He had his rifle at his shoulder, with the intention of letting fly at him as he came head on, when the thought that the Shawanoes were so near that they would hear the report caused him to hesitate. If they were near enough to appear before he could get away he would be in a bad fix, knowing nothing of the cave, and with no chance to get food or water.
Still, he could not stand still and allow the brute to make a supper upon him, and, plucky as he was, he had no wish to fight him alone with his hunting-knife.
He thought and acted quickly. He resolutely walked backward several paces in the cave at the risk of breaking his neck. His extended hands told him that the space was wide, and he moved silently to the right, so as to be out of the path of the animal, provided he followed anything like a direct course.
The enormous beast swung along in his heavy fashion, and was in the act of entering the cavern, when he stopped, emitting a grunting snort, and abruptly withdrew. He had scented something wrong, and did not intend to rush headlong into danger.
The act of the bear disconcerted Larry for a moment. Standing within the cavern, he could have fired his gun with little risk of the report being heard outside. That was one of his motives in retreating, willing to let the animal alone if he would be equally considerate, but not afraid to fire the moment it was necessary.
But bruin not only withdrew from the entrance to the cavern, but clambered up the incline to a point where he could not be seen by the youth. The discovery on his part that some intruder was in his home had doubtless decided him to have it out in the open air rather than in the dark.
This was a wise proceeding on the part of the animal, which is rarely capable of anything of that nature, and it outwitted the Irish lad—an exploit not often achieved by others.
He could not leave the cavern without following the bear up the incline and bringing about a collision, for he was certain the beast was lurking near, with the intention of attacking him.
After some delay he moved softly toward the opening of the cavern to gain a view of the exterior, which was faintly lit up in places by the moonlight. He could see nothing, and he hesitated to venture out through fear that, despite its size, the bear would pounce upon him before he could defend himself.
The brave youth, however, fully understood his grave situation. So long as he remained within the cavern he might as well be a thousand miles away for all the help he could give his friend. Instead of assisting Wharton Edwards, he was in need of assistance himself.
Knowing the patience with which most wild animals will await the descent of treed game, he believed this bear would remain on the outside through the night, and perhaps a portion of the next day, with the probability that even then the prisoner would have to make a fight of it before he could get away. This was more than Larry could stand, and he did not mean to wait.
If the bear was really lying on the outside, he was not so near the top of the incline that the youth did not have some chance of eluding him without firing a gun.
Furthermore, if he was obliged to discharge his rifle, it was by no means likely that any of the Shawanoes were so close that they could rush to the spot before he would have the opportunity of getting away. He had already stood within an arm’s reach of them, as may be said, without discovery; and, although that was because they had no suspicion of the fact, yet the favoring night, it would seem, ought to give him all the hope he could ask.
“At any rate,” he concluded, “I’ve stayed here as long as I intend to, and now I’ll take my departure.”
Larry Murphy, having decided on his course of action, followed it out with his usual promptness. With his rifle grasped in his right hand, and his body slightly crouching, he began climbing the incline which led to the level ground above. This was so steep that when he stumbled at the top in the first place, he rolled all the way to the bottom, but with care he could go up or down without falling.
The stillness was profound—the sound of the falls being dull and faint, as though they were miles distant in the depth of the wilderness. Though the fierce Shawanoes were prowling in the darkness among the trees, not a rustling leaf betrayed their presence.
Near the top of the slope he sank on his hands and knees and advanced inch by inch. The bear, as we have stated, is not famous for his sagacity, but at times he shows a remarkable cunning, and this specimen was not likely to let his supper walk away without causing some trouble.
As the lad’s head came to a level with the surface he crouched still lower and advanced a little farther. This gave him the “purchase” he wanted. Then, sitting on his heels, he brought his gun around to the front, the hammer up, and the weapon held with both hands. In this position it could be fired the instant needed.
He now slowly raised his head and peered intently in all directions. His height was sufficient to allow him to see all about him, but the intense gloom rendered his eyes almost useless. It was impossible for him to identify any object.
Fancying that he might be able to detect bruin’s breathing in the stillness, he listened for a few seconds, but was unable to hear anything. He was now on the threshold, as may be said, and it was useless to wait longer.
He assumed the upright position, stepped away from the incline for several paces, and then stopped. He meant to do this with a certain dignity, and fully expected that it would compel the bear to uncover himself so that he would know where to fire.
He began his effort well, but in the darkness he could not observe the obstructions in his way; so, when at his most dignified point, an obtruding bowlder sent him sprawling over it.
He was not hurt, and when he pulled himself together, and, with his weapon ready, stared about in the gloom, he not only saw but heard nothing.
And then the odd truth dawned upon him. There was no bear near, and had not been for some time past.
The animal, after his hurried retreat up the incline, on discovering the intruder in his home, had not lain down to pounce upon him as he came forth, as that intruder suspected, but had lumbered off into the woods, apparently as anxious to get away from the young hunter as the latter was too keep out of his reach.
Larry had waited a long time in the cavern before making this venture, and naturally he was chagrined on learning the truth.
“It’s a big lot of valuable time wasted,” he muttered.
He was now once more free to do as he chose, but without any clear idea of what course to take. His whole anxiety was to find his friend, Wharton Edwards, and give him what help he could, if he stood in need of it, but where to look for him he knew no more than the earth’s satellite.
Ah! through the cool hush of the summer night a soft, almost inaudible sound reached him. It was the faint, tremulous cooing of the wild dove, but so low, timid, and flute-like, that the bird seemed to mean it should be heard only in its immediate vicinity.
The heart of Larry Murphy gave a quick throb. That was the call he and Wharton Edwards had practiced until they could give it perfectly. Could it be that his friend was not only free from the Shawanoes, but was so near?
It seemed impossible, and yet, when the signal was repeated a minute later, all doubt was gone, and, hardly unable to repress a shout, the lad replied with a precisely similar call.
These signals were of that pure musical quality that, when first made, neither could tell the point whence the other came. The note was simply “in the air.” Larry, however, suspected that his friend had crossed the torrent a few minutes before by means of the prostrate tree, and he began treading his way thither with the utmost caution.
For several minutes utter stillness reigned. Some cause led the first one to hold his peace for that time.
Larry was so near the narrow, moonlit space bordering the torrent that he halted, deeming it unwise to venture farther. It was evident, despite the care he used, he had gone away from instead of toward his friend. To advance any farther was likely to take him beyond reach, and possibly complicate matters with the Shawanoes, who could not
be far off.
“I wonder where they can be?” he mused, sufficiently prudent to remain in the shadow among the trees. “He’s very careful, which is wise, and I’ll be the same.”
He waited minute after minute, without hearing the expected signal, and a vague misgiving began to trouble him.
“It can’t be I’m too far off for me to hear him. I’ll give him the call mesilf, and a little louder.”
He was shaping his lips to form the singular cry, when it sounded so near that he started. With the signal came a thrill of affright, for the listening ear detected a shade of difference; it was not precisely what he expected, nor exactly similar to his own.
At the same moment a crouching figure appeared on the edge of the moonlit space, and advancing with the slow, noiseless motion of a shadow across the face of a dial.
Larry Murphy saw that it was a Shawanoe Indian. As if the red man meant to reveal himself beyond mistake, he took a single step forward, held his head bent for a moment in the attitude of intense attention, and then slowly looked toward every point of the compass in turn.
At one angle the full moonlight fell upon the painted face, which the youth recognized as that of the ferocious Blazing Arrow.
“I’ll settle you!” whispered the youth, stealthily raising the hammer of his gun. “Ye have no business with that signal.”
He tried to present his weapon without any noise, but with all his care the hammer, as it was drawn back, made two dull clicks, which sounded startlingly loud in the situation.
Knowing that the ear of the Indian had caught the noise, Larry brought his weapon to his shoulder like a flash and pointed the muzzle toward the spot, less than twenty-five feet away.
But no Blazing Arrow was there. He had disappeared like the coon at the flash of the huntsman’s rifle.
Whether his acute sense of hearing had enabled him to locate the point whence came the double click, Larry did not wait to see. He had no intention that the miscreant, knife in hand, should come down on him with the resistless force of an avalanche.
Lowering his head to help conceal his movements, he drew back several paces, with a silence and stealth that the Shawanoe himself could not have surpassed. Then, crouching low on the ground, he waited, watched and listened.
His rifle was ready to be fired, and he resolved to let Blazing Arrow have the charge the instant he caught sight of him. The warrior was cunning, but he was liable to uncover himself in moving about the youth, whose precise location he could not know.
The danger of the latter was that other Shawanoes besides this one were near, and might close around him in the gloom. He was ready, and would fight any number of them if they beset him, but there could be but one result of such a desperate struggle.
Hearing and seeing nothing of his enemies, he decided to improve his situation by a further change of base. Inasmuch as the slightest slip was certain to prove fatal, the work was slow and surpassingly delicate.
The foot was lifted quickly from the ground and suspended in the air and lowered slowly, while the body leaned gently forward, waiting a long while before its weight was allowed to rest on the limb.
The tedious work was continued until Larry moved fully a dozen yards from his starting-point. Then, for the first time, he breathed freely and felt that it was safe to pause.
Still nothing was seen or heard of Blazing Arrow or his companions, and the youth, with a shudder, asked himself the startling question: “How came the Shawanoe to have the signal of Wharton Edwards?”
CHAPTER XII
Reversing Positions
Pausing on the edge of the natural clearing which had been the scene of the terrific race between himself and Blazing Arrow, Wharton looked back, and in the gathering darkness saw a flickering figure on the farther side, where the trail re-entered the wood, and he knew it was that of the champion runner of his tribe, whom he had not only defeated in the contest of fleetness, but in the singular battle of wits which followed.
“I’d wager a good deal, if I had a chance,” muttered the lad, “that he feels just a little impatient with himself. I am quite sure that matters haven’t gone to suit him.”
It was in the power of the youth to turn the tables still more completely on the dusky miscreant. He had but to wait where he was until he was within easy range, and then shoot him down. It need not be said, however, after what had taken place a short time before, that this was a crime which nothing could have induced young Edwards to commit, even though he knew the Shawanoe was as eager as a tiger to secure his life.
“We’re likely to come together again before this business is over,” he reflected, “where I won’t feel so much like letting you alone as I do now.”
There was one uncomfortable proceeding which he did not mean to undergo; that was to have Blazing Arrow dogging at his heels like a sneaking wolf awaiting the chance to pounce upon him unawares. It is hard to imagine a more trying situation than that of knowing an enemy is stealing behind you in the darkness, on the alert to dart forward when your vigilance is relaxed, and make his attack with the deadly quickness of the rattlesnake.
Walking but a short way, Wharton stepped aside from the trail and stood motionless among the trees, where an owl would not have noticed him in flying along the path. He was not kept waiting many minutes. A soft tap-tap sounded on the ground as Blazing Arrow, in a loping trot, left the clearing and plunged into the wood, and then a faint, shadowy figure was dimly seen moving between the trees.
Directly opposite Wharton it came to a halt. Because of the obscurity he could not be seen except in motion, but the watcher knew what that meant. He was listening. He could not be assured what the youth in front was doing, and since his experience with him, the redskin understood that he had a young man above the ordinary as his antagonist.
A minute later Wharton saw something flicker in the gloom. The Shawanoe had started on again. This time he did not trot, for the protruding limbs interfered and would have made too much rustling. He walked rapidly enough, however, to overtake any one going at the usual rate.
Waiting until he believed he was at a safe distance in advance, the lad stepped back upon the trail and continued his journey toward the war party, where he hoped to be of service to his friend.
Since the white and red men had exchanged situations, Wharton had now to guard against running into the one in advance. If the Shawanoe should learn what had been done he would be sure to try some trick on the youth. By crouching along the path he could leap upon him as he passed and bear him helplessly to the ground.
It need not be said that young Edwards was on the alert. He could not have been more so, frequently pausing to listen, or to use his eyes, so far as possible, in the darkness.
Unable to hear anything through the air, he knelt down and pressed his ear to the ground. That served him no better, and he slowed his progress, and stopped more frequently.
“I wonder whether he has any suspicion that I am behind him?” was his thought. “It may be,” he added grimly, “that he is thinking what sort of yarn to get up to explain why he hasn’t brought me with him. If I am not careful he may nab me after all. I’d like to know whether he still has the headache, or whether he hasn’t set me down as a fool for letting him off when I had the chance to finish him.”
If it should so prove that Blazing Arrow was not aware that, instead of following the white youth, the reverse was the case, the space between them was certainly increasing, for one was going slow and the other fast.
When the distance passed became considerable, Wharton began to feel hope. They were close to where he had already undergone several stirring adventures, and he was almost certain the savage runner knew nothing of his whereabouts. Finally he turned off from the trail almost at the point where he had started to run away from Blazing Arrow and his companions.
Attentively listening and watching, he heard nothing, and then began a guarded examination of the immediate neighborhood. It was there the Shawanoes had crouc
hed when he bounded across the gorge in quest of his rifle, but it was not to be expected that they had remained there ever since. The examination convinced him that all had moved somewhere else.
Wharton’s concern being now for Larry Murphy, he did some close reasoning.
“I know he will, risk his life to help me, whom he naturally thinks is in a bad way, but how is he going to do it, or how has he got across to this side of the torrent? He can’t make the leap that I did, and I am quite sure he wouldn’t try to swim, because that would compel him to go below the falls. The chances are that he is on the other side.”
This conclusion, it will be perceived, was correct; but had the reasoner known of that fallen tree spanning the gorge, it is likely his decision would have been different.
Before repeating the leap he had already made, Wharton spent more time in what may be called reconnoitering.
It was altogether beyond reason that the Shawanoes should be looking for any such performance, and with little hesitation, therefore, he walked out from the shadow, ran across the moonlit space of rocks, and, with the same ease and grace as before, placed himself on the other bank. He quickly scurried to cover, and then awaited the result.
It was nothing, so far as he could tell. Still at a loss which way to turn or what to do, but hoping that Larry might be somewhere within reach, he made the signal which has been described elsewhere.
“If he hears that he will know what it means. By gracious, he has heard it!”
From a point close at hand, and directly behind him, came the response, although, as the reader well knows, it was not the lips of Larry Murphy that made it.
CHAPTER XIII
A Blunder
Blazing Arrow possessed the subtlety of a serpent and the cunning of a fox. Underneath his actions lay his unextinguishable hatred of the white race. His anger against it seemed always to be flaming at white heat.
But the slyest and wisest of animals and men are liable at times to overreach themselves. Had the imp been content with what was unquestionably a remarkable exploit he would have held Wharton Edwards at his mercy, but he must needs spoil all by his attempt to make assurance doubly sure.
The Edward S. Ellis Megapack Page 133
