CHAPTER XI.IN THE WOOD.
It will be recollected that Colonel Crockett and Hans Bungslager were left under the conviction that a bear was close behind them in the path, and that the Tennesseean, true to his instincts, dismounted and started back rifle in hand in quest of the game.
"I dinks I goes, too," muttered the Dutchman, as he slid off the back of his beast. "I would rather fight mit a bear, den haf te hoss run away mit me, and catch a limb under my chin, and take off my head off—yaw, dat so."
Hans held his gun in hand, and he resolved, if he could gain the chance, to shoot the bear in advance of his companion. He thought it would be a good joke to play upon him.
So as Colonel Crockett moved stealthily along the path, the corpulent Hollander did the same to the best of his ability; stepping so lightly and rapidly, that it made it quite a task for him, and he puffed and panted like a tired dog.
"Confound it!" growled Crockett, turning his head. "Can't you keep still?"
"Dat ish what I is doing," was the reply. "I doesn't make no noise."
"You will frighten away the game."
"Dat ish a lie—"
"'Sh! there it is."
Hans caught sight of something dark, moving along the path, and instantly raised his blunderbuss and fired, narrowly missing taking off the head of Colonel Crockett in front of him. He did not strike the object, or come anywhere near it, but he produced a response, like a six-pounder.
"There! that will do; we don't propose to hurt you."
It was the voice of Sebastian, the Texan, and, as may be supposed, was a surprise and delight to the others.
"Where did I hit you? In te head, or in te heart?" inquired Hans Bungslager, with some solicitude.
"It is hard to tell precisely where I was hit," was the laughing reply; "at any rate, I am not dangerously hurt, as far as I know. Your slugs struck in the tree overhead like a hail-storm."
"Where ish Katrina?"
"Here she is, uncle," replied the buxom girl herself, hurrying forward, and giving the old fellow a good embrace and kiss.
"You must be more careful," said Hans, in an impressive voice. "S'pose I hit you, instead of Sebastian? You couldn't stand it petter as he does."
"We were very careful; how could we do differently?"
"Te next time dat you ish coming in front of us behind, you must come on peforehand and tells us dat you ish comin'—den we knows it, and we no shoot de next time. Understand?"
"Yes," replied Katrina, in a dazed sort of way, as she turned and took the hand of Colonel Crockett, who was heartily glad to see her.
"We were gittin' a little anxious about you," said he, as he warmly shook the hand; "we heard the noise of guns and there was no telling where the varmints war, or what they was doing. I've fout the Creek Injins under old Gineral Jackson, and I've fout Old Hickory himself in Congress, and got licked by him too, so you can see I've been through some purty rough scrimmages in my time; but they say these Comanches are a little worse than all, and that being the case, you can understand why I'm so glad to see you."
Katrina modestly thanked him, while the Texan gave a brief summary of their experience during the last few hours.
The question now arose as to what course should be taken by the fugitives. Crockett believed that an attempt to push on into the village would result in the capture of the entire party, while to stay where they were would be equally fatal, as there was the strongest evidence that the Comanches were very near them.
Indeed, the wonder was that they were unmolested at that very moment, for some of the red-skins had passed over that very spot, and how the whites had escaped detection and capture so long was a mystery to Crockett.
"I ain't particular what we do," said he; "I only know we've got to get out of this part of creation."
"Let's go on further, any way," replied the Texan, starting on foot, with Katrina.
"Where ish te cow?" suddenly inquired Bungslager, just after he had laboriously climbed back upon his animal.
"We couldn't bring her very well," replied the Texan; "I think she will wait where she is till we come back."
"Dat is goot ash never vos," replied the contented Hollander; "she wash always a goot cow and shtood shtill, only when she kicked te pail over, and dat wash every time we milked, 'ceptin Sundays, when she kicked te pail and me over bofe."
The young man being thoroughly acquainted with the path, and having fought Comanches before, very properly took the lead, Katrina following close behind him, while Crockett came next, and Hans Bungslager brought up the rear.
In this order they started, and, as the horse of the Dutchman was relieved of his bulky load of furniture, the party progressed at a good pace, and without any unusual clatter or noise.
Stupid, thoughtless and reckless as Hans Bungslager naturally was, with his love for fun and jollity outrunning every thing else, he still had a perception (such as it was) of the danger that menaced them all, and he showed a spasmodic discretion at times.
His little pony, as fat, round and well-preserved as himself, seemed to comprehend the situation, and walked along with a steady, quiet step, that was not heard as often as the quicker and more nervous tread of Crockett's mustang. Hans himself was still, a rather unusual thing for him.
Once or twice he started up a whistle, without thinking, but he suddenly recalled himself to his senses, and preserved his peace as well as the others.
He was subject to one annoyance, rather curious in its way. Every now and then a conviction came over him that something was following him. Sometimes he fancied that a Comanche was stealing on tip-toe, with tomahawk in hand, ready to hurl it at his bald pate. More than once he turned his head suddenly, expecting to confront the ugly phantom, but it seemed to whisk out of sight before he could fix his vision upon it.
Then he was certain it was a huge black bear, lumbering along, and only waiting for the opportunity to leap upon the haunches of his horse and claw them both to pieces.
This was curious, as Hans Bungslager was one of the least imaginative of men, and was rarely troubled with nightmare or phantoms of the brain, but the feeling followed him like his own shadow, and would not be shaken off.
He determined to wait until sure of what it was, and then to turn suddenly and shoot it. There was no danger now of hitting Katrina, Sebastian or any of his friends, for they were all in front of him. It must be an enemy beyond all question, and therefore it was his duty to put a ball through it at the very first opportunity.
The party had gone some distance, when a light was observed in the sky, of so lurid a character, as to show that there was some large conflagration.
"See what we have escaped," whispered the Texan, as he turned to look at it, and ventured to press the hand of the girl beside him.
"Have they found out that we have fled?"
"Perhaps so, and perhaps not; they wouldn't hesitate to roast us in such a bonfire, if they could only get the opportunity."
"It is then our house that is burning?"
"There can be no doubt of it. There is no other building near it, and the light is in precisely the same spot. It is good-by to your home now."
"Uncle Hans will mourn its loss, but how can I, when Heaven has been so merciful to me?"
"He will have to build another;youwill not!"
"But I will assist him."
"But there's a little cottage in Brownston, already finished, around which the honeysuckles and woodbine clamber, that is to beyourhome."
As the lover spoke, he leaned over in the darkness, and kissed the cheek that was not turned away from him.
Beyond the danger and darkness that enveloped them both, he saw the rainbow of hope. There was a sky all sunshine that was only a short distance away, and with the darling beautiful, loved Katrina by his side, there was nothing that could cloud or make him unhappy.
Hans Bungslager saw the light, but he had no suspicion that it was his own building that was on fire, else he would not have been so quiet, as he rode upon his horse.
The whites paused but a few moments, when they resumed their journey, moving with the same caution that had characterized their actions from the first.
They were rapidly nearing a large clearing, where stood another settler's house, and where there was reason to fear that some of the wandering Comanches had made their appearance. No light in the sky betrayed the work of the torch, but that was no proof that the destroyer was not there that minute.
The Texan gave a word of caution to those in the rear, and when the lighting up of the spaces between the trees tokened their approach to the clearing, he requested all to remain still while he advanced and made a reconnoissance.
This was done, and he stole along as softly and timidly as when making his way from the cabin of Hans Bungslager.
Reaching the clearing, he saw the settler's house, standing as quiet and undisturbed as though no danger had ever threatened it. No sounds were audible, but there were no lights to be seen. Sebastian came to the conclusion that the owner and his family had taken the alarm in time and had fled to Brownston.
Still it was important that no mistake should be committed, and he made his reconnoissance complete, by advancing up to the very house, and even peering into the interior. The result confirmed his first impression. There were no whites in them, and he returned to his friends with his report to that effect.