So long as he believed Lone-Elk to be near the clearing, Ree was little
better than a prisoner, so far as going to find John Jerome was
concerned; and as he realized that the Seneca might prolong his stay
indefinitely, he turned his thoughts to some plan by which he might be
rid of the fellow. He had no intention of letting Lone-Elk suspect what
was in his mind, however. On the contrary, he would endure a great deal
rather than give the Indian the satisfaction of knowing how greatly he
desired to be alone.
Sauntering leisurely to the cabin, Kingdom sat in the doorway to eat and
drink, for he was still warm with the vigorous exercise of the forenoon.
Then he fed the horses and for a time busied himself about the stable.
Constantly was he alert to discover whether Lone-Elk was still in the
vicinity, and as he watched through a crack from inside the barn, he
several times saw the Indian. The unyielding savage was moving uneasily
from point to point, but his eyes were turned always in the direction of
the cabin, and his manner seemed to express a determination to look
nowhere else for a long time to come.
Surely it was enough to bring despair to anyone, Kingdom told himself.
Then the thought came to him that maybe Lone-Elk was despairing quite as
much as he. He recalled a rule that good old Captain Bowen had once laid
down for him when he and John were planning their first trip
west--"Don't give up. When you are just about done for and you think you
can't hold out a second longer, just keep your hold the stronger; for
you can depend on it that the other fellow is more or less winded if you
are, and you don't know but he is more."
Gaining encouragement in such reflections, Kingdom set his teeth and a
smile which was not pleasant to see came to his lips. Very quietly and
naturally, however, he carried a bucket of fresh water up from the river
and went into the cabin and sat down. If he could do nothing else, he
would slip through the barn and get into the woods in the darkness. He
could lie by in some secluded place until morning and for Lone-Elk to
find him, after he had obtained such a start, would be more than even
that determined redskin was likely to undertake.
The shadows lengthened. With the thought of slipping away in the
darkness in mind, Kingdom let the fire die down and from loopholes
constantly watched the clearing to make certain the Seneca did not
approach the buildings and so be able to prevent his leaving.
Slowly the gathering darkness deepened. It closed around the little log
house and stump-dotted open space in the forest's fastnesses. It closed
around Lone-Elk, the Seneca, unrelenting and vigilant. But it closed
around another, too, who watched the cabin on the bluff with patience
and with perseverance quite equal to the Indian's.
When John Jerome awoke from the deep sleep into which he fell beside the
log that protected him not only from the night wind but from sight as
well, if by any chance Indians or others should be passing, he stirred
uneasily and at last sat up. A yelp and a sudden rustling of the leaves
accompanied his movement. More startled than frightened, John leaped to
his feet. Two pairs of eyes shone yellowish-green in the darkness, and a
hungry growl came from the same direction.
"Scatter, you varmints!" cried the boy, and clubbing his gun, sprang
toward the creatures.
The wolves retreated, but only a few steps. Again John leaped toward
them and this time also sent a heavy, half-rotten limb from the old log
flying after them. Made bold by hunger, however, the brutes only growled
the more fiercely.
"Looks as if I'd have to give one of you a little lead," the boy
remarked, and calmly sat down on the fallen tree trunk. Still he
hesitated to shoot, disliking both to waste the powder and to attract
attention toward himself. He was still rather nervous from the shock
received at the "lick."
"Almost daylight, anyhow," John reflected. "I'll get an early start." He
sat quiet, therefore, calmly eyeing the shining balls which gleamed at
him until the first peep of light. Even then the wolves lingered near;
but, paying little further attention to them, the lad set off at a rapid
pace, once more on the homeward way and thankful for it.
Before the morning was far advanced Jerome found himself among familiar
scenes. With boyish pleasure he greeted each fresh object that he
recognized. A gnarled old oak, whose oddly twisted branches he had
noticed more than once, seemed like an old friend. A tall stub of an
ash, long since dead, but plainly marked by the claws of bears, was
likewise a friendly landmark and he whispered, "Hello, there, you look
natural!" as he might have done in greeting a fellow creature.
Making rapid progress now, for he hoped Ree would be waiting at the
hollow whitewood, the returned explorer arrived in the vicinity of that
rendezvous somewhat before noon. As his custom was, he made a wide
circuit to reconnoiter before going to the tree itself, taking every
step with care and keeping eyes wide open in all directions.
John did not expect to see anyone or to find anything unusual in thus
spying out "the lay of the land." He never had found the coast otherwise
than clear; still he had no intention of revealing the fine hiding place
in the old poplar by lack of reasonable prudence and so walked guardedly
and with every sense alert. Something like a shadow moved among the
trees and bushes a hundred yards ahead. It might be only a bird, or a
squirrel or some larger animal, but John sheltered himself behind a tree
and looked again more carefully.
"Lone-Elk!"
The name he thought, but did not utter, and the sight of its owner sent
a thrill through Little Paleface that made him hold his breath. The
Indian was moving through the woods with an easy, natural stealth, so
light, so silent, that if he had had the power of making himself all but
invisible it could not have seemed more wonderful.
John's first thought was that the Seneca was looking for him; but he
quickly saw that this could not be, for his eyes were turned steadily
and keenly in another direction.
"The lead mine! He is stealing up to the secret lead mine just like a
ghost!" was the boy's second mental exclamation.
But again John was wrong, as the reader will have guessed. It was upon
Return Kingdom that the Indian had his eyes, and it was fortunate indeed
for Little Paleface that the Seneca was too occupied in that direction
to look in any other; for so intensely interested did the lad become in
watching the creature's cat-like movements that he stood fairly in the
open, an object of easy discovery had his presence been suspected.
The temptation came to John to shoot his accuser down. Had he not the
right to kill one who at sight would kill him? he asked himself; and a
half minute later, when he found that it was his bosom friend that the
redskin was so secretly pursuing, he was doubly-tempted to make an end
of him. One bullet would do it. One bullet would settle this whole
miserable witchcraft business. But how? What good would it do to have
Lone-Elk out of the way if it became known that the "witch" was his
slayer?
Then John saw, or thought he saw, that Kingdom knew he was followed. The
whole truth came to him. Ree had set out to go to the whitewood but,
being tracked by the Indian, had purposely refrained from going there.
Resolving to keep Lone-Elk in sight to give Kingdom any assistance he
could, should the actions of the Indian become seriously threatening,
John followed after them. He allowed between himself and the Seneca as
great a distance as was possible, still keeping him in view, but so
swift and silent were the fellow's movements that it was a puzzle for
the eye to follow him.
With increasing interest in the mysterious game his friend and the
Indian were playing, John did not at once realize that, after one sharp
turn he had made, Ree was headed homeward. When he did make this
discovery, however, it was only to decide that he would go, too, and
thus was presented in the wilderness depths the odd picture of one
person being unrelentingly trailed by another, who, in turn, was watched
and followed by a third.
But even stranger things the unbounded woods of the early days full
often witnessed. Stranger dreams have never come to man than were many
of the realities of life in the wilds of the middle west a hundred and
odd years ago.
While from one point at the clearing's edge Lone-Elk unceasingly bent
his eyes upon the little log house on the bluff, John Jerome did
likewise from another. John, however, had two objects to keep within his
scrutiny. One, and the most important one, was the Seneca. Still he had
ample opportunity to see what Ree was doing, and with particular
interest he watched his chum sit eating and drinking in the doorway.
"And here I am, most starved, within sight of him!" the weary boy
reflected. "Just wait till it's dark, you lonely old Elk you, and if you
don't do something then, I will!"
An hour had passed since night closed in. Return Kingdom still watched
from loopholes, wondering in vain, looking in vain, to know what the
Seneca's nocturnal tactics would be. No sign of the Indian had he seen
since darkness shut out the view across the clearing.
What was that noise? Ree started violently. The horses moved as if some
one had come in the barn. In another second his ear was at a crack in
the wall between the lean-to stable and the cabin, and he knew that
something besides the horses was stealthily moving--yes, moving toward
him; he heard it plainly now. What could that miserable, sneaking,
malicious Indian be up to now! And then a whisper--
"Oh, Ree!"
"Blessed stars, John!" was the startled, whispered answer. "How did you
come here? Don't you know Lone-Elk is watching the house this very
minute?"
But nevertheless it was with a feeling of much relief and real pleasure
that, when Jerome had whispered back, "Well, I guess I do," Ree told him
to creep in through the "cat-hole," while he himself noiselessly
double-barred the cabin door.
"Why, you had me scared into a catnip fit," said Kingdom, still
whispering, as he felt about in the darkness for John's hand.
"Did I? But say, do you know it's snowing? And how I'm to get away
again, now that I'm here, without making a trail that a blind man could
follow, I'm blest if I can tell."
"Never mind that now, old chap," was the hopeful answer. "Rest yourself
and I'll see what I can lay hands on for you to eat. I've got a few
things to tell you after awhile."
"Things to tell, Ree? Cracky, so have I!"
And Lone-Elk, sullen and ugly, determined and relentless, still watched
the cabin with unremitting perseverance from the deeper shadows of the
woodpile at the clearing's edge.