Kitabı oku: «Scouting Dave», sayfa 2

CHAPTER III.
THE RENEGADE

William Ashbey or “Wild Bill,” as he was usually called, was a reckless, dissipated fellow, who had fully followed out the likes and dislikes of his lawless disposition. Even while a mere youth, wild stories were related concerning his character, as caused all law-loving citizens to shun and despise him. Thus debarred from honourable society, he more readily sought that congenial to his nature. Gamblers, horse-thieves, and blacklegs – with which the settlements were always cursed – became his associates and confidants, and he became at once an object of hatred and fear among the more quiet settlers.

The man who offended Ashbey was sure, sooner or later, to suffer from some despicable revenge.

Chance frequently threw hardened characters in the way of the Hinton family, and the young reprobate soon discovered that he loved the fair Emily. So far as his nature admitted, Ashbey was no doubt sincere in his attachment. But his love was a base, selfish passion, totally unworthy the name.

Acting with his usual impulse, young Ashbey lost no time in declaring his suit, and pressing it with all his power of persuasion, not only to the father but daughter also. Finding himself totally unsuccessful, and every overture mildly but firmly rejected, the suitor broke into a burst of passion which finally ended in his expulsion from the house of Mr. Hinton. Vowing a fearful revenge, he left them.

Time passed away, and Wild Bill was nearly forgotten. True, there were reports that he had become dissatisfied with civilized life, and had joined the Indians in their forest haunts; but as peace prevailed, little was thought of the rumour. Men inured to danger pay but little heed to rumours, and if Wild Bill was really removed from their vicinity, the settlers were quite willing to let him rest, among savages or elsewhere.

Such was the person who now strode carelessly into the midst of the grim band. Quickly placing the rein of the horse he led in the hand of a brave, he then approached the maiden, with a look of infernal exultation lighting up his features.

The sound of the approaching party had aroused Emily, and she looked up at his advance. By the dim light she could discern the features of the person, and inspired by the thought a white man was near, she lifted her hands toward him, exclaiming:

“Oh, sir, you will save me! You – ”

“Yis, my leddy, I’ll save ye,” he sneered, with brutal exultation. “I crossed the big drink to save ye – tuk ye from the Winnebago what was goin’ ter lift yer hair – got yer hoss, with yer own trappin’s onter him, an’ I jist kalkelate I’ll save ye, so no baby-face’ll git ye away from Wild Bill, arter all. I’d like ter save yer old dad, an’ little Georgy, but the boys got thar’ idees up, an’ I couldn’t do it.”

What wonder that the maid recoiled as from a loathsome serpent?

Wild Bill folded his arms upon his broad chest, and regarded the maiden for some time in silence. Then he bent nearer, and broke forth:

“So, my purty, it seems yer not satisfied kase I saved yer life, an’ took all these ’ere pains for your sake. I like to see gratitude once in a while, I does; but, no matter. Maybe you’ve forgot the time when I cum an’ begged for yer hand, an’ told ye how I loved ye; an’ how I was kicked from the house for it – yis, kicked from the house!” he repeated, in savage tones. “Ye kinder liked little spooney-faced Charley Markley, but now I hope ye’ve had his company long enough, so ye can change hands a bit.”

“Oh, monster, monster! why do you come in this fearful manner to drag me from my home, and murder my father and brother? Do you not know that vengeance will overtake you, and your wretched life pay the forfeit?”

“Ha, my lady! Now we begin to talk o’ vengeance! Well, that’s rich! Jest look around ye, my fine bird. Winnybagies, Sacs and Foxes, Pottywattimies – all led by old Black Hawk, and all the chiefs o’ the tribes. Maybe ye think we come over here jist for yer purty carkiss; but I’ll tell ye, Illinoy belongs to these here Injins, an’ they’ll hev’ it, too, afore two moons, as sure as I’ll hev’ you.”

“Oh, spare me, spare me this, and my eternal gratitude shall be yours.”

“Sorry I couldn’t do it, my rosy. But these ’ere sufferin’ Injins would tommyhawk ye in less’n no time. Seems to me ye’re mighty ungrateful, seein’ as I saved yer from ’em jest a bit agone.”

“Let me go now, and if I must fall a prey to their ferocity, so be it. Anything is preferable – even death itself.”

“Couldn’t possibly listen to any such thing, not even to ’commodate my sweetheart. My heart’s tender, an’ I couldn’t bear to see your purty head chopped in two pieces by the red-men. All I cum over for was to find ye, an’ take ye home with me. Maybe I’ll make it in my way to wipe out that baby-face what’s been enjoyin’ the smiles I coveted all this time. I’d be really happy to oblige ye, but the fact is, ye’re a little down in the mouth to-day, and will fell better when ye come to think it all over; when ye find Charley don’t mourn for the absence of his mistress.”

“Oh, you cannot – you will not harm Charles Markley,” the suffering girl pleaded. “He has never done anything to harm you.”

“I tell you, gal,” broke in the renegade, fiercely, “he has done enough. If nothin’ more, he’s stood in my way – he’s enjoyed the smiles I was a-dyin’ for – he couldn’t walk on the ground where my shadder had passed, because I’s a little wild; but he’s played with a whirlwind, an’ he must take the shock of it.”

The dark man turned partly away as he ceased speaking, and stood for some moments regarding the fiery scene before him. Dreadful had been the first misery of the maiden, now it seemed a thousand times enhanced. Father, brother, self – all were swallowed up in anxiety for the fate of another – one even dearer than life itself. Oh, that she could fly to him, and warn him of the danger that would soon burst upon his devoted head. Reason seemed giving away beneath the dread accumulation of misery. Soon she was aroused by the rough voice of her persecutor.

“I don’t suppose ye’ll feel like trampin’ far to-night, if ye have yer own hoss to ride on. I may as well tell ye, ye’re goin’ back to my snug little home across the great river; when ye get there ye’ll have all that heart can crave, an’ a good, lovin’ husband besides. You’re not goin’ to be forced along as fast as the red legs o’ these braves can carry ’em. Ye’ll be took along easy, an’ used like a queen, if ye mind how to talk. To-night ye’ll go out a mile or two, an’ camp. In the mornin’ ye can move ahead slowly. You see I hev’ arranged everything for yer comfort. Probably they’re anxious to be off; so, if ye’ll mount, I’ll help ye!”

He stooped and unbound the thong, and, raising her in his arms as if a mere child, placed her upon the saddle. Emily did not resist. She knew it would be in vain, and only subject her to fresh indignities.

“Now, my fine Emily,” he said, as the dusky guard gathered about her, “I must bid you good-bye for a few days. I’m goin’ with old Black Hawk to settle up a few scores what have stood out too long already, an’ then I’m back to yer side again.”

Addressing a few words in their own tongue to the Winnebagoes, which she did not understand, Wild Bill moved away, and was soon mixed with the savages, who were now gathering for fresh scenes of violence.

No eye, save that above – saw the dark, tall figure which glided within a yard of some of the savages, and plunged rapidly into the forest. Could Wild Bill have seen that figure he might have felt less at ease. As the renegade disappeared, the party acting under his command moved cautiously from the spot, carrying the suffering Emily to a fate ten thousand times worse than death.

CHAPTER IV.
MARKLEY

Another scene opens, upon the same afternoon, in the wide-spread forest, some miles from the cabin of the Hinton family. Around the rude but strong cabin of a settler, several acres of the primitive forest had been felled, allowing the full sunlight to kiss the dark-brown cheek of the sleeping earth. Wild fields were there, into which the seed already had been placed, to germinate and fructify during the coming season.

Upon the borders of this clearing stood a young man, busily engaged in felling one of the forest monarchs. Although not above the medium height, his broad chest and muscular development proclaimed him a true son of the border. The heavy axe he wielded rose and fell with regular strokes, sending showers of chips flying merrily through the air. Already the work was half done, and, resting his axe upon the ground, Charles Markley threw his bearskin cap beside it; then, drawing a worn handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the beaded sweat which stood in great drops upon his brow. Throwing the handkerchief upon the cap, the youth changed his position, and opened another shower of blows, which rung merrily through the old wood.

At length the giant trembled beneath the steady strokes; then wavered and toppled for a moment, as if in uncertainty. Once, twice, thrice the axe was planted heavily, and, with a steady sweep, like that of a rushing cloud, the old oak thundered to the ground.

The young man regarded his work for a moment in a satisfied manner, then glanced at the sinking sun – picked up the neglected cap, and seated himself upon the large trunk. For some moments he remained in a reverie.

“I’d like to see Emily,” he mused, “but I think I’d better not go over to-night. ’Tis just a year to-day since her poor mother died, and it must be a sad recurrence to them. Poor Emily; it was a terribly hard blow to her, and the sorrow it caused is not all effaced yet. But she will soon be my wife; then, I feel sure she will forget those old sorrows in her new joys.”

Rising from his seat, the young man gazed about him for a moment; then, throwing his axe upon one shoulder, he turned toward the cabin which stood in the centre of the clearing.

The scene within the cabin, an hour later, was pleasant, and characteristic of the settler’s surroundings. The evening meal was over, the duties of the different parties had been duly attended to, and, while a ruddy fire glowed upon the hearth, a delicious feeling of comfort spread itself around. The four persons composing the household sat in a group around the fireside. There was the father – a sturdy, deep-chested backwoodsman; the mother – a pleasant woman of forty-five, and the two vigorous athletes, whom the father invariably designated as “the boys!” Such was the group.

Philip Markley was a man of fifty winters; and, though time showed its marks upon his brow, he was still hale and vigorous. Hester Markley, the mother, was a whole-souled Christian, a good wife, and an exemplary parent. Around her household no shadow ever was allowed to fall, which a cheerful face or pleasant words could drive away. Alfred, the younger of the brothers, was now twenty-two years of age – frank, handsome, and manly; possessing a great deal of fire and energy, though well tempered with discretion. He was somewhat taller than Charles, erect and finely-formed, with an eye like that of an eagle, and a strong arm to execute the promptings of his brave heart.

Philip and his younger son sat beside the wide chimney, sending huge clouds of tobacco-smoke up the dark passage. After the pipes were exhausted, each sat for some time in silence; then the father rose, and took his rifle from the peg upon which it hung.

“Upon my word!” he exclaimed, ruefully, as he turned the weapon in his hand, “I had no idea my poor gun was so badly neglected. I haven’t burned a charge of powder in it since last fall. I don’t take the pleasure with a rifle that I used to. Game is plenty enough, but my eyes are not as clear, or my hand as steady as it once was.”

Lifting down the small box which contained the many belongings to the weapon, he set himself to the work of rejuvenating its appearance. Alfred now watched the movements of his father for a short time, then arose, and taking his own piece, proceeded to a minute inspection of condition.

“What is the matter?” laughed Charles, laying down the well-known volume which had been engrossing his attention. “One would think you expected an attack from Indians. But, I may as well join the circle.”

Reaching for his own rifle, the young man set about the task. With rifle-cleaning, bullet-molding, and conversation, the evening passed quickly away. Then arms and ammunition all in order – though little dreaming of the fearful use for which it would be required – the family at length retired.

Profound slumber was upon the inmates of the cabin, and their pleasant breathing fell in regular cadence upon the still night air. No thought of danger was there to disturb the quiet serenity. Midnight was at hand – all was hushed.

Suddenly there sounded without a springing footstep, and a heavy blow upon the door, repeated, as if given by the stock of a rifle. The four sleepers heard the noise, but could not readily determine from whence it sprung. Again came the summons, and, as the sound died away, a strong voice called aloud for the sleepers to awake. In a moment the four persons were astir, and hastily preparing themselves for any emergency. Again the same summons, calling upon them to hasten, as they valued life.

“Coming – wait a moment,” exclaimed the father, half impatiently, half wonderingly.

“Hurry – hurry! minutes are years, now,” responded the voice. “If ye care for yer scalps, be speedy.”

Philip Markley had produced a light by this time, and, satisfying himself that but one person was at the door, hastily unbarred it. Surely he knew that tall form, with that jet hair and sparkling eyes. Four years had passed since they met, yet the recognition was instantaneous.

“David Barring! – Scouting Davy!” were the exclamations which greeted the new-comer, as he crossed the threshold.

“Stop!” he exclaimed, authoritatively; “it’s me, an’ I’m all right yet; but ye must hurry if ye want to save yer hair. The Injins are upon us!”

“Indians!”

Three horrified voices repeated that fearful word. Charles Markley felt too deeply for words. At the first mention of that – to him – horrible word, his thoughts ran back to the little cabin which contained Emily Hinton, and a feeling of dismay fell upon him. A host of questions were being showered upon the scout, but he raised his hand, and all paused before his voice sounded.

“Stop, don’t interrupt me; there’s no time to lose,” he vociferated. “Several hundred Injins have crossed the river, and are on their way to murder and destroy. They are sworn to gain possession of all this State. It’s pretty sure they’ll have things their own way for a time. You have horses?”

A silent assent.

“Then you, Mr. Markley, and Alf, jist put in yer best licks, and harness up. And mind – not a minute is ter lose.”

“Can we fight them till assistance arrives?” asked Mr. Markley.

The scout shook his head.

“If fight war’ possible, Davy is the last one what would say ‘run.’ But it isn’t. In half-an-hour at most, hundreds of ’em will be here, with old Black Hawk and that devil’s own pup, Wild Bill Ashbey, at their head. There’s nothin’ in this part to stop ’em, so jist hurry. And you, Miss Markley, jist scratch up yer choicest things, and what ye’ve got in the house that’ll do to eat.”

In a moment the three persons were busy at their appointed tasks, for they felt the leading mind of the scout – knowing that when he directed, they had but to perform. Charles had pressed near the scout, but, as yet, he found no opportunity to speak. Now, the scout placed a hand upon the shoulder of the young man, and drew him apace nearer himself.

“Young man,” he said, “I’ve somethin’ to tell ye.”

The fear which the young man had felt now deepened. His face grew fearfully pallid, and his voice trembled.

“Is it of – of Emily you would speak?” he gasped.

“Well, you’re right. An’ now, unless you’re the gritty chap you should be, you can never see her again.”

“Good Heaven! she is not – not – ”

“She’s safe in body, young man; but let me tell ye all. The first thing the Injins did was to burn out the Hintons. They set fire to the cabin, an’ when the poor men rushed out, shot ’em down like dogs. Emily was saved, an’ is a prisoner now.”

“My Emily a prisoner among the Indians! Oh, God!”

“She’s among them, but not in their power. Wild Bill, that most ornery villain, has her in his own power, and sent her off under a lot of his imps to his nest, over there.”

“Bill Ashbey? Impossible! Do you speak truly?”

The manner of Charles was excited, and he grasped the scout by the arm with a force which would have caused most men to writhe with pain.

“True? Of course I do, young man. But it’s better than if the Injins had her, for then she’d be tortured to death, sartin. Now, if you ain’t afraid of a few bullets, an’ hev no particular objection to knockin’ the brains out o’ two or three of ’em, why, your Emily can be yours still. I’ll go with ye, and help to git her back.”

“Oh, will you? Shall we then thwart them, and rescue Emily?”

“Nothin’ surer. As soon as I see yer father and mother on the way to safety, I’m off on the trail.”

“I am with you, my friend, to the end. May Heaven reward you for your noble efforts.”

“Don’t want any reward of that kind. If I can help to git back an angel like Emily, that’s enough.”

“She is an angel, David, you may well say that,” remarked the youth, impulsively. “But why may we not away at once?”

“No occasion for a hurry,” coolly replied the scout. “We must stay an’ see the old folks on their way, for they will have hot work, most likely. Then we will take the trail.”

“Then you are quite sure Mr. Hinton and George were both killed?” asked Charles, with a tear in his eye.

“Yes,” the scout returned. “They were both killed. I fixed a couple o’ the reds, one of ’em a chief at that, but I couldn’t save the poor men. However, it’s time we were movin’, so jist collect the rifles and traps, then hurry the rest up. I’ll go an’ see if there’s any signs o’ Injins.”

As David spoke he passed through the door, and was quickly in the depths of the forest. Philip and his son had not lost a moment, and soon the span of noble bays were attached to the strong wagon, and driven around to the door. Even then the red light from the burning cabin of the Hintons could be seen glaring above the tree-tops. Charles was just driving home the bullet in the rifle, and the little stock of articles which had been selected was soon placed on the vehicle.

At that moment a shadowy form appeared crossing the fields, but it was soon apparent that it was none other than the scout.

“Into the wagon, quick!” he exclaimed, as he drew near. “The red-skins are comin’.”

The persons in waiting needed no second bidding, but hastily scrambled into the vehicle. With a bound, like that of a panther, the scout followed them.

“Are yer shootin’-irons all right?” he asked, hurriedly.

An answer was given in the affirmative.

“Then drive ahead, for the cut-throats are close to us,” he commanded.

The horses sprung lightly forward under the direction of Alfred, who held the reins.