The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  The efforts of a child, if steadily persevered in, would move the Great Eastern in calm water, and Tim was not long in making the discovery that, if he could not use the paddle, he still was able to exert a motive power upon the canoe by a very slight means.

  Reaching his hand over the side, he began paddling the water, and soon had the gratifying consciousness that he was moving across the river. True, it was slow, but it was nevertheless certain and positive, and was carrying him further away from his troublesome pursuers, and must eventually bring him against the western shore.

  But when the island disappeared from view, and he had barely crossed the center of the stream, he begun to think that this species of locomotion was rather tardy, and he partially came to the sitting position and ventured to take his paddle in hand. A discharge from the shore warned him of the danger he ran, and he was reluctantly forced to drop his head again and resort to his tedious method of moving.

  By this time the afternoon was well advanced, and it looked as though it would be fully dark before Tim could regain the ground he had lost. Now and then he peered over the top of the deer to see whether he could possibly catch sight of his acquaintances, but they whisked from cover to cover so dexterously that he had not the encouragement even to hope for success, and so he did not fire.

  But a new fear took possession of the fugitive. If they were Indians, it was to be expected that they had canoes somewhere, and if they were speedily found, he would as speedily be overhauled.

  “In which case Tim O’Rooney will lose his daar, and be the same towken lose himself, and the boys won’t get their dinner.”

  He squinted at the sun, now low in the sky, and quickly asked himself:

  “If a man doesn’t git his dinner, and ates half-way atween noon and midnight, is it his dinner or supper? But that is a mighty question, is the same.”

  He evidently concluded it was too vast for him to decide, for he speedily dismissed it and turned his attention to that which more nearly concerned him. Still toiling with his hand, much in the same manner that a child would dabble in the water, he kept up the tardy movement of the canoe until he began to grow fearless again, and he took his paddle once more.

  Now, when it was almost too late, he found that he could use it without danger to himself. By bending his body forward, the deer protected him and he could labor with impunity.

  “Tim O’Rooney, I fears yez are lacking in the iliments which go to make up a mon of sense. Why didn’t yez think of this when it would have done yez more good?”

  When he was yet within a few yards of shore, he looked back and was not a little frightened to see that the savages had launched a canoe and were coming across the river with the speed of the swallow.

  “Whisht now! but that is onexpected,” said he, as he redoubled his own exertions. Observing that his pursuers were rapidly gaining, he suddenly recalled an artifice that he had seen practiced during his experience in the mines years before. Catching up his rifle, he aimed it at the advancing Indians.

  Quick as a flash they ducked their heads and held up the two paddles they were using as a protection against the expected bullet. But it was not Tim’s purpose to fire. He knew better than to do that, for ere he could have reloaded they would have been upon him.

  The minute they stooped he lowered his gun and caught up his paddle and used it furiously. In this he was imitated by the Indians, whose superior skill sent their frail vessel forward with such velocity that it looked as if they would reach the shore but a short distance behind him.

  Again he raised his gun, and as before they attempted to screen themselves from danger, while the next impulse of his paddle sent his canoe high up the bank, and he sprung out and plunged into the woods.

  Tim O’Rooney had no thought of the particular manner in which he was to effect his escape. His one desire was to get away from them. The probabilities are that, beyond all doubt, he would have been speedily overtaken and slain but for one of those singular occurrences which do not happen to a man more than once in a life-time, and which seem to show unmistakably that Providence often interferes directly in favor of the innocent and distressed.

  He had run perhaps a couple of hundred yards, or thereabouts, when a peculiar whoop from his pursuers announced that they had landed and were now coming speedily behind him. He knew that he had no chance in running, and was looking about him for some place in which to take shelter, when a furious growl startled him and he found himself within a dozen feet from enormous grizzly bear. This quadruped seemed anxious for a fight, for he came straight at the fugitive, who might certainly be excused for being dazed at the combination of dangers by which he was surrounded.

  That of the grizzly bear was the greatest; for with mouth open and his red tongue lolling out he came fiercely at him. His gait was awkward and shambling, but he managed to get over the ground very rapidly. Indeed, the danger was so imminent that Tim, seeing there was no choice, raised his gun and fired at the monster.

  The bullet struck him near the head, but it did not kill him, nor did it cause him to fall, but it bewildered him, and he rose on his hind feet and clawed the air as if the bullet was a splinter and he was seeking to pluck it from his flesh.

  This bewilderment was the means of Tim being saved. Before the animal had entirely recovered, he had darted out of sight, and when the Indians came up the bear was just in “fighting trim,” and immediately made at them. Consequently they were compelled to give over all thoughts of the flying hunter and attend to their own personal safety. What the final result was Tim never learned, and we cannot speak with certainty.

  CHAPTER XXVI

  Shasta’s Hunt

  If the Pah Utah in the extremity of his suffering had been betrayed into the extraordinary weakness of manifesting it, he now seemed anxious to make amends for the humiliating fact. It may have been that among his own people he would have restrained those utterances which declared his agony, and borne the utmost with the stoicism of his race; but knowing that civilization does not teach such outward indifference to pain, he had adopted the surest means to reach the sympathy of the white strangers; or, if we may conjecture still further, the consciousness of the instinctive feud between the American and Caucasian race told him that the plan he took was the only one that offered safety to himself. What reason had he to believe that the hunters were kind of heart? If he hid his distress, would he not be treated as a well Indian? And was there any but the one common ground upon which the two races met?

  But the fever had passed and he was himself again. True, he was still feeble, and his limbs trembled at times like those of an old man; but the disease had gone, and the stern, unbending will had resumed its sway. He was not a child, but he was Shasta, the Pah Utah Indian.

  The inexperience of Elwood Brandon and Howard Lawrence with these strange people made this savage an enigma to them. As he stood with his arms folded, his blanket wrapped around him, his long black hair streaming over his shoulders, and the mingling of the paint on his crown and over his face, and his midnight eyes fixed upon them, it was hard indeed to conjecture the thoughts filtrating through his brain.

  But there is a language in which the human heart can speak—that of emotion. The boys felt no fear—ingratitude is not an element of the savage character, though sad to say it is sometimes manifested among us of greater moral pretensions.

  He looked at them as they came up and paused a few feet from him.

  “You seem to be better?” asked Elwood, feeling it incumbent that he should make some remark, even though it was incomprehensible to their dusky friend. He muttered something and then stretched out his arms as if to show that he had recovered from his illness.

  At this point Terror went up to the savage and snuffed around him, as if to satisfy himself of his identity. The latter laid his hand upon his knife and watched the dog narrowly, but he appeared to judge the animal by the company, and quietly removed his hand and folded his arms again.

  He stood thus
a moment, when he pointed to the eastern shore and then down the river, nodding his head and gesticulating somewhat excitedly. The boys in return nodded, which satisfied the aborigine. All at once he moved off and strode rapidly to the other side of the island, where he drew forth a tiny canoe and shoved it into the water.

  When it was launched he turned again toward his friends, and looking steadily at them a moment, once more pointed down stream, sprang into the boat and dipped his paddle first upon one side and then upon the other.

  It was a sight to see him manage the canoe! It seemed made to contain a single person, and the way it skimmed over the water was a perfect marvel to the spectators. It appeared fairly to fly, scarcely touching the water, while human art could not have exceeded the skill with which he managed the paddle. He sat as motionless as a statue, like the artistic violinist. It could not be seen that he raised his arms above the elbow.

  The sun was just going over the western hills, and the reflection of the water as it flashed and rippled from his paddle gave a fairy-like appearance to the Indian as he sped down stream that was pleasing to the last degree.

  “What does that mean?” asked Elwood.

  “It means that he is going to the rescue of Tim.”

  “If he goes after him he will bring him back. Just see the way in which he manages that canoe! It is worth going a hundred miles to see!”

  “No doubt he has practiced it long enough.”

  “But what of our remaining here?”

  “I don’t see how it can be helped.”

  “Suppose those Indians that have followed Tim take it into their heads to pay us a visit?”

  “He will take all their attention, if Shasta concludes to have a part in the matter, and they won’t have time to think of us.”

  “But suppose they do come back here?”

  “We must be prepared at any rate; but don’t let the thought make us uneasy. We have two good guns, and Terror would be worth half a dozen men if we get into close quarters.”

  “He may be all that; but a rifle-shot could quickly stretch him out lifeless. It won’t do for us to go to sleep until Tim or Shasta come back.”

  “Of course not. I do not feel like it, even if we were satisfied that it was safe for us to do so.”

  “Look at Shasta!”

  The Indian was far down the stream, still speeding with his extraordinary velocity, using his arms as though they would never tire.

  “So sick a few hours ago!”

  “Well enough now.”

  “Didn’t you notice how he trembled?”

  “Yes; he is still weak, but an Indian soon recovers himself.”

  “All he needed was the root which he chewed and which cured him almost immediately. These savages are what you call Thomsonians I suppose.”

  “They are the original ones no doubt. I have heard that some of their medicine men are the most skillful of physicians.”

  “Yes; we hear all kinds of things about them. What stories we have read, and yet they don’t look and act as I imagined they would. I thought they would suffer and die without showing the least pain, and yet Shasta wasn’t anyways backward about it.”

  “No doubt the poor fellow felt bad enough, and he hasn’t got over it yet. You can tell that from his appearance.”

  “It will take all his skill to help Tim. Just as like as not he will take Shasta for an enemy and shoot him.”

  “If they only see each other before dark, so that Tim can understand that he has a friend at work.”

  “But you see it is nearly dark now, and it is likely he is in the woods by this time.”

  “What danger can he be in then?”

  “The Indians may cross over to follow him.”

  They were silent a while when Elwood suddenly exclaimed.

  “Suppose Shasta is an enemy and has gone to help his people?”

  Howard shook his head.

  “No fear of that. That is the last thing that can occur.”

  The night gradually deepened and proved to be quite dark, a faint moon shedding a luster that made the dim light more impressive. The boys walked back and forth, watching and listening for some evidence of the approach of their friends, and gradually becoming apprehensive despite the attempt each made to cheer the spirits of the other.

  It was not until quite late that Terror gave utterance to a low, warning growl, and as they looked across the river they descried a dark object cautiously approaching.

  “What is it?” whispered Elwood.

  “It is too dark to tell; but it can’t be Tim or Shasta for it’s coming from the wrong direction.”

  “Aisy now, Mr. Shasta, aisy I say, for the boys may be asleep and we won’t come upon them too sudden’t like, as me uncle said when he sat on a barrel of gun-powder and it blowed up with him. Aisy, Mr. Shasta, aisy!”

  CHAPTER XXVII

  The Night Voyage

  The indistinct object gradually took shape, and the boys then saw Shasta sitting in his small canoe, while directly behind him was Tim O’Rooney, his left hand extended backward and grasping the prow of his own boat, which was being towed by the Indian.

  The next moment the foremost lightly touched the shore and the savage sprung out, quickly followed by the Irishman.

  “I beg yez pardon, boys, for the time I tuk to git your dinner; but to shpake the thruth, I was unavoidably detained, as me brother writ me when he was locked up in Tipperary jail on his way to visit me.”

  “We are glad enough to see you again, but where is your game?”

  “Worrah, worrah, but I had bad luck wid it. When I tuk it ashore, I sat it down for a minit, and I hadn’t the time to pick it up again.”

  “But tell us all about it.”

  This was quickly done, up to the point where Tim was saved by the timely appearance of the grizzly bear, when, as may well be supposed, the expressions of wonder were loud and continued.

  “You saw nothing more of your pursuers?” asked Howard.

  “Not a bit—nor be the same towken do I think they saw me.”

  “How did you and Shasta meet?”

  “That was shtrange, was the same. After I found I was cl’ar of the varmints, from the raisin that their exclusive attention was occupied by the b’ar, I stopped and went to thinking—did I. I could saa the great necessity of our having me own canoe and I went back to whom I left the same. It took me some time to find it, and when I did find it, it wasn’t it, but the one that belonged to the red gintlemen.

  “There was little difference atwixt the two and I thought the best thing was to make a thrade, and just as I thought that I spied another canoe coming along the shore as though it was looking for something. I stepped back and raised the hammer of my gun, when I obsarved there was but one Injin in the same—was there. So, ‘Tim,’ says I, ‘’twould be a shame,’ and I lowered me gun agin.

  “Just then, and fur the life of me I don’t know what put it into me head, I thought it was Shasta, though I knowed I had lift him with a big pain all through him. So I give a low whistle like, and called out ‘Shasta,’ and with one whip of his paddle he sent his canoe right at my faat, though I was sure he didn’t saa me, and then waited fur me to step in.

  “But he’s a quaar fellow, is Shasta,” added Tim. “I rached out me hand to shake his own, but he never noticed it, but motioned fur me to stow mesilf into the bottom of the canoe; and thin, after some muttering and throwing of his arms, I could saa he wanted me to howld on to the other canoe.”

  “And I did the same, and the way he towed us over the water would have frightened a steamboat.”

  “He is a smart fellow, indeed.”

  The Indian upon landing had just pulled his canoe slightly up the bank and then had gone at once to the opposite side of the island where he had lain when sick. They could see him walking slowly back and forth us if searching for something which he had some difficulty in finding.

  “Well, boys, I shpose you are hungry,” said Tim, “If yez isn’t I
begins to howld a very strong suspicion that it’s meself that is.”

  “Yes,” replied Elwood, “we are both very hungry, but we had little appetite so long as we knew you were in danger.”

  “It was very kind of yez to restrain your appetite out of respict to me, and I’ll not forgit to do the same when yez git into throuble.”

  “We can afford to go supperless tonight,” remarked Howard, “and feast on the contemplation of our good fortune. There was a time when our prospects looked pretty dark.”

  “Yis, sir; you may well say that. When I had the big bear walking at me from one direction and the three red gintlemen from the other, I thought to mesilf what a shplendid opportunity there was for the illigant exercise of one’s idaas. But it was all the doings of the good Lord above,” added Tim very reverently.

  “Yes; there can be no doubt of that,” replied Howard. “He has cared for us all the time.”

  Tim now gave an account of his adventures in his hunt after the deer, previous to when he was first seen from the island. When he had finished Elwood asked:

  “Are we to stay here over night?”

  “I think not, but I defers to the judgment of Mr. Shasta. It’s just as he says about it.”

  “He appears to be taken up with something over yonder.”

  “He is searching for some object that he left when he made up his mind to get well,” said Howard.

  “He must know all that has occurred, for when we came back from watching you, there he stood with his arms folded, and a look in his eye that said he understood more about matters and things than we imagined he did.”

  “He must know that we are in danger so long as we are upon this island, and I should think he would leave it while it is dark.”

  “Do yez rest on that pint?” said Tim. “The red gintlemen will attind to the same—will he.”

  At this juncture the Pah Utah was observed walking slowly toward them, his long blanket grasped at the breast by his left hand, while his right was free. As soon as he came up he pointed at the canoes and muttered something.

  “What does he mean?” asked Elwood.