Scouting Dave

It was a hard task to witness the preparations for torturing the poor fellow, but it could not be helped, and they were forced to be spectators of what seemed, to Charles especially, so cruel.

“Good, good!” vociferated the scout, ardently, yet in a careful manner; “but Alf did that capitally. He went in like a regular Injin-fighter, born and bred to it.”

The scout chuckled as he witnessed the sight.

“I knew they didn’t catch the boy nappin’,” was the satisfied exclamation which followed. “Two o’ the scamps got fixed, an’ more of ’em got to follow. I’ve been in Wild Bill’s pen once; but he didn’t keep me, nor he can’t keep Alf.”

As nothing more could now be accomplished, the party drew cautiously away, to await the coming of night. David had counted sixteen warriors, and he judged, rightly enough, that there were others keeping a strict watch over the other prisoner – the fair Emily Hinton. In all, probably twenty warriors. It seemed a fearful odds – twenty against two; but the scout was not a man to hesitate. The thought of abandoning a friend or comrade never entered his noble heart.

CHAPTER X.

THE INVINCIBLE VINCIBLE

To Charles was given the task of liberating Alfred. The scout having instructed him thoroughly in all points, the utmost assurance was felt that the mission would be successful. For himself David reserved the more difficult task of discovering the whereabouts of Emily. Each enterprise was fraught with danger, yet there was no drawback to such brave hearts.

He had perceived, before setting out, that the easiest mode of reaching the hut which he believed held the maiden, would be by striking several of the nearest wigwams. As he fancied little danger from approaching so closely, he glided into the deep shade of one, and stole noiselessly along. Human ears could scarce have detected the presence of the man, but brute instinct was to achieve what human faculties could not accomplish. The project of the scout came very near being summarily defeated, in an unforeseen manner.

He had passed the first hut, and reached the rear of the second, when a lean, half-starved Indian dog came yelping and bounding furiously from some unknown covert. He paused when he came near the scout, and stopped his barking.

David recoiled and sunk close to the earth, awaiting with anxiety the result. He soon became satisfied that the short outcry had created no alarm. The brute now stood with his sharp nose pointing toward the scout, sniffing the air in a most unmistakable manner.

“I’ve got it now,” he thought, taking from his wallet a piece of freshly-roasted meat; “the dog is about starved to death, and two to one I’ll make a compromise with the brute. If this won’t do it, something else will,” and he sought the handle of his knife.

The dog had scented the meat at first, and, prompted by hunger, it approached the scout, lapped its jaws gleefully. David tossed the dog a portion of the meat, which was greedily swallowed. Throwing it the remainder, the scout prepared for action. Placing his keen knife between his teeth, he sprung upon the beast, with a grasp which would have strangled a giant. Throwing it upon its back, he almost severed the head from the body, and raising his rifle as soon as the struggle ceased, pursued his way.

No disturbance had resulted, and David continued his way, slowly but surely. In a short time he reached the rear of the hut he sought. No sound greeted his ears, and, moving nearer, he applied his eye to a crevice where the mud had fallen from the logs. By a small fire which was burning, the interior was quite distinctly illuminated. Four Indians were in the apartment, three of whom were stretched upon the ground, while the fourth sat dozing upon one of the rude blocks. David noticed the partition of skins.

“That says Emily,” he mused, drawing back to breathe. “I’ll go and see what I can make out.”

Acting upon the thought, he moved stealthily to the end occupied by the maiden. He readily found an aperture, but all was dark within, and he could make nothing out. For once his eagerness got the better of discretion, and applying his mouth to the crevice, he softly whispered:

“Emily!”

There was no response, and he repeated the summons a trifle more distinctly. As fortune willed, Emily was soundly sleeping, while Sall Simms was wide awake. The latter heard the voice of the scout, and, approaching the place softly whispered:

“What and who is it?”

“Davy Barring – come to get ye away from this.”

Sally started when she heard the name of the bold scout, spoken by his own voice.

“Hist!” she softly whispered.

“Someone is coming,” she added; “be silent for a moment.”

Listening to be sure that David had taken the bait, she glided from the apartment. In another instant she had communicated all she knew to the savage guard still awake. He uttered a grunt of satisfaction, and proceeded to arouse his companions, while Sally hastened back to the scout.

“David!” came gently to his expectant ears. He raised himself, and inquired if all was right.

“Yis, the Injin guard is gone,” she whispered, in a tone much louder than previously used.

“Hush, not too loud,” cautioned the scout, fearing she might betray the presence of a stranger.

“Wal, I’ll be careful,” she whispered, in a slightly-modulated key. “But whar’s yer comrades? Ye didn’t come alone?”

“That don’t sound much like Emily,” the scout thought to himself. “Maybe she’s dropped that polite way she used to have o’ speakin’. Though I did like to hear such words from her purty lips.”

“I’m alone here,” he whispered; “though Charles Markley – ”

Before David could proceed further he became aware that his presence was discovered. The four Indians had stolen cautiously from the hut, and were silently approaching, when one of their number stepped upon a round stick, which came near throwing him to the ground. Seeing their movements were discovered the savages gave a yell, and rushed forward.

Quick as thought the scout’s rifle flew to his shoulder, while its tongue of flame arrested one savage midway.

But he was not to escape this time. The Indian with the hatchet hurled it furiously, and although the blade passed harmlessly, the handle struck just above David’s ear, knocking him senseless to the earth. At the same moment the others fired their rifles, but the bullets passed harmlessly by. His fall had saved him.

Great, indeed, was their rejoicing when they found how mighty was the foe that had been conquered. Their savage exultation seemed to know no bounds. Many were anxious that he might at once be put to torture, but the brave who held command during the absence of Ashbey ordered the prisoner to be put in confinement, to await the return of his superior. As no one dared dispute his authority, the prisoner was led away toward the place where Alfred was already confined.

They were within some fifty yards of the prison, when a loud yell, quickly followed by the report of a musket, broke upon the group. The ringing crack of a rifle followed a moment after, while a more fearful yell told that some victim had fallen.

Too well the scout knew the meaning of all this. Charles had, in some manner, been discovered. The warriors of the party, leaving a force to guard the prisoner, started in the direction of the reports. Just as they reached the prison-door, a more distant rifle-shot, followed by another yell of pain, told that the fugitive was still free.

But David could see no more.

Could it be that Charles had succeeded in freeing his brother? The thought was full of pleasure, but it seemed hardly probable. He called aloud:

“Alf, my boy!”

“Here!” was the answer. “And you, my brave friend, here too?”

“Yis, my boy,” the hunter responded, in as cheerful tones as he could assume; “though it’s mighty against my will, that’s true as ye live. But I’ve bin in worse places nor this, an’ even in this very hole once afore. We’ll make our way out, no kind o’ danger about that. Charley would have let you loose afore this, only the red rascals got wind o’ what he’s at.”

David had by this time found the whereabouts of the young man, and bending closer, he whispered in his ear:

“We’re not so destitute as you may suppose. I’ve two pistols under my coat which the dogs overlooked, and they may come in good play if either of us gets a hand loose.”

The knowledge that they had weapons seemed instantly to raise the drooping spirits of Alfred.

CHAPTER XI.

WILD BILL TRIES AN EXPERIMENT

It was some hours after the capture of the scout, and the warriors had returned from the unavailing pursuit of Charles Markley. Five had fallen during the day, nearly a third of their number. Although two daring foes were in their power, one at least still wandered through the forest. Adverse fate seemed upon them, and they were moody and silent. The villagers were still astir, as the exciting events precluded the possibility of sleep, even from Indian braves. They feared some dire retribution breaking upon them, and mourning and lamentations were rife.

A solitary figure approached the village, casting anxious and suspicious glances about him. The disturbed manner of the inhabitants, who seemed scarcely to notice his presence, filled him with vague wonder and alarm. As he observed the unusual disorder, the renegade, for it was no other, gave vent to his feelings in sundry mutterings and ejaculations.

“I wonder what in the name o’ Satan has been goin’ on here to-night? Needn’t tell Bill Ashbey that all’s right and tight, not by any means. Thank my good fortin’ I’m come home, and can soon find out what all this rumpus is about.”

He sprung up to the door of his cabin, and raised the wooden latch, but it was barred upon the inside. Giving a peculiar whistle, it was opened, and the savage stood aside with a grunt of welcome for his superior to enter. The renegade strode into the room, and looked about with a searching gaze. Two other savages were within, who had started to their feet at his approach. Giving them a simple stare of recognition, he turned to the one who had admitted him.

“Wal,” he growled, “you’ve got home, I see. What luck? Is the gal safe?”

The Indian known as Dark Cloud paused a moment, then slowly replied:

“White Bird sleep there,” indicating the apartment beyond. “Pale-face no cross trail of red-man. Pale brave come after; try to steal White Bird from her chief.”

“So that’s it, is it?” He spoke carelessly, as if to inspire himself with courage. “Some fool’s come to steal away the gal! But d’ye know these pale-faces? Have you ever seen them before?”

“Pale-Face Long-Leg kill one brave,” the Indian returned, holding up one finger by way of emphasis. “Leg no long enough to run ’way! Me throw tomahawk – knock him down – ”

A movement upon the part of the renegade broke off the communication.

“So Davy Barring has got into my hands again!” hissed the renegade. “We’ll see if he’ll git away slick as he did afore. I’ll have Sall up an’ git my supper. While that’s cookin’ I’ll over and look at the birds.”

Unbarring the door, the three passed quietly in. The scout rose upon their entrance. For a few momenta those two men, so opposite in character and disposition, stood regarding each other in silence.

“Well, old Davy, I’m glad to see you again,” Ashbey exclaimed.

“I can’t say I’m glad to see ye,” the scout returned, gazing steadily in the eye of the other; “but if any person on the face o’ the earth’s got to be cussed by the sight o’ yer miserable face, why, it may as well be Davy Barring as anybody.”

He bit his lip, to check the words which would have followed, while the other ground his teeth with rage.

“That’s bold talk for a man what’s got to die to-morrow!” the scoundrel muttered. “You may forget that yer in my hands now, and ye shall die like a dog? You’ve took too many liberties with me and mine for me to forget it. The day of reckonin’ has now come, and we will bring all these things out right.”

He paused to note the effect of his words, but the scout calmly replied:

“It may be Davy Barring dies to-morrow; thar’s certain about life but death, and maybe my time has come. I do not fear death, Bill Ashbey; I kin meet it if necessary; can you say the same?”

“You’d better tell that to someone else,” returned the renegade, endeavouring to assume a careless tone. “You needn’t tell Bill Ashbey you ain’t afraid to die, for I know better.”

“You kin only judge me by yourself,” said David, in a calm voice. “If ye’re not ready to meet yer Maker, I advise you, as a friend would, if ye had any friends, to git ready. Maybe that I shall die to-morrow, or it may be not; but, I can tell you, Bill Ashbey, I shall see your body a corpse long afore my own hour comes. I know that– mind you!”

The renegade turned pale, and shivered with a mortal terror.

“So-ho!” he exclaimed, with an attempt at bravado; “you think to scare me, old chap. To try your skill, suppose I have your head cut off at once; it will save the trouble of roastin’ ye, and a host of other inconveniences.”

“If you are ready to die, I’ll not object,” was the calm reply. “It were enough for one life to rid the earth of such a cuss as you!”

Ashbey gazed upon the man for a few moments in silence, then turned to Alfred. Bending upon the young man a look of contempt, he said:

“So, young puppy-face, you came out here, eh? Wal, I don’t wonder. I s’pose ye got so scart ye run any way. But ye’ll make a good roastin’-piece, and my braves will like the fun o’ toastin’ yer lamb’s carcass!”

“You can roast me if you choose,” the young man calmly replied; “but I think your braves will remember me for some time to come.”

“Of course, we’re glad to say ye did somethin’ afore ye died; but we don’t intend ye’ll ever harm us any more. But it seems you two weren’t alone; I hear thar’s another what run for’t.”

He waited some moments before either spoke. His manner gave them the assurance that Charles was still at large, and unharmed.

“I advise yer not ter pry into that,” David said, at length, in a decided manner; “ye’ll find out soon enough about it. Ye may think ye’re safe, now ye’ve got us two; I hope ye do; but ye kin remember what I told ye, an’ when yer last hour’s come, I hope ye’ll find yer conscience free, and go without any sorrow for what ye’ve done.”

The renegade turned and walked away, for he could not bear to hear such language, it touched him in a vulnerable spot. He came back, however, and added, in a tone of intense determination:

“Ye kin have the rest o’ the night to say yer prayers in; for when the sun gits up to-morrow mornin’, ye’ll come out, Davy Barring, and ye never’ll see that sun set again.”

Going to the door he called two of the Indian guards within, bidding them to keep a strict watch over the prisoners till morning.

* * * * * * * *

Morning came at length. The prisoners had conversed most of the night, having slept but very little after the departure of Ashbey. A commotion without the door was audible, and each looked with expectation.

“Are they coming?” asked Alfred, apprehensively.

“So it seems,” replied the scout. “I suppose they think I have lived long enough, and if it must come, I know not that it matters how soon.”

“Oh, my friend!” Alfred began, but his emotion choked him, and he could proceed no further.

“Be a man!” the scout returned. “If they are ready for me, I am prepared. Keep up courage; I may sarcumvent the serpents after all.”

The door was now opened, and two braves entered. Without a word they grasped the scout by the arms, and led him forth. The braves who had remained within followed; the door was shut and barred. Alfred was left alone to his own gloomy thoughts and fears.

It cost the scout an effort to maintain his composure, but he looked calmly around upon the crowd of exulting savages. David’s first thought was of the renegade, and he looked around to find him. He stood a little apart from the tawny throng, his arms folded, and a look of fiendish pleasure upon his features. He muttered a few words in the Indian tongue as the party passed him, and David was taken at once to the place of torture – the open place in front of the renegade’s cabin.

As usual, the gauntlet was first to be run. At a word from the renegade, the party formed themselves in two lines, prepared to shower vengeance upon the head and shoulders of the doomed scout. Two guards held him firmly by the arms, while a third proceeded to cut the bonds which held his hands.

“Now or never,” thought the scout, as his arms fell by his side.

David had noted carefully his surroundings. All had dropped their guns, save the two guards, who now held his arms. The nearest building was distant nearly twenty paces. If he could reach that, he might, under its cover, gain the forest, when he would care little for those who might pursue.

With his plans well and coolly formed, David twisted himself instantly from the grasp of his foes. Springing quickly aside, he drew forth his pistols, which had been, strangely enough, overlooked, and stood for a moment confronting them. The two Indians who had guns raised them, but the scout was too quick. Before they could fire, both his pistols belched forth their contents, sending death to the nearest, and severely wounding the other.

The sudden and unexpected movement caused a momentary consternation, and seizing one of the Indian’s guns, David sprung toward the hut. He reached it in safety, and, only turning his head, sped onward to the forest.

“Shoot him! Fire after the dog; you never can catch him!” bawled Ashbey.

In obedience to the peremptory order, the Indians stopped and fired away at random, no mark being in view. David had heard the order, and seeking the cover of a large tree waited till the scattering shots ceased. Then cautiously levelling the musket, he fired at the head of his most mortal enemy. The bullet missed its mark. It passed within an inch of Ashbey’s head, and killed a savage beyond. At the same moment a second shot followed, from no great distance, and a second brave rolled upon the ground. The survivors paused for a moment in confusion, then turned and fled frantically back to the cover of their village.

Foaming with anger, and almost wild with disappointment, Bill Ashbey turned his excited steps toward his own cabin. The prisoner had fled. Dumfounded, he stood for a moment, unable to speak or move.

Then his self-possession seemed to return. He had forgotten that Emily was left without a guard while they had joined in the pursuit of David. Such was the fact, and one which Emily in her fear had not been slow to discover. Sall Simms was absent, and, hardly realizing what she did, the maid stole from the hut, and took her way toward the forest with all speed.

The renegade readily comprehended these facts, and he knew that the maiden could have been gone but a moment. It was easily to find her trail, and he at once assembled his remaining braves. Ten of the number had been killed or disabled; eight only remained. Of these two must be left to guard the prison, and, as Wild Bill took the trail, a feeling of fear passed over him. What if they should again meet the scout? Well he knew a mortal terror possessed his few remaining braves, and but the appearance of their dread foe would send them back in utter affright.

Yet his savage heart knew no relenting, and nothing but death itself could shake his villainous resolves. In an hour they came upon the fleeing maiden. She had sunk upon a log, unable to continue her weary flight. At sight of her cruel pursuers, she started to her feet, and endeavoured to flee, but with yells of delight, the savages intercepted her.

“Ye needn’t try tew run any furder,” howled the miscreant, as he bounded toward her. “Ye’ve led me a good chase out here intew the woods, an’ I’ll jist take ye back, an’ maybe ye’ll git another chance o’ runnin’ away. Maybe ye will!” he added with emphasis.

“Remember what I told ye!” broke in a loud voice at no great distance.

Before any one could move, there came the sharp report of a rifle – the dull “thud” of a bullet, and the renegade fell back, motionless, to the earth. The warriors gazed around in horror, but, before they could form any idea of the danger which threatened them, two more reports followed, and two warriors fell beneath the deadly aim of the borderers.

With wild yells three athletic figures dashed from a cover near by, and, with clubbed rifles, rushed upon the fleeing natives. David Barring was foremost, and, with a sweep of his ponderous weapon one unlucky Indian measured his length upon the earth. The remainder flew with fear-given speed over the ground, and Charles and Alfred soon returned from the pursuit.

We need not describe the fond meeting between the lovers. No pen could do justice to the emotions of those happy hearts. After the first fond greeting was given, the maiden turned to Alfred.

“How did you escape?” she asked. “I supposed you still imprisoned.”

“It was very cleverly managed,” Alfred returned. “No sooner was David led forth, than a knife was slipped into my prison, with which I soon severed my bonds. To work my way through the roof during the excitement elsewhere was but a short task – when I at once took my way to the forest. There I was provided with a rifle, taken from the Indians. We saw the party which started in pursuit of you, and even gathered from their conversation their object. We followed them, and here we are.”

“Oh! my dear friends!” the maiden sobbed; “how can I ever, ever repay you?”

“Don’t talk of that, my girl,” broke in David. “Thar’s not one of us but would be glad tew die for yer sake, and as fer reward, ye kin fix the matter with Charley, here, when we git tew the settlements.”

Emily blushed at the honestly meant insinuation, while the brothers turned to the body of Ashbey. He was dead, the bullet having passed directly through his heart. So sudden, indeed, had been his transit, that the expression of his features still remained unchanged.

They turned from the spectacle with a shudder of horror.

“Let us leave this place,” said Emily, placing a hand upon the arm of Charles. “This is too dreadful!”

They moved from the spot, and slowly took their way through the forest, toward the distant river.

Days passed. The Mississippi was reached, the boat hidden by the scout was drawn forth, and the party launched upon the wide waters. Rowing by night, hiding and sleeping by day, their weary journey was continued.

It is not our purpose to follow them through the many trials and adventures which it was their lot to encounter. After many days and nights, they reached a place of safety, where the father and mother of the Markleys were anxiously awaiting them.

The subsequent history of the war is well known. At its conclusion our adventurers returned to their former possessions. Desolate, indeed, seemed the lone ruins of the Hinton cabin, but, under the energetic efforts of Charles, now the husband of Emily, the place soon resumed its pleasant aspect. Happiness and love reigned there, and only the remembrance of one fearful chain of events in the past, ever called a tear to the eye of the young and happy wife.

THE END