CHAPTER XVIIA PERILOUS UNDERTAKING
Every man immediately dismounted. There was a rush for shelter and in a remarkably short space of time the whole band had placed themselves behind trees or clumps of bushes. Not one had abandoned his pony, however, for without a mount no man would stand much chance if it should come to a question of escape.
The shot had been fired at John Mason, who was in the lead, but he had escaped unharmed. Meanwhile, not a sound broke the stillness which rested over the swamp. Many moments elapsed and still no significant sound was heard. Joseph was standing behind a large oak tree, well screened by a heavy growth of bushes. He had quickly tied The Swallow to an overhanging bough and he hoped that no one ofthe Indians would discover the presence of the pony.
Robert had taken his station in a position similar to Joseph’s and about ten yards distant from him. The remainder of the band were placed at varying intervals over a space of nearly a hundred and twenty-five yards. Every man held his rifle ready for immediate use.
Joseph glanced eagerly about him. He could see his comrades crouching behind their shelters but no sign of the enemy appeared. It gave the young pioneer a queer feeling to see all these men hiding and yet not to know from what they were trying to conceal themselves.
He looked again at his brother. This was just the kind of situation to appeal to Robert and he was greatly enjoying himself. He loved adventure with a spice of real danger in it, and consequently was in high spirits. He caught Joseph’s eye and smiled. Then he waved his hand at his brother. As he did so there came the sharp report of a rifle and a bullet clipped a piece of bark from the tree just above his head. Robert drew back hurriedly.
Instantly the white men’s rifles spoke, all firing at the puff of smoke which disclosed theposition of the Indian sharpshooter. Whether or not any of the bullets reached their mark could not be seen, but this was the signal for a general fusillade. The redmen replied to this volley with a volley of their own and from that time on the firing became general on both sides. Above all the noise arose the frequent war whoops of the Indians, and both Robert and Joseph shuddered at the sound. They had heard it often before and every time it had been followed by misfortune.
Suddenly another war whoop sounded not thirty feet from the spot where Joseph was standing. At the sound he started violently and his gun almost fell from his shaking fingers. He turned in alarm to see whence the noise came, and to his intense relief discovered that Deerfoot was the cause of his fright. The Pottowattomie had flung his defiance back at his foes to show them that not all of his tribe were on the side of Black Hawk.
So interested was Joseph in watching his red ally that he nearly forgot that he was in a fight and that at least fifteen or twenty bloodthirsty Sacs were intent on taking his life.
At the conclusion of this war cry Deerfootimmediately dropped to the ground and began to worm his way forward on his belly as fast as he could crawl. With fascinated gaze, Joseph watched the half-naked redman whose skin glistened with war paint as he cautiously, but steadily crawled onward across the swamp.
From behind a tree scarcely fifty yards distant one of the enemy had been firing. Evidently this brave was the goal Deerfoot had in mind. Joseph soon realized this and resolved to do all in his power to aid. As fast as he could load his gun he emptied it at the hidden Indian and did his best to keep his attention occupied so that Deerfoot might approach unnoticed. Deerfoot must have realized this, though, of course, he made no sign. Rifle in hand he still was crawling through the swamp. The grass was high, affording him excellent protection and he took great pains to keep every possible bush or stump or tree between him and the object of his quest.
Every little while Joseph lost sight of Deerfoot. It was difficult to follow the Pottowattomie’s course as he went along, and so skillfully did Deerfoot perform his task that only the occasional waving of a clump of bushes gaveevidence that anyone was disturbing them. “That’s a wonderful performance,” thought Joseph, and he was right.
At length Joseph withdrew his gaze from Deerfoot’s movements and looked around at the rest of his comrades. No one seemed to have been hit as yet, though Joseph could only account for eight of the ten members of the party. Robert was as cheerful as ever and presented a smiling though powder-smeared countenance to his brother’s gaze.
“Why don’t we charge them, Joe?” he called.
“That would be a foolhardy thing to do,” replied Joseph. “What chance would we stand?”
“Some of us would survive,” said Robert. “I wish they’d try it, anyway.”
Joseph made no reply beyond a shake of the head and once more he turned his attention to Deerfoot. He was, however, now unable to locate the Pottowattomie. Having once taken his eyes from the path he was pursuing Joseph could not find it again. That Deerfoot must have approached close to his goal now, he felt confident, but still no sign of him appeared. The young pioneer riveted his gaze upon the tree that sheltered his enemy, hoping for anopportunity for a favorable shot. He thought he saw a feather move behind the broad trunk, and immediately he fired.
An answering shot came almost instantly. Joseph could hear the bullet cut through the branches directly above him, and involuntarily he drew back farther behind his shelter. Scarcely had the report of the rifle died away when an unearthly yell rent the air. Then before Joseph’s eyes was enacted an awful scene.
He saw Deerfoot suddenly spring to his feet, appearing as if by magic from the tall grass at the foot of the tree behind which his enemy was located. The shining, painted body of the Pottowattomie appeared like some strange monster in the half light of the coming night. His war cry echoed far out over the marsh, while in one hand he grasped his rifle, and in the other was his tomahawk. With one bound he flung himself upon his adversary.
Joseph could see the flash of Deerfoot’s hatchet as it was raised to strike. He could almost feel the shock of the two men’s bodies as they came together and then the struggle passed out of his range of vision. He hastily reloaded his gun and turned to Robert.
“Come on, Bob!” he cried. “We must help Deerfoot!”
“You can count on me,” replied Robert quickly, and together the two boys started forward to the aid of their friend. It was a dangerous mission on which they were embarking, but neither boy gave any heed to his own peril. To help Deerfoot was their only thought and though they were not sure that their loyal friend was in need of aid, they were determined to be on hand in case such a need should arise.
“Keep low, Bob,” warned Joseph.
“I’m as low as I can get now!” exclaimed Robert. “I’m almost bent double as it is.”
“That’s the way to be. Now hurry as fast as you can.”
The two brothers darted forward, rifle in hand. Crouching low and running swiftly they hastened to Deerfoot’s assistance.
“Come back!” shouted some one of their comrades in alarm as he saw what the two boys were attempting. No attention was paid to this bit of advice, however, and the boys merely increased their speed. A bullet scudded over their heads, and then another struck the ground just in front of them. On they went, however,each boy fearful lest he should be too late in bringing aid to their faithful ally.
Nearer and nearer they approached to the tree behind which Deerfoot had disappeared. Thus far they had been untouched but it seemed almost a miracle. Every moment the rain of bullets about them increased and to their watching comrades it seemed as if they must be hit. Yells of defiance and rage greeted their appearance and apparently every one of the hostile party was now directing his fire at the two daring youths.
Half the distance had been covered by this time. Only a few seconds had elapsed but to the two brothers it seemed as if a long time had passed since they had left their shelter and started on their perilous adventure. No thought of retreat had entered either boy’s mind, however, and even if they had had such a desire it was too late now to turn back.
Just ahead of them was a large fallen oak and toward this they made their way. Robert’s sleeve was cut by a bullet and both boys had felt many of the leaden balls whiz by close to their ears. Still they kept on and soon came to the prostrate tree. Vines and creepers coveredthe trunk, providing an excellent screen, and behind this shelter the young volunteers stopped for a momentary breathing spell and a chance to get their bearings.
“Whew, Bob, this is ticklish business!” panted Joseph, and he and his brother instantly sank to the ground.
“I know it, Joe,” replied Robert. “That doesn’t make any difference, though. It has to be done.”
“Of course it has,” cried Joseph. “We are wasting valuable time here, too!” He once more sprang to his feet and after a hasty look about him started on his way again. Robert followed close behind. “Only a few yards more,” he called encouragingly. “We’ll make it all right, Joe.”
Just at this moment when the two young pioneers appeared around the end of their shelter, they were once more exposed to full view. A yell greeted them, followed by a hail of lead. Bullets sang all about them and suddenly Joseph uttered a groan and plunged forward. He fell headlong to the ground and rolled over upon his back.
Robert was at his side in an instant. “Whereare you hit, Joe? Is it bad?” he cried. Joseph’s red-headed and impulsive younger brother apparently entirely forgot that he, too, was exposed to the fire of all the Indian party. Not so, Joseph, however. Even at this time his first thought was for his brother, and he begged him to return.
“Go back, Bob,” he pleaded. “You can’t help me any now.”
“Tell me where you’re hit,” demanded Robert.
“Right here,” cried Joseph, holding on to his left leg with both hands. “It’s just above the knee and I can’t walk.”
“I’ll help you,” offered Robert eagerly. “Lean on me and we can get back.”
Joseph made an effort to get up, but it was unavailing. His leg gave out under the weight and he rolled back to his former position. Blood showed in a dark red spot above his knee.
“I can’t do it, Bob,” he moaned. “There’s no use in your being hit, too, though. Please leave me. Save yourself, anyway.”
Robert suddenly sprang to his feet. “All right, I will leave you,” he cried, and at full speed he ran swiftly toward the tree behind which Deerfoot and his enemy were concealed.