THE TRAIL DIVIDED.
Leaving the savages to conduct their captives along the toilsome way
that led to the Indian village, let us return, and for a time follow the
movements of the scout.
Turning his back upon the spot where misfortune had overtaken his
friends, he struck off at a round pace through the forest, with the
red-skins following at his heels.
He had little doubt but that he would be able to distance them in the
race, though he was by no means so fresh as he might have been.
Since morn of the previous day, no food had passed his lips, and as the
reader is aware he had undergone a great deal of fatigue.
Still he did not doubt but what he could easily leave the savages behind
him.
And this he did. Before twenty minutes had passed he had left them so
far in the rear, that he could hear nothing of them, though he paused
and listened several times for the sound of their footsteps.
“You ain’t got the Death-Dealer into yer clutches yet,” he muttered to
himself. “He’s going to live to stop a good deal more of yer deviltry.
You’ve done pretty well to-night, but you ain’t out of the woods yet.
You’ve got a good deal of trouble still, afore you settle down to
housekeeping, Mister Red-skin. I don’t know but what I am mistaken, but
I think I shall have a hand in settling your hash myself. I’ve only
turned my back on ye for a little while. I shall be in yer company ag’in
full as soon as you’ll want me I guess.”
Thus communing with himself he went on slowly, stopping every now and
then to hearken for his pursuers. But there was no sign of them now.
Evidently they had given over the race, and returned to the spot from
whence they started.
Though assured of this the scout went on still further. He went on
aimlessly. He was bound for no particular place. He only wanted to get
so far from the savages that there would be no danger of their coming up
with him, while he stopped and refreshed himself. Though he had been up
thus much of the night he did not feel the want of sleep, for he had got
enough of that the day before. But he did begin to feel a little hungry,
and this demand of his appetite he determined to gratify as soon as he
should be at what he considered a safe distance from his enemies.
With this object in view, he went on for more than a mile from the spot
where he had seen the last savage. By this time daylight was breaking,
and he felt safe in setting about the work he had in hand. Keeping his
eyes about him, he soon caught sight of a noble deer, attempting to flee
away before him. Raising his rifle he brought it down before it had
taken a dozen leaps; and then reloading his piece, he approached the
spot where it had fallen.
To set a fire brightly burning, and to flay the deer, were but the work
of a few minutes with him; and in a little while he had a huge slice of
it roasting over the coals, the smell of which would have been grateful
to any man even if he had not broken his fast for the last twenty-four
hours.
All the while he kept a sharp look-out about him for danger. He did not
know but the report of his rifle might attract the savages toward the
spot, though he felt very sure that those in pursuit of him had long
since turned back. But there might be others prowling around in that
section, who might seek to find out who it was that had fired the shot.
But no one came to disturb him while he ate his fill of the venison; and
when his hunger was satisfied he cut other large slices from the deer,
which he proceeded to roast in the same manner he had the other. When he
had quite a quantity prepared in this way he made it into a compact
parcel, and bestowed it about him, so that he would have something by
him to appease his hunger, should he be placed in such a way that it
would be next to impossible for him to procure it as he had now done.
It seemed too bad to leave the remainder of the deer there for the wild
beasts to feast upon, but there was no help for it. So he consoled
himself with the thought, that there were plenty more of its like in the
forest, so that none need suffer for the needless waste he had made, and
then bethought himself of what was next to be done.
For a little time he hesitated which of two courses to pursue, in the
work he had laid out for himself.
It was no slight task as he knew to wrest the captives out of the
clutches of Rushing Water, with none but his own arm to aid him.
Yet this he was firmly determined to do.
Many were the conflicts he had had with the red-skins, and as yet he had
always come out victorious in the end.
He knew very well that Rushing Water would set out at once for the
dwelling-place of his tribe, and he hardly thought that he would pause
until he got there, so anxious would he be to place Ruth where there
could be no possibility of her escaping him.
He knew, also, that he must rescue her between now and the time she
should reach there, if he did so at all.
Once there and a new danger would threaten her.
The Indian girl, in her jealous rage, would soon find some way to
administer to her the deadly potion the Wizard had promised to prepare
for her.
He knew well the way to the Indian village, and the point he was now
trying to decide in his mind was this:
Should he hurry on before them for a considerable distance, and lay in
wait for their coming? or, had he better now take the trail and follow
on behind them, watching for the opportunity he sought?
The latter they might mistrust he would do, and so some of the red-skins
lay in ambush for him.
For some time he revolved this question in his mind, and then decided
upon the latter course.
He thought this the best way to accomplish his purpose, and he would
keep his eyes open for danger.
He knew that they stood in fear of the Death-Dealer, and that they would
give him a wide berth, unless by their numbers they hoped to match his
cunning and the strength of his arm.
His course decided upon, he leisurely took his way back in the direction
he had come.
He was in no hurry to reach the spot of the recent conflict, for he knew
that even though they had three or four hours the start of him, he could
easily come up with them before nightfall, until which hour he knew that
nothing could be done.
So he went on at a slow pace, and the sun was nearly three hours high in
the heavens, when he arrived at last at the spot where he had last seen
his friends in the hands of the red-skins.
He did not expect to find a living soul there, and in this he was not
mistaken.
The spot was as silent as the grave.
But he had had his fears that he might find the mangled remains of some
of his friends lying there, but to his joy he found that this was not
the case.
All of them had been spared for a short time at least.
A trail as plainly perceivable as the sun in the heavens, led away from
the spot, and he lost but little time in setting off upon it.
From the appearance of the ground he had made up his mind that they had
not tarried long on the spot after they had secured their captives, and
therefore they had several hours the start of him.
But this did not disturb him any. He knew they could not hurry the women
along very fast, so it would be an easy task for him to overtake them by
the time he desired to do so.
So he struck out upon the trail at his usual gait, feeling sure that by
the time the sun went down he would have come up with them.
He had no difficulty in keeping the trail. It lay broad and plain before
him. The red-skins had made no effort to conceal it. Perhaps they
thought they could not hide it from him if they tried to do so; and then
they may have thought that there would be little likelihood of his
attempting to follow them. He had fled away before them, and they could
hardly think that he would have the hardihood to return and contend with
the odds against him.
Only once during the day did he pause for a little rest. On the bank of
a small stream he sat down when the sun was at its meridian and partook
of a portion of the food he had prepared that morning. As yet he had
found no sign where the savages had paused for rest or refreshment, and
he knew that the captives must be well-nigh worn out for want of both.
The sun was hardly more than two hours high when suddenly the scout
paused, and looked about him with a puzzled look. The trail parted here.
This was something that he had not counted on. What reasons could the
savages have had for parting? Could it be that fearing pursuit from him,
they had done so for the purpose of misleading him?
Or did Rushing Water wish to separate Ruth from her friends?
The scout was puzzled to decide which, but so long as it was done it did
not matter so much why.
Carefully he examined the ground for a short distance along either of
the branches of the trail, and at last he was able to determine how the
prisoners had been divided between them.
The largest body had taken along with them all save one.
This the footprints showed to be a woman; and was either Ruth or her
mother.
He at once decided that it was the former.
A sudden suspicion occurred to his mind.
Had not Rushing Water separated them for some fell purpose of his own?
Though he did not know it, yet he felt sure that Ruth had purchased
their lives, by some promise she had made the savage.
Had she not done so, they would most assuredly have slain them all, as
soon as they had them in their power.
That this was the intention of the chief, he knew from what he had heard
the Indian girl confess to the Wizard.
Now, instead of taking them to the village, he had separated them from
Ruth, but for what purpose?
He had a strong presentiment that they were led away for sacrifice.
The more he thought on the subject the more convinced he was that he was
right, and the stronger were the fears he felt for their safety.
For a few minutes he hesitated, unable in his mind to decide what course
to pursue.
He wished to follow on, and try and rescue Ruth before she should reach
the Indian village; but if he did this he must abandon the others to
their fate.
He knew that she was not in immediate danger, while the others might
even now be falling beneath the blows of the savages.
He hesitated no longer.
It was his duty to try and succor those in the most imminent danger,
first.
After all it might prove that he was mistaken, but it was impressed upon
him that he had decided right.
With one more glance at the trail plainly marked by the footprints of
Ruth, he took the other, and hurried on at the top of his speed.
He felt now that the lives of at least three depended upon his
movements, and that it was no time to let the grass grow under his feet.
The sun sunk lower and lower as he bounded onward, and at last it was
hidden by the treetops.
Night was now fast coming on, and the trail would be hidden from his
gaze.
Little more than a half-hour of daylight remained to him, and every
instant of the time must be improved, if he hoped to accomplish the work
he had laid out for himself.
As soon as the darkness was down it would be impossible for him to
follow the trail.
He would have to wait until the moon rose, and even then it would be
uncertain if he could keep it.
And then when he should come up with them it might be too late for him
to strike a blow in their behalf.
The sun went down, and the last rays of its light died out of the
forest.
The dusky shadows of evening took their place, stealing upon him almost
before he was aware of their presence.
It was all that he could do to mark their footsteps now, among the
withered leaves.
For once in his life the scout felt nervous, and fearful that he should
not accomplish the work he had laid out for himself.
“I’d give a good deal for one more hour of daylight,” he muttered, to
himself, as he made sure that he was going right by bending down close
to the earth.
“Consarn it all, I bothered too long this morning. If I had thought that
the red-skins had been up to this game, I would have been upon their
heels before now.”
He went on, but slowly, until at last the darkness was so great that it
was impossible longer to make out the trail.
“I’ve got to wait till the moon rises,” he said to himself. “’Tain’t no
use to try and get on in this way. But what is that? A light ahead, as
sure as I’m alive. Fortin ain’t deserted ye yet, Dick. But ye’ve got to
keep yer eyes and ears open. You’ve got a work afore ye that it won’t do
to blunder in. The red-skins will give more for yer scalp than they will
for any other on the Scioto. You’ve got to mind, Dick, and keep it under
yer cap and then it will be safe.”
Communing thus with himself, the scout moved cautiously forward toward
the spot from whence the light proceeded.
It was on the line of the trail he had followed, and there was no doubt
in his mind that it marked the spot where the savages were.
With footsteps so light that they gave out not the slightest sound, he
approached to within a half-dozen rods of the spot from whence the light
proceeded.
Here he paused and took in the scene which lay before him.
In a little hollow a camp-fire was kindled, and about it he counted
seven savages.
The body of a deer lay beside it, and they were engaged in cutting huge
slices therefrom and roasting them over the fire.
The light of the fire flashed out upon either side, but to the dismay of
the scout, he could see nothing of the captives on either hand.
A sudden fear took possession of his mind.
Could it be that he was too late?
Had the red-skins already accomplished their terrible work?
Had they slain the captives before they had reached this spot, and had
he passed them in the darkness?
He shuddered at the thought and glanced behind him as though he was
almost fearful that they might be lying close beside him.
But he saw nothing.
They had disappeared, but where?
With the utmost caution he crept nearer to the fire, keeping well in the
shadows of the trunks of the trees which stretched out like giants on
either hand.
Hardly a dozen yards now lay between him and the nearest savage.
Suddenly a well-remembered voice broke upon his ear, dispelling all his
fears at once.
“Jerusalem and the Prophets, but this is a hard one! I wish to mercy I
was to hum in New Hampshire. I’m as hungry as a ba’r, and that ’ere meat
smells as good as aunt Nancy’s baked beans used to, when I was a boy.
Don’t you think they mean to give us a mouthful?”
The scout glanced toward a spot where the shadows fell the thickest
about the fire, and there he saw the outlines of his friends’ forms,
bound to the trunks of the saplings standing there.