*CHAPTER XV*
*THE TRAGIC CIRCLE*
There was not a moment to lose. The two youths seized their rifles andplunged into the forest.
"This way, Jack. Come!"
"Lead on, quickly!"
Young Eagle remained but a few seconds to take the victim's scalp and togive the defiant war-whoop of the Iroquois, and then he, too, followedin their trail.
On they went. Their only chance of saving their lives now lay inputting as great a distance as possible between themselves and theirpursuers, and in keeping up the race till dusk. 'Twas getting darkalready, but they stumbled on through the tangled undergrowth, overfallen trunks lying prostrate across their pathway.
Several times they heard the yells of the Algonquins, and once theyheard the crack of a rifle, followed by an Iroquois yell.
"Listen! That's Young Eagle's rifle, I'll swear. He's either missedour trail, or he's purposely misled them to give us a chance of gettingaway."
"Then I fear it's all up with him," cried Jamie, who was a little way inadvance. "That second scalp has cost him too dear."
'Twas getting quite dark now, and they were compelled to slacken theirpace, partly from sheer exhaustion, and partly because they wereconstantly being tripped up by ground vines, trailers and fallen trunks.
Once they got separated, and Jamie thought that he heard Jack call him.He halted and listened, but hearing the swish of branches close behindhim he thought that his comrade was following, and continued for anotherten minutes, when, coming to a little clearing, he glanced back, but sawno one following.
"Jack!" he called softly. "Where are you?" but no answer came back fromthe gloom.
Again he called--louder still, but only the cry of the night-raven andthe screech of an owl gave reply. Then he retraced his footsteps acrossthe clearing, but he failed even to discover the spot where he had leftthe forest. Five--ten minutes he remained there, searching for his owntrail, but in the darkness he had lost his bearings, and not only Jack,but he himself was lost!--lost!
Endless leagues of trackless forest, of brown tree-trunks, and dark,dank undergrowth, closing in upon him like a thick screen, separated himfrom the nearest habitation, and even the nearest fort. What was tobecome of him?
In his despair he threw himself down upon a rough, raised bank that ranpart way round the clearing; then he remembered that fancied cry, backthere by the swamp, when he had thought for an instant that Jack hadcalled him by name.
"'Twas not fancy, after all!" he murmured. "It was Jack calling forhelp; it must have been. Perhaps he sank in the swamp, or perhaps theIndians attacked him from the rear suddenly and quietly and he diedcalling my name."
Then the agony of his soul knew no bounds, for he felt that he hadwilfully deserted his comrade, and in his despair he longed to die.
"Ah--to die! That would be easy, if only Jack were here. We have toooften faced death together to be afraid, but this wild loneliness unmansme," and here the lad broke down and sobbed in his bitterness.
This weakness, if such it can be called, was of short duration, however,for certain sounds fell upon his ear in the stillness, that told himsomething or somebody was approaching. A rustling amongst the branches,a heavy but stealthy tread amongst the tangled undergrowth. All thiscame from the forest not fifty feet away.
There was just enough light to see half-way across the small clearing.His every faculty became alert, and he instinctively raised his rifle,examined its priming, and fixed his eyes at that spot where the objectmust leave the forest to enter the clearing.
Perhaps it was Jack--at last. Should he call? Better wait and see.Perhaps it was an Indian, though the footfall seemed too heavy. Whatcould it be?
The next instant a shaggy head was thrust out from amongst the bushes,scarce twenty feet away from where he sat, and then a huge brown bearshambled into the clearing, stopping every few yards to raise his snout,and to sniff the air, as though it scented danger.
Jamie's left hand slid down, almost unconsciously, to feel if hishunting-knife were there, lest his rifle should fail him. The bearcaught the movement, quick as it was, and looked suspiciously in thedirection of the youth.
Having reached the middle of the clearing, the huge monster reareditself up on its hind legs, and beating the air with its fore-paws,began to advance in the direction of Jamie.
Jamie forgot every other danger in the face of this new one that nowthreatened. He forgot also all his fears, in his desire to overcome thebear. 'Twas to be a fair fight and no favour, and unless he killed"Bruin," then the beast would kill him.
With steady eye and steady nerve Jamie levelled his rifle, as the bearshambled towards him, uttering a low growl, and preparing to hug hisvictim in a fatal embrace. The youth knew the vulnerable spot in thatthick, shaggy hide, and if he could only place his bullet there it wouldend the combat, but on a dark night like this could he do it?
He was about to pull the trigger when a strange diversion, entirelyunexpected, occurred.
A plumed and painted warrior, from the Algonquin camp, hot upon thetrail of the young paleface, quickly entered the clearing and almostrushed into the embrace of the huge monster. Discovering his mistake,and uttering a sudden exclamation of horror, the warrior fell back indismay, and dashed into the forest, followed by Bruin, who left hiserstwhile enemy and suffered him to escape. The branches closed upon thebear and the Indian, and they were hidden from sight.
"Thank God I didn't fire!" exclaimed Jamie, as he slipped quietly intothe forest in another direction, thanking Heaven for this double escape,and taking hope, for he felt that God had not deserted him, and wouldsomehow deliver him from his still terrible plight.
On he stumbled in the darkness, till he came to a little stream. Herehe stooped to quench his burning thirst and to bathe his face, for hewas fevered with excitement, after the quick transitions of feeling hehad undergone since they alarmed the camp.
Then he followed the path of the brook some little way, hiding the trailof his moccasins in the bed of the stream, for unlike the soft, oozymould of the forest the water yields no secret. Then, after a while, hestruck into the forest again. Forward he went, lest the murderingAlgonquins should discover his trail once more, and a tomahawk end hiscareer. Once or twice he thought he heard the stealthy tread of anIndian behind him, but he stayed not in his fierce flight.
The moon was rising now, and it was becoming much lighter, and Jamie wasable to make more rapid progress; but he was becoming exhausted, andfelt that he must stop soon, when suddenly he noticed that the giantpines and firs were becoming fewer and fewer, and the undergrowth lesstangled.
A tiny red glow--the glow of a camp-fire, appeared through the trees,and the next moment he halted breathlessly on the outskirts of adeserted camp.
Now at length help is at hand, he thought, and he prepared to enter theplace.
Horror of horrors! It was the same camp from which he had so blindlyfled two hours before. Some malevolent deity had led his bewilderedfootsteps in a tragic circle, a mistake not uncommon, even forexperienced travellers, who crossed the forest hastily, and without dueprecaution.
Where was now the Providence that had guided his footsteps? He almostcursed his ill-luck and his bad fortune, and yet, as kindly fate wouldhave it, this was the best thing that could have happened to him.
He had indeed been guided by Providence, for while both Jack and YoungEagle had been made prisoners, Jamie, by walking up the watercourse, andunconsciously doubling back upon the deserted camp, had thrown even thequick-witted Algonquins off the scent, who never suspected such cunningin a paleface.
I have said that the camp was deserted, although the fire still burned,and the evening meal remained untouched, for at the first sound of thatfatal cry from the woods every inmate of the camp, except the palefaceprisoner, started in pursuit of the daring enemy who had scalped theirwarrior. In this sudden call to arms the prisoner was for
a whileforgotten, as we shall shortly see.
Jamie's heart sank with dismay as he beheld the fatal error he had made.Wearied and exhausted, he was ready to sink and perish, but even thus anew feeling of terror seized him, the terror of the returningAlgonquins. What if they discovered him here?
Once more he plunged into the thicket, for a strange new strength hadcome to him, but it was the strength of despair, occasioned by fear.
Torn, lacerated and bleeding, his hair dishevelled, and his clothes intatters, he rushed madly away from the spot. Whither he went he carednot. Anywhere--away from that terrible camp. He rushed blindly on,until at the end of half-an-hour he sank down, utterly exhausted,beneath the friendly shelter of an elm-tree, and careless now whetherthe wild beasts or the Algonquins tracked him to his doom.
His brain reeled; his heart beat wildly, and he swooned away rather thansank into sleep; but soon his breathing became more regular, and hisslumber more peaceful.
The moon rose above the topmost branches, climbed to the meridian, andsank once more amongst the pines. Then the golden orb of day unbarredhis eastern shutters, tinged the far horizon with saffron and yellow,and flooded the landscape of forest, and river, and lake, with gold, butstill the youth slept on. Would he never awake?
At length, when the sun was high above the tree-tops, Jamie stretchedhimself, then opened his eyes. As he did so his first gaze fell upon aman, somewhat past middle-age, but still strong and sturdy. He was inthe garb of a hunter, for he wore a hair-fringed hunting-shirt,moccasins, and Indian leggings, while on his head was a beaver cap.
Jamie started, but felt relieved when he saw it was no redskin that bentover him.
This man sat upon a fallen tree-trunk, against which leaned his riflealso. His arms were folded across his broad chest, and while hevigorously puffed wreaths of smoke from his pipe, he was complacentlylooking at the lad, as though he had been keeping watch.
"The same face----" murmured Jamie. "It is--it must be--the greatpaleface hunter!"
Under Wolfe's Flag; or, The Fight for the Canadas Page 15