It was an appalling fact that the flat-boat had staved in its bottom and was rapidly filling with water. With one bound McGowan sprang to the cabin and aroused the inmates. Before they were fairly arisen, he discovered they were in no immediate danger. The bow of the boat rested on the sand, while the stern had swung around and was settling some five or six feet—a depth sufficient to carry the rear entirely below the surface.
It was the work of a few moments, to land Mrs. Smith, McGowan and Ruth upon the island. Napyank leaped down, and assisted them to the ground so successfully that all landed dry shod. Their valuables (which being few were indeed valuable) were speedily cast out and in fifteen minutes after the flat-boat struck, its entire contents, both animate and inanimate were upon the island.
“This is a little too bad,” said McGowan gloomily. “Those few rotten planks have played the mischief. The boat can never do us any more good.”
“Can’t yees repair it, as the cobbler axed the docthor after he’d cracked his wife’s skull.”
“Repair it? No, we should never have started with such an old hulk as that.”
“Perhaps now we’re near enough to the mainland to be able to wade over,” suggested young Smith.
“Can’t do it,” replied the hunter shaking his head. “We’ll have to make a raft and paddle over.”
“With the old hulk bulging up there, it will be sure to be seen in the morning,” said McGowan gloomily surveying the dark mass of useless lumber. “Can’t we shove it further back into the water, and let it sink out of sight.”
“We will try it.”
The six men waded into the stream and pressed their shoulders against the boat. Teddy’s first essay was accompanied by a slipping of the foot which left him fall flat upon his face, where he floundered some time before he regained his upright position.
The united effort of the half-dozen men failed to budge the craft. It was as heavy and had settled so firmly that it was absolutely immoveable unless by more strength than our friends had at their command. As Teddy remarked, the “owld critter had sat down to stay.”
“We can’t do anything with it,” said McGowan, “and that being the case, what shall we do with ourselves?”
“Get off the island as soon as possible,” replied young Smith.
“It is now so dark that I don’t suppose anything can be done before morning,” added McGowan.
“Take things easy,” said Teddy. “Don’t you see we’re safer here than we was on that owld mud-scar. We could go to the bottom of river wid that any time; but here we can sleep as sound as snorting tapple.”
“We may as well make ourselves comfortable like till morning,” added Napyank. “Fix up the women-folks, and we can take care of ourselves.”
The island was found to be larger than they had at first supposed. It was more than an eighth of a mile from one end to the other, thickly wooded, and covered with rank grass and a dense undergrowth. It was oval shaped, and very regular in its outline, being rather more than two hundred feet broad in its widest part.
“What a magnificent summer sate this would make for a gintleman like meself,” said Teddy, as the two stood in the shadow of a tree, on the lower part of the island.
“So it would,” replied young Smith. “I shouldn’t be surprised if it was used for that purpose before many years.”
“Be the same token it’s the summer sate of a party of travellers at this very minute, and it’s probable we’ll make quite a stay upon it.”
“I hope there ain’t any Indians looking at us,” said McGowan with a shudder, as he glanced toward the shore of the dark and bloody ground. “I am afraid for the women.”
“So does I,——but——”
“Look there!” exclaimed McGowan fairly springing off his feet.
“What? where? I don’t see anything.”
“Here! here! this way!” said he pulling his companion around. “’Tain’t there——it’s on the island, right below us! look, can’t you see it?”
“I saas the traas and the fog and that’s all.”
“It disappeared the very minute you looked. There it is again! Now it’s gone! I wonder what makes it act that way.”
“What is it, man, you’re making such a noise about?”
“Why sir,” said McGowan solemnly, “as sure as you and I stand here, I seen a light moving about on the island.”
This being the case, McGowan and the two silent Smiths at once returned to the women, while the others passed down the shore of the island. They had gone a considerable distance in silence when young Smith suddenly caught the arm of the Irishman like a vice, and without a word pointed meaningly toward the trees where the alarming manifestations had first been seen. There was no mistaking this time. Napyank saw a bright light shining steadily through the trees—so brightly and steadily that he was certain it could not be far from them. Moving back more closely under the shadow of their own tree, he whispered,
“We must find out what the dogs are doing.”
“I say, there ought to be only one or two of us,” said young Smith. “Suppose you let me and Joe go?”
“I can, to be sure, but then what use would it be?” replied the hunter. “I can go, while you stay here and keep watch.”
“And where’s the naad of our keeping watch here?”
“You know some of the Injins might slip onto the island while I’m gone, and it wouldn’t take them long to play the mischief with the women folks.”
“Do yees do the same duty then, for I’m naaded ilsewhere, and here’s good luck to yees,” said Teddy.
“But——”
But the Irishman and hunter disappeared.
“I hope they won’t get us into trouble,” said young Smith when he found he was alone. “I think the Irishman ought to know by this time that we do not relish his madcap scheme. I would never have come into such a country as this if we were to be ruined by him. I don’t know about that, either,” he added, after a moment’s thought; “I did hate to see Ruth go, and I don’t believe I could have contented myself at home. The dear sweet girl! What a pity she should be subjected to this danger and suffering and that, too, when we are so near our journey’s end. To-morrow we should have been able to reach our destination if it had not been for this bad accident. We have already enough,” he added, after a moment’s pause, “to let us know we are in danger this very minute. I understood Joe to say that this part of the river was the most dangerous of any that he knew, so, I can’t see how we are going to get safely through. God watch over the poor beings that are dependent under thee, upon us for safety.
“I hope the Irishman has sense enough to keep his eyes about him,” he continued. “That Joe was right in saying the crisis of the danger would be reached to-night. We’re in the crisis I believe in this very minute.”
Young Smith was standing in the attitude of acute attention, every faculty absorbed in the one of listening, when his whole being was thrilled by the explosion of two rifles, followed by a succession of horrid yells that made his very blood curdle! It needed no thought to tell him that these came from the throats of the savages, and that the worst that he had feared, had taken place.
His first impression was, that the two scouts had been discovered, and fired upon, and that his own life was in peril. But, upon second thought, he knew by the direction of the sounds, that they proceeded from the lower part of the island, and that it was the friends whom he had left behind, that were attacked. Believing then, that the scouts were safe, for the present, he was debating whether to remain where he was, until rejoined by them or to hasten at once to his friends.
He had not yet come to a conclusion, when a slight grating noise upon the shingle of the beach caught his ear, and turning his head, he saw that a canoe had just landed within a few feet of him, and, at that very moment, two painted savages were in the act of stepping ashore. With his heart in his throat, he moved around to the opposite side of the tree, and watched the motions of these Indians.
They acted very deliberately, seeming to take no notice of the tumult, which a moment before, had broken the profound stillness of stream and wood.
They first pulled the canoe high upon the land, each took a rifle from it, and then strode directly toward the tree which concealed the apprehensive man. As they passed so near that he could have touched them with his hand, he absolutely believed they would hear his heart beat. But such a thing has never occurred, no matter how wildly that organ has throbbed, and then the Indians who would have detected the faintest sound, passed on, and disappeared in the wood of the island, without once suspecting how nigh they had been to one of the very persons for whom they were searching.
They had hardly gone when Smith stole cautiously forth to view, and looking carefully about him detected Teddy stealing up to where he had concealed himself.
“What did you see?” he inquired of the Irishman.
The latter looked carefully about him a moment before he made a reply.
“May our howly mother presarve us, but the island is full of the haythen.”
“What is that light we saw?”
“It was the camp fire of a whole pack of the divils. But, we’re in a bad fix.”
“Didn’t you hear rifles? They’re in a worse fix,” said young Smith, in an under tone. “What’s to be done?”
“That’s what I don’t know. We must get back if we can, and see what the outlandish divils have been at. Yapnank has left me out there and maybe he’s gone back already.”
They both started toward the upper end of the island, the Irishman not disdaining to use the utmost caution. Every few yards he paused and listened for the slightest warning of danger, and, so for Smith, he expected in his excited condition each moment to see a whole horde of screeching savages rush out from the trees.
Although naturally brave he had not as yet acquired that familiarity with this species of danger to make him cool and collected.
The whole distance was passed without any further evidence of the presence of the enemy. Upon reaching their friends they found them vigilant and cool. They stated that a number of canoes had come from the mainland, and after reconnoitering the flat-boat had discharged a couple of rifles and then departed.
No one had been injured by the shots although they came dangerously near the elder Smith. Napyank had not yet returned, and the young man could see on the faces of those around him the impress of the most depressed and saddened forebodings. Some of them, especially his own cherished Ruth, was endeavoring to keep up a brave spirit, but none of them could conceal the discouragement they really felt in their hearts. Young Smith conversed with them in an under tone for a few moments and then withdrew to a retired spot.
Scarcely knowing what he did he walked slowly out from the protection which the tree afforded him, and stood on the moonlit beach. He placed the stock of his rifle on the hard shingle, and leaning upon it gave way to the most saddened meditations.
Just before him, as motionless as a rock, rested the hulk of the sunken flat-boat. The soft ripple of the Ohio against the sand at his feet, that deep hollow murmur of the great wilderness were the only sounds that reached his ear; and these from their monotonous continuity, seemed silence itself. The moon was nearly over head, shining in that peculiar manner, that the river seemed to reflect more light than it received. A few straggling clouds as white as snow-drifts, now and then floated before the moon, and huge grotesque shadows glided over the island, across the stream and into the wood like phantoms. On either side the frowning forest rose like a wall of blackness, and seemed to close the whites in an impregnable prison.
It was no wonder that the young adventurer felt gloomy and despairing. It could not be otherwise than this, while within a dozen miles of the settlement, and in the most dangerous portion of the river, an accident should place himself and his friends in imminent peril, and make the escape of all of them in it seemed to him, an utter impossibility. He was in the midst of these gloomy forebodings, when the sound of a light footstep startled him, and looking around, he turned to greet his friends.
“Well, what have you discovered?” he added. “Are we alone in the island?”
To his surprise he received no reply.
“What are our prospects of getting over to the mainland?”
As quick as lightning young Smith’s rifle was at his shoulder, and one of the approaching Indians was shot through the breast. With a wild yell he sprang high in the air and fell dead upon the sand. At the same moment the white man saw something flash and heard a rushing sound close to his face, followed by the splash of the tomahawk in the water behind him. Clubbing his rifle he stood on the defensive, when he noted that neither of the savages possessed a rifle, and conscious that he was more than a match for the surviving one he made a rush at him.
The Indian turned to flee, and Smith had hardly started in pursuit, when the report of a second rifle was heard among the trees, followed by a series of whoops and yells as if a legion of demons had suddenly been loosed. With a rare presence of mind the young man comprehended his critical situation in an instant. The wood was swarming with Indians. If he went a rod further his own destruction would be inevitable.
Wheeling around with such celerity that his momentum carried him nearly off his feet, he flung his gun from him and ran for his life to the flat-boat. Stepping one foot into the water he made a tremendous bound and alighted upon the gunwale, the same as a bird would have done; and then tearing his hat from his head, he concentrated all his energies in the one effort and sprang full a dozen feet out into the river.
The instant he came to the surface he gasped for breath and dove again, swimming while beneath the surface, as far out toward the Kentucky shore as possible, repeating the manoeuvre several times, until believing that he was at a safe distance from the island, he swam sideways and anxiously surveyed it.
So prompt and rapid had been his movements, that he had not been seen, and his own escape, if he chose to improve the opportunity given him, was at least insured; but he would rather have been smitten by instant annihilation rather than desert those he had left behind him. The thought had never once entered his head.
He continued off the island until the current had carried him nearly half way to the lower end when he cautiously approached the shore. As he walked in under the shadow, several forms followed him like phantoms, while as many more closed around him from the wood. He had taken but a few steps, when he was startled by hearing a suppressed exclamation. His apprehension told him at once that it was the voice of an Indian, and he was moving away from the point from which it came, when he caught a glimpse of the shadow-like figures around him, and saw that the most dangerous crisis of his life was upon him.
The Indians had not yet surrounded him, and conscious that all depended upon a quick and energetic decision, he made a dash toward the river. The dense undergrowth at this portion of the island impeded the movements of both pursuer and pursued; but the activity of the white man was superior, and he was first at the beach, when making another terrific leap, he bounded out into deep water and dove beneath the surface.
While beneath the water, young Smith heard distinctly the dull report of the rifles, and the skipping of the bullets as they glanced over the water. Being a skillful swimmer, he turned upon his back, and as he was borne along upward, he allowed only his mouth and nose to be exposed, when inhaling a sufficient quantity of air, he again dove, and repeated precisely the same manoeuvre that we have described before.
Finally believing he was once more safe, he allowed his head and shoulders to come to view, and looked back toward the island. To his dismay, an Indian canoe was within a dozen feet of him! Its occupants descried him at the same moment that he discovered them, and now commenced a most exciting race of life and death!
One minute would have decided the contest in the middle of the river, but fortunately indeed, Smith’s efforts had brought him within a few rods of the shore. Fearful of being fired upon he repeated his stratagem of diving, and when he came to the surface, struggled frantically to gain the shore, with the canoe darting forward like a shadow. As soon as he could gain a foothold, he tore through the foaming water and dashed into the woods, while the canoe was scarcely twice its length behind him.
It was now only by the most skillful running, dodging and doubling, that he succeeded in freeing himself from his agile pursuers. He had gone fully half a mile in the forest before this was accomplished, but he found himself at length entirely alone, and panting and exhausted he seated himself upon the ground, to decide upon the next course to pursue.
He could not think of leaving the island when he had every reason to believe that all he held dear on earth was upon it. She whom he cherished above all others on earth was there and in imminent danger. And although there were more skilful arms than his left behind, still he knew his presence and aid were sorely needed. He resolved to return.
With this determination he arose and retraced his steps. It is needless to say he made his way as silently, stealthily and cautiously as he was able to do, starting at every rustling wind and falling leaf. Upon reaching the shore of the river, he found that he was above the island, and wading it, swam out toward it.
He wished if possible, to recover his rifle and gain a glimpse of the band of Indians who had so well nigh slain him, and who beyond all question were plotting further hurt.
Steadying himself he allowed the current to carry him downward, and when several rods distant, checked his motion, and took a survey of the flat-boat and its surroundings.
He saw his rifle lying upon the beach, its ornamented stock and barrel shining in the moonlight. After carefully surveying every portion of the island that came under his observation, he detected no sign of danger, and was about to let himself float forward again, when the lifted head of a savage rose above the gunwale, and remained in view for fully a minute.
As the moon shone fully upon the Indian he distinguished his features plainly. He concluded at once that there were several others on the flat-boat, and all waiting for his return. The savage gazed carefully about him, and descrying nothing, his head disappeared from view.
“Ah, my fine fellow,” thought Smith, as he noiselessly swam toward the Ohio shore. “You may watch there quite a while before you can catch me in any of your traps.”
He now floated slowly down the river, keeping about midway between the island and the Ohio bank, and so far as possible examined the former as he passed the bank. Reaching its extremity he passed around it and commenced ascending the opposite side, so as to complete his reconnoissance. This was an extremely difficult task, and none but the most powerful swimmer could have accomplished it. But he succeeded, and finally “anchored” for a few moments, abreast of the flat-boat, while he took another observation. He saw nothing more of the Indians, although he believed they were still upon it.
He was convinced that the majority of the Indians were still upon the island, and after floating somewhat lower, he landed at precisely the same spot where he came so near being captured before. Feeling confident that he had not been seen, he unhesitatingly came ashore and passed beneath the shadow of the trees.
Upon coming from the water, his limbs were so heavy and felt so exhausted that he threw himself upon the ground to gain a few moments’ rest. Despite the exciting scenes in which he had just participated, and the terrible ordeal through which he had passed, he fell asleep almost immediately.
It was in the midst of a fearful dream he was awakened by a grasp upon his arm. Believing resistance to be useless, he lay motionless, waiting for the command of his captors.
“Begorrah but bees you goin’ for to shleep a month whin your friends are in the greatest anxiety on yer account, barrin the little blue-eyed maiden that is the most anxious of ’em all.”
A moment later Napyank came from the trees and congratulated our hero on his escape. He announced that their friends were withdrawn to a secluded spot on the island, where they were to remain for the present, if undisturbed by the Indians.
The dull gray light that now began to overspread the sky, gave token of the coming day, and these whites withdrew further into the grove for consultation.
“This is a bad business,” remarked young Smith, after he had exchanged experiences with his friends. “The fiends have outwitted us at last. God knows what will become of the others.”
As delicately as possible it was announced to young Smith that his father had been slain. He was overcome for a few moments, but by a great effort, he choked down his emotion. Finally he asked the particulars, and said,
“Let us hunt him up and give him a decent burial. Poor mother. We can find some means to scoop out a grave for him.”
The three moved away to the clearing, but, upon reaching it, nothing of the body was to be seen. The Indians had carried it from the island.
“Perhaps it is as well,” said the hunter. “He is beyond all pain, and suffering, and the disposal of his body can make no difference to him, although I would that we could have done our duty to him.”
At this period the stricken man received the intelligence that at the same time that his parent was slain, Ruth McGowan was captured. He looked up with an expression of literal horror.
For a few moments nothing was said, and then the hunter, anxious to relieve the suspense, clamped his rifle down upon the ground as he came to a halt, and folding his arm over it, “Here we are, and the question before this assembly is, how we’re going to get away. What do you propose to do Teddy?”
“I advise that we ate breakfast.”
“The only objection to that,” replied Napyank, “is that we have nothing to eat; but we must first go over the island again and learn if there are any of the demons left. If not we must get on their tracks, for as true as the heaven is above me, I’ll never go to that settlement without Ruth.”
“I am certain—that is, as certain as I can be—that the last of the Indians left the island a half hour ago. We saw their canoes going off.”
“It is best be certain. We will go to the lower end of the island, and proceed to the upper end, to learn whether any of the reds are left, and if——”
“And if—what then?”
“You will see,” replied Napyank, shaking his head very significantly.
At the extremity of the island the three separated, as had been proposed, and commenced making their way back again.
In doing this, it was necessary to avoid exposing themselves, and from the great caution that was necessary, the work was an entirely difficult and tedious one.
It was not until full two hours had elapsed that three whites met on the spot that had been designated as their rendezvous.
Their search, or examination, as it might be termed, proved that the savages had indeed left the island, not a sign of one having been discovered. They had probably done this under the belief that the whites had succeeded in reaching the mainland, so that the latter were convinced that if they kept themselves concealed during the day, they would not be disturbed, and could easily get away when night came again. The ashes of their camp-fire had been discovered, and blood upon the leaves and other evidences of their recent visit.
“But, where’s your rifle?” asked Joe, who noticed that young Smith had been unprovided with that weapon.
The latter looked through the trees.
“Yonder it lies this minute. Strange that they did not steal that also. I will go and recover it.”
He paused ere he had passed out from among the trees, for the very fact that the rifle lay there undisturbed, sent a suspicious pang through him. It seemed probable that such an occurrence could be a mere accident. A true Indian, rarely, if ever, committed such an oversight. The rifle was magnificently mounted and would have been a prize to any one.
There was another matter, which in Smith’s state of mind excited suspicion and apprehension. He believed the gun did not lie on the precise spot where he had thrown it. He recollected that he had flung it with such force that it must have gone very nearly to the edge of the beach, whereas it now lay either on the very spot that he had passed over, or a few feet on the opposite side.
This circumstance, which at any other time, would have attracted no attention at all, caused our hero much uneasiness. He felt that it was by no means certain that every thing was right upon the island, although it had just been proven, that their enemies had left it. It looked to him as though a trap had been laid to ensnare him, and this rifle of his, lying but a few yards distant was the bait.
Feeling very well convinced that there was some design in the presence of the rifle, he set himself to work to discover the precise means by which it was intended to entrap him. There being no Indians on the island, of course he ran no risk of being taken prisoner, in case he ventured out to secure the weapon. The distance from this point to either shore was so slight, that it would have been the easiest matter in the world for a concealed savage to pick him off.
Ah! the flat-boat! Smith’s heart leaped at the thought. Strange that it had not occurred to him before. There it lay just as it had during the night, save, perhaps, that it had sunk a few inches lower. It was upon that he had seen the heads of several Indians, and there, in all probability, they still lay in wait, watching for his reappearance.
What reason had the Indians to suppose that Smith would again return to the island. The best of reasons. He had shown to them a desire to do so, and as long as he believed that his friends were there, the savages well knew he would linger in the vicinity. Once upon the island he would not fail to recover his gun, provided he believed he incurred no additional danger in doing so.
That, then, was the solution of the question. Taking all matters into consideration, Smith came to the conclusion that it was their desire to take him prisoner, instead of shooting him, deeming most probably, the latter death far too comfortable a mode for him to use of getting out of the world. He knew enough of the bloodthirsty savages to understand what a terrible fate would be his, in case he fell into their hands. They would take a fearful vengeance, for the Indian he had killed in self-defence. Well, indeed had it been for the elder Smith, that he was so speedily slain. It brought him a quick death, instead of a lingering torture.
These reflections, which we recorded at some length occupied but a few seconds. He saw everything with a hunter’s eye and with a shake of the head, stepped back a pace or two, and resumed his position beside the Irishman and hunter.
“What’s the matter?” asked the latter.
“It won’t do—it won’t do.”
“What won’t do? Do you mean to go out there and pick up your rifle?”
“Yes, that is what I mean.”
“What is to hinder?”
“I don’t like the looks of that flat-boat.”
“Whew!” blew the hunter, surveying the object in question as though he had never seen it before.
“Why you don’t like it?”
“I am afraid there are Indians concealed upon the boat. I saw them there last night.”
And now arose a dispute in which all three of the whites engaged. The hunter, most certainly was the best qualified to judge, expressed it as his firm conviction, that half a dozen Indians at least were at that moment glaring out from the flat-boat, and waiting for their reappearance. Teddy persistently maintained that there was but one savage upon the raft, and that he lay in the cabin sound asleep! He could give no satisfactory reasons to the others for this belief, but he appeared sincerely to believe it himself.
Like all excited debaters, the longer they argued, they more strenuously did each affirm his belief in what he first stated. How long the dispute would have lasted, it is impossible to tell, had not the Irishman proposed to decide it at once.
“Be jabers, it’s meself that ses there’s not more nor one haythen upon the raft, and it’s meself that’ll prove it to yees.”
“How are you going to do it?” asked Smith.
“Why, like a gentleman, by walking out there and picking up the rifle for yees.”
“That would be folly upon your part. The weapon is not worth risking your life for.”
“I doesn’t intend riskin’ me life for it.”
“Well, don’t go Teddy; there is no need of it. I will give up my side of the question and agree with you, if you will stay with us.”
“You will agree with me, will yees?” asked Teddy with a curious expression of his fine blue eyes.
“Yes, if that will satisfy you.”
“It suits me to a tee. You agree with me then, when I say there isn’t more nor one of the haythen within five miles. Begorra then, if that’s what yees believes, what harrum can come to me in picking up yer gun for yees alone! so here goes.”
The hunter placed his hand on the shoulder of the Irishman and interposed.
“Don’t do it, Teddy; there is no need of it.”
“There is every need in the world for the young gentleman to have his gun, and there is every need of my getting it for him, being as he’s afraid to get it himself.”
“But it is too dangerous—it is too dangerous. I wouldn’t do it.
“Don’t make a fool of yourself, Teddy.”
“Why, by what token have ye any reason to object, bein’ that ye think there is but one of the dogs on the boat and he sound asleep.”
“He might wake up and shoot at you. You might stub your toe.”
The Irishman was getting impatient. He waved them off, and stooping down rolled up his pantaloons and put his cap on one side, so as to give himself a saucy dare-devil air. Then, without any weapon at all in his hand, and whistling “St. Patrick’s Day in the Morning,” he walked boldly out on the beach and picked up the rifle of Smith.
It would be difficult to portray the emotion of the two whites as they watched the reckless Irishman. They scarcely breathed as he walked away from them, and with painfully throbbing hearts they kept their eyes fixed upon his every movement. While in the act of stooping to pick up the piece, the hunter thought his ear caught a noise upon the flat-boat, and he turned his head away, not wishing to see the venturesome man shot down. But while his eyes were still closed, Teddy reappeared beside him, and with an exulting look handed his rifle to young Smith.
“What do yees think now?” he asked.
“I still believe there are savages concealed in that flat-boat; and they only refrained from shooting you, in the belief that an opportunity of taking you a prisoner would soon be given them.
“And as for me,” said the hunter, “I am morally convinced that a half dozen rifles were ready cocked to blow your brains out; but they knowed you’d come right into their hands, so they can afford to wait.”
“Be jabers I’ll soon find out!”
“How?”
“I’m goin’ on the owld flat-boat itself.”
If the two men had been earnest in the objections, to the venture he had just made, they were nearly frantic in their efforts to restrain him from this fool-hardy exposure.
Teddy announced that he intended visiting the boat for the further purpose of “detecting the apparance of things generally.”
“You won’t do any such thing,” said Smith somewhat impatiently. “You have already made a fool of yourself several times.”
“Be the same token I must then remain one, I suppose.”
“I object,” said the hunter, shaking his head, “it can’t do any good, and it may do a mighty sight of hurt.”
“And haow?”
“I will tell you. The redskins know that we three are bobbing round the island, and so long as they know that, they will give us a wide berth. They know that we’ve got some women with us, and a few more rifles too, but it’s we three that are keeping them away. S’pose one of us gets tuk, what’ll hinder ’em longer?”
“’Spose one of ’em doesn’t get tuck.”
“He will then be killed.”
“But there are no Injins there.”
It is a fact, that a man may commence with an assertion of absolute falsehood and, conscious at the beginning that he is defending such, argue himself in time, into the belief that it is truth. Then it was that Teddy, as he stepped gaily out upon the beach, was greatly relieved of anxiety by his own persistency in adhering to what he well knew was error. He was well nigh convinced of what he had scarcely a hope before, that there were no savages upon the flat-boat.
Teddy had walked two-thirds of the distance to the hulk, and was within a few feet of the water, when he paused. He had discovered a startling thing!
That which arrested the brave-hearted Irishman, was the sight of a tuft of an Indian’s head, visible for one moment only just above the gunwale, when it dropped suddenly from view again.
Smith and Napyank, noticing his hesitation, called out in a whisper for him to return. This very call was the means of sending him forward again. He was resolved that they should never laugh at this adventure, and with rather a quickened step, he strode forward, and grasping the gunwale with one hand, he carried himself with one bound, over upon the deck.
He had left his rifle behind, and was armed only with his knife. His two friends breathlessly watched him and listened. They saw his head and shoulders gradually lower as he walked undauntedly toward the stern of the boat, until the bow hid them from sight, and then all was still.
The silence lasted for perhaps, a full minute, and then was broken by a yell as startling and terrific as an explosion of thunder in the clear summer sky. Instantly a half dozen tufted heads was seen dodging hither and thither over the deck, all centering around one burly, bareheaded figure, that was struggling like a lion amid a score of enemies which had dogged him nigh to death.
While the two men gazed transfixed with horror, a powerful-limbed Indian shot up like a rocket in midair, and came down in the river. Ere he had struck, another went spinning after him, falling flat on his face in the water, with a concussion that cracked like a pistol. While they were swimming with all speed, back to the boat, a heavy fall was heard, a faint shuffling noise, and then all was still.
As the foremost Indian was in the act of pulling himself over the gunwale of the flat-boat, he let go with a horrid whoop, and fell back dead, shot through the brain by a bullet from the rifle of the hunter. The other attempted to swim behind the stern, but Smith shot him ere it could be accomplished.
There could be but one cause for the sudden cessation of the tumult upon the flat-boat. Teddy had either been overcome or slain. The silence that succeeded the fearful yell and struggle was equally painful to his two friends. They waited long and impatiently for it to be broken.
“It’s all up with him,” whispered Smith, as he primed his rifle. “I pity him, but our hands are clear of his blood.”
“Too bad, too bad,” muttered Joe, who had just loaded his rifle, “he was a good fellow, my dear Teddy was indeed. I am sorry that he has come to this bad end.”
“We must look out for ourselves, now. The best thing we can do, is to get off this infernal island, which has been the scene of so much misfortune to us, I am afraid that if we remain much longer, you will take it into your head to perform some such feat, and I shall be left alone.”
“No, indeed, I won’t; there is no danger of that,” replied Joe. “I’ve lived long enough to larn common sense I think.”
“It is yet early in the forenoon, and I suppose we shall be compelled to remain here until night.”
“Of course we shall! It won’t do to start out in the river in open daylight. We’d be killed before we had gone a dozen yards.”
“Hello! did you hear that?” exclaimed Smith, with a start.
Several whoops were heard upon the Kentucky shore, apparently in answer to those which had been uttered some minutes before, by the captors of Teddy. Peering through the trees, Smith added,
“There is a party coming off in a canoe. Get ready for hot work.”
“There don’t seem to be any good chance to hide,” remarked Joe, glancing around him, as though he cared little whether there was such place or not.
“No, we must stand our ground; they have just started.”
The canoe which was approaching was a large Indian one, in which were seated some three or four Indians, all busily plying their paddles. They headed straight for the upper end of the island, while the whites stood each behind a tree, with cocked rifles, waiting until they were compelled to fire.
Just as the canoe seemed about to touch, it sheered off and ran alongside of the flat-boat, where it lay against and parallel to it. The heads of four savages immediately appeared above, as though they were staggering under the weight of some heavy load. The next second, Teddy, bound hand and foot, was handed over and deposited in the bottom of the canoe. His friends could hear him muttering dire threats of vengeance, and daring his captors to loose him for a moment, all of which, it is needless to say, attracted no notice whatever from them.
The captive disposed of, the Indians followed, sinking the canoe to its very gunwales. They paddled away toward the shore, and in a few moments, disappeared from view.
“Now, at least,” said Smith, “the island and boat are free from the imps, and we can have a breathing spell. Let us go upon the old hulk.”
“What in the world do you want to do that for?”
“It is the safest place.”
“I should like to inquire how it is.”
“In the first place, there is no one upon it, and in the second place, as its sides are bullet-proof, we can use it as a fort, and keep off any number of foe until dark, when we can get off ourselves.”
The hunter smiled grimly as if the conceit of the young man pleased him. Adding that it was time they paid their friends a visit, he consented to young Smith’s proposition.
It was with some misgiving, slight enough, but still sufficient to occasion uneasiness, that the young man once more approached the flat-boat. When he reached the deck, he experienced an irresistible desire to explore every portion of it; not that he suspected the presence of any Indian, but that he could not feel positively assured, until he had done so. The result was, that it was found to be entirely destitute of any persons except themselves. The cabin was half full of water, and it was here that the Indians had concealed themselves while their victim was approaching.
This proceeding of the two men, in taking possession of the old craft, was the most prudent thing he could have done. Had the two remained upon the island, they both would have been captured or shot, and the destruction of the entire party completed; but, as one had remarked, they had gained a fort where they could keep ten times their number at bay.
To the infinite joy of both, Joe stumbled upon a loaf of bread, which had escaped the eyes of the Indians. He pounced upon it greedily, and to the two famished adventurers, it was a perfect godsend. This devoured, and their hunger appeased—for it was an old fashioned loaf—both felt hopeful again.
“If there were anything in the hulk,” said Smith, “we might stand a regular siege, and bid defiance to the whole redskin nation.”
“There ain’t a single bit more,” replied Joe, “except a few crumbs upon that shelf there.”
“Gather them up, gather them up; they may do us good.”
“I have gathered them up. I thought they’d git wasted, so I jest rolled my tongue about the cupboard, and finished ’em.”
During this fragmentary conversation, Joe was constantly glancing about the river to see that no foe approached them unaware. The sad experience of the last few hours, had educated young Smith wonderfully. All this time, the reader will have noticed, his actions were controlled simply by necessity; he had taken no step except such as had been compelled by a regard for his own personal safety. Now, that that was attended to, he had leisure to look further into the future, and to reflect upon some definite plan for the rescue of Ruth from the hands of the savages.
This was the great question, and it was this which troubled him sorely. He could not think of leaving the neighborhood while she was a prisoner; and yet he could see nothing at all, that he was able to accomplish against the formidable band of savages. Although he pitied Teddy from the bottom of his heart, it could not be suspected that under the present circumstances, he could do anything toward his rescue.
Somehow or other, the thought constantly recurred to the young man, that something important would result from the fact that the Irishman was a fellow-captive with her. He was bold to recklessness, quick-witted, and faithful, and more from the natural kindness of his disposition, than a desire to return the interest shown in his own welfare, would he do all in his power, to befriend the helpless captive.
There were two schemes that Smith and the hunter thought long and earnestly upon. The first was to leave the flat-boat as soon as the darkness would permit, and accompanied by all the remaining fugitives make all haste to the settlement, and rally a large party of the frontiermen, who would be able to overcome the entire force of the Indians.
The main objection to the proceeding was, that it required too much time for its execution. Ere the party could be raised the savages would have penetrated so far into the labyrinths of the wilderness as to make pursuit hopeless. If they chose they would have abundant time to reach one of their towns, where it would require an army to dislodge them.
The other plan and the one which the ardent adventurer most favored, was, to attempt to regain her by stratagem—to cross over to the mainland, and to hang constantly in the vicinity of the savages, keeping a watch upon their movements, and trusting to his own quick perception and promptness of action, when the all-important occasion arrived.
The more he reflected, the more he was pleased with this project, and he finally imparted it a final resolution to his friend.
“It’s running a great risk,” replied the latter, scratching his head; “but I don’t see any other way of getting the gal; I’m with you in whatever you want to do. You’re considerable green I allow, but you’ve larned a powerful lot in the last day or two, and I think could manage it. But jist now I’m right hungry.”
“We will find means to obtain that when we once get into the woods. For the present we must bear our hunger patiently, and thank God we’re not dependent upon the Indians for food.”
“I should like to inquire what time you think it is?”
“It must be considerably advanced in the afternoon,” replied Smith, looking up at the sky. “The weather still remains clear, and there is no evidence of an approaching storm. I am glad that there will be no moon to-night. What we want is darkness—darkness.”
The afternoon gradually wore away, the sun went down, and evening once more settled upon wood and river. The same silence as profound as the tomb, held reign, and cautiously and silently the two whites let themselves down from the flat-boat, and made their preparations to leave the island, which had been the scene of such woe and suffering to their little party.