CHAPTER XIII
A MEETING IN THE WILDERNESS
Beverley set out on his mid-winter journey to Kaskaskia with a tempestin his heart, and it was, perhaps, the storm's energy that gave him thecourage to face undaunted and undoubting what his experience must havetold him lay in his path. He was young and strong; that meant a greatdeal; he had taken the desperate chances of Indian warfare many timesbefore this, and the danger counted as nothing, save that it offeredthe possibility of preventing him from doing the one thing in life henow cared to do. What meant suffering to him, if he could but rescueAlice? And what were life should he fail to rescue her? The old, oldsong hummed in his heart, every phrase of it distinct above the tumultof the storm. Could cold and hunger, swollen streams, ravenous wildbeasts and scalp-hunting savages baffle him? No, there is no barrierthat can hinder love. He said this over and over to himself after hisrencounter with the four Indian scouts on the Wabash. He repeated itwith every heart-beat until he fell in with some friendly red men, whotook him to their camp, where to his great surprise he met M.Roussillon. It was his song when again he strode off toward the west onhis lonely way.
We need not follow him step by step; the monotony of the woods andprairies, the cold rains, alternating with northerly winds and blindingsnow, the constant watchfulness necessary to guard against a meetingwith hostile savages, the tiresome tramping, wading and swimming, thehunger, the broken and wretched sleep in frozen and scant wraps,--whydetail it all?
There was but one beautiful thing about it--the beauty of Alice as sheseemed to walk beside him and hover near him in his dreams. He did notknow that Long-Hair and his band were fast on his track; but theknowledge could not have urged him to greater haste. He strained everymuscle to its utmost, kept every nerve to the highest tension. Yondertowards the west was help for Alice; that was all he cared for.
But if Long-Hair was pursuing him with relentless greed for the rewardoffered by Hamilton, there were friendly footsteps still nearer behindhim; and one day at high noon, while he was bending over a little fire,broiling some liberal cuts of venison, a finger tapped him on theshoulder. He sprang up and grappled Oncle Jazon; at the same time,standing near by, he saw Simon Kenton, his old-time Kentucky friend.The pungled features of one and the fine, rugged face of the other swamas in a mist before Beverley's eyes. Kenton was laughing quietly, hisstrong, upright form shaking to the force of his pleasure. He was inthe early prime of a vigorous life, not handsome, but strikinglyattractive by reason of a certain glow in his face and a kindly flashin his deep-set eyes.
"Well, well, my boy!" he exclaimed, laying his left hand on Beverley'sshoulder, while in the other he held a long, heavy rifle. "I'm glad tosee ye, glad to see ye."
"Thought we was Injuns, eh?" said Oncle Jazon. "An' ef we had 'a' beenwe'd 'a' been shore o' your scalp!" The wizzened old creole cackledgleefully.
"And where are ye goin'?" demanded Kenton. "Ye're making what lacks aheap o' bein' a bee-line for some place or other."
Beverley was dazed and vacant-minded; things seemed wavering and dim.He pushed the two men from him and gazed at them without speaking.Their presence and voices did not convince him.
"Yer meat's a burnin'," said Oncle Jazon, stooping to turn it on thesmouldering coals. "Ye must be hungry. Cookin' enough for a regiment."
Kenton shook Beverley with rough familiarity, as if to rouse hisfaculties.
"What's the matter? Fitz, my lad, don't ye know Si Kenton? It's not solong since we were like brothers, and now ye don't speak to me! Ye'venot forgot me, Fitz!"
"Mebby he don't like ye as well as ye thought he did," drawled OncleJazon. "I HEV known o' fellers a bein' mistaken jes' thet way."
Beverley got his wits together as best he could, taking in thesituation by such degrees as seemed at the time unduly slow, but whichwere really mere momentary falterings.
"Why, Kenton! Jazon!" he presently exclaimed, a cordial gladnessblending with his surprise. "How did you get here? Where did you comefrom?"
He looked from one to the other back and forth with a wondering smilebreaking over his bronzed and determined face.
"We've been hot on yer trail for thirty hours," said Kenton."Roussillon put us on it back yonder. But what are ye up to? Where areye goin'?"
"I'm going to Clark at Kaskaskia to bring him yonder." He waved hishand eastward. "I am going to take Vincennes and kill Hamilton."
"Well, ye're taking a mighty queer course, my boy, if ye ever expect tofind Kaskaskia. Ye're already twenty miles too far south."
"Carryin' his gun on the same shoulder all the time," said Oncle Jazon,"has made 'im kind o' swing in a curve like. 'Tain't good luck no howto carry yer gun on yer lef' shoulder. When you do it meks yer take alonger step with yer right foot than ye do with yer lef' an' ye can'twalk a straight line to save yer liver. Ventreblue! La venaison bruleencore! Look at that dasted meat burnin' agin!"
He jumped back to the fire to turn the scorching cuts.
Beverley wrung Kenton's hand and looked into his eyes, as a man doeswhen an old friend comes suddenly out of the past, so to say, andbrings the freshness and comfort of a strong, true soul to brace him inhis hour of greatest need.
"Of all men in the world, Simon Kenton, you were the least expected;but how glad I am! How thankful! Now I know I shall succeed. We aregoing to capture Vincennes, Kenton, are we not? We shall, sha'n't we,Jazon? Nothing, nothing can prevent us, can it?"
Kenton heartily returned the pressure of the young man's hand, whileOncle Jazon looked up quizzically and said:
"We're a tol'ble 'spectable lot to prevent; but then we might gitpervented. I've seed better men an' us purty consid'ble pervented lotso' times in my life."
In speaking the colloquial dialect of the American backwoodsmen, OncleJazon, despite years of practice among them, gave to it a creole lispand some turns of pronunciation not to be indicated by any form ofspelling. It added to his talk a peculiar soft drollery. When he spokeFrench it was mostly that of the COUREURS DE BOIS, a PATOIS which stilllingers in out-of-the-way nooks of Louisiana.
"For my part," said Kenton, "I am with ye, old boy, in anything ye wantto do. But now ye've got to tell me everything. I see that ye'rekeeping something back. What is it?" He glanced sidewise slyly at OncleJazon.
Beverley was frank to a fault; but somehow his heart tried to keepAlice all to itself. He hesitated; then--
"I broke my parole with Governor Hamilton," he said. "He forced me todo it. I feel altogether justified. I told him beforehand that I shouldcertainly leave Vincennes and go get a force to capture and kill him;and I'll do it, Simon Kenton, I'll do it!"
"I see, I see," Kenton assented, "but what was the row about? What didhe do to excite ye--to make ye feel justified in breakin' over yerparole in that high-handed way? Fitz, I know ye too well to be fooledby ye--you've got somethin' in mind that ye don't want to tell. Well,then don't tell it. Oncle Jazon and I will go it blind, won't we,Jazon?"
"Blind as two moles," said the old man; "but as for thet secret," headded, winking both eyes at once, "I don't know as it's so mighty hardto guess. It's always safe to 'magine a woman in the case. It's mostlywomen 'at sends men a trottin' off 'bout nothin', sort o' crazy like."
Beverley looked guilty and Oncle Jazon continued: "They's a poo'ty galat Vincennes, an' I see the young man a steppin' into her house aboutfifteen times a day 'fore I lef' the place. Mebbe she's tuck up wi' oneo' them English officers. Gals is slippery an' onsartin'."
"Jazon!" cried Beverley, "stop that instantly, or I'll wring your oldneck." His anger was real and he meant what he said. He clenched hishands and glowered.
Oncle Jazon, who was still squatting by the little fire, tumbled overbackwards, as if Beverley had kicked him; and there he lay on theground with his slender legs quivering akimbo in the air, while helaughed in a strained treble that sounded like the whining of ascreech-owl.
The old scamp did not know all the facts in Beverley's case, nor did heeven suspect what had happened; bu
t he was aware of the young man'stender feeling for Alice, and he did shrewdly conjecture that she was afactor in the problem.
The rude jest at her expense did not seem to his withered and toughenedtaste in the least out of the way. Indeed it was a delectable bit ofhumor from Oncle Jazon's point of view.
"Don't get mad at the old man," said Kenton, plucking Beverley aside."He's yer friend from his heels to his old scalped crown. Let him havehis fun." Then lowering his voice almost to a whisper he continued:
"I was in Vincennes for two days and nights spyin' around. MadameGodere hid me in her house when there was need of it. I know how it iswith ye; I got all the gossip about ye and the young lady, as well asall the information about Hamilton and his forces that Colonel Clarkwants. I'm goin' to Kaskaskia; but I think it quite possible that Clarkwill be on his march to Vincennes before we get there; for Vigo hastaken him full particulars as to the fort and its garrison, and I knowthat he's determined to capture the whole thing or die tryin'."
Beverley felt his heart swell and his blood leap strong in his veins atthese words.
"I saw ye while I was in Vincennes," Kenton added, "but I never let yesee me. Ye were a prisoner, and I had no business with ye while yourparole held. I felt that it was best not to tempt ye to give me aid, orto let ye have knowledge of me while I was a spy. I left two daysbefore ye did, and should have been at Kaskaskia by this time if Ihadn't run across Jazon, who detained me. He wanted to go with me, andI waited for him to repair the stock of his old gun. He tinkered at it'tween meals and showers for half a week at the Indian village backyonder before he got it just to suit him. But I tell ye he's wo'thwaiting for any length of time, and I was glad to let him have his way."
Kenton, who was still a young man in his early thirties, respectedBeverley's reticence on the subject uppermost in his mind. MadameGodere had told the whole story with flamboyant embellishments; Kentontiad seen Alice, and, inspired with the gossip and a surreptitiousglimpse of her beauty, he felt perfectly familiar with Beverley'scondition. He was himself a victim of the tender passion to the extentof being an exile from his Virginia home, which he had left on accountof dangerously wounding a rival. But he was well touched with thebackwoodsman's taste for joke and banter. He and Oncle Jazon,therefore, knowing the main feature of Beverley's predicament, enjoyedmaking the most of their opportunity in their rude but perfectlygenerous and kindly way.
By indirection and impersonal details, as regarded his feelings towardAlice, Beverley in due time made his friends understand that his wholeambition was centered in rescuing her. Nor did the motive fail toenlist their sympathy to the utmost. If all the world loves a lover,all men having the best virile instinct will fight for a lover's cause.Both Kenton and Oncle Jazon were enthusiastic; they wanted nothingbetter than an opportunity to aid in rescuing any girl who had shown somuch patriotism and pluck. But Oncle Jazon was fond of Alice, andBeverley's story affected him peculiarly on her account.
"They's one question I'm a goin' to put to ye, young man," he said,after he had heard everything and they had talked it all over, "an' Iwant ye to answer it straight as a bullet f'om yer gun."
"Of course, Jazon, go ahead," said Beverley. "I shall be glad toanswer." But his mind was far away with the gold-haired maiden inHamilton's prison. He scarcely knew what he was saying.
"Air ye expectin' to marry Alice Roussillon?"
The three men were at the moment eating the well broiled venison. OncleJazon's puckered lips and chin were dripping with the fragrant greaseand juice, which also flowed down his sinewy, claw-like fingers.Overhead in the bare tops of the scrub oaks that covered the prairieoasis, the February wind sang a shrill and doleful song.
Beverley started as if a blow had been aimed at him. Oncle Jazon'squestion, indeed, was a blow as unexpected as it was direct andpowerful.
"I know it's poo'ty p'inted," the old man added after a short pause,"an' ye may think 'at I ain't got no business askin' it; but I have.That leetle gal's a pet o' mine, an' I'm a lookin' after her, an'expectin' to see 'at she's not bothered by nobody who's not goin' to doright by her. Marryin' is a mighty good thing, but--"
"What do ye know about matrimony, ye old raw-headed bachelor?" demandedKenton, who felt impelled to relieve Beverley of the embarrassment ofan answer. "Ye wouldn't know a wife from a sack o' meal!"
"Now don't git too peart an' fast, Si Kenton," cried Oncle Jazon,glaring truculently at his friend, but at the same time showing a drysmile that seemed to be hopelessly entangled in criss-cross wrinkles."Who told ye I was a bach'lor? Not by a big jump. I've been marriedmighty nigh on to twenty times in my day. Mos'ly Injuns, o' course; buta squaw's a wife w'en ye marries her, an' I know how it hurts a gal tobe dis'p'inted in sich a matter. That's w'y I put the question I did.I'm not goin' to let no man give sorry to that little Roussillon gal;an' so ye've got my say. Ye seed her raise thet flag on the fort,Lieutenant Beverley, an' ye seed her take it down an' git away wi' it.You know 'at she deserves nothin' but the best; an' by the Holy Virgin,she's got to have it, or I'm a goin' to know several reasons why.Thet's what made me put the question straight to ye, young man, an' Iexpects a straight answer."
Beverley's face paled; but not with anger. He grasped one of OncleJazon's greasy hands and gave it such a squeeze that the old fellowgrimaced painfully.
"Thank you, Oncle Jazon, thank you!" he said, with a peculiar huskyburr in his voice. "Alice will never suffer if I can help it. Let thesubject drop now, my friend, until we have saved her from the hands ofHamilton." In the power of his emotion he continued to grip the oldman's hand with increasing severity of pressure.
"Ventrebleu! let go! Needn't smash a feller's fingers 'bout it!"screeched Oncle Jazon. "I can't shoot wo'th a cent, nohow, an' ef yecripple up my trigger-finger--"
Kenton had been peeping under the low-hanging scrub-oak boughs whileOncle Jazon was speaking these last words; and now he suddenlyinterrupted:
"The devil! look yonder!" he growled out in startling tone. "Injuns!"
It was a sharp snap of the conversation's thread, and at the same timeour three friends realized that they had been careless in not keeping abetter look-out. They let fall the meat they had not yet finishedeating and seized their guns.
Five or six dark forms were moving toward them across a little point ofthe prairie that cut into the wood a quarter of a mile distant.
"Yander's more of 'em," said Oncle Jazon, as if not in the leastconcerned, wagging his head in an opposite direction, from whichanother squad was approaching.
That he duly appreciated the situation appeared only in the celeritywith which he acted.
Kenton at once assumed command, and his companions felt his perfectfitness. There was no doubt from the first as to what the Indiansmeant; but even if there had been it would have soon vanished; for inless than three minutes twenty-one savages were swiftly and silentlyforming a circle inclosing the spot where the three white men, who hadcovered themselves as best they could with trees, waited in grimsteadiness for the worst.
Quite beyond gunshot range, but near enough for Oncle Jazon torecognize Long-Hair as their leader, the Indians halted and beganmaking signs to one another all round the line. Evidently they dreadedto test the marksmanship of such riflemen as they knew most border mento be. Indeed, Long-Hair had personal knowledge of what might certainlybe expected from both Kenton and Oncle Jazon; they were terrible whenout for fight; the red warriors from Georgia to the great lakes hadheard of them; their names smacked of tragedy. Nor was Beverley withoutfame among Long-Hair's followers, who had listened to the story of hisfighting qualities, brought to Vincennes by the two survivors of thescouting party so cleverly defeated by him.
"The liver-colored cowards," said Kenton, "are afeared of us in ashootin'-match; they know that a lot of 'em would have to die if theyshould undertake an open fight with us. It's some sort of a sneakin'game they are studyin' about just now."
"I'm a gittin' mos' too ole to shoot wo'th a cent," said Oncle Jazon,"but I'd g
ive half o' my scalp ef thet Long-Hair would come clostenough fo' me to git a bead onto his lef' eye. It's tol'ble plain 'atwe're gone goslins this time, I'm thinkin'; still it'd be mightysatisfyin' if I could plug out a lef' eye or two 'fore I go."
Beverley was silent; the words of his companions were heard by him, butnot noticed. Nothing interested him save the thought of escaping andmaking his way to Clark. To fail meant infinitely more than death, ofwhich he had as small fear as most brave men, and to succeed meanteverything that life could offer. So, in the unlimited selfishness oflove, he did not take his companions into account.
The three stood in a close-set clump of four or five scrub oaks at thehighest point of a thinly wooded knoll that sloped down in alldirections to the prairie. Their view was wide, but in placesobstructed by the trees.
"Men," said Kenton, after a thoughtful and watchful silence, "the thinglooks kind o' squally for us. I don't see much of a chance to get outof this alive; but we've got to try."
He showed by the density of his voice and a certain gray film in hisface that he felt the awful gravity of the situation; but he was calmand not a muscle quivered.
"They's jes' two chances for us," said Oncle Jazon, "an' them's as slimas a broom straw. We've got to stan' here an' fight it out, or waittill night an' sneak through atween 'em an' run for it."
"I don't see any hope o' sneakin' through the line," observed Kenton."It's not goin' to be dark tonight."
"Wa-a-l," Oncle Jazon drawled nonchalantly while he took in a quid oftobacco, "I've been into tighter squeezes 'an this, many a time, an' Igot out, too."
"Likely enough," said Kenton, still reflecting while his eyes roamedaround the circle of savages.
"I fit the skunks in Ferginny 'fore you's thought of, Si Kenton, an'down in Car'lina in them hills. If ye think I'm a goin' to be scalpedwhere they ain't no scalp, 'ithout tryin' a few dodges, yer a daddasteder fool an' I used to think ye was, an' that's makin' a bigcompliment to ye."
"Well, we don't have to argy this question, Oncle Jazon; they're agittin' ready to run in upon us, and we've got to fight. I say,Beverley, are ye ready for fast shootin'? Have ye got a plenty ofbullets?"
"Yes, Roussillon gave me a hundred. Do you think--"
He was interrupted by a yell that leaped from savage mouth to mouth allround the circle, and then the charge began.
"Steady, now," growled Kenton, "let's not be in a hurry. Wait till theycome nigh enough to hit 'em before we shoot."
The time was short; for the Indians came on at almost race-horse speed.
Oncle Jazon fired first, the long, keen crack of his small-bore riflesplitting the air with a suggestion of vicious energy, and a litheyoung warrior, who was outstripping all his fellows, leaped high andfell paralyzed.
"Can't shoot wo'th a cent," muttered the old man, deftly beginning toreload his gun the while; "but I jes' happened to hit that buck. He'llnever git my scalp, thet's sartin an' sure."
Beverley and Kenton each likewise dropped an Indian; but the shots didnot even check the rush. Long-Hair had planned to capture his prey, notkill it. Every savage had his orders to take the white men alive;Hamilton's larger reward depended on this.
Right on they came, as fast as their nimble legs could carry them,yelling like demons; and they reached the grove before the three whitemen could reload their guns. Then every warrior took cover behind atree and began scrambling forward from bole to bole, thus approachingrapidly without much exposure.
"Our 'taters is roasted brown," muttered Oncle Jazon. He crossedhimself. Possibly he prayed; but he was priming his old gun the nextinstant.
Kenton fired again, making a hurried and ineffectual attempt to stopthe nearest warrior, who saved himself by quickly skipping behind atree. Beverley's gun snapped, the flint failing to make fire; but OncleJazon bored a little hole through the head of the Indian nearest him;and then the final rush was made from every direction.
A struggle ensued, which for desperate energy has probably never beensurpassed. Like three lions at bay, the white men met the shock, andlion-like they fought in the midst of seventeen stalwart and determinedsavages.
"Don't kill them, take them alive; throw them down and hold them!" wasLong-Hair's order loudly shouted in the tongue of his tribe.
Both Kenton and Jazon understood every word and knew the significanceof such a command from the leader. It naturally came into Kenton's mindthat Hamilton had been informed of his visit to Vincennes and hadoffered a reward for his capture. This being true, death as a spy wouldbe the certain result if he were taken back. He might as well die now.As for Beverley, he thought only of Alice, yonder as he had left her, aprisoner in Hamilton's hands, Oncle Jazon, if he thought at all,probably considered nothing but present escape, though he prayedaudibly to the Blessed Virgin, even while he lay helpless upon theground, pinned down by the weight of an enormous Indian. He could notmove any part of himself, save his lips, and these mechanically putforth the wheezing supplication.
Beverley and Kenton, being young and powerful, were not so easilymastered. For a while, indeed, they appeared to be more than holdingtheir own. They time and time again scattered the entire crowd by theviolence of their muscular efforts; and after it had finally closed inupon them in a solid body they swayed and swung it back and forth andround and round until the writhing, savage mass looked as if caught inthe vortex of a whirlwind. But such tremendous exertion could not lastlong. Eight to one made too great a difference between the contendingparties, and the only possible conclusion of the struggle soon came.Seized upon by desperate, clinging, wolf-like assailants, the white menfelt their arms, legs and bodies weighted down and their strength fastgoing.
Kenton fell next after Oncle Jazon, and was soon tightly bound withrawhide thongs. He lay on his back panting and utterly exhausted, whileBeverley still kept up the unequal fight.
Long-Hair sprang in at the last moment to make doubly certain thesecuring of his most important captive. He flung his long and powerfularms around Beverley from behind and made a great effort to throw himupon the ground. The young man, feeling this fresh and vigorous clasp,turned himself about to put forth one more mighty spurt of power. Helifted the stalwart Indian bodily and dashed him headlong against thebuttressed root of a tree half a rod distant, breaking the smaller boneof his left fore-arm and well-nigh knocking him senseless.
It was a fine exhibition of manly strength; but there could be nothinggained by it. A blow on the back of his head the next instant stretchedBeverley face downward and unconscious on the ground. The savagesturned him over and looked satisfied when they found that he was notdead. They bound him with even greater care than they had shown insecuring the others, while Long-Hair stood by stolidly looking on,meantime supporting his broken fore-arm in his hand.
"Ugh! dog!" he grunted, and gave Beverley a kick in the side. Thenturning a fiendish stare upon Oncle Jazon he proceeded to deliveragainst his old, dry ribs three or four like contributions withresounding effect. "Polecat! Little old greasy woman!" he snarled,"make good fire for warrior to dance by!" Kenton also received his fullshare of the kicks and verbal abuse, after which Long-Hair gave ordersfor fires to be built. Then he looked to his hurt arm and had the boneset and bandaged, never so much as wincing the while.
It was soon apparent that the Indians purposed to celebrate theirsuccessful enterprise with a feast. They cooked a large amount ofbuffalo steak; then, each with his hands full of the savory meat, theybegan to dance around the fires, droning meantime an atrociouslyrepellant chant.
"They're a 'spectin' to hev a leetle bit o' fun outen us," mutteredOncle Jazon to Beverley, who lay near him. "I onderstan' what they'reup to, dad dast 'em! More'n forty years ago, in Ca'lina, they put mean' Jim Hipes through the ga'ntlet, an' arter thet, in Kaintuck, me an'Si Kenton tuck the run. Hi, there, Si! where air ye?"
"Shut yer fool mouth," Kenton growled under his breath. "Ye'll havethat Injun a kickin' our lights out of us again."
Oncle Jazon winked at the gray sky a
nd puckered his mouth so that itlooked like a nutgall on an old, dry leaf.
"What's the diff'ence?" he demanded. "I'd jest as soon be kicked now asarter while; it's got to come anyhow."
Kenton made no response. The thongs were torturing his arms and legs.Beverley was silent, but consciousness had returned, and with it asense of despair. All three of the prisoners lay face upward quiteunable to move, knowing full well that a terrible ordeal awaited them.Oncle Jazon's grim humor could not be quenched, even by the gallingagony of the thongs that buried themselves in the flesh, and theanticipation of torture beside which death would seem a luxury.
"Yap! Long-Hair, how's yer arm?" he called jeeringly. "Feels pootygood, hay?"
Long-Hair, who was not joining in the dance and song, turned when heheard these taunting words, and mistaking whence they came, went toBeverley's side and kicked him again and again.
Oncle Jazon heard the loud blows, and considered the incident aremarkably good joke.
"He, he, he!" he snickered, as soon as Long-Hair walked away again. "Idoes the talkin' an' somebody else gits the thumpin'! He, he, he! Ialways was devilish lucky. Them kicks was good solid jolts, wasn'tthey, Lieutenant? Sounded like they was. He, he, he!"
Beverley gave no heed to Oncle Jazon's exasperating pleasantry; butKenton, sorely chafing under the pressure of his bonds, could notrefrain from making retort in kind.
"I'd give ye one poundin' that ye'd remember, Emile Jazon, if I couldget to ye, ye old twisted-face, peeled-headed, crooked-mouthed,aggravatin' scamp!" he exclaimed, not thinking how high his naturallystrong voice was lifted. "I can stand any fool but a damn fool!"
Long-Hair heard the concluding epithet and understood its meaning.Moreover, he thought himself the target at which it was soenergetically launched. Wherefore he promptly turned back and gaveKenton a kicking that made his body resound not unlike a drum.
And here it was that Oncle Jazon overreached himself. He was sodelighted at Kenton's luck that he broke forth giggling and therebydrew against his own ribs a considerable improvement of Long-Hair'spedal applications.
"Ventrebleu!" whined the old man, when the Indian had gone away again."Holy Mary! Jee-ru-sa-lem! They's nary bone o' me left 'at's notsplintered as fine as toothpickers! S'pose yer satisfied now, ain't ye,Si Kenton? Ef ye ain't I'm shore to satisfy ye the fust time I git achance at ye, ye blab-mouthed eejit!"
Before this conversation was ended a rain began to fall, and it rapidlythickened from a desultory shower to a roaring downpour thateffectually quenched not only the fires around which the savages weredancing, but the enthusiasm of the dancers as well. During the rest ofthe afternoon and all night long the fall was incessant, accompanied bya cold, panting, wailing southwest wind.
Beverley lay on the ground, face upward, the rawhide strings torturinghis limbs, the chill of cold water searching his bones. He could seenothing but the dim, strange canopy of flying rain, against which thebare boughs of the scrub oaks were vaguely outlined; he could hearnothing but the cry of the wind and the swash of the water which fellupon him and ran under him, bubbling and gurgling as if fiendishlyexultant.
The night dragged on through its terrible length, dealing out itsindescribable horrors, and at last morning arrived, with a stingy anduncertain gift of light slowly increasing until the dripping treesappeared forlornly gray and brown against clouds now breaking intomasses that gave but little rain.
Beverley lived through the awful trial and even had the hardihood tobrighten inwardly with the first flash of sunlight that shot through acloud-crack on the eastern horizon. He thought of Alice, as he had doneall night; but now the thought partook somehow of the glow yonder aboveold Vincennes, although he could only see its reflection.
There was great stir among the Indians. Long-Hair stalked aboutscrutinizing the ground. Beverley saw him come near time and again witha hideous, inquiring scowl on his face. Grunts and laconic exclamationspassed from mouth to mouth, and presently the import of it all couldnot be mistaken. Kenton and Jazon were gone--had escaped during thenight--and the rain had completely obliterated their tracks.
The Indians were furious. Long-Hair sent out picked parties of his bestscouts with orders to scour the country in all directions, keeping withhimself a few of the older warriors. Beverley was fed what he would eatof venison, and Long-Hair made him understand that he would have tosuffer some terrible punishment on account of the action of hiscompanions.
Late in the day the scouts straggled back with the report that no trackor sign of the fugitives had been discovered, and immediately aconsultation was held. Most of the warriors, including all of the youngbucks, demanded a torture entertainment as compensation for theirexertions and the unexpected loss of their own prisoners; for it hadbeen agreed that Beverley belonged exclusively to Long-Hair, whoobjected to anything which might deprive him of the great rewardoffered by Hamilton for the prisoner if brought to him alive.
In the end it was agreed that Beverley should be made to run thegauntlet, provided that no deadly weapons were used upon him during theordeal.
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