"Onward they poured, shouting like madmen."
Peterson saw the critical moment had arrived, and catching Marian by the waist, he sprang upon the gunwale, intending to leap over. But that instant a volley was poured into the boat, and a bullet struck her. The ranger felt her become a dead weight, at the same moment that a stream of hot blood poured over his hand. He bent his head down, and peered into her face. The dark, blue eyes were slowly shutting, and her head dropped heavily.
"I am dying, Jim," she murmured. "God bless you for your effort. Give my last love to Russel, mother, and father—good-by!"
"Heaven bless you!" said the ranger, laying her gently upon the deck, in spite of the wild scene that had commenced. "You've escaped that McGable, anyhow."
Peterson again sprang to the gunwale, and, with an almost superhuman leap, bounded outward in the darkness and disappeared.
Oneday in spring, a border ranger was making his way through the cane-brakes of Kentucky, in what is now called Lewis county.
All through the frontier wars, such men were employed by the generals and leaders of the different forces, and they formed no insignificant part of their power. Of the American scouts is this especially true. A more daring, reckless, and effective set of men the world has never known. Scores of names have come down to us, whose record is but one long, brilliant array of thrilling acts, any one of which would have sufficed for the lifetime of an ordinary individual.
For a period of nearly half a century, the valleys of the Ohio, Sciota, Miami, Mad, and numerous other rivers, were constantly ranged by these characters, who generally went alone, but sometimes in couples, and very rarely in larger companies. Theirwhole duty was to spy the hostile Indian tribes. The warlike, revengeful Shawnees, a mighty and powerful nation in themselves, had so stirred up the other tribes, that nothing but eternal watchfulness could guard the settlers from the knife and tomahawk. Many long years was the government compelled to keep an independent force to protect the frontier. The disastrous results of many of these campaigns but prolonged the painful war; and the final success of our arms is much more due to the prowess of these border rangers, than we are apt to imagine. Every artifice was adopted by them to secure the necessary information. Should the tribes collect in unusual numbers in any village, there was sure to be a pair of keen eyes watching every movement from some hiding-place. Their deadliest enemies ventured in disguise among the Indians, dogged their trail for days, or lay concealed in such proximity that only at night did they dare to creep forth. All perils were undergone by these hardy men.
Such a character we have now to deal with.
Had we been in close proximity to him, we might have heard a slight rustling now and then, and perhaps the breaking of a small twig. The scout was proceeding with caution, but it was evident that it was more from habit than from any suspicion ofdanger. Were there savages in the vicinity, not the slightest noise would have betrayed his presence to the most watchful one.
A moment after, the bushes parted, and the ranger, in a half-crouching position, emerged into the open wood. Here he straightened himself up, and disclosed a frame wondrously like that of Peterson. Tall, sinewy, graceful, and thin almost to emaciation, with a sharp-featured face, half-covered by a thin, straggling beard, and small twinkling eyes of such glittering blackness that they fairly scintillated fire in excitement—these were the noticeable characteristics of the man.
After coming into the open wood, he stood a moment, as if listening, and then strode rapidly forward, trailing a long nitid rifle as he did so. Reaching the edge of the river, he suddenly halted and darted behind a tree. His quick eye had discovered "sign." From this point he peered cautiously out, and then instantly jerked his head back again. This movement was repeated several times, until, at last he held his head in a stationary position. After gazing a few minutes, he muttered:
"Yes, it's a flat-boat aground, sure as my name's Dick Dingle. Things look s'pishus the way it's sticking in the mud thar. Some of the blasted Shawnees' work, I'll swar; and I'll bet my head thatthat ar' Tom McGable's been at the bottom of the whole. Ef I could only meet that dog in a fair stand-up fight, I wouldn't ax no other boon. I'd go home, fold my arms, and with a smile upon my brow, lay down and softly go under. Jest keep docile now, Dick Dingle, and look around afore you gets nigher that concern out thar'. Like as not it's a hornet's nest full of reds."
For over two hours Dingle reconnoitered the flat-boat, and all the time kept himself carefully concealed from it. He glided around in the wood, viewing it from every imaginable position that could be reached from the shore. At last he seemed satisfied.
"Whosomever is in that flat-boat ain'tlivin', that's sartin; and whosomever is watching it from shore ain't nigh enough to hurt you, Dingle, so hyer goes."
"Whosomever is on that flat-boat ain't living, that's sartin."
With this, he stepped softly into the water, and waded out toward the flat-boat. After reaching it, he again paused a moment, glanced toward the shore, and then placing his hand upon the gunwale, bounded over into the boat. The ranger, probably the first time in his experience, instead of alighting firmly upon his feet, slipped and immediately fell flat upon his side; but he instantly sprang up again, and then saw the cause of his mishap. He had alighted directly in a pool of dark,thick, sticky blood! The sight that met his eye was enough to freeze with horror, for a moment, even him who was used to meeting death in every repulsive shape! The deck was slippery with blood, and from the cabin came the sickening smell of death. Blood and brains were scattered around, against, and upon everything, but not a corpse was visible!
"They've tomahawked 'em all, and pitched 'em overboard. Ef that ain't enough to make a minister or even a scout swear, then my name ain't Dick Dingle, that's all. That ar' McGable's been hyer, sure; 'cause wharhe'sbeen nobody lives, and I ca'c'late nobody of them poor whites has lived in these parts. Wal, wal, it's bad business. I like scouting it when the killin' is all on our side; but it ain't, by a heap. Ef it wan't, why we wouldn't need to scout; but that ar' McGable is bound to squar' accounts with me yit for this night's business."
The ranger remained a short time longer, examining the flat-boat, which, as the reader has probably supposed, was the one whose sad fate was recorded in the preceding chapter. He was satisfied that not a soul had survived the frightful massacre, and after a few minutes' further delay, he again dropped into the water, and made his way to land.He stepped cautiously ashore, and, as was his invariable custom, commenced talking to himself.
"Old Mad Anthony sent me down in these parts to find out what the reds ar' drivin at, and reckon as how I've found—hello, Dingle, what are ye about?"
With the last question, uttered in a hurried whisper, the ranger disappeared like a shadow. Had any one been beside him, he would have been at a loss to understand the cause of the sudden movement, for not the least noise was audible, nor the slightest movement visible. But the truth was the scout, all at once, became aware that some person beside himself was in the wood. The instant of discovery he dropped upon his hands and knees, and glided swiftly and noiselessly away, and commenced reconnoitring the stranger to ascertain his identity and intentions.
Now, it so happened that the latter was in precisely the same situation, and it was a singular coincidence that both should make the discovery of the other's presence, and commence seeking to know him at the same moment.
But thus it was, and the stratagems, maneuvers, and artifices resorted to by each to accomplish his ends, were extraordinary. For nearly two hours they dodged and feinted, glided and retreated, without coming any nearer success, and finally made the discovery by accident. Dingle came to the conclusion that whoever his rival was, he was certainly a genuine woodsman, and, if an Indian, one who was well worthy of coping with him. But the consummate tact and skill displayed, led him to suspect the other was a white man, and for this reason he became more careless in his movements. The consequence was that, after he had flitted from one tree to another, he began to doubt whether he had accomplished the movement successfully; and, while thus doubting, he heard his name called.
"Shoot me, if that ain't you, Dick Dingle! Why don't you come out and shake paws with an old friend?"
And the next minute Jim Peterson stepped boldly forth.
"Wal, Jim, I might've knowed that was your ugly picter. Whar'd you come from?"
The two grasped hands, and gave, what Edward Everett terms, the genuinetourniquetshake. They had been brother rangers through Gen. St. Clair's war, and had ever been together, encountering all imaginable dangers, and were the joint heroes of the most wonderful escapes. And when we say that neither had seen the face of the other for over six years, it may well be supposed that their meetingwas of the most pleasant kind. As they stood, grasping hands, and smilingly exchanging jocose remarks in their characteristic way, the resemblance between them was most remarkable. In fact, they had often, when in service, been taken for brothers, and their identity was often confounded. The Shawnees, who knew them rather more than they cared about, termed them the "Double Long-Knives." Both were tall, graceful, and sinewy, as straight as arrows, and with faces sparsely bearded, and, to increase the perplexity of separating them, they dressed precisely alike. But Dingle had small, black eyes, and a sharp Roman nose, while Peterson had eyes of a light gray color, and a nose a perfect Grecian in cast.
"Come, Dick, what are you doin' in these parts?" asked Peterson.
"I'm out fur Mad Anthony, as you might know, and have been taking a look at the flat-boat there. Ah! bad business! bad business, Jim!"
"Yas, if you'd have only seed it, Dick, you might say so."
"Do you know anything 'bout it? Who the poor wretches was?—when 'twas done?—how they came to do it?—andwhodone it?" asked Dingle, excitedly.
"I war on that boat, and the only one who saved his hair."
"The only one, Jim?"
"The only one; and when I got clean off, I jist clapped my hand on my head to see ef my hair was thar still, fur I had strong doubts of it. I was the only one! I took a long jump and a dive fur it."
"How was it, when you was on, that they come in for one of the all-fired decoys?"
"I couldn't hender them;" and Peterson proceeded to give, in a few words, what is already known to the reader.
"Let me ax you one thing," said Dingle, when he had finished. "Do you know whether that renegade McGable had anything to do with this business?"
"He was the decoy himself; but a feller come on board up at the Kanawha who got the poor fools to run into shore."
"Was he a short, squashy-looking imp?"
"He war exactly so."
"Then 'twas Pete Gammock. I know him. He and McGable have hung together fur three—four years that way. That's his plan; he's tried the same trick afore. He goes on the flat-boats, at some place up that way, and purtends he's one of usgoing down the river to the 'Three Islands', Marysville, or some of the forts. After he gits on, he fixes so as to pull the wool over thar eyes, and when McGable bawls out fur 'em to come ashore, he persuades 'em to do it."
"He'll never do it agin, fur I settled the business with him soon as he owned up he'd come the gammon game. I feel sorry, Dick, mighty sorry fur them poor whites that was sarved that mean trick; but thar was one among 'em that went under, and I ain't ashamed to own it makes me feel watery to think on it. I left her dyin' on board just as I jumped over and the imps clambered up."
Peterson drew the sleeve of his hunting-shirt across his eyes, and Dingle, with respect to his feelings, remained silent a moment, when he returned: "P'r'aps she ain't gone under, Jim; maybe the reds have gone off with her."
"No they haven't; she's out in the river yender somewhar. The reds tomahawked every one. I kinder had a faint hope she might be among 'em, and I've been follerin' them to find out. I seed all the Injuns, and that infarnal McGable among 'em. They had plenty of hair hangin' to their girdles, but they hadn't a captive among 'em. That ar' McGable tried to get Marian Abbot, and because she wouldn't have him, he has done this. I b'lieve he fired thegun that killed her, when I had her in my arm just goin' to jump overboard to take a swim for it. And, Dick, I swear that I'll never rest till that renegade McGable pays for this."
"I jine you in that!" said Dingle, taking his hand. "We'll hunt him together. He's murdered enough of his own blood, and we'll stop itright off."
"I've got to go and tell the old folks of it, and young Mansfield. I know it'll break their hearts, and I'd rather be shot and burnt than do it; but it's got to be done, and I must do it."
"Are you goin' now?"
"Yas, right away. As soon as I see 'em, I'll be back agin. I'll wait fur you down at the fort below."
"And what then, Jim?"
"We'll start off on that hunt," said Peterson, in a low tone, and with this, the two rangers separated, and took different directions in the forest.
Thereis a scene that we must not dwell upon. There are some that awaken emotions which no pen can describe, no imagination conceive. When Peterson, the ranger, communicated the dreadful intelligence of the fate of Marian to her parents, the shock was terrible. The mother swooned away, and for nearly a week remained more in death than life. The father received the shock like the oak when riven by the thunderbolt—firm and unbending, but still shattered to the very heart. He groaned in spirit, but, for the sake of his wife, bore up with superhuman calmness. But it well-nigh killed him; and his wife, when she was pulled from the grasp of death, felt that she could never, never recover from it. Her heart was broken.
Russel Mansfield bore the affliction like a man. He held up in the presence of others; but there were moments when alone in which he gave way to hisgreat woe. We have no desire to dwell upon this painful scene, but hasten forward.
The resolution of Abbot to emigrate still farther to the west, instead of being weakened by this sad calamity, was strengthened into a determination. Why it was, he would almost have been at a loss to tell. We all know that when death, for the first time, strikes down some one near and dear to us, it is difficult to believe that such is the case; it is a long time before we can bring ourselves to realize it. There is a singular, lingering doubt, the faint shadow of a hope that, after all, it is not death, and that through the subtle power of medicine the lost one will still return to us. And even, after burial, for a long time, there will be moments when we give way to the same extraordinary hope and find ourselves indulging in dreams of fancy in which the lost one is again found.
Those who have had a similar experience to this, will appreciate the feeling that led Abbot and his stricken wife to emigrate to the scene which was so full of horror to them. The same motive strengthened the determination of Mansfield, although his parents now refused to accompany the party. Several of the other families also refused, so that the company bid fair to be alarmingly small. Peterson had whispered to Mansfield the intentionof Dingle and himself of seeking out the renegade McGable and revenging themselves upon him, and he was anxious to either join them or be so situated that he could receive the earliest intelligence of their success.
Accordingly, one morning in September, another flat-boat floated away from the village referred to at the commencement of this work, and carrying with it four families only, together with young Mansfield. The weather continued fine all the way, and they experienced no difficulty in reaching their destination. Just before they reached the Sciota, a desperate attempt was made to get them ashore. Mansfield, shrewdly suspecting that it was McGable himself who acted the part of a decoy, raised his rifle with the intention of shooting him; but the wily demon was too quick for him. He suspected something, and secreted himself before Mansfield could secure his aim. The latter, however, fired, and came so uncomfortably close, that the decoy ceased his entreaties, and, by way of a return for the compliment, a whole volley was fired at the flat-boat by the concealed savages. Some of the bullets struck the boat and the others whistled overhead, but they did no further damage.
The settlement, which was the destination of our friends, was a few miles further down the river,and they came in sight of it about the middle of the afternoon. As Peterson had given the settlers notice of their coming, they were expected and joyfully welcomed. The flat-boat was swept into shore and fastened, and, with the aid of the willing settlers, its contents removed in an incredibly short space of time. The boat itself was then hauled as far up the bank as possible, and taken carefully apart, and its timbers preserved for building purposes.
As this village is to be the location of many of the succeeding incidents of our story, we will here briefly describe it, and then hasten forward to the incidents that follow.
The settlement consisted of about twenty cabins, and numbered a hundred inhabitants. A small block-house was erected near the lower end of the village for immediate refuge in case of sudden attack; but the governor of the territory had ordered a large one to be erected and continually manned by men well-skilled in border warfare. This block-house was erected in advance of the settlement itself, so as to better guard the approach of an enemy. It stood in a broad clearing, protected on the one hand by a marshy swamp, and the other by the Ohio river. The block-house consisted of two stories. The lower one was about thirty feet square, and the upper thirty-three, so that it projected overthe lower, giving those within an opportunity of defending the door and windows, in case a determined attack was made. A well had been sunk in one corner, so that if besieged they could not be brought to terms by thirst. The roof was so steeply-shelving as to prevent any burning missiles from remaining upon it, and the planks themselves were so smooth-shaven that the most agile savage could not maintain a position upon it for an instant. The sides were built of solid green logs of some eighteen or twenty inches in diameter, dove-tailed at the ends in the usual manner, and the interstices filled in with mortar. The doors and windows and shutters were bars of ponderous puncheons, secured by massive bars of wood on the inside. The upper part of the house was pierced with numerous loop-holes, through which a large force could keep up a constant fire upon their assailants.
The block-house was surrounded by a substantial wall of palisades. These were made by cutting trees of a foot in diameter into pieces fifteen feet in length. These pieces were then quartered, hewed off sharply at one end, and driven four feet into the solid ground, leaving eleven feet above. The palisades were kept firmly in their places by means of stout braces and wall-pieces upon the inside; and, as they were set with their smooth side outward, andclose together, no force could scale them without the aid of ladders.
A flagstaff stood a few feet from the block-house, and the stars and stripes ever waved from the summit. At the second story was a projection, facing the forest, upon which the sentinel passed most of his time while on duty, and which supported a swivel, so hung that it could be brought to bear upon almost any point from which danger was to be apprehended.
This fort was quite a celebrated one, and being manned by the governor with an active force, was much resorted to by the scouts and rangers along the frontiers. Dick Dingle was enrolled as a member of this company, although the governor and the commander of the fort knew there was no use of undertaking to bring any such character under discipline. He was allowed to go and come when he pleased, and it may be said, in fact, that the whole class of frontier rangers were a set ofBorder Zouaves. They were ever in the most perilous situations, did the most dangerous service, and acknowledged no leader other than their own free will. The commander, with several of his leading men, had served in the capacity of rangers, and were all adepts in Indian warfare.
It was the duty of Dingle to range through theadjoining country, to keep a constant watch upon the movements of the Indians, and to return as often as possible with his report to the commander. At this time there were other scouts performing similar duties in other situations, who have since become celebrated in history. McArthur, White, McCleland, and Davis, and the Whetzel brothers are the ones to whom we refer. They occasionally visited the fort singly, but never in company, and sometimes remained several days in conversation and feasting with their friends.
Peterson, upon his return with Dingle, had had his name enrolled as a member of the company at the block-house; and they had already made several excursions in company. When Abbot and his friends arrived at the settlement, these two scouts had just returned from a journey up the Sciota valley to one of the Shawnee towns. The genial settlers, having known of the coming of their new friends, showed their good-will by erecting several cabins and presenting them to the new-comers immediately upon their arrival. By dusk, Abbot, with his wife and Mansfield, were snugly domiciled in theirs, and ready to join their neighbors, on the morrow, in clearing the forest, breaking the ground, or whatever their duty might chance to be.
Although Abbot had not seen Peterson, he hadheard that he was in the settlement, and sent for him in the evening. The good-hearted fellow had purposely kept out of the way, for fear that his presence would be painful to them, but upon hearing the wish of Abbot, he immediately went to his house.
The meeting could not be but painful upon both sides. There was a manifest restraint about the ranger, for he well knew the feelings that must be awakened by his presence. The conversation turned upon ordinary subjects, and each carefully refrained from any allusion that might bring up the matter that was in the mind of every one.
In the course of a half hour or so, the quick eye of Mrs. Abbot saw her presence was a restraint upon something her husband wished to say; and she made an excuse for withdrawing and retiring for the night.
After she had gone, the conversation continued a short time as usual, and then, as it sometimes will, it suddenly came to a dead pause. Utter silence fell upon all.
"Jim," said Abbot, glancing furtively around to assure himself that his wife was not within hearing, "Jim, I must once more speak aboutthat."
"Wal?" queried the ranger, uneasily.
"I must ask you once more to narrate, as particularly as is in your power, the account of the attack upon the flat-boat, and the death of Marian.I will not ask you to give anything else but that alone."
"I dunno as I can tell anything more, but, howsumever, I can tell that over again if you want it," and thereupon he proceeded to give with fearful vividness, the dying-words and actions of Marian Abbot. The father heard him all through, without a syllable of interruption, keeping his lips compressed, his brow knit, and his eye fixed upon the smoldering fire before him.
"You think, Jim, then, that she is—she must be dead?" he inquired.
"Why, Abbot, 'sposen I had fifty bullets right smack through this h'yer noddle of mine, and you should ax me if I had any s'pishions I'd survive, and I should tell you I was as dead as a door nail, wouldn't you believe me?"
"Of course."
"Wal, then, though I'm sorry to say it, there ain't a bit more hope for her. She never seed the devils that climbed over the boat. She died afore I got twenty feet from the boat."
"You arecertain of it?"
"Yes, sir; I'm certain."
"You must wonder at my talking thus, Jim; but I have no hopes either; I have given her up longsince. I have still one wish—to know what fate attended her body."
"I can tell you that."
"What was it?"
"She was thrown overboard with the others."
"You did not see that done, Jim, and cannot be sure of it."
The ranger was about to contradict him, and tell that he had followed the murderers and seen that they bore no body with them; but he did not, and Abbot continued.
"It is this doubt—this uncertainty that still troubles me. When that has been cleared up I shall never speak of the subject again. Russel has told me that you and Dingle are going to seek revenge upon McGable?"
"We are not going to seek it; we are going togetit."
"I profess to be a Christian, and the Bible teaches me that vengeance is not for us, but for One alone. And, Jim, I can really say that I have no desire that McGable should suffer at your hands. God knows that he has broken two hearts, but the time will come when he will have to answer for it."
"That's my idee, exactly, and I reckon as how 'twill be a little sooner than he expects."
"He knows, if any human being does, the fateof Marian. Obtain, if possible, first of all, the truth from him."
"I can't see just now, Abbot, how that's gwine to be done."
"Take him captive and bring him in, and we will make him answer. Do you not think you and your companion may succeed in capturing him?"
"P'r'aps so—bein' it's your wish we'll do our best to do it, and," addedPetersonto himself, "O Lordy! won't we skemer the old devil when we git him. We'll toast him afore a slow fire, I'll bet my life."
"Get him, if you can, Jim, and you will confer a favor that I shall never be able to repay."
"Never mind about that,the thing will be done!"
Shortly after this, Peterson took his departure.
Itwas a mild September night in 179-. The day had been one of those warm, hazy ones that sometimes appear at that season of the year, and the night had set in with delicious coolness. There was a faint moon in the heavens, and several flaky clouds were drifting past it, causing their fantastic shadows to glide like phantoms over the settlement, sometimes, for a moment, throwing it into shadow, and then permitting the moonlight again to stream down upon it.
Most of the settlers had withdrawn within their cabins, and as the hour had grown quite late, there were few, if any, stirring through the village. A few pencils of light issued from the upper port-holes of the block-house, showing that those inside were still up; and a hearty laugh, ringing out now and then, told as plainly that they were engaged in their usual habit of story-telling andjoking. Peterson was inside relating one of his earlier experiences, which infinitely amused them all, the commander not hesitating to join in the merriment.
On the outside, the slow-measured tread of the sentinel was heard, and his form could be seen against the wall of the block-house, as he walked to and fro upon the platform. His keen eye never failed to take in at every turn, every noticeable object before him. At one end of the projection, he had a view of the river, now glistening in the sheen of the moonlight like liquid silver; and, during the remainder of his walk, his vision rested upon the broad, gloomy, murmuring forest, stretching mile after mile before him, until, at last, it joined the sky away in the faint horizon. It was Dick Dingle, whose watch extended until midnight.
While in the act of turning on his heel, at the end of the platform, he suddenly stopped as something suspicious caught his eye. Far up the Ohio, at such a distance that it would have been invisible to ordinary eyes, he saw a small, dark body in the water. At first, it had the appearance of a large bird swimming over the surface, but the hunter well knew that it was a canoe, approaching from the Ohio side. A slight protuberance near the middle, convinced him that there was but one person in it.
When about three-fourths of the way across, the sparkle of the ashen oars could be seen, as they dipped in the water. A moment after, it entered the line of shadows upon the Kentucky shore and disappeared.
Dingle's suspicion was aroused. The long silence and inactivity of the savages had led him to the belief that they were preparing to strike a great blow upon the settlements. Neither he nor Peterson had been scouting lately, and he had no means of discovering their intentions.
"Leastways, Dick Dingle," he muttered, as he resumed his walk, "it won't do fur you to wink both eyes at the same time. Look out fur sign."
He continued walking with the same measured, deliberate tread backward and forward, apparently watching nothing, and yet maintaining a more than usual scrutiny upon the river and forest. A half-hour passed away, and finally an hour had elapsed, without bringing any new suspicion to him; but he was well aware that this delay was as good reason for apprehension, as could have been the noise of approach.
"You don't cotch Dingle asleep in the night-time, or when there's reds about. It would do to let on that. Now let's see, Dingle, you old fool, what do you s'pose the imps are up to now? Jest go tomeditatin' will you and cipher it out. In the first place, and afore anything else, they're up tosunkthin'; and that ar' sunkthin' is thedevil. Consequently, it's a pinted fact, that they're up to the devil, and therefore, Dingle, there's sunkthin' in the wind; so mind your eye and look out for squalls. Wish they'd hurry up 'cause it's gettin' well on to that green feller's watch, and I'd like to have an idee given me of their intentions ef they're no partickler objections."
The eccentric ranger continued his walk, occasionally interspersing it with characteristic observations similar to those above; and, all the time, wondering why it was that something else "didn't turn up" to give him an "idee"; but another hour wore away without bringing the desired knowledge to him.
By this time, it was near midnight, and shortly after, a man appeared beside him to relieve him of his watch. This new-comer was known as Jenkins, and was what the rangers termed a "green hand:" that is, he had seen little or nothing of Indian service, and was not one who could be relied upon in an emergency. Several practical jokes had been played upon him, such as getting him into the wood and raising an alarm of Indians, or firing very closely to him from concealment; and the result of thesesame tricks had given one or two a suspicion that he was somewhat lacking in courage, and would show the white feather if pressed to the wall.
"Careful and not get a snoozin' to-night," remarked Dingle.
"Why? you don't s'pose I would, do you?"
"Didn't know but what you might; thought I'd tell you anyway, 'cause itwon't do to shut your eyes to-night."
"Why? what's the matter? What's up, eh?" queried Jenkins eagerly.
"Oh, nothin' in partickler; only I've seen Injins to-night."
"Pshaw! don't say so? You're joking, Dick?"
"Ef you think so, jest think on, but ef you don't see sights afore mornin', it'll be 'cause you can't see: that's all," and Dingle with a warning shake of his head turned to enter the block-house.
"Oh say, Dick, that ain't fair!" said Jenkins, laying his hand on his shoulder.
"What's the matter? Ain't scart, be you?" demanded the ranger, confronting him with an angry countenance.
"Oh! no-no-no, I ain't scart at all—not at all; I only want you to tell a feller all about it. You might do that, I think."
"Wal, see hyer then. I seed four or five Shawnees skulking out yonder near the wood, tryin' to draw bead on me, and I had to do some tall dodging to hender them. You'll have to hop around rather agile, but I guess you can steer clear. Ef you git hit, holler and I'll haul you in and let you die inside."
"Oh, thunder! hold on. Dingle, don't go and leave a feller this way. I don't think it's the fair shake at all."
"What in blazes do you want?" demanded the ranger, again indignantly facing him.
"Why, I was a-going to say—just to kind of make the observation, you know—that—perhaps—I would think—that is—I would like to know if you wouldn't just as lief stay out here a while?"
"What for?"
"Oh, just for company. I'll do the same favor for you some of these times."
"I never want anybody out hyer when I'm standin' watch."
"Won't you stay. Dingle?"
"No."
And the scout turned and entered the block-house. But it was by no means his intention to intrust the safety of the settlement to such hands as Jenkins'; he only wished to test his courage, and create a little diversion for his own individual benefit. He shut the door and listened.
He could hear Jenkins walking along the platform, stamping his feet bravely upon it, and whistling as loudly as his lips would possibly permit him. Dingle ventured to open the door very slightly and peep out at him. He saw him with his hands thrust deep down into his pockets, his rifle leaning against the block-house, and shooting his feet far out in advance, and slapping them down on the planks with such effect as to set the men within growling and snarling at each other, as they half awoke from their slumbers. His hat was jammed down upon the back of his head, his hair dashed away from his forehead, the white of his eyes only being visible, as the pupils were constantly turned toward the dreaded wood. His mouth resembled the letter O, fringed around the edges, as he resolutely maintained its position. "Old Hundred" came out loudly, the fall of each foot being emphasized by a desperate burst of wind and music, and a spasmodic jerk of the head now and then. When the whistle, at times, became more windy than musical, he rested his lips by communings with himself.
"Darn the Injins! I wish they were all dead! I can't see what they want poking round here when I'm standing watch. If I catch sight of one, I'll bet he will wish he never heard of Pete Jenkins! They're mean to be watching us all the time. If Iwas the Injins, I would keep hunting the deers and bears and I never would come around here when I was standing watch, but I'd shoot that Dingle, because he's so everlastingly mean. Let me see: I was turning 'Old Hundred,' I believe." The tune was now resumed, and continued a short time, when he again broke forth. "If them Injins will only stay away till morning I won't care, though it would be all the same to me, and perhaps just as well if they didn't come then either. I was just thinking—hello! Jerusalem! I seen something move then as sure as the world!"
Dingle, who had been listening all the while, now judged that it was time to venture forth, and, closing the door behind him, stood upon the platform. Jenkins, whose eyes were turned toward the wood, saw nothing of him, until he tumbled over his bent form.
"Thunderation! that you. Dingle? what you doing here?" he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet again.
"I thought I'd come out and keep you company a while."
"Good! I am glad of it, for I feel dreadful lonely."
"Seen anything?"
"I thought I did, out yonder near the edge of the wood."
Dingle looked intently toward the point indicated a few moments, and then became satisfied that Jenkins was right—there was a person there. While gazing in this direction, he purposely kept his body concealed by the guard around the platform. He continued his watch upon the suspicious object, and at last satisfied himself of theidentityof the person who had thus alarmed his friend.
"All right!" he muttered to himself. "It's the Frontier Angel, and there's no danger of her hurting any one. She's got sunkthin' to tell, and she's waitin' to see ef I'm about. Howsumever, I'll keep shady a while, just to see how this long-legged feller hyer will jump when she gives notice she's around."
"Anything there?" asked Jenkins, for the third or fourth time.
"Yas, there is; don't make too much noise."
"What makes you stoop down, Dick?" he asked, in a whisper.
"I can see better this way."
"Shan't I stoop down, too?"
"Ef you'reafraid."
"I ain't afraid at all, only—O Lord, I'm shot!" suddenly exclaimed Jenkins, falling down and moaning as if in his death struggle. Dingle wasnot surprised; he had heard the twang of a bow, the whizz of the arrow, and now saw it sticking several feet above him in the wood of the block-house. He had expected this, for it was the manner in which that mysterious being, known along the border as the "Frontier Angel," gave notice of her presence.
"'O Lord, I'm shot,' suddenly exclaimed Jenkins."
"Get up, you fool," he commanded, giving his moaning companion a kick, and now thoroughly provoked at the cowardice he had shown. "Get up, I tell you; you ain't hit, but it's a pity you wasn't. Nobody has fired at you, or tried to hit you."
"Didn't they? Come to think, I believe they didn't; but the fact is, Dingle, I've been subject to fits ever since I was a boy—darnation! do you mean to say I fell on purpose?" demanded Jenkins, suddenly regaining his upright position and his courage at the same time, at finding that he was unharmed.
"No; but it's kinder queerish the way you fell."
"Yes, them plaguy falling fits take me any time——"
"Never mind about the fits, or I'll give you some more. You stay hyer and keep watch while I go down to the gate."
"What—what you going to do there?"
"There's somebody as wants to see me."
"You won't be gone long, will you? Who is it?"
"The one that fired that arrow up there at you."
"O Jerusalem! and so they shot at me after all. I knowed so."
"Wal, keep that jaw of your'n still, or you'll git shot at agin; and, if you do, you won't be missed either. I'll be back pretty soon."
With these words Dingle descended and made his way to the gate at the palisades, to receive the message of the Frontier Angel.
Theperson referred to in the preceding chapter as the Frontier Angel, had received that appellation from the scouts and rangers who had known her for several years. We say had known her, but beyond the mere fact of her existence, nothing was known. Who she was or where she had come from was a mystery to all. She was ever painted and dressed in the fantastic costume of an Indian, but many supposed her to be a white person, and gave as a reason that her language was precisely the same as that used by themselves. She discarded entirely the extravagant, high-flown figures so much in vogue among the North American Indians, and which often renders their meaning unintelligible to ordinary persons. She was always alone, and rarely if ever seen in the daytime. The whole object of her life seemed to be that of befriending the settlers. More than once her timely warning had saved scores of whites from the fury of the savages. Sometimesshe would make her appearance among the settlements in the Sciota Valley, and after giving full intelligence of the movements of their enemies, would take her departure; and the next that would be heard of her, would be that she had performed a similar office for the villages further east. She became known to all the rangers, nearly all of whom regarded her not as either a white person or an Indian, but as a spirit—an angel; and it was thus that she had gained the name that we have mentioned. These hardy, but superstitious beings, reverenced her as something far above them, whose touch would be instant death. Lewis Whetzel, the most famous of the four celebrated brothers, was the one who, to his dying day, carried out the very letter of the vow he had made, never to let any treaty, flag of truce, or any imaginable pretense, screen an Indian from his vengeance. This terrible resolution he had made for the inhuman butchery of his parents when a mere boy by the savages. The case is familiar to all, of his having associated with Veach Dickerson, and killed an Indian in the face of the proclamation issued by General Harmar, that all hostilities should cease for a few days in order to negotiate with them. The reward offered byHarmarfor his apprehension, his capture, and subsequent escape to the woods again, could notinduce him to abate one tittle of his unceasing hostility. It is said that this terrible Lew Whetzel once encountered the Frontier Angel in the forest, and, for the first and only time in his life, broke his vow. In relating the incident afterward, he said that he felt as if he raised his rifle, one look from her eyes would have struck him dead.
It was thus that the mysterious Frontier Angel was regarded by those who held communication with her; it was no wonder that Dingle felt some trepidation, and he hastened down, unbarred the massive gate, and saw her standing beside him.
"What news have you to-night?" he asked.
"I have much news; but why have you remained at home so long?"
"I've no reason, I s'pose."
"Then hasten to the woods again, for there is much for you to see."
"Won't you tell me the fuss?"
"I know not it all, but the Shawnees and Wyandots are making great preparations for taking the war-path."
"Is their idee to come hyerabouts?"
"I cannot tell; it may be, and it may be not."
"Whar' am they kickin' up this muss?"
"At Piqua."
"Yas; wal, I'll pay them a visit. Anything more?"
"That is all. I will now depart."
Dingle unbarred the gate, allowed her to pass out, and after securing it, made his way back to the block-house again. As he passed out on the platform, Jenkins demanded:
"Who is that you was talking with?"
"A gal that comes down to see me once in a while."
"An Injin?"
"A half-breed—splendid critter."
"Jerusalem! she looked purty. What in the name of all that's human made she shoot that arrer at me?"
"To kill yer, in course."
"To kill me! What did she want to kill me for? I'm sure I never done her any harm."
"She thought you'd jist come out to show yerself and try and cut me out. It made her all-fired mad."
"Did you tell her about it."
"Yas; but I can't tell you what she said. I'm goin' in to sleep now. Don't whistle so loud, nor slap your hoofs down so, nor git to talkin' how mean Dick Dingle is, or he might come out and make you shut up."
With these words, the ranger opened the door ofthe block-house and entered, leaving Jenkins completely dumbfounded at what he had said.
"By George! how did he know what I said? I'll bet that infernal Injin gal is down there yet, and waiting for a chance to shoot. I'll kill her, if she tries it, just as sure as I live. She'll wish she never knowed anything of Pete Jenkins."
But no attempt was made upon the sentinel's life, and when the morning dawned, the forest and river wore their usual appearance.
In the morning. Dingle imparted the message of the Frontier Angel to the commander of the post, and offered to visit the Piqua village and ascertain the meaning of their movements.
"If she says there is mischief afoot, you may depend that there is. Yes, Dingle, you had better go. Take who you please, find out what you can, and get back as soon as possible."
The visit of this strange being was only a night or two after the interview between Abbot and Peterson, so that the latter had not yet started upon his hunt after the renegade McGable. Upon consulting with Dingle, it was argued between them that, as there was no need of hurrying in such a matter, they would defer their expedition until after their return from Piqua. The safety of the settlement was paramount to all other considerations. Besides, it wasvery probable that the renegade was in the village named, and they were just as likely to accomplish the object of both their journeys at the same time. The two rangers held a long consultation, and the conclusion they came to took all by surprise. It was that Peterson should visit the Shawnee town in Paint Creek valley, while Dingle, in company with the redoubtable Jenkins, would reconnoiter Piqua. There was wisdom in this plan certainly, but many thought it singular that the two should separate, when they had never been known to do such a thing before when in service.
The Shawnees were the great enemy of the whites, and to them may be traced nearly all of the long and bloody wars on the frontier. They were a vindictive, revengeful, "restless people, delighting in wars." Their very name, as has been remarked, was a word of terror or of execration to the early settlers among the canebrakes of Kentucky or upon the rich bottoms of Ohio.
When this country was discovered, the Shawnees occupied the southern part of Georgia and Florida. Here they, at last, became so obnoxious to the other Indians by their continual murders and robberies, that a combination of the most powerful tribes—the Choctaws, Cherokees, and Creeks, was effected, and perpetual, unceasing war was declared against them.Finding the country too hot to hold them, the Shawnees emigrated north, settling on the Ohio and its tributaries. The Wyandots welcomed them, and they increased to a mighty and powerful nation, retaining their characteristic traits. From the commencement of the old French war, in 1755, down to the final struggle between Tecumseh and the whites, nearly sixty years after, they were continually engaged in some murderous foray, interrupted only by a dozen years of quiet, succeeding the treaty of Wayne.
Like all large Indian nations, the Shawnees were subdivided into tribes, and these subdivided into families. The names of but four of these tribes are now known: The Piqua, Kiskapocoke, Chillicothe, and Mequachake. Piqua, in the Indian tongue, means aman rising from the ashes, and there is a tradition among them, that it was thus this division originated.
They had a large village at the head of Massie's Creek, a short distance north of where Xenia now stands, and another named Piqua, on Mad River, a few miles below Springfield. Their principal headquarters were in the valley of Paint creek and Sciota river.
The simple preparations of the scouts were made, and it was agreed they should start in a few hours upon their perilous journey.
Peterson'sdestination being the Sciota valley, he left the settlement and proceeded eastward, up the Ohio, until the mouth of the Sciota was reached, when he prosecuted his journey in a northerly direction, making it all on foot. Leaving him to continue his duty, we will follow the fortunes of the other two.
Dingle had two reasons for taking Jenkins with him. The first was for his own good, and the second was for his own—that is the ranger's—amusement. He counted on little difficulty in ascertaining all that he wished, and believed that his companion would be so tractable in his hands that little trouble need be apprehended from his erratic disposition. His plan was to proceed westward, following the course of the Ohio, until the mouth of the Little Miami was reached, up which he would proceed in a canoe. As he had often visited the same town, he took occasion, when upon one of his expeditions, to "borrow" an Indian canoe, as he expressed it, andconcealing it at the mouth of this river, to be used for the purpose named.
"Confound it! what did you want to take me along for?" demanded Jenkins, spitefully, after they were fairly in the wood.
"Why, to scout around, and obsarve the pecooliarities of the Shawnees," replied Dingle.
"Yes, s'pose so! darned if I don't shoot every one I see!"
"Good! give us your paw on that, Jenkins, you're some, after all."
"After all what?" demanded the wrathful man, not at all relishing the eagerness with which the ranger took his threat.
"After all the dodgin' and sneakin' you've done when the reds war around."
"See here now!" exclaimed Jenkins, stepping in front of and confronting the ranger. "I want to know what you mean by that? That's a reflection upon my courage which I never intend to permit."
Dingle, concluding it best not to offend him at present, answered, "I meant the time you fell down so flat when the Frontier Angel fired her arrer at you."
"Do you know what made me do it, sir?"
"Oh! yes—I mind me now, you had a fit just then."
"Well, sir, don't let me hear anything more about that then; I have explained all about them fits, and you must remember."
"Wal, never mind, Jenkins, it won't do to git them now, coz why, if you do, when you come to again, you'll find you've cotched another kind of fits—wal, you will, ole feller."
"Do you s'pose, Dick, they'll watch us close?" asked Jenkins, in a tone so changed from his braggadocio style to that of earnest inquiry, that Dingle could not conceal a smile.
"Mighty clus, you'll find out. Howsumever, ef you tend to your business and mind what I tell you, you'll come out all right, I guess."
"My gracious! I wish we was only on our way back. I don't like Injins no way you can fix it."
"I don't neither, so let's pike ahead and hold in for a while."
The journey continued in silence. They were on the Ohio side of the river, having crossed it at the commencement of their expedition. Late in the afternoon they were obliged to swim a small stream that put in from the Ohio. This was accomplished easily, as both were excellent swimmers, Jenkins fully equal to the ranger. On the shore of this they halted, spent a few moments in eating a portion of the food they had brought with them. By this timedarkness had settled over the forest, but the moon was quite strong, and they kept on for several hours. At the end of that time they reached a solitary block-house, standing on a clearing, where it was the intention to shortly commence a settlement. There was a small force stationed there by the governor of the territory some months previous. The sentinel was on the look-out and detected the approach of Dingle as soon as the latter became aware of the block-house. He was instantly challenged, but a word set the matter right, and in a moment one of the force descended, unbarred the gate, and joyfully welcomed him in. Lew Whetzel, to whom we have before referred, was in the block-house, and the meeting between him and Dingle was cordial on both sides. There were eight soldiers besides, all adepts in Indian warfare. The commander produced his cups, poured out whisky, and none, save Jenkins, needed an invitation to drink. The latter was a perfect novice, and with wondering eyes followed the motions and actions of Dingle. The consequence was, before any one suspected it, he commenced nodding, and shortly dropped upon the floor. One of the men rolled him into the corner, where he slept until morning.
Dingle, Whetzel, and several others kept up the conversation all through the night. They drankenough to make each communicative, and related stories and anecdotes almost without end. Lew Whetzel gave that incident in his experience to which we have before alluded. At its conclusion, he sprang to his feet with a regular Shawnee yell.
"And here is Lew Whetzel! ready for a bear-fight, Indian hug, or a hair raise."
As he uttered these words, he gave Jenkins a kick that thoroughly awakened him.
"Gracious alive! what's the matter?" exclaimed the latter, starting to his feet.
"Day has broke, and it's time to be trampin'," said Dingle.
"Yas," added Whetzel; "and I must go up the river to see the boys."
The appearance of this Lewis Whetzel was most extraordinary. He was below the medium height, with a square massive breast, very broad shoulders, and arms as powerful as piston-rods. His face was nearly as dark as an Indian's, and marked with the small-pox. His eyes were of the fiercest blackness imaginable, and there were few who could stand their terrible glance when angry. It is said that he never allowed his hair to be cut. At any rate, at the time mentioned, it was so long, that when allowed to flow unrestrained, it reached down below his knees.
Dingle and Jenkins passed outside, and after ahasty good-by, plunged resolutely into the forest. The ranger led the advance, in his usual cautious manner, proceeding rapidly, and yet so stealthily that their approach could not have been heard a dozen feet distant, excepting now and then, when Jenkins caught his foot in some vine, and tumbled with a suppressed exclamation upon his hands and knees, or forgot himself so much as to undertake to commence a conversation.
The journey was continued without incident worthy of note until nightfall. Not an Indian or white man was encountered through the day. Just at dusk, they reached a river, which, as Dingle informed Jenkins, was the Little Miami.
"My gracious! has that got to be swam, too?" asked the latter, in astonishment.
"No! we'll row over, I guess."
"Row over? how can we do that?"
"Don't ax too many questions and you'll see."
With this, Dingle proceeded some distance upstream, and then halted before a large, tangled mass of undergrowth. Here he stooped down, and pulled out a small birchen canoe, almost as light as paper. An Indian's paddle lay beside it, which he instructed Jenkins to bring forth. As he dropped the boat in the river, it danced as uneasily and buoyantly as an eggshell.
"Where under the sun did you get that thing?" asked Jenkins.
"That belongs to the Frontier Angel. It's the one we used to go sparking in when we was young."
"Pshaw, Dick, you're joking," replied Jenkins, incredulously.
"I should think you knowed enough of me to know that I never joke when I'm scouting it. Jest jump in while I give it a shove."
Now if any of our readers have ever seen a small Indian canoe, they will detect at once the mischievous object of Dingle in asking his companion to "jump into" this one. It is an impossibility for a person who does not understand them, to spring in without going overboard. It is precisely similar to putting on a pair of skates for the first time. Unless you have tried it before, and know how to do it, you are sure to be deceived. But Jenkins had no suspicions, judging from the last remark of Dingle that he was perfectly serious.
So he made a spring, struck the thing near the bow, and it shot like a bolt backward into the shore, and he disappeared with a loud splash beneath the surface of the water.
"Blast that boat! what made it do that?" he spluttered, scrambling into shore again.
"You're a smart one!" remarked Dingle, withoutchanging a muscle of his face. "I'd 'vise you to practice a little at gettin' in a boat, when you've got time. I s'pose I'll have to hold it for you, this time."
And so he did, seizing it by the stern, and holding it firmly while Jenkins carefully deposited himself in the front part. Dingle then stepped in, seated himself near the middle, and dipping his paddle in the water, shot rapidly toward the opposite bank.
It was now quite dark, and by keeping near the center of the stream, he felt secure from observation from either shore. An hour or two, he sped swiftly forward, encountering no suspicious object, and exchanging not a syllable with his companion. After a time, the moon arose; and, as it slowly rolled above the wilderness, it shed such a flood of light as to make it extremely dangerous to continue as heretofore. The tall forest trees towered upon both sides, throwing a wall of shadow far out into the stream. Dingle ran his canoe in under protection of these, upon the left bank, and dipped his oars more deeply and silently, commanding Jenkins not to utter a syllable.
Dingle paddled hour after hour, until toward midnight, he touched the bank, sprung out, and exchanged places with Jenkins, who took his turn at the paddle. At first he made several feints, nearlyupsetting the canoe, but, in a short time, he became quite an expert, and did his duty without a murmur. Another exchange, another long pull, and the ranger ran his canoe again into shore, pulling it up and concealing it on the bank. Day was dawning, and they had reached that point where it was necessary to take to the forest again, and strike across toward Mad river.
In doing this, our friends were compelled to pass the Indian village mentioned as being a short distance below where Xenia now stands. This being a smaller and less important one than Piqua, Dingle concluded to visit it upon his return. The river, at the point where they disembarked, made a bend to the eastward; so that, by taking a direct northwest course toward Mad river, it was not even necessary to make a detour to avoid it.
They had now progressed so far upon their journey, that Dingle knew they could reach Piqua long before night. Accordingly, he crawled into a dense mass of undergrowth, followed by Jenkins, who carefully restored the bushes behind him to their upright position, so as to remove all signs of their trail. Here they both lay down and slept soundly.
Dingle possessed that power, which is so singular and yet so easily acquired, of waking at the precisemoment he wished. About noon he opened his eyes, arose to the sitting position, gave Jenkins a kick, and ordered him to make ready to start. After a hearty meal upon the last of the venison they had brought with them, they emerged from their resting-place, and once more resumed their journey.
As they gradually approached the neighborhood of the Indian settlement, Dingle became more and more cautious in his movements, until Jenkins was in a perfect tremor of apprehension.
"Don't fall behind!" admonished the ranger, unmercifully.
"My gracious, I won't! Every time you stop, I bump against you. I've mashed my nose already."
"Never mind; we're gettin' nigher every minute."
"I know we are, and that's what troubles me so much. If we were only going the other way, I wouldn't mind it so much."
Several times they came upon Indian trails, some of which were so fresh that Dingle made several detours, painfully tedious to Jenkins, who every minute was getting into a feverish state. Before dark, they ascended a sort of ridge, which seemed the boundary of a valley on the left. Jenkins followed his guide so closely, that he hardly took his eyes off of him, much less did he know where he was going. He saw they were ascending a risingground, and that, after about an hour's labor, he came to a halt.
"Take a look down there!" whispered Dingle, parting the bushes in front of him. Jenkins followed the direction of his finger, and saw, spread out before him, in the valley below, the entire Indian village.
"My gracious! don't that look funny!" he exclaimed.
"It don't strike me as rather funny, when you understand what they're making all that fuss for."
"Not for us, you don't mean."
"Yes, for us."
"Let's be gettin' out of here, then."
"No, I don't mean for us here, but for the settlement—the block-house."
"Oh! I thought you meant they were coming here."
It was evident to any eye, that the savages below them were making preparations for some hostile expedition. Dingle judged it was against their own village from what the Frontier Angel had said. Most of the warriors were collected upon a large open space near one end of the village. Here several of their orators—stump speakersis a better term—were constantly haranguing them. The excited gesticulation, the bobbing of the head, andnow and then a word could be heard by our two friends in concealment. The men were arrayed in the gaudy hideousness of war-paint, and to all appearances hugely delighted with the oratory that greeted their ears. Men were continually arriving and departing, sometimes nearly a score passing into the wood, and then reappearing in a short time again. Every second several shouts or yells pierced the air. The whole village was in commotion, and Dingle could as well have departed at once with the information that the Shawnees were again taking the war-path, and the settlement was most probably the object of their fury. But he determined to know more before he went back.
As it was getting darker, and the shrubbery and undergrowth were so dense as to afford a sure concealment in spite of the moon, which rose at a late hour, he felt no hesitation at making a much nearer approach.
In a short time they were within a hundred yards of the upper end. Here they both nestled down, and waited some time before making a further movement.
"Keep powerful quiet, while I look around!" admonished Dingle, crouching down and commencing to move off in the darkness.
"Here, hold on a minute," whispered Jenkins,eagerly catching the skirt of his hunting-dress; "how long are you going to be gone?"
"I don't know—sh!"
The footsteps of some one were now heard, breaking through the bushes. Dingle and Jenkins bent low, and in a moment discerned, looming up against the light in the village, the dark form of an Indian.
"By gracious! he's coming right onto us. Where's my gun?"
"Shut up, or I'll break it over your head," replied Dingle.
The hunter loosened his knife in his belt, for an encounter seemed unavoidable. The Indian came right straight ahead, in a line toward them; but when within ten feet, unconsciously to himself perhaps, he turned to the left and passed on, thus escaping a collision and his own doom at the same time.
"Now don't stir from hyer till I come back," whispered Dingle, again.
"Just wait a minute, Dick; I want to ask a question or two."
"Spit them out, quick then!"
"How long are you going to be gone?"
"P'r'aps an hour or two."
"What must I do all that time?"
"Why, lay still—don't budge an inch, 'cept you want to lose your ha'r."
"Oh! I don't want to lose it. S'pose the Injins come poking round here, what's to be done then?"