TOO MUCH "FIRE-WATER."
The fears of Yankee Seth had been but too well founded, for Madge had
indeed fallen into the hands of the traitorous Willimack. Early in the
morning, not long after the escape of Will Floyd from the stake, the
stockade had been surprised by a sudden onset from a savage party under
the brutal chief. Matthew Floyd, defending her with desperate valor,
was felled by the stroke of a hatchet and had dropped into the cellar
just as the roof of the burning building began to fall. Willimack
seized the half-fainting girl and dragged her out of the burning cabin
by main force, keeping a tight grip upon her wrist, for he knew that
she possessed enough moral courage to kill herself if he gave her the
opportunity. A malicious grin writhed his dark face as the flames
curled about the rafters of that doomed house.
"Wah!" he cried. "Burn, home of the white man, burn! The shelter which
you refused to the chief, Willimack, you will give to no one. Burn,
burn, burn!"
"You are a wretch," cried Madge. "Are you brave enough to kill me now
and let me go to the noble man who had given the orphan girl a shelter
through these long years?"
"Why should I kill you?" said Willimack. "No; live to cook the venison
in the great wigwam of the Wyandot when the white man has ceased from
off the land."
"Release me, then, and let me go back to my people. You have done
wickedness enough."
He only laughed scornfully, and pointed to the bleeding bodies of the
two soldiers and the negro servants. "You see all these," he said.
"They stood by and laughed me to scorn when the Yellow Hair struck me
down at his feet like a dog. Was this well? A chief is not a dog, and
Willimack only lived for vengeance. See; you will from this time be an
Indian, live as we live, die as we die, and be buried as we bury our
dead. I have spoken. Willimack can not lie."
He turned about and uttered a signal-whoop, at which the men gathered
about him, and he addressed them rapidly in the Indian language, which
Madge did not understand. He had no sooner done so than they scattered
and crossed the river in every conceivable conveyance, upon logs,
planks and charred beams, leaving Willimack with only five men beside
the ruins. He still held her hand, and turning away from the river,
began his march to the West, closely followed by his men. She saw with
ill-concealed fear the numberless artifices the man used to hide the
trail, and feared that she was lost. Only once during the day he had
stopped, and gave her food, and then marched on again. Her shoes were
soon torn by the rough path over which she trod, and her feet bleeding.
Once she stopped and said she would go no further, and Willimack turned
fiercely upon her with a hatchet, but she did not blench.
"White girl," he said, "do you not fear death?"
"No," she said, boldly. "Death is preferable to the fate you design for
me."
"Good. You will make a good wife for a warrior because your heart is
strong. Must go; we drag you."
An Indian seized her by each hand and dragged her on. Seeing how
powerless she was to resist them, she told Willimack that she would
walk if they would not touch her, and kept up boldly until nightfall,
when the savages paused and made a camp in a deep hollow, surrounded
by heavy woods. He gave her food from his scanty store--cracked corn
and dried venison, with water from the running stream hard by. She ate
quite heartily, for the long walk had made her hungry. Willimack looked
on with a calm smile while she ate, muttering to himself. When she had
finished he took green withes and made her sit down at the root of a
tree and tied her fast to the mossy trunk. He had hardly done so when
one of the men, with a low chuckle, drew from his bosom a huge bottle
which he had stolen from the stockade, and flourished it above his head.
"Ugh!" grunted his companions in chorus. "Obisenay somet'ing got, eh?"
"Fire-water! Wa-wa!" replied Obisenay.
The lucky finder lifted the heavy bottle, and a musical gurgle
followed. When he lowered it there was quite a difference in the
weight, and he passed the bottle to the chief.
"Good?" demanded Willimack.
"Much good," said Obisenay. "Drink."
Willimack did as he was requested, and drank quite deeply. The others
followed, and the heavy bottle passed round the circle. A curious scene
followed. A man who has never seen a number of Indians drunk has missed
a remarkable scene. Seated in a circle, with the girl-prisoner in the
center, they kept drinking at a rate which would have astonished a
habitual drunkard among the whites, swaying their bodies to and fro,
and giving utterance now and then to a short quick whoop as the liquor
began to affect them. The bottle was quickly dispatched, and one of
them, by a singular instinct, found out that _he_ had purloined a
similar one, and they took to this. Now they began to dance and howl,
brandishing their hatchets and leaping wildly about among the trees,
looking like demons in their war-paint. In the midst of the wild orgie
an Indian came suddenly from among the trees and joined them. Willimack
by this time was very drunk, but he had sense enough to see that a
stranger had come among them. He was a tall, finely-formed man, painted
for war, in the dress of a Huron.
Willimack advanced to meet him with stately gravity, reeling in his
walk, and endeavoring to stand straight.
"How do, brudder?" he said. "Why you stand no still?"
It was a remarkable feature of the great Willimack that when he copied
the white man's vices by getting gloriously drunk, he forgot that he
could speak Indian and fell into broken English.
"What does my brother mean?" said the new-comer.
"Why you whirl, whirl, whirl, so? Make ground swing too much."
"My brother has fire-water."
"Ugh, good. Huron drink fire-water with his Wyandot brother," said
Willimack.
They brought the second bottle, grievously lessened in weight, and the
Huron lifted it to his mouth. He kept it there long enough to drink
a great deal, but if he did, the throat did not show the process of
swallowing in the slightest degree, and he kept his face partly turned
away from the wild band. It seemed to affect him strangely, however,
for he drew his hatchet and began to dance wildly with the rest until
his eyes fell upon the bound captive.
"Who is here?" he cried. "Her skin is white. What does she here among
the Wyandots?"
"Prisoner," said the chief. "Take much scalp, take much fire-water.
Wah!"
He had indeed taken much, _too_ much fire-water for his own good. The
Huron looked hard at the prisoner, and then turned about and asked for
the bottle, and prevailed upon the Indians to sit down again.
"Brothers," he said, "there is a devil in the woods."
"Wah," said Willimack.
"He is as tall as a blasted pine, his eyes are like blazing stars. We
call him Nabockalish, and white men call him the Skeleton Scout."
Willimack shook his head gravely at the unwelcome name.
"Skeleton Scout no good. Hate him, hate Long Man, hate Floyd, hate
every one. Skeleton Scout too much no good."
"It is true. But if the Skeleton Scout should come, what would my
brother do?"
"Run!" said Willimack, shortly.
"_Run!_ Does a chief of the Wyandots run? Ah! look, look, sons of the
Wyandot."
One look was sufficient. Out of the woods, holding a blazing torch in
each hand, came the tall figure of the being they had known as the
Skeleton Scout, bearing down upon them with a frightful yell. It was
too much for human nature to bear, and they stumbled over each other in
their wild efforts to escape from their dreaded enemy. One fell into
the clutches of the Skeleton Scout, and they went down together, and
then the strange specter rose again, and pursued the now scattered and
sobered savages, who, wild with terror, were flying in every direction.
The Huron had not run far, and to the terror of Madge he came bounding
back, flourishing over his head a heavy knife, and she closed her eyes,
for it seemed the hour had come for death. But, to her utter surprise,
instead of striking her, he cut the bonds upon her hands, just as Long
Seth came out of the woods on one side and Floyd upon the other. The
young soldier ran to Madge and clasped her in his arms, and the poor
girl dropped her head upon his shoulder with a cry of joy.
"Oh, Will. I hoped you would come, and you did not desert me. But your
dear father, Will. Alas, he is dead!"
"Almost as bad," said Will, sadly. "He is badly hurt, and is demented.
But thank God, you are safe."
"Who is this Indian who cut my bonds?" she said, turning to him.
"Bright Eyes does not know a Pottawatomie in the war-paint of a Huron,"
replied the Indian. "Dead Chief is the man who will do much for the
beautiful daughter of the forest."
"Thank you, chief. And Seth too; I might have known he would not desert
me."
"Neow shet up," said the scout. "Nuff talk of that kind, yew know. Ef
yew are glad I cum, keep it tew yureself. Talk abeout it, and I won't
believe yew are glad, so thar. Besides, we ain't got time tew _now_,
I jedge, seeing that the pesky varmints will be arter us in less than
half an hour. But, by George, cap., ef I didn't see that pesky critter
they call the Skeleton Scout, then I don't know nothing 'bout it. He
shot by me like a ball out'n a rifle, the flamed critter did, and he
yelled wuss than any painter yew ever hern tell of."
"A Wyandot lies yonder," said the Dead Chief. "Let us see if his hand
is upon him."
Seth snatched up a blazing brand and followed the chief. Obisenay, the
Wyandot, who had brought forward the first bottle of liquor, lay upon
his face on the green sward. They turned him over, and as in the case
of the man they had found outside of the stockade upon the night when
Willimack first attacked the block-house, they could find no wound upon
him. Without stopping to comment upon the singular circumstance, Seth
signed to his companions to follow, and hurried away.
How had Seth come so quickly to the aid of Madge? It was explained
easily. When he left Will Floyd and the Indian in the ruined hut, he
knew well the camp of Willimack could not be far away, and he chose to
go upon his first scouting expedition alone. He had found the camp not
half a mile from the ruins of the hut, and, after satisfying himself
with regard to it, he at once returned to his friends and went back on
the trail. They first painted the Indian like a Huron, and so smeared
and stained his scanty clothing that it might have belonged to any
tribe, and sent him into camp after seeing that the Indians were likely
to get very drunk. He had been instructed to brain an Indian with his
hatchet upon getting a preconcerted signal, and was waiting for it when
the Skeleton Scout burst out upon them, and put the Indians to flight.
"Seems tew my benighted intellec' that this skellington mixes in with
my business a good deal," said Seth. "I was making up to git my posish
so that I could throw an Injin cold, jest about the time I give the
signal, when, "_yah!_" went this living skellington, blame him, and
when I got thar the work was all done! You'd better kerry the gal,
capt'ing. She's mighty tired."
Will lifted the girl in his arms, and carried her for some distance,
when Seth reached out and took her. "Thar, baby," he said. "I'm ashamed
of yew. Allow yer feelings to overcome yew that way, eh? Let _me_ kerry
her. I'm powerful strong in the legs and arms. Guess our fam'ly are all
pooty healthy that way. Injin, don't let any of them niggers creep up
on us unwar's. Keep yure weather eye open, fur I don't trust that pesky
Willimack a cent's wuth. I don't by Jehosaphat."
Even while talking, the Yankee managed to keep up his long stride,
carrying Madge like a child. "Lay yure head on my shoulder, little
gal," he said. "Yew needn't be afraid of tiring _me_, not a bit! I
ain't liable tew it, nohow. I've kerried heavier weights than yew are,
twice as fur as from here to Vincennes, and rayther liked it, by gosh.
Neow my father, when he was a hundred and forty year old, kerried two
hundred pounds of wheat across his farm, easy."
"Oh, hush, Seth. How can you tell such stories?" said Madge, who
somehow felt the utmost confidence in the skill and knowledge of the
country possessed by the Yankee.
"Don't believe me, so tew speak. Neow, that riles up my feelings,
powerful bad. It duz, by gracious! Tew think that this little critter
hez the face tew doubt the family traditions! Ef it was a man that
dared tew say it I'd make him repent in dust and ashes. But, as it's
nothing but a gal, I dunno ef thar's any use getting mad. What's that,
chief?"
"Wyandot on the trail," replied the chief.
"I thought so. Waal, thank fortin', they kan't trail us in the dark.
Yew don't think the etarnal critter has picked up any more men, chief?"
"Good many," said the chief. "Prophet keep camp not far away. Bad
Indian _very_ bad! Good many in woods."
"I reckin yer right, chief. He's picked a party some'rs that he knowed
of. He wouldn't hev stopped tew git drunk ef he didn't think himself
tarnation safe. Oh, blame my cats ef this ain't tew cussed bad."
"Let us keep on all night," said the young soldier, eagerly.
"Oh, git eout! Willimack is sure tew hev every path as black with
Injins as a nigger's pocket, and we're likely tew blunder intew a trap,
I guess. So let's try another way."
He had stopped a moment hesitatingly, and turning aside from the path
he had been pursuing, struck into the woods, crossed the clearing
in which the hut stood, casting a sidelong look at the three graves
whose outlines he could just make out in the darkness, and Madge felt
a slight shudder run through his frame, and she thought him tired and
begged him to set her down. But he refused. "I could kerry yew in one
hand, little one," he said. "Yew rest easy. I tell yew, I was thinking
of something else."
The clamor of pursuit could be heard on every side as the Indians
closed in upon them, and the Yankee muttered to himself. "Hunted close!
But I'll save her yit; I sw'ar it. Ah, here we ar'!"
As he spoke he reached the base of a little hill, rocky and
precipitous, rising in the center of the forest. Up the rocky slope
he climbed, lifting Madge over the rocks until he reached a sort of
parapet running round the crest of the hill.
"Gather leaves and brush, boys," he said. "We've got tew hev a fire
tew fight by. Build it here, outside the fort, so't it will throw a
light down the hill. It's the only place they kin come up by, and three
rifles will make it lively for 'em."
As the fire was kindled and the flames leaped up, Madge looked
curiously about her. She was in the center of one of those curious
Indian forts which remain in many of the States, now grassgrown and in
decay. A low parapet, perhaps five feet high, inclosed a space of three
or four hundred square feet. Behind them, the mountain rose high and
wild, nearly inclosing three sides. The place where they had come up,
a narrow defile not three feet wide, was the only course by which the
Indians could assail them. The fire blazed merrily up, just as two or
three savages appeared at the base of the hill.
"Fire!" cried Yankee Seth.