The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  “He may be the flower of the flock, but we will keep sharp watch on him.”

  The Indian, now that he understood that he had chance for his life, lost most of the fear that had filled him from the moment he was arrested in the very act of committing a crime.

  He showed his knowledge of what was said to him by walking, not parallel to the course of the torrent, which the boys had intended to take for their guidance, but diverging at quite a sharp angle from it. Neither of the youths could be satisfied whether this was favorable or not, but there was logic in Larry’s theory that their guide was so frightened that he would act honestly, at least for a time.

  If he was doing so, he was doing them a great favor, for, instead of walking a number of miles down the gorge, and then returning over the same route, this distance would be saved by “cutting across lots,” with the probability of eluding the hostile Shawanoes waiting in ambush. Whether such was the fact or not must be left to future developments.

  The sun was now fairly above the horizon, and the day promised to be as clear and sunshiny as the preceding one. The hearty meal, eaten the night before, and the rest, enabled the boys to continue their brisk walk for hours without fatigue. They would have been glad to keep straight on, if it were possible, until they reached the block-house.

  When they leaped across a small brook of cold, sparkling water, Wharton called the guide to wait for a minute. He was walking about a rod in advance, glancing sharply to the right and left, and even among the branches of the trees, as though he suspected danger lurking there. He never once looked back while thus engaged until he heard the sharp summons of Wharton. Then he stopped short and turned half way round, and stood like a statue.

  There was something suggestive in his attitude, for his right hand was hidden from the sight of the boys. If he chose he could slide it up over his breast, stealthily withdraw an arrow from the quiver, and fit it to his bow-string without detection. The launching of the missile would be done so quickly that no shot from either rifle could anticipate it. But there were two boys, and this would frustrate any such purpose, unless one should place himself at such disadvantage that he could not rise and recover his gun before the firing of the second arrow.

  “Keep an eye on him,” whispered Wharton; “I don’t like his actions.”

  CHAPTER XXIII

  A Serious Question

  Larry Murphy was in no mood for trifling. He had spared Arqu-wao twice, and he did not mean to do it again.

  He noticed his suspicious action, and raising the hammer of his rifle, he held the weapon half lifted to his shoulder, while he kept his threatening gaze fixed upon the guide, who was equally intent in watching him.

  The Irish youth understood what he must do in order to discharge the arrow, and all he was waiting for was to detect the first preliminary movement on the part of the singular being.

  “Drink away, Whart,” he replied; “he won’t fool me.”

  With no fear, the younger lad knelt down and drank deep from the cool, refreshing brook. Then he rose to his feet, replaced his cap, and picked up his gun.

  “I don’t think he’ll fool me either,” he quietly remarked, imitating the attitude of his companion.

  “I believe he’s up to some mischief,” remarked Larry, who, nevertheless, fully slaked his thirst before rising to his feet.

  The few moments thus occupied were trying to Wharton Edwards, who was suspicious of the Indian. He could not explain his peculiar position on any theory other than that he was seeking a chance to use his bow against them. He believed that if he once removed his gaze from the Indian, that instant he would drive an arrow through his body, and then launch another at Larry before he could rise or bring his gun to bear.

  Needless to say, therefore, he closely watched the Shawanoe until Larry stood at his side.

  “Lead on,” said Wharton, with a wave of his hand, “and don’t walk quite so fast.”

  “Me walk just so,” replied Arqu-wao, accommodating his gait to that of his captors.

  “I don’t know what to make of him,” remarked Wharton, when the advance was resumed. “I have half a mind to take his bow away from him.”

  “Ye haven’t observed him doing anything wrong yet,” was the response of Larry.

  “What of his manner just now?”

  “It looked bad, but we ain’t sartin that it meant anything at all.”

  “We would be more certain if he had no weapon.”

  “Hold on a bit; if we stop for dinner or anything else, we won’t give him a chance. I think, between ourselves, we can watch him so sharp that he won’t do any harrum.”

  Wharton consented to this arrangement, though he could not free himself of a strong misgiving in doing so.

  Arqu-wao continued his guidance as though no thought of anything but the strictest loyalty to his captors had ever entered his brain, all awry with its unimaginable fancies.

  Perhaps there had not. The truth must become known before the set of sun.

  At intervals the guide turned his head far enough to glance back, but this was so evidently for the purpose of learning whether his pace was satisfactory that no suspicion was excited. His conduct could not have been more satisfactory, so far as appearances went.

  The party were abroad in the woods, and the youths had only a very general idea of where they were. They had made many windings and turnings, and at last had forsaken the only reliable guide—the gorge—by which to find their way back to the trail.

  This, as we have shown, was a matter of no moment, provided the Shawanoe was not meditating treachery against them; but how easy for him, if he chose, to lead them into a trap.

  “Halloo, what’s up now?” asked Wharton.

  “Hold your gun ready!”

  The Indian had come to a sudden stop, and, looking back, raised one hand, which the lads accepted as a request for them also to halt. They obeyed him.

  Standing thus, with his body as rigid as iron, Arqu-wao slowly turned his head so as to look at each point of the compass in turn. Those behind him did the same, not forgetting to use their hearing as best they could, but with no result.

  The Shawanoe next knelt down and applied his ear to the ground, as his people do when suspecting the nearness of an enemy whom their eyes fail to detect. It was possible, of course, that this pantomime was part of a carefully laid plan to put them off their guard. If so, though cleverly done, it failed to succeed.

  The result of the guide’s test seemed to be satisfactory, for he quietly assumed the perpendicular again and resumed his walk. He did not look back, evidently concluding that they knew enough to follow without any direction from him.

  “Larry,” whispered his friend, “let’s fall a little more to the rear, so that, if he tries any of his tricks, we’ll have a better chance for ourselves.”

  “I was thinking of the same thing,” said the other, acting at once upon the suggestion.

  They doubled the space heretofore separating them from the guide, who took no notice, apparently, of the change in their relative situations.

  The thought in the minds of the boys was that, if Arqu-wao should attempt to take them into a camp of their enemies, or to reveal them to a war party, or, in fact, to attempt any form of betrayal, they would have a much better chance of saving themselves by a rapid retreat. They might well doubt whether the prospect of their guide benefiting them was worth all their mental disquiet. It is probable that, had they taken more time to consider the matter at the beginning, they would have disarmed the Shawanoe and allowed him to go in peace.

  All at once he made a sharp turn to the left. As he did so, he looked around, so that his face was in full view, and to the amazement of the lads they saw a distinct grin upon it.

  “That’s the first time he has tried to smile,” remarked Larry, “and I’m afeered of it.”

  “Don’t you understand what it means?” asked his friend a minute later.

  “No, do you?”

  “There it i
s.”

  As Wharton spoke he pointed to the ground in front. Larry at once saw the significance of the words. They were following a distinctly marked trail.

  “But is it the right one?” whispered Wharton.

  CHAPTER XXIV

  The Tracks of Horses

  At the moment when neither of the youths had a thought of such a thing, they found themselves walking along a distinctly marked trail in the woods, while Arqu-wao, the Shawanoe guide, turned his head with an odd expression, as if to ask their opinion of the manner in which he had kept his agreement.

  This issue would have been highly pleasing but for the question which instantly presented itself to Wharton Edwards and Larry Murphy—were they upon the right trail?

  Fully aware of the treacherous subtlety of the American race, they might well doubt the answer. The Indian must have seen that he was regarded with suspicion, and knew, therefore, that extraordinary care was necessary on his part to bring about the ruin of his captors and save himself.

  What more likely to deceive them than the act of taking them to a plainly marked path through the woods?

  But such trails were not common at that day in the forest, and since the boys had passed over the one connecting the block-house with the settlement, it surely seemed that they ought to be able to identify it. They set out to do so, and quickly succeeded.

  Wharton was slightly in advance of his companion, and, turning his head, he said in a low tone, over his shoulder:

  “Larry, we’re on the right track as sure as we’re born.”

  “I know it. Do ye mind that tree over there to the right, beyant, that has been knocked all to splinters by lightning? Do ye mind that, I say?”

  “Yes; I remember it well. We saw it last fall when we passed here.”

  It would seem that the splintered trunk should have been an infallible guide to the youths; but, as if fate wished to toy with them, Wharton was positive that it was on the right side of the trail as they faced the block-house, while Larry was equally certain it was on the left. Neither could dissuade the other, and the question remained as exasperating as before. One believed that instead of going right they were walking directly contrary to the proper course, and that sooner or later they would reach the dangerous section where they had already met with so many narrow escapes.

  Had either been able to convince the other of his mistake they would have decided what was the best thing to do, for such a decision of necessity would have determined whether Arqu-wao was playing them false or not.

  It was the younger lad who believed they were going astray, and it was this fact which caused him to examine the ground, as they walked along, with closer scrutiny than his companion. In doing so he made an alarming discovery; the path showed the distinct hoofprints of two horses that had travelled in the opposite direction.

  The woodcraft of the young man told him that the animals had passed that way quite recently, probably within a few hours. While there could be no certainty as to who the couple were, he decided at once that they were his father and mother on their way from the block-house to the settlement.

  “Larry,” said he, touching the shoulder of his friend, “the Shawanoe is acting honestly with us.”

  “How can ye know that?” asked the other in surprise.

  “These are the footprints of father and mother’s horses.”

  Larry bent his head forward and closely studied the ground for some time, walking slowly, and allowing nothing to escape him.

  “Ye are right,” straightening up, “which means that two people have passed this way—pretty lately, too; but how can we know who they were?”

  “This trail is little travelled. If the folks left the block-house very early this morning they would have been near here by this time. We can’t know it is they, but it is certain as anything can be.”

  “Then ye were wrong and I was right about the course we were following.”

  “Yes; I believe the Indian is doing his best to keep his promise.”

  “I hope so, but I don’t feel as sartin as yersilf of that.”

  The brief delay of the couple had allowed Arqu-wao to gain so much on them that he was almost invisible. Discovering the fact, he again halted and looked back, as if waiting for them to come up.

  “Obsarve him,” said Larry. “He stands jist as he did whin we took a drink from the brook.”

  Such was the fact. If he chose to launch an arrow, he could do so with an instantaneousness that was sure to be fatal to one; but now they were in a better situation than before, and the result was so certain to be fatal to him that neither felt much fear of any attempt.

  Wharton beckoned to him to wait, and they hurried forward. Pointing to the hoofprints, clearly showing in the earth, he asked:

  “What do they mean, Arqu-wao?”

  The Shawanoe merely glanced at the ground. He had noticed the signs before, and it was not necessary for him to scrutinize or study them in order to know what the youth meant.

  “Horses—so many,” he said, holding up two fingers of his hand.

  “How long ago did they pass this way?”

  While the Indian understood the question, he was puzzled for a moment as to how to make an intelligent answer. He fixed his keen black eyes on the face of the questioner, then looked around the trees as if searching for some aid. These shut out the sun, but it was easy to locate the orb about one-third of the way between the horizon and the zenith. He had struck the key.

  “When sun dere,” he replied, pointing low down in the sky, “den men ride along on horses.”

  Wharton Edwards’s heart gave a painful start. Of course the Shawanoe could not know that one of the horses carried a woman instead of a man, nor, with all the woodcraft of the American Indian, could he determine within an hour or two the time when the animals had passed along the trail, but he did know of a verity that the passage had taken place since the sun went down on the night before.

  Understanding, now, the precise distance to the block-house, and the strong probability that the parties would not leave there in the night time, and well aware, also, from the marks of the hoofprints, that the horses were walking at a leisurely pace, it became an easy matter for him to tell at what time they were due at this particular spot. He had indicated the hour, which was another evidence that the boys were at no great distance from their destination.

  “We don’t want to go to the block-house,” said Wharton, impetuously. “We want to travel the other way. We must overtake those horsemen before they reach the falls.”

  CHAPTER XXV

  A Singular Meeting

  The paint on the face of the Shawanoe could not hide the astonishment caused by the words of Wharton Edwards. Despite the askew brain, the Indian was wonderfully shrewd in some respects.

  “Go after dem—den be killed.”

  “Why will we be killed?”

  “Shaw’noe wait for dem—bimeby dey shoot—both fall off horse—Shaw’noe take scalp—you go dere—take your scalp.”

  “Arqu-wao,” said the distressed youth, stepping in front of the red man, “those horses are ridden by my father and mother; they are on their way to the settlement; we started out to come home with them; we must save them; we will do so or die with them.”

  These words, uttered with a depth of feeling hard to describe, were understood by the Shawanoe. He comprehended on the instant that the couple on horseback were so far along the trail that it was impossible for the two boys on foot to overtake them. Such was the fact concerning the elder of the two, but he probably would have changed his mind had he been aware of the fleetness of the younger one.

  “Me catch dem,” he hastened to say; “horse walk—Arqu-wao run faster den horse—he hurry—tell dem—me do that?”

  The rising inflection showed that he only awaited the word to start off like the wind, but young Edwards was in a distressing quandary. The revelations of the last few minutes pointed to the loyalty of this strange being. He had certainly started t
hem along the trail toward the block-house, as he had promised, and there was every reason to believe that he would have soon landed them there but for this unexpected check. Nevertheless the youths could not free themselves from the suspicion that the whole proceeding was a part of a deep laid scheme for their own overthrow.

  If he should be told to hurry back over the path and do his best to warn the parents of their peril, he would pass beyond reach of the boys, and consequently beyond any punishment they could visit upon him for his treachery.

  But what should be done?

  True, Wharton could have run, too, and there was little doubt that he was fully the equal of the guide, since he had vanquished the champion runner of his tribe.

  He turned his head and asked Larry in a low voice for his advice, stating the project that had come into his mind. Larry urged him to carry it out.

  “Ye can travel as fast as him, and ye can shoot him if he tries his tricks.”

  “But it will separate you and me.”

  “I’ll follow as fast as I can go; I can’t run like ye, but I’m sure that if there’s any fighting to be done I’ll be on hand in time to give some help.”

  “Go ’mong trees—hide quick—Shawanoe coming.”

  It was Arqu-wao who uttered these words, with every evidence of agitation. He made quick gestures, and was so urgent that he compelled instant obedience.

  Wharton and Larry sprang out of the path, and each darting behind the trunk of a large tree, peered cautiously out to learn the cause of the sudden alarm of their guide.

  They saw nothing, but his actions were singular. Instead of remaining where he was, he took a number of short, quick steps, which carried him several rods farther toward the block-house. Then he halted as suddenly as a soldier in obedience to the command of his officer.

  “Sh! look out! there they are!” whispered Wharton to his friend, but a few paces away.

  Several flickering objects, seen through the trees, revealed themselves to be three Shawanoes in their war paint, striding along the trail as though they were runners from the block-house to the settlement. In fact their gait was a loping trot until they slowed down on seeing Arqu-wao.