The reader will recollect, that a few hours after the flat-boat had grounded, and when the moon had risen Napyank, Teddy and young Smith set out to explore the island. McGowan and his family and the remaining Smiths staid behind. The former had left the trees, and the two latter were engaged in an affectionate earnest conversation, when some five or six Indians appeared beside them. Before Ruth could recover her self-possession, one of them raised his piece within a dozen feet of the older Smith, and discharged it full at him, while several of the others sprang forward and grasped her.
Smith was severely wounded and blinded by pain; he sprang up with supernatural strength, and made off at the top of his speed through the wood. He was pursued to the edge of the clearing, when he was despatched with alarming celerity.
The savages who held the daughter prisoner, waited but a few seconds when they embarked in their canoe, and crossed to the mainland. A portion however remained upon the island, and we have recorded young Smith’s adventures with them.
The Indians fully conscious that the whites were alarmed for their own safety, despaired of capturing them upon the island by stratagem, and were on the point of making a bold attack upon them, when eight stole out on the flat-boat, and concealed themselves upon it, in the belief that the whites would visit it by the succeeding day, at least, when they would fall an easy prey to them.
We have shown how this stratagem partially succeeded. The head which Teddy descried prepared him for danger, and he went over the side of the flat-boat, in the full expectation of a “free fight.” He was somewhat surprised on reaching the deck to see nothing of his enemies; but rightly conjecturing that they were concealed in the cabin, he passed it with the same impudent, swaggering air that he had left the island. He was even whistling “St. Patrick’s Day” louder than ever.
Right abreast of the cabin door, a powerful half-naked Indian sprang up and made at him. The Irishman caught a glimpse of several other tufted heads, and springing like a panther upon the one in question, he lifted him from his feet, and by sheer animal strength flung him over the gunwale into the water. By this time a second Indian was beside him, and as quick as lightning he was served in the same manner.
The bronzed heads were now coming up out of the cabin rather too rapidly for the excited Irishman. Nevertheless it is by no means improbable, that at the disadvantage which he had his enemies, he would have successfully resisted them all, had not an accident turned the scales against him.
It has been stated that Teddy had no weapon but his knife, and in the melee he had not once thought of it, fighting, Irishman-like with his naked fists. The third face that appeared above the deck received a tremendous blow square on the nose, that completely mashed it; and another terrific right-hander gave the fourth savage a glimpse of more stars than are generally visible, and sent him as limp as a rag, back among his fellows.
The fight now culminated in the most glorious fun that the Irishman could have desired. He was striking out right and left his stunning blows, when, concentrating all his strength in his right arm, he dashed his fist at the savage who stood the tallest, intending to lay him insensible, when the agile foe dodged him, and carried forward by the momentum of his own blow, the Irishman went headlong right among the redskins, where he was, pounced upon, and bound in a twinkling.
“Thrate me gintlemanly,” he exclaimed, “ye can’t say but what I did yees; and dont come any of your tricks over me.”
The undaunted bravery and remarkable skill exhibited by the Irishman, could but excite admiration in his captors; and actuated by that chivalrous feeling existing in the breast of every brave-hearted being, whether he be savage or civilized, they forebore heaping any insult upon him, or offering him any indignity.
Some time after, the canoe came alongside, and he was handed over and deposited in it.
“Handle me with care,” remarked Teddy, “for ye can’t say that I didn’t handle yees in that manner. If ye don’t belave it look at them chaps’ noses there! Begorrah, but them’s the ornaments ye might be proud to wear!”
Shortly after, the canoe touched shore, and the Irishman’s lower limbs were unbound and he placed upon his feet.
“Just sarve my arms in the same manner,” said he, “and let’s pitch in, in thrue style. Be the powers but I wants a little exercise, and that’s the kind I always fancied. That’s what I took to when I was a wee childer.”
It is not probable that the Indians would have heeded this request, even had they understood it; but having no idea of the meaning of the words addressed them, of course Teddy’s wish was not gratified.
Securely guarded by his captors, Teddy walked several hundred yards through the woods when he came to the encampment of the savages. Some six or eight were here waiting for their companions, so that the entire party numbered about twenty, all of whom were congregated together.
Teddy’s great curiosity was to obtain a glimpse of his companion in captivity, Ruth McGowan, and he was greatly disappointed and surprised to see nothing of her. The Indians were gathered in an irregular circle around the fire, some smoking, some chatting, and others apparently asleep. While looking around him the Irishman’s eyes fell upon her, and the cause of her escaping his notice was immediately manifest.
The savages had thrown a brilliant crimson shawl over her shoulders, and her hair being as jetty black as theirs, and her head bowed, he had taken her for one of their number when he had first looked upon them. Ruth sat, as we have said, with her head bowed, for her heart was stricken with grief. The picture of the old man, Mr. Smith, springing up with his wild look, and running through the trees, pursued by his merciless enemies, was ever before her. She could not drive it from her, and shudder after shudder ran through her frame, and the tears trickled thick and fast between her fingers.
How changed since yesterday! Suffering, misfortune and death had come upon them, and separated her from him who was dearer than any relative could be! All alone!—alone!
No, she was not all alone! There was One who was ever nigh her—who never lost sight of His stricken ones, and who only could comfort her in this dark hour which had come upon her. To Him she turned, as the human heart will turn, when bleeding and lacerated, and refusing to be comforted by any sympathy the world can give.
But it was hard to be separated from all kindred. The thought was loathsome and full of abhorrence, that she, an unprotected woman, was alone among a party of bloodthirsty savages. She hardly dared look upon them, and yet looking through her tears, she ventured to steal a glance at them. How her heart leaped as her gaze rested upon the broad, jovial face of Teddy, the Irishman, his pitying blue eyes fixed upon herself. Removing her hands, she looked up, and with a mournful smile returned his nod of recognition. Comprehending the question her very looks formed, the quick-witted Irishman replied,
“Yes, I’m the only one beside yourself that the haythen have, and they wouldn’t have got me if I hadn’t struck at one of ’em and missed ’em. Ye just keep quiet me jewil and you’ll hear of Teddy agin.”
A sort of consultation was now held among the Indians relating to the prisoners, but to those who were not, the debate being as to what means should be employed to capture them also. After a protracted discussion, it was decided that the whole party, with the exception of enough to guard the prisoners, should cross over to the island and boldly attack them.
This decided upon, the preparations were instantly completed, and the warriors moved down to the bank, leaving Ruth and Teddy to the guardianship of two of their number. At the very moment of reaching the river, they descried the two whites as they climbed upon the flat-boat.
This caused a halt and a further debate. Large as was the Indian party, a majority were opposed on assaulting the stronghold. They had already learned enough of their mettle to understand that this would be a dangerous undertaking upon their part, and many more were convinced that there was no hope at all, of success.
It was finally decided to give up the hope of securing the remaining whites by this means. The sagacious Indians suspecting the relation which existed between one of them and one of the captives already in their possession, believed a much better opportunity would be offered. Love will play the wild with any man, and lead him to attempt deeds, which, in his cooler moments, he would pronounce madness. So they were content to bide their time.
Huddled together in the densest portion of the wood on the island, were the little band of fugitives. While the fitful tumult of deadly strife was going on around them, they had been compelled to sit still and not raise a hand either on the defensive or offensive.
To McGowan especially this was exceedingly galling. Strong, ambitious and genuinely brave as he was, he longed to give the persecuting redskins a taste of his temper, and more than once he clutched his rifle with a resolve to go to the assistance of his friends. But there were more helpless ones that it was his duty to guard. He had agreed to remain by these unless called forth by imperative necessity.
The death of his old comrade Smith was a severe trial to him as well as to his family. He was stricken down so suddenly that he had scarcely time to realize it until now, when he sat quiet and meditative. Mrs. Smith had been bowed with grief ever since. Her smothered sobs now and then reached the ears and hearts of those around her, as she vainly endeavored to keep down her emotion.
Abram Smith sat stern and silent, grasping his gun and looking around him, as if longing for a chance to revenge the death of his parent. No evidence of feeling escaped him, but “still waters run deep,” and there can be no question but that the inmost recesses of his heart were deeply stirred.
As the night advanced and darkness increased, the fugitives gathered more closely together. In addition to the distress of mind they were exceedingly hungry, and their condition was therefore as uncomfortable as could be well imagined.
Suddenly a light footstep caught the ear of the two sentinels, and as they looked up they distinguished two forms that glided insidiously among them. The assuring voice of Napyank was immediately heard.
“Don’t be skeart; it’s us.”
“We are glad of your return; we’re beginning to get lonely.”
“And hungry too, I make no doubt.”
“You are right there, if you refer to myself, and there can be no doubt but that the others are in the same condition.”
“Well, I tried to get you a bite, and succeeded, I think. It won’t do to start a fire, so I’ll hand it round.”
“That is what you called a bundle of clothes?” remarked the young man. “You were very prudent to say the least.”
The thoughtful hunter had managed to secure and cook some game, which he passed around to the distressed fugitives. It was partaken of with a keen relish, despite their gloomy situation, and each was filled and refreshed.
“Now,” said McGowan, when they had finished, “it seems to me it is time we began to think of getting from the island. God help poor Ruth! what is to become of her?”
“She’ll be rescued,” was the hearty response of the hunter.
The agonized father caught at the words as a drowning man at a straw.
“And how can that be done?”
“In a great many ways; it’s to be done; that’s settled.”
“I don’t see Teddy with you.”
“He has gone after Ruth, and we are going to follow him in a few hours.”
“God grant you success.”
At this juncture Mrs. McGowan fell into such agonized lamentations that all were compelled to quiet until she could recover. The hunter then said,
“The Injins have all left the island, but there is no telling when they may come back again. So the best thing we can do is, to leave it while we have the chance.”
“But Ruth——”
—“Will be attended to. We are just going to put you into a place of safety, where you can stay until we come back. There’s a considerable slice of meat left, and we don’t ’xpect to be gone more than a day or two, and maybe not as long as that.”
“How are we going to leave?”
“On a raft.”
“And have you it ready?”
“No; but won’t take us long. As you have been setting here a good while. Suppose I take you and Abe to help me and leave young Smith to stand guard.”
This was quite a relief to McGowan and Smith, and the proposal was gladly accepted by them, while Stoddard, the younger, experienced a mournful pleasure in remaining behind and attempting to comfort his mother.
“I have noticed,” said the hunter, as they made their way to the upper portion of the island, “that there is a powerful lot of drift wood lying around here.”
“Can’t we get considerable material from the flat-boat?”
“Sartinly—sartinly; I didn’t think of that.”
“You have no fear of the Indians; have you?”
“I’m purty sartin there ain’t one upon the island, but I think they’ll be back some time afore morning.”
“Then we can’t leave too soon.”
“You’re right this time.”
A few moments later and they reached the island’s margin, where the great dark hulk of the flat-boat was seen grim and silent, as if it had never looked upon the deadly affray between men. Cautioning his companions to remain silent, the hunter made ready to board it. He experienced some apprehension, as he cautiously walked toward it, and he stepped a few feet in the water, placed his hand on the gunwale he paused a moment and listened.
All was still save the soft wash of the current against the side of the flat-boat.
Waiting but a moment, he leaped lightly over and came down upon the deck. Even then he was somewhat apprehensive of danger. It was not until he had traveled every portion of it, that he felt entirely free from a shivering anticipation of a blow from behind. Firmly convinced at length that he was alone upon the unlucky craft, he called his companions to approach. By their united efforts they loosened the cumbersome roof of the cabin, and let it into the water. It was their intention to let it down easily, but its great weight precipitated it into a loud splash that caused each to start with alarm.
“We must be expeditious,” said McGowan, who seemed to be in a constant dread of the return of the Indians. “They’ll begin to suspect something is going on, and there’ll be half a hundred over here before we know it.”
“Don’t be too skeart,” said Napyank, who was ever cool and collected.
All three busied themselves in collecting the driftwood. A large portion of this consisted of goodly-sized trees, which had lain in the sun until thoroughly dried, and was therefore as buoyant as cork. These were secured together by withes until a goodly-sized craft was constructed.
“It will take more wood than we can get to float all of us.”
“What shall we do?”
“We have enough to float the two women. The rest of us must keep in the water and swim along with it.”
To test the structure all three got upon it and floated downward by the island. It bore them well, and gave them considerable confidence in it. At the lower portion it was drawn upon the beach, and Smith remained to watch it, while the others went into the wood in quest of their friends.
The latter were found quiet and patient, waiting for the summons to take them from the island. No time was lost by delay, and it seemed to the silent Abram that his comrades had been gone scarcely five minutes, when they all came silently out of the wood and stood beside him.
The darkness by this time had so increased that the objects were scarcely visible a dozen feet away. This was all the more favorable to the fugitives who fully appreciated the importance of improving this advantage that might not come to them again.
Some delay was occasioned by the timidity of the females who were fearful of trusting themselves upon the raft. It was not until the hunter and McGowan had demonstrated their buoyancy, that they were willing to trust themselves to the current. The rifles of the party were placed upon the raft, and shoving it gently forth the entire party commenced floating down stream.
The four men clung to the raft with their hands, it being scarcely disturbed by the additional weight. McGowan was the only man who was unable to swim. As he was carried off his feet and appreciated that he was really beyond his depth, a shiver of terror ran through him that almost unmanned him. None around him saw it, as he regained his usual self-possession in a few moments.
For the space of twenty minutes the party glided forward in this singular manner without a word being spoken, when suddenly Joe Napyank whispered, “Sh! down! quick!”
The females did not comprehend him, until he repeated his order more energetically than before, and reached over the raft and twitched their clothes. They then reclined upon logs, but their curiosity was sufficient to tempt them to look around, and endeavor to learn the meaning of this sudden command.
Neither of the females nor those who had heard the word of caution, comprehended the cause of it. Young Smith and McGowan especially were puzzled. They peered into the surrounding darkness, but failed to detect anything. Stoddard was on the point of questioning the hunter, when through the deep gloom he discovered a bright point of light, slowly passing over the surface of the water. It had not the twinkle, glimmering glow, such as a lantern or a star would naturally have made; but it burned with a mild steady light similar to that of an ember.
What puzzled the whites was to tell the distance this was away. Stoddard and Smith at first glimpse thought it within thirty feet, but continually after it seemed fully a hundred yards. Regularly forward it continued to glide, until finally it disappeared as if it had been the ember of a torch suddenly thrust beneath the surface of the water.
During all the time not the slightest ripple was heard as explanatory of the singular occurrence. Smith turned toward the hunter,
“What is the meaning of that?”
“Some more of the blasted heathen.”
“How, I don’t understand.”
“In a canoe. Didn’t you see ’em?”
“I saw nothing but the light.”
“One of ’em was smoking—that was what you seen.”
“How far away were they?”
“Just make a guess.”
“A hundred yards I should say.”
“What do you think?” added the hunter addressing McGowan.
“I should say fully that, if not more.”
Joe indulged in a suppressed laugh before he made answer.
“You’re both mistook. I could put out that pipe with a mouthful of tobacco juice.”
“Impossible! they must have been within a dozen feet of us—not a bit more.”
“And they wan’t neither. Didn’t you see the canoe?”
“I never once caught sight of it!”
“I seen it as it went by.”
“What a narrow escape!” exclaimed McGowan, appreciating the great danger which had passed them so closely.
“How did you know they were coming?” inquired Stoddard.
“I hear the noise of their paddles.”
“You have sharper ears than any of us if that is the case.”
“Not at all; I expected maybe there was something up, so I jest let my ear drop below the surface, and then heard the paddles. You could have done the same if you only thought of it.”
“But we did not; which is generally the difference between us. They might have run into us before. I should have seen them.”
“Just let your ears drop under water, and tell me whether you can hear anything,” said the hunter.
Stoddard Smith did as was requested, and detected faintly but distinctly the dip of a paddle. He spoke in considerable excitement,
“They’re coming back again.”
“Not quite, I guess; it is the same ones going away.”
“God grant they may remain away,” exclaimed McGowan, in an under tone, “They have caused us enough agony already.”
At this juncture the hunter admonished silence, and for some time nothing more was said. Soon, however, young Smith observed Joe struggling as though he were endeavoring to change the position of the raft.
“Make for the Kentucky shore,” he whispered. “It is time we began to hunt the land.”
“Do you want to go in at any particular spot?”
“No; you need not work very hard. Shove the thing gently and we’ll land soon enough.”
It was not long before the great wall of overhanging trees was discernible, and simultaneously all three felt their feet touch bottom. The water, however, was of sufficient depth to float the raft to shore, and it was run directly under a morass of overhanging limbs and undergrowth. This accomplished, the entire party landed.
“Now, what is to be done?” queried McGowan.
“Sleep? all of you.”
They were tired and exhausted, and the females making themselves as comfortable as possible, dropped off into a profound slumber. Abram Smith shortly followed them, so that the two adventurers and McGowan were the only ones who remained awake.
“Now,” said the hunter, addressing McGowan, and speaking in a manner that showed he was conscious that all looked to him for advice and direction in this hour of danger, “there is no telling how long we may be gone; so you must not be frightened if you do not see us for two days. I have left you enough meat to last you, if you are saving. There is plenty of game about you, but you must starve to death before you risk a shot. If you can fix up any contrivance to fish you can do so, but you mustn’t build any fire unless it’s during the day time, and then be powerful careful about it.”
“Joe, we are but a short distance off from the settlement; why not float on. We would reach it by morning—would we not?”
“I have been thinking of that. In the first place, you couldn’t reach it by morning; it would take you well into to-morrow. You would be pretty sure to be seen, and a single redskin would have you at his mercy.”
“But we might go into shore, as we have just done, when we found day was breaking.”
“You might and you might not. Stay here until next night after to-morrow night; if we don’t appear by that time, swing loose and do the best you can to reach the settlement; but don’t go before that time.”
“Good bye, and God be with you, and grant that you may be the means of restoring my dear Ruth to me.”
Exchanging farewells, Stoddard, Smith and Napyank, the hunter, plunged into the woods and embarked upon their perilous undertaking.
As the Indians had invariably come from, and returned to, the Kentucky side of the river, our friends concluded that the entire war-party was upon that shore, and it was therefore determined in leaving the island, that they should cross over to the same bank.
We have detailed the manner in which this was accomplished, and stated how the fugitives securely sheltered themselves in the wood, while our hero and the hunter started upon their undertaking, which, when all the circumstances connected with it, are considered can be termed as nothing more nor less than simply desperate. Two men, one of whom was almost entirely unacquainted with woodcraft, were about to attempt to rescue a captive from the grasp of a larger party of fierce and vengeful Indians.
The night was of inky darkness; the most favorable that the two adventurers could have desired. This fact, together with that of the Irishman being a prisoner among the same redskins who held Ruth may be said to have determined the two to make the attempt as they did. Teddy was quick-witted, and had encountered savages until he knew them “like a book.”
Beside this, as we have hinted in another place, Stoddard Smith was led by the controlling love toward Ruth McGowan. So long as she was a captive in the hands of those who knew no mercy, so long would he be unable to find rest for the soles of his feet. No; he fully resolved that she should be rescued, or he should perish with her!
The darkness being so intense, young Smith experienced considerable difficulty in making his way through the wood. He bumped his head several times, before he dare rise to a perfectly upright position, and then could only discern the dim, shadowy form of his companion beside him.
“Whatever happens, or whatever you see,” whispered Joe, “don’t speak or start.”
“Drat that limb! it has nearly sawed my neck off!” he involuntarily exclaimed, forgetting the caution he had just received.
Knowing that the current must have carried them a considerable distance down the river, the hunter used the bank as his guide, and ascended a considerable distance, before he began to look about him for the savages. After having progressed somewhat over a quarter of a mile, he caught the glimmer of a light through the trees, and touched Smith upon his arm, as a caution for him to be upon his guard.
Making their way carefully through the tangled undergrowth, through hollows and over fallen trees, across brooks and miry patches of earth, they at length stood within a hundred yards of the Indian camp-fire.
Napyank’s heart sank within him, for he understood at once, that the war-party had divided, and that neither of the captives was before him. When had the separation taken place? What direction had the other taken? How could its trail be gained?
There were questions which instantly presented themselves to the hunter’s mind, and which, for a long time, he was unable to answer. Amid the profound darkness which held reign, it was very obvious that nothing could be done. Even the full, bright moon, was unable to penetrate with its light, the solemn labyrinth of the Dark and Bloody Ground. Nothing could be done until morning.
As neither Joe nor Stoddard had enjoyed any sleep for many hours, they both felt fatigued, despite the exciting situation in which they were placed. Withdrawing a considerable distance farther into the forest, they both lay down beside an uprooted tree, and were almost immediately locked in slumber.
The sleep of Smith was deep and dreamless. It was not until the sun had been up several hours, that he opened his eyes. As soon as he recovered from his temporary bewilderment, he arose, chagrined that he had lost so much valuable time. To his surprise, upon looking around, nothing was seen of Napyank. Thinking, however, he should not be far away, he seated himself upon the tree, to wait for his return.
An hour passed away, and still no sign of his missing companion. The young man had whistled, and given utterance to all the signals he had at his command, but had elicited no response. He was now alarmed and greatly vexed; alarmed at the singular disappearance of his friend, and vexed that now, when every minute was of the utmost value to him, he was thus compelled to remain and accomplish nothing. At length his patience became exhausted.
“There is no use of remaining behind,” he muttered. “The Indians have gone, and every minute places them further from me. I will follow them alone, relying upon my own arm, and the kindness of Heaven, for success.”
Throwing his rifle over his shoulder, he moved resolutely off, resolved never to turn his back upon his enemies, until he had learned something of the fair captive they held. It was a desperate proceeding, indeed, for a single man thus to pit himself against a whole party of redskins, but our hero felt no hesitation in doing it.
It was now, too, that Stoddard began to experience the pangs of hunger. He had eaten very sparingly the night before, in order that the others might not want, and was so famished, that he determined to secure some food at all hazards. At the period of which we write, game was very abundant in this portion of the West, and the decision had scarcely entered his mind, when several wild turkeys, their wings outspread, and their feet scarcely touching the ground, sped along within a stone throw of him. As quick as thought, the foremost was shot and in his hand.
The instant that Smith had secured his game, he regretted having discharged his piece, for he felt certain he had exposed himself to danger. Some of the Indians must certainly be within hearing, and would be attracted thither, by a suspicion of a true state of the case.
To guard against capture, he made all haste through the woods in the direction of the camp-fire, which had been deserted by the savages, in the belief that this would be the last place where his enemies would seek him. Upon reaching it, he was gratified to find a large quantity of live coals, and without hesitation, he plucked, dressed the turkey, and proceeded to cook it.
The bird afforded him a most needed and nourishing meal, beside furnishing enough for future use; and now, that his immediate wants were attended to he set to work in earnest upon the all important object that has brought him thither.
In the first place, it was necessary to discover the trails of the two war-parties, and in the first place, he failed completely. Although gifted with more than ordinary intelligence, shrewdness, and cunning, he had not yet learned enough of wood-craft to follow the faint footsteps of the wild Indians through its labyrinths, when the traces left, were so faint that the human eye, unless trained by an experience of years, could not detect the least signs of the passage of any one.
Had the Indians proceeded with their usual caution, it would have been absolutely impossible for our hero to have followed them a hundred yards through the wilderness. But, believing that no enemy, that need cause them the least uneasiness, was in their vicinity, they straggled forward as carelessly as a party of school boys. This only, was the reason why our hero was enabled to follow them.
Smith, under the belief that they had penetrated further in Kentucky, for a long time examined the ground only upon that side of the fire. His efforts meeting with no success, he resorted to the opposite side, where the trail was discovered at once. It being impossible to find any further signs of the passage of the Indians in any other direction, he concluded that both parties must have gone this way, which, somewhat to his surprise, led toward the river. Keeping along on the trail, he found, as he had feared, that they had embarked in their canoes, and gone either up, down or across the stream.
“And how am I to tell which way?” he muttered, “I must run the risk of getting the wrong choice out of these three.”
Smith, under ordinary circumstances, certainly would have been discouraged at the formidable obstacles which now rose before him; but one of his temperament, could never rest while the object of his choice was captive in the hands of the savages, and he, therefore, did not think of returning back.
“They cannot have gone up the river,” he reflected, “because they have come from that direction. And yet, what reason is that why they should not have done so? Still it strikes me that they have not taken that course. They could have gone much more rapidly overland. If their destination is in Kentucky, it surely is not on the bank of the Ohio; it must be a good distance back from the river, so that they would only have lengthened their journey by taking to the water. From all that I have heard or read of these Shawanoe Indians, I have been led to suppose that although they range at will on both sides of the river, still their towns and villages, and their homes, in fact, is in southern Ohio. And what more natural, now, that they have secured their prisoner, than that they should return to their home as rapidly as possible? Such, it seems reasonable to believe, is the true state of the case, and I must cross the river again.”
Stoddard was upon the point of venturing into the river, when his attention was arrested by a loud splash in the direction of the flat-boat, and to his surprise, he descried several Indians upon it. Finding that he was not observed, he drew back and watched their actions.
A glance convinced him that they belonged to the same war-party of Indians, and were searching the craft for plunder. They had thrown over a sort of bench, which was fastened—bottom upward—to the stern of the canoe. There were some half dozen savages, who, a moment later, shoved off, and paddled down stream.
Their light craft shot rapidly forward, inclining neither to one shore nor the other. From this, his belief that the main body had crossed the river, was changed in the conviction that they had all gone down stream in their canoes; and that all that remained for him to do, was to keep these redskins in sight.
This was a difficult task indeed. Under the skilful guidance of the sinewy Indians, their canoe skimmed like a swallow over the water, and it required the most strenuous efforts of Smith to keep it in sight. Fortunately indeed, the wood, a few yards from the shore, was open, and his footsteps were not much impeded.
Hurrying thus forward, now and then darting to the river bank, he kept up the pursuit for five or six miles, the canoe all the time gaining upon him, until finally he lost sight of it behind a bend in the river.
Our hero was panting and perspiring, and in no pleasant mood, that, after all his efforts, he was compelled to fall behind; and he relaxed into a sullen walk.
“It seems as though everything is conspiring against me,” he muttered. “I have done everything in my power, and here I am at last, left entirely alone, without knowing whither a single one of my friends has gone. It matters little what becomes of me. A curse upon the infernal Indians that have persecuted me thus!”
He walked moodily forward for an hour or so, by which time he had passed the bend in the river, around which the canoe had disappeared. The river at this point took a due southwest direction, running so nearly straight, that a view of several miles was afforded. Nothing of the canoe, however, had been seen. It had gone he knew not where.
Wearied and dispirited, he threw himself upon the ground, and endeavored to sleep. But he was too excited and nervous to rest; and devouring what he could, of the remaining portion of the turkey, he threw the rest from him, and leaned his hand, to reflect upon the best course for him to pursue.
He had lost all traces of the Indians and their captives. How he should ever meet Ruth again, it was impossible for him to imagine. In the impenetrable depths of the great wilderness which surrounded him, where the merciless redmen wandered for miles, how could he, a single, unaided, white man, follow them? And even should he chance upon them, how could he wrest a captive from their jealous grasp? What would be her fate? A drudge, a slave, but he hoped no worse unless she voluntarily took to herself an Indian husband. They might tomahawk or scalp her, but he believed they would do no more. But Smith believed that the honor of his betrothed was safe in the hands of her deadliest enemies. This knowledge afforded him unspeakable satisfaction.
And then there was the mysterious disappearance of Joe. Where could he have gone in the night? Could it be possible that he, too, had fallen into the hands of his foes. Had they gained all of the whites except himself? Had they——?
The explosion of a rifle broke the stillness of the woods, and springing to his feet, Stoddard hurried madly forward scarcely conscious of what he was doing. After running a short distance, he paused, and parting the bushes gazed upon a scene that thrilled his very being with the wildest of thoughts.
Joe Napyank, the hunter, was a possessor of a peculiarity, which, with those of his profession, is certainly rare. He was a somnambulist or sleep-walker. This affliction—as it may perfectly be termed—had taken him in extreme peril on several occasions. It once made him a prisoner among the Indians and it once effected his escape.
Joe was generally affected, when he had undergone some severe deprivation such as hunger or thirst. He lay down with Smith, and for several hours slumbered peacefully. But finally, while in a state of coma, rose to his feet and made off. He awoke to find himself lying at the foot of a tree, with a sensation of hunger, strong, gnawing hunger, a craving that demanded instant satisfaction.
He knew all at once that he had been indulging in one of his nocturnal walks and he therefore lay still until morning, by which time he had become so ravenous that he would have made a respectable cannibal, and despite the imperative necessity of his immediately rejoining Smith, everything else gave way to the necessity of food—food—food, was what he must have.
Impelled forward by this blind craving, he forgot his usual caution and paid little heed to his footsteps. The truth was his mind was in a morbid condition, and he was not prepared to act coolly and deliberately. His sensation was that nothing could be done until he had satisfied this greatness of his system. After that, he could rejoin his young friend, and they two could carry out the objects of their expedition.
While thus wandering carelessly forward, his excited imagination detected a faint gobble in the wood as if a turkey were lost and was signalling to its companions; and proceeding stealthily onward, he suddenly came upon a large gobbler that was wandering disconsolately about as if utterly lost. Before it could get out of his reach, Joe had forgotten his usual prudence, and discharged his piece, succeeding in nothing more than wounding it.
It started off on a rapid run, and fearful that it would escape him, if he paused to load his piece, he dashed after it at the top of his speed, and now began an exceedingly interesting chase or rather race.
All things considered, perhaps in the condition of the gobbler, the hunter could outrun it, that is when both possessed the same advantage; but the bird had a way of slipping through the undergrowth, dodging under bushes, and trotting over fallen trees as though they were not there, that gave him a great advantage over his pursuer.
The latter tore headlong through the bushes, sometimes a rod or two in the rear, sometimes almost upon it, his hope constantly maintained at an exciting point, by the hair-breath escapes it made from him. More than once, he made a resolute leap forward, and, as he nearly stumbled, caught perhaps the tail feather of the bird, while the creature itself glided through his grasp, leaving a most vivid impression of its tapering form upon his hands, which had slipped over it so nicely. Then again perhaps he struck at it with his rifle and pinned another feather to the ground.
It is a fact, to which all hunters will testify, that, in the exciting pursuit of their game, they can travel mile after mile with hardly any sensible fatigue. It is not until the hunter comes to retrace his footsteps that he comprehends how great a distance he has passed over. The attendant, perhaps whose mind does not participate in the same excitement, is exhausted even in following the hunter.
Thus it happens that Joe, who would not have believed he had gone more than three-quarters of a mile, chased the bird for fully a half-dozen times that distance, at the end of which it did not manifest the least fatigue, the wild turkey, as our readers are aware, being a noted runner. With no thought of giving it up, Joe still pursued it at the top of his speed, occasionally making a leap forward at it, and the bird as often as cleverly eluding him as ever.
Suddenly he caught the shimmer of something through the trees, and saw that they were approaching the banks of a river. He was now sure of his bird; he had fairly earned it, there was no escape for it; and his torturing hunger was about to be satisfied.
Gracefully and majestically, as the bird reached the river margin, it spread out its wings, and, sailing through the air, landed upon the Ohio side and disappeared in the woods.
Considerably chagrined,—as who would not have been?—he turned back into the woods to cogitate upon his future action. Then, as he looked about him, he saw that he was lost. He might retrace his trail, but he now comprehended that he had passed over too great a distance to make this advisable.
While thus debating with himself, he detected a peculiar smell in the air, which he understood, at once, was caused by a camp-fire. Knowing full well that he was in a hostile country, he kept a sharp look-out upon his footsteps.
It turned out as he had suspected. He was close upon an Indian encampment. He caught a glimpse of the gaudy fantastic costumes of the savages through the trees, and approaching as nigh as he could, he concealed himself, and surveyed them as well as his position could admit.
It was with a singular emotion that the hunter recognized this party, as the identical Shawanoes for whom he was searching, and who held Teddy and Ruth as captives. The party seemed to have lost several of their number—a half dozen or so—but there was no mistaking the others. The keen eye of the hunter recognized them at once. What surprised him still more, was that neither of the captives was visible. What had become of them? Had they been sent in advance in charge of a smaller party? What possible cause could the savages have for taking such a step?
These questions ran rapidly through the mind of the hunter, but there was another which unpleasantly protruded itself, and that was the one in regard to obtaining food for which, if possible was growing greater. There seemed to be but one course left for him and that was to take to the woods again. He was on the point of doing so, when he detected an unlooked for opportunity.
More than once he was sure he detected the smell of burning meat and the cause of it was soon explained. Some twenty rods or so away from the encampment of the savages, was a smaller fire at which a single squaw had momentarily abandoned her post, and the tempting prize was left unguarded.
The temptation was too great for the naturally cool-headed and cautious hunter. Running back into the woods a few rods, and totally unmindful of his imminent danger, he came in the rear of the fire, snatched the meat, and seating himself upon the ground, commenced devouring it like a wolf.
The first mouthful was dropped most suddenly, it being so hot that his tongue was blistered. But he soon became used to, and in a few moments, had swallowed the entire piece, and was in the act of wiping his fingers upon his hair, when a shrill swoop broke the stillness of the woods, and turning his startled gaze, he saw the wrathful squaw standing within a few feet of him.
With the ear-splitting screech of this creature, Joe Napyank, gained like a flash of lightning, a true idea of the fool-hardy recklessness he had displayed. Her outcries were continued and immediately attracted the attention of the Shawanoes, who had caught a glimpse of the white man, as he was rising to his feet, and their fleetest runner started in pursuit.
The hunter’s frame was gaunt and muscular, and he was sinewy and fleet-footed. His Indian experience also had given him great endurance, and he now darted off in the woods at a rate that excited the admiration of his pursuers. The three separated, so as to make sure of the fugitive, and called all their energies into play to overtake him.
The forest for a considerable distance was open, and afforded a good field for the runners. The distance between Joe and the savages remained about the same for some five or ten minutes, when one of the latter discharged his rifle, and the white sprang high in air with a loud yell.
But he hadn’t been struck. It was only a habit he had gained years before. The report of the gun gave an impetus to his flight which soon carried him far ahead of the redskins. Dodging hither and thither, flitting in and out among the trees, it was impossible for the latter to gain anything like an accurate aim, and they did not repeat the attempt to bring him down.
All was now going well for the fugitive, and he would have escaped had he understood the woods. But his ignorance was fatal. Directly ahead of him was a deep gorge, or ravine toward which the Shawanoes had managed to direct his footsteps, and unconsciously to himself he was running directly into a trap.
It was not until he was upon the very brink that Napyank comprehended his peril. His hair fairly rose on his head, as he glanced about him. To the right or left, stretched the deep yawning gorge, too broad to be leaped over, and offering no means of access except a sheer precipice, down which it would have been certain death for him to have gone. Escape was cut off! There was no help for him! He was fairly at bay!
“It’s all up!” he muttered, wheeling around and placing his back toward the gorge. “Joe Napyank is fairly cornered and now there is going to be a row!”
The three Shawanoes, as we have already stated, had separated during the pursuit and were now quite a ways apart. The center one being directly in the rear, was the closest to the fugitive, and came up to him, considerably in advance of the others. This was fortunate in one sense for the hunter, as for the time, he had but a single opponent with which to contend.
The lithe, agile Indian was all eagerness to secure the white as his capture, and forgetful of the axiom “a stag at bay is a dangerous foe,” that is, if he had ever heard it, he halted not in the least, but came at full speed toward him. When within a rod or two, he whirled his tomahawk in a circle over his head, and hurled it with tremendous force full at the breast of his dauntless adversary. The latter from the motion of his arm comprehended what was coming, and dodging his head with lightning-like quickness, the weapon flashed over him, and went spinning end over end down the ravine.
Both the combatants had dropped their rifles and drawn their knives. With an exultant shout the warrior leaped forward, and swinging his knife, sprang upon his adversary. In a twinkling both were disarmed in a singular manner.
It so happened that the two struck at each other at precisely the same moment, the knives encountering with such force, that the Shawanoe’s shot out of his hand, and followed his tomahawk down the ravine, while the hunter’s was turned with such suddenness that it fell to the ground several yards distant. Both were now entirely disarmed, and glancing at each for a second like infuriate tigers, they closed in the struggle of life and death.
In point of strength the two were very nearly equally matched. Joe had the advantage of being an expert wrestler, while the savage was a perfect novice. The hunter had scarcely grasped him in his long arms, when, with a peculiar thrill, he felt that the victory was his own.
By a trick, or rather act, well known to skilful wrestlers, the white man twisted the redskin off his feet, and throwing him with stunning violence upon the ground fell heavily upon him. Permitting him to rise, he repeated the thing again and again, until the savage became so exhausted as to be perfectly helpless.
The cunning Shawanoe had noticed where the knife of his adversary lay, and each time that he went down, he managed to work himself nearer it. The hunter did not notice his stratagem, until the savage clutched it, and as if rejuvenated by his advantage sprang to his feet, and confronted him with the weapon.
Not the least daunted—for Joe was terribly excited—he closed again with his adversary, receiving an ugly wound in his arm as he did so. At this moment he heard the outcries of the other two Shawanoes, and driven to fury by his imminent peril he gathered all his strength in one mighty effort, and grasping the warrior around the waist, he lifted him clear from his feet, and flung him like an infant over the precipice.
Down like a meteor through the dizzy air, shot the Shawanoe, with his arms clutching wildly at vacancy, spinning from crag to crag with his awful cry coming up like the wail of some lost spirit!
The struggle occupied scarcely a fifth of the time we have taken in describing it. Impelled by the most implacable hate on each side, the blows were quick and fierce, and the termination speedy and tragic. A shriek when the two encountered, a few blows and stunnings, another struggle more desperate than the others, and it was ended.