by John Buchan
CHAPTER XVIII.
OUR ADVENTURE RECEIVES A RECRUIT.
At earliest light, with the dew heavy on the willows and the river linea coil of mist, Shalah woke me for the road. We breakfasted off friedbacon, some of which I saved for the journey, for the Indian wascontent with one meal a day. As we left the stockade I noted the row ofMeebaw scalps hanging, grim and bloody, from the poles. The Bordererswere up and stirring, for they looked to take the Indians in the rivernarrows before the morning was old.
No two Indian war parties ever take the same path, so it was Shalah'splan to work back to the route we had just travelled, by which theCherokees had come yesterday. This sounds simple enough, but the dangerlay in the second party. By striking to right or left we might walkinto it, and then good-bye to our hopes of the hills. But the wholething was easier to me than the cruel toil of yesterday. There was needof stealth and woodcraft, but not of yon killing speed.
For the first hour we went up a northern fork of the Rappahannock, thencrossed the water at a ford, and struck into a thick pine forest. I wasfeeling wonderfully rested, and found no discomfort in Shalah's longstrides. My mind was very busy on the defence of the Borders, and Ikept wondering how long the Governor's militia would take to reach theRappahannock, and whether Lawrence could reinforce the northern postsin time to prevent mischief in Stafford county. I cast back to mymemory of the tales of Indian war, and could not believe but that thewhite man, if warned and armed, would roll back the Cherokees. 'Twasnot them I feared, but that other force now screened behind themountains, who had for their leader some white madman with a fire inhis head and Bible words on his lips. Were we of Virginia destined tofight with such fanatics as had distracted Scotland--fanatics namingthe name of God, but leading in our case the armies of hell?
It was about eleven in the forenoon, I think, that Shalah dropped hiseasy swing and grew circumspect. The sun was very hot, and the noonsilence lay dead on the woodlands. Scarcely a leaf stirred, and theonly sounds were the twittering grasshoppers and the drone of flies.But Shalah found food for thought. Again and again he became rigid, andthen laid an ear to the ground. His nostrils dilated like a horse's,and his eyes were restless. We were now in a shallow vale, throughwhich a little stream flowed among broad reed-beds. At one point hekneeled on the ground and searched diligently.
"See," he said, "a horse's prints not two hours old--a horse goingwest."
Presently I myself found a clue. I picked up from a clump of wildonions a thread of coloured wool. This was my own trade, where I knewmore than Shalah. I tested the thing in my mouth and between myfingers.
"This is London stuff," I said. "The man who had this on his personbought his clothes from the Bristol merchants, and paid sweetly forthem. He was no Rappahannock farmer."
Shalah trailed like a bloodhound, following the hoof-marks out of thevalley meadow to a ridge of sparse cedars where they showed clear onthe bare earth, and then to a thicker covert where they were hiddenamong strong grasses. Suddenly he caught my shoulder, and pulled me tothe ground. We crawled through a briery place to where a gap opened tothe vale on our left.
A party of Indians were passing. They were young men with the fantasticmarkings of young braves. All were mounted on the little Indian horses.They moved at leisure, scanning the distance with hands shading eyes.
We wormed our way back to the darkness of the covert. "The advanceguard of the second party," Shalah whispered. "With good fortune, weshall soon see the rest pass, and then have a clear road for thehills."
"I saw no fresh scalps," I said, "so they seem to have missed our manon the horse." I was proud of my simple logic.
All that Shalah replied was, "The rider was a woman.'
"How, in Heaven's name, can you tell?" I asked.
He held out a long hair. "I found it among the vines at the level of arider's head."
This was bad news indeed. What folly had induced a woman to ride so faracross the Borders? It could be no settler's wife, but some dame fromthe coast country who had not the sense to be timid. 'Twas a grievousaffliction for two men on an arduous quest to have to protect a foolishfemale with the Cherokees all about them.
There was no help for it, and as swiftly as possible and with allcircumspection Shalah trailed the horse's prints. They kept the highground, in very broken country, which was the reason why the rider hadescaped the Indians' notice. Clearly they were moving slowly, and fromthe frequent halts and turnings I gathered that the rider had not muchpurpose about the road.
Then we came on a glade where the rider had dismounted and let thebeast go. The horse had wandered down the ridge to the right in searchof grazing, and the prints of a woman's foot led to the summit of aknoll which raised itself above the trees.
There, knee-deep in a patch of fern, I saw what I had never dreamed of,what sent the blood from my heart in a cold shudder of fear: a girl,pale and dishevelled, was trying to part some vines. A twig crackledand she looked round, showing a face drawn with weariness and eyeslarge with terror.
It was Elspeth!
At the sight of Shalah she made to scream, but checked herself. It waswell, for a scream would have brought all of us to instant death.
For Shalah at that moment dropped to earth and wriggled into a covertoverlooking the vale. I had the sense to catch the girl and pull herafter him. He stopped dead, and we two lay also like mice. My heart wasgoing pretty fast, and I could feel the heaving of her bosom.
The shallow glen was full of folk, most of them going on foot. Irecognized the Cherokee head-dress and the long hickory bows whichthose carried who had no muskets. 'Twas by far the biggest party we hadseen, and, though in that moment I had no wits to count them, Shalahtold me afterwards they must have numbered little short of a thousand.Some very old fellows were there, with lean, hollow cheeks, and scantylocks, but the most were warriors in their prime. I could see it was abig war they were out for, since some of the horses carried heavy loadsof corn, and it is never the Indian fashion to take much provender fora common raid. In all Virginia's history there had been no suchinvasion, for the wars of Opechancanough and Berkeley and the fight ofBacon against the Susquehannocks were mere bickers compared with thisdeliberate downpour from the hills.
As we lay there, scarce daring to breathe, I saw that we were in deadlyperil. The host was so great that some marched on the very edge of ourthicket. I could see through the leaves the brown Skins not a yardaway. The slightest noise would bring the sharp Indian eyes peeringinto the gloom, and we must be betrayed.
In that moment, which was one of the gravest of my life, I had happilyno leisure to think of myself. My whole soul sickened with anxiety forthe girl. I knew enough of Indian ways to guess her fate. For Shalahand myself there might be torture, and at the best an arrow in ourhearts, but for her there would be things unspeakable. I remembered thelittle meadow on the Rapidan, and the tale told by the grey ashes.There was only one shot in my pistol, but I determined that it shouldbe saved for her. In such a crisis the memory works wildly, and Iremember feeling glad that I had stood up before Grey's fire. Thethought gave me a comforting assurance of manhood.
Those were nightmare minutes. The girl was very quiet, in a stupor offatigue and fear. Shalah was a graven image, and I was too tenselystrung to have any of the itches and fervours which used to vex me inhunting the deer when stillness was needful. Through the frettedgreenery, I saw the dim shadows of men passing swiftly. The thought ofthe horse worried me. If the confounded beast grazed peaceably down theother side of the hill, all might be well. So long as he was out ofsight any movement he made would be set down by the Indians to someforest beast, for animals' noises are all alike in a wood. But if hereturned to us, there would be the devil to pay, for at a glimpse ofhim our thicket would be alive with the enemy.
In the end I found it best to shut my eyes and commend our case to ourMaker. Then I counted very slowly to myself up to four hundred, andlooked again. The vale was empty.
We lay still, hardly believ
ing in our deliverance, for the matter of aquarter of an hour, and then Shalah, making a sign to me to remain,turned and glided up lull. I put my hand behind me, found Elspeth'scheek, and patted it. She stretched out a hand and clutched minefeverishly, and thus we remained till, after what seemed an age, Shalahreturned.
He was on his feet and walking freely. He had found the horse, too, andhad it by the bridle.
"The danger is past," he said gravely. "Let us go back to the glade andrest."
I helped Elspeth to her feet, and on my arm she clambered to the grassyplace in the woods. I searched my pockets, and gave her the remnantsof the bread and bacon I had brought from the Rappahannock post.Better still, I remembered that I had in my breast a little flask ofeau-de-vie, and a mouthful of it revived her greatly. She put her handsto her head, and began to tidy her dishevelled hair, which is a suresign in a woman that she is recovering her composure.
"What brought you here?" I asked gently.
She had forgotten that I was in her black books, and that in her lettershe forbade my journey. Indeed, she looked at me as a child in a picklemay look at an upbraiding parent.
"I was lost," she cried. "I did not mean to go far, but the night camedown and I could not find the way back. Oh, it has been a hideousnightmare! I have been almost mad in the dark woods."
"But how did you get here?" I asked, still hopelessly puzzled.
"I was with Uncle James on the Rappahannock. He heard something thatmade him anxious, and he was going back to the Tidewater yesterday. Buta message came for him suddenly, and he left me at Morrison's farm, andsaid he would be back by the evening. I did not want to go home beforeI had seen the mountains where my estate is--you know, the land thatGovernor Francis said he would give me for my birthday. They told meone could see the hills from near at hand, and a boy that I asked saidI would get a rare view if I went to the rise beyond the river. So Ihad Paladin saddled, and crossed the ford, meaning to be back long eresunset. But the trees were so thick that I could see nothing from thefirst rise, and I tried to reach a green hill that looked near. Then itbegan to grow dark, and I lost my head, and oh! I don't know where Iwandered. I thought every rustle in the bushes was a bear or a panther.I feared the Indians, too, for they told me they were unsafe in thiscountry. All night long I tried to find a valley running east, but themoonlight deceived me, and I must have come farther away every hour.When day came I tied Paladin to a tree and slept a little, and then Irode on to find a hill which would show me the lie of the land. But itwas very hot, and I was very weary. And then you came, and thosedreadful wild men. And--and----" She broke down and wept piteously.
I comforted her as best I could, telling her that her troubles wereover now, and that I should look after her. "You might have met with usin the woods last night," I said, "so you see you were not far fromfriends." But the truth was that her troubles were only beginning, andI was wretchedly anxious. My impulse was to try to get her back to theRappahannock; but, on putting this to Shalah, he shook his head.
"It is too late," he said. "If you seek certain death, go towards theRappahannock. She must come with us to the mountains. The only safetyis in the hill-tops."
This seemed a mad saying. To be safe from Indians we were to go intothe heart of Indian country. But Shalah expounded it. The tribes, hesaid, dwelt only in the lower glens of the range, and never ventured tothe summits, believing them to be holy land where a great _manitou_dwelt. The Cherokees especially shunned the peaks. If we could find away clear to the top we might stay there in some security, till welearned the issue of the war, and could get word to our friends."Moreover," he said, "we have yet to penetrate the secret of the hills.That was the object of our quest, brother."
Shalah was right, and I had forgotten all about it. I could not suffermy care for Elspeth to prevent a work whose issue might mean thesalvation of Virginia. We had still to learn the truth about themassing of Indians in the mountains, of which the Cherokee raids werebut scouting ventures. The verse of Grey's song came into my head:--
"I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not Honour more."
Besides--and this was the best reason--there wasno other way. We had gone too far to turn back, and, as our proverbsays, "It is idle to swallow the cow and choke on the tail."
I put it all to Elspeth.
She looked very scared. "But my uncle will go mad if he does not findme."
"It will be worse for him if he is never to find you again. Shalah saysit would be as easy to get you back over the Rappahannock as for achild to cross a winter torrent. I don't say it's pleasant either way,but there's a good hope of safety in the hills, and there's noneanywhere else."
She sat for a little with her eyes downcast. "I am in your hands," shesaid at last, "Oh, the foolish girl I have been! I will be a drag and adanger to you all."
Then I took her hand. "Elspeth," I said, "it's me will be the proud manif I can save you. I would rather be the salvation of you than the Kingof the Tidewater. And so says Shalah, and so will say all of us."
But I do not think she heard me. She had checked her tears, but herwits were far away, grieving for her uncle's pain, and envisaging thedesperate future. At the first water we reached she bathed her face andeyes, and using the pool as a mirror, adjusted her hair. Then shesmiled bravely, "I will try to be a true comrade, like a man," shesaid. "I think I will be stronger when I have slept a little."
All that afternoon we stole from covert to covert. It was hot andoppressive in the dense woods, where the breeze could not penetrate.Shalah's eagle eyes searched every open space before we crossed, but wesaw nothing to alarm us. In time we came to the place where we had leftour party, and it was easy enough to pick up their road. They hadtravelled slowly, keeping to the thickest trees, and they had taken nopains to cover their tracks, for they had argued that if trouble cameit would come from the front, and that it was little likely that anyIndian would be returning thus soon and could take up their back trail.
Presently we came to a place where the bold spurs of the hills overhungus, and the gap we had seen opened up into a deep valley. Shalah wentin advance, and suddenly we heard a word pass. We entered a cedarglade, to find our four companions unsaddling the horses and makingcamp.
The sight of the girl held them staring. Grey grew pale and thenflushed scarlet. He came forward and asked me abruptly what it meant.When I told him he bit his lips.
"There is only one thing to be done," he said. "We must take Miss Blairback to the Tidewater. I insist, sir. I will go myself. We cannotinvolve her in our dangers."
He was once again the man I had wrangled with. His eyes blazed, and hespoke in a high tone of command. But I could not be wroth with him;indeed, I liked him for his peremptoriness. It comforted me to thinkthat Elspeth had so warm a defender.
I nodded to Shalah. "Tell him," I said, and Shalah spoke with him. Hetook long to convince, but at, the end he said no more, and went tospeak to Elspeth. I could see that she lightened his troubled mind alittle, for, having accepted her fate, she was resolute to make thebest of it, I even heard her laugh.
That night we made her a bower of green branches, and as we ate oursupper round our modest fire she sat like a queen among us. It was oddto see the way in which her presence affected each of us. With her Greywas the courtly cavalier, ready with a neat phrase and a line from thepoets. Donaldson and Shalah were unmoved; no woman could make anydifference to their wilderness silence. The Frenchman Bertrand grewalmost gay. She spoke to him in his own tongue, and he told her allabout the little family he had left and his days in far-away France. Butin Ringan was the oddest change. Her presence kept him tongue-tied, andwhen she spoke to him he was embarrassed into stuttering. He was eagerto serve her in everything, but he could not look her in the face oranswer readily when she spoke. This man, so debonair and masterfulamong his fellows, was put all out of countenance by a wearied girl. Ido not suppose he had spoken to a gentlewoman for ten years.