Kitabı oku: «The Wilderness Fugitives», sayfa 10

CHAPTER XXVIII.
UP AND DOING

Worrell, the traitor, had been gone nearly an hour from the cavern in which the three fugitives were sleeping, when Rosa Minturn awoke, no doubt because she was not so much in need of sleep as the others, and held a lingering suspicion of the loyalty of the man who had brought them to the retreat. This distrust went to sleep with her, but it is a peculiarity of the mind that the emotions which have been with us through our waking hours frequently remain with us when we are wrapped in slumber. It is as if the innumerable train that is forever wending its way through the mysterious labyrinths of the brain repeats the procession, and those which affected us the most strongly when in command of our senses often do the same when we are unconscious. But without stopping to consider the question, suffice it to say that at the time mentioned Rosa opened her eyes in full possession of her faculties, and with the impression that the man Worrell was an enemy instead of a friend.

She did not move at first, supposing he was still within the cavern; but, as she peered cautiously around the dimly lighted space, she saw only the forms of her two sleeping friends. The fact at once deepened the suspicion, and caused her great distress of mind, for all doubt of the hostility of the man was removed upon making the discovery. Still she supposed it possible that he was close at hand, and waited several minutes to see whether he reappeared; but her condition of mind was such that every second of delay caused her increasing uneasiness.

"I am sure he has gone to tell Colonel Butler and the Indians where we are," she said to herself, as she rose and walked to where her brother was asleep.

Stooping over, she shook him by the shoulder until he opened his eyes and, recognizing her, asked what the matter was.

"That man has gone."

"Where has he gone?"

"To tell the Indians we are here!"

Jo sprang to his feet.

"What are you talking about, Rosa? What do you mean?"

"Just as I say; he has gone to bring the Indians, and will soon be back, too."

"How do you know that?"

"Don't ask me, but I know what I say."

This was alarming news, and though Jo suspected his sister based all upon her dislike of the man, without positive knowledge of the facts, yet he was impressed with the belief that she had good cause for her words.

"He may be on the outside, keeping watch," said the youth, after they had talked over the matter. "Wait till I take a look. If he can't be found, we'll awake Ned."

Jo crept out of the cavern dreading a hostile shot as he did so, and made as thorough an examination of the surroundings as was possible. He saw nothing of the man whom they missed, that individual at that moment being a quarter of a mile or more away, holding his vehement argument with Captain Bagley about the advance with the six Iroquois upon the sleeping fugitives. His invisibility confirmed the young man in his misgivings as to the treachery of the man.

"I have no doubt Rosa is right," he muttered, as he walked thoughtfully back toward the cavern. "She was always quick to detect anything like that, and it is strange that neither Ned nor I had any such thought. The only thing that troubled us was whether we could convince Lena-Wingo we did right in leaving the place where he left us. The thought never entered our heads that there was anything of this kind in the wind."

He had reached the mouth of the cavern again, where his sister was anxiously waiting him.

"Did you find anything of him?"

"No," he answered, with a shake of the head. "I believe you are right; the man has gone off somewhere after his promise to keep watch over us while we slept; that's enough for me. Is Ned awake?"

"Not that I am aware of."

"He must be aroused at once, for it will not do to stay here after what has taken place."

Jo passed inside and awakened his friend, without pausing to be very gentle as to the means. It took but a minute to make plain the trouble. He became as alert and suspicious as they on the instant.

"There!" he exclaimed; "I had a suspicion when he came under the tree that I had seen him somewhere."

"So had I, but I couldn't recall where and when it was."

"Don't you remember when the battle was going on the other day, we saw one man among the Tories who was tomahawking the whites as savagely as any of them?"

"Yes, I remember him well, but he didn't look like this fellow!"

"Not a great deal, that's true, but I believe it was he for all that."

Jo was silent for a moment, as if in deep thought.

"There was something about him that reminds me of this fellow, though one had whiskers and the other had not, and it is hard to tell just how they resemble each other."

The youths were more anxious to take themselves and Rosa away from the cavern than they were to discuss the question, upon which they agreed quite well. Hastily picking up their rifles, they passed outside. When they found themselves within the shelter of the wood again, and beyond the vision of any one who might approach the retreat, the relief was inexpressible.

"We agree that the counsel of Rosa was wise," said Ned Clinton, as they came to a halt, "but you see how it may be possible she was mistaken. Now it won't do to go wandering too far from the place, for when the Mohawk comes back and finds us gone he may not hunt for us."

"Why not, then, go back over the same route that we followed in coming here?" asked Jo.

"That is what I would like to do, if it wasn't for the danger; it seems to me that that is the path which Worrell will take when he starts for the cavern again with his Indians, and we don't want to meet him face to face, for we can do that by waiting in the cavern."

"I have it!" exclaimed Ned. "I will take the back trail alone, on the lookout for the Mohawk and for the white man, too. What do you say?"

"And shall Rosa and I wait here till you come back?"

"That will be the safer plan, unless another Worrell comes along and takes you away to a new cavern or hiding-place."

"We will be as safe here as anywhere," said Rosa, believing that her opinion would have some weight in the matter.

"I suspect she is right," assented her brother. "If the Iroquois come to the cavern and find we have left, they will think we have got as far away as we can, and they won't be apt to look for us so close at hand; and then, too, these stones over which we have traveled haven't left any trail for them to follow."

"Which shows why you shouldn't go hunting for some other location, unless the Indians happen to come so close that you can't help it, for it will be impossible for me to hunt you up."

This was simple truth, and Jo promised that nothing should be done to increase the difficulty of their speedy reunion, whenever his friend should want to find him and Rosa again. The day was passing and it seemed that they were trifling away the time which was so valuable to all the fugitives. There was something, too, in the continued absence of their guide, Lena-Wingo, that caused them uneasiness. They recalled that he had promised a speedy return, and it was rarely that the Mohawk made them a promise which was not fulfilled in spirit and letter.

CHAPTER XXIX.
A STARTLING CHECK

Ned and Jo had said nothing to each other about the continued absence of the Mohawk, for whatever they might utter would necessarily be conjecture, and would only excite the alarm of Rosa without accomplishing any good. But it was in the thoughts of both, and when Ned bade the two good-bye for a season, it occupied more of his speculations than did the movements of the man who had played them false.

"One can never lose faith in Lena-Wingo, and yet the pitcher may go to the fountain once too often," he mused, as he picked his way with the greatest care. "And that great scout is likely to fall at any time. A single rifle ball may do it, and he cannot tell whether there is not more than one of his own race in hiding, waiting patiently till he shall come that way and receive his death. He has escaped so often that he must become careless of his own safety, and will pay the penalty one of these days."

Ned had fixed the route so clearly in his own mind that he found no difficulty in retracing the steps taken when he was following the leadership of Worrell. He was apprehensive that he would meet him on his return, probably with a number of Indians. He therefore picked his way with all the care and stealth of which he was master. He imitated the actions of Lena-Wingo under similar circumstances. Frequently pausing and listening for sounds of his enemies, he used his eyes as keenly as he could for the detection of the first sign of approaching danger. This kind of progress was not of the most rapid order, but it was the wisest that could have been adopted, and he continued it for half an hour. At the end of that time, he reached the base of the tree from the branches of which he fired the shot that brought Worrell from behind the rock.

"Here is where we met him," he said to himself, "and I have a feeling that he isn't very far away now. What a wise girl Rosa is!" he added, with a blush, as if fearful she had heard the complimentary words. "She mistrusted that villain from the first, and gave us the alarm just in time to save ourselves."

Having reached the spot for which he set out, the question with the youth was whether he should stay where he was or go further. He had seen nothing of Lena-Wingo and Worrell – a disappointment in both cases, though of a different nature.

"I can't see why the Indian stays away so long, unless something unusual has happened. He must know how much we are alarmed over his absence, and he would be back if it were possible."

Waiting a short time, he concluded to advance a little farther, so as to meet either of the two men if they were approaching, while at a greater distance from the cavern, though he was not unmindful that he was liable to miss them altogether. However, he had gone less than a hundred yards when he detected the signs of some one coming immediately in front. It was his ear which heard a crackling of a twig, so close that he had barely time to leap aside and conceal himself from view when the figure of Worrell, closely followed by Captain Bagley, came up a sort of path toward the open space from which Ned had fled in such haste. The youth barely caught sight of them when the forms of six Iroquois appeared, one by one, immediately in the rear of the two white men.

When Ned saw the latter, he was much concerned, fearing that they would detect the slight trail he must have left in his hurry for cover. But it was too late to make any further flight, as he would be discovered from the noise, if not by the sight.

From his concealment he watched the party, their manner of marching being peculiar, as the eight walked in Indian file. Worrell, being the guide, took the lead. Bagley kept so close that they could hold a conversation in low tones, while the Iroquois stalked along like so many phantoms of the wood.

If Ned was alarmed at sight of the redmen, knowing their skill in detecting and following a trail of an enemy, he was thrown into a cold perspiration of dread when the whole party halted in the open space from which he had bounded when he heard the crackling twig. The clear space covered something like an eighth of an acre, and Clinton was too disturbed to notice that the particular spot where the group was gathered was so far removed from his footprints that there was really little danger of their being noticed. But when they had stood awhile, and the two white men began a conversation, he noticed the gratifying fact and became composed enough to listen to the words that passed between Captain Bagley and Worrell.

"You may say what you please," said the former, "but there is more risk in this business than I want to assume. You are so anxious to get the reward promised by Colonel Butler that you can't see the difficulties in the way."

"If there were any difficulties I would see them, but they ain't there. Where's the difficulty in eight armed men taking possession of two who are asleep, and a woman who is also unconscious?"

"None, of course, when you put it in that way; but the Mohawk is somewhere about, and, as I told you a while ago, he has a way of turning up just when you don't want to see him."

"These Iroquois say they want to meet him, and if he is there, they'll have the chance."

"But I ain't anxious to meet him, and if he is about, as I feel in my bones he is, there'll be the mischief to pay."

Worrell uttered an imprecation. He had been obliged to keep up an argument with the captain ever since they started from the house with the Indians – even before; and now the man had halted again, more loth than ever to proceed. It was plain that he held the Mohawk in great fear.

"Where is this cave in which you say the party are asleep?" he asked, in reply to the explanation of the guide.

"You have only to go a little way further with me and you'll see it," replied Worrell, who was evidently unwilling that any one should share so valuable a secret with him.

"Colonel Butler has all of twenty of the best Iroquois with him, and the wisest thing for us is to go to his camp, tell him how the case stands, and get him to let us have eight or ten more; then we can come back and lay regular siege to the place. Then we shall be sure of catching them sooner or later."

"Yes, at the end of a month or so, and it won't do for Butler to stay much longer in the valley. He knows it, and will leave in a day or two."

"But why speak of waiting a month before they can be taken, when thirst and starvation will bring them to terms in a couple of days at the most?"

"It will, eh?" said Worrell, contemptuously. "There is a spring of water in one corner of the cavern, and they have enough provisions stored there to last all of a month."

"How came the provisions in that place?"

"I took them there myself, for I have used the cave many a time."

This was a falsehood, so far as the water and food were concerned, the cavern containing nothing of the kind.

"Do not any of these Iroquois know where the place is?"

"Of course not, and there is no danger of the Mohawk finding it under two or three days' hunt."

"You needn't tell me such stuff as that," said Captain Bagley. "There's nothing that you can hide from him."

"This is a pretty crowd that is afraid to go forward because there happens to be a single Indian somewhere in the woods. If you want to stay behind, let me have the warriors, and I will take them to the spot, and deliver the three into the hands of Colonel Butler inside of an hour. What do you say to that?"

"You are so determined, you may lead on, and we'll follow."

"Well, let's do it, then, without any more – "

At that instant, the crack of a rifle broke the stillness, and the man Worrell threw up his hand and fell forward on his face, dead!

CHAPTER XXX.
A MERITED FATE

The amazement of Ned Clinton was no greater than that of Captain Bagley and the Indians over the sudden death of Worrell. For one moment the comrades of the deceased stood transfixed, staring at the inanimate form stretched on the ground before them. Then the Iroquois gave out their war whoop, and sprang to the cover of the nearest undergrowth. This brought them much nearer the youth than was pleasant. The thought struck him that these warriors would believe the one who fired the fatal shot was near by, and begin a search which must result in revealing Clinton himself. The precautionary action of the redmen served to recall Captain Bagley to his own situation, and he raised his gaze from the prostrate figure, and looked affrightedly around him.

"It was that Mohawk who fired that shot!" he exclaimed, making a hurried rush for the same cover that was sheltering the half dozen Iroquois.

As fate would have it, he crouched down in the undergrowth so close to Ned Clinton that the latter believed discovery was inevitable. He was well hidden, however, and flattened out until it seemed he must force himself into the ground, while he feared if the Tory escaped seeing him, he would learn of his presence from the throbbing of his heart. But there was one thing in favor of the youth. The shot – by whomsoever fired – had come from exactly the opposite direction, a fact which was perceptible to the Iroquois themselves even if unnoticed by the young man at the time.

Perfect stillness succeeded the report, and when some ten minutes passed, the warriors appeared to suspect their inaction would permit the daring Mohawk to escape, when there was a chance to secure his scalp. At the end of the time mentioned, Ned, from his concealment, caught a glimpse of two warriors stealing along the edge of the open space. Their backs were toward him, thus showing they were pursuing an opposite direction in quest of the one who had slain their leader. Shortly after he detected others, and last of all went Captain Bagley himself, he having changed from a leader to a follower. Thus in a brief time Ned found himself alone, with no one in sight excepting the inanimate form, now stark and stiff, telling its impressive story of a miscreant cut down in the middle of his wicked career.

"I wonder whether it was Lena-Wingo who did that," mused the youth, raising his head and peering through the undergrowth at the form. "Captain Bagley believed so, and I guess he was right, for I can't think of any one else who would do it."

After what had taken place, Ned was in doubt as to what his own course should be. From the conversation which he overheard between Worrell and Bagley, he knew that none of the survivors was aware of the location of the cavern, so that the fugitives might stay within it in safety. The youth concluded he had seen enough to carry back to his friends. He, therefore, cautiously retreated from the hiding-place, not wishing to encounter any of the Indians, who could be at no great distance, and desirous, too, of avoiding another sight of the dead man. It took but a short time to reach the tree, where he had first seen the one who had attempted to betray them, and who had come near succeeding, too, in the effort.

"I don't know that anything is to be gained by staying here, and I will go back to where I left Jo and Rosa, and tell them they may take refuge in the cavern without any danger or disturb – "

At that instant he heard a stealthy movement behind him, and he was in dread of a collision with some of the Iroquois, who seemed to be almost everywhere in the forest and on the mountain. As he wheeled about, there was the redman, painted and with gun in his grasp; but it was the redman whom, of all others, he was anxious to see, being no other than Lena-Wingo, the scout.

"Thank the Lord!" was the fervent exclamation of the youth, as he rushed toward the Mohawk and caught his hand. "Where have you been so long?"

Lena-Wingo took the proffered hand and shook it warmly, for he held the youth in the highest estimation, as he had shown on more than one occasion. At the same time, he put on his usual broad grin, and replied, in his broken way:

"Lena-Wingo been watching you. Seen you hide in bushes when Iroquois come, and he watch."

"That was you, then, who picked off Worrell?"

"Who Worrell?" demanded the Mohawk, sharply.

"Why, that chap that was shot while talking to Captain Bagley."

"His name not Worrell," said Lena-Wingo. "He Dick Evans."

"No!" gasped Ned, in return.

"That he – Lena-Wingo look good while for him – found him – shoot him – won't kill any more women and babies."

And who was Dick Evans, that the mention of his name should cause so much emotion on the part of those who heard it pronounced? He was one of the most infamous wretches produced by the Revolutionary war. He had been heard of in Wyoming valley for years before the invasion of the Tories and Indians, and was looked upon as an outlaw who was compelled to live in the woods to escape the penalty of his innumerable crimes against civilization. There was no deed too dark for him to perpetrate. When the Revolution broke out he turned against the land that gave him birth, and committed atrocities that no other Tory or Indian had exceeded. It was well known that he had slain women and children in more than one instance, and when he held the power no one expected mercy at his hands. He was one of the most wicked of beings and more than deserved the death which came to him with the bullet aimed and fired by the Mohawk.

The latter had declared to more than one person that he would shoot him like a dog at the first opportunity. With the defiant nature of his race, he sent the man himself word by a Seneca Indian that he was looking for him, and intended to keep it up until able to draw a bead on him. Evans sent word back in reply, that he was also looking for the Mohawk, and dared him to shoot him if he could. The only palliating characteristic of the despicable wretch was his bravery, and he really did do his utmost to gain a shot at the Indian who had threatened him. But he engaged in a game in which his antagonist was his superior, and had paid the penalty.

The body was left where it fell, for another of the peculiarities of Lena-Wingo was that, for a number of years, he had refused to take the scalp of his fallen foe. At the time the Mohawk shot Evans, he suspected he was leading the party in search of the fugitives in the mountain; but the scout was so far removed from the two men while they were talking, that he failed to gain the import of their words. He therefore knew nothing of the scheme which had been so skillfully laid for entrapping the three whites. When Ned came to tell him the story, the Indian was astonished. He had not dreamt of any such thing, for he supposed that his friends would await him where he told them to stay and not suffer themselves to be persuaded to disobey him. He showed that he was displeased, but he said little, and the feeling was not deep. Ned Clinton generously assumed all the blame himself, and, like the lightning-rod, it did not take him long to draw the lightning from the wrathful cloud, so that all became serene again.