BEAUTY IN BONDS.
The Indian village was about six miles distant, and stood on a high
bluff overlooking the Detroit river. A jut from the rocky bluff
extended some fifty feet into the stream at this point. At the angle
thus formed was a gloomy subterranean passage, through which the water
flowed with a sullen roar. Far within, the channel made an abrupt turn,
gliding past a recess in the rocks large enough to contain a dozen men.
Thence was a devious, rough passage communicating with the shore.
This was Goodbrand’s destination with the canoe and men. Once within,
they could watch the village, and be able to penetrate to its very
center at short notice.
The Indians did not know of this subterranean chamber, and of the
subterranean passage they held a tradition that it was the abode of an
evil spirit, and never entered it. This fact was well known to several
rangers who had explored the passage, and now its existence seemed most
favorable to their undertaking.
Scarred Eagle and Mace pressed forward as fast as possible. They hoped
to reach the village and by some stratagem release Brom Vail before
daylight. The chance seemed favorable. Many of the warriors were absent
at the siege of the fort, and of those not so employed, they had reason
to believe a good portion were at that moment hovering about the gorge.
The two men were more than two-thirds of the distance to the Indian
village, when suddenly Scarred Eagle, who was in advance, put back his
hand and came to a dead halt.
“What is it?” whispered Ben Mace.
The other did not answer at once. With his body bent forward he was
listening intently; and now, through the gloomy, solemn aisles, Mace
detects sounds telling that lurkers are ahead.
“Kin it be thet some o’ the reds have come in another direction from
the gorge? If so--”
“No, Mace, ’tain’t it. I don’t b’lieve I’m deceived in thinkin’ these
ahead is them that ar’ takin’ the dead an’ wounded to the village. They
hev ter move slow, an’ that’s why we’ve overtook ’em.”
“What’s ter be done? Ef we wait ter foller ’em--”
He was interrupted by Rhodan’s grasping his arm, and for a moment
or two they almost held their breaths. Both entertained the same
suspicions now, and were waiting to see if these would be verified.
They did not remain long in doubt. The fact that the party ahead had
begun to move on again, making considerable noise, did not deceive
the scouts. They were almost sure some of the party had turned back,
evidently suspicious of being followed.
It was easy for the rangers to evade these. But they wished to do more.
The evident suspicion in the mind of the Indians, that a white foe had
been secretly dogging their steps, must be dispelled; otherwise an
attempt to enter the village unperceived, would be worse than useless.
“They’ve heerd sunthin’ thet makes ’em suspicious,” said Scarred Eagle.
“They must go on, satisfied ’twas a panther on thar tracks scentin’
the blood of the wounded warriors. Come in here, where the darkness is
thicker.”
They moved to the left, keeping a yard or two apart, and taking steps
which might indeed be mistaken for those of the animal named. Under a
dense foliage they halted, and then a purring sound broke out through
the stillness. As the slight echoes ceased, an almost imperceptible
stir was heard not far ahead; but this as suddenly ceased, and all
became silent again. It was evident the fellow had not entirely taken
the bait.
Scarred Eagle and Mace now dropped upon all-fours and stole forward,
imitating the stealthy advance of a panther.
Suddenly the silence was again broken by a cry that caused startling
echoes around. These had scarcely died away when the sound of feet was
heard retreating rapidly toward the Indian camp. The ruse had succeeded.
“What now, Rhodan?” said Mace, as they rose.
“Foller ’em up,” was the brief reply.
“We mout flank past ’em.”
“’Twould be no use. We’d lose as much as we’d gain.”
“’Tain’t an hour to daylight now.”
“I know; but ’twon’t do to resk diskivery yit!” said Scarred Eagle,
with a tremor in his voice. “We must fust git into camp, an’ try to
find where Brom, ef he’s alive, is confined. Then--’ll come the resk.”
“Goodbrand an’ the rest must be at the jut afore this.”
“They won’t move ’ithout a good reason till they hear something of us.
Not till the last minnit must we signal an attack--not till t’other
plan fails.”
The two were stealing forward again, keeping as near to the retreating
Indians as possible without danger of discovery.
“Thar’ll be a powwow when these ’uns git in with thar burdens,” said
Mace. “It’ll rouse the hull nest.”
“It’ll be the more in our favor,” said the other. “We must keep a sharp
watch for the Indian girl.”
In a few minutes they noticed that it began to be lighter ahead, and
they were very near the open bluff on which stood the village. Pushing
forward, they soon saw the Indians before them, as the latter emerged
upon the bluff. As these disappeared, the trailers pressed on; the more
hastily, as a sound began to break on their ears, denoting some unusual
commotion in the village.
A moment or two later, and they were peering into the camp. The inmates
were not only astir, but seemed greatly excited. It was not all caused
by the approach of those bearing the dead and wounded, for even as the
scouts looked, these last were discovered and greeted with howls of
sorrow.
“What kin it mean, Scarred Eagle?”
“Let’s git nearer and see. Thar’s a good chance now.”
They began to glide forward, on hand and knee, directing their course
so as to gain the rear of a row of rude huts. Meantime, the excitement
among the warriors seemed to increase, and yells, fierce and angry,
were mingled with the cries of grief. The two men were about twenty
yards from the edge of the woods, when they raised partly up beside
a stump, and obtained a better view of the excited throng. To their
surprise, they saw that not less than fifty warriors were present,
nearly a score of whom were clustered upon the bank of the river, just
above the angle formed by the jut.
“Thar!” exclaimed Mace. “The story’s told. Thar’s more o’ the
hellions here than we thought, an’ the wust on’t is they’ve suspicted
Goodbrand’s party, an’ ar’ watchin’ the rocks!”
“I see!” said Scarred Eagle, uneasily. “It’s an unfortunit thing for
all. But, I’ll try ter find the boy if my life pays for the attempt.
Seems ter me the Injun gal--ha, look there! It’s _her_, as I live!”
A number of the Indians were hurrying a captive, who had been in their
midst, toward one of the huts. The glow of starlight over the open
bluff enabled the lurking men to identify the captive as Moorooine.
They knew her by occasionally hearing her name pronounced, coupled with
angry maledictions. She was bound hand and foot, and thrust into one of
the huts, as though she had been a brute.
“The brave gal’s been catched in tryin’ to do sunthin’ for Brom,” said
Rhodan. “_He’s_ in one o’ the huts above, where they’ve put her in,
likely. I judge so, ’cos two o’ the imps seem ter be watchin’ it close.
No doubt the boy’s well tied; but since his release hez been ondertook,
they mean ter make sure on ’im. Thar’s one apiece for us to work for,
now, Ben Mace, an’ no hope thet any o’ the rest ’ll git a chance ter
help us. Be ye ready?”
“Lead on!”
They again crept forward, and soon found themselves in the rear of
the line of huts. They could hear the tread of feet, and the jabber
of excited voices, all making a confusion most favorable to their
purpose. Not ten feet lay between them and the hut into which had been
thrust the Indian girl, when an Indian was dimly seen, coming from the
opposite space toward them.
They lay as close to the ground as possible. The savage came on, and
the concealed men saw that another followed. Both halted so near, that
they might not only have touched the lurking whites, but have _seen_
them by a chance look-down. One lightning glance on the part of the
scouts, revealed the odious face of the wretch, Hulet!
“Now, speak,” said the Indian to the renegade. “What has Sly Hate to
say that he has not said?”
“This, Heavy Sleep,” replied the other, speaking so as to be heard
above the confusion around. “The waters are deep where they pass under
the rocks. The roar makes your people afraid.”
“Ugh!” muttered Heavy Sleep, shaking his head. “A bad Manitou keeps
council there. What mean?”
“I know a secret about the place, which I learnt from our white enemies
by stealth. I will tell you what it is, and then--ha, what, ho!”
By accident the wretch cast his eye down, and noted a dark crouching
figure. The next moment it sprung up like lightning, and a knife was
buried to the hilt in Hulet’s breast! Heavy Sleep, with a ringing yell,
sprung upon Mace, who met him with the same bloody weapon which had
sent the renegade to death. The Indian avoided the thrust, however;
but before he could seize his adversary, the hatchet of Scarred Eagle
crashed through his brain!
“Come!” cried Mace, hoarsely, and he had just turned to flee, as a
bevy of Indians burst through between the huts, who, uttering their
alarm-cries, sprung after him. In an instant pursued and pursuers were
off like the wind.
Scarred Eagle had hesitated a moment too long. Notwithstanding the
danger, he could not bring himself to flee. A sudden wild hope, that
the confusion might enable him to yet rescue his boy, determined him.
And just before the aroused warriors darted from the front in pursuit
of Mace, he threw himself flat to the ground close beside the hut.
The excitement and alarm that now prevailed may be imagined. Half a
dozen times, in as many seconds, Scarred Eagle was upon the point of
springing up, as he imagined he was discovered. Some of the reds, not
in pursuit of Mace, almost trod upon him, as they huddled around the
bodies of Heavy Sleep and Hulet. In a few moments the victims were
carried around to the front, and, watching his opportunity Scarred
Eagle nestled more closely to the rear side of the hut. Then, hastily
making an aperture, he peered in, and saw the captive Indian girl
tightly bound and alone. Something more than a desire to communicate
with her caused him to squeeze under the rude tent-cloth and enter.
There was a pile of skins in the nearest corner, under which he might
secrete himself, and he lost no time in doing so.
The rush of feet from the river convinced him how narrow had been
his escape thus far. The spot where the victims had fallen was again
crowded, amid a perfect tornado of howls and imprecations. Seeing
there were no warriors about the door, he spoke to the Indian girl,
who seemed unaware of his presence. His voice reached her, and with a
painful effort she raised her head and recognized him.
“White Fox got away, but drown in river,” she said, faintly. “Me no
care for to live now! Hide down quick--some comin’.”
Scarred Eagle crouched under the skins, keeping his weapons ready. His
quick mind had its own theory in regard to Brom’s death. Some of the
terribly-enraged warriors, evidently well aware of some part taken by
the girl in regard to Brom, came forward, their eyes glaring like a
hyena’s. But at this moment three ringing rifle-reports came from the
forest causing them to rush out tumultuously.