The words were yet in his mouth, when the outlines of a tufted crown appeared above the stockade, where the Wyandot paused, as if peeping over. Then a second was outlined at his elbow, the two remaining stationary a full minute.
"Don't shoot just yet," whispered Stinger.
Ned wondered why the delay was suggested, after his previous instruction; but, a moment after, the two Wyandots, no doubt with the assistance of others, suddenly rose higher, so that their shoulders and bodies were dimly seen. They were climbing over the stockade.
"Now!" said Jo Stinger.
All three fired, and the red men instantly vanished.It was almost impossible to take fair aim, but it looked as if the warriors had been "hit hard."
"We dropped them," said Ned, with some excitement.
"Yes, but they dropped themselves; they're inside the stockade."
"What harm can two of them do, if theyarethere?" asked Colonel Preston, quite hopeful that they had slain the Indians.
"There are a half dozen of the varmints at least inside," was the disquieting statement of Stinger.
"We ought to be able to see them," observed Colonel Preston, looking searchingly at the spot where the two were discovered.
"When they stand still, you can't see 'em; but when they stir around, you can just make 'em out."
The reason why the Wyandots had selected this side of the stockade, was now apparent. The position of the moon in the heavens was such that the pickets threw a wall of shadow several feet within the square. When the warriors dropped to the ground, they were in such gloom thatit was almost impossible to see them, except when they moved away from the fence.
All this being true, it still was not easy to divine their purpose in climbing the pickets. So long as they remained within the square, they were in range of the Kentuckians' rifles as much as though on the clearing in front.
When the eye gazes steadily at the Pleiades, in the midnight splendor of the starlit sky, one of the blazing orbs shrinks modestly from view and only six remain to be admired by the wondering gazer below: it is the quick, casual glance that catches the brilliant sister unawares, before she can hide her face.
So, when the pioneers within the block-house looked intently at the stockade, they saw nothing but the wall of shadow and the outline of the sharp pickets above; but, as their vision flitted along the front, they caught the faint suggestions of the figures of men standing erect and doubtless intently watching the block-house, from which the rifles of the Kentuckians had flashed but a short time before.
Whenever the moon's light was obscured, nothing but blank darkness met the eye, the line of stockades themselves vanishing from sight. Onceone of the warriors moved a few steps to the left, and Jo Stinger and Ned Preston detected it.
"Why not try another shot?" asked the Colonel, when the matter was referred to.
"It is too much guess-work: nobody can take any sort of aim, when it is so dark in the block-house."
"I wonder what their purpose can be," muttered the Colonel, speaking as much to himself as to those near him.
"I knows what it am," said Blossom Brown, who had been drawn to the spot by the firing and the words he had overheard.
"You do, eh?" remarked the Colonel, looking toward him in the darkness; "what is it?"
"Dey're comin' to steal de well."
"What will they do with it, after they steal it?"
"Take it off in de woods and hide it, I s'pose."
"They won't have any trouble in preventingusfrom stealing it,—that is certain," observed the Colonel, bitterly.
"Why can't we dig the well inside the block-house, as you intended?" asked Ned; "there are shovels, spades and picks, and I don't suppose it would take us a great while."
"If we are driven to it, we will make the attempt; but there is no likelihood that we will have a chance. All our attention will be required by the Indians."
"You can set Blossom to work if you wish to," said Ned Preston; "he is good for little except to cut wood and dig. If he worked steadily for two or three days, he might reach water."
Ned was in earnest with this proposition, and he volunteered to take his turn with his servant and the others; but the scheme filled Blossom with dismay.
"I neber dugged a well," he said, with a contemptuous sniff; "if I should undertook it, de well would cave in on me, and den all you folks would hab to stop fightin' de Injines and go to diggin' me out agin."
Colonel Preston did not consider the project feasible just then, and Blossom Brown was relieved from an anticipation which was anything but pleasant.
Jo Stinger was attentively watching the stockade where the figures of the Wyandot warriors were faintly seen. He was greatly mystified to understand what their object could be in exposingthemselves to such risk, when, so far as he could judge, there was nothing to be gained by so doing; but none knew better than did the veteran that, brave as were these red men, they were not the ones to face a danger without the reasonable certainty of acquiring some advantage over an enemy.
"I will risk a shot anyway," he thought; "for, though I can't make much of an aim, there is a chance of doing something. As soon as the moon comes out, I will see how the varmints will stand a bullet or two."
So he waited "till the clouds rolled by," but, as he feared, the straining eye could not catch the faintest suggestion of a warrior, where several were visible only a short time before.
They had vanished as silently as the shadows of the clouds swept across the clearing.
The action of the Indians in this respect was the cause of all kinds of conjectures and theories, none of the garrison being able to offer one that satisfied the others.
Megill believed it was a diversion intended to cover up some design in another direction. He was sure that, when the Wyandots made a demonstration,it would come from some other point altogether. He, therefore, gave his attention mainly to the cabins and the clearing in front.
Turner suspected they meant to destroy the well by filling it up, so that it would be useless when the supply of water within the block-house should become exhausted. Precisely how this filling up was to be done, and wherein the necessity existed (since the Wyandots could command the approaches to the water day and night), were beyond the explanation of the settler.
Jo Stinger, the veteran of the company, scouted these theories, as he did that of the Colonel that it was a mere reconnoissance, but he would not venture any guess further than that the mischief was much deeper than any believed, and that never was there more necessity of the most unremitting vigilance.
Megill asserted that some scheme was brewing in the cabin from which the two warriors emerged, when they sought to cut off the boys in their run to the block-house. He had seen lights moving about, though the ones who carried the torches took care not to expose themselves to any shot from the station.
The silence lasted two hours longer without the slightest evidence that a living person was within a mile of the block-house. During that period, not a glimmer of a light could be detected in the cabin, there was not a single burning arrow, nor did so much as a war-whoop or signal pass the lips of one of the Wyandots.
The keen eyes of Jo Stinger and Ned Preston failed to catch a glimpse of the shadowy figures at which they discharged their rifles, and which caused them so much wonderment and speculation.
But the keen scrutiny that seized every favoring moment and roamed along the lines of stockades, further than the ordinary eye could follow, discovered a thing or two which were not without their significance.
On the northern and eastern sides a number of pickets had been removed, leaving several gaps wide enough to admit the passage of a person. This required a great deal of hard work, for the pickets had been driven deep into the earth and were well secured and braced from the inside.
"They needed men on both sides of the stockade to do that," said Colonel Preston, "and thosewhom we saw, climbed over, so as to give assistance."
"That's the most sensible idee that's been put forward," replied Jo Stinger, "and I shouldn't be s'prised if you was right; but somehow or other——"
"By gracious! I smell smoke sure as yo's bo'n!"
Blossom Brown gave several vigorous sniffs before uttering this alarming exclamation, but the words had no more than passed his lips, when every man knew he spoke the truth.
There was smoke in the upper part of the block-house, and though it could not be seen in the darkness, yet it was perceptible to the sense of smell.
Consternation reigned for a few minutes among the garrison, and there was hurrying to and fro in the effort to learn the cause of the burning near them.
The most terrifying cry that can strike the ears of the sailor or passenger at sea is that of fire, but no such person could hold the cry in greater dread than did the garrison, shut in the block-house and surrounded by fierce American Indians.
The first supposition of Colonel Preston was that it came from the roof, and springing upon a chair, he shoved up the trap-doors, one after the other, to a dangerously high extent. But whatever might have happened to the other portions of the structure, the roof was certainly intact.
The next natural belief was that it was caused by the fire on the hearth in the lower story, and Colonel Preston and Blossom Brown made all haste down the ladder. Blossom, indeed, was too hasty, for he missed one of the rounds and went bumping and tumbling to the floor, where he set up a terrific cry, to which no attention was paid amid the general excitement.
"Here it is! Here's the fire!" suddenly shouted Ned Preston, in a voice which instantly brought the others around him.
Ned had done that wise thing to which we have all been urged many a time and oft: he had "followed his nose" to the north-east corner of the block-house, where the vapor was so dense that he knew the cause must be very near.
It so happened that this very nook was the least guarded of all. Looking directly downward through the holes cut in the projecting floor, hiseyes smarted so much from the ascending vapor that he was forced to rub them vigorously that he might be able to see.
He could detect nothing but smoke for a minute or so, and that, of course, made itself manifest to the sense of smell and touch rather than to that of sight; but he soon observed, directly beneath his feet, the red glow of fire itself. Then it was he uttered the startling cry, which awoke Mrs. Preston and brought the rest around him.
Despite the care and skill with which the station had been guarded by the garrison, all of whom possessed a certain experience in frontier-life, the wily Wyandots had not only crept up to the block-house itself without discovery, but they had brought sticks, had piled them against the north-east corner, had set fire to them, and had skulked away without being suspected by any one of the sentinels.
The fact seemed incredible, and yet there was the most convincing evidence before or rather under their eyes. Jo Stinger gave utterance to several emphatic expressions, as he made a dash for the barrel of water, and he was entirely willingto admit that of all idiots who had ever pretended to be a sensible man, he was the chief.
But the danger was averted without difficulty. Two pails of water were carefully poured through the openings in the floor of the projecting roof, and every spark of fire was extinguished.
The water added to the density of the vapor. It set all the inmates coughing and caused considerable annoyance; but it soon passed away, and, after a time, the air became comparatively pure again.
Megill complimented the cunning of the Wyandots, but Jo insisted that they had shown no special skill at all: it was the utter stupidity of himself and friends who had allowed such a thing to be done under their very noses.
"And, if it hadn't been for that darkey there," said he, with all the severity he could command, "we wouldn't have found it out till this old place was burned down, and we was scootin' across the clearin' with the varmints crackin' away at us."
"De gemman is right," assented Blossom, as he stopped rubbing the bruises he received from tumbling through the ladder; "you'll find datit's allers me dat wokes folks up when de lightnin' am gwine to strike somewhar 'bout yar."
"We won't deny you proper credit," said Colonel Preston, "though Jo is a little wild in his statements——"
The unimportant remark of Colonel Preston was bisected by the sharp report of Jo Stinger's rifle, followed on the instant by a piercing shriek from some point near the block-house, within the stockade.
"I peppered himthattime!" exclaimed the veteran; "it's all well enough to crawl into yer winder, gather all the furniture together and set fire to it, and then creep out agin, but when it comes to stealin' the flint and tinder out of your pocket to do it with, then I'm going to get mad."
When the scout had regained something of his usual good nature, he explained that he had scarcely turned to look out, when he actually saw two of the Wyandots walking directly toward the heap of smoking brush, as though they intended to renew the fire. The sight he considered one of the grossest insults ever offered his intelligence, and he fired, without waiting till some one could arrange to shoot the second red man.
With a daring that was scarcely to be wondered at, the warrior who was unhurt threw his arm about his smitten companion and hurried to one of the openings in the stockade, through which he made his way.
This slight check would doubtless cause the red men to be more guarded in their movements against the garrison.
"It has teached them," said the hunter, with something of his grim humor, "that accidents may happen, and some of 'em mought get hurt if they go to looking down the muzzles of our guns."
All noticed a rather curious change in the weather. The sky, which had been quite clear early in the evening, was becoming overcast, and the clouds hid the moon most of the time. It remained cold and chilly, and more than one of the garrison wrapped a blanket around him, while doing duty at the loopholes.
The cloudiness became so marked, after a brief while, that the view was much shortened in every direction. Those at the front of the block-house could not see the edge of the clearing, where the Licking flowed calmly on its way to the Ohio.Those on the north saw first the line of stockades dissolve into darkness, and then the well-curb (consisting of a rickety crank and windlass), grew indistinct until its outlines faded from sight.
The two cabins to the south loomed up in the gloom as the hulls of ships are sometimes seen in the night-time at sea, but the blackness was so profound, it became oppressive. Within the block-house, where there was no light of any kind burning, it was like that of ancient Egypt.
Colonel Preston could not avoid a certain nervousness over the attempt of the Wyandots to fire the building, and, though it failed, he half suspected it would be repeated.
He descended the ladder and made as careful an examination as possible, but failed to find anything to add to his alarm and misgiving. Everything seemed to be secure: the fastenings of the doors were such that they might be considered almost as firm as the solid logs themselves.
While he was thus engaged, he heard some one coming down the ladder. "Who's there?" he asked in an undertone.
"It's Jo—don't be scart."
"I'm not scared; I only wanted to know who it is; what are you after?"
"I'm going out-doors, right among the varmints."
"What has put that idea in your head?"
"They've been playing their tricks on us long enough, and now I'm going to show them that Jo Stinger knows a thing or two as well as them."
Colonel Preston would have sought to dissuade the veteran from the rash proceeding, had he not known that it was useless to do so.
Deerfoot the Shawanoe first pinned the rattlesnake to the earth with the arrow which he threw with his deft left hand, then he flung the reptile from his path and resumed his delicate and dangerous attempt to creep past the three Wyandots who were lying against the hank of the Licking, watching the block-house, now and then firing a shot at the solid logs, as if to express their wishes respecting the occupants of the building.
If the task was almost impossible at first, it soon became utterly so, as the young Shawanoe was compelled to admit. The contour of the bank was such that, after getting by the log, he would be compelled to approach the warriors so close that he could touch them with his outstretched hand. This would have answered at night, when they were asleep, but he might as well have attempted to lift himself through theair as to do it under the circumstances we have described.
Deerfoot never despaired nor gave up so long as he held space in which to move. He immediately repeated the retrograde motion he had used when confronted by the venomous serpent, his wish now being to return to the spot from which he fired the arrow.
The ventures made satisfied him that he had but one chance in a thousand of escaping capture and death. He could not move to the right nor left: it would have been certain destruction to show himself on the clearing, and equally fatal to attempt to use the shallow Licking behind him.
There was a remote possibility that the arrowy messenger which he had sent from his bow had not been noticed by any of the besieging Wyandots, and that, as considerable time had already passed, none of them would come over to where he was to inquire into the matter.
If they would keep as far away from him as they were when his friend Ned Preston started on his desperate run for the block-house, of course he would be safe. He could wait where he was, lying flat on the ground, through all the longhours of the day, until the mantle of night should give him the chance for which he sighed.
Ah, but for one hour of darkness! His flight from the point of danger would be but pastime.
The single chance in a thousand was that which we have named: the remote possibility that none of the Wyandots would come any nearer to where he was hugging the river bank.
For a full hour Deerfoot was in suspense, with a fluttering hope that it might be his fortune to wait until the sun should climb to the zenith and sink in the west; for, young as was the Shawanoe, he had learned the great truth that in the affairs of this world no push or energy will win, where the virtue of patience is lacking. Many a time a single move, born of impatience, has brought irretrievable disaster, where success otherwise was certain.
As the Shawanoe lay against the bank, looking across the clearing toward the block-house, he recalled that message which, instead of being spoken, as were all that he knew of, was carried on the arrow he sent through the window. If he but understood how to place those words on paper or on a dried leaf even, he would send anothermissive to Colonel Preston, saying that, inasmuch as he was shut in from all hope of escape, he would make the effort to run across the open space, as did his friends before him.
But the thing was impossible: the door of the block-house was fastened, and if Deerfoot should start, he would reach it, if he reached it at all, before the Colonel could draw the first bolt. Even if the Shawanoe youth should succeed in making the point, which was extremely doubtful, now that the Wyandots were fully awake, the inevitable few seconds' halt there must prove fatal.
The short conversation which he had overheard, convinced him of the sentiments of Waughtauk and his warriors toward him, and led the young Shawanoe to determine on an effort to extricate himself. It is the very daring of such a scheme which sometimes succeeds, and he put it in execution without delay.
Instead of crouching to the ground, as he had been doing, he now rose upright and moved down the bank, in the direction of the three Wyandots who first turned him back. They were in their old position, and he had gone only a few steps when one of them turned his head and saw theyouthful warrior approaching. He uttered a surprised "Hooh!" and the others looked around at the figure, as they might have done had it been an apparition.
The scheme of Deerfoot was to attempt the part of a friend of the Wyandots and consequently that of an enemy of the white race. He acted as if without thought of being anything else, and as though he never dreamed there was a suspicion of his loyalty.
At a leisurely gait he walked toward the three Indians, holding his head down somewhat, and glancing sideways through the scattered bushes at the top of the bank, as though afraid of a shot from the garrison.
"Have any of my brethren of the Wyandots been harmed by the dogs of the Yenghese?" asked Deerfoot in the high-flown language peculiar to his people.
"The eyes of Deerfoot must have been closed not to see Oo-oo-mat-ah lying on the ground before his eyes."
This was an allusion to the warrior who made the mistake of stopping Ned Preston when on his way to the block-house.
"Deerfoot saw Oo-oo-mat-ah fall, as falls the brave warrior fighting his foe; the eyes of Deerfoot were wet with tears, when his brave Wyandot brother fell."
Strictly speaking, a microscope would not have detected the first grain of truth in this grandiloquent declaration, which was accompanied by a gesture as though the audacious young Shawanoe was on the point of breaking into sobs again.
The apparent sincerity of Deerfoot's grief seemed to disarm the Wyandots for the moment, which was precisely what the young Shawanoe was seeking to do.
Having mastered his sorrow, he started down the river bank on the same slow gait, glancing sideways at the block-house as though he feared a shot from that point. But the Indians were not to be baffled in that fashion: their estimate of the daring Deerfoot was the same as Waughtauk's.
Without any further dissembling, one of the Wyandots, a lithe sinewy brave, fully six feet in height, bounded in front of the Shawanoe, and grasping his knife, said with flashing eyes—
"Deerfoot is a dog! he is a traitor; he is a serpent that has two tongues! he shall die!"
The others stood a few feet behind the couple and watched the singular encounter.
The Wyandot, with the threatening words in his mouth, leaped toward Deerfoot, striking a vicious blow with his knife. It was a thrust which would have ended the career of the youthful brave, had it reached its mark.
But Deerfoot dodged it easily, and, without attempting to return it, shot under the infuriated arm and sped down the river bank with all the wonderful speed at his command.
The slight disturbance had brought the other three Wyandots to the spot, and it would have been an easy thing to shoot the fugitive as he fled. But among the new arrivals were those who knew it was the wish of Waughtauk that Deerfoot should be taken prisoner, that he might be put to the death all traitors deserved.
Instead of firing their guns therefore, the whole six broke into a run, each exerting himself to the utmost to overtake the fleet-footed youth, who was no match for any one of them in a hand-to-hand conflict, or a trial of strength.
Deerfoot, by his sharp strategy, had thrown the whole party behind him and had gained two orthree yards' start: he felt that, if he could not hold this against the fleetest of the Wyandots, then he deserved to die the death of a dog.
The bushes, undergrowth and logs which obstructed his path, were as troublesome to his pursuers as to himself, and he bounded over them like a mountain chamois, leaping from crag to crag.
There can be no question that, if this contest had been decided by the relative swiftness of foot on the part of pursuer and pursued, the latter would have escaped without difficulty, but, as if the fates were against the brave Shawanoe, his matchless limbs were no more than fairly going, when two Wyandot warriors appeared directly in front in such a position that it was impossible to avoid them.
Deerfoot made a wrenching turn to the right, as if he meant to flank them, but he stumbled, nearly recovered himself—then fell with great violence, turning a complete somersault from his own momentum, and then rose to his feet, as the Indians in front and rear closed around him.
He uttered a suppressed exclamation of pain, limped a couple of steps, and then grasped a treeto sustain himself. He seemed to have sprained his ankle badly and could bear his weight only on one foot. No more disastrous termination of the flight could have followed.
The Wyandots gathered about the poor fugitive with many expressions of pleasure, for the pursuers had just been forced to believe the young brave was likely to escape them, and it was a delightful surprise when the two appeared in front and headed him off.
Besides, a man with a sprained ankle is the last one in the world to indulge in a foot-race, and they felt secure, therefore, in holding their prisoner.
"Dog! traitor! serpent with the forked tongue! base son of a brave chieftain! warrior with the white heart!"
These were a few of the expressions applied to the captive, who made no answer. In fact, he seemed to be occupied exclusively with his ankle, for, while they were berating him, he stooped over and rubbed it with both hands, flinging his long bow aside, as though it could be of no further use to him.
The epithets were enough to blister the skin ofthe ordinary American Indian, and there came a sudden flush to the dusky face of the youthful brave, when he heard himself called the base son of a brave chieftain. But he had learned to conquer himself, and he uttered not a word in response.
One of the Wyandots picked up the bow which the captive had thrown aside, and examined it with much curiosity. There was no attempt to disarm him of his knife and tomahawk, for had he not been disabled by the sprained ankle, he would have been looked upon as an insignificant prisoner, against whom it was cowardly to take any precautions. In fact, to remove his weapons that remained would have been giving dignity to one too contemptible to deserve the treatment of an ordinary captive.
The aborigines, like all barbarians and many civilized people, are cruel by nature. The Wyandots, who had secured Deerfoot, refrained from killing him for no other reason than that it would have been greater mercy than they were willing to show to one whom they held in such detestation.
As it was, two of them struck him and repeated the taunting names uttered when they firstlaid hands on him. Deerfoot still made no answer, though his dark eyes flashed with a dangerous light when he looked in the faces of the couple who inflicted the indignity.
He asked them quietly to help him along, but, with another taunt, the whole eight refused. The one who had smote him twice and who held his bow, placed his hand against the shoulder of the youth and gave him a violent shove. Deerfoot went several paces and then fell on his knees and hands with a gasp of pain severe enough to make him faint.
The others laughed, as he painfully labored to his feet. He then asked that he might have his bow to use as a cane; but even this was refused. Finding nothing in the way of assistance was to be obtained, his proud spirit closed his lips, and he limped forward, scarcely touching the great toe of the injured limb to the ground.
The brief flight and pursuit had led the parties so far down the Licking that they were out of sight of the block-house, quite a stretch of forest intervening; but it had also taken them nearer the headquarters, as they may be called, of Waughtauk, leader of the Wyandots besieging Fort Bridgman.
This sachem showed, in a lesser way, something of the military prowess of Pontiac, chief of the Chippewas, King Philip of Pokanoket, and Tecumseh, who belonged to the same tribe with Deerfoot.
Although his entire force numbered a little more than fifty, yet he had disposed them with such skill around the block-house that the most experienced of scouts failed to make his way through the lines.
Waughtauk was well convinced of the treachery of the Shawanoe, and there was no living man for whom he would have given a greater amount of wampum.
The eyes of the chieftain sparkled with pleasure when the youthful warrior came limping painfully toward him, escorted by the Wyandots, as though they feared that, despite his disabled condition, he might dart off with the speed of the wind.
Waughtauk rose from the fallen tree on which he had been seated among his warriors, and advanced a step or two to meet the party as it approached.
"Dog! base son of the noble chief Allomaug! youth with the red face and the white heart!serpent with the forked tongue! the Great Spirit has given it to Waughtauk that he should inflict on you the death that is fitting all such."
These were fierce words, but the absolute fury of manner which marked their utterance showed how burning was the hate of the Wyandot leader and his warriors. They knew that this youth had been honored and trusted as no one of his years had ever been honored and trusted by his tribe, and his treachery was therefore all the deeper, and deserving of the worst punishment that could be devised.
Deerfoot, standing on one foot, with his hand grasping a sapling at his side, looked calmly in the face of the infuriated leader, and in his low, musical voice, said—
"When Deerfoot was sick almost to death, his white brother took the place of the father and mother who went to the happy hunting grounds long ago; Deerfoot would have been a dog, had he not helped his white brother through the forest, when the bear and the panther and the Wyandot were in his path."
This defence, instead of soothing the chieftain, seemed to arouse all the ferocity of his nature.His face fairly shone with flame through his ochre and paint; and striding toward the prisoner, he raised his hand with such fierceness that the muscles of the arm rose in knots and the veins stood out in ridges on temple and forehead.
As he threw his fist aloft and was on the point of smiting Deerfoot to the earth, the latter straightened up with his native dignity, and, still grasping the sapling and still standing on one foot, looked him in the eye.
It was as if a great lion-tamer, hearing the stealthy approach of the wild beast, had suddenly turned and confronted him.
Waughtauk paused at the moment, his fist was in the air directly over the head of Deerfoot, glowering down upon him with an expression demoniac in its hate. He breathed hard and fast for a few seconds and then retreated without striking the impending blow.
But it must not be understood that it was the defiant look of the captive which checked the chief. It produced no such effect, nor was it intended to do so: it simply meant on the part of Deerfoot that he expected indignity and tortureand death, and he could bear them as unflinchingly as Waughtauk himself.
As for the chieftain, he reflected that a little counsel and consultation were needed to fix upon the best method of putting this tormentor out of the way. If Waughtauk should allow his own passion to master him, the anticipated enjoyment would be lost.
While Deerfoot, therefore, retained his grasp on the sapling, that he might be supported from falling, Waughtauk called about him his cabinet, as it may be termed, and began the consideration of the best means of punishing the traitor.
The captive could hear all the discussion, and, it need not be said, he listened with much more interest than he appeared to feel.
It would be revolting to detail the schemes advocated. If there is any one direction in which the human mind is marvelous in its ingenuity, it is in the single one of devising means of making other beings miserable. Some of the proposals of the Wyandots were worthy of Nana Sahib, of Bithoor, but they were rejected one after the other, as falling a little short of the requirements of the leader.
There was one fact which did not escape the watchful eye and ear of the prisoner. The Wyandot who struck him twice, and who had taken charge of his bow, as a trophy belonging specially to himself, was the foremost in proposing the most cruel schemes. The look which Deerfoot cast upon him said plainly—
"I would give the world for a chance to settle withyoubefore I suffer death!"
Suddenly a thought seemed to seize Waughtauk like an inspiration. Rising to his feet, he held up his hand for his warriors to listen:
"Deerfoot is a swift runner; he has overtaken the fleeing horse and leaped upon his back; he shall be placed in the Long Clearing; he shall be given a start, and the swiftest Wyandot warriors shall be placed in line on the edge of the Long Clearing; they shall start together, and the scalp of Deerfoot shall belong to him who first overtakes him."
This scheme, after all, was merciful when compared with many that were proposed; but the staking of a man's life on his fleetness, when entirely unable to run, is an idea worthy of an American Indian.
Jo Stinger had decided to venture out from the block-house, at a time when the Wyandots were on every side, and when many of them were within the stockade and close to the building itself It was a perilous act, but the veteran had what he deemed good grounds for undertaking it.
In the first place, the darkness had deepened to that extent, within the last few hours, that he believed he could move about without being suspected: he was confident indeed that he could stay out as long as he chose and return in safety.
He still felt chagrined over the audacity of the Wyandots, which came so near success, and longed to turn the tables upon them.
But Jo Stinger had too much sense to leave the garrison and run into great peril without the prospect of accomplishing some good thereby. He knew the Wyandots were completing preparations to burn the block-house. He believed it wouldbe attempted before morning, and, if not detected by him, would succeed. He had strong hope that, by venturing outside, he could learn the nature of the plan against which it would therefore be possible to make some preparation.
Colonel Preston was not without misgiving when he drew the ponderous bolts, but he gave no expression to his thoughts. All was blank darkness, but, when the door was drawn inward, he felt several cold specks on his hand, from which he knew it was snowing.
The flakes were very fine and few, but they were likely to increase before morning, by which time the ground might be covered.
"When shall I look for your return?" asked the Colonel, but, to his surprise, there was no answer. Jo had moved away, and was gone without exchanging another word with the commandant.
The latter refastened the door at once. He could not but regard the action of the most valuable man of his garrison as without excuse: at the same time he reflected that his own title could not have been more empty, for no one of the three men accepted his orders when they conflicted with his personal views.
In the meantime Jo Stinger, finding himself on the outside of the block-house, was in a situation where every sense needed to be on the alert, and none knew it better than he.
The door which Colonel Preston opened was the front one, being that which the scout passed through the previous night, and which opened on the clearing along the river. He was afraid that, if he emerged from the other entrance, he would step among the Wyandots and be recognized before he could take his bearings.
But Jo felt that he had entered on an enterprise in which the chances were against success, and in which he could accomplish nothing except by the greatest risk to himself. The listening Colonel fancied he heard the sound of his stealthy footstep, as the hunter moved from the door of the block-house. He listened a few minutes longer, but all was still except the soft sifting of the snow against the door, like the finest particles of sand and dust filtering through the tree-tops.
The Colonel passed to the narrow window at the side and looked out. It had become like the blackness of darkness, and several of the whirling snow-flakes struck his face.
"The Wyandots are concocting some mischief, and there's no telling what shape it will take until it comes. I don't believe Jo will do anything that will help us."
And with a sigh the speaker climbed the ladder again and told his friends how rash the pioneer had been.
"I wouldn't have allowed him to go," said Ned Preston.
"There's no stopping him when he has made up his mind to do anything."
"Why didn't you took him by de collar," asked Blossom Brown, "and slam him down on de floor? Dat's what I'd done, and, if he'd said anyting, den I'd took him by de heels and banged his head agin de door till he'd be glad to sot down and behave himself."
"Jo is a skilled frontiersman," said the Colonel, who felt that it was time he rallied to the defence of the scout; "he has tramped hundreds of miles with Simon Kenton and Daniel Boone, and, if his gun hadn't flashed fire one dark night last winter, he would have ended the career of Simon Girty."
"How was that?"
"Simon Girty and Kenton served together as spies in Dunmore's expedition in 1774, and up to that time Girty was a good soldier, who risked much for his country. He was badly used by General Lewis, and became the greatest scourge we have had on the frontier. I don't suppose he ever has such an emotion as pity in his breast, and there is no cruelty that he wouldn't be glad to inflict on the whites. He and Jo know and hate each other worse than poison. Last winter, Jo crept into one of the Shawanoe towns one dark night, and when only a hundred feet away, aimed straight at Girty, who sat on a log, smoking his pipe, and talking to several warriors. Jo was so angered when his gun flashed in the pan, that he threw it upon the ground and barely saved himself by dashing out of the camp at the top of his speed. Jo has been in a great many perilous situations," added Colonel Preston, "and he can tell of many a thrilling encounter in the depths of the silent forest and on the banks of the lonely streams, where no other human eyes saw him and his foe."
"No doubt of all that," replied Ned, who knew that he was speaking the sentiments of his uncle,"but it seems to me he is running a great deal more risk than he ought to."
"I agree with you, but we have been greatly favored so far, and we will continue to hope for the best."
The long spell of quiet which had followed the attempt to fire the block-house, permitted the children to sleep, and their mother, upon the urgency of her husband, had lain down beside them and was sinking into a refreshing slumber.
Megill and Turner kept their places at the loopholes, watching for the signs of danger with as vigilant interest as though it was the first hour of the alarm. They were inclined to commend the course of Jo Stinger, despite the great peril involved.
The Wyandots, beyond question, were perfecting some scheme of attack, which most likely could be foiled only by previous knowledge on the part of the garrison. The profound darkness and the skill of the hunter would enable him to do all that could be done by any one, under the circumstances.
There came seconds, and sometimes minutes, when no one spoke, and the silence within theblock-house was so profound that the faint sifting of the snow on the roof was heard. Then an eddy of wind would whirl some of the sand-like particles through the loopholes into the eyes and faces of those who were peering out. Men and boys gathered their blankets closer about their shoulders, and set their muskets down beside them, where they could be caught up the instant needed, while they carefully warmed their benumbed fingers by rubbing and striking the palms together.
All senses were concentrated in the one of listening, for no other faculty was of avail at such a time. Nerves were strung to the highest point, because there was not one who did not feel certain they were on the eve of events which were to decide the fate of the little company huddled together in Fort Bridgman.
This stillness was at its profoundest depth, the soft rustling of the snowflakes seemed to have ceased, and not a whisper was on the lips of one of the garrison, when there suddenly rang out on the night a shriek like that of some strong man caught in the crush of death. It was so piercing that it seemed almost to sound from the center ofthe room, and certainly must have been very close to the block-house itself.
"That was the voice of Jo!" said Colonel Preston, in a terrified undertone, after a minute's silence; "he has met his fate."
"You are mistaken," Megill hastened to say; "I have been with Jo too often, and I know his voice too well to be deceived."
"It sounded marvelously like his."
"It did not to me, though it may have been so to you."
"If it was not Jo, then it must have been one of the Wyandots."
"That follows, as a matter of course; in spite of all of Jo's care, he has run against one of their men, or one of them has run against him. The only way to settle it then was in the hurricane order, and Jo has done it that promptly that the other has just had time to work in a first-class yell like that."
"I'm greatly relieved to hear you take such a view," said Colonel Preston, who, like the rest, was most agreeably disappointed to hear Megill speak so confidently, his brother-in-law adding his testimony to the same effect.
"Directly after that shriek," said Turner, "I'm sure there was the tramping of feet, as if some one was running very fast: it passed under the stockade and out toward the well."
"I heard the footsteps too," added Ned Preston.
"So did I," chimed in Blossom Brown, feeling it his duty to say something to help the others along; "but I'm suah dat de footsteps dat I heerd war on de roof. Some onrespectful Wyamdot hab crawled up dar, and I bet am lookin' down de chimbley dis minute."
"It seems to me," observed Ned to his uncle, "that Jo will want to come back pretty soon."
"I think so too," replied his uncle, "I will go down-stairs and wait for him."
With these words he descended the rounds of the ladder and moved softly across the lower floor to the door, where he paused, with his hands on one of the heavy bars which held the structure in place.
While crossing the room he looked toward the fire-place. Among the ashes he caught the sullen red of a single point of fire, like the glowering eye of some ogre, watching him in the darkness.
Beside the huge latch, there were three ponderous pieces of timber which spanned the inner side of the door, the ends dropping into massive sockets strong enough to hold the puncheon slabs against prodigious pressure from the outside.
Colonel Preston carefully lifted the upper one out of place and then did the same with the lowest. Then he placed his hand on the middle bar and held his ear close to the jamb, so that he might catch the first signal from the scout, whose return was due every minute.
The listening ear caught the silken sifting of the particles of snow, which insinuated themselves into and through the smallest crevices, and a slight shiver passed through the frame of the pioneer, who had thrown his blanket off his shoulders so that he might have his arms free to use the instant it should become necessary.
Colonel Preston had stood thus only a few minutes, when he fancied he heard some one on the outside. The noise was very slight and much as if a dog was scratching with his paw. Knowing that wood is a better conductor of sound than air, he pressed his ear against the door.
To his astonishment he then heard nothingexcept the snowflakes, which sounded like the tapping of multitudinous fairies, as they romped back and forth and up and down the door.
"That's strange," thought he, after listening a few minutes; "there's something unusual out there, and I don't know whether it is Jo or not. I'm afraid the poor fellow has been hurt and is afraid to make himself known."
The words were yet in his mouth, when he caught a faint tapping outside, as if made by the bill of a bird.
"That's Jo!" he exclaimed, immediately raising the end of the middle bar from its socket; "he must be hurt, or he is afraid to signal me, lest he be recognized."
At the moment the fastenings were removed, and Colonel Preston was about drawing the door inward, he stayed his hand, prompted so to do by the faintest suspicion that something was amiss.
"Jo! is that you?" he asked in a whisper.
"Sh! Sh!"
He caught the warning, almost inaudible as it was, and instantly drew the door inward six or eight inches.
"Quick, Jo! the way is open!"
Even then a vague suspicion that all was not right led Colonel Preston to step back a single step, and, though he had no weapons, he clenched his fist and braced himself for an assault which he did not expect.
The darkness was too complete for him to see anything, while the faint ember, smouldering in the fire-place, threw no reflection on the figure of the pioneer, so as to reveal his precise position.
It was a providential instinct that led Colonel Preston to take this precaution, for as he recoiled some one struck a venomous blow at him with a knife, under the supposition that he was standing on the same spot where he stood at the moment the door was opened. Had he been there, he would have been killed with the suddenness almost of the lightning stroke.
The pioneer could not see, and he heard nothing except a sudden expiration of the breath, which accompanied the fierce blow into vacancy, but he knew like a flash that, instead of Jo, it was a Wyandot Indian who was in the act of making a rush to open the way for the other warriors behind him.
The right fist shot forward, with all the powerColonel Preston could throw into it. He was an athlete and a good boxer. As he struck, he hurled his body with the fist, so that all the momentum possible went with it. Fortunately for the pioneer the blow landed on the forehead of the unprepared warrior, throwing him violently backward against his comrades, who were in the act of rushing forward to follow in his wake.
But for them he would have been flung prostrate full a dozen feet distant.
The instant the blow was delivered, Colonel Preston sprang back, shoved the door to and caught up the middle bar. At such crises it seems as if fate throws every obstruction in the way, and his agony was indescribable, while desperately trying to get the bar in place.
Only a few seconds were occupied in doing so, but those seconds were frightful ones to him. He was sure the entire war party would swarm into the block-house, before he could shut them out.
The Indians, who were forced backward by the impetus of the smitten leader, understood the need of haste. They knew that, unless they recovered their ground immediately, their golden opportunity was gone.
Suppressing all outcry, for they had no wish to draw the fire from the loopholes above, they precipitated themselves against the door, as though each one was the carved head of a catapult, equal to the task of bursting through any obstacle in its path.
Thank Heaven! In the very nick of time Colonel Preston got the middle bar into its socket. This held the door so securely that the other two were added without trouble, and he then breathed freely.
Drops of cold perspiration stood on his forehead, and he felt so faint that he groped about for a stool, on which he dropped until he could recover.
In the meantime Jo Stinger, the veteran frontiersman, had not found the "plain sailing" which he anticipated.
It will be remembered that he passed out upon the clearing in front of the block-house, because he feared that, if he entered the yard inclosed by the stockade, he would find himself among the Wyandots, who would be quick to detect his identity.
His presence immediately in front of the structure would also draw attention to himself, and he therefore glided away until he was fully a hundred feet distant, when he paused close to the western pickets.
Looking behind him, he could not see the outlines of the building which he had just left. For the sake of safety Colonel Preston allowed no light burning within the block-house, which itself was like a solid bank of darkness.
"It would be easy enough now for me to make my way to Wild Oaks," reflected Stinger; "for, when the night is like this, three hundred Indians could not surround the old place close enough to catch any one crawling through. But it is no use for me to strike out for the Ohio now, for the boys could not get here soon enough to affect the result one way or the other. Long before that the varmints will wind up this bus'ness, either by going away, or by cleaning out the whole concern."
Jo Stinger unquestionably was right in this conclusion, but he possessed a strong faith that Colonel Preston and the rest of them in the block-house would be able to pull through, if they displayed the vigilance and care which it was easy to display: this faith explains how it was the frontiersman had ventured upon what was, beyond all doubt, a most perilous enterprise.
Jo, from some cause or other which he could not explain, suspected the Wyandots were collecting near the well, and he began working his way in that direction.
It was unnecessary to scale the stockade, and he therefore moved along the western side, until he reached the angle, when he turned to the rightand felt his way parallel with the northern line of pickets.
Up to this time he had not caught sight or sound to show that an Indian was within a mile of him. The fine particles of snow made themselves manifest only by the icy, needle-like points which touched his face and hands, as he groped along. He carried his faithful rifle in his left hand, and his right rested on the haft of his long hunting-knife at his waist. His head was thrust forward, while he peered to the right and left, advancing with as much care as if he were entering a hostile camp on a moonlight night, when the overturning of a leaf is enough to awaken a score of sleeping red men.
A moment after passing the corner of the stockade something touched his elbow. He knew on the instant that it was one of the Wyandots. In the darkness they had come thus close without either suspecting the presence of the other.
"Hooh! my brother is like Deerfoot, the dog of a Shawanoe."
This was uttered in the Wyandot tongue, and the scout understood the words, but he did not dare reply. He could not speak well enough todeceive the warrior, who evidently supposed he was one of his own people.
But there was the single exclamation which he could imitate to perfection, and he did so as he drew his knife.
"Hooh!" he responded, moving on without the slightest halt. The response seemed satisfactory to the Wyandot, but could Jo have seen the actions of the Indian immediately after, he would have felt anything but secure on that point.
The brave stood a minute or so, looking in the direction taken by the other, and then, as if suspicious that all was not what it seemed, he followed after the figure which had vanished so quickly.
"I would give a good deal if I but knowed what he meant by speaking of Deerfoot as he did," said Jo to himself, "but I didn't dare ask him to give the partic'lars. I make no doubt they've catched the Shawanoe and scalped him long ago."
Remembering the openings which he had seen in the stockade before the darkness became so intense, Jo reached out his right hand and run it along the pickets, so as not to miss them.
He had gone only a little way, when his touch revealed the spot where a couple had been removed, and there was room for him to force his body through.
Jo was of a spare figure, and, with little difficulty, he entered the space inclosed by the stockade. He now knew his surroundings and bearings, as well as though it were high noon, and began making his way with great stealth in the direction of the well standing near the middle of the yard.
While he was doing this, the Wyandot with whom he had exchanged salutations was stealing after him: it was the old case of the hunter going to hunt the tiger, and soon finding the tiger was hunting him.
The task of the Wyandot, however, for the time, was a more delicate one than was the white man's, for the dusky pursuer had lost sight of his foe (if indeed it can be said he had ever caught a view of him), instantly after the brief salutation between them.
The warrior, when he reached the first opening in the stockade, had no means of knowing that the pale-face had passed through. Had therebeen any daylight to aid his vision, he could have learned the truth at once; but if there had been daylight, there could have been no such necessity, inasmuch as Jo Stinger would have stayed in the block-house.
The fact that he could not trace the daring scout with any certainty, did not deprive the Wyandot of the ability to do something for himself and companions.
When Jo Stinger passed within the stockade, he fixed the direction in which lay the well, and then began advancing toward it. The result of this venture proved again, how often the most careful preparation is defeated by some simple obstruction against which a child ought to have guarded.
"I must be pretty near the spot," thought Jo, when he had groped vaguely for some distance; "I can't imagine what the varmints can be doin' here, but they've got some plan on foot which I'm bound——"
At this instant, with a shock which made his hair fairly rise on end, he stepped directly into the well and went down!
The rickety inclosure of slabs, with the crankand windlass, had been removed by the Wyandots, so that in case any of the garrison ventured out, under cover of darkness, to get water, they would be unable to do so.
The theft of the curb, bucket, and appliances, shut off the supply from that source as utterly as though it had never existed. And yet, not a single member of the garrison, knowing as they did that the Wyandots were carrying out some design, suspected what their real purpose was.
Providence alone saved Jo Stinger from an ignominious end, for had he gone to the bottom of the well, the Indians could not have failed to discover it, and they would have carried out their own will concerning him.
But the life of peril which Jo had led so many years, greatly developed a certain readiness and presence of mind natural to him; but it was probably the instinctive desire to catch himself, which led him on the instant to place the gun in his left hand in a horizontal position. The diameter of the well was much less than the length of the old-fashioned flint-lock rifle; and thus it came about that muzzle and stock caught firmly, and Jo was suspended in the middle of the opening byone hand. Hastily shoving his knife back in his girdle, he seized the barrel with both hands and easily drew himself from his dangerous position. Then he took out his knife again and indulged in an expression of opinion concerning his performances of the last twenty-four hours.
This opinion it is not necessary to place on record: the reader need not be told that it was the reverse of complimentary, and that it would have hardly been safe for any one else to repeat the same vigorous comments in the presence of Jo himself.
He was not without gratitude for his delivery from the consequences of his own carelessness, but he was exasperated beyond expression by the stupidity which had seemed to brood over the counsels of the garrison from the first and to direct everything done.
While a prey to this gnawing chagrin, he suddenly became aware that one of the Wyandots was at his elbow again.
"My brother treads like the shadows of the clouds which sweep over the forest: there is no sound, and he glides——"
"This is his style of gliding," interrupted JoStinger, who was in a most dangerous mood, as he bounded like a panther toward him.
The grapple was short and terrific: there was one wild piercing shriek from the dusky foeman, and then it was all over. Jo hurried from the spot, for he knew others would be there in a few seconds, and they would be quick to detect or at least to surmise the truth.
He hastened back over the path by which he had approached the well, passing through the same opening that had admitted him. Then, with a view of avoiding any one who might be using the same route, he moved a rod or two away from the stockade, turning the corner nearly as before and starting on his return to the block-house.
Jo's belief was that he could accomplish nothing more by staying outside the building. He had learned that about the well which he ought to have known long before, and the Wyandots had already ascertained that one of the garrison, or possibly some friend from another point, was on the outside. They would take precaution against his entering the block-house, and doubtless would exert themselves to detect and slay him.
He felt therefore that it would not do to delay his return. He did not do so, and yet, quick as he was, he made the discovery after all that he was just too late. Approaching the door of the building with extreme caution, it did not take him long to learn that the Wyandots were there before him.
He withdrew with the same care, and continued stealing some distance further in a southern direction, finally halting close to the cabin from which the Wyandots had issued when they interfered with the flight of Blossom Brown and Ned Preston across the clearing.
Jo felt the situation was becoming serious. He had not thought of anything like this, and he had made no arrangement for a system of signals to meet the difficulty. Colonel Preston would detect his low, tremulous whistle, by which the scout was accustomed to make known his presence on the outside and his desire to enter; but there was no means of apprising the Colonel of the alarming fact that a number of Indians were waiting in the darkness to take his place.
Had Jo thought of all this beforehand, therewould have been no such startling occurrence at the door, as has been described.
He did not believe it probable the Wyandots would emit any signals which would deceive Colonel Preston into the belief that it was a friend and not an enemy who was asking admission into the station.
While the pioneer stood aloof in the darkness, debating and asking himself what was best to do, his keen vision was able to mark the shape of something which puzzled him only for the moment. It was a parallelogram of a faint yellow glow only a short distance in front of him.
"That comes from a light in the cabin, where them varmints have been loafing ever since the rumpus yesterday morning."
Jo was right in this supposition: he had approached the dwelling, wherein were several Wyandots who had a fire burning on the hearth. The yellow reflection showing through one of the side-windows led Jo to detect its meaning with scarce a moment's hesitation.
As yet he had succeeded in learning nothing of importance, for no one would attempt to draw anywater from the well during the night, and if the block-house should remain on its foundations until morning, every one of the garrison could see for himself that the supply was no longer available.
What secret might not the old cabin give up to him? Was it not there that he should seek the key to the problem which had baffled him thus far?
These and similar questions Jo Stinger put to himself, as he advanced toward the structure wherein he was certain to find more than one Wyandot.
As his approach was from the side instead of the front, as it may be called (by which is meant that part of the cabin which faced the block-house itself), the red men within had taken no precautions against observation from that direction.
While Jo was yet ten feet from the window, he gained a view of the interior that showed everything in the room, with whose contour he was familiar. The sight which met his gaze was a most interesting one indeed.
There were three Indians seated, cross-legged like Turks, on the floor, smoking their pipes,while they talked earnestly together. One of these, from his dress and manner, Jo knew was the chief or leader of the war party. It was, in fact, Waughtauk who was holding a consultation with his two lieutenants, if they may be termed such, on the "conduct of the war."
Jo Stinger had no doubt that such was their occupation, and he was certain that, if he could overhear their words, he was likely to gather the very information he was seeking.
As we have already intimated, he understood the Wyandot tongue, and he was eager to catch the expressions, especially those which fell from the lips of the chief himself.
"The pale-faces will come from the Ohio," were the first words which Stinger was able to hear, and they were uttered by Waughtauk himself; "if we wait until to-morrow, they will be here before nightfall."
This implied rather rapid traveling on the part of the party of rescue from Wild Oaks, and it was more than likely that the chief, with a view of adding force to his remarks, exaggerated matters to a certain extent.
"One of the Yenghese is abroad to-night," saidthe warrior next the chief. As he spoke, he took his pipe from his mouth and used it in gesticulating; "he has slain one of our braves."
"He shall die for his offence, as all the Yenghese shall die," replied the chieftain, in a voice so loud that the listener could have caught his meaning had he been a rod further away. "None of them shall see the sun rise again. They shall be burned in the block-house, which has encumbered our hunting-grounds too long."
This threat was only what might have been expected, but Waughtauk the next minute imparted the very tidings which Jo Stinger sought, and for the sake of which he had risked so much.
"The wind blows strong; the Great Spirit will soon fan the fire into a blaze, and will carry it from this cabin to the block-house."
There it was!
The whole scheme was laid bare to the scout in the last sentence spoken by the Wyandot chieftain. The wind was setting in strongly from the south, that is, from the building in which the three warriors gathered, directly toward the block-house.
Should the former be fired, the probability was the gale would carry the sparks to the other andset that in a blaze, in which event there would be scarcely an earthly hope left for a single one of the inmates.