Into the clearing before them stepped a strange figure, rifle still
covering the startled Audubon--a tall man clad in buckskin and
coonskin cap, with, of course, moccasins. He was gaunt and
huge-boned, grey hair falling over his shoulders and a grizzled red
moustache and beard half-hiding his face. For all that, Norton was
startled by the man's features.
They were anything but those of a riverman. True, the sunken grey
eyes held a smouldering ferocity which was almost madness; but the
high brow, fine nose, and shapely head, even the delicate lines of
mouth and chin beneath the flowing beard--all these expressed a keen
intelligence, almost a nobility, which was utterly astounding to
Norton.
"What's this--what's this!" The stranger lowered his rifle suddenly
as his eyes fell on Norton's features. Carefully uncocking the
weapon, he stared at the two friends, an indescribable expression of
chagrin overspreading his countenance. "Gentlemen, I must crave your
pardon. From his moccasins I took this gentleman for an
Indian,"--and he gravely indicated Norton--"for he is deeply browned
and his features were all but hidden from me. God be thanked I did
not shoot first!"
"Amen to that!" cried Norton feebly, essaying a faint smile.
Audubon, no less astonished at the looks and speech of the stranger,
made a slight bow, and spoke coldly:
"If your murderous impulse has quite abated, sir, pray lend this
gentleman your aid. We are seeking the cabin of a man called Red
Hugh. Do you know where it is?"
From what Boone had told him, and from the appearance and manner of
the stranger, Norton had a very shrewd suspicion that this was no
other than Red Hugh himself. Leaning on his long rifle, the man
surveyed the two friends critically.
"Well," he returned at length, "I may say yes to that question, sir.
But I will barter my information for yours. You, sir"--and he bent
his sunken grey eyes on Norton--"are wearing a pair of Shawnee
moccasins. As you probably know, the beads and quill-work on those
moccasins are peculiar. In fact, there is only one man besides
yourself in the Northwest who wears such moccasins, and he is an
Indian--the only Indian I have ever held under my rifle and spared.
Where did you get them?"
Norton sat up, fighting off the dizzy weakness that all but mastered
him. The man's words sent eager curiosity through him.
"I had them from an Indian," he returned quickly, and gave a brief
account of the two he had encountered. Before he finished, a fresh
spasm of nausea overwhelmed him, and he sank back in Audubon's arms.
"Enough of this talk," cried the naturalist angrily. "If you will
guide us to this Red Hugh, sir, pray do so at once. We come to him
from Colonel Boone----"
"If you had said that before, you would have bettered matters," broke
in the tall stranger. "I am he whom you seek. Come."
Norton had lost all interest in the proceedings, for he could no
longer fight off the fever. Between them the other two got him to
his feet and half-carried him along a faint trail indicated by Red
Hugh. After what seemed centuries to the reeling Norton, they came
to a cabin, and he dimly felt himself carried inside. He knew little
of what happened next, save that he drank a bitter draught and fell
asleep.
When he wakened, he stared around him with wondering eyes, trying to
place himself. He tried to move, and found himself too weak to raise
his arm; yet the terrible sickness had passed.
He was lying on a couch of skins, and by the deepness of the sun
outside he guessed it was mid-afternoon. The cabin was a bare place
enough save for the furs heaped around the floor, but directly
opposite him, beside the hearth, was a strange contrivance made of a
stretched elkskin almost covering the side wall. From where he lay
he could see a row of words across the top of the big skin, clearly
done in red paint as if with a brush:
WYANDOT--SHAWNEE--MIAMI--
CREEK--DELAWARE--POTT.--OTTAWA.
Under each tribal name was smaller writing which he could not read.
For a space he stared at the thing in wonder. Then, with a rush, he
remembered that he lay in the cabin of Red Hugh, and all which had
gone before. There was work to be done! Abel Grigg must be trailed
to his meeting-place with the other pirates. Norton made a terrible
effort to rise, but collapsed with a groan of despair.
At the sound, a figure darkened the doorway, and he looked up to see
the tall form of Red Hugh bending over him. His head was lifted and
a rolled skin set beneath it: then the old backwoodsman drew up a
stool, fetched a bowl of hot broth from the fire, and set to work
feeding him with a spoon.
"Talk later," he said gently. "First, you must eat. You have slept
since yesterday, friend, and----"
Norton, feeling new strength with the first mouthful of broth, pushed
the spoon away desperately. The words shocked him into energy, and
again he tried to sit up.
"Since yesterday!" he exclaimed. "But Grigg must be followed----"
The iron hand of Red Hugh pushed him back.
"Eat!" And the deep command forced him to obey. "You lack only
strength, Norton, and that will come in a few days. Now, to relieve
your anxiety, your friend Audubon told me all that had passed. We
tried to trail Grigg, but the scoundrel had covered his tracks like
an Indian and I feared to leave you alone here. So Audubon went back
to Louisville to confer with Ayres, and for the present matters must
be left as they are."
"Then you know my errand?"
"Yes. Audubon told me the whole affair. Now finish this broth."
Leaning back, Norton obeyed, in a mingling of disappointment and
content. It was hard that Grigg should have escaped, yet this Red
Hugh seemed a capable person to trust in. Norton could not but
wonder at the man. According to Boone, Red Hugh had spent the past
twenty years here on the border, yet his manners and speech were
those of a cultivated gentleman--and Norton could not understand the
incongruity of it.
The rich broth gave him new life. When the last drop was gone, Red
Hugh proceeded to cram an ancient pipe with tobacco, sternly denying
the luxury to his guest, and settled himself beside the couch.
"Shawnee moccasins! Shawnee moccasins!" he muttered slowly, then
brought his keen eyes to Norton's face. "Audubon said you were from
New Orleans?"
"Yes," returned the Louisianian, with curiosity again stirring in
him. "You seemed to recognize those moccasins, sir--how shall I call
you?"
"Call me by my name--Red Hugh," said the other gruffly. "That is all
the name I have held these twenty years, and it is good enough to die
under. As to those moccasins, sir, you seem to have entertained an
angel and a devil unawares."
"Those two Indians?" demanded Norton eagerly. "Who were they, then?"
"He with one eye is called the Prophet," puffed Red Hugh slowly.
"The bitterest-hearted devil unhung! The other, his brother, is the
finest man on the border to-day, the one redskin I am proud to call
friend. He has sat here where you now lie, telling me of his dream;
he has built a town on the Wabash, not far from Vincennes, where he
hopes to gather all the Indian tribes in peace, teaching them to lay
aside the rifle and till the soil. Neither he nor his followers
touch liquor--sir, God will punish our race for the evils we have
brought upon these Indians! The man of whom I speak is a Shawnee,
humbly born yet recognized as chieftain by a dozen tribes. His name
is Tecumthe, or as the border makes it, Tecumsey."
The amazed Norton listened to this speech in blank astonishment. He
had heard little of the two Indians in the South, and only on his
Northern trip had he learned much of Tecumthe or his famous brother,
the Prophet. Along the border they were hated bitterly, and that he
had himself aided the two was no small surprise.
Even more amazing, however, was the way in which Red Hugh spoke.
From Boone, Norton had understood that the man hunted Indians, as
more than one frontiersman did, like wild animals.
"Tell me this," he asked, bewildered. "I thought you hated all
redskins, Hugh? If that is true, what care you for the evil we have
brought upon them, and why do you think so highly of Tecumthe?"
The other puffed in silence for a moment, his face set like stone.
"Look at that elk-hide yonder," he said, at length, gesturing with
his pipe toward the stretched skin, his voice deeply stirred.
"Norton, that skin bears record of a hundred and a score Indians I
have slain. Twenty years ago a band of red devils murdered my whole
family, my wife, my children, killed my dearest friend, left me for
dead----"
He paused, and after a space continued, his voice firmer.
"I recovered, and having naught to live for save vengeance, I took
vengeance. Every redskin I have slain has been a warrior under arms,
and I have hunted them without pity or mercy, even as they have
hunted me. This man Tecumthe is different. His heart is white,
Norton. While the Prophet is stirring up war, Tecumthe is urging
peace; he has a great vision of uplifting his race--but he cannot do
it. His men are murdered along the frontier and he can get no
justice. His lands are stolen, and Harrison will do nothing. If he
loses the Wabash Valley, the Shawnees will be thrown back on the
Sioux and Blackfeet, their mortal enemies. Well, let us get off this
subject, Norton. You know who I am, and that is enough. We have to
deal, not with Indians, but with men worse than Indians."
"Yes," said Norton bitterly. "This gang of river-pirates has
murdered more men within the last year or two than have all all the
Indians since Fallen Timbers. Too bad Grigg escaped you; we had the
whole gang under our hand right there, could we have trapped him."
Red Hugh laid aside his pipe and fell to stroking his grizzled beard
as they discussed what was to be done. Norton was dismayed to find
that he would be unable to get around for several days, though Red
Hugh promised him a complete cure from his fever and wounds.
Nor could he obtain the information for which he had hoped, from this
strange character. Red Hugh, who seemed well educated and only a
trifle "touched" on the subject of killing Indians, had a supreme
contempt for the settlers along the river, in the main. He had been
only once to Louisville, and had lived his solitary life as far as
might be without concerning himself with settlements. He knew
nothing of the Blacknose gang, though he stated bluntly that once he
and Norton set themselves to hunt down the pirates, it would be a
matter of short accomplishment.
So with that small ray of comfort, Norton went about his recovery,
impatiently enough. When three days had passed, he felt nearly
himself once more; but in that space of time he had discovered many
things.
In the first place, he was forced to reverse his earlier impressions
of Red Hugh. While he was ill, the man took a lively interest in
caring for him; no sooner was Norton on his feet, than Red Hugh
relapsed into a brooding morose individual who refused to talk about
himself or his doings and only betrayed interest in Blacknose.
Studying the man, Norton concluded that he had been a gentleman and a
man of some consequence, but since the destruction of his family had
devoted his whole life to revenge with a consequent loss of sanity on
other topics.
He seemed to have absolutely no other business in life than killing
Indians, for a living was easily gained by hunting. He had never
troubled to take up land, and since there were no settlements in the
vicinity, no one interfered with his squatting. All his vivacity and
gentle care vanished as soon as Norton regained strength, and with
this interest gone, he would sit and stare by the hour at his
terrible elkskin.
This Norton also found of keen interest, for every "hunt" had been
carefully set down as to date and result. When they took the field
against Blacknose, he conjectured shrewdly that Red Hugh would
re-awaken once more, for judging by the elk-skin he was possessed of
considerable prowess in the man-hunt. He must have gone about his
revenge with a terrible skill; more than once the painted record
showed that parties of two and three Indians had fallen to his rifle.
John Norton was in no sense horrified, though not at all in sympathy
with the old man. There were many like him along the border. The
settlers conceived and treated the red men as beasts, which too often
they were, and no man was ever brought to justice for killing an
Indian. Red Hugh's grievances were purely personal, however, and
more than once Norton recalled Boone's words--"God ain't softened his
heart yet, though He will some day, I reckon." That day, it seemed
to Norton, was very far distant.
Only once, after that first talk with the man, did he ever refer to
his slain family. He had been examining Norton's moccasins, on the
third evening, and suddenly he favoured the Louisianian with one of
his searching looks.
"If you were up in the Shawnee country," he said abruptly, "these
leathers would either get you killed or crowned, Norton! Any Indian
across the Ohio would recognize them instantly. Well--well----"
He stared into the fireplace, puffing at his pipe. After a moment he
continued slowly as if musing to himself:
"They were Wyandots, a big war-party of them, and their chief wore
moccasins with split soles. They killed us all, women and children
alike--and after I recovered I went straight into the Wyandot
country. I found that chief, a year later, and shot him in the midst
of his own village; old Simon Kenton was with me, and we had a hard
fight before we got away. Well, I had my revenge, but it did not
bring back the dead wife and the little ones--the little ones----"
Upon that he strode from the cabin suddenly, and Norton never
referred to his own similar story, deeming it best to keep Red Hugh's
mind as far as possible from Indian atrocities. The man seemed no
more than sixty years old, and save for that one topic his brain was
as vigorous as that of Norton himself.
By the fourth evening the Louisianian was nearly himself again. Red
Hugh's knowledge of herbs had rid him of the fever almost at once,
and strength came back to him surely and swiftly. Burning with
anxiety to waste no time, yet conscious of the necessity of regaining
his strength, he had forced himself to bide in the idleness of
recuperation, but now he could do so no longer. There was work to be
done, and he was bent upon keeping control of things--for his own
career lay in the balance. He had not resigned his commission in mad
haste, but after much deliberation; did he succeed in eliminating the
Blacknose gang, New Orleans and the Government had promised great
things.
More than this, however, he had Kitty Grigg in mind. Once the
present affair was concluded he promised himself a trip to
Cincinnati, where many of the original members of the famous Order
had settled. It should not be difficult to make inquiries and
perhaps gain a clue to the girl's real family, he thought. So,
calling Red Hugh into a gloomy consideration of the problem
immediately at hand, he announced his intention of beginning work
next day.
"The first thing is to go to Blue River and get word from Elisha
Ayres," he said thoughtfully. "I can't go back to Louisville unless
that murder charge is cleared up, which should have been done by this
time. If not, we'll have to go on a thorough scout of the river,
because Grigg and his band of pirates are somewhere down-stream."
Red Hugh nodded.
"Where are you going to meet the messenger from Ayres?"
"At Dodd's Tavern--Kentucky side."
"H'm!" The other frowned. "I haven't been there for two years,
Norton, but I don't recall any tavern or settler of that name at
either of the Blue River settlements. However, your friend doubtless
knew what he was talking about."
"He seemed to," said Norton drily. "Blue River is only about twelve
miles from here----"
"I have a canoe down on the shore. Feel strong enough to paddle?"
"Quite. If we find no word from Ayres, we can go on below Henderson
and spend a couple of weeks scouting through the woods. The gang
must have some sort of a rendezvous, Hugh, and it certainly has a
cache of the stolen goods, for Grigg has to be careful in disposing
of them. Which side of the river would you search?"
Red Hugh stared at his elk-hide, tugging at his grizzled beard.
"Well," he returned slowly, his deep-set eyes flaming a little,
"they'd be like to use either side, Norton. If we skirmished around
on the Indiana side around the Wabash, we might strike one or two
Indian parties----"
"None of that," broke in Norton, understanding that ominous flame in
the man's eye. "We're after Blacknose, not after scalps. Just
impress that on your mind and save further trouble. If you give me
your help in this thing, there'll be no Indian hunting."
The big man turned his slow gaze to Norton's face, and for a moment
the Louisianian expected trouble. Red Hugh stared at him; Norton met
the look firmly, resolved not to compromise this matter, much as he
needed the man's help and advice. At length Red Hugh nodded,
reluctantly.
"I like you, Norton," he said, his grim visage softening strangely.
"You're a man. You're like another Norton I once knew--well, best
not to speak of that. Now as to hunting this Blacknose gang: we are
more like to find them on the Indiana side. If aught went wrong with
their plans, they could escape to the Indian country, or else lay the
blame for their crimes on the Shawnees. There are several bands of
Miamis along there, also. It may well be that through some Indians
we can get trace of the gang, if naught else serves."
Upon this, they made ready to set forth at dawn. Norton discarded
his own battered powderhorn for the fine red-streaked one which the
assassin Tobin had formerly carried--an act which was destined to
bring dire results upon himself before the game was played out. He
forgot the fact that this red-streaked horn was distinguished by its
very oddness and beauty.
With the dawn they set forth for the blazed cottonwood and the Ohio,
carrying their rifles and a quarter of venison. Upon reaching the
bluff over the river, Red Hugh turned abruptly aside and led Norton
down to the wooded banks, where he presently fished out an Indian
birch canoe and paddles from a clump of dense bushes. Two canoes
were paddling upstream along the opposite shore, and when these were
past, they put their craft in the water and started for Blue River.
The river hills ran close to the stream on each side, and except for
the little group of cabins under the high rocky cliff opposite them
the banks were unsettled as far as Blue River. Norton paddled
easily, drinking in fresh strength with the sun-bright morning air,
and could scarce realize their journey was nearly done when Red Hugh
pointed to Blue River ahead. They had passed Indian Creek and two
islands without sight of other river-craft, and now held in to the
Kentucky shore.
"Colonel Boone's brother, Squire, began that settlement"--and Red
Hugh pointed across to the clustering cabins opposite. "Now if you
can see any signs of a tavern over here, you beat me."
In truth, Norton gazed at the Kentucky settlement which they were
approaching, and his heart sank. Ayres must have made some
mistake--yet the schoolmaster had been very explicit in his
directions. The settlement consisted of two cabins, one of them fast
falling to ruin; a few tobacco-drying sheds; a small section of
cleared land; and a half-naked woman staring hard at them. Two or
three entirely naked children appeared as they paddled in, and as the
slatternly woman raised her voice, a still more slatternly man came
slouching from the tobacco-sheds, rifle in hand. There was no sign
of any road or ferry, and this was most certainly no tavern. Norton
landed with some dismay.
"Is this the Kentucky Blue River settlement?" he inquired of the
suspicious man--a loose-jawed, fever-smitten person who lacked all
interest in life.
"I reckon they call it that, stranger. Who be ye?"
"We're looking for Dodd's Tavern," returned Norton quietly. "If you
can tell----"
"Eh? Dodd's Tavern? Well, by gum!" The man stared at him, then
turned to the woman behind him. "Go git that gal."
The woman went to the house. Red Hugh drew up his canoe and joined
Norton, and together they waited for what was evidently to happen.
The woman reappeared from the cabin, nodded, and fell to staring. A
moment later Kitty Grigg emerged, and came forward with a glad, eager
little cry at sight of Norton.
"Captain Norton! Oh, I'm so glad you've come--I had almost given you
up!"
"You!" Norton grasped her hand, thunder-struck. "Why, girl--what
does this mean? How came you here?"
"By boat," she laughed. "And I have news from Mr. Ayres."