Fred could still distinguish the faint sound of yells and cries, as though the strife still continued, though there were no more rifle-shots. This fact puzzled him not a little, though he did not slacken his pace.
Then the yells seemed to shift places, continuing only for a few moments; then dying entirely away. Then again came the loud reports of firearms, with shrill howls of anguish and terror. The plot was becoming somewhat tangled and complicated, and Fred's wonder increased.
Still he proceeded, though more deliberately, for under the circumstances he thought prudence was the wisest course for him to follow. Then he uttered a little exclamation as his foot struck against something yielding. There could be no mistaking this peculiar touch; he knew that he was standing over a corpse!
A convulsive shudder ran through his frame as he leaped back apace; but then he conquered this involuntary repugnance, and advancing, stooped over the form. Eyesight could avail him nothing here; the sense of feeling alone must be depended upon.
His hand touched the body, and a thrill pervaded his form as his fingers rested upon a soft, slimy substance. He knew it was blood, fast coagulating. Then a glad hope filled his heart as his hand encountered the smooth-shaven crown, with the long scalp-lock of an Indian. Perhaps his friends had not perished, after all!
He slowly moved away from the corpse, feeling along the ground with his feet, but for some moments, felt in vain. Then he again touched something that he knew was another victim.
Stooping, his hand rested upon the unmistakable dress of a white man. Gliding up the body, he then felt of the face. The long heavy beard there confirmed his suspicions. He felt assured that the dead body of Wesley Stevens lay before him.
And then a low cry of agonizing horror broke from his lips, as he touched a woman's dress. He staggered back and sunk to the ground, trembling and unnerved. He feared the worst. He dreaded to move, lest he should find the dead and mangled corse of his loved one—of sweet Jennie Stevens.
But then with an effort he aroused himself, and without a thought for the danger he might thus incur, he struck a match and bent over the forms of the ill-fated fugitives. By its faint flickering rays, he recognized the father and mother; the light also showed him the bare and gory skulls where the scalps had been ruthlessly torn away.
He only saw this much, when the match burned to his finger tips and then expired. Tremblingly he essayed to light another, but he was too greatly unnerved. He sunk down upon the blood-stained ground and covered his eyes as though he would shut out the horrible vision that filled his brain.
It was a moment of frightful torture, and it seemed as though he would go mad. He believed that the dear one, whom he loved better than his own life, was lying near at hand, dead—murdered like her parents.
But then with an effort he aroused up. Though sick at heart, his hands were steady as he struck another match. He had nerved himself to bear the worst, now.
The light cast a faint glow around, but the dreaded sight did not meet his staring eyes. As he strode around the spot hope sprung up in his heart, once more.
A whip-like report broke the stillness of the air, so close that Fred started back and dropped the match, believing that he had been the target. But then he beheld his mistake, as another and yet another shot rung out at some little distance to his left. He also heard shrill yells, that he knew could only proceed from the throats of red-skins.
His eyes flashed instinctively and he clutched his rifle with a firm grip. He remembered now the second series of shots and yells he had heard; these were probably a continuation of those. If so, then the savages who had slain his friends were yet at hand, and if Jennie was taken a prisoner, she must be there also.
If so, perhaps he could effect her rescue now. But then who could be the ones at whom the shots were fired? His family? Fred uttered a low cry of eager hope as this idea flashed across his mind.
The young scout listened for a moment, and then glided forward in the direction from whence came the sounds. Scarcely had he made the first step, when the cries died away. But still advancing, Fred soon caught a glimpse of a bright light before him.
More cautiously he crept on, every sense upon the keen alert, until he paused beside a huge tree whose butt was surrounded by a dense growth of bushes, and then gazed out upon the scene. He beheld a huge bonfire, blazing upon a slight knoll. But not a living figure was in sight.
Then as he gazed, a dark figure glided between him and the fire; the light shining brightly, revealed the features of an Indian. Then, like, a shadow, this melted away. The stillness began to be oppressive, and Fred could scarcely comprehend the drama that was being enacted before him.
Leaving the tree, he glided stealthily along through the gloom, intending to incircle the bonfire, and discover, if possible, who were attacked by the Indians. He knew there were enemies close about him, and he brought his keenest powers into play, making scarcely more noise than would have done a serpent.
He had gone but a few yards, when he heard a slight rustling a little to one side, and, pausing, he speedily distinguished the form of a man, evidently a red-skin. It seemed as though he must be discovered, and Fred drew his limbs together for the emergency; but the savage brushed past him, almost close enough for their extended arms to have met. If he saw the dusky figure of the young scout, he evidently mistook it for one of his own comrades.
With a long-drawn breath of relief, Fred passed on, his eyes roving keenly in every direction. Keeping at a certain distance from the fire, he had covered nearly one-fourth of the distance necessary for a complete circuit, when a new peril threatened him; one that he did not see in time to avoid.
He noted the form of an Indian coming toward him, just without the circle of light. Anxiously he watched the movements of this foe. He could not retreat, as that would only subject him to suspicion, and the red-man was so close that the slightest movement would be heard.
And yet the savage was coming directly toward him. Fred crouched lower and drew his knife partly from its sheath. He had not time for more, when the savage paused directly beside him, his eyes bent upon a long line of bushes at but a few paces distance. Then he spoke in a low tone, using the Sioux dialect.
"Gray Bull is creeping up to find the pale-faces. Let my brother keep his rifle ready to shoot them as they spring up."
Fred did not reply, lest his voice should betray him, but he stealthily drew his knife from its sheath. Then the savage turned toward him, in evident surprise at not being answered.
The fire blazed up afresh, as the topmost sticks broke and fell down. A ray of light penetrated the bushes, and fell fairly athwart the pale features of the scout and those of his copper-tinted companion.
Fred beheld the wondering look—the quick change that told of recognition, and knew that only the promptest action could preserve his life. His left hand shot out and clutched the throat of the red-skin, and then the keen knife hissed through the air.
But with a sudden start back, the Indian freed his throat in time to utter a wild yell of alarm, ere the weapon drank his life's blood. Then for a brief moment all was still.
Then a single rifle-shot rung out, and Fred felt the bullet crease his neck. He knew that he was discovered and leaping to his feet he leveled his rifle at an advancing Indian and fired. Then with a hoarse, defiant shout, mingled with a death-yell from the stricken savage, he turned and fled from the spot.
A frightful tumult arose, and the woods echoed with the swift, heavy tramp of the Sioux as they dashed in hot pursuit after their daring foe.
CHAPTER IX.
OUT OF THE TRAP.
Tobe Castorkeenly watched the slowly approaching red-skin. He could long since have disposed of him by a rifle-shot, had he felt so inclined; but that he did not choose to do. If he did, then the main object of the savages would be accomplished. Once given the exact position of the pale-faces, such a storm of bullets would be poured in upon them that death would be inevitable.
The old scout had decided upon a plan of action that he believed might work, though the chances were greatly against it. He saw that the red-skin would strike the bushes, if he maintained the course he had begun, at only a few feet from where crouched the fugitives.
The bushes, interlaced with vines and creepers, were very dense, and a person standing close upon the outside could not perceive those within, by night, unless he first parted the screen. This was what the savage would have to do, in case he accomplished his object.
Castor hoped to be able to quiet this dangerous customer with the knife, and so quietly that those who were watching his progress, would still be at a loss as to their exact whereabouts. It would be difficult, though he believed it could be done.
Warning his comrades by a gesture to remain perfectly quiet, the old scout moved along by slow degrees so as to intercept the savage. When the point was gained directly in front of the creeping figure, Castor paused and prepared his knife for use.
But the trial was not yet to come. A strange and unexpected interruption came and afforded the besieged a respite, none the less welcome, because unlooked for.
There resounded a hoarse, gurgling yell—a rifle-shot—another; and then the defiant shout in the unmistakable voice of a white man. Following, came wild cries and whoops from the red-skins.
It was indeed the discovery of the young scout, Fred Wilson, although his friends did not know it. And a most fortunate occurrence it proved to be, at least for them.
The savages were bewildered and knew not what to make of the affair. But then all seemed clear.
The strange silence of the pale-faces was now explained. They no longer wondered that no reply had come from the bush-screened log, when they had so plentifully bestowed their leaden favors upon it. They had been upon a false scent, all the time. The hated pale-faces were not there, but had given them the slip, and but for a fortunate discovery would have crept entirely away and left them in the lurch.
Much in this manner the Sioux reasoned, and then with their thrilling war-whoop, they bounded after the fleeing scout, eager for his scalp, though they believed it was the entire party instead of only one. Their own footfalls prevented them from learning their mistake, by the tramp of the fugitive.
The red-skin who had acted on the "forlorn hope" also sprung up and dashed away to join the pursuit. Others dashed by, while the concealed fugitives held their breath at this strange proceeding.
Castor turned and glided back to join his companions. He was as greatly puzzled as were the others.
"What is it, Tobe? I thought that sounded like Fred's voice," whispered Wilson.
"I didn't notice—but the last shot favored his gun mightily. Could it be him?"
"Mayn't it be a trick of theirs to get us to show ourselves?" suggested John Stevens.
"It mought—but I sca'cely think it. You see, too many o' them went. An' they're kerryin' it too fur. Lis'en—you kin hear 'em a-screechin' 'way off thar yit," and Tobe harkened intently.
"What shall we do? Stay here, or try to slip off?"
"Jest as you think best.Ib'lieve our plan is to travel. Itmaybe a trick, an' ef so, we're gone, shore. Ef not, we stand a show. Anyhow, ef we stay here ontel day, they'll hev us then, easy. But jest as you say—on'y be quick 'bout it, 'ca'se thar's no time to waste."
"I think we had better risk it," added Wilson, resolutely.
"All right, then. Here goes. I'll show up fust, an' ef they don't plug me, do you foller. Step as though you was a-walkin' on sleepin' rattlers, an' don't make no fuss. Ready?"
A murmur gave assent, and then Tobe emerged from his covert, crouching low down in the shade cast by the bushes, and gliding off from the fire. Not a sound betrayed the presence of any enemy, and the others ventured forth, using the same precautions that their leader had taken.
They proceeded thus for full hundred yards, when Castor halted them. They paused in momentary alarm, but his first words banished their apprehensions.
"It's all right yit. I on'y wanted to tell you what we must do. We'll have to take to the hosses, ef the imps hain't found them, or they hain't broken loose. Then we kin 'ither take the Trace, or cut through the woods, jest's you think best."
"We leave it all to you. But it's dangerous stopping here so close. Some of those devils may come back and stumble upon us."
"The more haste the wuss speed, you know. You must wait here ontil I go an see if the animiles is safe. They may hev found 'em an' left a guard thar to cut us off ef we tried to git to 'em. You wait here ontel you hear me whistle; then come on as quiet as you kin."
With these words Castor glided away in the darkness, leaving the little party to uneasily await the result of his scout. But a few moments of suspense were they forced to endure; then came the welcome whistle, and with glad hearts they pressed forward. In a few moments more they were beside the horses, that still stood as they had been left.
It will be remembered that the Wilson party were yet consulting as to the best course for them to pursue, at the point where Castor had left the husband and wife, while he sought for the missing Annie, when the uproar attending the attack upon the Stevens family broke upon their hearing. Suspecting the truth, the party had left the horses as they were hitched, and rushed forward toward the spot, hoping to be enabled to assist their friends. Thus it is that we find them once more in possession of their animals.
"Now here's four critters, an' thar's six o' us. Let the wimmen an' Ed ride—he's the least able to stand a ja'nt afoot. Up with ye—no talkin', Ed. Ef so be't any one o' us two gits tuckered out, we'll change 'th you."
In another score of moments the little party were ready for a start. Tobe Castor led the way, then the horses, and after them came John Stevens.
By mutual consent the old scout was allowed to direct their course, and he chose to proceed, for some time at least, through the forest as being safer than treading in the beaten Trace. He knew that along it had hastened Dusky Dick and his gang of cut-throats, and felt assured that they would soon discover theruseby which they had been deceived, and thus would naturally turn back to find where they had lost the trail. By following the Trace, there would be danger of meeting him.
It was tedious traveling, but it was the road to safety, and the fugitives bore their hardships with as good a grace as possible. The spirits of all were gloomy enough, but the hearts of the brother and sister were sore indeed.
Jennie had told her story, and they knew their parents were both dead. The blow was a bitter one, and only for the absolute necessity for their restraining their feelings, in order to preserve their own lives, both of them would have given way beneath it.
And thus the night wore on. The forest was traversed and left behind the fugitives, who had placed a full score of miles behind them ere the light of day came over the western hills.
The eyes of the old scout, who was some yards ahead of the party, roved keenly and anxiously over the country, searching for what he hoped not to find; some trace of their enemies. And for a time he was agreeably disappointed.
They were now in a sort of open prairie, at this point rolling and uneven. Scattered hither and yon were small clumps of trees surrounded with smaller bushes and shrubs. The prairie was covered nearly waist-deep with a coarse grass, thickly mixed with weeds.
To the left of the party, and extending some little distance to their rear, was a line or chain of hills, rocky and bleak-looking. They were not far distant at this point, hardly a mile.
"Do you see any thing, Tobe?" asked Wilson, uneasily, glancing at the guide.
"Yas—a plenty, but nothin' to git skeered at, as I knows on. I don't see ary a red. Reckon we gi' them the dirty shake last night."
"I hope so. But will it be safe to rest a bit? The women need it, and so do the animals. A bite of food will do no harm—though we have no water."
"I don't know but 'twould be best. We must stop some time, an' now 's jest as good a time 's any. Thar at thetmotteyander, we'll stop. Thar's a good spring, too. So we'll not go thusty," said Castor, indicating a small clump of timber some few hundred yards before them.
The fugitives were now upon a ridge, whose hight afforded them a fair view of the country, and while Castor spoke, his eyes were keenly scrutinizing the prairie beyond. He suddenly paused, with a cry of angry dismay.
"What is it, Tobe?" cried Stevens, gliding forward.
"Looky yander!—Injuns, by the 'tarnal!" hissed the old ranger, as he extended an arm before him.
Thus directed, the gaze of the party was riveted upon an alarming sight. And as they gazed, their hearts sunk within them, for they saw that Castor was right.
Upon a ridge at perhaps a half-mile distance, could plainly be distinguished a number of footmen, whose wild aspect as their plumed and ornamented crests rose above the tall, still grass, told they were indeed savages. Their number could not be much less than a score; perhaps more.
"Let's get out of sight in the hollow," muttered Stevens as he sprung to the head of Annie's horse. "Quick! before they see us!"
"Too late—too late, boy!" muttered Castor, his glowing eyes sweeping around their position. "D'y' hearthat?"
As he spoke, faint, far-away yells of discovery came to their ears, borne upon the light breeze. And then the savages were observed to bound forward toward them, spreading out as if to surround their intended prey.
"Quick! to the timber—it is our only chance now!" shouted Stevens excitedly, as he urged the snorting horse forward.
"Back—hold on, boy," cried Castor, a determined expression resting upon his countenance "'Twon't do—they'd rout us out o' thar in a minnit. We must try somethin' else."
"But what? My God! man, do you intend to stay here and let them murder us all?" almost shrieked Wilson.
"No—follow me. Let the hosses went—don't hold 'em in. Keep up 'th me ef you kill the critters!"
As Tobe spoke, he turned abruptly to the left, and dashed off at full speed. For a moment the others hesitated, but his decisive action overruled their doubts, and they hotly followed in his lead.
It seemed a suicidal course, this one of the old scout's, for he was leaving the friendlymottealmost directly behind him, and was speeding over the rolling prairie toward a point where there was nothing to be seen save a bare hillside. And after them came the wildly yelling red-skins, who now seemed confident of their prey, for the thick, tangled weeds impeded the advance of a horse still more than that of a footman.
CHAPTER X.
A DOUBLE CHASE.
Fred Wilsonlittle guessed the good his daring course had accomplished for his friends, or he would not have so bitterly cursed his foolhardy daring in thus running into such a scrape. But the harm was did and he could only strive his best to free himself from the dangerous position it threw him into.
He slung his rifle across his back by the strap appended and thus with his arms free, he dashed on with renewed speed; though the best pace one could maintain there in such dense woods, was comparatively slow. Still it tried one the greater, for a tree-trunk would not be visible until almost run against, and then a quick, active leap was necessary to avoid it.
Fred could hear the rush of many feet behind him, and also the continued signaling of his foes, telling him that a stern race for life and death was to be the result. And almost unconsciously the presentiment that had before assailed him, returned with augmented force.
Still he did not falter or neglect a single precaution by which his case might be aided. His mind was made up to adopt a boldruse, and now he strained every nerve to its utmost tension in order to gain the necessary vantage ground that would enable him to put this plan into execution.
As he gained the beaten Trace, Wilson turned and dashed down it, although he would thus lose some ground if his pursuers had spread out, as he felt assured they had. But then he could place full confidence in his fleetness of foot, and felt that with a clear road, he could easily regain the ground thus lost.
Along the path he sped until he reached and passed the still-glowing embers of his late home. But when about a half-mile beyond this, he deemed his chance good enough, and pausing beneath a huge tree, he clutched a low limb and adroitly swung himself up into the branches. Here he lay still, striving to quiet his hard and rapid breathing, lest it should betray his hiding.
It was a full minute before the first red-skin passed beneath his perch, and Fred found that he had gained more ground than he had supposed. Not noticing the sudden cessation of his footsteps, the Sioux pressed on at hot speed, little dreaming how narrowly they were missing their intended victim.
For some time after their passing Fred remained motionless, but then he stealthily crept up higher until near the tree-top, where he could remain hidden, even in the daytime, safe from all prying eyes, unless their owner should take a fancy to climb the tree and make a close examination; an occurrence that was not at all likely to take place, as Fred's footprints had, in all probability, been obliterated by those of the running savages.
For full an hour Fred remained there, but then, hearing no sound of his foes, he descended, and struck once more into the woods. He had pondered long and well over his situation, and knowing he could effect nothing for his friends, owing to his ignorance of their whereabouts, he had resolved to set out for the settlements, and, if possible, there raise a force to return and either rescue them, if captured, or avenge their murder, if dead, as he feared they were.
Before the day broke he had gained the open prairie, and then paused in a clump of trees, in order to see if the coast was clear for his further progress, as soon as the sun should arise. To hasten this end, he scaled a tall tree, and from its top-branches, he eagerly scanned the prairie, as well as the dim light would admit.
But until the sun had fairly arisen, his search was useless. Then, however, his heart beat rapidly, and he saw how wise had been his precaution.
At nearly a mile's distance, he could just distinguish the forms of a number of human beings. Keenly observing them, he first saw that they were in the direct Trace, and were approaching him at a rapid pace. Then he perceived that they were Indians.
Fred hastily descended a few feet to where the limbs were thick, and then crouched down, his eyes once more bent fixedly upon the foe. The sun shone full upon them now, and he counted over a score in all.
As they descended into the hollow, he lost sight of them for a moment, but then they reappeared upon the crest, next to the one upon which stood the grove he had sought refuge in. The Trace ran within a few yards of thismotte, and the young man began to feel apprehensive as to his own safety.
The savages kept on, and now Fred could distinguish the form and features of a white man; of Dusky Dick, and his teeth grated fiercely together as he felt a stern desire to avenge the supposed destruction of his family upon the renegade. But to do so now would be equivalent to his own death.
Then the party gained the ridge, and paused; some pointing toward themottewhere the young man was concealed. As Fred anxiously watched their every motion, he heard them yell wildly, and believed he was discovered.
Throwing forward his rifle-muzzle, he glanced along the barrel. The double sights drew full upon the head of the renegade, and only a slight pressure of the forefinger would have sounded Dusky Dick's death-knell.
But that pressure was not given, for just then the red-skins, led by Dusky Dick, turned and dashed down the hillside, with long, loud yells. In surprise Fred glanced at the further ridge, and a cry of wonder broke from his lips.
He could quite plainly distinguish another party; these unmistakably white. He also noted the flowing drapery of women; three in number. And then the truth burst upon his mind like a revelation.
These were his friends, who had successfully passed through the trials of that eventful night, only to be again confronted by their bitter and relentless enemies, when just upon the verge of safety!
As he beheld them turn and flee, Fred hastily descended from his perch, and then, without thought or reflecting upon the risk he would thus incur, he dashed down the hill after the red-skins. Fortunately for him, the entire thoughts of the Indians were turned upon the fugitives before them, and not a backward glance was given, or else this rash move would probably have resulted fatally for the young ranger. And then they gained the ridge and passed beyond his sight.
Before he also gained the crest, Fred's natural good sense returned, and he proceeded with more circumspection.
He kept tolerably well screened by the tall weeds, while descending, until the savages were once more hidden from view behind a swell; and then he dashed on with the velocity of a race-horse. As he gained the second crest, Fred again paused.
He could still distinguish both parties, and then, as his eyes rested upon the hills beyond, a glad cry broke from his lips, a bright light filled his eyes, and after hesitating for a moment, he turned and dashed at full speed along the back track, his eyes sparkling with a new-born determination.
CHAPTER XI.
AT BAY!
Tobe Castorled the way at a rapid pace, his tall form making some fairly wonderful leaps, doubling up in order to carry his long legs clear of the dense weeds and shrubs. At any other time his queer antics would have provoked a smile from the spectators, but now they were entirely too much concerned about their own safety to indulge in such demonstrations.
Behind them, at less than a half-mile's distance, were a score of bloodthirsty demons, yelling and whooping in eager exultation, as though their hands were already upon the coveted scalps, and all resistance was over. This knowledge, then, was not the most favorable for awakening a sense of the ludicrous, and the only idea his great bounds called forth was a desire to keep pace with him.
More than once the old scout was forced to slacken his pace, so as to avoid distancing the jaded horses, and an uneasy light filled his eyes as he noted how rapidly the savages were coming up with them, lessening the intervening distance with every bound. And yet not more than one-half the distance to the hill had been covered.
"Make haste, Ed—dog-on it, man,putthe critters down to it!" he hissed, impatiently, at one of these slackenings. "Use your knife fer a spur."
"Where are you going? They're overtaking us fast!" apprehensively cried the old settler, glancing backward over his shoulder.
"To the hill yander—ef they let us. Use the knife, I tell ye—ef you don't, we're goners!"
Under the impulse of this novel spur, the horses dashed forward with considerably-augmented speed, and now the hills loomed up quite near. But so were the red-skins, who now began sending their compliments after the fugitives, in the shape of sundry leaden bullets, but as the Indians feared to pause in order to secure a good aim, lest the fugitives should thus be able to distance them, there was little to dread save from some random missile.
Tobe Castor then cried out:
"Foller right on through the openin' thar; then turn to your left, right sharp."
As he uttered these words, the old scout dashed ahead at an astonishing rate of speed, and entered a narrow defile or pass, that here cut through the range of hills. As his comrades could see, he turned to the left, as he had directed them to do.
With anxiously-beating hearts, the fugitives dashed through the pass, and then, guided by a loud cry in the voice of their friend, turned to the left and reached the spot where he was standing.
"'Light—quicker'n thunder! You wimmen run into them bushes thar, an' lay close. Ed, you an' Jack stan' by me. We'll sicken the imps fer good, this time!" hurriedly muttered the scout, as he lifted Jennie Stevens from his horse's back; then striking the animal violently with his hand, it dashed off at full speed along the hill's foot.
The other two women leaped to the ground, as did Wilson, who secured the bundle of provisions, half-unconsciously. And this move was completed none too soon, for the next moment the yelling savages sprung into view through the pass, brandishing their weapons like mad.
"Now—gi' them your rifles, an' then fall back to the bresh yander. Ef they foller, let 'em hev your 'volvers," cried Tobe Castor, as his long, heavy rifle uprose to a level.
The Indians paused abruptly, uttering cries of wondering dismay. Why this bold stand upon the part of the fugitives, and where were the women who had so lately been with them? Could they still be fleeing upon the horses, whose rapidly-retreating hoof-strokes could still be distinguished?
"Now!" hissed Castor, and the three rifles spoke.
Two of the enemy went down without a struggle; a third reeled back with an arm swinging helplessly at his side. But neither of them was the renegade; he had not yet put in an appearance.
"Now drap back to the bresh, boys," and Tobe coolly retreated.
Just then Dusky Dick sprung into view, and with a wild yell, urged his men on. As the borderers fell back, the Sioux dashed ahead, discharging a few arrows; their firearms had all been long since emptied.
"Gi' them some more," coolly muttered Tobe, as he drew a heavy revolver, "Colt's Army," carrying a half-ounce ball with the range and force of a rifle.
And now quick and vicious the reports ring out from the three men standing there at bay. Chamber after chamber was discharged with fair effect.
It was not in Indian nature to stand this long, more especially as they had not the means of returning the compliment. Dusky Dick was one of the first to fall, and then, missing his voice, his men retreated to the entrance of the gap, concealing themselves as best they could behind the numerous bowlders that there skirted the prairie.
"Into the bresh an' load up, boys," said Castor, as he coolly leveled his second pistol at a wounded red-skin, who was slowly crawling away from the spot of death.
The revolver cracked, and the Indian made no further motion. Then, with a grim smile, the old scout also entered the bushes.
A most welcome surprise here awaited the fugitives, with the exception of Castor. The mouth of a cave was revealed behind the bushes, and into it the women had already made their way.
This, then, was why Castor had made what had seemed, at the time, a suicidal move, in not taking to the timbermotte, and Wilson now expressed his regret at having spoken so harshly upon that occasion.
"'Taint no matter, Ed. I don't blame you, for itdidlook a lettle queer. But it was our on'y chaince, ye see. They'd 'a' cabbidged us thar, easy; but in here we kin hold our own ontel they starve us out. This is whar Fred 'n' me killed the b'ar this spring—'member, don't ye?"
"Yes, but—what's the matter now?"
Castor had turned around to peer through the bushes while speaking, and then with a bitter curse of angry chagrin he leveled his pistol and fired. Another curse broke from his lips, as he half-parted the bushes, as though he would have sprung forth.
"What is it—are they coming again?" and the two men pressed forward.
"No—he's gone, the pesky imp! He was a-playin' 'possum all the time, I do r'ailly b'lieve! Don't b'lieve he was tetched ary time!"
"Who—what do you mean?"
"Why, Dusky Dick,inco'se. He's gone. I see'd him jest as he was a-stealin' out o' sight. I sent a snap-shot at the cuss, but didn't tech him. I spotted him in the fust rush, but he must 'a' dodged it, an' then tumbled down to make us b'lieve he was dead," somewhat incoherently added Castor, as he once more resumed loading his firearms.
Though greatly chagrined, the borderers completed re-charging their weapons, without further comment; meanwhile keeping a close watch upon the open ground around the mouth of the defile. They felt assured that their foes were still near, although concealed from sight, and that they would not abandon the hunt without a desperate effort to avenge the death of their comrades, several of whose bodies still lay out in full view, stark and ghastly.
"What do you think they'll do next, Tobe?" queried Wilson, dubiously.
"Mebbe make a rush—but I don't think it. They've hed too good a taste o' our shooters fer thet. We must look out fer tricks, now; they'll pro'bly try sarcumvention fust. Mebbe try to smoke us out."
"But can theydoit?"
"Not bad, they cain't. Jest step inside thar, an' you'll see. I ain't so pesky green as to run in a hole thet'd be stopped up likethet," chuckled the old ranger, grimly.
Wilson stooped low down and entered the rude entrance of the cave, but it soon enlarged sufficiently to admit of his standing erect, and gazed curiously around him. It was dimly lighted, but sufficiently so for him to discern the rocky sides and roof.
It was small; not twenty feet in diameter at the most, and of a rude circular form. The roof was arched; jagged and uneven, composed mainly of rock. From several points Wilson could detect a lighter ray than common, and he knew that there were numerous crevices leading to the outer world, by which the fresh air could gain entrance, although so crooked that no use could be made of them to gain a shot at those within. Thus it would be an utter impossibility for the cave to be filled completely with smoke, or even sufficient to smother the inmates.
The three women were huddling together upon the rocky floor, at the further extremity of the den, trembling with apprehension. Wilson approached them, and tried to relieve their fears by repeating the assurances of Tobe Castor. At this they brightened up a little, but only temporarily.
A low whistle from Castor now drew Wilson to the entrance, where he was cautioned to silence by a finger warningly upheld by the old scout. Listening intently, the settler fancied he could hear the sounds of cautious footsteps overhead.
Nothing was to be seen upon the plain beyond, save the dead savages. All was quiet at the entrance of the defile, but still the besieged knew that trouble was brewing. And they nerved themselves to meet it as best they could.
"Ready, boys," muttered Tobe, drawing back a little, until beneath the projecting shelf. "They're comin' now!"
And the next moment confirmed his assertion, for with loud yells several dark figures sprung down from the ledge, alighting in the midst of the bushes. Then, ere they could recover themselves, the affray began.
The pale-faces had the advantage of a dark background, while their foes were quite plainly revealed, and as the revolvers began to play rapidly, wild yells of rage and death agony told how true was their aim.
And then, from the prairie beyond, came the sounds of rushing feet, and the shrill war-whoop of the savage Sioux, telling of a simultaneous onset, deadly and determined.
CHAPTER XII.
EXIT DUSKY DICK.
Itwas a thrilling moment. Death stared the borderers full in the face, yet they did not flinch. To do so would be annihilation, and full well they knew that.
The enemy who had sprung down from above, had probably hoped to take them by surprise, being ignorant of the existence of the cave, and thus hold them at bay until the others could approach from the defile below, to deal the finishing stroke. But in this they had counted without their host, and the ready action of the borderers speedily foiled their calculations.
Scarcely had the savages regained their feet from the leap, than they were down again; this time for good. Three revolvers make quick work, especially when the targets are at barely more than arm's length, and held by desperate men, who are fighting for their own lives, as well as those of ones even more dear to them.
Thus before those coming from the defile could reach the bushes, the first portion of the drama was over. Four dead or disabled forms lay there; but where were the fugitive pale-faces? They speedily received the answer to this natural query.
"Back inside the hole, boys," uttered Tobe. "Back, or we're gone! We must keep 'em from gittin' inside."
And then at the mouth of the cave, but upon either side, where their bodies were partly shielded by the jagged rocks, although where a shot could be aimed without, if necessary, crouched the three men, sternly defiant. And thus, with tightly-compressed lips they awaited the assault, their rifles and half-empty pistols ready for instant use.
Thus they were, when the savages reached the bushes and parted them. Scarcely had the enemy time to note the mouth of the cave, thus laid bare, when a simultaneous report rung out, and three rifle-bullets tore their way through the living mass.
The Indians staggered and fell back involuntarily, but not until a second salute was given them. And then, despite the curses of Dusky Dick, the entire party of survivors turned and fled in dismay, not even pausing to remove their dead and dying.
The besieged, fearing a ruse, did not emerge, and then Dusky Dick once more succeeded in gaining cover in safety. And then while one kept guard, the other two borderers hastily recharged the weapons, that had stood them in such good stead.
For at least two hours after this signal repulse, not a sound betrayed the proximity of a foeman, but the old scout knew that the bushes screening the cave-entrance were under the range of keen eyes, whose owners would be only too glad of the chance to guide a bullet or an arrow into any one of the besieged who might chance to expose himself. And he was too wise to allow either of his comrades to commit an action that might change the whole situation.
Then there came an interruption. The sound of a human voice was heard; the voice of a white man, for the words were accented in a manner that no Indian could attain.
"Hellow thar, you Wilson!"
"It is Dusky Dick," muttered Tobe Castor.
"What can he want? Shall I answer him?"
"Yas—but don't show yourself. 'Twon't do no harm to hear what the cuss hes to say, as I knows on," slowly returned the scout.
"Hallo yourself! What is it you want with me, Dusky Dick?"
"I want to have a quiet talk with you, and see if we can't come to some sort o' tarms. Will I be safe if I come out thar? It's too fur away to talk from here."
"Tell him yas—ef he comes alone," said Tobe, in reply to the glance of Wilson.
"Yes. Come out, and if you act on the square, you sha'n't be hurt. But come alone, and mind you don't let any of your red-skinned devils try to crawl up on us, or you're a dead man. We can see all over from here."
After a few moment's silence, the renegade arose from behind his covert, and strode toward the cave-entrance. Although he bore weapons, they were held carelessly, as if not for use.
"Hold on thar, Mister Dusky Dick," called forth the old scout when the renegade was within a score yards. "Don't come no nearer. You hain't got the consumption, an' ken talk that fur, I reckon."
"Tobe Castor!" exclaimed Morgan, in a tone of uneasiness.
"Yas—it's old Tobe, fer shore.Youknow 'im, I reckon," chuckled the scout, grimly, evidently pleased at this symptom of alarm.
"I did not know you were here, but it don't matter. Who is the head man among you? You or Wilson?"
"You kin talk to Ed, here. I'll sorter lis'en. Shoot off yer mouth now, lively, an' then travel. Your comp'ny ain't overly welcome to none on us. D'y' hear?"
"Then, Wilson," added Morgan, not noticing the insulting tones of Castor, "what're your terms? You must see there is no use in your trying to hold out against us any longer."
"Isn't there? Your men didn't seem to think so, a while since, anyhow," sneered the settler.
"But we have been reinforced since then. Sloan Young is here with his band, and—"
"You lie, Dusky Dick, durn ye. You'll never see Young ontel the devil hes his due. It'stharyou'll find him, fer I put a eend to his trapsein', this very night jest passed," retorted Castor.
What Dusky Dick's answer would have been, was never known, for at that moment a sharp report rung out from close behind Wilson, and then with a choking groan the doomed renegade swayed feebly to and fro for a moment, then sunk in a lifeless heap to the ground, the hot blood spouting from his left breast.
Quickly turning, the two borderers beheld the strangely convulsed features of their young comrade, John Stevens, as he glared out upon the dead man, the smoke still issuing from his rifle-muzzle. There was a peculiar gleam in his eyes that told he was half crazed.
The reproaches of the old scout died away upon his lips, for the young settler then sunk back, pale and breathless, his features strangely distorted. He was in a fit, probably brought on by the terrible trials of mind, added to the deed of vengeance he had just accomplished.
The Sioux uttered frightful yells of anger at the death of their chief, but they did not venture forth from their covert. They had already received a sufficiency of the pale-faces' favors at close quarters, and had evidently resolved to await the slower but more sure process of starvation.
It was some little time before John recovered from his convulsion, as there was no water to aid in his restoration, and then he lay back, only half-conscious, as weak as a child.
As the time wore on, the besieged began to suffer from want of water. Their hunger had been appeased, but it only seemed to increase their thirst. And yet there was not a single drop to be had.
Their prospects looked gloomy indeed, for if they began to suffer thus early what would they be forced to endure, were they closely besieged, as there seemed no doubt they would be? Even Castor became gloomy and despondent.
Thus the hours rolled by, without any demonstrations from the Sioux, save occasionally a rifle-shot that either flattened harmlessly outside, or else spent its force against the walls of the cave, without injury to the occupants.
But when the shades of night fell, the Indians built several fires upon the prairie, around the besieged, and though at some little distance, yet close enough to guard against their stealing forth from their retreat unobserved. They made no attempt to surprise the cave inmates, and well for them that they did not, for both Castor and Wilson kept unceasing watch, with weapons in readiness to repel the assault in case it should come.
But toward morning, when the gray light in the east gave warning of the coming sun, there arose a fearful tumult without, awakening the sleeping women, who uttered loud cries of affright. And for a moment the two sentinels were confused.
But the truth flashed upon their minds. They knew they were saved!
"Hooray! they're jestmore'nketchin' it!" yelled Castor, as he sprung forth from the cave, uttering his wild war-cry; and then, closely followed by Wilson, he dashed into the thick of themelee.
They were indeed rescued, and by the aid of Fred Wilson. When that worthy so abruptly turned from the chase, he knew the plans of Tobe Castor.
He remembered the bear's den, and saw that the fugitives were heading directly toward it. Here he knew they could stand a pretty tough siege, and so he resolved to speed at once to the settlements, raise a force sufficient to rescue them, and return speedily.
He succeeded in reaching Hutchinson, where he told his story, and found no difficulty in raising a squad of men sufficient for his purpose. In half an hour after his arrival, he was on the back track, and by hurrying on at full speed, he arrived in time to surprise the Indians, the most of whom were sleeping.
The onslaught was deadly, and at most, but one or two of the war-party escaped to tell the tragic tale. Then the stray horses were hunted up, and upon these the women and John were placed, when the party retraced their steps to the settlement.
Dusky Dick had been somewhat premature in his attack, as the general uprising did not take place for two days after, and the result of that is familiar to all readers.
Tobe Castor, John Stevens and Fred Wilson did good service in the cause, and passed unharmed through the ordeal. They found and buried the remains of the unfortunate settler and his wife, near the ruins of their former home.
Within a year after the events recorded, there occurred a double wedding at St. Paul, in which Annie and Jennie, John and Fred were the principal actors, though an outsider would have thought Tobe Castor divided the honors pretty equally with them. That he "jestmore'nspread hisself," upon the occasion, we have his own word for.
THE END.
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