MOOROOINE.
About an hour previous to the events last described, a number of
rangers were grouped around a fire, near the termination of a deep
forest gorge. A small stream ran through the gorge, finding an outlet
at the shores of the lake, about two miles away. At their backs rose an
almost perpendicular cliff a hundred feet in hight, covered with dense
foliage. The banks of the gorge, opposite, were comparatively low, and
supported huge trees, whose branches, shooting far out, rendered the
place gloomy even at midday.
A better hiding-place, or bivouac, for a _posse_ of rangers, could not
well have been chosen. An enemy might pass within thirty yards of the
place, and be none the wiser, so far as sight or hearing is concerned.
On the contrary, those within, looking outward from comparative
darkness, could quickly discover the presence of interlopers, and
withstand attack or make a good retreat, as policy might require.
The rangers had not been at this bivouac long. In groups of two,
they had been watching the forest in different directions. They had
returned, according to previous arrangement, and were now partaking
heartily of rich venison-stew broiled on the bed of coals in their
midst. They had assured themselves that no Indians were lurking near,
before kindling the fire; yet the smoke from the hard, dry wood, became
invisible ere it reached the top of the interlaced branches above them.
Little need be said in description of these men. They were the main
body of scouts mentioned in the preceding chapter, and Scarred Eagle
was their acknowledged leader. They were all hardy-looking fellows,
well-armed, and of various ages, of uncouth appearance, rough in
speech, but with nerves of steel; ready to face danger at any moment,
and not loth to indulge in the pastime of a wrestling-match, or
knock-down among themselves, in the absence of more exciting events.
“Seems ter me Brom, as yer call ’im, orter showed hisself afore now
ef ’e _ain’t_ got took,” remarked one of them, a tall, coarse-looking
fellow in homespun.
“I dun know, Hulet,” replied one of his companions, clearing his
throat. “It’s a dangerous job he ondertook--gittin’ to the fort when
it’s compissed by so many Injuns. But ’e ain’t had time. A day for
twenty miles’ travel, an’ all on’t to be _stole_ over, ain’t too long,
I reckon.”
“I know it’s dangerous. But he’s be’n gone more’n a day. He started
three hours afore this time yisterday.”
“An’ s’posin’ ’e did?” broke in another, of Celtic origin. “Is dthat
a sign he’s tuk? How dthe deuce are you or me to know dthe crooks an’
turns he’s had to make? Uv wan thing I’m certain, Brum w’u’dn’t cair
for y’ur advice, nor woon’t thank yees for y’ur unaisiness. So ye
needn’t be ov dthe first to wurry.”
Hulet deigned no answer to the Irishman, but resumed conversation with
the ranger first addressed.
“Then, you’re out on the distance tew,” he said. “It’s sca’ce ten miles
to the fort.”
“It ain’t, eh?” answered the one called Revel, who stopped with a piece
of venison half-way to his mouth, and eyed the questioner. “Sca’ce ten
mile! Who don’t know that?”
“You said, twenty.”
One or two of the group indulged in sneering chuckles.
“I say so yit,” returned Revel. “Brom’s got to pass over the ground
_twice_ afore he gits back here, ain’t ’e?”
“Yees needn’t ax _dthat_, Will,” said the Irishman. “Our _laider_ has
swall’ed too much venison entoirely, an’ it’s druv all dthe sinse he
had in his head down to his belly. Dthe thruth, as sure’s me father wur
a docthur!”
The laugh which went round at Hulet’s expense, was of course not
over-relished by the latter.
“That ar’ ye call wit--Irish wit, I s’pose,” returned Hulet unable to
conceal anger. “But I don’ know ’bout the ‘doctor.’ Who ever heerd of a
durned Irishman bein’ a doctor.”
“Who is it?” queried the Irishman, fiercely. “I’ll take a joke but not
an insoolt to me name, ye domd gossoon. Me father _was_ a docthur,
though, an’ I, Tim Devine, am able to docthur y’ur face, for the
slandhur of y’ur tongue!” He aimed a blow at Hulet, as he spoke, which
the latter parried.
“Hold on--this ’ere ain’t a-goin’ to do, now,” said Revel, rushing
between them. “This ain’t the time for a row. Put it off. We’ve got
to start pretty soon for the lake-shore. Thar may be Injuns skulking
around, an’ we ain’t goin’ ter be sech headlong fools as to direct ’em
here.”
Tim stood back. In the absence of Scarred Eagle, Revel was a sort of
leader, and all liked him. But Tim shot fierce glances at Hulet, who
smiled tauntingly.
“Niver mind, aneconde,” said Tim. “We’ll hove dthis out some time,
an’ though y’ur size is something in y’ur favor, I’ll make ye respict
me name if not swalle y’ur words. See if I don’t now, ye ill-mannered
baist!”
“Hold up, men,” interrupted Revel. “Don’t run it into a quarrel. That’s
foolish.”
“I don’t want ’er quarrel, nor have no diffikilty,” said Hulet. “But he
begun it. I own I made a mistake ’bout the distance we was talkin’ of,
’cos I didn’t at fust think.”
“Co-cor-course; Hulet knew better ef he’d had time ter th-th-think.
He don’t allus, ye know, bo-bo-boyes. T’other day he mis-mis-mistook
an Injun fur a black b-b-bear, jest ’cos he didn’t hev time ter
th-th-think!”
The stuttering speaker was a tall, spare man, with a whimsical face,
eyes keen as a hawk’s and almost as small. His sally was greeted by a
round of subdued laughter, from all except Hulet, whose face showed
more signs of anger than had been evinced during his renconter with the
Irishman.
Hulet was not personally well liked by his companions. He had been
with them but a few days. He pretended to hail from one of the border
settlements, and claimed to be a scout of much experience. One or two
of the rangers held him in positive distrust. He seemed used to the
forest; yet at times he made strange blunders for a scout. The one
referred to by the stutterer actually happened, two days previously,
while they were hovering in the rear of a Huron party.
“Wal, _laugh_, ef it suits ye!” said Revel, fiercely. “When it comes my
turn, I’ll let some on ye know!”
“What’s that ye say?” spoke Revel, turning sharply upon him. He thought
he detected something of the nature of a threat in the other’s tone.
“You yerself wouldn’t want a mistake flung inter y’ur face every time
any thing comes up!” said Hulet. “But let it pass. A chap that stutters
is allus gittin’ off sunthin’ to make a laugh,” and he tried to look
good-naturedly toward the stutterer, Joe Hill.
“Ex-ex-exactly!” rejoined the latter worthy. “My tongue
kine-kine-kinder hitches when I talk, an’ that’s wha-wha-whar I git
time ter th-th-think whuther an objict’s a b’ar or an In-In-Injun.”
None seemed disposed to interrupt Joe. They enjoyed the badinage too
well. The Irishman especially fatted at the idea of bringing Hulet into
contempt, and encouraged Joe to keep it up. But Hulet disarmed the
latter by joining slightly in the laugh, and then addressing Will Revel:
“I don’t understand why Brown should resk himself to visit the fort,
now,” he said. “The major won’t care ter make a sally afore the
reinforcements come.”
“Old Rhodan knows what he sent ’em for,” answered Revel. “That’s all I
kin tell ye.”
“Ye mean him that’s called Scarred Eagle. He an’ Brown seem to think
oncommon of each other. Relashuns, ain’t they?”
“Not by blood; though father and son couldn’t think more of each other
than they. Rhodan saved ’im, when he war a striplin’, from the Hurons.
They’ve stuck to one another ever sence, as it’s nat’ral they should.”
“In course. Strikes me that Scarred Eagle himself orter be among us,
ef he’s comin’ to-night. Mebbe he won’t. It’s goin’ to be dark’s a
pocket.”
The Irishman here nudged Joe Hill.
“Yis; dar-dark-darker’n the outside of a black b-b-_ba’r_,” assented
Joe, giving his face a comical twist.
“It’s comin’ on fast, too,” said Revel. “We must betake ourselves to
the lake-shore and watch for Scarred Eagle. Ef he don’t come by dark we
kin come back an’ wait.”
“Must be Ben Mace’ll come,” said another. “He hadn’t so fur to go.”
“That’s why I feel a trifle oneasy ’bout _him_, Lew,” answered Revel.
“I’ll own it. He’s as good a scout as is in the kentry, only he’s
so mad at sight of an Injun. He runs too much resk for the sake of
revenge.”
“Why not stay whar we be?” said Hulet. “I don’t b’l’eve Scarred
Eagle ’ll git back frum the neck to-night. Thar’s no Injuns in the
neighborhood, an’ ef I kin read right it’ll be so dark in an hour that
none on us could find our way back.”
“How mooch for y’ur advoice, Misthur _Hugelet_?” said Tim, quickly.
“You’re afeard of runnin’ y’ur head ag’in’ a tree or _bear_, whuch?
Dthe id’a of a scout, a syees _purtind_ to be, not bein’ able to git
through the woods for darkness! Pish!”
“You’ll run y’ur head ag’in’ sunthin’ bimeby, Mister Brogue,” said
Hulet, “that’ll make ye--”
“Oh, git out!” interrupted Revel, again. “Let this foolin’ come to an
end. Some o’ them that’s away may come or not, but we’ll watch for ’em
anyhow. I think Rhodan ’ll be back. The darkness won’t stop him.”
“He’d find his way through te-teto-te-tle--_durn it_--tetotal darkness
blindfolded,” added Joe, spitefully.
“Good, Joe,” said Revel, with a laugh. “Now, boys--ah, what’s that?”
He had seen a dusky figure pass by the outlet of the gorge. Before he
spoke, however, Joe Hill had sprung off with the agility of a cat, and
disappeared in the bushes hard by. The rest grasped their rifles and
followed. But they had hardly reached the outlet of the ravine when Joe
reappeared from a side-path, leading an Indian girl, who evidently had
not tried hard to get away.
“Thar!” he ejaculated, “I’ve g-got ’er, though what she wa-wan--_blast
it!_--_wants_ hyur’s more’n I kin tell. Cu-curi’s part on’t is, she
did-didn’t tr-r-r-try ter git away.”
“Hurry out an’ look around, some of you,” said Will Revel, quickly.
“Mebbe thar’s others near.”
“None but me,” said the captive, in fair English.
All, except Hulet, gazed upon her curiously. The girl was an Indian
beauty, apparently about eighteen years of age. She was above the
medium hight, and the color of her skin showed that white blood ran in
her veins. She wore beautiful moccasins upon her feet, and was dressed
tastefully. Her hair was glossy, black and fine, falling around her
shoulders in masses, though kept back from her forehead by a glittering
silver band. At her back was a bow and quiver of arrows; while a light
hatchet and a knife were pendent from either side of her waist. She
confronted the rangers without showing a sign of fear, though evidently
embarrassed.
“Why’ve ye come here, Injun girl?” asked Revel. “If it’s to do us harm,
you’re very foolish.”
“No come for that,” she said, earnestly.
“How’d ye know we war here?”
“Didn’t know. Looked sharp--den find you. Come for do good. Injuns that
way,” pointing toward the lake. “You git scalps took if not careful.”
“Hear _dthat_ now!” muttered the Irishman.
“Why’d ye come to warn us?” asked Revel. “Ain’t ye afraid we’ll harm
ye?”
“Not much,” answered the Indian girl, dropping her eyes. “If did, would
not come. Moorooine loves the white race. Some bad, some good--so
everywhere. But Moorooine loves them and warns them. Some white
herself, too.”
Will Revel started in surprise as he heard the girl’s name. Two more of
the group also showed surprise and looked with new interest upon her.
“Who sent you here?” asked Revel.
“No one,” replied the Indian girl. “I followed some warriors softly
that went on trail. They found where two men went off in canoe. Some
watch for them to come back; others search forest.”
“Then Scarred Eagle ’ll be in danger,” said Revel, turning to his
comrades. “Thar’s no time to lose. I’ve reason to b’l’eve this girl’s
true to us. How many ar’ along the lake-shore?” he added, turning to
Moorooine again.
“Me talk more with you, alone,” she said, avoiding the bevy of eyes
fixed upon her. Revel followed her a short distance aside.
“There is _so_ much warriors twice,” she said, in answer to his last
question, holding up both hands with the fingers outspread. “They
chased white man, but white man got away.”
“Did you see the white man?”
“Yes. Warriors call ’im Evil Eye.”
“Ah--Ben Mace!” exclaimed Revel. “Did he run this way?”
“Goin’ to; but had to hide. Den warriors missed ’im an’ leave behind.
Look out for white friends on lake. Be careful, an’ look out for
yourselves, too. Git took if don’t. Moorooine knows the forest an’ will
help you. Mus’ go now. Bimeby you come too.”
“One minit,” said Will Revel. “You come here for more’n you say,
Moorooine. I’ve heerd y’ur name afore. Thar’s a young hunter who
ginrully goes with the Scarred Eagle. Have ye seen him called the White
Fox, up to’ards the fort?” This was the name by which Brom Vail was
known among the Indians.
The Indian maiden glanced curiously into the ranger’s face, and the
rich blood mounted to her cheeks and brow.
“Yes; seen ’im,” she answered, dropping her eyes. “He not here, go in
canoe with friend, s’pose. Me watch for his coming an’ you watch too.
Be careful. Mebbe all of us cheat warriors an’ save him an’ friend.”
“We’ll do our best, sartin,” said Will. “But Moorooine is at fault.
White Fox started for the fort yisterday, an’ we’re lookin’ for ’im
back.”
The girl’s manner changed at once. A look of deep apprehension appeared
in her face.
“White Fox got to fort in night an’ started back early in morning,”
she said. “Me see ’im softly (secretly) outside the fort. Much ’fraid
Injuns got ’im! Too bad, very!”
Her looks betrayed intense anxiety. And Revel’s was equally great.
He saw all at a glance. As intimated, he had heard of the Miami girl,
Moorooine, before. The strongest attachment had sprung up between
her and Brom Vail. They had met a few months before, when Brom, with
his foster-father and a man of the name of Thorpe, were seeking for
information affecting the peace of the latter’s mind. Moorooine had
afforded the party successful aid, and once saved their lives at the
risk of her own.
“Mus’ go!” she said, suddenly. “Mus’ save White Fox if can, an’ rest
too.”
“We’ll be on hand, brave girl,” said Will. “If we kin git with Scarred
Eagle an’ Goodbrand we’ll find whar Brom is, or die for’t. D’ye s’pose
ye could find the Evil Eye?”
“Me try to, an’ den git him help. Ha!” she exclaimed, as her keen
glance shot through the bushes toward the rest of the company. “Who
_that_ man?”
Will followed her glance, which rested upon the person of Hulet. For
the first time he noticed the latter had kept as much as possible in
the background when the Indian girl came. Hulet had advanced a little
nearer to the rest, who had apparently noticed his conduct.
“That?” said Revel. “He’s a scout like the rest of us. Does Moorooine
know ’im?”
“_Most_ do,” she answered, in a whisper, keeping her eyes toward him.
“You know ’im long?”
“Only a few days. Why do you ask?”
“Sure now,” she whispered. “Have seen ’im ’round fort with Injuns.
Watch ’im sharp. He’s no _good_ white man. He carries two tongues an’
will betray you an’ me too if can.”
“What did they call ’im?” inquired Revel, excitedly.
“Sly Hate. Take care _him_. Mus’ go. You know cry of night-hawk? One,
tell you ‘look out;’ two will mean, ‘come.’” The girl turned and
disappeared through the bushes toward the lake.
Will stood a few moments in deep surprise. “Sly Hate,” he muttered.
“The one that was cashiered for cowardice a year ago at Montreal, and
then j’ined the Injuns. An’ he’s here ter lead us into a trap. By the
great livin’, he shain’t play the game no further!”
He stalked through the bushes and approached the group of rangers. He
kept his head down so that Hulet might not suspect his designs till
the last moment. But when he came near the men, he raised his eyes and
saw that Hulet was not present. The rest were watching his own strange
approach curiously.
“Phat’s come across yees?” exclaimed the Irishman.
“Did thet Injun gal--”
“Whar’s Hulet?” interrupted Revel, sternly. All glanced around, and
several spoke at once.
“Why ’e was here not a minit ago, ’cos--”
Further speech was interrupted. A rifle cracked not far away, and one
of the group, grasping his breast, fell to the ground! The report was
succeeded by a defiant shout from Hulet, who had disappeared in the
direction of the lake.
“It’s all over with me, boys,” gasped the stricken man. “Go on--all of
you, an’ take the traitor, and avenge my death.”