Rosalind smiled as she arose and remarked:
“It is getting late, George, and it perhaps is best to have supper.”
He made no answer and turned toward the negro.
“Zeb,” said he, “in all probability we shall be obliged to leave this place in a few days for a safer location. Of course you will accompany us, and I wish it to be understood that you are to lay aside this levity and carelessness. Remember that you are in danger, as much as ourselves. Your scalp may be the first taken.”
“What, dis yere wool of mine? Yah! yah! yah! Lord bless you, dey’d have a handful!”
“How would you relish being roasted at the stake?” asked George, hoping to terrify him.
“Yah! yah! Dey’d be some sizzlin’, I guess.”
“You will think soberly about the matter, perhaps sooner than you suspect.”
“Yas,” said Zeb, and his face straightened out in an instant, while he slowly and thoughtfully continued whittling.
“Zeb,” continued George, leaning toward him and speaking in an undertone, “I think we shall be attacked in two days at the latest.”
“Jest keep de whip in good order, and I’ll put it into ’em and teach ’em manners.”
“I fear you will learn wisdom only by experience, even if you do then,” returned George. “It would be a good thing for you, should you meet with something that would impress you with a sense of your peril. I can only wonder at your stupidity.”
“Gorra mighty! do you s’pose dere’s anything that’d make me afeard of dem Injins? Why, bless you, forty of ’em wouldn’t dare to frow a stone at me. I’ve licked free, four dozen of ’em, and dey all respect me awful.”
“I suppose so,” rejoined young Leland, with mock seriousness.
“Last summer,” pursued Zeb, “when you’s down de river fishin’, dere’s thirteen of ’em come up one day to borrer de wood-box. I s’pose dey wanted to keep dar dogs and pappooses in it, and I ’cluded as how dey warn’t gwine to get it. So I told ’em I’s very sorry dat I couldn’t ’commodate ’em, but de fact war we wanted to put de wood in it ourselves. When I said dat, one of de men begin to got sassy. I just informed ’em dat dey’d better make demselves scarce mighty quick, if dey didn’t want dis pusson in dar wool. Dey didn’t mind what was said, howsumever, and purty soon I cotched ’em runnin’ off wid de wood-box. Dat raised my dander, and I grabbed de box and frowed it right over dar heads and cotched ’em fast. Den I put a big stone on it, and kept ’em dere free weeks, and afore I let ’em out I made ’em promise to behave ’emselves. Now I considers dat we’d better serve ’em some sich trick. Tie two, free hundred to de fence, and leave ’em dere for a few months.”
“You are welcome to try it,” returned George, rather disgusted at the negro’s propensity for big story telling. He arose and passed within, where the ample table was laid. Yet he could not eat the plain, sweet food which Rosalind’s own hands had prepared. The dreadful sense of danger was too real a guest for any rest or peace of mind.
CHAPTER II.
THE NIGHT OF TERROR.
Few words were interchanged during the evening. George and Rosalind had enough to occupy their minds, and Zeb, finding them taciturn, relapsed into a sullen silence.
At an early hour each retired. Rosalind now felt more than George that unaccountable presentiment which sometimes comes over one in cases of danger. During the last few hours it had increased until it nearly resolved itself into a certainty.
The view from the front of the house was clear and unobstructed to the river, a quarter of a mile distant. Along this lay the cultivated clearing, while the forest, stretching miles away, approached to within a few yards of the rear of the house.
Rosalind’s room overlooked this wilderness. Instead of retiring, she seated herself by the window to gaze out upon it. There was a faint moon, and the tree-tops for a considerable distance could be seen swaying in the gentle night-wind. The silence was so profound that it seemed to make itself felt and, in that vast solitude, few indeed could remain without being impressed with the solemn grandeur of nature around.
Hour after hour wore away; still Rosalind remained at the window. As there was no inclination to sleep, she determined to remain in her position until morning. She knew that it must be far beyond midnight, and at the thought there sprung up a faint hope within her breast. But she was startled by the dismal hoot of an owl. She sprang up, with a beating heart, listening intently and painfully; but no other sound was heard. Trying to smile at her trepidation, she again seated herself and listened; in a moment that cry was repeated, now in an opposite direction from which the first note was heard.
Rosalind wondered that the simple circumstance should so affect her; but try as much as she might, she could not shake it off. Again, for a few minutes, she remained trembling with an undefinable fear, when there came another hoot, followed instantly by another, in an opposite direction. She began now to entertain a fearful suspicion.
Her first impulse was to awaken her brother, but, after a moment’s thought, she concluded to wait a short time. A few more sounds were heard, when they entirely ceased. During this time, Rosalind, although suffering an intense fear, had been gazing vacantly toward the point or clearing nearest the house. As her eyes rested upon the spot, she caught the shadowy outlines of a dark body moving stealthily and noiselessly along upon the ground.
Without waiting a moment, she darted to George’s room. He had not slept, and in an instant was by her side.
“Call Zeb,” she exclaimed. “We are surrounded by Indians.”
Leland disappeared, and in a moment came back with the negro.
“Gorra mighty!” said the latter, in a hurried, husky whisper, “where am de cussed negroes? Heigh, Miss Rosa?”
“Keep quiet,” she replied, “or you will be heard.”
“Dat’s just what I wants to be, and I calkilates I’ll be felt too, if dar are any of ’em ’bout.”
“Stay here a moment,” said George, “while I look out. Rosalind, what did you see?”
“A body approaching the house from the woods. Be careful and do not expose yourself, George.”
He made no answer and entered her room, followed by herself and the negro, who remained at a safe distance, while he cautiously approached the window. He had no more than reached it, when Zeb asked:
“See noffin’?”
This question was repeated perhaps a dozen times without an answer, when the patience of Zeb becoming exhausted, he shuffled to the window and pressed his head forward, exclaiming:
“Gorra mighty, whar am dey?”
“Hist! there is one now—yes, two of them!”
“Whar—whar?”
“Keep your mouth shut,” interrupted the young man, his vexation causing him to speak louder than he intended.
“Heigh! dat’s him! Look out!”
And before young Leland suspected his intentions or could prevent it, Zeb had taken aim and fired. This was so sudden and unexpected that, for a moment, nothing was heard but the dull echo, rolling off over the forest and up the river. Then arose a piercing, agonized yell, that told how effectual was the shot of the negro. Rosalind’s face blanched with terror as she heard the fearful chorus of enraged voices, and thought of the fearful scene that must follow.
“Are the doors secured?” she asked, laying her hand upon George’s shoulder.
“Yes, I barricaded them all,” he answered. “If they do not fire the building, we may be able to keep them off until morning. I don’t know but what Zeb’s shot was the best, after all—God save us!”
This last exclamation was caused by a bullet whizzing past, within an inch of his face. For a while Leland was uncertain of the proper course to pursue. Should he expose his person at the window, he was almost certain to be struck; yet this or some other one equally exposed, was the only place where he could exchange shots, and the savages must be kept in check.
Zeb had reloaded his gun, and peering around the ed
ge of the window, caught a glimpse of an Indian. As reckless of danger as usual, he raised his rifle and discharged it. He was a good marksman, and the shot was as effective as the other.
“Gorra mighty!” he exclaimed, “I can dodge dar lead. Didn’t I pick dat darkey off awful nice? Just wait till I load ag’n.” Chuckling over his achievements, he proceeded to prime his rifle. George Leland withdrew to the window of another room, from which he succeeded in slaying a savage, and by being careful and cautious, he was able to make his few shots tell with effect.
When Zeb shot the first savage, the red-skins sprung to their feet and commenced yelling and leaping, feeling that those within were already at their mercy; but the succeeding shots convinced them of their mistake, and retreating to cover, they were more careful in exposing themselves. Several stole around to the front of the house, but George had anticipated them, and there being no means of concealing their appearance, they were easily kept at a distance. Rosalind followed and assisted him as far as lay in her power, while Zeb was left alone in his delight and glory.
“Be careful,” said Leland; “don’t come too near. Just have the powder and wadding ready and hand it to me when I need it.”
“I will,” she replied, in a calm, unexcited voice, as she reached him his rod.
“Just see what Zeb is at, while I watch my chance.”
She disappeared, and in a moment returned.
“He seems frantic with delight, and is yet unharmed.”
“God preserve him,” said George, “for his assistance is needed.”
“Be careful,” said Rosalind, as George approached the window.
“I shall—whew! that’s a close rub!” he muttered, as a bullet pierced his cap. “There, you’re past harm,” he added, as he discharged his gun.
Thus the contest was kept up for over an hour. But few shots were interchanged on either side, each party becoming more careful in their action. Young Leland remained at his window, and kept a close watch upon his field; but no human being was seen. Zeb laughed, ducked his head, and made numerous threats toward his enemies, but seemed to attract no notice from them.
Now and then Rosalind spoke a word to her brother, but the suspense which the silence of their enemies had put them in, sealed their lips, and, for a long while, the silence was unbroken by either. They were startled at length by the report of Zeb’s rifle, and the next minute he appeared among them, exclaiming:
“Gorra mighty! I shot out my ramrod. I seen a good chance, and blazed away ’fore I thought to take it out. It went through six of ’em, and stuck into a tree and hung ’em fast. Heigh! it’s fun to see ’em.”
“Here, take mine, and for God’s sake, cease your jesting!” said Leland, handing his rod to him.
“Wish I could string some more up,” added Zeb, as he rammed home his charge. “Yer oughter seen it, Miss Rosa. It went right frough de fust feller’s eye, and den frough de oder one’s foot, den frough de oder’s gizzard, and half way frough de tree. Gorra, how dey wriggled! Looked just like a lot of mackerel hung up to dry. Heigh!”
At this point Leland discharged his gun, and said, without changing his position:
“They are trying to approach the house. Go, Zeb, and attend to your side. Be very sharp!”
“Yes, I’s dar, stringing ’em up,” he rejoined, as he turned away.
“Hark!” exclaimed Rosalind, when he had gone. “What noise is that?”
Leland listened awhile, and his heart died within him as he answered:
“Merciful Heaven! the house is on fire! All hope is now gone!”
“Shall we give ourselves up?” hurriedly asked Rosalind.
“No; come with me.”
“Hurry up, massa, dey’s gwine to roast us. De grease begins to siss in my face a’ready,” said Zeb, as he joined them.
The fugitives retreated to the lower story, and Leland led the way to a door which opened upon the kitchen, at the end of the house. His hope was that from this they might have a chance of escaping to the wood, but a short distance off, ere they were discovered.
Cautiously opening the door, he saw with anxious, hopeful joy, that no Indians were visible.
“Now, Rosalind,” he whispered, “be quick. Make for the nearest trees, and if you succeed in reaching them, pass to the river-bank and wait for me. Move softly and rapidly.”
Rosalind stepped quickly out. The yells of the infuriated savages deafened her; but, although fearfully near, she saw none, and started rapidly forward. Leland watched each step with an agony of fear and anxiety which cannot be described. The trees were within twenty yards, and half the distance was passed, when Leland knew that her flight was discovered. A number of savages darted forward, but a shot from him stopped the course of the foremost. Taking advantage of the confusion which this had occasioned, Rosalind sprung away and succeeded in reaching the cover; but here, upon the very threshold of escape, she was reached and captured.
“Gorra mighty!” shouted Zeb, as he saw her seized and borne away. “Ef I don’t cowhide ebery one of ’em for dat trick.”
And clenching his hands he stalked boldly forward and demanded:
“Whar’s dat lady? Ef you doesn’t want to git into trouble, I calkilate you’d better bring her back in double-quick time.”
Several savages sprung toward him, and Zeb prepared himself for the struggle. His huge fist felled the first and the second; but ere he could do further damage he found himself thrown down and bound.
“Well, dar, if dat ain’t de meanest trick yet, servin’ a decent prisoner dis way. I’ll cowhide ebery one ob you. Oh, dear, I wish I had de whip!” he muttered, writhing and rolling in helpless rage upon the ground.
Leland had seen this occurrence and taken advantage of it. It had served to divert the action of the savages, and the attention of all being occupied with their two prisoners, he managed with considerable difficulty to reach the wood without being discovered.
Here, at a safe distance, he watched the progress of things. The building was now one mass of flame, which lit up the sky with a lurid, unearthly glare. The border of the forest was visible and the trunks and limbs of the trees appeared as if scorched and reddened by the consuming heat. The savages resembled demons dancing and yelling around the ruin which they had caused. It was with difficulty that Leland restrained himself from firing upon them. With a sad heart he saw the house which had sheltered him from infancy fall inward with a crash. The splinters and ashes of fire were hurled in the air and fell at his feet, and the thick volume of smoke reached him.
Yet he thought more of the captives which were in the hands of their merciless enemies. Their safety demanded his attention. Thoughtfully and despondingly he turned upon his heel and disappeared in the shadows of the great forest.
CHAPTER III.
KENT AND LESLIE.
When Roland Leslie reached his destination some miles up the Ohio, his fears and suspicions were confirmed. There had been a massacre, a week previous, of a number of settlers, and the Indians were scouring the country for more victims.
This information was given by Kent Whiteman, the person for whom he was searching. This personage was a strange character, some forty years of age, who led a wandering hunter’s life, and was known by every white man for a great distance along the Ohio. Roland Leslie had made his acquaintance when but a mere lad, and they often spent weeks together hunting and roaming through the great wilderness, which was the home of both. He cherished an implacable hatred to every red-man, and they in turn often sought his life, for they had no enemy so dangerous as he.
“Yes, sir, them varmints,” said he, as he leaned upon his long rifle and gazed at Leslie, “are playing particular devil in these parts, and I calkelate it’s a game that two can play at.”
“Jump in the boat, Kent,” said Leslie, “and ride down with me; I promised George Leland that if he needed assistance I would bring it to him.”
“He needs it, that’s a p’inted fact, and as soon as it can conve
niently reach him too.”
“Well, let us be off.” Leslie dipped his oars in the water and pulled out into the stream. It was the morning after the burning of the Lelands’ home, which of course was unknown to them. For a few moments the boat glided rapidly down the stream, when Whiteman spoke:
“Where’d you put up last night, Leslie?”
“About ten miles down the river. I ran in under the bank and had an undisturbed night’s rest?”
“Didn’t hear nothin’ of the red-skins?”
“No.”
“Wal, it’s a wonder; they’re as thick as flies in August, and I calkelate I’ll have rich times with ’em.”
“I cannot understand how it is, Kent, that you cherish such a deadly hatred for these Indians.”
“I have good reason,” returned the hunter, compressing his lips.
“How long is it that you have felt thus?”
“Ever since I’s a boy. Ever since that time.”
“What time, Kent?”
“I have never told you, I believe, why the sight of a red-skin throws me into such a fit, have I?”
“No; I should certainly be glad to hear.”
“Wal, it doesn’t take long to tell. Yet how few persons know it except myself. It is nigh thirty years ago,” commenced Kent, “that I lived about a dozen miles above the place that we left this morning. There I was born and lived with my old father and mother until I was ten or eleven years old.
“One dark, stormy night we war attacked by them red devils, and that father and mother were butchered before my eyes. During the confusion of the attack, I escaped to the woods and secreted m’self until it was over. It was a hard matter to lie there, scorched by the flames of your own home, and see your parents, while begging for mercy, tomahawked and slain before your eyes. But in such a position I was placed, and remained until the savages, satisfied with their bloody work, took their departure.
“When the rain, which fell in torrents, had extinguished the smoking ruins, I crawled from my hiding-place. I felt around until I come upon the cold bodies of my father and mother lyin’ side by side, and then kneelin’ over them, I took a fearful oath—an oath to which I have devoted my life. I swore that as long as life was given me, it should be used for revengin’ the slaughter of my parents. That night these savages contracted a debt of which they little dreamed. Before they left the place, I had marked each of the dozen, and I never forgot them. For ten years I follered and tracked them, and at the end of that time I had sent the last one to his final account. Yet that did not satisfy me. I swore eternal enmity against the whole people, and as I said, it shall be carried out. While Kent is alive, he is the mortal enemy of every red-skin.”
The Edward S. Ellis Megapack Page 60