THE WAGON TUSSLE AND THE TRAIL HUNTERS.
A road had been cut from the settlement of the Markley family to a
point, several miles distant, where it intersected a regularly beaten
wagon trail, leading to the nearest trading-post. After leaving the
cabin, it led through the depths of the wood for some two miles, beyond
which point the way was more open.
The parties who were unacquainted with the details of the massacre now
turned to the scout, and, in answer to their questions, David related
the scene as it had transpired. He spoke more especially of Emily, and
the compact entered into between himself and Charles. Neither of the
parents spoke, for the danger to which their son and the brave scout
were about to subject themselves, seemed stupendous in their eyes, but
they shuddered when Alfred chimed in:
“Count me in for that expedition, Charley; I’m with you there.”
“Good fer yer pluck, boy,” rejoined the scout, well pleased. “But
there’s some things ye must remember afore ye set out. Ye’ll have
hundreds of miles to tramp, right in the midst of Injins, and danger
of every description to look out for. I’m used to it, an’ don’t mind
bruisin’; you are young, and tender-like.”
“What of that?” broke in the youth, impatiently. “I can learn, and now
is as good a time as I shall ever have.”
“There _is_ times,” returned the scout, “where _one_ man can do what
_three_ can’t. But it’s oftener three can do more than two; so, if yer
in earnest, we’ll call it settled, for I like yer grit right well.”
“Then settled it is,” the young man frankly exclaimed, as he grasped
the extended hand of the scout.
As the scout relinquished the hand of the youth, he peered for a moment
very earnestly into the gloom before them. Quickly exclaiming:
“Down all of ye!” he raised his rifle and fired.
Following the report of David’s rifle, a wild yell of rage broke from
the forest, and half-a-dozen musket-shots followed. No one was injured,
as the savages had fired wildly. With a second yell they dashed for
the vehicle. As it required the entire skill of Alfred to manage the
plunging steeds, he was almost entirely unaware of the state of things
behind him.
The scout sprung up as the scattering shots ceased, but he had no time
to reload his rifle. Casting it in the bottom of the wagon, he drew a
pistol in each hand, and, with a word to the others, turned to meet the
foe. Three Indians sprung toward the vehicle upon one side, two of whom
succeeded in grasping the sides, while the third, falling beneath the
heavy wheels, never knew the result of the conflict. The foremost of
the twain received the contents of a pistol full in his face, and fell
back, but the second weapon missed fire, and the yelling Indian sprung
into the midst of the little party, whirling his hatchet aloft.
Another moment would have seen the last of David, but for his ready
tact and skill. Dropping quickly, and springing to one side, he
confused the savage, who, with suspended tomahawk, awaited the moment
when he might deliver his blow with a sure aim. Without pausing to
gratify his foe, the scout gave him a fearful kick, full in the
provision basket, which sent him floundering and howling out of the
box. As his own coast was now clear, David turned to assist his friends.
They had been equally fortunate.
“Rather a bold undertakin’,” he exclaimed. “I wonder they tried to
board a craft under full sail; they must have know’d they’d fall;
though they did show good grit.”
“But why,” queried Mr. Markley, “did they not commence their attack
upon the horses. Had they but killed them, we should have been at their
mercy.”
“All policy, sir, as the lawyers say. Ye see they wanted hosses worse
nor skalps, and so we saved our hair.”
“I have no doubt,” returned the elder Markley. “But I tell you, David,
it seems hard for me to shoot a human being, even in self-defense. To
think that I have lived for fifty years, and to-night, for the first
time, have been necessitated to take human life.”
“Jest so,” returned David. “But you mustn’t git squeamish over it. I
well remember the first time I had to kill a human, an’ how I felt, but
that’s no use. When it’s got to be done, why let fly, that’s all!”
At length they reached a more open portion of the wood, and here David
proposed to part company. The wagon was stopped, hasty but affectionate
farewells spoken, strong hands pressed in a last fond grasp. Then the
young men leaped from the vehicle and quickly left the road, while the
father took the reins, and the wagon then rattled swiftly on its way to
security. Davy stood watching it until lost to view.
“Now, boys,” he said, in a cautious voice, “we’re in for it in earnest.
There’s no back down now. The first thing we’ve got to do is to git
behind the Injins. Then there’ll be but little danger, unless we have
to go clear back to Wild Bill’s settlement. Now, before we start,
there’s one or two things ye want to always observe. Never fire a gun
when ye can help it, unless yer in a safe place or in a mighty tight
one. Then be careful of the trail. Make as little as possible, and walk
in Injin file when ye can. The first thing we’ve got to do, is to git
back, as I said, and the red-skins are so sharp on trail we must throw
’em off a little. Of course they think we all went off in that wagon,
but they’ll find their mistake. So long as our tracks points toward the
risin’ sun, they’ll not mind ’em much. By goin’ right ahead a quarter
of a mile, we’ll strike the creek. There we’ll take to the water and
come back till we see fit to leave it.”
The scout shouldered his rifle and pushed forward, his companions
following his example. The way was clear, and they were aware if
anything was accomplished under cover of the night, it must be speedily
done. The stream was quite shallow, and assuring themselves that the
foe was not upon them, the party stepped quickly in. Some time passed
in complete silence; the only sound to be heard was the light ripple of
the waters, as the men pressed cautiously forward. Finally the scout
paused, and bent his head in a listening attitude.
“It’s as I thought, boys,” he said. “We are gettin’ too near the
mahogany villains.”
The young men listened. They could hear the distinct tumult of
warriors, and it was evident the stream would take them too near the
sanguinary foe. The scout listened again.
“You had better stay here,” he said, “until I go ahead and investigate
a bit.”
So saying, he disappeared in the bushes.
A long time it seemed to them Dave was absent, and many fears of
disaster began to beset them. What if he had fallen into the hands
of savages? Without his directing mind they were no better than a
ship without a rudder, in the midst of breakers. To be sure, they
were expert woodsmen, unerring shots, healthy and vigorous. Yet,
never before this night had they seen an Indian upon the war-path, or
listened to their blood-curdling whoops. Nearly an hour had passed, and
the anxiety of Alfred had reached a decisive pitch.
“I tell you, Charley,” he said, energetically, “I’m going to see if I
can find Dave. Maybe he’s in hot-water, and I can help him. You had
better remain here.”
But Charles would not remain and let his brother go alone; so, together
they set forth upon their doubtful mission. They had proceeded some
fifty yards when a slight rustling ahead startled them. Both prepared
for the worst, but suspense changed to joy when a tall figure, which
could not be mistaken, stepped into view. In a moment the scout was
with them. A satisfied expression lighted up his features, as he said:
“It’s what I suspected, boys; the reds are tired out, and buildin’
fires all ’round. Most likely they’ll not move again till mornin’, and
afore that time we’ll have ’em outwitted as easy as robbin’ a roost.
We’ll jest pass around toward the south, and git beyond ’em; then, if
we can strike the trail of them chaps what carried Miss Emily off, like
enough we’ll overhal ’em afore daylight.”
Suddenly the leader stopped, and bent his ear to listen.
“To cover, boys, quick!” he whispered, “they’re comin’ this way.”
Without waiting a moment, he darted from view, and crept noiselessly
away. The brothers followed his example, and the Indians, who a moment
later had passed over the ground, had no suspicion that a white man was
within miles of them. From their coverts the borderers counted sixteen,
who passed in their usual file, each treading in the footsteps of his
leader.
In a minute they had passed, and our party of adventurers again stood
together. There were no sounds to indicate the presence of other foes,
so they again set forward.
Before the trail-hunters suspected it, they saw, upon glancing toward
the eastern horizon, that the stars were paling, and the light-blue
tinge, which foreshadows the dawn, already pervaded the sky. As they
were now comparatively safe, the three pushed forward with all speed.
In half-an-hour the early light of dawn was upon them, and the scout
commenced looking about for the trail of the party they sought. To
render the search more effectual the friends separated, pushing forward
within signaling distance of each other.
The dawn was becoming every moment more full, when the brothers heard
the signal from Davy. Not doubting that he had discovered the foe,
they nerved themselves for conflict. They were surprised to find the
scout standing erect, his eyes fixed upon the ground before him. Coming
nearer they saw the smouldering remains of a fire, from which small
jets of smoke still ascended. It had been a large fire, as much of the
wood, partially burned, still remained.
“Well, boys, our game’s gone!” the scout remarked, as the others came
up. “Here’s where the rascals stopped and took lunch, but forgot the
sleepin’ part of it. Bloody murder! why couldn’t we have cum up while
they war’ eatin’? Maybe we wouldn’t have gi’n ’em a warm dish.”
“Are you sure this is the work of the party we seek?” asked Charles,
willing to grasp any hope.
“Of course I’m sure,” he returned, half displeased at the question.
“An’ if ye were more skilled in yer business ye’d know it without
askin’ questions.”
“One thing ye must l’arn, boys,” the scout remarked, as he quietly rose
to his feet. “That is, allus tew be cool. Take things as they come,
and when ye hev a chance tew eat, do it, by all means. I l’arnt that
long ago, and ye’ll soon find it the best way. You wouldn’t mind goin’
without anythin’ to eat for a day or two, now, but mind you, ye’d feel
it afore this tramp is over with.”
Then strapping on his wallet, and looking at the priming of his rifle,
Davy once more led the way forward.
The trail was broad, for no care had been taken to conceal it—the
party having the prisoner in charge feeling no apprehension that any
pursuit would take place. They were now obliged to proceed with the
utmost caution, as their position was very unfavourable. A secure place
having been selected as a rendezvous, Davy departed to reconnoiter
the river. The hours dragged wearily away, but it was not till late
in the afternoon that he returned. His easy and unconcerned manner
at once quieted their anxious fears, while they gathered around, and
impatiently inquired the cause of his delay.
“Wait till supper’s over, boys, and I hev time tew think. I’m jist a
bit puzzled myself, this time.”
The pipes were at length exhausted, and after a long silence, the
leader raised his eyes toward the sinking sun. Carelessly he remarked:
“Well, boys, there’s three or four hours afore ye can move, so the
best use to make on’t is to lie down an’ sleep. Maybe a long while
afore ye’ll find another sich place. I’ll keep watch, an’ see ’at no
red-skins disturb ye.”
Thus admonished the young men threw themselves upon the ground.
Although nothing was further from their thoughts than sleep, but a few
minutes passed before both were buried in a refreshing slumber.
Davy regarded the sleepers attentively for a few moments, then turning
away, he muttered:
“The boys are hevin’ a comfortable doze, so I’ll jist take a turn
around, an’ see if all promises favourably. Blame me, though, if they
don’t promise well for greenhorns. If they stick to this bisness
they’ll make the toughest kind o’ scouts; maybe they’ll think sometime
how they took their first lesson in Injin-craft of Davy Barring; maybe
they will. I wonder how the red-skins would like the idee of leavin’
Davy behind ’em. Blame me, if I don’t think I kin work ’em some
mischief, and these two boys with me. _They’ll_ burn and murder to
their hearts’ content, but can’t have it all their own way, jist yit.”
The worthy scout moved about in the direction of the party upon the
river’s bank, till satisfied there was no danger to his confederates
in that quarter; then he struck into the forest beyond. In an hour he
returned. His companions were still sleeping soundly. With a quiet
glance about him the hardy fellow sunk upon the ground, and lay for
some time. A slight rustling at length aroused him, and looking around
he saw that Charles had risen to his feet. Perceiving that David was
awake, the young man approached, and inquired:
“How long before we set out?”
“The sooner the better; it is sufficiently dark.”
A beaming light broke over the face of the youth, for he was all
impatience to be away.
“I am anxious to be off, that this fearful suspense may be at an end.
It is dreadful to think of the position of that dear girl, thus dragged
away—her father and brother inhumanly butchered, and all the suspense
which must be hers!”
“Partly right and partly wrong! You must remember that _now_ yer
comparatively safe. We’re between tew bodies o’ the inemy, an’ when we
move either way we go into danger. But rouse Alf, and we’ll off.”
The sleeper was awakened, rifles and pistols made ready for instant
use, and soon the adventurers were quietly stealing through the forest.
The direction they took was south-westerly, diverging from the course
hitherto kept. The way was clear, and, by the dusky light, they could
barely discern the form of the leader as he stole silently along in
advance.
At length the scout seemed to proceed with more caution as the forest
grew less dense. A few rods more, and like so many shadows they stood
upon the banks of the Mississippi. For the first time the brothers felt
how lonely was their position. Before them rolled the broad, silent
waters, around them spread the wide, dark forest. Foes were upon every
hand—savage, blood-thirsty, triumphant! Their friends—those who still
lived—were flying from the rabble.
For a moment they stood thus, realizing the utter loneliness of their
situation; then the scout whispered:
“You will keep shady here till I come down to you in a dug-out. If
anything makes its appearance, keep the shadier. If ye hev tew fite,
yew know how. These I’ll leave here”—depositing rifle, pistols, and
powder-horn—“’cause I can’t use ’em. Now, be cautious as foxes and wise
as weasels.”
With these words he left them—left them alone in the darkness.
David Barring had laid his plans with much deliberation. He had
carefully noted the position of the canoes; and the disposition of the
party left to guard them.
The rapid steps of the scout soon brought him to the vicinity of
his swarthy foes. Now it became necessary for him to pursue his way
with the utmost caution. For this purpose he crawled cautiously up
until he reached a small eminence, which gave a distinct view of the
scene below. A single large fire had been built, and around this at
least half the savages were lazily reclining, smoking or eating. The
remainder were scattered carelessly about, while the light of the fire
revealed many a dusky form crouching in the boats.
The canoes had been drawn high up on the bank, while the larger boats
had been left floating, being merely secured to the shore. There were
many of the lighter craft floating also, and, so far as the keen eye of
David could determine, the latter were unoccupied.
Even while the scout gazed he noticed that many of the savages were
seeking their blankets for sleep, and he waited for a time in the hope
that a general retiring might take place. In this he was not gratified;
and, as delay might be dangerous, he carefully retreated, and moved
away to the accomplishment of his design. Yet the cautiousness he was
forced to observe required time, and it was a long while before he
reached the margin of the stream.
At length he reached the uppermost of the flotilla, and beneath the
deep shadow of a canoe he raised himself partially from the water, and
drew a long breath of relief and pleasure. His heart gave a happy throb
at his success.
The next task would be to select the proper boat. The one he grasped
was too large for his purpose, the second too small. He dropped down
till his hand rested upon the one he desired. He ran his hand and
eye over it, felt the depth and capacity, assured himself no one was
within, and at once pronounced it his own. Yet David was doomed to
disappointment.
Cautiously moving near the middle of the boat, his foot struck
something which a gentle pressure assured him was firm. Thinking it
might be the ground, he rested upon it, and continued his onward
movement. As ill-luck would have it, instead of stepping upon the
river-bottom, the scout had planted his feet upon a large log, which
had become partially imbedded there. He was not aware of the mistake
until his foot slipped from the slimy wood, and, with a “plash,” he
fell into the disturbed flood.
Quickly recovering his equilibrium, the swimmer glided from the spot,
and reached the shadow of one of the large boats. Scarcely had he
disappeared when a dusky visage might have been seen peering over the
edge of a canoe near by. A single guttural exclamation soon brought
half a dozen companions, who proceeded to a careful survey of the craft
and water about.
Luckily the Indians were not deeply interested, merely supposing the
disturbance caused by some aquatic animal, of which they sought traces
only from idle curiosity. Finding nothing to reward their search,
the savages seated themselves in the neighbouring boat, to await the
reappearance of the nocturnal disturbant. A stealthy glance revealed to
David the new position of his foes, and assured him that all further
operations in that quarter were utterly impracticable.
It was a hundred yards or more to the further end of the flotilla,
and, as attraction now tended this way, it was but reasonable to
suppose he might succeed there. Sinking beneath the waters David swam
a long distance, till compelled to come to the surface for air. He was
gratified to find that he had passed more than half the distance, and
was beyond the line of vision of the savages.
Striking out in an oblique direction he approached the boats. This time
he moved with redoubled caution, and, as the deep shadow was in his
favour, he soon selected a promising craft. In a few minutes he had
cut the rope, towed it into the current, and was floating it gently
downward.
No sooner was the scout satisfied of his security, than he threw
himself into the boat, and groped about for the paddles. His heart
gave a great leap—then stood still. _He had no means of propelling or
guiding his boat!_
For a moment David was confounded; then his natural daring came to
his aid. Leaping at once into the water, he gave the boat a vigorous
push down the stream. Then he turned and paddled hastily toward the
flotilla. Again he reached it unobserved, and selected a second boat,
very similar to the other in size and construction.
Assuring himself that this contained the requisite number of paddles,
he cut it loose and was soon drifting down the current as before.
It was not a pleasant thought to the brothers, that of their isolated
condition and their peril, which would force itself upon them, after
the departure of the scout. As time passed, and the possibility that he
might have failed, even in his moment of confidence, would force itself
upon them, they realized how much their fate was bound up in his—how
very essential his welfare and success were to their own.
At length Alfred, who stood upon the brink of the river, earnestly
listening for the approach of the scout, saw something which bore a
resemblance to the expected boat. It was gliding gently along, and was
quite near before he had discerned it. Satisfying himself as to its
character, he addressed his brother. In a moment Charles was beside him.
“Look there?” whispered Alfred, pointing in the direction of the boat;
“Davy is coming, at length.”
To their surprise, the object continued upon its course, and passed the
point upon which they were standing. The young men looked at each other
in mute surprise. Alfred was the first to speak.
“Can it be that he has mistaken the place where he left us?” he
whispered.
Charles shook his head perplexedly.
In a moment more the strange object had passed from view.
“What does it mean?” asked the younger.
“It is all a mystery to me,” replied the other. “I am almost sure it
can not be Davy. He would hardly have mistaken the rendezvous.”
“Indians?” suggested Alfred, in a tone which spoke more than the word
itself implied.
“Hardly; though if it be so we shall soon hear from them. I could see
no person in the craft, nor did its motions seem to indicate that it
was loaded.”
“It can not be that the scout has been—”
“Hist! Do not even mention that—it is too horrible for thought! Heaven
only knows what our position would be, should harm come to him.”
Charles moved back to his former position, a few yards in the rear of
his brother, to keep watch that no foe should steal upon them from
that direction. The mind of each was filled with the most stirring
apprehensions, and every moment they really expected to see their
murderous foes stealing upon them, or hear their horrid yells.
Some minutes passed, when Alfred fancied he saw something move above
them. His heart gave a great bound of joy, as he thought that the
scout might be coming, and then a thrill of excitement passed over his
frame, as he reflected that it might be their savage foes. He listened
intently. This time the regular “dip” of paddles gave assurance that
something of life was within the canoe. Signaling his brother, they
silently awaited the approach of the floating object. They were not
long in suspense.
The boat was quite near the shore, and heading directly toward the
point upon which they stood. As it came nearer they could discern an
upright figure, guiding it toward the land. In another moment it grated
upon the sand, and David sprung out.
“Give me my tools,” he hastily exclaimed. “There’s not a minnit tew
lose. I sarcumvented the devils, but they’re arter me; so be lively.”
He grasped his weapons as he spoke, and in another moment the three
were seated in the boat. One vigorous push and it was afloat upon the
dark waters.
“Lay her straight acrost the river,” exclaimed David, the Markleys
having taken the oars to allow the taxed muscles of the scout to relax.
“Seems I didn’t git much start on ’em,” he added, “for they set up a
yellin’ an’ started arter me with another boat. They gi’n me a race
down the river, but that don’t matter—they can’t overhaul us!”
Bending his head over the side of the canoe, he listened intently.
Suddenly he started up with energy.
“We don’t gain any,” he said, “but are holdin’ our own, good. Ladle the
water with a will, boys, and we’ll weather ’em, for every stroke now
counts _one_!”
The brothers realized the importance of their exertions, and, with
ceaseless sweeps, sent the boat skimming forward. The scout was still
leaning over the side, listening, when suddenly he started, as though
struck by a rifle-shot.
“Hold up a moment; let me listen!” he remarked, in a tone of mingled
impatience and alarm.
They obeyed. What sound was that which sent the blood back in cold
streams to the hearts of the brothers? At no great distance in advance
of them, could be heard the confused murmur of voices, and splashing of
paddles? No wonder the scout’s cheek momentarily blanched, and his eyes
seemed starting from the sockets, in the vain effort to penetrate the
gloom. Much as the darkness obscured the vision, it was all that saved
David Barring now.
Bending close to the brothers, and speaking in that calm tone which
marked the man during seasons of greatest danger, he said:
“Turn her down-stream, boys, and row fer yer lives. We’re runnin’
square into a nest of the human hornets. Paddle lively; fer, if the
moon rises, we’re goners—that’s all!”
The brothers comprehended only too well their peril to hesitate for a
moment. The canoe was turned in the required direction; but, ere this
was accomplished, they could distinctly hear the rapid approach of the
Indian flotilla. So soon as the new direction was taken, they laboured
with a determination which almost threw the craft from the water at
each successive stroke; but a cruel fate was against them.
“It’s no use,” the scout at length whispered; “we can’t pass ’em in
that way! All we kin dew, is to turn back, and run the resk of these
red fiends behind us!”
It was a hazardous course, but the only one left open to the fugitives.
The result was highly fortunate for the adventurers. The pursuers had
been guided only by the sound of oars, and, when these ceased to be
heard distinctly, they paused, assured that the flotilla could not
miss the refugees. Of course, the pursuers soon met the others, and
instituted inquiries for the run-away boat. As no such object had been
seen, the pursuers were placed in a suspicious light, and gladly turned
to accompany their friends to the Illinois shore.
Meanwhile, Davy and his companions were making the most of every
moment. Finding they were not likely to encounter the boat which had
kept so closely in their wake, they bent every effort toward making
good their escape. Almost before the party were aware of it, they shot
in near the eastern shore of the river. Already the full light of the
moon fell in gentle floods upon the water. The flotilla was thus fully
revealed—every boat being brought out in dark outline upon the smooth
surface of the river.
Considerable of the eastern side was shadow, rendered even darker by
the gentle light falling around. In this broad belt of blackness our
friends now lay, concealed from the sharp eyes of the approaching
savages.
“I tell you, boys,” the scout observed, “if we’d run intew that neest,
we’d stood a smart chance of havin’ our ha’r lifted afore this. It’s
a lucky move we’ve made, _this_ time, and now we’ll keep down in this
’ere shadder, till we git well out o’ their way.”
The party again bent themselves to their tasks, though panting and
wearied, keeping the boat well within the deep shadow cast by the
forest. They pulled silently down, until the scout, who had taken to
the paddle, bent low, and peered across the river.
“Near’s I kin make out,” he remarked, “we’re about opposite one o’ the
purtiest little hidin’-places that the good Lord ever made. Thar’s a
little ’dentation, in the shore, what’s been washed out till it makes
the neatest kind of a place. I kin hide a boat thare, so an Injin would
step right over it forty times, an’ never think any thing was under
him. If we kin git thare, ’twill be jist _the_ place we want!”
The canoe was again turned across the Mississippi. The men it contained
were still in the best of spirits, for, although they had met with
trial and danger, it had only stimulated them to greater exertions.
As they reached the opposite shore, the scout ceased paddling, and
motioned Charles to do the same.
“Blame me, if I kin hardly tell whar’ that place is,” he muttered, half
perplexed. “It’s more’n two years since I had occasion tew use it, and
may be ’twill bother me some to find it. But it may be of use to us, so
I’ll ferret it out.”
They floated cautiously down for a few rods, when David uttered a quick
exclamation of joy.
“There it is!”
“Can’t ye diskiver it?” he asked.
“I confess,” returned Charles, “that I should never suspect the
existence of any hidden retreat here.”
The scout laughed, quietly.
“Nater made the place rayther secure,” he said; “and, if yer young eyes
don’t suspect it, I guess there’s little danger o’ the red-skins spyin’
it out.”
Turning the head of the canoe shoreward, David carefully parted the
bushes with his oar, and a dark retreat was revealed. With little
effort, the canoe was pushed within the haven; the bushes closed
behind them, effectually securing them from observation. Charles and
Alfred glanced around, in the endeavour to discover the extent and
surroundings of the place. The effort was futile. Overhanging masses of
bushes shut out all rays of light, leaving the place clothed in deepest
darkness.
The scout seemed perfectly at home. Turning the head of the canoe to
the right, he gave a vigorous push, and, as the bottom of the boat
struck the shore, grasped his rifle and leaped forth. As soon as the
brothers could determine upon his whereabouts, they followed.
“Remove the paddles,” he said, cheerily, “and then we will attend to
hidin’ the canoe!”
This was done, when the scout set about concealing the craft. Rocking
it, until partially filled with water, he stepped into the river, and,
with a strong motion, pushed it completely beneath the overhanging
bank. It wedged in firmly, and, securing the oars, David once more
stood upon the bank.
“I call this good fortin’!” he commenced, as they left the place.
“We’re acrost the Missippy, the canoe stowed away, an’ nary a red the
wiser for’t. To be sure, the wust is tew come! But most of the imps are
acrost the river, an’ that’ll be a great ’vantage tew us. I know where
Emily is—poor girl! We’ll git thar’ in good time, an’, when we do,
we’ll make our presence known.”
“That we will!” exclaimed Charles, with enthusiasm. “But tell me, Davy,
do you think Ashbey will be there soon? Do you think he will torture
Emily with his detested presence before we can reach and save her?”
“I can’t tell,” the scout replied. “I hardly think he will cross the
river ag’in for some days, unless he suspects where we’re gone tew.
But we’re here fust, and kin ’tend tew him when he comes.”