A STARTLING CONCLUSION.
Jack Carleton stealthily pressed his left hand against his breast; his
knife was where he could whip it out when wanted.
Why couldn't he draw it, and leaping forward, bury it in the side of his
captor before he could save himself?
"It will be a dreadful thing," he reflected, compressing his lips, "but
it is the only chance I have; _I'll try it!_"
He began insinuating his hand under his coat, and groped for the only
weapon on which he could now rely. In his eagerness he stepped more
softly and slightly crouched, as one is apt to do at such a time.
It may have been that his captor took the lead for a short distance with
a view of tempting him to make some such demonstration; but more than
likely, the excessive caution of the lad betrayed him; for, before he
could draw his knife, the face was turned, and stepping aside, he
motioned Jack to assume the leadership--that is, under his direction.
The captive did not think it wise to refuse, but moved promptly to the
front and continued the march in the same direction they had followed
from the first.
"I wonder whether he is deaf and dumb," said Jack to himself; "he acts
just as though he had no use of his tongue. Well, I don't know as it
will make any difference, for I can't understand a word he says, and it
isn't likely he knows any thing about English. But these redskins have a
way of talking with their hands, heads and shoulders which almost any
one can comprehend."
The change of positions caused Jack Carleton a new uneasiness. Having
made ready for an attack on the Indian in front, it was only natural
that he should suspect his captor would take the same course toward him.
As indifferently as he could, the youth again slid his right hand under
his coat, until it grasped the bone-handle of his hunting knife. He held
it firmly, and listened closely for the first movement which would
betray the other's intention.
But the youth erred as to the immediate purpose of the warrior. He
strode along in his deliberate way, stepping in the footprints of his
captive, so as neither to recede from nor approach him. Less than ten
feet intervened between the two.
The couple were so near the river, that, when not able to catch a
glimpse of its shining surface, it was located by the sparseness of the
trees. Jack was so anxious to avoid the stream, that he began bearing to
the left, hoping the individual behind him would not notice the
deviation, but the lad was unwise to think such a thing possible.
The result of this weak piece of strategy was the proof that the red man
was the owner of a voice.
"_Waoof!_"
The sound resembled the cough of a wild beast, and startled Jack.
Glancing around, he saw the eyes of the warrior snapping, while his
right arm was extended, and the finger pointing toward the river.
"All right," responded the lad, as though glad to be reminded of his
forgetfulness; "we won't quarrel over the matter."
Jack, however, was too prudent to make an abrupt turn, which would bring
him to the shore before going more than several rods. His divergence was
perceptible, though the angle was obtuse.
The prisoner was astonished and mystified by what followed, and it may
be said that he never fully understood its meaning.
"The rascal has proven that he has the use of his tongue--that's
certain. I don't like the idea of keeping in front of him and leading
the way to the river's edge. When we reach that, he can call to the
others and bring over all he wants to help him--that is, if he feels he
needs the help, which isn't likely. I'll keep on till we are close to
the river, and then I'll make a fight!"
When only a few yards separated him from the river, the warrior emitted
an exclamation precisely like that which first arrested the footsteps of
the youth. He stopped, as before, and awaited the will of his captor.
The latter advanced to the front, and, while the other stood still, the
Indian made his way to the water's margin, parted the bushes and looked
out.
The feature of the movement was its caution. The redskin acted as if his
whole care was to escape being seen by any on the other side. Why he
wished to do so was beyond the power of the youth to guess.
"They are his friends, and I should think he would want to let them know
of his success."
The warrior stood fully two minutes leaning over the water, one hand
grasping the gun and the other holding the undergrowth apart, while his
eyes roved up and down, as if searching for that which he expected and
yet dreaded to find. He was but a brief distance below the camp of the
Pawnees, who were in sight. The sun had set and twilight was creeping
through the wood and over the river. Soon objects would become
indistinct; but, for a few minutes at least, it would be to the warrior
as if the sun were in the sky.
The view was unsatisfactory, for he drew back, allowing the bushes to
come together, and muttered some impatient expression. Looking angrily
at Jack, he extended his arm and finger so as to point away from the
stream, and signified by gesture that the youth was to take that course.
"Nothing will suit me better," was the thought of the latter, as he
obeyed; "I don't understand what the mischief you are driving at, but I
am glad to get as far as I can from the river."
As nearly as Jack could judge, this odd march lasted until he had
tramped a hundred yards, when it was terminated by another emphatic
"_Waoof!_"
They were in the woods, where the trees were close and there was little
undergrowth. So far as could be seen, the nearest water was the river,
but the captor showed that his purpose was to go into camp, as may be
said, for a time at least. He broke off some dead limbs, threw them on
the ground at the base of a large oak, and motioned to the captive to do
the same. Jack's previous experience had taught him that the wisest
course, under such circumstances, is promptly to obey, and he sprang to
work with such vigor that it did not take him long to collect a large
pile. As he always carried a flint and steel with him, he hoped to
conciliate his captor to a slight extent by starting the fire, though
the latter had also a stone in hand, from which, it is probable, he
would have extracted fire with but little trouble. He stood still and
watched the lad.
It was many years before such a thing as a lucifer match was known, and
our ancestors acquired a deftness in igniting a flame from the simple
contrivance named, which leads us to doubt whether they gained a great
advantage when they threw it aside for the modern invention.
With the help of dried leaves, small dead twigs, and the swift blows of
the steel across the face of the flint, a spark speedily darted to the
combustible material and stuck there. Jack did not use the rag soaked in
chemicals, which was common among the settlers, but caught the fire from
the direct source, as it may be called. The tiny twist of flame was
fanned and nursed by gently blowing until, in a brief space, a big fire
was roaring, and scorching the shaggy bark of the oak.
It was impossible to tell from the looks of the Indian whether he was
pleased or not. He stood a few paces off, watching the operation, and,
when the fire was well under way, sat down cross-legged like a Turk,
where he could feel the warmth, though, as I have stated in another
place, the weather was not cold.
It was now growing dark. The shadows were on every hand, and the trunks
of the trees looked grim and ghostly, as revealed by the fire, which
Jack continually fed, until the circle of illumination was several rods
in extent.
"I would give a good deal to know what he is thinking about," said the
lad to himself, furtively watching the face on the other side of the
fire; "something seems to have gone wrong with him, though why he should
want to keep his movements from his friends across the river is more
than I can guess; may be he has had a quarrel; they have taken his gun
and set him adrift."
This theory, however, did not sound reasonable, and the lad was
unsatisfied; whatever the cause of the redskin's erratic conduct, his
captive could not explain it.
For a half hour the warrior was as mute and motionless as the oak
against which the fire had been kindled. All that time, he sat six or
eight feet from the flames and about the same distance from the captive.
The fire, the Indian and the youth, each formed the corner of a
triangle. He who was master of the situation retained his Turk-like
pose, the captured gun between his arms and knees and his small eyes
fixed on the flames, which the industry of the prisoner never allowed to
grow less.
Strange musings must have stirred within the bronzed skull, but it is
useless to speculate, since we have no more means of knowing their
nature than had Jack Carleton, who wondered and guessed without
satisfying himself.
But one thing was certain: whatever the thoughts of the warrior, they
were of a disturbing nature. Jack could not mistake the scowl which
wrinkled the brow, while now and then an evil light shone in the eyes.
"He doesn't think of supper, or, if he does, he knows there is no way of
getting any thing to eat. He must make up his mind pretty soon what he
intends to do with _me_. If he decides to stay here all night, I know I
shan't close my eyes for a single second."
But the test did not come, and it can not be known, therefore, what the
result would have been. The Indian seemed to rouse all at once to a
sense of the situation, probably concluding that he was wasting time by
indulging in such musings. His awaking was characteristic. He sprang to
his feet, threw his gun aside, and placed his hand on the knife at his
girdle. As he did so, his countenance flamed with ferocity, and the
meaning of the look he bent on Jack Carleton could not be misjudged.
"It has been decided that mine shall be the same fate as that of poor
Otto," was the thought of Jack, who displayed genuine Kentucky pluck in
facing the peril.
He was only a second or two behind the warrior in bounding to his feet,
and as he came up he whipped out his hunting knife from under his coat,
and confronted his foe. The latter probably was unaware until then that
his captive had a weapon about him, for otherwise he would have deprived
him of it at the muzzle of the rifle; but surely it would seem he had no
cause to fear the youth, who could not have been his equal in strength,
activity or skill in handling such a weapon, though much his superior in
courage.
Jack Carleton was as self-possessed as if he were awaiting a friendly
wrestling bout with Otto Relstaub, though he knew that the assault meant
death to one, and the chances were against himself.
"He will bound like a dog at me," was the thought of Jack, who, after
the manner of a skillful boxer, kept his eye fixed on that of his foe,
in the hope of reading his purpose; "and I will make believe I am
bewildered by his style of attack (and may be I will be), but I'll jump
to one side, as he comes, and, with the help of heaven, will show what a
Kentucky boy can do when cornered."
Just then Jack Carleton smiled, and right good cause had he for doing
so.