CHAPTER VI.
STILL IN THE DARK--THE CANOE AGAIN.
For a moment we stood breathless, paralyzed and speechless. Then oureyes sought each other with a look of fearful inquiry.
"Was that Biddon's voice?" I asked, in a faint whisper.
"I don't know. There it is again!"
And again came that wild, howling shriek of such agony as made ourblood curdle within us.
"_It is his voice!_ Let us hasten to his aid," I exclaimed, catchingmy rifle, and springing out. Nat followed closely, his gun having beenreloaded. The cry came from up the river and toward it we dashed,scrambling and tearing through the brush and undergrowth, like twomaddened animals, heedless of what the consequence might be. Severaltimes we halted and listened, but heard nothing save our own pantingbreasts and leaping hearts. On again we dashed, looking hurriedlyabout us, until I knew we had ascended as high as could be the authorof that startling cry. Here we paused and listened. No one was to beseen. I turned toward Nat, standing behind me, and directly behind himI saw Biddon slowly approaching.
"What are you doin' here?" he asked, as he came up.
"Was not that your voice which I just heard?"
"I rather reckon it wan't. When you hear Bill Biddon bawl out in thatway, jist let me know, will yer?"
"What under the sun was it?" I asked then, greatly relieved.
"That's more nor me can tell; but shoot and skin me, if I can't tellyou one thing;" he approached closely and whispered, "there's sunkthinelse nor reds about yer."
"What do you mean?" I asked, although I understood well enough what hemeant.
"I's here once afore, as I told yer, and I never heerd sich goin's onthen. I've seed the tracks of moccasins all about the traps, but can'tdraw bead on the shadder of a redskin."
"You heard that horrid howl, didn't you?"
"Heerd it! I should think I did."
"Was it you who shot?"
"Yes; the way on it was this: I got on a purty plain trail andfollered it up hereabouts, when I cotched the glimpse of a Blackfoot'sfeather goin' down through the bushes there, and blazed away at him. Inever missed a red in my life, and I didn't miss him. Howsumever, hedidn't mind it, but kept on and got away, and jist as he went out ofsight that orful yell come. It didn't seem that he made it, butsounded like as though 'twas all about me, above and under the ground,and around and behind me."
"Anywhere near us?" asked Nat.
"It sounded jist under your feet about."
"Jerusha!" exclaimed the affrighted Nat, as he sprang nervously towardme.
"It must have been the Indian, surely, who made that yell," said I.
"In course; though things are beginnin' to look qua'rish to me."
The same look of uneasiness again passed over the trapper's face; andI saw that although he strove to hide it, he was by no means at rest.Matters were beginning to put on an unusual aspect, and that was thereason. Give the trapper of the northwest flesh and blood to contendagainst, let him know that nothing supernatural is arrayed againsthim, and he is the last man in the world to yield an inch. But themoment he sees something unexplainable to his simple mind, (and thetrapper is a credulous being), his courage deserts him. He believesthat other spirits than those of men visit this earth, and they arehis greatest horror.
"Les' go home; there's Injins all around us," pleaded Nat.
"How'd you know?"
"Because I _seen_ one myself."
Biddon looked inquiringly at me, and, deeming it best, I related theincident given in the preceding chapter. I saw at once his uneasinesswas increased.
"Why didn't you shoot the redskin?" he angrily asked of Nat.
"Why didn't _you_ shoot the redskin?" queried Nat, in turn.
"I did--hit him fair and square as I ever hit anything."
"But didn't do any more good than I did."
"I made the infarnal imp howl."
"And I made mine _grunt_," added Nat, triumphantly.
"There is no need of words," I interposed. "Each of you did your best,Nat included. You, Bill, I believe, hit your man and mortally woundedhim. That yell was of agony, though I can't conceive how we came tomistake it for yours. The dead or dying body of that Indian, Ibelieve, is near at hand. See! what does that mean?" I asked, as Idetected some red fluid dripping from the limb of a bush to the earth.The trapper stepped forward and looked at it.
"That's the blood of a Blackfoot, or I'm a skinned beaver!" heremarked, with a glow of relief at having those strange apprehensionsof his removed.
"Yes, I'm convinced that's Injin blood," added Nat, rubbing it betweenthe tip of his finger and thumb. "The blood of a Blackfoot Injin,too--a man's about thirty-two years old. Probably a brother to the oneI frightened."
"What do you know about that?" I asked.
"Oh! it's only a supposition of mine."
"Biddon, I believe, as I just said, that we will find the body of thatsavage near at hand. Let us follow it."
"Jes' what I's agoin' to do," he replied, starting off at once uponthe trail.
It was easy to follow, as every step was marked by blood, which, inmany places, was dripping from the bushes to the ground. It wasfollowed but a short distance, however, as it led in a direct line tothe river.
"It's as I s'pected," said Biddon, turning round in disgust.
"He must have drowned then."
"Dunno 'bout that. He's taken to the water to hide his trail, an' jes'as like as not some of the other painted heathen have helped him off."
"No doubt about that. I've been thinking that some of them helped offthat fellow when I was loading my gun."
"We mought as well go back agin," said Biddon. "I'm tired of huntin'spirits, and I dunno but what we'd better move traps and leave thisplagued place to 'em."
"That's what I am in favor of--"
Nat suddenly paused, for Biddon, with a slight "sh" motioned us down.We both sank quickly and silently to the earth, while he, in acrouching position, gazed stealthily up-stream.
"What is it, Bill?" whispered Nat.
"_There's a canoe comin' down stream!_"
We said nothing; and Nat looking meaningly in the water.
"Skin me, if there ain't two reds and a squaw in it," added Biddon,without changing his position, or removing his gaze.
I could not restrain the singular agitation that came over me at thisannouncement. Fearing to betray myself, I cautiously arose besideBiddon.
"Let me take a look," I whispered.
"Be keerful you ain't seen," he whispered, in turn, as he steppedback.
As I looked, I saw, not more than two hundred yards distant the canoeapproaching, heading directly towards us. For this reason, I couldonly see the foremost Indian, though I was positive another, togetherwith the white captive, were in it. I gazed but a moment and thenlooked inquiringly at the trapper. He made no reply, but again peeredforth.
"That ain't a squaw; it's a white gal," said he, looking round upon uswith an astounded look.
"Shall we rescue her?" I asked.
"Ef she wants us to, in course."
"You going to shoot them?" asked Nat, anxiously.
"Can't tell yit. Jest see that yer irons is ready, and we'll wait tillthey get out yer. Don't make no noise till I give the motion."
The trapper stole a yard or two in front of us, where he sank softlydown upon his face until only his head was visible. Nat fingered hisgun nervously beside me, while I, not a whit less agitated, waitedfor the canoe to appear through the interstices of the bushes infront.
In a moment, I heard the faint ripple of an oar, and saw the trapperslowly raising his head and bringing his rifle in front of him. Heraised his hand warningly for us to remain quiet until the momentshould arrive. I heard the click of my companion's gun, as he raisedthe hammer, and admonished him to be careful.
Suddenly, I saw the red head-dress of one of the savages glitteringthrough the bushes, and, before I could speak, came an explosionbeside me like the crash of a thunderbolt. Al
most simultaneously, theherculean frame of the trapper bounded over me, and he exclaimed:
"Who fired that? I'm shot."
Nat and I sprang to our feet and dashed after him; but as I turned,though bewildered with excitement, I looked at the spot where thecanoe was seen. It was gone!
We dashed up the bank, and in a moment reached Biddon. The excitementhad completely gone, and he stood coolly feeling his ear.
"Was that your gun, Jarsey?" he asked.
"No, sir; mine is still loaded."
"How is yours, Greeny?"
Nat lifted his, examined the lock and looked into the barrel. He hadindeed discharged it, grazing the trapper's head so closely as towound his ear.
"Wonder if that was my gun? Sure, I believe it was," he remarked,still looking into the barrel.
"Was it your gun?" repeated the trapper, his brow darkening like athunder-cloud, and laying his hand upon his knife-handle, as heapproached. Nat looked up and started as he saw his visage fairlygleaming with passion.
"I didn't shoot it, Bill, by thunder!" he expostulated.
The face of the trapper changed. It grew paler, and the dark cloudfled from it. He replaced his drawn knife. He believed the words ofNat.
Matters were approaching a crisis. The recent startling events hadtheir effect upon us all. The trapper avowed he could not stand "sichgoin's on," and should leave for some other quarters. Little sleepcame to Nat at night. His adventure with the savage, and the morerecent occurrence alarmed him. He had discovered that there wereconsequences to be feared from both sides.
I was still unwilling to believe that there was anything in the eventsgiven which would not soon be explained. It was evident our foes werearound, and from some inexplicable cause, had pursued an unusualcourse toward us. We had all been exposed to their power, and had yetescaped harmless. What was the meaning of this? And, above all, whatwas the object of the appearance and disappearance of the canoe at thedifferent times mentioned? Who could be that fair being of whoseexistence I only was as yet aware?
These questions, prompted only my anxious curiosity and desire tolearn more of that mysterious being whom I had now twice seen. Iridiculed the ideas of Biddon, and Nat strove hard to convince himthat he was not afraid. Biddon, consented to remain until more waslearned, intimating at the same time, that it must be very soon. Hevisited the horses each day, and found them undisturbed. This,however, only added to his anxiety. Had they been gone he would havetaken it as convincing evidence that _bona fide_ Indians were in theneighborhood.
The next day, after the closing scene of the last chapter, Nat agreedto accompany me for the last time to the spot where we had seen thecanoe. The trapper could not be prevailed upon to go, affirming thathe should probably have his hands full at home. It required my utmostskill to succeed with Nat, as the horror had plainly settled upon him.
"It's awful!" said he, as we started, "this walking right intodanger, but I want to see that canoe agin, but especially that gal,and so I'll go."
"And, I trust, behave yourself. You well know, Nat, you fired thatshot which came so near ending Biddon's life."
"Wonder if I did pull the trigger!" he exclaimed, suddenly stoppingand looking round at me.
"You _know_ you did, and had he known it, too, it would have been asorry piece of business for you. That temper of his is terrible, whenit is once excited."
"I remember cocking my gun, and kind of pulling the trigger, but Ididn't mean to pull hard enough to make it go off."
"I suppose not. I cannot conceive how Biddon persuaded himself tobelieve that you did not discharge it when the case was self-evident.But he is willing to believe almost anything since he has started."
"He shouldn't have gotten before my gun, for he knows my handsometimes trembles."
"I trust you will be able to control it this time."
"No doubt of that; but, then, I'd advise you, as a friend, not to getbefore me, especially if you see the canoe coming."
I assured him that I should not, and we kept upon our way. Upon eachof the occasions before, as near as I could judge, it was about noonthat the canoe made its appearance; and, as it was that time now, wehurried forward, lest the opportunity should pass. The opportunity, Isay--for, although it had appeared but twice as yet, I somehow orother was well satisfied we should see it again.
"What are you going to do?" asked Nat.
"It will depend upon what we see. If simply those two savages with thecaptive, as we judge her to be, are in the canoe, and no demonstrationis made, I think it best not to attempt a rescue. It is only asupposition of ours that she is a captive, and we know not that shewould thank us for interfering in her case."
In a short time we reached the elevation already mentioned. Here weseated ourselves so as to remain concealed from any stragglers in thevicinity, while we ourselves with a little care could detect theslightest object passing. As I stooped, my hand came in contact withsomething cold, and upon looking at it, I saw it covered with darkclotted blood. I started, and wiped it on the grass, but it sent ashudder through me to reflect that it had once been the life-fluid ofa human being.
"Ugh!" exclaimed Nat; "ain't that awful?"
"It is disagreeable, to say the least."
"Just look at the blood on the grass, too, and all around. I believeBill must have hit a half-dozen Injins sure, the way things appearhere."
"He must have wounded one terribly to make him bleed like this."
"And if he had been a flesh and blood Injin he would have nevertramped in that manner. I tell you, William Relmond, there _is_something more more than human about us. I can feel it in my bones,and I'm of Biddon's opinion that the sooner we get away from here thebetter."
"Fudge! I see you are beginning to get alarmed."
"Oh no; you are mistaken. I am not frightened at all. For Biddon'ssake, but more especially for yours, I am anxious. If you are desirousof remaining hereabouts, and will take all the consequences, I willmake no objections."
"Of course, if I run into danger of my own accord, I expect that Ialone will suffer the penalty."
"Then we needn't say anything more about it; you know we pledgedourselves to remain true to each other, and I won't desert you."
"That's well spoken, Nat. The minute I am satisfied that our lives areimperiled, I shall not be the means of prolonging that peril amoment. It is only this great desire to solve and understand thesingular occurrences that are transpiring around us, that leads me tostill remain. I have determined that to-day we shall all besatisfied."
"My curiosity is extraordinarily high; but I guess that gal has asmuch to do with it as anything else. I'm determined to get a glimpseof her face, and, if possible, whisper in her ear that Nat Todd, fromMaine, is about. I flatter myself that the minute she knows that, shewill jump overboard and make for shore without saying a word to thechaps with her."
"The greatest difficulty, I fear, will be to convey your words to thecaptive, without conveying it also to her captors."
"I swow, it would be harder than I thought at first."
During this conversation, which was carried on in a half-whisper, Natwas constantly parting the bushes and peering through them, while nowand then I glanced expectantly up the stream; but nothing as yet hadrewarded our watchfulness. Suddenly I reflected that as I had beentwice defeated in observing the disappearance of the canoe, from theexact spot upon which we were now seated, that we might make a betterarrangement of ourselves, so as to insure this coveted knowledge toone of us at least.
I mentioned this to Nat.
"If one of us was on t'other side, the thing would be certain, butthat can't be done very conveniently, and we shall have to trysomething else."
"Suppose you go down stream about a hundred yards near the bendyonder," I proposed to Nat.
"Guess I will!" he exclaimed, as he rose to go.
"Wait a moment," said I, detaining him. "Let me admonish you toexercise no ordinary caution, Nat, for you have seen enough toconvince you that you
r own safety depends upon it. Remember that aword or false movement, however slight, may defeat our plans. Look outfor danger to yourself, and not let your curiosity be the means ofyour destruction. _Be very careful._"
I know not what led me to thus warn him; but at the moment he arose togo, an unaccountable sense of impending danger came over me. It wasnot so much for me as for him I spoke thus. He promised to heed mywords and departed.
As soon as he had disappeared, I cast another look up stream, butstill there were no signs of the expected canoe, and a suddenapprehension that I should not see it again came over me. There was,in fact; as much reason not to expect it as to anticipate its coming,and as I looked up at the sun and saw that it was already beyond thehour, I was half-tempted to turn back. While I was debating, Inaturally looked up the river, and there, just rounding the bend wherethe canoe had first come into view before,--and there it was coming!Quivering with agitation, I sank upon the ground, and gave a lowwhistle as a signal to Nat. He returned it, as an evidence of hiswatchfulness.
I saw from that point where I was seated, the view would be mostobstructed when the canoe was nearest. Accordingly, I crept cautiouslyand quickly nearer the water's edge. This time, however, I slightlyvaried my course, and concealed myself behind the trunk of a fallentree. This was within a yard of the water, and afforded completeconcealment. I noticed the log was rotten and apparently hollow.
Here I lay, and intently listened and watched. A few moments and analmost inaudible ripple was heard, and the canoe was opposite. Iexercised the most extreme caution, and was fortunate enough to obtaina perfect view of each of the occupants. They were the same--the dark,malignant faces of the savages, and the fair features of the captive.She sat in the stern, her hand resting gently upon a guiding oar, andher gaze fixed upon the stream in front. The canoe floated with thecurrent, and not a paddle was stirred, nor the least motion made bythe beings before me. The headdress of the captive was, as mentionedbefore, eagle feathers and porcupine quills, while the dark, wavingmasses of hair hung low upon the shoulders, contrasting with thewhiteness of the face. A heavy crimson shawl enveloped the form, aswhen first seen. The features were regular, and, perhaps, in my stateof feeling, their beauty was considerably enhanced; but the thoughtcame upon me that if there were anything supernatural in myexperience, it was in seeing such wonderful beauty as was now beforeme.
Unconsciously I forgot myself as the canoe was gliding past, andbefore I was aware, it was hid from view by intervening obstacles. Iwithdrew hastily, intending to hurry farther down, where the viewwould be more complete. I had taken but a step or two when Nat's riflewas discharged, and I heard distinctly a muffled sound of his voice.Wild with agitation, I dashed to the spot where I supposed him to be.The view of the river at this point was clear, and I turned to look atthe canoe. It had vanished!
I looked around for Nat, but he too, was gone. I called him, and oncethought I heard a faint answer. But it was not repeated, and I couldnot tell its direction. I reached the ground, and beheld _the tracksof others beside his own_. I awaited until near night, but Nathan Toddwas never to return.
Bill Biddon, Trapper; or, Life in the Northwest Page 6
