Ellis Edward Sylvester
Wyoming
CHAPTER XX
The days are long during the season of the year of which we are writing, it being scarcely dark at the hour of eight o'clock.
Although at the time the little band of fugitives entered the cavern the sun was low in the west, and something like twilight pervaded the romantic scene, yet a full hour of light remained before night would settle on the forest and river.
The evening that was approaching was partly moonlight, and the sky was without any vapor, excepting a few clouds in the east, so that it would not be entirely dark, but in the woods the gloom promised to be all that could be desired.
No doubt the Indians had been quick to detect the vulnerable point, and before long some of them would try to steal up behind the pile of rocks which gave command of the fugitives.
For that reason Mr. Brainerd stood with cocked rifle, and with his eye on the point where such approach must be made, while Habakkuk and Gimp were watching with scarcely less intentness, knowing as they did that the attainment of the station by a single Seneca would render the position of the fugitives "untenable," as the expression goes; that is to say, that same single warrior would be able to load and fire his rifle in absolute safety to himself, while he picked off every man and woman in the hollowed-out portion of the rocks.
Mr. Brainerd impressed this fact on the other two men, and, at his suggestion, they helped guard the point.
"It won't do for all of us to fire simultaneously," he said, "for then nothing could prevent the Indians charging across, and before we knew it, the whole place would be swarming with them."
"How will we know which is to fire?" asked Habakkuk.
"I'll take the first, Gravity the second, and you the third; they are not likely to make a rush, though, if they did, they would be certain to succeed after losing one or two of their number."
"Won't they take that view any way?" asked the New Englander, who felt anything but easy in mind.
"I don't apprehend there will be a combined attempt until after dark. All Indians are cowards, and the certainty that the first one or two in such a rush are sure to be picked off is likely to keep the whole party back, and compel them to try some other plan."
"What will that be?"
"I think they will steal up as near as it is safe, and then, after reconnoitering for a time, attempt to get over to the rocks without detection. The worst of the whole business is," added Mr. Brainerd, with an anxious sigh, "that a single marksman over there will do as much injury as a dozen, though he may be longer about it."
"Suppose he does get there?"
"But he mustn't," was the quiet answer.
"But suppose he does, what then?"
Mr. Brainerd was silent for a moment.
"Then I shall have to send Habakkuk in one direction and Gravity in another, to dislodge the Indian before he can shoot."
"My gracious!" muttered McEwen, "that would be sure death to all concerned."
"The chances would be against you – that's a fact, but that would be preferable to huddling in this place and allowing the redskins to pick us off, one after another, without being able to raise a finger in defense."
"The state of affairs isn't calculated to raise hilarious laughter on our part," was the doleful remark of Habakkuk McEwen.
"Therefore, you see how important it is that we should prevent the Indians getting such advantage over us."
There could be no questioning this fact, and the other two renewed their watch, like men who knew the need of vigilance.
"I say," remarked the African, as though a new idea had flashed upon him, "why don't the warmints wait till it is dark before dey take a pop at us?"
"Very likely they will – but it won't do to discount any such probability."
"Dat's de opinion ob de undersigned," said Gimp, with a sigh, only dimly suspecting the meaning of the words.
"It's my opinion," said Habakkuk, a minute later, "that they won't wait till dark unless they find they've got to do so."
"Explain."
"They will venture on something like a rackynoissance, just as Gineral Washington does before a battle – and if it looks as though there was a show to do something, they'll try it. If they find there isn't, they'll wait till dark."
"You are quite right."
The New Englander scratched his head in perplexity.
"Well, I don't see where we are going to make anything by such a course, for when night comes they will have us foul, in spite of all we can do."
"We will be at a great disadvantage, but not hopelessly so."
"I don't see why we won't, for what will they want better than darkness to help them over?"
"There will be some light to-night, and it requires very little to show every portion of the upper part of the rocks – enough light, indeed, to demand only a little closer attention on our part. That pile of rocks there is something like the 'Umbrella Tree,' over on the top of the western mountains: it stands out in such relief, that we cannot fail to detect any movement near it."
"Can't they climb up in the rear of them, so as to avoid showing themselves to us?"
"It is impossible," replied Mr. Brainerd, who had investigated the matter only a brief while before, "that is, the thing is out of the question for the present. If we were to be besieged for several days, they would then find the means, if they had to send across the river to get it."
"And what's to hinder them keeping us here for a week?"
Mr. Brainerd shook his head, though it was hard for him to tell precisely why he was so positive on that point.
"I don't see why they can't do it," added the New Englander; "and then what would we do for water?"
"And for somefin to eat," interjected Gravity, with a shudder, for he was already very hungry: "I say, Haberkick, we orter to have all we kin to forterfy us agin such a thing, and, derfore, it's my belief dat we orter swaller dat bread without delay."
"And it's my belief that you won't do any such thing," said Mr. Brainerd, who knew the value of even such a small quantity of nourishment, in view of the long march they expected to make through the wilderness to Stroudsburg.
"Any way you can fix it," pursued McEwen, "it's sartin we're going to have a mighty hot time – "
At that very moment, before his words were finished, the whip-like crack of an Indian rifle was heard, and all three who were looking out over the ravine caught the red flash of a gun from the extreme left of the opposite side – the point from which the fugitives could protect themselves, though it was the most dangerous spot, with the exception of the pile of rocks directly opposite.
"I'm hit and done for!" exclaimed Habakkuk McEwen, as he gave a convulsive start and threw himself backward.
Naturally enough all were terrified, and Aunt Peggy uttered a scream as Maggie sprang forward to the assistance of the wounded man.
Mr. Brainerd was shocked, but he did not lose his presence of mind, and, cautioning them to stay as far back as they could, to escape drawing another shot, he remained at his post, bending low and keeping close to the wall, while he watched the point across the ravine with catlike closeness.
"Are you badly hurt?" asked Maggie, with the natural tenderness of her nature.
"Oh, I'm done for, dear Maggie; I hoped I should be able to live for your sake – but it seems not."
This was rather startling, but, under the alarming circumstances, much was to be overlooked.
"I hope you are not so seriously hurt as all that," ventured Aunt Peggy, whose sympathy for the man led her to disregard her own safety, for she placed herself close to him, and necessarily in the same spot where he stood when he fell.
"Oh, go away," persisted Habakkuk, "I don't want anybody near me but Maggie; take my hand, dear, and let me – "
"See h'ar, dat's enough ob dat," broke in Gravity. "You ain't hurt any more dan I am; dere's de bullet, and it nebber touched ye."
As he spoke, he picked up a piece of lead, jagged and flattened, which had struck the rocky wall directly over the shoulder of Habakkuk, without so much as scratching his skin.
The New Englander stared at the battered lead held over his face by the grinning African; then he clapped his hand to his breast, where he supposed he was hurt, came suddenly to a sitting position, scrambled to his feet, and picking up his gun, exclaimed:
"I should like to see the chap that fired that shot, for it's just as bad to scare a fellow to death as to shoot him."
Despite the gravity of the situation, a general smile went round the little party, and even Mr. Brainerd himself, who was closely watching for the appearance of the warrior, preparatory to his leap over the narrow chasm, turned his head with a light laugh and said:
"There's enough likelihood of being struck without making any mistake about it."
Gravity Gimp sat down on the flinty floor, and leaning back, opened his mouth tremendously, and laughed till he shook all over.
Habakkuk glowered on him and said:
"If you'll only keep that mouth open in that style, it will catch all the bullets that can be fired into the cavern."
At that, Gravity spread his great jaws farther apart, until there seemed danger of their absorbing his ears.
"Yah, yah, dat's de fust time I ever knowed a man killed by a bullet dat nebber touched him."
Maggie Brainerd bit her lips, while Aunt Peggy gave her usual sniff and said:
"It's the easiest thing in the world for some folks to make fools of themselves without knowing it."
McEwen sought to divert the ridicule of his friends by his assiduous attention to matters outside.
Stationing himself close to Mr. Brainerd, who was lying on his face with his rifle cocked and extended in front, he also raised the hammer of his gun and whispered:
"Sh! I thought I saw an Injin's top-knot then!"
"Look out he doesn't shoot you wid it," laughed Gimp. "Dere's no tellin' what dey'll fire wid, and – "
"That's enough of that," interposed Mr. Brainerd, sternly. "This is no time for mirth. There are Indians out there, and I saw the head of one but a second ago."
"What did I tell you?" demanded Habakkuk. "You won't feel like laughing a few minutes from now."
At this moment perfect silence fell on all, for they saw that Mr. Brainerd had discovered something unusual and alarming.
More than that, he was taking deliberate aim at some object, only pausing long enough to make sure that when he fired the ball should not miss.
CHAPTER XXI
The finger of Mr. Brainerd was pressing the trigger, and the hammer with its cumbrous flint was on the very eve of descending, when he suddenly released the pressure, and gave utterance to a peculiar half-chuckle. Those who were gazing along the line of direction indicated by the gleaming rifle-barrel, saw at the point where the Seneca was expected to appear, something which looked very much like the forerunner of that interesting person.
It was the top-knot and crown of an Indian, with several gaudy feathers projecting slightly beyond the wall of rock, the appearance suggesting that he was gathering himself for a spring.
This was the belief of the patriot, and, confident that at such a short distance he could not miss, he was about to fire, when there came a flash of suspicion that a sharp, but by no means original, trick was being tried on him.
The action was not precisely that of a real Indian while trying to peer around a dangerous point, and most probably was intended to draw the fire of the sentinel.
As soon as the bullet should leave the ready rifle, the waiting warrior would either leap or run the few intervening feet, and reach the vantage-ground before the other two rifles in the company could be aimed and fired.
"Why don't you shoot?" whispered Habakkuk, "you've got him dead sure."
"That isn't an Indian," was the response, "but there will be one in sight pretty soon. All of you keep well back out of the way, where there is no danger of being hit, and leave this fellow to me."
The situation of the settler was trying. Lying flat on his face, with his gun cocked and pointed toward a certain spot, he watched with such intensity that in the fading light his sight threatened to fail him. Odd, flickering figures danced before him, and sometimes rock, wood, and sky were so jumbled together, that he had to glance in another direction, until he could recover his visual strength.
The wily Seneca, having failed to draw his shot, was now likely to attempt some other stratagem.
Furthermore, the massacre of Wyoming was still going on, and this formidable body had not the patience to shut themselves out from their share in it.
In one sense it was tying themselves up to remain for hours, besieging a little company of fugitives, and, therefore, they were likely to display less indifference to the passage of time than is the rule with their race.
Such was the conclusion of Mr. Brainerd, and we may as well say he was correct.
All at once the figure of an Indian warrior was seen against the sky, and the next instant he made a leap like a panther, his fine athletic form with his legs and arms gathered being seen for an instant apparently poised in mid-air, as he made his swift bound for the point behind the column of rocks, which, once secured, placed the life of every one of the patriots at his mercy.
But, while the lithe Seneca hung thus, for one moment, between heaven and earth, he emitted a screech, his limbs were thrown out convulsively, and, striking the point at which he aimed, he rebounded like a ball, and went tumbling to the bottom.
Mr. Brainerd had fired at the very crisis, and his aim was unerring.
"Let me have your gun," said he, reaching for the weapon in the hand of McEwen, while he kept watch of the point where the Seneca had appeared and disappeared with such suddenness.
The New Englander passed the rifle to the settler, saying:
"It won't fail you."
"Please reload mine."
Habakkuk did as requested, and they exchanged weapons again.
The supposition of Mr. Brainerd was, that the shot he had fired would keep the Indians at bay for a considerable while, though he knew better than to trust to any such probability.
The gun that had served him so well was in his grasp again, and a feeling of self-confidence came with it.
Much less time had passed since the disaster to the patriots on the other side the Susquehanna than would be supposed; but, while the settler lay stretched out on the rock, watching for the second Indian, he became aware that he was watching by the aid of moonlight and starlight alone.
It was all the harder to keep close guard, but it was indispensable, and he doubted not that when he pulled trigger a second time another Seneca would take a header down the ravine.
Some fifteen minutes passed, when Mr. Brainerd either saw, or fancied he saw, a precisely similar fluttering movement as preceded the leap of him who fell a victim to his marksmanship.
He held his gun pointed, the hammer raised, and his finger on the trigger, ready to fire the second it should become necessary.
He was not kept waiting; sooner than he anticipated, the crouching figure shot out into the air, as if propelled from a catapult, and, with the same remarkable aim, the patriot pulled the trigger at the moment the warrior was at the arch of the brief parabola.
But, to his consternation, the powder flashed in the pan, and no discharge followed the dull click of the flint.
CHAPTER XXII
With the body of the Seneca covered by the rifle of Mr. Brainerd the latter pulled the trigger, at the very moment the body was in mid-air, but the gun was undischarged.
Habakkuk McEwen, in his flurry, had rammed down the bullet first, and the weapon was useless until the ball was extracted.
Where the elder had shown such vigilance, it was singular that he had forgotten to take a very simple precaution – he should have had the African or New Englander covering the same point, and arranged that one should fire with him.
The intervening space was so brief there was no excuse for missing, and such a catastrophe could have been averted.
But though Mr. Brainerd's piece failed him, the second Indian emitted the same shriek, and went sprawling to the bottom, shot directly through the body.
"What the mischief have you done with my gun?" demanded Mr. Brainerd, flinging the weapon behind him; "let me have the one in your hand; there's something wrong with mine; draw out the charge and fix it."
"My gracious!" exclaimed the astounded Gimp, "what does dat mean?"
"What does what mean?"
"Why did dat Injin turn back summersets, and whoop it up in dat style, when your gun flashed in de pan?"
"Somebody shot him."
"But who was he?"
Mr. Brainerd made no reply, for he had none to make. Some unknown friend had fired the second shot, that prevented the warrior obtaining a foothold where it would have been fatal to the whites.
As to the identity of the friend, that could not be guessed.
The explanation upon which all agreed was, that some other settlers – one or more – had taken shelter somewhere in the vicinity, and had fired, either as a matter of self-protection, or for the benefit of those in the cavern.
Precisely how it should become necessary for some one to shoot the warrior, as a means of defense, was more than could be explained.
Another strange fact about it was, that Maggie Brainerd and Aunt Peggy insisted that, instead of being discharged from some point beyond and on the other side of the rocks, the marksman was perched directly over the heads of those in the cavern.
Where there were so many boulders and trees, the short echoes might well produce confusion, but the two ladies were positive that the man was immediately above them.
Gravity Gimp was inclined to the same opinion, and Mr. Brainerd was puzzled more than ever.
"I not only heard the gun," said Maggie, with great positiveness, "but I heard the man himself moving up there."
"That is impossible, my daughter," protested her father, feeling it had now become safe, for the first time, to relax his vigilance.
"Not at all," she replied, "you can hear plainly through a solid substance, and I caught a sound made by that man's shoe scraping over the rocks."
It was scarcely credible, and yet, knowing Maggie for the clear-headed girl that she was, her father could not doubt her assertion.
It was a vast relief to discover they had such an ally so close at hand, though there remained the element of doubt as to how much further his help would extend.
Twilight was ended at last, and the solemn night brooded over the scene.
"Better to be shot to the death here where we are," was the thought of Mr. Brainerd, "than to fall into their hands, and such shall be our fate, if it comes to a choice between the two."
But for all that, the conviction was strong upon him that the only possible hope for him and his dear ones was to get them all out of that place, and well on the way through the "Shades of Death," before the rising of the morrow's sun.
They could not leave during the daytime, when, under the full glare of the noonday sun, and with such leisure at their command, the Indians would find some way of intrenching themselves behind the column of rocks, without being exposed to the fire of the sentinel or sentinels, as the case might be.
Besides this, it was hardly to be expected that the unknown friend would be able to hold his own position in the daytime.
But how to leave the spot was the all-important question.
It would not do to move up the path by the way they came, for, even with the protecting shadow, they would be seen and would walk into the web, like so many flies.
As the path ended at the front of the cavern, no progress could be made in that direction, but the patriot believed that by picking his way down the rocks to the bottom of the ravine, as he was certain could be done, some new route might be opened.
It was necessary, however, to make a reconnoissance before venturing forth. Who was the right person to do it?
Beyond question, Habakkuk McEwen was the man.
"See here," said Mr. Brainerd, coming to the point at once, as was his custom, "it may as well be understood that if we remain until the sun rises there will be no hope of our ever getting away."
Perfect silence followed this remark, and waiting only long enough for it to produce its effect, he added:
"Some one must steal out of the cavern, and learn whether any path is open by which we can get away. I would not hesitate to go, but our safety depends on guarding this point, where one of them may appear. Gravity is too slow, and I must therefore request you, Habakkuk, to act as our scout."
"Well, well!" exclaimed the startled man. "It'll never do for me to go down among the Injins."
"You needn't go down among them – but are to make sure whether there is a chance for us to steal away, under the protection of the shadow which now incloses us."
"I'd like to oblige you, but it won't do – why," he added, starting up with the idea, "it always makes me dizzy to go prowling around in the moonlight. I'd be sure to fall over the rocks and break my leg, and then how would you feel?"
"Sorry because it wasn't your neck," retorted Mr. Brainerd, who concluded that the man was not such a re-enforcement after all, as he appeared from his own account to be; "your presence with us is an incumbrance, and I should be highly gratified if you would depart and never show yourself again. I will go myself."
He called to Gravity to take his place as sentinel, with his gun pointed out where the foe was likely to appear, but Eva, Maggie, and Aunt Peggy would not permit any such course.
The father had gone to the verge of endurance during the day. He was past fifty, quite bulky in figure, and about the only qualification he possessed for the self-appointed task, was his courage.
The three compelled the old gentleman to yield, and Maggie, with the shrewdness natural to her sex, turned to Habakkuk, who was standing at one side, and laying her pretty hand on his shoulder, said:
"Habakkuk, you think a good deal of me, don't you?"
He held off a second or so, while she turned her winsome face up to his in the gloom. He meant to sulk and compel her to coax him, but his heart gave a big jump at the touch of that hand, and, when he was able to see very faintly that countenance so close to his own, it was more than he or any sensible person could stand.
His face suddenly expanded into an all-embracing grin, and he made answer:
"Think a good deal of you, Maggie, you dear, sweet, angelic angel. Why, I worship the ground you walk on; all I came here for was to see you. I don't care a blamed cent for the others."
"If you think so much of me, then, won't you take some risk for my sake, as well as that of the others?"
"Of course I will; it will delight me – "
"Then do as father requested you."
"And go prowling outside among the Indians and Tories?"
"Of course."
"I'll be hanged if I will!" was the response, as Habakkuk stepped back; "a chap hain't got but one life, and if I should lose that, what good would I ever be to myself or any one else? You wouldn't be able to become my bride."
"But it will be dangerous to stay here, and if you go out and be careful it may be the means of saving us all."
"I tell you, dear Maggie, I would do so if it wasn't because I know I would become dizzy; it would be sure to come on me; I feel it coming on me now – there! catch me – hold me – "
He staggered toward her, throwing out his arms, and trying to measure the distance so as to fling his grasp about her, but she stepped back, and he went to the ground.
"Keep away from me!" she said, disdainfully; "if there is any creature in this world which I despise, it is that person who speaks a falsehood to escape duty."
"You'll be sorry for this some day, dear Maggie."
She stamped her foot so angrily, and her father showed such a disposition to interfere, that he checked himself.
"I don't see why I ain't de gemman after all dat's to do dis thing," said Gravity.
Habakkuk McEwen slapped him on his broad shoulder.
"The idee exactly! one reason why I thought best to decline – though I didn't say so – was through the fear of hurting your feelings, Gravity – "
"Dat needn't trouble you; you kin go now, and I won't feel slighted."
"You've an advantage over us all, for you're so black that wherever you go you will carry the darkness with you, and the Injins will see nothing but so much shadow gliding along."
"Dat may all be, but s'pose dey should take a notion to fling their tomahawks into de shadder, what will become ob dis person?"
"If you are careful, you won't be hurt; if it wasn't for my weakness of dizziness, I would jump at the chance – "
"If I hear anymore such stuff," interrupted Mr. Brainerd, "I'll pitch you neck and heels out of here."
"Then I guess you won't hear any more," was the prudent thought of Habakkuk.
As the African was so willing to go, it was decided to permit him to make the attempt.
The head of the party based little hope on the venture of his servant, and indeed doubted whether they would ever see him again, but, for that matter, there was little choice between the situation of any one or two of them.
Calling Gravity to him, his employer said:
"You show a great deal more courage and manliness than most of your acquaintances give you credit for. I can only tell you to do your best, as you always do."
"How shall I got away widout being seed?"
"That's the trouble, but you know this side of the ravine is in deep shadow, and I think if you move slowly up the footpath we followed in coming here, you won't be seen."
"Dat's jis what I'll do, den – good-bye." And before any one suspected it, the African was gone.
As the faithful fellow was running such risk, Mr. Brainerd crept forward, and with some danger to himself thrust his head and shoulders out, so as to watch the actions of his servant.
Gimp assumed a crouching posture, and began moving up the narrow, sloping path like the shadow that creeps over the face of the dial.
"I wonder whether it is possible to see him," the elder one asked himself, with a pang of fear, as he looked across the brief intervening space; "it hardly seems credible that they would leave the door wide open in that manner."
But speculation was useless: Gimp was outside the cavern, and if really detected by the watchful red men, he was beyond help.
Mr. Brainerd could hear the rustling of the African's body as he slowly glided along, often loosening the dirt and gravel with his hands and knees, and sending it rolling down toward the mouth of the cavern, but there came no sign from the rocks beyond, where it was believed the main body of their enemies was gathered.
Like a huge turtle the bulky negro climbed the steep path, until his outlines were lost in the gloom as he neared the top, and his master drew back into the cavern and wondered what it could mean.
If a man could walk from the cavern in that fashion, why might not the entire party, one after the other, file out in the same manner?
This was a natural question, but the settler was too wise to believe the attempt was feasible.
There would be nothing extraordinary in the fugitives' going to the top of the path without molestation, but it would be absurd to suppose they could walk off into the woods undisturbed, when such a vigilant foe was in watch for them.
The American Indian does not prosecute his warfare in that fashion.
