LITTLE MOCCASIN IN THE CAMP.
The settler was thoroughly aroused by his little son's startling
communication, which appeared too terrible to be true.
"A traitor, Carl?" he said.
"Yes; an Indian who swam the river has been talking to him on the bank."
"It cannot be," replied the incredulous parent. "He is sleeping----"
He paused abruptly, for he made the discovery that but two forms were
lying near the boat. The spot lately occupied by the guide was vacant.
Then Abel Merriweather began to believe that Carl had not been mistaken.
"Hist!" said the boy, breaking in upon his father's disturbing thoughts.
"He is coming back."
"To your place in the boat--quick! Do not let him see you here."
Little Carl left his father and glided unseen to his couch in the boat,
but peeped over the gunwales to watch the traitor's movements.
Slowly and without noise John Darknight came over the hill, and
inaugurated a series of cat crawls toward the spot which he had lately
deserted. Once or twice he glanced at the settler, whose drooping head
appeared to tell him that he still slept, for he recommenced his crawls,
and at last, without disturbing his sleeping companions, regained his
buffalo skin.
But his movements had not escaped the sentry's eyes, and Carl was
regarding him from the boat. The father was a prey to great perplexity;
he believed that the guide's movements indicated treason, but he did not
know what course to pursue. To discharge him at once might precipitate
the bursting of the plot. To keep him longer and watch, seemed the
better plan, and was the one which the settler felt inclined to adopt.
He did not see how they could ascend the river above the rapids without
Darknight's experience, for in the voyage thus far his assistance had
proved invaluable.
The night was far advanced and day was no longer remote, when Abel
roused Oscar Parton, whose duty it was to stand guard until daylight. He
did not impart his suspicions to the impetuous young man, but told him
not to close his eyes for a moment, but to watch, for life was at stake.
Then, instead of lying by the boat that contained his family, he dropped
upon the ground beside the suspected guide, and with a hand at the hilt
of his knife, watched the man who was sleeping heavily.
A bird call from the guide's lips, or a suspicious movement, and he
might have forfeited his life.
"Father doesn't want to suspect anybody," murmured the boy Carl, who was
surprised to see John Darknight sleeping so soundly in the camp after
his meeting with Oskaloo on the banks of the river. "I do not know how
he came to undertake this trip. We might have been safe where we lived.
I know we are not here. He didn't tell Oscar about the treason, for I
heard every word that passed between them. Maybe he doesn't think I saw
straight. Well, I know I wasn't very close; but I would swear that it
was the guide talking to the Indian, and didn't he come up the bank
after the redskin left? I have a rifle, and I am going to watch John
Darknight myself!"
Having thus delivered himself of his thoughts, Carl Merriweather
continued to watch in silence, and he saw that the night was wearing
away.
Oscar Parton was wakeful. No sound escaped his ears, and he saw the
river growing darker with the dense gloom that precedes the dawn.
Then he redoubled his vigilance, for the hour was suggestive of surprise
and massacre; but the gloom gradually departed, and the first streaks of
dawn silvered the flowing water.
It was a welcome sight, for the long night of anxiety had worn away, and
with strength recruited by repose, the journey could be resumed.
The young sentry was watching the long arrows of light fall upon the
waves, when an object startled him. It seemed to have risen from the
river's unseen depths, but a second look told him that it was an Indian
canoe. It skimmed over the water like a thing endowed with life, and the
beholder, eager to inspect its occupant, stepped to the brow of the
bank, but with the woodman's usual caution.
The light growing stronger as the day advanced, revealed the tenant of
the solitary canoe to the young man, and while he gazed intently, the
craft suddenly shot like an arrow to the shore.
Instinctively Oscar Parton raised his rifle, but the movement was
detected by the person in the stream, and a hand gave the peace signal.
"I cannot shoot a woman!" the guard murmured, lowering the weapon. "Her
coming may be our destruction, but I cannot harm her. Bless me, I
believe she is a white!"
The work of a few moments sufficed to bring the canoe to the shore, and
when its tenant stepped upon _terra firma_, she was confronted by the
curious guard, who had come boldly down the bank.
"White family up there?" the jauntily clad girl said, pointing up the
slope.
"What if they are?" said the young borderman, evasively. "Who are you?"
"Areotha," was the reply. "The white people call me Little Moccasin.
See!"
With her exclamation she put a foot forward, and displayed, with
innocent pride, a tiny moccasin gaily ornamented with beads.
"It is a pretty name, but what do you want here?" asked Oscar.
"Want to tell white father that Little Moccasin has seen him."
"Seen whom?"
"Don't you know--the young white spy who tracks the red men for the
Blacksnake?" the girl said with surprise.
"No."
Little Moccasin was nonplussed.
"Me see him," she said at length, and her deep eyes brightened. "Him and
the tall hunter come by and by, maybe."
"Assistance, eh?" said Parton, catching the import of her words. "Well,
we shall not reject it. You don't hate the whites, then?"
"Little Moccasin their friend."
"But you are not an Indian. Your skin is like mine."
"Been Indian long time, though," the girl said with a smile. "Have
Indian mother--the old Madgitwa--in the big Indian village."
"Don't you know where you were born, Areotha?" questioned Parton.
The girl shook her head.
"Come up to the camp. I believe that you are true to our people. We have
a girl up there who will like you."
"Little Moccasin like her already," was the artless answer.
Having made her canoe fast to the bank by a rope of twisted sinews, the
mysterious girl followed Oscar Parton up the slope. He led her straight
to the encampment, where her unexpected appearance created much
excitement, and she was immediately surrounded.
Abel Merriweather was the first to question her, and Areotha was about
to reply when she caught sight of John Darknight, the guide.
The next moment every vestige of color fled from her face, and, staring
at the guide, she started back.
She looked like a person who had suddenly been confronted by a spectre.
At that moment John Darknight's face assumed a bold, defiant and
threatening aspect; but it was as white as Areotha's.