CHAPTER XLIII
Gravity Gimp and Lieutenant Fred Godfrey were in high spirits, for each had been highly favored by fortune. They were beyond sight of the camp-fire and had thrown the pursuing Iroquois off the track, so that, with ordinary care, they were out of personal danger.
But this elation could not last. Could they forget that within a stone's throw their friends were in peril, and unless soon rescued would be beyond all help?
"We have only one gun between us," said Fred, "and I don't see any prospect of getting another."
"I thinked maybe we mought find one, somewhar in de woods," said Gimp, "but I guess dere ain't much show for dat. You am de best shot, so I'll be wery much obleeged if you'll take charge ob dis rifle."
Fred accepted the weapon, feeling that before any great harm could befall those in the Indian camp, the bullet nestling in the barrel would be heard from.
"We will steal up as near as we dare," said he, "and watch our chances."
"I doesn't see dat I can assist you, to a wery alarming extent," said Gimp, "so if you doesn't object, I'll go on a scout."
"Go on a scout? What do you mean by that?"
"Ise an ijee; I'll take a look around, and when I want you I'll just whistle this way, and you'll understand."
Fred had little faith in the proposal, but fortunately he did not object, and a minute later Gimp was gone.
Left to himself Fred stealthily approached the vicinity of the camp, fully alive to the delicacy of his mission.
He was resolved that if detected, and this was likely to occur, since a number of the Senecas were still absent and would soon be returning, he would not be retaken.
"There will not be a shadow of hope, if I fall into their hands again, and I may as well make it lively for a while."
A few steps farther and he reached a point from which he obtained a clear view of the Indian camp.
He saw Aunt Peggy busy with her culinary duties, while the group of half a dozen Indians were as eagerly watching and scrambling for the brown slices as if they were so many wolves.
By and by Jake Golcher cut the withes that bound the arms of Habakkuk McEwen and Mr. Brainerd, and began talking with Maggie while Fred watched with the deepest interest the singular camp.
"I think there'll be some mischief done pretty soon," thought the youth, after watching the scene for a moment; "and, if so, I must take a hand."
He had stationed himself by the side of a tree with large spreading limbs, and he now resorted to the odd plan of climbing a short distance and seating himself among the limbs.
"I've got just as good a view here," he said to himself, "and, if it becomes necessary to shoot, they won't be apt to look in this place for me."
At the same time it occurred to him that if the flash of his gun should be noticed, and his whereabouts discovered, he would be in the worst possible situation.
Parting the limbs, so as to give him the view he wished, he held his weapon ready to fire any instant, while he closely watched proceedings.
No better aim could have been required than that now given him; he could cover every one in the party, and the distance was so short that it was impossible to miss.
"I ought to shoot him," he muttered, as he looked at Jake Golcher, while sitting by Maggie Brainerd and talking with such earnestness; "it is he who has followed us, and but for him the party would be well out of danger by this time."
The young lieutenant was angry enough to shoot a dozen Tories, had the chance been his; but when he sighted along the gleaming barrel of his rifle, on which the firelight fell, he could not bring himself to the point.
"Yes; I ought to do it," he added, "but I can't feel right in picking off a man in that fashion. No; I'll wait till he gives me a better excuse."
The watcher knew what passed between Maggie, Golcher, and Mr. Brainerd, when the last came up and uttered his indignant protest, almost as well as if he had overheard the words themselves.
"Jake has proposed to let the whole party off, provided Maggie will marry him, and before she can decide (for he knows if she makes the promise she will keep it, if they both live), father is giving the Tory a piece of his mind. He's doing it in a style, too, that can't be misunderstood."
This little scene lasted but a few seconds, when Mr. Brainerd resumed his seat on the log, close to his daughter, as if he would protect her from any more such advances.
All this was noted and understood by the watcher in the tree, when the latter was recalled to his own situation by a slight rustling below. Looking down, he was able to see by the light of the camp-fire the figure of a Seneca Indian, as he walked softly in the direction of the camp.
No doubt he was one of the warriors that had been hunting for Fred, and who failed to find him.
The latter was so near his enemies that he could follow the motions of the Indian until he joined his comrades, or, rather, went up to Golcher, who straightway began questioning him about the search for the young patriot.
Whatever their answers might have been, it is scarcely to be presumed they added much to the peace of mind of Mr. Jacob Golcher.
CHAPTER XLIV
After the indignant protest of Mr. Brainerd, Jake Golcher concluded to let the matter rest for the time.
"The old fellow is pretty sassy and independent, but I'll take it out of him before he's two hours older. I wish Black Turtle would come in."
He referred to one of the most treacherous and cruel warriors of the Seneca tribe – a savage whose atrocities had given him prominence even among a people noted for their cruelty, and the identical redskin who was in his mind at that moment came out of the wood and approached the Tory leader.
Black Turtle was the warrior who passed under the tree in which Fred Godfrey was perched.
Golcher now believed that he had been lenient, and he resolved to force the issue that had already been delayed too long. Without heeding the other warriors, who were laughing and scrambling for the slices of meat, Black Turtle at once went up to the white man, with whom he held a brief but pointed conversation.
He first told that they had hunted hard for the Yengese, or Yankee, and had failed to find him – a piece of superfluous information, and then Black Turtle, who seemed to be a subordinate chief, asked in an angry voice why the whites sitting on the log had been spared so long.
On the other side the river the Indians allowed few of the Yengese to live any longer than they could survive the blows of the tomahawk, and there was no reason why such partiality should be shown these who had crossed the Susquehanna.
This declaration was supplemented by the warrior drawing his tomahawk, and announcing that he meant to finish the job at once.
But this was a little more than Jake Golcher wished. There was one of the captives, at least, whom he desired to protect until certain, one way or the other, about her disposition toward him.
If her father were removed, the Tory believed the daughter could be brought to terms through her affection for her sister and aunt.
"So long as the old chap is alive," reflected Golcher, "so long will he prevent her consent. But, if he is gone, and she finds that the only way to save Eva and her aunt is to accept me, she will do it, though there will be a big lot of blubbering and praying and all that sort of stuff. Therefore, the best thing is to get her father out of her path: she will be pretty well broke up by that."
It was now necessary that Black Turtle should be appeased in some way, and Jake Golcher, without hesitation, made known his purpose.
It was, in short, that Black Turtle should move off in the woods, as if he had no thought of evil in his mind, and when beyond sight, make a stealthy circuit, so as to get in the rear of the parties sitting on the log.
He was then to steal up and drive his tomahawk into the skull of the unsuspecting Mr. Brainerd. The Indian would utter his whoop, if so inclined (the disposition to whoop at such a time is irresistible with his race), and dart off in the woods.
He was to stay until matters should become quiet around the camp-fire, when he might come back and play the innocent warrior, or the avenger, as he chose.
Black Turtle entered upon the dreadful business with the cunning peculiar to his nature. He sauntered off in another direction, passing by the group of Senecas on the other side of the fire, without so much as drawing an inquiring look from them.
Fred Godfrey, from his perch in the tree, saw this action of the redskin, but with no suspicion of its meaning.
He thought he would probably continue his hunt for the lieutenant, whom he, and all the others, had not been able to find.
The conduct of Jake Golcher was as cruel as that of Black Turtle. Without resenting the indignant words of Mr. Brainerd, who seated himself beside Maggie and tried to cheer her, the Tory sauntered off and stood grimly watching the curious actions of some of the warriors, who were still struggling for the crumbs that fell from Aunt Peggy's aboriginal table.
He thought it best not to say anything more to the fugitives. He had made a blunder, and no words of his just then could right it. He had decided that there had been already too much talk, and it was time for action to take its place.
The position of the Tory was such that he could see every one in camp, but he glowered out from his ugly brows on the mournful party that still sat on the fallen tree, and not only at them, but he was watching the wood immediately behind Mr. Brainerd.
He knew the point where Black Turtle would be likely to appear, and he did not wish to miss the tragedy.
"Things look rather curious there," muttered Lieutenant Godfrey, from his perch in the branches of the tree. "Why is Jake Golcher watching the folks so closely? Is there some mischief afloat?"
At that instant he detected a movement in the undergrowth behind Brainerd, the position of Fred being the best possible to see what was going on in that spot.
The firelight was thrown over the fallen tree, and reached some distance beyond, so that the figure of Black Turtle, as he rose like a shadow to his feet, was plainly shown.
One glance at the warrior told the whole truth to the watcher, whose gun was already cocked and pointed in that direction.
Black Turtle had selected his own position, and, slowly drawing back his sinewy arm, he aimed straight for him who never dreamed of his peril.
The savage gathered his strength for the throw that was to inflict death upon an innocent man.
But Black Turtle made a slight mistake.
Before the weapon could leave his fingers the sharp report of a rifle broke the stillness, followed instantly by the death-shriek of the savage, as he flung his arms aloft and fell forward, almost against the log on which the Brainerd family were sitting.
The scheme of Jake Golcher and Black Turtle was indefinitely postponed.
CHAPTER XLV
The shock terrified the whole camp.
Aunt Peggy dropped the piece of meat she was cooking, and sprang back with a gasp. The other Indians, accustomed as they were to violence, stared in blank wonder, while those on the fallen tree leaped to their feet and gazed at the figure of the Indian as he lay on his face, with his tomahawk clenched in his vise-like grip.
Jake Golcher was dazed, and neither spoke nor stirred until Maggie, in the very depths of her agony, ran to him and exclaimed:
"What is the meaning of this? Was he seeking father's life? If he was, it was you who told him to do it!"
The Tory looked in the white face of the girl, and said, in a surly voice:
"I didn't know anything about it."
"Oh, Jake," she continued, talking rapidly, and in such mental distress that every eye was fixed upon her; "if this is your work, a just God will punish you for it. Father has never sought to injure you. We are neighbors, and belong to the same race – "
He attempted to turn away, but she caught his arm, and faced him about.
"You shall hear me. If you want human lives, take mine– take Eva's, but spare his gray hairs; do him a wrong, and as sure as our Heavenly Father reigns above, a punishment shall come to you. Show him mercy, treat us as human beings, and you will thank Him to your dying day that He led you aright, when you went so far astray."
The father would have gone forward and drawn her away, but he was held by her soulful eloquence.
She staggered back and would have fallen, had not Aunt Peggy, who, after all, was the most cool-headed one in the party, seen what was coming and caught her in her arms.
Half-supporting and half-dragging her, she got her back to the tree, where she gently seated her.
Poor Maggie threw her arms around the good woman's neck and gave way to hysterical sobbing, while her aunt tried to soothe her.
Mr. Brainerd sat like a statue, but his lips trembled, and it required all the power of his will to keep from breaking down as utterly as did Maggie herself, who, flinging one of her arms around weeping Eva, gathered her and their aunt in an embrace, and surrendered to her tempest of grief.
The Senecas looked on, but if there was any glimmering of tenderness in their nature it did not struggle to the surface, and the trees around them could not have betrayed less emotion.
As for Jake Golcher, he scanned the picture with darker passions than those of the savages themselves.
He did not stir, but, when he saw Habakkuk McEwen look inquiringly at him, he beckoned him to approach.
The frightened fellow sprang to his feet and hurried across the short space, eager to do anything to win the favor of the other.
"Do you know who shot that Indian?" asked the Tory, in an undertone.
"I haven't the least idea."
"It was Fred Godfrey; he is somewhere near. The shot sounded out yonder" – pointing in the proper direction – "and, if you want to save your life, you must go out and bring him in."
"I'll do it," said McEwen, catching like a drowning man at a straw.
He turned about to start upon his strange errand, when Golcher commanded him to stop.
"How are you going to do it?"
"Catch him by the neck and heels, and drag him along."
"Don't you see the Senecas are starting off to hunt him up?"
It was true. The red men quickly recovered from the shock, and, knowing who fired the shot, were stealing off into the woods in search of the youth, who had given proof of his presence near them.
Almost every one was able to tell the point whence came the familiar bullet, and it will be understood that Fred Godfrey took his life in his hand when he interposed to save his father.
"I don't believe they will find him," said Jake Golcher, alluding to the Senecas, who were moving off in the darkness; "but you can join him, because he takes you for a friend; go out in the woods, signal to him, and when you find him, get him to come nigh enough to be catched. You can do it, and if you succeed, you shall be spared. Don't think," added the Tory, significantly, "that because we let you jine in the hunt you can slip off in the dark."
"Oh, I never thought of such a thing," protested the New Englander. "I always keep my promise, and I'll bring him back."
"There isn't one of these folks that can get away, for the Senecas are all around us. Gray Panther will soon be here with twenty more, and then we shall have 'em all."
If this were the case, Habakkuk might well have asked why Golcher wished him to join in the search. But if such a question came to the mind of McEwen he did not utter it.
"If you try to run away you'll be brought back here and tomahawked inside of half an hour; do your duty, and I'll take care of you; after you get out there in the dark you can signal to him in such a way that he'll show himself, and then you must prove your smartness by getting him to come with you to some p'int where we can pounce onto him. Do you understand?"
"It's all as plain as the nose on your face," said Habakkuk.
"Then be off with you!"
CHAPTER XLVI
Habakkuk McEwen entered upon his strange mission with ardor. A few seconds carried him beyond sight of the fire, and he pushed forward until fully two hundred yards distant, when he paused, and listened.
He heard nothing of the Iroquois, who could not be far away.
"Over yonder lies the trail that leads to Stroudsburg," he said to himself, "and this is the first fair start that I've had since getting into this neighborhood. Such a promise as I made ain't binding; the way Fred Godfrey has been going on, I think he's able to take care of himself, and it's about time I did the same. I'm off for Stroudsburg, and nothing short of an earthquake shall stop me this time."
And thereupon he started like a frightened deer through the dark woods, with the resolve that when the morrow's sun should rise he would be many a mile to the eastward, and far beyond the reach of Jake Golcher and his Senecas.
Meanwhile, Fred Godfrey, having done such good service for his friend, was equally alert in making the most of it. He did not forget that the sound of his rifle would direct the Senecas to the spot whence it came, and should he remain five minutes in the tree he would be at their mercy.
Consequently, the smoke had scarcely risen from the muzzle of his weapon, and the death-shriek of bloody Black Turtle was yet echoing on the air, when he came down as nimbly as a monkey and hurried from the spot.
The shot that he had fired was one of those unexpected things that startled the Senecas into temporary inaction, just enough to serve a quick-witted person like Fred Godfrey.
He was loath to leave the vicinity of the camp, but self-preservation commanded it, and he did not pause until a safe distance away.
His dread was that the Senecas would take revenge upon the whites for the death of their comrade, and the youth meant to return to a position that would enable him to interfere again, even though the risk were tenfold greater than before.
But Fred had not listened more than a couple of minutes when he was detected by an Indian, who must have followed him some distance through the woods.
"Ugh! S'render – me kill!" growled the savage, bearing down upon him with upraised tomahawk.
"Surrender, eh? That's the way I surrender!"
And, to the terror of the red man, he found the muzzle of a pistol placed against his nose.
"Ugh! no shoot – me good Injun – ugh! Good Yengese!"
And the valiant fellow, ducking his head, and dodging from side to side, like the Digger Indians of California, in the vain effort to distract the aim of his enemy, went threshing through the wood without any regard to noise or dignity.
Lieutenant Godfrey could have stopped his career without trouble, merely by pressing the trigger; but he did not do so. He was a civilized soldier.
"Go in peace," laughed Fred, putting his weapon away. "Heaven knows I do not wish to take human life!"
As the youth had now reached a point where he could feel safe from his pursuers, he proceeded to reload his rifle.
In the darkness it required care, and was a task compared to which that of breech-loading of to-day is nothing. The few beams of moonlight that had disclosed him and the Seneca to each other helped him to pour out the powder from the horn around his waist, and to adjust the quantity in the pan of his flintlock.
"If I continue this picking off of warriors, one at a time," muttered Fred, "I will be able to thin them out before morning."
He was reminded of the delicacy of his position, by hearing low whistling on his right.
"Doubtless that is the one I drove away," was his reflection. "He wants to call some of his brothers before I leave, so he can reward me as an Indian likes to reward one who shows him mercy. But, hello!"
Like a flash came the thought that the peculiar signals that had been going on for some minutes were not those of an Indian, but of his friend, Gravity Gimp.
"I do believe it is he, calling to me," said the lieutenant, as he stationed himself in the shadow of a tree, and, holding his weapon ready for use, cautiously answered the hail, which sounded clear and distinct on the still summer night.
Instantly came the reply, and then he replied in turn, so that communication was established, and whether the other was a friend or foe, it became evident that he was approaching.
The lieutenant did not feel free from fear, for he was aware of the subtlety of the foes against whom he was contending, and nothing was more natural than that they should resort to such a simple artifice to mislead him.
He therefore ceased answering the call when it came close, but held himself ready to fire and withdraw the instant he should detect the deception.
A figure was dimly seen in a small, moonlit space in front, advancing upon him in a crouching posture. Fred fastened his eyes on the shadowy outlines, and he grasped his gun with both hands.
Just then the half-bent man straightened up, and, with a relief that was delightful, Fred recognized the form of Gravity Gimp, who had been hunting and signaling so industriously for the last fifteen minutes.