Chapter XV: The Forest Whipping Post

The Merriweather family did not make rapid progress toward Wayne after Kate's abduction. A gloom had settled over the little band of fugitives, and they desired to remain near the spot which had been so fatal to one of their number.

A degree of safety returned with Wolf Cap's accession to their numbers, and the tall borderman did not cease to assure them that Harvey Catlett was an experienced scout. He firmly believed that he would restore Kate to their arms, and this quieted the parents and made them feel hopeful.

"Think of my loss," the hunter would say, when the parents murmured at the theft of their child. "Think of a man coming home and finding his cabin in ashes, and the bones of his family among them. I had one of the best wives in the world, and a little girl who was just beginning to call me 'papa.'"

"You have had revenge?" said Abel Merriweather.

"Ask the woods, the streams, and the Indian villages that lie between the Ohio and the Maumee if I have not glutted my thirst for vengeance. But it has not restored my family. I have killed, but the blows that I have dealt did not give back my child's kiss, my wife's embrace. No; there is no satisfaction in vengeance. Man ought to leave his wrongs to God, who punishes the guilty in the end."

Thus Wolf Cap often talked to Abel Merriweather and his family, and afterward he would relapse into a silence from which no one attempted to draw him. He would stand for hours in a reverie like a harmless lunatic, and more than once the sun which found him in this state at the meridian, saw him there at its setting.

He was the guide. Every foot of the Maumee wood was known to him, and with his eye turned to the west, he slowly but surely led the fugitives in the direction of Wayne's camp.

The sun was creeping zenithward one warm morning, when a boat left the northern shore of the Maumee and pushed out into the stream. Its single occupant was a girlish person whose face was very lovely, and whose browned hands seemed accustomed to the use of paddles.

She steered for the opposite bank, and despite the rapids, which threatened at times to capsize the frail craft, she reached her destination. With an agile bound she sprang upon shore, and made the canoe fast to a clump of bushes. Then she took a rifle from the bottom of the boat, and looked into the forest that trended to the bank which she had gained.

It was Little Moccasin.

After satisfying herself that no person had observed her movements, she moved from the shore; but a minute later the clicking of gun locks brought her to a halt, and she heard a voice that startled her.

"Don't lift your gun, or we'll drop you in your tracks."

Then the girl saw the speaker, for he had slipped from behind a tree, and beside him stood a companion.

With a cry of recognition which made Little Moccasin's eyes sparkle with delight, she started toward the twain, whose faces were darkened by scowls.

"Areotha is glad to meet her brothers," she said. "Fair Face has sent her----"

"No fixed up story!" interrupted one of the whites, who was Carl Merriweather; his companion was George Darling.

"We won't listen to you," said the latter. "We've seen enough of your sleek-tongued treachery, and by Jove, we're going to put an end to it."

The girl's face grew pale.

"Will the white men listen to Areotha?"

"No; and beside, we wouldn't believe you if we did!" said Carl. "Of course you were in league with that rascally guide, and he stole my sister. Do you know what we ought to do with you? Why, we would be serving you right if we whipped you to death right here. God knows how many boats of our people you have decoyed into the hands of the Indians. A female renegade is the meanest thing on earth."

"Areotha will talk," said the girl, who had waited with impatience for the young Hotspur to finish. "The hot-headed young men may shut their ears; but the Manitou will listen. He never turns away from the sound of his people's voice."

"Go on, then," said Darling. "Spit out the pretty story you have cooked up."

Little Moccasin gave the speaker a glance of hatred, and then said in her silvery tone:

"Areotha comes from the Blacksnake's spy. The guide is dead; he sleeps where the storm tore down the trees. Fair Face says that he will soon bring the white girl back to her people!"

"And he sent you here to say this?" said Carl Merriweather, in a tone which told that he did not believe a word which had fallen from the girl's lips.

"He told Areotha to tell the mother and the father this, that their eyes might get bright again."

"It is a pretty story, but it don't go down," Carl said.

The black eyes flashed again.

"You might as well have told us that Kate was in the camp now," said George Darling.

"That is so!"

"We believe that you are the biggest mischief-maker in these parts. Who knows how many young men you have decoyed to their doom by your smiles. And now you have another in your net--a brave young fellow, but blind enough to follow your infernal witchery to his death. Come, lay your rifle down; we want to deal with you as you deserve."

"If we let you off with a whole skin you may thank our mercy," said Carl with a smile.

Little Moccasin, finding herself completely in the power of the young men, hesitated a moment, and then dropping her rifle, surrendered herself. There was no pity in her captor's eyes, and her pale face made them laugh outright.

"A little whipping--that is all!" said George Darling, fiendishly, as he seized the girl's arm and led her to a tree that stood near by.

While Carl guarded her, his companion stripped a lynn tree of its bark covering, which he converted into ropes, and returned to the selected tree.

Blushing at the purposed indignity, the girl permitted herself to be lashed to the tree--her cheek against the bark--but with pressed lips and flashing eyes.

This operation performed, a number of keen withes were selected, and armed with several bundles which had been converted into whips as cutting as the Russian knout, the gallant young bordermen approached their captive.

"Now my forest lady," said Darling, sarcastically, "we'll give you a dressing that will not be forgotten on your dying day. Come, now, confess that you are a forest witch in league with Jim Girty and his minions, red and white."

"The Manitou knows that Areotha never lifted a hand against the American people."

"Lying to the last," said Carl. "Ten extra licks for that."

"Twenty of them," answered Darling, eager to deal the first blow.

"We should have taken off her jacket."

"No, the sticks will cut through it like a razor."

"Then let her have the whipping, George. When your arm tires, I will continue the work."

George Darling selected the longest bundle of withes, and stepped back for a terrible sweeping blow. The girl gritted her teeth and waited. Her white face seemed frozen against the tree.

With demoniac pleasure in his eye, the young man raised the whip and swung his arm back for the blow. Carl Merriweather did not cease to watch him.

The second of silence that followed was suddenly broken, but not by the sound of the sticks on Little Moccasin's back.

There came a stern voice from the right:

"Stop! I'll kill the rascal that touches that girl!"

George Darling started, and the knout fell from his hand. There were more than one white face beneath the tree.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves!" said the same voice, and the would-be whippers saw Wolf Cap advancing. "It is a pretty business for two young men to be engaged in--whipping a girl in the woods. By hokey! I ought to take the whips and wear them out on your backs."

The youths were too astonished to reply. They trembled like criminals before the tall spy, and did not stir until he had cut the girl's bonds and released her.

"Go back to the camp!" he commanded. "Or hold! Apologize to this creature. Down on your knees, or by the great horn spoon, I'll cut your faces into strings with your own whips."

The tall man was in a tempest of passion, and, frightened almost out of their wits, the young men dropped upon the ground and craved forgiveness of the creature whom they had so grossly insulted.

"Areotha cannot hate the Americans," she said softly. "She will forget the bark and the whips."

Sullen and abashed, Carl Merriweather and his companion slunk away, leaving Wolf Cap and Little Moccasin at the tree.

For a long time the scout and spy looked into the girl's eyes, and all at once he covered his face with his hands and groaned.

"Every time I see her I think of that terrible night," he said.

"What does the hunter say?" said the girl, catching his words but indistinctly, for they were spoken through his great hard hands.

"Nothing," Wolf Cap answered, starting at the sound of her voice. "Nothing; don't speak to me! You make me think of a voice that I heard when I was a happy man."

As he uttered the last word, he staggered back with great emotion, and saw Little Moccasin staring strangely into his face.