CHAPTER XII.

IN WHICH PHIL TAKES DELIBERATE AIM AT ONE OF THE CAPTORS OF ELLA.

"What is your name, young man?" said Lieutenant Pope to me.

"Phil Farringford, sir."

"Are you acquainted with the country in this vicinity?"

"Yes, sir; I have been over it many times."

"Then you can act as a guide," added the officer, who had collected his force on the forward deck, in readiness to disembark them.

Presently the steamer reached the point at which the Indians had landed. The dugouts were hauled up on the shore; but we could see nothing of the savages, who had disappeared in the forest, half a mile from the stream, where the land began to rise.

"Can we make a landing here?" asked the captain.

"You can," I replied.

"Do so, captain," added Lieutenant Pope.

"I wouldn't land here," I interposed.

"Why not?"

"This boat can go three miles up the river, sure, and perhaps five. The Indians must travel up stream in order to escape you. If you go up two miles farther, you can head them off."

"Keep her a-going, captain," added the officer.

"Two or three miles east of us is Big Fish Creek. The Indians can't get across below us without swimming."

"Then we shall have them between these two streams."

"Of course it is possible for them to get across the Big Fish, but it won't be very easy, unless they get rid of their prisoner."

"How far is it across the country to the creek?" asked the lieutenant.

"About three miles here. Crooked River twists round in a half circle."

"You may be gone a week, Lieutenant Pope," interposed the captain. "I can't wait here a great while."

"You need not wait an hour after you have landed my force," replied the officer. "But you must take my stores down to the landing at the wood-yard. I will send a sergeant and ten men to take charge of them."

The campaign, it appeared, was to be commenced at this point, and I was to guide the soldiers to the Indian village north of our settlement. Mr. Gracewood soon appeared on the forward deck, and the plan was explained to him. His wife was a little better, and he was anxious to join in the pursuit of the savages. I tried to prevail upon him to go down to the landing with the soldiers; but he was resolute, and declared that he would follow the Indians till he recovered his daughter.

"One of us should go down with the soldiers, and take care of Mrs. Gracewood; for I suppose she no longer thinks of going to Oregon," I said.

"Why will you not go, Phil Farringford?" he replied.

"I am to act as the guide for the soldiers who pursue the Indians."

"I will guide them," added Mr. Gracewood.

"Either of you," interposed the lieutenant.

I was anxious to go with the soldiers myself, and to have a hand in capturing the miscreants who had carried off Ella; but her father had a stronger claim upon this duty, and I yielded. Two miles above the point where we had passed the dugouts, the steamer made a landing. After I had explained to Lieutenant Pope the nature of the country, and the localities of the streams, he decided to take only half his force with him, and to send the other half to the landing, with instructions to march up the Little Fish towards the Indian village. The two detachments would come together on the river before reaching their final destination.

The soldiers who were to pursue the Indians landed, and the steamer started again. It was about noon when we reached the landing at the Castle. The captain, who had been detained so long by the events narrated that he was impatient to be on his voyage up the river again, hurried the soldiers on shore. Mrs. Gracewood bade adieu to her brother and his wife, who proceeded on their long journey. It was hard to leave without knowing the fate of poor Ella, but the circumstances were imperative. I conducted Mrs. Gracewood to the shore, and the steamer departed.

The poor mother was in a state bordering on frenzy. Her anxiety and suspense were hardly endurable. I went up to the Castle, caught the horses, harnessed them to the wagon, and conveyed her and her trunks to the house. In the mean time the soldiers had marched up to the clearing, and decided to pitch their tents near the block house, for they were not to start for the upper country till the next morning, lest the Indians should be alarmed before the other force could reach the place of meeting.

The troops hauled their tents and provision to the camp ground with my team; and the scene at the clearing was vastly more lively than I had ever before seen there. Mrs. Gracewood could not stay in the Castle, and she joined me in the field. I said all that I could to comfort and console her. I know not how many times she asked me whether I thought the savages would kill her daughter. I did not believe they would.

"Why should they, Mrs. Gracewood?" I reasoned. "They know very well that such a murder would bring a terrible vengeance upon them. Before this time they have seen that the soldiers are on their track."

"Why should they carry her off, then?" asked the poor mother, wiping away the tears that so frequently blinded her.

"As a prisoner, alive and well, she may be of great value to her captors. They may procure a large ransom for her, or they may protect themselves by having her in their power. To kill her would bring nothing but disaster to them."

"But they will at least abuse her."

"They may compel her to travel too fast for her strength, for the soldiers will keep them moving at a rapid rate. Wasn't it very singular that she was left behind last night?" I asked, wishing to change the current of her thoughts a little, if possible.

"It seems strange now. I did not think of such a thing as that she was not on the steamer. I supposed she was in her state-room reading till evening. Her room was lighted, as usual; and when I retired, as the light seemed to assure me she was there, I thought I would not disturb her. The steamer stopped at the fort. She did not appear at breakfast, and I went to her room. I was frightened when I saw that it had not been occupied, and I ran to the captain. Inquiry proved that she had not been seen since we left this landing. I was told that people lived here, and that she would not suffer. As soon as the freight was unloaded, the steamer returned."

While I was talking with her, the shrill screaming of a steamboat whistle assured me I had another customer for wood. Slinging my rifle over my shoulder,—for in these troublous times it was not safe to go unarmed,—I rode old Firefly down to the landing. I sold twenty cords of cotton-wood, and put eighty dollars into my pocket. I told the captain all the news, while the hands were loading the fuel; and the steamer went on her winding way up the river. In a short time she disappeared beyond the bend. I was about to mount my horse, and return to the Castle, when I discovered a dugout in the distance cautiously stealing down the great river, under the shadow of the bank. It contained two Indians; but I was thrilled with excitement when I discovered a young lady seated between them.

It was Ella Gracewood.

I was in a clump of trees, where I had fastened Firefly, and the savages could not see me. I unslung my rifle, and satisfied myself that it was in condition for use. Breathless with interest and anxiety, I watched the dugout. I realized that the Indians had doubled on the soldiers in pursuit of them by returning to their boats, and coming down Crooked River. They evidently intended to ascend the Fish River. Aware that the troops were in hot pursuit of them, I could understand that their only solicitude was to escape with their prisoner, whose presence was a sort of guarantee of their own safety.

I hardly dared to breathe, lest the savages should discover me. I crouched behind a bush, and watched the progress of the enemy, as they rounded the point, and paddled up the Fish River. I could not make up my mind what to do. If I went up to the camp to inform the soldiers of what I had seen, I should lose sight of the dugout. I expected every moment to see the other two Indians come round the point in the second dugout, but they did not appear.

As the savages ascended the stream, I crawled out of my hiding-place. Mr. Gracewood's barge had been left at the lauding by the steamer, and I launched it as the dugout disappeared beyond a bend in the creek. I rowed with the utmost caution up the stream, fearful that the quick ear of the Indians might detect the sound of the oars. I took the precaution to muffle the oars, using an old coat I found in the boat for the purpose. At the bend where I had lost sight of the enemy, I held the barge by an overhanging branch, until I had satisfied myself that it was safe to proceed. The dugout was not in sight, and I continued to pull up the stream, pausing at every turn to take an observation.

As it was not safe for me to go forward while the dugout could be seen, I had not obtained another view of it when I reached the junction of the Big and Little Fish Creeks. As the soldiers were between the former and Crooked River, I knew the fugitives would not take that branch, and I confidently pulled up the Little Fish. Two miles above the junction the rapids commenced, and boats could go no farther in this direction. Unfortunately the stream was too straight to suit my purpose, and seeing the dugout half a mile ahead of me, I landed, and determined to walk in the path on the bank of the creek.

The trees enabled me to keep out of sight, and I quickened my pace, so as to lessen the distance between myself and the enemy. As they made but slow progress against the current, I was soon as near them as I dared to go. In this manner I crept along the path till the dugout arrived at the rapids. The Indians landed, and compelled Ella to do so. I could not see her face, but I judged that she had in some degree become reconciled to her situation.

The place where the fugitives landed was at the mouth of the little brook up which Mr. Gracewood and I had followed the horse thieves. The rapids were just above the mouth of this stream, and the locality was my favorite fishing-ground. I supposed the savages would follow the path on the bank of the creek, which led to the Indian village; but instead of doing so, they struck into the woods by the route the horse thieves had taken. I walked up to the mouth of the brook; but I knew the Indians could go but a short distance in the direction they had chosen. It was nearly sundown, and I concluded that they intended to encamp for the night. I had about decided to return to the Castle, and procure the assistance of the soldiers, when I heard one of the Indians approaching. Concealing myself behind a tree, I waited to observe his movements.

He went to the river, embarked in the dugout, and pushing out into the middle of the stream, commenced fishing, not fifty yards from me. I could not resist the temptation to open the battle, and taking deliberate aim at the Indian with my rifle, I fired.

CHAPTER XIII.

IN WHICH PHIL AND HIS COMPANION ARRIVE AT THE CABIN OF KIT CRUNCHER.

If I had considered the matter a moment longer, probably I should not have had the courage to open the battle; for, if I failed to hit the Indian, my situation would become desperate, and with an empty rifle in my hand, I could only depend upon my legs for safety, while the savages would be able to escape with their prize before the soldiers could be brought up.

Fortunately for me, I did not miss my aim. My bullet evidently passed through the brain of the savage, for he threw up his arms, and dropped over into the bottom of the dugout. His fall disturbed the boat, and detached it from the overhanging branch by which he had secured it, to enable him to fish. The current whirled it around, and carried it down the river.

Though I could not rid myself of a certain sensation of horror, when I found that I had actually taken a human life, I was well satisfied with what I had done. My frame trembled with emotion and excitement as I hastened to load my rifle again. I expected that the sound of the shot would bring the other Indian to the spot, and I nervously awaited his approach; but he did not appear. As the first Indian had come to the creek to obtain food, his companion doubtless supposed he had fired at some game. The wind wafted the smell of smoke to me, and I surmised that the savage at the camp was preparing to cook the fish or game which the other was to obtain.

The sun went down, and it began to be dark in the shades of the forest. I had become composed and resolute again, after waiting half an hour for the coming of the other redskin. I had arrived at the conclusion that it was not worth while to return to the Castle for the soldiers. I was sure that the Indian at the camp fire would soon come down to the creek to ascertain what had become of his companion. To prevent him from stumbling upon me, I retreated a little farther from the stream into the forest. I could not be mistaken in my calculation, which was soon verified by the sound of footsteps in the direction of the Indian camp.

I found my heart beating violently again, and I dreaded the necessity of shooting the savage almost as much as I did the consequences if I failed to do so. It was still light enough for me to see him distinctly when he made his appearance on the bank of the brook. I raised my rifle with the intention of firing the instant he stopped long enough to enable me to insure my aim, for I had not confidence enough to shoot while he was in motion. But I was so agitated that I was not in condition to do justice to my own skill. The savage walked rapidly to the bank of the creek, and halted, looking up and down in search of the dugout and his companion.

"Ugh!" grunted he, in order to express his dissatisfaction at the long absence of his associate, I suppose.

Then he shouted, and waited for a response from his absent friend; but he did not hold still long enough to enable me to cover his head with the muzzle of my piece. I was so excited by the consideration of the fatal consequences to me, and perhaps to Ella, if I failed to bring him down, that I had not pluck enough to fire. I had slain one man, and it was awful to think of killing another. I would have given all the gold in my pocket if Kit Cruncher had stood by my side at that instant, and relieved me of the fearful responsibility of the occasion.

Of course there was no response to the call of the Indian; and, after glancing all around him, he walked rapidly down the path on the bank of the creek in search of his lost mate. This movement on his part afforded me a new hope. As Ella had not come to the stream with her surviving captor, it was evident enough that he had left her at the camp fire, probably tied to a tree, or otherwise secured.

I waited till the Indian had disappeared, and then hastened in the direction of the camp. I did not take much pains to move without noise, for I concluded that the Indian would have his ear to the ground frequently, to obtain tidings of his missing associate. I ran with all the speed I could command. I found Ella fastened to a tree near the fire. Her hands were tied behind her, so that she was unable to help herself.

"O, Phil Farringford!" cried she, as I approached.

"Don't make any noise, Ella," I replied, cutting the cords which bound her. "Follow me, and be very careful."

"Where are the Indians?" she asked, in a whisper, her teeth chattering with terror and excitement.

"I have shot one, and the other is not far off."

I conducted my fair companion a short distance down the brook, and taking her in my arms, I bore her across the stream.

"Hark!" said I, as I placed her on the other side.

We listened, and I heard the Indian shouting for his companion. From the direction of the sound I concluded that he was near the mouth of the brook. Certainly he had retraced his steps from the point where he was when I started to rescue Ella. It was probable that he had heard my steps, but doubtless he supposed they were those of his missing mate. I had made considerable noise when I scrambled up the steep bank of the brook with my burden, which was immediately followed by his call.

"He has heard us," I whispered, preparing my rifle for use.

"What shall I do?" asked my trembling charge.

"Come with me. The brook is between him and us now, and I don't think he will hear our steps, if we move very carefully."

I took her by the hand and led her through the dark forest. I intended to proceed in an easterly direction till I came to Kit Cruncher's Brook, and then follow the path along its bank to the Castle. I paused occasionally to listen, but I heard no more shouting. The savage had probably gone back to his camp, and discovered that his prisoner was missing.

"We must hurry along as fast as we can, Ella," said I, finding that my companion was inclined to go very slowly.

"I am very tired, Phil."

"I am sorry, but we cannot waste our time. If that Indian can find where we crossed the brook, he will pursue us."

"How far must we go?"

"It is five miles to the Castle, but it is only two to Kit Cruncher's cabin."

"I am very faint, for I have eaten nothing since we breakfasted on the island very early this morning," added Ella.

"I think I can find something for you to eat when we get to Kit's cabin."

"But where is my father, Phil?" asked Ella. "I hope nothing has happened to him."

"Nothing has happened to him. He is with the soldiers who landed up Crooked River. Did you not see the troops?"

"I saw them when they landed, but not afterwards."

"Did the Indians use you badly?" I inquired.

"No; they only compelled me to walk when I was so tired that every step was painful."

"Where did you go after you left the dugouts?"

"I'm sure I don't know. We travelled till we came to another river."

"That was the Great Fish," I added.

"Two of the Indians left us then, and paddled across this river on a log. They had a talk before they separated, and they pointed often at me. I knew that it was about me."

"Where did you go then?" I asked, anxious, if possible, to ascertain the plan of the savages.

"We walked back again till we came to the edge of the forest, not far from the river. Here one of the Indians lay down on the ground, so that the soldiers could not see him, and crawled to the stream. The other led me through the woods towards the Missouri, two or three miles, I should think; at any rate, I was completely exhausted. At last we arrived at the great river, in sight of the island where my father lived."

"But where were the soldiers?" I asked.

"I suppose they were beating about the woods, looking for us. The Indian drove me down the steep bank of the river to the water-side. I was terribly frightened, and if my savage conductor had not held my arm I should have slipped down into the river. Here I was permitted to rest myself for an hour, and then the other Indian came in the boat."

"Did you see the steamer that went up the river this afternoon?"

"I did; and when the Indians heard the whistle, they ran the boat into a creek, and kept very quiet until she had passed. Then they paddled up the river by the wood-yard."

"I saw you when you went by, and followed in your father's barge," I added.

"Did you come all alone?"

"Yes; there are about thirty soldiers at the Castle; but I thought, if I went after them, I should lose sight of you, and so I came up alone. I have some good news for you, Ella."

"What is it?" she asked, faintly.

"Your father and mother met on board of the steamer, and are now good friends."

"I am so glad! But I do wish we could rest," she added.

"Sit down on this log, Ella," I replied, conducting her to a fallen tree. "I haven't heard anything from that Indian, and I don't believe he is on our track."

"O, I hope not; but I couldn't run if I saw him this instant."

"We ought to get back to the Castle to-night, if it is possible," I added.

"I don't believe I can walk so far."

"Your poor mother is suffering every moment. If she only knew you were safe, I would not go farther than Kit's cabin to-night."

After resting for half an hour, we resumed the weary tramp through the woods, and at last reached the brook on the other side of which was the hunter's log hut. There was a light in it, which assured me Kit was at home. I carried Ella over the stream in my arms, and we approached the house. I took the precaution to reconnoitre the premises before I entered, for it was not impossible that some of the enemy had taken possession of the cabin; but through the open door I saw the tall hunter at work over the fire, evidently cooking his supper.

"How are you, Kit?" said I, leading my charge into his presence.

"Are you hyer, Phil, boy!" exclaimed he. "Who's that with you?"

"It's Mr. Mellowtone's daughter."

"I never knowed he had a darter."

As briefly as possible, I told Kit what had occurred since he left the clearing.

"I've jest kim in from the nor'ard," said he. "The Injuns is on the rampage. There's more'n a hund'ed on 'em not more'n a two hours' tramp up the Little Fish, and there's goin' to be more trouble. I was goin' down to the Castle as soon as I'd eat my supper. I ain't sartin there ain't some redskins 'tween hyer and the clearing. Leastwise, I don't think it's safe to go down by the brook path."

I was surprised and annoyed at his last remark; and Kit, after putting another slice of bacon in the pan over the fire, proceeded to explain the ground of his fears.

CHAPTER XIV.

IN WHICH PHIL ROWS THE BARGE UP THE BIG FISH RIVER.

If there were any Indians between the Castle and Kit Cruncher's cabin, we were certainly between two fires, and it was necessary that something should be done very soon.

"What makes you think there are Indians below us, Kit?" I asked.

"I'll tell you, boy," replied the patriarchal hunter, as he turned a slice of bacon in the pan. "I've seen Injun tracks p'inted that way."

"Where did you see them?"

"Over on the Little Fish. It has rained hard sence I went up the river, and the tracks I see was new ones."

"Were they above or below the lower rapids?"

"Above, boy. I struck across the country above the swamp, and hit my brook near the spring where it starts. Two Injuns had come down, I know."

"Well, Kit, those were the two who crossed the Big Fish on a log—two of the four who went to the island this morning and captured Miss Gracewood. The other two came around by the river in the dugout, and camped near the lower rapids. In my opinion, they had agreed to meet there."

"Most like it is as you say, boy. I'm glad it's no wus. But 'tain't safe for the gal to stay hyer. There'll be a hund'ed Injuns down hyer to-morrow, mebbe as arly as daylight. I cal'late them two that come over this mornin' is doggin' round the Castle now."

"If they are, they have found a camp of soldiers there, and not a very good chance to plunder the place."

Kit Cruncher placed the frying-pan, in which the great slices of bacon had been cooked, upon a chest, with a basket of crackers. Ella ate heartily of the meat, for it was very good, in spite of the homely manner in which it was served. We finished the meal without any interruption from Indians or others. The poor girl declared that she felt very much refreshed and strengthened, and was able to walk again.

"Now we are ready for a start," said Kit, when he had put his house in order.

"How far is it through the woods to the Little Fish, Kit?" I asked.

"Across hyer 'tain't more'n a mile."

"Then I think we had better go that way," I added. "I left Mr. Gracewood's boat not far from the place where the two rivers join, and we can go down in that."

"Very well, boy; but I cal'late there's three Injuns atween us and the Castle somewhar. But 'tain't no matter; if they show theirselves, my rifle will make quick work on 'em."

We crossed the brook, and struck into the woods on the other side. Ella walked by my side, holding my hand, while Kit led the way through the gloomy forest.

"Where do you suppose my father is now, Phil?" asked the poor girl.

"With the soldiers."

"But where are the soldiers?"

"They are in the woods beyond the Big Fish, I suppose. They must have scoured the woods down to the Missouri before dark. I have no means of knowing whether they were able to find any tracks of the fugitives to assist them; if not, they have been very much puzzled."

"And all this time my poor father thinks I am in the hands of the Indians, and fears that I have been killed or abused," added Ella.

"I am very sorry; but I do not see that we can do anything to-night to relieve his anxiety."

"No, Phil, I see that you cannot. You have been very brave and noble, and very kind to me, and I shall remember you with gratitude as long as I live."

"I don't ask for anything better than to serve you," I replied. "In the morning the troops at the Castle will start, and I have no doubt they will communicate with those beyond the Big Fish in the course of the day."

"I do wish father were here. I am afraid he will expose himself to the Indians, or wear himself out, he is so anxious for me."

"We will do the best we can to let him know that you are safe. Perhaps Kit and I will try to find him, as soon as we have conducted you to the Castle, and relieved the anxiety of your poor mother."

"We marched very cautiously through the woods, and with our rifles in our hands ready for instant use. In a short time, under the skilful lead of the hunter, we reached the river; but I had left the barge a mile farther down the stream.

"I am not sure that we shall find the barge where I left it, Kit," said I, as we took the path on the bank of the Little Fish.

"Most like you won't, boy. That Injun that went down to look for t'other mought have took it."

"What will you do, then?" asked Ella.

"We shall be obliged to walk another mile, to the landing-place."

My trembling companion was constantly in fear of an attack from the savages, or that a shot from them would hit her, or some other one of the party. I said all I could to comfort and assure her; but the circumstances were so novel to her that she could not be reconciled to them. As I was not without fear myself, I could not take the matter so coolly as Kit did. But the old hunter, steady and brave as he was in peril, was a prudent man, and not at all disposed to be reckless. He knew that an Indian bullet could kill him, as well as another man, and he had none of that affectation of courage which so often belies the boaster and the reckless man.

"Hyer's your barge," said Kit, ahead of us, when we had gone less than half a mile down the stream.

"So it is; but I did not leave it here," I replied, as I glanced at the boat.

"That Injun has come up stream in it, and left it hyer. Most like he ain't fur from hyer."

I assisted Ella into the barge. Kit seated himself in the bow, and I took the oars.

"Fotch her over under the further shore, boy," said Kit, as I pushed off the boat. "Keep as fur as you kin from danger allus."

The old hunter's suggestion was certainly a good one, as was fully demonstrated only a few minutes later. I pulled the barge to the other side of the river; but we had gone only a few rods before the crack of a rifle, followed by a whizzing bullet, assured us the enemy were at hand. The barge was painted white, and was a shining mark in the night for the savages to fire at.

"O, mercy!" cried Ella.

"Did it hit you?" I asked, alarmed by her cry.

"No, no—but——"

"Don't make any noise, then."

"Run the barge ashore hyer, boy," said Kit Cruncher, quietly.

I obeyed instantly; but another shot followed the first one, though, fortunately, neither of them did any harm.

"Let the gal go ashore," added Kit.

I understood his plan, and assisted Ella to land.

"Run up the bank into the woods, and get behind a tree," I said to her, as a third shot came across the river.

But the Indians were firing blindly in the dark, and though the last bullet hit the boat, we were still safe. Kit stepped on the shore, and we dragged the boat out of the water. The hunter paused on the bank of the river, and gazed across in the direction from which the shots came.

"There's three on 'em over thyer," said Kit. "The shots was too near together to come out of one barrel. Haul the barge up the bank afore they hev time to load up agin."

The barge was light, and we had no difficulty in taking it up the bank into the woods. For the present we were safe; but it was certain that there were three savages on the bank of the river, and between us and the Castle. We had, luckily, escaped injury so far, and Kit was not the man to lead us into any unnecessary peril. We were now on the tongue of land between the Big and the Little Fish Rivers, and only a short distance above their junction. At the point where we landed it was less than a quarter of a mile from one river to the other.

"We can't go down Fish River to-night," said I, when we had pulled the boat up the bank.

"Not without resk, boy," replied Kit.

"What shall we do?" asked the frightened Ella.

"Don't be skeered, little gal," interposed Kit, in a tone more tender than he was in the habit of using. "You are as safe hyer as you'd be in your marm's lap."

"Can't the savages come over here?" she inquired.

"'Pears like they can't; leastwise, not without swimming, and we kin stop 'em faster'n they kin come over. Rifle-balls travels fast," answered Kit, sagely. "But I don't reckon they'll want to come over hyer."

"Do you suppose they know there are soldiers at the clearing?" I asked.

"I don't reckon they do. They mought know it, and they mought not; but from what you say, I cal'late they hain't had time to go down and see."

"Perhaps they intended to go there to-night," I suggested.

"It mought be."

"I think they were looking for something to eat first. I believe the two Indians who came across the river on the log were to meet the other two at the camp on the brook where I went. They knew they could get plenty of fish there. After I shot one of the party at the camp, the remaining one must have come across the other two. They will keep between us and the Castle."

"Most like they've been lookin' for the gal all the evenin'," added Kit.

"It seems to me, if they knew the soldiers were at the clearing, they would not stay here."

"'Tain't much use to guess at these things. You mought as well shoot at nothin' in the dark. We can't go down Fish River to-night; that's all that's sartin."

"That is very true."

"And I cannot see my mother to-night, then," said Ella.

"I dunno, little gal; 'pears like you can't; but mebbe you kin see your father," replied Kit. "And it mought be you kin see both. I dunno. We must be keerful. Better not see 'em till to-morrer 'n not see 'em at all."

"What do you mean by seeing her father tonight, Kit?" I inquired, afraid that he was kindling vain hopes in the mind of the suffering maiden.

"I'll tell you, boy. Ef, as you say, them soldiers is rampagin' over the country 'tween the Fish and Crooked River, we mought find 'em afore mornin'. We kin kerry this boat over to the Big Fish, and land on t'other side on't."

"That's a capital plan, Kit, and our safest course," I replied.

We wasted no time in debating a question on which we were perfectly agreed. We carried the light barge across the tongue of land, and launched it in the Big Fish. Our party embarked, and I pulled up the river. I realized that it would not be an easy matter to find the soldiers, for they would not kindle any camp fire, which would betray their presence to the savages.

I pulled vigorously, for half an hour, against the current; and we were satisfied that the three Indians had not crossed the river, for we were not again annoyed by them. As the barge approached the rapids, beyond which we could not go by water, we heard a noise on the shore.

"Who goes there?" shouted a soldier.

"Friends," I replied.

"Advance, friends, and give the countersign."

We had no countersign, but I immediately ran the boat ashore, and we landed.

CHAPTER XV.

IN WHICH PHIL AND HIS COMPANIONS START FOR THE CASTLE.

"Who are you?" demanded the soldier who had hailed the boat, probably astonished to find himself answered in plain English.

"Friends," I replied.

"What is your name?"

"Phil Farringford."

"You are the boy that came on board the steamer this morning?"

"I am; have you seen any Indians to-day?"

"Not an Indian."

"You didn't go where they were," I added.

"We have been beating about the woods all day; but the Indians who captured the girl have dodged us."

"Then you haven't recovered her yet?"

"No."

"I have; and here she is," I continued; helping Ella out of the boat, and up the bank of the river.

By this time half a dozen soldiers had gathered on the shore, with their blankets on their arms. When they understood that the young lady had been recovered from the Indians, they gave an involuntary cheer.

"Where is my father?" asked Ella, anxiously.

"I suppose he is with Lieutenant Pope," replied Corporal Flint, who was the spokesman of the party. "The headquarters are about a mile up the river."

"I must go to him at once," added Ella, nervously.

"You shall, miss. The hunt's up now, and we needn't stay here any longer," continued the corporal. "We are divided into three squads, and posted on the river to keep the Indians from crossing."

"There hasn't been an Indian on this neck for six hours," I added; and I proceeded to inform the corporal in what manner the Indians had made their escape.

"They are cunning," said he. "They know the country better than we do."

"Whar's the cap'n?" demanded Kit, who had been engaged in hauling the barge out of the water, and concealing it in the bushes.

"Who are you?" replied Corporal Flint, as the tall hunter loomed up before him.

"I don't reckon it makes any matter who I am; but I want to see the cap'n, and show him whar the redskins is."

"Lieutenant Pope commands the troops, and he will be very glad to know where the redskins are."

"My father is with him; do let us make haste," said Ella, dragging me by the hand in the direction of the next post of the soldiers.

"We will escort you, miss," added the corporal, ordering his squad to march.

Our walk was enlivened by the frequent challenge of the sentinels posted along the bank of the river. One half of the troops were watching the stream, while the other half slept. In a short time we reached the bivouac of the commanding officer. As we approached, I recognized the form of Mr. Gracewood, who was walking back and forth near the party asleep on the ground.

"Here she is, Mr. Gracewood!" I shouted, while the soldiers were going through their military forms, for they were very precise in all these matters.

The unhappy father halted, and Ella dragged me towards him, impatient to heal the wounded heart. He seemed to be unable to comprehend the meaning of my words; but as soon as he saw her in the gloom of the forest, he rushed forward and clasped her in his arms. I heard them sob in each other's embrace, and while the tears started in my own eyes, I had an all-sufficient reward for the peril and labor I had incurred in restoring her.

"Why, Ella, I can hardly believe it is you," said he, his voice tremulous with emotion.

"It is I, father," she replied, clinging to him convulsively. "I am so happy!"

"Are you safe? Are you hurt? Did they injure you?"

"No, father I have been awfully frightened, but I am not hurt. You don't say a word to Phil. He saved me."

"Phil Farringford!"

"Yes, father."

"My dear boy, you have saved me from a misery you cannot understand," said the glad parent, grasping my hand.

"I am very glad to do something for you, after you have done so much for me, sir."

"But how was it? Tell me about it. Where did you find her?" asked Mr. Gracewood.

"I congratulate you, sir," said Lieutenant Pope, approaching the spot, having learned the substance of the story from Corporal Flint.

"I am the happiest man in the world," added Mr. Gracewood, with enthusiasm. "Phil Farringford is a hero! Now let us know where you found her."

"Here's Kit Cruncher, too," I added, unwilling that my stalwart ally should be ignored.

Mr. Gracewood shook hands with Kit, who was duly introduced to the lieutenant.

"I'm hyer, Mr. Mell'ton, or Mr. Greasewood—if that's your name."

"Gracewood," interposed the happy Ella.

"Jest so; Greasewood—that's what I say. I'm hyer, and I want to tell the cap'n whar the redskins is; but I don't reckon my story'll spile while Phil tells you about the gal. Go on, boy; wag your tongue as fast as you wagged your legs to-day."

"I've had rather a long tramp to-day, and I'll sit down and rest while we talk," I answered, availing myself of a log.

I related minutely all the circumstances of the recapture of Ella, and gave her explanation of the plan by which the Indians had escaped from the soldiers.

"I never thought of those dugouts," said the lieutenant. "We have not been near the river to-day."

"Now, cap'n," interposed Kit Cruncher, "the Injuns from the nor'ard is on a rampage. More'n a hund'ed on 'em is camped on the head streams of the Little Fish, working down this way. They mean to wipe out all on us. They stole Matt's hosses, but we got 'em back. Then they kim down on us, and two or three on 'em got shot. Now the whole on 'em's comin' down."

"I will take care of them if you will show me where they are," added the officer.

"I'll do that. I ain't no milintry man, but I kin tell you how to fix them redskins. Them Injuns up thar has got hosses. They're go'n' to come down by the Little Fish. Phil tells me you sent a force to the Castle. Ef you take 'em in the rear with your men, by marchin' round across both the Fish rivers, the t'other kin take 'em in front, and atwixt the two you'll chaw 'em all up."

"Do you think we had better march to-night?" asked Lieutenant Pope, evidently impressed by the suggestion of the veteran hunter.

"No; that would spile the whole game. Let 'em kim down as fur's they will."

"But where are the three Indians who were engaged in the capture of Miss Gracewood?"

"They're doggin' round the clearin'; but I don't reckon they know any sogers is over thar yet."

"They will join the large force on the Little Fish, and inform them of our presence here."

"They mought do it; but a march of seven mile will fotch you to 'em. They'll start arly 'n the mornin'; and them three Injuns won't go up to their camp to-night, for they're as fur off from it as we are. Ef you start at sunrise, you kin git in behind 'em, crossin' both rivers in the forenoon."

Kit Cruncher was very clear in his views, and the commander of the troops saw the wisdom of his plan. The latter knew nothing of the country, and was dependent upon the information afforded by such men as Kit for the means of punishing the Indians when they violated their treaty obligations.

"As my daughter cannot go with you, we need remain here no longer," said Mr. Gracewood.

"But you can't get to the clearing to-night," replied Lieutenant Pope. "You may be intercepted by these strolling savages; and I cannot spare my men to escort you, for they may be obliged to march all day to-morrow."

"Where is my barge, Kit?" asked the anxious father.

"In the bushes down the river."

"We can carry it across the land to the Crooked River, and go down in that way. I am very anxious to join my wife, who is still suffering with anxiety for our child," added Mr. Gracewood.

"Very well; if you feel safe to leave the camp, I shall not object," continued the lieutenant. "My men shall carry your boat over to the river."

"Phil will go with me, and I don't think there is any danger."

"I should be glad to have you go, for I wish to send some orders to Lieutenant Jackson, commanding the men at the clearing."

"Exactly, cap'n," interposed Kit. "Send word for 'em to form a line atween the Little Fish and the pond. Phil kin show 'em whar it is."

Four men were sent to carry the barge across the country to Crooked River, and Kit explained to the officer the nature of the region where he suggested that the line of defence should be established. By the light of a match, the lieutenant wrote an order, which he gave to me, to be delivered to the officer in command of the detachment at the Castle. Bidding the lieutenant good night, we started for the river, attended by Kit, who was determined to see us safely embarked.

"I am afraid you are too tired to walk, Ella," said I, placing myself at her side.

"I am very tired, and I hope the distance is not long."

"Not less than two miles," I replied.

"I will try to do it," said she, with all the courage she could muster.

After going half the distance, we met the men who were carrying the boat. They had laid it on a couple of poles, and were bearing it on their shoulders. By this time poor Ella was almost fainting with exhaustion.

"We kin tote the gal in the boat," said Kit.

"She cannot sit on the keel of it," replied Mr. Gracewood; for the soldiers had placed it bottom upwards on the sticks.

"We kin turn it t'other side up," added Kit. "Drop that boat, sogers."