OUT OF THE TRAP.
Tobe Castor keenly watched the slowly approaching red-skin. He could
long since have disposed of him by a rifle-shot, had he felt so
inclined; but that he did not choose to do. If he did, then the main
object of the savages would be accomplished. Once given the exact
position of the pale-faces, such a storm of bullets would be poured in
upon them that death would be inevitable.
The old scout had decided upon a plan of action that he believed might
work, though the chances were greatly against it. He saw that the
red-skin would strike the bushes, if he maintained the course he had
begun, at only a few feet from where crouched the fugitives.
The bushes, interlaced with vines and creepers, were very dense, and a
person standing close upon the outside could not perceive those within,
by night, unless he first parted the screen. This was what the savage
would have to do, in case he accomplished his object.
Castor hoped to be able to quiet this dangerous customer with the
knife, and so quietly that those who were watching his progress,
would still be at a loss as to their exact whereabouts. It would be
difficult, though he believed it could be done.
Warning his comrades by a gesture to remain perfectly quiet, the old
scout moved along by slow degrees so as to intercept the savage. When
the point was gained directly in front of the creeping figure, Castor
paused and prepared his knife for use.
But the trial was not yet to come. A strange and unexpected
interruption came and afforded the besieged a respite, none the less
welcome, because unlooked for.
There resounded a hoarse, gurgling yell--a rifle-shot--another; and
then the defiant shout in the unmistakable voice of a white man.
Following, came wild cries and whoops from the red-skins.
It was indeed the discovery of the young scout, Fred Wilson, although
his friends did not know it. And a most fortunate occurrence it proved
to be, at least for them.
The savages were bewildered and knew not what to make of the affair.
But then all seemed clear.
The strange silence of the pale-faces was now explained. They no longer
wondered that no reply had come from the bush-screened log, when they
had so plentifully bestowed their leaden favors upon it. They had been
upon a false scent, all the time. The hated pale-faces were not there,
but had given them the slip, and but for a fortunate discovery would
have crept entirely away and left them in the lurch.
Much in this manner the Sioux reasoned, and then with their thrilling
war-whoop, they bounded after the fleeing scout, eager for his scalp,
though they believed it was the entire party instead of only one. Their
own footfalls prevented them from learning their mistake, by the tramp
of the fugitive.
The red-skin who had acted on the "forlorn hope" also sprung up and
dashed away to join the pursuit. Others dashed by, while the concealed
fugitives held their breath at this strange proceeding.
Castor turned and glided back to join his companions. He was as greatly
puzzled as were the others.
"What is it, Tobe? I thought that sounded like Fred's voice," whispered
Wilson.
"I didn't notice--but the last shot favored his gun mightily. Could it
be him?"
"Mayn't it be a trick of theirs to get us to show ourselves?" suggested
John Stevens.
"It mought--but I sca'cely think it. You see, too many o' them went.
An' they're kerryin' it too fur. Lis'en--you kin hear 'em a-screechin'
'way off thar yit," and Tobe harkened intently.
"What shall we do? Stay here, or try to slip off?"
"Jest as you think best. _I_ b'lieve our plan is to travel. It _may_ be
a trick, an' ef so, we're gone, shore. Ef not, we stand a show. Anyhow,
ef we stay here ontel day, they'll hev us then, easy. But jest as you
say--on'y be quick 'bout it, 'ca'se thar's no time to waste."
"I think we had better risk it," added Wilson, resolutely.
"All right, then. Here goes. I'll show up fust, an' ef they don't
plug me, do you foller. Step as though you was a-walkin' on sleepin'
rattlers, an' don't make no fuss. Ready?"
A murmur gave assent, and then Tobe emerged from his covert, crouching
low down in the shade cast by the bushes, and gliding off from the
fire. Not a sound betrayed the presence of any enemy, and the others
ventured forth, using the same precautions that their leader had taken.
They proceeded thus for full hundred yards, when Castor halted them.
They paused in momentary alarm, but his first words banished their
apprehensions.
"It's all right yit. I on'y wanted to tell you what we must do. We'll
have to take to the hosses, ef the imps hain't found them, or they
hain't broken loose. Then we kin 'ither take the Trace, or cut through
the woods, jest's you think best."
"We leave it all to you. But it's dangerous stopping here so close.
Some of those devils may come back and stumble upon us."
"The more haste the wuss speed, you know. You must wait here ontil I go
an see if the animiles is safe. They may hev found 'em an' left a guard
thar to cut us off ef we tried to git to 'em. You wait here ontel you
hear me whistle; then come on as quiet as you kin."
With these words Castor glided away in the darkness, leaving the little
party to uneasily await the result of his scout. But a few moments of
suspense were they forced to endure; then came the welcome whistle, and
with glad hearts they pressed forward. In a few moments more they were
beside the horses, that still stood as they had been left.
It will be remembered that the Wilson party were yet consulting as to
the best course for them to pursue, at the point where Castor had left
the husband and wife, while he sought for the missing Annie, when the
uproar attending the attack upon the Stevens family broke upon their
hearing. Suspecting the truth, the party had left the horses as they
were hitched, and rushed forward toward the spot, hoping to be enabled
to assist their friends. Thus it is that we find them once more in
possession of their animals.
"Now here's four critters, an' thar's six o' us. Let the wimmen an'
Ed ride--he's the least able to stand a ja'nt afoot. Up with ye--no
talkin', Ed. Ef so be't any one o' us two gits tuckered out, we'll
change 'th you."
In another score of moments the little party were ready for a start.
Tobe Castor led the way, then the horses, and after them came John
Stevens.
By mutual consent the old scout was allowed to direct their course,
and he chose to proceed, for some time at least, through the forest
as being safer than treading in the beaten Trace. He knew that along
it had hastened Dusky Dick and his gang of cut-throats, and felt
assured that they would soon discover the _ruse_ by which they had
been deceived, and thus would naturally turn back to find where they
had lost the trail. By following the Trace, there would be danger of
meeting him.
It was tedious traveling, but it was the road to safety, and the
fugitives bore their hardships with as good a grace as possible. The
spirits of all were gloomy enough, but the hearts of the brother and
sister were sore indeed.
Jennie had told her story, and they knew their parents were both dead.
The blow was a bitter one, and only for the absolute necessity for
their restraining their feelings, in order to preserve their own lives,
both of them would have given way beneath it.
And thus the night wore on. The forest was traversed and left behind
the fugitives, who had placed a full score of miles behind them ere the
light of day came over the western hills.
The eyes of the old scout, who was some yards ahead of the party, roved
keenly and anxiously over the country, searching for what he hoped not
to find; some trace of their enemies. And for a time he was agreeably
disappointed.
They were now in a sort of open prairie, at this point rolling and
uneven. Scattered hither and yon were small clumps of trees surrounded
with smaller bushes and shrubs. The prairie was covered nearly
waist-deep with a coarse grass, thickly mixed with weeds.
To the left of the party, and extending some little distance to their
rear, was a line or chain of hills, rocky and bleak-looking. They were
not far distant at this point, hardly a mile.
"Do you see any thing, Tobe?" asked Wilson, uneasily, glancing at the
guide.
"Yas--a plenty, but nothin' to git skeered at, as I knows on. I don't
see ary a red. Reckon we gi' them the dirty shake last night."
"I hope so. But will it be safe to rest a bit? The women need it, and
so do the animals. A bite of food will do no harm--though we have no
water."
"I don't know but 'twould be best. We must stop some time, an' now 's
jest as good a time 's any. Thar at thet _motte_ yander, we'll stop.
Thar's a good spring, too. So we'll not go thusty," said Castor,
indicating a small clump of timber some few hundred yards before them.
The fugitives were now upon a ridge, whose hight afforded them a fair
view of the country, and while Castor spoke, his eyes were keenly
scrutinizing the prairie beyond. He suddenly paused, with a cry of
angry dismay.
"What is it, Tobe?" cried Stevens, gliding forward.
"Looky yander!--_Injuns, by the 'tarnal!_" hissed the old ranger, as he
extended an arm before him.
Thus directed, the gaze of the party was riveted upon an alarming
sight. And as they gazed, their hearts sunk within them, for they saw
that Castor was right.
Upon a ridge at perhaps a half-mile distance, could plainly be
distinguished a number of footmen, whose wild aspect as their plumed
and ornamented crests rose above the tall, still grass, told they were
indeed savages. Their number could not be much less than a score;
perhaps more.
"Let's get out of sight in the hollow," muttered Stevens as he sprung
to the head of Annie's horse. "Quick! before they see us!"
"Too late--too late, boy!" muttered Castor, his glowing eyes sweeping
around their position. "D'y' hear _that_?"
As he spoke, faint, far-away yells of discovery came to their ears,
borne upon the light breeze. And then the savages were observed to
bound forward toward them, spreading out as if to surround their
intended prey.
"Quick! to the timber--it is our only chance now!" shouted Stevens
excitedly, as he urged the snorting horse forward.
"Back--hold on, boy," cried Castor, a determined expression resting
upon his countenance "'Twon't do--they'd rout us out o' thar in a
minnit. We must try somethin' else."
"But what? My God! man, do you intend to stay here and let them murder
us all?" almost shrieked Wilson.
"No--follow me. Let the hosses went--don't hold 'em in. Keep up 'th me
ef you kill the critters!"
As Tobe spoke, he turned abruptly to the left, and dashed off at full
speed. For a moment the others hesitated, but his decisive action
overruled their doubts, and they hotly followed in his lead.
It seemed a suicidal course, this one of the old scout's, for he was
leaving the friendly _motte_ almost directly behind him, and was
speeding over the rolling prairie toward a point where there was
nothing to be seen save a bare hillside. And after them came the wildly
yelling red-skins, who now seemed confident of their prey, for the
thick, tangled weeds impeded the advance of a horse still more than
that of a footman.