WINDING UP THE WEB.
Let us now return to the scout and his companions, and see how it has
fared with them since we parted company at the spot where Dick had dealt
the blows which delivered his friends from the savages.
The reader will remember that they had turned their backs upon this
place; and had set out to endeavor to find the other trail in the
moonlight, in the hopes of following it on, and overtaking Rushing Water
before he could reach the Indian village with his captive.
But that they had not succeeded in coming up with them, the reader
already knows, for he has seen what passed in the lodge after they had
gained it.
Aided by the moonlight, Dick had struck the trail without much
difficulty, and they had followed on, as fast as they could under the
circumstances.
But the chief and his companions were so far in advance that they stood
no show of coming up with them.
In fact the night was far gone when they drew near the Indian village.
Long before they reached this point, the scout had become satisfied that
they were too late, and that if they accomplished their object they had
got to do it under more difficulties than had yet beset them.
They had got to penetrate into the very lodge of Rushing Water, which
stood perhaps in the very heart of the village.
There would not be time to accomplish this to-night, even if it could be
done successfully.
They must lie quiet somewhere in the depth of the forest and wait until
the darkness of another night.
They followed the trail almost to the verge of the village, so impatient
were his companions to rescue Ruth if the thing lay in their power; and
then convinced that it did not, in the remaining hours of that night at
least, they were ready to comply with what the scout had to propose.
This was that they should retire back from the village for something
like a mile and lie through the day in some darksome covert, where there
would be little likelihood of their being discovered by the savages.
This plan was now carried into effect and by the time the day had fairly
broke they were snugly ensconced in their hiding-place.
The sun rose above the tree-tops, giving promise of a beautiful day, and
over and over again did they wish that Ruth was with them that they
might be hurrying toward a place of safety instead of lying idly there.
Fears that she would never be restored to them oppressed the heart of
the mother. The chief had her now securely in his power and how were
they ever to tear her from his clutches?
It seemed impossible to her that so few of them could do it.
Yet they were determined to accomplish the task before them, or lose
their lives in the attempt.
The scout knew that it could not be done by mere strength of arms alone;
but more than once had he accomplished his ends by outwitting the
savages and he meant to succeed in this way now.
Slowly the minutes went on and higher and higher the sun rose up into
the cloudless sky.
Suddenly the sound of a footstep struck upon the watchful ear of the
scout.
Glancing hastily out from their hiding-place, he saw a savage slowly
advancing toward the spot where they lay.
He did not seem to be seeking for any trail; but his head was bowed and
his eyes fixed upon the earth as though some grave subject occupied his
mind.
Sam Wilson’s gaze fell upon him a moment after, and as it did so he gave
a great start.
“It is Rushing Water,” he exclaimed in surprise. “Where is Ruth? What
could he have done with her?”
“You are right,” exclaimed the scout in a whisper. “It is the chief
himself. Now, boys, he must not leave us alive; but we must get him into
our hands unharmed, if the thing can be done. When he is close to us we
must spring out upon him. If we can get hold on him we are all right.
Stand by me, and I guess there is enough of us here to match any savage
that ever burned a cabin.”
Slowly the savage came on, apparently in deep thought, and unconscious
of all that was passing around him. They could see a look upon his face
that told something pained and troubled him.
Nearer and nearer he came, and at last the instant arrived for them to
act.
Noiselessly they crept forth from their hiding-place and approached
their intended victim.
Had he raised his eyes he must have seen them, but he did not.
With a spring like that of a panther the scout bounded upon him, and his
enemies followed his example.
The struggle was a short one.
With the odds against him, and taken thus by surprise, the chief could
make but slight resistance.
In a minute’s time he was thrown to the earth and his hands and feet
firmly secured with strong thongs which the scout produced from about
his person.
Not a word did the scout utter until this was accomplished, and the wily
savage lay a helpless prisoner before them.
Then with his knife held menacingly above his breast, the scout
demanded, while the rest of the party with eager looks gathered about
them:
“Where is the pale-face maiden? Speak! and let your words be true ones,
or you die at once.”
“Rushing Water is not afraid to die. The words of the Death-Dealer can
not frighten him. He will speak the same as though they were not
sounding in his ears. The Death-Dealer is a great warrior, but the chief
is not a squaw that he should be afraid of his words.”
Mrs. Wilson knelt down by his side and cried, appealingly:
“Where is my daughter? Tell me that she is unharmed, and restore her
again to my arms, and no harm shall come to you. Only give her back to
us, and we will forgive you the loss of our home, and all else that you
have done to us.”
“The pale-face mother can not have her child again. The chief has not
the power to give her again into her arms if he would. The Great Spirit
has called her home.”
“Oh, Heaven!” cried the agonized mother. “You do not mean to say that
she is dead? that you have killed her?”
Ned Tapley drew his knife, and with a face as pale as death, would have
sprung forward and plunged it into the heart of the savage, had not the
strong arm of the scout held him back.
“Let him speak, youngster,” he said. “If he has harmed so much as a hair
of her head, we will have vengeance.”
“The white maiden did not die by my hand,” said the chief, calmly. “The
Great Spirit himself called her home. When the daylight came, she lay
upon her couch as white and cold as the snow of winter. The Great Spirit
himself knows that Rushing Water harmed her not.”
A wail of agony broke from the lips of the parents, and Mrs. Wilson
staggered and would have fallen to the earth had not her husband
supported her.
“But you killed her as surely as though your hand had plunged a knife
into her heart, and for this you shall die!” cried Ned, as he made
another effort to deal the helpless savage a blow with his knife. But
this he was again prevented from doing by the scout, who exclaimed:
“But where is the white maiden lying now? We would look upon her, that
we may know that your words are not lying ones.”
“The form of the White Rose lies in the cavern of the great Medicine,
beneath the rocks. Rushing Water has carried her there to see if she can
not be brought back to life.”
“I know the spot,” cried the scout. “Let us go there at once, and see
whether this red-skin is lying or not. He’s bound so securely that he
cannot escape us, and we shall find him here when we come back. Let him
live till then, that we may know how to deal with him. If by his means
Ruth has died, a dozen deaths would not be enough for him.”
Ned was the last to assent to this. He was fearful that in some way the
chief might escape him. But he agreed to it at last, after he had seen
the savage gagged, so that it was impossible for him to call any one to
his assistance.
With hearts oppressed by sorrow and grief they hurried away toward the
dwelling-place of the Wizard. Arrived there, they found that his brute
sentinel had given notice of their approach, and that he was standing in
his accustomed place to receive them.
His astonishment was great when he saw who his visitors were, and their
errand he divined at once, before the scout could open his lips.
“The pale-faces have come for the white maiden,” he said. “It is well.
The Medicine is glad to see them. When the sun is half-way home in the
sky, she shall go with them.”
A cry of joy and gladness broke from the lips of all.
“Thank God! my child is then alive,” cried Mrs. Wilson, in a tone of
joyous thankfulness.
“The white maiden lives, but her strength has not come back to her yet.
But let the pale-faces enter so that the eyes of the red-men may not see
them. Then the Medicine will tell them all.”
They followed him into a sort of outer cavern, which was partly
illuminated by a small fire that was burning in one corner. Another
passage led further into the rocks, but thither they were forbidden to
go. A panther sat therein as though to guard the mysteries that lay
beyond, and who growled savagely at this unwonted intrusion, while
perched upon a projecting point of rock over his head was a huge owl who
looked down upon them with his great staring eyes, and who ruffled its
feathers as though it, too, did not like the appearance of the
strangers.
At a word from the Wizard, his companions were mute and motionless; and
then he turned toward a couch in one corner, which, owing to the
darkness, they had not perceived until this moment.
Stretched thereon was the form of Ruth, and no sooner did Mrs. Wilson
behold it, than she sprung forward and clasped it in her arms.
“Ruth, my Ruth!” she cried. “Speak to me.”
“Mother,” said the girl, faintly. “Oh, I am so glad that you have come,”
and she twined her arms about her neck.
Each one of the party now presented themselves, and a scene of joyous
greeting followed that our pen can not describe.
“How is this?” demanded the scout, turning upon the Wizard. “With my own
ears I heard you promise the Indian girl that little Ruth here should
die, should Rushing Water bring her to his lodge.”
“And so she has to them,” answered the Wizard. “I worked for the good of
my people and that of the pale-faces at the same time. I knew that the
red-men wanted not the chief to take a pale-face for a bride; but he was
so set upon it that he would have his own will. I prepared a potion for
her, that I knew would make her seem as though the Great Spirit had
called her home. Nekomis, the old woman that cares for the lodge of the
chief, gave it to her, and then called upon him to look upon his dead
bride. He was well-nigh stricken with grief, and came for me to try to
restore her to life. I had her brought hither, and when he had gone, not
to return until the morrow, I gave her another potion which restored her
to life. In a little while she will be as strong as ever again, and then
you must fly with her, before the chief comes.”
“Jerusalem! I guess that won’t be till somebody lets him loose,”
exclaimed the Yankee, who had been staring about him with all his eyes,
and who for a wonder had maintained silence until this.
“What does the pale-face mean?” demanded the Wizard. “The white warriors
have not harmed him?”
In a few words the scout told him of the condition in which they had
left the chief, and then added, that he desired the Wizard to set him
free when it could be done in safety to themselves.
“The white warriors have done well,” he said. “The Medicine will see to
him. The white maiden shall be as dead to him, and by and by he will wed
with Minora, the Red Rose of the tribe, and happiness will come to his
lodge again.”
“Wal, I swan you’ve got a long head on yer shoulders,” exclaimed the
Yankee. “You’ve planned matters pretty shrewd, I’ll be darned if you
ain’t. But, say, how’ll you trade that owl of your’n for some of the
notions in my pack? I should like to have him stuffed, and kerry him
home as a sort of trophy of this ’ere scrape.”
This proposition for a trade, on the part of Peleg, the Wizard declined,
and he now turned his attention to the further recovery of Ruth; and so
successful was he that in a couple of hours her strength was in a great
measure restored to her, and she declared that she was able to commence
her homeward journey at any time, when they were ready to depart. This
they were glad to do at once, and taking leave of the Wizard, with many
thanks on their part for his kind offices, they went forth from the
cavern, and set their faces once more toward the settlement.
An hour after their departure, the Wizard stood by the side of the
captive chief. He had no difficulty in finding the spot, for the scout
had described it so that he could not miss it. He looked up in the face
of the Medicine as he cut the bonds that held him, mutely asking the
question, the answer he so much feared to hear.
“The white maiden is gone, and none of the arts of the Medicine can
bring her back,” he said, simply.
“And the pale-faces, her friends—where are they?”
“Bearing her back to their home that the chief made desolate, that she
may be near them.”
The chief asked no more questions. Turning his back upon the Wizard, he
strode away in the direction of the Indian village, fully convinced that
the pale-face upon whom he had set his heart, had gone to the spirit
land.
He did not harm Nekomis as he had threatened to. On the contrary she
kept his lodge as usual, until, before a year had gone round, he brought
Minora to keep it for him. He was happy and contented with her. The
Wizard kept his secret well, and none among the savages ever knew of the
part he had played.
On through the forest our friends went, rejoicing in their escape from
the fiery furnace with hardly so much as a singe upon their garments.
The Yankee clung to his pack, which he had stuck to through thick and
thin, and which he was at last bearing out triumphantly. Ruth bore the
fatigue well, helped along as she was by the hand and strength of her
lover, and in due time the nearest settlement was reached, and they were
safe from any further dangers.
Sam Wilson did not return to his clearing, and so the cabin in the
wilderness was not reërected.
He had experienced dangers enough from living apart from the body of the
settlers, and was now content to abide with them. A piece of land was
taken up close to them, and two cabins erected thereon. Not long after
they were completed, Ned Tapley and Ruth were married and took up their
abode in one of them, while the parents of the latter dwelt in the
other.
Rushing Water neither of them saw again. Whether he was ever undeceived
they had no means of knowing. Happy themselves, they were willing that
he and Minora should be likewise.
Dick, the Death-Dealer, was ever a prized friend to them; and they were
glad to have him take up his abode with them whenever he was not abroad
upon his work in the forest. Many were the timely services he performed
for all of his settlers, and he was looked upon as the benefactor of
them all.
It may be some satisfaction to our readers to know that the Yankee made
one trade with our friends. Ruth’s wedding-dress was purchased of him,
and though he said that he was selling it so low for friendship’s sake
that he was ruining himself, he was afterward heard to chuckle and
declare that he had “made a darned handsome thing out of it,” as
doubtless he had.
Whether he ever went back to New Hampshire is unknown; but whether he
did, or remained in the West, there is one thing sure: he looked out for
Number One on all occasions, and that he and his pack stuck together
through thick and thin.
THE END.
DIME POCKET NOVELS.
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61—Mad Anthony’s Scouts. By E. Rodman.
62—The Luckless Trapper. By Wm. R. Eyster.
63—The Florida Scout. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
64—The Island Trapper. By Chas. Howard.
65—Wolf-Cap. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
66—Rattling Dick. By Harry Hazard.
67—Sharp-Eye. By Major Max Martine.
68—Iron-Hand. By Frederick Forest.
69—The Yellow Hunter. By Chas. Howard.
70—The Phantom Rider. By Maro O. Rolfe.
71—Delaware Tom. By Harry Hazard.
72—Silver Rifle. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
73—The Skeleton Scout. By Maj. L. W. Carson.
74—Little Rifle. By Capt. “Bruin” Adams.
75—The Wood Witch. By Edwin Emerson.
76—Old Ruff, the Trapper. By “Bruin” Adams.
77—The Scarlet Shoulders. By Harry Hazard.
78—The Border Rifleman. By L. W. Carson.
79—Outlaw Jack. By Harry Hazard.
80—Tiger-Tail, the Seminole. By R. Ringwood.
81—Death-Dealer. By Arthur L. Meserve.
82—Kenton, the Ranger. By Chas. Howard.
83—The Specter Horseman. By Frank Dewey.
84—The Three Trappers. By Seelin Robbins.
85—Kaleolah. By T. Benton Shields, U. S. N.
86—The Hunter Hercules. By Harry St. George.
87—Phil Hunter. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
88—The Indian Scout. By Harry Hazard.
89—The Girl Avenger. By Chas. Howard.
90—The Red Hermitess. By Paul Bibbs.
91—Star-Face, the Slayer.
92—The Antelope Boy. By Geo. L. Aiken.
93—The Phantom Hunter. By E. Emerson.
94—Tom Pintle, the Pilot. By M. Klapp.
95—The Red Wizard. By Ned Hunter.
96—The Rival Trappers. By L. W. Carson.
97—The Squaw Spy. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
98—Dusky Dick. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
99—Colonel Crockett. By Chas. E. Lasalle.
100—Old Bear Paw. By Major Max Martine.
101—Redlaw. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
102—Wild Rube. By W. J. Hamilton.
103—The Indian Hunters. By J. L. Bowen.
104—Scarred Eagle. By Andrew Dearborn.
105—Nick Doyle. By P. Hamilton Myers.
106—The Indian Spy. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
107—Job Bean. By Ingoldsby North.
108—The Wood King. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
109—The Scalped Hunter. By Harry Hazard.
110—Nick, the Scout. By W. J. Hamilton.
111—The Texas Tiger. By Edward Willett.
112—The Crossed Knives. By Hamilton.
113—Tiger-Heart, the Tracker. By Howard.
114—The Masked Avenger. By Ingraham.
115—The Pearl Pirates. By Starbuck.
116—Black Panther. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
117—Abdiel, the Avenger. By Ed. Willett.
118—Cato, the Creeper. By Fred. Dewey.
119—Two-Handed Mat. By Jos. E. Badger.
120—Mad Trail Hunter. By Harry Hazard.
121—Black Nick. By Frederick Whittaker.
122—Kit Bird. By W. J. Hamilton.
123—The Specter Riders. By Geo. Gleason.
124—Giant Pete. By W. J. Hamilton.
125—The Girl Captain. By Jos. E. Badger.
126—Yankee Eph. By J. R. Worcester.
127—Silverspur. By Edward Willett.
128—Squatter Dick. By Jos. E. Badger.
129—The Child Spy. By George Gleason.
130—Mink Coat. By Jos. E. Badger.
131—Red Plume. By J. Stanley Henderson.
132—Clyde, the Trailer. By Maro O. Rolfe.
133—The Lost Cache. By J. Stanley Henderson.
134—The Cannibal Chief. By Paul J. Prescott.
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137—Kidnapped. By J. Stanley Henderson.
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139—The Scioto Scouts. By Ed. Willett.
140—The Border Renegade. By Badger.
141—The Mute Chief. By C. D. Clark.
142—Boone, the Hunter. By Whittaker.
143—Mountain Kate. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
144—The Red Scalper. By W. J. Hamilton.
145—The Lone Chief. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
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BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.
Transcriber’s Notes
—Silently corrected a few typos.
—Retained publication information from the printed edition: this eBook
is public-domain in the country of publication.
—In the text versions only, text in italics is delimited by
_underscores_.
—Created a Table of Contents based on the chapter headings.