.

"Poor lad," said Yankee Seth. "I'm afeard he's gone under."

"The young soldier is very brave," replied the chief. "If he is not

dead, he will die like a man. And now, hear the words of the Dead

Chief. I swear by the grave of my father, by the totem of my tribe,

that I will not go back to the village where my squaw and pappooses

dwell, until the young war-chief is saved or I have avenged him. It is

spoken; the Dead Chief can not lie."

"Good for yew, old man," said the Yankee. "I'm with yew threw thick an'

thin. Thar's my hand on it. Shake."

The two woodmen clasped hands, while the canoe floated at will in the

midst of the dark stream.

* * * * *

They lifted Floyd and dragged him up the bank into the bushes, where

Willimack and Elskwatawa stood. He had been stunned at first by the

stroke of the hatchet and was still dizzy and faint when he faced the

chiefs. Their dark looks convinced him that he had little to hope from

them. The death-wail was rising from the Indian band as they lifted

the bodies of the fallen and laid them in a row along the bank. Four

were dead, including the neighbor of the Yankee in the tree-top, and

as many more desperately wounded. In such a melée as this, when a body

of men assail a desperate athlete like the dreaded Long Man, some must

get hurt. The cloud upon the face of the Prophet grew darker as, one by

one, the dead were brought out, and Willimack uttered a snarl like a

tiger as a man who had been his best friend was laid with the rest.

"It is finished then," thought Floyd. "They will revenge themselves

upon me for the death of these men. I can only meet my fate like a

man; but my poor father, my darling Madge! Oh, if the Skeleton Scout

would but come now and scatter these fiendish knaves as he did at the

stockade! I wonder if Yankee Seth or the chief were injured? Even if

they are safe, what can they do against so many?"

At this moment the panther-call of which Seth had spoken came from the

opposite bank of the stream. A faint hope came into the heart of the

prisoner. The call was given to show that he was safe and would not

desert him in the hour of need. Willimack advanced and looked in the

face of Floyd with that vicious glance of triumph which small natures

feel in the power they may gain over an enemy.

"Floyd," said he, "the white man can not have all his own way. To-night

I was insulted in your wigwam--I, a chief of a great nation. I told you

then that a chief never forgot, and that the day of revenge would come;

behold it is here already!"

"Do not trouble me by too much talking, Willimack. I am in your power,

it is true, but for all that you shall not force me to cringe to you,

or to ask mercy at your hands."

"Waugh! Will you not beg for life from the Wyandot and Shawnee?"

"No."

"Listen. Was it you that cut the bonds which bound the Dead Chief to

the tree?"

"It was."

"Good! That is another thing against you. Did you know that the Dead

Chief was our prisoner?"

"Yes. That is the reason I set him free," replied Floyd, in an

undaunted tone.

"It is well. You speak like a great brave, and had you lived would have

been a great chief among the white men. But, the white men must cease

from off the face of the Indian country. We love it too well to let the

feet of bad men press it, and tread upon the earth where our fathers'

bones are laid. The English are friends to us, and will not take our

country; the Americans steal all."

"Do what you mean to do, and at once. I can bear any indignity you may

heap upon me, as becomes a man."

Willimack stood aside, and the Prophet advanced. His dark face was

working with passion, and he seemed to struggle to repress a desire to

strike down the young soldier where he stood. His fingers clutched the

handle of a hatchet convulsively, and now and then he half drew it from

its sheath.

"Let Elskwatawa speak, for he is the great Prophet of the Shawnees. I

see before me the dead of my tribe and one warrior of the Wyandots.

They had hoped to live to fight many battles against the whites and

again possess the land of their fathers. The Manitou came to me in a

dream and told me that the time had come for the Indians to drive out

the white dogs and take their own again. Therefore you see us in our

war-paint to-day."

He paused and cast a wild glance about him which seemed to have a great

effect upon the savages, and they uttered a wail of agony.

"But see," he cried. "They lie in their blood upon their own soil, and

the man who killed them is in our hands."

A triumphant shout went up as he said this, and fierce looks were

directed at the young soldier, who returned them by a glance of haughty

defiance.

"The Indians deal justly by all," said the Prophet. "No man can die

by their hands who is not worthy of death for some great wrong done

to the nations. Warriors and chiefs, I have gone among the white men

at Vincennes, and have spoken to the war-chief Harrison. The tears

have flowed from my eyes when I spoke of the wrongs of my people; yes,

my tears have fallen like rain. He is a man of iron, and I can not

melt him. He cares not for us, but for his own people. You stood by,

Willimack, when all the chiefs were seated and Tecumseh stood up like a

child about to be punished. At last they saw how great an insult this

was to the great chief. They offered him a chair; but the chief looked

at them with scorn when they said, 'Your father offers you a seat!' 'My

father?' he cried. 'The sun is my father and the earth is my mother. I

will repose on her bosom.'[1]

"The chief will bear no more. The battle must be fought and we will

win again the lands of our fathers. We must not fail. The mortification

of failure shall never be ours, and my great brother will not disgrace

me by a mistake. I hear the warriors shout as they gather. I hear them

in the South and East, in the North and West, with a sound like the

summer leaves rising and rustling in the breeze. I hear their tread

upon the mountains, by the silent rivers and in the green valleys. It

is well. Shall Tecumseh tremble and shall Elskwatawa fail? No! The

mountains and plains the Great Spirit gave us are around us, behind and

before.

"I too have my warriors; and here, on the Wabash, on the Scioto, and on

the broad waters of the North, my voice shall be heard for war."

He ceased for a moment, and cast a sad glance upon the bodies on the

ground.

"There be our brothers, who had thought to take a part in this great

battle to come. Their eyes are closed, their voices are not heard,

their lips are pale, their ears hear no sound. What is this I see upon

their faces? It is blood, the blood of the white man's shedding. And

now, I think I hear a voice, speaking from the dead lips, and it says,

'Avenge me on my foes! My blood has been shed, and I can not cross the

dark river until I smell the blood of one of the accursed race.'"

His eyes again fell upon Floyd, and fire seemed to flash from their

depths.

"Who is this I see before me? His hands are red with blood. It is the

blood of Negarish and Monado, of Cartain and Zeman. My brothers, let us

light a fire and burn this white man, and then the souls of my brothers

shall find rest and peace."

A wild cry arose from the assembled band, and they began to collect

dried leaves and sticks from the surrounding woods, and pile them

about the limbs of young Floyd after they had tied him to a tree. The

pile rose until it reached nearly to his shoulders, and he felt that

his last hour had come. He was brave enough to meet his fate, but it

was agony to him to know that, when the flames had consumed his body,

there would be no one left to protect his father, and Madge, whom he

had hoped to make his wife when the autumn leaves were yellowing in

the sun. He began to suspect that when he was gone, Willimack would go

back and storm the stockade. What then would be the fate of his father

and that sweet girl he could not think. Madge was brave, he knew, but,

would she have strength enough, when the hour of her great peril came,

to save herself from dishonor with her own hand?

"Stand back," said Willimack. "Let the voice of a chief speak terror

to the ears of his enemy before he dies. I am Willimack, chief of the

Wyandot, and I am ashamed to be at the death of a child. I see water in

your eyes, and I know you are weeping in your heart. You fear the pain

which will come when the flames curl and the smoke rolls about you.

Let the chief of the Wyandots speak. You know that you refused me the

shelter of your dwelling when I came to it. The yellow-haired hunter

struck me down and bound me, but I saw that the Bright Eyes looked

sadly upon the disgrace of a chief. Good; the Bright Eyes shall make

the fire bright in the lodge of Willimack."

Bright Eyes was the Indian name given to Madge by those who, from time

to time, visited the cabin of the Floyds.

"Oh, red hound!" shrieked Floyd. "Oh, if I had dreamed half the

villainy you had in your black heart, I would have killed you as you

sat by my fire."

"The heart of a chief is not open to the eyes of a dull pale-face,"

replied Willimack, scornfully. "The Bright Eyes is very beautiful. Her

voice is like the song of the birds when the summer sun is high. Floyd

would have made a nest for her that she should sing for him alone; but

Willimack laughs, for he knows that she can only sing in his lodge."

Floyd struggled manfully to break his bonds, glaring furiously at the

savage who knelt at his feet, and, striking a flint and steel, began

to kindle the flame. It burned slowly, for the leaves were damp. Again

and again it smoldered and went out, but the Indian persevered until a

little jet of flame leaped up. This he fed, leaf after leaf, until he

had a little fire burning, apart from the pile, about the person of the

young soldier. He took savage delight in prolonging the scene, and the

Indians, understanding his motive, yelled in concert and danced wildly

about the tree.

Willimack now took up a lighted brand, and with it touched the person

of the prisoner in various places, laughing in demoniac glee when he

shrunk from the contact. Others took the hint and followed the same

amusement for some time, the young man bearing it bravely. They at

length lit the pile, and the flames began to creep up about his person,

and a thick smoke arose. He was dimly able to see through the smoke and

flame, that the Indians were dancing and shouting all around, when a

new cry arose, and he saw the Indians break and run in every direction,

evidently in the greatest dread. Then the figure of the being known as

the Skeleton Scout bounded into the open space. Seeing him closely,

the young man could conceive of nothing more horrible than the ghastly

head, blazing eyes, and tremendous hight of this strange being. "Oonah!

Oonah!" was the cry of the Indians as they fled, and the next moment

the brands were scattered and the young man was free!

"Stand here until you hear the loon-cry, and then make for the river,

where your friends are waiting. Remember the Skeleton Scout!"

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: A fact.]

CHAPTER VI.

A YANKEE RUSE.

The strange apparition was gone, and the next moment the loon-call

sounded from the depths of the woods, mingled with cries which seemed

to burst from a hundred throats. The young soldier bounded across the

open space, and ran at his best speed toward the place where he had

left the boat. Suddenly, without warning, two dark figures started up

in his path and seized him, and he thought himself again in the hands

of his enemies, when he heard one of his captors say, in a nasal tone

not to be mistaken: "This yew, capting?" He had fallen into the hands

of his friends!

"All right, Seth," he answered. "Get back to the canoe as quick as you

can. The woods are alive with savages."

The Dead Chief led the way, and in a moment they were again in the

canoe, and pushed off from the shore. The moon had gone down, and a

darkness like Egypt had fallen on the river. The Dead Chief had taken

the paddle, and, under the strokes of his vigorous arm, the light craft

was shooting down the stream. The Pottawatomie knew his course well,

and how much danger lay before them. Not a word was spoken, for they

knew the virtue of silence. They must break through the cordon of their

enemies at any and every hazard. On they went, the shadows dark about

them, each grasping a weapon, and ready to defend himself to the utmost

if attacked. They knew that by far the greater portion of the wild band

had gathered about the death-fire, and yet they were certain that the

Prophet was too able a warrior to leave the path to Vincennes clear.

"Back her a minnit, chief," whispered the Yankee. "I want tew speak tew

the young 'un here."

By the skillful use of his paddle the chief managed to keep the canoe

nearly stationary in the midst of the stream, while Seth bent forward

and whispered to his young companion:

"Yew got away; heow did yew dew it?"

"By aid of the Skeleton Scout," replied Floyd, in the same tone.

"Whatever he may be, he is at least a friend to us."

"He never hunts nothing but Injins, _he_ don't," said the Long Man.

"Clever of him tew help yew, anyheow. Was they going to scorch yew?"

"The fire was lit already," replied the young soldier. "Ugh! my throat

is dry by even thinking of it."

"A close shave!" chuckled the Yankee. "That Skeleton Scout is a darned

nice ghost, by gracious. How many Injins below, think?"

"Seventy or eighty danced around me at the stake."

"Pooty dancers?"

"Can't say I appreciated their efforts."

"No? that's queer! Let her go on, chief. The men we've got tew tackle

are waiting for us in the _mash_ (marsh). Git yure weepons ready,

'cause we are 'most thar."

Again the canoe glided softly down the stream, until it struck the

marsh of which he spoke. It was a level bottom, where the soft soil

had drifted down and been left, leaving scarcely room in places for

a canoe to cross without grounding on the soft bottom. In this soil

gigantic rushes had grown up, as we see them in our creeks when

duck-hunting. These rushes rose above the water, to the hight of eight

or ten feet, and stood so thickly together that, unless a man was well

acquainted with them it would be impossible to force a canoe through.

Of course there was a channel running through the marsh, but it was

more than likely that the patrol canoes of the Indians occupied this

water-course, and it would not be an easy task to get down, facing

their weapons. The Dead Chief seized one of the rushes and held the

canoe, and all bent forward to listen. Not a sound was heard except the

sighing of the long blades as the wind rustled through them. If the

Indians were watching, they knew enough to keep silent, and, for all

the environed men knew, their foes might be lying within twenty feet of

them.

The Dead Chief was acquainted with all the passes through the marsh,

and had not for a moment thought of forcing a path through the reeds.

The rustling they must of necessity make would apprise the lurking

Indians of their vicinity, and put them on their guard. They were

rather ready to trust to their woodcraft on shore, but they would have

liked to find the exact position of the canoes of their enemies, before

striking for the shore. But, though listening carefully, they could

hear nothing of the red-skins, and determined to try the land.

The head of the canoe was pushed into a little channel which the Dead

Chief knew ran close to the bank, at a good place to land. This was

accomplished without a rustle, and Floyd leaped with the chief to the

shore, closely followed by his Yankee friend. The canoe was left as of

no further use to them, and pushed into the rushes out of sight. This

done, the Dead Chief sat down on the bank, and drew his moccasins from

his feet, and made Floyd understand by the sense of touch that he was

to take off his boots, and put on these. Will hesitated to make the

Indian go barefooted through the woods, but the Dead Chief took his

hand and pressed it upon the sole of the bare foot. The moment his hand

came in contact with the hard and callous foot, he understood that the

Indian had a protection there which made a moccasin rather an object

of ornament than use. He offered no further objection, but drawing

off his boots, he left them on the bank, and put on the moccasins. He

understood that the Indian thought the boot a poor thing for a scout to

wear. The moment he was ready, the chief again took the lead, bending

his body low, and keeping one hand on the ground, carefully removing

every obstruction from the path which the less experienced soldier

might step on.

Floyd followed, imitating his attitude, and betraying at once a keen

sense of woodcraft, and the attributes of a scout. Not a stick cracked,

not a twig bent. The Yankee who followed him was surprised at the

celerity of his motions, and the quiet way in which he performed his

part. Their course led directly away from the river, for they knew that

they must make a wide circuit to get away from the Indians, who had

doubtless lined the shore with scouts. It was only the extreme darkness

of the night, since the moon had gone down, which had allowed them to

pass the sentries unperceived. Seth had no doubt that, favored by the

darkness, they already had passed one of the guard canoes, but there

were two more. One was probably in the center of the marsh around which

they were now describing a circle, and the other further down, though

where it was, they could not say. Once out of reach of the river by

half a mile, the Yankee gave a signal to the chief to wait, and they

sat down together in the darkness.

"By jinks," he chuckled. "Had a right nice time of it so fur. I ain't

enjoyed myself so mighty well this year. The pizon critters didn't

sort o' kalkilate on finding us so foxy, did they? I hev all I ken

dew tew keep from laffing rite eout when I think heow I walked intew

them cussed thieves arter I tumbled eout of the tree with that ornery

critter that _would_ hev that pertickler tree."

"I should think you would be afraid to talk so loud while we remain in

danger," said Will Floyd.

"Ain't no danger here, Lord love yew!" replied the volatile scout.

"It's glorious work fighting these cussid thieves! Now, look here;

thar's lots of good Injins in this created airth, but thar's a pizon

heap of bad 'uns. There's my friend, Dead Chief, now; he's what I call

a good Injin. And if you raally want a mighty bad specimen, yew jest

take up Willimack or the Profit."

"That scoundrel Willimack threatened our family while I was tied to the

stake. Do not let us dally a moment, my friend. Think of them I have

left in danger--my old father and my darling Madge. He insulted her,

most of all, for he designed for her a fate worse than death--a place

in his lodge."

"He duz! Now look at me, _yew_. I'll never stop hunting that pesky

critter until I've got his skulp or he's got mine. Take that pooty gal

into his lodge, will he? Wants her for a squaw, duz he? Yew jest wait!

He won't live to see it, bet yure life he won't! I'm so cussid mad I

could hop rite over that tree-top. Oh, holy fly! Hold me, somebody, or

I'll go charging back rite intew them Injins, and cut and slash and

hack and hew. Oh, bu'st me all to pieces! Take my hat and stamp on it,

somebody, I'm so _darned_ mad. Litening strike me intew a blind nigger

ef I ain't growed nigh a fool sense yew told me that. Come, let's git

along. Ef old man Harrison don't rair rite up on his hind feet when I

tell him this, then thar ain't no buffler on the prahary; not a darned

buffler."

The party kept out from the river for a quarter of an hour, and then

inclined again toward the stream. The Dead Chief still kept the lead,

but all at once he stopped and dropped to the earth as suddenly as if

he had received a ball in his bosom. The others followed his example

and listened, and understood what it was which caused this hasty

movement. It was the sound of human voices, just below them. The bank

at this point was rather high, and crawling on their hands and knees to

the edge of the bluff they looked down. The Indians who held this last

guard-boat evidently were not trained warriors, for they had built a

fire and were cooking some meat. To be sure, their fire was built in

a sheltered nook and could not be seen from the river, but would have

called down upon their heads the wrath of the Prophet, if he had known

of it.

There they sat, six stalwart young warriors, grouped in various

attitudes of ease and comfort about the fire, gnawing the flesh from

the bones of a young buck which one of their number had brought down by

a well-directed arrow. The flame lighted up their bronzed figures and

dark faces, and danced upon their waving plumes and beaded belts and

moccasins. They were chatting in low tones over their feast, it being

evident that they did not think it possible that the two whites--for

they knew nothing of the Dead Chief--could escape from the hands of

their companions above. But they had not reckoned upon the fertility

of resource possessed by the Yankee scout. Long Seth touched his

companions lightly, and they drew back cautiously at least a hundred

yards from the dangerous vicinity, where they could converse with ease

and not be heard by the Indians below.

"Ain't got much time tew talk 'bout it," said the Yankee. "What do yew

say? Thar's six Injins, red with white blood. Shall we give 'em goss or

not? If we lick 'em--I'd ingage tew lick the hull bilin' myself--we kin

git the canoe tew ride tew Vincennes, and I'd ruther ride than walk,

any time."

"I'm for thinning this band as much as we can," said Floyd. "There will

not be so many to attack my father's stockade."

"Dead Chief is ready," said the Pottawatomie, in his short way.

"Good enuff!" replied Seth. "Waal, I'll creep down the bank below 'em

and come up on the back. You two creep up in front, and jest ez soon

as I give my loon-call, yew pick eout two of 'em and knock 'em over.

Pick eout the biggest, they ginerally fight the best. I'll give a good

account of number three, and then charge 'em like smoke. Them's the

sentiments I express upon this momentous occasion. Now for it."

They separated, the chief and Floyd creeping cautiously to the front

and making their weapons ready for a shot, and the Yankee moving away

rapidly but silently to the left. After allowing five minutes to pass,

they heard the loon-call on the river.

Lifting their rifles, each sighted a man and pulled trigger. Down went

two of the savages, one shot through the brain and the other through

the breast, and with a hearty border shout they grasped their smaller

weapons and darted down the bank just as the weapon of Long Seth spoke

and a third Indian uttered his death-cry. At the same time the Yankee

appeared, and the three closed in upon their enemies, who, like rats in

a trap, turned and fought like men.

Singling out an adversary, the determined whites rushed on. Dashing

down the weak defense of his adversary, Seth struck him with his fist a

blow which seemed to shatter his jaws, for the bones absolutely rattled

as he went down.

"Take that, you red devil," he hissed, turning to seek a new foe. But,

the struggle was already at an end. The Dead Chief had hurled his

hatchet at his antagonist with the skill which only long practice in

the use of that weapon can give, and he rolled to the earth, the bright

bowl of the keen ax only showing through his skull. Will Floyd, at the

expense of a slight flesh-wound in the arm, had buried his dagger in

the breast of his own antagonist, and the struggle was over.

Seth knew that no time was to be lost, and darted for the canoe, though

for what purpose the chief remained behind the young soldier could

guess. When he joined them in the canoe he touched the soldier on the

arm and offered him two bloody scalps.

"No, no," said Floyd, pushing back his hand. "I can not take them."

"Two for you, Long Man," said the chief, offering the others to the

Yankee.

"I didn't hev time tew wait for 'em," replied Seth, coolly, taking the

bloody trophies and thrusting them into his belt. "Thank yew all the

same, chief. I reckon yew ain't used tew this sort of thing, cap.?"

"I confess I am not."

"Yew'll git over that. Climb intew the canoe and git hold of a paddle.

I reckon we'll hev a hard time of it yit. I hear them devils up above

coming down the rushes; hark! Du yew hear that?"

They listened and could hear the dip of paddles upon the river below.

They had been mistaken in the number of their enemies after all, it

seemed, and they had yet another patrol canoe below the rushes!

"Load up yure rifles, boys, and yew give the pistils fodder if they

ain't full already, Will. This old thief, the Profit, meant business

when he pitched on us. If we git threw it won't be for lack of

head-work."

For some moments nothing was heard but the sound of preparation, as

they loaded their weapons. Then the canoe, which was a large one, shot

out into the stream, and Spink, who sat in the stern, caught up a heavy

stone which lay on the bank and laid it in the bottom of the canoe,

close to his feet. "Yew needn't mind the paddle jist yit, Will. Let the

chief keep her stiddy, and put her rite on tew the other canoe, old

man! I'll fix these heathen, yit."

The canoe was now only a few rods in advance, coming up under the full

sweep of the paddles in the hands of half a dozen strong men. The

morning was coming fast, but it was still too dark to distinguish faces.

"Put her straight for 'em," said Seth. "_I'll_ show 'em a trick."

As the two canoes neared each other, the Dead Chief shouted to the

coming savages in the Indian tongue:

"Who comes?"

"Brothers," replied the voice of the warrior in command. "Have the

white dogs been taken?"

"Who can escape the snares of the Prophet?" replied the Dead Chief.

"Are they dead?" demanded the warrior.

"Why should we kill them?" replied the Dead Chief. "Come back and we

will see them burn by the same fire."

The canoes were now side by side, and the Indians were trying to peer

through the gloom of the morning to make out the figures in the other

craft, when Seth rose suddenly, and, uttering a wild cry, dashed the

huge stone through their canoe's bottom, tearing a great hole, through

which the water rushed in a torrent, and in a moment the Indians were

floundering in the water, while the other canoe, impelled by the strong

arms of Floyd and Dead Chief, passed on down the river. In spite of the

toils which the Prophet had set about them, his prey had escaped.

CHAPTER VI.

THE AMBUSCADE.

Vincennes, on the Wabash, was the seat of government chosen by

Harrison, as Governor of that territory. Here he was gradually

collecting his forces for the coming struggle which he was assured must

come, with the Indians under the control of Tecumseh and the Prophet.

In the mean time his spies were everywhere gathering such information

as they could of the position and designs of the enemy. In choosing

these men, Harrison showed great knowledge of the Indian character,

and for this reason his most trusted scouts were from that class of

bordermen who, trained in border warfare, had also suffered loss at

their hands. These he sent into the Indian country upon all sorts of

pretenses, to collect information for future use.

Thus he learned who were lukewarm in the British cause, and therefore

might be won over to the Americans.

Thus, when the struggle commenced, he knew upon whom to depend, and

what he had against him. The Governor was at his own private residence

when informed that the Pottawatomie, Dead Chief, and his companions,

Captain Floyd and Long Seth Spink, desired to speak with him. He at

once ordered them to his presence. Floyd was admitted first, and found

the Governor seated at a small table, covered with papers and maps.

"Ah, captain," he said, "I am pleased to see you, although your leave

of absence has not yet expired. I don't see what brought you here ahead

of your time. You surely can not have had a quarrel with Miss Madge?"

"No, your excellency. Far from that, but the family are in great

danger."

"Ha! In what way?"

"The Indians are on the war-path."

Harrison started up eagerly. "By heaven, I thought so. Who are their

leaders?"

"The Prophet and Willimack are with the party we met."

"Give an account of the affair in few words."

Floyd commenced with his meeting with the Yankee in the morning, and

the attempt of Willimack to enter the stockade, and told the story up

to their entrance into the town.

"Then there is not a moment to be lost. Take out your company of the

rangers and as many more as you need, and march up the river to the

stockade. How far do you call it?"

"About twenty miles."

"Very good. Get your men under arms. Take the Dead Chief with you as a

guide, and I will let this man Spink go also. You may send him to me at

once."

"The Dead Chief?"

"Seth Spink."

"Oh; do you know him, then?"

"I have heard of him," replied Harrison, with a slight smile. "This

action on the part of Willimack is premature, it is evident, and I

am certain that the Prophet is not pleased with it, nor do I think

Tecumseh knows any thing about it. Send Spink to me."

Floyd went out into the next room, but the Governor followed him to

the door, and, speaking with marked kindness to the Dead Chief, told

him to go with the captain as guide. Then beckoning to the scout, he

again entered the room. The Yankee followed him, closing the door after

him. They remained closeted in the room for more than an hour, when the

scout came out with a hurried step, and went down to the river-side,

where the company of Will Floyd, consisting of nearly a hundred men,

were under arms.

"Ha, Spink, my good fellow, hurry up," shouted the captain. "Death,

man, do you not see that I am impatient?"

"No use to hurry now, cap," replied Seth. "My father died in a hurry.

Ef he'd taken time tew think about it he needn't hev died at all. But,

he got it intew his head he couldn't live, and so he went off without

thinking. He won't dew that ag'in."

"Is this a time for jesting, sir?" said the captain, angrily. "Take

your place. Fall in, men. By fours; trot!"

They set off at a rapid pace, and rode along the river-side beneath

the bending branches, heavy with the morning dew. The birds sung in

the laden branches, as if a thought of blood or battle never could or

would disturb their grand old woods. But, the heart of young Floyd was

heavy, for he feared that Willimack would make good his threat of the

night before, and attack the stockade before his return. The men shared

his fears, and a shade of doubt once or twice crossed the face of the

Yankee, but he kept up a good heart, singing snatches of old songs

now and then in a quaint way, which caused a smile among the ranks.

But, before they had gone five miles his mood changed, and he began to

glance quickly from side to side as if expecting an enemy. On they went

through the oak openings until the woods began to thicken, when the

Yankee bent in his saddle, and whispered in the ear of the captain.

"No, no," said Floyd, testily. "They have retreated, I tell you. They

will not risk an encounter now."

"But I think I'm right, fer all that, cap."

"It is impossible. You do not know my rangers, or you would not think

the Indians capable of resisting our march."

"I don't believe that the Prophet would fire a gun at a white man, dew

yew?" said the Yankee, with a quizzical look. "Cum mi'ty nigh scorching

yure legs last night, though."

"He is capable of any small villainy like that," replied the captain.

"But, he certainly is too able a warrior to commence before his plans

are ripe."

"It's forced upon him, cap. He knows that we've got clear, and that

both yew and the Dead Chief are aware of his hostility, so he can't

wait. You'd better ride a leetle grain more keerful."

"Nonsense."

"I ain't used tew being talked tew that way, cap. I'm a strange

critter, yew know. I dunno heow it is, but I've got a sort of sneaking

notion I know something 'bout Injin fi'tin'. Come; order the men tew

pull in, and don't make quite so much noise in the ranks."

"You take a great deal upon yourself, friend Spink," said Floyd, with a

light laugh. "Perhaps you had better lead the company yourself, as you

seem inclined to take command."

"See what it is tew be young," muttered the Yankee, with an appearance

of great vexation. "Yew'll force me tew dew something I don't want tew,

cap. Now, look here; yew ain't going tew ride intew yonder narrow

path, are yew, without sending out scouts?"

"What would you have me do, sir? You know as well as I do that it makes

the road three miles longer to keep in the oak openings."

"S'pose it duz? Yew don't want to lose half these nice-looking boys,

dew yew? Come; take good advice, and don't go threw them woods."

"I will ride directly forward without turning out of my course for a

mere scarecrow cry from you."

A dark frown crossed the face of the Yankee, and he pulled hard on his

bridle and left the ranks.

"Go on then, if yew will. Bet yew forty dollars yew don't go fur."

With an angry exclamation Floyd put spurs to his horse, and calling

to his men to follow, dashed into the woods. Scarcely had he done so

when there was a rattling volley of musketry, and several saddles were

emptied, while high and wild above the rattle of the small-arms, rose

the gathering cry of the forest banditti. Dark forms glided from bush

to bush, and the young captain saw his error. Entangled in the thick

woods they must have been lost, but for his prompt action. Snatching a

bugle from the hand of a musician, he sounded the call to fall back,

and, taking their wounded comrades--for the rangers would not leave

them--they hastily retreated, and sheltered themselves behind the

bushes in front of the woods and looked after their wounded comrades.

Some of the savages showed themselves for a moment, but a volley from

the rifles of the rangers quickly drove them back, and they waited for

a new advance on the part of the horsemen.

Floyd cast a sidelong glance for the Yankee, but he was gone. In the

melée he had taken his horse and slipped away, no one knew whither.

Angry with himself for his error, Floyd sent the wounded men back to

the village and buried the single dead man in the path, riding over it

with the rangers several times so that the Indians could not find and

mutilate the body. This done he took a wide _detour_, leaving the woods

on his right, and set off at the best rate of speed for his home. Three

miles on the way they met the Yankee coming back with a look of sorrow

on his face.

"I couldn't wait tew see it, cap.," he said. "How many of the boys went

under?"

"One," replied the captain, sorrowfully. "You were right, Seth. I ought

to have kept out of that trap. I know it now, but, that will not atone

for my folly. But, think what I feel now when I tell you that it would

be a kindness in you to shoot me through the head."

"No," replied Seth, slowly. "I don't think that would pay us,

principally because we kain't afford tew lose yew, and yew'll take

advice next time. I've been out scouting a little in advance. Ride a

little to the front and I'll tell yew what I've found eout."

They quickened their pace, and the Yankee bent in his saddle and said

in a low voice: "Willimack hez been over the road since last night."

Floyd started violently, and his face grew pale. "How do you know

that?" he cried.

"I kan read Injin sign," answered the Yankee, calmly. "Thar's another

thing. I believe the critter they call the Skeleton Scout is arter

Willimack."

"Why?"

"'Cause I've seen his sign. Ef he's a ghost, then he's a mighty heavy

one. Why, he's got a foot bigger'n mine, ef I kin judge by his trail.

Now mind, I don't say he's a human; sartin he don't act like one; but

yew bet all yew'r worth he don't like Willimack, or heow in natur'

would he chase _him_ up the way he did last night."

"But my father; my dearest Madge!" moaned the unhappy young man. "Oh,

why did I ever leave you?"

"'Twould only hev been tew more sculps ef we had been thar," replied

the Yankee. "Now, I'll tell yew what I think. Willimack turned back

with his own warriors arter the Skileton Scout set you free, and put

out fer the stockade."

"I am afraid you are right. Let us press on as quickly as we can."

"No use of that. If he did turn back, and I'm pesky 'fraid he did, all

we kan do won't bring us thar in time. I'm afeard the old man didn't

half understand his danger, nuther, and was keerless arter we went

away. Here, order yure men to close up. Them Injins are behind us now,

but I reckin they won't leave a stick or stone standing along the

Wabash, now that their blood is up."

The rangers closed up. They quickened their pace, and, late in the

afternoon, began to near the clearing in which the settler had built

his house and stockade. As they entered the clearing, a heavy smoke was

seen to rise toward the summer sky, and, uttering a cry of agony, the

young soldier spurred quickly forward, to see what he had most feared

and yet had hardly dared to hope had not happened--his father's house

in ruins, and still smoking, though the flames had nearly gone out!

It was a terrible scene of desolation, but one all too common in the

history of these Indian wars.

The rangers surrounded the blackened walls. In some places the fire had

lost its power over the walls from their green state, and they still

stood, though blackened and half consumed. The house itself had fallen,

and the charred rafters lay among the smoldering embers of that once

happy home. The desolation did not stop here, for there, in the opening

between the stockade and the house, lay the bodies of the two soldiers,

who had been killed and scalped and horribly mutilated.

"Poor Lefebre! unhappy Forbes!" said the young soldier. "Yours was

indeed a sad, sad fate. God in his mercy take you in his keeping! But,

where is my father?"

They searched here and there, and, at length, half hidden by a heavy

beam which had fallen upon their lifeless bodies, they found the

murdered forms of the three negroes, like the soldiers, scalped and

gory. All the indignities which savage ferocity could invent had been

heaped upon the wretched men who had here met their fate. Floyd was

ghastly pale, and reeled in his walk like a drunken man as the five

bodies were drawn out into the open space and laid down, side by

side. One of the soldiers dismounted, and, taking his blanket from

his saddle, and begging another from a comrade, covered the lifeless

forms from the public gaze. The Yankee, whose face seemed twitching

convulsively, looked fiercely about him as each new exhibition of

savage spite showed itself.

"Why don't you help me, Seth?" said Floyd, feebly.

"I _don't_ know. I'm sartin of one thing, and that is that Miss Madge

would kill herself if she could to keep herself out of the hands of

them pizen critters. It's awful, awful! Move round, boys, and look fer

the capt'in's father. Be alive, men, and don't look so scared. I don't

blame yew, poor lads, when tew of yure comrades are gone. And then,

them black boys and the old lady. Here, take hold of these rafters and

throw 'em off. Mebbe the old gentleman is underneath."

They tossed aside the still smoldering rafters and yet found nothing.

The floor was only partly burned. The Yankee threw off a trap-door

which had led into the cellar, and looked down. He could see nothing

as yet, for a mass of dense smoke was rolling slowly upward from the

cellar and he stood aside until this passed off, and then descended.

"Hurry!" he cried, at length. "I've got somebody. Two of you boys come

down."

Down two of the rangers leaped, and in a few moments' time reappeared,

bearing a body to the surface. It was found to be that of an Indian,

who evidently had been killed by a pistol bullet. The rangers kicked

the senseless form to one side just as the face of Seth appeared at the

opening.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"It's a cussed Injin," answered one of the rangers.

"Darn him," roared Seth. "Raise his ha'r, some of yew, while I go down

ag'in. I'm sartin I'll find somebody down here."

He disappeared again. By this time the smoke had passed out and he

could see plainly. Upon the cellar floor was a track of blood, which

led into the large drain in the corner. Following this trace, the

Yankee stooped and saw that the feet of a man were just within the

drain. He seized upon the feet and drew him out, and showed the bloody

form of Mr. Floyd, senseless from a hatchet wound in the head, but

breathing heavily, like one in a trance.