"What is it, Davie?" called the soft voice of Ruth, awaking me from my horrified stupor.
"Wait," I made hoarse answer, still dazed by my startling discovery. Looking closer at that figure before me, I saw that it was as if cased in ice, and as something splashed on my neck I knew that the rock-drippings from above had covered it. With trembling fingers I wiped the sweat from my brow, then caught at the sheet of paper before me and incontinently fled.
The horror of it unnerved me, and must have shown in my face. Gradually I told the others of what I had seen, and Radisson started up on his elbow, his old face alight with a great amazement and joy.
"The paper, lad—the paper!" he cried out. "Hendrik Hudson—ah, but this is the greatest discovery of all! Naught matters now—for I have goodly company on the Ghost-trail! Read the paper, lad!"
I held down the dry paper—for it seemed to have escaped those drippings, by some trick of Fate—to the light, and with Ruth peering over my shoulder made shift to read the words written there in English. It was in the same hand which had written in the Bible, and the two lie here before me now. It seemed to be one of other sheets, for at the top it was numbered in Roman.
"XI
shall beeware how you doe deal my Truste. In Time shall come Them of mine own Race, to whom doe I graunt all thyngs Herein. This bee a rich laund & worthe ye keeping for Britain. Soe now farewell. I grow weak.
Henry Hudson."
I looked up from the paper amazed, and met the exultant eyes of Radisson fixed upon me. The old man clutched at the scrap and held it to him fiercely.
"Radisson has won again!" he exclaimed, his dark eyes shining bright. "I have found a new country and with it Henry Hudson—ah, get you outside, lad! Take the fusils with you, and keep guard! I had forgot our danger, and the night must be coming on. They will trail us here, for The Pike must know the place. Yet it is strange that he knew naught of the passage through the hills behind!"
I loaded the fusils afresh and left him in the care of Ruth. When I gained the entrance to the cave I saw that it must have fallen dark outside, yet the mouth of the passage from the ridge was lit by the fires in the sky, which seemed faintly ablaze. As I set down the guns and drew my furs about me, shivering in the bitterness of the cold, I was thankful that at least I was sheltered from that great wind that tore down through the gap moaning and shrieking.
Where had that moose-track come from? It seemed hard to believe that the mighty animal had passed from woods to ridge, and so on into the passage without having been seen by any. Yet it must have been even so, for the trail was a fresh one, and I wondered at the thing.
With it all I was mightily afraid, nor hesitated to admit it to myself. The death of The Keeper had been a great shock to me, and the finding of Hudson, the mere knowing that his earthly form lay in that cave behind me, was horrible. The fearsomeness of that passageway through the cliffs, lying so dark and ghostly in front of me, added in no small degree to my shakings of soul.
And to cap all, Radisson lay stricken mortally. This I guessed from his manner of speaking and from the fact that he would not allow us to care for his wound. The great wonder of the whole thing, from the trail of the Mighty One to the martyrdom of the Mohawk, oppressed me, and I remembered how The Keeper had prophesied that he would not go on the spirit-trail alone.
Then I fell to thinking of Hudson. So the little boat had not been lost, as all men had thought, but had reached land. Who might know the tale of all that had happened? The stout seaman must have seen his friends and his son perish one by one, yet have struggled on to the west until he had come to the Ghost Hills and found there the rest denied him in life.
So I sat there half in dream, thinking bitterly on what was to be the end of it all. For myself I cared little, but I could not see Ruth in red hands. Why did not Swift Arrow and Uchichak arrive? Almost on the thought, it seemed that a dark shadow flitted down through the pass, whereat I caught up one of the guns and cried out.
"It is Ca-yen-gui-ha-no," came the voice of the Mohawk. "Where is my brother?"
"Here," I shouted, great relief in my heart, and had like to fling my arms about the tall old man as he clambered up to me. "But Uchichak—where are the Crees? We are in sore need, Swift Arrow!"
"They come," he grunted in surprise as he saw where I stood. "The Mighty One met us. I fired and drove him back. The Crees are slow. Swift Arrow came on quickly, and passed the Mighty One, who follows behind me."
He peered about, and I motioned him back into the cave, whither he vanished. A moment later there came a yell from the mouth of the gap, and I knew that the Chippewas were upon me. A number of dark shapes flitted across the opening, a hundred paces away, and I fired at one of these, the echoes rolling up and up in weird echoes of sound.
"Let my brother load," and Swift Arrow stood beside me again. "I will shoot."
Cheerfully enough I resigned my place to him. Now came two shots, and the bullets pattered on the cliffs behind. But to reach us the Chippewas would have to cross that open gully where lay the deep, hard snow, and even in the half-light from the closed-out skies their figures would show plainly against the white snow. And we had four guns, with a good store of powder and balls close to hand.
After those first shots, there came no sign of danger, but I knew that the cunning brain of The Pike would not rest idle for long. The Chippewas could not reach us from below without making a straight charge, which they would have little stomach for, and they could not get at us from above, since those high walls of granite could hardly be scaled.
Yet Gib solved the problem, for presently a musket roared over against us on the opposite side of the cliffs, and a bullet whistled into the cleft behind. There was no danger that those within the cavern could be injured, by reason of the twists in the passage, but the mouth of the cave where we lay could be raked easily enough, and the Arrow grunted.
"We must hit or be hit, Brave Eyes," and he laid his fusil in rest, aiming at the place whence had come the flash. A moment later it came again, but the Arrow fired almost with it. A single yell echoed up, and thereafter came no more shots from across the way.
"Think you they will try to rush upon us?" I whispered fearfully.
"They are women," he grunted disdainfully. "The Mighty One will scatter them."
"How mean you? Where is the moose?"
"He is near. The Crane will drive him before, and when he comes the Chippewas will scatter from before him."
Then I remembered what the Mohawk had first said, upon his arrival. He had met the moose traveling toward the open country, and had driven him back toward us, passing him later as he hurried on ahead of the Crees. But soon I had other things to bother my head with than the moose.
For as we lay watching, something came down from the skies and shattered on the rocks beside me. Feeling about, I found that it had been an arrow, and now we were in grave danger indeed. If we withdrew under the shelter of the cave, we would lose sight of that open gully beneath us; but if we lay there without covering above, the Chippewa arrows could descend full upon us. Gib was having his men shoot straight up, so that the arrows would fall with fearful force, and against such shooting we were defenseless.
They pattered down all around, shattering on the rock and yet seeming to miss us altogether. Before long the Mohawk, who had refused to listen to my word that we should seek shelter inside the cave and defend its mouth, began to chant something in a low voice that swelled louder and louder. A wild, barbaric chant it was, in words that I knew not, but ever and anon he would lift one of the fusils and shoot, though I could see no object at which to aim. When his chant died down again I asked him the meaning of it.
"I go on the Ghost-trail, my brother," he responded after a moment. "The Chippewa arrows are very sharp, and the Great Spirit has called me. I hear the voice of the Keeper of the Eastern Door. He asks me why I wait. I am waiting for my father the White Eagle, oh Ta-cha-noon-tia!" With which he trailed off into his own tongue once more and paid no further heed to me.
I knew not whether he had been struck with one of those falling arrows, for he had made no sign. A moment later he pressed a fusil into my hands.
"They come, brother! Be ready!"
I loaded it as rapidly as might be, but had not finished when a great yell went up from the darkness, and across the snow came the Chippewas—dark splotches that seemed to leap over the white ground.
The Arrow waited, and then when they seemed to be almost upon us, he began firing. One after another of the foremost figures went down, and I managed to get the first gun to him as he fired the fourth. Before that rain of lead the Chippewas broke and fled, but I heard the voice of Gib ring out, and knew that he was still unharmed. When the muskets were once more loaded, I left the ledge for an instant, and ran back to the cave, in order to reassure Ruth. I found her and Radisson just as I had left them, on the pile of skins, and although the fire had died down, there was plenty of wood in the cave from which to replenish it. In a few words I told them of the repulse.
"And Swift Arrow?" demanded Radisson quickly. "Why was he singing the death-chant? Is he also hurt?
"I know not," was my hesitating answer, and the tears could not be kept back—nor were they the tears of a boy. "He is waiting for you, he said."
"Ah! Then he will not have long to wait, methinks," Radisson breathed, holding the hand of Ruth. At sight of Grim I bethought me that he might well prove of service, and so I called him to follow me out to the front of the cave.
"Ready!" thrilled a sharp whisper from Swift Arrow, who had the guns close to his hand. Grim growled. This time the attack came with no forewarning until we saw the approach of the Chippewas, creeping stealthily forward through the snow. But as they came, arrows pattered around us from those behind, who covered their advance.
And this time, there was no stopping them. Five times did the Arrow fire, but then came a rush, and he had but time to draw his knife and put his tomahawk ready. I caught up one of the heavy fusils and swung it about my head, and then they were upon us—a mad swirl of men who seemed to spring out of the darkness and up the path to our ledge.
Now, when it came to hand-to-hand fighting, my great strength proved its worth. The Arrow had crawled to my side, and as only one or two men could reach us at a time, we managed to fling them back with gun-butt and tomahawk, while the shrill yell of the Mohawk rose madly over the shrieks of the Chippewas.
Time after time my heavy piece rose and fell, sometimes parried and sometimes not, while at my side glittered the steel of the old chief, rapid and deadly; but ever the voice of Gib urged on the warriors, and ever they pressed up that narrow path in mad resolve. On a sudden I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder, and the fusil dashed out of my hands against the rock wall as I staggered back.
An instant, and I had pulled out the knife with a shudder of pain, but that instant had been well-nigh fatal, for the Chippewas poured over us. Then, while I was still faint with the shock and the pain came Grim to the fore. Swift Arrow had risen to his feet, still plying his deadly steel desperately, when the great sheep-dog crouched and sprang, snarling and tearing in the midst of them beneath us.
The Chippewas fell back before him in wild affright, leaving two of their number at handgrips with us. One of these went down under the knife of the Mohawk; the other I seized by the throat and dashed back against the rock, where he lay silent. Then I whistled sharp and shrill, and Grim came back to me—bleeding and torn, but still not hurt unto death. So near had they come to taking us, that but for him we had assuredly perished.
But the Chippewas had not retreated far, and the evil tones of Gib showed me where he stood out there on the snow. The Arrow had fallen forward against the rock, helpless; when next they charged, his aid would be of no avail. And the blood was running fast from my shoulder, as I reloaded one of the weapons.
Gib was standing out in the center of the pass, and of a sudden I heard what seemed to be a bellow of rage, followed by a wild shriek from the Chippewas. Turning, I saw a mighty form leaping through the darkness—great horns outspread, giant shoulders rising high over the group of warriors, huge hoofs striking to right and left. In the dim light, I thought I saw Gib raise a musket, and for an instant the flash of it showed me the Mighty One himself, poised high in air as he leaped upon the terror-struck men.
Then all went dark again. One horrible, long-drawn shriek wailed out down the great cliffs as I raised my musket and aimed at the huge shape below, from which men fled every way. I fired, and saw it stumble forward over a smaller form in the snow; then I felt the faintness of my wound come upon me again, and had but strength enough to stagger back through the cave, meet the staring eyes of Radisson, and fall at the feet of Ruth. But as I fell, I heard from without the war-cry of Uchichak, and knew that the Mighty One had saved us; then I fell asleep, with the tongue of Grim hot on my cheek.