The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  But had the Shawanoe known the truth, when the lad stood within a few paces defying him, his pretended weakness would have gone in a flash, and, bounding to his feet, he would have leaped upon his conqueror like a panther.

  “That’s the strangest thing I ever knew,” exclaimed Wharton, with a shudder at his inexplicable escape; “I can’t understand how he and I missed seeing it.”

  When it is remembered that the fact of an old-fashioned flintlock being unloaded is perceptible at a glance, the feature of the mistake is the more remarkable.

  The discovery threw the youth into something of a panic. He felt as if the venomous old man was about to assail him from among the trees, and, with a quick glance around, made desperate haste to reload the gun. Not until the ball was rammed down the barrel and the powder was in the pan did he breathe freely.

  “There!” he exclaimed, drawing a sigh of relief, “when I make that blunder again I deserve to be shot, but the laugh is on Blazing Arrow more than on me.”

  Now that he had a trusty weapon in his possession, and the Shawanoe had none, the situation of the latter was like that of a wild beast and a marksman. Could the beast leap unawares upon the marksman he could overcome him, but the latter had only to maintain his watchfulness.

  Had Blazing Arrow rushed toward the lad after he had found his gun was empty, and before he reloaded it, Wharton’s only resource would have been to take again to his heels; for, active and athletic as he was, he could not possibly be a match for the powerful, full-grown warrior, and it would have been foolhardy on his part to take any such risk.

  The disappearance of the Shawanoe during the brief absence of Wharton was proof that the wily wretch was shamming. His fall had given him a severe shock, but no bones were broken; and had the youth heeded the request to help him to rise he would have snatched him off his feet in a twinkling and had him at his mercy.

  Whither had he gone? The dread that he might be stealing among the trees in the effort to surprise him caused young Edwards to make a hasty withdrawal from the wood to the open plain which had been the scene of the severest race of his life.

  When he stood clear of the trees, and beyond reach of any sudden surprise, he breathed freely for the first time.

  “Now let him come, if he wants to. I can outrun him anyway, but I don’t run any more races,” added Wharton, glancing down at his gun.

  The Shawanoe, who was doubtless glaring at him from some point of concealment, must have relied upon cunning to outwit his victim.

  “I wonder what sort of yarn he will tell his people when he goes back?” mused Wharton. “How will he account for his failure to capture me, and what explanation will he give for the loss of my gun? I suppose he will say he concluded to shoot me, and broke it over my head and flung it away. But if I come out of this trouble they will learn the truth some day.”

  Not forgetting to be on his guard against his foe, the lad walked slowly across the clearing, taking the back trail. He was considering the best thing to do. But for Larry Murphy, he would have made all haste in the opposite direction. The block-house was almost twenty miles away, and this flurry had delayed the couple so long that there was no time to spare. Wharton’s parents would become anxious and set out to meet the boys. If they should become involved with these Indians, direful consequences were likely to follow.

  But Wharton could not desert his comrade. He was a mile or two away, near the main party of warriors, and Providence alone could prevent his falling into their hands. Larry would naturally suppose that his friend was not far from him, and it would be just like the fellow to run into the worst sort of peril in the hope of doing him service.

  “I must get back to him as soon as I can. If he could only know how fortunate I have been it would be easy for him to steal around the whole party and join me here. Then we could do some fast travelling, and be at the block-house before sunrise tomorrow.”

  Since, however, such a state of affairs was out of the question, Wharton had only to face matters as they were.

  One ground for hope cheered him. The sultry summer afternoon was drawing to a close, and night was at hand. He could manœuvre in the darkness much better than when the sun was shining. He and the Irish lad had a system of calls and signals by which they communicated when within hearing distance of each other. He could fall back on this when darkness fell.

  With his controlling wish there was but one thing for him to do; that was to make his way with the utmost care to the region of the falls, where he had parted from Larry. If his comrade had been wise enough to keep out of the hands of the Shawanoes he was hopeful of opening communication with him. A few more hours must decide the question.

  He increased his pace. When he reached the wood on the opposite side of the plain it was twilight. He walked rapidly, as though in a hurry, but after going far enough to be beyond sight he came stealthily back and looked toward the point where he had reloaded his gun. As he did so he caught the outlines of a figure in the dim light steadily approaching, and he knew it was Blazing Arrow, the Shawanoe.

  CHAPTER X

  Groping in the Dark

  Larry Murphy, after his daring check of the Shawanoes in their attempt to leap the torrent, was sufficiently wise to see that it would not do for him to remain where he was. The red men had located the dangerous marksman, and would soon gain access to him.

  If they chose, they could swim the stream below, as he had done, and there must be other points above where the walls approached near enough to allow them to jump across. If two or three succeeded in getting to the rear of his position (and what was to prevent it?) he would be caught inextricably in a trap.

  “I wonder what’s become of Whart? What could he do without me? He’s always getting into trouble, and it’s the bother of me life getting him out again. I ought to be with him now.”

  Nothing was clearer than that before he could do any more service for his friend, or even learn his situation, he must place himself on the other side of the torrent. He could do this by swimming, as before, but he shrank from repeating the performance. The Shawanoes were likely to watch for such an attempt, and he would be in a bad situation if discovered in the water.

  He believed, too, that at no distant point up stream there was some place where the passage could be made quickly and without danger; he decided to find out if such was the case.

  “I hope Whart won’t do anything rash,” he mused, picking his way with no little skill and with the utmost care, “but he needs me with him all the time. With all the speed he owns, if he only made a break for the block-house, he’d be there in an hour or two; but it’s just like him not to think of that, and if he did, mor’n likely the Indians would object.”

  A hundred yards above the point where young Edwards had leaped the torrent, Larry began working his way back to it. It would have been a most fortunate thing had he arrived somewhat sooner, for then he would have seen his friend starting on his memorable race with Blazing Arrow. The chance of bringing down the vicious Shawanoe by a shot from the rear would have been so inviting that it is more than probable that the youth would have nipped the contest in the bud. But, had he not done so, he would have gained the information that would have changed his own line of action, and the whole course of succeeding events.

  But the torrent was wider than below, and not even Wharton Edwards would have been able to leap it. Larry was careful to keep out of sight, and withdrawing again from the bank, he cautiously made his way up stream, on the watch for some place to cross.

  “I wonder whether any of them have got over yet?” he muttered, feeling each step of the way; “they’re sharp enough to follow me tracks where I haven’t stepped on the stones—whisht!”

  He stopped short, for he had heard something moving slowly among the undergrowth ahead.

  “Some of them have come back—”

  Instead of a Shawanoe warrior, the bulky form of an immense bear came into sight.

  “And so ye want to mix in this
business?” was the thought of the lad on identifying the animal. “I’m sure neither Whart nor me would have any objections if you would only turn your attention to them that is making us so much bother.”

  He surveyed the lumbering creature a minute or two, strongly tempted to give him a shot. He would have fired, but the report of the gun would be heard by the Shawanoes, some of whom could not be far off. The falls were so distant that the sound was but a faint roar in his ears.

  The bear did not seem to be looking for large boys just then, and, after lumbering into sight, disappeared among the vegetation, which was rank in that section. He showed no sign of suspecting that one of his natural enemies was so near. Had he known it, doubtless he would have given him attention.

  In the effort to find a place where the stream could be crossed, Larry pushed on, never forgetting that he was in continual danger from the Shawanoes. The day was waning, and night was not far off.

  “If I don’t strike the right sort of spot,” he concluded, “by the time night is here, I’ll find a place where I can swim from one bank to the other. Halloo!” A dark object on the ground a short distance in advance caught his eye. Stooping down, he found to his delight it was his lost cap, doubtless carried thither by this same bear.

  It will be remembered that the torrent to which we have made reference so often was not crossed by the trail leading from the settlement to the block-house, although the two approached quite closely at several points. The winding course of the path was mainly with the object of avoiding a passage over the stream. The boys, therefore, knew little about it, and the slight journey Larry Murphy was making was in the nature of an exploration.

  When he was about ready to give up hope of finding a method of crossing other than by swimming, a surprise greeted him. The high banks not only drew near together, but they were bridged by a fallen tree, whose base was several feet away from the edge of the other shore. The branches rested on the ground near the feet of the astonished youth, who felt like throwing off his hat with delight.

  “If I ever meet the gintleman that felled that tree for me, I’ll give him me heartfilt thanks.”

  Larry would have been pleased had the trunk been larger; not that it lacked strength, but it would have been much easier to walk it, for it is no light task to pick one’s way along a comparative sapling, especially when a deep, rapid stream is sweeping beneath.

  By this time the sun had set and the light was growing dim in the woods. He stood back just beyond the dead branches and meditatively scratched his head. He knew that in all probability the tree had fallen in this position of its own accord, and perhaps never had served as a bridge; but, if so, it was because the occasion did not arise, since nothing could be more opportune.

  “I’m wondering whether I’m equal to the job,” he added, still scratching his scrubby hair. “If I step off I’ll have to go over the falls, unless I crawl out at the one spot, and I’m likely to miss that. If the sun was shining it would be easy enough, and I guess maybe I can do it as it is.”

  This was a case where it was idle to delay. He therefore fastened his rifle in the usual way behind his back, so as to leave his arms free, for more than likely he would need them before reaching the opposite side.

  “There won’t be much use of saving mesilf without the gun, so we’ll hang together or go down, if we must, with our colors flying.”

  He placed his foot on the upper part of the trunk, just beyond where the first branch appeared, and tested it. So far as he could tell, it was sufficiently strong to bear ten times his weight.

  He now advanced inch by inch, but had gone less than a fourth of the distance when he found that his rifle was balanced in such a way behind his shoulder that it was unsteady, and liable to throw him at any moment.

  It was delicate and dangerous to retreat, but he did it, slowly struggling until he was so near the shore from which he started that he was able to turn quickly and leap to the solid ground.

  He took several minutes to adjust his weapon, for the slight trial he had made taught him it would be exceedingly perilous for him to run any sort of risk. It would be all he could do to get across under the most favorable circumstances.

  In the gathering gloom, when everything was in readiness, he placed his foot on the narrow portion of the trunk and prepared to repeat the attempt, but at the very moment of doing so he made the discovery that some one else had started to cross from the other side.

  Larry Murphy learned the truth in the nick of time. Ten seconds later and he would have been on the trunk at the same moment as the other, and an advance by both must have caused them to meet over the middle of the stream.

  As it was, Larry was uncertain whether he had been seen, or whether it was a man or animal that was approaching. The doubt, however, lasted but a second, when out from the gloom advanced a Shawanoe warrior, who came along the narrow bridge with the deliberate certainty of a Blondin. No fear of his making a misstep.

  This of itself told the youth that the Indian had not seen him, for, if he had, nothing would have been more foolhardy than thus to place himself at the mercy of the one who a short time before had shown his nerve and marksmanship under more difficult circumstances.

  But for the displacement of his rifle, Larry Murphy would have walked into the arms of the red man. As it was, he had missed doing so, or at least had missed discovery, by the narrowest margin conceivable.

  With the coolness and cleverness of a veteran the lad moved back among the denser gloom of the trees, where he was confident no one could see him unless close enough to touch his person. Then he paused and watched proceedings. Hardly had the sun sunk below the horizon when the round full moon gave out its light, flooding wood and stream with radiance. It was the moonlight that revealed the sinewy figure to the watcher in the darkness.

  Larry could not but admire the surefootedness of the red man, who never stepped off the trunk until standing over solid earth. Then he turned about and faced the side from which he had come. He was so close to the edge of the gorge that he was still revealed in the moonlight.

  The temptation was strong to give him a quick shove into the water, leaving him to get out the best way he could; but before the youth could act upon his mischievous suggestion a second Indian emerged from the gloom and carefully crossed the primitive bridge used by his predecessor.

  “What does all this mean?” Larry asked himself. “Is the whole party coming over one by one? It may be that they will bring Whart with them. Halloo!”

  A third Shawanoe crossed, but no more. The three stood for several minutes so close to the youth that but for the noise of the torrent he would have been sure of betrayal through the throbbing of his heart.

  There was a moment when he believed they had seen him from the first, and intended to turn like lightning upon him. In case they did so he meant to make a rush, with the hope of forcing them into the river.

  The red men remained but a few minutes, however, when they disappeared as silently as phantoms. Whither they had gone, or what their business was and why three of them had come from the other side, were questions beyond the solution of the puzzled lad, who was certain that he had never stumbled into such a mixed condition of affairs.

  He waited a long time, fearful of venturing to walk over the trunk, lest he might meet others. When that did not take place, the likelihood of there being more of the Shawanoes in the vicinity, who would be quick to detect his approach, was not lessened.

  It looked to Larry as though the three had come over to look for him, though why they should expect to find him in the darkness was hard to understand. If the sun were in the sky there would be ground for their hope of outwitting him. The fact remained that, so far as he knew, young Edwards was still on the other side of the torrent, and his friend could not hope to do him any service so long as they were thus separated.

  “I must git across and put mesilf in such a position that he can lean on me, but I’m thinking it won’t be the best thing to tr
y it at this place, where so many may observe me.”

  It was only ordinary prudence that led Larry Murphy to make this decision. Brave as he was, and often so to the verge of recklessness, he was not the sort of person to run into danger unnecessarily. While it was not to be expected that he would find any more bridges to use in crossing the stream, there was reason to look for such a narrowing of the banks that he could make the leap, and he set out once more to find the spot.

  To his disappointment the ground over which he was obliged to make his way changed for the worse. It became so broken that it was impossible in some places to progress without making detours that led him a considerable distance from the stream. As there was no saying whether or not these diversions were not at the very places where the water could be leaped, he was in anything but an agreeable frame of mind. This was not decreased when he suddenly tumbled down a cavity deep enough to bruise him severely.

  His efforts to save himself where his eyes gave no help probably made the mistake worse.

  “I’m thankful that I’m alive,” was his honest thought when able to pull himself together. “I’ve had the best luck—whisht!”

  At that moment he became aware that he was not alone.

  CHAPTER XI

  In a Corner

  Larry Murphy’s first thought, when he found he had stumbled into something in the nature of a cave, was that it might serve him as a refuge or a fort in the impending fight with the Shawanoes, who were certainly beginning to crowd him hard.

  The night being fully come, his eyes were of little use, but the sense of feeling told him that he had stumbled down an abrupt incline, perhaps a rod in length, and into a cavern in the rocks, of whose extent he could form no idea. It might be only a few feet, or it might extend backward or to the right or left until its ramifications equalled those of the Mammoth Cave, afterwards discovered at no great distance fromthat very spot.

  He was debating the question with himself when a figure appeared at the head of the short incline down which he had stumbled. There was just enough arrowy moonlight reaching that portion of the rocks for him to identify the huge, lumbering mass as that of an immense bear.