A STRUGGLE OF LIFE AND DEATH.
The Shawanoes, as we have before stated, had separated during the
pursuit, and were now some distance apart. The center one being
directly in the rear, was the closest to the fugitive, and came up to
him considerably in advance of the others. This was fortunate, in one
sense, for Hezekiah Smith, as he then had but a single opponent with
which to contend.
The lithe, agile Indian was all eagerness to secure the white as his
captive and forgetful of the axiom, "a stag at bay is a dangerous foe,"
he halted not in the least, but came at full speed toward him. When
within a rod or so, he whirled his tomahawk in a circle over his head,
and hurled it with tremendous force full at the breast of his dauntless
adversary. The latter, from the motion of his arm, comprehended what
was coming, and dodging his head with lightning quickness, the weapon
flashed over him, and went spinning end over end down the steep ravine.
Both of the combatants had dropped their rifles and drawn their knives.
With a demoniac yell of triumph the painted Indian leaped high in air,
and swinging his knife, sprang upon his foe. In a twinkling both were
disarmed in a singular manner.
It so happened that the two struck at each other at precisely the same
moment, the knives encountered with such force that the Shawanoe's
shot out of his hand and followed the tomahawk down the ravine, while
Hezekiah's was turned so suddenly that it fell to the ground several
yards distant. Both were now entirely unarmed, and glaring at each
other for a second, like baffled tigers, they closed in the struggle of
life and death.
In point of strength the two were very nearly equally matched. In
activity the redskin had decidedly the advantage, but the white man
being an expert wrestler, and the savage a perfect novice, the former
was in a fair way to end the contest in his own favor. The instant he
grappled with his dusky adversary, he felt that he was at his power.
By a trick, or rather art, well known to wrestlers, Hezekiah twisted
the savage off his feet, and threw him with stunning violence upon the
ground, falling heavily upon him. Allowing him to rise, he repeated the
performance several times, the redskin becoming more and more exhausted
each moment, until it was manifest to himself that he had not the
shadow of a chance in such warfare as this.
The cunning Shawanoe had noticed where the knife of his adversary fell,
and each time that he went down he managed to work himself nearer to
it. Hezekiah did not comprehend what he was at, until the savage
clutched it with the quickness of thought, and rising again to his
feet, confronted him with the weapon.
Not the least daunted, for he was now terribly excited--he closed again
with the Indian, receiving an ugly cut in his arm as he did so. At this
moment he heard the yells of the other two Shawanoes, and driven to
fury by his imminent peril, he concentrated all his strength in the one
mighty effort, and grasping his adversary around the waist, he lifted
him clear off his feet, and flung him like an infant over the precipice.
Down, like a meteor, through the dizzy air, shot the Shawanoe, with his
arms clutching wildly at space, spinning from crag to crag, with his
awful cry coming up like the wail of some spirit!
The struggle occupied scarcely a fifth of the time taken in describing
it. Impelled by the most implacable hate on each side, the blows were
quick and fierce, and the termination speedy and tragic. A shock when
the two encountered, a few blows and strivings, another struggle, more
determined than the others, and it was ended.
Hezekiah had secured his knife before throwing the savage into the
ravine, and with this single weapon he confronted his two foes. They
were both about the same distance from him, and he was in doubt whether
to expect their united onset at the same moment, or whether they were
going to attack him singly. The latter proved to be the case. One of
the Indians seemed to be a sort of chief, or, at least, higher in
authority than the other; for waving his hand for him to keep his
distance, he advanced upon the white man, with the determination of
disposing of him without assistance from any one else.
This savage was a much more formidable foe than the other, and Hezekiah
being considerably exhausted from his recent efforts, he was in a poor
condition to receive him. Nevertheless, there was no help for him,
and he showed an undaunted front. The Shawanoe halted a moment, as if
to decide upon the best method of attack, and then, with a yell as
demoniac as the other, sprang forward.
He had passed over half the space intervening between him and his
adversary, when he uttered another yell--a short, frenzied, agonized
one, and throwing his arms aloft, fell dead!
Hezekiah had caught the report of a rifle, and saw a red spot suddenly
appear on the forehead of the Shawanoe, so that he understood at once
that he had been shot. But who had come up and fired his piece so
opportunely? What friend had he in the Dark and Bloody Ground? Why did
his friend remain concealed?
The remaining redskin had halted upon seeing his companion fall by
the mysterious shot, but he evinced no disposition to flee. On the
contrary, he continued to approach, fully resolved that the foe should
not escape him.
"By thunder! you're the only one left, and I reckon as how I can
dispose of you," exclaimed Hezekiah, preparing to receive him. "Though
if there should happen to be another rifle around, it would be mighty
welcome just now."
The Shawanoe had learned caution from what he had witnessed, and
although as brave as a mortal could possibly be, he deemed it best to
use prudence in the case. His mode of attack was peculiar. He commenced
slowly circling around his adversary, his black, snake-like eye fixed
upon him while the latter kept turning, as if on a pivot, so as to
confront him.
In going in this circular manner, the Indian came to the very brink
of the precipice, so that his form stood out in relief upon it. More
than once when he was in this position, Hezekiah was upon the point of
springing forward and shoving him over. His heart throbbed painfully,
as he balanced himself for the leap, lest the risk was too great
for him to attempt it. He more than half suspected the Indian was
manœuvering for that purpose, and would succeed in throwing him over
instead.
All at once, with the inevitable whoop, the redskin bounded forward,
and struck at Hezekiah with his drawn knife. Singular as it may seem,
the two weapons encountered in precisely the same manner as did those
of the first two combatants, and both were as suddenly deprived of all
arms, except such as nature gave them.
As the two closed in with each other, it seemed to Hezekiah that this
Indian was much more powerful and difficult to manage than the other,
or possibly his own strength was failing. Remembering, however, that
he was the only foe which it was necessary to overcome, and that a
prolonged contest might bring some of his companions to the scene, he
summoned all his strength to this last conflict.
He succeeded in throwing the Shawanoe, and falling heavily upon him,
but it required such an expenditure of strength that he doubted
whether this means of exhausting him would not first "use up" himself.
Furthermore, he found it impossible to hold his foe. Whether his body
was greased or not, he could not tell, but the redskin kept up such a
twisting and squirming that he glided from his grasp as easily as an
eel could have escaped him.
Concluding that it was vain to hope for any success by means of
wrestling, Hezekiah now bent his efforts toward drawing him to the edge
of the cliff with the determination of throwing him over. The savage
comprehended his intention, and probably believing he could do the same
thing with the white man, favored his efforts, and in a few seconds
both were upon the very brink of the precipice.
And now commenced the awful struggle. With sinews strained to their
utmost tension, with limbs braced and pressed against each other, their
chests heaving, with teeth set, and their eyes gleaming with the most
implacable hate, the combatants strove together!
In reaching the edge of the ravine, the Shawanoe was on the
inside--that is, he was the nearest to it--and Hezekiah succeeded in
keeping him there. Gradually working him nigher and nigher to the dread
chasm, until he felt his strength going, the New Englander gathered his
knee to his breast, and summoning all his power, with one mighty effort
he kicked the savage from him and over the cliff!
But horror of horrors! in going over, the Shawanoe caught him with both
hands by the ankle, and Hezekiah felt himself following! He clutched
with the twigs and stones within his grasp, but they all yielded and
came with him, and he could not shake off the dreadful incubus that was
drawing him on to death. He screamed and shouted, and blistered his
hands in his efforts to stay himself, but it was all useless.
Further, further, further--the Shawanoe's weight seems to increase
each second--the white man's outspread hands slide over the earth and
rock!--he is going, going, going!--his head slips over! and now down
like a meteor, through the dizzying air, with wild, ecstatic thrills
shooting through his brain--a second's delirium--an awful, stunning
shock--and all was dark! The lifeless forms of Hezekiah Smith and the
Shawanoe Indian lay side by side at the bottom of the gorge!
The reader will recollect that Luther Waring, in wandering through the
woods, suddenly came upon an unexpected scene, and rushed forward in
a state of great excitement. The sight that met his gaze was Hezekiah
Smith and the second Indian struggling together. Without a moment's
reflection he discharged his piece, killing the savage as before
related. He was about to rush forward to the rescue of his friend, when
he caught sight of the third Indian; and believing that a party had
just arrived, and that he could afford him no assistance, and that he
was in imminent danger of his own capture, he turned and fled.
Running some distance, he was considerably surprised to find that he
was not pursued, and suspecting that, after all, he might have been
mistaken, he cautiously retraced his steps. He arrived at the spot of
the tragic scene we have just described, and looking over the brink,
descried the two inanimate forms lying below.
With a painfully throbbing heart he hurried through the forest, and by
a circuitous route entered the gorge. In a short time he came upon the
two Indians and his friend. All three were bruised and bleeding, and
as Waring looked above him at the height of the precipice, he took a
melancholy consolation in the thought that the death of Hezekiah Smith
had been speedy and almost painless.
"Would that I could give him a decent burial," he murmured; "but I
cannot. He shall not remain here, however, to rot beside those fiendish
savages. I will do what I can for him."
Taking him in his arms he carried him some distance to where there was
a mass of debris and stones at the side of the ravine. Here depositing
him carefully upon the ground, he first covered him over with brush,
and then stones, until his body was entirely hidden from sight. The
principal object in doing this was to secure his remains against
outrage from the savages.
"Farewell," said Waring, as he turned away. "I have known you but a
short time, and have learned but little of you, but I have learned
enough to know that you were a FRIEND; and now, a last adieu to you, my
FRIEND!"
With a saddened, mournful heart he turned away and walked slowly
through the ravine.