Chapter VI: The Midnight Ambush

A cry of terror and despair broke from the lips of Ruth and her mother, as the shout of the savages fell like a knell of death upon their ears.

“Hush! keep quiet as you hope for your lives,” cried the scout, in a thrilling tone. “It may be that they ain’t seen us arter all. Who knows but what they g’in that shout when they got back to the cabin? We had ought to thank our stars that we ain’t back there now.”

Dick looked backward as he said this, hoping that the words he uttered might be true, though he felt sure that they need not hope for any such good luck. That glance showed him how frail his hopes were. Between them and the cabin he could see nearly a score of human forms coming swiftly in their direction. As ill-fortune would have it, the moon had shone out a few moments too soon, and an evil chance had revealed them to the savages at that selfsame moment.

But, the moonlight did not linger long over the clearing. As if content with the mischief it had done, it hid its face again behind the clouds and a deeper gloom than before took its place.

“Courage,” cried Dick, urging them onward. “They’ve got to have sharp eyes if they can find us in the forest afore daylight comes. Strike off here to the left a little. We can fool them now if the moon don’t come out ag’in.”

“Darn it all, I wish I was to hum,” muttered the Yankee. “If I was only up in New Hampshire I’d give a dollar. I sw’ar I would now.”

The movement of the clouds over the face of the moon favored them, and they were well in the shelter of the forest before it showed itself again.

It was so dark here that they could hardly see their hand before their face; but the scout did not allow them to pause for an instant, though they almost had to feel their way along. Yet though they made the best time they could, their pace was slow, for they had as it were to feel their way along. Haste would only expose them to more danger, for they would be liable to make some sound which would betray them. The snapping of a twig might convey to the savages the knowledge of their whereabouts, and expose them to capture or instant death.

For some twenty minutes after they had gained the shelter of the forest, they kept on in this way, and then, in a low tone, the scout bade them pause.

Each stood motionless in their tracks, their ears strained to the utmost to catch the faintest sound of their pursuers.

A silence as profound as that of the grave was around them. The forest seemed to be holding its breath in expectancy.

The savages, if they were following them close, were doing so with noiseless feet, for not the slightest sound could they catch on either side.

After a silence the scout spoke again:

“We’re all right now for an hour or two,” he said. “Unless they stumble over us, they can’t find us more than they can a weasel in a wall. Should the moon come out bright they may strike our trail and follow it, but I hardly think they can. But they will do their best as soon as the sun comes up. But by that time we must be a long way from here toward the settlement. Rushing Water thought he was sure of the gal when he see us, but he’ll find out afore he’s through that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.”

“That’s what old Sal Fisher used to say up in New Hampshire,” said Peleg. “She—”

What it was she said the company did not learn, for the scout broke in with:

“Keep that tongue of your’n still, will ye? It’s wuss than a clapper to a bell; and I shouldn’t wonder if it brought the hull tribe of savages down upon ye. Follow me ag’in, and don’t one of ye speak above a whisper.”

The Yankee muttered something in so low a tone that none of the rest of them understood what it was; and they all moved forward in the wake of the scout, who notwithstanding the darkness seemed familiar with every step of the way, far more so than did the settlers who for years had lived so close to where they were.

The hand of Ruth was yet in that of her lover, and though it still trembled with fear, the words which he ever and anon whispered in her ear, went far to reassure her and to give her courage.

Sam Wilson walked by the side of his wife, and behind them bringing up the rear came Peleg Parker with his pack upon his back.

And so for an hour they went on, plunging deeper and deeper into the forest, and leaving as they fondly hoped their enemies behind them.

Were they unable to find their trail before daylight, they were in hopes to be so far on their way toward the nearest settlement, that they would have no trouble in making their escape.

Now and then the moon would break through the clouds, deluging the forest with a flood of silver light, and then it would hide its face again leaving the night blacker than it was before.

The scout knew well that a savage, even, could not follow a trail under these circumstances, and with every minute they remained unmolested his spirits rose and he felt more sanguine of their escape.

Nearly an hour had passed, and they had kept steadily on their way; when suddenly the scout who had glanced behind them, as the moon broke forth brilliantly, bade them pause in their tracks.

“What is it? Did you see any thing?” demanded Ned Tapley, in a low tone.

“_Hist! the red-skins are close behind us!_” he answered, in a low voice.

A thrill of alarm and fear struck to the heart of each at these words.

After all their hopes of escape, were they doomed to destruction?

“Are you sure it was savages you saw?” asked Sam Wilson, in a whisper, as he cast a glance backward over the way they had come.

“Yes. There is one if not more upon our track. I saw him dart behind a tree as plainly as I can see you now. Most like there are others along with him though I did not see them.”

“What are we to do?”

“Circumvent the varmints if we can. I know some of their tricks, and I’m going to play ’em off on them. The moon will be under a cloud ag’in in a minute and then I’ll see what can be done. Till then let’s keep on as we’ve been going.”

They went on for perhaps a dozen rods, and then the forest was buried in darkness again.

“Now is our time,” exclaimed the scout. “I’ll let these red-skins know that Dick, the Death-Dealer, is on their track yet. He’s sent a great many of ’em under, and he ain’t got through with the business yet. You, Sam, go slowly on with the wimmen, and Ned you come with me. You are a good shot and it may be that I shall have need of you.”

“You don’t want me, I expect,” said Peleg. “I never was very good at fighting, and besides I’ve got this ere pack to see to. If the red-skins get hold on it, I’m ruined etarnelly.”

“No, I don’t want you,” answered Dick. “Stay where you are, and try to keep that tongue of yours still. Mind your rifle, Ned, and come with me.”

The young man gave the hand of Ruth a warm pressure, and whispered a word of assurance in her ear. Then he allowed her to pass on, while he came and stood by the side of the scout, who did not stir out of his tracks until the others had moved on some dozen yards or more.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, in a low tone.

“Find out how many red-skins there is behind us, and shoot ’em all if we can. You see that big tree yonder. Well, get behind it, and shoot the first red-skin that shows himself. I’ll ’tend to the next one, that comes to hand. We’ve got to fight ’em here, or the gal is Rushing Water’s, and we lose our scalps in the bargain.”

“I am ready,” answered Ned. “I had rather die a dozen deaths and see her a corpse, than she should fall into the hands of the red-skins.”

“I don’t doubt it a bit, youngster. But between you and I, I’m afeard our chances are mighty slim. This is a ticklish scrape we’re in, and if we all get out of it and save our ha’r, we shall do well. But let’s take our places and see who comes along. If the red-skins have kept on track of us, they’ll show themselves in a minute or two. Mind that you don’t waste a bullet, for ev’ry shot is going to tell in this scrape.”

Ned moved to the spot the scout had assigned him, and took up his position behind the trunk of the tree. Dick at once took a similar position, and motionless they waited for the coming of their enemies.

One, two, five minutes passed, and there was no sign of their coming.

Could it be that the scout had been mistaken? Though it was dark it was impossible that they should pass them without making their presence known.

Two minutes more passed and then a flood of moonlight poured down upon the spot.

So sudden did it come, that for a moment it almost blinded the eyes of Ned, with its brilliancy. But they became used to it in a moment, and glancing back along the way they had come, he saw a savage within two rods of him.

He was moving slowly forward, half-bent to the earth, seeking for their trail.

A better chance for a shot a man never had; and remembering the injunction of the scout, he raised his rifle and took deliberate aim upon the savage.

The next instant he pulled the trigger, and the sharp report of his rifle startled the echoes of the forest while the bullet sped on its deadly work.

It did it well, for the savage gave a leap into the air, and then fell forward to the earth, where he lay as motionless as a log.

Another instant, and a second report mingled its echoes with that of the first.

The eyes of the scout had singled out another enemy, and another bullet had sped forth on its deadly mission.

But an exclamation of chagrin fell from his lips a moment after.

“I believe I’ve missed him. What’s the matter with you, Susannah? But like’s not the fault’s in me. He was some ways off and the moonbeams danced so that I wa’n’t over sure of my aim. But I’ll have him yet. It won’t do to let him bring the rest of ’em here. Keep on arter the rest of ’em, youngster. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Hastily reloading his rifle he sprung in the direction of the spot where he had seen the savage, leaving Ned standing in his tracks putting another charge into his rifle.

When he neared the spot where the savage had stood, he found that it was untenanted.

But a glance upon the earth told him that his shot had not been so poor a one as he had thought.

The leaves were covered with blood, telling that he had wounded him.

As he saw this he felt better in his mind.

It was seldom he missed an object he took aim upon, and he was fearful he was losing his art.

“He bleeds like a stuck bison,” he muttered, to himself. “He can’t have gone a great ways. I’ll make sure of him anyway.”

A bloody trail led away from the spot, and along this he hurried.

For some twenty rods he had no difficulty in keeping it, and then the moon went under a cloud and he was at fault.

Impatiently he stood still, waiting for it to show its face again.

Five, ten minutes passed, and it gave no symptoms of doing so.

He began to grow impatient, and to think if he had not better turn back and rejoin his friends, and hurry them onward as fast as possible.

“Let him go,” he muttered, to himself. “I guess he’s done for, so he won’t trouble us again. But I would like to have made sure of him.”

He gave one more glance up to the clouded sky, and then along the way the wounded savage had gone. Then he turned upon his heel and set his face once more in the direction of the spot where he had left the fugitives.

But he had not taken ten steps in that direction before he gave a sudden start and then stood as though rooted to the spot.

As well he might, in the alarm and surprise he felt.

A fierce war-whoop, breaking as from a score of throats, resounded through the arches of the forest.

It came from the direction of the very spot where he supposed his friends must now be.

The next moment he had sufficient proof that in this he was not mistaken.

A wild cry of terror and alarm, followed the shout of the savages, and then the report of a rifle, and soon after, that of a pistol.

The cry came from the lips of Mrs. Wilson and Ruth, and the shots must be fired by the settler and the Yankee.

The main body of the red-skins must have passed on before so noiselessly that they had not been observed, and these had lain in wait for the fugitives, who, all unsuspicious of danger in that direction, had walked directly into the ambush thus prepared for them.

For only a moment did the scout stand riveted to the earth, as though turned to stone by the knowledge of the fearful danger his friends were in.

The next, he had shot forward as straight as an arrow from a bow, directly for the spot from whence the tumult arose.

He heard the report of another rifle, which he doubted not was that of Ned, and then two or three in quick succession, which he thought must doubtless be in the hands of some of the savages.

The tumult continued until he was almost to the spot from whence it came, and then it suddenly ceased.

“What could this mean?” he asked of himself, as he came to a sudden halt.

Could it be that the red-skins had slain them all thus quickly?

A fear took hold upon his heart that this was so.

A moment more and his fear was confirmed. Another war-whoop rung out, and went echoing away through the forest-aisles.

It was a shout of triumph.

There was no mistaking that.

It told the scout so, plainer than words could have done.

His worst fears were realized.

All the trouble and fatigue they had undergone that night had been for naught. Their bright hopes of escape were at an end.

Rushing Water had secured the prize he coveted, and a worse fate than that of death was in store for Ruth.

Still, it might be death after all, for had not the Indian girl made a league with the Wizard to accomplish that end?

All these thoughts ran quickly through his mind as he stood there uncertain what to do.

In times gone by he had accomplished much with fearful odds against him; but what could his unaided arm do now against so many?

Perhaps all his friends but Ruth had fallen; but if they had, he would not abandon her. So long as she lived he would work for her deliverance.

But he would not take that shout of triumph as evidence that all was lost.

Something might be done yet, and he would see with his own eyes how matters stood.

So he passed slowly onward, keeping a sharp look-out for the enemy.

The moon and clouds favored him, for no ray of light shot down into the forest.

Noiselessly and with the utmost caution he crept onward, until at last he was close to the spot from whence the various sounds had come.

At that moment the moon broke forth from behind the clouds with a splendor almost like that of the sun.

Hardly a dozen yards before him, he beheld a number of figures clustered together.

By sight he could not tell whether they were all savages or not; but he heard the voice of a woman weeping as though in the depths of despair. But he was not destined to gaze long upon the scene! Hardly had he taken it in, when an arrow, whizzing close to his head, told him that he was discovered.

He gave one of the savages the contents of his rifle, and then turned and fled, muttering, as he did so:

“I’ll leave ye now; but the Death-Dealer ain’t done with ye yet. He’ll ye pay dearly for this night’s work.”