The Missouri Outlaws

His huge and savage dog lay at his feet, listening for the faintest sound from without.

Every now and then the old man looked at a clock, and then appeared to read again until a sharp whistle was heard.

The dog and man leaped up, but suddenly Lagrenay bade the animal be quiet, and went himself to open the door. He started back as two men entered, strangers.

"I am Joshua Dickson," said the first, "and this is my brother Samuel. You sent for my son; we have come in his place."

The old man professed to be glad to see his neighbours, and bade them be seated. After some time wasted in circumlocution, he began to speak of real business.

"You have established yourselves in the Valley of the Moose Deer," he said, "a magnificent settlement."

"Well, what then?"

"That valley belongs to one of the most powerful tribes on the whole of the Missouri," continued Lagrenay.

"No matter. Virgin soil belongs to the first comer."

"Perhaps. But that is not the question. This tribe have other lands of which they take no account," went on the squatter, "and will probably never claim, but they have special reasons for keeping the Valley of the Deer sacred."

"Explain yourself," cried both.

"In that valley is buried the treasure of the nation."

"What treasure? Old shooter of muskrats!" cried Joshua; "There is no treasure like mother earth."

"I mean a real treasure – gold, ingots, diamonds," said the old man, "to the extent of many millions."

"So much the better," replied Joshua; "it is mine."

"Take care! The struggle will be terrible. Your adversaries are many and brave; they have allied themselves with the outlaws of the desert, and, moreover, have taken as their chief a fellow countryman, who dearly covets your possessions."

"May I ask the name of my countryman?" inquired Samuel, in a bantering tone of voice.

"His name is George Clinton," said Lagrenay.

"George Clinton!" exclaimed Joshua, amazed.

"You lie, miserable wretch!" said Samuel Dickson, rising; "George Clinton is an honourable man, not a – "

"I have spoken the truth. Do as you please."

Then the door was burst open, and two men entered pushing forward a third with blows of musket butts.

"Miserable wretch!" said one, seizing him by the throat, "I am George Clinton, and you lie in your teeth."

Rock attempted to fly at the assailants, but Charbonneau brained him with the butt end of his gun.

Lagrenay rose rifle in hand, but the two Americans disarmed him, and forced him to reseat himself.

The prisoner brought in was Tubash-Shah. Behind the three men appeared the dogs Nadeje and Drack.

"Gentlemen, we arrive in time. Thank heaven, we have brought with us this wretch, who now will tell the truth."

And he looked at the Indian with a glance that made him shudder to the marrow of his bones.

The two Americans were exceedingly surprised, while Lagrenay thought in vain of some new subterfuge.

Roused by the noise made on the entrance of the three men, the wife of Lagrenay had risen in haste, and, without waiting to dress, had rushed into the room. She entered without being seen, and tremblingly ensconced herself behind her husband.

Inside there was silence, but without the sound of many men.

None spoke for some time; everyone's breathing seemed oppressed. Lagrenay, his teeth chattering, at last spoke.

"Will you explain this outrage?" he began.

"Silence!" cried George Clinton, in a terrible voice; "Speak only when called upon for your defence. All I hope is that when you have heard of what you are accused you may be able to give a satisfactory reply to the charge."

"Accused – defend myself!" cried the old man.

"Yes, before Judge Lynch, who will decide between us," said Clinton, coldly. "Listen, here come your judges."

As he spoke several men entered. Lagrenay felt himself lost. He was in the hands of implacable foes.

Tubash-Shah, erect against the wall, appeared utterly indifferent. But his every thought was intent on escape.

The sudden appearance of George Clinton had very much surprised Joshua Dickson. All his rage was revived, and he was prepared to treat him with severity and hatred. The idea of treason still rankled in his mind.

Two men had now seized upon the squatter, and, despite the cries of his wife, were trying to carry him out.

At that moment Louis and François Berger entered.

"My cousins!" cried Lagrenay, "They would murder me!"

"Save my old man!" said the wife, pitifully.

"My friends and brothers," said Louis Berger, raising his hand, "this man is my relative. Give him to me. Justice shall be done."

The squatter was released, and hid himself behind his two Canadian cousins, trembling, nearly dead.

"Sirs," said Louis to the Americans, "you are the new squatters established in the Moose Deer Valley?"

"We are," replied Joshua, rather doggedly.

"Then I have business with you. In the first place, by what right have you squatted in that place?"

"Really, except that you have force on your side, I should not answer so singular a question. Because I found it."

"I beg to inform you that it is private property. You are by no means the first occupier."

"And who may he be?" asked Joshua, furiously.

"Myself. It was given me by the chiefs of the Huron tribe. A deed, perfectly legal, exists."

"Can a man find no free land on earth?" he cried, "On the face of the earth? You claim it, then?"

At this moment, when all were busy, Tubash saw his opportunity, and ran. Two or three pursued, but the rest remained.

"Then," said Joshua, presently, "there is some truth in the story of the gold treasure in the valley?"

"Yes, and I have recently ceded all my rights to Tom Mitchell, chief of the outlaws."

"Then all I have to do is to go?" urged Joshua.

"I think the matter might be arranged," observed Louis. "Here is a young man who loves your child. George Clinton, is it not so?"

"It is useless my persuading Joshua Dickson."

"By heavens!" cried Samuel, "But you shall. Here is a noble, young, rich, brave – "

"But," cried Joshua, "what has that to do with it?"

"Sole owner of the Valley of the Deer," continued Louis Berger, drily; "he bought it this morning."

"But – " still hesitated Joshua.

"To arms!" cried Tom Mitchell, rushing in, "To arms! Pardieu! You have fallen into the trap."

"What is the matter?" cried the brothers.

"While you are wasting your time here, your plantation is attacked by Indians," he responded, "who are burning and destroying all. Soon there will be only ruins and ashes."

This terrible revelation fell like a thunderbolt upon all present in that room.

Tom Mitchell – his dress torn, his face covered by powder and blood, holding a smoking gun – summoned them.

George Clinton, without waiting a minute, darted away, followed by Charbonneau and his dogs.

Above all, he would save her he loved from the fearful peril she was in of falling into the hands of redskins.

"What is to be done?" cried Joshua.

"Never despair," said the outlaw. "Your sons and servants are fighting like lions. We must join them."

"Come along," cried Samuel.

"Oh! Oh!" said Joshua, brandishing his rifle, "The rascally redskins shall pay for this."

"Come, in the name of God!" cried the outlaw; "I have with me a party ready for any amount of redskins."

At these words everybody mounted, and dashed through the darkness like a legion of phantoms.

Four persons only remained in the silent and deserted hut – the two old Canadians, Lagrenay, and his wife.

The old squatter had, during these exciting scenes, recovered his equanimity. He believed himself saved.

As soon as they were alone, he and his wife began to place refreshments on the table for their guests.

The two Canadians remained standing, leaning on their rifles, and not noticing even the preparations.

"My dear relations," said Lagrenay, in an insinuating voice, "will you honour me by accepting refreshments?"

"What does the man say?" asked François Berger.

"You have a long journey to go," continued Lagrenay, "you must be extremely tired and want rest."

"What matter?" said the old man.

"Will you not empty a cup of whisky?" began the woman.

"Silence!" cried the hunter, striking the butt of his rifle on the ground, "And listen."

The old man shuddered.

"Lagrenay," he went on, in a hollow voice, "I dragged you from the hands of Judge Lynch, because I did not wish to see my cousin hanged; you have dishonoured not only the name you bear, but the family to which you belong; that family, poor as it has always been, has known how to preserve its honour intact. That honour you have soiled, from the base love of gold. Prepare to die."

"To die!" he murmured.

"My cousins, my dear cousins, you will not have the heart to kill my poor old man," said his wife, clasping her hands and weeping; "thirty years we have lived together. What shall I do when he is gone? Who will support my miserable existence? Have mercy, in the name of the Lord. If you kill him, I shall die."

"You shall not die," said François Berger; "my cousin will take care of you for life."

"I," she said, with a gesture of horror, "accept the protection of the murderers of my husband, eat the bread of assassins! I should choke myself at the first mouthful. Have mercy, then, and shoot us together."

Louis Berger turned away his head. Even the inflexible old judge of the reign of terror was moved.

Then he made a sign to his son, and both cocked their rifles.

"Stop!" said Lagrenay, in a firm and solemn voice; "I know your inflexible will too well to ask my life of you. You have decided on my death. Good. But I will not die at your hands. You say the honour of the family requires that justice should be done. Well, it shall be done. Still I could not die like a dog. Give me ten minutes to pray. You will not refuse this?"

"Heaven forbid!" said the old man, "And may heaven have mercy on you for all your sins."

"Thanks, cousins and friends," cried the squatter, "and now, wife, on your knees. Let us beg forgiveness of our sins."

The two old men went out, tears in their eyes, and almost inclined to be merciful. Stern will prevailed.

Five minutes later, a double shot was heard. They rushed in. Both lay dead upon the floor.

Justice was done.

The two hunters kneeled down beside the bodies, and said a silent prayer over them.

Then, in the room itself, they dug a grave, and, after some little time, interred the husband and wife.

Then, dragging away by main force the wounded dog, they collected a lot of brushwood and other fuel.

This they piled against the house and then fired. In a few minutes the whole was in flames.

The dog got away, and plunged into the burning pile.

When all was over and nought remained but cinders and ashes, the two men wiped away a tear and retired.

CHAPTER XXII.

A DESPERATE STRUGGLE

Tom Mitchell had told the truth. The plantation of Joshua Dickson had been attacked by a numerous party.

This is how it had come about.

Tubash-Shah and the squatter, Lagrenay, excited by a common hatred, had come to an understanding.

The old wretch, whose whole thoughts were bent on the vast treasure concealed in the valley, had promised the Indian, not only his share of the gold, but the possession of a beautiful white girl, at least as beautiful as Evening Dew.

He further suggested that as Numank-Charake would be sure to join Clinton, he could kill him too.

He would then have the two most beautiful wives on the prairie.

The Indian was easily seduced by this radiant project, which the old squatter fluttered before his eyes.

An alliance defensive and offensive was struck up.

It was Tubash-Shah who suggested the treacherous visit of the redskins on the occasion of the great marriage.

In order to facilitate the attack on the settlement, old Lagrenay sent a secret message to the squatters, who fell into the trap prepared for them. Tubash-Shah was outside, waiting to take them, when he himself was made prisoner.

This nearly spoiled all. But, after only half an hour's detention, Tubash escaped.

He joined his expectant companions, and the plantation was at once attacked on all sides by Indians.

But the Americans were on the watch, and received the redskins in a way that rather surprised them.

Tom Mitchell, warned by his spies, had given them sufficient hints, while himself preparing.

One hundred and fifty outlaws, under the orders of Tête de Plume, had been secretly sent into the fort by George Clinton.

He had then, with Charbonneau, gone and concealed himself near Lagrenay's hut.

Camotte had been sent to the village of the Huron Bisons to Numank-Charake, and Bright-eye, to ask for the assistance of all the warriors of the tribe who could be spared.

On the other hand, Tom Mitchell, at the head of his most daring companions, had placed himself in a position to be at hand at anytime. But if the defence had been well arranged, the attack was most fierce and desperate; the redskins fought like demons; brave, well armed, and counting on the vast superiority of their numbers, the Indians rushed to the charge against the intrenchments with a ferocity quite unusual.

These intrenchments had been hastily thrown up, and could not long resist such an attack.

Tubash-Shah, at the head of a picked band of warriors, did wonders. He was a host in himself.

The struggle became at one time so desperate that Tom Mitchell himself began to despair; then it was that he dashed off to the hut of Lagrenay, and called to arms all who were collected together in deliberation.

Then he started again at the head of the reinforcement, like a storm cloud on the wing.

Again the combat seemed desperate.

The war cry of the American Indians and the hurrahs of the whites were mixed with the fusillade.

Then a rush of horse was heard, an awful war whoop, and three hundred warriors, led by Numank-Charake, Bright-eye, and Camotte, appeared on the scene.

Tom Mitchell gave a cry of joy.

He divided his terrible cavaliers into three detachments, one commanded by Numank and Bright-eye, gave half his outlaws to Oliver, and took the rest under his own immediate orders.

Then at a given signal, the three troops rushed, with horrible yells and cries, upon the astonished assailants.

Though taken aback, the brave redskins fronted both ways, and made a most terrible defence.

Samuel Dickson and his brother meantime contrived to enter the settlement, amid joyous acclamations.

It was time; the palisades and intrenchments were giving way, and the Indians were rushing in.

The combat became now gigantic in its proportions. The redskins, led by Tubash-Shah, fought with desperate valour.

He kept the élite of his men together, and worked his way towards the interior of the settlement.

Presently he drew forth his human thighbone whistle and darted for the house. He had seen Diana.

The young girl, seeing the demon covered by blood and powder, brandishing his hatchet, and forcing, with a hideous cry, his horse towards the women, gave a desperate shriek of agonised terror.

"Ah, ah!" cried Tubash-Shah, in triumph; "The paleface girl. At last she is mine."

He urged forward his horse, which reared with abject terror, and threw his master heavily.

Dardar, the faithful dog, always in attendance on Diana, had seized the warhorse by the nostrils.

He then let him go, and caught the Indian himself by the throat.

"Good dog," shouted George Clinton, as he ran up with Charbonneau, Drack, and Nadeje.

The battle was over. The few Indians who were left threw down their arms in despair.

"My daughter, oh, my daughter!" cried Joshua, who came rushing from the inside of the house.

"She is here, sir," said Clinton.

"And her abductor?" he continued.

"Is dead," he answered, pointing to the corpse, which the dog was worrying as he would have done a rat.

"My son, I thank you," said Joshua; "what do I not owe to you? Take her."

Two days after M. Hebrard returned to the fort a wiser man. Oliver proved his rank, name, and right to fortune, to the satisfaction of everybody.

"Tell my relatives," he said, "that as long as they leave me alone, I shall be quiet. Go, and let us never meet again."

A week later, after the marriage of George and Diana, Tom Mitchell, Bright-eye, Oliver, and Captain Durand, started on the dangerous expedition undertaken by the outlaw, and of which, probably, we shall give some account at a future time.

[For further adventures of Bright-eye, see the "Prairie Flower," and the "Indian Scout," same publishers.]

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This is history as told by a Frenchman. As a matter of fact, the French Canadians remained where they were, until they became the most loyal subjects the British Crown possesses. – Editor.