IN THE DARK AND BLOODY GROUND.—THE SEPARATION.
As the Indians had invariably come from, and returned to, the Kentucky
side of the river, our friends concluded that the entire war-party was
upon that shore, and it was therefore determined in leaving the island,
that they should cross over to the same bank.
We have detailed the manner in which this was accomplished, and stated
how the fugitives securely sheltered themselves in the wood, while our
hero and the hunter started upon their undertaking, which, when all the
circumstances connected with it, are considered can be termed as nothing
more nor less than simply desperate. Two men, one of whom was almost
entirely unacquainted with woodcraft, were about to attempt to rescue a
captive from the grasp of a larger party of fierce and vengeful Indians.
The night was of inky darkness; the most favorable that the two
adventurers could have desired. This fact, together with that of the
Irishman being a prisoner among the same redskins who held Ruth may be
said to have determined the two to make the attempt as they did. Teddy
was quick-witted, and had encountered savages until he knew them “like a
book.”
Beside this, as we have hinted in another place, Stoddard Smith was led
by the controlling love toward Ruth McGowan. So long as she was a
captive in the hands of those who knew no mercy, so long would he be
unable to find rest for the soles of his feet. No; he fully resolved
that she should be rescued, or he should perish with her!
The darkness being so intense, young Smith experienced considerable
difficulty in making his way through the wood. He bumped his head
several times, before he dare rise to a perfectly upright position, and
then could only discern the dim, shadowy form of his companion beside
him.
“Whatever happens, or whatever you see,” whispered Joe, “don’t speak or
start.”
“Drat that limb! it has nearly sawed my neck off!” he involuntarily
exclaimed, forgetting the caution he had just received.
Knowing that the current must have carried them a considerable distance
down the river, the hunter used the bank as his guide, and ascended a
considerable distance, before he began to look about him for the
savages. After having progressed somewhat over a quarter of a mile, he
caught the glimmer of a light through the trees, and touched Smith upon
his arm, as a caution for him to be upon his guard.
Making their way carefully through the tangled undergrowth, through
hollows and over fallen trees, across brooks and miry patches of earth,
they at length stood within a hundred yards of the Indian camp-fire.
Napyank’s heart sank within him, for he understood at once, that the
war-party had divided, and that neither of the captives was before him.
When had the separation taken place? What direction had the other taken?
How could its trail be gained?
There were questions which instantly presented themselves to the
hunter’s mind, and which, for a long time, he was unable to answer. Amid
the profound darkness which held reign, it was very obvious that nothing
could be done. Even the full, bright moon, was unable to penetrate with
its light, the solemn labyrinth of the Dark and Bloody Ground. Nothing
could be done until morning.
As neither Joe nor Stoddard had enjoyed any sleep for many hours, they
both felt fatigued, despite the exciting situation in which they were
placed. Withdrawing a considerable distance farther into the forest,
they both lay down beside an uprooted tree, and were almost immediately
locked in slumber.
The sleep of Smith was deep and dreamless. It was not until the sun had
been up several hours, that he opened his eyes. As soon as he recovered
from his temporary bewilderment, he arose, chagrined that he had lost so
much valuable time. To his surprise, upon looking around, nothing was
seen of Napyank. Thinking, however, he should not be far away, he seated
himself upon the tree, to wait for his return.
An hour passed away, and still no sign of his missing companion. The
young man had whistled, and given utterance to all the signals he had at
his command, but had elicited no response. He was now alarmed and
greatly vexed; alarmed at the singular disappearance of his friend, and
vexed that now, when every minute was of the utmost value to him, he was
thus compelled to remain and accomplish nothing. At length his patience
became exhausted.
“There is no use of remaining behind,” he muttered. “The Indians have
gone, and every minute places them further from me. I will follow them
alone, relying upon my own arm, and the kindness of Heaven, for
success.”
Throwing his rifle over his shoulder, he moved resolutely off, resolved
never to turn his back upon his enemies, until he had learned something
of the fair captive they held. It was a desperate proceeding, indeed,
for a single man thus to pit himself against a whole party of redskins,
but our hero felt no hesitation in doing it.
It was now, too, that Stoddard began to experience the pangs of hunger.
He had eaten very sparingly the night before, in order that the others
might not want, and was so famished, that he determined to secure some
food at all hazards. At the period of which we write, game was very
abundant in this portion of the West, and the decision had scarcely
entered his mind, when several wild turkeys, their wings outspread, and
their feet scarcely touching the ground, sped along within a stone throw
of him. As quick as thought, the foremost was shot and in his hand.
The instant that Smith had secured his game, he regretted having
discharged his piece, for he felt certain he had exposed himself to
danger. Some of the Indians must certainly be within hearing, and would
be attracted thither, by a suspicion of a true state of the case.
To guard against capture, he made all haste through the woods in the
direction of the camp-fire, which had been deserted by the savages, in
the belief that this would be the last place where his enemies would
seek him. Upon reaching it, he was gratified to find a large quantity of
live coals, and without hesitation, he plucked, dressed the turkey, and
proceeded to cook it.
The bird afforded him a most needed and nourishing meal, beside
furnishing enough for future use; and now, that his immediate wants were
attended to he set to work in earnest upon the all important object that
has brought him thither.
In the first place, it was necessary to discover the trails of the two
war-parties, and in the first place, he failed completely. Although
gifted with more than ordinary intelligence, shrewdness, and cunning, he
had not yet learned enough of wood-craft to follow the faint footsteps
of the wild Indians through its labyrinths, when the traces left, were
so faint that the human eye, unless trained by an experience of years,
could not detect the least signs of the passage of any one.
Had the Indians proceeded with their usual caution, it would have been
absolutely impossible for our hero to have followed them a hundred yards
through the wilderness. But, believing that no enemy, that need cause
them the least uneasiness, was in their vicinity, they straggled forward
as carelessly as a party of school boys. This only, was the reason why
our hero was enabled to follow them.
Smith, under the belief that they had penetrated further in Kentucky,
for a long time examined the ground only upon that side of the fire. His
efforts meeting with no success, he resorted to the opposite side, where
the trail was discovered at once. It being impossible to find any
further signs of the passage of the Indians in any other direction, he
concluded that both parties must have gone this way, which, somewhat to
his surprise, led toward the river. Keeping along on the trail, he
found, as he had feared, that they had embarked in their canoes, and
gone either up, down or across the stream.
“And how am I to tell which way?” he muttered, “I must run the risk of
getting the wrong choice out of these three.”
Smith, under ordinary circumstances, certainly would have been
discouraged at the formidable obstacles which now rose before him; but
one of his temperament, could never rest while the object of his choice
was captive in the hands of the savages, and he, therefore, did not
think of returning back.
“They cannot have gone up the river,” he reflected, “because they have
come from that direction. And yet, what reason is that why they should
not have done so? Still it strikes me that they have not taken that
course. They could have gone much more rapidly overland. If their
destination is in Kentucky, it surely is not on the bank of the Ohio; it
must be a good distance back from the river, so that they would only
have lengthened their journey by taking to the water. From all that I
have heard or read of these Shawanoe Indians, I have been led to suppose
that although they range at will on both sides of the river, still their
towns and villages, and their homes, in fact, is in southern Ohio. And
what more natural, now, that they have secured their prisoner, than that
they should return to their home as rapidly as possible? Such, it seems
reasonable to believe, is the true state of the case, and I must cross
the river again.”
Stoddard was upon the point of venturing into the river, when his
attention was arrested by a loud splash in the direction of the
flat-boat, and to his surprise, he descried several Indians upon it.
Finding that he was not observed, he drew back and watched their
actions.
A glance convinced him that they belonged to the same war-party of
Indians, and were searching the craft for plunder. They had thrown over
a sort of bench, which was fastened—bottom upward—to the stern of the
canoe. There were some half dozen savages, who, a moment later, shoved
off, and paddled down stream.
Their light craft shot rapidly forward, inclining neither to one shore
nor the other. From this, his belief that the main body had crossed the
river, was changed in the conviction that they had all gone down stream
in their canoes; and that all that remained for him to do, was to keep
these redskins in sight.
This was a difficult task indeed. Under the skilful guidance of the
sinewy Indians, their canoe skimmed like a swallow over the water, and
it required the most strenuous efforts of Smith to keep it in sight.
Fortunately indeed, the wood, a few yards from the shore, was open, and
his footsteps were not much impeded.
Hurrying thus forward, now and then darting to the river bank, he kept
up the pursuit for five or six miles, the canoe all the time gaining
upon him, until finally he lost sight of it behind a bend in the river.
Our hero was panting and perspiring, and in no pleasant mood, that,
after all his efforts, he was compelled to fall behind; and he relaxed
into a sullen walk.
“It seems as though everything is conspiring against me,” he muttered.
“I have done everything in my power, and here I am at last, left
entirely alone, without knowing whither a single one of my friends has
gone. It matters little what becomes of me. A curse upon the infernal
Indians that have persecuted me thus!”
He walked moodily forward for an hour or so, by which time he had passed
the bend in the river, around which the canoe had disappeared. The river
at this point took a due southwest direction, running so nearly
straight, that a view of several miles was afforded. Nothing of the
canoe, however, had been seen. It had gone he knew not where.
Wearied and dispirited, he threw himself upon the ground, and endeavored
to sleep. But he was too excited and nervous to rest; and devouring what
he could, of the remaining portion of the turkey, he threw the rest from
him, and leaned his hand, to reflect upon the best course for him to
pursue.
He had lost all traces of the Indians and their captives. How he should
ever meet Ruth again, it was impossible for him to imagine. In the
impenetrable depths of the great wilderness which surrounded him, where
the merciless redmen wandered for miles, how could he, a single,
unaided, white man, follow them? And even should he chance upon them,
how could he wrest a captive from their jealous grasp? What would be her
fate? A drudge, a slave, but he hoped no worse unless she voluntarily
took to herself an Indian husband. They might tomahawk or scalp her, but
he believed they would do no more. But Smith believed that the honor of
his betrothed was safe in the hands of her deadliest enemies. This
knowledge afforded him unspeakable satisfaction.
And then there was the mysterious disappearance of Joe. Where could he
have gone in the night? Could it be possible that he, too, had fallen
into the hands of his foes. Had they gained all of the whites except
himself? Had they——?
The explosion of a rifle broke the stillness of the woods, and springing
to his feet, Stoddard hurried madly forward scarcely conscious of what
he was doing. After running a short distance, he paused, and parting the
bushes gazed upon a scene that thrilled his very being with the wildest
of thoughts.