CHAPTER XIII.
A STRUGGLE OF LIFE AND DEATH.
The Shawanoes, as we have before stated, had separated during the pursuit, and were now some distance apart. The center one being directly in the rear, was the closest to the fugitive, and came up to him considerably in advance of the others. This was fortunate, in one sense, for Hezekiah Smith, as he then had but a single opponent with which to contend.
The lithe, agile Indian was all eagerness to secure the white as his captive and forgetful of the axiom, "a stag at bay is a dangerous foe," he halted not in the least, but came at full speed toward him. When within a rod or so, he whirled his tomahawk in a circle over his head, and hurled it with tremendous force full at the breast of his dauntless adversary. The latter, from the motion of his arm, comprehended what was coming, and dodging his head with lightning quickness, the weapon flashed over him, and went spinning end over end down the steep ravine.
Both of the combatants had dropped their rifles and drawn their knives. With a demoniac yell of triumph the painted Indian leaped high in air, and swinging his knife, sprang upon his foe. In a twinkling both were disarmed in a singular manner.
It so happened that the two struck at each other at precisely the same moment, the knives encountered with such force that the Shawanoe's shot out of his hand and followed the tomahawk down the ravine, while Hezekiah's was turned so suddenly that it fell to the ground several yards distant. Both were now entirely unarmed, and glaring at each other for a second, like baffled tigers, they closed in the struggle of life and death.
In point of strength the two were very nearly equally matched. In activity the redskin had decidedly the advantage, but the white man being an expert wrestler, and the savage a perfect novice, the former was in a fair way to end the contest in his own favor. The instant he grappled with his dusky adversary, he felt that he was at his power.
By a trick, or rather art, well known to wrestlers, Hezekiah twisted the savage off his feet, and threw him with stunning violence upon the ground, falling heavily upon him. Allowing him to rise, he repeated the performance several times, the redskin becoming more and more exhausted each moment, until it was manifest to himself that he had not the shadow of a chance in such warfare as this.
The cunning Shawanoe had noticed where the knife of his adversary fell, and each time that he went down he managed to work himself nearer to it. Hezekiah did not comprehend what he was at, until the savage clutched it with the quickness of thought, and rising again to his feet, confronted him with the weapon.
Not the least daunted, for he was now terribly excited—he closed again with the Indian, receiving an ugly cut in his arm as he did so. At this moment he heard the yells of the other two Shawanoes, and driven to fury by his imminent peril, he concentrated all his strength in the one mighty effort, and grasping his adversary around the waist, he lifted him clear off his feet, and flung him like an infant over the precipice.
Down, like a meteor, through the dizzy air, shot the Shawanoe, with his arms clutching wildly at space, spinning from crag to crag, with his awful cry coming up like the wail of some spirit!
The struggle occupied scarcely a fifth of the time taken in describing it. Impelled by the most implacable hate on each side, the blows were quick and fierce, and the termination speedy and tragic. A shock when the two encountered, a few blows and strivings, another struggle, more determined than the others, and it was ended.
Hezekiah had secured his knife before throwing the savage into the ravine, and with this single weapon he confronted his two foes. They were both about the same distance from him, and he was in doubt whether to expect their united onset at the same moment, or whether they were going to attack him singly. The latter proved to be the case. One of the Indians seemed to be a sort of chief, or, at least, higher in authority than the other; for waving his hand for him to keep his distance, he advanced upon the white man, with the determination of disposing of him without assistance from any one else.
This savage was a much more formidable foe than the other, and Hezekiah being considerably exhausted from his recent efforts, he was in a poor condition to receive him. Nevertheless, there was no help for him, and he showed an undaunted front. The Shawanoe halted a moment, as if to decide upon the best method of attack, and then, with a yell as demoniac as the other, sprang forward.
He had passed over half the space intervening between him and his adversary, when he uttered another yell—a short, frenzied, agonized one, and throwing his arms aloft, fell dead!
Hezekiah had caught the report of a rifle, and saw a red spot suddenly appear on the forehead of the Shawanoe, so that he understood at once that he had been shot. But who had come up and fired his piece so opportunely? What friend had he in the Dark and Bloody Ground? Why did his friend remain concealed?
The remaining redskin had halted upon seeing his companion fall by the mysterious shot, but he evinced no disposition to flee. On the contrary, he continued to approach, fully resolved that the foe should not escape him.
"By thunder! you're the only one left, and I reckon as how I can dispose of you," exclaimed Hezekiah, preparing to receive him. "Though if there should happen to be another rifle around, it would be mighty welcome just now."
The Shawanoe had learned caution from what he had witnessed, and although as brave as a mortal could possibly be, he deemed it best to use prudence in the case. His mode of attack was peculiar. He commenced slowly circling around his adversary, his black, snake-like eye fixed upon him while the latter kept turning, as if on a pivot, so as to confront him.
In going in this circular manner, the Indian came to the very brink of the precipice, so that his form stood out in relief upon it. More than once when he was in this position, Hezekiah was upon the point of springing forward and shoving him over. His heart throbbed painfully, as he balanced himself for the leap, lest the risk was too great for him to attempt it. He more than half suspected the Indian was manœuvering for that purpose, and would succeed in throwing him over instead.
All at once, with the inevitable whoop, the redskin bounded forward, and struck at Hezekiah with his drawn knife. Singular as it may seem, the two weapons encountered in precisely the same manner as did those of the first two combatants, and both were as suddenly deprived of all arms, except such as nature gave them.
As the two closed in with each other, it seemed to Hezekiah that this Indian was much more powerful and difficult to manage than the other, or possibly his own strength was failing. Remembering, however, that he was the only foe which it was necessary to overcome, and that a prolonged contest might bring some of his companions to the scene, he summoned all his strength to this last conflict.
He succeeded in throwing the Shawanoe, and falling heavily upon him, but it required such an expenditure of strength that he doubted whether this means of exhausting him would not first "use up" himself. Furthermore, he found it impossible to hold his foe. Whether his body was greased or not, he could not tell, but the redskin kept up such a twisting and squirming that he glided from his grasp as easily as an eel could have escaped him.
Concluding that it was vain to hope for any success by means of wrestling, Hezekiah now bent his efforts toward drawing him to the edge of the cliff with the determination of throwing him over. The savage comprehended his intention, and probably believing he could do the same thing with the white man, favored his efforts, and in a few seconds both were upon the very brink of the precipice.
And now commenced the awful struggle. With sinews strained to their utmost tension, with limbs braced and pressed against each other, their chests heaving, with teeth set, and their eyes gleaming with the most implacable hate, the combatants strove together!
In reaching the edge of the ravine, the Shawanoe was on the inside—that is, he was the nearest to it—and Hezekiah succeeded in keeping him there. Gradually working him nigher and nigher to the dread chasm, until he felt his strength going, the New Englander gathered his knee to his breast, and summoning all his power, with one mighty effort he kicked the savage from him and over the cliff!
But horror of horrors! in going over, the Shawanoe caught him with both hands by the ankle, and Hezekiah felt himself following! He clutched with the twigs and stones within his grasp, but they all yielded and came with him, and he could not shake off the dreadful incubus that was drawing him on to death. He screamed and shouted, and blistered his hands in his efforts to stay himself, but it was all useless.
Further, further, further—the Shawanoe's weight seems to increase each second—the white man's outspread hands slide over the earth and rock!—he is going, going, going!—his head slips over! and now down like a meteor, through the dizzying air, with wild, ecstatic thrills shooting through his brain—a second's delirium—an awful, stunning shock—and all was dark! The lifeless forms of Hezekiah Smith and the Shawanoe Indian lay side by side at the bottom of the gorge!
The reader will recollect that Luther Waring, in wandering through the woods, suddenly came upon an unexpected scene, and rushed forward in a state of great excitement. The sight that met his gaze was Hezekiah Smith and the second Indian struggling together. Without a moment's reflection he discharged his piece, killing the savage as before related. He was about to rush forward to the rescue of his friend, when he caught sight of the third Indian; and believing that a party had just arrived, and that he could afford him no assistance, and that he was in imminent danger of his own capture, he turned and fled.
Running some distance, he was considerably surprised to find that he was not pursued, and suspecting that, after all, he might have been mistaken, he cautiously retraced his steps. He arrived at the spot of the tragic scene we have just described, and looking over the brink, descried the two inanimate forms lying below.
With a painfully throbbing heart he hurried through the forest, and by a circuitous route entered the gorge. In a short time he came upon the two Indians and his friend. All three were bruised and bleeding, and as Waring looked above him at the height of the precipice, he took a melancholy consolation in the thought that the death of Hezekiah Smith had been speedy and almost painless.
"Would that I could give him a decent burial," he murmured; "but I cannot. He shall not remain here, however, to rot beside those fiendish savages. I will do what I can for him."
Taking him in his arms he carried him some distance to where there was a mass of debris and stones at the side of the ravine. Here depositing him carefully upon the ground, he first covered him over with brush, and then stones, until his body was entirely hidden from sight. The principal object in doing this was to secure his remains against outrage from the savages.
"Farewell," said Waring, as he turned away. "I have known you but a short time, and have learned but little of you, but I have learned enough to know that you were a FRIEND; and now, a last adieu to you, my FRIEND!"
With a saddened, mournful heart he turned away and walked slowly through the ravine.