Norton lay in paralysed amazement while his wrists were freed, and
Tecumthe turned to Red Hugh. The Indian, wasting no time on
questions, seemed quite conversant with the whole situation.
"Be ready," he whispered rapidly. "Take the young woman from the
door when I strike!"
Red Hugh grunted, and Tecumthe once more assumed his negligent
attitude as Grigg returned across the floor.
Norton's wild surge of astonished delight soon passed. The thick
moccasins had protected his ankles to some extent, but his hands were
for the moment useless, all circulation stopped by the tight thongs.
After all, Tecumthe could do little against this murderous gang by
himself. How, then, did he intend to "strike"? Did he have a band
of his warriors outside?
"It wasn't such a wild shot about those moccasins after all," came
Red Hugh's chuckling whisper. "Looks like he's going to give us a
chance to slip away. Work your arms a bit."
The Louisianian nodded, and very slowly perceived life creeping back
into his numbed hands. Grigg and the rest were roaring at the antics
of the drunken, fighting Miamis; Duval, perched on a big hogshead at
the far end of the room, was inciting them to further efforts.
Locked in pairs, the warriors were striking, kicking, rolling over
the floor in a bestial encounter which left Norton shocked to the
core; he had heard of these affairs often but had never seen one
before.
Duval's men were plying them with liquor amid wild shouts of
encouragement, and were fast growing drunk themselves; so far,
however, they were too much interested in their amusements to bother
the squaws, who stood lined up against the farther wall and grouped
around the door.
Again Grigg's interest got the better of his prudence, and with a
bellow he leaped out to join in the horse-play. Kitty, left alone,
shrank past the tall figure of Tecumthe toward Norton, who put out
his hand and gripped her arm.
"Quiet!" he said softly, as she turned with a startled exclamation.
"Be ready to make for the door, Kitty."
Wide-eyed, she stared into his face for a moment, and under cover of
her body Norton half rose to take the pistols which Tecumthe passed
him. He put one into the hand of Red Hugh then waited.
There was not long to wait. With a sudden movement, Tecumthe flung
the blanket from his splendid figure and stood forth in all the glory
of his half-naked bronze, unpainted. His voice rang out like a
clarion:
"Peace, dogs!"
Some of the Miamis ceased their scuffling; others continued: one
startled oath passed around the line of white men as they saw him
step forward. He made no pause, but raised a clenched fist.
"Dogs of white men!" And his clear voice seemed to hold even Duval
transfixed. "Outcasts from your own race! Murderers! Why do you
thus debase my red brethren, the Miamis? I know you--who you are and
what you do in the Shawnee country. I know your crimes. I am going
to show my white brethren that Tecumthe can punish murderers better
than they!"
As the dread word _Tecumthe_ passed through the hall, Duval leaped to
his feet with a yell of warning. It was too late. The line of
squaws flung off their blankets and stepped forth as warriors in all
the glory of Shawnee war-paint, rifles in hand. From outside came
one shrill war-whoop--and the interior of the building became an
inferno as the first rifles roared out.
Awful as the thing was, Norton had no pity for Duval's gang. He
leaped up, seized Kitty, and with Red Hugh at his side made for the
doorway. Here a Shawnee halted them with levelled rifle, but after a
look at Norton waved them on outside.
Kitty had fainted, mercifully.
The whole clearing seemed covered with yelling, whooping demons. As
the three emerged, Norton saw that the kitchens had been fired, the
flames lighting up the whole scene. An instant later, while Red Hugh
was taking the feet of the senseless girl, Tecumthe himself joined
them and led them across the clearing to one of the farther cabins.
Here, under guard of a stalwart warrior, who went leaping off at
sight of his chief, they found a trembling, terror-smitten
circuit-rider who was too frightened to do more than grovel before
the chief. Tecumthe kicked him away, and Norton lowered Kitty's body
to the pallet in the corner.
Despite all he knew about this gang, despite their intentions, he
felt himself somewhat a traitor to his own race. Red Hugh must have
felt much the same thing, for he was standing glaring at the chief,
his eyes terrible.
"It is not vengeance," said Tecumthe composedly, watching the low
building with gloomy eye. "It is justice. A squaw met my men; they
told me of one who wore my moccasins, in bonds. I knew of these
white men, and I came in haste. That is all."
"It's not all," cried Norton with sudden remembrance. "There are
women in that place----"
"Right!" broke out Red Hugh. "Tecumthe, we must have them, no matter
what manner of women they are!"
"Go," said the chief, nodding. "My men have seen your faces and you
are safe."
Norton sprang out on the word, and the two men ran side by side to
the building. At the doorway, the scene within was horrible; the
place was filled with powder-smoke, one corner was afire from a burst
lantern, and from the door were pouring drunken Miamis, some of them
still fighting together.
And through the fire and smoke white men and red were battling like
madmen, with axe and knife and pistol and clubbed rifle. Norton well
knew the danger he was in from both sides, but shoving through the
crowded mass of Miamis he dashed within, Red Hugh at his heels.
In one corner were crouching the five terrified women, and as the
Louisianian fought his way through the struggling, yelling groups, he
saw a tall Shawnee tomahawk one of the drabbled figures.
With a yell of fury, he raised his pistol and fired; the warrior
sprang high in his death agony, and before he fell Norton was
stripping him of knife and tomahawk. Then he turned, and with Red
Hugh tried to get the four remaining women to the door.
They were terror-stricken, hysterical creatures, mad with fear and
liquor and obscenity, but they were women. As Norton fought his way
across the floor, he caught glimpses through the smoke of the combat
which raged around him--glimpses which remained etched on his memory
for ever.
Grigg, with a huge axe, was standing back to back with Duval,
fighting a way across the place amid a surging wave of the redmen. A
drunken, trampled Miami was striking right and left with a knife;
screams and oaths and prayers rose high as the Shawnee steel bit
deep, while over all shrilled the dread war-whoop, keen and terrible.
"God!" breathed Norton. "It's not a fight, but a massacre!"
How they did it he never knew, but between them, he and Red Hugh
managed to get the shrieking women to the door and outside. The
scene at the door was wild; pirates and Shawnees and drunken Miamis
were all mingled in a horrible-struggling mass, trampling dead and
wounded indiscriminately. And behind them all, the fire had seized
on the whisky kegs and was climbing high through the whole building.
Norton breathed a prayer of thanks that Kitty Grigg knew nothing of
what was going on; by dint of ceaseless efforts he got the four women
to the shack, at the door of which still stood Tecumthe. Driving
them inside, where Kitty lay motionless on the pallet, he jerked the
weak-mouthed circuit-rider to his feet.
"Look after them, you," he snarled, and rejoined the chief and Red
Hugh outside.
Forth from the long barn, whose farther end was now all aflame, was
pouring a rout of men, white and red intermixed, battling to the
death. One of the rivermen started across the clearing, but a dozen
bullets from the watching warriors caught him; the place seemed to
vomit death and destruction. With a dark look Tecumthe, who had
himself struck no blow, turned to Red Hugh.
"Bear witness, Captain Moore," he said sternly, "that we take neither
scalps nor plunder! We make no war upon white men, but upon
murderers----"
"Moore?" cried Norton suddenly. He caught Red Hugh by the arm and
swung him around. "Is that your name--Hugh Moore? You're not the
Captain Moore who left Cincinnati with my father----"
"God in heaven!" broke out Red Hugh hoarsely, gripping him and
staring into his eyes. "Are you Charles Norton's son--_look out_!"
With a sudden movement, Norton was flung a dozen feet away.
Whether they had broken through the cordon of Indians or had escaped
from some rear entrance of the burning building, Norton never found
out; but Grigg and Duval, axe and tomahawk in hand, were leaping
across the clearing, a string of Shawnees behind them.
Red Hugh's action was all that saved Norton from Duval's tomahawk,
which sang over his head and thudded into the building behind him.
Duval himself followed it instantly, and gripped Norton as he was
rising; while Grigg swung his axe at Norton from the side, to be
grappled and flung back by Red Hugh.
Norton saw Tecumthe motion his warriors back, and then saw no more,
for he was fighting with a madman. Duval seemed crazed, as he might
well be; Norton had whipped out his knife, but had no chance to use
the weapon, for the other had gripped his wrists and was throwing all
his iron strength into the desperate struggle.
All four of the fighting men crashed together and went down in a
confused mass. The shock broke Duval's hold, and as they came up
Norton drove with his knife. He felt the steel bite, but still Duval
fought on, flinging himself forward bodily and bearing Norton down
again.
Meantime, Grigg and Red Hugh were engaged in a mighty struggle,
strength against strength, giant against giant. Reeling over the
turf, the four men again came together in mad collision; as they did
so, Norton sent his knife home for the second time, and now Duval
fell away from him.
Barely had he done so when Red Hugh's pistol crashed out. Grigg had
taken warning, and ducked, flinging his arms about Moore's waist.
Directly behind him was Norton, and as the shot flamed out, the
Louisianian flung his arms wide and toppled over the body of Duval.
Then, for the first time, Tecumthe leaped forward. Frenzied by what
he had done, Red Hugh had beaten Grigg back with the pistol-butt, and
Grigg flashed out his tomahawk to throw. Before his arm came up,
Tecumthe had sprung between them like a thing of steel; his own knife
flamed in the lurid glare, and Grigg collapsed.
Red Hugh stood for a moment, pistol in hand. There was a look of
awful grief on his face, and without a word he knelt over Norton.
For a moment he felt the heart of the Louisianian, fumbled under the
latter's shirt, and then held up a small gold eagle.
"Good God," he muttered slowly, as he held the eagle up to the lurid
light of the burning buildings. "What's this? What----"
For he had turned over the pin, and had read the letters graven on
its under side. Slowly he tottered up, then looked at the
uncomprehending Tecumthe, a terrible horror in his eyes.
"Hugh Edward Moore--my own pin--I've killed him----"
And then, with a terrible cry, he fell upon Norton's body.