The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  The form leaped to its feet in a manner that he little suspected. Kent saw that an encounter was unavoidable, when, concentrating his strength, he bounded like a panther toward the savage, bearing him to the earth, with his iron hand clutching his throat. Pequanon struggled, but was powerless, and could not make a sound above a painful gurgle. Kent whipped out his knife, and had just aimed at his breast, when the savage found voice to speak a few words.

  “Hold! you strike the white man’s friend!”

  The excellent English startled Kent, and he relaxed his hold.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “Pequanon, the white man’s friend.”

  “What did you come nosin’ out here fur then?”

  Kent’s knees were upon the arms of the Indian, while he was seated upon his breast. The hunter loosed his grasp.

  “The pale-faced maiden. Pequanon wished to save her.”

  “Wal, see here, old red-skin, I’m after her. You’s sayin’ as how you’s her friend. Mind to help?”

  The Indian answered in the affirmative.

  “Wal, I’ll let you up, pervidin’ you’ll go and bring her out. What you say?”

  “Is it her friends that wish her?”

  “You’ve hit it there. Goin’ to help?”

  “Pequanon will lay his life down for the captive.”

  “I’ll let you up then, and give you two minutes to trot her out. If you undertake to come any of your tricks over me, I’ll blow your brains out.”

  Kent permitted Pequanon to arise, who departed silently for the lodge without giving a reply to his remark.

  The hunter was not to be deceived by any artifice of the savage, and to guard against treachery, withdrew still further from the lodge. He doubted very much whether the Indian would endeavor to assist him at all, but he had done the best he could under the circumstances.

  In a moment his doubts were put to flight by the reappearance of the noble Indian, with Rosalind. As cool and collected as was the hunter, he could not repress a joyous start as he gazed upon her form.

  “That’s the fust Injin, accordin’ to my opine,” he muttered to himself, “that ever was a man.”

  Rosalind, all trembling eagerness and anxiety, on coming up to Kent, seemed unable to speak. The hunter noticed her action and forbore speaking, making a motion, as an apology, for silence. For a second the trio remained motionless and undetermined what course to pursue. Pequanon noticed this and started toward the river.

  “Hold on, cap’n!” said Kent; “there’s another chap that come with me.”

  The hunter now took the lead; and leaving them hopefully pursuing their way, let us glance at Leslie until they arrive.

  Chafing, fretting, hoping, fearing and doubting sat Leslie, impatiently awaiting the appearance of Kent. The falling of a leaf, or rustling of the branches under some light breeze startled him; and when a night-bird, that had been resting above him gave utterance to its unearthly hoot, and swooped past, its voice he mistook for the yell of his savage foes, and the flap of its wings for their approaching tread.

  Now he pictured the bliss that he hoped to feel; then again he was the prey of most poignant doubts and fears. Would he see her, and clasp her to his bosom, or was she a hopeless captive? Was she living or dead? Would Kent come back without information or hope? Suddenly there arose a wild, prolonged yell, that fairly froze him with terror. Kent was discovered, and all hope was gone! Oh, the agony of that moment!

  Hardly comprehending the state of things, he formed a dozen different plans at once. Now he was going to rush madly forward and rescue Rosalind during the confusion, and then was about shouting for Kent.

  All at once he heard a footstep. The pursuers were then at hand! Resolved to lay one savage low, he rushed forward toward the approaching figure. Could it be possible? Was it not a dream? There she stood before his eyes. His limbs trembled, and he felt upon the point of falling.

  “Is this Mr. Leslie?” asked a sweet voice that had thrilled him more than once before.

  “I guess it’s him or his spook,” answered Kent, for him. “If there’s goin’ to be any huggin’ done, hurry up with it, fur they’re follerin’ us.”

  This threw off all reserve. Leslie folded Rosalind to his breast. She spoke not—resisted not—her trembling limbs and sobs told more than words could have done.

  “That’ll do for the present,” interrupted Kent, in a kind tone. “We must be off now, fur the red-skins have smelt the rat, and I should judge by the noise they’re makin’ that they’re in a confounded muss. Never mind, don’t cry. When we get down home out of danger, I’ll let you hug and cry as much as you please. Which way, Mr. Red-skin?”

  Pequanon turned to the left and took long, impatient strides. Kent followed closely in his footsteps, while Leslie led the trembling Rosalind. Often, regardless of the danger which threatened, he pressed her to him and whispered words of which we can only guess the meaning.

  On they hurried, half running, over the tangled underwood and fallen trees until they paused upon the brink of the river.

  Here, to the surprise and joy of all, Pequanon running to a clump of bushes pulled forth a large canoe and shoved it into the stream. The others needed no admonition to use it.

  “Here,” said their guide, “we part. May the great Spirit guide you.”

  “Say, you, you’ll get into trouble, won’t you, if you go back?” queried Kent.

  “The Great Spirit will protect me. Farewell.”

  “Wait, Pequanon,” said Rosalind, rising from her seat.

  “Pequanon has only paid his debt to the pale-faced maiden.”

  The Indian was gone.

  Rosalind sunk back upon her seat in tears.

  “He’s the first Injin that I ever got my clutches on that has got away after it, and the first one that I ever felt like lettin’ go. Somehow or other my old gun didn’t burn and wriggle when I sot my eyes on him, as it is used to doin’ in such cases; and if it wasn’t fur that red hide of hisn’ I wouldn’t believe he was one of them.”

  All this time the shouts and yells of the savages could be heard, and now and then it seemed to the fugitives that they must have been discovered. Kent pulled the boat to the opposite shore, and as he expressed it, “hugged the bank mighty close.” He had little fear of being discovered, but the utmost caution was to be used, for, in their rage, the savages would use every means in their power to recapture them.

  Kent knew that by keeping on, he would in time reach the banks of the Ohio. Their enemies would probably suspect the true nature of their escape and take to the river in pursuit; and, as the Indians, in case of discovery, could easily overtake and recapture them, they must necessarily be saved by fortune and stratagem. Though scarce a ripple was heard, the shadowy form of the boat shot swiftly under the hanging trees and round the projecting points of the bank, like some serpent gliding noiselessly over the surface.

  Soon the edge of the great moon slowly rose above the dark line of the forest, and its long rays streamed over wood and river; when it had finally risen high up in the heavens, the stream shone as brightly as at noonday. Its winding course could be discerned ahead until it was lost in the forest, and for miles behind, its banks were as clearly defined as it could have been under the sun’s rays.

  Now that the river and its objects were so plainly depicted, Kent kept closer yet under the shadows of the friendly bank. Now and then he hurried through some opening in the trees of the shore, where, for a minute, he was exposed to any gaze that might chance to be given; then, when the water was shallow, he struck the muddy bottom, and patiently worked himself on again. Being engaged in rowing, his face was turned toward the stern, and thus had a full sweep of the river which he had passed over, the only point from which he had reason to apprehend danger.

  He was upon the point of speaking, when his quick eye detected a speck in view around a bend in the river, some distance back. He halted, for he knew its character.

  “We
’re follered!” said he, guiding the boat in to shore.

  A few minutes more and the boat could be plainly seen by all three. It was in the center of the stream, and approaching rapidly. The heads of four or five Indians could be discerned. Their object was plain to all.

  Kent had run his boat against the shore, and the three were now waiting breathlessly for their enemies to pass.

  The Indians plainly had no suspicion that the fugitives were so close at hand, and kept steadily onward. Hardly daring to breathe, our three friends saw the long, sharp canoe, with five of their mortal enemies, shoot past, and disappear.

  “Did you see how my gun kept twitchin’ and jumpin’? Why, I had all I could do to hold him. Thunder! it’s too bad to see them fellers give you such a nice shot and then miss it,” said the ranger, again taking the oars.

  Kent now guided the boat with greater caution, ever and anon turning and looking ahead, not daring to leave the sole watch to Leslie, who had other things far more interesting to himself with which to occupy his mind.

  CHAPTER XV.

  THE FUGITIVES FLYING NO LONGER.

  The fugitives continued moving forward until morning, when, to guard against needless exposure, Kent again ran the canoe under the bank, and remained at rest the entire day. All suffered so much from hunger, that the hunter left the boat during the afternoon, and, after a few hours’ absence, obtained a sufficient quantity of meat for them all. This was cooked after his usual cautious and expert fashion, and was thankfully partaken of by his companions.

  Roland and the maid were resting on the sheltered bank of the river; none but Kent ventured out of sight of the spot during the day. For aught they knew there might be hordes of savages within hearing of their voices, scouring the woods in every direction in their search; it needed but the slightest inadvertency upon their part to insure their own destruction.

  Leslie sat conversing with Rosalind, when Kent started up, and, glancing behind, stepped down the river-bank and peered out upon the stream. Leslie was beside him in an instant, and, as the two gazed out, the boat which they had seen pursuing them during the night came into view. It was coming up-stream, evidently returning from the chase. It now contained but three savages. Although Leslie had but little to fear, nevertheless he watched the boat with intense interest. Pausing a second, he glanced around, and exclaimed, in terror:

  “As sure as heaven, they are heading toward this point.”

  Kent commanded, in a whisper:

  “Get your shootin’-iron ready, and be ready yourself. They’re comin’ in below us.”

  The savages had landed a few hundred yards down-stream, and seemed to suspect the presence of no one. Suddenly one of them uttered a loud whoop. In a moment it was repeated, and an answer came, apparently from a distance. Ere long two savages approached the canoe, and, entering, the five again shoved out, and commenced paddling up-stream. Leslie asked Kent the meaning of these proceedings.

  “Plain enough,” he answered; “they left them two fellers on the shore last night, so that, if they passed us, they would see us when we came along, and they’ve been watching there ever since. If we’d gone a half a mile further, they’d have shot us; but as we happened to stop afore they got eyes on us, they’ve missed us, that’s all.”

  At night they again set out, proceeding fearlessly. When morning again dawned, many miles were placed between Rosalind and her captors.

  It is needless to dwell upon the further particulars of their homeward journey. Every day occupied was like its predecessor: pressing boldly forward when the shade of night favored them; proceeding more cautiously through the day; resting sometimes in the center of the stream, and then again approaching the shore for food; now a prey to some imaginary fear, and then thrilling with hope, when they finally glided into the fair Ohio. Safely they reached their destination unpursued, and fearing no enemy.

  “Wonder who’s in them pile of logs up thar,” remarked Kent, glancing suspiciously at Leslie, when they were approaching the ruins of the house.

  “Why, who would be there?” returned he, with well-feigned ignorance.

  “Looks as though somebody had fitted it up. Hallo, here!” demanded Kent, battering against the structure.

  At this summons George Leland stepped forth.

  The meeting was such as can be easily imagined; joy complete filled the hearts of all; friend, brother, sister and lover were reunited; nothing was wanting to fill their cup of bliss. The old hunter, as soon as his brief salutation was over, withdrew to the background. Leaning on his rifle, he remarked that he was “goin’ to look on and see the fun.”

  As soon as the emotion of all had subsided, they turned toward the hunter. They were without shelter and home, and something must be done at once.

  Kent at once divined their thoughts and said: “Wal, sit down and I’ll tell you what’s to be done.”

  The three did as required, and Kent unfolded his plan.

  “There’s too much trouble for you in these parts; you must leave. Up the river some distance is quite a settlement, and there’s the only place you can stay, what I propose is this: we must leave here as soon as possible, and let us do it now.”

  “More than once have I thought of the plan which Kent has given,” said Leslie, “and I hope that it will be carried out at the earliest moment. Every hour passed here is an hour of peril.”

  “The matter is then settled,” said George. “Let us prepare to pass our last night here; then to seek another home.”

  The shelter in which Leland had spent his time during the absence of the others was found to be commodious enough to accommodate all, and into it they went. The old hunter kept watch during the night, while the rest slept, and we doubt very much whether four happier, more hopeful beings ever were congregated.

  At the earliest streak of morn, the hunter aroused the others, and they prepared to take their final departure. The canoe in which the three had come was found to be sufficiently capacious for the entire party. With a tear of regret for the old home, the fair Rosalind entered the canoe, and soon it was cutting the waters on its upward course.

  It is not necessary in this place to dwell upon the particulars of their journey. They encountered nothing unusual or alarming until, in rounding a bend in the river, they were startled by the sight of an unusual object far up the stream. With the exception of Kent, all manifested considerable surprise and apprehension.

  “What are we to encounter now?” asked Leslie, as he earnestly scrutinized the approaching object. “Are we never to be rid of these brutes?”

  “It is undoubtedly one of their contrivances,” added Leland, “and I’m afraid we shall have to take to the woods again to give it a go-by. How is it, Kent?”

  The face of the hunter wore a quizzical look, and his only reply was a quiet smile. As he observed the looks of wonder his companions cast upon him, he became more thoughtful.

  “This is bad business,” said he, shaking his head; “that is something I didn’t expect to see.”

  The progress of the canoe by this time was checked, and it was drifting with the current. The two young men had no desire for a nearer approach to the apparently formidable contrivance.

  “Can’t either one of you two chaps make out what sort of ship that is coming down-stream?”

  Both Leland and Leslie were considerably puzzled, when they saw Rosalind smile, as if enjoying their stupidity.

  “If you can’t tell, just ask the gal,” added the hunter, bursting into a loud laugh.

  “Why, George I thought you had lived long enough in the western country to recognize a flat-boat!”

  “What dunces we both are. How could any one imagine that to be anything else than a genuine flat-boat? Let us approach it and make the acquaintance of those on board.”

  “Sart’in, boys,” said the hunter, dipping his paddles deep into the water and impelling the canoe rapidly forward.

  “A cheer for them!” exclaimed Leslie, rising in the boat and swi
nging his hat over his head.

  How unspeakably thankful were the hearts of the fugitives, as their salutation was returned by more than one voice! Friends indeed were near, and their dangers were over.

  A few moments later the canoe was beside the flat-boat.

  “Thank God! thank God!” fervently uttered Leland, as he clasped his sister in his arms and realized that they were now safe, safe! For the first time in weeks he felt the sweet consciousness of safety.

  “It is almost worth the sufferings we have undergone!” said he. “This sweet consciousness that we are really beyond the reach of our foes is an enjoyment that we have not experienced for a long time.”

  “Do not forget the all-sustaining Hand that has brought us out of the very jaws of death.”

  “Forget it? May He forget me when I fail to remember Him. Great Father,” said Leland, meekly uncovering and bowing his head, while the tears fell like rain down his face, “Great Father, for this and all other mercies I thank thee!”

  “I join in thanksgiving with theirs,” said Leslie, in the same reverent manner, as he approached brother and sister.

  The flat-boat was no other than the celebrated expedition under Major Taylor, which established such a firm and prosperous settlement upon the northern bank of the Ohio. He had about thirty souls on board, a dozen of whom were men. The true cause of the astonishing success of this company was that both the leader and his comrades fully understood the perils they encountered in venturing into the great western wilderness. They were not men who could be decoyed into the simplest or most cunning contrivances that Indian ingenuity could suggest, nor were they those who expected to spend a life of ease and enjoyment in the woods. They simply understood and prepared for what was before them.