Norton sprang out on the word, and the two men ran side by side to the building. At the doorway, the scene within was horrible; the place was filled with powder-smoke, one corner was afire from a burst lantern, and from the door were pouring drunken Miamis, some of them still fighting together.
And through the fire and smoke white men and red were battling like madmen, with axe and knife and pistol and clubbed rifle. Norton well knew the danger he was in from both sides, but shoving through the crowded mass of Miamis he dashed within, Red Hugh at his heels.
In one corner were crouching the five terrified women, and as the Louisianian fought his way through the struggling, yelling groups, he saw a tall Shawnee tomahawk one of the drabbled figures.
With a yell of fury, he raised his pistol and fired; the warrior sprang high in his death agony, and before he fell Norton was stripping him of knife and tomahawk. Then he turned, and with Red Hugh tried to get the four remaining women to the door.
They were terror-stricken, hysterical creatures, mad with fear and liquor and obscenity, but they were women. As Norton fought his way across the floor, he caught glimpses through the smoke of the combat which raged around him—glimpses which remained etched on his memory for ever.
Grigg, with a huge axe, was standing back to back with Duval, fighting a way across the place amid a surging wave of the redmen. A drunken, trampled Miami was striking right and left with a knife; screams and oaths and prayers rose high as the Shawnee steel bit deep, while over all shrilled the dread war-whoop, keen and terrible.
"God!" breathed Norton. "It's not a fight, but a massacre!"
How they did it he never knew, but between them, he and Red Hugh managed to get the shrieking women to the door and outside. The scene at the door was wild; pirates and Shawnees and drunken Miamis were all mingled in a horrible-struggling mass, trampling dead and wounded indiscriminately. And behind them all, the fire had seized on the whisky kegs and was climbing high through the whole building.
Norton breathed a prayer of thanks that Kitty Grigg knew nothing of what was going on; by dint of ceaseless efforts he got the four women to the shack, at the door of which still stood Tecumthe. Driving them inside, where Kitty lay motionless on the pallet, he jerked the weak-mouthed circuit-rider to his feet.
"Look after them, you," he snarled, and rejoined the chief and Red Hugh outside.
Forth from the long barn, whose farther end was now all aflame, was pouring a rout of men, white and red intermixed, battling to the death. One of the rivermen started across the clearing, but a dozen bullets from the watching warriors caught him; the place seemed to vomit death and destruction. With a dark look Tecumthe, who had himself struck no blow, turned to Red Hugh.
"Bear witness, Captain Moore," he said sternly, "that we take neither scalps nor plunder! We make no war upon white men, but upon murderers——"
"Moore?" cried Norton suddenly. He caught Red Hugh by the arm and swung him around. "Is that your name—Hugh Moore? You're not the Captain Moore who left Cincinnati with my father——"
"God in heaven!" broke out Red Hugh hoarsely, gripping him and staring into his eyes. "Are you Charles Norton's son—look out!"
With a sudden movement, Norton was flung a dozen feet away.
Whether they had broken through the cordon of Indians or had escaped from some rear entrance of the burning building, Norton never found out; but Grigg and Duval, axe and tomahawk in hand, were leaping across the clearing, a string of Shawnees behind them.
Red Hugh's action was all that saved Norton from Duval's tomahawk, which sang over his head and thudded into the building behind him. Duval himself followed it instantly, and gripped Norton as he was rising; while Grigg swung his axe at Norton from the side, to be grappled and flung back by Red Hugh.
Norton saw Tecumthe motion his warriors back, and then saw no more, for he was fighting with a madman. Duval seemed crazed, as he might well be; Norton had whipped out his knife, but had no chance to use the weapon, for the other had gripped his wrists and was throwing all his iron strength into the desperate struggle.
All four of the fighting men crashed together and went down in a confused mass. The shock broke Duval's hold, and as they came up Norton drove with his knife. He felt the steel bite, but still Duval fought on, flinging himself forward bodily and bearing Norton down again.
Meantime, Grigg and Red Hugh were engaged in a mighty struggle, strength against strength, giant against giant. Reeling over the turf, the four men again came together in mad collision; as they did so, Norton sent his knife home for the second time, and now Duval fell away from him.
Barely had he done so when Red Hugh's pistol crashed out. Grigg had taken warning, and ducked, flinging his arms about Moore's waist. Directly behind him was Norton, and as the shot flamed out, the Louisianian flung his arms wide and toppled over the body of Duval.
Then, for the first time, Tecumthe leaped forward. Frenzied by what he had done, Red Hugh had beaten Grigg back with the pistol-butt, and Grigg flashed out his tomahawk to throw. Before his arm came up, Tecumthe had sprung between them like a thing of steel; his own knife flamed in the lurid glare, and Grigg collapsed.
Red Hugh stood for a moment, pistol in hand. There was a look of awful grief on his face, and without a word he knelt over Norton.
For a moment he felt the heart of the Louisianian, fumbled under the latter's shirt, and then held up a small gold eagle.
"Good God," he muttered slowly, as he held the eagle up to the lurid light of the burning buildings. "What's this? What——"
For he had turned over the pin, and had read the letters graven on its under side. Slowly he tottered up, then looked at the uncomprehending Tecumthe, a terrible horror in his eyes.
"Hugh Edward Moore—my own pin—I've killed him——"
And then, with a terrible cry, he fell upon Norton's body.
Norton awoke, with the strange and persistent idea that the face of Audubon was bending over him. It was nonsense, of course; he turned his head, and saw that he lay quite alone, opposite a doorway. The sun was warm and bright outside.
What of that horrible nightmare, that hell of death and madmen, of which he had dreamed? The very remembrance brought out the cold sweat on his brow; he lifted his hand and found his head bandaged.
Yet, looking out that doorway, he slowly recalled what had happened on that night of horror, for he was gazing across the clearing where it had taken place. There was no doubt of it; a hundred yards away were the ruins of the burned building, the cache-barn; he himself, then, must be lying in that shack to which he had brought the women?
The place seemed deserted, however. There were no Indians in sight; no bodies strewed the clearing; everyone seemed to have vanished and left him alone in desolation. No—he was mistaken after all; a voice strangely like that of Audubon lifted faintly to him.
"—so do you see how he is, sir. I must look to the litter."
"Good heavens, am I mad?" thought Norton. He strained to sit up, but found himself too weak. An instant later a tall, stooping figure darkened the doorway and came to his side with a cry of joy.
For a moment Norton shrank away, not recognizing the man who had come to his knees beside the pallet. Yet—it must be! The shaggy hair was trimmed, the shaggy matted beard was gone; but from the heavily lined face, the deep-set eyes of Red Hugh were looking at him.
"Man—man—we thought you never would come round!" And Red Hugh clasped his hand in a warm pressure.
"By gad, what has happened to you?" Norton essayed a feeble smile of wonder. Then like a stab memory came back to him; this was no other than Captain Hugh Moore, the same who had been his own father's friend and brother-officer!
"Quiet!" commanded Moore sharply, as Norton struggled to sit up in his high excitement.
"Tell me quickly—are you the same Moore——"
"Yes, lad, the same." Moore forced him back on the pallet, yet with tender hands. "Oh, lad, had I but known before! Why on earth did you not tell me your story, tell me——"
"How should I know who you were?"
"True"—and the other nodded, his stern face very sad. "You said you came from New Orleans, too; I never dreamed of the truth until I had heard the tale from Kitty and Mr. Audubon——"
"For God's sake, tell me what has happened!" broke out Norton, unable to stand the suspense longer. "Is Audubon here?"
"Yes, Audubon came two days ago, bringing the Regulators——"
"How long have I been here?"
"It is three days since—since I shot you with my own hand," returned the other bitterly. "Oh lad, when I owe everything in the world to you, to think that I myself——"
"Tush, you owe me nothing," interrupted Norton, bewildered. "Then the Regulators followed us after all?"
"Yes. Audubon met them at Henderson, read the forged note, and followed us in another boat. He was too late. They found Brookfield's craft burned to the edge and at length picked up the trail and came on. Tecumthe and his warriors had already departed—but let me show you something."
While Moore was still fumbling in his pocket, Audubon stepped into the shack. He gripped Norton's hand, and the two friends looked at each other for a moment, until Norton got out a low word.
"Thanks, my friend! I hoped you would come——"
"We did nothing," smiled Audubon gravely. "The work was done, and we could but bury the dead and care for the living. If he is able to be moved, Captain Moore, we had best start soon that we may reach the river by evening. The litter is ready."
Moore bent his head in a gesture of assent.
"Very well, bring the litter here to the door and we will start. Waken Kitty."
"Yes," added Norton eagerly. "Is she well?"
"Quite," laughed Audubon, and stepped from the door. "She has been nursing you."
With his departure, Moore stooped and placed something in Norton's hand. The Louisianian gazed at it with a thrill of remembrance. It was the golden eagle belonging to Kitty.
"Eh?" He looked up sharply. "Where got you this——"
"From your shirt, lad. Why, Norton—don't you see?"
"See?" repeated Norton, amazed. "What mean you?"
With a great laugh Red Hugh plunged to his knees and caught Norton's hand; the man seemed transformed with some mad joy too great for words. Half in fear, Norton drew back, and at this Moore only laughed out again.
"Oh, blind, blind!" he cried ringingly. "And you knew that Kitty had been found among Indians, that this pin was hers—yet you never suspected it!"
Two riders were walking their horses along the Beargrass Creek Road, on the way to Colonel Taylor's farm. They drew rein at a bend, just beyond which was a fringe of trees and a dried mudhole.
"I brought you to this road for a purpose, Kitty," said Norton gravely. "Do you remember the spot?"
She looked at him and nodded, and her look sent a little flame of happiness dancing into his brown eyes. He swung out of the saddle, and she slipped down into his arms, the movement loosing her red-gold hair until it flooded down about his hands.
"Oh, Kitty—Kitty!"
He looked into her eyes and could say no more for a moment. So they stood together, gazing each at the other, while the two horses moved away and began to crop the grass, unheeded.
Then Norton drew away from her, freed his hands, and soberly unclasped a golden eagle from his coat. He looked at it, then held it to her.
"Kitty—sweet Kitty—I brought you here away from your father and our friends, here where we first met—there is something I must tell you——"
He faltered, and with a quick laugh she flung back her hair.
"Mr. Norton"—and there was mimicry in her voice—"I—I too have something to tell you!"
"Yes?" he said gravely, stiffening a little. "Yes?"
"Nay, but I would not take precedence of a soldier, sir!"
And she made him a laughing curtsy, perhaps to hide the great glory of womanhood that shone in her face.
"Then, my news is this," said Norton, lifting a tress of her hair to his lips. "A regiment of riflemen from Kentucky has been formed; trouble is brewing with England; There is trouble on the frontier. I have been offered the command of this regiment, Kitty. I ask you—will you take this emblem of all that is dearest to me, and take with it the heart of John Norton? A soldier's life and pay is not much to share——"
"Soldiers do not serve for pay," she said very steadily, and put her hand upon his, clutching the golden eagle of the Cincinnati between them. "Nor do women serve that they may share—oh, my dear! You have not yet told me the dearest thing of all——"
And so they told each other.
THE END
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