SAD NEWS.—RECOVERY OF A RIFLE.
The dull gray light that now began to overspread the sky, gave token of
the coming day, and these whites withdrew further into the grove for
consultation.
“This is a bad business,” remarked young Smith, after he had exchanged
experiences with his friends. “The fiends have outwitted us at last. God
knows what will become of the others.”
As delicately as possible it was announced to young Smith that his
father had been slain. He was overcome for a few moments, but by a great
effort, he choked down his emotion. Finally he asked the particulars,
and said,
“Let us hunt him up and give him a decent burial. Poor mother. We can
find some means to scoop out a grave for him.”
The three moved away to the clearing, but, upon reaching it, nothing of
the body was to be seen. The Indians had carried it from the island.
“Perhaps it is as well,” said the hunter. “He is beyond all pain, and
suffering, and the disposal of his body can make no difference to him,
although I would that we could have done our duty to him.”
At this period the stricken man received the intelligence that at the
same time that his parent was slain, Ruth McGowan was captured. He
looked up with an expression of literal horror.
For a few moments nothing was said, and then the hunter, anxious to
relieve the suspense, clamped his rifle down upon the ground as he came
to a halt, and folding his arm over it, “Here we are, and the question
before this assembly is, how we’re going to get away. What do you
propose to do Teddy?”
“I advise that we ate breakfast.”
“The only objection to that,” replied Napyank, “is that we have nothing
to eat; but we must first go over the island again and learn if there
are any of the demons left. If not we must get on their tracks, for as
true as the heaven is above me, I’ll never go to that settlement without
Ruth.”
“I am certain—that is, as certain as I can be—that the last of the
Indians left the island a half hour ago. We saw their canoes going off.”
“It is best be certain. We will go to the lower end of the island, and
proceed to the upper end, to learn whether any of the reds are left, and
if——”
“And if—what then?”
“You will see,” replied Napyank, shaking his head very significantly.
At the extremity of the island the three separated, as had been
proposed, and commenced making their way back again.
In doing this, it was necessary to avoid exposing themselves, and from
the great caution that was necessary, the work was an entirely difficult
and tedious one.
It was not until full two hours had elapsed that three whites met on the
spot that had been designated as their rendezvous.
Their search, or examination, as it might be termed, proved that the
savages had indeed left the island, not a sign of one having been
discovered. They had probably done this under the belief that the whites
had succeeded in reaching the mainland, so that the latter were
convinced that if they kept themselves concealed during the day, they
would not be disturbed, and could easily get away when night came again.
The ashes of their camp-fire had been discovered, and blood upon the
leaves and other evidences of their recent visit.
“But, where’s your rifle?” asked Joe, who noticed that young Smith had
been unprovided with that weapon.
The latter looked through the trees.
“Yonder it lies this minute. Strange that they did not steal that also.
I will go and recover it.”
He paused ere he had passed out from among the trees, for the very fact
that the rifle lay there undisturbed, sent a suspicious pang through
him. It seemed probable that such an occurrence could be a mere
accident. A true Indian, rarely, if ever, committed such an oversight.
The rifle was magnificently mounted and would have been a prize to any
one.
There was another matter, which in Smith’s state of mind excited
suspicion and apprehension. He believed the gun did not lie on the
precise spot where he had thrown it. He recollected that he had flung it
with such force that it must have gone very nearly to the edge of the
beach, whereas it now lay either on the very spot that he had passed
over, or a few feet on the opposite side.
This circumstance, which at any other time, would have attracted no
attention at all, caused our hero much uneasiness. He felt that it was
by no means certain that every thing was right upon the island, although
it had just been proven, that their enemies had left it. It looked to
him as though a trap had been laid to ensnare him, and this rifle of
his, lying but a few yards distant was the bait.
Feeling very well convinced that there was some design in the presence
of the rifle, he set himself to work to discover the precise means by
which it was intended to entrap him. There being no Indians on the
island, of course he ran no risk of being taken prisoner, in case he
ventured out to secure the weapon. The distance from this point to
either shore was so slight, that it would have been the easiest matter
in the world for a concealed savage to pick him off.
Ah! the flat-boat! Smith’s heart leaped at the thought. Strange that it
had not occurred to him before. There it lay just as it had during the
night, save, perhaps, that it had sunk a few inches lower. It was upon
that he had seen the heads of several Indians, and there, in all
probability, they still lay in wait, watching for his reappearance.
What reason had the Indians to suppose that Smith would again return to
the island. The best of reasons. He had shown to them a desire to do so,
and as long as he believed that his friends were there, the savages well
knew he would linger in the vicinity. Once upon the island he would not
fail to recover his gun, provided he believed he incurred no additional
danger in doing so.
That, then, was the solution of the question. Taking all matters into
consideration, Smith came to the conclusion that it was their desire to
take him prisoner, instead of shooting him, deeming most probably, the
latter death far too comfortable a mode for him to use of getting out of
the world. He knew enough of the bloodthirsty savages to understand what
a terrible fate would be his, in case he fell into their hands. They
would take a fearful vengeance, for the Indian he had killed in
self-defence. Well, indeed had it been for the elder Smith, that he was
so speedily slain. It brought him a quick death, instead of a lingering
torture.
These reflections, which we recorded at some length occupied but a few
seconds. He saw everything with a hunter’s eye and with a shake of the
head, stepped back a pace or two, and resumed his position beside the
Irishman and hunter.
“What’s the matter?” asked the latter.
“It won’t do—it won’t do.”
“What won’t do? Do you mean to go out there and pick up your rifle?”
“Yes, that is what I mean.”
“What is to hinder?”
“I don’t like the looks of that flat-boat.”
“Whew!” blew the hunter, surveying the object in question as though he
had never seen it before.
“Why you don’t like it?”
“I am afraid there are Indians concealed upon the boat. I saw them there
last night.”
And now arose a dispute in which all three of the whites engaged. The
hunter, most certainly was the best qualified to judge, expressed it as
his firm conviction, that half a dozen Indians at least were at that
moment glaring out from the flat-boat, and waiting for their
reappearance. Teddy persistently maintained that there was but one
savage upon the raft, and that he lay in the cabin sound asleep! He
could give no satisfactory reasons to the others for this belief, but he
appeared sincerely to believe it himself.
Like all excited debaters, the longer they argued, they more strenuously
did each affirm his belief in what he first stated. How long the dispute
would have lasted, it is impossible to tell, had not the Irishman
proposed to decide it at once.
“Be jabers, it’s meself that ses there’s not more nor one haythen upon
the raft, and it’s meself that’ll prove it to yees.”
“How are you going to do it?” asked Smith.
“Why, like a gentleman, by walking out there and picking up the rifle
for yees.”
“That would be folly upon your part. The weapon is not worth risking
your life for.”
“I doesn’t intend riskin’ me life for it.”
“Well, don’t go Teddy; there is no need of it. I will give up my side of
the question and agree with you, if you will stay with us.”
“You will agree with me, will yees?” asked Teddy with a curious
expression of his fine blue eyes.
“Yes, if that will satisfy you.”
“It suits me to a tee. You agree with me then, when I say there isn’t
more nor one of the haythen within five miles. Begorra then, if that’s
what yees believes, what harrum can come to me in picking up yer gun for
yees alone! so here goes.”
The hunter placed his hand on the shoulder of the Irishman and
interposed.
“Don’t do it, Teddy; there is no need of it.”
“There is every need in the world for the young gentleman to have his
gun, and there is every need of my getting it for him, being as he’s
afraid to get it himself.”
“But it is too dangerous—it is too dangerous. I wouldn’t do it.
“Don’t make a fool of yourself, Teddy.”
“Why, by what token have ye any reason to object, bein’ that ye think
there is but one of the dogs on the boat and he sound asleep.”
“He might wake up and shoot at you. You might stub your toe.”
The Irishman was getting impatient. He waved them off, and stooping down
rolled up his pantaloons and put his cap on one side, so as to give
himself a saucy dare-devil air. Then, without any weapon at all in his
hand, and whistling “St. Patrick’s Day in the Morning,” he walked boldly
out on the beach and picked up the rifle of Smith.
It would be difficult to portray the emotion of the two whites as they
watched the reckless Irishman. They scarcely breathed as he walked away
from them, and with painfully throbbing hearts they kept their eyes
fixed upon his every movement. While in the act of stooping to pick up
the piece, the hunter thought his ear caught a noise upon the flat-boat,
and he turned his head away, not wishing to see the venturesome man shot
down. But while his eyes were still closed, Teddy reappeared beside him,
and with an exulting look handed his rifle to young Smith.
“What do yees think now?” he asked.
“I still believe there are savages concealed in that flat-boat; and they
only refrained from shooting you, in the belief that an opportunity of
taking you a prisoner would soon be given them.
“And as for me,” said the hunter, “I am morally convinced that a half
dozen rifles were ready cocked to blow your brains out; but they knowed
you’d come right into their hands, so they can afford to wait.”
“Be jabers I’ll soon find out!”
“How?”
“I’m goin’ on the owld flat-boat itself.”
If the two men had been earnest in the objections, to the venture he had
just made, they were nearly frantic in their efforts to restrain him
from this fool-hardy exposure.