Meanwhile Larry Murphy was not idle. He had never received a more terrifying shock than that caused by the discovery that the signal which he was confident was made by Wharton Edwards came from the lips of Blazing Arrow.
On the first thought there was but one explanation of this: his friend had called to him and had been overheard by the Shawanoe, who instantly caught it up, well knowing its significance, and had deceived Wharton by his clever imitation.
This supposition, as the reader knows, was correct; but when Larry went further, and decided that his comrade had fallen a victim to the treacherous red man, the reader also knows he made a mistake.
Firm in the terrible belief for the time, he was so overcome that he sat down on a bowlder, too faint and weak to stand, until several minutes had passed.
"This is a bad go, is this same," he mused with a deep sigh. "If the Indians had to take one, why didn't they take mesilf? They're likely to do the same—it's little I care if they do."
So extreme was his dejection, that had he known that a half dozen Shawanoes were stealing upon him at that moment he would not have stirred from his position or attempted to defend himself.
This intense depression, however, could not last. All strong, rugged natures are quick to rebound from such pressure and soon reassert themselves. By and by he felt a grain of hope. The rifle lying across his knees was clasped more firmly; he raised his head and listened; had he discovered the approach of a foe he would now have defended himself.
"I wish that Blazing Arrow would walk out in front of me and dare me to tackle him," he muttered, gnashing his teeth. "I wonder where he is?"
He rose to his feet and peeped around in the gloom. A while before he had shunned the chief, and counted himself fortunate because he was able to escape a meeting. Now he would have felt doubly fortunate could he have gained a chance to attack him.
When the Shawanoe was wanted he was somewhere else.
"I wonder," continued Larry, as hope grew stronger within him, "whether Whart wasn't sharp enough to play the trick on Blazing Arrow that he did on mesilf? He must have heard the call, to larn how to make the same; but Whart may have give him the slip."
It was a faint hope, but it did the lad good. He had hunted so much in the company of his friend that they had not only acquired a good deal of woodcraft, but were familiar with each other's ways.
Larry recalled that he had heard no gun fired since the discharge of his weapon. It was fair to believe, therefore, that whatever the fate of young Edwards might be, he had not been shot. There were other methods of putting him out of the way, but the belief to which his friend was rapidly bringing himself was that the one for whom he was concerned was a prisoner of the Shawanoes.
The way to find out was to discover the camp of the red men, which must be pitched somewhere in the neighborhood. It will thus be seen that the lads were reasoning along the same lines, to the same conclusion.
Larry had risen from the bowlder on which he had seated himself, and decided to move farther back in the woods in search of the camp-fire that he knew was burning there. In making the search he would have to go it blind, since there was no means of finding guidance.
But, as in more than one previous instance, he fortunately discovered that others were near him before he was observed. He stood motionless, peering and listening under the trees, where the gloom was so intense that he might have brushed by a man without either seeing the other.
They were there, however, and a moment later were seen more plainly in the moonlight, across which they passed to reach the torrent whither they were making their way.
Larry was surprised when he saw two Indians walking with their light, noiseless tread over the rocks. He had supposed there was but a solitary warrior.
"I'm hoping that one of them is Blazing Arrow," was his thought.
He was resentful to that degree toward this particular Shawanoe that, despite the danger from his companion, he would have shot him down; and there can be little question that in doing so he would have rendered a service to humanity.
But he could not identify either of the red men in the moonlight, with their faces turned away from him. He saw them walk to the edge of the torrent, where the tree lay, and then one followed the other across.
"I'd like to know the meaning of that; they must be hunting for Whart or mesilf. I'm pretty sure they won't find mesilf there, and I don't know about Whart. If they haven't got him already, it may take more than them to find him."
As yet he could not know whether the war party were on this or the other side of the stream. It looked as if the couple were returning to camp. If this was so, the youth must follow them to obtain the information he wanted.
He had reached this conclusion and was about to venture out in the moonlight, when he was thrilled by the sound of the signal which he feared he was never to hear again.
He paused and listened, afraid to reply and yet on the point of doing so.
At the proper interval the call was repeated, and then, so certain that everything was right was he that, instead of making the proper answer, he called in a guarded undertone:
"Is that yersilf, Whart?"
"It is," was the reply of the delighted friend, and the next minute they were together.
It was a joyous reunion, even though the shadow of great danger rested upon the two youths. Wharton Edwards and Larry Murphy had been separated, seemingly, with slight prospect of ever seeing each other again; they had gone through many perils during the preceding few hours, and at the moment when despair had almost taken possession of both, they clasped hands and stood side by side.
"Are ye sure it's yersilf, Whart?" asked the elder, squeezing the fingers of his friend, who fully reciprocated the warmth of feeling.
"I'm as sure, Larry, as you are that it's you."
"Then we'll consider it settled; and how are ye?" he asked, shaking again the hand which he had not yet released.
"I was never better, and thankful and happy to find you alive when I feared it was all over with you."
"The same to yersilf; and have ye suffered no harrum?"
"None at all, though matters kept moving; I dodged up the trail, and the only Shawanoe who followed me was Blazing Arrow."
"And did he catch ye?"
"Not that I am aware of. You remember the natural clearing, a little way out toward the block-house?"
"That I do."
"Well, when I struck that, Blazing Arrow was not far behind me. He had my gun and I hadn't any, so that all I could do was to run, and there he and I had the race that we missed at the settlement."
"Tell me about it," eagerly asked Larry.
"There isn't much to tell, except that I did my best, and I suppose he did the same, Larry; I beat him badly; I must have gained fifty yards on him."
"And is that the honest truth now, Whart?"
"It is."
"Heaven bless ye!"
And the enthusiastic fellow struck his friend a resounding whack on the shoulder.
"Sh!" warned Wharton, "we must talk low, for some of them may be near us."
"Why didn't ye sind word to me, so that I could have stood by ye and cheered ye on and watched the sight? Wouldn't it have been a treat!"
"I would have been proud if you and the rest of our friends could have been there, for I did better than I thought I could."
The friends told the particulars of what had happened to each other since their separation. Happy, indeed, were they in their reunion.
"Whart," said Larry a few minutes later, "I knowed there was something I'd forgot."
"What's that?"
"I'm as hungry as I can be."
"So am I, and have been for hours; I wish there was some way of getting supper, but I know of none. There is something else, however, that is more important than supper."
"And what is that?"
"We must get away from here at once. We ought to have left long ago."
"I'm thinking ye're right, and I'm ready to do your bidding whenever you are ready. I came near crossing over that tree a good while ago, and I'm prepared to do it now if you say so."
"I'm not satisfied that that is the best course."
"Why not?"
"From what you have told me and what I have seen, the Shawanoes seem to be using that to-night as a bridge. I don't know how many have come and gone over it to-day. Suppose that a party of them made up their minds to cross at the same time we do?"
"And that's what some of 'em did when I was about to try it; if me gun hadn't wobbled behind me shoulder we'd have met on the log."
"The trees grow to the bank at each end of the log, so that if these two hadn't slanted across that little, narrow space off there to the left, we wouldn't have seen them until they stepped upon the foot-bridge. What I mean to say, Larry, is this: we have had such good fortune that we must not tempt Providence further by trying to cross here."
"How shall we manage it?"
"Go farther up the stream till we're well away from this place, where the Indians seem to be so plentiful."
"And maybe there isn't such a spot."
"There must be; there are not enough of the Shawanoes to be everywhere."
"Not that, but a place where we can cross; ye must bear in mind that it's not me that can jump like yersilf."
"There must be some spot where the banks come close together. A stream generally grows narrower the nearer you approach the source."
"True, if it runs between the rocks all the way, as it does above the falls."
There was logic in these words, and his friend could not deny it.
"I agree with you, Larry; but if the rocks disappear and the torrent widens, then it must be so slow that we can either swim or wade it. There isn't any chance of our reaching the block-house except by the trail, and that is on the other side."
"But what about the two that wint across a little while ago?"
"We must look out for them, and for the others, too; we are not through with them yet."
"I agree with ye now."
There could be no denying that extraordinary fortune had attended the boys, but they were too prudent to count on a continuance of what might be called the run of good luck, except by the utmost circumspection on their part.
They were together once more, with their guns, ammunition and accoutrements intact, and without either having suffered any harm. Nothing would have been easier for them than to cross the ravine by the fallen tree, which had answered for a foot-bridge more than once that evening, and in doing so it was not probable that they would have run greater risk than they had repeatedly incurred during the preceding few hours; but the necessity for such risk did not exist, and consequently they did not take it. Wharton suspected the truth. The Shawanoes, knowing that the lads, or at least one of them, was in the vicinity, were in ambush along the trail, with the expectation that they would walk into the trap, which is exactly what they would have done had they taken the path opposite to where they were standing while holding their conversation.
The evident and simple course for them to follow was to make a detour, by which they would return to the trail at a point beyond where the red men were awaiting them.
This was more difficult than would be supposed, for the route to the block-house was a winding one, and they were unacquainted with that portion of the country through which they would have to make their way. They might lose themselves altogether, though both were too good woodsmen not to eventually reach their destination.
But having decided on what to do, they wasted no time. Their purpose was to cross the stream above where they had met, and Wharton picked his way steadily through the wood, with Larry at his heels. Conversation was dangerous, and none for a time was had, since there was no call for it.
The roughness of the ground gave them trouble from the first. They were forced to turn aside repeatedly and flank bowlders, rocks, and wild, broken ravines, into which they would have fallen but for the alertness of Wharton, who maintained his place a few paces in advance.
This course compelled them frequently to edge away from the stream, which still swept between such a high wall of rocks that it was impassable, but they never lost it altogether. By listening carefully they could locate it, and at intervals they made their way to the margin, to learn whether the spot for which they were looking was within sight.
"Well, I declare!"
It was Wharton Edwards who uttered the exclamation, and his companion pushed his way to his side to learn the cause of his excitement. As he did so, he saw they were standing on the edge of a ravine which obtruded itself at right angles to the course they were pursuing.
But for the fact that it contained no water, they would have believed that it was the gorge through which ran the stream. But it was empty, and in the shadows neither could see to the bottom of its gloomy depths. The trees grew so near the margin that the opposite side was indistinct.
"I didn't expect to meet anything like this," added Wharton, with a sigh of disappointment; "it means trouble."
"You can't tell till ye find out," was the somewhat superfluous remark of Larry. "It may not run very far to the right or left, and we've had so much experience in walking around things that this won't make much difference one way or t'other."
"I'm afraid we'll get so mixed up that we won't be able to find our way from it now."
"It may be a lucky thing—maybe the same."
"What do you mean?"
"Who can say where they are waiting for us? It may be five or ten miles away, or it may be within sight of the block-house. We can get there without setting foot in the trail agin."
"You may be partly right, Larry, though if we can strike the path five miles away from the falls, I won't be afraid to keep it until we reach the block-house. The risk beyond that isn't any greater than what we have always had to run from the time we leave the settlement till we get back again."
"It strikes me we are not gaining much time by standing here discussing the question."
As Larry spoke he turned to the left and moved off.
"Hold on!" interrupted his companion; "that will take us farther away than ever, and may lead us so far that we'll lose the stream altogether."
By going to the right they approached the current that had to be passed before they could recover the trail. Perhaps a passable spot was at hand, and the means of crossing the smaller ravine was as likely to be on one hand as the other.
With the same pains and labor as before they reached the stream, where they found themselves confronted by a peculiar condition of affairs. The banks were somewhat farther apart, but they remained perpendicular rocks fully twenty feet in height, between which the torrent flowed so impetuously that they would have been as helpless as a balloon in a gale of wind. The crossing-place was still to be sought farther up the stream.
But to reach it they must place themselves on the farther side of the smaller ravine, which crossed their course at right angles. This opened directly into the current, with whose surface it was nearly even. In times of freshet or flood the dry ravine was probably a tributary torrent of the other. At present it looked impassable, but after studying it a few moments Wharton said:
"I believe, Larry, we can both jump that. What do you think?"
"I won't know for sartin till I try it; then I'll know, sure."
"So will we both; but the distance is less than where I made the leap."
"So it will have to be if it's mesilf that's to sail across."
The conformation of the dry ravine near the stream allowed them to see the other side. Wharton measured the width with his eye, and then, without a word, drew back a single step, and with little effort landed lightly on the opposite side.
"What do you think of that, Larry?"
"It isn't much for yersilf, but I would be proud of the same."
"I'm sure there will be no trouble. There is room for you to get a couple of yards start, and I wouldn't advise you to try it if I wasn't sure you would succeed."
Young Murphy was plucky, but he surveyed the task before him with some misgiving. With a depth of about twenty feet, and nothing but rock at the bottom, a failure to land on the other side meant death or serious injury.
He stood on the edge, and spent a minute or two peering down into the gloomy depths. Then he looked across at his friend, who cheered him on.
"I'll thry it," he said, resolutely, and with a shake of his head.
"Fling over your gun to me; it will be easier for you to make the jump without that than with it."
Larry tossed the rifle to his friend, who deftly caught the weapon. Then, with the grim comicality of his nature, he threw his cap after it.
"If I do make a tumble of it, I should like ye to preserve that as a token of remembrance."
He now braced himself for the effort. With all his strength, he could not compare with his friend in speed and rapidity. The leap, however, was only a moderate one, and Wharton was confident he would make it if no mishap intervened.
And, beyond question, he would have done so had no interference taken place. He carefully backed a rod or so from the edge of the dry ravine.
Everything was going on well, but almost on the edge he stepped on a small pebble, unnoticed by the eye. The effect was slight, and a spectator would hardly have seen it, but, all the same, it was just enough to disarrange his stride, so that when the leap, which he was forced to make, took place, it was faulty. He lost the impetus that otherwise would have landed him on his feet on the other side with hardly a jar to his body.
"I can't do it! I can't do it, Whart!" called the leaper at the moment of bounding into the air, for he could not fail to know that he was about to fall short.
The waiting friend said nothing, but braced himself for the shock, for he, too, knew what was coming.
Larry barely missed landing, but his hands were thrown forward where his feet should have struck, and had he received no help he would have gone backward and down the ravine.
But it was for this that Wharton Edwards had prepared himself. Each hand of Larry was grasped by his own, and he almost lay on his back as he tugged to draw him out of the gorge and up on the solid support above.
Had not Wharton dug his heels into a projection, he would have had to let go or be drawn downward with his friend, who could not help drawing tremendously on him. Larry, however, gave great aid by throwing one foot on top of the rock, and using that limb as a lever with which to lift his body the rest of the short distance. This so lessened the task that the next minute the danger was over, and the two stood beside each other.
The place for which the two were searching was found within a furlong of where Larry Murphy, with the assistance of his companion, leaped the day before. But how different from that which they had in mind! Instead of a simple widening and shallowing of the stream, it expanded into a small lake several miles long, with a width one-third or one-half as great. The sheet of water discharged itself through the narrow, canyon-like passage, eventually finding its way into the Ohio. The placid surface gleamed in the moonlight, and was without a ripple. The shores were shaded by overhanging limbs, and the scene was as lonely, as beautiful and impressive as at creation's morn. The only sign of life was themselves.
"Now," said young Edwards, after he and his friend had gazed upon the water for some minutes in silence, "it looks as if the only way to get back to the trail is to go round the lake."
"But that may reach a dozen miles or farther yet, and by the time we have come round the same we'll be forty miles from the block-house, and not knowing which way to turn to find it. Ye're aware, Whart, how hard it is to keep our bearings whin we're in the woods without knowing the course to take to git anywhere. We'll be sure to go astray, and may pass within fifty yards of the block-house without knowing the same."
"You mustn't forget that the trail which we have been following is not the only one that leads to the place. They extend out in all directions, and we'll strike some of them."
"How can we know which course to take? The bother of it is, one may go farther away from it all the time."
"It isn't as bad as that, but," added Wharton, gravely, "the night is getting far along, and we must be several miles from the path, unless it happens to bend around toward the lake. We can't get back to it before daylight, if we do then. What I am afraid of is that father and mother won't wait at the block-house for us, but run right into the very danger we have just escaped."
"Do ye mind now that they won't start before morning, and they can't reach the falls till about noon?"
"That all sounds reasonable enough," replied Wharton, who was considerably agitated, "but how do we know we're going back to the trail inside of the next two or three days?"
Larry looked at his companion in surprise. The two were standing where the moonlight fell upon them, and their countenances were plainly visible to each other. It had been the Irish youth that, previous to this time, had expressed the most misgiving as to the result, but the other seemed to become, all at once, the most despondent.
The fact was that Wharton was quite buoyant in spirits until they came to the lake. He had been hoping that long before this they would be able to turn back toward the trail, and the prospect of several miles' farther detour naturally caused his discouragement.
Those were not the days when young men carried watches, but they knew it was beyond midnight. They were ravenously hungry and were fagged out. They had been undergoing severe exertion for many hours, and Wharton especially had been forced to tax his endurance to the utmost extremity during that fearful race with Blazing Arrow.
"Larry," said he, taking a seat on a bowlder just without the fringe of shadow cast by the trees, "I don't know whether the best thing we can do isn't to sleep for the rest of the night. I was never so tired in all my life."
"There is only one thing I want more than sleep."
"What's that?"
"Something to eat."
"And with the woods full of it we haven't a chance to get a mouthful."
"And with the lake there running over with—hould!" exclaimed Larry, pausing in the act of seating himself by his companion; "help me to start a fire, Whart."
"I don't know about that," replied the other; "the Shawanoes are likely to be in these parts, and we must build it back among the trees, where there is less danger."
"That's just what we mustn't do, me boy; it must be near the water; it's mesilf that will gather the stuff, and do ye be ready with the flint and steel."
Wharton, understanding the plan of his friend, lent his aid. It was an easy matter to collect some dry twigs and leaves, which were carefully placed in a heap on one of the flat rocks close to the water's edge. Then, while Larry busied himself in gathering more substantial fuel, young Edwards brought his old-fashioned flint and steel into play. He used no tinder, but there was a shower of streaming sparks soon flying from the swiftly moving metals, and before long one of them caught a crisp leaf, which was easily nursed into a flame that ate its way fast into the twigs and larger sticks. In less time than would be supposed, a vigorous fire was burning on the rock and sending its reflection far across the gleaming water.
Then Larry had not long to wait. Stooping by the edge of the lake, he bared his arm and leaned forward, as alert as a cat watching for a mouse. Suddenly his hand shot below the surface, there was a splash, and a plump fish flew out beyond the expectant Wharton. He had his hand in a twinkling on the flapping prize that gleamed in the firelight.
"Cook him quick, Whart!" cried the delighted Larry; "there's no need to wait till I git more; that's only a starter."
Each did his duty, the elder stopping work when he had landed a couple more, one of which weighed fully two pounds. By that time the younger of the two was broiling the first in the hot flames, the appetizing odor of which made the couple almost irrestrainable. Larry wanted to attack it before it was finished, but Wharton insisted that the meal should be in the best style of the art. They carried no condiment with them except that which excels others—hunger.
It was a most nourishing and toothsome repast that they made. Nothing, indeed, could have been more enjoyable. The lake was overflowing with edible fish, for probably no white men had ever drawn one from the waters, and if the Indians took any they were few in number. The light of the fire attracted many to the spot.
"Now that we've had such a good supper," said Wharton, "I think it's best to let the fire go out."
"I'll hurry the same."
Larry scattered the embers with his shoes, so that in a few minutes little was left of them. Then he seated himself beside his friend, and was on the point of making some characteristic remark when Wharton excitedly grasped his arm and whispered:
"Hark! do you hear that? What does it mean?"
"It's a ghost!" replied the awed Larry; "let's be getting out of this as fast as we can!"
From somewhere in the gloomy solitude came a low quavering monotone that had a most uncanny sound in the weird midnight. The youths never before had heard anything of the kind, and the bravest men would have been impressed by it.
Larry, in his fright, sprang to his feet, and would have fled deeper into the woods, but his companion caught his arm and whispered:
"Wait; let's find out what it is."
"Havn't I told ye!" demanded the other with husky impatience; "it's a ghost—it's a hobgoblin."
"But hold on, I say; keep still."
They made sure that they were well protected by shadow, while they waited for a solution of the extraordinary occurrence.
The monotone chant resembled the lower notes of an organ played softly, and with a rise and fall of no more than two or three notes. It was a wild song, which came from some point not far away, though neither could say precisely where. At times it seemed to be overhead, and Wharton caught himself looking into the sky and among the tree-tops for a solution of the mystery. It had a way of ceasing at the end of a minute or two for several seconds, and then was resumed with the same unvarying monotone.
"It's coming this way!" whispered Larry, gripping the shoulder of his companion and attempting to rise again; but Wharton forced him back, though he felt very much like plunging in among the trees himself.
"If it's a ghost he can't hurt us."
"How do you know he can't? I tell ye he's coming this way!"
"What makes you say that?"
"Because I see him; look beyant, right across the lake—don't ye obsarve him?"
Until that moment Wharton had no thought that his friend saw anything—but he did. Directly across from where they were seated, and under the shadow of the opposite bank, where the waters narrowed preparatory to entering the gorge, so that the distance was barely a hundred yards, appeared a point of light. It looked like a star gliding along the shore and keeping in the shadow, so that the fiery glow was all that was visible to the eye.
This of itself was not the form which ghosts are supposed to take, but it was in keeping with the dismal monotone, which sent a cold shiver down their backs. Wharton was more than ever inclined to run, but with a courage that was rather unusual he resolutely held his ground, and forced his companion to do the same.
"I'm going to find out what it is," he said in a guarded undertone, "before I leave this spot."
"All right; when the spook jumps on us and we are dead ye'll learn how much more I know than yersilf."
"Sh!"
Something was seen to be issuing from the wall of shadow. The point of light was a part of the object which was moving slowly, while the strange sound continued. The boys were straining their eyes to learn what it was, when, at the same moment, they recognized it as the prow of a canoe, which was leaving the bank of shade and coming out upon the moonlit surface of the lake.
Neither spoke, and the next moment the whole boat became visible. In the bow burned a torch, and well back toward the stern sat an Indian. He faced the boys, and as he swung his paddle, first on one side and then on the other, he emitted the strange chanting sounds that had so startled the lads when first heard by them.
The proceeding was so unusual that Wharton knew that it was produced by some extraordinary cause. It suggested that the red man was mourning for some of his friends who had perished and been buried in the lake. The youths had never heard an Indian "death song," and they knew, when a warrior chanted it, it was generally when his own death was at hand; but it would have been nothing remarkable had this Shawanoe sung it for another.
But amid their affright one startling truth impressed itself upon the awed spectators: the strange Indian, in heading across the narrow space of water, was placing himself in the control of the torrent which rushed between the rocks with prodigious impetuosity. In fact, it looked as if it was his intention to shoot the rapids despite the peril involved.
"That ghost is going straight for the falls," said Larry, "and whin he reaches them he'll glide over the same without wetting a hair of his head."
But now took place a thing worth travelling many a mile to see. Never did the youths witness such marvellous skill in managing a canoe as this strange Indian displayed. Combined with that was a strength and quickness no less wonderful.
The frail boat was already moving with the sweep of waters which only a few rods away shot between the rocks, when the slowly swaying paddle was dipped deep into the water, and changed from side to side in bewildering rapidity. The sensitive craft responded so promptly that the prow turned outward again, and headed toward a point considerably above the spectators.
It was amazing work, but neither of the spectators believed he could succeed until he did so. It was like a man paddling from the centre of a vast whirlpool. That which seemed impossible was accomplished before the struggle seemed fairly begun.
From the mouth of the canyon itself the warrior forced his canoe, until the youths saw that the danger was passed and he was gaining on the tremendous torrent. Having crossed the middle portion, he now headed toward the other extremity of the lake, and thus fought his way directly against the swift current.
Had this task been given to either Wharton or Larry, they could not have succeeded, even with the most desperate exertion; but to the warrior it seemed only a pastime. With hardly half the exertion he had put forth a few minutes before, he moved against the rush with an even certainty that ended all thought of danger.
"It beats all!" whispered Larry, amazed and delighted by the exhibition. "I never observed the like. Do you think he would take it kindly if I threw my cap in the air and gave him a hurrah?"
"I don't think he would be offended, but it is better to go down and shake him by the hand."
No earthly inducement could have led Larry to do this, and Wharton knew that if he indulged in a hurrah he would instantly take to the woods. He hadn't the remotest idea of doing either.
"Whist! do ye note what the spook is at?"
The other did observe that the prow of the canoe was turned sharply to the left, and the question was hardly uttered when it touched the shore almost at their feet.
In no respect did the Indian display his matchless coolness more strikingly than when, amid the terrific exertion he was compelled to put forth, he never ceased his doleful singing, if such it may be called. It continued, indeed, while he was paddling directly against the current, until, when one of his strains was half complete, it ceased abruptly, as if cut in two.
At the same moment the prow of the craft was turned to the left, and, shooting across the brief space, slid a few inches up the sloping beach. It was evident that his keen eye had detected the recent presence of persons there, and with far less fear of them than they had of him he proceeded straightway to investigate matters.
By this time the boys were less inclined to run. The spiritual edge, so to speak, had worn off, and they saw that it was a material creature before them—a genuine red man, with some of whom they had had experience, especially during the preceding hours. They had become accustomed to that business, and could view it with comparative calmness, inasmuch as each held a loaded rifle in his hand.
Wharton gently touched the shoulder of his companion as an appeal to him not to speak or make any sound. The two rose noiselessly to their feet and watched the strange being's actions.
The prow of the canoe having been forced far enough up the stony slope to hold it motionless, the Indian laid down his paddle, leaned forward, took the torch in hand, and then stepped from the boat. The torch was a piece of resinous pine, whose top leaned so far over the gunwale that there was no danger from the smoking flame. With this in his left hand he looked down at the embers of the late fire, some of them still giving forth a faint blue smoke, and he saw the few remaining fragments of the meal.
With much deliberation he gazed out over the moonlit lake, gradually coming back to such a position that when he peered into the gloomy depth of the woods his eyes seemed to be centred on the spot where the two boys looked silently and wonderingly at him in turn.
The strange being had no gun, but a knife and tomahawk protruded from the belt around his waist. He was dressed similarly to the Shawanoes whom they had encountered so recently, and there could be little doubt that he belonged to their tribe.
No figure could be more picturesque than that formed by this creature when he raised the flaming torch aloft, bent his head down and craned it forward, while his black eyes seemed to pierce the impenetrable gloom from whence the boys silently watched him.
His face was smeared in the truly frightful manner of his people, and his countenance and features were so irregular that he was forbidding to the last degree. He stood with one foot advanced, his attitude suggesting that of a man pausing on the edge of a ravine and peering across before venturing to leap.
He maintained this attitude for several minutes, as motionless as those toward whom he was staring. It seemed to Wharton that his flaming black eyes could look through solid wall or rock, and the youth held his gun ready to meet any sudden rush from him.
But he did not advance. Suddenly he resumed his weird chanting, and then began a fantastic dancing back and forth over the rock, keeping rude time by swaying the torch and the free arm. The exhibition was so grotesque that the spectators surmised the truth.
The explanation of it was that the Shawanoe was a zany or lunatic. The latter is as rare with the American race as it was with the African in the South before the war, but on no other theory could the course of the Indian be explained.
Neither Wharton nor Larry held a thought of harming him. Had he been Blazing Arrow himself they would not have done so, except in self-defence. Believing him harmless, they would have been glad to act the part of a friend toward him.
Instead of seeking out those who had started the fire, the warrior returned to his canoe, carefully adjusted the torch in its place, shoved the boat clear, leaped into it, caught up his paddle, and sent his craft spinning along the left bank, seemingly with the speed of a swallow on the wing.
"He's not a ghost," exclaimed Larry, "but he's crazy clear through. Where has he gone?"
The two stepped to the edge of the water and looked in the direction where the boat had disappeared. A short distance away the shore made a curve, and it was this, evidently, which shut the Indian and canoe from sight. It would have taken rapid motions, but the paddler had proved his expertness in that.
The occurrence caused the boys to forget their drowsy, tired feeling. They became as alert and wide awake as during the day.
"Larry, let's push on and around the lake. I'm worried now about father and mother, and it won't do to lose more time."
"I'm as willing as yersilf."
The rocky shore made travelling easy, and they walked with greater freedom than at any time since leaving the vicinity of the falls. The younger kept his place a few paces in advance, and had not gone far when he stopped again with the exclamation:
"Here's the crazy man again!"
He was not exactly right, for instead of the Indian he saw the canoe drawn up against the rocky shore, as in the previous instance. The paddle was there, but the Indian and torch were missing.
"I wonder what that means?"
"Maybe he has grown tired and gone ashore to rest awhile."
It did not seem likely that the fellow was far away, and they looked curiously in every direction. He had not resumed his chanting after leaving the scene of the boys' camp, and he was nowhere in sight.
There is no telling what fancy may enter the head of a lunatic, and, much as the couple would have disliked to harm him, they were always ready to defend themselves.
Doubtless it was the sight of the fire by which Wharton cooked the fish that led the Shawanoe to paddle his craft across the lake. It is not likely that the whole performance was meant to frighten away the intruders.
"I don't think we have anything to fear from him," remarked Wharton, after they had waited several minutes; "we may as well use our time in pushing on."
"It's a long thramp we have before us."
The two looked up the lake toward the end where the wild waters rushed through the gorge. The outlook was discouraging, for, light as was the moonlight, they could see nothing of the dark line of forest which must have marked the uttermost boundary.
Wharton drew a deep sigh.
"I'm tempted to turn back; we can follow the stream and find the trail again, while now there's no telling where we may bring up."
"I've a better idea," said Larry, with a chuckle.
"What's that?"
By way of answer he pointed to the canoe, whispering:
"The paddle is there."
"We'll do it; it will save us a good deal of hard work, and perhaps prevent our going astray. But the owner will be likely to object."
"How can he help himself?"
"All right; in with you; there's no saying when he'll be back again."
Larry Murphy was as deft in handling the paddle as his companion, and at the same moment shoved the prow clear and leaped in. He made a couple of sweeps with the implement, which sent the boat far out over the gleaming surface.
It was well that they were so prompt in their movements, for the next minute the red man burst from the woods, and came rushing and chattering toward them as if he intended to overhaul them by swimming. His words were unintelligible, being in his native tongue, but there was no mistaking his wrath.
"I belave the gintleman is excited," remarked Larry, swinging the paddle more leisurely.
"It looks that way——"
"Sh! mind your eye!"
Something whizzed by the head of Wharton and splashed in the water beyond. It almost grazed his cheek, and seemed to be like a cannon ball. For all purposes it might have been considered such, for had it struck the youth, the result would have been fatal.
The crazy Indian had hurled a large stone with prodigious force and accuracy. Little need, it would seem, of such a thrower carrying a firearm.
As Wharton turned his affrighted gaze around he saw the fellow about to hurl another.
"Gracious! he will kill us," exclaimed the youth, bending his head forward to dodge the terrible missile.
"No, he won't, ayther."
As Larry spoke he dropped his paddle, caught up his rifle, and, pointing toward the red man, fired.
"Heavens, Larry, you have killed him!" was the horrified exclamation of Wharton Edwards.
"Be easy now," coolly replied his companion, putting down the weapon and resuming the paddle; "he isn't hurt."
"Didn't you aim at him?" asked his friend, who, looking back, saw no signs of injury on the part of the Shawanoe.
"Not so loud," whispered Larry; "he might hear you."
The youth drove the canoe farther out into the lake, but all the time he kept his head turned so as to see every movement of the Indian.
Larry had not aimed at him; nothing in the world would have induced him to shoot the poor, demented creature; but he meant to give him a good scare, and he succeeded.
Instead of throwing the stone in his hand he dropped it at his feet, whirled about, and ran for the trees. As he did so he dodged from side to side like a Digger Indian when trying to distract the aim of his enemy.
"That's better than killing him," commented Wharton, with a sigh; "he thinks you intended that shot for him, and he doesn't mean to give us a second chance."
"But he is taking a second one himself. Look out!"
Wharton saw a shadowy something sailing through the air overhead. It struck in the water several yards beyond the canoe with a "chung," but had gone wide of the mark. From the fringe of shadow the Shawanoe had hurled another missile, but he had thrown it with such vicious fierceness that it missed the target altogether.
Before he could repeat the attempt with more care, Larry impelled the boat beyond his reach, and that particular danger for the time was past.
"I wonder if he can throw across the lake?" muttered Larry; "keep a sharp eye on him, for he may begin a bombardment bimeby that will lay us out."
"We are surely too far off," replied Wharton, surveying the long space over which they had passed.
Nevertheless, they kept a close watch for some demonstration, which, however, did not take place.
The lake where the canoe now crossed was no more than a furlong in width, and Larry veered as near to the beginning of the gorge as was safe, for by so doing he effected considerable gain.
In his eagerness to accomplish this he narrowly missed a fatal blunder. Ere he was aware, he found himself sweeping toward the gorge which had caused them so much trouble.
He did not approach nearly so close as the Indian, but only by the most strenuous exertions was he able to save himself. When they reached the shore at last he was exhausted.
They were secure, however, and inexpressibly relieved to find themselves, after all their work and danger, on the other side of the current which had been so long an impassable barrier in their path. They had come a long way to do this, and more than once they asked themselves whether it was not a mistake. But for their conviction that an ambush had been laid along the trail, thus compelling a detour, the attempt never would have been made.
It now remained for them to follow the gorge down in the direction of the falls until they were as near the path as prudent, and then strike out for the block-house, returning to the trail at a point beyond where they believed the Shawanoes were awaiting them.
But they were fatigued at the time they halted for supper, and they had not gone far when they found themselves so weary and sleepy that it was hard to drag one foot after another. The ground was rougher than they supposed, and would have taxed the strength of stronger persons than they. They were in need of rest and must have it.
"It can't lack much of daylight," said Wharton, halting where the rocks were bare and they were near the rushing torrent, "and we may as well wait until then."
"We haven't gone far," remarked Larry, removing his cap and running his fingers through his hair, "and we know that we're on the right course. Do ye mind, too, that we can travel a good many miles atween this time and sunrise?"
"All right; do you say keep on?"
"Of course."
"Come on, then."
Wharton wheeled about to continue their journey when his friend interposed:
"Hold on; I forgot that I am so tired. I can't walk half a dozen steps more to save me."
Wharton laughed, though he had resolved to keep it up until he dropped from exhaustion.
They were satisfied with any resting-place. The sultry night rendered unnecessary any protection, and the rocks themselves were as comfortable, almost, as a downy couch. The protuberances, when their caps were laid upon them, afforded excellent pillows, and five minutes after stretching themselves out both were sound asleep.
The spot, which had been selected with little thought, was on the fringe of the wood, which approached to within twenty feet of the river. The rocks were rough and uneven, but it was easy to find places that suited their forms. They lay down just within the shadow thrown out by the trees, where they could not be seen by any one unless he stumbled over them.
But for their extreme fatigue they would have adopted the ordinary precaution of kindling a fire, or taking turns in mounting guard while the other slept. Each, however, knew that he was incapable of remaining awake, and the attempt was not made.
True, there was danger abroad, but, except in the case of wild animals, it was as great with as without the fire. It was likely, indeed, to be greater.
This complete wearing out also of the bodies prevented either noticing that the course of the moon would soon cause its light to fall upon their faces, thus bringing them into plain view of any who might be lurking in the neighborhood.
And it came about that less than an hour had gone by when the two were discovered. The figure of an Indian appeared moving noiselessly along the banks of the ravine, almost in their very footsteps. At every few paces he paused and looked keenly about him, as if in quest of something.
Suddenly the owner of the canoe, for it was he, halted. Could any one have seen his face, he would have noticed the frightful expression of exultation which passed over it, for he was searching for these two youths and had found them.
When Larry Murphy paddled the canoe beyond reach of the missile hurled by the enraged owner of the craft, the boys were warranted in believing that they were done with him. He was eliminated from the problem, so to speak.
But the singular creature was not done with them. The discharge of the gun startled him almost into spasms, and, as we have shown, he made haste to bound in among the shadows of the trees; but the belief that the youths were in the act of stealing his boat filled him with consuming rage. He threw another stone with might and main, and, though the feat was an astonishing one, he saw that it accomplished nothing.
He watched the canoe until it vanished under the shadow of the opposite shore. He could not know the intentions of the thieves, but it did not take him long to decide on his own.
Emerging from among the trees, where the rocks were bare, he started on a run toward the opposite end of the lake. He was familiar with every foot of the way, and the bank offered no obstruction. He bounded as lightly as the chamois across chasms, and when they were too broad to be leaped he skirted them without hesitation or fault, never losing a rod of distance or a minute of time. He never walked for more than ten paces, maintaining his gait with a uniformity that no one else could have equalled.
He had a goodly number of miles to travel, for he was obliged to round almost the entire circumference of the lake. He might have cut off a large part of the distance by swimming across the water, and undoubtedly he would have done so had not an important errand drawn him to the extreme end.
The lake was fed by a narrow, deep stream, across which he sprang with the ease of Wharton Edwards when leaping the gorge. A brief way farther and he paused in front of a small structure among the rocks. It was composed of limbs, bowlders, sticks, and the skins of animals, barely large enough to give him room to lie down and move around.
This was the home of the strange creature, and was never entered by any other person. Stooping down, he passed within. No light burned, nor did he need any. A few minutes later he emerged, carrying a long bow in his hand and a quiver of arrows behind one shoulder suspended by a thong which passed under one armpit. These implements constituted his only weapons, besides the knife and tomahawk, he never making use of any firearms.
In the moonlight and shadows it was impossible for him to follow the trail of the youths, which would have been almost invisible under the glare of the sun; but the Indian seemed to be guided by intuition, which, in the mentally affected, often approaches inspiration. In what way he was able to convince himself that the young white men meant to pass down the other side of the canyon cannot be conjectured, but that such was his conviction was proven by his whole course of action.
The distance which the Shawanoe was obliged to journey consumed several hours despite the speed he used, and nearly all of this time was spent by Wharton Edwards and Larry Murphy in deep, refreshing sleep.
When the Indian approached the spot where the canoe had been abandoned by the youths his gait became a walk, and he peered cautiously about him. He uttered a low cry of exultation on observing the graceful birchen structure, and began a hasty examination. The paddle lay in the bottom of the boat, which showed no signs of injury. It might be supposed that this gratifying discovery would have taken the edge off the Indian's enmity, but he showed no signs of such feeling; if possible, his anger became fiercer. He leaped away with a speed which prevented any attempt to follow the trail, but he was proceeding on general principles, it may be said.
It will be remembered that travelling was more difficult on the side of the lake. Even such an expert as the Indian was forced to change his gait from a trot to a walk. Sometimes he was in shadow and sometimes in the moonlight. At intervals he paused, and bent over as if examining the flinty surface for signs of footsteps of the youths. It is incredible that he could have discovered any under the circumstances, and yet he acted as if he did.
By and by he approached the spot where those for whom he was searching lay asleep. He passed a short distance beyond, but something displeased him. He stopped abruptly, looked down at the grass, and then came back over his own trail.
While he stood peering into the surrounding gloom he saw the inanimate forms.
In his delight the man repeated the dance he had given on the shore of the lake. He leaped up and down, keeping time to the swaying of the long, ashen bow grasped in his left hand, and passed back and forth over a space of a dozen square feet.
He continually glanced at the youths, who were unconscious of their danger, and held himself ready to open hostilities at the moment they showed signs of awaking. Strange that neither Wharton nor Larry thought of such a peril as that which now impended.
The grotesque dance lasted but a few minutes. That manner of expressing his exultation was soon satisfied, and he made ready for action.
Reaching over his left shoulder with his right hand, he drew a feathered arrow from the quiver. A careful examination by moonlight satisfied him that it was perfect and every way fitted for his purpose. He fitted the notch in the deer-string of the bow, and then advanced stealthily until within a few dozen yards of the sleepers, the implement so held all the time that he could have launched the missile at a moment's warning.
The elder of the youths lay nearest, and he aimed at him. Little fear that he could not drive the arrow deep into the chest of the sleeper, after which he probably intended to serve Wharton in the same manner.
But with the whimsicality of an insane man he changed his mind, evidently concluding that the tomahawk was the most fitting weapon to be used in dispatching them. With the same deliberation shown from the first, he relaxed the tension of the string and replaced the arrow in the quiver. Then he turned about and silently deposited the bow on the ground, so that it should not handicap him.
This was all that was necessary, and he drew his tomahawk and faced about just in time to make an unexpected and startling discovery.
An inexplainable instinct sometimes warns a person of the approach of peril. The experience of most of us confirms this statement, and we are tempted to suspect that it is another manifestation of that occult "sixth sense" of which we have only a shadowy conception.
Wharton Edwards and Larry Murphy had been sleeping several hours, for it will be remembered that they were exceedingly tired. Day was at hand, and yet, in the usual order of things, they would have slumbered several hours longer; but, at the same moment, the two became as wide awake as they were when hurrying along the trail to the block-house.
This moment of awakening came when the Indian was in the act of laying down his bow behind him. Larry, being nearer to the savage than Wharton, took upon himself to act promptly.
In an instant he rose upon one knee and levelled his gun at the astonished Shawanoe. In the act of doing so the youth recalled that he had not reloaded it since firing the weapon while in the canoe. Nothing in his manner, however, told the red man this interesting fact.
"Do the same as mesilf," whispered Larry to his companion, "for I forgot to load my gun."
Wharton was quick to obey, and the Indian stood petrified, absolutely unable to move hand or foot.
"I've got ye now, ye spalpeen!" said Larry, in a loud voice; "if ye stir I'll shoot!"
To the amazement of the youth, the Indian replied in their own tongue:
"No shoot—no hurt Arqu-wao—me good Indian."
"Begorra, but ye're not acting like one," was the comment of Larry, who now rose to his feet. "What were ye trying to do, anyway?"
Wharton imitated the action of his companion, and said, in an undertone:
"Don't hurt the poor fellow."
"That depinds on himsilf," was the resolute response. "I spared him once, and he mustn't go to heaving any more rocks at us, for he's too handy at the business."
The Indian, at the moment of turning around, had placed his hand on his tomahawk, but snatched it away as though it had suddenly become red hot. He was a picture of abject fear, and trembled in every limb. Had he known enough to wheel about and run, he would have been safe, for neither of the boys had the least desire to harm him. But, to use a modern expression, they had the drop on him.
"Keep an eye on him," said Larry, "while I load my gun."
The Indian must have experienced peculiar emotions when he received the proof that it was an empty weapon that had brought him to terms. Larry proceeded to reload his rifle in a deliberate fashion, while Wharton covered their prisoner with his own gun.
It was while this proceeding was under way that the couple noticed that the sun was almost in the horizon. The long eventful night was ended, and they were close upon more stirring events.
"He calls himself Arqu-wao," said Wharton. "I wonder what the name means?"
"I'm thinking it means an Indian half-scared to death; but, Whart, what'll we do wid him, now that we've got him?"
"That's what puzzles me. If we hadn't waked up just as we did we never would have awaked at all, and if we let him go he'll probably sneak up behind us and drive an arrow through each before we know our danger."
"Let's keep him a prisoner."
"How will we manage it?"
"I'll fix it."
Arqu-wao was still motionless, looking as if he expected to be punished with death for his attempt upon the lives of the youths. As Larry spoke, he strode toward him with a stern face and manner. The Indian instantly began pleading in the most pitiful manner for his life. The youth was tender-hearted, and said, kindly:
"Be good Indian and we won't hurt, but let me have the tomahawk."
The implement was meekly handed over.
"Now the knife."
That followed the other; and with all the gravity that Larry could assume he shoved the handle of the first weapon between the waistband of his trousers and shirt.
"Whart, you can take charge of that," he added, passing the knife to his companion, who readily disposed of it about his person.
The most dangerous implement of all still remained in the hands of the Shawanoe, and the captors were perplexed for the moment as to how it was to be disposed of. It would have been easy to render it useless, and the arrows might have been cast down the ravine, but they hesitated to take that step.
The same thought was in the minds of the lads. Arqu-wao might be used as a friend and an ally in the danger which still threatened, and, if so, he would need some weapon to be of avail in emergencies.
Wharton now advanced and spoke:
"Arqu-wao, do you know where the block-house is?"
The expression of the Indian's face showed that he did not comprehend the question.
"Big house—fort—place where white men are?"
"Yes—me know—me been dere," he replied, nodding his head vigorously.
"It's off yonder, isn't it?" inquired Wharton, pointing with his hand in the supposed direction.
Arqu-wao shook his head.
"Not dere—off dere," he said, indicating a point of the compass fully forty-five degrees removed from the first.
"I wonder if he's right?" said Wharton, doubtfully, turning toward his companion.
"Yes, for he's so scared he's sure to play square for a time."
"Very well," said Wharton, looking toward the Indian. "Lead the way; if you go wrong, we shoot, we kill."
"Arqu-wao go right—he go right—he good Shawanoe—broder of Blazing Arrow."
The latter remark was startling to the boys, and they looked inquiringly at each other, wondering what he could mean.
"Begorra, if he's a brother to him, it's a bad ricommindation to himsilf," remarked Larry.
"He may be the flower of the flock, but we will keep sharp watch on him."
The Indian, now that he understood that he had chance for his life, lost most of the fear that had filled him from the moment he was arrested in the very act of committing a crime.
He showed his knowledge of what was said to him by walking, not parallel to the course of the torrent, which the boys had intended to take for their guidance, but diverging at quite a sharp angle from it. Neither of the youths could be satisfied whether this was favorable or not, but there was logic in Larry's theory that their guide was so frightened that he would act honestly, at least for a time.
If he was doing so, he was doing them a great favor, for, instead of walking a number of miles down the gorge, and then returning over the same route, this distance would be saved by "cutting across lots," with the probability of eluding the hostile Shawanoes waiting in ambush. Whether such was the fact or not must be left to future developments.
The sun was now fairly above the horizon, and the day promised to be as clear and sunshiny as the preceding one. The hearty meal, eaten the night before, and the rest, enabled the boys to continue their brisk walk for hours without fatigue. They would have been glad to keep straight on, if it were possible, until they reached the block-house.
When they leaped across a small brook of cold, sparkling water, Wharton called the guide to wait for a minute. He was walking about a rod in advance, glancing sharply to the right and left, and even among the branches of the trees, as though he suspected danger lurking there. He never once looked back while thus engaged until he heard the sharp summons of Wharton. Then he stopped short and turned half way round, and stood like a statue.
There was something suggestive in his attitude, for his right hand was hidden from the sight of the boys. If he chose he could slide it up over his breast, stealthily withdraw an arrow from the quiver, and fit it to his bow-string without detection. The launching of the missile would be done so quickly that no shot from either rifle could anticipate it. But there were two boys, and this would frustrate any such purpose, unless one should place himself at such disadvantage that he could not rise and recover his gun before the firing of the second arrow.
"Keep an eye on him," whispered Wharton; "I don't like his actions."