Chapter III: Dusky Dick's First Blow

John Stevens felt not a little concern as he strode along the grass-grown trail that Fred Wilson had so lately traversed. The discovery made by the latter was truly a momentous one, and if true, the danger impending was one that would require all their skill and courage to avert.

He thought of the gentle Annie being exposed to all the horrors of an Indian attack, and wild visions of daring deeds and heroic struggles in her behalf flashed across his mind. He felt that he could accomplish all these, for _her_ sake.

And, in good truth, these fancies possessed his mind so greatly that he forgot a greater portion of necessary prudence, striding along as if in the utmost security, as though fully assured that there was not an enemy within a hundred miles of his present location. But he was speedily awakened from his abstraction.

A dark form suddenly sprung out before him, with leveled rifle-muzzle threatening him. As his eyes fell upon the intruder, John fancied he recognized the figure.

"Is that you, Dusky Dick?" he called out, halting and half-raising his rifle.

"Keep your gun down--don't offer to shoot, or I'll plug ye! Yes, it's me. But who the devil are _you_?" returned the man.

"Stevens--John Stevens, you know," laughed the young settler. "Why, who'd you take me for?"

"Fer a Injun. They're 'round at thar tricks, I b'lieve. But whar are you goin'?"

"Over to Wilson's--why?"

"Oh, nothin'--I didn't know. Folks all well at home?"

"Yes, all well; that is, all of our own. But there is a lame Indian there, who hurt himself somehow, while out hunting, I believe. You know him--Bob-tailed Horse?" added John, the better to allay any suspicions the other might have entertained.

"Yes; a drunken dog. Mind out or he'll sarve you some dirty trick, yet. Wal, if you're goin' to Wilson's, I won't hinder you no more. Jest give them my respects, will you?" and Dusky Dick stepped to one side of the path.

But, as he did so, John noted an evil glitter in his eyes as the moonlight fell upon the renegade's countenance, through a rift in the tree-tops. Stevens realized that Dusky Dick meant mischief.

"All right--I'll tell 'em," and the young settler strode lightly past the man.

He saw the heavy rifle of the desperado raise and sweep through the air, wielded by strong arms, evidently aimed at his head. But Stevens ducked adroitly, and the weapon hissed harmlessly above his head, the force of the unresisted blow swinging Dusky Dick around almost against him.

With an angry cry, Stevens whirled his rifle around, its iron barrel alighting full upon the traitor's head, felling him to the ground like a dead man. But still a little cry broke from his lips.

Instantly all around was confusion, and the young settler shuddered involuntarily at the terrible commotion he had aroused. Wild yells filled the air until it sounded as though scores of devils had broken loose upon earth, all thirsting for human blood.

Stevens knew his danger, and realized the full extent of his peril--that he had fallen into an ambush of red-skins of whom Dusky Dick was either a member, or else a chief. And he knew too that he would be put to his best, if he escaped the threatened capture.

He had not alone to think of himself, either. The fate of more than one probably depended upon the speedy accomplishment of his errand. He must warn the Wilson family of their danger.

Uttering a low cry, John crouched down, and, summoning all his powers, sprung with headlong force along the path, that he could see now contained one or more of his enemies. But it was the only road for him now. He knew that he would not stand the faintest chance of success, in a run at night through the forest, with the well-trained and fleet-footed Indians for competitors.

He leaped forcibly against the foremost Indian, hurling him breathless to the ground, without receiving any particular harm himself. But there another confronted him, with uplifted hatchet gleaming in the moonlight, only a few feet distant.

John lowered his rifle and sprung forward, at the same time thrusting out forcibly with his weapon. The rifle-muzzle took the red-skin full in the pit of his stomach, doubling him up like a jack-knife, and causing him to emit a fearful grunt; but at the same time he clutched the rifle-barrel and held it with a firm grip. This, added to the impetus of his rush, caused Stevens to stumble headlong, and ere he could recover himself, several red-skins were upon him.

Literally so in this case, and the young settler was borne struggling to the ground, almost smothered by the weight of the yelling red-skins. And then their weapons flashed out and were uplifted to drink his heart's blood.

It seemed as if the young man's fate was irretrievably sealed, and his eyes closed as a faint prayer rose to his lips. But his time was not yet.

Dusky Dick recovered his feet and sprung forward, his head dizzy and confused by the sound blow he had received. But he knew enough to see the peril of the young settler, and--for a purpose of his own--resolved to avert it, for the present.

"Hold! don't strike!" he commanded, in the Sioux dialect. "You must not kill him yet."

It is not likely that his words would have had the desired effect had he not beaten the weapons aside with his rifle-barrel, and fairly hurled one or two of the savages aside.

It was, perhaps, fortunate that John had not shed any blood, although he had given some severe blows, for then, not even the influence of Dusky Dick, great as that undoubtedly was, could have saved Stevens from immolation. Even as it was, two of the red-skins--those who had received John's compliments--were clamorous for his death.

But Dusky Dick was firm, and fiercely declared that the man who lifted a hand against Stevens, unless by his express orders, should die the death of a dog. This threat, when uttered by one possessing the renegade's resolution, sufficed; and then by his orders, the young settler was firmly bound.

Dusky Dick drew aside with several of the principal braves, and consulted earnestly for a few moments; then he returned, and Stevens was lifted erect. Two savages held him firmly, while another loosened the bonds that confined his feet, so that he could walk, but not run.

"What do you intend doing, Dusky Dick?" he demanded, in a tone as calm as he could make it, while such angry passions struggled within his breast; "what do you mean by this outrage?"

"I told you the Injuns was on the war-path. Now you know it, don't ye?" chuckled the renegade, triumphantly.

"What're you going to do with _me_?" persisted John.

"Keep you prisoner fer awhile; then burn you, maybe. You must ask Sloan Young. You are _his_ game."

John saw the uselessness of further speech, and remained silent. He realized that he was in a truly perilous situation, and though he felt some natural uneasiness for himself, by far the greater share of his anxiety was for the peril that threatened Annie.

If Dusky Dick would act thus toward him, might he not do the same with others? Stevens shuddered convulsively as he realized the peril that threatened the family of his loved one, who were, as he believed, totally unsuspicious of the outbreak.

And then his fears were confirmed by the direction taken by his captors, they heading directly toward the point where the Wilson cabin was located. As if to put the matter entirely beyond doubt, Dusky Dick, after a few instructions to the leading red-skin, fell back to a position just in front of Stevens--the entire party proceeding in Indian file, as the narrow trail would not admit two abreast--and tauntingly uttered:

"As you said you was goin' on to Wilson's, I thought I'd give you a escort, like. Don't you feel highly honored? You hed ought, anyhow," and he chuckled grimly.

"You are not--" faltered John, his blood chilling at the significant tone of the renegade.

"_Ain't_ I? but I _am_, too. Thought you'd be lonely, a captyve by yourself, so we've concluded to give you comp'ny. But don't count on _too_ much. Annie's fer _me_. You must be 'tented with the men critters, onless you take the old gal."

John uttered a hoarse growl of anger, and would have sprung upon his tormentor, bound though his hands were, had not the guard behind him divined his intentions and drew him forcibly back. This showed Stevens the folly of allowing his passions to get the better of him, and so he kept silence, while Dusky Dick malignantly resumed:

"Yas, Annie's _mine_. That's settled, for good. She'll make a nice squaw--don't you think so? Anyhow, I'm goin' to resk it. But t'others--well, they'll prob'ly git jest the same as _you_ will--'ither knocked on the head decently, or else used fer a bonfire, jest to 'mind the reds o' old times, when roasted white men warn't an uncommon dish.

"But you don't talk. Deaf, ain't ye? Or be you thinkin' o' the folks at home? Need it, _they_ do. You said Bob-tailed Horse was there, didn't you? Well, he was _sent_ there; and, what's more, he was sent thar by Sloan Young, and he ain't hurt no more'n _you_ be, not a bit! He was sent thar to open the door at the night time, so 't the reds could walk in quietly. It's nearly time fer the blow, too, as your folks go to bed airly. I wonder how they'll feel by mornin'?" and Dusky Dick laughed ferociously.

Stevens shuddered, but did not reply. He knew that Bob-tailed Horse would scarcely admit his red brethren, but then there was other danger. He knew that Fred would try and persuade the family to hasten over to his house, and he--John--had evidence that the trail was thickly beset by dangers.

Besides the band that held him a captive, Stevens had heard enough to know that Sloan Young was also lying near at hand, only awaiting the proper time to spring his trap upon the "people of the great rock." Might not Fred also stumble upon one of these parties?

Dusky Dick was not a little provoked at the ill-success of his taunting boasts, but soon desisted, and once more made his way to the front, as the party were now rapidly nearing the cabin of Edward Wilson. Their caution increased, and the party glided along the shadowy path, like some grim forest hunter.

John was not idle, however. He resolved to escape, if it lay in human power, as he felt that to remain captive was equivalent to death, more or less speedy; and he might yet be able to accomplish something. If too late to save the Wilson family, he might be of use to his own people.

He worked assiduously upon the bonds that confined his hands. They were of tanned buckskin, and defied his utmost efforts to break them. The endeavor only resulted in abrading the skin of his wrists.

The knots appeared to be tied securely, and would neither slip nor come untied. It seemed as though his hopes were doomed to be frustrated by this one fact. And yet he did not give way to despair or cease his efforts, only keeping them concealed--as he was enabled to do by the darkness beneath the trees--from the red-skins before and behind him.

Now the little party stood upon the verge of the clearing surrounding the cabin of Edward Wilson, and peered curiously out upon it. An Indian grasped John firmly by the neck, and rested one hand upon his lips, evidently resolved that he should give no alarm.

All was quiet around the dwelling. There was no light within the building, and it seemed as though the inmates had retired to rest, with their usual feeling of security. Dusky Dick uttered a fiendish laugh.

"You see," he muttered in John's ear, "your friends don't expect visitors to-night. They will be agreeably surprised--I guess _not_--when we wake them up. But, still, it _may_ be a trap, and _you_ must guard us from it. Now I am goin' to make you walk jest afore me, and, mind you, I have a long knife--long enough, anyhow, to reach your _heart_--ready for use at the slightest sound from your lips. And _I will use it_, too, if you give a single word or sign to alarm them."

In a few words Dusky Dick made known his plans to his followers, and they expressed approval of it. John was brought to the front and Dusky Dick crouched behind him. Then the others strung out in a row, so that any shot from the house would miss them all, unless first striking the young settler.

"Now, step out, young feller," muttered Dusky Dick, pricking Stevens slightly with the point of his bared knife, "and remember that if you rouse them up, their first shot must take _you_. Pleasant, ain't it?" and he again gave vent to a fiendish laugh.

John dared not remonstrate, and obeyed the impulse given him by the renegade, slowly advancing toward the log-cabin. Nearly two hundred yards of clearing had to be traversed, and as may be imagined, it was a trying ordeal for the young man's nerves, who knew not at what moment a shot from his friends might sound his death-knell.

But in this he was agreeably disappointed, for the side of the cabin was gained in safety. Not a sound broke the stillness that filled the clearing, save the usual hum and chirping of the summer insects. A silence as of death seemed upon every thing.

Dusky Dick advanced to the door and gently rapped with his knuckles. No answer; only the echo of the knock replied. Again and again he repeated it, with the same result.

A glad hope sprung up in the heart of the young settler. He believed that the family had taken alarm and sought safety in flight.

This same idea struck Dusky Dick, and he thumped loudly upon the door. Then with a wild, angry cry he rushed forcibly against it. Still no answering sound broke the silence.

"The birds have flown!" uttered a savage, in a tone of disgust.

"Break down the door and let's see," cried Dusky Dick, with a bitter oath.

A simultaneous rush of several sturdy forms, broke down the fastenings of the door, and then Dusky Dick rushed into the house. He could hear no signs of its being occupied, and then hastily struck a light. As the glare filled the room, an angry roar broke from his lips.

The floor was strewn with various articles, whose disorder told of great haste; that told the renegade his anticipated victims had indeed taken the alarm and had fled from the impending peril. Now he bitterly cursed his folly in leaving the building unguarded, after his vain attempt at compromise.

"Git torches and hunt fer sign," he cried, as he stirred up the embers that still glowed in the huge fireplace. "They can't have gone far in this little time. Quick! we will find them yet!"

In a few moments a number of the Indians had secured torches, and were searching the ground without for some trace to tell them the direction taken by the fugitives. Meanwhile Dusky Dick had hastily searched through the building, and confirmed this belief. They were indeed gone.