“Gracious! he will kill us,” exclaimed the youth, bending his head forward to dodge the terrible missile.
“No, he won’t, ayther.”
As Larry spoke he dropped his paddle, caught up his rifle, and, pointing toward the red man, fired.
CHAPTER XX
Across the Gorge
“Heavens, Larry, you have killed him!” was the horrified exclamation of Wharton Edwards.
“Be easy now,” coolly replied his companion, putting down the weapon and resuming the paddle; “he isn’t hurt.”
“Didn’t you aim at him?” asked his friend, who, looking back, saw no signs of injury on the part of the Shawanoe.
“Not so loud,” whispered Larry; “he might hear you.”
The youth drove the canoe farther out into the lake, but all the time he kept his head turned so as to see every movement of the Indian.
Larry had not aimed at him; nothing in the world would have induced him to shoot the poor, demented creature; but he meant to give him a good scare, and he succeeded.
Instead of throwing the stone in his hand he dropped it at his feet, whirled about, and ran for the trees. As he did so he dodged from side to side like a Digger Indian when trying to distract the aim of his enemy.
“That’s better than killing him,” commented Wharton, with a sigh; “he thinks you intended that shot for him, and he doesn’t mean to give us a second chance.”
“But he is taking a second one himself. Look out!”
Wharton saw a shadowy something sailing through the air overhead. It struck in the water several yards beyond the canoe with a “chung,” but had gone wide of the mark. From the fringe of shadow the Shawanoe had hurled another missile, but he had thrown it with such vicious fierceness that it missed the target altogether.
Before he could repeat the attempt with more care, Larry impelled the boat beyond his reach, and that particular danger for the time was past.
“I wonder if he can throw across the lake?” muttered Larry; “keep a sharp eye on him, for he may begin a bombardment bimeby that will lay us out.”
“We are surely too far off,” replied Wharton, surveying the long space over which they had passed.
Nevertheless, they kept a close watch for some demonstration, which, however, did not take place.
The lake where the canoe now crossed was no more than a furlong in width, and Larry veered as near to the beginning of the gorge as was safe, for by so doing he effected considerable gain.
In his eagerness to accomplish this he narrowly missed a fatal blunder. Ere he was aware, he found himself sweeping toward the gorge which had caused them so much trouble.
He did not approach nearly so close as the Indian, but only by the most strenuous exertions was he able to save himself. When they reached the shore at last he was exhausted.
They were secure, however, and inexpressibly relieved to find themselves, after all their work and danger, on the other side of the current which had been so long an impassable barrier in their path. They had come a long way to do this, and more than once they asked themselves whether it was not a mistake. But for their conviction that an ambush had been laid along the trail, thus compelling a detour, the attempt never would have been made.
It now remained for them to follow the gorge down in the direction of the falls until they were as near the path as prudent, and then strike out for the block-house, returning to the trail at a point beyond where they believed the Shawanoes were awaiting them.
But they were fatigued at the time they halted for supper, and they had not gone far when they found themselves so weary and sleepy that it was hard to drag one foot after another. The ground was rougher than they supposed, and would have taxed the strength of stronger persons than they. They were in need of rest and must have it.
“It can’t lack much of daylight,” said Wharton, halting where the rocks were bare and they were near the rushing torrent, “and we may as well wait until then.”
“We haven’t gone far,” remarked Larry, removing his cap and running his fingers through his hair, “and we know that we’re on the right course. Do ye mind, too, that we can travel a good many miles atween this time and sunrise?”
“All right; do you say keep on?”
“Of course.”
“Come on, then.”
Wharton wheeled about to continue their journey when his friend interposed:
“Hold on; I forgot that I am so tired. I can’t walk half a dozen steps more to save me.”
Wharton laughed, though he had resolved to keep it up until he dropped from exhaustion.
They were satisfied with any resting-place. The sultry night rendered unnecessary any protection, and the rocks themselves were as comfortable, almost, as a downy couch. The protuberances, when their caps were laid upon them, afforded excellent pillows, and five minutes after stretching themselves out both were sound asleep.
The spot, which had been selected with little thought, was on the fringe of the wood, which approached to within twenty feet of the river. The rocks were rough and uneven, but it was easy to find places that suited their forms. They lay down just within the shadow thrown out by the trees, where they could not be seen by any one unless he stumbled over them.
But for their extreme fatigue they would have adopted the ordinary precaution of kindling a fire, or taking turns in mounting guard while the other slept. Each, however, knew that he was incapable of remaining awake, and the attempt was not made.
True, there was danger abroad, but, except in the case of wild animals, it was as great with as without the fire. It was likely, indeed, to be greater.
This complete wearing out also of the bodies prevented either noticing that the course of the moon would soon cause its light to fall upon their faces, thus bringing them into plain view of any who might be lurking in the neighborhood.
And it came about that less than an hour had gone by when the two were discovered. The figure of an Indian appeared moving noiselessly along the banks of the ravine, almost in their very footsteps. At every few paces he paused and looked keenly about him, as if in quest of something.
Suddenly the owner of the canoe, for it was he, halted. Could any one have seen his face, he would have noticed the frightful expression of exultation which passed over it, for he was searching for these two youths and had found them.
CHAPTER XXI
A Strange Pursuit
When Larry Murphy paddled the canoe beyond reach of the missile hurled by the enraged owner of the craft, the boys were warranted in believing that they were done with him. He was eliminated from the problem, so to speak.
But the singular creature was not done with them. The discharge of the gun startled him almost into spasms, and, as we have shown, he made haste to bound in among the shadows of the trees; but the belief that the youths were in the act of stealing his boat filled him with consuming rage. He threw another stone with might and main, and, though the feat was an astonishing one, he saw that it accomplished nothing.
He watched the canoe until it vanished under the shadow of the opposite shore. He could not know the intentions of the thieves, but it did not take him long to decide on his own.
Emerging from among the trees, where the rocks were bare, he started on a run toward the opposite end of the lake. He was familiar with every foot of the way, and the bank offered no obstruction. He bounded as lightly as the chamois across chasms, and when they were too broad to be leaped he skirted them without hesitation or fault, never losing a rod of distance or a minute of time. He never walked for more than ten paces, maintaining his gait with a uniformity that no one else could have equalled.
He had a goodly number of miles to travel, for he was obliged to round almost the entire circumference of the lake. He might have cut off a large part of the distance by swimming across the water, and undoubtedly he would have done so had not an important errand drawn him to the extreme end.
The lake was fed by a narrow, deep stream, across which he sprang with
the ease of Wharton Edwards when leaping the gorge. A brief way farther and he paused in front of a small structure among the rocks. It was composed of limbs, bowlders, sticks, and the skins of animals, barely large enough to give him room to lie down and move around.
This was the home of the strange creature, and was never entered by any other person. Stooping down, he passed within. No light burned, nor did he need any. A few minutes later he emerged, carrying a long bow in his hand and a quiver of arrows behind one shoulder suspended by a thong which passed under one armpit. These implements constituted his only weapons, besides the knife and tomahawk, he never making use of any firearms.
In the moonlight and shadows it was impossible for him to follow the trail of the youths, which would have been almost invisible under the glare of the sun; but the Indian seemed to be guided by intuition, which, in the mentally affected, often approaches inspiration. In what way he was able to convince himself that the young white men meant to pass down the other side of the canyon cannot be conjectured, but that such was his conviction was proven by his whole course of action.
The distance which the Shawanoe was obliged to journey consumed several hours despite the speed he used, and nearly all of this time was spent by Wharton Edwards and Larry Murphy in deep, refreshing sleep.
When the Indian approached the spot where the canoe had been abandoned by the youths his gait became a walk, and he peered cautiously about him. He uttered a low cry of exultation on observing the graceful birchen structure, and began a hasty examination. The paddle lay in the bottom of the boat, which showed no signs of injury. It might be supposed that this gratifying discovery would have taken the edge off the Indian’s enmity, but he showed no signs of such feeling; if possible, his anger became fiercer. He leaped away with a speed which prevented any attempt to follow the trail, but he was proceeding on general principles, it may be said.
It will be remembered that travelling was more difficult on the side of the lake. Even such an expert as the Indian was forced to change his gait from a trot to a walk. Sometimes he was in shadow and sometimes in the moonlight. At intervals he paused, and bent over as if examining the flinty surface for signs of footsteps of the youths. It is incredible that he could have discovered any under the circumstances, and yet he acted as if he did.
By and by he approached the spot where those for whom he was searching lay asleep. He passed a short distance beyond, but something displeased him. He stopped abruptly, looked down at the grass, and then came back over his own trail.
While he stood peering into the surrounding gloom he saw the inanimate forms.
In his delight the man repeated the dance he had given on the shore of the lake. He leaped up and down, keeping time to the swaying of the long, ashen bow grasped in his left hand, and passed back and forth over a space of a dozen square feet.
He continually glanced at the youths, who were unconscious of their danger, and held himself ready to open hostilities at the moment they showed signs of awaking. Strange that neither Wharton nor Larry thought of such a peril as that which now impended.
The grotesque dance lasted but a few minutes. That manner of expressing his exultation was soon satisfied, and he made ready for action.
Reaching over his left shoulder with his right hand, he drew a feathered arrow from the quiver. A careful examination by moonlight satisfied him that it was perfect and every way fitted for his purpose. He fitted the notch in the deer-string of the bow, and then advanced stealthily until within a few dozen yards of the sleepers, the implement so held all the time that he could have launched the missile at a moment’s warning.
The elder of the youths lay nearest, and he aimed at him. Little fear that he could not drive the arrow deep into the chest of the sleeper, after which he probably intended to serve Wharton in the same manner.
But with the whimsicality of an insane man he changed his mind, evidently concluding that the tomahawk was the most fitting weapon to be used in dispatching them. With the same deliberation shown from the first, he relaxed the tension of the string and replaced the arrow in the quiver. Then he turned about and silently deposited the bow on the ground, so that it should not handicap him.
This was all that was necessary, and he drew his tomahawk and faced about just in time to make an unexpected and startling discovery.
CHAPTER XXII
Arqu-Wao
An inexplainable instinct sometimes warns a person of the approach of peril. The experience of most of us confirms this statement, and we are tempted to suspect that it is another manifestation of that occult “sixth sense” of which we have only a shadowy conception.
Wharton Edwards and Larry Murphy had been sleeping several hours, for it will be remembered that they were exceedingly tired. Day was at hand, and yet, in the usual order of things, they would have slumbered several hours longer; but, at the same moment, the two became as wide awake as they were when hurrying along the trail to the block-house.
This moment of awakening came when the Indian was in the act of laying down his bow behind him. Larry, being nearer to the savage than Wharton, took upon himself to act promptly.
In an instant he rose upon one knee and levelled his gun at the astonished Shawanoe. In the act of doing so the youth recalled that he had not reloaded it since firing the weapon while in the canoe. Nothing in his manner, however, told the red man this interesting fact.
“Do the same as mesilf,” whispered Larry to his companion, “for I forgot to load my gun.”
Wharton was quick to obey, and the Indian stood petrified, absolutely unable to move hand or foot.
“I’ve got ye now, ye spalpeen!” said Larry, in a loud voice; “if ye stir I’ll shoot!”
To the amazement of the youth, the Indian replied in their own tongue:
“No shoot—no hurt Arqu-wao—me good Indian.”
“Begorra, but ye’re not acting like one,” was the comment of Larry, who now rose to his feet. “What were ye trying to do, anyway?”
Wharton imitated the action of his companion, and said, in an undertone:
“Don’t hurt the poor fellow.”
“That depinds on himsilf,” was the resolute response. “I spared him once, and he mustn’t go to heaving any more rocks at us, for he’s too handy at the business.”
The Indian, at the moment of turning around, had placed his hand on his tomahawk, but snatched it away as though it had suddenly become red hot. He was a picture of abject fear, and trembled in every limb. Had he known enough to wheel about and run, he would have been safe, for neither of the boys had the least desire to harm him. But, to use a modern expression, they had the drop on him.
“Keep an eye on him,” said Larry, “while I load my gun.”
The Indian must have experienced peculiar emotions when he received the proof that it was an empty weapon that had brought him to terms. Larry proceeded to reload his rifle in a deliberate fashion, while Wharton covered their prisoner with his own gun.
It was while this proceeding was under way that the couple noticed that the sun was almost in the horizon. The long eventful night was ended, and they were close upon more stirring events.
“He calls himself Arqu-wao,” said Wharton. “I wonder what the name means?”
“I’m thinking it means an Indian half-scared to death; but, Whart, what’ll we do wid him, now that we’ve got him?”
“That’s what puzzles me. If we hadn’t waked up just as we did we never would have awaked at all, and if we let him go he’ll probably sneak up behind us and drive an arrow through each before we know our danger.”
“Let’s keep him a prisoner.”
“How will we manage it?”
“I’ll fix it.”
Arqu-wao was still motionless, looking as if he expected to be punished with death for his attempt upon the lives of the youths. As Larry spoke, he strode toward him with a stern face and manner. The Indian instantly began pleading in the most pitiful manner for his life. The youth was tend
er-hearted, and said, kindly:
“Be good Indian and we won’t hurt, but let me have the tomahawk.”
The implement was meekly handed over.
“Now the knife.”
That followed the other; and with all the gravity that Larry could assume he shoved the handle of the first weapon between the waistband of his trousers and shirt.
“Whart, you can take charge of that,” he added, passing the knife to his companion, who readily disposed of it about his person.
The most dangerous implement of all still remained in the hands of the Shawanoe, and the captors were perplexed for the moment as to how it was to be disposed of. It would have been easy to render it useless, and the arrows might have been cast down the ravine, but they hesitated to take that step.
The same thought was in the minds of the lads. Arqu-wao might be used as a friend and an ally in the danger which still threatened, and, if so, he would need some weapon to be of avail in emergencies.
Wharton now advanced and spoke:
“Arqu-wao, do you know where the block-house is?”
The expression of the Indian’s face showed that he did not comprehend the question.
“Big house—fort—place where white men are?”
“Yes—me know—me been dere,” he replied, nodding his head vigorously.
“It’s off yonder, isn’t it?” inquired Wharton, pointing with his hand in the supposed direction.
Arqu-wao shook his head.
“Not dere—off dere,” he said, indicating a point of the compass fully forty-five degrees removed from the first.
“I wonder if he’s right?” said Wharton, doubtfully, turning toward his companion.
“Yes, for he’s so scared he’s sure to play square for a time.”
“Very well,” said Wharton, looking toward the Indian. “Lead the way; if you go wrong, we shoot, we kill.”
“Arqu-wao go right—he go right—he good Shawanoe—broder of Blazing Arrow.”
The latter remark was startling to the boys, and they looked inquiringly at each other, wondering what he could mean.
“Begorra, if he’s a brother to him, it’s a bad ricommindation to himsilf,” remarked Larry.
The Edward S. Ellis Megapack Page 137
