CHAPTER XVI.COLONEL CROCKETT'S LAST BEAR-HUNT.
"Surely I heard some one call me," muttered Sebastian Carsfield, the Texan, as he roused himself up and rubbed his eyes. "What does this mean? Crockett and I have both been asleep. What a warning to a sentinel not to lie down or give way to drowsiness. But was that voice a dream or a reality—"
He turned his head and saw that Katrina was gone.
With a dreadful, chilling horror at his breast, he sprung to his feet, looked around and called out, "Katrina!Katrina!KATRINA!"
That voice penetrated far through the woods and reached the ears of her who was being carried so swiftly away in the grasp of the painted Comanche. She sought to reply, but the brute checked her utterance, and the shrieks died out into a gasping sob.
"What's up now?" demanded Crockett, awakened by the tumult of his comrade.
"God knows what's become of Katrina," was the despairing reply; "she has vanished, gone or been stolen."
"Maybe she's somewhere about," replied the Tennesseean, rousing himself.
"No; I am sure it was her calling to me that awoke me a few minutes ago."
"Then we oughter be on the move," added Crockett, leaping to his feet. "What direction did it come from?"
"Coming to me in my sleep, I can hardly tell; but it strikes me that it was from off yonder."
Crockett, led by some indefinable impulse, snatched up the bear-skin, and with it over his arm, sprung down from among the rocks into the woods below.
"We must take the trail," he added to the Texan, who had already discovered it on the ground, and answered:
"There it is, leading toward the creek. She has gone there to bathe herself."
A few moments sufficed to take them to the spot, where she had spent a half-hour or so, early in the morning, and then they observed the circuitous route back again, which suggested that she had discovered or was seeking to avoid some danger.
There was no difficulty in tracing the footsteps to the point where the Comanche bear had seized and borne her away. The prints on the ground perplexed them for a few minutes.
"They were made by an Indian without a doubt," said the Texan.
"And that Indian," said Crockett, "was the bear that we saw last night on t'other side of the creek."
"That's it! that's it!" fairly gasped young Carsfield; "it's their old tricks over again. He can't be far away anyhow, and we will run him into the ground before he can reach his confederates."
The Tennesseean was satisfied that this was the true course, and the two started forward at once, the trail over the dead and rumpled leaves being such that it was easily followed.
"He is running very fast," added Sebastian, when they had progressed something like a hundred yards upon their way.
"But he can't carry the gal and outrun us besides."
"He'll make her do her own running after awhile."
"Is she good on the jump?" inquired Crockett.
"She runs very swiftly," said the lover, "and you may be sure that dog will make her do her best."
"It strikes me that them varmints are tryin' to take prisoners, instead of raisin' the ha'r of the settlers through these parts."
"That's it," was the reply, uttered on the run.
Such indeed seemed to be the case, when the past actions of the Comanches were considered, for, it can be seen that more than once they had it in their power to pick off the whites by deathly shot from the wood, but had refrained, and resorted to strategy to secure them.
Hans Bungslager had been "operated" upon in this way, and had only escaped through a providential gleam of prudence that flashed through his brain at the right moment.
The trail followed by the Texan and Tennesseean, for a long distance, went straight forward into the woods, as though aiming at no particular point, but seeking to get as far away from pursuit as was possible.
They were still following hard after the abductor, when they crossed the path leading to Brownston, and over which they had passed a few hours before.
They paused an instant, looking to the right and left, but nothing was to be seen, and the trail of the flying Indian was seen to cross the path at right-angles.
"That is encouraging," exclaimed Sebastian.
"Why?" asked his companion.
"It looks as if he were going it alone, instead of hunting up his companions."
"Don't be sartin of that. He ain't an Injin, if he don't know what place his nose is p'intin' at, and he'll find some other scamps afore long to help him."
Crockett proved right in this instance, for they had gone but a short distance further, when they came in sight of the camp-fire. Their skill in trail-hunting was not sufficient for them to make certain of the time that had elapsed since the passing of the Comanche and his prize; but they knew they could not be very far behind the scamp, and they kept their eyes on the look-out that they did not run blindly into any danger.
So they detected the faint curling smoke on the bank of a small stream in time to prevent exposing themselves, and they made a careful reconnoissance.
Four Comanche Indians were seated around a small fire, every one smoking. The smell of cooking food was in the air, showing that they had finished a good breakfast. Around them were scattered the contents of several feather-beds, linen, calico and clothing, attesting very plainly that they had "gone through" somebody's establishment in a most effective manner.
Upon a heap of blankets sat Katrina Duncan, her face covered and her head bent in despair. The Indians were eagerly discussing some matter, and paid no attention to their helpless captive.
The Texan and Tennesseean withdrew a few paces to consult as to what they should do. As there were five of their foes, it was hardly practicable to make an attack upon them. From their concealment, the whites could pick off two. The course of the other three in all probability then would be to kill Katrina as quick as a flash, so as to prevent the possibility of her rescue, and then to turn and attack the two whites, with a very good prospect of finishing them off in the same manner; for no living Indians can out-dodge, out-shoot or out-wit, or out-fight these same Comanches of the South-west. With an odd man, they would be certain to get into the rear of the whites, and when that was done, it would be a long and last good-by to them.
"I don't see the bear," remarked Carsfield; "he may have thrown off the skin, but I was unable to see it upon the ground."
"He's gone back, thinkin' we're at the rocks, to try and fool us."
Carsfield was strongly inclined to believe this.
"Where is Bungslager?"
"That is hard to tell," said Crockett; "we can think only ofherat present."
The Texan turned suddenly upon his companion.
"See here, you have a bear-skin with you; isn't it possible for you to play the bear too?"
Colonel Crockett took at once.
"I'll do it."
And straightway he began arraying himself in the costume of the animal. He succeeded in making quite a resemblance, but when it was finished both saw that the thing could not be done during daylight.
The only way by which they could hope to succeed was by Crockett actuallytaking the place ofthe Comanche who had been playing the part of bear. Any critical scrutiny of the counterfeit by the Indians would be certain to result in their detection of the trick. If they could be made to believe that Crockett was their own comrade frolicking about the camp, they would not be apt to bestow much attention upon him. Still, as it was certain that the trick would be discovered sooner or later, it was all-important that they should have the darkness of night in which to work.
Accordingly the two withdrew to a safe distance, and the Texan went on a little foraging expedition of his own, managing to secure enough food for present purposes.
One or two of the Comanches was constantly going and coming, and they kept the Indians under surveillance. Katrina was furnished with food, but the camp was not broken and it was evident they intended to spend the night where they were.
Late in the afternoon the "Comanche Bear" walked into camp, carrying his hide thrown over his shoulder. He remained for an hour or two and then departed, and, as it was now fully dark, Crockett prepared to venture upon his dangerous experiment.
Young Carsfield approached as near the camp as prudent, and then Crockett went sidling and galloping toward it, approaching gradually, and yet concealing his identity as much as possible.
When he came within the circle of light, all five of the Indians looked at him, and then paid no further heed, evidently believing it to be their comrade, practicing to improve himself.
Nearer and nearer he approached the spot where Katrina was sitting, she looking at him with a look of terror, as if uncertain whether he was watching her or not. This was what Crockett wished, and he managed, unseen by the Indians, to give her a sign which put her on her guard.
One of the Comanches looked suspiciously at him, but he advanced until he was within a few feet of Katrina, when he called out to her in a husky whisper:
"Now run, right by me!"
Having no thought of any such thing, her captors had not bound her, and the girl darted off like a deer, leaping directly by Crockett, who immediately followed hard after her.
It looked as if she had started in affright at the approach of the bear, and all ought to have gone well, had not the genuine Comanche bear, at this critical moment, put in an appearance.
This exposed the whole thing, and in an instant the Indians were on their feet, in full pursuit, with their tricky companion at their head.
But Katrina had gained a good start, and had scarcely entered the real gloom of the wood when her lover was beside her, holding her hand, and they fled with all the speed at their command.
A few sharp turns, and they got beyond all danger; but the Comanche who had played the part of bruin, followed so hard after Crockett that he could not elude him.
"Wal, if I must, I must!" muttered the Tennesseean, drawing his fearful Bowie and turning upon the red-skin.
The contest was over in a second almost. As the Indian sunk before the fearful knife, Crockett was just in time to turn and elude the others, who were coming up with much rapidity.
He had a hard time of it, and but for the shelter of the wood, would not have succeeded in getting away; but he soon ceased from his great exertions, and after an hour's cautious signaling managed to rejoin the lovers, remarking, as he related his experience:
"Somehow or other I sorter feel this is the last b'ar-hunt I'll ever take a hand in!"
They endeavored to laugh at his depression, and he purposely changed the conversation, as he wished to cast no gloom over their happiness.
It was now deemed best to approach as near Brownston as possible, so as to be ready to enter the village, if it could be done, early in the morning.
They accordingly resumed their cautious way through the woods, but had not gone far when they heard approaching footsteps.
The whites instantly halted, and the two men grasped their rifles, ready for friend or foe.
"Doonder and blitzen! I's been valkin' ever sin' to-morrow mornin', and I ain't so fur off te village as I would be yesterday ef I had started next week!"
It was Hans, and the next minute all three were around him, grasping his hands, Katrina weeping and embracing him, and all demanding what it meant.
He explained, in his characteristic way, what had happened to him since his separation, and adding that he was nearly famished with hunger; but as there was no means of relieving him, the journey was continued until they were in sight of the gleaming lights of the settlement.
As a careful reconnoissance failed to discover any thing of the Comanches, they moved on and entered Brownston, where they learned that the marauding Indians had taken their departure during the afternoon, and the memorable raid was ended.
A few days later, Crockett and his friends, who were awaiting his return in the village, started for the Alamo, where, as it is well known, this extraordinary man was inhumanly killed, with the remnant of the garrison who had surrendered to the perfidious Santa Anna.
The little cottage at Brownston became the home of Katrina Duncan when she married the gallant Sebastian Carsfield, after the independence of Texas was acknowledged by Mexico.
Hans Bungslager had a comfortable little sum stowed away where no Comanches could lay their hands upon it, and with this he rebuilt his cabin, bought a new cow, and he and his frow spent many days together upon the same ground that had been the witness of so many fearful scenes in their history.
THE END.