THE WIZARD’S DEN.
One, two, five minutes passed, and the scout stood there as motionless
as stone, with his eyes fixed back over the way he had come.
He held his rifle before him ready for instant use, the moment a savage
should show himself.
He had made up his mind that there should be one the less to keep on his
trail.
At last his eye caught sight of a form moving among the trees.
“Now, Susannah, my girl,” he said, as he sighted along the shining
barrel, and look quick aim upon the foremost savage.
The next instant Susannah spoke, in a tone that woke the echoes of the
forest, and the eye of the scout noted the savage as he bit the dust.
“Well done, my girl,” he said, caressingly. “Now we’ll be going. By that
’ere yell, there’s a hull snarl of ’em ahint. Well, let ’em come on if
they want to. They’ll get a tussle afore they get you and I into their
clutches.”
Suiting the action to the word, the scout went on again, reloading his
rifle as he went; while each moment the dusk of evening grew in the
forest, telling him that the end of his race and the night were near at
hand.
Ever and anon as he paused for a moment, he could hear the savages
coming on behind him, but he had no fear of their overtaking him. In a
few minutes more he would be able to turn aside and let them go on in
the wild pursuit, while he could stand quietly by and laugh at the trick
he was playing upon them.
Deeper and deeper grew the shadows in the forest, and at last the
darkness was so well down that it was all that he could do with his
eyes, accustomed to the task, to mark the footsteps he was leaving
behind him.
The moment had come for him to give them the slip.
Summoning to his aid all the energies he possessed, he bounded forward
with the speed of the wind for some fifty rods on the course he had been
following.
Here he paused, and listened for a few moments.
As he expected, there was no sound of the footsteps of his pursuers.
Assured of this, he turned abruptly to the right, and, after keeping
this course for a few minutes, once more set his face in the direction
from which he had come.
A little later, and he heard the sound of the savages’ footsteps as they
hurried by him.
“Go it, ye varmints,” he muttered, “yer eyes have got to be sharper than
I think they are, if ye can keep the run of my trail. Thar ain’t nothing
like darkness to get a feller out of a fix as I knows on. It has saved
you and I, Susannah, more’n a hundred times since we come into these
parts.”
He patted the breech of his rifle affectionately, as if it was capable
of understanding what he said. In truth he was as much attached to it as
though it had been a human companion with whom he had spent an equal
number of years.
“Well, I’m rid of them. But I ain’t a bit wiser than I was an hour ago.
I ain’t got the least clue to what the varmints are up to. Thar’s
something in the wind or there wouldn’t be such a snarl of ’em in these
parts. There’ll be butchering and burning on the river somewhere afore
morning, I’m afraid. I wish to mighty I knew where it was that they mean
to begin their bloody work.”
He was silent for a few moments, turning the matter over in his mind,
and trying to determine what he had better do.
“Let me see,” he broke out, at length, as he gazed about him, as if for
the purpose of taking his true bearings. “That ere Wizard’s hole ain’t
far from here. If he’s only in the right tune perhaps I can find out
something by him. But, he’s a crafty old fox and sometimes I think he
plays me false. He pretends to be a friend of the whites—says he tries
to keep peace between them and the red-skins. But I’ve thought sometimes
that he set ’em on to their devilish work. At any rate I’ll give him a
call, and perhaps I can fine out something. I’m blind as a bat now,
about what to do.”
For a few moments longer the scout remained in the attitude of
listening, and then he threw his rifle over his shoulder and struck out
at a round pace through the forest.
A silence most profound was around him. There was no sign to show that
another living being was near. The savages, off the scent, had gone, he
knew not whither.
With rapid strides he hurried on, intent upon reaching his destination
as soon as possible.
Away to the eastward, the sky was lighting up with the rising moon, then
a little past its full. Soon its beams would make it as light as evening
in the forest.
For nearly an hour he kept on without once pausing; and at the end of
that time there rose before him a high, jagged hill, crowned with
splintered rocks, and stunted trees, bathed in the silver rays of the
newly risen moon.
He was close upon the dwelling-place of him he sought.
In the heart of the hill, beneath the jagged rocks, the Indian Wizard
had his home.
Both the white hunters and the red gave the spot a wide berth, for they
stood greatly in awe of the strange being who haunted the spot.
Of the former, none had ever held converse with him except the scout,
who now stood almost at the threshold of his den.
The red-men consulted him, when any thing of great moment was at stake;
but there was not one of them who was not glad when his back was turned
upon him.
Sometimes they brought their sick to him to heal, for he was reputed a
great Medicine, and his skill was often of great avail.
All this the scout knew well, yet he felt no fear as he approached the
spot. He had no fear of the unearthly powers which some said the Wizard
possessed.
Arrived at the foot of the hill, the scout paused, and glanced up at the
moonlit rocks above him.
No living thing was to be seen, and a silence like that of death brooded
around the spot.
“I wonder if the old fellow is asleep?” he muttered. “I’ve almost forgot
the way into his den, and am not sure that I can find it.”
At that moment the solemn hoot of an owl coming from the highest
pinnacle of the cliff above, broke the silence that reigned around.
“That’ll fetch him out,” muttered Dick. “That bird serves him better
than a red-skin would, perched up there. His eagle watches for him by
day and his owl by night, and I’ll defy anybody to come round here
without their knowing it. I don’t see how the old chap has got ’em
trained so well as he has. There he goes ag’in. I should think that one
such a hoot as that was enough to announce anybody. But hark! Somebody
else is coming. I’ll be darned if that ’ere bird don’t know more than a
human.”
A footstep only a few rods away had at that moment fallen upon the ear
of the scout.
Close beside where he stood was a huge bowlder which at some former time
had toppled down from the hight above, and it was only the work of a
moment for him to ensconce himself behind it in such a manner that he
would not readily be discovered.
“We won’t be hoggish, Susannah,” he said, in a whisper, as he placed his
rifle so that it would be ready for instant use. “We’ll let the Wizard
see this visitor first. I don’t see who in nater it can be who dares to
venture here arter dark.”
The footstep came nearer and nearer, and in a few moments the scout
caught a glimpse of a figure in the moonlight approaching the spot he
had just vacated.
To his astonishment he saw that it was an Indian maiden, and as the
moonlight fell full upon her features he saw that she was fair and
comely.
“Well, this is the master,” muttered the scout. “Who would have thought
that the old chap had such visitors as this?”
The Indian girl paused upon the very spot he had so lately vacated, and
despite the lack of determination upon her face, he could see mingled
with it, a look of apprehension as though she feared the interview she
had evidently come to crave of the Wizard.
For the space of a minute she remained motionless, gazing up toward the
spot from whence the hoot of the owl had come. A silence most profound
reigned around, and the scout in his hiding-place almost feared that the
loud beating of his heart would betray him.
Suddenly a voice came apparently from out of the very rocks, and so
close to them, that they both gave a start of surprise.
“Who is it, that seeks the Wizard of the Rocks when the night has come?
Let them speak, that he may know their errand at once.”
Out from among the rocks as though they had opened to give him egress,
strode the once tall form of the Wizard, now bent with years, and the
strange life he led. A sort of robe made of the skins of wild beasts
covered his gaunt form and fell nigh to his feet. His face was wrinkled
and old, but his eyes were as bright and piercing as they had been in
his youth. Age and the long life of a recluse had not dimmed them in the
least. In one hand he held a long staff, as though to give emphasis to
the question he asked. The moonlight falling upon him gave him a weird
look, and it was little wonder that those who saw him felt that there
was something unearthly about him, and which sent a feeling of awe to
their hearts.
“The Indian girl hears the words of the great Medicine. She has come to
seek him that she may know of a thing that is dear to her heart. She has
come through the forest alone, that no others may hear the words that
may be spoken. Will the great Medicine listen to what she has to say?”
“Why does the Indian girl come hither to the Hollow Rocks, and speak
with a forked tongue? Let her words be as straight as the flight on an
arrow, and they shall be hearkened to. Why does she say that she came
hither alone, while the watch-bird up yonder tells that there were two
of them?”
“The Indian girl scorns a lie. Her tongue is not forked and she has not
told an untruth. She came through the forest alone, and she knows not
that others are near.”
The Wizard did not speak for a moment, but he fixed his piercing eyes
full upon her face. She bore the scrutiny without flinching, and at last
as though satisfied of her truthfulness he said:
“The tongue of the Indian was right. The watch-bird needs more training.
It has been many moons since he spoke falsely before.”
The scout in his hiding-place breathed freer. He did not fear harm if he
was discovered, but he had a purpose in remaining concealed for some
time longer. Somehow he felt impressed that he might learn something of
the errand on which he had come if he remained undiscovered. Besides, he
was curious to know why it was that the Indian girl had come hither to
hold a conference with the Wizard.
Meanwhile she stood silent, as though waiting for him to question her.
“Let the Indian girl speak,” said the Wizard, at length. “Let the
daughter of the chief make known her errand.”
“Then the Wizard of the Rocks knows the Indian maiden. He calls her the
daughter of the chief, and he spoke truly,” said the girl, proudly.
“Who has not heard of Minora, the Red Rose of the forest, the daughter
of Leaping Panther? Many maidens of the tribe are fair, but none can
compare with her. The eyes of Rushing Water have seen it, and his heart
is full of her. He has asked her to go to his lodge, and she is willing.
Before many moons shall go, the young chief will have carried her
thither, and great will be the rejoicing of the tribe.”
A strange look of mingled disappointment and hate came over the face of
the Indian girl, as these words fell upon her ear.
The scout could see it from his hiding-place behind the rock, and the
Wizard noted it from the spot where he stood. Uncertain as the moonlight
was, there was no mistaking it.
“The Wizard of the Rocks has heard the idle tale that has been told by
the tribe; or it may be that Leaping Panther has told to his ears his
hopes for his child. Moons ago this might have been. Rushing Water did
woo the Red Rose and asked her to share his lodge with him. But his
heart is turned from her now. His love is given to another, and it is of
this that the daughter of the chief has come here to-night.”
“The Red Rose’s words are strange ones. The Wizard of the Rocks can
hardly credit the words she utters. Why should Rushing Water break his
faith and turn away from her. Where in all the lands of the red-men can
he find a mate that can compare with her?”
“Rushing Water seeks not for a mate among his people. His heart is
turned away from the maidens of his own race. He has given it into the
keeping of a pale-face girl whose lodge stands in the wilderness apart
from her people. Minora has seen her often, and she wishes now that her
knife had found her heart.”
A look of deadly hate was on the face of the girl, and her hand as she
spoke nervously sought the spot where her weapon rested.
The scout gave a start, and muttered to himself:
“She means Sam Wilson’s cabin; and little Ruth whom she would like to
murder. Well, I’m glad I’ve found so much out. I guess, Min, you won’t
get a chance to murder her, and Rushing Water, as you call him, won’t
find a bride in that quarter. To my sartin knowledge she’s promised to
Ned Tapley, and he won’t be cut out by a red-skin, I don’t believe.”
“Does the white maiden care for the chief?” demanded the Wizard.
“No. Her heart is given to one of her own race. She will never willingly
go to the lodge of Rushing Water.”
“That’s a fact,” muttered the scout. “She’s hit the truth once,
Susannah.”
“Then why need the Red Rose fear, so long as the white maiden cares not
for him? Let her do her best to win back the love she has lost.”
“The Red Rose can do nothing. The time for her to work upon his heart,
has gone by. But when he brings her to his lodge she shall die. Minora
has sworn it by the Great Spirit. To-night with his warriors he has gone
to fetch his bride. Before the sun comes again the sky will be red with
the flames of the burning lodge, and all the pale-faces will die, but
her.”
The scout gave a start which almost brought him to his feet. He had
learned now, whither it was that the red-skins were bound. Little need
was there now to consult with the Wizard as he had intended. Everything
was plain to him.
He looked eagerly about him for a chance to steal away without being
observed, but the moon was shining so brightly that he saw that he could
not do it without being observed. So, though anxious to hurry away as
soon as possible, he was obliged to remain quiet and listen to the
remainder of the conversation.
The Wizard was silent for the space of a minute and then he said:
“Rushing Water is a foolish chief. He should have chosen for a bride one
of his own people. But, why has the Red Rose come hither? What is it
that she seeks?”
“The Wizard of the Rocks is wise, and he is a great Medicine. He knows
of deadly plants, the juice of which is sure to kill. The Red Rose would
have a potion to give to the pale-face maiden when she comes. Let it be
safe and sure, so that she shall be sent at once to the spirit-land.”
The scout gave another start. He was so nervous now that he could hardly
keep in his hiding-place. Yet he thanked his stars that he was where he
chanced to be.
“Let the Red Rose go back to her wigwam, and fear not. Rushing Water
shall never take the pale-face maiden to his lodge. If it need be, the
Indian maiden shall have the deadly potion for which she asks. The
Wizard of the Rocks will see to it. Let her have no fears, and she shall
yet live in the lodge of the chief.”
“The Red Rose is content. She knows that the great Medicine will keep
his word. When the morrow’s eve shall come, will he be at the Indian
village?”
“The Medicine has promised. He will be there.”
No more words passed between them. The Indian girl turned and
disappeared the way she had come, and a minute after, the rocks seemed
to open their jagged jaws and swallow the Wizard up again.