CHAPTER XV
OFF!
The Indian is nothing if he is not unexpected in all his actions.Surprise attacks were ever his weapons of warfare. From among the longgrass of an apparently innocent meadow he would suddenly rise up withhis followers to attack the caravan that was quietly pursuing its wayalong the prairie in absolute ignorance of the nearness of enemies. Inthe dead hour of night the war-whoop would suddenly ring through theforest, and the settlers would be scalped and dead before the last echohad time to fade away.
So it was on this occasion. Utterly unsuspicious of attack, both boyswere taken at a disadvantage. Bob was floundering in the water before hehad time to realise the assault, while Alf was equally unprepared as theIndian sprang towards him.
The claw-like fingers missed their intended grip upon the boy's throat,but the arms managed to grapple the lad in a tight embrace. Alfstruggled well, but he was no match for the muscles of the giantDacotah.
"I'm coming! I'll be with you in a second!" called Bob from the water,striking out strongly for the shore as soon as he had recovered breath.
The Indian looked hastily around him without releasing the bearlike hug.He saw the swimmer quickly approaching, and he gave a cry of fury as hethought that he would be baulked of his purpose of revenge, for herightly thought that he would stand a poor chance against two activelads. He might succeed in injuring the one, but there was little chanceof his escaping.
Suddenly he released Alf. Feeling himself free for the moment, the boyjumped back in readiness for another attack. But once again theunexpected had him at a vantage. The boy anticipated no other attack nowbut that of fists or a knife at the utmost. These were the onlycontingencies that his inexperience could imagine. But before he hadtime to conjecture other possibilities, Red Fox had slipped off hisblanket, flung it around the lad just as the ancient gladiator was wontto entangle his opponent in the deadly net, and before Arnold hadreached the river bank the Indian had wound the blanket tightly roundhis captive, picked him up in his arms, and commenced running towardsthe tent.
Bob gave a cry of dismay and rushed on in pursuit.
But the redskin had the start, and ran straight towards the picketedhorse, still carrying the lad, who was half stifled by the thick cloak,and practically helpless, owing to the tightness with which the bond wastwined.
It would have been an easy matter then for Red Fox to have killed hiscaptive and yet escape the other boy. But that was not his purpose. Inhis thirst to revenge the insult of Alf's words, he had quite forgottenThunder-maker's commission and the coveted ermine robe. These werenothing to him now. He had listened to sneers with patience. The timehad now come to repay the taunts with interest. He ran towards thepack-horse. A slash with his hunting-knife severed the rope within twoor three feet of the halter. Alf was then thrown roughly across theanimal's back, while the Indian was himself astride an instantafterwards. A vicious dig of the heels, and the horse sprang forward.
And the last that Bob saw as he reached the tent was an ugly facegrinning at him and an arm waving tauntingly as horse, rider, and burdendisappeared into the woods.
Arnold was aghast!
He rushed into the tent and snatched up his repeating rifle, which wasalready loaded; by the time he emerged again he could only hear thedistant sound of the fugitive rider pressing the branches through thebush track.
He ran forwards at top speed, but he knew well that unless some accidentbefell the horse he stood a poor chance of being able to aid his chum.The Indian would know the bush as well as his namesake fox. He would notbe likely to take any risk that would imperil his safety or blight anyevil purpose that he might harbour.
The boy followed the track, which was well marked. It was the samecourse that had been taken by Mackintosh and Haggis earlier in the day.For a time it led through an avenue of trees. Then it branched off tothe left, where the ground was hard-packed and dry, having beenstripped of vegetation by a bush fire earlier in the year. Here thetracks were less easy to follow, for a steady breeze was blowing, andthe imprints of the hoofs were covered almost as quickly as they weremade.
It was heart-breaking to have to slacken speed at such a time, whenevery second might mean disaster to his chum. But what else could he do?And when ultimately the tracks led him to the border of a vastmarshland, the lad was obliged to halt in what was almost despair.
"What is to be done now?" he exclaimed to himself. "Poor old Alf! What afool I was not to be prepared for such a rascal, when once my suspicionswere so roused!"
But it was no use sitting down in hopelessness. Such weakness would havenothing to gain and everything to lose. So Bob pulled himself together,as the apt saying has it, and racked his brains to meet the occasion.
Not a sound could he now hear to indicate which way the fugitive hadtaken. Moreover, the tracks completely disappeared from sight when theboy had taken a few paces into the shallow water and spongy moss.
Plainly the only course was to mark a starting-point with a stake, andthen follow round the margin of the swamp until he discovered the spotwhere the rider had crossed.
It was a tedious process, but apparently there was no option. So heresumed the weary tour with such hope as he could summon.
Arnold found the tracks after more than two hours' patient searching, asthe dusk was beginning to creep over the forest. The footprints weremore distinct now than they had been at the other side of the marsh, sothe boy was able to make some rapid progress. But, as the darkness fellthe work became more difficult. He had to stoop low in order to see thetracks at all, and ultimately he could only follow them on hands andknees--feeling the footprints with his fingers, just as a blind manfeels the letters in his book.
He was becoming thoroughly exhausted. Still he plodded on with doggedperseverance. His knees were grazed and his back was aching, especiallywhere the rifle was strapped; and at times he even stumbled and fell ina heap, from which each time he found it more difficult to rise than onthe former occasion.
It was indeed a trial that would have taxed the strength and nerves ofthe strongest. When we remember what the boy had already undergone thatday, we have reason to wonder that he endured so long. Still hepersevered. Inch by inch he felt his path in the pitch darkness,crawling through the bush with only hooting owls and whining wolves forcompany, until at last, worn out and dizzy, his muscles gave way, and hefloundered unconscious upon the earth.
The Fiery Totem Page 15