"No," returned the schoolmaster. "What would you do?"
"Take care of Duval, then ride to Henderson and catch the boat," snapped Norton, as the plan of action took rapid shape in his brain. "Gentlemen, we must bring out our charges in public and lay Duval by the heels, thus cutting off the head of the gang. Ayres, do you hasten and collect our friends and others at the courthouse, in the court-room. Audubon and I will fetch Duval. Off with you, now!"
There was a moment of startled silence as all four realized that now indeed the crisis had come. Then Tarascon wheeled his horse, Ayres followed suit, and the two swept out of the courtyard at a gallop. Norton and Audubon dismounted.
"Take us to the chambers of Mr. Duval, boy."
The negro obeyed, trembling with fear, and the two men followed him through the tavern to Duval's room, there dismissing him. In response to their knock, the lawyer himself, plainly astonished, opened the door. He was dressed for a journey, with pistols at his belt, and Norton surveyed him with a grim smile.
"Mr. Duval, some time ago you proffered me your services did I desire to draw up my will. That time has come, and as I can find no other lawyer and am in some haste, I beg of you to serve me."
Duval was puzzled. He looked into Norton's grim eyes, then at Audubon, and one hand rested on the pistol at his side.
"Do you jest, sir?" he asked coldly,
"I do not jest with you," returned Norton. Then the hatred within him burst all bounds, and he suddenly flung up his rifle. "Curse you, Duval, we've got you! Out of there!"
His flint was up, and Duval knew better than to resist. He came out into the passage, coldly insolent.
"This time you have gone too far, Mr. Norton. I follow you, but you shall——"
"You do not follow—you go before," snarled Norton. "Guide him, Audubon. I'll keep him covered."
In Norton's heart was wild triumph. No sooner had they left the tavern than a crowd began to assemble; while Audubon went on with Duval, the Louisianian took their horses in hand and followed, his rifle covering the lawyer ahead.
Ayres had already stirred the town into wild excitement, and now Norton perceived a fresh danger as the crowd lagged on their heels. Were it made public that Duval was none other than Blacknose, the man would be mobbed instantly, and this must be prevented at all costs. He was relieved to see Tarascon, returning from the port, break through the wondering crowd and clatter to his side.
"Ride on," he said swiftly to the merchant. "Station guards at the courthouse doors. This affair must not be taken out of our hands. Allow only prominent citizens in the courtroom—ah, there is Colonel Taylor!"
Taylor, it appeared, had ridden into town to see Norton off, and joined them in some wonder at the scene as Tarascon departed. It was well he did, for the crowd, seeing that Norton held Duval a prisoner, was uttering threats and gathering courage to rescue the supposed victim of an assault.
The presence of Taylor held them quiet, and so the procession came to the courthouse. Duval must have known that his time had come, but he walked very proudly, without a word. Men were streaming into the courthouse, and at the door stood Tarascon, Ayres, and two men with rifles who pressed back the crowd. Two more appeared to take charge of Duval, though in some bewilderment.
Entering the courtroom itself, Norton strode to the judge's bench and faced the assemblage, his friends beside him. Duval was held at the opposite side of the room. To his surprise, Norton found the crowd very quiet, very grave, almost to fear. One and all were citizens of weight and prominence.
Quietly, the Louisianian addressed them and charged Duval with being the mysterious Blacknose, relating all his former evidence and finally reading out the note. After one startled gasp, the men facing him sat quietly and listened while Audubon and Ayres sustained the charges.
Through it all Duval stood immobile, until at length Norton looked at him and asked if he had anything to say. Then the lawyer drew himself up arrogantly.
"Gentlemen"—and the deep timbre of his voice rang out proudly as all faces turned to him—"do you not perceive how ridiculous is this charge? Need I say more?"
To his amazement, Norton found that the words met with silence—a silence partly of wonder, partly of doubt. Duval was very calm, very powerful, holding the assemblage by the sheer force of his personality and will. Then a man leaped to his feet.
"Confound it, sir," he cried at Duval, "explain that note! Explain why——"
"I—explain?" broke in Duval ringingly. "Guilty men explain; I do not! Have you not seen that this Mr. Norton hates and fears me? Did not his bitterness ring through every word he spoke? My friends, I have lived among you all my life; some of you are my clients and know me well. If you can think that I would thus deal with you then I wash my hands of you, and my blood be on your heads!"
Dismayed though he was, Norton could not but admire the keen spirit of the man. Duval knew he was lost, yet was making a desperate fight—for what? A word of explanation and the crowd would have been at his throat; instead, he defied them and they doubted everything.
A wild storm of voices arose, and as Tarascon began to quiet it for a hearing, Norton saw Duval take a slow backward step. The lawyer's hands were on his pistols, and in a flash Norton caught the man's intent.
"Stop him!" he shouted, but the words were lost.
Quick as a cat, Duval had seized the right moment. Whirling on the two men who guarded him, he sent one staggering with his fist; the other he shot through the body. As the roar of the pistol crashed out and the doorway was hidden by smoke, Norton leaped forward.
Fighting his way through the maddened crowd of cursing shouting men, he won to the door and sprang through the corridor to the outer doorway, Audubon at his heels. Too late! He caught another pistol-shot and saw Duval galloping away down the street like mad.
Norton flung up his rifle and fired from the steps, over the heads of the shouting crowd, who were scattering in alarm. Duval's steed gave a leap, but the lawyer pressed him onward; the next instant a surge of men swept up and the mob met those crowding out from the courthouse.
"Blacknose! Duval is Blacknose!"
A wild savage yell shrilled up at the words. At the same instant Norton felt Audubon's hand on his arm.
"Out the back way!" said the bird-lover excitedly. "We will get horses and after him. Ayres has gone for the steeds. Quickly!"
And cursing all things in his bitterness, Norton turned and fought clear of the crowd.
Within a short half-hour of Duval's dramatic—and tragic—escape from the courthouse, Norton and Audubon were at the head of a dozen well-mounted men, led horses with them, and they left Louisville at a gallop along the post road.
Duval, it was learned, had gained the "Steuben Arms" and had then galloped off with his three horses, one other man with him—a riverman, who was evidently of the gang.
Behind, the town was in a ferment, but Norton galloped along in grim silence. In his party were Ayres, Tarascon, and Colonel Dick Taylor; all had steeds of the best and all were driven by the same flame of rage which burned in Norton's heart.
Yet not the same. Norton knew they must catch Duval before Henderson was reached, in order that the gang might have no warning; but he was thinking more of Kitty Grigg than of the gang itself. Did Duval get away, he would doubtless carry out the attack on the horse-boat, and the gang would then scatter with their loot. At least, such would be the intention, for so far as Norton knew, Duval was ignorant of the plot to trap the gang; nothing had been said of it at the courthouse.
The fourteen men galloped along the post road toward Sullivan's ferry, and there was no sparing of horseflesh that morning. Norton set a terrific pace, and with a thunder of hoofs they swept into the little settlement at the ferry and found Sullivan himself.
"Two men and three horses—which way?"
"Henderson road, twenty minutes since," shouted Sullivan. "What's the matter?"
"Blacknose! Duval is Blacknose!"
With the yell, Norton dug in his moccasined heels and once more they galloped away, leaving the ferryman staring after them in wild surmise. The lawyer had a good start, and his horses were of the best.
With the thought of Kitty Grigg pounding at his heart in time with the thunder of hoofs behind, Norton rode on like a madman. Did Duval escape, the girl would be in his power.
"He shall not escape," vowed Norton inwardly. "Faster!"
And again he urged his mount to fresh efforts, his led horse pounding at his side. Behind, the fourteen were strung out along the uneven blazed trail in frantic pursuit.
They were following a "trace" which struck southwest to avoid the windings of the river, for it was thus that their quarry had gone. The road was not worthy the name, yet was the shortest route to Henderson.
"Hold up, man—hold up!" came the voice of Audubon. "You'll kill our steeds at this rate!"
"When they die, your led horses remain," flung back Norton, and dug in his heels once more. His beast was white with foam already, but held to its steady gallop; all the horses were finely bred, out of the best blue-grass country around Louisville, and could be depended on till the last.
Without slacking the mad gait, Norton drew in his second horse; flinging his leg over the saddle, he changed seats successfully. It was a splendid bit of horsemanship, but his followers could not emulate it.
"Hold up, Norton!" roared Taylor. "Wait for us to change——"
"I'm after Duval," he retorted, and looked around. "Let the rest wait!"
Half the fourteen were already drawing rein, preparing to change their mounts; Audubon alone swung to his spare horse at full gallop, and pounded on with a ringing laugh.
Five minutes later Norton saw a man standing in the road ahead, and drew in slightly. The man was a settler, watching them in staring wonder.
"Anyone passed?" flung out Norton, pulling up.
"Two men—three horses, fifteen minutes since," came the answer. "What's gwine on——?"
"After them!" shouted Norton, and loosened his reins.
Mile after mile wound past. They were in the full wilderness now, the "trace" being nothing but a rudely blazed trail winding amid girdled trees and short stumps. Settlers were scarce and the road was little travelled, but as Norton whipped into a branch and leaned down, he could see hoof-marks in the soil beneath him, and the sight lent him fresh eagerness.
A yell and a crash from behind made him twist about in the saddle. Two of his men had smashed together and gone down in a mad heap; another plunged full into them; the rest leaped clear. It required skill to follow that road at full speed, but Norton never slackened.
Ever at his flank rode Audubon, rifle on saddle, while Ayres and Taylor followed next. Tarascon had fallen behind; looking back after a little, Norton saw the merchant's horse falling, and sent back a wild laugh.
"Sauve qui peut! After them!"
Twenty miles on their way, and still ten men rode with Norton as he topped a crest and swung down toward a dipping bowl of bottom-land, strewn with canebrakes. Even as he glimpsed the danger, Audubon shouted:
"'Ware, Norton! They've fired the canes!"
A low drift of smoke was rising from the road below where it struck through a patch of canes. Norton saw it, but sent his horse onward in grim resolve. The fire was newly started; five minutes later and they must have gone around through the swamps.
His staring-eyed horse never faltered beneath his hand, but went driving at the smoke-veil. The led beast tried to tug free and all but tore the Louisianian from his saddle, but he dragged savagely on the reins and all went well. One horrible choking moment, and they were through; on the rising ground beyond, he drew up and again changed saddles.
Ayres and Audubon followed, then Colonel Taylor, whose spare beast had broken away. Four more came through, but as a puff of wind lifted the smoke Norton could see the rest vainly trying to drive their maddened steeds at the fire. He laughed a little.
"After them! Duval can't last at this pace!"
Ten minutes later Taylor's horse foundered and the old border fighter fell behind, swearing volubly. Now there were but six men after Norton, and a little later they perceived how desperate was Duval's plight when they came upon a dying horse in the road, still saddled.
"After them!" shouted Norton again.
Duval and his companion had but three horses at the start, and had killed one of those; with luck, the chase would now be short. Norton's steeds were both white with foam, trembling as they pounded onward, but there was good distance in them yet, and his changes kept them fairly freshened.
Still the miles thundered behind them, and now there were but five men at his heels, for one had gone down. Audubon shouted out as they dipped down toward another canebrake.
"Five miles more and we get fresh horses! There's a tavern where they keep changes——"
His words were drowned in a scream from one of the men close behind. Up from the canebrake a hundred yards ahead drifted a little fleck of white; in the road lay a struggling horse.
"Run to earth!" yelled Norton, never looking back at the man who dragged in his stirrup, shot through the heart. "On them!"
He knew his mistake the next moment, however. Duval was not run to earth yet; it was his companion whose horse had gone down, and who had thus tempted fate. Norton went into the canes with a wild leap; he plunged on the riverman before the latter could reload.
The riverman, a tall bearded scoundrel, flashed up a pistol at Norton and the bullet flew through his hair. The Louisianian rode him down; the horse stumbled at the impact, and Norton went over the brute's head into the muck. Rising, he heard a rifle bang out and caught his steed's bridle over the relaxing body of the riverman. Ayres lowered his rifle, white-faced.
"No hurt," cried Norton. "After him!"
Remounting, he caught his other horse and pounded on, his sole thought a savage desire to get at Duval. Besides Audubon and Ayres, but two others were left; one of these was mired a mile farther on, and they swept away from him before he could change beasts.
Good though the horses were, they were staggering terribly. The Louisianian was wild with impotent rage; he knew well that Duval would secure a fresh mount at the tavern ahead, and would get the best. With a frenzy of curses he drove on his steed, let his spare horse drop behind, saw Ayres pull up with a cry of despair, and thundered on over the last mile, hoping against hope.
And all in vain. The tavern was a low building set in a clearing, barns and tobacco sheds behind, and just beyond was a clump of settlers' cabins. As they came in sight of the place, still a half-mile distant, Norton had plain sight of a figure riding from the tavern at full gallop. With a groan he turned a drawn face to Audubon.
"How far to Henderson?"
"Fifty miles—we have come half-way, and the day is dying."
With a start, Norton perceived that the afternoon was indeed well forward. While the reeling horses galloped on, he turned to the bird-lover and directed him to secure fresh beasts.
"We'll get food and eat it later"—and he nodded toward the remaining man, a Scotch farmer from above Louisville. The latter grunted, and so they swept up to the squalid tavern.
Its proprietor, an open-mouthed, staring person, met their quick demands with a slow shake of the head, watching them slip to the ground. Before he could reply to them, Norton had shoved him aside with an impatient oath and strode on into the tavern, the Scotch farmer at his heels.
In the kitchens out behind the main building they found negro slaves at work, and amid frightened screams Norton seized what food was in sight. Flinging down a dollar in payment, Norton led the way back.
Negroes were already leading out half a dozen horses from a near-by pasture while Audubon pacified the tavern-keeper with a gold-piece. In five minutes the saddles were transferred, and the three set out at a breakneck gallop on their new mounts, eating as they rode.
The difference in horses was instantly apparent to Norton. Although he urged the beasts relentlessly, when darkness fell they had caught no further glimpse of Duvai. Even his desperate frenzy was forced to give way before the gathering shadows.
"Hold up or you'll be brained," cried Audubon as a bough nearly took Norton out of the saddle. "This is rank madness, man!"
The Louisianian refused to listen, but pressed on. Five minutes later his horse went down in a mud-hole, its leg broken, while he himself received a nasty fall against a stump.
Sobered by the pain and the shaking-up, he shot the poor beast and mounted his spare steed, riding on at a slower pace and in gloomy silence For an hour the three proceeded more slowly, until a glimmering against the horizon announced the rising moon.
"Duval is in the same boat," observed Audubon. "We can be sure that he'll keep the trail, for it's his only hope."
Norton did not reply. Duval must keep to the "trace" indeed; unless he passed Henderson ahead of them he was lost. His only hope lay in meeting his own gang or else in getting down the river ahead of his pursuers by means of a boat or canoe.
When the moon came up at length, Norton renewed the chase at a gallop, and the freshened horses responded nobly to his urgings. It was sheer madness to go sweeping through the dark woods at that pace, but Norton was far past caring.
"Kitty Grigg! Kitty Grigg!"
The name pounded through his heart with the pound of the hoofs on the dew-wet turf. He was just changing saddles at midnight, when the Scotchman drew up alongside, spent.
"Take my fresh horse, Mr Norton. This beastie o' mine is done, and I'll be done, too, in anither hour."
Norton nodded, and with a word to Audubon, rode on. Out of all the fourteen who had thundered out of Louisville, he and his friend alone were left. To judge from his own stiffened and wearied body, Audubon must be made of iron to stand the pace.
With three led horses, they did not spare the brutes while the moonlight lasted, one of the mounts foundering an hour later. At last the moon died into the darkness preceding dawn, and with only the horses they rode left to them, they drew up for a brief rest.
"We must be hard on Henderson," said Norton shortly, lighting his pipe, for he would not sleep.
"Ten miles from there, I think," responded Audubon "There's a fork in the trail somewhere ahead. One trace goes to Henderson; the other proceeds to the river near Diamond Island, I believe."
With the first gleam of grey in the sky, they were up and off; and now as the daylight increased, Norton again urged the poor steeds to the utmost.
An hour after dawn Audubon halted him with a shout, and just beyond them he perceived that the trail bent around to the north, a fainter trail continuing from it to the left and west. He pulled up and dismounted stiffly.
"By gad! Audubon, which trail for Henderson?"
"The northern."
"Then we've got him! He's gone on to strike the river, and here are the marks where the Regulators turned off to Henderson yesterday!"
Norton leaped into his saddle and his jaded steed again took up the road. The other horse was spent, however. A mile farther on, and Norton turned at a cry to see Audubon go down.
"I'm done!" shouted Audubon, scrambling to his feet. "On, Norton! Good luck!"
For a bare instant the Louisianian hesitated, then dug in his heels and sent his sobbing beast ahead, his face grim. Everything now depended on him alone.
It was Sunday morning, he knew, and he wondered if there were any church-bells in Henderson. His horse was staggering now, and he had to watch closely lest he be sent headlong into the trees.
The Regulators had arrived at Henderson yesterday, according to the trail. No doubt they had passed through town or avoided it, going on along the river-bank to Diamond Island, where there was a large plantation. Then, with the miles slipping behind, Norton caught a gleam of water ahead and greeted it with a hoarse shout. The Ohio!
His beast coughed, straddled out, and sagged down. Norton slipped to the ground, rifle in hand, and with stiffened, stumbling feet ran forward, pouring a fresh priming in the pan as he ran. Where were the Regulators? Where was Duval? Where was Red Hugh? Had the wilderness trail swallowed them all?
Gasping and sobbing for breath, he followed the faint track to the water's edge, broke out from the last trees, and found himself on the river's brink. Then he uttered a groan of dismay and sank down, panting. Far down the stream, with a single man paddling furiously, was a canoe; as he looked, it swept around the lower end of the island and vanished.
Duval had escaped.
Slowly Norton pulled himself together. Twenty feet away was a horse, gasping out its life beside the river; Duval must have known where a canoe lay cached. From where he was, Norton had an excellent view of Diamond Island and the river.
He was a mile below the ferry and the upper end of the island, which was diamond-shaped. Henderson lay twelve miles up-river. The island, partly timbered and partly under cultivation, was four miles in length, and the stream in front of Norton was a quarter of a mile in width.
Suddenly, staggering a little, he sprang to his feet. Up the river he had made out a shape impossible to mistake; Brookfield's horse-boat was floating down the swift current, keeping close to the Kentucky shore, and it was a scant half-mile above—he had come just in the nick of time, then!
Norton remembered that the boat was to have started from Henderson that morning, and also that Red Hugh had promised to meet it near the head of Diamond Island. Was he aboard, then, with the Regulators?
Norton watched the ungainly craft as it came down. He saw sweeps put out and knew that he had been observed, for the craft slowly forged in toward him. Brookfield was standing in the bow, and beside him was a tall figure which Norton recognized with a thrill of wild relief. Red Hugh had kept his word!
Slowly the craft neared the bank, and Norton waded out through the shallows to meet her. At length he came near enough to grip the hand of Red Hugh and so clambered up over the rail as the crew pushed the boat out again. For a moment he sat helpless, weak and unstrung, looking around. He saw the six men of the crew, but there was no sign of the Regulators.
"All is well?" he asked hoarsely as Brookfield strode over and helped him to his feet. "Have the Regulators come aboard?"
"All is well—but what mean you about the Regulators?" queried the other, in seeming surprise.
"Eh?" Norton stared at him, tottering at the knees and clutching at Red Hugh for support. "Are you crazed? They were to have met you at the island——"
"Your pardon, sir, but I have Mr Ayres's writing otherwise"—and Brookfield hastily produced a folded paper. Norton took it, still a-stare, trying to pull himself together and meet the situation.
"By gad, sir, one of us must be mad, then!" he broke out, and turned on Red Hugh. "What's all this, Hugh? Where did you get aboard?"
"A mile up-stream, by the ferry."
"For God's sake, sir," broke in the captain, terrible fear on his countenance, "read that note which Ayres sent me at Henderson!"
"He sent you none," cried Norton wildly, and opened the paper. He saw the same writing which he had seen in the note taken from the carrier-pigeon—the writing of Charles Duval, though the note was signed by another name.
Captain Brookfield.Sir:—The plans are changed. The Regulators will not come aboard your boat but will follow after in a skiff. Do you proceed and leave all to me.ELISHA AYRES.
Norton looked up, and all things were in a haze before his eyes. Dimly he realized that there had been awful treachery somewhere; dimly he remembered how he had warned Tarascon against the slaves. He tried to speak, but only a hoarse murmur came from his lips.
Duval had tricked them—tricked them! He had known their plot all along and had set a counterplot with devilish ingenuity; this note must have been waiting at Henderson for a day or two——
With a terrible effort to warn Brookfield, Norton screamed out something and fell in a heap as his knees gave way. The strain and the shock had mastered him, and he lay senseless on the deck while the others stared, ignorant of what had chanced, and the horse-boat swept on down-stream.
A trickle of whisky through his lips brought Norton to his senses. A terrible lassitude had come upon him, but he shook it off with an effort and sat up in the arms of Red Hugh.
Brookfield was standing, watching him, biting at his moustache in anxiety. Behind them Diamond Island was fast slipping into the distance, while the boat's crew was watching Norton from afar, curiously. He looked out at the three-mile stretch of wide river, saw the clustered settlements which lined the banks on the opposite shore, and then—remembered.
"That letter was forged," he said slowly, striving to force himself into coherent calm. Brookfield jumped at the word.
"Forged—impossible!" he returned swiftly. "Why, Mr. Norton, I met two of the Regulators at Henderson last night, and they themselves said they had been recalled by Mr. Ayres and yourself——"
"Duped!" murmured Norton, and compressed his lips. Duval had sent another note to the Regulators, then! Had probably sent it days ahead!
The whole thing now lay plain before his mind. Cunning as a fox, Duval had known of their scheme almost from the first, beyond a doubt. Thinking that Norton would embark on the boat as originally planned, he had forged the letter from Ayres, together with another to the Regulators. Thus Norton and the richly-laden craft together would come into the hands of Grigg and the gang. Naturally, he could not have foreseen what had happened at the last moment.
Carefully and slowly, Norton told the other two what had taken place in Louisville, of that terrible ride, and lastly of how Duval must have tricked them all around. When he had finished, Red Hugh was plucking thoughtfully at his beard while Brookfield was staring at him in alarmed dismay. For this, Norton did not quite see the reason.
"It is not yet too late to repair matters, even though our plans have gone awry," he stated, as new hope began to creep through him. He got to his feet, shakily. After all, there was no great hurry. Thank heaven, he had been able to meet Brookfield and so warn him in time!
"How—repair matters?" frowned the captain.
"Why, 'tis simple enough"—and Norton essayed a faint smile. "We'll merely get back against the current to Henderson and take the Regulators aboard——"
"Think you I carry horses on my down voyage?" asked Brookfield, the veins in his stolid face standing out under his stress of emotion as he spoke. "Man, to get back is impossible! With only nine of us aboard in all, we could never row this craft upstream, and I have no horses to work the machinery."
Norton nodded, grasping the point, and looked out across the bulwark. They were now some seven miles below Diamond Island, and another island was in sight ahead. There seemed to be few settlements below.
"Well, then, we had best tie up at the first settlement which we reach, Captain Brookfield. There we can either take some extra men aboard to serve in place of the Regulators, or else you can tie up and wait till I can get back to Henderson for our own men——"
"That would take too long," broke in Red Hugh, speaking almost for the first time. "True, we might take some extra men aboard, but we know not whom we can trust down here. And Duval is ahead of us, eh?"
Norton nodded. Duval had probably crossed over to the Indiana shore, for they had caught no sight of him. At this juncture the sadly bewildered Brookfieid left them, to take charge of the island passage, and the Louisianian despatched Red Hugh in search of food and drink.
While he was making a hearty meal, which put new strength and life into his jaded body, Brookfield rejoined the two of them, and all discussed the situation, which began to assume rather alarming proportions.
Norton's suggestion was the most conservative. By tying up at one of the settlements they could take men aboard, and might find trustworthy men who could be initiated into the whole plot. Red Hugh, however, who had seemed to awaken thoroughly to the affair, now made a counter-proposal.
"Gentlemen, we are by no means cowards, I believe," he said, his deep-set grey eyes flaming a little as he spoke. "We are not so far from the Wabash at present. How about it, sir?"
Brookfield nodded gravely.
"Some twenty miles, for Slim Island is just ahead. Why?"
"Well, it seems to me that from what Captain Norton says," went on Red Hugh calmly, "all escape is cut off to Duval in the rear. He cannot well return to Louisville but must go on to Louisiana if he is to get away—and he must do so before this boat or others get down the river to give warning of him. And since it is most like that his gang has their camp somewhere near the Wabash, the militia would speedily make an end of him now that the secret of Blacknose is known."
"True enough," assented Norton. "Though he might also escape by way of Vincennes and Detroit to Canada. But what next?"
"Why should we not continue as we first planned?" said Red Hugh deliberately. "We will pass the Wabash by nightfall, so let us continue without pausing to tie up to-night, and if we run past Duval, so much the better. We can give warning of him at the lower settlements; at Fort Massac—"
"And from Fort Massac we can quarter back with men to find him," broke in Norton hastily.
"But what if he attacks us on the way?" argued the worried Brookfield. "He will know that we bear news of him, after all that has chanced behind us. He will not easily allow us to escape to bear this news down-river and so cut off all his chances——"
"Let him attack!" said Red Hugh boldly. "Not all of your crew are traitors, and Mr. Norton and I can keep good watch! Those dogs have only dared to destroy in the dark; one shot, and they will turn tail——"
"I doubt it," interrupted Norton drily. "Duval is no coward." He said no more for a little, but looked over the water with a frown.
Somewhere in that wilderness was Kitty Grigg, and practically in the power of Duval. Up to a certain extent, he believed Abel Grigg would protect her; but that protection would not go far with such a man as Duval. At thought of how he had failed in his task, of how he had been outwitted and snared and duped, he groaned inwardly. A great weariness closed in upon him, and he turned haggard eyes on the two men beside him.
"Settle it as you will," he said slowly. "I care not, gentlemen; I must have sleep. Whatever decision you reach, I will agree to it. Now show me a place to sleep in peace, Brookfield."
The anxious-eyed riverman nodded and led him forward to a cabin, where Norton turned in on a bunk and was asleep instantly.
While he rested, the other two discussed the situation for an hour or more. Brookfield was in dread anxiety for his ship and cargo, bitterly regretting that he had ever entered upon the venture. Red Hugh, in some contempt, stuck firmly to it that his plan was the best.
In the end, his insistence overbore the hesitation of the other, who helplessly consented to continue the voyage. After all, they were not far behind Duval, and there was a good chance that they might slip past down the river before the gang would expect them. Moreover, by not stopping they would not be so liable to attack as they would be if tied up over-night after the usual river fashion.
Of the six men who composed the crew, Brookfield could trust two of them, brothers, to the death; of the other four he was by no means so certain. Once the decision had been reached, Red Hugh instructed these two men to sleep on deck that night with their rifles ready at hand.
Toward sunset Norton was aroused, and came on deck to find that they were just approaching Wabash Island. They passed by the Indiana sound, and when darkness fell the Wabash itself lay behind them and Brookfield breathed more freely.
The Louisianian agreed to the proposed plan. Red Hugh took watch until midnight, but as Norton no longer felt the need of sleep after his day-long slumber, he remained on deck with the hunter.
Brookfield himself slept little. He was exceedingly anxious for the safety of his craft, and after an hour of sweeping along through the pitch darkness, his over-wrought nerves went to pieces.
"Gentlemen," he broke out nervously, approaching Norton and Red Hugh as they were smoking together in the bow, "I can stand this no longer! I beg of you, let us set in to the bank and be done with this strain! We need fear no attack here; we are just above Shawneetown, in a well-settled district, and not even Blacknose would take the chance of making an attack on us here."
Red Hugh was furiously angry, but Norton quieted him. He saw that the responsibility for ship and lading had quite unnerved Brookfield, and felt sorry for the man. Moreover, it looked very much as though Duval would never dare an attack in this well-settled district of the river.
That their plans were turned topsy-turvy mattered nothing to him. He was indifferent as to what course was adopted, and said so.
"If it will please you to seek the bank, then do it," he said quietly. "It seems there may be danger in whatever we do, so do you act as you think best in the matter, Captain Brookfield."
With obvious relief, the latter quickly routed out his men and set them at the sweeps, grumbling and cursing. Red Hugh went to his bunk in the cabin in huge disgust with everyone in general; Norton, however, remained on deck, determined to watch the night out at least.
The boat was fetched close in to the Indiana shore and after carefully sounding the channel, Brookfield at last tied her up to a huge jutting tree. Norton ascertained that they were three miles above Shawneetown, which was a large settlement of nearly thirty cabins, and that Brookfield's spirits had now bounded high above any thought of danger.
None the less, Norton stayed in the bow, one of the two trusted men agreeing to keep watch in the stern, for he would take no chances. The night was peaceful, warm, and rippling; had it not been for Kitty Grigg, the Louisianian would have been more than content to pursue his journey to the south and let Duval be dealt with later. He had already resolved to leave the boat at Fort Massac; with Red Hugh, he could work back on a scout along the——
Whether the horse-boat had been watched and followed, or whether her riding-light had betrayed her position, Norton never knew for certain. He was just filling his pipe afresh when all his dreams were shattered abruptly.
From the shadows aft beneath the horse-gallery there flitted a little sparkle of steel in the moonlight, and a knife thudded into the bulwark between his uplifted arm and his side.
Norton dropped his pipe with a crash, and fell back motionless, his hand on his rifle. Every sense was on the alert instantly, every fragment of woodcraft to the fore. From the shore he heard nothing except the soft ripple of waves, but there was a low murmur aft, and the sound of wood striking on wood, as though a boat had ground into the stern. The man on guard there, Norton concluded swiftly, must have been finished off by another knife.
Suddenly and softly, a man appeared crawling forward in the shadow of the port bulwark, watching his recumbent figure; Norton recognized one of the crew. Quietly he shifted his rifle as he lay, hot rage swelling within him. A moment later the man's body came in line with the sights, and Norton pulled trigger.
The roar of the shot blew the night quiet to shreds. The riverman gave one convulsive spring and dropped half across the bulwark, where he lay motionless. Norton leaped up with a shout of alarm.
"Brookfield! Hugh! On deck!"
Then he dropped behind a huge tobacco hogshead as another shot split the night and the bullet sang past his ear. From somewhere aft there came a wild confusion of voices, oaths, and the scuffle of feet. Norton feverishly reloaded, taking the pistol from his belt also. Beyond all doubt, Blacknose had struck.
The next moment, while he was still ramming his bullet home, a swarm of dark figures appeared rushing forward, along the port side of the deck. A shot and the roar of Brookfield's stentorian voice sounded from the stern. Norton caught up his pistol and discharging it into the mass of figures stopped them momentarily; he was answered by a scattering fire which swept above him harmlessly.
Upon that, the whole craft leaped into a mad swirl of fighting yelling men in utter confusion. Brookfield appeared on the horse-galley up above the deck, his pistols in hand, and he fired down twice into the crowd. A dozen shots replied, and Norton saw him reel and go down.
With a rush, the assailants now came at him in the bow. By this time the Louisianian had re-primed, and without hesitation he flung up his long rifle and fired at short range.
He had got two of the pirates in line, and both went down with a yell; at the same instant there swelled up a wild war-whoop, and the tall figure of Red Hugh appeared in the moonlight. As his yell shrilled high, he fired into the group of men; instead of breaking before him, they closed on him instantly. Red Hugh's prediction was proving terribly false, Norton thought swiftly.
Somewhere the cold terrible voice of Duval was directing the attack. Norton had no more chance to reload. Other dark figures came running forward, and a moment later Red Hugh on the fore-deck and Norton in the bow were surrounded by a whirl of fighting men.
For a little, Norton almost believed that they would clear the ship unaided. Both were fighting with clubbed rifles, and the long six-foot guns made terrific weapons for such close work. The pirates must have emptied their own guns, for they fired no more shots, and there was no chance to reload; the battle had become hand to hand, savage in its brutality.
Twice Norton swept his gun-butt down full upon a man, and each time the pirate went down like an axed ox with his skull crushed; the Louisianian was now fighting for his life, and realized it thoroughly. A tomahawk struck him and fell to the deck with a clang, thrown unskilfully; Norton leaped forward and whirled his rifle on the thrower with all his strength.
As he did so, his foot slipped and he half-fell; the rifle came down on a hogshead and shattered in his hands. With one savage yell of exultation, the enemy closed in upon him.
Then, out of the turmoil of blows and shouts and curses, rose the clear laugh of Norton as his foes drew back. He was on one knee, pressed against the bulwark, but he held knife and tomahawk in hand, and somewhere ir the press before him he had caught sight of Duval. The man's face goaded him, and while his foes drew back a pace, Norton laughed again and leaped into the midst of them, striking savagely.
His weapons flashed and bit in the moonlight, and with a thrill he heard the war-whoop of Red Hugh rising again. His assailants were all masked save for Duval, whom he had not seen again; the next instant, however, he caught sight of Grigg coming at him.
There was no mistaking the man's size and figure, despite his mask and the black paint which covered his face and clotted his beard. From one side a clubbed rifle swung down on Norton; he warded it off, and seeing that the man was one of the treacherous crew-members, flung out his tomahawk. The keen edge bit into the man's brain and he went down. Then Grigg was leaping out.
Whirling, Norton ducked the knife-thrust. There was no chance to use his own weapon, and as he swung around he brought up his fist, closed on the knife-haft, and drove it straight into Grigg's beard. All Norton's weight was behind the blow, and the big man went down with a single groan, caught full on the point of the chin and knocked senseless.
In the same moment, Norton realized that all was lost. A wild yell of triumph had quavered up, and now a solid mass of men came charging down on him. Red Hugh had been overcome at last. Then, as Norton drew back and faced the snarling ring of savage masks and weapons, the uproar quieted with unexpected suddenness to the cold voice of Duval.
"Quiet, boys!"
He stepped forth, unarmed, dominant, terrible. Norton, his chest heaving and with a wild riot of sheer hatred surging high in his brain, watched the man as there fell deep silence—a silence broken only by the groaning of wounded men and the peaceful ripple of water.
"Surrender, Mr. Norton," said Duval calmly. "You——"
"Dog!" snarled Norton, mad with rage and with the pain of his wounds and bruises. "Yellow dog!"
And dropping his knife, he sprang out upon Duval, for there was no thought of surrender in his mind. A single yell of warning from the circle of men; then the two were fighting like madmen with their bare fists.
Try as he would, Norton found his blows blocked, while Duval's fists hammered home upon him terrifically. Slowly his rage cooled of its flaming fury, and with new caution he realized that this was no common adversary. He staggered into a clinch, desperate.
A moment more, and Norton felt savage joy as he began to drive his fists into Duval's face and felt himself slowly mastering the other. Back went Duval—and back again, with Norton sending in relentless blows, while the lawyer fought back in grim silence.
Then a sudden low growl swept the watching circle as Duval reeled and clutched out at the air. Too late, Norton saw a rifle thrust between his legs. He tripped, and as he did so three men flung themselves on him bodily.
At last he went to the deck—pummelled, covered with slight knife-wounds, but still fighting savagely. Little by little they pinned him down, drew hands and feet together, bound him fast.
Brookfield's horse-boat was captured.
Norton was badly battered. More than one knife had nicked his flesh, and Duval's fists had given him a badly cut lip and a bruised and bleeding face, but he was hurt in no vital place. Now, as he lay bound, for the first time he began to take coherent stock of the river-pirates.
Three of the boat-crew had been of the gang; the others, with Brookfield, were dead. Two of the traitors had also fallen and with them five more of the gang; three others lay sorely wounded. Besides these, eight sound men remained, with Grigg and Duval. Red Hugh had been stunned, and for some reason both he and Norton were not knifed as they lay. Instead, they were lifted and carried down into one of the four large skiffs at the stern of the horse-boat.
With them were placed the three wounded men, and then the others fell to work under orders from Grigg, now recovered from Norton's blow.
The four skiffs were drawn up alongside, and the best of the cargo was rapidly transferred from the larger boat. Helpless, Norton watched operations; now that the work had been carried through, the men had removed their masks.
All appeared to be either woodsmen or settlers, men of the roughest and most brutal type on the border. From their snatches of talk he gathered that they had made a common settlement on the upper reaches of the Saline River. This was in a purely Indian country, where the last remnants of the once powerful Ohio tribes had gathered under protection of the still more powerful Shawnees.
"We'll git them thar Miamis on the rampage," observed one of the pirates at work above him, with a coarse laugh. "Ought to have one more high ol' time afore we split up, eh?"
"Got to use up that licker," growled another in assent. "What's the chief goin' to do with them two fellers?"
The answer, fortunately, was lost on Norton. It was just as well for his own peace of mind that he gained no inkling of Duval's plan till later.
With the best of Brookfield's rich cargo stowed away in the four skiffs, the eight sound men piled down into one of them; by grim irony that cargo which was to have served for a lure had now been taken by the intended victim, and Norton writhed in his bonds at the thought. The boat in which he lay, with Red Hugh and the wounded, was taken in tow with the other two; Grigg descended among the men and took charge, and last of all came Duval. Even before he came, Norton saw why he had lingered, and what was intended.
As the four skiffs pulled out and drew away in a slow line, the horse-boat slowly drifted out into the stream, her lines severed. The moon had by this time gone down, but looking back, Norton saw a burst of flames from the boat. She drifted away with her load of dead, the fire rising high into a pyramid of flame and smoke above her ungainly shape.
Then they were passing out of the river by a narrow channel, and to his surprise the Louisianian found that this led into a good-sized lake, some ten miles across. The eight men who occupied the forward boat rowed steadily through the darkness, Grigg giving them low directions; there was a faint glare on the horizon, denoting the burning craft they had abandoned. After an hour or more of this progress, they drew in to a low shore ahead.
Norton was lifted and flung on shore, and as Red Hugh was sent after him, he saw that the latter had recovered consciousness. Then, while the cargoes were being transferred to wagons, Grigg and Duval engaged in a swift discussion as to the disposal of the wounded men.
"I won't have them around the camp at this juncture," came the cold tones of the lawyer. "When this business has been finished we'll have to separate and had best start here. Send two men with the wounded over to Kentucky in one boat, and sink the other three here as usual."
So two of the raiders rowed off with the three wounded men, these being unable to ride. The other boats were sunk under the shore-trees, and with their trail covered behind them, the raiders started. Norton and Red Hugh were lifted to a wagon, just as the grey dawn was breaking.
The Louisianian was too firmly bound to dream of getting free, and attempted no converse with his companion. Having fallen between two huge sacks of flax, he could see nothing and at last dropped into a troubled sleep, broken at short intervals by the jolting of the wagon.
Toward noon the first and only halt of the journey took place; and here occurred an incident which to Norton seemed slight enough at the time, but which was destined to have tremendous consequences later.
The stop had been made near a rude cabin built beside a spring, and when Norton had been lifted out of the wagon, he saw that it was an Indian clearing. The redskin farmer and his squaw were being forced into cooking for the party, whom they seemed both to hate and fear, probably with good cause.
Red Hugh lay beside Norton on the ground, watching grimly, in silence. Indeed, the old man had said no word that morning, and in his silent watching and his motionless endurance Norton read a tacit menace of strength restrained. Duval sent the Indian squaw to feed the prisoners some cornpone, refusing to loosen their bonds, while one of the men stood guard.
As the woman bent over them, Norton heard Red Hugh murmur something in the Indian tongue. The guard stopped him harshly, but the wrinkled squaw looked at Norton, then started at sight of his moccasins.
"Git to work," growled the guard, striking her roughly over the head. "You got a man o' your own, so don't make eyes at them fellers!"
This kindly pleasantry drew a roar of applause from the others, and after giving the prisoners a gourd of water each, the squaw retired, still watching Norton. A half-hour later the party had again taken up its way. Now, however, Red Hugh lay beside Norton on the wagon.
"I told that squaw to look at your moccasins," he whispered softly to the latter. "She looked to me like a Shawnee, though her husband was a Delaware. If she takes the hint and Tecumthe hears of this affair, I feel sorry for these devils when the Shawnees avenge you."
"Nonsense," returned Norton, laughing harshly. "You're away off the track, Hugh. Tecumthe will never bother his head over me, even if he hears of it. Our only hope is that Audubon or Ayres will get after us in alarm with the Regulators, and will trace us."
"They won't trace this gang," returned the other. "Two of 'em are wiping out the tracks after us."
Neither of them said more, Norton relapsing into a troubled doze. Just as evening was drawing on, they came to the journey's end. And at last Norton found himself in the headquarters of the gang.
It was a settlement rather than a cache, consisting of a little cluster of buildings. Two of these were large sleeping cabins for the men, where a few slatternly women appeared at the doors with loud ribaldry. Another was a large kitchen and dining-room, with a lean-to where dwelt Grigg and his daughter. Norton felt his heart ache for the helpless girl.
Behind all, at the edge of a small stream which passed beyond the settlement, was a long low building where the stolen goods were stored, as it appeared. Besides these, there were two outlying shacks where some of the men lived with Indian wives or worse; farther downstream was a corn-patch, with signs of cleared ground beyond, along the banks of the stream.
The whole place was doubtless a year or two old, and bespoke thorough organization. Duval, who now seemed quite at home and absolutely in authority, was beyond doubt the organizer, for he seemed to rule the place with an iron hand. Norton and Red Hugh were carried into the big store-barn and left, unguarded but bound. The men at once fell to work fetching in the goods brought by cart, adding them to the quantities already laid up in the cache.
Norton was wondering what had become of Kitty Grigg, when, through the open doorway of the barn-like building, where barrels and casks and sacks were piled high around the walls and floor, came a dim shape against the dusk outside.
"Mr. Norton!" sounded the girl's voice, softly.
"Over here, Kitty," returned Norton cheerfully, and a moment later she was kneeling beside him, sobbing.
"Oh, what has happened?" she asked, grief-smitten. "Duval is in Abel's room, and they're talking about me! I'm afraid—I don't know what they're planning to do, and it seems——"
"Have you been harmed, girl?" asked Red Hugh, and his voice was grim.
"No—but—Duval has sent for a circuit-rider from Vincennes, and means to marry me—soon——"
Norton perceived that all barriers were down between them, and that she no longer doubted concerning the identity of Abel Grigg with Blacknose. Quietly and without holding anything back, he told her of the attack on the boat, and all which had preceded it.
This was no time for tears, and under the influence of his steady grave voice the girl calmed herself. Norton had taken her hand between his own bound ones, and gradually left her regaining steadiness and poise.
"Can you get a knife and free us to-night?" he asked suddenly. "We could take horses and get away——"
"No," she returned hopelessly. "It would be no use. Abel"—and Norton noted that she no longer spoke of him as father—"Abel keeps men on guard always, and he is usually on watch himself. We have two rooms in that lean-to behind the kitchen, and I cannot get out without his knowing——"
Came the sound of steps and the glitter of light from the doorway behind her. With a low gasp of fright, the girl rose and fled to the far end of the place, where she crouched behind some piled kegs. Norton twisted about to see Grigg, Duval, and two men enter with lanterns.
Setting down their lights, the four grouped themselves comfortably on kegs around the two prisoners. Norton noted without grief that his fists had left the face of Duval badly marked, while the lawyer stared down at his captive in savage hatred. Red Hugh was completely disregarded, but Norton was soon to find that the old man had been taken alive for very definite reasons.
"Your race is done, Captain Norton," said Duval coldly. "I presume that you are now quite satisfied of your folly? I hope to have a very pretty scene for you to-morrow night, when Madam Grigg and I will be united in holy matrimony—save the mark!"
The others joined in the laughter, as Duval kicked Norton roughly. The Louisianian did not reply.
"Well, let's hear about it, Cap," spoke up one of the evil-eyed men impatiently enough. "The boys want to split the stuff and be off, so if we're a-goin' to have any fun first——"
"You'll have your fun," broke in Duval easily. "Look at Mr. Norton's powder-horn and see if you recognize it."
The two leaned over Norton, pulling the red-streaked horn into view. A curse broke from them, and one of them kicked Norton again.
"Tobin's!" burst out the man vengefully. "Did the cuss git Tobin, Cap? That's why he ain't showed up?"
"Exactly"—and Duval smiled cruelly. "Tell the other boys about it. Now to-morrow the circuit-rider we sent Darby after last week will be in from the north. To-morrow night Miss Kitty and I will be married. One of you go over to the Miami village and bring 'em all over for a jamboree, squaws and all."
"We'll git the squaws all right," jeered one of the men.
"The next morning," continued Duval, "we'll divide the stuff and separate. Grigg, here, will take you and the bulk of the cache up to Vincennes, where you can sell it and scatter—and do it fast!"
"How 'bout you?" queried one of the men. Duval leered knowingly.
"My wife and I go to Detroit, and from there over the border. This country is too hot to hold me, boys, but you aren't known yet."
"Well, what about these two fellers?" demanded Grigg heavily, with a black look down at Norton. "Why not shoot 'em and have done? I don't aim to leave no spies to tell on me——"
"We'll have better fun than that"—and Duval held up a lantern. "This fellow with the beard is Red Hugh, the Indian killer. Understand? After we've had our fun out of the Miamis, we'll give them back some of their weapons and turn 'em loose on these two. There'll be a show worth seeing, eh?"
A cold thrill ran over Norton, while the others broke into wild applause of Duval's ingenuity. The Louisianian knew well what was intended. Like other settlers along the border, this gang of Duval's was accustomed to a certain form of "sport" at the expense of their redskin neighbours.
This took the form of gathering the Indians, taking away their weapons, and then plying them with whisky. At the proper moment they would be set to fighting, and the resultant encounter would often last for hours, without great danger to the combatants, but with intense amusement to the watchers.
Now, however, Duval had injected another element into it. The name of Red Hugh seemed well known, and even Norton could guess what would happen when the drunken Miamis would be given their weapons and let loose upon their deadly enemy. It was a sure, amusing, and ingenious scheme to get rid of the two prisoners.
The two men went out, laughing, and Duval turned on Grigg.
"I have the papers made out for your signature, and we'll throw the fear of hell into that circuit-rider. You're sure Darby will get the right one—the loose-jawed, weak-mouthed one? If he got that blasted Quaker Dennis, we'd have a stiff time persuading him all was right. The girl will kick."
"Darby's wise enough to get the right feller," rejoined Grigg. "Whar's that five hundred ye promised me?"
"Here—come on outside." Duval rose, with a clink of coins. The two left the place, taking their lanterns with them.
As the girl came stealing back to his side, Norton felt like rebuking her for the feeling which had caused her to accompany Abel Grigg into the woods; then shame struck him, and pity and love. For a moment he held her hand in silence; then she had pulled free and was gone, sobbing.
"Curse those devils!" muttered Red Hugh thickly.
Norton echoed the words, and after that there was silence.
Slowly the night dragged away between dozing and the pain of their bonds. Shortly after daylight one of the slatternly women came with food and water and fed them amid a stream of ribaldry and curses. Norton was glad when at length she departed and left them alone.
A guard was stationed at the door, but no speech passed between the two captives. Red Hugh stared up unblinking at the beams above, a wild ferocity gathered in his blood-stained face. Toward noon there was shouting and the thud of hoofs from outside, and Duval entered hastily with Abel Grigg. Norton rightly conjectured that the circuit-rider had arrived.
"Give him that far cabin," ordered the lawyer hurriedly and in a low voice. "Keep him quiet in there and don't let him suspect anything yet. I'll visit him later. He's a coward, from his face, and I'll fix him up right."
At last that long day came to an end; as sunset darkened the barn-like structure, the camp awoke into activity. Hogsheads and casks and sacks were piled to the roof at the far end, where half a dozen whisky kegs were also set out, ready to be broached later.
Around the walls were hung lanterns, while the centre of the floor was cleared for the fun. Norton and Red Hugh, still fast bound, were placed on a pile of sacks near the door, in partial obscurity.
From the scattered talk of the men Norton gathered that they intended carrying off some of the prettiest of the Miami squaws after the debauch; also, all seemed well with their projects and they were in high fettle, for the Miamis had arrived.
An hour later the lanterns were lighted and the gang assembled. Grigg brought in the angry and frightened Kitty, forcing her to a place not far from the two prisoners, he himself standing beside her. At sight of her white features, Norton tugged desperately but vainly at his bonds, raging.
In all there were fourteen of the gang, and five women—most of them already half-drunk and all of them brutish in the extreme. The circuit-rider did not put in an appearance.
Now the Miamis were brought in, men at the door relieving them of their guns as they came, and Grigg shaking hands with the warriors in turn. Of these there were a score. Norton was rather surprised to find that the squaws, all enveloped in blankets from head to heel, numbered nearly twice as many as the braves. One or two of the gang attempted familiarities, but these Duval rebuked with an iron fist.
They were squalid red men enough, were these Miami warriors; liquor-sodden, shuffling, and debased in the extreme. One alone seemed of superior quality. He was a tall figure, blanket-swathed to the waist, who, after his handshake with Grigg, cast a swift glance around and then stood immobile not far from Norton's recumbent figure. Kitty watched in evident ignorance of what was going on; she was soon undeceived.
"Broach the kegs, boys!" shouted Duval suddenly, when the last of the Miamis had entered.
With a yell of delight the men sprang forward. In five minutes the six kegs were surrounded by a grunting, struggling mass of Miamis, the squaws standing to one side and eating strips of dried venison which the raiders handed out freely.
Norton and Red Hugh lay side by side on the sacks. Grigg stood with Kitty, a few feet distant, and between them was the tall Indian, his blanket drawn over his head. Grigg urged him to drink, but he refused with a guttural negation, meeting with no more importunity. Indeed, the whites were drinking with as much abandon as the warriors, save for Duval and Grigg alone.
A few moments later the warriors were shoved back from the kegs and their knives and tomahawks removed to the pile of rifles beside the door. Then one of the gang stepped in and by dint of some rough horse-play, highly amusing to his comrades, provoked two of the red men into a rough and tumble fight.
Within five minutes the whole group of warriors was engaged in a frenzied scuffle, amid roars of laughter from the watchers. In their drunken awkwardness they did little damage, and every eye watched save that of Kitty; she had covered her face with her hands and stood trembling.
"Give 'em more licker!" roared Grigg suddenly, and rushed across the floor.
No sooner had he moved than the tall Indian took one swift step toward Norton. A knife flamed in his hand, and the startled Louisianian contracted shrinkingly.
Then the knife had severed the cords at his ankles, and he looked into the face of Tecumthe.
"Be quiet!" warned the chief in English.
Norton lay in paralysed amazement while his wrists were freed, and Tecumthe turned to Red Hugh. The Indian, wasting no time on questions, seemed quite conversant with the whole situation.
"Be ready," he whispered rapidly. "Take the young woman from the door when I strike!"
Red Hugh grunted, and Tecumthe once more assumed his negligent attitude as Grigg returned across the floor.
Norton's wild surge of astonished delight soon passed. The thick moccasins had protected his ankles to some extent, but his hands were for the moment useless, all circulation stopped by the tight thongs.
After all, Tecumthe could do little against this murderous gang by himself. How, then, did he intend to "strike"? Did he have a band of his warriors outside?
"It wasn't such a wild shot about those moccasins after all," came Red Hugh's chuckling whisper. "Looks like he's going to give us a chance to slip away. Work your arms a bit."
The Louisianian nodded, and very slowly perceived life creeping back into his numbed hands. Grigg and the rest were roaring at the antics of the drunken, fighting Miamis; Duval, perched on a big hogshead at the far end of the room, was inciting them to further efforts.
Locked in pairs, the warriors were striking, kicking, rolling over the floor in a bestial encounter which left Norton shocked to the core; he had heard of these affairs often but had never seen one before.
Duval's men were plying them with liquor amid wild shouts of encouragement, and were fast growing drunk themselves; so far, however, they were too much interested in their amusements to bother the squaws, who stood lined up against the farther wall and grouped around the door.
Again Grigg's interest got the better of his prudence, and with a bellow he leaped out to join in the horse-play. Kitty, left alone, shrank past the tall figure of Tecumthe toward Norton, who put out his hand and gripped her arm.
"Quiet!" he said softly, as she turned with a startled exclamation. "Be ready to make for the door, Kitty."
Wide-eyed, she stared into his face for a moment, and under cover of her body Norton half rose to take the pistols which Tecumthe passed him. He put one into the hand of Red Hugh then waited.
There was not long to wait. With a sudden movement, Tecumthe flung the blanket from his splendid figure and stood forth in all the glory of his half-naked bronze, unpainted. His voice rang out like a clarion:
"Peace, dogs!"
Some of the Miamis ceased their scuffling; others continued: one startled oath passed around the line of white men as they saw him step forward. He made no pause, but raised a clenched fist.
"Dogs of white men!" And his clear voice seemed to hold even Duval transfixed. "Outcasts from your own race! Murderers! Why do you thus debase my red brethren, the Miamis? I know you—who you are and what you do in the Shawnee country. I know your crimes. I am going to show my white brethren that Tecumthe can punish murderers better than they!"
As the dread wordTecumthepassed through the hall, Duval leaped to his feet with a yell of warning. It was too late. The line of squaws flung off their blankets and stepped forth as warriors in all the glory of Shawnee war-paint, rifles in hand. From outside came one shrill war-whoop—and the interior of the building became an inferno as the first rifles roared out.
Awful as the thing was, Norton had no pity for Duval's gang. He leaped up, seized Kitty, and with Red Hugh at his side made for the doorway. Here a Shawnee halted them with levelled rifle, but after a look at Norton waved them on outside.
Kitty had fainted, mercifully.
The whole clearing seemed covered with yelling, whooping demons. As the three emerged, Norton saw that the kitchens had been fired, the flames lighting up the whole scene. An instant later, while Red Hugh was taking the feet of the senseless girl, Tecumthe himself joined them and led them across the clearing to one of the farther cabins.
Here, under guard of a stalwart warrior, who went leaping off at sight of his chief, they found a trembling, terror-smitten circuit-rider who was too frightened to do more than grovel before the chief. Tecumthe kicked him away, and Norton lowered Kitty's body to the pallet in the corner.
Despite all he knew about this gang, despite their intentions, he felt himself somewhat a traitor to his own race. Red Hugh must have felt much the same thing, for he was standing glaring at the chief, his eyes terrible.
"It is not vengeance," said Tecumthe composedly, watching the low building with gloomy eye. "It is justice. A squaw met my men; they told me of one who wore my moccasins, in bonds. I knew of these white men, and I came in haste. That is all."
"It's not all," cried Norton with sudden remembrance. "There are women in that place——"
"Right!" broke out Red Hugh. "Tecumthe, we must have them, no matter what manner of women they are!"
"Go," said the chief, nodding. "My men have seen your faces and you are safe."