CHAPTER XI.
IN GREAT PERIL.
Deerfoot the Shawanoe had drawn his arrow to the head and was in thevery act of launching it at the Wyandot who was advancing on NedPreston, when he saw that it was unnecessary.
The puff of blue smoke from one of the portholes, the whiplike crackof the Kentuckian's rifle, the death-shriek of the warrior, as hestaggered back and dropped to the earth, told the startling story tooplainly to be mistaken.
With the faintest possible sigh, the dusky youth relaxed the tensionon the string, but he still leaned forward and peered through thebushes, for the danger was not yet past. He more than suspected theneedle-pointed shaft would have to be sent after the second Indian whopressed the lad so close; but, as the reader knows, Ned Preston dartedthrough the entrance in the very nick of time, just escaping thetomahawk which whizzed over his head and buried itself half way tothe head in the solid puncheon slabs of the door.
"Deerfoot thanks the Great Spirit of the white men," the Indian youthmuttered, looking reverently upward, "that his brother, whom he lovesmore than his own life, is unharmed."
The young Shawanoe felt that no time was to be lost in attending tohis own safety. More than likely some one of the Wyandots had caughtsight of the arrow, as it sailed through the air, with its importantmessage, and the meeting of the previous day told him he was regardedwith suspicion already.
He saw no Indians near him and he cautiously retreated in thedirection of the river, which flowed only a short distance from him.The bushes and undergrowth, although they had lost most of theirleaves, served him well as a screen, and, when he had advanced threeor four rods to the northward, he began to feel more hopeful, though,it need scarcely be said, he did not relax his extraordinary cautionin the least.
His purpose was to follow the river bank, until he had passed beyondthe surrounding Wyandots, after which it would be an easy matter tomake his way to Wild Oaks, with the news of the sore extremity of theblock-house. It was reasonable to believe that Waughtauk and hiswarriors would guard every point much more closely than the Lickingdirectly in front of the station, for the one hundred yards of openclearing made it impossible for any person to approach or leave thebuilding in the daytime, without exposing himself to a raking fire,before reaching a point as close as that attained by Ned Preston andBlossom Brown, when they were checked by the two warriors.
Deerfoot, therefore, was warranted in thinking he had selected theleast guarded point, though he could not be sure of success, after thedischarge of the arrow through the narrow window.
The few rods were passed as noiselessly as the hand of the clockcreeps over its face, when the Shawanoe became aware that he was closeto several Wyandots. He had not seen them, but that strange subtlety,or intuition, which in some human beings seems like a sixth sense,told him of the fact.
He immediately sank flat on his face, and, by an imperceptible effort,continued to advance toward the warriors, at a much slower rate thanbefore. Ten feet were passed in this guarded fashion, when he stopped:he had learned enough.
Between himself and the top of the bank, where it was level with theclearing, was less than twelve feet. This space sloped irregularlydownward to the edge of the stream, and it was covered in many placesby a rank undergrowth, which, when bearing leaves, would have been aneffectual screen for an Indian or wild animal.
Besides this scraggly vegetation, there were logs, limbs and debris offreshets that had been brought down the river and had collected alongthe shores. This will explain why it was that such extreme caution wasrequired on the part of any one who sought to avoid detection.
When Deerfoot stopped, he was at a point from which he saw threeWyandots, each with a gun in his hand, gazing over the clearing in thedirection of the block-house. They seemed to be intently occupied, butno living person could pass between them and the river, which almosttouched the feet of one, without discovery.
It was utterly useless to look for escape in that direction, andwithout a minute's pause, the young Shawanoe worked his way back towhere he was standing when he used his bow, wondering as he did so,why the twang of the string had not caught the ears of the Wyandots sonear him.
He now turned about, so as to face up stream, and tried what might becalled the only recourse left. If he was shut off in that direction,he was in the worst dilemma of his life.
An almost incredible experience awaited him, for at about the samedistance as before, he discovered he was near others of his enemies,as he was compelled to regard the Wyandots. Rather curiously, when headvanced far enough to look through the bushes, he once more discernedthree of them.
They were bestowing most of their attention on the block-house, andone of them discharged his gun toward it, their friends further downthe river doing the same.
Deerfoot was somewhat closer to them than to the others, forfortunately he found a partly decayed log, lying directly across hispath, and he used this as a partial screen, though by doing so, heincreased the difficulty of his withdrawal, should it suddenly becomenecessary.
The young Shawanoe had scarcely secured the position, when thewarriors began talking in their own tongue, which was as familiar toDeerfoot as his own.
He was so close that he did not lose a single word of theconversation, which, as may be suspected, was of no little interest tohimself.
"The pale-face is a brave youth, and he runs like Deerfoot, the son ofthe Shawanoe chieftain Allomaug."
"The Long Knives flee, when the Wyandots leave their villages and huntfor them."
"The Yenghese are not brave," said the third warrior, who had justfired his gun, and who used another term by which the Caucasian wasdistinguished from his copper-hued brother; "they run like therabbits, when the hunter drives them from cover; they fled into thestrong lodge, when they saw the shadow of Waughtauk coming from thenorth."
"They will hide behind the logs till their brothers along the Ohio canhaste to help them," observed the first speaker, who seemed to be thepessimist of the party; "their lodge is strong, and the Wyandot bravescannot break it down."
Deerfoot, from his concealment, saw the painted face of the otherwarrior, as it was turned indignantly on the croaker.
"My brother talks like the squaw who thinks the voice of the wind,when it blows among the trees at night, is that of the panther andbear that are pushing their noses under her lodge to turn it over; hasArawa no heart, that he speaks so like a squaw that is ill?"
Arawa seemed to feel somewhat ashamed of himself and made no reply: hewould doubtless have been glad if the drift of the conversation shouldchange, but as his companions showed no eagerness to change it, helaunched out boldly himself:
"Why did we not shoot the pale-face youth and him with the color ofthe night, when they hastened across the open ground? It was ours todo so."
"We thought there was no escape for them, and there would not be inmany moons should they run again."
"But they cannot save the Yenghese dogs, for the strong lodge shall beburned down before the sun shows itself again in the east," observedthe optimist.
"Many moons ago, when the face of the sun was all fire, we tried toburn the strong lodge, but the flame ran away from us and it will doso many times more."
This was Arawa the pessimist, croaking once more, and the othersscowled so fiercely upon him, that they seemed on the point ofoffering violence with a view of modifying his views; but, if so, theychanged their minds, and one of them tendered some information:
"The sun and the winds and the moon have made the roof of the stronglodge like the wood with which Arawa makes the fire in his wigwam; itis not as it was many moons ago."
Arawa seemed on the point of opening his mouth to say that, while themoon and the winds and the sun had been engaged in the drying outprocess, the snows and storms and tempests had been taking part; butif such was his intention, he changed his mind and made a remark ofstill more vital interest to the cowen near the log.
"The pale-face dogs, and he with the co
untenance of the night, musthave had the serpent-tongued Deerfoot to help them."
This startling statement seemed to be endorsed by the other two, oneof whom said--
"Arawa speaks the truth."
"Arawa reads what he sees aright," added the other, while Deerfoothimself felt that all three had hit the nail on the head withastonishing accuracy.
"Deerfoot of the Shawanoes is a dog," observed one of the warriors,"and he shall die the death of a dog."
The individual referred to was rather relieved to hear thisdeclaration, because in order to inflict the death of a dog on him, itwould be necessary first to catch him--a condition which implied thatthe Wyandots would make every effort to take him prisoner, instead ofshooting him on sight, as they often did with others.
Where such a strong attempt should be made, it gave the young friendof the white men a much greater chance of eluding his foes.
The Wyandots, while grouped together and occasionally firing a gun atthe block-house, continued their derogatory remarks about the youngShawanoe, who did not lose a word. He could see them distinctly: onehad his back toward him most of the time, but he turned now and thenso that his profile was visible. The lynx eyes of the youth noticedthe flaming red, which was daubed over his face, crossed withzebra-like streaks of black, with circles on the forehead andpromiscuous dots here and there; the irregular nose, the bridge ofwhich had been broken, and the retreating chin,--all of which renderedthis particular Wyandot as ugly of countenance as the imagination canpicture.
The others, however, were not much improvement as respects looks: onehad a projecting underchin, the other a very broad face, and the threewere anything but pleasing in appearance.
Stealthily studying them, Deerfoot knew that, like all the otherwarriors surrounding the block-house, they were his deadly enemies,and would leave no effort untried to capture him the moment theybecame aware of his presence.
But to escape, it was necessary to pass beyond them, and desperate aswas the chance, Deerfoot saw a faint hope of success, enough to leadhim to make the attempt.
The Wyandots were further up the bank than were the others, and therewas more vegetation and shrubbery there than lower down stream; but,for all that, the chance was a forlorn one indeed.
Deerfoot relied mainly on the fact that the interest of the warriorswas absorbed in the block-house itself: if they should continue togive it their whole attention, he might be able to move by themundiscovered.
More than once, he had scrutinized the Licking, but with noencouraging result. Had it been very deep close to the bank, he wouldhave wished no more favorable conditions. He could swim a longdistance under water and dive so far as to elude almost any kind ofpursuit.
But the stream was too shallow to be of any use in that respect, andhe would have been forced to wade a long way before finding asufficient depth to benefit him.
Whether he would have succeeded in flanking the Wyandots, hadeverything remained as it was, is an open question, for the conditionswere overwhelmingly against him. But an obstacle appeared of which noteven the acute-minded Shawanoe dreamed.
At the very moment he began moving from behind the rotten log, with aview of pushing beyond, his trained ear caught a faint rattling noise,like the whirr of a locust. He knew that it was the warning of arattlesnake which he had disturbed by his slight change of position.
Singularly enough it was below the log and close to the water: it musthave been moving toward the side where the Shawanoe was hiding, whenit discovered him. It instantly began drawing itself rapidly in coiland prepared to strike its enemy.
Deerfoot saw that it was at just the right distance to bury its fangsin his face. He made the quickest retreat of his life. He did notbecome panic-stricken, but slid back several feet, so silently that hemade less noise than did the _crotalus_ itself, which was not heard bythe Wyandots, who were so much interested in the block-house and itsimmediate surroundings.
The action of the young Indian seemed to surprise the serpent, whichfound its prey beyond reach at the moment it was ready to launch itsneedle-pointed fangs into his body. With the tail slightly elevated,the snake continued vibrating it slowly and giving forth a sound likethe faint chirping of crickets.
Deerfoot extracted a single arrow from his quiver, and, while lying onhis face, supported on his right elbow, drew back the missile asthough it was a javelin which he was about to cast at an enemy.
The distance was short, and he knew what he could do. Like a flash hisleft hand shot forward, and the flint of the arrow went directlythrough the narrow portion of the rattlesnake's body, a few inchesbelow its head. So powerful was the throw that the upper portion wascarried backward and pinned to the earth.
The _crotalus_ species is so easily killed that a slight blow issufficient to render it helpless. The arrow, which had transfixed theserpent in front of Deerfoot, destroyed the reptile so suddenly thatit made only a few furious whippings, when it was dead.
The youth felt not the slightest fear of the reptile, but he dreadedlest its threshings should attract the notice of the Wyandots, whom hefurtively watched, until the rattlesnake lay still.
One of the warriors did look around, as though he heard somethingunusual, but he seemed satisfied with a mere glance, and, turningback, sighted his gun at the block-house and threw away a charge, asso many of his people were doing around him.
"Now is my chance," thought Deerfoot, as he once more began hisstealthy, shadow-like creeping around the decayed log, from behindwhich had glided the venomous serpent that confronted him.
The dead reptile still lay in his path, and Deerfoot reached his bowforward, thrust one end under it and flung it aside, for he shared thesentiments of the great generality of mankind, who look upon allophidians as the most detestable plagues which encumber the earth.
Ned in the Block-House: A Tale of Early Days in the West Page 11