The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  This was proven by the action of the warriors themselves. After talking together for a few minutes, two of them walked a short distance up the bank and drew a large canoe from under the shore, where they had left it when journeying in the other direction.

  CHAPTER XII.

  THE SIGNAL FIRES.

  The canoe was made of bark, with the ends turned up in the usual fashion. Two long paddles belonging to it lay within, and were taken by the warriors, who paddled it down to where the party were in waiting. All stepped carefully inside, and the same Indians who brought it from its hiding place turned the prow toward the other shore and began swinging the paddles with the freedom and vigor peculiar to their people. Jack was the last to seat himself, and he held fast as best he could, dreading some of the rude jokes of his captors.

  When all were in position, and the craft began moving, great care was necessary, for it sank to the gunwales, and a slight disturbance would be enough to overturn the frail boat. Although Jack feared such an occurrence, yet the Indians themselves were no more desirous it should take place than was he.

  He naturally fixed his eyes on the line of warriors seated in front of him. All faced the shore they were approaching, and the couple using the paddles dipped first one end on the right and the other end on the left of the canoe. They put forth little exertion. Had they chosen to do so, they could have tripled the speed, though most likely an upset would have been the consequence.

  The middle of the stream was not reached, when a small fish leaped out of the water in front and fell back again. Ogallah uttered an exclamation, and, reaching his hand over the side of the boat, held it several inches under the surface. The two Indians not using the paddles did the same, just as a party of young people will do when taking a pleasure sail over some calm lake.

  Suddenly Ogallah gave a quick flirt of the submerged hand, flinging the sparkling water over all. Something flashed in the sunlight, and a plump fish, weighing fully a pound, dropped into the canoe. Almost immediately the other two warriors did the same, one of them securing a prize weighing as much as both the others. The fact was, the boat was passing through something like a school of fish, and the red men found no difficulty in capturing a number.

  “That looks like dinner,” thought Jack with a chuckle, as he also dipped his hand to grope for the finny delicacies. He had less than a minute to wait when something cold and smooth touched his fingers. He made a desperate clutch, sinking his arm to his elbow, but the fish was too quick, and darted beyond his reach, just as Ogallah landed another tempting one.

  Several more were taken, but Jack could not succeed in closing his fingers quickly enough to keep the fish from slipping away. By the time the other side of the stream was reached, a good supply had been secured, and the boy forgot his sorrow in the pleasure of anticipating that his hunger would be fully satisfied.

  Happily he was not disappointed in this respect, for, while the oarsmen were drawing the boat out of the water, the others were preparing the fire with which to cook the fish, that were speedily dressed. They were the “white” species common in the west, and when browned to a juicy crisp, formed as luscious a meal as any epicure could ask. Best of all, there was an abundance, and Jack Carleton ate until he wanted no more.

  Having tramped so many miles since the rising of the sun, Ogallah and his warriors were disposed to enjoy a good rest.

  Their pipes were relighted and they lolled about in the same lazy fashion, paying no special heed to Jack, who knew the unwisdom of making any effort to get away.

  All this convinced the boy that the party had still a considerable distance to travel. Had they been in the neighborhood of their village, they would have pushed on without stopping. At any rate, they would not have paused to kindle the camp-fire and to cook a meal at mid-day.

  “It must be,” Jack said to himself, with several nods of his head, “that we are to spend another night on the road: if that is so, I’ll make a break if I have to suffer for it.”

  These were vaunting words, but he was in earnest. Except for the hope thus renewed within him, the youth would have given way to the drowsiness which became quite common with the rest, but a line of speculation was started which kept his mind occupied during the full hour the party dawdled about the camp-fire.

  At the end of the time named, the ashes were knocked from the pipes, several stretched their limbs and yawned, and the sullen-faced warrior who had been taking care of Jack’s rifle, passed it back to him with some surly word, which most likely meant that thereafter the captive should bear his own burdens. The boy was glad enough to regain his weapon, but he smiled when he observed that it had no charge in it. His captors were determined not to put temptation in his way.

  It took the company a considerable time to “shake themselves together.” They straggled and kept irregular step, and finally, when they began ascending a slope, where the ground was much broken and covered with stones, they gave it up altogether. The ascent continued until they found themselves on an elevation several hundred feet high, and so devoid of vegetation that a view was gained which covered an area of hundreds of square miles in every direction.

  Standing on this lookout, as it may be called, the Indians devoted a number of minutes to such survey. No employment just then could be more entertaining, and Jack Carleton adopted it.

  The scene was too similar to those with which the reader of these pages has become familiar to need any lengthened reference in this place. It was green, billowy forest in every direction. Here and there a stream wound like a silver ribbon through the emerald wilderness, sometimes gleaming in the sunlight, and then disappearing among the vegetation, to reappear miles away, and finally to vanish from sight altogether as it wound its way toward the Gulf. At remote points the trained eye could detect the thin, wavy column of vapor motionless against the sky, a mute witness that beings other than those on the hill were stealing through the vast solitude in their quest for game or prey.

  Inasmuch as Jack Carleton readily detected these “signs,” as the hunter terms them, it followed they must have been noted by the Indians themselves; but they gave no evidence of any excitement on that account. It was natural that such evidences of the presence of other persons in the immense territory should present themselves.

  But the youth failed to find that for which he specially looked. Observing the chieftain gazing earnestly toward the west, he did the same, expecting to catch sight of the Indian village where Ogallah and his warriors made their home. He descried a wooded ridge stretching across his field of vision, but not the first resemblance to village or wigwam could be discovered.

  “He is not looking for that,” thought Jack, “but is expecting some signal which will appear on the ridge.”

  One of the other Indians was peering with equal intentness at the same point, but the minutes passed and nothing presented itself. Jack joined in the scrutiny, but he could not succeed where they failed.

  All at once the sachem seemed to lose patience. He said some vigorous things, accompanied by equally vigorous gestures, and then the whole party began hastily gathering wood. In a short while this was kindled and burning strongly. When the flames were fairly going, one of the warriors who had collected several handfuls of damp leaves by digging under the dry ones, dropped them carefully on the blaze. It looked at first as if the fire would be put out, but it struggled upward, and by-and-by a column of dense black smoke stained the sky like the smutty finger of some giant tracing a wavy line across it.

  Then Ogallah and one of his men held his blanket spread out so as almost to force the thick smoke to the ground, but such was not their purpose. The blanket was abruptly lifted, then swayed in a peculiar fashion, the two moving in perfect unison, without speaking, and repeating their pantomime with the regularity of machinery, for the space of fully ten minutes.

  The results were singular. The inky column of vapor was broken into a number of sections, as may be said, so that when viewed from a distance the figure
was that of a black broad band of enormous height, separated by belts of colorless air into a dozen pieces or divisions, the upper ones gradually melting into nothingness. Besides this, so deftly had the red men manipulated the fire and blanket, that these divisions showed a peculiar wavy appearance, which would have excited wondering remark, no matter by whom seen.

  “It is a signal to some one on the ridge yonder,” was the conclusion of Jack, who watched the proceeding with much interest.

  Having finished, Ogallah and the warrior threw the blanket on the ground, and the whole five gazed at the ridge miles away. For a time perfect silence reigned, and then one of the dusky watchers uttered an exclamation, to which the chief responded with a grunt.

  While scanning the distant ridge, Jack detected a black brush of vapor climbing slowly above the trees. It broke clean off, and as it went on upward, was inclosed by clear air on all sides. But it was not long before a second, third, fourth, and fifth appeared. Parties were answering the signal of the chief in precisely the same manner that he made it. The only difference was in the number, of which there were only the five. Those, however, were sufficient, as the parties making it were well aware.

  This aboriginal system of telegraphy, which has been in use from time immemorial, is still a favorite means of communication among the Indians of the West. More than once the news of the signing of some important treaty, or the war movement of tribes, has been flashed by means of signal fires from mountain top to mountain top over a distance of hundreds of miles.

  The information given by the answering signal fire was satisfactory to the chief Ogallah, who resumed the journey at a leisurely pace, making no effort to walk in the close Indian file that he and his warriors did when further away from home.

  “If we reach the village before going into camp,” concluded Jack, “we must keep moving until after dark. The sun is setting and the ridge is still a good ways off.”

  It soon became manifest that the red men had no purpose of tiring themselves by walking. They were at the base of the ridge when they came upon a small stream which dashed down the mountain side with a musical plash, forming currents, eddies, and cascades, while in the depths of some pebbly pool it was as silent and clear as liquid mountain air.

  The afternoon was more sultry than the early portion of the day, and every member of the company quaffed his fill from the refreshing element. Jack’s heart gave a great bound of hope when he saw that Ogallah meant to spend the night there. He was strongly convinced that he would gain an opportunity to steal away during the darkness, which promised to be denser than on the previous night. Although the day had been clear and beautiful, yet the clouds gathered after the sun went down, and there were signs of a storm. Low mutterings of distant thunder and the fitful flashes of lightning showed the interchange of electricity between the earth and sky, though it might not develop to any great extent for many hours to come.

  No hunt was made for game, and after the abundant meal earlier in the day, Jack could not complain if compelled to fast until morning. A fire was kindled precisely as before, a sturdy oak forming the background, while the others lolled around it and smoked their long-stemmed pipes.

  When Jack Carleton was invited to retire to his couch by the sullen warrior, he obeyed as though pleased with the prospect of a full night’s rest. Ogallah stretched out with one of his men, while the ill-tempered member sat down with his back against the tree, as though desirous of imitating his leader in every respect.

  CHAPTER XIII.

  THE INDIAN VILLAGE.

  “There’s one thing certain,” said Jack Carleton to himself, as he gathered the Indian blanket around his shoulders, like one lying down to pleasant dreams, “I can keep awake a good deal more easily than I did last night. I’m pretty tired, but I slept so much toward morning that it will be no trouble to go twenty-four hours without any more.”

  The temperature was milder than at that time, so that the lad found the thick blanket uncomfortably warm when wrapped closely around him. He flung out his feet and arms as a child often does with its bed coverings, and adjusted his body so as to keep his eye on the sentinel, without (as the captive believed) any suspicion of his intention.

  The other couples sank into refreshing slumber within a few minutes after lying down, and it certainly was singular that the warrior who sat half revealed, with his back against the tree, should have continued as motionless as did the chief Ogallah the evening before. It was impossible that two scenes should resemble each other more closely than those named.

  “I don’t believe he can keep it up as long as the old fellow did. If he tries it, he will be dreaming, and when he and the rest awake, they will find I am miles off and going with might and main for home. My gracious! but I shall have a long distance to travel, and it will be hard work to keep out of their way.”

  Fixing his eyes on the form as it was shown by the flickering camp-fire, Jack prepared to watch with more patience than he showed in the former instance. The sound of the splashing brook and the soft stirring of the night wind were soothing to the tired boy. By-and-by his eyelids drooped, then closed, and his senses passed from him. Never was he sunk in sounder sleep.

  Nothing occurred to disturb him, and he slept hour after hour, never opening his eyes until it was broad daylight and Ogallah and his warriors were astir.

  Jack was chagrined beyond expression when he found what he had done, or, rather, what he had failed to do. The opportunity for which he had sighed so long had slipped irrevocably from his grasp. So convinced was he of this fact that he gave over all thought of escape while on the journey.

  “The Indian village can’t be far off, and I must now go ahead and take my chances. But this is getting tiresome.”

  The last remark referred to the absence of any preparations for breakfast. He had made no complaint the evening before, but it was a hardship to continue his fast. Inasmuch, however, as there was no help for it, he submitted without a murmur.

  There was now no pretence of treading in each other’s footsteps, but the party straggled up the ridge like a lot of weary pedestrians. No one seemed to pay any attention to the single captive, most likely because there was no call to do so. He might desire to make a break for liberty, but he could not go further than they were willing to permit.

  The top of the ridge was marked by a bare spot, where some charred sticks showed a fire had been recently kindled. There could be no doubt that it was there the answering signal had been made to the call of Ogallah.

  But looking down the western slope of the ridge, Jack Carleton’s eyes rested on a scene more interesting than any that had met his gaze since leaving home. Less than a mile off, close to the shore of a winding stream and in the middle of a partially cleared space, stood the Indian village toward which his footsteps had been tending for nearly two days, and where he was likely to spend an indefinite captivity.

  The stream was perhaps a hundred feet in width. It shone brightly in the morning sun, and the current was clearer than that of the river crossed the day before. It wound its way westward as far as the eye could follow it, flowing into a tributary of the Osage, thence to the Missouri, and so on to the Gulf of Mexico.

  The Indian village numbered between twenty and thirty lodges, wigwams or dwellings as they may be called. Some of them were made of bison and deer skins, and were of irregular, conical shape; others were mere huts, covered with grass, leaves, limbs and dirt, while one or two were mainly composed of stones piled in the form of rude walls and roofed in the rude fashion described.

  These primitive structures were scattered irregularly over a space of half an acre, which might be called a clearing, inasmuch as only a few stumps and broken trees were to be seen. But nothing in the way of corn or vegetables was growing, and the air of dilapidation, untidiness and squalor pervading the whole scene, was characteristic of the race, and was that which robs it of the romance which in the minds of many attaches to the name of the American Indian.

 
Viewed from the ridge, Jack could see figures moving to and fro in the aimless manner natural to such indolent people. There were children running and playing among the stumps and dwellings—half naked little knots of humanity, who in a few years would become the repulsive squaws or terrible warriors of the tribe. Three of the youngsters were having a high time with a canoe lying against the shore. They were splashing the water over each other, plunging into the stream and scrambling out again without regard to the wear or tear of their clothing, and playing all sorts of tricks on each other, while a half dozen playmates were standing on the bank laughing so heartily that a spectator would have found it hard to understand why the American race is so often described as of a melancholy temperament.

  Now and then some squaw could be seen trudging along under a load of sticks, while more than likely her lazy husband was asleep within the wigwam. A half dozen warriors strolled off toward the woods, rifles in hand, and most likely with the intention of going upon a hunt. Just before leaving the clearing, one of them caught sight of the group on the top of the ridge. Immediately they swung their arms and sent several ringing whoops across as a salutation to their friends.

  Ogallah answered, and he and his party moved down the slope toward their homes. Having saluted each other in this fashion, the warriors of the village speedily vanished in the wood. They must have known that the returning company had a prisoner with them, but it will be seen they felt no particular interest in the matter.

  But if such was the fact respecting the hunters, it was far different with those who were left behind. The moment the five warriors emerged from the wood, with the captive walking among them, the whole village was thrown in a turmoil of excitement. Squaws and children rushed forward, men came to the entrances of their wigwams, and some strolled out to make a closer investigation of the matter.