THE Indian village was about six miles distant, and stood on a high bluff overlooking the Detroit river. A jut from the rocky bluff extended some fifty feet into the stream at this point. At the angle thus formed was a gloomy subterranean passage, through which the water flowed with a sullen roar. Far within, the channel made an abrupt turn, gliding past a recess in the rocks large enough to contain a dozen men. Thence was a devious, rough passage communicating with the shore.
This was Goodbrand’s destination with the canoe and men. Once within, they could watch the village, and be able to penetrate to its very center at short notice.
The Indians did not know of this subterranean chamber, and of the subterranean passage they held a tradition that it was the abode of an evil spirit, and never entered it. This fact was well known to several rangers who had explored the passage, and now its existence seemed most favorable to their undertaking.
Scarred Eagle and Mace pressed forward as fast as possible. They hoped to reach the village and by some stratagem release Brom Vail before daylight. The chance seemed favorable. Many of the warriors were absent at the siege of the fort, and of those not so employed, they had reason to believe a good portion were at that moment hovering about the gorge.
The two men were more than two-thirds of the distance to the Indian village, when suddenly Scarred Eagle, who was in advance, put back his hand and came to a dead halt.
“What is it?” whispered Ben Mace.
The other did not answer at once. With his body bent forward he was listening intently; and now, through the gloomy, solemn aisles, Mace detects sounds telling that lurkers are ahead.
“Kin it be thet some o’ the reds have come in another direction from the gorge? If so—”
“No, Mace, ’tain’t it. I don’t b’lieve I’m deceived in thinkin’ these ahead is them that ar’ takin’ the dead an’ wounded to the village. They hev ter move slow, an’ that’s why we’ve overtook ’em.”
“What’s ter be done? Ef we wait ter foller ’em—”
He was interrupted by Rhodan’s grasping his arm, and for a moment or two they almost held their breaths. Both entertained the same suspicions now, and were waiting to see if these would be verified.
They did not remain long in doubt. The fact that the party ahead had begun to move on again, making considerable noise, did not deceive the scouts. They were almost sure some of the party had turned back, evidently suspicious of being followed.
It was easy for the rangers to evade these. But they wished to do more. The evident suspicion in the mind of the Indians, that a white foe had been secretly dogging their steps, must be dispelled; otherwise an attempt to enter the village unperceived, would be worse than useless.
“They’ve heerd sunthin’ thet makes ’em suspicious,” said Scarred Eagle. “They must go on, satisfied ’twas a panther on thar tracks scentin’ the blood of the wounded warriors. Come in here, where the darkness is thicker.”
They moved to the left, keeping a yard or two apart, and taking steps which might indeed be mistaken for those of the animal named. Under a dense foliage they halted, and then a purring sound broke out through the stillness. As the slight echoes ceased, an almost imperceptible stir was heard not far ahead; but this as suddenly ceased, and all became silent again. It was evident the fellow had not entirely taken the bait.
Scarred Eagle and Mace now dropped upon all-fours and stole forward, imitating the stealthy advance of a panther.
Suddenly the silence was again broken by a cry that caused startling echoes around. These had scarcely died away when the sound of feet was heard retreating rapidly toward the Indian camp. The ruse had succeeded.
“What now, Rhodan?” said Mace, as they rose.
“Foller ’em up,” was the brief reply.
“We mout flank past ’em.”
“’Twould be no use. We’d lose as much as we’d gain.”
“’Tain’t an hour to daylight now.”
“I know; but ’twon’t do to resk diskivery yit!” said Scarred Eagle, with a tremor in his voice. “We must fust git into camp, an’ try to find where Brom, ef he’s alive, is confined. Then—’ll come the resk.”
“Goodbrand an’ the rest must be at the jut afore this.”
“They won’t move ’ithout a good reason till they hear something of us. Not till the last minnit must we signal an attack—not till t’other plan fails.”
The two were stealing forward again, keeping as near to the retreating Indians as possible without danger of discovery.
“Thar’ll be a powwow when these ’uns git in with thar burdens,” said Mace. “It’ll rouse the hull nest.”
“It’ll be the more in our favor,” said the other. “We must keep a sharp watch for the Indian girl.”
In a few minutes they noticed that it began to be lighter ahead, and they were very near the open bluff on which stood the village. Pushing forward, they soon saw the Indians before them, as the latter emerged upon the bluff. As these disappeared, the trailers pressed on; the more hastily, as a sound began to break on their ears, denoting some unusual commotion in the village.
A moment or two later, and they were peering into the camp. The inmates were not only astir, but seemed greatly excited. It was not all caused by the approach of those bearing the dead and wounded, for even as the scouts looked, these last were discovered and greeted with howls of sorrow.
“What kin it mean, Scarred Eagle?”
“Let’s git nearer and see. Thar’s a good chance now.”
They began to glide forward, on hand and knee, directing their course so as to gain the rear of a row of rude huts. Meantime, the excitement among the warriors seemed to increase, and yells, fierce and angry, were mingled with the cries of grief. The two men were about twenty yards from the edge of the woods, when they raised partly up beside a stump, and obtained a better view of the excited throng. To their surprise, they saw that not less than fifty warriors were present, nearly a score of whom were clustered upon the bank of the river, just above the angle formed by the jut.
“Thar!” exclaimed Mace. “The story’s told. Thar’s more o’ the hellions here than we thought, an’ the wust on’t is they’ve suspicted Goodbrand’s party, an’ ar’ watchin’ the rocks!”
“I see!” said Scarred Eagle, uneasily. “It’s an unfortunit thing for all. But, I’ll try ter find the boy if my life pays for the attempt. Seems ter me the Injun gal—ha, look there! It’s her, as I live!”
A number of the Indians were hurrying a captive, who had been in their midst, toward one of the huts. The glow of starlight over the open bluff enabled the lurking men to identify the captive as Moorooine. They knew her by occasionally hearing her name pronounced, coupled with angry maledictions. She was bound hand and foot, and thrust into one of the huts, as though she had been a brute.
“The brave gal’s been catched in tryin’ to do sunthin’ for Brom,” said Rhodan. “He’s in one o’ the huts above, where they’ve put her in, likely. I judge so, ’cos two o’ the imps seem ter be watchin’ it close. No doubt the boy’s well tied; but since his release hez been ondertook, they mean ter make sure on ’im. Thar’s one apiece for us to work for, now, Ben Mace, an’ no hope thet any o’ the rest ’ll git a chance ter help us. Be ye ready?”
“Lead on!”
They again crept forward, and soon found themselves in the rear of the line of huts. They could hear the tread of feet, and the jabber of excited voices, all making a confusion most favorable to their purpose. Not ten feet lay between them and the hut into which had been thrust the Indian girl, when an Indian was dimly seen, coming from the opposite space toward them.
They lay as close to the ground as possible. The savage came on, and the concealed men saw that another followed. Both halted so near, that they might not only have touched the lurking whites, but have seen them by a chance look-down. One lightning glance on the part of the scouts, revealed the odious face of the wretch, Hulet!
“Now, speak,” said the Indian to the renegade. “What has Sly Hate to say that he has not said?”
“This, Heavy Sleep,” replied the other, speaking so as to be heard above the confusion around. “The waters are deep where they pass under the rocks. The roar makes your people afraid.”
“Ugh!” muttered Heavy Sleep, shaking his head. “A bad Manitou keeps council there. What mean?”
“I know a secret about the place, which I learnt from our white enemies by stealth. I will tell you what it is, and then—ha, what, ho!”
By accident the wretch cast his eye down, and noted a dark crouching figure. The next moment it sprung up like lightning, and a knife was buried to the hilt in Hulet’s breast! Heavy Sleep, with a ringing yell, sprung upon Mace, who met him with the same bloody weapon which had sent the renegade to death. The Indian avoided the thrust, however; but before he could seize his adversary, the hatchet of Scarred Eagle crashed through his brain!
“Come!” cried Mace, hoarsely, and he had just turned to flee, as a bevy of Indians burst through between the huts, who, uttering their alarm-cries, sprung after him. In an instant pursued and pursuers were off like the wind.
Scarred Eagle had hesitated a moment too long. Notwithstanding the danger, he could not bring himself to flee. A sudden wild hope, that the confusion might enable him to yet rescue his boy, determined him. And just before the aroused warriors darted from the front in pursuit of Mace, he threw himself flat to the ground close beside the hut.
The excitement and alarm that now prevailed may be imagined. Half a dozen times, in as many seconds, Scarred Eagle was upon the point of springing up, as he imagined he was discovered. Some of the reds, not in pursuit of Mace, almost trod upon him, as they huddled around the bodies of Heavy Sleep and Hulet. In a few moments the victims were carried around to the front, and, watching his opportunity Scarred Eagle nestled more closely to the rear side of the hut. Then, hastily making an aperture, he peered in, and saw the captive Indian girl tightly bound and alone. Something more than a desire to communicate with her caused him to squeeze under the rude tent-cloth and enter. There was a pile of skins in the nearest corner, under which he might secrete himself, and he lost no time in doing so.
The rush of feet from the river convinced him how narrow had been his escape thus far. The spot where the victims had fallen was again crowded, amid a perfect tornado of howls and imprecations. Seeing there were no warriors about the door, he spoke to the Indian girl, who seemed unaware of his presence. His voice reached her, and with a painful effort she raised her head and recognized him.
“White Fox got away, but drown in river,” she said, faintly. “Me no care for to live now! Hide down quick—some comin’.”
Scarred Eagle crouched under the skins, keeping his weapons ready. His quick mind had its own theory in regard to Brom’s death. Some of the terribly-enraged warriors, evidently well aware of some part taken by the girl in regard to Brom, came forward, their eyes glaring like a hyena’s. But at this moment three ringing rifle-reports came from the forest causing them to rush out tumultuously.