THE FOREST WHIPPING POST.
The Merriweather family did not make rapid progress toward Wayne after
Kate's abduction. A gloom had settled over the little band of fugitives,
and they desired to remain near the spot which had been so fatal to one
of their number.
A degree of safety returned with Wolf Cap's accession to their numbers,
and the tall borderman did not cease to assure them that Harvey Catlett
was an experienced scout. He firmly believed that he would restore Kate
to their arms, and this quieted the parents and made them feel hopeful.
"Think of my loss," the hunter would say, when the parents murmured at
the theft of their child. "Think of a man coming home and finding his
cabin in ashes, and the bones of his family among them. I had one of the
best wives in the world, and a little girl who was just beginning to
call me 'papa.'"
"You have had revenge?" said Abel Merriweather.
"Ask the woods, the streams, and the Indian villages that lie between
the Ohio and the Maumee if I have not glutted my thirst for vengeance.
But it has not restored my family. I have killed, but the blows that I
have dealt did not give back my child's kiss, my wife's embrace. No;
there is no satisfaction in vengeance. Man ought to leave his wrongs to
God, who punishes the guilty in the end."
Thus Wolf Cap often talked to Abel Merriweather and his family, and
afterward he would relapse into a silence from which no one attempted to
draw him. He would stand for hours in a reverie like a harmless lunatic,
and more than once the sun which found him in this state at the
meridian, saw him there at its setting.
He was the guide. Every foot of the Maumee wood was known to him, and
with his eye turned to the west, he slowly but surely led the fugitives
in the direction of Wayne's camp.
The sun was creeping zenithward one warm morning, when a boat left the
northern shore of the Maumee and pushed out into the stream. Its single
occupant was a girlish person whose face was very lovely, and whose
browned hands seemed accustomed to the use of paddles.
She steered for the opposite bank, and despite the rapids, which
threatened at times to capsize the frail craft, she reached her
destination. With an agile bound she sprang upon shore, and made the
canoe fast to a clump of bushes. Then she took a rifle from the bottom
of the boat, and looked into the forest that trended to the bank which
she had gained.
It was Little Moccasin.
After satisfying herself that no person had observed her movements, she
moved from the shore; but a minute later the clicking of gun locks
brought her to a halt, and she heard a voice that startled her.
"Don't lift your gun, or we'll drop you in your tracks."
Then the girl saw the speaker, for he had slipped from behind a tree,
and beside him stood a companion.
With a cry of recognition which made Little Moccasin's eyes sparkle with
delight, she started toward the twain, whose faces were darkened by
scowls.
"Areotha is glad to meet her brothers," she said. "Fair Face has sent
her----"
"No fixed up story!" interrupted one of the whites, who was Carl
Merriweather; his companion was George Darling.
"We won't listen to you," said the latter. "We've seen enough of your
sleek-tongued treachery, and by Jove, we're going to put an end to it."
The girl's face grew pale.
"Will the white men listen to Areotha?"
"No; and beside, we wouldn't believe you if we did!" said Carl. "Of
course you were in league with that rascally guide, and he stole my
sister. Do you know what we ought to do with you? Why, we would be
serving you right if we whipped you to death right here. God knows how
many boats of our people you have decoyed into the hands of the Indians.
A female renegade is the meanest thing on earth."
"Areotha will talk," said the girl, who had waited with impatience for
the young Hotspur to finish. "The hot-headed young men may shut their
ears; but the Manitou will listen. He never turns away from the sound of
his people's voice."
"Go on, then," said Darling. "Spit out the pretty story you have cooked
up."
Little Moccasin gave the speaker a glance of hatred, and then said in
her silvery tone:
"Areotha comes from the Blacksnake's spy. The guide is dead; he sleeps
where the storm tore down the trees. Fair Face says that he will soon
bring the white girl back to her people!"
"And he sent you here to say this?" said Carl Merriweather, in a tone
which told that he did not believe a word which had fallen from the
girl's lips.
"He told Areotha to tell the mother and the father this, that their eyes
might get bright again."
"It is a pretty story, but it don't go down," Carl said.
The black eyes flashed again.
"You might as well have told us that Kate was in the camp now," said
George Darling.
"That is so!"
"We believe that you are the biggest mischief-maker in these parts. Who
knows how many young men you have decoyed to their doom by your smiles.
And now you have another in your net--a brave young fellow, but blind
enough to follow your infernal witchery to his death. Come, lay your
rifle down; we want to deal with you as you deserve."
"If we let you off with a whole skin you may thank our mercy," said Carl
with a smile.
Little Moccasin, finding herself completely in the power of the young
men, hesitated a moment, and then dropping her rifle, surrendered
herself. There was no pity in her captor's eyes, and her pale face made
them laugh outright.
"A little whipping--that is all!" said George Darling, fiendishly, as he
seized the girl's arm and led her to a tree that stood near by.
While Carl guarded her, his companion stripped a lynn tree of its bark
covering, which he converted into ropes, and returned to the selected
tree.
Blushing at the purposed indignity, the girl permitted herself to be
lashed to the tree--her cheek against the bark--but with pressed lips
and flashing eyes.
This operation performed, a number of keen withes were selected, and
armed with several bundles which had been converted into whips as
cutting as the Russian knout, the gallant young bordermen approached
their captive.
"Now my forest lady," said Darling, sarcastically, "we'll give you a
dressing that will not be forgotten on your dying day. Come, now,
confess that you are a forest witch in league with Jim Girty and his
minions, red and white."
"The Manitou knows that Areotha never lifted a hand against the American
people."
"Lying to the last," said Carl. "Ten extra licks for that."
"Twenty of them," answered Darling, eager to deal the first blow.
"We should have taken off her jacket."
"No, the sticks will cut through it like a razor."
"Then let her have the whipping, George. When your arm tires, I will
continue the work."
George Darling selected the longest bundle of withes, and stepped back
for a terrible sweeping blow. The girl gritted her teeth and waited. Her
white face seemed frozen against the tree.
With demoniac pleasure in his eye, the young man raised the whip and
swung his arm back for the blow. Carl Merriweather did not cease to
watch him.
The second of silence that followed was suddenly broken, but not by the
sound of the sticks on Little Moccasin's back.
There came a stern voice from the right:
"Stop! I'll kill the rascal that touches that girl!"
George Darling started, and the knout fell from his hand. There were
more than one white face beneath the tree.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves!" said the same voice, and the
would-be whippers saw Wolf Cap advancing. "It is a pretty business for
two young men to be engaged in--whipping a girl in the woods. By hokey!
I ought to take the whips and wear them out on your backs."
The youths were too astonished to reply. They trembled like criminals
before the tall spy, and did not stir until he had cut the girl's bonds
and released her.
"Go back to the camp!" he commanded. "Or hold! Apologize to this
creature. Down on your knees, or by the great horn spoon, I'll cut your
faces into strings with your own whips."
The tall man was in a tempest of passion, and, frightened almost out of
their wits, the young men dropped upon the ground and craved forgiveness
of the creature whom they had so grossly insulted.
"Areotha cannot hate the Americans," she said softly. "She will forget
the bark and the whips."
Sullen and abashed, Carl Merriweather and his companion slunk away,
leaving Wolf Cap and Little Moccasin at the tree.
For a long time the scout and spy looked into the girl's eyes, and all
at once he covered his face with his hands and groaned.
"Every time I see her I think of that terrible night," he said.
"What does the hunter say?" said the girl, catching his words but
indistinctly, for they were spoken through his great hard hands.
"Nothing," Wolf Cap answered, starting at the sound of her voice.
"Nothing; don't speak to me! You make me think of a voice that I heard
when I was a happy man."
As he uttered the last word, he staggered back with great emotion, and
saw Little Moccasin staring strangely into his face.