Scarred Eagle by Andrew Dearborn - HTML preview

CHAPTER XIV.
 A NOVEL EXPEDIENT.

GOODBRAND rose to a half-stooping position and began to glide forward again. The rest followed closely. In a moment or two they all stopped, conscious they were within ten feet of the edge of the bank.

The various sounds occasioned by the maneuvers of Scarred Eagle and Mace had ceased. The fact was terribly significant to all. The Indians were too fearful of the stratagem of the whites to permit themselves to be drawn far away. They knew a simultaneous rush would give some of their victims a chance to escape, taking advantage of the darkness and noise.

Goodbrand had not communicated his plan in words, but all understood it. It was to attempt to surprise and overpower those in the canoe, and then try to escape on the river. Wild and desperate as was the scheme, it promised better than any other mode. The noble heroism of Scarred Eagle and Mace had enabled them to get so far. Could they now succeed?

A few thrilling moments passed; then Goodbrand, exchanging a low whisper with Brom, began to worm himself forward alone. The latter turned slightly, and communicated with Moorooine, who in turn passed word to the men behind. Then, silent as shadows all rose to their feet.

Hardly a minute passed when Goodbrand rose silently near them.

“Canoe here!” he whispered. “Four warriors in it yit. Their eyes and ears are wide open. Only one way to do. Must do quick, for—hark! They’re goin’ more down banks.”

“Let’s make the rush then,” said Brom, hoarsely. “’Tain’t likely we shall succeed, but it’s our last chance. Is t’other canoes near?”

“Not very. Above. Only see ’em when light comes. There ’tis now.”

Again they crouched down. The light would otherwise have revealed them in spite of the bushes separating them from the edge of the river. In a moment it was concealed again.

“Now our time!” whispered Goodbrand, rising.

“Hold!” whispered Brom.

A sudden, peculiar expedient had suggested itself.

“What for?”

The young ranger did not answer at once. It was evident the canoe was slowly moving down the bank. While they listened it drew up a few yards below them.

“Goodbrand, now use your best wits. You know thar lingo. Take Moorooine, and steal forward till you are quite near them, then take her in your arms, an’ do you, dear girl, be unconscious. Make ’em b’l’eve you’ve been took prisoner. Goodbrand shall play your captor. He shall tell ’em ’e took ye, and ask ’em out to make room for you. The rest of us ’ll be on hand, if they take the bait, ur don’t take it!”

Brom spoke hurriedly. Goodbrand, by a gesture, signified his approbation of the scheme. The Indian girl at once moved to his side, and the two started forward toward the canoe.

They gradually made themselves heard as they advanced. The three men glided close behind. The warriors were on the alert. Suddenly seeing one of their number, as they supposed, they peered forward anxiously. At this moment Goodbrand, clasping the form of Moorooine in his arms, addressed them in panting tones:

“Step out quick! The Sporting Fawn is taken, and can be kept in the canoe till the others are found. Their race for life is nearly run!”

Suppressing a cry of triumph, the four warriors immediately vacated the canoe, one of them steadying it for Goodbrand to enter with his insensible prisoner. As the latter stepped in he dropped his charge, and suddenly turning, struck down the one holding the canoe. At the same instant the other three were knocked headlong, just as they were in the act of springing forward.

Like lightning the others sprung in beside Goodbrand and Moorooine. Already had the former seized the paddles and the canoe was now gliding down the bank. All this had not been accomplished without some noise. One of the savages had been knocked into the water, and the splash, coupled with groans, rung out plainly. The fugitives had not moved ten yards when lights from above flashed over the water, showing them to those in the other canoes.

Instantly the most wild and alarming yells arose as the canoes behind started in pursuit. The yells, answered from the line of shore, were succeeded by a rush of feet.

“Out into the stream!” cried Brom, wildly.

“Look out—arrows comin’!”

“Och! murdher!”

“Give ’em yer rifles, quick!”

“Crack! crack-crack!”

“Now row with y’ur stocks—my God, quick, it’ll help some.”

Already Goodbrand and Moorooine had turned the canoe and were propelling it with all their might, not ceasing for a moment, though both of them had been struck by the arrows. To cease from their exertions now would be certain capture, and setting their teeth hard, the whole party worked on, taking the risk of being struck by those now rushing down to the banks.

By some accident the torch in the prow of the foremost canoe of the pursuers had been extinguished, again enveloping the scene in darkness. A perfect Babel of shouts filled the air, as if the Indians, aware that nearly all the fugitives were before them, were concentrating all their energies to the work of ending the protracted search at once. In the midst of the din the pursued heard a splashing toward their right, showing that a number had sprung into the water in their infuriated surprise and eagerness, and a moment or two—just enough for the contrast to disappear—the fugitives became conscious daylight was dawning upon them.

“These jest behind ain’t gainin’ on us—push on, an’ courage!” cried Brom.

“Ef we kin git inter the current furder out—ah, good God, t’others are cuttin’ across that way!”

“Turn it, Goodbrand—turn it quick! We’ll work harder ter strike the current furder down!”

“Luk out, the bows are coomin’ intil us. Murdher!”

The Irishman got an arrow through the back of his neck, and it passed into the arm of Brom. The rest escaped the volley as by a miracle, and the moment it passed sprung to their task again.

All this time the space to the left and right, as well as behind them, rung with malignant, crazy yells, defying description. But having struck the main current they were now making rapid headway, determined not to be diverted for a second. They occasionally cast glances back, but not at the expense of relaxing labor; yet they could not see that those in the nearest canoe had lightened their craft by the exit of three warriors, leaving three more to make accelerated speed.

“Murdther—dthe Vargin purtict—here’s soom jist upon us!” cried Devine, at last.

“The rest keep on for life, an’ we’ll look out for these, Tim,” cried Brom. “If we stop a minit, the others ’ll overhaul us—ha!”

Two rifles spoke from an adjacent bend of the bank, and one of the nearest pursuers fell into the river.

“’Twas Rhodan an’ Ben!” shouted Brom and Revel, simultaneously.

“An’ dthe durned apes are b’ated in dthat game; whist—hoora!” yelled the impulsive Irishman.

“Go in, boys! That’s it; they kain’t reach us from shore, while these ahind hev spent thar arrers, an’ ain’t gainin’ a bit. What—hold—turn the canoe in, Goodbrand, towarts the p’int ahead; ef t’others ar’ thar, we’ll manage—”

“No—no!” cried the Indian. “Lose ground if do. We got safe so fur, git safe longer!”

At this moment, Devine ceased his labor, and the canoe lurched, nearly upsetting.

“Ha, Tim, what’s this? Ah, the brave chap’s—”

He ceased speaking, as he grasped the Irishman, who had nearly fallen out. And no wonder. His terrible experiences during the last twenty-four hours, his sufferings as a captive, of which the rest knew little, and his last wound—all had culminated at last, and the man of iron endurance had fainted.

“Quick—good God!” exclaimed Brom, as he drew him in, “we’ve lost by this. There they come!”

“Gi-gi—stoo—gi—durn ye all—stoop down, thar!” came at this moment, in a ringing voice from shore.

All recognized it and huddled down, as two canoes, full of their pursuers, surged up not three boat’s-lengths behind. The next moment a dozen rifles rung out from the shore, followed by despairing shouts and groans behind.

“Thank God! Hurrah for the victory!” shouted Brom, the others joining in.

“Come i-i—come in!” shouted Joe Hill. “Ar’ ye all thar?”

“All but Rhodan an’ Mace. Look for them up-shore. Never mind us.”

And then, standing up, Brom pressed Moorooine to his breast, without speaking.

The next instant, the canoe touched the shore, and a group of hardy men waited to receive them, foremost among whom were Scarred Eagle and Ben Mace!

“Ay, boy!” said the former, with a tremor in his voice, “Providence has ordered that we ain’t yit to part.”

Still clasping the Indian girl, Brom put his hand tenderly on Rhodan’s shoulder and undertook to speak, but his voice failed him. They all met, as brothers long separated, the rescued all grasping the hands of Scarred Eagle, Mace and Joe Hill, in turn.

“Mebbe ye thought I’d de-de-desarted ye,” said Hill. “Ye see what I war about. I met the advance of Bradstreet’s army jist in time fur this. Hear that. Thar won’t many of ’em iscape!”

It was now light enough to distinguish objects plainly. Far up the shore came the numerous reports of rifles, showing the Indians were surprised and routed at every point. The noise aroused Devine, who had been laid upon the ground, attended by some of his companions.

“Courage, Tim, my boy!” said Scarred Eagle, bending over him. “Ye’ve got among friends, an’ the inemy ar’ routed.”

“An’ is it y’ursilf to tell me dthat?” he answered, struggling to his feet. “Good! I thought I was dead, so. Phare’s dthe rist? Ah—all here, dthe Vargin be praised! Phat’s dthat?”

“Good music!” said Mace. “It’s the shouts of the retreating reds.”

“Och! musha! I’ve but wan ear,” said Tim, putting up his hand with a grimace; “but it’s wilcome to sich music. Give me a sup of wather, for I’m wake, jist.”

Something stronger was furnished to all of the rescued. As the light increased, those in pursuit came back, forming a numerous company. As the day advanced the main division of the army came up and acting upon the report furnished by the rescued scouts, prepared to advance to the relief of the besieged fort. This was done, and the fort relieved without a struggle. The followers of Pontiac, alarmed and disheartened by repeated reverses, had abandoned the region.

In three days the scouts, now thoroughly recruited in strength, returned to one of the border settlements. Here Brom Vail and the beautiful and brave Miami maiden, whom he loved, were united in Christian marriage. Scarred Eagle and Goodbrand made their home with them, and Mace was always a welcome visitor.

Thus, reader, we have traced one of the episodes of frontier life. And now our story is done.

THE END.