Chapter VI: An Unexpected Meeting

As Dusky Dick turned from the loft, after his fruitless search, a loud, shrill yell from one of his braves without, told him that the trail had been found. He uttered a little cry of exultation and flung his blazing brand upon the bed, as he dashed out of doors.

The trail-hunters had found where the beasts had been mounted, and then from that point the tracks led in a straight line toward the forest. There seemed but one solution of this. The settler had taken alarm at the threats of Dusky Dick, and had resolved to journey to the lower settlements. The renegade bitterly cursed his precipitancy, and his folly in losing sight of his intended victims even for a moment, when the game was entirely in his own hands.

"Look! the lodge is burning!" exclaimed a savage, to Dusky Dick.

The brand the latter had thoughtlessly flung upon the bed had done its work. The flames were shooting up, leaping hither and thither, roaring and crackling as if in fiendish glee.

"Let it burn. It will shelter no more of our enemies," and he turned away with a grim smile.

John Stevens was standing near, under guard of two brawny braves, who kept a vigilant watch over him. His blood was boiling within him at this last act of wanton malignancy, but fortunately he controlled his anger before it broke forth into words, that, while they could do him no good, might be productive of harm, in the wrathful mood of his captors.

Dusky Dick now renewed his instructions to the guards to keep careful watch over the captive, and then set forward after such of his braves as were tracing out the course of the fugitives by torchlight. The hoof-tracks crossed the clearing, and entered the trail leading to the lower settlements.

Thus far it was plain sailing, and Dusky Dick thought he divined the plans of the fugitives. He believed they were pressing on at a hot pace for the safer country below, and resolved to give them chase.

He could not proceed rapidly enough by torchlight trailing, and indeed, knowing the lay of the country so well, he did not think there was any further need of this aid. On foot he could proceed much more rapidly than the fugitives upon horseback, through the tangled woods.

But it would be impossible to carry his prisoner along. There would be too great a risk of losing him, and besides, he would only delay them.

So Dusky Dick turned to the two guards and bade them take Stevens and hasten at once to the lodge by the great rock, where they were to deliver him to Sloan Young, according to the bargain already made. Then he and his braves dashed away at headlong speed along the trace.

Ever since his capture, John had been busy. He knew that unless he could effect his escape that night, his chances for life were very slim. He would die by torture, most probably, for Sloan Young was a bitter, relentless enemy.

His hands had been bound behind him with strong deer-skin thongs. Then another cord had been wound several times around his body, thus pinioning his arms close to his sides. It seemed as though escape from these bonds, unaided, was an impossibility.

John had thoroughly tested the strength of the thong securing his wrists, and knew that he could not break it while his arms were so confined that he could not exert his strength to any advantage. He saw that he must first rid himself of the cords around his arms and body.

And to this end he had been working since before the cabin was reached. While the search was being prosecuted, he had been backed up against the building's side by his captors. Here he had caught one of the cords upon a knot, and had succeeded in pulling it down over his hands; thus the most difficult part of the task was accomplished.

The rest was comparatively easy. The one turn, thus loosened, gradually divided its surplus with the others, until John could work his hands slightly up and down. When the party entered the woods, along the horse trail, only one cord bound his arms!

Then that slipped down, and during the consultation, John, with a quick, dextrous twist, brought his bound hands up over his head, and dropped them in front; the movement not being noticed in the gloom. Cautiously raising his hands, Stevens applied his strong, sharp teeth to the thongs, and though he had barely half a score moments to work in, he improved this time so well that the thong parted at a quick pull upon it.

His first impulse was to turn and flee for life, but that would be too great a risk, and the young settler had sufficient good sense to await a more favorable opportunity.

Then he was given to the two braves, to be conducted to the half-breed, One Eye. Stevens felt a thrill of delight at this, for he felt that his escape was all but assured. Surely, during the long three miles he could effect an escape, now that only two were left to guard him.

But a danger threatened him, that he had not foreseen. He was being led back to the blazing cabin, and once within the broad circle of light cast around it, it was highly probable one of the red-skins would notice that the cord was broken around his wrists.

However, that must be chanced, and as the young settler managed to screen the broken ends, holding them under his hands, again crossed behind his back, he believed they would pass muster. The clearing was entered, a red-skin walking upon either side of him, clutching a shoulder.

The building was now blazing furiously, and Stevens felt a choking sensation as he gazed upon it. Many a happy hour had he spent beneath that roof, with those who, for aught he knew to the contrary, might even then be lying cold and still in the embrace of death.

He strove manfully to banish these ideas, but was not entirely successful. There was a heavy weight at his heart, and a premonition of coming evil rested upon his spirit.

As the clearing was crossed, the cabin being left directly behind the trio, a low cry broke from John's lips. Before them, afar off, was a ruddy glow, lighting up the skies high above the tree-tops. It needed not a second glance to tell the young settler the meaning of this. The position plainly revealed that. It was the conflagration built by One Eye; the blazing of the second cabin.

The Indians urged John along rapidly. One walked before, the other behind, within arm's length of their prisoner. Evidently they did not intend throwing away a chance, but were resolved to convey him safely to his destination.

They had not proceeded far from the Wilson cabin, when the foremost Indian paused with a low hiss, and bent his ear toward the ground. To the right and front he could distinguish the tramp of horses' hoofs.

"Perhaps 'tis One Eye, crossing with horses captured from the people of the lodge by the great rock," muttered the savage, whose hand rested upon John's shoulder.

"It may be. Let Tichenet wait here with the pale-face, while Asamee goes to see," hastily muttered the other, arising and gliding away in the forest, choosing a course so as to intercept the horsemen, whoever they might be, leaving the other two where they stood.

John believed that the time had now come for him to make a bold stroke for freedom, assured that no other so good a chance would be given him. And so, while waiting for Asamee to gain a safe distance, he entirely freed his hands.

Stealing a glance at his guard, Stevens saw that one hand rested upon a knife-haft, while his head was bent in an attitude of acute attention. His thoughts were mainly with his comrade, and the probable issue of his venture.

Stevens tightly clenched his hand, and gently drew it back. Suddenly there came a startling interruption. A clear, spiteful crack echoed through the forest, slowly followed by a wild, shrill yell, unmistakably that of an Indian, probably that of Asamee, as the direction corresponded with the one taken by him.

Tichenet uttered a low cry, and, dropping his grasp from the prisoner's shoulder, he started forward a pace, his nostrils dilating like those of a hound upon a breast-high scent. The golden opportunity was offered, and John was not a man to neglect it.

His wiry right arm shot out, the tightly-clenched fist alighting full beneath the red-skin's unguarded ear, felling him to the ground like a dog, the blood gushing from his mouth and nostrils. Stevens did not trust to this, but sprung upon the senseless form, plucking the half-drawn knife from the nerveless grasp, he drove it deep down into the red-skin's broad breast.

Then John seized the fallen rifle, assuring himself it had received no injury; after which he secured the ammunition and belt, placing in it, when buckled around his waist, the knife and hatchet of his dead foe. He could scarcely restrain a cry of exultation, as he felt himself once more a free man, provided with means of offense or defense, as the occasion might require.

There was no need to repeat the blow. It had been delivered by a true and strong hand. The red-skin's heart was literally cloven in twain.

John paused and listened intently. He could hear no sounds save the usual ones of a summer night in the forest; the hum of countless insects, the chirp of the tree-toad, the sighing of the gentle breeze amid the tree-tops.

He knew that his friends were somewhere in the forest; the two blazing cabins told him that, but just where, he had no means of knowing. But he believed the party fired at by Asamee--if indeed it was his rifle they had heard--were none other than his relatives, under convoy of Fred Wilson, who had taken horses and were hastening toward the cabin he had so lately left.

But surely they must have noted the glare of the blazing building, and it would tell them that foes were, or had lately been there. Then they would naturally give it a wide berth, which would account for their being off the main trail.

Still, John thought it strange he heard no further sounds. If they had fired at Asamee, why did not that worthy return? His yell had come _after_ the shot; neither was it a death-cry. That much Stevens felt confident of.

"John Stevens, you're a fool!" he disgustedly muttered, apostrophizing himself, after a brief hesitation. "If you want to find out, why don't you go where you can, instead of standing here like a simpleton."

Acting upon this sensible advice, John turned and glided from the blood-stained trace into the forest, as nearly as he could guess, in a direct line toward the point from whence had proceeded the alarm. But the delay had somewhat confused him, and he bore considerably to the left.

He was forced to advance slowly, for fear of coming into unexpected collision with Asamee, and some little time was consumed ere he gained the vicinity--as he believed--of the spot. Then he remained silent, listening intently for some sound to tell him how matters stood.

After what seemed an age--but in reality, only a few moments--he fancied he could distinguish a faint rustling noise, at only a few yards' distance; but if so, the person, whoever it might be, was going from him, as the next moment he lost the sound entirely. John felt if his weapons were in readiness for use, and then glided forward, as noiselessly as possible, toward the point from whence had proceeded the suspicious noise.

Again he heard the sound, and now could quite plainly distinguish the fall of irregular footsteps, evidently made by a human being. Believing they were those of Asamee, and burning to wreak a bitter revenge upon him for the threats and abuse he had so plentifully bestowed upon him when a captive, Stevens drew his knife and followed the footsteps, displaying considerable skill for one so little versed in woodcraft as he was, making scarcely more noise than the velvet-pawed panther when stealing upon its prey.

In this manner John had proceeded for several hundred yards, then growing warm in the chase, pressed on with more speed than caution, eager to bring affairs to a termination. Suddenly the sound of footsteps ceased, and he imitated the movement.

But it was quite evident that he had been heard, despite his promptness, and that the fugitive had taken the alarm, for the sound was almost immediately resumed, this time evidencing more speed and less caution than before. Stevens sprung forward, determined to overtake the fugitive at all hazards.

It was a difficult matter, this running through the tangled woods, but above the noise made by himself, Stevens could hear that of the other, showing that both had to encounter the same difficulties. Then came a low, gasping cry--a heavy fall, and then John was upon the fugitive, with knife uplifted to deal the fatal blow.

But the gleaming weapon descended harmlessly, and also a cry of wonder broke from his lips as he touched the prostrate form. _He felt the flowing drapery of a woman's dress!_

"Mercy--mercy!" gasped the latter, in a voice trembling with fear and apprehension.

That voice! How well John knew it! No danger of his confounding it with any other.

"Annie--you here!" he uttered, in a tone of wondering surprise.

"Mercy--have mercy!"

It was evident that the maiden did not recognize his voice. Her terror construed it into that of a deadly foe, thirsting for her life.

"Annie--don't you know me? It is John--John Stevens," and he bent over the prostrate and trembling form, winding his arms tenderly about her, pressing his lips to her cold brow.

It was the first time he had ever ventured so far, but the strange and exciting circumstances must be his excuse. And the course, too, answered a good purpose, for the maiden recognized him then, and with a low cry, flung her arms around his neck, sobbing hysterically.

The trying events, the sudden alarm, the heavy fall and shock, the long chase and agony of feeling herself lying helplessly at the mercy of a vindictive enemy, had proved too much for the usually strong, self-reliant spirit of the girl. She had been a heroine once that night; now she was only a weak and trembling woman.

"John--thank God!" murmured Annie, sobbing from excess of joy. "I thought it was an Indian."

"No, it is me," he added; a rather needless assertion, but he was hardly accountable for his words or actions then, as he clasped the lovely form closely to his breast, and pressed more than one fervent kiss upon her lips, now unresisting.

But then Annie started up with a little cry. The truth had flashed upon her mind, and brought her back once more to the stern realities of this life.

"I forgot--my father, mother--where are they?"

"Don't you know? Where did they leave you? And you have not told me how it is I find you here alone, at night," added John, curiously.

"We were afraid of the Indians, and left home, intending to call for your folks and then try to reach the lower settlements. But something--somebody shot at us and frightened the horses. Mine ran beneath a low limb, and I was brushed from his back. The fall must have stunned me for a time, because I heard nothing more of them. Then as I got up and walked away, trying to find where they went, I heard you after me, and thought it was an Indian. The rest you know," hurriedly explained the maiden.

"I'm afraid we're all in a bad fix, Annie. If you look, you can see the light from your house now. Dusky Dick set it on fire. _Our_ home is on fire, too. No--don't be frightened; the folks were not in it. Fred came there and alarmed us, and I started on ahead to tell your folks the news, but got captured by the Indians. Fred said he would bring on the others to your house, when we all could go together."

"And father is on the way up there! He will get killed--I know it!"

"You said Tobe Castor was with them?"

"Yes; he came just before dark."

"Then he will save them from that. He is too old and cunning to walk blindly into such a scrape. But _you_ I am troubled the most about now."

"Hark!" whispered Annie, as a startling sound broke the stillness of the air.

It was a loud, hoarse shout, closely followed by a shrill yell; and then the confused noise as of a mortal struggle between strong men. John quickly divined the cause.

"It is your friends, returned to look for you. They have met the Indian who was with the one I killed. Do you stay here, while I go forward and help them."

"No, I will go along," and then the young couple glided rapidly toward the spot from whence proceeded the confused sounds.

It was indeed as John had surmised. Tobe Castor had come into collision with Asamee, and, well matched in point of strength and dexterity, they were now rolling over the ground in a life and death grapple.

Tobe had made one blow, his knife sinking deep into the shoulder of the savage, inflicting a painful flesh wound, but in nowise disabling him. As he received the wound, Asamee gave a quick twist, that wrenched the knife from Castor's hand, tearing it from the wound, and hurling it several yards away.

However, he found his own hands full without attempting to draw a weapon, and it bade fair to result in a test of relative strength and endurance; their arms wound about each other, as they strove desperately for the mastery. But such was not to be the case.

Stevens dashed up, and paused before the contestants, with ready knife. He could not distinguish one from the other; and then, resolving to chance it, he spoke out.

"Who is it--white or red?"

"Both, I reckon--I kin answer fer the white, anyhow," muttered Castor, the words issuing by jerks. "Who're you?"

"John Stevens--let me help you," and the young man strove in vain to gain a fair stroke at Asamee.

"Gi' me the knife, hyar!" and as he spoke, Castor wrenched one arm loose, and then dashed his fist with crashing force full in the red-skin's face, who fell back, confused and bewildered.

Then Castor seized the proffered weapon. One quick, deadly thrust, and the contest was ended. Tobe coolly wrenched off the scalp, and then arose, puffing and blowing like a human porpoise.

"Wolf! Tough dog _thet_, fer a red. E'ena'most squoze my outsides in; durned ef he didn't! But how'd you come here? Hain't see'd nothin' o' ary stray gal--"

"Uncle Tobe, where are father and mother?" said Annie, springing forward, now assured that the strife was ended, by the conversation.

"Ge--thunder!" ejaculated Tobe, in amazement. "What next? The gal--ef 'tain't, then I'm a liar!" and the old scout clasped Annie to his breast, in a genuine "bear's hug," at the same time carrying the simile further, by an uncouth shuffle, quite as graceful as some of bruin's most finished antics.

"Don't--you'll smother her!" cried John; and, lover-like, there was a tinge of uneasiness in his tones, as he beheld another perform the same thing he had, only a few minutes before; but _then_ it was all right.

"Nary time--will it honey? Gals ain't easy smothered _thet_ a-way. B'ar a good deal o' huggin', them critters will. Kinder comes nat'ral to 'em, I guess. Lord bless ye, honey! I've a good mind to scold ye, right peert, now, fer your skeerin' us all so pesky bad!" but instead, Tobe smacked her lips right heartily.

"There, there, uncle Tobe!" and Annie twisted from his grasp. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself--at such a time, too. But where are they?"

"The old folks? Out yonder. They hid while I kem back to hunt you up, a'ter you jumped off to hunt _this_ feller up. Did, didn't you? Then how did you chance to find him?"

"This is hardly the time for joking, Castor," rather crustily interjected John.

"Right, you be. Thar--I'm sober as a judge. But findin' thet honey-bird thar, jest sorter sot me crazy. Did, fer a fact! Jest sot me right on eend, like. Made me feel good--kinder squirmish all over, an' it had to come out or bu'st; which wouldn't 'a' be'n pleasant--the bu'stin' part, I mean. But come--the old folks 'll be mighty oneasy ontil we git back. Gi' me your hand, honey, an' you, John, keep cluss op."

"Where do you intend going, Castor?"

"To your house, a'ter t'others."

"Our house is like that of Mr. Wilson's--on fire, or burned to the ground by this time. You can't see the light from here; but we did, a little back."

"You don't--then whar's your folks?" exclaimed Tobe, anxiously.

"Out in the woods, somewhere. Fred gave the alarm--he overheard the plan as he was coming through the woods toward our house. He sent me on. He sent me ahead to warn Mr. Wilson, but Dusky Dick's devils captured me. I saw him set fire to Wilson's house."

"Then how'd you git away?"

"He set off after you--along the Lower Trace--and sent me with two Indians, as guards, to join Sloan Young's gang. We heard your horses, and one of them ran out to see who it was. I killed the one left with me. You finished the other, just now," hastily explained John.

"You don't tell me! Gi' me your hand--no, thar hain't no time for that _now_, but you're a trump, anyhow, if I _do_ say so. It's a peskier job 'n I 'lotted on, durned if 't'aint, now! Hev to use right smart head-work to git out on it, too, ef we don't mind. _Drat_ the imps--what's got into 'em, anyhow?" and Tobe spoke in a voice of intense disgust.

"What do you think best to be done, now?"

"Don't talk--I've got to _think_. Take the gal, an' keep cluss ahind me. Thar--so."

John passed one arm around the lithe waist of the maiden, who shrunk back at first, but then, as his pressure increased, she yielded, and felt all the better for so doing. Really, despite their ominous surroundings, the young couple were progressing finely.

Not another word was spoken until Tobe Castor paused and uttered the agreed upon signal; the cry of the night-hawk. Then Wilson and his wife sprung forward from their covert.

"Annie--our child--where is she?" gasped the mother, breathlessly.

"Here, mother!" and then the trio were locked in a close and warm embrace.

Tobe touched Stevens upon the arm, and drew him to one side. They were the only ones of the party fit for sober consultation, now.

"You say that pesky half-breed, Sloan Young, was at your house?" asked the old scout.

"Yes. I heard Dusky Dick say so."

"You don't think he--that is, you think the folks got out safe?"

"I do. If not, we would have heard of it. There was no shooting. Besides, Fred got there soon after dark, and was to start right away for here. He feared an attack would be made upon his people, too."

"Then they're on the road, _some whars_. They must 'a' see'd the light, as they hed higher ground to look frum, 'n we had. O' course Young 'd set out a'ter 'em, hot-fut. Then you say Dusky Dick went out torst the settlements?"

"Yes. Along the Lower Trace. He believed you had gone that way."

"I 'lowed he should. But mayhap 'twould 'a' bin better if we hed 'a' kep' on, as 't turns out now. We'll hev 'em both afore an' ahind, now--durn 'em! But we'll hev to run the chances, fer all I see," gloomily muttered Tobe.

"But our folks--what about them?" and there was a deep anxiety visible in the young man's voice, as he spoke.

"They're in the hands o' the good Lord, boy. We cain't do nothin' fer 'em now, onless we stumble onto 'em, like. The boy's with 'em, you say, an' he's wuth a heap in a muss like this 'ere. If so be it's to be, they'll git through all safe; but if not, then the Lord have marcy on thar souls!" solemnly added the hunter.

"Amen! But I fear the worst. I wish I was with them, now."

"You could do them but little good, if the worst is to come. Fred is thar, an' now you must kind o' take his place here. We'll need our best licks to bring 'em through, I'm afeerd."

"Tobe," said Wilson, approaching him, "what've we to do, now? Annie says Fred is not at Stevens'."

"We must turn 'bout face, an' strike fer the settlements. Not deerect, thar, fer Dusky Dick is 'tween us an' them; but by a sort o' circumbendibus like, thet'll throw them off o' the scent. We'll b'ar to the east--"

The further speech of the old hunter was abruptly cut short, by a series of thrilling sounds. Full well the little party knew the meaning of these, and each one shuddered convulsively at the dire visions conjured up before their mind's eye.

A rifle-shot, a shrill yell--other shots, followed by more cries and yells; then a wild uproar, as of deadly strife, at close quarters.