CHAPTER XVI--A MIDNIGHT SUPPER
Seated on a bed of dry leaves in the snug shelter of the old whitewood,John Jerome ate his supper. Kingdom had made fresh corn bread and hominyand roasted a whole quarter of a deer during his otherwise enforcedidleness a couple of days earlier, and all these things were very muchto John's taste. He enjoyed his supper so much, indeed, and felt sostrong and hearty after he had eaten and rested for a time, that hecrept out from his retreat and stood upright among the bushes concealingthe hiding place.
It lacked a little of being totally dark. Except for the dense fog, ormist, it would still be almost daylight, John thought, as he lookedabout him. He didn't feel like lying down to sleep at once. No, hewouldn't either. He would go out just a little way beyond the thicketand see if he could not discover some sign of a campfire down in thegully. That pile of wood which he and Ree had found was not there fornothing. It meant that the camp was not permanently abandoned. At anyrate, he would see what he could see.
With some such reflections, by way of excusing himself for doing whatKingdom had told him not to do, John made his way cautiously and slowlytoward the protected valley and the mysterious camp there hidden. Nolight of any kind shone in that direction, however, and he reasoned withhimself that it was useless to go further. Still, he thought, therecould be no harm and no danger either when veiled by such a mist ingoing clear up to the edge of the bluff.
Even while making excuses to himself John was edging stealthily onward.Soon the brink of the steep descent was just before him. He could notsee into the valley but his familiarity with the trees and general layof the land assured him that he had to go only a little farther toobtain a view of the mysterious camping place.
In his eagerness the venturesome young man was quite forgetful ofdanger. Making scarcely an effort to conceal himself, indeed, he waspushing steadily forward when suddenly he was recalled to a realizationof his carelessness in a manner he long remembered.
With one foot on a fallen log, in the act of rising up to step quietlydown on the other side, John unconsciously paused for an instant to gethis balance. As he did so a scarcely audible sound of light but rapidfootfalls greeted his ears, and the same moment there came into view theerect and muscular figure of the Seneca.
The Indian was hardly more than five yards distant. Even in the thickmist and semi-darkness he must have seen John immediately had he pausedor so much as turned his head for an instant. Fortunately he did neitherand in another second he was out of sight.
"The lead mine!" Jerome whispered, and immediately his imaginationpictured some hidden cavern near, and the Indian in the midst of thetreasure.
Intent on following the redskin, if possible, the foolhardy boy did notstop to reason or reflect. After Lone-Elk he went and with such speedthat soon the savage was only a few paces before him. The Indian haltedfor a moment. Again brought to the use of his sounder judgment with ajerk, John Jerome stopped no less quickly. Whether some sound, or theprompting of some other of his keen senses had caused the Seneca topause, the white boy could not determine. But when the Indian moved on,changing his course and heading more directly toward the river, the ladthought twice before he followed.
Could it be that Lone-Elk, well aware that he was being trailed, wasonly leading his pursuer on, suddenly to turn and kill him when the timeand place were to his liking? The thought made John quite uncomfortable.
Then, boy-like, he thought of the lead mine again, thereby deliberatelyputting temptation before himself; and the next moment he was again inpursuit of the Indian. He heard the fellow now and then, some distancein advance, but did not catch sight of him. It was quite dark now. Hemust be careful or he would come quite up to the savage withoutdiscovering him.
Continuing cautiously, John had traversed nearly a quarter of a milewhen he noticed that he no longer heard any sound of the Indian'smovements. In vain he listened. The dark, mist-soaked forest was stillas death. How in the world could the slippery redskin have disappearedso suddenly?
Afraid to go on lest he fall fairly into the Seneca's arms, hesitatingto turn back, the mystified boy stood pondering.
"There's nothing for it but to make a note of this place and come againby daylight. The mine may be very near here," John told himself at last."It might be all right to wait and see if I don't see a light, afterawhile. I most likely would see one if the mine is close by; but it'sgetting so dark now, and--"
And John Jerome was lost. He looked about, as he reached the conclusionthat he must return to his tree, but it was only to realize that he knewnot which way to go. How careless he had been! Why had he not observedmore carefully the turnings of the chase he had been led? The darknesswas deepening fast. He could not see the trees which but a brief timesince were distinctly visible.
"Of all the scatter-brain idiots that ever followed a wagon off, I'm theworst,--I am for sure!" the anxious lad told himself, but with quietdetermination set about to retrace his steps as best he could.
Not a dozen steps had John taken, however, when he came in contact witha mass of low tangled underbrush. It had not obstructed the way before.Plainly then, he was headed in the wrong direction. Turning, he gropedhis way first to the right, then to the left. It was all to no purpose;for not one familiar object could he discover, not one thing could hefind which would help him to get his bearings.
To be confused and uncertain which way to go in the darkness in one'sown home is a most unpleasant predicament. North seems south and rightseems left.
On a larger scale and with the calculating part of the situationentirely removed, it was just such a predicament as this in which Johnwas forced at last to acknowledge himself. Worn out, and filled withdisappointment and the increasing despair which came with his everyattempt to find the direction in which he wished to go, the lad sat downat the foot of a large tree to think. If he could but rid himself of thebewilderment that made him unable even to study out the probability asto which way was which, he would fare much better, he was sure. But themore he tried, the more uncertain he became.
The ground was cold and very wet. The coarse bark of the tree, againstwhich his hand was placed, was moist and clammy to the touch. From thebranches above, drops of water came dripping at intervals making whatseemed a loud noise as they fell upon the leaves. The security andcomparative comforts of the old whitewood seemed very pleasant indeed,now that they were so far from reach, and more than once John wished hehad not left them. If the mist would but clear away and the clouds breakenough to let him see the stars, he would be able to find his way. Untilthen, he concluded at last, he would do well to remain where he was.
For a long time. John had remained close to the tree at whose base hehad first sat down. Sometimes sitting, sometimes standing, alwayslistening and watching, he believed he had spent the larger part of thelong night, when he heard at no great distance the sounds of an axe.Instantly his attention was centered on the noise. It came from theright, the direction in which he felt the hollow poplar to be, though heknew, from trying, that his impression was wrong.
Who could be using an axe in the depths of the forest at midnight? Therecould be but one answer to the question--the men at the camp in thegully or Lone-Elk.
Thoroughly aroused, John vowed he would learn more. He would see, if hecould, what the noise meant. Visions of the lead mine came to him, too,and without more ado he began to feel his way among the trees andthrough the darkness in the direction from which the sounds reached him.But in scarcely more than a minute the chopping ceased. From the firstit had not been loud, sounding rather as if only small bits of wood werebeing broken up. Now the same awful quiet as before pervaded all thewoods.
Only a little way did John venture to go, with nothing to serve as aguide. Very recent experience had taught him the uselessness of trying.But as he stood still, listening for some further sound, he became awareof a certain brightness in the mist some distance off. He guessed atonce its meaning. "They were cutting wood to kindle a fire, of course,"he told h
imself. "Now, then, my hunkies, we'll see who you are, at anyrate!"
Slowly and with much care to move quietly, John drew nearer the light.Very dull at first, it brightened not a great deal as he approached, sothick was the mist, and indeed it was not until the lad was at the verybrink of the bluff above the little gully that he was sure of thelocation of the fire. As he had supposed, however, the abandoned campwas now occupied. A kettle was hung upon a rude tripod and the cheeryblaze was mounting up above it on all sides.
Nothing but the fire and the kettle above it could John see, however,and if anyone was about he was hidden by the fog. No sound reached thewatching boy either. Surely, he thought, there was something mysterioushere, which hinted of dark secrets and of crime. "But that kettle willboil dry if no one touches it; I'll see something if I wait longenough," John reflected, and he was not kept a great while in suspense.
A tall, uncouth figure of a man dressed in ragged coat and trousers, andwearing a shapeless slouch hat, all of which contrasted oddly with themoccasins on his feet, stepped suddenly from the outer darkness close tothe blaze and stooped down, holding his arms about the fire as if hewould hug it to him. He shivered and shook himself, then lifted the lidand peeped into the kettle. Sniffing, and nodding his head as though thekettle's contents pleased him, he returned the cover to the pot, thenarose and in another second the mist and darkness had swallowed him upagain.
To say that John Jerome was greatly interested in what he saw would notbe telling the whole truth; for the fact was that he was not onlyinterested, but excited beyond measure. His heart beat fast, and sostrongly was he tempted to call out to the fellow that he thought hemust hurry away, lest he yield to the strange desire with results whichwould almost certainly be unfortunate.
There was no doubt in John's mind that here was the murderer of the twomen found dead at the "lick." He looked the part, seemed to have"murder" stamped in every fold of his tattered clothing, and on eachseparate hair of his stubby beard. Even without the evidence which Ree'sdiscovery of the glove had furnished, Jerome would have been certain, hedeclared within himself, that this man was a vile wretch at best, andcapable of committing murder, even if he never had done so. Why was hehere? Why did he hide in so secret a place and come out like a fugitivecriminal at night to kindle his fire and prepare his food? Where did hestay by day?
These and many more questions came to John as he watched and waited. Hewondered, too, whether the fellow was alone. It must be so. He wouldhear voices otherwise. However, if there were others present he probablywould see them soon. They, also, would draw near the fire.
Again the mysterious man came into the firelight. John had a better viewof his face this time, but the stubby beard and the long, coarse hairwhich fell about the fellow's ears concealed his countenance fromscrutiny. As before, the man looked into the steaming kettle. Then herolled a small log nearer to the blaze with his foot and sat down uponit. Presently he lifted the pot from the fire and placed it beside him,as if to cool.
"Ready for you, Lone-Elk, my boy," the fellow called quietly, and inanswer to his hoarse voice the outcast Seneca stepped into the circle oflight. As if perfectly at home, he, too, seated himself upon the log,and together the repulsive pair began to eat: The white man cut the meatin the kettle with a heavy hunting knife and, using their knives asspears, the two fished out pieces of the boiled leg of venison, for suchit appeared to be, and ate greedily.
The sight of Lone-Elk caused John much more alarm than he had yet felt.In a direct line the Indian was but eight or nine yards distant.Fortunately his back was turned, and yet the slightest sound would reachhim. Scarcely daring to move, therefore, the lad who watched the strangefeast of the redskin and the scarcely less savage-appearing white man,continued a silent spectator of their repast. But when Lone-Elk rose, asif he cared for nothing more, and the white man also got up from thelog, as if to say good-bye, John waited no longer. Cautiously as hecould, he crept away, lest before he could do so, the Seneca might be upthe steep slope and fairly upon him.
The Trail of the Seneca Page 16
