OUT INTO THE DARKNESS.
It was by the sense of feeling alone, that Dick went up the ladder and
moved along the loft with a cautious step.
The darkness was so great that it could almost be felt.
Only here and there above his head, a dull, red light shone on the
charred beams, telling that a trace of the fire still lingered there.
But the coals were dim, and gave out no light to serve as a guide to his
footsteps.
The rain had well-nigh extinguished them, and if it continued for a few
minutes longer they would go out in deeper blackness.
Slowly the scout moved along until he came to a spot where the rain came
down without hindrance upon his head.
Feeling with his outstretched hands in the darkness, he found that the
aperture in the roof at this point was sufficiently large to admit of
his passing through without any difficulty.
Thrice he made the attempt, but each time was unsuccessful.
The charred wood was not strong enough to support his weight, and it
gave way, letting him back again.
But the fourth time he got a firmer hold and drew himself out upon the
roof.
The rain seemed to beat down upon him with redoubled fury, as though it
meant to drive him from his perch.
But he did not care for this. His only solicitude was for fear that the
roof between him and the eaves was not strong enough to hold him, and
that he would fall through into the loft again.
Slowly he moved down over the inclined plane.
It was no easy job to keep his hold good, and at the same time make sure
that the roof was strong enough to bear his weight.
The rain made it slippery, and had it not been for the action of the
fire upon the timbers of which it was composed, he could never have kept
good his hold there.
But slowly and carefully he went on, and at last drew close to the
eaves.
It was something like ten feet to the earth, but this was nothing for
him to leap down.
On more than one occasion when his life was threatened, he had leaped
more than double that distance.
He was close to the edge of the roof now, and was preparing himself for
the spring.
He tried to peer down into the darkness to see if the coast was clear of
enemies, but the gloom was so dense that he could not see an arm’s
length before his face.
At that instant, as luck would have it, a pale flash of lightning
lighted up the scene for a moment.
The scout used his eyes well, and thereby made a discovery.
The ground about the cabin was free from savages, except at one point,
where a single one stood wet and forlorn.
Evidently he had been left to watch the cabin while his comrades sought
shelter in the forest until the rain should be over.
It was a wonder that he caught a glimpse of the savage, for he was
immediately beneath him, and had he sprung down he must have landed
directly upon his head.
The flash was gone in a moment, and then if possible it was darker than
before.
For a minute the scout was undecided what to do.
He could not retreat up again over the roof, the way was so difficult;
and if he could, it would amount to nothing for him to do so.
There was but one feasible course before him, and that he decided upon.
It was to leap down upon the head of the unsuspicious savage, bear him
to the earth and slay him before he could utter a sound of alarm.
Taking his knife from his belt, he placed it between his teeth, and then
fixing his hands firmly upon the eaves he was ready for the spring.
For only an instant did he hesitate, and then he went down upon the
unsuspicious savage, whose first intimation of danger was the full force
of the descending scout upon his head and shoulders.
No one taken at such a disadvantage could resist the shock, and the
red-skin went down to the earth as suddenly as though the cabin itself
had fallen upon him.
He tried to utter a cry of alarm, but it died away before his lips could
give it utterance.
The fingers of the Death-Dealer were upon his throat with a grip like
iron, and he could utter no sound.
Another moment, and the scout had his knife in his right hand, ready to
strike a fatal blow.
The savage struggled fiercely, but he was like a child in the hand of
his enemy.
The opportunity the scout sought came soon. The breast of the savage was
exposed, and he drove the knife to the hilt in his heart.
Coolly wiping the blade upon the garments of the savage, Dick rose to
his feet and quietly listened.
Not a sound met his ear except the beating of the rain and the distant
rumble of thunder away to the eastward.
“I wonder if thar is any more of the varmints sneaking round here,” he
said to himself. “It looks light up thar to the westward, and the rain
will be over soon I guess. I wish there would be another bit of a flash,
so that I might get another glimpse of matters round here.”
Hardly had the thought been expressed, when as though in answer to his
desire, another pale gleam of lightning lighted up the scene about him.
It was only momentary; but the scout used his eyes well, and was
convinced that there was no savage near except the one whose corpse lay
bleeding beside him. But he knew that the moment the rain held up a
little they would be back again. From the looks of the sky he felt
assured that they had only a few moments that they could call their own,
and that they must bestir themselves if they hoped to escape.
Hastily he passed round the cabin to make assurance doubly sure, and
then he approached the door and gave the three low raps upon it; the
signal they had agreed upon.
They heard it, for he could hear them removing the barricade inside, and
in a little time he heard the voice of Sam Wilson demanding as he opened
the door a little way:
“It is you, is it not, Dick?”
“Of course it is. Open the door. There’s no danger jest now.”
The settler complied, and the scout stepped within and the door was
immediately closed behind him.
“Are the savages gone?” demanded Ned.
“Yes, that is, they are now. I didn’t find but one of ’em there, and I
fixed him so that he won’t trouble us ag’in. I guess it puzzled him a
little to think where I come from when I landed on his head. But I did
not give him a great while to think about it, afore he had a touch of my
knife, which done for him so far as this world is concerned.”
Mrs. Wilson and Ruth shuddered. It made their blood run cold to hear him
talk so coolly of what to them, despite the circumstances seemed almost
like murder.
“And you still think that we had better leave the cabin?” said Ned.
“Of course. If we stay here a half-hour longer we can’t call our ha’r
our own. It will be hanging to the belt of some of the red-skins. Get
ready as soon as ye can. Don’t take any thing to weigh ye down for we
shall have all we can do to get away with our lives I’m afraid.”
“I shall take my pack,” cried the Yankee. “You don’t think I’ll leave
that behind, do ye? I had rather leave my ha’r than that. I might get
money enough to buy a wig, but I could never get a new pack ag’in.”
“Take it if you want to,” growled Dick; “but I’ll bet a dollar that the
red-skins will have the ransacking of it afore you’re out of this
scrape. I believe you think more of that bundle than you do of any thing
else in the world.”
“I guess you’re right,” chuckled the Yankee. “I do think a master sight
of it. Nigh about as much as I should of a wife if I had one. But I’ll
be deuced if I ain’t afraid that the rain will spile every thing there
is in it. Say, mister, hadn’t we better wait ’till it holds up a
little?”
“Can’t you hold that tongue of your’n?” cried the scout, angrily. “I
never saw such a thing to wag in my life. Stay behind if you want to,
and make a dicker with the red-skins if you can. Pass me Susannah, Ned,
I believe it was you that took her when I went up.”
“Who is Susannah?” inquired the Yankee. “I didn’t know that there was
any lady here by that name. Oh! it’s yer rifle, is it? I swan, I never
heard a gun called by that name afore.”
Each in obedience to the scout’s commands prepared to leave the cabin.
Hastily Mrs. Wilson and Ruth donned their outer garments so that in a
measure they might be protected from the rain.
They could take nothing with them. All they possessed they must leave
behind to the savages.
But they gave no thought to this. Could their lives but be spared they
would be content.
A few moments sufficed to make them ready for their flight, and then the
scout laid his hand upon the door and opened it a little way.
“Come,” he said, quickly. “The clouds are breaking and the rain will be
over in a minute. We haven’t got a moment’s time to spare.”
He stepped out into the darkness, followed by Ned, who held the hand of
Ruth in his own. Mrs. Wilson came next, and after her the Yankee with
his pack upon his back. The settler came last, closing the door of his
home behind him with a sad heart. It was not likely, he thought, that he
would ever set foot over its threshold again. Once in the hands of the
savages they would not leave it until it was a mass of blackened embers.
“Fasten it if you can in some way,” said the scout, in a whisper. “I
don’t want them to know that we are gone, if they get here within the
next ten minutes.”
There was no way to do this upon the outside, the settler said. The
scout hesitated for an instant. If he had felt sure of the time, he
would have gone within, made it fast, and come out by way of the roof as
he had done before. But he dared not do it, so he said:
“No matter, let it go. Perhaps they won’t think to try the door as soon
as they get back. Follow me close and don’t speak above a whisper. We
don’t know how near we may come to the red-skins in crossing the
clearing. There’s a chance that we may run full into ’em. But we won’t
take that so long as there is another. Come on, I’m afeard of them
clouds up yonder where the moon is. If they break away and it comes out
bright and clear afore we get to the edge of the woods it will be bad
for us. If the red-skins get their eye upon us our chances will be
slim.”
It was the shortest distance to the woods upon the south, but the scout
did not start off in that direction. He thought, and wisely, that the
savages would have fled to the nearest point for shelter when the rain
drove them from the cabin. Therefore he bent his steps in the opposite
direction, while the other fugitives followed close at his heels, hoping
that the cover of the forest might be gained in safety before the moon
by breaking forth should reveal them to their enemies.
Eagerly they pressed forward as fast as they were able. Despite the
symptoms the moon gave of breaking through the clouds, it was still
intensely dark. The way was rough, in some places over fallen trees, and
here they found it impossible to make the time they hoped to do. Hardly
a word passed between them, and when they did open their lips the words
they uttered were hardly above their breath. Each felt how much depended
upon secrecy and expedition, and therefore they used every caution which
was in their power.
“Courage,” whispered the scout. “In three minutes more we shall be safe.
I can see the dark line of the woods now, right ahead of us.”
Hardly had the words left his lips before through a rift in the dark
clouds a flood of moonlight passed down, revealing the clearing and all
it contained almost as plainly as the sunlight would have done.
“Quick! for your lives!” exclaimed the scout, as he broke into a run;
but before either of them had gained the shelter of the forest, a fierce
war-whoop behind them told that they were discovered.