ABOUT an hour previous to the events last described, a number of rangers were grouped around a fire, near the termination of a deep forest gorge. A small stream ran through the gorge, finding an outlet at the shores of the lake, about two miles away. At their backs rose an almost perpendicular cliff a hundred feet in hight, covered with dense foliage. The banks of the gorge, opposite, were comparatively low, and supported huge trees, whose branches, shooting far out, rendered the place gloomy even at midday.
A better hiding-place, or bivouac, for a posse of rangers, could not well have been chosen. An enemy might pass within thirty yards of the place, and be none the wiser, so far as sight or hearing is concerned. On the contrary, those within, looking outward from comparative darkness, could quickly discover the presence of interlopers, and withstand attack or make a good retreat, as policy might require.
The rangers had not been at this bivouac long. In groups of two, they had been watching the forest in different directions. They had returned, according to previous arrangement, and were now partaking heartily of rich venison-stew broiled on the bed of coals in their midst. They had assured themselves that no Indians were lurking near, before kindling the fire; yet the smoke from the hard, dry wood, became invisible ere it reached the top of the interlaced branches above them.
Little need be said in description of these men. They were the main body of scouts mentioned in the preceding chapter, and Scarred Eagle was their acknowledged leader. They were all hardy-looking fellows, well-armed, and of various ages, of uncouth appearance, rough in speech, but with nerves of steel; ready to face danger at any moment, and not loth to indulge in the pastime of a wrestling-match, or knock-down among themselves, in the absence of more exciting events.
“Seems ter me Brom, as yer call ’im, orter showed hisself afore now ef ’e ain’t got took,” remarked one of them, a tall, coarse-looking fellow in homespun.
“I dun know, Hulet,” replied one of his companions, clearing his throat. “It’s a dangerous job he ondertook—gittin’ to the fort when it’s compissed by so many Injuns. But ’e ain’t had time. A day for twenty miles’ travel, an’ all on’t to be stole over, ain’t too long, I reckon.”
“I know it’s dangerous. But he’s be’n gone more’n a day. He started three hours afore this time yisterday.”
“An’ s’posin’ ’e did?” broke in another, of Celtic origin. “Is dthat a sign he’s tuk? How dthe deuce are you or me to know dthe crooks an’ turns he’s had to make? Uv wan thing I’m certain, Brum w’u’dn’t cair for y’ur advice, nor woon’t thank yees for y’ur unaisiness. So ye needn’t be ov dthe first to wurry.”
Hulet deigned no answer to the Irishman, but resumed conversation with the ranger first addressed.
“Then, you’re out on the distance tew,” he said. “It’s sca’ce ten miles to the fort.”
“It ain’t, eh?” answered the one called Revel, who stopped with a piece of venison half-way to his mouth, and eyed the questioner. “Sca’ce ten mile! Who don’t know that?”
“You said, twenty.”
One or two of the group indulged in sneering chuckles.
“I say so yit,” returned Revel. “Brom’s got to pass over the ground twice afore he gits back here, ain’t ’e?”
“Yees needn’t ax dthat, Will,” said the Irishman. “Our laider has swall’ed too much venison entoirely, an’ it’s druv all dthe sinse he had in his head down to his belly. Dthe thruth, as sure’s me father wur a docthur!”
The laugh which went round at Hulet’s expense, was of course not over-relished by the latter.
“That ar’ ye call wit—Irish wit, I s’pose,” returned Hulet unable to conceal anger. “But I don’ know ’bout the ‘doctor.’ Who ever heerd of a durned Irishman bein’ a doctor.”
“Who is it?” queried the Irishman, fiercely. “I’ll take a joke but not an insoolt to me name, ye domd gossoon. Me father was a docthur, though, an’ I, Tim Devine, am able to docthur y’ur face, for the slandhur of y’ur tongue!” He aimed a blow at Hulet, as he spoke, which the latter parried.
“Hold on—this ’ere ain’t a-goin’ to do, now,” said Revel, rushing between them. “This ain’t the time for a row. Put it off. We’ve got to start pretty soon for the lake-shore. Thar may be Injuns skulking around, an’ we ain’t goin’ ter be sech headlong fools as to direct ’em here.”
Tim stood back. In the absence of Scarred Eagle, Revel was a sort of leader, and all liked him. But Tim shot fierce glances at Hulet, who smiled tauntingly.
“Niver mind, aneconde,” said Tim. “We’ll hove dthis out some time, an’ though y’ur size is something in y’ur favor, I’ll make ye respict me name if not swalle y’ur words. See if I don’t now, ye ill-mannered baist!”
“Hold up, men,” interrupted Revel. “Don’t run it into a quarrel. That’s foolish.”
“I don’t want ’er quarrel, nor have no diffikilty,” said Hulet. “But he begun it. I own I made a mistake ’bout the distance we was talkin’ of, ’cos I didn’t at fust think.”
“Co-cor-course; Hulet knew better ef he’d had time ter th-th-think. He don’t allus, ye know, bo-bo-boyes. T’other day he mis-mis-mistook an Injun fur a black b-b-bear, jest ’cos he didn’t hev time ter th-th-think!”
The stuttering speaker was a tall, spare man, with a whimsical face, eyes keen as a hawk’s and almost as small. His sally was greeted by a round of subdued laughter, from all except Hulet, whose face showed more signs of anger than had been evinced during his renconter with the Irishman.
Hulet was not personally well liked by his companions. He had been with them but a few days. He pretended to hail from one of the border settlements, and claimed to be a scout of much experience. One or two of the rangers held him in positive distrust. He seemed used to the forest; yet at times he made strange blunders for a scout. The one referred to by the stutterer actually happened, two days previously, while they were hovering in the rear of a Huron party.
“Wal, laugh, ef it suits ye!” said Revel, fiercely. “When it comes my turn, I’ll let some on ye know!”
“What’s that ye say?” spoke Revel, turning sharply upon him. He thought he detected something of the nature of a threat in the other’s tone.
“You yerself wouldn’t want a mistake flung inter y’ur face every time any thing comes up!” said Hulet. “But let it pass. A chap that stutters is allus gittin’ off sunthin’ to make a laugh,” and he tried to look good-naturedly toward the stutterer, Joe Hill.
“Ex-ex-exactly!” rejoined the latter worthy. “My tongue kine-kine-kinder hitches when I talk, an’ that’s wha-wha-whar I git time ter th-th-think whuther an objict’s a b’ar or an In-In-Injun.”
None seemed disposed to interrupt Joe. They enjoyed the badinage too well. The Irishman especially fatted at the idea of bringing Hulet into contempt, and encouraged Joe to keep it up. But Hulet disarmed the latter by joining slightly in the laugh, and then addressing Will Revel:
“I don’t understand why Brown should resk himself to visit the fort, now,” he said. “The major won’t care ter make a sally afore the reinforcements come.”
“Old Rhodan knows what he sent ’em for,” answered Revel. “That’s all I kin tell ye.”
“Ye mean him that’s called Scarred Eagle. He an’ Brown seem to think oncommon of each other. Relashuns, ain’t they?”
“Not by blood; though father and son couldn’t think more of each other than they. Rhodan saved ’im, when he war a striplin’, from the Hurons. They’ve stuck to one another ever sence, as it’s nat’ral they should.”
“In course. Strikes me that Scarred Eagle himself orter be among us, ef he’s comin’ to-night. Mebbe he won’t. It’s goin’ to be dark’s a pocket.”
The Irishman here nudged Joe Hill.
“Yis; dar-dark-darker’n the outside of a black b-b-ba’r,” assented Joe, giving his face a comical twist.
“It’s comin’ on fast, too,” said Revel. “We must betake ourselves to the lake-shore and watch for Scarred Eagle. Ef he don’t come by dark we kin come back an’ wait.”
“Must be Ben Mace’ll come,” said another. “He hadn’t so fur to go.”
“That’s why I feel a trifle oneasy ’bout him, Lew,” answered Revel. “I’ll own it. He’s as good a scout as is in the kentry, only he’s so mad at sight of an Injun. He runs too much resk for the sake of revenge.”
“Why not stay whar we be?” said Hulet. “I don’t b’l’eve Scarred Eagle ’ll git back frum the neck to-night. Thar’s no Injuns in the neighborhood, an’ ef I kin read right it’ll be so dark in an hour that none on us could find our way back.”
“How mooch for y’ur advoice, Misthur Hugelet?” said Tim, quickly. “You’re afeard of runnin’ y’ur head ag’in’ a tree or bear, whuch? Dthe id’a of a scout, a syees purtind to be, not bein’ able to git through the woods for darkness! Pish!”
“You’ll run y’ur head ag’in’ sunthin’ bimeby, Mister Brogue,” said Hulet, “that’ll make ye—”
“Oh, git out!” interrupted Revel, again. “Let this foolin’ come to an end. Some o’ them that’s away may come or not, but we’ll watch for ’em anyhow. I think Rhodan ’ll be back. The darkness won’t stop him.”
“He’d find his way through te-teto-te-tle—durn it—tetotal darkness blindfolded,” added Joe, spitefully.
“Good, Joe,” said Revel, with a laugh. “Now, boys—ah, what’s that?”
He had seen a dusky figure pass by the outlet of the gorge. Before he spoke, however, Joe Hill had sprung off with the agility of a cat, and disappeared in the bushes hard by. The rest grasped their rifles and followed. But they had hardly reached the outlet of the ravine when Joe reappeared from a side-path, leading an Indian girl, who evidently had not tried hard to get away.
“Thar!” he ejaculated, “I’ve g-got ’er, though what she wa-wan—blast it!—wants hyur’s more’n I kin tell. Cu-curi’s part on’t is, she did-didn’t tr-r-r-try ter git away.”
“Hurry out an’ look around, some of you,” said Will Revel, quickly. “Mebbe thar’s others near.”
“None but me,” said the captive, in fair English.
All, except Hulet, gazed upon her curiously. The girl was an Indian beauty, apparently about eighteen years of age. She was above the medium hight, and the color of her skin showed that white blood ran in her veins. She wore beautiful moccasins upon her feet, and was dressed tastefully. Her hair was glossy, black and fine, falling around her shoulders in masses, though kept back from her forehead by a glittering silver band. At her back was a bow and quiver of arrows; while a light hatchet and a knife were pendent from either side of her waist. She confronted the rangers without showing a sign of fear, though evidently embarrassed.
“Why’ve ye come here, Injun girl?” asked Revel. “If it’s to do us harm, you’re very foolish.”
“No come for that,” she said, earnestly.
“How’d ye know we war here?”
“Didn’t know. Looked sharp—den find you. Come for do good. Injuns that way,” pointing toward the lake. “You git scalps took if not careful.”
“Hear dthat now!” muttered the Irishman.
“Why’d ye come to warn us?” asked Revel. “Ain’t ye afraid we’ll harm ye?”
“Not much,” answered the Indian girl, dropping her eyes. “If did, would not come. Moorooine loves the white race. Some bad, some good—so everywhere. But Moorooine loves them and warns them. Some white herself, too.”
Will Revel started in surprise as he heard the girl’s name. Two more of the group also showed surprise and looked with new interest upon her.
“Who sent you here?” asked Revel.
“No one,” replied the Indian girl. “I followed some warriors softly that went on trail. They found where two men went off in canoe. Some watch for them to come back; others search forest.”
“Then Scarred Eagle ’ll be in danger,” said Revel, turning to his comrades. “Thar’s no time to lose. I’ve reason to b’l’eve this girl’s true to us. How many ar’ along the lake-shore?” he added, turning to Moorooine again.
“Me talk more with you, alone,” she said, avoiding the bevy of eyes fixed upon her. Revel followed her a short distance aside.
“There is so much warriors twice,” she said, in answer to his last question, holding up both hands with the fingers outspread. “They chased white man, but white man got away.”
“Did you see the white man?”
“Yes. Warriors call ’im Evil Eye.”
“Ah—Ben Mace!” exclaimed Revel. “Did he run this way?”
“Goin’ to; but had to hide. Den warriors missed ’im an’ leave behind. Look out for white friends on lake. Be careful, an’ look out for yourselves, too. Git took if don’t. Moorooine knows the forest an’ will help you. Mus’ go now. Bimeby you come too.”
“One minit,” said Will Revel. “You come here for more’n you say, Moorooine. I’ve heerd y’ur name afore. Thar’s a young hunter who ginrully goes with the Scarred Eagle. Have ye seen him called the White Fox, up to’ards the fort?” This was the name by which Brom Vail was known among the Indians.
The Indian maiden glanced curiously into the ranger’s face, and the rich blood mounted to her cheeks and brow.
“Yes; seen ’im,” she answered, dropping her eyes. “He not here, go in canoe with friend, s’pose. Me watch for his coming an’ you watch too. Be careful. Mebbe all of us cheat warriors an’ save him an’ friend.”
“We’ll do our best, sartin,” said Will. “But Moorooine is at fault. White Fox started for the fort yisterday, an’ we’re lookin’ for ’im back.”
The girl’s manner changed at once. A look of deep apprehension appeared in her face.
“White Fox got to fort in night an’ started back early in morning,” she said. “Me see ’im softly (secretly) outside the fort. Much ’fraid Injuns got ’im! Too bad, very!”
Her looks betrayed intense anxiety. And Revel’s was equally great. He saw all at a glance. As intimated, he had heard of the Miami girl, Moorooine, before. The strongest attachment had sprung up between her and Brom Vail. They had met a few months before, when Brom, with his foster-father and a man of the name of Thorpe, were seeking for information affecting the peace of the latter’s mind. Moorooine had afforded the party successful aid, and once saved their lives at the risk of her own.
“Mus’ go!” she said, suddenly. “Mus’ save White Fox if can, an’ rest too.”
“We’ll be on hand, brave girl,” said Will. “If we kin git with Scarred Eagle an’ Goodbrand we’ll find whar Brom is, or die for’t. D’ye s’pose ye could find the Evil Eye?”
“Me try to, an’ den git him help. Ha!” she exclaimed, as her keen glance shot through the bushes toward the rest of the company. “Who that man?”
Will followed her glance, which rested upon the person of Hulet. For the first time he noticed the latter had kept as much as possible in the background when the Indian girl came. Hulet had advanced a little nearer to the rest, who had apparently noticed his conduct.
“That?” said Revel. “He’s a scout like the rest of us. Does Moorooine know ’im?”
“Most do,” she answered, in a whisper, keeping her eyes toward him. “You know ’im long?”
“Only a few days. Why do you ask?”
“Sure now,” she whispered. “Have seen ’im ’round fort with Injuns. Watch ’im sharp. He’s no good white man. He carries two tongues an’ will betray you an’ me too if can.”
“What did they call ’im?” inquired Revel, excitedly.
“Sly Hate. Take care him. Mus’ go. You know cry of night-hawk? One, tell you ‘look out;’ two will mean, ‘come.’” The girl turned and disappeared through the bushes toward the lake.
Will stood a few moments in deep surprise. “Sly Hate,” he muttered. “The one that was cashiered for cowardice a year ago at Montreal, and then j’ined the Injuns. An’ he’s here ter lead us into a trap. By the great livin’, he shain’t play the game no further!”
He stalked through the bushes and approached the group of rangers. He kept his head down so that Hulet might not suspect his designs till the last moment. But when he came near the men, he raised his eyes and saw that Hulet was not present. The rest were watching his own strange approach curiously.
“Phat’s come across yees?” exclaimed the Irishman.
“Did thet Injun gal—”
“Whar’s Hulet?” interrupted Revel, sternly. All glanced around, and several spoke at once.
“Why ’e was here not a minit ago, ’cos—”
Further speech was interrupted. A rifle cracked not far away, and one of the group, grasping his breast, fell to the ground! The report was succeeded by a defiant shout from Hulet, who had disappeared in the direction of the lake.
“It’s all over with me, boys,” gasped the stricken man. “Go on—all of you, an’ take the traitor, and avenge my death.”