Erskine Dale—Pioneer

by John Fox

  XIII

  The sound of pursuit soon died away, but Erskine kept Firefly at hisbest, for he knew that Crooked Lightning would be quick and fast on histrail. He guessed, too, that Crooked Lightning had already told thetribe what he had just told the council, and that he and the prophet hadalready made all use of the boy's threat to Kahtoo in the Shawnee town.He knew even that it might cost him his life if he went back there, andonce or twice he started to turn through the wilderness and go back tothe fort. Winter was on, and he had neither saddle nor bridle, butneither fact bothered him. It was the thought of the white woman who wasto be burned that kept him going and sent him openly and fearlessly intothe town. He knew from the sullen looks that met him, from the fear inthe faces of his foster-mother and the white woman who peered blindlyfrom her lodge, and from the triumphant leer of the prophet that hisevery suspicion was true, but all the more leisurely did he swing fromhis horse, all the more haughtily stalk to Kahtoo's tent. And the oldchief looked very grave when the lad told the story of the council andall that he had said and done.

  "The people are angry. They say you are a traitor and a spy. They sayyou must die. And I cannot help you. I am too old and the prophet is toostrong."

  "And the white woman?"

  "She will not burn. Some fur traders have been here. The white chiefMcGee sent me a wampum belt and a talk. His messenger brought muchfire-water and he gave me that"--he pointed to a silver-mountedrifle--"and I promised that she should live. But I cannot help you."Erskine thought quickly. He laid his rifle down, stepped slowly outside,and stretched his arms with a yawn. Then still leisurely he moved towardhis horse as though to take care of it. But the braves were too keen andwatchful and they were not fooled by the fact that he had left his riflebehind. Before he was close enough to leap for Firefly's back, threebucks darted from behind a lodge and threw themselves upon him. In amoment he was face down on the ground, his hands were tied behind hisback, and when turned over he looked up into the grinning face of BlackWolf, who with the help of another brave dragged him to a lodge androughly threw him within, and left him alone. On the way he saw hisfoster-mother's eyes flashing helplessly, saw the girl Early Mornindignantly telling her mother what was going on, and the white woman'sface was wet with tears. He turned over so that he could look throughthe tent-flaps. Two bucks were driving a stake in the centre of thespace around which the lodges were ringed. Two more were bringing fagotsof wood and it was plain what was going to become of him. Hisfoster-mother, who was fiercely haranguing one of the chiefs, turnedangrily into Kahtoo's lodge and he could see the white woman rocking herbody and wringing her hands. Then the old chief appeared and lifted hishands.

  "Crooked Lightning will be very angry. The prisoner is his--not yours. Itis for him to say what the punishment shall be--not for you. Wait forhim! Hold a council and if you decide against him, though he is myson--he shall die." For a moment the preparations ceased and all turnedto the prophet, who had appeared before his lodge.

  "Kahtoo is right," he said. "The Great Spirit will not approve if WhiteArrow die except by the will of the council--and Crooked Lightning willbe angry." There was a chorus of protesting grunts, but the preparationsceased. The boy could feel the malevolence in the prophet's tone and heknew that the impostor wanted to curry further favor with CrookedLightning and not rob him of the joy of watching his victim's torture.So the braves went back to their fire-water, and soon the boy'sfoster-mother brought him something to eat, but she could say nothing,for Black Wolf had appointed himself sentinel and sat rifle in hand atthe door of the lodge.

  Night came on. A wildcat screeched, a panther screamed, and an elkbugled far away. The drinking became more furious and once Erskine saw apale-brown arm thrust from behind the lodge and place a jug at the feetof Black Wolf, who grunted and drank deep. The stars mounted into aclear sky and the wind rose and made much noise in the trees overhead.One by one the braves went to drunken sleep about the fire. The firedied down and by the last flickering flame the lad saw Black Wolf's chinsinking sleepily to his chest. There was the slightest rustle behind thetent. He felt something groping for his hands and feet, felt the pointof a knife graze the skin of his wrist and ankles--felt the thongs loosenand drop apart. Noiselessly, inch by inch, he crept to the wall of thetent, which was carefully lifted for him. Outside he rose and waited.Like a shadow the girl Early Morn stole before him and like a shadow hefollowed. The loose snow muffled their feet as the noise of the wind hadmuffled his escape from the lodge, and in a few minutes they were by theriverbank, away from the town. The moon rose and from the shadow of abeech the white woman stepped forth with his rifle and powder-horn andbullet-pouch and some food. She pointed to his horse a little fartherdown. He looked long and silently into the Indian girl's eyes and tookthe white woman's shaking hand. Once he looked back. The Indian girl wasstoic as stone. A bar of moonlight showed the white woman's face wetwith tears.

  * * * * *

  Again Dave Yandell from a watch-tower saw a topknot rise above a patchof cane now leafless and winter-bitten--saw a hand lifted high above itwith a palm of peace toward him. And again an Indian youth emerged, thistime leading a black horse with a drooping head. Both came painfully on,staggering, it seemed, from wounds or weakness, and Dave sprang from thetower and rushed with others to the gate. He knew the horse and therewas dread in his heart; perhaps the approaching Indian had slain theboy, had stolen the horse, and was innocently coming there for food.Well, he thought grimly, revenge would be swift. Still, fearing sometrick, he would let no one outside, but himself stood waiting with thegate a little ajar. So gaunt were boy and beast that it was plain thatboth were starving. The boy's face was torn with briers and pinched withhunger and cold, but a faint smile came from it.

  "Don't you know me, Dave?" he asked weakly.

  "My God! It's White Arrow!"