The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  “Whisht!” whispered Tim; “there’s somebody else beside us on this island.”

  CHAPTER XX

  Shasta, the Pah Utah

  All three paused and listened. For a moment all was still; and then the suppressed groan of distress was heard, as though the sufferer were seeking to keep back the outcry that was forced from him.

  “There it is!” whispered Howard, pointing to a clump of bushes near the edge of the river.

  “It strikes me we had better leave!” replied Elwood, looking forward to the canoe as if fearful that that would be taken from them and all escape be thus cut off.

  “Do you sind the dog forward and let him smell out the difficulty,” suggested Tim O’Rooney.

  Terror stood there between the boys, his head raised and his whole appearance indicating that he had scented something unusual, but was awaiting orders before advancing upon it. The Newfoundland looked up as if asking for directions. Elwood simply pointed toward the brush and the dog galloped to it. Instead of entering, he stopped by it and gave a low growl of discovery.

  “What is it, Terror?” asked Howard.

  The brute whined and ran to his masters and then back to the bushes.

  “It maybe a trap to catch us,” said Elwood. “I prefer very much taking to the canoe and getting away from the island.”

  “But it may be some one suffering and needing help. He may perish if we leave him here.”

  “Yez spakes the truth,” said Tim. “The blessed Father would never forgive us if we should desart one of his creatures when he needed hilp.”

  Tim now advanced straight to the bushes, paused, and then parted them and looked in. He was heard to mutter something to himself; then he came back.

  “It’s an Injin, a-layin’ on the ground, a-groanin’ and a-rollin’ over. I guess the poor fellow has got his last sickness, and we can’t help him any.”

  All feelings were at once merged into that of pity. The three advanced and parted the bushes. There, sure enough, lay an Indian apparently nigh unto death. He turned his black eyes up to the white people in a manner that would have melted the heart of a Nero. He lay doubled up on his blanket, with his gun a short distance from him. He belonged to the Pah Utah tribe, although their hunting-grounds are further to the southwest. This fact, as a matter of course, was unknown to our friends.

  The first impression was that he had been badly wounded, but a second glance showed that he was deadly sick.

  Elwood Brandon had placed his hand upon the dusky forehead, and the heat and throbbing temples told him at once that he was possessed with a burning fever.

  The poor Indian muttered something unintelligible, but which bore some resemblance to the word “Shasta,” and he made a motion toward his mouth and then threw his head back and imitated the act of drinking.

  “He must be suffering with thirst,” said Howard. “How shall we manage to give him water?”

  “God save the poor fellow! I will soon fix that!” exclaimed the kind-hearted Tim, rising to his feet and hurrying to the river’s edge. Here he speedily constructed quite a capacious cup of leaves, and carefully filling it with cool water he as carefully carried it back to where he lay.

  “Now, me good felly, just tip up his noddle and we’ll make him faal aisy.”

  Elwood carefully raised his head, and the trembling sufferer eagerly reached forward for the cooling fluid. It was placed to his parched lips and swallowed hastily, when he immediately motioned for more.

  “Will it do to give it?” asked Howard. “Will it not injure him?”

  “Niver a bit,” replied Tim, hurrying away for another supply.

  In a moment it was brought and swallowed with the same avidity. He then lay his head back upon the blanket of the boys, which had been folded into a pillow by Howard. His great black eyes looked the thanks which his tongue was unable to express.

  “Now he will slaap,” said Tim. “Lave him alone.”

  He was relinquished to slumber while our friends retired a short distance to consult.

  “How providential that we landed here,” said Howard. “He was too feeble to help himself, and might have died in great distress.”

  “Yes, I am glad that we found him, for if he does die we may be the means of robbing his last moments of great suffering.”

  “Boys,” said Tim, hitching up his pantaloons and scratching his head, “me mind is made up to one thing.”

  The boys looked inquiringly at him.

  “I stays here till that poor copper-skin gets well or dies.”

  This decision pleased his companions, who declared their resolve of doing all they could for the sufferer.

  “How much more pleasant than shooting at him,” said Elwood. “I never felt better in my life than when I found I was able to do something for this Indian.”

  What a happiness it is indeed to minister to the wants of the suffering and distressed! What purer joy than to wipe away the damp from the brow of the dying and to speak words of consolation in their ears? That last agony must come to us all sooner or later, and oh how deeply we shall then appreciate the kindness of the friend who stands beside us, ministering to our wants and doing all possible to cheer and soothe our suffering! True, we must go alone through the Dark Valley, but others may lead us down to the border, and their cheering words may yet linger with us as the day closes and we step into that awful gloom through which we must pass before we can enter into the eternal day beyond. Though we know that He stands waiting to take our hand in His and lead us through the solemn darkness, yet the soul, hovering in its flight, longs for the companionship of the dear ones, until the final adieu must come! Oh, loving Father, whose sympathizing arms reach out to enfold us all, grant that such may be mine and the lot of all my friends.

  Upon looking at the Indian an hour later, he was seen to be sleeping as calmly as an infant, while his face was covered with a mild, healthful moisture.

  “He will git well!” said Tim. “Did I not stand by the bedside of my poor mother and give her the cowld water that brought her back to life agin?”

  “The crisis of the fever has passed, or is passing,” said Howard. “He must have an iron constitution, like all his people, and he will rally, I have no doubt.”

  “Yes,” added Elwood, with much feeling, “there is one thing certain; all are not our enemies; we have made one friend at least.”

  “True, an Indian never forgets an injury nor a kindness, and his friendship may be of benefit to us before we reach home.”

  “I b’laves you, boys; that Injin will remember us as long as he lives, and will sarve us a good turn if the chances for the same be iver given him.”

  “But see, he has awaked!”

  CHAPTER XXI

  A Hunt for Food

  The Indian was awake and making signs to his friends. For some time they were at a loss to understand their meaning, but Howard noticed that he had a leaf in his hand which he offered to them. When the boy took it his face showed that he was pleased, but continued his signs as before.

  Suddenly Elwood’s eyes sparkled.

  “He wants us to bring him some of those leaves. Let me have it; they must be on the island.”

  He hastened away and was not long in finding a bush that bore precisely the same species, and gathering quite a lot he returned to the Indian and offered them to him. But he did not seem satisfied. He looked at the leaves, nodded his head, and then taking them by the slight twigs to which they were fastened, he made as if to pull them up again.

  “Ah! I know what he means!” said Howard. “It is not the leaf but the root that he wishes.”

  “I can soon get that.”

  Elwood verified his words, and scarce ten minutes elapsed ere he returned with several goodly-sized roots, which were washed and cleaned. The look of the Indian showed that he had now got what he wanted, and he began gnawing the bark and chewing it.

  “He’s a docthering himself now!” said Tim, “as the patient said when he gave the d
octher his own medicine and pisened him to death by raisin of the same. He will get along.”

  They watched the sufferer for a few moments. Gathering his mouth nearly full of the bark, he continued chewing and swallowing for some time longer, when he finally shut his eyes and again slept.

  Picking up a piece of the root which he had gathered Elwood tasted of it. He found it so bitter that he instantly spat it out.

  “It must have some medicinal quality,” remarked Howard, “or he would not use it. I believe the Indians doctor entirely with herbs, and I have no doubt that he will soon be well.”

  “Do yez mind that if it isn’t noon it is close to the same? And be the tame towken we are all slightly hungry.”

  Now arose a query. The island was so small that it contained no game of any kind, and so was unavailable to supply their wants. The river abounded in fish, but there was no means of catching them; and finally, after some discussion, it was agreed that Tim should cross over to the mainland and shoot something.

  “Do yez kaap your eyes about yez till I’z back again, for some of the coppery gintlemen may take a notion to pay yez a visit.”

  The boys felt a little uneasiness as they saw their companion enter the canoe and paddle toward the eastern shore—the shore which as yet had been unvisited by them. They watched until he landed, pulled the boat up behind him into shelter, and then disappeared in the wood.

  “We shall be in rather a bad situation if he never comes back,” remarked Elwood.

  “I don’t know about that; in what better occupation can we be found than in ministering to the wants of a suffering Indian? Would not that itself protect us from injury?”

  “Perhaps it might; but what would become of us any way? They wouldn’t be kind enough to guide us up to San Francisco.”

  “They might take us so far that we could find our way.”

  “Hardly; I don’t like to see Tim go to that shore; it looks too dangerous. I wonder why he did it?”

  “He must have believed there is more game there.”

  “But there is enough on the other side, and he would avoid this greater danger by going there.”

  “I imagine that a river running through a hostile country is as dangerous upon one side as upon the other, and there is little choice, Howard, in the matter.”

  “But I know you feel unpleasant in being thus left alone.”

  “I know I shall be glad to see Tim come back again, for there is always great danger in such a small party separating.”

  “Halloo! there goes his gun or somebody else’s.”

  The sharp crack of the rifle came from the shore, and Elwood was sure he saw the faint smoke of the discharge ascend from some thick bushes near the edge of the wood. But he was no doubt mistaken, for as they scrutinized the spot they detected nothing of him who had fired the gun.

  “I suppose it was Tim firing at some game. You know he is not a very good shot, and so he has badly wounded without killing it.”

  “Then we ought to hear his gun again.”

  “We shall no doubt—”

  “Hark!”

  Crack went a gun, almost instantly followed by three similar reports. The boys turned pale and looked at each other.

  “What does that mean?” whispered Elwood.

  “That is bad; Tim is in trouble.”

  “He ought to have had better sense than to paddle out there in open day, plunge right into the woods and go to shooting without stopping to see what the danger is. But what will become of him?”

  “And of us?”

  “This Indian here must have had some way of getting upon the island. I believe he has a canoe hid somewhere.”

  “But what of it? We cannot think of leaving until we know something definite about Tim.”

  “Unless some of the Indians start to come over to the island, and then we’ll leave.”

  “Do you think that would be the wisest plan, Elwood? They can handle the paddle so much better than we that it would take but little time for them to overhaul us. Then, too, if they should find us by this suffering brother of theirs would it not make friends of them?”

  “Suppose this Indian here is one of their enemies?”

  This was a supposition that had never occurred to Howard before, but which he saw was very reasonable. All Indians not belonging to the same tribe might be supposed to be enemies of each other, and thus the mercy and kindness of our young heroes might be made the means of their destruction.

  “I didn’t think of that,” said Howard, “it may be so. But let us hope for the best. Tim may soon return to us again.”

  “Not if he has a grain of sense left.”

  “And why not?”

  “He has been seen by Indians, and if they haven’t got him now they will soon have him if he undertakes to paddle his canoe over to the island.”

  “You are right, Elwood; he will no doubt wait until it is dark, and then come out to us as stealthily as he can.”

  “That is if he gets the chance. I tell you, Howard,” said his cousin, starting up, “this begins to look bad.”

  “I know it does.”

  “We know how those red men handle their guns, and it don’t look likely to me that all those shots have missed Tim.”

  “They may be quite a distance apart—far enough to make their aim uncertain.”

  “But then they could cut off his return to the shore.”

  Howard suddenly laid his hand upon the arm of his cousin and pointed to the other shore.

  CHAPTER XXII

  Danger

  Three Indians walked leisurely down to the shore of the river, as though in quest of nothing particular, and stood gesticulating as they generally do with their whole arms. They were about two hundred yards above the point where Tim O’Rooney landed, but their position was such that the canoe might have rested on the surface of the water without being seen. Sensible of their danger, the boys at first sight of them withdrew into cover, from which they cautiously peered out and watched their movements.

  “Those must be the three who fired the guns,” whispered Elwood.

  “Very probably they are; that looks more encouraging, for I do not see Tim among them.”

  “Maybe they have slain him and are talking as to where he came from.”

  “Heaven! I hope not.”

  “So do I; but it looks reasonable that they have made away with him and are now looking for us.”

  “How did they know he had any friends with him? Then, too, if they had slain him, would they not have followed his trail straight down to the water?”

  “I didn’t think of that. That question makes me more hopeful than anything else. It does now look somewhat cheering. But what are they after?”

  The Indians were still talking in an excited manner, and more than once pointed across the river to the island as if there were something there which claimed their attention. It might be the boys themselves, or they may have known that one of their race lay there in dire extremity; but whatever the cause was it boded no good to the two boys, who were crouching in the bushes and grass and furtively watching their motions.

  The latter were still gazing at them when their hearts were thrilled by the sight of Tim O’Rooney. The eyes of Elwood chanced to be fixed upon a small open space, a rod or two from where the canoe lay, when he saw the Irishman come cautiously into view, and then pause and look around him. He had an animal slung over his shoulders, whose weight was sufficient to make him stop and travel with some difficulty. They saw him turn his head and carefully scrutinize every suspicious point that was visible, and then he walked slowly toward the spot where the canoe was concealed. Whether his low stoop was caused by the weight of his game, or whether it was a precautionary measure on his part, was difficult to decide. The boys at once became painfully excited and alarmed.

  “They will see him! they will see him!” said Elwood, “and it will be all over with us. What a pity! when he has got along so well!”

  “Can we not w
arn him in some manner? The Indians do not know how near he is, nor does he know how close they are.”

  “How can we do it?” asked Elwood, who was anxious to give Tim some warning of his danger. “If we make any sign the Indians will see us.”

  “Perhaps not; for they are not looking in this direction all the time, while Tim knows that we are watching him.”

  “Yes; but he has his hands full to see that the savages do not find him.”

  The case looked critical indeed. Tim was nearing the point where it seemed inevitable that a discovery should take place. He paused at nearly every step or two, looked behind him and up and down the river in a manner that showed plainly enough his fear of his enemies. Elwood Brandon in his eagerness had risen to his feet, and was looking intently at him, waiting until he should cast his eye toward the island that he might give him warning. But the Irishman was so occupied with his enemies that he appeared to forget the existence of his friends.

  Elwood did not remove his gaze, and all at once he saw him raise his head. Quick as a flash the boy sprung up a foot or two from the ground and waved his hat toward him.

  “Did he see me?” he asked, as he sunk down to the earth again.

  “He has paused and is looking toward us.”

  Tim had caught sight of the signal of the boy, but was uncertain as to its meaning. The waving of the hat might be supposed as an act of encouragement than otherwise; but there was something in the silent, hurried manner of his young friend, united with the fact that he had been, and was still, in great personal peril, that arrested his attention and set him to thinking.

  “Did the Indians see me?” asked Elwood.

  “I can’t say positively, as I was looking at Tim at the moment you made your signal, but they do not seem to act as if they had discovered us.”

  “Tim saw me, didn’t he? He doesn’t know what to make of it.”

  The Irishman had laid the animal he was carrying upon the ground, and stood looking toward the inland as if waiting for some further manifestation before advancing or retreating. Believing the safety of the entire party demanded it, Elwood begun cautiously rising to his feet to repeat his warning, when he was quickly caught by his cousin.