THE SIGNAL FIRE
Grey walked rapidly toward Dan's cabin. His mind was wildly agitated,
for his brief interview with Old Meg had given him no satisfaction. In
passing the store he was tempted to enter and seek an explanation from
Siwash Bill. He banished this thought instantly, however. No, he would
see Dan first, and find out what he had learned.
A lighted candle was burning in the cabin, showing that the trapper had
been there, although he was nowhere to be seen. Grey entered, and
seating himself upon a bench tried to collect his thoughts. What was he
to do? Madeline and the boy had been stolen away. What would the Major
say when he heard about it? To think that he, Norman Grey, should so
neglect his duty as to allow that boy to slip from his grasp! And then
there was Madeline. Duty and love were the two forces which stirred his
inmost being. He rose to his feet and paced restlessly up and down the
small room. Why did not Dan return? Why was he away so long? Without the
trapper he felt helpless. A few days before he would have laughed at
anyone who even suggested that he could not manage his own affairs. But
since coming to Hishu and meeting with this old man, he found how
important it was to lean upon him for assistance. Dan knew the people of
the place and the whole surrounding country, of which he himself was
ignorant.
Thus the moments sped by, and the trapper did not appear. Something must
have happened to him. Perhaps he had run across Windy Pete or Siwash
Bill, and had got into trouble. At this thought Grey started for the
door. He would go to the store and make inquiries. But ere he had time
to lay a hand upon the latch the door swung slowly open, and the Indian,
Hishu Sam, glided swiftly and noiselessly into the room.
Grey's face brightened perceptibly as he beheld the native who had done
so much on behalf of the little child but a short time before. Then he
had appeared at the moment when most needed, and now when the darkness
was so deep he had suddenly come from the unknown. Grey at once reached
out his hand to the native.
"Welcome," he said. "I'm glad to see you again. You're a good friend to
the white man."
"Ah, ah," was the reply. "Hishu Sam savvey moche. Bah-bee all sam' lost,
eh?"
"Yes, yes, lost," Grey exclaimed in surprise. "How did you know?"
"Hishu Sam see 'um. Beeg canoe go down reever all sam' wild goose."
"And were you along the river? You see canoe? Was the little boy along,
too?"
"Ah, ah. Me see bah-bee head. Me see white squaw. Me come to Hishu
quick."
"Were they Indians who stole them away?"
"Ah, ah."
"Who?"
"Beeg Lake Injuns."
"What! The Indians who are on the warpath with the Hishus?"
"Ah, ah."
"Look here, Sam; we must get that boy and woman. We must save them
quick. What can we do?"
The Indian looked intently into Grey's face for a few seconds.
"Hishu Sam white man's friend," he at length remarked. "Come."
With that he turned toward the door, opened it and passed out into the
night. There was nothing left for Grey but to follow. The native took it
for granted that he would do so, and did not even once look back.
A short distance from the cabin the Indian turned sharply to the left,
and entered upon a rough trail. In the deepening gloom it was hard for
Norman to pick his steps, and often he stumbled, and several times fell
flat upon the ground. But Hishu Sam walked as easily as in a carpeted
room, and evidently knew every inch of the way. Up and up they moved,
and after a long hard climb reached the top of a large hill. Here the
guide paused and looked slowly around. Then he stretched out a long arm
and pointed away to the right.
"Hishu over dere," he began. "Hishu busy. Bime by Hishu all come back."
Grey understood not the meaning of the words until he saw his companion
go to a large pile of sticks and underbrush and touch a match to a small
piece of bark. Instantly the tiny flame leaped to the inflammable
material above, and soon the whole pile was converted into a wild,
roaring, seething mass. So intense was the heat that Grey and the Indian
were forced to retreat some distance, where the former silently viewed
the magnificent spectacle. The hilltop for rods around was illumined by
the bright flames, which would make it quite easy to see such a light
for miles away.
While Grey stood gazing upon the fire the Indian crouched some distance
off, intently peering forth through the darkness. At length Grey took up
his position by his side, wondering much what it all meant. Once he
questioned the Indian, but receiving no satisfactory reply he was forced
to wait. The interest caused by the fire soon waned, and the old longing
to be up and doing gripped him hard. He would ere this have hurried down
the hillside and have left the Indian alone, but that he believed there
was some definite purpose in the Indian's action. The native's silence
was to him more eloquent than many words.
Silently they crouched together there on the hilltop. Presently the
Indian gave a grunt of satisfaction, and pointed away to the right. At
first Grey could see nothing. But as he looked a small light like the
faintest star caught his eye. It became brighter. It glowed into a
leaping flame, sending blazing cinders high into the air. It was the
reply of fire to fire--the natives' crude method of signalling to one
another when any great danger was afoot. Presently to the left another
light streaked the night from a far-off hilltop, while a little later
and to the right another appeared.
Grey understood now the meaning of it all. He recalled, too, the
remarkable stories he had heard about the early explorers and their
encounters with the natives. Fiery signals from hill to hill had
heralded their approach, and brought about them bands of threatening
Indians wherever they advanced. So now these fires were being used for a
noble purpose. The Hishus would come in a body to his assistance. How
long would it take them to return, and in the meantime what would happen
to Madeline? He turned to his companion, who was watching the distant
fires with much satisfaction.
"Sam," he said, "how long will it take for the Indians to reach Hishu?
Will they come at once?"
"Ah, ah. Sun heem come up dere, sun heem go down dere. Hishu come."
"But are you sure they will come?"
"Ugh," grunted the native. "Injun no white man. Injun savvey moche."
"But will they know what the fire means? What will they think?"
"Injun come. Injun savvey fire. Injun savvey Hishu Sam. See?"
"Oh, they think the Big Lakes are coming. Is that it?"
"Ah, ah."
"And you stayed behind to keep watch, eh?"
"Ah, ah."
"Did you ever do this before? Did you ever call the Hishus in this way?"
The native looked thoughtfully before him for a few seconds ere
replying.
"Ten winters ago," he at length answered, "bad Injun come up reever.
Hishu Sam make beeg fire on hill. Hishu come. Bad Injun run, all sam'
dog. Hishu make beeg potlatch. Moche glad."
The fire was smouldering low as Grey rose to his feet. The old
impatience was upon him. He longed to be doing. To wait all day for the
arrival of the Hishus was more than he could stand. He could do almost
anything but wait. How could he tarry at the village while Madeline was
being carried farther and farther into the wilderness? No, he must find
Buckskin Dan, and discuss matters with him.
Leaving the Indian he hurried down the hill as fast as the roughness of
the trail would permit. He reached the cabin, and entered. It was the
same as he had left it, but the trapper was nowhere to be seen. A piece
of paper lying on the table by the candle arrested his attention. He
picked it up, and read the few words scrawled with a lead pencil:
"You'll find me at the store. Dan."
At once Grey left the cabin, and crossed over to the fur-trader's.
Entering the building he found the place in darkness, although a faint
glimmer of light came from the door at the rear of the room. Groping his
way slowly toward this he gave it a push, but found it was securely
fastened on the other side.
"Dan," he called, "are you there?"
Receiving no answer he stood for a space, undecided what to do.
"Strange," he thought, "that the place should be so still, and the store
in darkness. I wonder what has happened to Dan, and why he left that
note."
Suddenly a feeling seized him that something was wrong. He became
suspicious. Was it a scheme to lure him to the store for some evil
purpose? He peered through the darkness in an effort to see what was
there. The silence was ominous. He must get away as quickly as possible.
Acting upon this impulse he started for the door. He had taken but a few
steps forward when a heavy weight suddenly struck him and sent him
staggering to the floor. Instantly a rush of feet was heard, and strong
hands were laid upon him. Recovering himself as speedily as possible
Grey threw out one arm with all the force he could command. It struck
what he believed to be a human face, for immediately a groan was heard
as something fell heavily to the floor. Then like a tiger he closed with
the assailant whose hands were gripping him hard. It was no novice, he
at once realised, who had attacked him, but a man of skill, and great
muscular strength. But Grey himself was not to be despised when once
thoroughly aroused. The blood beat wildly through his veins, and a deep
rage filled his heart at the despicable attack which had been made upon
a defenceless man, and in the dark at that. But he would show his
assailant a thing or two. He caught him with a grip of iron, and hurled
him back several steps. Then the two joined in a terrible embrace.
Backwards and forwards they surged, and strained at each other. Time and
time again Grey felt his opponent's hands reaching out for his throat.
They seemed like the slippery, clammy tentacles of a hideous octopus. No
word was spoken. Each was reserving his strength for the contest. At
length Grey's fingers touched his adversary's throat. It was all that
was needed, and almost like the spring of a trap they closed upon the
coarse, tense flesh. It was his turn now, and he made the most of it.
From his opponent's lips came a hoarse gurgling sound, while he
frantically endeavoured to tear away those death-dealing fingers. Grey
was madly triumphant now. The sense of victory possessed his soul as he
felt his antagonist sink upon the floor. No bulldog held firmer than did
he. But even in the midst of his triumph something touched him which
brought a chill to his heart. Something was passed swiftly and deftly
about his ankles, and then drawn tight. He loosened his grip upon the
throat, and tried to regain his feet. But in vain, for his legs were
fast bound, as if in a vise. Then in the twinkling of an eye his arms
were seized and he was hurled to the floor face downwards, while his
arms were fastened behind his back. He had forgotten his second
assailant, who had returned to the attack with such marked success.
Frantically he struggled to tear away his hands, and to throw off the
weight pressing upon his body. But his efforts were all to no purpose,
and at last he was forced to give up from sheer exhaustion. He could not
see, but he could easily guess the identity of his captors. Two they
were, that was evident, and what two except Siwash Bill and Windy Pete
would make such a mean, savage attack?
"Lie there, ye young spyin' cur," one of them said, which the constable
recognised as Bill's voice. "'Tain't sich fun is it comin' to Hishu? Not
a holiday trip, eh? Ye'll think it less so before we git through with
ye."
"The more you do with me," Grey replied, "the worse for yourselves. If
you want to feel the noose, drive ahead."
"Ha, ha," laughed Pete. "We fear not the noose. All the d-- Yellow-legs
in the country haven't enough wit to stretch our necks. But come, Bill,
lend a hand, and let's git out of this. Have ye the knife?"
"Sure."
Grey began to realise the seriousness of his position as the men lifted
him bodily and carried him out into the night toward Buckskin Dan's
cabin. This they entered, and laid him in the lower bunk. By the candle
light he could see their faces, and they seemed to him like two
diabolical fiends standing there in the middle of the room. They began
to whisper to each other, while Siwash Bill drew a glittering hunting
knife from its sheath at his side. Then the meaning of their action
stabbed Grey's mind. They would murder him there in cold blood, in Dan's
cabin, and let the blame rest upon the innocent old trapper! He recalled
that scene out in the hills, and saw again Pete's form slinking through
the night with the bared knife in his hand. The thought almost maddened
him. Wildly he tore at his bonds, but they held firm. He sat up in the
bunk, and then rolled out upon the floor, and on his knees faced his
captors.
"You imps of hell!" he cried. "Would you murder a man in cold blood?
Have you no hearts in your bodies? Free my hands and feet and let us
fight it out. There are two of you, but I'll fight you both. I dare you
to do it, you cowardly dogs."
"Hold yer jaw," cried Pete. "Come, Bill, douse that candle. There's too
much light here fer this job."
Grey now felt that his last moment on earth had arrived. He saw a big
hand reach out toward the table, and then all was dark. He made one
mighty effort to rise, but failing in this he fell forward upon the
floor, while from his lips leaped the wild piercing cry of "Dan, Dan!
For God's sake, help!"