CHAPTER IV.
A NIGHT OF PERIL.
THE darkness was intense, but the Yankee moved on like a man who knew the ground well, toward the spot where the canoes were hauled up on the shore. They selected a light one, and the young soldier found a paddle and would have taken his place as paddler, but the other took it from his hand, and stationed himself in that place himself.
The canoe shot out into the darkness at once, and was headed down the river, gliding in between the green banks, the paddle dipping in the bright water without a sound! Nothing but long practice could have enabled any man to use a paddle so dexterously. On they floated down the tranquil stream in the darkness, while nothing but the cry of the loon and other night-birds disturbed the solemn stillness of the scene. Once Captain Will began to speak, but the guide laid his hand upon his knee with a low "Hist!" Floyd took the hint and was silent. He began to understand that the danger must be great, or the sagacious Yankee would not work so cautiously. He also began to feel a sort of respect for the knowledge of woodcraft which he saw that the strange man possessed, a great trait in a borderman.
After paddling on for nearly an hour, without making the slightest noise, the head of the canoe was turned toward the shore at a place where the overhanging bushes almost touched the water. Parting these bushes with great caution, Seth pushed the canoe past them, and showed an open space between the bushes and the bank deep enough for the canoe to lie in, without being seen from the bank above.
"Yew stay right here, cap.," whispered the Yankee. "I'm going on a scout."
"Had not you better let me go with you?" queried the young man.
"Yew! Kin yew walk like yew was steppin' on feathers, and hold yure breath an hour? Dew yew know every inch of ground atween this and Harrison's camp? and kin yew set down 'thout breaking a stick? Ther's a deal tew learn 'fore yew make a good scout."
"I know it. Perhaps I had better stay here then."
"Waal, prehaps yew had," said the Yankee. "Gimme that hatchet. All right; now lay low and keep dark. If yew hear the painter call three times, that's me."
So silently did he move away, that Will hardly knew when he went. Lying down in the canoe, which was kept in its place by the bushes which hung low on all sides, the young man waited anxiously for the coming of his friend. An hour passed, and there came no sound to indicate the whereabouts of his strange guide. He was about to give him up, and had almost concluded to take the paddle and attempt to escape in his own way, when he heard light footsteps on the bank above. Thinking that it was Seth Spink, and that he was returning with less caution than he showed in moving away, he was about to rise and meet him, when he heard a deep voice on the bank above, which was not that of the Yankee.
"Willimack?" it said.
"I am here, great chief," replied a voice which he well knew. "What would the Prophet say to his brother chief?"
"You have done wrong, Wyandot," said the other. "You have opened the eyes of the white men, and if the young war-chief gets safe to Vincennes, we can no longer throw dust in the eyes of Harrison. This was not well."
"Willimack would have had the scalps of all, but for the tall warrior who came on the log. He opened the eyes of Floyd, and he saw blood in the eyes of the Wyandot."
"Who is the tall warrior?"
"My brother has seen him many times at Vincennes. His hair is yellow as the rays of the setting sun, and his form tall as a pine. He is very strong and bold. Who is there in the Wyandot nation, unless it be Tecumseh, who can overthrow Willimack, the Wyandot?"
"The Long Man is very strong," said the other. "He is cunning as the red fox. But, he is on the river, and my brothers above and below will give a good account of him if he try to escape."
Floyd raised himself slowly and peered up at the two, but could not make out who the speaker was. Willimack had spoken of him as the Prophet, but it might be either Tecumseh, or his brother, Elskwatawa, the man who was properly known by the appellation of "the Prophet," and to whom is imputed the odium of drawing the great Tecumseh into war with the whites. At this moment the moon rose slowly over the tree-tops, and shed a light upon the tranquil scene, and he could see their faces. It was Elskwatawa, the Prophet, and a more cruel or ambitious man never lived upon the earth. Cunning was the great trait upon which he prided himself; and while to all appearance friendly with the whites, he was gathering the Indians for that great movement which was to sweep the enemy from the face of the earth. Will Floyd was a bold man, but even he felt a thrill at the imminence of the danger by which he was threatened. The Prophet leaned against a tree, not ten feet away, and Willimack, with his hands clasped upon the muzzle of his rifle, stood close to him.
"The moon shines bright," said the Prophet. "They can not pass unless we see them. Ha! what is this?"
He pointed with his hand to a canoe with a single occupant which was crossing the river in front, and heading directly toward the spot where the two chiefs stood. They disappeared as if suddenly blotted out of existence, crawling like serpents in the dense underbrush, and Will turned to watch the new-comer. The moon was now bright, and he could see him plainly.
It was a chief, in the war-dress of a Pottawatomie, bedizened in all the bravery these men love to affect in a time of war. He was tall and strongly made, with a rather handsome face, and dark, brilliant eyes. A rifle lay in the bow of his canoe, and in the belt about his waist he carried a hatchet and knife. His keen eyes swept along the bank for a moment, and then he pushed his canoe up to the beach not ten feet from the place where Will Floyd lay hidden, and drew it up out of sight. Then, taking his rifle, he mounted the bank. In doing so, he laid his rifle down, and when he stooped to take it up, the two men on the watch rose suddenly and threw themselves upon him. So sudden was the onset that the warrior was taken completely by surprise, and was bound before he could speak or move, though he now made desperate efforts to break his bonds.
"Ha! Dead Chief," cried Elskwatawa. "Dead dog, we have you now! Prepare to sing your death-song, for the Shawnees and Wyandots will not wait long before they drink the blood of a fool."
The two seized him, dragged him to his feet and bound him to a tree close at hand, cursing him in no measured tones.
The name they gave him satisfied the young man as to who the prisoner was, and he knew that he was a friend to the American cause, who had boldly offered to confront Tecumseh in his own person, and prove that he meditated hostile designs against the Americans. He had called both Tecumseh and his brother traitors, and offered to tax them with it in the presence of the two brothers and their followers. This declaration was made in the presence of Tecumseh's friends, and the chief was quickly made aware of the fact.
Neither had seen the Dead Chief until this time. He looked at them boldly, with a half-smile upon his face, and Will Floyd fingered his weapons and longed to spring out to his aid. But, the danger in which he had left his family, and his fears for the safety of Madge, had made him wary. Elskwatawa drew a knife and ran his fingers along the polished edge in a significant way.
"Dead Chief," he said, "you are a Pottawatomie, and the men of that tribe are brave. But every tribe brings forth dogs, and such a dog are you. You care nothing for the glory of the race, and will not join the great Tecumseh in making the people free."
"Tecumseh is a fool," replied the Dead Chief. "He does not know that the sun warms him and the moon gives him light. Why should we change masters? The white men will always rule the Indians, because they are wiser than we. Why do you stop the Dead Chief on his way?"
"The Dead Chief will be dead in half an hour," replied the Prophet. "He knows too much of Tecumseh and his plans."
"Let me free, and I will go into the camp of Tecumseh and beard him. Did he dare to give you orders to take the life of the Dead Chief?"
"You shall see. Stay here, Willimack, while I call some warriors to see the death of a dog who cares not for his race."
"Wait," said Willimack. "If the Dead Chief is to die, we must build no fire, for that would show the young war-chief and the yellow-haired scout that the Shawnees and Wyandots are on the trail."
"Good. The Dead Chief shall not die yet, for I have sworn he shall perish by fire, and so he shall die. Elskwatawa has spoken. Let us leave the Dead Chief here and look for the young war-chief and the Yellow Hair, and we'll burn them all at one fire."
The two Indians glided away, and as they went, the Dead Chief began to struggle furiously with his bonds, but they were too strongly tied to break easily. In spite of his efforts he remained bound to the tree, still making impotent efforts. His face did not express fear so much as anger and humiliation at having been outwitted by the men he affected to despise. The moment the two captors were gone, Floyd slipped out of his concealment and approached the Pottawatomie.
"Ugh," said the Dead Chief. "My brother sees a friend tied up like a dog. Let him loose the bonds upon his hands and feet."
The young man obeyed, and the warrior rubbed his excoriated limbs to restore the circulation, muttering to himself. Then he searched about in the moonlight, and carefully covered the trail which the young soldier had made in coming from the canoe.
"Let the war-chief do as the Dead Chief shows him, and leave no trail," he said. Grasping the limb of the tree overhead, after strapping his rifle to his back, he swung himself back and forth until he had gained sufficient momentum, when he released his grasp and dropped over the bank into the water in a place where it was not more than two feet deep. Floyd followed his example, and then the Indian waded to the place where he had left his canoe and drew it from the bank into the stream, and pushed off a few yards until he could look up and down the stream for some distance. Satisfying himself that none of the Indians were in sight, he pushed in again.
"Come," he said. "Floyd would go to Vincennes, and the Dead Chief will show the way."
"I can not leave this spot," replied Will. "Go on and save yourself, Dead Chief. I must wait."
"What you wait for?" demanded the chief.
"My friend," replied Floyd.
"Speak his name in the ear of Dead Chief," said the Pottawatomie.
"He is known as the Long Man and the 'Yellow Hair.'"
"Ugh," said Dead Chief. "He is a good man and loves the Indians who are true to the American father at Vincennes. Listen: Dead Chief has a warm heart toward the Long Man, and will stay. Is he in the woods?"
"Yes."
"Good. One canoe is enough for us. Mine is best. Where is yours?"
Floyd drew it out from the cover, and the savage at once knocked a hole in the bottom and sent it out into the stream. It filled quickly and floated out of sight just as a hurried step was heard, and Yankee Seth came through the bushes, and looked down into the place where he had left the canoe.
"Will," he said, in a half-whisper.
"All right," said Will. "Here we are!"
The canoe closed in and Seth took his place hurriedly, casting a quick glance at the Indian to see who he was. He gave a low whistle of surprise.
"Ha!" he said. "That yew, Dead Chief? Thought yew'd gone under, sartin."
"The Dead Chief of the Pottawatomies does not die so easily."
"Push off, boys. Git intew the stream as soon as yew can. Thar's the all-firedest pickle in this yer woods yew ever hern tell off. I knowed I was right. I knowed the Prophet meant mischief all the time, and mebbe old man Harrison will believe it now. How did you come here, chief?"
The Indian explained how he had been overpowered by Elskwatawa and Willimack, and rescued by Floyd.
"Good enuff! We wanted a man with us that knows something of Injin tricks. Yew must understand, cap., that this chief hez stood up like a hero for our side, and Tecumseh hez given orders to kill him on sight. I thought it was done 'fore now."
The Indian shook his head proudly.
"Tecumseh has long arms, and I am dead if I fall into the hands of his men. What of that? Can he make a chief a dog? No. I will die as I have lived, a warrior true to our American father and his men."
The canoe was by this time in the midst of the current, floating slowly down, for they were not using the paddles.
"Push her up-stream, boys," said the Yankee. "Most of the devils is down below. They've got six canoes, and I guess thar ain't less than a hundred men in all. Cuss that Prophet! I wish I hed his skulp."
"It would gratify me immensely if you had," replied the young soldier. "And that scoundrel Willimack! There is no end to the benefits he has received from time to time from my father and myself; and yet, he would have killed us all to-night, if you had not foiled him."
"I will wear the scalp of Willimack in my girdle some day," said Dead Chief. "He is a dog. He cares nothing for either white man or Indian, if he can get blankets, powder and rifles. He has taken belts from both sides and hates them all. He talks with a forked tongue, like a snake. One tongue is for our white father at Vincennes, and the other for the red-coats. Tecumseh is a slave of Elliot, the red-coat agent."
Zip! Zip!
Two bullets cut through the air close to the canoe, one passing between the Indian and Floyd, and the other clipping a piece out of the stern, close to the immovable figure of Seth, who nodded smilingly.
"That means business," he said. "I knowed they'd hev somebody up here tew watch. They knowed we must go down-stream to git to Vincennes. Throw yourself, Dead Chief! Up-stream fer yure life."
The canoe seemed to leap into the air under the vigorous strokes of the Indian, and they quickly passed the point from which the shots had come.
Just beyond, a great forest swept down the water's edge on both sides, and the banks lay in shadow for a hundred feet on either side. Seth uttered some low order in the Indian language to Dead Chief, and he at once turned the bow of the canoe toward the shore, and they shot up under the dark bank in exactly such a place as the one in which the canoe had been concealed when the Yankee went out upon his scout. The forest seemed to be alive on every side of them, the furious shrieks of the Indians echoing and re-echoing among the huge old trees. Seth snatched a hatchet and knife and bounded up the bank, closely followed by the others. The cries told them that their enemies were about them on every hand, eager for their blood.
"Tree!" said Seth. "We can't afford tew show in an open canoe in the moonlight. Mout git hit, yew know! This way!"
He plunged into the woods, heading from the river, and ran for nearly a hundred yards before he stopped. Then selecting a tree of the right size, he mounted hastily. His example was followed by the others, and not a moment too soon, for the gathering cries told that the Indians were being guided to the spot where the canoe had been seen by those who had fired into it. The Yankee climbed to the crotch of the tree, selected a convenient place and sat down coolly, resting his feet upon the branch beneath. He felt tolerably safe, for, in the dark woods, trailing them was an impossibility. As the shouts came nearer he only grinned widely and threw back his head for a yawn, when, to his utter consternation, he saw a pair of gleaming eyes looking into his, not three feet away!