AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.
As Dusky Dick turned from the loft, after his fruitless search, a loud,
shrill yell from one of his braves without, told him that the trail had
been found. He uttered a little cry of exultation and flung his blazing
brand upon the bed, as he dashed out of doors.
The trail-hunters had found where the beasts had been mounted, and then
from that point the tracks led in a straight line toward the forest.
There seemed but one solution of this. The settler had taken alarm at
the threats of Dusky Dick, and had resolved to journey to the lower
settlements. The renegade bitterly cursed his precipitancy, and his
folly in losing sight of his intended victims even for a moment, when
the game was entirely in his own hands.
"Look! the lodge is burning!" exclaimed a savage, to Dusky Dick.
The brand the latter had thoughtlessly flung upon the bed had done its
work. The flames were shooting up, leaping hither and thither, roaring
and crackling as if in fiendish glee.
"Let it burn. It will shelter no more of our enemies," and he turned
away with a grim smile.
John Stevens was standing near, under guard of two brawny braves,
who kept a vigilant watch over him. His blood was boiling within him
at this last act of wanton malignancy, but fortunately he controlled
his anger before it broke forth into words, that, while they could do
him no good, might be productive of harm, in the wrathful mood of his
captors.
Dusky Dick now renewed his instructions to the guards to keep careful
watch over the captive, and then set forward after such of his braves
as were tracing out the course of the fugitives by torchlight. The
hoof-tracks crossed the clearing, and entered the trail leading to the
lower settlements.
Thus far it was plain sailing, and Dusky Dick thought he divined the
plans of the fugitives. He believed they were pressing on at a hot pace
for the safer country below, and resolved to give them chase.
He could not proceed rapidly enough by torchlight trailing, and indeed,
knowing the lay of the country so well, he did not think there was any
further need of this aid. On foot he could proceed much more rapidly
than the fugitives upon horseback, through the tangled woods.
But it would be impossible to carry his prisoner along. There would be
too great a risk of losing him, and besides, he would only delay them.
So Dusky Dick turned to the two guards and bade them take Stevens and
hasten at once to the lodge by the great rock, where they were to
deliver him to Sloan Young, according to the bargain already made. Then
he and his braves dashed away at headlong speed along the trace.
Ever since his capture, John had been busy. He knew that unless he
could effect his escape that night, his chances for life were very
slim. He would die by torture, most probably, for Sloan Young was a
bitter, relentless enemy.
His hands had been bound behind him with strong deer-skin thongs.
Then another cord had been wound several times around his body, thus
pinioning his arms close to his sides. It seemed as though escape from
these bonds, unaided, was an impossibility.
John had thoroughly tested the strength of the thong securing his
wrists, and knew that he could not break it while his arms were so
confined that he could not exert his strength to any advantage. He saw
that he must first rid himself of the cords around his arms and body.
And to this end he had been working since before the cabin was reached.
While the search was being prosecuted, he had been backed up against
the building's side by his captors. Here he had caught one of the cords
upon a knot, and had succeeded in pulling it down over his hands; thus
the most difficult part of the task was accomplished.
The rest was comparatively easy. The one turn, thus loosened, gradually
divided its surplus with the others, until John could work his hands
slightly up and down. When the party entered the woods, along the horse
trail, only one cord bound his arms!
Then that slipped down, and during the consultation, John, with a
quick, dextrous twist, brought his bound hands up over his head, and
dropped them in front; the movement not being noticed in the gloom.
Cautiously raising his hands, Stevens applied his strong, sharp teeth
to the thongs, and though he had barely half a score moments to work
in, he improved this time so well that the thong parted at a quick pull
upon it.
His first impulse was to turn and flee for life, but that would be too
great a risk, and the young settler had sufficient good sense to await
a more favorable opportunity.
Then he was given to the two braves, to be conducted to the half-breed,
One Eye. Stevens felt a thrill of delight at this, for he felt that
his escape was all but assured. Surely, during the long three miles he
could effect an escape, now that only two were left to guard him.
But a danger threatened him, that he had not foreseen. He was being led
back to the blazing cabin, and once within the broad circle of light
cast around it, it was highly probable one of the red-skins would
notice that the cord was broken around his wrists.
However, that must be chanced, and as the young settler managed to
screen the broken ends, holding them under his hands, again crossed
behind his back, he believed they would pass muster. The clearing
was entered, a red-skin walking upon either side of him, clutching a
shoulder.
The building was now blazing furiously, and Stevens felt a choking
sensation as he gazed upon it. Many a happy hour had he spent beneath
that roof, with those who, for aught he knew to the contrary, might
even then be lying cold and still in the embrace of death.
He strove manfully to banish these ideas, but was not entirely
successful. There was a heavy weight at his heart, and a premonition of
coming evil rested upon his spirit.
As the clearing was crossed, the cabin being left directly behind the
trio, a low cry broke from John's lips. Before them, afar off, was a
ruddy glow, lighting up the skies high above the tree-tops. It needed
not a second glance to tell the young settler the meaning of this. The
position plainly revealed that. It was the conflagration built by One
Eye; the blazing of the second cabin.
The Indians urged John along rapidly. One walked before, the other
behind, within arm's length of their prisoner. Evidently they did not
intend throwing away a chance, but were resolved to convey him safely
to his destination.
They had not proceeded far from the Wilson cabin, when the foremost
Indian paused with a low hiss, and bent his ear toward the ground. To
the right and front he could distinguish the tramp of horses' hoofs.
"Perhaps 'tis One Eye, crossing with horses captured from the people of
the lodge by the great rock," muttered the savage, whose hand rested
upon John's shoulder.
"It may be. Let Tichenet wait here with the pale-face, while Asamee
goes to see," hastily muttered the other, arising and gliding away in
the forest, choosing a course so as to intercept the horsemen, whoever
they might be, leaving the other two where they stood.
John believed that the time had now come for him to make a bold stroke
for freedom, assured that no other so good a chance would be given
him. And so, while waiting for Asamee to gain a safe distance, he
entirely freed his hands.
Stealing a glance at his guard, Stevens saw that one hand rested upon a
knife-haft, while his head was bent in an attitude of acute attention.
His thoughts were mainly with his comrade, and the probable issue of
his venture.
Stevens tightly clenched his hand, and gently drew it back. Suddenly
there came a startling interruption. A clear, spiteful crack
echoed through the forest, slowly followed by a wild, shrill yell,
unmistakably that of an Indian, probably that of Asamee, as the
direction corresponded with the one taken by him.
Tichenet uttered a low cry, and, dropping his grasp from the prisoner's
shoulder, he started forward a pace, his nostrils dilating like those
of a hound upon a breast-high scent. The golden opportunity was
offered, and John was not a man to neglect it.
His wiry right arm shot out, the tightly-clenched fist alighting full
beneath the red-skin's unguarded ear, felling him to the ground like
a dog, the blood gushing from his mouth and nostrils. Stevens did
not trust to this, but sprung upon the senseless form, plucking the
half-drawn knife from the nerveless grasp, he drove it deep down into
the red-skin's broad breast.
Then John seized the fallen rifle, assuring himself it had received
no injury; after which he secured the ammunition and belt, placing in
it, when buckled around his waist, the knife and hatchet of his dead
foe. He could scarcely restrain a cry of exultation, as he felt himself
once more a free man, provided with means of offense or defense, as the
occasion might require.
There was no need to repeat the blow. It had been delivered by a true
and strong hand. The red-skin's heart was literally cloven in twain.
John paused and listened intently. He could hear no sounds save the
usual ones of a summer night in the forest; the hum of countless
insects, the chirp of the tree-toad, the sighing of the gentle breeze
amid the tree-tops.
He knew that his friends were somewhere in the forest; the two blazing
cabins told him that, but just where, he had no means of knowing. But
he believed the party fired at by Asamee--if indeed it was his rifle
they had heard--were none other than his relatives, under convoy of
Fred Wilson, who had taken horses and were hastening toward the cabin
he had so lately left.
But surely they must have noted the glare of the blazing building, and
it would tell them that foes were, or had lately been there. Then they
would naturally give it a wide berth, which would account for their
being off the main trail.
Still, John thought it strange he heard no further sounds. If they had
fired at Asamee, why did not that worthy return? His yell had come
_after_ the shot; neither was it a death-cry. That much Stevens felt
confident of.
"John Stevens, you're a fool!" he disgustedly muttered, apostrophizing
himself, after a brief hesitation. "If you want to find out, why don't
you go where you can, instead of standing here like a simpleton."
Acting upon this sensible advice, John turned and glided from the
blood-stained trace into the forest, as nearly as he could guess, in a
direct line toward the point from whence had proceeded the alarm. But
the delay had somewhat confused him, and he bore considerably to the
left.
He was forced to advance slowly, for fear of coming into unexpected
collision with Asamee, and some little time was consumed ere he gained
the vicinity--as he believed--of the spot. Then he remained silent,
listening intently for some sound to tell him how matters stood.
After what seemed an age--but in reality, only a few moments--he
fancied he could distinguish a faint rustling noise, at only a few
yards' distance; but if so, the person, whoever it might be, was going
from him, as the next moment he lost the sound entirely. John felt if
his weapons were in readiness for use, and then glided forward, as
noiselessly as possible, toward the point from whence had proceeded the
suspicious noise.
Again he heard the sound, and now could quite plainly distinguish the
fall of irregular footsteps, evidently made by a human being. Believing
they were those of Asamee, and burning to wreak a bitter revenge upon
him for the threats and abuse he had so plentifully bestowed upon him
when a captive, Stevens drew his knife and followed the footsteps,
displaying considerable skill for one so little versed in woodcraft as
he was, making scarcely more noise than the velvet-pawed panther when
stealing upon its prey.
In this manner John had proceeded for several hundred yards, then
growing warm in the chase, pressed on with more speed than caution,
eager to bring affairs to a termination. Suddenly the sound of
footsteps ceased, and he imitated the movement.
But it was quite evident that he had been heard, despite his
promptness, and that the fugitive had taken the alarm, for the sound
was almost immediately resumed, this time evidencing more speed and
less caution than before. Stevens sprung forward, determined to
overtake the fugitive at all hazards.
It was a difficult matter, this running through the tangled woods, but
above the noise made by himself, Stevens could hear that of the other,
showing that both had to encounter the same difficulties. Then came a
low, gasping cry--a heavy fall, and then John was upon the fugitive,
with knife uplifted to deal the fatal blow.
But the gleaming weapon descended harmlessly, and also a cry of wonder
broke from his lips as he touched the prostrate form. _He felt the
flowing drapery of a woman's dress!_
"Mercy--mercy!" gasped the latter, in a voice trembling with fear and
apprehension.
That voice! How well John knew it! No danger of his confounding it with
any other.
"Annie--you here!" he uttered, in a tone of wondering surprise.
"Mercy--have mercy!"
It was evident that the maiden did not recognize his voice. Her terror
construed it into that of a deadly foe, thirsting for her life.
"Annie--don't you know me? It is John--John Stevens," and he bent over
the prostrate and trembling form, winding his arms tenderly about her,
pressing his lips to her cold brow.
It was the first time he had ever ventured so far, but the strange
and exciting circumstances must be his excuse. And the course, too,
answered a good purpose, for the maiden recognized him then, and with a
low cry, flung her arms around his neck, sobbing hysterically.
The trying events, the sudden alarm, the heavy fall and shock, the
long chase and agony of feeling herself lying helplessly at the mercy
of a vindictive enemy, had proved too much for the usually strong,
self-reliant spirit of the girl. She had been a heroine once that
night; now she was only a weak and trembling woman.
"John--thank God!" murmured Annie, sobbing from excess of joy. "I
thought it was an Indian."
"No, it is me," he added; a rather needless assertion, but he was
hardly accountable for his words or actions then, as he clasped the
lovely form closely to his breast, and pressed more than one fervent
kiss upon her lips, now unresisting.
But then Annie started up with a little cry. The truth had flashed upon
her mind, and brought her back once more to the stern realities of this
life.
"I forgot--my father, mother--where are they?"
"Don't you know? Where did they leave you? And you have not told me how
it is I find you here alone, at night," added John, curiously.
"We were afraid of the Indians, and left home, intending to call
for your folks and then try to reach the lower settlements. But
something--somebody shot at us and frightened the horses. Mine ran
beneath a low limb, and I was brushed from his back. The fall must have
stunned me for a time, because I heard nothing more of them. Then as
I got up and walked away, trying to find where they went, I heard you
after me, and thought it was an Indian. The rest you know," hurriedly
explained the maiden.
"I'm afraid we're all in a bad fix, Annie. If you look, you can see the
light from your house now. Dusky Dick set it on fire. _Our_ home is on
fire, too. No--don't be frightened; the folks were not in it. Fred came
there and alarmed us, and I started on ahead to tell your folks the
news, but got captured by the Indians. Fred said he would bring on the
others to your house, when we all could go together."
"And father is on the way up there! He will get killed--I know it!"
"You said Tobe Castor was with them?"
"Yes; he came just before dark."
"Then he will save them from that. He is too old and cunning to walk
blindly into such a scrape. But _you_ I am troubled the most about now."
"Hark!" whispered Annie, as a startling sound broke the stillness of
the air.
It was a loud, hoarse shout, closely followed by a shrill yell; and
then the confused noise as of a mortal struggle between strong men.
John quickly divined the cause.
"It is your friends, returned to look for you. They have met the Indian
who was with the one I killed. Do you stay here, while I go forward and
help them."
"No, I will go along," and then the young couple glided rapidly toward
the spot from whence proceeded the confused sounds.
It was indeed as John had surmised. Tobe Castor had come into collision
with Asamee, and, well matched in point of strength and dexterity, they
were now rolling over the ground in a life and death grapple.
Tobe had made one blow, his knife sinking deep into the shoulder of the
savage, inflicting a painful flesh wound, but in nowise disabling him.
As he received the wound, Asamee gave a quick twist, that wrenched the
knife from Castor's hand, tearing it from the wound, and hurling it
several yards away.
However, he found his own hands full without attempting to draw a
weapon, and it bade fair to result in a test of relative strength
and endurance; their arms wound about each other, as they strove
desperately for the mastery. But such was not to be the case.
Stevens dashed up, and paused before the contestants, with ready knife.
He could not distinguish one from the other; and then, resolving to
chance it, he spoke out.
"Who is it--white or red?"
"Both, I reckon--I kin answer fer the white, anyhow," muttered Castor,
the words issuing by jerks. "Who're you?"
"John Stevens--let me help you," and the young man strove in vain to
gain a fair stroke at Asamee.
"Gi' me the knife, hyar!" and as he spoke, Castor wrenched one arm
loose, and then dashed his fist with crashing force full in the
red-skin's face, who fell back, confused and bewildered.
Then Castor seized the proffered weapon. One quick, deadly thrust, and
the contest was ended. Tobe coolly wrenched off the scalp, and then
arose, puffing and blowing like a human porpoise.
"Wolf! Tough dog _thet_, fer a red. E'ena'most squoze my outsides in;
durned ef he didn't! But how'd you come here? Hain't see'd nothin' o'
ary stray gal--"
"Uncle Tobe, where are father and mother?" said Annie, springing
forward, now assured that the strife was ended, by the conversation.
"Ge--thunder!" ejaculated Tobe, in amazement. "What next? The gal--ef
'tain't, then I'm a liar!" and the old scout clasped Annie to his
breast, in a genuine "bear's hug," at the same time carrying the simile
further, by an uncouth shuffle, quite as graceful as some of bruin's
most finished antics.
"Don't--you'll smother her!" cried John; and, lover-like, there was a
tinge of uneasiness in his tones, as he beheld another perform the same
thing he had, only a few minutes before; but _then_ it was all right.
"Nary time--will it honey? Gals ain't easy smothered _thet_ a-way. B'ar
a good deal o' huggin', them critters will. Kinder comes nat'ral to
'em, I guess. Lord bless ye, honey! I've a good mind to scold ye, right
peert, now, fer your skeerin' us all so pesky bad!" but instead, Tobe
smacked her lips right heartily.
"There, there, uncle Tobe!" and Annie twisted from his grasp. "You
ought to be ashamed of yourself--at such a time, too. But where are
they?"
"The old folks? Out yonder. They hid while I kem back to hunt you up,
a'ter you jumped off to hunt _this_ feller up. Did, didn't you? Then
how did you chance to find him?"
"This is hardly the time for joking, Castor," rather crustily
interjected John.
"Right, you be. Thar--I'm sober as a judge. But findin' thet honey-bird
thar, jest sorter sot me crazy. Did, fer a fact! Jest sot me right on
eend, like. Made me feel good--kinder squirmish all over, an' it had to
come out or bu'st; which wouldn't 'a' be'n pleasant--the bu'stin' part,
I mean. But come--the old folks 'll be mighty oneasy ontil we git back.
Gi' me your hand, honey, an' you, John, keep cluss op."
"Where do you intend going, Castor?"
"To your house, a'ter t'others."
"Our house is like that of Mr. Wilson's--on fire, or burned to the
ground by this time. You can't see the light from here; but we did, a
little back."
"You don't--then whar's your folks?" exclaimed Tobe, anxiously.
"Out in the woods, somewhere. Fred gave the alarm--he overheard the
plan as he was coming through the woods toward our house. He sent
me on. He sent me ahead to warn Mr. Wilson, but Dusky Dick's devils
captured me. I saw him set fire to Wilson's house."
"Then how'd you git away?"
"He set off after you--along the Lower Trace--and sent me with two
Indians, as guards, to join Sloan Young's gang. We heard your horses,
and one of them ran out to see who it was. I killed the one left with
me. You finished the other, just now," hastily explained John.
"You don't tell me! Gi' me your hand--no, thar hain't no time for
that _now_, but you're a trump, anyhow, if I _do_ say so. It's a
peskier job 'n I 'lotted on, durned if 't'aint, now! Hev to use right
smart head-work to git out on it, too, ef we don't mind. _Drat_ the
imps--what's got into 'em, anyhow?" and Tobe spoke in a voice of
intense disgust.
"What do you think best to be done, now?"
"Don't talk--I've got to _think_. Take the gal, an' keep cluss ahind
me. Thar--so."
John passed one arm around the lithe waist of the maiden, who shrunk
back at first, but then, as his pressure increased, she yielded,
and felt all the better for so doing. Really, despite their ominous
surroundings, the young couple were progressing finely.
Not another word was spoken until Tobe Castor paused and uttered the
agreed upon signal; the cry of the night-hawk. Then Wilson and his
wife sprung forward from their covert.
"Annie--our child--where is she?" gasped the mother, breathlessly.
"Here, mother!" and then the trio were locked in a close and warm
embrace.
Tobe touched Stevens upon the arm, and drew him to one side. They were
the only ones of the party fit for sober consultation, now.
"You say that pesky half-breed, Sloan Young, was at your house?" asked
the old scout.
"Yes. I heard Dusky Dick say so."
"You don't think he--that is, you think the folks got out safe?"
"I do. If not, we would have heard of it. There was no shooting.
Besides, Fred got there soon after dark, and was to start right away
for here. He feared an attack would be made upon his people, too."
"Then they're on the road, _some whars_. They must 'a' see'd the light,
as they hed higher ground to look frum, 'n we had. O' course Young 'd
set out a'ter 'em, hot-fut. Then you say Dusky Dick went out torst the
settlements?"
"Yes. Along the Lower Trace. He believed you had gone that way."
"I 'lowed he should. But mayhap 'twould 'a' bin better if we hed 'a'
kep' on, as 't turns out now. We'll hev 'em both afore an' ahind,
now--durn 'em! But we'll hev to run the chances, fer all I see,"
gloomily muttered Tobe.
"But our folks--what about them?" and there was a deep anxiety visible
in the young man's voice, as he spoke.
"They're in the hands o' the good Lord, boy. We cain't do nothin' fer
'em now, onless we stumble onto 'em, like. The boy's with 'em, you say,
an' he's wuth a heap in a muss like this 'ere. If so be it's to be,
they'll git through all safe; but if not, then the Lord have marcy on
thar souls!" solemnly added the hunter.
"Amen! But I fear the worst. I wish I was with them, now."
"You could do them but little good, if the worst is to come. Fred is
thar, an' now you must kind o' take his place here. We'll need our
best licks to bring 'em through, I'm afeerd."
"Tobe," said Wilson, approaching him, "what've we to do, now? Annie
says Fred is not at Stevens'."
"We must turn 'bout face, an' strike fer the settlements. Not
deerect, thar, fer Dusky Dick is 'tween us an' them; but by a sort o'
circumbendibus like, thet'll throw them off o' the scent. We'll b'ar to
the east--"
The further speech of the old hunter was abruptly cut short, by a
series of thrilling sounds. Full well the little party knew the meaning
of these, and each one shuddered convulsively at the dire visions
conjured up before their mind's eye.
A rifle-shot, a shrill yell--other shots, followed by more cries and
yells; then a wild uproar, as of deadly strife, at close quarters.