CHAPTER X.
TOO MUCH "FIRE-WATER."
THE fears of Yankee Seth had been but too well founded, for Madge had indeed fallen into the hands of the traitorous Willimack. Early in the morning, not long after the escape of Will Floyd from the stake, the stockade had been surprised by a sudden onset from a savage party under the brutal chief. Matthew Floyd, defending her with desperate valor, was felled by the stroke of a hatchet and had dropped into the cellar just as the roof of the burning building began to fall. Willimack seized the half-fainting girl and dragged her out of the burning cabin by main force, keeping a tight grip upon her wrist, for he knew that she possessed enough moral courage to kill herself if he gave her the opportunity. A malicious grin writhed his dark face as the flames curled about the rafters of that doomed house.
"Wah!" he cried. "Burn, home of the white man, burn! The shelter which you refused to the chief, Willimack, you will give to no one. Burn, burn, burn!"
"You are a wretch," cried Madge. "Are you brave enough to kill me now and let me go to the noble man who had given the orphan girl a shelter through these long years?"
"Why should I kill you?" said Willimack. "No; live to cook the venison in the great wigwam of the Wyandot when the white man has ceased from off the land."
"Release me, then, and let me go back to my people. You have done wickedness enough."
He only laughed scornfully, and pointed to the bleeding bodies of the two soldiers and the negro servants. "You see all these," he said. "They stood by and laughed me to scorn when the Yellow Hair struck me down at his feet like a dog. Was this well? A chief is not a dog, and Willimack only lived for vengeance. See; you will from this time be an Indian, live as we live, die as we die, and be buried as we bury our dead. I have spoken. Willimack can not lie."
He turned about and uttered a signal-whoop, at which the men gathered about him, and he addressed them rapidly in the Indian language, which Madge did not understand. He had no sooner done so than they scattered and crossed the river in every conceivable conveyance, upon logs, planks and charred beams, leaving Willimack with only five men beside the ruins. He still held her hand, and turning away from the river, began his march to the West, closely followed by his men. She saw with ill-concealed fear the numberless artifices the man used to hide the trail, and feared that she was lost. Only once during the day he had stopped, and gave her food, and then marched on again. Her shoes were soon torn by the rough path over which she trod, and her feet bleeding. Once she stopped and said she would go no further, and Willimack turned fiercely upon her with a hatchet, but she did not blench.
"White girl," he said, "do you not fear death?"
"No," she said, boldly. "Death is preferable to the fate you design for me."
"Good. You will make a good wife for a warrior because your heart is strong. Must go; we drag you."
An Indian seized her by each hand and dragged her on. Seeing how powerless she was to resist them, she told Willimack that she would walk if they would not touch her, and kept up boldly until nightfall, when the savages paused and made a camp in a deep hollow, surrounded by heavy woods. He gave her food from his scanty store—cracked corn and dried venison, with water from the running stream hard by. She ate quite heartily, for the long walk had made her hungry. Willimack looked on with a calm smile while she ate, muttering to himself. When she had finished he took green withes and made her sit down at the root of a tree and tied her fast to the mossy trunk. He had hardly done so when one of the men, with a low chuckle, drew from his bosom a huge bottle which he had stolen from the stockade, and flourished it above his head.
"Ugh!" grunted his companions in chorus. "Obisenay somet'ing got, eh?"
"Fire-water! Wa-wa!" replied Obisenay.
The lucky finder lifted the heavy bottle, and a musical gurgle followed. When he lowered it there was quite a difference in the weight, and he passed the bottle to the chief.
"Good?" demanded Willimack.
"Much good," said Obisenay. "Drink."
Willimack did as he was requested, and drank quite deeply. The others followed, and the heavy bottle passed round the circle. A curious scene followed. A man who has never seen a number of Indians drunk has missed a remarkable scene. Seated in a circle, with the girl-prisoner in the center, they kept drinking at a rate which would have astonished a habitual drunkard among the whites, swaying their bodies to and fro, and giving utterance now and then to a short quick whoop as the liquor began to affect them. The bottle was quickly dispatched, and one of them, by a singular instinct, found out that he had purloined a similar one, and they took to this. Now they began to dance and howl, brandishing their hatchets and leaping wildly about among the trees, looking like demons in their war-paint. In the midst of the wild orgie an Indian came suddenly from among the trees and joined them. Willimack by this time was very drunk, but he had sense enough to see that a stranger had come among them. He was a tall, finely-formed man, painted for war, in the dress of a Huron.
Willimack advanced to meet him with stately gravity, reeling in his walk, and endeavoring to stand straight.
"How do, brudder?" he said. "Why you stand no still?"
It was a remarkable feature of the great Willimack that when he copied the white man's vices by getting gloriously drunk, he forgot that he could speak Indian and fell into broken English.
"What does my brother mean?" said the new-comer.
"Why you whirl, whirl, whirl, so? Make ground swing too much."
"My brother has fire-water."
"Ugh, good. Huron drink fire-water with his Wyandot brother," said Willimack.
They brought the second bottle, grievously lessened in weight, and the Huron lifted it to his mouth. He kept it there long enough to drink a great deal, but if he did, the throat did not show the process of swallowing in the slightest degree, and he kept his face partly turned away from the wild band. It seemed to affect him strangely, however, for he drew his hatchet and began to dance wildly with the rest until his eyes fell upon the bound captive.
"Who is here?" he cried. "Her skin is white. What does she here among the Wyandots?"
"Prisoner," said the chief. "Take much scalp, take much fire-water. Wah!"
He had indeed taken much, too much fire-water for his own good. The Huron looked hard at the prisoner, and then turned about and asked for the bottle, and prevailed upon the Indians to sit down again.
"Brothers," he said, "there is a devil in the woods."
"Wah," said Willimack.
"He is as tall as a blasted pine, his eyes are like blazing stars. We call him Nabockalish, and white men call him the Skeleton Scout."
Willimack shook his head gravely at the unwelcome name.
"Skeleton Scout no good. Hate him, hate Long Man, hate Floyd, hate every one. Skeleton Scout too much no good."
"It is true. But if the Skeleton Scout should come, what would my brother do?"
"Run!" said Willimack, shortly.
"Run! Does a chief of the Wyandots run? Ah! look, look, sons of the Wyandot."
One look was sufficient. Out of the woods, holding a blazing torch in each hand, came the tall figure of the being they had known as the Skeleton Scout, bearing down upon them with a frightful yell. It was too much for human nature to bear, and they stumbled over each other in their wild efforts to escape from their dreaded enemy. One fell into the clutches of the Skeleton Scout, and they went down together, and then the strange specter rose again, and pursued the now scattered and sobered savages, who, wild with terror, were flying in every direction. The Huron had not run far, and to the terror of Madge he came bounding back, flourishing over his head a heavy knife, and she closed her eyes, for it seemed the hour had come for death. But, to her utter surprise, instead of striking her, he cut the bonds upon her hands, just as Long Seth came out of the woods on one side and Floyd upon the other. The young soldier ran to Madge and clasped her in his arms, and the poor girl dropped her head upon his shoulder with a cry of joy.
"Oh, Will. I hoped you would come, and you did not desert me. But your dear father, Will. Alas, he is dead!"
"Almost as bad," said Will, sadly. "He is badly hurt, and is demented. But thank God, you are safe."
"Who is this Indian who cut my bonds?" she said, turning to him.
"Bright Eyes does not know a Pottawatomie in the war-paint of a Huron," replied the Indian. "Dead Chief is the man who will do much for the beautiful daughter of the forest."
"Thank you, chief. And Seth too; I might have known he would not desert me."
"Neow shet up," said the scout. "Nuff talk of that kind, yew know. Ef yew are glad I cum, keep it tew yureself. Talk abeout it, and I won't believe yew are glad, so thar. Besides, we ain't got time tew now, I jedge, seeing that the pesky varmints will be arter us in less than half an hour. But, by George, cap., ef I didn't see that pesky critter they call the Skeleton Scout, then I don't know nothing 'bout it. He shot by me like a ball out'n a rifle, the flamed critter did, and he yelled wuss than any painter yew ever hern tell of."
"A Wyandot lies yonder," said the Dead Chief. "Let us see if his hand is upon him."
Seth snatched up a blazing brand and followed the chief. Obisenay, the Wyandot, who had brought forward the first bottle of liquor, lay upon his face on the green sward. They turned him over, and as in the case of the man they had found outside of the stockade upon the night when Willimack first attacked the block-house, they could find no wound upon him. Without stopping to comment upon the singular circumstance, Seth signed to his companions to follow, and hurried away.
How had Seth come so quickly to the aid of Madge? It was explained easily. When he left Will Floyd and the Indian in the ruined hut, he knew well the camp of Willimack could not be far away, and he chose to go upon his first scouting expedition alone. He had found the camp not half a mile from the ruins of the hut, and, after satisfying himself with regard to it, he at once returned to his friends and went back on the trail. They first painted the Indian like a Huron, and so smeared and stained his scanty clothing that it might have belonged to any tribe, and sent him into camp after seeing that the Indians were likely to get very drunk. He had been instructed to brain an Indian with his hatchet upon getting a preconcerted signal, and was waiting for it when the Skeleton Scout burst out upon them, and put the Indians to flight.
"Seems tew my benighted intellec' that this skellington mixes in with my business a good deal," said Seth. "I was making up to git my posish so that I could throw an Injin cold, jest about the time I give the signal, when, "yah!" went this living skellington, blame him, and when I got thar the work was all done! You'd better kerry the gal, capt'ing. She's mighty tired."
Will lifted the girl in his arms, and carried her for some distance, when Seth reached out and took her. "Thar, baby," he said. "I'm ashamed of yew. Allow yer feelings to overcome yew that way, eh? Let me kerry her. I'm powerful strong in the legs and arms. Guess our fam'ly are all pooty healthy that way. Injin, don't let any of them niggers creep up on us unwar's. Keep yure weather eye open, fur I don't trust that pesky Willimack a cent's wuth. I don't by Jehosaphat."
Even while talking, the Yankee managed to keep up his long stride, carrying Madge like a child. "Lay yure head on my shoulder, little gal," he said. "Yew needn't be afraid of tiring me, not a bit! I ain't liable tew it, nohow. I've kerried heavier weights than yew are, twice as fur as from here to Vincennes, and rayther liked it, by gosh. Neow my father, when he was a hundred and forty year old, kerried two hundred pounds of wheat across his farm, easy."
"Oh, hush, Seth. How can you tell such stories?" said Madge, who somehow felt the utmost confidence in the skill and knowledge of the country possessed by the Yankee.
"Don't believe me, so tew speak. Neow, that riles up my feelings, powerful bad. It duz, by gracious! Tew think that this little critter hez the face tew doubt the family traditions! Ef it was a man that dared tew say it I'd make him repent in dust and ashes. But, as it's nothing but a gal, I dunno ef thar's any use getting mad. What's that, chief?"
"Wyandot on the trail," replied the chief.
"I thought so. Waal, thank fortin', they kan't trail us in the dark. Yew don't think the etarnal critter has picked up any more men, chief?"
"Good many," said the chief. "Prophet keep camp not far away. Bad Indian very bad! Good many in woods."
"I reckin yer right, chief. He's picked a party some'rs that he knowed of. He wouldn't hev stopped tew git drunk ef he didn't think himself tarnation safe. Oh, blame my cats ef this ain't tew cussed bad."
"Let us keep on all night," said the young soldier, eagerly.
"Oh, git eout! Willimack is sure tew hev every path as black with Injins as a nigger's pocket, and we're likely tew blunder intew a trap, I guess. So let's try another way."
He had stopped a moment hesitatingly, and turning aside from the path he had been pursuing, struck into the woods, crossed the clearing in which the hut stood, casting a sidelong look at the three graves whose outlines he could just make out in the darkness, and Madge felt a slight shudder run through his frame, and she thought him tired and begged him to set her down. But he refused. "I could kerry yew in one hand, little one," he said. "Yew rest easy. I tell yew, I was thinking of something else."
The clamor of pursuit could be heard on every side as the Indians closed in upon them, and the Yankee muttered to himself. "Hunted close! But I'll save her yit; I sw'ar it. Ah, here we ar'!"
As he spoke he reached the base of a little hill, rocky and precipitous, rising in the center of the forest. Up the rocky slope he climbed, lifting Madge over the rocks until he reached a sort of parapet running round the crest of the hill.
"Gather leaves and brush, boys," he said. "We've got tew hev a fire tew fight by. Build it here, outside the fort, so't it will throw a light down the hill. It's the only place they kin come up by, and three rifles will make it lively for 'em."
As the fire was kindled and the flames leaped up, Madge looked curiously about her. She was in the center of one of those curious Indian forts which remain in many of the States, now grassgrown and in decay. A low parapet, perhaps five feet high, inclosed a space of three or four hundred square feet. Behind them, the mountain rose high and wild, nearly inclosing three sides. The place where they had come up, a narrow defile not three feet wide, was the only course by which the Indians could assail them. The fire blazed merrily up, just as two or three savages appeared at the base of the hill.
"Fire!" cried Yankee Seth.