The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  In a moment the whole force passed before Leslie’s eyes. Two canoes loaded with Indians glided past, unconscious of their proximity. Each drew a long breath of relief; but for a considerable time neither ventured a whisper.

  “It appears to me that Indians are plenty in these parts,” remarked Leland.

  “Rather more than I could wish,” returned his companion.

  “Confound it, it will soon be time to fire your gun, and of course the savages will hear it.”

  “But for all that I shall risk it. It will not do to let Kent escape us.”

  “How soon do you intend discharging your piece?”

  “In an hour or so.”

  “Well, see here, Roland, if Kent comes, it can not be expected that he will have any food. The report of your gun will doubtless reach the ears of enemies as well as friends.”

  “I expect it will.”

  “And still further: if such be the case, we shall not dare to land for fear of an encounter. We may be obliged to remain concealed for a few days, and no means will be left to procure food during that time. Now, what I am coming at is this: while we have an opportunity to get it, let us do it.”

  “How do you propose obtaining it?”

  “Easily enough. Just let me land, and I will insure you success in a short time.”

  “But you have overlooked one thing.”

  “What is it?”

  “The report of your gun will be heard as well as mine, and will be as likely to attract the attention of any enemies in the neighborhood.”

  “That is true, but I can reach the boat in time.”

  “And although Kent is within a short distance, I shall not dare to apprise him of our situation.”

  “Such appears to be the case; but you must see that it is absolutely necessary that some means should be taken to secure food.”

  “I admit it, and am willing that you should try.”

  “Hold!” exclaimed Leland, brightening up. “I have a plan. You say that Kent, in the course of an hour or so, will probably be near enough for you to fire. I will try and not bring down any game until that time, and the minute you hear the report of my gun you must discharge yours. This will have the effect that you wish, and I shall have time to reach you before any one can come up.”

  “A capital idea,” said Leslie. “Hearing two guns, the Indians will have a little more fear in approaching us, than they would did they hear but one. You deserve credit, George, for the thought.”

  “Remember, and wait until you hear my gun, before you fire yours,” replied he.

  “I will wait an hour, George; and then, whether I hear yours or not, I shall discharge mine. As I said a while ago, it won’t do to let Kent escape us, and I must be sure to warn him.”

  “I trust that I shall encounter game before that time; but should I not, you must do as you said. I will return upon hearing you.”

  “And return instantly,” said Leslie, impressively. “Don’t wait until the danger is increased. Although it may seem that a few minutes will enable you to procure abundant food, don’t wait a single minute. It may cost you your life, if you do.”

  “I will remember your advice. Now shove in a little nearer shore and I will be off.”

  Leslie brought the boat to the bank, and Leland stepped off.

  “Try and not be gone long; do not wander too far, for it will be an easy thing to get lost in this forest. Remember that it will take you considerable time to reach me, and if the distance be too great, an enemy may be ahead of you. Be careful in all your movements, and be sure to return the instant that my gun is heard.”

  “I will try and obey you,” returned Leland. And George disappeared in the mazes of the woods.

  Leslie returned to his former position, and more to occupy his mind than anything else, gazed out upon the broad bosom of the Ohio, as it glided majestically along, through the dark shadows of the forest. It then presented a far different appearance from what it does at this day. No crowded cities then lined its banks. The flaming steamboat had not broken its surface; the canoe, gliding noiselessly over it, was all that gave token of the presence of man. A rude cabin erected in some lone spot in the wilderness, like a green spot in the desert, showed the feeble footing which he had upon the soil.

  Solemnly and silently the old Ohio rolled along through its hundreds of miles until it as solemnly and silently united with the great father of waters.

  When one has recently passed through an exciting and momentous occurrence, and is then left completely alone, it is difficult to keep from falling into a reverie; the subject which interests the mind most will finally occupy it to the exclusion of everything else.

  Thus it was with Roland Leslie. At first he began speculating upon the probable success of Leland’s enterprise; then upon the probability of his arresting the attention of Kent, should he chance to be in the vicinity. Having considered this for some time, he reflected upon the dangers through which he had passed, and upon the likelihood of further deliverance from them. This thought called to mind his mishap among the rocks, and he proceeded to examine his wounds, of which, for some time, he had entirely ceased to think. These being not very severe, as we have shown, had failed to trouble him, and he was glad to see that they needed no more attention.

  Again left to his thoughts, they shortly wandered to Rosalind Leland. Where was she? Was she alive, or already slain? Was there any hope of meeting her again? Could he do anything toward rescuing her from bondage? He felt certain that she was alive, although a close prisoner, and was confident that recovery was possible. That he determined she should be rescued, and that he should be the one that would do it, was not strange.

  Love will upset the mind of any person, and at times play the wild with him. Leslie was naturally clear-headed, far-sighted and sagacious; yet, when he permitted his ideas to dwell upon the object of his love, they sadly misused him. At such times he was another person. He lost sight of the obstacles and dangers which would have been apparent to any one gifted with ordinary shrewdness; and he formed plans which, in his sober moments, would have only excited his ridicule.

  Strange as it may seem for such a person to have been guilty of such an idea, Leslie had not pondered upon the absorbing topic for any length of time before he deliberately came to the conclusion to rescue Rosalind in the course of three days, to rebuild her old home, and settle down with her for the rest of his life! Of course the savages would never disturb him, and he should be, without doubt, the happiest mortal in existence!

  He was suddenly awakened from his reverie by the faint report of Leland’s rifle. It sounded fully a mile distant, and the certainty of his danger made him tremble with apprehension. George, as he feared, had forgotten the warning given him, and, in the excitement, had unconsciously wandered to a greater distance than he supposed. In all probability he was lost, and would be obliged to seek the river and follow it in order to find Leslie. This would require time, and he had already exposed himself to danger by firing his gun.

  Although Roland had promised to fire upon hearing Leland, yet he forebore to do it. The difference which a half-hour would make in the probability of Kent’s hearing his own gun, would be in his favor. He supposed that Leland, upon discharging his piece, had instantly set out to return, and he wished to give him almost sufficient time to reach him.

  Anxiously and painfully Roland listened, with his finger upon the trigger of his gun; and, as minute after minute wore away without a sound reaching him, he began to hope that Leland could be at no great distance.

  A few more minutes were passed, when Roland concluded that the time for firing his signal had arrived. It would serve to guide Leland, and, had he not deceived himself, would reach the ears of Kent. Standing up in the boat, he raised the gun above his head, and was already pressing the trigger, when he paused, as he heard the sharp crack of Leland’s rifle at no great distance. He waited a few seconds, until the echo had died away, and then discharged his own.

  He
remained stationary a moment, as though to permit the sound to escape entirely from his rifle. Then, reseating himself, proceeded to reload it. This done, he impatiently listened for a returning signal. He had placed a great deal of reliance and hope upon that shot, and, as he now was so soon to learn whether it had accomplished what he wished, he could not keep down his fearful anxiety.

  He was nervous, and listened with painful interest for the slightest sound. The falling of a leaf startled him; and, at last, unable to restrain himself, he determined again to fire his gun.

  At that instant there came a crash of Leland’s rifle, followed by the maddened shouts of infuriated savages, so near that Leslie sprung to his feet and gazed about him. Recovering himself, he stooped, and, seizing a paddle, began shoving the boat toward shore, fully determined to afford his friend all the assistance that lay in his power.

  The boat had hardly touched, when there was a rustling in the bushes directly before him, and the next instant Kent stood beside him.

  “Quick—shove out! They are after me!” he exclaimed, springing into the boat and grasping the oars.

  “Where is George?” asked Leslie.

  “They’ve got him, and came nigh getting me. Cuss the infernal devils!”

  In a moment the two had freed themselves from the bushes. As the yells of their enemies were heard upon the shore, they had reached the center of the stream, and were passing swiftly downward.

  CHAPTER VIII.

  THE COMPANION IN CAPTIVITY.

  When Leland left the boat, he wandered forward for a considerable distance, not noticing the direction in which he was going, only intent upon securing game of some sort or other. Still, he exercised considerable caution in his movements, and determined not to risk a shot unless he was certain of his success. Birds and quadrupeds were plenty, and he did not entertain any doubts of his ability to secure all that he wished. He permitted several good shots to pass, for the reason that he did not wish to fire until the hour was up. By this means he unconsciously increased the distance between himself and Leslie, until it occurred to him that the hour had nearly expired. A few minutes after, having a good opportunity, he improved it, and, securing his prize, turned to retrace his steps.

  Then it flashed upon him, for the first time, that he was lost. As we said, he had failed to notice the direction, and had no idea of the course to pursue in order to reach the river. The only means left was to proceed by guess; contrary to what might be expected, he took the right course. His anxiety caused him to be somewhat heedless; and after proceeding a short distance, he again discharged his rifle. Then hearing the report of Leslie’s rifle but a short distance away, he set joyously forward, confident of soon coming up to him. He had not gone far when he heard a suppressed, significant whistle. Hardly conscious of its meaning, he paused and listened. It was repeated, and becoming suspicious, he sprung behind a tree. While listening, the subdued voice of Kent reached him:

  “Make for the river, George; the imps are on your trail.”

  He turned to obey this injunction, but had not taken a dozen steps when a rifle flamed from some concealment, and a twinge in his side told him that he was wounded. At the same instant several savages sprung toward him, setting up their demoniac howls. The pain of his wound maddened him, and, regardless of consequences, he raised his rifle and shot the foremost through the breast, when scarcely the length of his gun from him.

  This act, though rash, and one which he would not have done in his cooler moments, was the means eventually of saving his life. The intention of the savages was to kill him on the spot; but the death of one of their number increased their fury and thirst for vengeance, and the chief or leader deterred the others from further violence, determined that his death should be at the stake.

  “You shoot Indian, eh?” said one, through his closed teeth, brandishing his knife at the same time in the face of the young man.

  He made no reply; but weakened by the loss of blood, sunk fainting to the ground. He was jerked to his feet, and although barely able to stand, was forced forward, and compelled to keep pace with the others.

  The Indians who had thus captured Leland were the same band who had pursued him and Kent. The latter had taken a circuitous course, and, after placing a considerable distance between himself and his enemies, took the back track and reached the gorge where Leslie had fallen, hoping to find him there; but being disappointed, followed his trail to the river where he saw that he had embarked in the boat.

  Kent knew that his own trail would be followed. In order to mislead the savages, he took to the water and swam about a half-mile down-stream before he landed upon the opposite side. But it seemed that fate was against him. The savages in pursuing him had separated somewhat. Kent’s ruse one of them accidentally discovered, and apprised his companions. They collected and immediately took the right trail. The first intimation the ranger had of his danger was the whistling of a bullet a few inches from his head, as he was nearing the bank; and when his feet rested upon land, his unwearied and tenacious enemies were in the river, boldly crossing toward him.

  When the Indians reached the bank, Kent was already at a great distance, yet they continued their pursuit, and had gone some distance, when the first report of Leland’s rifle reached their ears. This they mistook for Kent’s, and abandoning the trail, made directly toward it. The second discharge of the young man’s gun occurred when he was but a short distance from them. Kent endeavored to warn him of his danger, but as we have seen, it was too late. He himself was discovered and hotly pursued to the boat, where he barely succeeded in making his escape.

  Leland’s captors took up their march toward the Ohio. Here, although their captive was suffering intense agony, they forced him into the water, and compelled him to swim across. Every stroke he thought would be his last, yet he reached the shore in safety. The band set forward at once. There were six savages, upon two of whom the duty of attending Leland devolved. Yet he required little watching or attention. The thought of escape was far from his mind; he was in a sad situation to rebel or offer resistance. Both hands were firmly secured behind him, and his strength was taxed to the utmost to keep up with his captors.

  In the course of a couple of hours they came upon two of their companions, seated around and amusing themselves with a negro. Each appeared to enjoy himself prodigiously at the expense of the poor African, who was boiling over with furious rage.

  “Get out!” he shouted, “my head’s split wide open now, sure!”

  Here one of the savages amused himself by letting the end of a weighty stick fall upon the head of the negro. The luxuriant wool caused it to re-bound again, to the infinite delight of the tormentors, who smiled horribly at it.

  Leland recognized Zeb as he came up. It gave him a sort of pleasure, or rather served to lighten his pain, to know that they were to be companions in captivity. He could probably obtain information of Rosalind, while the conversation of the slave might assist to keep off the gloom which was settling over him.

  “Gorra, ef dar ain’t massa Leland,” exclaimed the negro, turning toward the approaching Indians. “High! whar’d you come from, George? What did you let ’em cotch you fur?”

  “Because I could not prevent it,” returned he, with a faint smile.

  “Well, now, if’t had been dis pusson, you see, dey’d’ve had some trouble.”

  “How is it that you are here, then?”

  “Well, dat question requires considerable explanation. I know’d as how dey’s agoin’ to git you, and so I just come along to help you out de scrape.”

  Here the conversation ceased for the present. Leland had stretched himself upon the ground, and the pain of his wound increased. A savage noticing this, prepared a sort of poultice of pounded leaves and herbs, and placed it upon his side. Had this been done with a view to alleviate his suffering and not to preserve him for a great and awful torture, as it really was, Leland might have felt disposed to thank him for it.

  It had now b
egun to grow dark. A fire was started, and in a short time a large quantity of meat was roasted. A piece of this was offered to Leland, but, though a short time before he had felt keenly the pangs of hunger, the sight of food now filled him with loathing.

  “S’posen you offer dis pusson a few pounds, just to see if he’ll take it,” suggested Zeb, gazing wistfully toward the Indian who held it.

  Several pieces were given him, all of which he devoured voraciously and demanded more. An Indian approached him, and holding a piece within a few inches of his mouth, jerked it away as he was about to seize it. This was repeated several times, until Zeb, losing all patience, became morose and sullen and refused to snap at it. The savage seemed disposed to humor him and held it still closer. Zeb, watching his opportunity, made a quick motion, and nearly severed the finger of his tormentor’s hand, between his teeth. The savage dropped the meat with a howl, and furiously shaking his wounded member, fairly danced with pain. He would have undoubtedly killed the negro had not his companions prevented. They enjoyed the sport and encouraged Zeb, who devoured his food for some time in dignified silence.

  “Wouldn’t mind tryin’ some more. S’posen you hold out yer other hand!”

  No one noticed this remark, and the negro was obliged to rest satisfied with what he had obtained.

  As night came on, the savages stretched themselves upon the earth and left the prisoners to themselves. Each was securely fastened. Leland was within a few feet of Zeb, yet he concluded to wait until all were asleep before he ventured to hold converse with him.

  At length when the night had considerably advanced, and the heavy breathing of the savages showed that slumber had at last settled upon them, George turned his head so that he faced the negro, and abruptly asked:

  “Zeb, what do you know of my sister?”

  “Noffin’!” returned the negro, earnestly.

  “Were you not taken off together?”

  “At fust we was; but dey took her one way and me anoder.” He then proceeded to narrate all the circumstances which had occurred to him, since the burning of the house, in his own characteristic way.