Chapter II: A Fortunate Discovery

Casual mention has been made of one "Fred," who was the eldest child--and only surviving son--of Edward Wilson. He had left the forest cabin only a few minutes before the advent of Dusky Dick, barely taking time to finish his supper.

Tobe Castor was correct in his shrewd guess as to what had attracted him so far, after a hard day's work; although probably Fred would have denied the "soft impeachment," had any one told him that it was only to see and chat with Jennie Stevens, that he so frequently traversed the three-mile path that intervened between the two houses. But such was indeed the case.

And if the truth must be told, Fred had a faithful ally in the enemy's camp, too, in the shape of John Stevens, who appeared to be profoundly impressed with the good qualities of the young borderer, and seemed resolved that Jennie should also entertain the same ideas. But Jack would have been very wroth, no doubt, had any one hinted that he was playing a part; that it was partly the reflected light of Annie's perfections that made him so esteem Fred.

The latter personage, then, was swiftly striding along the faintly-defined trail, his thoughts busy with a momentous subject. He was picturing the future as he would wish it to be a home, a wife--who, strangely enough, always possessed Jennie's face and form--a growing family of little ones--when suddenly he paused and bent his head in an attitude of acute attention.

He heard a shrill, peculiar whistle ring out from only a few yards before him, evidently in the same trail. But what increased his surprise, was that an answer came, like an echo; this time from some little distance to his right.

Fred knew that the country was in a troubled state; he had closely watched the signs that portended the coming of a storm that, should it fall, would sweep all before it with resistless fury. And now a premonition of coming peril weighed upon his spirit like a revelation.

Without pausing to reflect, he glided out from the path and crouched down amid the dense undergrowth, his ears strained to catch any sounds that might either confirm or banish his suspicions. At first he could hear nothing, but then the low murmuring of human voices was borne to his hearing upon the gentle night breeze.

He knew that the speakers, whoever they might be, were approaching, and in a few moments more Fred could distinguish the words, which were spoken in the Sioux dialect. Thanks to a border life and acquiring spirit, the young settler was slightly conversant with the _patois_; sufficiently so to follow the meaning of the speakers.

The first words he caught, caused his heart to throb wildly, and he crouched forward, fearing almost to breathe, lest he should lose a sentence.

"Then we are to strike the first blow to-night?"

"Yes. Inkpaduta gave the word and said that _Petit Corbeau_ told him so. He bade Long Hair take his choice. He chose the people of the lodge by the great stone. Dusky Dick chose the one--"

Here the words became unintelligible to the listener, the party having passed on by his place of concealment.

Fred arose and glided stealthily after them. He had no difficulty in recognizing the allusion to "the people by the great stone." He knew that the Stevens family was meant, but he desired to learn more, if possible.

The trail was dark and gloomy, owing to the dense shade cast by the thickly-growing trees, that intercepted the moon's rays. But after a few moments, Fred heard the Indians pause and seat themselves at only a few yards from the trail.

He glided nearer, until he could again hear their words. The same person was speaking that he had heard before.

"We will wait here for Long Hair. It will not be long before he comes."

"Where is Bob-tailed Horse?" asked another of the party.

"Gone to the lodge by the great rock. He will open the doors for us that we may strike without being hurt. He is to pretend his leg is hurt, so that he can not walk to his lodge, and will ask to rest there. Then when the pale-faced fools sleep, he will open the doors and let us in."

"Good! there are five scalps for us!" exultantly uttered one of the savages.

"No--only four. One Eye says that the young squaw must go to his lodge, or he will not help us."

The other demurred a little at this, but he was overruled by his comrades. Fred clutched his rifle with fingers that itched to be at the throats of the plotting scoundrels; but he restrained himself, and then glided stealthily away, thus losing information that would have still further increased his anxiety, for a diabolical plan was commented upon, concerning his own family.

But the young settler had heard enough to set him half-wild. He knew that the maiden whom he loved, was in great peril, and that thought, for the time, drove all other considerations away.

He understood the allusion to One Eye, the Indian name of Sloan Young, the half-breed, whose left eye had been destroyed in a drunken fight. And he, too, was the Long Hair mentioned. Fred knew that the villain had been prowling around the cabin quite frequently of late, though the thought of his daring to look upon Jennie in such a light, never once occurred to him, before this.

The one called Bob-tailed Horse, Fred also knew by reputation, as being a reckless, unscrupulous rascal, drunken and worthless, unless in just some such manner as the one hinted at. But this plan he would foil, at all hazards.

So when once safely beyond ear-shot, Fred arose and dashed through the forest with nimble feet, but yet using a degree of caution, for since hearing the revelations of the plotters, he knew not where or when he might encounter deadly enemies, who would scruple little in taking his life, provided they could do so without incurring too much risk to themselves.

In half an hour more, Wilson neared the cabin belonging to Wesley Stevens, and when almost at the door, he met John, who was just sallying out to visit the Wilsons. Fred drew him aside and quickly detailed what he had overheard.

The young man was greatly excited by these tidings, but managed to control his feelings, in a measure.

"Are you sure you heard those words? May there not be some mistake?" he asked, dubiously.

"I only wish there was--but I know better. Depend upon it, it is true. Is that Indian in the house?"

"Bob-tail? Yes. He came in not long ago, pretending to be lame, tired and hungry."

"You see! the very story I heard he was to tell! The dirty imp!" muttered Fred, angrily, while his blue eyes flashed ominously.

"What had we better do, anyhow?"

"First, I intend to settle with this devil; then we must decide further. I think, though, it would be best for the family to all go over to our house, and then if it is deemed best, we should try to reach the settlements below; we can all go together. It is on our road, you know, so there 'll be no time lost."

"I was just going over there,--but if you--that is--" and handsome John hesitated and blushed in a very suspicious manner.

"I tell you what I think is best, John. You know your father must be told of it, and if you go to talking to him in secret, after having started away, Bob-tail may suspect something. It would look more natural if I did it. Don't you think so?" and Fred felt an inward conviction that he had presented his point very well.

"Yes, I _do_ think so. So if you'll do that, I'll run on ahead and tell your folks what's in the wind. I'll have them all ready by the time you come. Don't lose any time, though," and then the two young men parted.

Fred was greeted at the door by Wesley Stevens, and bade enter, but he made an excuse and drew the old man outside. In a few words he revealed his discovery, adding:

"Now I will get to talking with Bob-tail, and then when I cough, do you take the fellow from behind. Don't be particular what you hit him with, just so you don't let him make much noise."

"Very well--I'll do my part," and then Stevens led the way into the house, where a rude lamp had been lighted by the blushing Jennie as soon as she heard the voice of the young borderer.

The greeting was cordial, but still somewhat constrained between the young couple, for the old folks were looking on, and they had not yet progressed so far along love's path as to be unreserved. It was a secret--so they imagined--known only to each other.

Fred bent an inquiring look upon the dusky figure crouching near the corner of the fireplace, where yet glowed a small fire; the remnant of that necessary to prepare the evening meal. It was indeed "Bob-tailed Horse," who had consented to play such a vile part.

And he seemed preƫminently fitted for such a duty, too. Low, squat-built, he was clothed in a dirty, greasy and tattered pair of trowsers and a calico shirt, with bare feet and head. His face was swollen and bloated with strong drink: his eyes bleared and bloodshot, from the same cause. On the whole, a more disgusting specimen of the "noble Lo!" could scarcely be found, even among his own people; and that is saying a good deal.

"How?" exclaimed Fred, as he stood before the savage, outstretching a hand.

The greeting was returned, and Bob-tail arose to clasp the hand. Then Fred, as if accidentally, worked around until he was between the Indian and his late position.

"Has 'Bob-tailed Horse' saw _Petit Corbeau_ lately?" asked Wilson.

"No--long time--so many suns," and he raised both hands. "Little Crow call Injun drunk fool," and a venomous glitter filled the bleared eyes of the sot.

"You don't tell me so? Why _he_ must have been drunk to have said that. _You_ don't like fire-water, do you?"

"No--no like--_heap_ bad! Ugh!" brazenly lied the rascal.

"Does my brother know where One Eye is?" suddenly asked Fred.

Bob-tail looked steadily at the young settler for a moment, and then slowly shook his head. Stevens drew nearer, whittling upon a heavy, half-bent ox bow of hickory.

"Let Bob-tailed Horse listen. I have a little story to tell him," slowly returned Fred, as his gaze met that of the Indian.

"A little bird told me that the Siouxs were getting mad at their white brothers. That Bob-tailed Horse was one of them. That he had sworn he would take the scalp of a white man before another sun. Is this story true?"

The savage shifted his gaze and glanced swiftly around the room. Stevens still whittled on, idly whistling; the women sat gazing upon the--to them--incomprehensible scene, with strange emotion. Fred deliberately resumed:

"This bird also told me that Bob-tailed Horse would go to the cabin of a pale-face and ask for lodging and food, pretending he was weary and sick, so that he might open the door to One Eye and Dusky Dick, and let them enter to kill the whites without danger to themselves. Did the little bird tell me true?"

The Indian stood motionless as if carved from stone, save that one hand slowly glided up toward his belt, where hung a knife and hatchet. Then Wilson coughed.

Stevens sprung forward with uplifted ox-bow, and ere the fated red-skin could stir a step, the heavy club descended upon his head with crushing force. He tottered feebly, and then fell forward into Fred's arms, who allowed the senseless form to fall to the floor.

Both women uttered a little cry of wondering alarm at this sudden and unexpected move, but then a gesture from Stevens checked all further outcry.

"Hush!" he cried, sternly; "don't make any noise, for your lives! Shut the door, Jennie, quick. There may be others of the devils prowling around. Fred's story was a true one. This carrion was a spy, who intended giving us up to his friends to-night."

Fred stooped over the stricken Indian, and carefully examined the wound. He found that, though senseless, the rascal still lived; his skull had not been fractured, though the blow seemed enough to have killed an ox.

"What shall we do with him, Stevens?" he asked, doubtfully.

"_Dead men tell no tales!_" sternly responded the old settler, a deadly glitter in his black eyes.

"No--no, do not kill him, husband!" cried the wife, springing forward, as he raised aloft the blood-stained ox-bow.

"It is him or us, Mary," but the uplifted arm slowly sunk. "He would have killed us all, after eating our food!"

"Tie him and put him down the pit," suggested Jennie.

"It will do, Stevens," said Wilson. "They will find we suspect their plans, anyhow, when they find we are gone. It would only make them hotter after us, if we killed him."

"You may be right, Fred, but the dog is not fit to live. However, have it your own way."

A strong cord was quickly produced, and with it the rascal was bound hand and foot. Then a gag was forced between his jaws; after which a trap-door was lifted and the Indian cast rudely down into a pit, where were stored a few vegetables.

"Now what next?"

"You had better pack up such things as you must have, and such as we can carry; come with me to our house. John has told them all by this time, and they will be ready for a move. I don't think we will be safe out here as long as those two devils are at large, with their gang."

"But we must take the horses."

"No--I think best not. The rascals are somewhere between here and our house, and they would be sure to hear the sound of hoof-strokes, while on foot we can pass them without being noticed. If we think best, we can then take horses from our house. I don't think it would be safe now."

After some little demurring on the part of Stevens, who did not relish leaving his valuable stock, this plan was adopted. And then the party hastened to secure such articles as could not well be abandoned.

In a very few minutes, the little party of four were laden with food and weapons, and then emerging from the cabin, they set out upon their perilous journey.