This compelled them to use it as a paddle. The progress was slow, but the distance was so slight that it did not take them long to reach the other bank, where they set the structure adrift, so that it could not be used by any one else.
Looking directly up stream, where the sky was in plain sight, its blackness startled even the boys, who were used to seeing the most violent changes of temperature. The hue was not of the dark blue which often gives warning of the coming tempest, but there was a greenish tinge to the blackness that would have awed any one.
While they looked, a zigzag ribbon of flame fluttered across the darkened portion, accompanied by a crash that seemed to shiver the earth. Fred Linden, who happened to be staring straight at the fiery burst, saw the upper part of a large cypress that leaned over the water, leap from the trunk as though it had been sawn short off and flung into the water.
It was all ablaze, and, falling upright into the current, kept its equilibrium, that is, it did not fall to any side, but swept slowly downward as upright as when on the tree, and suggested that some giant as big as the Statue of Liberty was walking beneath, with an enormous torch held above his head to light his path.
“Did ye iver see the like?” asked Terry.
“No; it is wonderful.”
Although it was about mid-day, the heavens were so overcast that the gloom was like night itself. At the same time the darkness had a ghastly tinge which made the faces of the boys, when they looked at each other, livid and unearthly.
The scene was so impressive that they stood motionless, watching the flaming tree and the inky heavens beyond. Suddenly in the sky they saw a figure that resembled a vast balloon slightly inclined to one side, and spinning on its axis with inconceivable swiftness.
At the bottom the snout-like appendage wavered off to one side as though the amazing velocity of the upper part was twisting it loose. A similar formation appeared a few minutes after a short distance behind.
And now began the most extraordinary exhibition of all. Imagine two whirling balloons, a hundred feet in height, and so black that they stood out from the surrounding gloom, showing like pitch against the dimly lit sky behind. They began a witches’ waltz in the firmament, sometimes leaning far backward, then dancing forward, as if saluting each other, then “balancing,” then dancing up and down, then so far away from each other that one would pass out of the field of vision, soon to reappear, however. At times they seemed as if about to rush into each other’s arms, and then they coquetted away again and resumed the weird dance in the skies.
You understand that I am trying to describe one of those terrible visitations of the west known as a cyclone. Little was heard of them a century ago, and the balloon to which I have compared the form of the ghostly dancers, was unknown to the lads, who watched the exhibition with an interest that was not turned into terror, as it would have been today, by the knowledge of the awful power for death and destruction that lies within that concentration of electricity in its most fateful form.
It seemed a long time that this strange scene lasted, though it could not have been many seconds. Suddenly, while the balloon-like forms were saluting each other, they rushed together. There was no shock perceivable when they met, but there were vivid flashes from within the murky folds, as the heat lightning sometimes plays among the clouds at the close of a warm day.
Having met, the forms engaged in a wrestling bout. Round and round they spun with the same bewildering swiftness, leaning far to one side, as though about to fall, and all the time whirling with such speed on the one spiral leg that it seemed unable to keep pace with the bulkier part above.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
FRED LINDEN AWAKENS TO AN ALARMING FACT.
The approach of the cyclone was attended by an appalling roar, and a mass of branches and trees flying through the air, which warned the boys of their danger.
“Terry, it won’t do to stay here,” shouted Fred, casting about for some place of refuge; “where shall we go?”
Quite close to the stream which they had just crossed was an enormous rock. Its irregular surface, a dozen feet in extent each way, must have reached far down in the ground, so that nothing could have been more immovable. It was not the refuge that the boys would have taken, had they been given time to hunt for one, but surely they could not have found a better.
A couple of leaps took Terry to the place, and, as he threw himself on his face, Fred was directly behind him. As they lay, the shelving rock was less than two feet above their heads. Though they could hear, they could not see what was coming. They could look to the right and left, but only for a few seconds in front.
Using their eyes as best they could, they saw the air filled with leaves, twigs, branches, huge limbs and trunks, which spun forward and over and over, like so many feathers in a tornado.
The first shock that came to the boys crouching behind the rock was a dead thump near their heads. An uprooted tree had been hurled from some point above, like an enormous spear, and, striking the rock at a slant, slid over the rough surface like the finger of a player over the face of a tambourine and out beyond, hunting for some spot where it could penetrate. It found it on the ground, but it was instantly wrenched loose by the resistless power that had first thrown it forward, and went end over end into the general wreck and ruin beyond.
The next sight which startled the boys was on their left, directly over the stream. The air was filled apparently with snow, as if a violent squall had suddenly sprung up. It was accompanied by a hissing noise, which mingled with the fearful roar that had not stopped and was like that of the stormy Atlantic beating upon the rock-bound coast.
Striking the stream, the cyclone whirled most of the water from its bed, scattered the mist and foam among the trees, and saturated the boys where they lay. The huge torch was quenched as suddenly as it was lighted.
The most terrifying moment to Fred and Terry was when they felt the rock in front of them move. It was turned several inches to one side, and for one frightful moment, they believed that that too would be sent skimming through the air, or whirled over upon them. But there was no other refuge to which they could fly; had they attempted to rise to their feet, they would have been snatched up and dashed to death. So they flattened themselves as much as they could on their faces, and the terrific outburst could not reach them.
Such an elemental fury can not last long. Having torn up the ponderous trees, overturned rocks, and cleaned out the stream, the cyclone seemed to mount upward and leave the earth entirely, probably to descend some miles away and continue its work of destruction.
Fred lay still several minutes after it had passed, and then turned to look at his companion. He had unrolled the package and taken therefrom the cooked buffalo steak, which had been so roughly handled during his ride on the bull.
“Well, well,” said the astonished Fred, “I believe you are the only person in the world who could eat his dinner in the middle of such a storm as this.”
“I was thinkin’, bein’ as we are in so much of a hurry, that I would save some toime by dinin’ without delay, though ye do me an injoostice by sayin’ I’m through the same; I’m jist about to begin and I’ll be plaised to have yer company.”
Terry may not have had much sentiment, but he was sensible. Fred sat up, his head just rising above the rock, and, for a few minutes, they gave their attention to their meal. There was enough for a fair lunch, but no more. A gentle wind blew against them, being the remnant left by the cyclone, and while they ate, you need not be told they used their eyes.
The sight was a striking one: the trees lay across each other, many with their prong-like roots pointing toward the sky, limbs and trunks having been tossed about in the most bewildering confusion. The water that had been lifted from the creek rendered not only their clothing wet, but every thing around them was saturated. Walking to the side of the stream, they looked down at the sloping banks, wet and muddy, but with little water except in the bottom. The current, however, w
as pouring so swiftly from above that this was rapidly filling up, and before long would reach its former level.
Now that the cyclone had passed, the sky rapidly cleared. There was a chilliness in the air, and the sun did not show itself.
The boys took but a short time to view the destruction, great as it was, when they faced about in the direction of the camp which was their destination from the first. It looked as though they were finally separated from the trail, for since it was so covered by fallen trees and limbs, not the slightest trace of it was seen. They were filled with dismay, and indeed would have been at their wits’ end had not the cyclone confined its fury to exceedingly narrow limits. All its prodigious force was spent in and directly along the stream. Twenty yards away, the forest was undisturbed, so that the elemental scythe had made a clean swath as it sped along.
“Hurrah!” called out Terry, “here’s the path; I follyed a straight line as I could from the water here, so I’m sure I couldn’t coom out very far from the right place.”
Fred hurried over the ruins to his side, and a glance at the ground showed that his friend was right: there was the trail at their feet.
“Now,” said Terry, recovering his spirits, “if we had only knowed that that storm was coomin’, we could have fastened our guns to our backs and swum across, without waitin’ to build the raft, and saved all the time that we lost.”
“But we would have been wetted all the same, had we done so.”
“And gained that much time; do ye know,” added Terry, in a half frightened voice, “what I obsarved?”
“I suppose you saw what I did,—the air full of water, trees, limbs, stones and lightning.”
“While we were peepin’ over the edge of the rock, ye moind that the wind cut our faces so we had to lower ’em to keep our heads flyin’ off where we couldn’t find ’em agin. It was yersilf that stuck yer nose in the ground, but I took a paap off beyanst the creek and I saan one of the Winnebagos.”
“Can it be possible! what was he doin’?”
“Turnin’ summersets at the rate of twinty to the second and about a dozen faat above the ground; I had only the one glimpse of him, but whin I obsarved him it looked to me as if his head and one leg wint off in different directions; I s’pose he’s lookin’ for the same.”
Fred Linden could hardly believe that Terry had seen one of their enemies, though, as you can well understand, from what cyclones have done in recent years, it was not at all impossible. The youth insisted so strongly on the first part of his statement, that Fred decided that at the time the storm burst, one at least of their foes was on the bank behind them.
All this confirmed the belief he had expressed that they had lost invaluable time by wandering from the trail, and that they would have hard work to keep far enough in advance to reach the camp before the Winnebagos. The proof that they had received too of some of the Winnebagos being in front complicated the situation and added to the mental discomfort of both.
The sky which, as you will remember, had become overcast sometime before the bursting of the cyclone, continued to clear, and to the surprise of the young hunters, about the middle of the afternoon the sun showed itself. The chilliness, however, remained, though the two walked so briskly that they could have well stood a still lower temperature.
Fortunately for them (though it also operated in favor of their enemies) the trail was traveled without difficulty. The ground was uneven, sometimes up and sometimes down, but it was not hard for the feet and they made good progress. The distance they had to go was too great for them to hope to reach the end of the journey before the morrow, even if they traveled most of the night. They had already proven their pluck and resolution, and you may be sure, now that they were on the right path, that they did not throw away any minutes.
They had eaten the extra buffalo steak sooner than was intended, but they could afford to wait until the morrow before partaking of any more food.
The afternoon was far along and they were pushing forward in their usual vigor, talking in a hopeful strain now and then, when both were startled by the report of a rifle. It did not sound in front nor to the rear, but only a moderate distance to the left. The boys stopped and looked in each other’s face.
“Anither of the spalpeens,” whispered Terry; “now there ought to be a gun fired on tother side of us and one in front and one behind us.”
“They may be there, all the same,” replied Fred, staring in the direction whence came the report, as though he expected the appearance of the one who had caused it. They looked and listened for several minutes, but saw and heard nothing more, and resumed their hurried pace, frequently glancing behind, for they were in that distrustful state of mind which comes to one who has a strong suspicion that an enemy is trying to steal behind him unawares. The actual presence of such an enemy is no more trying than the suspense itself.
The shot might have been innocent—that is, fired by some wandering white man or Indian who had not the remotest thought that any other person was within hearing. Probably such was the fact, though there was enough uncertainty about it to prevent the theory affording the youth the comfort it otherwise would have done.
The lads, as you may well believe, did not stop to look into the matter, but pressed on at a gait which they were confident would prevent any of their enemies overtaking them, unless they broke into their loping trot, which was hardly likely.
Somehow or other, Terry seemed to be thinking more about the three Winnebago horsemen with whom Fred Linden had had his encounter than he did about his own experience.
“How thim spalpeens could be ridin’, whin all the rist are afoot, is somethin’ that puzzles me,” said he, after they had walked some distance further; “can’t ye give some explanation that will relaave me mind, Fred?”
“I can certainly know no more about it than you do.”
“Didn’t ye obsarve them with particularity?”
“I can’t say that I did; they were rather small, tough-looking; two were bay in color, while one was black: I noticed the black one more than the others, because the Indian that I hit was riding on him; I remember that he had a star in his forehead.”
“Who? The Winnebago?”
“You know well enough that I meant the horse—”
Fred Linden stopped short, and turned his white, scared face upon his friend. He had just awakened to an astounding fact.
“What’s the matter, Fred? Are ye ill?”
“My gracious! why didn’t I think of that before? Those three horses belong to father, Mr. Hardin and Mr. Bowlby.”
“Are ye sure of the same?”
“Why, of course; I can’t understand why I did not notice it the moment I saw them!”
CHAPTER XXXIV
The Canoe
It certainly was remarkable that when Fred Linden was watching the three Winnebagos so closely, and when, as I have said, he noticed more than one trifling matter, that he failed to recognize the animals they were riding. All three were familiar to him, and the one he had spoken of as being darker in color than the others, and as having a star in his forehead, was the identical animal owned by his father. Fred, himself, had ridden him more than once.
It should be said, however, that they were the pack-horses, which even when put to their best paces, could not make good speed. Nevertheless, they were of great value to the hunters.
The first conviction of the lad on awaking to the alarming fact, was that his father and the other two men had been killed by the Winnebagos. The thought overcame him so that he leaned against the nearest tree and was on the point of fainting.
“They are all dead, Terry—I know it—we may as well give up, and try to reach home.”
Terry was agitated, but not so much so as his friend.
“Why, my dear boy, it’s not so bad as that,” he said feelingly; “do ye not moind that whin the gintlemen go to trappin’ and huntin’ they turn the horses loose to graze? The spalpeens have coom along and run off with the
same.”
“Do you think so?” asked Fred, looking up yearningly for the grain of comfort that his companion was able to give.
“I don’t think so; I know so; if the gintlemen took the bastes into the cabin and slipt with the same ivery night, as me rilatives do with their pigs in Ireland, why ye might think that they had suffered before the Winnebagos tuk thim away; but they have snaaked up where the animals was grazin’, jumped onto their backs and rid off.”
This view of the case was so reasonable, that Fred rallied and half smiled at his own faintheartedness. He stood erect and drew a deep breath of satisfaction.
“I believe you are right, but it strikes me that such thieves would have stolen all instead of half the horses.”
“They’ve lift the ither three for their frinds that I make no doubt will be along to take thim, if they haven’t done so now.”
“You know that the loss of a horse is considered almost as bad as the loss of a man in this part of the world.”
“Sometimes he amounts to a good deal more, as me mither—”
Terry paused in his remarks, for just then Fred uttered a warning—“Sh!” to signify that something was in the path in front. The next moment, he ran several paces to the right and sheltered himself behind a tree, Terry being only a few seconds behind him.
Both had discovered what it was. A brown bear of moderate size was waddling along toward them. He had probably struck the trail, and finding it easier walking than among the trees and undergrowth, was swinging forward in the direction of the stream that had received such a visit from the cyclone.
The boys could not know for a minute or two whether the beast had seen them, but they felt no alarm. As I have said, he was not very large nor formidable looking, and, if he chose to turn aside to attack them, they were more than his equal. As it was, their own eagerness to get forward was all that prevented them from shooting him.
The Edward S. Ellis Megapack Page 240
