Indian and Scout: A Tale of the Gold Rush to California

"Yer ain't goin' – !"

"H-h-hush! They'll hear us. Lie quiet!" commanded Jack sternly.

"Jest give us a fist, lad. I ain't angry. A man knows when he meets a real man, and I ain't quarrelin' with yer for it. My! Ef we get outer this thar'll be somethin' to tell the boys!"

Something suspiciously like a sob of relief escaped Steve as he lay back against the tree, and none but the most heartless would have scoffed at him. This grim, courageous little hunter, who had lived his life out on the plains or in the forests, and had become innured to privation and exposure, was, after all, just like any other man possessed of energy and determination. The feeling that he was useless, the very strangeness of being in such a condition, caused the most abject depression of spirits, while the relief of finding that he had a true comrade beside him was almost too much for him. But the determination of the little man soon conquered any passing weakness, and in a few moments he was himself again, the crafty scout, who had fought the Indian enemy many a time.

"Gee! Ef I could get these here legs o' mine to move sensible like," he whispered. "But look ye here, Jack; get on yer knees behind the tree and wait for 'em. Don't so much as move an eyelid till them varmint is close. Then strike. It aer their lives or ourn."

It was indeed a case of self-defence, of taking life to save life, and though our hero's natural gentleness caused him to shrink from the ordeal before him, yet the fact that he found himself suddenly called upon to defend a helpless comrade made him brace himself for the contest, and set his lips firmly together, while a quiet determination came over him to protect Steve, and to come out of the conflict alive. No man likes to be beaten. Jack did not differ from the average individual.

"Separatin'," whispered Steve after a few moments. "They reckon as they've got ter investigate every corner of the place, so they're each of 'em taking a plot. That'll suit us better than ef they came all together. Five of the varmints. Ef I war fit and able to use these here legs, and thar warn't a tarnal heap of their brothers I'd tackle that lot single-handed, and afore breakfast too. It ud jest kinder give me an appetite."

As the moment for action arrived the little scout's spirits revived wonderfully. He was a man who had come through many a fight with the Indians, and had learned never to give up the contest until he was actually beaten. And now, with such a stanch comrade as Jack beside him, he began to look upon their chances as perhaps not altogether hopeless.

"I've knowed wonderful escapes," he said to himself. "And I reckon a chap like this here Carrots ain't goin' under so easy. After showin' grit same as he has done, he desarves to pull through, and, by the 'tarnal, I'll help him."

Stretched full length on the ground, with the branches of trees overhanging them, and brushwood thickly scattered about, Jack and his friend watched the approach of the five young Indians in a grim silence. Where they lay it was now almost dark, so that they could barely see one another. But outside, in the open, it was still possible to perceive objects, though the band of Indians had now become blotted out by the falling gloom. In the gathering dusk five figures could be seen advancing on hands and knees, their eyes fixed on the trees in front of them. Ten yards divided each man from his comrade, and as they came nearer this distance was increased. At length they reached the very edge of the trees, and so that all should enter at the same moment, the one who arrived first lay on his face and signalled to the others.

"Yer hear the critters?" asked Steve in a tense whisper, putting his lips to Jack's ears. "That 'ere aer the bark of a fox, and it tells 'em all that they can push on into the trees. Jest lie as ef yer was dead. That chap out thar'll pass us to one side."

Dimly seen, some ten feet to the right, was one of the Indians; but though Jack listened with all his ears he heard no sound as the stealthy figure crept into the underwood. For the first time he had an illustration of that cunning and cleverness of which he had read and heard, and for which the Red Indian was famous. Though he himself could hardly have advanced a foot without causing a branch to swish heavily, or a twig to snap, not a sound came from the several points where he knew an enemy must be. So, more convinced than ever that deathly silence was essential if he would not be pounced upon before he was ready, he kneeled there like a statue, his eyes peering eagerly into the dense underwood.

Ah! A leaf rustled away to his right, and there was a feeble sound, almost indistinguishable, which told of a branch being set gently aside. And then silence, a deadly, nerve-racking silence, which continued for nearly five minutes. Five minutes! It felt like five hours to Jack. And then a hand caught him by the shoulder.

"H-h-h-ush!" Steve hardly whispered the word. "Jest to the right!"

The hand on his shoulder gripped him firmly and turned Jack a little. Without needing to move his legs, he twisted his body, and found himself looking in a different direction. Then his ears caught a faint sound. A mouse might have made more; a human being could hardly have been expected to make so little. It seemed impossible. A branch dangling just before his face swayed in his direction, and the leaves rustled against his forehead. Then they began to press upon him, gently at first, and then more and more firmly. Someone was trying to push the branch aside and advance. Jack's fingers closed on the haft of his hunting-knife like a vice. He braced his muscles for the encounter, while he held his breath lest the miscreant should hear him, and so gain an advantage. The moment for action was imminent. It was with difficulty that he could restrain himself; but for the hand still gripping his shoulder, telling him that Steve was there, advising him still to remain motionless, Jack would have thrown further caution to the winds, and would have flung himself upon the Indian.

Crash! Away in the centre of the little wood a branch broke with the crisp sound of a pistol shot, and instantly there came that familiar signal, the bark of a fox. It was answered to right and left, and then from a point but three feet from our hero. Instantly the pressure on the branch pushing into his face was relaxed. Those faint, stealthy sounds reached his ear again, and presently subsided.

"Good fer yer," whispered Steve, placing his lips close to Jack's ear again. "I felt yer kinder draw yerself together fer the ruction, and I 'low it takes a heap of grit to lay still when thar's one of them varmint close handy. They've found the hosses, and by the way they're palaverin' it seems to me as if they took it fer granted that we'd slipped from the wood. Do yer hear them calls? They're signalling to the men placed outside."

From the small wood in which they lay, and a little later from the plain outside, came those mysterious barkings, as if a regiment of foxes had suddenly appeared upon the scene. Then voices were heard, as the Indians called openly to one another.

"I think they've gone," said Jack at last, having heard more sounds of breaking branches. "We shall be able to leave perhaps in a little while."

"P'raps," agreed Steve grudgingly. "But ef I know them varmint they won't take their eyes off this place even ef they think we've given 'em the slip. They'll watch it like lynxes all night long, and in the morning they'll know for sure, 'cos there won't be no tracks. Guess they're leadin' away our hosses."

Listening intently, the dull sounds which came to their ears told them without room for doubt that the two horses were being taken from the wood. There were then a few more calls out on the plain, and afterwards silence again settled down.

"S-s-s-h!" whispered Steve, as Jack attempted to move, for his limbs were a little cramped. "I'm thinkin' there's a bit of a trick bein' played. Lie still fer yer life, for I thought I heerd someone movin' not three yards away."

He whispered ever so gently in Jack's ear, and again his restraining hand fell upon our hero's shoulder. An instant later it was dragged forcibly away, for someone had gripped Jack by the arm, and with a sudden jerk he was hauled in the opposite direction. A man closed with him, grasping his hair with one hand, while the other held a knife poised in the air. And, luckily for Jack, his fingers closed upon the wrist ere a second had passed, while his free hand sought for and finally fell upon the man's neck. He gripped it as a terrier takes a rat between his teeth, and then made frantic efforts to upset his opponent, who lay above him. And all the while, as the two struggled desperately in the darkness of the undergrowth, there was silence; neither uttered so much as a sigh, and the only sound to be detected was the snap of breaking twigs and the hiss of their laboured breathing. For Jack was in the grip of one of the deadly Indians, and the struggle between them could end only with the last breath of one or other of them.

CHAPTER XII

A Tight Corner

"Jack, Jack. Aer yer there? aer yer there?"

The words came from Steve in an eager whisper, and, though repeated time and again, received no answer. Instead, the disabled hunter heard only the dull sound of blows, the hiss of sharply-indrawn breaths, and the snap of breaking twigs. He ground his teeth in his vexation and anxiety, but as he could not rise to his feet and walk, for his legs still refused to carry him, the gallant little fellow rolled on to his side and dragged himself towards the combatants. Very soon his eager fingers fell upon one of them.

"Injun!" he exclaimed, running his hand down the man's back and discovering the shoulders bare. "Then it are time I lent a hand."

Swiftly his fingers sought for his own hunting-knife, for Steve realized that the Indian was kneeling upon Jack, who lay beneath him, and argued from that fact that our hero was getting the worst of the conflict. Dragging his weapon from its sheath, he raised himself on one elbow, and made ready to strike. And to make sure that he had made no error, and that his blade was thrust in the right direction, he again groped for the shoulders he had felt a moment before. There they were, lean and muscular, and at once up went the knife, while Steve braced himself for the stroke. But he never delivered it; for of a sudden the straining muscles beneath his finger tips relaxed, the heaving, sinuous movements of the Indian's shoulders ceased, while the man seemed to become in one instant limp and helpless. He subsided on to his opponent, and then rolled heavily to the ground. The silence which followed was broken by the laboured breathing of one man only.

"Jack, Jack," whispered Steve again, his note more eager and anxious than before.

"Here," came the answer. "Here, safe and sound."

"Yer killed him?"

"Yes," gasped Jack.

"Gee! How?"

Jack sat beside his comrade for a minute and more before he ventured upon an answer. All the while he breathed deeply, in jerky spasms, as a man does who has been sorely tried, and who has striven to the last point of endurance. His whole frame was trembling with the intensity of the struggle, while his fingers were crooked and rigid with the strain of prolonged gripping. Then, getting his breath again, and the use of his fingers by gentle movements, he crept closer to Steve and whispered his answer.

"I had luck," he said. "He took me by surprise at first, and I wonder he didn't send his knife through me. But he missed his stroke, and before he could make another I had a grip of his wrist. At the same time my other hand got a hold on to his neck."

"Gee!" The scout gave vent to a low exclamation. "Yes?" he asked.

"I knew that was my only chance, so I hung on like a bull dog. He's dead, the life choked out of him."

"Sure? Sartin' he ain't foxin'. There never was any ter play possum like an Injun. Ye're dead sure he's done?"

Jack moved from the side of the hunter for one moment, and ran his hand over his late antagonist. There was not a doubt but that he was dead. The chest was motionless, and not a breath left the lips.

"He'll never fight again," he said sternly, creeping back to Steve. "Do you think they'll come to find him?"

There was a low growl from the hunter. "Think!" he whispered scornfully. "In course they will. But his absence'll make 'em mighty careful. I've told yer an Injun don't like to get beat. His game's always to kill, and go scot free himself. But they'll search this here group of trees till they find him, and then – "

He ended suddenly, and propped himself up to listen; for there was no need to explain what would happen. Even to Jack's inexperienced mind the ending was only too obvious. The horses had been found, and now themselves. Of that the Indians would have not the smallest doubt once their comrade failed to return, and failed also to answer their signals.

"Huh! There they go barkin' As ef any fool couldn't tell as it warn't a fox. That'll tell 'em right enough that something's happened," whispered Steve, "It ain't o' no use fer me to send 'em back the call, 'cos I can tell yer no white man can manage it proper. Them Injuns get practising when they're no higher than a dozen dollars piled one on t'other, and there ain't a one as tries it later on as kin git quite at the right sound. H-h-hish! Ain't that someone movin'?"

Intense silence fell upon them again, while Jack raised himself on his knees, so as to prepare for a second struggle. Yes, somewhere directly in front of him, and perhaps four yards away, a twig had stirred, while the gentle rustle of a leaf had reached him. He stooped, pressed Steve's hand to show him that he was ready, and then silently gripped a rifle which lay beside the hunter. To raise himself to his feet was the work of half a minute, for deathly silence was essential. But once upon them, he stood in a tense attitude, bending slightly, both hands gripping the barrel of his weapon, while the stock was raised above his head.

Click! The tip of a brier, or of one of the smaller branches of a bush, swished as it was released by some unseen hand. In that intense silence it sounded to our hero almost as loud as the report of a pistol. And it told him as clearly as possible that this new antagonist stealing up towards him was directly in front, and already somewhat nearer. He held his breath, and waited, his eyes staring into the darkness. Click! The sound was repeated.

And then, for one brief second, an uncanny sensation came over him. For something touched his boot, and that something ran nimbly up to his knees. Was it a forest mouse, scared by the intruder creeping towards Jack with murderous intent? Or was it the man himself?

Quick as a flash Jack decided the matter. A few weeks before he would have waited a little longer to make sure. But he had already had more than one lesson teaching him that indecision is often fatal. Besides, he knew now what he had never guessed before. He had already, this very evening, had an object lesson of the craft and stealth of the Indian, and realized that where a silent and unexpected attack was necessary their skill was phenomenal. Knowing that, Jack struck with all his strength. He struck blindly at the darkness, till the heavy butt of his rifle was stayed in its course by some unseen obstacle. Then he swung it up again, and sent it crashing through the air till once more its course was arrested.

"Gee! That are a blow. H-h-hist!"

It was Steve's voice, low and cautious, and with just the faintest trace of exultation in the note. For Steve was no craven, and even if he were powerless to defend himself, he could yet appreciate that power in others. And the hunter had been in so many engagements and had come successfully out of them, that now that the tables seemed turning a little in their favour, and the outlook did not appear quite so bad as it had done a little while ago, he could not help a feeling of exultation.

"Ef he ain't the boy, this here Carrots!" he murmured to himself, as he peered up in the direction in which he knew Jack stood. "Ef he ain't showing an old hand how these here things should be done. He jest cotched that feller an almighty whack on the head, and guess that's an end of him. Jack," he said a little louder.

"Well," came back the laconic answer.

"How'd yer come out of that 'ere business? Yer ketched him a whop? Eh?"

"Dead," said Jack curtly. "I felt his fingers on my leg. He didn't know exactly where I was till then. I struck out with the rifle, and – "

"Gee! Ef you ain't fine! But hist a moment. Them varmint'll be somewhares about."

It seemed indeed more than likely that the Indians who had entered the trees, and of whom three still remained, would endeavour to follow their comrades. Although Jack's rifle butt had slain the second man in absolute silence, his struggle with the first had produced sufficient noise to attract attention, and without a doubt the enemy were fully aware of the fact that the men they sought were amongst the trees. No doubt they were still uncertain of their exact position. But that was a difficulty which these crafty men would soon overcome.

"They'll send more of the young chaps in," whispered Steve, "and this time they'll hunt in couples. Jack, lad, ye've got ter do a bit more fightin' ef yer want ter keep yer haar."

"You think they will soon find us, now they know we are in the wood?" asked our hero suddenly, kneeling close to his comrade.

"Think!" At any other time Jack would have roared with laughing, for the little hunter's tones were full of indignation and contempt. "It don't want no thinkin'. A baby could tell yer that them critters would find us, and quick, too. That ain't what's worryin'. It's the fact that they'll come along in a bunch, and sence there's you alone to fight, why, in course, it don't leave us a dog's chance."

"And supposing they don't come along?" asked our hero. "Supposing they decide to leave the matter for a while."

"'Tain't likely. But ef they do, the end's jest the same. They'll set a close watch right round the place, and not one of them varmint'll close an eyelid till the light comes. Droppin' asleep when he's watchin' is a thing an Injun can't do. It's clean right up agin his nature."

"Then, that being the case, we'll not wait here either for them to attack us in a bunch or for them to find us in the morning."

Jack spoke quietly, and cautiously raised himself on to his feet. "I'm going to carry you to the edge of the trees, Steve," he whispered. "I tell you, if they're bound to find us in any case, so long as we stay where we are, why, I ain't going to stay to be butchered, and I ain't going to leave you, either. Just take a grip round my neck, and hold tight if we meet anything. That'll leave me with my hands free. Now."

Steve gaped at the words, and more at the tone of them than anything. Little by little as the moments had passed he had seen something in our hero which he had never detected before. He was wont to look upon Jack as a lad who, by accident perhaps, had been enabled to come between a band of train robbers and their victims. He did not deny that he had shown pluck. But that this young fellow was a fire eater, that he could on occasion become a stern, commanding man, and could coolly face a difficulty such as this one, had never occurred to him. More than that, Steve, with all his age and experience, had always been the one to lead and to guide, to give hints as to the manner of doing this, and timely warnings and advice as to the methods to be employed in some other sudden difficulty. Now, suddenly to find the position reversed, to know that Jack was giving orders, and was about to act as seemed best to himself, wholly regardless of his own inexperience, why, it took Steve's breath away.

"Gee! Ef he don't beat everything!" he murmured. "He jest treats me as ef I war a kid, and – and – "

"Hold fast, and don't worry if I have to drop you suddenly. I'll stand by you whatever happens. There! Up you come."

It was all done without hesitation, and in absolute silence. No one could have admonished Jack for lack of caution. His orders were whispered into Steve's ear, and every movement was slow and gradual. He stood, at length, to his full height, Steve gripping him round the neck, while with one arm he held the scout's useless legs suspended. The other hand gripped the haft of his formidable hunting-knife. Then he began a slow and stealthy progress towards the edge of the wood.

"Take yer time, take yer time," whispered Steve. "It would be fatal ter make so much as a sound."

Advancing inches only at a time, placing each foot cautiously in front of the other, and carefully avoiding branches which grew in the way, our hero at length reached the very edge of the trees. Once there he set down his burden for a few minutes, while he lay at full length, and placing his ear to the ground listened for sounds made by the enemy.

"Hist! Did yer hear that?" asked Steve, when some minutes had passed. "Them chaps is startin' in at the far side of the wood, and I should reckon as thar's a heap of 'em. Do yer hear 'em?"

Jack fancied he had heard some sounds, but was not at all certain. But to Steve there was not the smallest doubt.

"They're over yonder," he whispered, a note of conviction in his voice, "and I tell yer there's a good twenty of 'em, else there wouldn't be so much noise. It stands to reason that an Injun kin creep through a wood same as this silenter than a snake. But ef he's got a crowd of comrades with him, some of 'em's bound to be less careful. Yer kin take it from me, them critters has got it fixed in their minds that we're trying to make out over in that direction."

"Then all the better. Let 'em continue to think that," whispered Jack hoarsely. "We ain't going in that direction, but just clear out here in front of us, and if we meet one of their men, well – "

He came to an abrupt halt, leaving Steve to guess his meaning. But if ever determination were conveyed by the tones of a whisper, why, Jack's showed without a shadow of doubt that he was resolute. Indeed, those two death struggles in the wood had hardened him. A little while ago his thoughts had been entirely engaged with the task of escaping the enemy and rescuing his comrade. Now, however, added to that endeavour was a stubborn resolution to punish these men who had wantonly attacked him. He argued that if he with a number of friends had come upon a couple of harmless Indians, he would have shown them kindness, and would not have instantly sought their lives. Why, therefore, should these natives of the plain so diligently seek to kill him and Steve? What right had they to interfere with them? As they had dared to do so, why, they must be made to pay the penalty. In one brief hour, in fact, Jack, who hitherto had had no great dislike of the Indians, for the simple reason that he had never come across them, was possessed of an intense hatred for them, a burning animosity, a desire to come to hand grips with them, and a fierce determination to fight any who crossed his path. Nor in that was he different to the old hunters of the plains, men like Steve and Tom.

"I can see what they mean now," he thought, as he and Steve lay on the outskirts of the wood. "They've told me time and again how the people crossing over to California, to the diggin's, have scoffed at all fear of Indians, have imagined that they would become friendly with them without meeting with unusual difficulties. But those who have lived to reach the diggings have done so with a different understanding of the Indian. They know him by then to be a fierce and relentless enemy, a man who will butcher for the sake of butchering, and who will spare neither a sick white man nor a woman nor a child."

"Jest listen to 'em!" suddenly whispered Steve, interrupting Jack's thoughts. "Ef I ain't right I'll eat me boots. Them critters think we're makin' for the far side. They heard the ruction you had with them two varmint, and though they guess that something bad's happened to 'em, they aer wondering whether the noises ain't caused by us. Yer see, it's right up agin Injun nature and cunnin' ter make a sound. So, ef them noises wasn't caused by fightin', they was caused by us. Reckon a mouse couldn't get through on the far side."

"But a man can on this. Get a grip of my neck again," commanded Jack. "Now, I'm going to strike clear away into the open. If you hear or see anything, jest give my neck a squeeze. That'll stop me, and give me a warning."