The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  Rosalind had done so; nothing further passed between them.

  Toward morning they reached the banks of a stream, where the savages divided into two parties. The one which retained the negro started down the Ohio, while those who held Rosalind continued their journey in a southerly direction.

  The course of the former has already been given, and also a part of their doings. The latter, which numbered twenty, experienced nothing worthy of record for a considerable time. They moved forward rapidly, as they had some fears of pursuit. This was their reason for retaining Rosalind with them. They were cunning enough to know that what efforts might be made would be for her sake, while probably the negro would be left to himself.

  Their progress south continued until Rosalind knew that she was many miles in Kentucky. They had kept along the banks of a river during the whole time, which she also knew to be the Big Sandy. From this she judged that her captors were a tribe, or at least a part of one, which belonged many miles distant from where her home had been.

  Throughout all her trials, Rosalind relied upon Providence with a firm, unshaken faith. Although hope dawned but faintly upon her, she murmured not. Her fears were great for others beside herself. She was young, and her youthful blood coursed through her veins, bearing with it the pleasures and hopes of life just commenced. It was hard to die, hard to give up the hopes which had only begun to dawn in her bosom; yet, if it was His will, she felt that she could go without a murmur. “Thy will be done,” was the prayer which but herself and Heaven heard.

  CHAPTER V.

  THE MEETING ON THE RIVER.

  For some minutes after Zeb’s disappearance, Leslie remained without moving, scarcely breathing for fear there might still be some Indians overhead; but as minute after minute wore by, and no sound above warned him that his enemies were in the vicinity, he managed to creep from his hiding-place and seat himself upon a rock near by.

  Now that he was safe for the present, he began to examine his wounds. There being no strong emotion to occupy his mind, the pain again came upon him, and he feared that he might be dangerously hurt; but, upon examination he was gratified to see that he was only bruised in two or three places. In falling, he had first struck upon his feet; his side, from the force of the concussion, came rather violently in contact with the jagged, projecting rocks. This gave a few severe flesh-cuts, which, for the time being, were more painful and distressing than would have been a wound of a more serious character.

  Still, he found that he was unable to walk without great labor and pain, and concluded to remain in his present position until morning. He crawled back into the hiding-place, and disposed of himself for the night. Little sleep, however, was gained, and the night seemed the longest that he had ever spent.

  When morning dawned, he emerged from his hard resting-place, and, with great difficulty, made his way to the top. Then, shaping his course toward the river, he reached it in the course of an hour or so. Here, to his great joy, he found the boat that he and Kent had left. It was pulled high and dry upon the bank, yet he succeeded in getting it in the water, and, with a light heart, pushed out from the shore.

  It was so much easier to propel the boat than to walk, that he had no difficulty in making good headway. He had determined upon no course to pursue, but continued moving forward with a sort of instinct, hardly caring in what direction he went. He was moving toward the spot where once the house of the Lelands stood; some impulse seemed drawing him thitherward.

  The truth was, Roland Leslie was thinking of Rosalind and her situation. Although he had spoken to her but comparatively a few times, yet those occasions had awakened a feeling in his breast which he found could not be subdued; his love was growing day by day. He knew not whether she was aware of his passion, but his fluttering heart told him, at least, that she had not frowned upon him.

  Young love rests upon the slightest foundation; thus Leslie was encouraged and made hopeful by the remembrance of the friendly meeting which he had with Rosalind. Then, as he awoke from this pleasant reverie into which he had fallen, the consciousness that she was now a captive among the Indians, the thought maddened him. He dipped his oars deep in the water, and moved swiftly along.

  It occurred to him that perhaps it would be best to keep a watch of the shores ahead, to prevent running carelessly into danger. There might be Indians concealed or lurking in the vicinity, and he would be easily drawn into a decoy, should he be careless and thoughtless.

  He turned around and scanned the shore more closely and searchingly. Seeing nothing suspicious, he was about to resume rowing again, when, from an overhanging cluster of bushes came the sharp crack of a rifle, and a bullet split one of the oars, a few inches below his hand. Seizing his rifle, he turned toward the point from which the shot had come, but could see no person. The thin wreath of smoke curling slowly up from the bushes showed the point from which it had been given; but whoever the person might be, he kept himself well concealed. In a moment another shot was given, which glanced over the water a few feet from the stern.

  Leslie began to think that he was in rather a close situation, and clutching his rifle nervously, endeavored to ascertain the point from which the shot had come, determined to return one at all hazards. He did not dare to pass over to the opposite side, for he had a suspicion that they were intended for that purpose. He believed that his person had not been aimed at, but the balls had been intended to pass closely enough to alarm him and cause him to seek safety by pulling for the other shore, where, probably, a foe was waiting. While he sat undetermined what course to pursue, a form stepped out in full view upon the bank, and accosted him.

  “Frightened any?”

  “Well, I should think I ought to be. Why, is that you, George?”

  “I believe so. Come in and take me aboard.”

  “What reason had you for firing upon me?” asked Leslie, approaching him.

  “Well, not any. I saw you coming down-stream, and an idea seized me to learn if you were easily frightened.”

  “I felt rather nervous when that shot came,” returned Leslie, pointing at the hole in his oar.

  “It was a close rub; but, of course, I took good care not to make it too close.”

  “What is the news? What reason have you for being here?” asked Leslie, interrupting him.

  “News enough,” returned Leland, gloomily.

  “Step in the boat and let me hear it.”

  As they passed down-stream, Leland narrated his story, and when he had finished, remarked:

  “Roland, I have sought you for advice and assistance, and I trust both will be given.”

  “Gladly! Do you think, George, that I could rest as long as your sister is in the hands of those savages?”

  “Pardon me,” returned Leland, “if I at all doubted. This affliction weighs heavily upon me.”

  “I suspected this state of things,” continued Leslie, “and it is the reason that I hurried down-stream. Yet the uncertainty of seeing you or any friend, deterred me from making haste to your place.”

  Here Leslie gave the circumstances of his encountering Zeb, and his subsequent misfortune, or, as he termed it, his fortune, of falling in the gorge.

  “Then Kent is gone, is he?” asked George, when he had finished. “That is too bad, for we need his assistance greatly.”

  “In fact, I do not understand what we shall be able to do without him,” added Leslie.

  “Nor I; and here we are as helpless as if we were already in the hands of the Indians, so far as regards any assistance that we can give Rosalind,” continued Leland.

  “Oh, don’t despair so soon. I trust that Kent will soon turn up, and we shall then have a good chance to recover her.”

  “Where do you suppose that Kent can be?”

  “I can only guess.”

  “What reason have you then for thinking that we shall meet him?”

  “This reason. He saw me fall, and was obliged to leave me for a time, as the pursuers were close at hand
. I am certain that, as soon as he eluded and escaped them, he would return to the place for me.”

  “And find you gone and give you up.”

  “No; he would search the place, and seeing my trail, would follow it. I left a pretty plain one, and he will meet with no difficulty.”

  “But suppose the ranger is captured himself?”

  “There is no supposition in the case,” rejoined Leslie, with an air of assurance.

  “Well, admitting what you say,” continued Leland, “did you leave a trail after getting in the boat, that will be easy for him to follow?”

  “Easy enough. He knows what course I would take, and, consequently, he knows what one to pursue.”

  “But, even then, can he overtake you?”

  “I have not come very rapidly, and I think that he can. I believe that at this moment he is on the way.”

  “Well, Roland, we have probably speculated enough upon our chances of meeting him. In the meantime, what do you propose that we do with ourselves?”

  “As to that, I am hardly decided. There is great danger in our remaining on the river, and yet I see no means which will be so apt to bring us in communication with Kent.”

  “This gliding down the Ohio in broad daylight, when we know the woods on both sides are full of our enemies, is rather dangerous business, although it may possess some advantages for us.”

  “I leave the matter with you,” said Leslie. “The stream is very broad for a considerable distance, and both of us ought to understand enough of woodcraft to prevent running into danger.”

  “We ought to understand enough,” said Leland, significantly, “but the fact is, we do not. There are so many contrivances these cunning rascals devise for a white man’s destruction, that one needs to have a schooling of years in their ways to understand them. However,” he added, in a whisper, “I understand that contrivance yonder.”

  “What is that?” inquired his companion, in some excitement.

  “Take a careful look down-stream and tell me whether you see anything unusual.”

  “No—I don’t know as I do,” slowly repeated Leslie. “Hold on—yes, I do—yonder is a log, or more likely two or three of them—a raft. I suppose, Leland, it is for our benefit.”

  “Undoubtedly. It was constructed for the benefit of the white race generally; and, as we come first we are to be served first.”

  “Let us cut in to shore and give them the slip.”

  “It may be the very thing they wish us to do. The action of the savages, so far, shows that they are more anxious to take prisoners than to slay men. So keep quiet and don’t allow yourself to become nervous.”

  CHAPTER VI.

  THE RAFT.

  Slowly, silently and gently the boat glided onward—both Leslie and Leland as motionless as death, yet with hearts throbbing wildly and fearfully. The former stooped and whispered:

  “There are three Indians on it, upon the opposite side from us. We must pass beyond the log before they will be in range of our guns. They will not fire until we begin to pass them. Take a quick but sure aim, and drop down in the bottom of the boat the instant your gun is discharged.”

  Nearer and nearer came the canoe to the log, until but a few rods separated them, but not a breath or fluttering of a leaf disturbed the profound silence.

  When at the nearest point, scarcely more than two rods would separate them. Still onward the boat swept until its prow was even with the log.

  “Ready,” whispered Leslie, “you take the nearest one.”

  The next instant the enemies were in full view of each other. Simultaneously the two rifles in the boat broke the solemn stillness. But not a sound showed whether their shots had produced any effect at all! Not a savage’s head, however, could be seen! They either had been slain or else had quietly drawn out of sight when they became aware of the danger that menaced them. The latter was most probably the case, although neither of the whites could satisfy himself upon that point.

  As the thin haze from the guns diffused itself over the spot, the same oppressive silence settled upon the water, and the same absence of life was manifest in everything around. So sudden had been the interruption, that, a few minutes afterward, it was almost impossible to realize that it had actually occurred. More than once both Leslie and Leland caught themselves debating this very point in their minds.

  For a few moments the two remained concealed within the boat, for they well knew that danger yet threatened; but, nervously excited over the event, Leland, with a sad want of discretion, peered over the gunwale of the canoe.

  “Down, instantly,” admonished his companion, catching his shoulder.

  The report of another gun came at that very instant, and George dropped so suddenly and awkwardly out of sight, that Leslie inquired with much concern:

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Pretty near it, at any rate,” returned Leland, putting his hand to his face.

  He was not struck, however, although the ball had grazed and marked his cheek. The instant Leland saw that he was not injured, he raised himself and aimed toward the log. No sign of an enemy was visible, and not knowing but what there might be more loaded rifles behind the contrivance, he dropped his head again.

  Peering cautiously over the gunwale, the young man saw the raft gradually approaching the Kentucky shore. The Indians possessing no means of reloading their pieces without running great risk, probably deemed it best to make a safe retreat.

  The distance between the whites and the savages slowly but surely increased, and when the former judged they were comparatively safe, they arose and plied their paddles.

  “Now if we can only come across Kent, I shall be pretty hopeful of getting out of the woods,” remarked Leslie.

  “But how is that to be done? There is just the trouble.”

  “I think he will find us if we only wait for him.”

  “I agree with you, that it is all that we can do. We will row down-stream a short distance further, where we will be sheltered more from the observation of our enemies, and wait until he comes, or until it is pretty certain that he will not.”

  Leslie bent to his oars, and the boat again shot forward. Each now felt a stronger hope. The depression of spirits under which Leland was laboring began to undergo a reaction.

  Leslie was naturally of a more buoyant disposition than Leland, and seldom suffered those spells of melancholy which are so apt to affect those of a temperament less sanguine. The latter at seasons was more light-hearted than the former, yet adverse circumstances easily affected and depressed him.

  The locality to which Leslie had referred was a place in the river where the overhanging boughs and underwood were so thick and luxuriant that it was an easy matter to send a small boat beneath them and remain effectually hidden from any enemy passing up or down the river.

  Their plan was to conceal themselves, and thus, while affording themselves comparative security, to keep an unremitting watch for the appearance of Kent. They expected, and in fact were certain, that he would descend the opposite side, which, from their hiding-place, could be easily seen.

  Leslie, with a vigorous pull, sent the boat under the sweeping branches, and, coming to rest, remarked:

  “There, George, we are safe for the present. An Indian might pass within twenty feet of us, and not dream of our proximity.”

  “True, Leland, I feel glad that we are thus fortunate.”

  “See,” continued Leslie, “what a nice arrangement. From my seat I can keep a good view of the opposite side.”

  “How long do you intend to remain here?” asked Leland, whose fears were ever on the alert.

  “Can’t say precisely.”

  “Remember that food will be necessary, and soon necessary, too.”

  “I am aware of that, yet we can do without it for some time. If Kent is going to pass us, it will be during tomorrow.”

  “Leslie,” said Leland, earnestly, “I have been thinking deeply upon our chances of meeting him, and I
must confess that they seem few indeed.”

  “I do not doubt it. They would have the same appearance to me, were it not for one thing. I have been calculating, and though, of course, a great deal of guess-work has been employed, yet I think that I have come to a very nearly correct conclusion. I’m pretty positive that if Kent reaches us, it will be in the neighborhood of tomorrow at mid-day. Not seeing him, I shall fire my rifle. Kent knows the sound of it, and will search for us.”

  “Perhaps he may not be upon the opposite shore.”

  “Which will be as well, yet I can think of no reason that would induce him to cross.”

  “In the meantime, how do you propose that we pass away time and keep off ennui.”

  “In sleep, if that is possible.”

  “I think it is with myself,” returned Leland, with a light laugh.

  “And the same with me,” added Leslie.

  “Well, the circumstances being favorable, I propose that we commence operations at once.”

  “A good suggestion.”

  Both disposed themselves as best they could in the boat, and being tired and fatigued, were soon asleep.

  CHAPTER VII.

  LOST AND FOUND.

  The two young men slept soundly through the night. When Leslie awoke it was broad day, and his companion was still asleep. He suffered him to remain so until the day was well advanced. Then each felt the pangs of hunger. Leland proposed that one should land and go in quest of food, but Leslie answered:

  “If Kent appears, it will be in the course of a few hours. We had better wait and see what comes of patience.”

  Another hour of silence wore away. Leland was about to speak when Leslie exclaimed, in a whisper:

  “Hush!”

  They listened intently. In a moment the steady measured dip of paddles could be heard. Whoever was approaching had little fear or apprehension of danger; for they came fearlessly along, and were moving with considerable noise and swiftness.

  Leland and Leslie held their breath as the sound came steadily nearer. Not a whisper was exchanged. The former, from his position, could not discern any object that might be passing, but the latter had a full view of the river.