Scouting Dave

“Oh, you cannot – you will not harm Charles Markley,” the suffering girl pleaded. “He has never done anything to harm you.”

“I tell you, gal,” broke in the renegade, fiercely, “he has done enough. If nothin’ more, he’s stood in my way – he’s enjoyed the smiles I was a-dyin’ for – he couldn’t walk on the ground where my shadder had passed, because I’s a little wild; but he’s played with a whirlwind, an’ he must take the shock of it.”

The dark man turned partly away as he ceased speaking, and stood for some moments regarding the fiery scene before him. Dreadful had been the first misery of the maiden, now it seemed a thousand times enhanced. Father, brother, self – all were swallowed up in anxiety for the fate of another – one even dearer than life itself. Oh, that she could fly to him, and warn him of the danger that would soon burst upon his devoted head. Reason seemed giving away beneath the dread accumulation of misery. Soon she was aroused by the rough voice of her persecutor.

“I don’t suppose ye’ll feel like trampin’ far to-night, if ye have yer own hoss to ride on. I may as well tell ye, ye’re goin’ back to my snug little home across the great river; when ye get there ye’ll have all that heart can crave, an’ a good, lovin’ husband besides. You’re not goin’ to be forced along as fast as the red legs o’ these braves can carry ’em. Ye’ll be took along easy, an’ used like a queen, if ye mind how to talk. To-night ye’ll go out a mile or two, an’ camp. In the mornin’ ye can move ahead slowly. You see I hev’ arranged everything for yer comfort. Probably they’re anxious to be off; so, if ye’ll mount, I’ll help ye!”

He stooped and unbound the thong, and, raising her in his arms as if a mere child, placed her upon the saddle. Emily did not resist. She knew it would be in vain, and only subject her to fresh indignities.

“Now, my fine Emily,” he said, as the dusky guard gathered about her, “I must bid you good-bye for a few days. I’m goin’ with old Black Hawk to settle up a few scores what have stood out too long already, an’ then I’m back to yer side again.”

Addressing a few words in their own tongue to the Winnebagoes, which she did not understand, Wild Bill moved away, and was soon mixed with the savages, who were now gathering for fresh scenes of violence.

No eye, save that above – saw the dark, tall figure which glided within a yard of some of the savages, and plunged rapidly into the forest. Could Wild Bill have seen that figure he might have felt less at ease. As the renegade disappeared, the party acting under his command moved cautiously from the spot, carrying the suffering Emily to a fate ten thousand times worse than death.

CHAPTER IV.

MARKLEY

Another scene opens, upon the same afternoon, in the wide-spread forest, some miles from the cabin of the Hinton family. Around the rude but strong cabin of a settler, several acres of the primitive forest had been felled, allowing the full sunlight to kiss the dark-brown cheek of the sleeping earth. Wild fields were there, into which the seed already had been placed, to germinate and fructify during the coming season.

Upon the borders of this clearing stood a young man, busily engaged in felling one of the forest monarchs. Although not above the medium height, his broad chest and muscular development proclaimed him a true son of the border. The heavy axe he wielded rose and fell with regular strokes, sending showers of chips flying merrily through the air. Already the work was half done, and, resting his axe upon the ground, Charles Markley threw his bearskin cap beside it; then, drawing a worn handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the beaded sweat which stood in great drops upon his brow. Throwing the handkerchief upon the cap, the youth changed his position, and opened another shower of blows, which rung merrily through the old wood.

At length the giant trembled beneath the steady strokes; then wavered and toppled for a moment, as if in uncertainty. Once, twice, thrice the axe was planted heavily, and, with a steady sweep, like that of a rushing cloud, the old oak thundered to the ground.

The young man regarded his work for a moment in a satisfied manner, then glanced at the sinking sun – picked up the neglected cap, and seated himself upon the large trunk. For some moments he remained in a reverie.

“I’d like to see Emily,” he mused, “but I think I’d better not go over to-night. ’Tis just a year to-day since her poor mother died, and it must be a sad recurrence to them. Poor Emily; it was a terribly hard blow to her, and the sorrow it caused is not all effaced yet. But she will soon be my wife; then, I feel sure she will forget those old sorrows in her new joys.”

Rising from his seat, the young man gazed about him for a moment; then, throwing his axe upon one shoulder, he turned toward the cabin which stood in the centre of the clearing.

The scene within the cabin, an hour later, was pleasant, and characteristic of the settler’s surroundings. The evening meal was over, the duties of the different parties had been duly attended to, and, while a ruddy fire glowed upon the hearth, a delicious feeling of comfort spread itself around. The four persons composing the household sat in a group around the fireside. There was the father – a sturdy, deep-chested backwoodsman; the mother – a pleasant woman of forty-five, and the two vigorous athletes, whom the father invariably designated as “the boys!” Such was the group.

Philip Markley was a man of fifty winters; and, though time showed its marks upon his brow, he was still hale and vigorous. Hester Markley, the mother, was a whole-souled Christian, a good wife, and an exemplary parent. Around her household no shadow ever was allowed to fall, which a cheerful face or pleasant words could drive away. Alfred, the younger of the brothers, was now twenty-two years of age – frank, handsome, and manly; possessing a great deal of fire and energy, though well tempered with discretion. He was somewhat taller than Charles, erect and finely-formed, with an eye like that of an eagle, and a strong arm to execute the promptings of his brave heart.

Philip and his younger son sat beside the wide chimney, sending huge clouds of tobacco-smoke up the dark passage. After the pipes were exhausted, each sat for some time in silence; then the father rose, and took his rifle from the peg upon which it hung.

“Upon my word!” he exclaimed, ruefully, as he turned the weapon in his hand, “I had no idea my poor gun was so badly neglected. I haven’t burned a charge of powder in it since last fall. I don’t take the pleasure with a rifle that I used to. Game is plenty enough, but my eyes are not as clear, or my hand as steady as it once was.”

Lifting down the small box which contained the many belongings to the weapon, he set himself to the work of rejuvenating its appearance. Alfred now watched the movements of his father for a short time, then arose, and taking his own piece, proceeded to a minute inspection of condition.

“What is the matter?” laughed Charles, laying down the well-known volume which had been engrossing his attention. “One would think you expected an attack from Indians. But, I may as well join the circle.”

Reaching for his own rifle, the young man set about the task. With rifle-cleaning, bullet-molding, and conversation, the evening passed quickly away. Then arms and ammunition all in order – though little dreaming of the fearful use for which it would be required – the family at length retired.

Profound slumber was upon the inmates of the cabin, and their pleasant breathing fell in regular cadence upon the still night air. No thought of danger was there to disturb the quiet serenity. Midnight was at hand – all was hushed.

Suddenly there sounded without a springing footstep, and a heavy blow upon the door, repeated, as if given by the stock of a rifle. The four sleepers heard the noise, but could not readily determine from whence it sprung. Again came the summons, and, as the sound died away, a strong voice called aloud for the sleepers to awake. In a moment the four persons were astir, and hastily preparing themselves for any emergency. Again the same summons, calling upon them to hasten, as they valued life.

“Coming – wait a moment,” exclaimed the father, half impatiently, half wonderingly.

“Hurry – hurry! minutes are years, now,” responded the voice. “If ye care for yer scalps, be speedy.”

Philip Markley had produced a light by this time, and, satisfying himself that but one person was at the door, hastily unbarred it. Surely he knew that tall form, with that jet hair and sparkling eyes. Four years had passed since they met, yet the recognition was instantaneous.

“David Barring! – Scouting Davy!” were the exclamations which greeted the new-comer, as he crossed the threshold.

“Stop!” he exclaimed, authoritatively; “it’s me, an’ I’m all right yet; but ye must hurry if ye want to save yer hair. The Injins are upon us!”

“Indians!”

Three horrified voices repeated that fearful word. Charles Markley felt too deeply for words. At the first mention of that – to him – horrible word, his thoughts ran back to the little cabin which contained Emily Hinton, and a feeling of dismay fell upon him. A host of questions were being showered upon the scout, but he raised his hand, and all paused before his voice sounded.

“Stop, don’t interrupt me; there’s no time to lose,” he vociferated. “Several hundred Injins have crossed the river, and are on their way to murder and destroy. They are sworn to gain possession of all this State. It’s pretty sure they’ll have things their own way for a time. You have horses?”

A silent assent.

“Then you, Mr. Markley, and Alf, jist put in yer best licks, and harness up. And mind – not a minute is ter lose.”

“Can we fight them till assistance arrives?” asked Mr. Markley.

The scout shook his head.

“If fight war’ possible, Davy is the last one what would say ‘run.’ But it isn’t. In half-an-hour at most, hundreds of ’em will be here, with old Black Hawk and that devil’s own pup, Wild Bill Ashbey, at their head. There’s nothin’ in this part to stop ’em, so jist hurry. And you, Miss Markley, jist scratch up yer choicest things, and what ye’ve got in the house that’ll do to eat.”

In a moment the three persons were busy at their appointed tasks, for they felt the leading mind of the scout – knowing that when he directed, they had but to perform. Charles had pressed near the scout, but, as yet, he found no opportunity to speak. Now, the scout placed a hand upon the shoulder of the young man, and drew him apace nearer himself.

“Young man,” he said, “I’ve somethin’ to tell ye.”

The fear which the young man had felt now deepened. His face grew fearfully pallid, and his voice trembled.

“Is it of – of Emily you would speak?” he gasped.

“Well, you’re right. An’ now, unless you’re the gritty chap you should be, you can never see her again.”

“Good Heaven! she is not – not – ”

“She’s safe in body, young man; but let me tell ye all. The first thing the Injins did was to burn out the Hintons. They set fire to the cabin, an’ when the poor men rushed out, shot ’em down like dogs. Emily was saved, an’ is a prisoner now.”

“My Emily a prisoner among the Indians! Oh, God!”

“She’s among them, but not in their power. Wild Bill, that most ornery villain, has her in his own power, and sent her off under a lot of his imps to his nest, over there.”

“Bill Ashbey? Impossible! Do you speak truly?”

The manner of Charles was excited, and he grasped the scout by the arm with a force which would have caused most men to writhe with pain.

“True? Of course I do, young man. But it’s better than if the Injins had her, for then she’d be tortured to death, sartin. Now, if you ain’t afraid of a few bullets, an’ hev no particular objection to knockin’ the brains out o’ two or three of ’em, why, your Emily can be yours still. I’ll go with ye, and help to git her back.”

“Oh, will you? Shall we then thwart them, and rescue Emily?”

“Nothin’ surer. As soon as I see yer father and mother on the way to safety, I’m off on the trail.”

“I am with you, my friend, to the end. May Heaven reward you for your noble efforts.”

“Don’t want any reward of that kind. If I can help to git back an angel like Emily, that’s enough.”

“She is an angel, David, you may well say that,” remarked the youth, impulsively. “But why may we not away at once?”

“No occasion for a hurry,” coolly replied the scout. “We must stay an’ see the old folks on their way, for they will have hot work, most likely. Then we will take the trail.”

“Then you are quite sure Mr. Hinton and George were both killed?” asked Charles, with a tear in his eye.

“Yes,” the scout returned. “They were both killed. I fixed a couple o’ the reds, one of ’em a chief at that, but I couldn’t save the poor men. However, it’s time we were movin’, so jist collect the rifles and traps, then hurry the rest up. I’ll go an’ see if there’s any signs o’ Injins.”

As David spoke he passed through the door, and was quickly in the depths of the forest. Philip and his son had not lost a moment, and soon the span of noble bays were attached to the strong wagon, and driven around to the door. Even then the red light from the burning cabin of the Hintons could be seen glaring above the tree-tops. Charles was just driving home the bullet in the rifle, and the little stock of articles which had been selected was soon placed on the vehicle.

At that moment a shadowy form appeared crossing the fields, but it was soon apparent that it was none other than the scout.

“Into the wagon, quick!” he exclaimed, as he drew near. “The red-skins are comin’.”

The persons in waiting needed no second bidding, but hastily scrambled into the vehicle. With a bound, like that of a panther, the scout followed them.

“Are yer shootin’-irons all right?” he asked, hurriedly.

An answer was given in the affirmative.

“Then drive ahead, for the cut-throats are close to us,” he commanded.

The horses sprung lightly forward under the direction of Alfred, who held the reins.

CHAPTER V.

THE WAGON TUSSLE AND THE TRAIL HUNTERS

A road had been cut from the settlement of the Markley family to a point, several miles distant, where it intersected a regularly beaten wagon trail, leading to the nearest trading-post. After leaving the cabin, it led through the depths of the wood for some two miles, beyond which point the way was more open.

The parties who were unacquainted with the details of the massacre now turned to the scout, and, in answer to their questions, David related the scene as it had transpired. He spoke more especially of Emily, and the compact entered into between himself and Charles. Neither of the parents spoke, for the danger to which their son and the brave scout were about to subject themselves, seemed stupendous in their eyes, but they shuddered when Alfred chimed in:

“Count me in for that expedition, Charley; I’m with you there.”

“Good fer yer pluck, boy,” rejoined the scout, well pleased. “But there’s some things ye must remember afore ye set out. Ye’ll have hundreds of miles to tramp, right in the midst of Injins, and danger of every description to look out for. I’m used to it, an’ don’t mind bruisin’; you are young, and tender-like.”

“What of that?” broke in the youth, impatiently. “I can learn, and now is as good a time as I shall ever have.”

“There is times,” returned the scout, “where one man can do what three can’t. But it’s oftener three can do more than two; so, if yer in earnest, we’ll call it settled, for I like yer grit right well.”

“Then settled it is,” the young man frankly exclaimed, as he grasped the extended hand of the scout.

As the scout relinquished the hand of the youth, he peered for a moment very earnestly into the gloom before them. Quickly exclaiming:

“Down all of ye!” he raised his rifle and fired.

Following the report of David’s rifle, a wild yell of rage broke from the forest, and half-a-dozen musket-shots followed. No one was injured, as the savages had fired wildly. With a second yell they dashed for the vehicle. As it required the entire skill of Alfred to manage the plunging steeds, he was almost entirely unaware of the state of things behind him.

The scout sprung up as the scattering shots ceased, but he had no time to reload his rifle. Casting it in the bottom of the wagon, he drew a pistol in each hand, and, with a word to the others, turned to meet the foe. Three Indians sprung toward the vehicle upon one side, two of whom succeeded in grasping the sides, while the third, falling beneath the heavy wheels, never knew the result of the conflict. The foremost of the twain received the contents of a pistol full in his face, and fell back, but the second weapon missed fire, and the yelling Indian sprung into the midst of the little party, whirling his hatchet aloft.

Another moment would have seen the last of David, but for his ready tact and skill. Dropping quickly, and springing to one side, he confused the savage, who, with suspended tomahawk, awaited the moment when he might deliver his blow with a sure aim. Without pausing to gratify his foe, the scout gave him a fearful kick, full in the provision basket, which sent him floundering and howling out of the box. As his own coast was now clear, David turned to assist his friends.

They had been equally fortunate.

“Rather a bold undertakin’,” he exclaimed. “I wonder they tried to board a craft under full sail; they must have know’d they’d fall; though they did show good grit.”

“But why,” queried Mr. Markley, “did they not commence their attack upon the horses. Had they but killed them, we should have been at their mercy.”

“All policy, sir, as the lawyers say. Ye see they wanted hosses worse nor skalps, and so we saved our hair.”

“I have no doubt,” returned the elder Markley. “But I tell you, David, it seems hard for me to shoot a human being, even in self-defense. To think that I have lived for fifty years, and to-night, for the first time, have been necessitated to take human life.”

“Jest so,” returned David. “But you mustn’t git squeamish over it. I well remember the first time I had to kill a human, an’ how I felt, but that’s no use. When it’s got to be done, why let fly, that’s all!”

At length they reached a more open portion of the wood, and here David proposed to part company. The wagon was stopped, hasty but affectionate farewells spoken, strong hands pressed in a last fond grasp. Then the young men leaped from the vehicle and quickly left the road, while the father took the reins, and the wagon then rattled swiftly on its way to security. Davy stood watching it until lost to view.

“Now, boys,” he said, in a cautious voice, “we’re in for it in earnest. There’s no back down now. The first thing we’ve got to do is to git behind the Injins. Then there’ll be but little danger, unless we have to go clear back to Wild Bill’s settlement. Now, before we start, there’s one or two things ye want to always observe. Never fire a gun when ye can help it, unless yer in a safe place or in a mighty tight one. Then be careful of the trail. Make as little as possible, and walk in Injin file when ye can. The first thing we’ve got to do, is to git back, as I said, and the red-skins are so sharp on trail we must throw ’em off a little. Of course they think we all went off in that wagon, but they’ll find their mistake. So long as our tracks points toward the risin’ sun, they’ll not mind ’em much. By goin’ right ahead a quarter of a mile, we’ll strike the creek. There we’ll take to the water and come back till we see fit to leave it.”

The scout shouldered his rifle and pushed forward, his companions following his example. The way was clear, and they were aware if anything was accomplished under cover of the night, it must be speedily done. The stream was quite shallow, and assuring themselves that the foe was not upon them, the party stepped quickly in. Some time passed in complete silence; the only sound to be heard was the light ripple of the waters, as the men pressed cautiously forward. Finally the scout paused, and bent his head in a listening attitude.

“It’s as I thought, boys,” he said. “We are gettin’ too near the mahogany villains.”

The young men listened. They could hear the distinct tumult of warriors, and it was evident the stream would take them too near the sanguinary foe. The scout listened again.

“You had better stay here,” he said, “until I go ahead and investigate a bit.”

So saying, he disappeared in the bushes.

A long time it seemed to them Dave was absent, and many fears of disaster began to beset them. What if he had fallen into the hands of savages? Without his directing mind they were no better than a ship without a rudder, in the midst of breakers. To be sure, they were expert woodsmen, unerring shots, healthy and vigorous. Yet, never before this night had they seen an Indian upon the war-path, or listened to their blood-curdling whoops. Nearly an hour had passed, and the anxiety of Alfred had reached a decisive pitch.

“I tell you, Charley,” he said, energetically, “I’m going to see if I can find Dave. Maybe he’s in hot-water, and I can help him. You had better remain here.”

But Charles would not remain and let his brother go alone; so, together they set forth upon their doubtful mission. They had proceeded some fifty yards when a slight rustling ahead startled them. Both prepared for the worst, but suspense changed to joy when a tall figure, which could not be mistaken, stepped into view. In a moment the scout was with them. A satisfied expression lighted up his features, as he said:

“It’s what I suspected, boys; the reds are tired out, and buildin’ fires all ’round. Most likely they’ll not move again till mornin’, and afore that time we’ll have ’em outwitted as easy as robbin’ a roost. We’ll jest pass around toward the south, and git beyond ’em; then, if we can strike the trail of them chaps what carried Miss Emily off, like enough we’ll overhal ’em afore daylight.”

Suddenly the leader stopped, and bent his ear to listen.

“To cover, boys, quick!” he whispered, “they’re comin’ this way.”

Without waiting a moment, he darted from view, and crept noiselessly away. The brothers followed his example, and the Indians, who a moment later had passed over the ground, had no suspicion that a white man was within miles of them. From their coverts the borderers counted sixteen, who passed in their usual file, each treading in the footsteps of his leader.

In a minute they had passed, and our party of adventurers again stood together. There were no sounds to indicate the presence of other foes, so they again set forward.

Before the trail-hunters suspected it, they saw, upon glancing toward the eastern horizon, that the stars were paling, and the light-blue tinge, which foreshadows the dawn, already pervaded the sky. As they were now comparatively safe, the three pushed forward with all speed. In half-an-hour the early light of dawn was upon them, and the scout commenced looking about for the trail of the party they sought. To render the search more effectual the friends separated, pushing forward within signaling distance of each other.

The dawn was becoming every moment more full, when the brothers heard the signal from Davy. Not doubting that he had discovered the foe, they nerved themselves for conflict. They were surprised to find the scout standing erect, his eyes fixed upon the ground before him. Coming nearer they saw the smouldering remains of a fire, from which small jets of smoke still ascended. It had been a large fire, as much of the wood, partially burned, still remained.

“Well, boys, our game’s gone!” the scout remarked, as the others came up. “Here’s where the rascals stopped and took lunch, but forgot the sleepin’ part of it. Bloody murder! why couldn’t we have cum up while they war’ eatin’? Maybe we wouldn’t have gi’n ’em a warm dish.”

“Are you sure this is the work of the party we seek?” asked Charles, willing to grasp any hope.

“Of course I’m sure,” he returned, half displeased at the question. “An’ if ye were more skilled in yer business ye’d know it without askin’ questions.”

“One thing ye must l’arn, boys,” the scout remarked, as he quietly rose to his feet. “That is, allus tew be cool. Take things as they come, and when ye hev a chance tew eat, do it, by all means. I l’arnt that long ago, and ye’ll soon find it the best way. You wouldn’t mind goin’ without anythin’ to eat for a day or two, now, but mind you, ye’d feel it afore this tramp is over with.”