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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e9adee0 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69490 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69490) diff --git a/old/69490-0.txt b/old/69490-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e7ce64e..0000000 --- a/old/69490-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4549 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Wood King; or, Daniel Boone's last -trail, by Jos. E. Badger - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Wood King; or, Daniel Boone's last trail - Beadle's Pocket Novels No. 108 - -Author: Jos. E. Badger - -Release Date: December 7, 2022 [eBook #69490] - -Language: English - -Produced by: David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Northern - Illinois University Digital Library) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOOD KING; OR, DANIEL -BOONE'S LAST TRAIL *** - - - - - - THE WOOD KING; - - OR, - - DANIEL BOONE'S LAST TRAIL - - A ROMANCE OF THE OSAGE COUNTRY. - - BY JOS. E. BADGER, JR., - - AUTHOR OF THE FOLLOWING POCKET NOVELS: - No. 59. THE TEXAS HAWKS. - No. 63. THE FLORIDA SCOUT. - No. 98. DUSKY DICK. - No. 101. REDLAW. - No. 105. THE INDIAN SPY. - - NEW YORK: - BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, - No. 98 WILLIAM STREET. - - Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, by - BEADLE AND ADAMS - In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. - - - - - THE WOOD KING. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - - LIGHTFOOT AND THE WOOD VETERAN. - - -Crack--_crack!_ - -Though faint and far away, there could be no mistaking these sharp, -spiteful reports for other than the voice of rifles. The sound was no -uncommon one for that region, which is even yet noted for its quantity -of game; half a century since "the Osage Country" was truly a hunter's -paradise. - -A man was crossing the Osage river, at a ford, and though near the -middle of the stream, the water barely reached his knees. As the twin -reports came echoing across the eastern forest, the hunter abruptly -paused, bending his head, listening intently. - -The rifle-shots alone could scarcely have occasioned the surprise -written so plainly upon the man's features, since this was -hunting-ground common to all--red as well as white. He himself had -fired more than once that day. - -But closely following the reports came a series of short, peculiar -yells--the cries so strongly resembling the yelping of a cur-dog when -in hot pursuit of a rabbit, that an Indian sends forth when closing -rapidly upon a fleeing foe. - -The hunter could not mistake this sound, nor its full significance. For -nearly half a century it had been familiar to his ear. Many a time had -it rung out upon his own trail, as he fled for dear life through the -forests of the "dark and bloody ground." - -"Thar's mischief afoot--can it be that the varmints have r'ailly took -to the war-path?" he muttered, glancing keenly around. "They're makin' -this way--it's the only ford for miles--reckon I'd better hunt cover!" - -The alarm came from the point toward which the hunter's face had -been turned, and as he listened, the quick, sharp yells grew plainer -and more distinct. Turning, he rapidly retreated to the shore he had -recently left. - -As he neared cover, it became evident that the hunter was white; though -his face was deeply bronzed, almost copper-hued, where the stout jean -trowsers had been rolled above his knees, the skin showed clear and -white. - -Nearing cover, he turned and listened. All was still; the yells no -longer echoed through the forest. It seemed as though the deed was done. - -Bending forward, the hunter was clearly revealed by the bright rays of -the noonday sun. That he was old, the long, snowy locks that fell below -his rude skin cap plainly evidenced. Yet the weight of years seemed to -sit lightly upon his frame. His step was light yet firm, his motions -quick and supple. The rude garb of gray jeans only half-concealed his -great muscular development. Altogether, he was what one might well term -an awkward customer to meet in a hand-to-hand struggle, despite his age. - -"No, they hain't got him yet, whoever he is," muttered the veteran. - -Upon the crest of a hill, full quarter of a mile beyond the river, his -keen glance detected the form of a human being. Only for a moment; then -the tree-tops hid him from view. - -Scarcely had he disappeared, when the hill-top was again occupied, this -time by a full score of men, apparently the pursuers. Again the sharp, -yelping cries came to the veteran's ears. - -"It's warm for a footrace, so I'd best take to cover. Lucky the cave's -handy." - -Turning, the veteran hunter strode rapidly through the shallow water, -his bare feet leaving no impress upon the gravelly bed. Two score yards -above his position a dark opening appeared in the river-bank, that, -though low at the ford, here rose abruptly into a considerable hill. - -Holding rifle and powder-horn above his head, the hunter suddenly sunk -down and swam rapidly into the opening. Just before the cave-mouth the -water was several yards in depth. - -Pausing just within the entrance, the hunter turned his face toward the -eastern shore. He had not long to wait. - -A man dashed through the undergrowth, sprung down the sandy bank, -and ran rapidly across the level bar, stumbling at the water's-edge, -falling at full length. From his cover, the hunter could see a -knife-blade flash in the sunlight, and then the fugitive cast from him -the severed part of an arrow that had pierced his leg. - -Freed from this incumbrance, he arose and dashed through the shallow -water toward the western shore. But several precious moments had been -lost, and, with yells of vindictive exultation, nearly a score of -savages sprung out upon the river-bank. - -The fugitive heard their cries, and glanced back over his shoulder. -He saw several of them with bended bows, and suddenly flung himself -forward at full length in the water, at this point about knee-deep. - -His ruse was successful. The barbed shafts passed over his head, -burying themselves harmlessly in the sparkling water. - -A loud voice from the bank gave utterance to several hasty words, and -as though in obedience to it, half a dozen braves sprung toward the -water, the remainder bending their bows ready for instant use in case -the fugitive should arise to continue his flight. - -With eager interest the white hunter watched this scene, though his -countenance showed evident relief when he saw that the fugitive as -well as pursuers were Indians. Though far from being one of that class -termed Indian-haters, he bore the race little love, for they had dealt -his heart more than one crushing blow. - -Even at that distance, he could distinguish peculiarities that marked -the pursuers as Osages, once the all-powerful rulers of that vast tract -of country. Whether or no the fugitive belonged to the same tribe, -he could not tell, owing to his so suddenly burying all but head and -shoulders in the water. - -Eagerly he watched the result. He saw a sudden movement of the hunted -red-skin's arms. At the same moment the foremost savage flung aloft -his hands, and fell backward, a feathered shaft quivering deep in his -brain. - -With yells of rage the Osages upon the bank let fly a shower of arrows, -while the others dashed into the shallow water. The hunter's heart beat -fast as he saw the fugitive disappear beneath the surface. He thought -him dead. - -But not so. With his feet braced against the gravelly bed, he had -impelled his body through the water a full dozen yards, the arrows -falling harmlessly in his wake. - -Again his arms rose--once more the sharp _twang_ of the bowstring -sounded. Again the death-yell of the Osage rung out upon the air--again -his comrades yelled furiously, and then the entire party sprung forward. - -The fugitive rose to his feet and uttering a single cry, dashed toward -the western shore. It was a peculiar yell--the sharp, shrill war-cry of -the Kickapoos. - -A little cry broke from the hunter's lips as he heard this defiant -shout. He recognized it--and more; he recognized the fugitive for a -true and tried friend! - -A peculiar cry broke from his lips--low, yet clear and penetrating. -It met the ear of the Kickapoo, and he perceptibly faltered, casting -a swift glance along the now near shore. The Osages also heard the -signal, for they slackened their pace, seemingly fearful lest they -should be drawn into an ambush. - -The hunter's fingers still lingered at his lips, his gaze roving over -the enemy. The odds were long--at least ten to one. It seemed as though -nothing but death could follow his attempt to aid the fugitive. - -Yet the signal was uttered, and as with renewed life, the Kickapoo -dashed through the water toward the dark opening. He knew that there at -least one friend awaited him. - -The Osage at this ford is narrow; but little if any over a hundred -yards in width. Then a very few moments carried the Kickapoo to the -edge of the deep pool before the cave entrance. - -"Come in, chief," guardedly called out the old hunter, as the savage -sunk down into the water. "The varmints are bethinkin' themselves of -their we'pons ag'in. Down--down, chief!" - -A volley of arrows shot toward the cave, but the Kickapoo quickly dove, -and the hunter was shielded by a point of rock. The missiles pattered -harmlessly around. - -Then as the Osages splashed rapidly forward, the rifle of the hunter -spoke. For the third time within as many minutes a death-yell broke the -air, and the clear water was stained with the life-blood of an Osage -warrior. - -With laughable celerity the survivors scattered and buried themselves -in the water, barely keeping their noses above the surface, dreading -a volley from the cave. Nor was their chagrin lessened by hearing the -taunting cry of the Kickapoo echo out from the dark opening in the bank. - -A low, hearty laugh greeted the fugitive as he rose beside the old -hunter, who was now rapidly recharging his rifle. Driving home the -leathered bullet, the white man remarked: - -"Well, chief, the varmints hunted you close. But why is it? The -Kickapoos and Osages have long been friends." - -"Yeh--friends now--all but Lightfoot--he en'my. Osage dogs put dust -in Kickapoos' eyes. Mek all blind--mek dig up hatchet to strike the -painted post. Osage say blood is good--Kickapoo say take plenty white -scalps. Lightfoot he say _no_. Den Osage chief he say red dog go follow -his white master. Lightfoot is a chief--he is a man. The words were yet -hot on the lips of Huspah, when he died. See! his scalp is here," and -the Kickapoo fingered the ghastly trophy that hung at his girdle. - -"You rubbed the chief out, then, when his braves were lookin' on?" -asked the old hunter, evidently understanding the dialect into which -the savage had unconsciously glided, though at first using imperfect -English. - -Lightfoot rapidly recounted the events that had made him an outcast -and hunted fugitive, while the eyes of both kept close watch upon the -movements of the savages beyond. - -The Pottawatomies, Iowas, Foxes, Sauks and Kickapoos were growing -uneasy at the constantly increasing strength of the white settlements, -more especially of that section then known as the "Boone's Lick -Country"--now Howard county. In 1812 a plot was formed for a general -uprising, but was discovered in time to be foiled. Since then there had -been occasional skirmishing, with slight losses upon either side. But -now--in the spring of 1814--another and more dangerous plot was formed. -As he listened to the words of the Kickapoo chief, Daniel Boone--for he -was the old hunter--felt that the crisis was at hand. - -The chiefs of the different tribes had gathered at the Kickapoo -village, and at the council every voice but that of Lightfoot was -raised for war. His stubborn resistance raised the ire of Huspah, -the Osage, who called him a dog of the pale-faced invaders. The next -instant he fell dead, cloven to the chin by Lightfoot's tomahawk. - -The council seemed transfixed with surprise and horror at this bold -act, and untouched Lightfoot scalped his fallen enemy and darted from -the council-lodge, knowing that nothing but instant flight could save -him from a horrible and disgraceful death. - -Pursuit was made, and for nearly a score miles the Kickapoo fled with -the avengers of blood treading close upon his heels. Twice he was -wounded, else he would have distanced his enemies, for the name he bore -had not been idly bestowed. - -"It's unlucky our being cooped up here, just now," muttered Boone, -uneasily. "It's big news you've told me, chief, and the settlers don't -suspect thar danger. If the red-skins strike to-night, I'm dub'ous -this'll be a black day for us." - -"Mebbe not strike so soon, now Huspah dead--so mus' choose 'nudder -chief to lead 'em." - -"He was the head one, then?" - -"Yeh." - -A movement among the enemy now put a pause to the conversation. The -dark dots upon the river's surface were cautiously retreating toward -the further shore, in obedience to a peculiar signal from one of the -number, whose face, washed free of paint by the water, now showed white -and clear. - -"He white Injun--Osage call him White Wolf," said Lightfoot, in answer -to a look of inquiry from Boone. - -"Seth Grable!" - -The words came hissingly through the tight-clenched teeth of the -old hunter, and a stern fire filled his eyes. Evidently he bore the -renegade little love. - -His rifle was cocked and leveled, but as though suspecting some such -message, the white Indian took good care not to expose his precious -person. Creeping behind a sand ridge, he gained the woods in safety. - -As the savages reached the forest, they uttered a loud yell, which was -echoed back from the western shore. Boone started and frowned. This -showed him the impossibility of carrying out the plan that was even -then shaping itself in his mind. The cave could not be left now. They -must wait until the friendly shadow of night settled over the earth. - -But few words passed between the two scouts. Yet Boone was given ample -cause for anxiety, aside from his personal danger. Lightfoot believed -that an attack was to be made simultaneously upon all the white -settlements in the Osage Country. That very night might witness the -carnival of blood. - -The hours rolled on, the sun steadily sunk in the west, until hidden -behind the tree-dotted hills, and the shadows darkened the surface -of the gently flowing river. Within the cave-mouth crouched the two -scouts, scarce breathing a word, their weapons ready for instant use, -their every sense fully upon the alert. Yet no sound from without told -of the proximity of foemen. All was silent save for the hum of insects, -the chirping of birds, the splash of some fish as it sportively leaped -into the air, or now and then the shrill, piercing scream of the great -hawk that slowly circled above the scene. - -But then, like magic, all was changed. - -The water swept boldly around the upper edge of the cave entrance--the -side where Lightfoot was stationed. The Indian suddenly uttered a sharp -hiss, bending his strong bow. - -The water no longer flowed smoothly. Numerous bubbles dotted the -surface. The depths were discolored by sand and mud. - -A dark object parted the surface, darting rapidly into the mouth of the -cave. The long hair, the draggled plumes, the dusky face were those of -an Osage. - -The bow of the Kickapoo, bent nearly double, relaxed, the feathered -shaft sunk deep into the low brow of the savage. A stifled shriek--then -the body sunk below the surface, dyeing the water red with the tide of -life. - -Like magic the space before the cave appeared filled with heads, as the -maddened Osages swam rapidly forward, clutching their knives, their -tomahawks, thirsting for the blood of their daring enemies. - -Loud and reverberating the Wood King's rifle spoke, sounding the -death-knell of the foremost savage, who sprung half out of the water, -casting a long, glittering blade full at the hunter's heart. It was a -dying effort, and the weapon scarce penetrated the thick woolen frock. - -Lightfoot plied his bow rapidly, crouching back upon the shelf, sending -unseen death in swift succession into the crowded mass of his foes. -With knife in either hand, Boone stood in the water waist-deep, beating -back the desperate Osages with the strength and vigor of renewed youth. - -Though brief, the struggle was desperate and bloody. The Osages fought -against more than mortal foes. The water whirled swiftly round in -the strong eddy before the cave. Fighting with this, they gained a -foothold, only to be dashed back by the scouts, dead or wounded. - -A few moments thus--then, as by one accord, the Osages sunk down -beneath the water's surface and vanished from their enemies' sight. -That this was no subtle ruse, the yells of baffled rage, that soon -afterward arose from below, plainly told. - -"You're safe, chief?" hastily uttered Boone, emerging from the water, -panting heavily. - -"Yeh--me all right. You hurt?" - -"No--only a scratch. But come--this is our time. We must git out o' -here afore the varmints screw their courage up for another lick." - -Lightfoot grunted, without speaking, but the Wood King understood him, -and smiled quietly. He knew the cave secrets better than the Kickapoo -did. - -"Easy, chief. I know a way out that they never dream of. 'Tis no true -scout that runs his head into a hole with only one opening. Give me the -end of your bow--so. Now follow me carefully." - -Grasping one end of the bow, Boone retreated into the cave, proceeding -with the confidence of one knowing every inch of the ground to be -traversed. For a few yards the floor continued level and smooth; then -there came an abrupt ascent, over what seemed irregular steps cut in -the hard clay. This, however, was the work of nature, not that of man. - -Boone paused, with a grim chuckle. As Lightfoot gained his side, the -veteran said: - -"Look up--what do you see?" - -The Kickapoo obeyed. Far above his head shone a faint light, partially -intercepted by gently waving leaves. A dimly twinkling star told him -the truth. Then a cloud shot over this gleam. - -"Fix yourself for a tough climb, chief. It's up the inside of a tree we -must go. You'll need all your hands and feet," cried Boone, securing -his rifle upon his back. - -Lightfoot now understood all. Boone had not sought shelter in the cave -without knowing how he was to get out of it. And yet this den had often -been explored by himself. How had he missed noting this strange passage? - -Easily explained. A month or more previously Boone had shot a -wild-turkey as it sat upon the tree. It lodged, and, aided by the -thickly-clustering grape-vines that shrouded the gnarled trunk, he -ascended for his game. It had fallen into the hollow. Aided by a supple -vine, he descended into the shell. The bottom gave way beneath his -feet, precipitating him into the cave. Thus the discovery was made that -was now to open to them the road to freedom once more. - -Carefully feeling around, Boone soon secured the severed end of the -grape-vine, and then began the ascent. This was difficult, since the -hollow of the tree was barely large enough to admit the passage of a -human body, and little assistance could be given by the feet, since the -knees could only be bent a trifle. - -Still, though age and sorrow had sapped his strength, the Wood King -raised himself to the top of the trunk, where he clung, panting and -exhausted, shaking the vine as a signal to Lightfoot. As the vine -tightened Boone peered keenly downward. - -Though the tree-top had been broken off at some thirty feet from the -ground, its limbs were still vigorous, rising far above the stub, -thickly covered with leaves and twigs. Parting them, Boone gazed -downward and around, as well as the increasing gloom would permit. - -The hill was nearly bare of trees, with but scant underbrush, a notable -exception to the larger hills that rose around, in this respect, since -they were densely wooded. - -All was still below. Boone could hear nothing to rouse his suspicions, -and he believed that their trail was as yet unobstructed. - -Beyond a doubt the Osages were ignorant of this unique passage, and so -would only think of guarding the cave by the river side. It was but -natural to think that, under cover of the darkness, the two scouts -would endeavor to escape there by swimming and diving, and their whole -attention would be turned toward frustrating this. - -Thus Boone reasoned, and events proved that he was right. - -Lightfoot completed the ascent easily, and then Boone led the way down -the matted mass of grape-vines, using every caution to avoid making any -noise that might alarm the Osages. Five minutes later the scouts stood -side by side at the foot of the tree. - -"Come," muttered Boone, "we must strike out for our friends. They don't -dream of the danger brewin'." - -"Mus' go tell Yellow-hair fust," doggedly replied Lightfoot. - -Yellow-hair, as the Kickapoo called her, was the only daughter of -Edward Mordaunt, who, on one of his hunting-trips, had found the -Kickapoo senseless, almost dead, beside the body of a panther. With a -kindness almost foreign to the borderer in general, Mordaunt carried -the savage to his cabin, where Edith and her mother nursed him back -to life. By this act of kindness they gained his undying gratitude, -and it was mainly his love for them that induced him to fight against -the Indian uprising, since they too were numbered among those to be -massacred. - -"Mordaunt has bin the Osages' fri'nd--surely they won't hurt him?" - -"Injun don't know fri'nd now--only see white scalp. Kill, sure--all but -Yellow-hair. White Wolf say she be his squaw!" - -"The black-hearted devil! But never mind. The time 'll come when he'll -stand afore my rifle, an' then he won't need no more squaws," gritted -Boone, with an anger that he rarely displayed. - -"No--his scalp Lightfoot's," doggedly replied the Kickapoo. - -Boone made no reply, but crouching low down, glided noiselessly down -the hillside furthest from the river, followed by the chief. Reaching -the bottom, they entered a narrow valley, intending to round the large -hill before again taking to the water. The settlements were, for the -most part, upon the other side of the Osage. - -The sky was partially obscured by broken clouds, driving here and -there in angry confusion, betokening a storm. An occasional flash of -lightning would herald the deep rumbling of thunder, and quicken the -footsteps of the scouts. - -Half an hour after emerging from the hollow tree, the bank of the -Osage was reached, and with his rifle secured upon a log, which he -impelled before him, Boone swam the river, with Lightfoot beside him. -Scarce pausing for breath, they plunged into the forest, heading for -Mordaunt's cabin. - -"Hooh!" suddenly uttered Lightfoot, pausing and bending his ear as the -fresh breeze bore the sound of voices faintly to him. - -"The varmints have found out we've gone," and Boone laughed grimly. - -"Lose us, den t'ink oders--tek scalp now, _sure_. White Wolf t'ink -'bout Yellow-hair, now," muttered Lightfoot, uneasily. - -"Lead on, chief. I'm old, but I can stand a little brush, I reckon, 'f -pushed," retorted Boone. - -The two scouts pushed on through the tangled forest at a pace truly -marvelous, considering the gloom. And for full an hour they advanced -without pausing, until the edge of a small clearing was reached, near -the center of which stood a small, rude log-cabin. - -"They've gone to bed," muttered Boone, vexedly, for time was precious -now; an hour lost or gained might be either life or death to them all. - -Edward Mordaunt's voice rung out sharply in answer to Boone's hail, -demanding who was there, but a word from the old scout quickly set his -fears at rest. The scouts entered, barring the door behind them. - -"Wake the women, Ed, an' tell 'em to make haste. You've got to make -tracks for a safer spot than this. Do it--you kin take my word for -it--I'll explain while they're riggin' up," hastily uttered the Wood -King. - -Mordaunt obeyed without question, for he had long known the old hunter. -Yet he could scarcely believe that his peril was so great, for he had -ever treated the Osages with kindness. Still he was not foolhardy -enough to close his eyes to the truth. - -He hastily prepared his arms and ammunition, with a small bundle of -food. While thus occupied, the inner door opened and two women emerged; -mother and daughter. - -Lightfoot glided forward and knelt before them, bowing his proud head, -a softened light filling his eyes. He seemed about to speak, but then -suddenly turned his head. - -A rapid footstep sounded just without the door, and then a loud rap -followed. Once, twice--then a clear voice shouting: - -"Up--up, and away! The heathen come with fire and sword--they thirst -for blood! Away--flee, while yet there is time!" - -Another thundering knock, then the footfalls rapidly retreated, dying -away in the night. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - - THE WOODLAND TRAGEDY. - - -"The crazy man!" cried Boone. - -"The Hermit!" echoed Mordaunt. - -Lightfoot stood silent, though making a rapid sign with his thumb, that -might have represented a cross. An uneasy expression rested upon his -strongly-marked features. - -"It comes in good time," muttered Boone, drawing a long breath, "be he -devil or white man. The red-skins be afoot an' may be upon us at any -minnit. All ready?" - -"But is not this running blindly upon danger--is there not more safety -here behind these walls than out in the open woods?" - -"No--you stay here, the sun of to-morrow will never shine for you. -How long could you keep the varmints out? One shove from a stout pair -of shoulders an' down goes the door. You see now the truth of my -words--none but a fool thrusts his scalp into the hands of a Injun." - -"But the Osages seemed pleased at my confidence in them. Never an angry -word has passed between us!" - -"And Seth Grable?" - -Mordaunt started. This was a danger he had overlooked. He knew that the -half-wild hunter was now a bitter enemy, who had sworn revenge. - -Grable had made his mark, deep and bloody, on the pages of Missouri's -border history. With Indian blood in his veins--some say a -half-breed--he united the worst passions of both races, without the -slightest of their virtues. Yet, with at least half a dozen Indian -squaws, he had demanded the hand of Edith Mordaunt, as the price of -his protection and friendship. Losing sight of prudence, the settler -administered a thorough thrashing, ending by kicking the half-breed off -his clearing. - -"True, old man--but what are your plans?" - -"First, we'll strike out for Caughlands. With them we kin hold our -own ag'in' the varmints, bein' as the cabin is strong. 'Twon't be long -afore my boy, Nathan, 'll hear of the fuss, an' then the varmints 'll -have to hunt their holes." - -"They suspect nothing. Abel was here this evening." - -"Oh, boys will be boys, 'specially when there's gals in the same box. -But, never mind, Edith," and Boone turned to the blushing maiden, -"Abie's a good lad, an' you might go further an' fare wuss." - -"Too much talk," sharply interposed Lightfoot, who had been fidgeting -uneasily for several moments. - -"Right, chief. You know the trail--lead the way. Ed an' I'll see to the -women." - -First extinguishing the dim light, the party cautiously emerged from -the cabin, closing the door behind them. Gliding across the clearing, -they entered the forest. The trail led over a tolerably level tract of -ground, densely wooded, the hills being small and widely scattered. - -The storm threatened to break at any moment. The leaden masses of -clouds had united, shutting out the stars and moon. All below was -dark--an intense, almost palpable gloom. As the fugitives threaded the -forest in single file along the narrow trail, though keeping within -arm's-length, the keenest eye could do no more than dimly distinguish -the figure immediately before it. - -As though endowed with cat-like vision, Lightfoot led the way, without -faltering or once seeming at a loss. Even Boone felt a sense of wonder -at his skill. - -"That sound--what is it?" abruptly asked Edith, her voice sounding -strained and unnatural. - -"'Tis the varmints giving tongue--they've found the empty nest, but -what they lotted most on gittin' has slipped 'em." - -"Dey know trail, too, plenty well. Foller fast--Osage got long legs," -muttered Lightfoot. - -"Yes, we'll have to run for it now. They kin tell to a dot how long -we've been gone, an' 'll be sure we've made tracks for Caughlands. -They'll try to cut us off, an' 'f they do, our case 'll be desp'rit. -Ed, help your wife--I'll look to the little 'un. Chief, lead on--quick -time." - -The alarm no longer came to the ears of the fugitives. All was still -save for their own footsteps and the wailing of the storm-wind through -the forest tree-tops. - -The rage of the Osages had momentarily broken bonds, at the second -disappointment of that night, but was quickly subdued. Their resolve -deepened, their hatred and thirst for blood grew more intense. A few -sharp, quick commands; then they marched in silence. They entered upon -the trail that was to end only in death. - -"See! the storm is breaking away," panted Mrs. Mordaunt, and the -fugitives paused for a moment to regain breath. "The moon is--" - -"'Tis a black moon for us!" groaned the settler, his teeth strongly -gritting. "The devils have fired our cabin--now, indeed, we are -homeless!" - -"Easy, man--a log-cabin is easy raised where timber is so plenty as -hereabouts. Thank the Lord that your heads have still got their nat'ral -kivering," gravely added Boone. - -Lightfoot now arose from his prostrate position upon the ground and -muttered a few words in Boone's ear. The veteran seemed agitated, and -well he might be. - -The Kickapoo said that he had heard suspicious sounds coming from the -direction they were pursuing; barely audible yells and indistinct -reports of firearms. Making due allowance for the dense forest, he -believed these sounds came from Caughlands--from the cabin where they -had expected to find a secure refuge. - -No other dwelling was near. If the Indians had in reality attacked -that, what hope was left the fugitives? Incumbered by helpless women, -what could the borderers do? The prospect was dark. - -Again Lightfoot led the way along the winding, intricate trail. By -following its bends and curves the distance was lengthened, yet no -other course could be followed with safety, while feeble women were of -the party. The surrounding country was difficult, almost impassable in -the darkness, save by the narrow trail. - -Once more the guide paused, this time upon the crest of a considerable -elevation. No need to ask why--the reason lay plain before them. - -Over a mile distant was where stood the Caughland cabin. The spot was -plainly indicated now. Only for the surrounding trees, the sturdy log -walls might have been distinguished by the fugitives. - -A momentarily increasing glow illumined the dark forest, mounting up -toward the heavens. The blazon of death and destruction. The dread -signet of the fire-fiend. - -"My God! them too!" groaned Mordaunt. - -Edith turned ghastly pale and seemed about to faint. The loving arms -of her mother stole around her waist. She knew the sickening fear that -filled her daughter's heart. - -"The sign's mighty black, I must say, but mebbe 'tis better'n we think. -Mebbe the cabin got afire by accident. Anyhow, we mustn't stop here. -If the reds _is_ at work down thar, we've got to pass by 'em. Our only -show is to get to the settlements beyond the Blue." - -"True. Courage, mother, and you, Edith. Be brave now, and we may -escape. But if not, then we will die together!" - -"Don't talk about dyin', man, while you've breath enough left to draw a -pipe," impatiently muttered Boone. "Foller us, now, an' remember that a -false step may end all. It's no fool of a game that we've got to play." - -Lightfoot gave a grunt of displeasure, then led the way down the -hillside. Taciturn himself, he saw little use in so many words. - -Cautiously parting the bushes that almost met above the trail, he -searched the level. A few hundred yards further on he paused, and again -spoke to the old hunter in the Kickapoo dialect. - -"What's the matter now?" anxiously asked Mordaunt. - -"Nothin'; the chief thinks it's best that he should go on ahead to spy -out the truth. As it is, we're goin' blindfold. We'll wait here ontil -he comes back." - -"But is it safe?" - -"Nothin's safe when the varmints is up an' ragin' for white blood. But -come--we may as well take to kiver." - -Boone turned aside from the trail and sought a level space where the -undergrowth was tolerably dense, though the trees were few. Here he -stationed the trio, then crouched down beneath a bush nearer the trail. - -Lightfoot had disappeared like some phantom shape, melting away -amidst the gloom. He no longer followed the trail; even without the -unmistakable guide in the broad glare of light, he well knew the -position of the forest cabin. Toward this he was now pressing with the -speed, the silence, the dexterity of a serpent. - -He had nearly gained the edge of the Caughland clearing, when he -suddenly paused. From behind there uprose a shrill, exultant yell from -a full score of throats. It was the cry of the Osages, and proceeded -from the crest of the hill near which he had parted from the white -fugitives. - -Almost as an echo the yell was returned, this time from the clearing in -front. There was a slight--almost imperceptible difference in the cry, -that told Lightfoot this was part of another tribe--Pottawatomies. - -For a moment he hesitated as if about to return to his friends, but -then turned and glided rapidly onward. He stood upon the edge of the -lighted clearing, gazing out upon a wild, peculiar scene. - -A massive log-cabin and stable were in flames, burning furiously, yet -the huge logs stubbornly resisted their doom. Around were grouped a -number of human figures, over a score in number. The firelight shone -redly over their almost nude bodies. The dull bronze color--the streaks -of paint--the brilliantly dyed plumes--all proclaimed the untamed -savage. - -Other forms was there, lying prone upon the ground. Some clad in light, -flowing garments, some nude; some of both races--the white and the red. - -The latter were ranged together, their limbs straightened and composed. -The pale-faces lay as they had fallen, mutilated almost beyond -recognition. The red flame cast a flickering light over the bare, gory -skulls. They had been scalped. - -As Lightfoot took in this scene, one of the Indians threw back his head -and uttered a long, peculiar cry--the eldritch screech of the panther. -At this a truly startling change came over the Kickapoo. - -His face became convulsed with what seemed fury and deadly hatred--his -eyes scintillated, glowing with a venomous fire. He snatched an arrow -from the quiver at his back, and then the tough bow was bent until the -flint-head fairly touched its back. - -The Pottawatomie still stood with one hand to his lips, the yell yet -reverberating through the forest, when the taut string relaxed--a -sharp _twang_ smote upon their ears, drowned by a dull _thud_ as the -feathered shaft quivered deep in the naked breast of Leaping Panther, -war-chief of the Pottawatomies. - -The giant form reeled, then stood grandly erect, with tightly-clenched -fists raised on high. Wild and clear, piercing as that of the beast -after which he was named, the Leaping Panther breathed forth his life -in one defiant war-cry--then sunk to the ground, dead! - -Until then, the braves had stood motionless as though petrified. But as -their chief fell in death, they darted aside, each seeking some cover -where the bright flames would not betray them to the fatal aim of the -hidden foe. - -Lightfoot glided away from the spot. Now that the deed was done, he -realized the folly of which he had been guilty, while other lives -depended upon his skill and prudence. True, he had slain a deadly -enemy, had kept a solemn oath, but by so doing he had increased the -danger threatening those for whom he would lay down his life without -a regret. The arrow that had carried death to the Pottawatomie, like -all the others in his quiver, was a marked one. A single glance would -declare the hand that had sent the death missile. He would be sought -for until killed; though it might be years hence, still the search -would never cease while he breathed or a Pottawatomie lived to carry on -the hunt of death. - -For himself alone it would matter little. He was an outcast--his own -tribe had outlawed him; the Osages had sworn his death--this made but -one more peril to fight against. But Yellow-hair? He almost cursed the -arm that sent the death-shaft upon its mission. - -Another cry came from the clearing. Lightfoot paused to listen. An -answer came from the hill. Then still others--signals, directions for -the movements of each party. - -Lightfoot smiled grimly as he read them. To spread out and beat every -inch of ground--to capture the audacious murderer _alive_ at any cost. -Thus he interpreted the signals. - -It gave him an idea--bold, desperate, generous. He would yet save -Yellow-hair, even though it might be at the cost of his own life. Yet -to do so, he must gain speech with Boone. - -Rapidly he retraced his steps toward the spot where he had left -his friends, yet with a silence that was truly marvelous. Nobly he -sustained his _sobriquet_. The fall of the autumn leaf was scarcely -more silent than that of his moccasined feet. - -All was still in the forest--not a sound broke the air save the wind -rustling among the tree-tops, or the creaking of some dead bough. The -dark, shrouded heaven lowered angrily, yet the storm held off as though -to gather force to annihilate the living puppets below. - -Crouching down, Lightfoot listened. All was still. The hill loomed up -before him, dark and indistinct. His friends must be near. - -A peculiar sound passed his lips--low but penetrating--the significant -_skir-r_ of the wood rattlesnake. - -Like an echo a similar sound came from his right. The signal was heard -and understood. Boone replied to it in kind. - -The next moment Lightfoot was beside him, having glided thither like -the serpent whose alarum he had usurped. Their heads close together, a -few rapid words passed between them. - -Lightfoot divulged his plan by which he hoped to baffle the peril that -threatened them. It was desperate, but the only one. Alone the men -might have crept through the savage cordon; with the women, this was -simply impossible. - -The Kickapoo turned and glided away, again heading toward the blazing -cabin. He used less caution now, for time was doubly precious. The -Osages, he knew, could not be many yards from the fugitives. - -Gaining several hundred yards, he dashed forward at full speed, -running to avoid the trees, stumps and other obstacles by intuition, -for eyesight could avail him but little in such darkness. Again he -paused, and now uttered a signal. It was answered almost immediately, -from in front, to the left and right. His calculations were correct. -The time was at hand for his action, nor did he hesitate, though the -result could scarcely be other than death. - -The bow he slung across his back. One hand clutched a knife, the other -a tomahawk. Then he glided forward, direct for the spot from which the -center signal had issued. His keen ear had not deceived him. - -A tall, dimly outlined figure uprose before him, and uttered a few -hasty words in the Pottawatomie dialect. Lightfoot did not wait to -understand their meaning. Time was by far too precious. - -With the ferocity of a maddened panther he leaped upon the savage, -dealing two swift, deadly blows as he did so. Down through flesh -and bone sunk the keen hatchet, scattering the skull like an -egg-shell--gritting against his breast-bone the long knife. - -A husky, gasping sound broke from the stricken brave's lips; it could -scarce be called a death-yell. Yet it was heard--it and the furious -death-blows, as the quick, sharp exclamations evinced. - -Plucking his weapons from their quivering sheath, Lightfoot raised his -voice in one loud, clear yell of taunting defiance as he spurned the -corpse from him, and plunged into the darkness beyond. - -For a moment his enemies stood as if confounded. Something in this bold -defiance puzzled them. It seemed the act of a madman, or of one who had -some particular point in view that he so daringly invited pursuit. - -Once more there came the sound of a brief struggle--again the outcast -uttered his shrill, taunting whoop. No longer hesitating, the -Pottawatomies dashed forward in hot pursuit. - -Crouching down in their leafy covert, the fugitives waited and listened -in acute suspense, scarce daring to breathe. They knew that enemies, -deadly, vindictive and marvelously keen-sensed, were gathered around -them, thirsting for blood, each moment drawing the meshes of the web -closer. They knew this by the low, peculiar signals that quavered upon -the air with the passage of every few moments, now from one side, now -the other, drawing nearer and nearer as the savages carefully searched -the undergrowth. - -Boone and Mordaunt listened painfully, their muscles strung, their -weapons in readiness for use when the fatal moment should arrive. They -listened for some sound from Lightfoot. Would he be in time? Or if so, -would the enemy all be deceived? - -The suspense was fearfully trying, but fortunately did not last long. -Crouching there, the fugitives heard the loud yell of Lightfoot, as he -sprung away from his first victim. - -The women shuddered as the cry echoed by, reverberating from the hills, -roaring through the tree-tops, strangely blending with the first -howlings of the tempest. Could it be human--the voice of a fiend? - -Yes--Boone recognized it without difficulty. Just then it sounded like -music in his ears. - -Other ears caught the sound, and with little cries the Osage warriors -sprung to their feet, bending forward, eagerly listening. They too -recognized the voice of the tribeless outcast! - -Crouching there, the fugitives could distinguish the outlines of more -than one savage foe, so near had they crept. Will they pass on? 'Tis a -moment of horrible suspense. - -Again the defiant cry of the Kickapoo sounds forth the death-knell of -a Pottawatomie, and then, with wild yells, the Osages leap forward, an -intense yearning scorching their hearts. - -Boone suddenly flattens his muscular figure to the earth, but the -effort is useless. A dark figure bounds through the air, crashing -through the frail bush, alighting fairly between the broad shoulders of -the Wood King. - -One of the Osages had blindly leaped upon Boone's back. A quick, -writhing movement, and the savage is hurled head-foremost to the -ground. And then a grip of iron is fastened upon his throat. A bright -blade hisses through the air and buries its length in the Indian's back. - -Stricken to death, the savage struggles and writhes convulsively, with -what seems more than mortal strength. The hunter's fingers contract -like the claw of an eagle, and the heavy knife once more buries itself -in the quivering flesh. - -With one frantic effort the savage frees his throat and gives utterance -to a maniacal shriek of death-agony. Then, as though satisfied that his -death would speedily be avenged, he lay motionless at the feet of the -old scout, dead! - -"Hist! for your lives! Don't stir a peg!" hissed the Wood King, as -Mordaunt partially arose. - -The death-shriek of the Osage had reached the ears of his comrades, and -they paused, startled, alarmed. All was still now, save the far-away -yells of the Pottawatomies, as they darted away in pursuit of Lightfoot. - -The fugitives' hearts beat high. They prayed that the savages might -pass on, lured by the thrilling chorus beyond. But this was not to be. - -Several of the braves turned and cautiously retraced their steps, -signaling each other constantly. Boone placed his lips close to -Mordaunt's ear, muttering: - -"If they find us, give 'em the best you've got. Tell the women to slip -off through the bushes at the fust yell--not afore. Speak sharp, so -they'll mind." - -Mordaunt obeyed. Half-paralyzed with terror the women promised to -follow his directions. - -Boone clenched his teeth. He saw that discovery was inevitable. Already -he could distinguish several dusky figures gradually nearing their -covert, and, knowing the advantage of dealing the first blow, signed to -Mordaunt to follow his example. - -The long rifle sprung to his shoulder, being cocked at the same moment. -Then it spoke, the bright flash illumining the spot for yards around, -also revealing full half a score crouching savages. A death-yell was -blended with the report--followed by another, as the settler's rifle -vomited forth its contents. - -"Scatter now!" hissed Boone, rolling rapidly aside, barely escaping -several bullets and arrows that tore the ground beneath the bushes. - -His further words were drowned by the angry yells of the infuriated -Osages, as they sprung forward, thirsting for blood. - -A horrible scene then transpired in the gloom. A ferocious _melée_--a -struggle for life or death. - -Twice the savages reeled back from before the pale-faces, but again -they surged forward, their number constantly augmenting. One, two, -three minutes of deadly strife. Then Edward Mordaunt sunk down upon -the pile of dead savages, his skull cloven in twain. A shriek of agony -burst from the wife as she witnessed his fall, and, forgetful of self, -she tottered forward with outstretched arms as though to protect him. A -blow--a groan--husband and wife united, never more to part! - -Edith shrieked as an Indian seized her, with uplifted hatchet. A dark -form sprung between--the Osage fell dead. Strong arms carried her a -few steps, then relaxed their grasp. A momentary flash of lightning -revealed to her the convulsed features of Lightfoot--then she saw no -more; she had swooned. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - - THE CHIEF'S PERIL. - - -The face upon which Edith Mordaunt's eyes fell during the momentary -glare of the lightning, was indeed that of Lightfoot, the Kickapoo -outcast. - -Even as his daring ruse seemed fully successful, he heard the double -report--the wild yell of angry vengeance that told of his friends' -discovery by the Osage braves. He knew that Yellow-hair was in peril -most imminent, and the knowledge nearly crazed him. - -Like a madman he turned abruptly and rushed back toward the spot -where he had left his friends, caring nothing for the risk he himself -run--thinking only of _her_. Bewildered by this new alarm, taken by -surprise by the desperate rush of the outlawed chief, the Pottawatomies -allowed their enemy to slip through their fingers, when the game was -fairly their own. - -Halting for nothing, Lightfoot dashed on at top speed, fearing lest -he should be too late. He sprung into the little opening with drawn -hatchet and knife. - -He heard Edith shriek, and thus guided, he sprung to her side. A brawny -Osage stood bending her head backward by the long hair, a blood-stained -tomahawk brandished on high. - -With a fierce, grating snarl, Lightfoot leaped at his throat. Then -followed a swift stroke--the savage writhed in death-agonies at the -feet of the Kickapoo. - -"Lightfoot save you, or die!" muttered the chief, as he gathered the -trembling form to his broad breast. - -He sprung forward a few steps, then faltered, his eyes dazzled, -blinded by the unusually vivid flash of lightning that shed around the -brightness of noonday. - -A dark form leaped before him--a heavy weapon fell with a dull -_thud_ full upon the unprotected head, and Lightfoot sunk lifeless -to the ground. Edith shrieked faintly as she recognized the stricken -form--then, with a dim sense of being tight clasped by strong arms to a -broad breast, her senses reeled and she fainted. - -And Boone, the Wood King? - -He fought bravely, desperately, with the strength, skill and activity -of renewed youth. He struggled on while a gleam of hope remained--until -he alone of that little band of fugitives was left upon his feet. All -were down--either dead, dying, or senseless. - -Then he thought of his own safety. Flight, instant and speedy, alone -could save him, before the scattered Osages could fairly surround him. - -Calling into play every muscle of his stout frame, he sprung forward, -swinging the long, heavy rifle before him. Two savages fell before its -tremendous sweep, and an opening was made. - -Through this Boone darted, striking down, broken and helpless, the arm -that was raised to stay his flight. Then a wild thrill ran through his -veins as he realized that all his foes were behind him--and a single -exultant yell broke from his lips as he darted away through the -forest, entering upon a stern, desperate race for freedom, if not life. - -His shout told the Osages all, and they dashed after him with yells -of horrible rage, that not even the deafening peal of thunder could -entirely drown. - -At least the defiant cry of the Wood King was productive of one good -result, whatever might be its effect otherwise. Lightfoot was just -staggering to his feet, when Boone broke away, and drawn off by the -cry, the Osages passed him without notice. - -Still confused by the heavy blow that had felled him to the ground, -Lightfoot supported himself by a bush, and stared around him. The storm -was beginning to rage, the lightning-flashes followed each other in -rapid succession, lighting up a soul-harrowing scene. - -A glimpse of a woman's garments roused Lightfoot from his half-stupor, -and with an inarticulate cry he sprung forward and sunk to his knees. -Breathlessly he waited for the next gleam of lightning. - -In that score of seconds he suffered the tortures of the damned. He -knew that he knelt beside the dead. His hand rested shudderingly upon -the shattered skull of a woman. He feared it was that of Yellow-hair. - -The character of Lightfoot may seem exaggerated--overdrawn, but not -so. True, he was an Indian among a thousand, but such a being really -lived and breathed. Edith Mordaunt had, by her tender care and skillful -nursing, brought him safely out from the very shadow of death. He owed -his life to her. He was ready to repay the debt; for her sake he had -renounced his tribe, his people, his faith--for her he had become an -outcast. He would have died to spare her one moment's pang. And now he -believed he was kneeling beside her dead and mangled body. - -The flash of lightning came, and a cry of joy broke from the Indian's -lips. The blood-stained hair beneath his hand was gray--almost white: -that of Mrs. Mordaunt. - -His cry was echoed by that of another being--faint and rattling. As the -lightning died away, he turned quickly toward the point from whence it -proceeded. All was intensely dark: he could distinguish nothing. - -Again the lightning cast a brilliant glow over the scene, and revealed -to Lightfoot his peril. Only a few yards distant an Osage crouched low -to the ground, a bent bow in his hands, the barbed shaft pointed full -at his heart. - -This much he saw, and then the glow died out. At the same moment a -faint _twang_ met his ear, and a burning pain seemed tearing deep to -his very heart. - -With an angry snarl he sprung forward, grappling with the Osage. It was -an unresisting enemy. Not a quiver or a moan followed the knife-thrust. -With the loosing of the arrow, the spirit of the Osage brave had fled -to its happy hunting-grounds. True to his teaching, his last act was to -deal the enemy a blow. - -Lightfoot felt at his breast A few drops of blood stained his fingers, -but the arrow was gone. He probed the wound--it was but a trifle. The -strength of the dying brave had not equaled his determination. - -The Kickapoo arose, and by the quick-following flashes of lightning -carefully scrutinized the spot. To his joy he found nothing of -Edith--because by that he knew that she still lived. - -In the alternate gloom and brightness he glided around, stooping -momentarily over each one of the dead savages. He was an Indian. He -knew how to strike his living enemies sorest. On the morrow the Osage -tribe would wail over their scalpless dead. - -Standing erect, he flung back his head as though bidding defiance to -the lightning's shaft, the thunder's bolt, as the long-pent-up storm -broke in all its fury. The wild, thrilling scalp-cry of the Kickapoos -resounded through the hills and forest--then the outcast chief turned -and disappeared in the darkness. - -And now the flashes came less frequent, the thunder-peals less heavy; -the rain falls in torrents, as though eager to wipe out forever the -evidences of crime and bloodshed that stained the earth's fair surface. - -Believing himself the only survivor, and knowing that his only hope of -escape with life was in speedy flight, Boone darted away through the -forest, closely followed by united Osage and Pottawatomie braves. In -that darkness, only relieved by the dazzling flashes of lightning that -left all in even denser gloom than before, by force of contrast, flight -was not only difficult but dangerous. - -Yet the veteran ranger, thoroughly skilled in the craft that had been -the study of his life, wound his way through the tree-trunks growing -so thickly around, over fallen timber and other obstacles, with truly -marvelous celerity and ease. But after him came others equally as -expert, fired by a burning thirst for vengeance upon the one who had -that night dealt them such a bitter blow. - -Boone had already shaped the details of a plan by which he hoped to -escape his pursuers, and now bent every energy of his body to the first -point: that of gaining a few yards greater lead. With this purpose he -dashed ahead at a dangerous pace, though knowing that a single misstep -might end in his death or capture. - -At this point the storm broke in all its fury and in it the scout -recognized a truly welcome ally. The rain fell in torrents, pattering -loudly upon the tree-tops, that soon began to shed their watery load -upon the undergrowth beneath their boughs. - -A few moments later Boone suddenly paused, pressing close to the -gnarled trunk of a huge tree that had been momentarily revealed by the -glare of lightning. Here, holding his breath, trying to still the loud -throbbings of his heart, he stood with knife tight clenched in his -hand, to await the result of his ruse. - -One, two, half a dozen savages dash by, running with hushed voices now, -for they dread losing their prey, since the tempest so nearly drowns -his footfalls. Then others pass by panting, losing hope with each step. - -A minute passes--then a wild yell comes from beyond the point toward -which the savages had chased a phantom. They had missed their prey. -Boone smiled grimly. - -"Yelp on, ye blood-thirsty curs--yelp on till your throats split with -hate an' fury. The trail's broken--the nose of a true-bred hound -couldn't splice it now," muttered the Wood King. - -Rapidly gliding a few yards to the right, Boone paused beneath a -broad-spreading elm tree, and clutching the ivy vines that shrouded -its trunk, clambered up to the limbs. When nearly a score feet from the -ground he paused, and crouching down upon the gnarled limb, listened -intently. - -Numerous signals filled the air, the voices of birds and beasts, but -the veteran smiled contemptuously at the frail disguise, perfect as the -imitations were. On such a night not even the panther ventured from -its den, still less the feathered tribe. He knew that the savages were -beating the forest for him, knowing that he had put some such ruse in -operation as the one described. - -"Let them hunt--an owl couldn't spy me out here in the night, an' -I reckon they'll tire of it afore day," muttered Boone, carefully -shielding the lock of his rifle from the rain-drops. - -More then once during that long night he could hear the cat-like -footsteps of the savages, as they prowled about hoping to light upon -some trace of their enemy. But then all grew still, save the dull, -monotonous patter of the rain-drops upon the already saturated leaves. - -Gradually the old hunter yielded to his fatigue, and leaning back -against the gnarled tree-trunk, slept on peacefully and calmly as -though in a bed beneath a hospitable roof. And when he awoke, the -new day had dawned, the sun-rays were just tinging the crests of the -tallest trees. - -The storm was over, and the fresh-washed face of Nature appeared doubly -beautiful. The feathered denizens of the forest were in full voice, and -for a moment the Wood King lay listening, half-dreamily, for the moment -forgetful of the dread events of the past night. - -But then he remembered all; once more he was the stern wood-ranger. -Listening intently, his keen eyes roved over every foot of ground -visible from his perch. A rapidly-flitting bird--a pair of playful gray -squirrels met his gaze; nothing human--nothing of the savages who had -hunted him so hard the night just past. - -Noiselessly he turned and forced the wiping-stick into his rifle. The -barrel had dried during the night. Then he loaded it carefully, packing -powder into the vent, priming it and then scraping the flint. He knew -that his life might depend upon the fidelity of his rifle. - -With the lightness of the velvet-footed panther, Boone dropped to the -ground, thumb upon hammer, finger touching the trigger, and glared -around. But his suspicions were unfounded. No enemy was near. They had -abandoned the search in despair, knowing that, their blows begun, there -could be no rest for them while a single pale-face drew breath in the -Osage country. Night and day they must labor, or a fearful retribution -would overtake them. - -Cautiously, with ready rifle, Boone retraced his steps toward the -opening that had been the scene of death. He had no hope of finding any -of his friends alive, yet he could not restrain the impulse that urged -him on. - -He stood upon the edge of the opening. The scene of the massacre was -marked by the snarling, scuffling forms of half a dozen wolves. As the -hunter strode forward, they slunk away, howling lugubriously. - -Stout-hearted, iron-willed though he was, Boone felt a thrill of -horror creep over his frame as he gazed down upon the torn and -trampled ground. A few tattered fragments of clothing--a number of -bare, dismembered bones, nothing more. The four-footed scavengers had -completed the work of their brother wolves in human form. This was all -that was left of the true-hearted settler and his wife. The hunter -turned pale even through the deep sun-dye, and fierce words gritted -through his tight-clenched teeth. - -"May God's curse rest upon the black-hearted devils, until every -mother's son o' them is like these poor critters! To think that only -yest'day they was all well an' hearty, an' little Edith--ha!" - -He paused abruptly in his mutterings and glanced hurriedly -around--almost wildly. Could it be? Only _two_ skulls were -visible--only two! Then where were the others? Those of Edith and -Lightfoot? - -"Kin it be they got off? Sure I saw 'em both fall!" - -With heart throbbing painfully the old scout reached the vicinity, -fearing the worst--scarce daring to hope. - -Then he paused, glancing quickly toward the forest. The sound of -footsteps rustling among the undergrowth caught his ear, and he -crouched down behind a scrubby bush, with rifle cocked in readiness for -use. - -A human figure stepped into view, followed by another. Boone sprung to -his feet, for he recognized them. They were white men--settlers. - -"Fosdick--an' you, Kingsley, is all well at the settlements?" eagerly -cried Boone, springing forward. - -"Yas--but thar's b'en black work 'mong the outlyin' cabins, it seems. -So much fer trustin' the red devils too fur--ef all 'd 'a' be'n o' my -mind, this wouldn't 'a' happened, fer lack o' hands to do it with," -growled the burly borderer. - -In cooler blood, though, even Fosdick was forced to admit that _all_ -the Indians were not bad, since to timely information given by several, -the "Boone's Lick Settlement" was saved from almost entire massacre, -and the insurrection nipped in the bud; only a few of the more isolated -cabins were destroyed and the settlers killed. - -"How did you chaince to hear of this so soon?" - -"Abe Dare brung us word--" - -"Abe Dare--then the varmints didn't kill him 'th the rest?" echoed -Boone, in astonishment. - -"No--he's thar by the cabin--or rather what _was_ the cabin, 'th some -o' the boys, a-pickin' up the old folks." - -Boone hastened to the spot, and found the truth had been told. Here -too the four-footed wolves had been at their horrible feast. Around -the still smoldering ruins the bones of the ill-fated settlers were -scattered. - -The hunter found Abel Dare pale and stony--sadly changed by that -night's events. Boone wondered if he yet knew all, but feared to put -the question that would decide his doubts. - -From the talk of the settlers he learned how it came that Dare had -escaped the massacre of his adopted parents, for the young man spoke -never a word. Pale and icy stern he worked on, hollowing out a rude -grave to contain all that remained on earth of his loved ones. - -That evening Abel Dare had visited the Mordaunt cabin, for Edith -was his promised wife. On his return home he met the little son of -a neighbor, going in quest of assistance. By an awkward fall his -father had broken a leg. Abel returned with the boy, and by that act -of kindness, in all probability escaped death. The fracture was a -simple one, and he managed to set it. Scarcely had he succeeded, when -the little boy spoke of a bright light over the hill-top. Its position -roused Dare's fears--he believed it to be from his own clearing. At -top speed he hastened there--but too late. The tragedy was over. His -friends had rushed forth from the blazing pile, only to meet death at -the hands of the demoniac savages. He could see their ghastly bodies -lying in the full glare of the fire, with the yelling, exultant fiends -dancing around in mad glee. - -His rifle sprung to his shoulder, and the hammer fell; but with a -simple _click_. In his mad race through the forest the flint had fallen -out. This discovery recalled his senses. The savages numbered over -a score; to attack them now would but insure his own death--and he -resolved to live _for vengeance_. With this thought uppermost in his -mind, he turned and hastened at top speed for the settlements, never -faltering once on the long trail, his muscles nerved by the sight he -had just witnessed. He found the settlement greatly excited. Some -friendly Indians had betrayed the plot for its destruction. Yet half a -dozen men answered his appeal, for the most part single men, hunters -and scouts--the ones who were now with him. - -In silence Boone listened to the plans--if such they could be -called--of the scouts. They swore vengeance upon the tribe of -Pottawatomies in general. An Indian was an Indian to them; whether -their hands had shed _this_ blood mattered not. "A life for a -life"--true border law--this was their creed. - -"An' thar drops number one!" snarled Jim Fosdick, throwing up his -rifle, as a dusky form stepped out into the clearing and advanced -toward them. - -"Stop!" cried Boone, knocking up the weapon, sending the ragged bullet -hissing over the tree-tops. "That's a true fri'nd--hurt him, an' you -must deal 'th _me_!" - -"He's a Injun," muttered the scout, sullenly. - -"But his heart's white; he resked his life last night to save the -Mordaunts--" - -"What--what did you say, old man?" cried Abel Dare, rousing from his -apathy, his face flushing, his eyes glowing like living coals. - -"Be cool, boy; 'tain't so bad but it might be wuss," muttered Boone, -uneasily, beckoning for the Indian to approach, for Lightfoot had -started toward cover at his unceremonious reception. "I don't -think--that is, I hope the gal is alive." - -Abel Dare sunk to the ground in a nerveless heap, with a groan of -heart-rending despair. This new blow, following so closely what he had -already undergone, broke down his forced composure, and he wept like -a child. Boone motioned the men aside. He knew that it was better so; -these tears might ease the over-tasked brain, and keep it from utterly -giving way. - -By his directions, the scouts gathered the remains of Mordaunt and -his wife together, and placed them in a shallow grave, while he and -Lightfoot searched the vicinity in the faint hope of finding some -trace of Edith. But their efforts were unavailing. The heavy rain had -obliterated all footprints. - -Boone closely questioned the Kickapoo, but instead of throwing any -light upon the subject, his statement rendered the uncertainty still -deeper. - -On recovering his senses, he had followed on after the Indians who were -hunting for Boone, mingling with them in the darkness without fear of -discovery. He soon learned that Edith was not with them, but neither -was the White Wolf, Seth Grable. Still hoping to learn something -of her--and resolving to free her, if need be, at the cost of his -life--Lightfoot kept near the savages, even after they abandoned their -hunt for Boone. They returned to the opening, to find their own dead -_scalped_. Their rage and shame were delicious morsels to the Kickapoo. -Carrying these to the hill, they hid the bodies in a gully, then set -forth on their mission of blood. Knowing that Edith would not be taken -upon such a tramp, Lightfoot left them and searched elsewhere; but all -in vain. He could find no trace of either her or Grable. - -"But we _will_ find her, if alive--I swear to it!" and then the two men -crossed palms; in each other's eyes they read the same resolve. - -At this moment Abel Dare came up, ghastly pale, his eyes glowing like -those of a madman's. In husky tones he called upon the men to follow -him--that he would lead them to strike a blow for vengeance. The scouts -seemed to catch the infection--they cheered wildly and then followed -the lead of the half-crazed man. - -Only Boone and Lightfoot held back. Yet they did not expostulate. They -knew how useless that would be. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - - THE OSAGE VILLAGE. - - -Boone seemed perplexed and ill at ease. For some minutes he watched -Lightfoot as he quartered the opening like a hound searching for a lost -scent; but then a signal called the Kickapoo to his side. With a few -low words, Boone turned and retraced the route they had followed the -night before in their flight from the Osages. - -The clearing that once contained the happy and peaceful home of -Mordaunt, was gained. A heap of black, unsightly ruins was all that was -now left. - -Making a circuit of the clearing, the scouts knew that no human being -had been there since the rain ceased. Boone frowned, though he had -scarcely dared hope for a different result. - -Pausing beneath the shelter of a tree, the scouts consulted on -their future course. Blind as the trail was, neither one dreamed of -abandoning the search until they should either rescue Edith or obtain -proof of her death. - -A sudden recollection caused Lightfoot's eyes to glisten--his hopes to -rise. He believed he possessed a clue by which the broken trail might -be regained. - -Several times mention has been made of Seth Grable, a mongrel renegade, -also that he boasted the possession of several squaws. Lightfoot -knew that one at least of these lived apart from her tribe and was -frequently visited by the White Wolf at her little cabin in a snug -valley beside the Osage. By mere accident Lightfoot had made this -discovery, while out hunting, and now as he recalled the lone and -well-hidden refuge, he believed Edith would be concealed there by the -renegade until the storm blew over. - -"The idee's wuth a trial, anyhow," said Boone, in a thoughtful tone. -"'T any rate, we kin find whar the varmints crossed the river. Lead on." - -Lightfoot glided forward, with Boone steadily tramping at his heels. -The distance was considerable, and the sun was high in the heavens -before the valley was reached. Cautiously the scouts crept toward -the little vine-covered cabin, though there was little need of their -precautions, for the nest was empty. The rain-softened earth around -retained no trace of feet--the cabin had evidently been deserted before -the storm. - -The scouts looked at each other in silence. Their disappointment -was great. Another hope was gone. Would the broken trail ever be -united--the lost one found? - -In dogged silence they headed up-stream. Across the river, stood the -village of the Osages, yet miles distant. If Edith had not been taken -there, they knew not what to think. - -For nearly an hour they pressed on, closely scrutinizing the -river-bank, so as not to overlook any trail. Then both scouts paused -abruptly. - -Now, as on the fatal night just past, the sound of firearms and human -voices raised in anger came to their ears from the direction they -were following. A moment Boone hearkened, then muttered, as he sprung -forward: - -"It's the boys--they've run ag'in' a nest of the varmints. Come, chief, -we must lend 'em a hand." - -The two scouts dashed forward along the river-bank at full speed, -the sounds of the conflict growing plainer and more distinct, now at -no great distance. Reaching the summit of a small hill, the scouts -momentarily paused. - -Below them were the combatants--a number of Pottawatomies and the -white settlers who had followed the reckless lead of Abel Dare. A true -bush-fight was in progress. Each man closely hugged his tree, stump or -log, carefully shielding himself, while keen to take advantage of any -false move of his adversary. - -Yet Boone's brow darkened as he took in the situation at a glance. -He saw that his friends were in really great peril--that they were -outnumbered, that the Pottawatomies were gradually spreading out so -as to command front and both flanks, where they could pick off the -settlers at their leisure. - -He glanced into Lightfoot's face. The answer to his unspoken question -was plainly written upon the Kickapoo's face. He too saw the peril -and was eager to baffle it, though more from hatred to the tribe of -Pottawatomies, than love for the hardly-bested white hunters. - -The distance was too great for Lightfoot to use his bow with effect, -and it was necessary for the success of their plans that the savages -should be terrified as well as surprised. Fifty yards below was a dense -clump of bushes, and toward this Lightfoot glided, trusting that, even -if observed, his features would not be recognized. Boone remained upon -the hill. His rifle easily commanded the enemy's position. - -Reaching the cover, Lightfoot quickly fitted an arrow to the bow, and -loosing it at the back of an exposed Pottawatomie, sent forth his -shrill, fear-inspiring war-cry. Almost simultaneously the rifle of the -Wood King spoke, and his full, deep voice sent encouragement to the -hearts of the settlers. - -Amazed, bewildered by this sudden and deadly attack in their rear, -the Pottawatomies leaped to their feet, glaring wildly around. -_Crack--crack--crack!_ Then hastily reloaded rifles from among the -settlers were discharged--like a shaft of light another arrow sped from -Lightfoot's covert, rankling deep in the very heart of a battle-scarred -warrior. - -With a loud cheer Boone broke cover, dashing down the hill. The -settlers answer him--so does Lightfoot. The Pottawatomies believe -themselves surrounded and outnumbered. With cries of dismay they turn -and flee, leaving their dead and dying behind them. - -They are not pursued far. The settlers have learned a lesson in -prudence that they will not soon forget. One of their number is dead, -another at his last gasp, while scarcely one of the others but bears -some token of the struggle. Yet the savages had suffered far more -severely, since, in all, nine dead bodies marked the accuracy of the -pale-faces' aim. - -Boone drew aside with Abel Dare, who seemed far more like his usual -self, though still fitful and wild in both actions and speech. In a -few words Boone heard all he had to tell. No trail had been found -or any adventure met with until they stood face to face with the -Pottawatomies, when, without stopping to calculate the chances, the -settlers began the fight. - -At this moment Jim Fosdick advanced, evidently as spokesman of the -party. He said they had accomplished what they set out to do--dealt a -blow at the enemy and secured more than scalp for scalp. That their -duty now was to help protect the settlements. - -Abel Dare began a testy reply, but Boone checked him. - -"They're right, lad, though you mayn't think so just now. Every man's -arms is needed thar, for thar the varmints will strike the heaviest -licks. It's right--don't say any thing ag'in' thar goin'." - -"And you, too! So be it--I will work alone. Though all the rest abandon -you, Edith, I will save you, or die! For _you_ don't think those devils -murdered her, do you?" he wildly added, imploringly gazing into the -face of the old hunter. - -"No, I don't. Never mind my reasons just now. But see--I b'lieve she's -alive; that I kin find her--an' I've swore that I'll git her away from -the varmints if mortal man kin do it," quietly replied Boone. - -"Then you ain't goin' back with us?" - -"No, Jim; the chief an' I have other work on hand." - -"And I--I go too." - -"You'd better go back with the boys, Abel. We two kin do all that's -needed, 'specially as sarcumvention must come into play." - -"I _will_ go--if not with you, then alone," doggedly added Dare, his -black eyes gleaming. - -"All right--you shall go." - -A few more words were spoken and then the party separated, the settlers -carrying with them the bodies of their friends, to bury them in some -spot where the savages would not be likely to unearth them for the sake -of their scalps. The three scouts continued up the river-bank, shortly -after, crossing at the ford previously mentioned. - -At mid-afternoon they paused, and composed themselves to rest, snugly -ensconced in a dense thicket that covered the summit of a hill -overlooking the Osage village. They needed rest, and could do nothing -until the shades of night fell upon the earth. - -But few words were wasted in idle speech. During their tramp the -subject had been sufficiently discussed, and each perfectly understood -the part allotted to himself. Their search for Edith was to begin at -this point, since it was the village of that portion of the Osage tribe -to which Seth Garble had allied himself. Since the captive was not at -his own private cabin, she must be here. - -Boone and Dare lay down beneath the cooling foliage and were speedily -sound asleep. Lightfoot, though his eyes had been sleepless for at -least forty-eight hours, remained at his post overlooking the village, -seemingly as tireless as though a mere machine. - -The village seemed unusually lively and bustling, though, as he could -see, the crowd consisted mainly of squaws and pappooses, with a few -able-bodied warriors--probably a score, in all. Through his watch, he -saw nothing of Grable or Edith. Yet there was nothing in that to be -wondered at. - -The sun had long disappeared when Lightfoot touched Boone and Dare, as -a signal that the time was at hand for their work to begin. The sky was -clear and cloudless, the stars twinkled brightly though the moon had -not yet risen. - -"It's all understood, then," said Boone, with an uneasy glance at Abel. -"The chief is to enter the village an' find out whether the gal is in -there or no. We're to wait for him outside." - -"Yes--but it seems to me a coward part to play," muttered Dare, -fingering the knife at his belt. - -"It's _policy_. The chief is of thar own color, understands the lingo -as well as his own tongue. He kin go unsuspected whar we'd be found out -at a glimpse. You must see it's for the best; an', mind ye, Abel, you -mustn't strike in out o' turn, or we'll leave you to do the job in your -own way." - -Dare grumbled something about its being hard to be forced to remain -idle while others worked, but agreed to obey. Then the trio cautiously -glided down the hillside and neared the outskirts of the Indian village. - -This was a permanent place of habitation, where the Osages had lived -for many years, and was of a substantial nature. The village was -pitched amidst hills, to protect it from the cold winds of winter, -close to a creek that wound through the valley, only a few hundred -yards from the forest that furnished them with fuel for their meals. -Most of the huts were built of mud, with bark roofs--a few were of -stone rudely held up with clay mortar. Beyond the huts rose a stout, -commodious horse-corral, with boundaries defined by high walls of -timber, fallen trees dragged into place, strengthened by stakes planted -firmly in the ground. - -At the edge of the clearing Lightfoot left his comrades, and glided -out from the trees. Crouching low down in the gloom, he glided rapidly -toward the corral, then partially skirting the village. - -Gaining the wall, he paused to reconnoiter. The village was all -alive. A number of fires burned brightly. The savages were hastening -to and fro, or gathered in little knots, gossiping. There seemed -little likelihood of their settling down for the night. To enter the -lighted street was almost certain discovery, and that meant death to -the Kickapoo, now. Yet he did not hesitate long. A quick gesture, and -he was changed. A moment's fumbling altered his scalp-lock into that -of a Fox. His form seemed to sink into itself, becoming less tall, -more squat. In the grotesquely distorted features, one could scarcely -recognize the handsome Kickapoo chief. - -A moment later and he was within the lighted village, stalking -leisurely along, brushing shoulders with his most deadly enemies, -unsuspected. Yet, though he had almost completed the circuit of the -village, passing within earshot of each group of gossips, lingering -near each cabin, Lightfoot gained no knowledge of the one he sought. -Could it be that she was not in the village? - -He paused beside one of the cabins and listened intently. The sound -of low voices reached his ear, though but indistinctly. There seemed -something familiar in the tones of one of the speakers that sent a -thrill through his veins. With bated breath Lightfoot hearkened. - -The voices ceased, and the chief heard a light footstep. Mechanically -he started erect, but instead of seeking cover, he stood out in the -full glow of the firelight, once more Lightfoot, the handsome war-chief -of the Kickapoos. The footsteps came nearer--a light form turned the -corner of the cabin, then paused, with a faint exclamation of surprise. -Only for a moment; then the plump form was clasped tightly to the -breast of the Indian scout, as he drew back into the deeper shadow. - -Lightfoot forgot his mission, the peril he ran, every thing save the -presence of the Indian maiden who yielded herself so freely to his warm -embrace. Forgetful of all else, he poured soft words into her ears, for -the moment acting like a true lover, no longer the cool, calculating -warrior. - -Feather-Cloud was the daughter of a Kickapoo sub-chief. She had won -Lightfoot's love a year since, but the opposition of our friend -to the tribal alliance prejudiced the old chief against him. That -Feather-Cloud was now on a visit to some friends among the Osages, is -all that need be said. - -Though Lightfoot knew it not, jealous eyes were upon him. The rapturous -meeting with Feather-Cloud had been witnessed by a young warrior, who -was now creeping closer, his ear strained to catch their words. And he -soon heard enough to know that an enemy had entered the village of his -people. - -The Kickapoo's first intimation of danger was in a shrill yell that -rung out close behind him, and then a heavy form precipitated itself -full upon his back. Staggered by the rude awaking as much as the shock, -Lightfoot reeled and fell to the ground. - -But his surprise was only momentary. Scarce had he touched the ground -when all his faculties returned. - -The Osage clutched his throat with suffocating force, his yell of alarm -ringing through the village with startling distinctness, only to be -taken up by a score of throats as the warriors sprung in a body toward -the spot. - -The sinewy hands of Lightfoot rose and clutched the throat of his -antagonist, his fingers almost meeting in the yielding flesh, while -the bones fairly seemed to give way beneath the enormous pressure. -Quivering in every fiber, the Osage relaxed his grasp, and casting his -enemy from him like a child, the Kickapoo sprung upon his feet, knife -and tomahawk flashing in his nervous grip. - -Not a moment too soon. From every quarter came the Osage warriors. -Behind them flocked the squaws and children. All were yelling in -confused chorus. It seemed a scene from Pandemonium. - -Uttering his thrilling war-cry, the outcast chief leaped forward, -without awaiting the onset. With a motion rapid as thought, the heavy -tomahawk fell; when it rose again it was stained a bright-red hue, and -ruby drops fell from the once untarnished blade. Again and again it -descended, now drinking the life-blood of an Osage, now parrying some -deadly blow aimed at its wielder's life. - -It was a thrilling sight to see that one man struggling against such -fearful odds--fighting for liberty, for life! To see the blood-stained -weapons flash in the weird flickering of the camp-fires; to hear the -fatal blow, the half-stifled exclamation, as some keen weapon pierced -the sensitive flesh; to see here a human form fall to the earth, -perchance to rise no more, or else struggle to his feet and again -plunge into the _melée_. - -Fiercely, desperately Lightfoot fought, now out in the full glow of -the firelight. At first his life had been aimed at, and despite his -wondrous skill and celerity, more than one weapon had tasted his blood. -But then the name of the outcast was echoed from lip to lip, and the -cry arose to capture him for the torture-post. - -Choosing rather to die at once, Lightfoot sprung upon the Osages with -desperate fury, dealing his blows with lightning rapidity, leaving -behind and around him a swath of dead and wounded. With superhuman -strength, he slowly pressed through the cordon, and then, with one -triumphant whoop, he cut down the last warrior that barred his road to -freedom, and darted forward toward the friendly forest, where, once it -was gained, he would be comparatively safe. - -But even in the moment of triumph he was foiled. A boy flung himself in -the way, clasping the Kickapoo's legs with all his members--even biting -at them like a bull-dog. - -Lightfoot fell heavily to the ground. Before he could arise, or regain -the blood-stained weapons that were torn from his grasp by the fall, -half a score Osages were upon his back. - -A confused struggle--then Lightfoot was lifted up, bound hand and foot. -The Osage yell of triumph rung out loud and clear. - -Lightfoot smiled grimly as he glanced around. He had carved his name -in broad and deep letters upon their ranks. Their victory had been a -costly one. - -At this moment a cry came from the forest. The Osages answered it. -A few minutes later, a considerable body of Indians--both Osages -and Pottawatomies--entered the village. One approached and spat in -Lightfoot's face. It was the White Wolf--Seth Grable. - -Making no reply, the Kickapoo glanced quickly around. A ferocious fire -filled his eye as he caught a glimpse of a white woman being led into a -cabin. In the firelight, her hair, floating loosely over her shoulder, -shone with a golden gleam. - -The savages gathered together, and the White Wolf addressed them in -hot, forcible words. Others followed him, the majority supporting his -argument. - -Lightfoot listened to them, his features composed and cold. Though -his life swung in the balance, he appeared to take no interest in the -matter. - -Grable called for the outcast's immediate death--his death by the -fire-torture. In answer to those who advocated delay until the -entire tribe were assembled, he pointed out the great esteem--almost -adoration--in which Lightfoot had been held by his tribe before his -recent sentence, and hinted that the Kickapoos might interfere to save -him, when the Osages who had fallen by the traitor's hand must go -unavenged. - -This argument carried the day, and in the blood-thirsty yells of the -savages Lightfoot read his doom. - -The warriors who held him now securely bound him to a post, then -hastened off to assist in the preparations for the torture. Lightfoot -strained at his bonds with all the strength of his mighty muscles, but -in vain. The bonds were too stout to break, too well applied to slip or -come untied. - -He saw the Osages collecting fuel and placing it round a post, at a -little distance from where he was bound. Escape seemed impossible. - -A figure shrouded in a blanket glided past him, a fold of the garment -touching his person. Instinctively he glanced up. The figure abruptly -turned and repassed him, uttering two words: - -"_Be ready._" - -The glance from a bright eye explained the meaning to the captive. The -figure was that of Feather-Cloud. She was working for his life. - -As though suspecting something of the kind, two braves came and stood -beside him, watching the growing of the death-pile. The respite was -rapidly shortening. Would Feather-Cloud be able to carry out her plan? - -As this thought flashed through his mind, Lightfoot felt a gentle touch -upon his arms where they passed around the post behind him. He was -answered. The Indian maiden was even then at work, unsuspected by the -warriors who stood by, within arm's-length. - -Lightfoot felt the bonds yield upon his feet, then upon his hands and -arms. Something cold and firm was slipped between his fingers. One hand -clutched the haft of a knife, the other that of a tomahawk. - -The lips of Feather-Cloud touched his hands, and then she glided away. -The time had come for action! - -Like lightning the double blow fell--death-stricken, the Osage -braves reeled back, uttering their quavering death-yells. Shrill and -triumphant rung out the war-cry of the Kickapoo as he turned and darted -toward the forest. - -He was nearly clear of the village before the Osages recovered from -their surprise. The pursuit was made, swift and instant. - -From before the fugitive two bright flashes illumine the scene--two -sharp reports break the air, and the pursuers falter as the -death-missiles break their ranks. - -But only for a moment--then they once more dart forward in deadly -pursuit. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - SURROUNDED BY DEATH. - - -A shrill yell of exultation burst front Lightfoot's lips as he heard -the death-shrieks behind him, and right deftly did he improve the -advantage given him by the momentary hesitation of his pursuers, -darting forward with the speed of a well-conditioned race-horse. It -needed not the clear voice that shouted encouragement to him from out -the gloom, to tell him who were the daring marksmen. Lightfoot knew -that Boone and Dare had ventured from the forest in order to create a -diversion in his favor. - -But the savages quickly recovered from the confusion these shots had -thrown them into, and knowing--if only from there coming no other -reports--the number of the enemy, rushed forward with augmented fury. -Side by side the three scouts entered the woods; close after them the -Indians, yelling like very fiends. - -"Sep'rate--we'll meet you at the cave--by the river, chief," jerkingly -uttered Boone. - -No reply was made, but Lightfoot abruptly veered to the left, while -Boone and Dare ran on side by side. All thought of caution was -abandoned. The pursuers were too close for the fugitives to attempt -dodging, or trying to lessen the noise of their crashing footsteps. So -close were they that, when Lightfoot turned aside, the pursuers also -divided, resolved to win their prey by stern, desperate racing. - -For nearly a mile Lightfoot held his vantage with comparative ease, -thridding the tangled forest with the skill and ease that none but a -thorough woodsman can ever hope to attain. After that, he came upon -smoother traveling, breaking from the wood out upon a level, grassy -tract of open ground, fully a mile in width. - -The race, thus far, had not breathed the iron-limbed scout, though -thoroughly warming him up, removing the soreness he had begun to feel -from his wounds and bruises. And now as he entered the open, a clear, -exultant cry broke from his lips, and inhaling a deep draught of the -cool night-air, he bounded away over the level space with the litheness -and agility of a deer. - -With answering yells the Osages followed, straining every nerve to -overtake Lightfoot before he should reach the further side. Swift of -foot were they--some of them of wide renown--yet, foot by foot, the -outcast chief left them behind. - -Over two hundred yards in advance, Lightfoot plunged into the forest -again, uttering a taunting cry that half-crazed his pursuers. It seemed -as though his escape was fully assured--even the Osage braves began to -despair of overtaking him. - -And yet, even in the moment of his seeming triumph, an accident -occurred that threatened to prove fatal to Lightfoot. He had not run -fifty yards after leaving the open when his foot struck a stub or -projecting root, hurling him violently against a log. He lay as he had -fallen, motionless, senseless, as if dead. - -No longer yelling, but listening eagerly for the sound of footfalls, -the savages rushed on, knowing that, by pausing to hearken, their last -hope of overtaking the fugitive would be banished. On they dashed, -scrambling over the fallen tree brushing unconsciously past their -senseless foe, even casting a shower of decaying leaves upon his body, -so narrowly did they miss him. - -For fully an hour Lightfoot lay there, like one dead. But then -consciousness gradually returned, and he struggled to a sitting -posture, still clutching the limb that had broken short in his hand -when he fell. Slowly recollection came to him, and he recalled the -events of that night; but clearer than all these, a golden-haired woman -stood out before his mental vision, appealing to him for assistance. - -This thought seemed to put new life into his veins, and he sprung -lightly to his feet. His brain throbbed violently, and he glided to the -edge of the open ground, and peered keenly forth. Not a living soul was -to be seen. The moon now shone clear and brightly. A stiff breeze was -blowing. After a swift glance around, Lightfoot glided out from the -shadow, and began recrossing the natural meadow. - -_He was returning to the Osage village!_ - -It seemed a foolhardy act, but the chief firmly resolved to again enter -the village, to rescue Yellow-hair, if it lay in his power. He felt -assured that she was there--that the captive brought in by Seth Grable -was none other than Edith Mordaunt. - -He was not acting without due reflection. The deed would be easier on -that night than any succeeding one, for several reasons. Nearly, if -not quite all of the braves had set forth in pursuit of himself and -friends. Even if not, they would scarce suspect a second attempt, after -the first having so nearly proven fatal. Nothing would be further from -their minds than that he would again venture into the village. For -these reasons Lightfoot resolved to make the attempt. He had vowed -eternal fidelity to Yellow-hair; he had abandoned his people because of -her--he would save her from the White Wolf's fangs, though it should -cost his life. - -Across the meadow he glided. In this lay his greatest danger. It was -not likely that the Osages had yet given over searching for him. Were -any of them gazing out upon the meadow, they must see him. - -Nearing the other side, he slackened his pace. When within arrow-shot, -he turned abruptly to the right, and ran at full speed for several -hundred yards, then darted into the woods. By this move he hoped to -escape any ambush that might have been laid for him. Yet no sound gave -token that such was the case, as he hastened on through the forest. - -Ten minutes later he stood gazing out upon the Osage village. The fires -were still smoldering, a few forms could be seen, but the place was -very quiet. Evidently the warriors had not yet returned. - -There seemed little fear of his being discovered, but Lightfoot feared -taking the time that must be consumed by crawling up to the log huts, -and, crouching low down, he glided along in a circuit that would bring -him up behind the corral. This he gained in safety, undiscovered, and -then crept toward the village in the shadow cast by the rude fence. - -Though he could plainly distinguish several braves sitting behind -the smoldering fires, lazily smoking, Lightfoot gained the outer row -of lodges unseen, even by the wolfish dogs that skulked round the -village. Here he paused to locate more perfectly the cabin into which -he had seen the captive maiden hurried. A few moments sufficed for -this, but then a black frown corrugated his brow. - -A fire smoldered before the cabin door. Beside it an Indian crouched; -one of the smokers he had before noticed. Fate seemed conspiring -against the bold Kickapoo, for while this guard remained on duty, he -could not hope to accomplish his aim. - -Lightfoot glanced keenly around. Only one other form met his eye--that -of the second smoker. All others in the village appeared buried in -slumber. - -A determined expression settled over Lightfoot's face. He had decided. -Too much had been dared to hesitate now. He might never again succeed -in entering the village. He dared not risk delay, lest the lamb should -be sacrificed to the lust of the wolf. - -Prostrating himself, like a shadow he glided over the ground, nearing -the cabin he felt assured contained Yellow-hair. The progress of a -snake could not have been more noiseless. 'Twas the perfection of skill. - -A moment more satisfied his doubts. In range with the guard, Lightfoot -saw that a cabin hid the smokers from each other. Could he silence the -one without attracting the attention of the other, he might succeed in -freeing the captive. The risk was very great, yet he resolved to dare -it. - -At that moment he longed for his trusty bow. With it he could easily -dispose of both these braves, without alarming the sleepers. And now he -had only knife and tomahawk to depend upon. - -Without alarm, he gained the cabin, then crawled to the corner. The -fire was but a few feet from the door. A single leap would place him -beside the drowsy guard. Yet he feared to risk it. A single cry--nay, a -gasp--a groan would be sufficient to arouse the other watch, and then a -whoop would alarm the sleepers. This Lightfoot reasoned as he silently -moved out from the shadow into the light, a bright blade gleaming in -his hand. - -Slowly, silently, scarce perceptibly, a veritable shadow of death, -the Kickapoo lessened the distance separating him from the drowsy -sentinel. Nearer, still nearer until, with extended arm, he could have -driven the long blade to the haft between the savage's shoulders. Yet -the stroke was withheld. - -Noiselessly Lightfoot drew himself together. Then his left arm was -gradually extended. The moment was at hand. - -The eye could scarcely follow his motions. His left hand closed like a -seal upon the Indian's mouth, bearing him forcibly backward to meet the -deadly blow dealt by the free hand. A peculiar _gritting_ sound as the -keen blade was _pressed_ lower, was all. - -And yet the sound met the ear of the second watcher, and Lightfoot -heard a suspicious grunt as he arose from beside the fire. Discovery -seemed inevitable, yet the Kickapoo did not seek safety in flight. - -With a sudden movement he threw a corner of the dirty blanket over the -wound, then crouched low down behind the corpse, supporting it in a -lifelike position, peering out from beneath a corner of the blanket. -He saw the savage step round the corner of a cabin, then pause, as if -undecided. By the dim light he could not detect the blood that was -slowly soaking through the blanket. - -"Did you call?" he demanded, presently. - -"No--I coughed, nothing more," promptly replied Lightfoot, suiting the -action to the words. - -As if satisfied, the Indian turned away. The Kickapoo smiled grimly. -Noiselessly he removed the well-filled quiver from the dead brave's -back, intending, with it and the bow that lay at his side, to prop -the body in a lifelike position to guard against suspicion, while he -attempted the release of Yellow-hair. - -But a new danger threatened the scout. As he worked, a dark form was -gliding nearer and nearer, coming from behind, as though copying the -example set by the Kickapoo. - -Then it darted forward with a malignant sound, half-yelp half-bark, its -long fangs closing upon the spy's shoulder. It was a dog--one of those -fierce, treacherous, slinking, skulking, wolfish curs that can only be -found among the Indians. - -An involuntary cry broke from Lightfoot's lips as he felt this attack, -and he sprung to his feet, tearing the cur from its hold, crushing him -to the ground with a force that snapped its bones like pipe-stems. The -slain sentinel fell forward, the plumes and long hair igniting in the -flickering blaze, sending up a bright, crackling flame. - -A cry came from beyond, and Lightfoot glanced up. An Osage brave stood -out in full view, evidently astounded by the scene. And then from the -surrounding cabins came an increasing bustle that showed Lightfoot his -peril. - -Stooping, he caught up the bow and quiver. With wonderful adroitness -the loop was fixed and an arrow notched. But, with another whoop, the -Osage sprung behind the cabin. - -Two cat-like bounds carried Lightfoot to its corner. The Indian was -hurriedly fitting an arrow to the string. 'Twas his last action in -life; a sharp twang--a shrill yell: the Osage lay struggling in death -agonies, transfixed by the feathered shaft, and Lightfoot darted away -toward the forest, with the speed of one who knew that life depended -upon his exertions. - -The village was aroused by the alarm; warriors hastily snatched up the -nearest weapon and hastened into open air. The fires were smoldering, -but the moon shone brightly. - -A lithe figure darted past them with the speed of thought. Was it -that of friend, or of an enemy? Not until Lightfoot had passed the -last cabin and rent the air with his shrill, taunting whoop, did they -suspect the truth. But then pursuit was immediate. Burning with rage, -they darted after the fleeing form. Twice that night had he bearded -them--he should not live to boast of it. Were the Osage braves dogs -that a degraded outcast should thus throw dirt in their faces? The -deadly, vindictive yells answered _no_! - -On Lightfoot dashed, a feeling of contempt for his pursuers banishing -that of chagrin at his double failure. But gradually the fact of his -being in danger forced itself upon him. He could hear the loud tramp of -the Osages close at his heels as he dashed through the forest; could -hear others spreading out by degrees upon either side to guard against -his doubling upon them. Were these braves swifter than any he had -before encountered? No. The change was in himself. - -He was weakened by long toil and little rest; by the loss of blood as -well. The arrow shot in the thigh of the day before; the numerous but -smaller hurts received in the furious _melée_ at the village; the gash -upon the head inflicted by his fall--all combined served to weaken his -frame, to render his muscles less elastic. Every energy was brought -into play, yet he ran heavily, with difficulty, far different from his -usual light, springy leap. - -Still on he fled, running for life, with the yelping hunters close upon -his track. Through the forest, over the meadow, winding through steep -hills or crossing them direct as the nature of the ground demanded; -still on he fled, desperately holding his own, though unable to -increase his brief advantage. - -Still on, until an anxious look overspreads his face. The Osages yell -with increased malignancy. The ground is comparatively open, now, and -Lightfoot can see the folly of attempting to diverge from a straight -course. The savages chase him in the shape of the new moon. Only in a -direct course can he hope to escape them. And yet before him lies a -trap. This knowledge calls up that look--this knowledge draws the yells -of exultation from the lips of his pursuers. - -Clenching his teeth tightly, the Kickapoo sprung forward with increased -speed. Such a pace could not long be maintained, but he knows the end -is close at hand. His fingers tighten upon the bow--brings the quiver -round upon his breast. If the end is death, he will die as he lived--a -terror to his enemies. - -Across an open tract, he turned and glanced back. The Osages yelled -loudly; they fancied him securely trapped. Sending back a yell of -defiance, Lightfoot darted up the abrupt slope, forcing his way through -the thicket of scrubby pines and cedars. Beyond this lay a few yards of -open ground; then came empty space. - -Leaping out Lightfoot knelt down, an arrow fitted to the string, -another held between his teeth. Thus he waited the approach of the -Osages. - -He crouched upon the very brink of a precipice, at whose base, nearly -one hundred feet below, roared the Osage river. Its surface was dark -now, wrapped with shadows of the cliff, but the Kickapoo well knew how -it looked as the sullen roaring came to his ears. - -Plainly as though at midday he could see the swift current tearing -madly along, dashing itself into spray over the sharp, jagged crests -of scores of bowlders that had, from time to time, dropped from the -face of the cliff. The passage was not an easy one for a boat in -broad daylight; what then would be the fate of a swimmer in midnight -darkness--if one should leap down from the hight above? - -The Osages came on boldly enough, though they knew that, at bay, -an awkward customer awaited them. But they had been sorely smitten -that night--they thirsted for this man's blood with a vengeance that -overpowered the fear of death. - -As the first head showed above the thicket, the hunted outcast's bow -twanged loudly, and a muffled yell, as the head sunk down, told how -steady had been his nerves. Maddened to frenzy, the dead man's comrades -leaped out upon the open, resolved to end all by one desperate rush. -But another _twang_ mingled with their cries--another dusky form reeled -back, the death-yell dying out in his throat in a husky gurgle. - -And then the hill was occupied by the Osages alone! - -As he loosed the second death-winged arrow, Lightfoot turned and -boldly sprung over the precipice, his wild war-cry sounding strangely -thrilling as it soared up from the depths below. It ceased abruptly. -Then came a peculiar sound. Was it the sullen plunge of a body into the -water, or the dull _thud_ of a human form striking flatly upon some of -the jagged bowlders that pierced the waters surface? - -These questions asked the Osages. But not long did their indecision -last. With eager cries they ran along upon the precipice-edge, making -for a point where the river-bank was low. Dead or alive they resolved -to recover the body of their terrible foe. - -But Lightfoot was not dead. Besides the great distance, he had to run -the risk of falling upon some of the immense bowlders, which, in the -gloom, were invisible. Knowing this, he yet retained his presence of -mind, and, though expecting death to follow, leaped for life. - -Straight down, feet foremost he descended, one hand clutching the arrow -in his quiver, though with arm pressed close to his side. Striking the -water with almost stunning force, he sunk until his feet struck bottom -with a force that doubled him up in a ball. But then he shot up, -springing half out of the water, half-stunned, bewildered, confused, -but alive! - -With barely consciousness to keep afloat, he made no effort to avoid -the rocks. And perhaps 'twas as well, for the current carried him -through the perilous passage in safety, though more than once the -sharp, knife-like edges of the flinty rock cut through his skin. - -Then the river-bed widened, and the stream flowed more quietly. -Lightfoot had partially recovered from the stunning shock, and now swam -rapidly on, hearing, above the sullen roar of the waters, the yells of -the Osages upon the bank above. He easily divined their purpose, but -felt little doubt but that he could balk it. - -As the bank grew lower, he was forced to keep close in to the shore -to avoid the moonlighted space beyond, and the race was so close that -he could hear the rapid tread of the Osages as they rushed toward -this point. Still he passed the danger in safety, and then turning -upon his back he glanced back. Several Indians were already in the -water, eagerly looking for some trace of their enemy. Grimly smiling, -Lightfoot swam on, little heeding his aching bones. - -Half a mile below, he reached the ford, mention of which has so -frequently been made in this story. As he stood erect in the shallow -water an acute pain ran through his left leg, and he fell forward. A -quick examination told him the truth. His ankle was badly sprained; so -severely that further flight was not to be thought of. To save his life -he could not have walked a half-mile. - -Then Boone's parting words flashed upon his mind, naming the cave by -the river as the rendezvous. It was possible that his comrades were -even then awaiting his coming. - -Sinking down in the water Lightfoot swam toward the entrance, uttering -as he did so a signal often made use of between himself and the Wood -King. But no reply came; again, with the same result. He knew then -that the old hunter had not arrived, and, despite his own danger, a -thrill of pain agitated his mind. He had learned to almost worship the -noble-hearted woodsman. - -Swimming into the cavern, Lightfoot crawled up on the sandy beach, -half-fainting from pain and exhaustion. His labor that night had been -really Herculean. - -But then he turned and peered out upon the river that lay half in -darkness, half-revealed by the silvery moonlight. He gave a start and -dashed the dripping hair from his eyes. Two black dots were visible -upon the surface. Then two human forms reared themselves upright, -standing in the shoal water. They were Indians--Osage warriors. Their -object was plain. They had swam down here to intercept their foe's -escape, if alive, to secure his scalp if his dead body should float -down the river. - -Lightfoot frowned deeply and felt of his weapons, for the darkness -rendered eyesight useless. The bow was still strung, though the string -was somewhat lax, from being water-soaked. Rubbing this forcibly, he -succeeded in rendering it fit for use. The quiver still retained its -arrows; the girdle at his waist still supported the hatchet and knife -given him by the faithful Feather-Cloud. Again he smiled grimly. Though -crippled, he could yet make a stern fight for life. - -But then a new thought struck him. He would avoid the fight if -possible; and the tree above offered him the means of hiding until all -search was over, as he believed. - -Along the cave floor he crawled, reaching the hollow tree with -difficulty. Creeping inside, he loosened enough of the decayed wood to -cover up the entrance, then clutching the grape-vine, dragged himself -up to the mouth of the hollow. Ensconcing himself securely among the -dense boughs, he drew up the vine, coiling it beside him. And then, -utterly exhausted, he sunk into a sort of stupor, for it could scarcely -be called sleep. - -This stupor lasted until the sun was up, and was then only broken by a -shout from below. Bewildered, half asleep, he listened. Voices come to -his ear up through the hollow tree. He knew then that the cave had been -searched while he slept, and that the enemy had discovered the passage -he had used. And then he saw what a fatal accident his sudden awaking -had caused. - -His start had dislodged the coiled grape-vine, so that it fell down -into the hollow trunk. And now it became taut, jerking from side to -side as an Indian tried to drag himself up. Desperate, Lightfoot drew -his hatchet, and at one stroke severed the vine. A muffled yell came up -from below, then a heavy fall, followed by shrill cries of triumph as -the Osages discovered the cleanly severed vine. They had found their -prey. - -Instinctively Lightfoot clutched his bow and started to descend the -outside of the tree. But a twinge of pain reminded him that escape by -flight was useless. And then a yell from the hillside below called his -attention to a number of Osages running up to surround the tree. - -Coolly the Kickapoo waited until the savages were within a score -yards of the trunk, then his bow sent a feathered shaft deep into the -breast of the foremost brave. Startled, the survivors broke for cover, -but another missile overtook them, and Lightfoot yelled defiantly as -another victim was added to the heavy price demanded for his life. - -For a time all was still. Not an Indian could be seen; not a missile -was discharged at the Kickapoo, though his position could be fairly -defined. Once their chiefs had doomed Lightfoot to the stake; now they -resolved that a similar death should be his. - -A whiff of smoke came curling up the hollow shell. Lightfoot drew back. -The Osages yelled madly. The sport was fairly begun. How would it end? -How could it end but in the death of the hard-hunted outcast! - -Thicker and more dense grew the smoke. A dull, sullen roaring was -audible as the flames entered the shell, eating greedily into the -rotten wood. The leaves began to shrivel and turn black. The intense -heat drew great beads of perspiration from the skin of the Kickapoo. -The forked flames shoot out of the hollow top. Still further back draws -the outcast, now fully exposed upon a limb. His hair begins to shrivel, -his flesh to crack. His torture is excruciating, yet he, with a defiant -shout, echoes back the yells of the Osages. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - - THE BOWLDER BULLETS. - - -Steadily Boone pressed on through the tangled forest, with the yells of -the Osage warriors ringing clearly in his ears, and something of the -fire of his younger days gleamed in his blue eyes and brought a flush -to his bronzed cheek, as he felt himself once more pitted against the -dusky heathen who had dealt him so many and bitter blows. - -Close in his footsteps trod young Abel Dare, sullenly fleeing from the -enemies he longed to turn upon and rend in his furious hatred. But the -Wood King had gained a strange ascendancy over his mind, and he obeyed, -though with an ill grace. - -At the time he had given the word to separate, Boone diverged slightly -to the right hand, bidding Dare follow him closely. And now they sped -forward over the tangled ground with all the speed possible, while the -Osages yelped like eager hounds close at his heels. - -Thoroughly acquainted with the surrounding country, Boone sought to -direct his course so as to avoid a serious obstacle that lay before -them; but even under the best auspices it is difficult to keep a -straight course through a thick wood; little wonder then that their -rapid flight through the darkness caused him to err in his calculations. - -Half an hour after leaving the Osage village, the veteran made this -discovery, and a feeling of anxiety agitated his mind, more for the -young man, who trusted in his skill and experience, than for himself. -As was the case with Lightfoot, a few hours later, he was running -headlong into a trap. Nor could he hope to shun it by turning aside. -The pursuers were too near for that. - -Then a cry burst from his lips. Like a revelation, there flashed upon -him a scene from the past: a deep, narrow gorge, yet too wide for man -to cross it by leaping--a hunter standing upon the verge, peering -downward, supporting himself by a stout grape-vine that dangled from -the horizontal limb of the gnarled elm tree. By its aid an active man -could cross the ravine. - -Calling upon Dare to increase his exertions, Boone darted forward with -the speed of a hunted deer through the now less dense forest. The trees -grew less thickly, the ground more broken, strewn with flinty bowlders. -Through the clear moonlight could be seen distant hills rising -darkly, with their covering of trees, or bleak and bare, their rocky -summits scarce affording subsistence for a scant growth of shriveled, -prematurely-growing grass. - -True to his latter calculation, the Wood King reached the gorge at a -point only a few steps from the vine-wreathed elm tree, and then one -stroke of his keen knife severed the pendent grape-vine close to its -root. Clutching this, he ran back a few paces, crying out to Dare as he -did so: - -"Watch me, lad--then foller. Ketch the vine as it comes back." - -Then springing from the ground, he shot swiftly through the air, across -the dark ravine, safely making the further side, whence he hurled back -the novel rope. The yells of the Osages came more clear--their heavy -tramp smote his ear, and Dare did not hesitate for a moment. Clutching -the vine, he too was safely landed on the other side, where Boone was -hurriedly driving home a well-battered bullet. - -"What shall we do with this?" muttered Dare, still holding the vine. - -"Let it go. 'Tain't long enough to tie, an' we cain't break it off. We -kin keep 'em from crossin' with our rifles. Take to kiver, an' load -up--for life!" hastily replied the Wood King, kneeling down in the -shade cast by a huge bowlder, adroitly priming his rifle as he spoke. - -With loud cries, the Osages rushed forward, but then paused, their -tones altering greatly. Where were their anticipated victims? the -swaying grape-vine answered, and so did the rifle of the old hunter. - -Sharply, with a spiteful cadence, rung out its voice, the bright flame -leaping half-way across the ravine, dazzling the eyes of the Osages; -the eyes of all but one--and he sunk down in death, the blood gushing -from a perforated skull. For a moment the savages stood amazed; then -turned and sought cover. But before the friendly bowlders were gained, -though so near at hand, the rifle of the young settler was discharged, -and a second savage fell at full length, sorely wounded. A single cry -of agony, then he silently dragged his maimed body over the rocky -ground, seeking to gain cover. - -"Now's our chance," said Abel, as he poured the wonderful black grains -into his rifle. "We can get to a safe distance before they think of -crossing." - -"Easy, lad," and Boone laughed silently. "Thar's plenty of time afore -us. The varmints won't ventur' to cross over as long's they think two -sech rifles as our'n is ready to dispute their passage, so we may as -well get a little more breath while we kin. There--hear them yelp!" -he added, as two or three subdued cries came from the opposite side. -"The fools--do they think to blind the eyes of one who has known them a -lifetime? Poor fools--they're sadly out." - -"What do you mean?" quickly asked Abel Dare. - -"This: they're yellin' there to make us think they're very busy -hatchin' some plan to git at us, and so keep us still a-watchin' to -drive 'em back when they try to cross. Now, though layin' bets is not -my natur', I'd stake my scalp ag'inst that of any red heathen among -'em, that the biggest part of the lot has gone round the ravine so's to -take us unbeknown in the rear," quietly replied the veteran woodsman. - -"Then why stay here, losing precious time that--" - -"As I told you, to git ready for another hard tramp. It's full half a -mile to the nearest end or crossin'-place, an' the ground is mighty -rough. But we'll go now." - -As he spoke, Boone raised his rifle and fired at one of the bowlders -beyond, though none of the savages were visible. Taunting yells greeted -this shot, but he knew that his object was gained. The Osages would -believe that the scouts had resolved to defend the pass, and so would -make no attempt at crossing until their friends completed the surround. -And this, Boone felt, would give them ample time to reach safety. - -Loading his rifle, as he proceeded, Boone led the way over the rocks, -after crawling stealthily until beyond view of the ravine. Abel, -comparatively inexperienced in such matters chafed restlessly at -the deliberate motions of the old hunter but knew the uselessness of -remonstrating. Thus they proceeded for fully half an hour, when from -the direction of the ravine, there came, borne upon the brisk breeze, -angry yells of rage and disappointment. The Osages had discovered the -flight of their enemies. - -"Now, lad, sence we've got our new wind, mebbe it'd be as well to do -a little more tall travelin', for we've a long trail afore us to the -place I told the chief we'd meet him at," said Boone, breaking into a -trot. - -For half a mile more Abel kept close at the veteran's heels, but then -his foot slipped, and in recovering his balance, the knife dropped -from his belt. A little incident, but one that was fated to produce -important changes in the lives of both the scouts. - -Picking up the weapon, Abel thrust it securely into his belt, then -resumed his course. Boone had not heard the slip, and now Abel just -caught a glimpse of his form as he passed around a huge bowlder. When -Abel gained this point, Boone had disappeared around another. Expecting -with every moment to overtake the hunter, Dare pressed on through -the broken country. The trail was winding and intricate, one among a -hundred others, though this fact the young settler was hardly aware of, -since the moon was already paling before the approach of day, and a -dim, uncertain light shrouded the earth, revealing outlines vague and -indistinct. - -For several minutes Abel Dare pressed on with as great speed as was -practicable under the circumstances; still nothing was to be seen or -heard of Boone. Then pausing, he called aloud, gently at first, then -louder; but only the mocking echoes answered back. Where could the -hunter be? - -For a few minutes Dare deliberated whether or no he should retrace his -steps and try to rejoin his friend; but he felt by no means sure that -he _could_ do this, so many passages and trails seemed winding through -this rocky tract. And then, too, he knew that the Osages would be -searching for the fugitives. To return would be to rush into their arms. - -"No, I'll go on," he at length muttered, decisively. "This tract can -not extend much further, and once in the open ground, I can easily -manage to rejoin Boone. If not, then I'll strike for the settlements -and try to raise enough men to set poor, darling Edith free, whether or -no!" - -Acting upon this resolve, Abel Dare turned his face toward the north, -and pressed on at a rapid gait, all-unconscious of the danger that was -rapidly nearing him--that, in fact, he was advancing to meet. - -For an hour more he toiled on. The broken, rocky tract was left behind -him. The ground was now almost like a rolling prairie, thinly wooded -save in the deeper valleys where some small creek, sluggishly wound -its way. The sun had risen, clear and bright. The wind had nearly died -away. The day was lovely, inspiriting, and despite his weary limbs, his -hunger, the young settler pursued his way with a free, springy step. - -He had seen nothing of Boone, though he had searched keenly, had -halloed, once even discharging his rifle, but all without the result -wished for. Not daring to waste further time in the hope of finding -him, Dare turned his face toward the quite distant settlement, eager to -put into operation his plans for the rescue of Edith. For that she was -still alive and a captive, he firmly believed, from the reasonings of -the old hunter. - -His mind was filled with such thoughts, when, upon the ridge of a -considerable hill, Abel abruptly paused. Upon his left, fully half a -mile distant, his keen glance detected a score human figures, crossing -the hill in an opposite direction to that followed by himself. For this -reason he had not discovered them before. - -Quick as thought Abel flung himself flat upon the ground, but he was -too late to avoid observation. He saw the human figures turn toward -him, gesticulating violently. Even as he lay they could see him, for -the grass was short and scanty. - -Whatever doubts he might have entertained as to their identity, were -quickly solved. The bright sun shone clearly upon them. Even at that -distance he could distinguish the long flowing hair, the plumed beads, -the bronze, naked forms; all telling of savages, and consequently -enemies. - -Feeling assured that naught save another horrible, heart-sickening -flight could avail him here, Abel partially arose and cast a swift -glance behind him. In that direction, if any, must he flee, for in his -present jaded state he would need all the advantage he possessed. - -Fully two miles away a considerable-sized hill arose from the level -ground around. Though its crest was densely crowned with trees, the -sides and base were bare of vegetation, an uneven, dirty grayish cast. -Around its base lay scattered a number of bowlders that must be, to -be so distinctly visible at that distance, of large size. The thought -flashed upon Dare that if he could not find a secure covert there, -at least he could gain a position from whence he could sell his life -dearly. - -He had time for no more than one glance and its accompanying thought. -Though in silence, the Indians rapidly advanced along the ridge toward -him. Leaping to his feet, Abel turned and darted away at full speed, -casting a quick glance over his shoulder as he did so. That showed him -the savages bounding forward in hot pursuit, while their yells came -slowly to his ears. - -With eyes fixed upon the goal, Dare ran, as he had never ran before, -along the gradually-descending ridge. The turf was smooth, springy, -free from all obstacles. A more favorable spot for a race could not -have been picked out. And yet Abel knew that the savages were gaining -upon him, though slowly. The difference in the occasional yells plainly -told him that. Still, when one-half the distance had been traversed, he -glanced back, and felt assured that, barring accident, he would not be -overtaken before reaching the hill. - -On--on the competitors sped. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the distance -separating them lessened. But then the rocky mound now loomed up -quite near, and Abel could plainly distinguish the irregular seams -and fissures in its surface. Surely, in some of these he could find a -refuge? Hope sprung up anew in his heart, though he knew that he must -round the point of the hill before attempting to secrete himself, if he -wished to make the attempt successful, and every additional yard to be -run was adding to the task already sufficiently arduous. - -Panting heavily, his limbs trembling, his brain madly throbbing, Abel -Dare gained the foot of the hill. Still he did not pause, even to -glance back at his pursuers, but pressed on round the point at full -speed. Yelling madly the savages dashed on after him, knowing that the -end was nigh by his uncertain strides. - -A little stream of water was before Abel, and a wild, whimsical thought -was called up by it. Skirting the hill-base, he came upon what seemed -the source of the stream, where the water, clear, sparkling and cold, -came gushing through a round black hole, as though from the bowels of -the rocky mound. Here Abel paused, dropping upon his hands and knees, -plunging his head in the water, swallowing great mouthfuls of the -grateful liquid. - -"At any rate, I'll not die thirsting," was his thought, and regardless, -as it seemed, of the rapidly approaching enemy, he acted upon the idea. - -But this was only momentary. Scarce had he touched the water, when he -started. A clear, wild-sounding laugh filled his ear, apparently coming -from the empty air above his head. And following the laugh came these -words: - -"Does the hunted deer halt to appease his thirst or hunger while the -wild wolves snarl at his heels? Go learn wisdom from the dumb beasts. -Up, man! up and away--the blood-thirsty heathens are upon ye!" - -Thus directed, Abel Dare's eyes rested upon a tall, wild-looking -figure, standing upon a sort of projecting platform, half-way up the -hill. It was the same being who had warned the Mordaunt family of their -danger--the being sometimes called "the hermit"--oftener the devil, -by the settlers. Now for the first time, Abel beheld his face, though -more than once, during his hunting experience, he had caught a fleeting -glimpse of the rudely-dressed being. - -But the one glance was all that Dare gave him now, for from round the -hill-point came another series of yells from the pursuing savages, now -close at hand. Yet in that glance Abel noted a rude, faintly-defined -path leading up the precipitous hillside, ending at the platform where -stood the hermit. It could be scaled by an active man. - -Without pausing to consider whether such a course would be agreeable to -the hermit, Abel sprung forward, clambering up the smooth trail with -the agility of a cat. A peculiar cry broke from the hermit's lips, and -he retreated from sight. Almost immediately Abel heard him rolling a -heavy bowlder toward the point directly above him. At the same moment -loud, eager cries from the ground below told that the savages had -rounded the hill-point, and had discovered him. - -A double peril seemed threatening him, yet, spurred on by the malignant -whoops, Abel scrambled on and upward. Directly above his head hung a -large, jagged bowlder, poised upon the edge of the platform by the -strong arms of the hermit. To the young man, a look of devilish triumph -seemed dawning in the big black eyes that peered down upon him over the -top of the bowlder. - -"Quick! the heathen are beginning to bethink themselves of their -weapons. Reach me your hand--haste! Is life so worthless that ye would -cast it away without an effort toward saving it?" cried the man, in -tones so different from that first used that even Abel felt surprise. - -Still, great though that surprise was, increased, too, by finding a -friend when he had expected to meet an enemy, it did not prevent Dare -from obeying the hermit by extending his hand, which was clutched by -fingers like iron in their strength. Without any apparent effort the -hermit drew Abel Dare up over the escarpment, landing him safely by -his side, though now the rifles from below had begun to speak, the -bowstrings to twang, and the feathered shafts to hurtle through the -air. But the marksmen were unsteadied by their long race, and their aim -any thing but accurate. - -"Give them a taste of your metal, young man--take those with the -rifles," sharply cried the hermit, seemingly changed from a wild -enthusiast into a cool Indian-fighter. - -Abel, nowise loth, obeyed. A savage dropped to the ground, writhing in -agony. The hermit shook his head and frowned. - -"You overshot--at least two inches too high. 'Tis better, even in -dealing with such reptiles, to do your work neatly. But now hold this -rock, while I go and get my arms. Your shot checked them for a time." - -In a few moments the hermit returned, bearing in his hand a huge bow -of second-growth white-oak, full six feet in length, more resembling -a crow-bar, tapering slightly at both ends, than weapon to be used by -human arm. Besides this he carried a skin quiver filled with long, -flint-tipped arrows. Abel's eyes opened widely as he saw with what ease -the hermit bent this bow, to test the string. But soon they had their -hands full. - -In silence a number of Indians broke cover and darted toward the narrow -path leading upward, while a volley from those remaining concealed -swept the platform. Crouching low down the two defenders coolly watched -their movements, comparatively well shielded the while. - -Half a dozen braves succeeded in scaling the path for fully half the -distance, when, with a sudden push, the hermit toppled over the heavy -bowlder. True to his intention, it dashed along the hollow trail, and -tore resistlessly through the line of savages, crushing, mangling them -horribly, leaving but one alive of the six, and as he picked himself -up at the hill-foot, the huge bow was bent, and then an arrow passed -entirely through the poor devil's body. - -The savages yelled madly from their cover, but not one ventured to show -himself. The hermit laughed loudly, then turned to Abel, who, pale and -staring, was gazing over the platform: - -"How do you like my style of working? But go and get some more of our -jolly flint bullets--you'll find them yonder, in the cave behind you." - -Awe-stricken, Dare rose to his feet to obey, but then paused as though -transfixed. Then a joyous look overspread his face, as he sprung -forward, crying: - -"Edith, my darling! alive--thank God!" - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - - THE WHITE WOLF SHOWS HIS FANGS. - - -With a low, glad cry the maiden sprung forward and was clasped tightly -to the breast of her lover, whose eager lips rained hot kisses upon -her face; for it was indeed Edith Mordaunt--Yellow-hair. It was a -rapturous meeting, so unexpected. For a time their speech was broken, -inarticulate. - -The hermit turned his head at the cry, and now stared at the young -couple in seeming surprise. As if by magic the old half-wild, -half-vacant expression came back to his face. One hand pressed his bow -with an impatient gesture, as he partially raised himself. A sharp, -spiteful report rung out from below, and a few threads of the iron-gray -locks fell upon his breast, severed by the passage of the renegade's -bullet. This seemed to break the spell that bound him, and the hermit -sunk back, saying, carelessly: - -"So you know the lady, then?" - -"Know her--But tell me, Edith, has this man dared to--" - -"No, he has treated me kindly--I believe I owe him my life," quickly -replied the maiden. - -"There, young man, let that knowledge satisfy you for a few moments--at -least until you can roll me out two or three such playthings as we used -a moment since. Then you can ask the lady what questions you will. One -man can easily hold this pass, though a tribe should attack it." - -The cool, quiet tone of the hermit acted like magic upon the young -borderer, and he obeyed without question. Just within the mouth of the -cave he could distinguish at least half a score of the flinty bowlders, -and several of these he managed to roll to the side of the hermit, who -was once more watching the movements of the enemy below. Though they -had not fled, the savages did not appear anxious to renew the assault -after such an overwhelming reception. - -Together the young couple seated themselves just within the mouth of -the cavern, side by side, hand in hand, conversing eagerly, yet saying -very little, yet repeating that little over and over again, which seems -to be a trait peculiar to lovers after a certain point. Yet, despite -these interruptions and digressions, Edith managed to tell her story, -which may be briefly summed up. - -The hermit was abroad on that fatal night, under the influence of what -may be termed a crazy fit, since he could remember nothing that had -transpired, after the spell was gone. In it he had warned the Mordaunt -family of approaching peril; in it, when he heard the firing of rifles, -the shrill yells of savages, together with the shrieking of women, he -rushed to the scene of death. An Indian was bearing the struggling -form of a woman in his arms. One stroke of his clenched fist felled -the savage senseless, and seizing the sinking form, he fled through -the raging storm, instinctively seeking his hill retreat. The cold, -driving wind beating upon the maiden's upturned face, soon restored her -to her senses, though still sadly confused and bewildered. A flash of -lightning revealed to her affrighted gaze the stern, wild face of the -one who bore her so swiftly through the forest. To her then it seemed -the face of a very demon. She strove to shriek aloud for help, but in -vain. A horrible dread chained her tongue. - -What followed was indistinct and dim, until she awoke with a new day, -though its light shone but dimly, into the place where she was resting. -The hermit crouched at her feet, gazing upon her with a puzzled air. -The crazy spell was broken: he was rational now. But the events of the -past night were buried in oblivion, so far as his memory was concerned. -Wonder was plainly written upon his features; how came this fair maiden -in his wild retreat? - -Seeing that Edith was awake, he eagerly questioned her, and then, -from his own knowledge of his occasional madness, the hermit read the -riddle. He pledged himself to protect and safely restore the maiden to -her friends, at the earliest moment consistent with her safety. And -there was something in his words and actions that told Edith she might -trust him implicitly. - -The voice of the hermit was now heard without, and Abel hastened to -learn what was the matter. The young settler started, a deep flush -suffusing his face as he heard a voice sounding from the plains below; -a voice that he recognized for that of a dastardly villain--the voice -of Seth Grable, the White Wolf! - -"You mought as well give in, fust as last," Grable said, "fer thet's -boun' to be the eend. I know you've got a snug kiver, as you say, but -it kin be taken; an' we've jest got the fellows to take it, too. You -see'd the Injuns thet kem up jest now. Thar's more'n a hundred braves -here who take my word fer law. Ef I say the word, up they go, though -you rub out the biggest half. But I don't want to say so. Why? Easy -told. You've got a gal up thar thet I've swore must be my squaw. She'd -be shore to git rubbed out in the muss. Thet's why I offer ye tarms." - -"What terms can a dirty scoundrel like Seth Grable, the renegade, have -to offer honest men?" said Abel Dare, standing boldly out into view, -his rifle half-poised. - -"Them's rough words o' yours, Abe Dare," returned Grable, his voice -trembling with ill-suppressed passion; "but they don't do no harm, -a'ter all. What tarms? Jest these. Give up peace'bly, 'thout makin' -no more fuss, and I promise you your lives. O' course you'll be kept -pris'ners, but mebbe you kin buy your freedom, some time." - -"A clumsy lie--a disgrace even to an idiot like you, Seth Grable. But -here's our answer. If you want us, come and take us--if you can," -laughed Abel, sinking down in time to avoid several arrows that hurtled -near. - -Then, once more, all became quiet. The savages remained hidden behind -the rocky breastworks. The hermit lay upon the platform, his bow in -hand, the bowlder beside him ready to be hurled down the hollow trail -in case the enemy should dare another onset. Abel retreated to the side -of his loved one, and they conversed earnestly, yet sorrowfully, for -the death of their friends pressed heavily upon their hearts. - -Grable had spoken no more than the truth when he admitted the position -was a strong one. Indeed it appeared impregnable. The hill stood alone -in the center of a plain, bare and treeless save at the very summit, -and from it the ledge was hidden. For a few yards from the top, the -rocks sloped abruptly down; then came a perpendicular descent of full -fifty feet, ending in a broad, table-like ledge that overhung the -mouth of the hermit's retreat. Only by a swaying rope from above could -the ledge be gained, and then, standing in the cave entrance, those -below would be hidden. The trail leading up from the plain below was -narrow, hollowed out of the rock, barely affording room for one person -to ascend at a time. This was the only avenue of approach from that -direction. - -Truly, it was well said: a strong position. - -Slowly the hours rolled by. All was silent save the voices of nature. -The savages seemed to have disappeared. The hermit lay upon the rock -motionless as though dead. A vacant expression rested upon his face. He -was brooding over the past, all-unconscious of the net that was fast -closing around him. - -Suddenly something whizzed through the air, followed by a double -_click_, sharp and peculiar. A cry broke from the hermit's lips as -he rolled over upon his back. The long locks of gray hair were fast -darkening with blood. A couple of headless arrows lay beside him; their -flinty heads had been shivered to atoms upon the hard rock. - -At the cry, Abel Dare sprung to his feet, rifle in hand. He saw the -blood--he believed the hermit was dead, so motionless did he lay. But -then came a rapid change. - -The hermit's arms were uplifted, bending the long bow until the notched -shaft touched his ear. Then it was loosed--its swift passage baffling -human eyesight. - -A cry--a shrill, blood-curdling shriek of mortal agony--came from -above. And then a dark form shot headlong down through the air, -striking with a sickening _thud_ upon the rocky ledges, crushed into a -shapeless mass, bespattering the trio with clotted blood and brains. - -Wild and taunting rung out the laugh of the hermit as he sprung to his -feet, shaking his weapon at the savages upon the plain. Their cries -of rage and hatred caused the rocky mound to echo again. And then a -score of arrows and rifle bullets passed the shelf, pattering against -the flinty wall beyond. With another laugh, the hermit leaped back -unharmed. - -"You are wounded?" anxiously cried Abel Dare. - -"A scratch--nothing more," was the quiet reply. "But, the time is come -now. Those devils mean mischief. They hold the ledge above, and next -time will take better aim. But _they_ can't touch us in here. All -we have to do now is to watch and pick off the devils as they show -themselves at the head of the path you came up by." - -Truly a narrow escape had been his. One of the arrows had grazed -his neck, cutting through the skin over the jugular vein. The other -had passed between his arm and side marking them both with a livid -welt. Considering the position they were forced to assume, and firing -directly downward, the wonder was that the Indians had made such good -shots, and that they missed being fatal. - -"Then, you think they will attempt to force their way up that--?" - -"I'm certain of it. They know our strength now, and they dare not -retreat--their tribe would disgrace them if they let two men foil them. -No, depend upon it, they'll give us work enough--and hot work at that." - -"God grant that we may be able to hold our own! Not for myself," Abel -hastily answered the hermit's keen glance, "but for _her_. She is all I -have left on earth now." - -"Then you--you are an orphan? Your mother is--" - -"Dead. But whether my father lives or no, I can not tell. I can -remember nothing of him but what my mother told me. On her death-bed -she bade me seek for him, nor rest satisfied until I had found him, -either living, or in his grave. If living, to give him her forgiveness -for the great wrong he had done her. But why do I tell you this? It can -not interest you--a stranger." - -"It does--deeply. Perhaps because you are a friend. Tell me more--about -_him_. Perhaps I can give you some clue--" - -"Hist! Is not that the scratching sound of feet upon the trail?" -hastily whispered Abel, bending his ear. - -"Yes--the devils are coming. I will take the first one that shows his -head--you the second. Remember waste no shot." - -Kneeling in the mouth of the cave, the two men silently awaited the -appearance of their enemies. The rifle was leveled, the long bow half -bent. And the scratching noise sounded more distinct. - -Then the black muzzle of a rifle crept noiselessly over the escarpment. -The hermit smiled. The guess was a poor one. The bullet would strike -two feet to the left. - -The rifle cracked. As though believing the smoke-cloud would screen -them, the savages uttered their war-cry, and sprung up to gain the -ledge. - -The hermit laughed aloud. As the foremost figure appeared in view, -the strong bow was bent--then the shaft leveled. Striking fairly, the -broad, muscular breast, the missile passed entirely through, falling -upon the plain far beyond the mound. Clutching, tearing convulsively at -the wound, the Indian, with the terrible yell almost universally given -by his race, fell heavily backward. - -At the same instant Abel Dare fired, the flame from his rifle -blackening the face of the second savage whose skull was crushed in. -The fall of these two bodies, checked the advance of their comrades, -and gave the hermit time to deal the finishing stroke by a daring deed. - -Dropping his weapon, he rushed forward, heedless of the yelling fiends -upon the ledge above, and seizing upon one of the large bowlders, -fairly raised it from the ground, and dashed it down upon the -struggling savages. Two arrows struck the rock by his side, one of them -tearing through his garments, but he did not hesitate. Stooping, he -seized a second rock. An arrow struck him, and he fell to the platform. -A yell of devilish triumph rung out from the savage marksmen above. But -their exultation was premature. - -With an angry cry, almost mad, the hermit struck the bowlder with his -hands, rolling it over like a feather-weight, sending it down the -hollow trail to complete the work its fellow had so terribly begun. -Another arrow splintered its flinty head beside him, but uttering -another cry he scrambled back to the mouth of the cave, well knowing -that the trail was once more clear of savages. - -Anxiously Abel bent over him. A long arrow was sticking deep in his -back, buried half its length in the flesh. It seemed impossible for the -wound to be other than mortal. But the hermit smiled grimly. - -"Don't be alarmed, lad; I've fought down harder blows than this. I -don't think it went deep enough to kill--you see it's only through -my side. Cut off the feathers, and push it through. I feel the point -pricking the skin." - -In silent amazement Abel obeyed, and then the blood-stained arrow was -cast aside. While thus engaged, the wounded man had torn a bit of -cloth from the young settler's shirt, and after chewing it hastily, -pressed it into the orifice; another bit closed the second, and then he -staggered to his feet, cutting a broad strip from his clothes. - -"This will do for a bandage. Tie it hard and tight." - -Abel tore the sleeve from his shirt, making two pads, which he placed -over the wounds, then drawing the broad strip of buck-skin around the -hermit's body as tightly as possible, secured it firmly. By this time -the strange being had apparently recovered. As he said, the wound had -in a manner paralyzed the muscles of his body, though only momentarily. - -Edith had been a pale and trembling witness of all this, crouching just -within the cave. Death seemed inevitable when the stern onset was made, -but now she breathed a prayer of thanksgiving that they all were yet -safe. - -The repulse had been bloody in the extreme, and the loss of the Indians -had been very severe. Yet it seemed only to increase their resolution -to conquer. As the hermit said, they would never be beaten by two men. -And now, though in silence, they were again advancing to the spot of -death. - -A dark line cautiously broke upon the grayish white edge of the rock, -rising noiselessly higher, until a pair of eyes glared strangely -toward the defenders. A faint cry from Edith called their attention, -then following the direction indicated by her trembling finger, they -discovered the head of a savage slowly rising above the ledge. Quick -as thought, Abel flung forward his rifle and fired, just as the hermit -cried: - -"Don't shoot--it's a trick--they're shoving up a dead man to draw our -fire!" and then he clutched the bow and notched an arrow to the string. - -As the rifle-shot rung out, a cry of triumph broke from the lips of the -savages, and the corpse that had availed them so well was cast aside, -while in quick succession they sprung upon the ledge. They believed -the game was in their own hands now, for the marksmen above had -telegraphed them the fall of the hermit, and now that the other's rifle -was empty, a single rush would end all. - -But the first one whose foot touched the ledge bounded backward, -yelling convulsively, a feathered shaft quivering deep in his skull. He -fell half-way down the hill, but to one side of the trail, that was now -densely crowded with yelling warriors, rushing to the ledge above. - -Like living shadows, the yelling red-skins leaped upon the narrow -ledge, the bright blades of their brandished weapons gleaming in the -sunlight. Twice in rapid succession the hermit's bow twanged sharply, -the death-note of as many screeching fiends. Again the weapon was -bent--but the wielder staggered forward, as, with a sullen sound, -the frayed string snapped in twain, the arrow dropping useless to -the ground. It seemed as though all was over, for Abel Dare was just -ramming home a bullet. Before he could withdraw the rod, the enemy -would be upon them bodily. - -All this had occurred with the rapidity of thought. The red-skins had -not yet recovered from the surprise given them by being confronted with -one whom they supposed dead. - -Recovering himself, the hermit, still clutching the bow, sprung back -and raised Edith in his arms, crying for Abel to follow them quickly, -then darted into the darkness of the cave. Hard upon his heels trod the -young settler, while, recovering from their momentary confusion, the -Osages dashed after the fugitives with blood-curdling yells. - -But the nimble-footed savages were too fleet for the fleeing trio, and -the hermit, panting from exertion and growing weakness, exclaimed to -Dare: - -"I'll have to give in. There is but one thing to do. You go on through -the passage, leave the girl and me--I'll see that no harm comes to -her--and make your way out of the other end of the passage. There -you'll be in the open country, and, if you are spry, you can bring the -settlers down to help us. It's the only way. Go at once, or we all -perish here together." - -Abel hesitated. What, leave Edith? She guessed the thought. - -"Go, Abel. I feel that it is the only way to save me. Do as our friend -suggests. Get the settlers or Lightfoot on the trail, and all will yet -be well." - -"I will go! God forgive me if any ill happens to you!" and he -disappeared in the darkness. - -The savages, led by the renegade, were soon up with the old man and -his charge, and came down on them with the fierceness of tigers. Their -leader, however, interposed to save the fugitives from slaughter; he -had other designs upon them than to permit the old hermit an easy death. - -The captives were led backward to the outer world again, and then on -toward the Indians' late camp, around whose still burning fire the -party gathered. - -It was strange, but true, that Abel had, in pursuing his tortuous -course through the cave, come out near this very spot, and when the -party emerged in view from above, he beheld all from his hiding-place. -With the eyes of a basilisk Abel watched. Edith was placed upon a -couch of leaves to one side of the fire. The hermit, held by two -stout braves, was brought into the full firelight. The White Wolf -hurriedly addressed his braves, his words being received with evident -gratification. Then he turned to the captive. - -"Wal, old man, I don't s'pose you onderstand what I said to these -braves, so I'll repeat. You've did us a heap o' mischief--killed a -durnation lot o' critters as you wasn't fit to hold a torch to, an', -o' course, you've got to take the consequence. 'Tain't much--only a -little fun, ye see, an' you kin go free a'ter it's over, 'f ye want -to. You see the point o' rock up thar? We'll jist throw a rope over -it, then hitch a slip-knot over your thumbs an' haul ye up a little -ways. Unfort'nately fer _you_, the boys hes built a fire under it, -but thet'll soon burn down. Understand?" and the White Wolf laughed -diabolically as he peered into the hermit's face, while the savages -appeared delighted. - -"Do your devil's work," coldly replied the hermit, apparently unmoved -by the horrible threat. "I am a man--words alone can not frighten me." - -"We'll try more'n words, then," angrily snarled Grable, as he made a -sign to the savages, then seized the captive. - -A rude though stout rope was now produced. It had been manufactured -from strips cut from the skins found in the cavern. This was, with -considerable difficulty, cast over the point of rock alluded to by -the renegade, both ends reaching the floor. Upon one of these a neat -slip-knot was made. - -"Now tell me whar the young feller hid--Abel Dare," suddenly uttered -Grable, stooping forward to peer into the captive's face, a venomous -glitter in his eyes. - -"I am not a white Indian--a traitor and renegade, to betray my kind. Go -seek--mayhap you will find him." - -"Better tell--it'll make it easier fer ye, 'f ye do." - -"A lie--foolish and bare-faced. You have resolved to kill me, and even -if _you_ were inclined to be merciful, these men around would take the -job out of your hands. Go on--you will gain nothing from me," coldly -replied the hermit. - -In his rage Grable struck the captive a brutal blow in the face, the -blood trickling from where his heavy fist alighted; but the hermit did -not flinch an atom. Half-frantic, Grable cut the bonds that held the -captive's arms, and raised both hands above his head, to slip the noose -over them. Quick as thought, the hermit wrenched loose from the savages -who were holding him, and struck the renegade to the ground. But then -he was seized again and held fast, despite his desperate struggles. - -Howling with rage, Grable sprung up and plunged a knife in the -captive's breast. With a wild cry, Edith sprung forward to arrest the -blow. Cursing her, Grable struck her a fierce blow in the face. With a -moaning cry, she sunk to the ground. - -A wild cry--horrible in its intensity of rage--rung through the -cavern, and then a dark form shot through the air, alighting beside -Grable, whose throat was clutched with a giant's grip, as he staggered -backward, borne to the ground beneath the shock. It was Abel Dare, -wrought to madness by seeing his loved one so brutally stricken down. - -The savages started back in affright and amazement. At first they -believed themselves attacked by something more than mortal man. Thus -released, the hermit staggered upon his feet. Then, with a hollow cry, -he turned, and rushing forward to the edge of the encampment, he leaped -and was gone! - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - A FIERY ORDEAL. - - -The Wood King did not notice the pause of Abel Dare, nor did he make -the discovery that he was alone, until fully a mile had been traversed. -Then, as he repeated an unanswered query, he turned around. - -The young man was not in sight. Believing him to be close at hand, -Boone uttered a low whistle, to hurry him up. But there came no answer. -Again and again, with increased volume, the signal rung out; but the -result was the same. No answer came to the impatiently listening ears. - -Wonderingly Boone began retracing his steps. What could have happened? -Surely no serious accident, or he must have been alarmed. - -His soliloquy abruptly terminated. A faint sound met his ear that, -at first, he thought might be the strayed, but then he knew better. -Instead of one pair of feet, there were a full score. The Osages were -once more closing upon him. - -For a moment the Wood King listened as though undecided what course to -pursue. By pressing forward in that one originally pursued, he might -possibly escape detection, but it would almost certainly be fatal to -Abel Dare, who, ignorant of the crooks and turns of the trails, would -easily become bewildered and thus fall an easy prey to the savages. -Reasoning thus, Boone struck into a trail that bore abruptly to the -right, gliding rapidly along. - -For a while he believed he would escape without being sighted by the -Osages, but then this hope died out. As he turned an abrupt curve in -the trail, he caught sight of a dark figure gliding toward him. There -could be no mistaking it; the moonlight was still too clear for that. -The figure was that of an Osage warrior. - -A collision was inevitable. At nearly the same moment, the savage -caught sight of the pale-face, and drawing his tomahawk, flung back his -arm for a cast, uttering the shrill yell of discovery. Quick as were -his motions, the Wood King anticipated them, and with a spiteful report -the long rifle sent its leaden pellet crashing through the Indian's -brain, turning the cry of triumph into a shriek of horrible agony. Then -a corpse lay quivering upon the rocks. - -For a moment Boone almost despaired. In answer to the yell of the now -dead savage, cries were echoing from every point of the compass. The -wood-ranger was surrounded. Since entering the rocky tract, the Osages -had scattered, some entering each one of the numerous trails that -branched off from the main one, so that, by Boone's backward movement -in quest of Abel Dare, he had glided into their very midst. Death or -capture seemed inevitable. - -Still the Wood King was not one to tamely submit while a chance -remained him. Knowing that the yell and rifle-shot would draw the -savages directly to that spot, he darted forward past the dead body, on -the faintest chance that this trail was now unoccupied by other than -himself. - -Scarcely had a hundred yards been traversed ere a shrill whoop rung out -from the right, telling that his flight was discovered. Clenching his -teeth, Boone darted ahead with all the speed he could bring into play -over such a rough trail. Bounding over bowlders with the activity of -one in his prime, scrambling up or climbing down an abrupt ascent or -descent, the Wood King fled from his enemies, who were now fairly upon -his track. A thrill of renewed hope pervaded his being as he became -convinced that his enemies were all behind him; that the slain savage -had been the only living obstacle in the way of his flight. - -Having more than once explored this strange tract of ground, Boone -improved every little advantage, losing no time in making useless -turns, heading direct for a place of refuge not far distant, where he -hoped to elude his persistent pursuers. Evidently the Osages divined -his purpose, for they pressed on at reckless speed, more than one -coming to grief upon the jagged rocks in their mad haste. Their yells -rung out loud and piercing. Boone's brows contracted as he thought of -the result should their cries arouse some of the wandering band of foes -ahead, and enable them to cut off his flight. Then he smiled grimly at -the wild, improbable idea. - -The rock-bed was cleared, and the hunted scout darted forward with -accelerated speed. A narrow, gravelly tract was passed; then came one -of sand, thickly covered with coarse grass. Beyond this the grass grew -more rankly, with straggling oak and thorn bushes. Through this Boone -darted, heading straight as the crow flies, with the nearest savage two -hundred yards behind, now running in stern silence, straining every -muscle to the utmost in the endeavor to overtake the fugitive before he -could reach the covert for which he was heading. - -On through the stiff, stubborn bushes Boone dashed; then another belt -of grass lay before him. The end was now near at hand, and he felt -invigorated. Again the savages yelled, this time partaking more of -chagrin than anticipated triumph. Boone smiled grimly, his head bent -forward, his steps carefully calculated. - -The nature of the ground changed again. It would give beneath his feet, -springy, elastic. Occasionally a few drops of water would be dashed -aside. It resembled the edge of a swamp; the mud, though growing soft, -was not sticky. The grass began to grow in irregular patches, with -black spaces between. Here and there the moonlight was reflected back -from water. Still beyond grew a dense wall of something grayish brown. -This was the hiding-place toward which Boone had been tending. - -In fact it was a large shallow pond, covered with a dense growth of -wild-oats, reeds and bushes. The water was nowhere deeper than a man's -hight. Amidst this thick-laced growth a fugitive might lie hidden -within arm's-length of an enemy, without being seen. - -Suddenly Boone raised his head. The yells of his pursuers were echoed -back from the opposite side of the pond. Faintly glimmering through -the undergrowth he could distinguish a camp-fire. Evidently a party of -savages had been resting there until aroused by the shouts of their -kindred, and were now spreading out to intercept the game that was -afoot. - -Even had he not resolved upon it, there was now no other course open -to the Wood King but to seek refuge in the pond, and he hastened on, -bounding from one tussock to another like a deer in full flight. -Suddenly he disappeared from view of the savages who had paused at the -edge of the pond. He had sunk down in the water, crawling forward until -the dense grass was reached. These he carefully replaced behind him, -and then listened intently. - -All was still save the rustling of the fresh breeze swaying the grass -and reeds. What devil's plot were the savages hatching? Why did they -not search for their prey? This course Boone had counted upon their -following, feeling sure that while they were thus engaged he could -manage to steal away unseen. While wondering, he cautiously loaded his -rifle, and then, noiselessly as possible, pushed on toward the middle -of the pond. - -For half an hour he stood waist deep in the water, anxiously listening -for some sound by which he might judge of the enemy's movements, but -in vain. But then his face was upturned, and he sniffed quickly at -the air. A faint trace of smoke was perceptible--and yet the wind -was blowing away from the camp-fire he had seen. Could it be? An -involuntary exclamation of horror broke from his lips. Only too plainly -he read the truth. - -_The Indians were setting fire to the reeds and grass!_ - -But would it burn? Eagerly Boone felt of that growing so thickly around -him. It cracked and crumbled beneath his hand. It was dry as tinder -to within a foot of the water. And now the smoke was thicker and more -dense. - -Hastily he plunged on, seeking for a spot where was open water, but -in vain. The reeds grew everywhere. Then he paused. A warning sound -came to his ears. It was the roaring, rushing voice of the devouring -element, crying aloud for its victim. - -Crushing a handful of the stuff, he placed it upon the pan, then -discharged his rifle. A spark caught. Tenderly he blew his breath upon -it. It flickered--grew larger--then died out. And the roaring of flames -grew louder and nearer, and the smoke was almost unbearable. - -Slinging the rifle on his back, Boone cut and slashed at the -stout-stemmed grass and reeds, flinging them from him in handfuls, -clearing a space around. The sweat rolled from his face--not alone -from the violence of his exertions, for the air was now hot and -parching--like that of an oven. Already he found it difficult to -breathe. - -Sinking beneath the surface, he tore at the muddy bottom, scooping up -great handfuls, and then daubing it over his head and face. Then he -tore off the woolen hunting-shirt and wound it round his head and neck. -He could breathe more freely now, since the smoke was excluded. And, -too, it shut out the horrible glow that now lighted up the scene, and -deadened the sickening roar. - -Again and again he dipped beneath the surface to cool his aching -temples; then as he felt the intense heat, the falling particles of -the reeds and rushes, Boone knew that the fire-fiend was upon him, and -inhaling a long breath, he sunk beneath the surface, his head touching -the cool, muddy bottom. Clinging to the slimy roots, he lay there until -it seemed as though his lungs would burst. Then the long-pent-up breath -came forth. For a few moments longer he resisted, then rose to the -surface. Though the breath he inhaled seemed blistering his throat, -Boone gasped with delight. It was renewed life. But then the heat -seemed melting his very brain, scorching the woolen garment that now -steamed like a furnace, and again the hunter sunk to the bottom. - -Twice was this repeated, then as a cooler current of air struck the -shrouded head, he tore the bandage free and glared around. A broad wall -of flame was gradually receding. The surface of the pond seemed one -living coal. A second glance showed him this was the water-soaked part -of the growth, too green to blaze up. - -The fiendish yells of the savages came indistinctly to his ears above -the crackling roar. He started and bent his ear keenly. Then his face -lighted up. From one side there came no yells. It seemed as though the -savages had deemed it impossible for the pale-face to live through -the fiery ordeal, and had all flocked to cut off his retreat to the -opposite side to that on which the fire had been started. - -Without reflecting that, notwithstanding the silence, some might have -been left to guard this point too, Boone plunged forward, thrusting the -glowing stalks down into the water as he proceeded, feeling that this -was his only chance of escape. To wait until the fire was out and the -smoke-cloud raised from the surface, he knew would be fatal. Then the -keen-eyed savages would espy him, when captivity or death must follow; -for he was too greatly exhausted to flee for life now. - -Hurriedly he pressed forward, too hardly bestead for time to think of -using much caution, for he must gain the undergrowth beyond before the -flames died out, or be discovered. Gaining the shallow water, he crept -forward, crouching low down, with drawn knife, ready to sell his life -dearly. But no alarm was raised as he gained the edge of the pond. That -side seemed deserted. - -With a muttered prayer of thanksgiving, the Wood King pressed on with -as much speed as he could extract from his weary, sorely-tasked limbs. -At length he sunk down behind the first line of bushes, and glanced -back. - -The flames had swept the pond clear to the further shore, and were -now rapidly dying out. Flitting here and there, he could just discern -several human forms. They were the Indian, and he knew, by their -actions, that his flight had not been discovered. Still, knowing that -his trail would eventually be found and followed, Boone dared not -give way to the drowsiness that was stealing over him, and so arose, -pressing steadily on until the rock-bed was gained. Here his trail -would be lost. Knowing this, he felt that he was saved, and kneeling, -rendered thanks to the One who had so wonderfully preserved him. - -Yet he dare not halt here for the rest he so greatly needed. He knew -that his trail would be followed to the rock-bed, and that thoroughly -searched by the savages before they would allow such an enemy to -escape. So he wearily pressed on, through the gray light of coming -dawn, shaping his course by the knowledge that Lightfoot must be -impatiently awaiting his coming at the cave by the Osage. - -Clearing the rock-bed, he struck a direct course for the rendezvous. -The cool morning breeze greatly revived him, and partially dispelled -the drowsiness. Once he paused. There came to his ears the faint sound -of yelling, from the far right. Though he knew it not, it was the -discovery of Abel Dare by the Osages under Seth Grable. - -Half an hour later Boone discovered two smokes: the nearest light and -fleecy, the other dark and heavy, arising, as he calculated with a -peculiar thrill, from the vicinity of the cave. Was it a signal kindled -by Lightfoot to hasten his coming? This interpretation did not satisfy -him, though he could think of none other. - -Both smokes were before him, almost in a direct line. Hastily advancing -to the opposite swell, he crept along until he could look down into -the valley. From a small grove of trees beside a tiny creek, arose the -smoke. Even as he looked, a body of horsemen filed out into the open -ground. A wild cheer broke from his lips, and leaping up, Boone ran -forward, waving his hand as a signal. - -The party instantly halted and seemed about to turn back into the -grove, but then appeared to recognize the comer as a white man. -Breathlessly Boone gained their side, but not until he spoke did they -recognize him. Black mud had dried upon his face and hair. His skin, -what little was visible, was burned to a blister, blackened with smoke. -A more deplorable looking object could scarcely be imagined. - -Amid their hasty questions, the eyes of Boone were anxiously fixed upon -the smoke-column beyond the prairie. Reason told him that Lightfoot was -too good a scout to kindle such a beacon when so many enemies roamed -through the country. Abel Dare might have done it, but was he there? -Boone doubted it. - -"Boys," he said, speaking hurriedly, "I believe that smoke means danger -to a friend of ours--one true as steel, though his skin _is_ red. I -mean Lightfoot, the Kickapoo chief. Will you lend a hand, or must I go -alone?" - -"Nary 'lone--not much!" cried Jim Fosdick. "You think the reds is at -the devil's work over thar--wal, we jest kum out skelp-huntin', an' -these 'll do as well 's any others, 'specially as we kin save a fri'nd -by wipin' 'em out. What say, boys--be I right?" - -Every voice was raised in assent, and then Boone leaped up behind the -lightest weight, and gave the word for hard riding. From the next -valley they heard rifle-shots coming from the direction of the smoke. -Upon the next ridge human voices were borne to his ear; the yelling of -exultant savages. And the smoke grew blacker and blacker, rising in a -tall, sloping pillar. - -The party grew more excited. Knife-points were used as spurs. Snorting -with pain and excitement, the horses thundered on at break-neck speed. -The prairie was passed, the timber began, the ground grew more broken; -but the smoke-column now floated above their heads. - -"'Light and tie," cried Boone, leaping to the ground. "We kin go faster -now afoot, an' the horses' hoofs would tell the heathen we was comin'." - -Rapidly the settlers obeyed, and then hastened across a densely-wooded -ridge. From its summit Boone saw that his fear was well-founded. From -the hill that crowned the cave, the smoke arose. The red flames were -bursting from the hollow tree. _And seemingly standing amidst the -roaring fire, was a human figure!_ - -Down the hill they glided, across the valley, then up to the last belt -of bushes, unheard, unseen by the yelling demons above. As their rifles -cracked, a wild cry broke from their lips. The human form leaped out -from the tree, its garments ablaze, holding a flaming bow in one hand. -Down--down, until it reached the ground, with a dull, sullen _thud_! - -Unheeding the cry in their excitement, the savages broke cover and -rushed in a body toward the figure. At that moment the settlers poured -in a deadly volley, then charged up the hill, uttering their terrible -war-cry. - -Over a dozen braves fell--the others seemed petrified with horror. But -as the settlers came closer, the survivors turned and fled with all the -speed left in their bodies. - -In hot pursuit the settlers followed--all but the Wood King. He rushed -to the spot where the man had fallen, and tore the still smoking -garments away. A groan broke from his lips as he recognized the body. -It was that of Lightfoot. - -Boone knelt beside the body of his comrade. Then he started abruptly -back. A hand moved--glided swiftly to the charred belt, clutching the -hot handle of a knife. The chief's eyes opened, a mad fire burning in -their depths. He struck viciously at the kneeling form. Boone caught -the hand and held it fast. - -"Chief--don't you know me--your friend?" - -Slowly a change came over the blistered face, the fire softened in his -eyes, and the weapon fell to the ground. The mouth opened--a husky -gurgle followed. He could not speak. He had breathed the scorching -flames too long. - -Great tears rolled down the Wood King's face, for he knew now that -his friend--tried and true, though with a red skin--was dying. But -he dashed them aside, as Lightfoot made a peculiar gesture. One hand -traced a circle in the air then touched his own bare and blistered -head, afterward motioning toward a dead Osage that lay near. - -Boone read the pantomime aright, and shuddered, but he could not refuse -the last request of a dying friend. He dragged the Osage near, then -averted his face. Lightfoot partially raised his body, and tore the -scalp from the gory skull. Then he shook it aloft, a horrible sound -parting his lips. - -Boone turned quickly. The outcast fell back. He had died while -attempting to sound his exultant war-cry. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - - BOUND TO THE STAKE. - - -Snarling with the intense ferocity of some wild beast, Abel Dare fell -upon the renegade, burying his fingers deep in the flesh of his throat, -shaking, worrying him much as a terrier handles a rat. Had he a weapon, -however small, the career of the White Wolf would have ended then and -there, for, though a strong man, the maddened lover handled him like a -child. Already his tongue protruded, his face blackened. - -But then an Osage warrior recovered from the surprise sufficiently to -administer a sharp tap upon the back of Abel Dare's head that felled -him senseless upon Grable. - -Grable staggered to his feet, gasping, rubbing his livid throat, his -tongue and eyes gradually assuming their usual position and appearance. -Speechless, he made signs that Abel should be firmly pinioned. Edith -crept to the side of her lover, as though to shield him from injury -with her own person. Cursing bitterly, Seth Grable tore her away. - -Grable, having regained his voice, was frightfully enraged. He showered -curses the most horrible upon the helpless settler, spitting in his -face, buffeting, kicking him unmercifully. A whitish froth tinged his -lips--he seemed a madman. - -At length he turned and uttered a few hasty words to his followers, -and a yell of fiendish delight greeted the speech, as the warriors -glided away to execute the order. Grable again crouched down beside the -captive, a devilish grin upon his face, as the words parted his lips: - -"You heerd me tell the Injuns? But mebbe you don't understand the -lingo. Wal, I told 'em to git a lot o' wood an' pile it up down thar -at the foot o' the path. Goin' to hev a barbecue--d' y' know what thet -means?" and the brute laughed diabolically. - -Abel made no reply. He did understand the renegade's meaning, -perfectly. He knew that he was doomed to perish horribly at the -fire-stake. Though a sickening chill crept over his frame at the -thought, he gave no outward sign that the words had made any impression -upon him. - -Grable eyed him steadily for a moment, then turned hastily away, as -though afraid to trust his passions. He hated this man so intensely -that a single blow, though it carried death with it, would not satisfy -his revenge. Afraid to tempt himself, he strode hastily to the cave -opening. - -"Abel--Abel Dare," faintly uttered a low, quavering voice. - -"Edith--thank God! I feared you were dead!" - -"No--better that I was, perhaps. But you, oh! Abel, why did you act so -rashly, when you were once safely beyond the reach of these demons?" -and Edith groaned. - -"I saw him raise his coward hand and strike you--I saw you fall as -though dead, and it made a madman of me. I thought only of avenging -your murder, and--" - -"So got caught yourself--'zactly so, my children," added the harsh -voice of Grable, as he advanced and seized Abel by the collar. "But -you've talked a-plenty fer now. Don't be impatient, little 'un; I'll -come fer you in a minnit." - -He dragged the captive over the ground toward the outer rim of the -camp, which was in the rocky hollow from which the passage started. -Near this outer boundary of the spot was a deep rift or pit in which -to fall was to go to doom. Gaining the ledge, Grable lifted Dare upon -his feet, pointing one hand down to the plain below. The Indians were -hastily gathering fuel from among the rocks to the left, where it had -fallen down the cliff from the trees above. A considerable pile was -already collected. - -"More'n enough to roast _you_ to a turn, anyhow," chuckled Grable. "I -put it down thar so the smell won't bother my new squaw in thar. We'll -set here, looking at ye. So screw up your courage--'member a woman 'll -be lookin' on." - -Abel bit his lips hard, and threw all the strength of his frame into -one effort to burst his bonds; but in vain. The stout skin did not -betray its trust. - -"No use, man--not a bit. You're booked fer--" - -Why did Seth Grable pause so suddenly and turn his eyes down upon the -plain? Why did the savages drop their loads of wood and dash toward the -trail leading upward to the cavern? Why did Abel Dare utter such an -exultant cry? - -Because the quick, heavy thud of horses' hoofs beating the turf in full -gallop, came to their ears. Because a body of horsemen, nearly one -score strong, burst into view around the spur of the mound, charging -with a hoarse cheer--their rifles and pistols playing rapidly upon the -fleeing forms of the surprised savages, who had left their weapons -within the cavern, laying out a full dozen of the dusky warriors, -writhing in death-agony, or lying motionless as they fell, their blood -staining the white shingle. - -At their head rode one--tall, muscular, his face and long gray hair -stained with black swamp mud; yet through this disguise Abel Dare -recognized the Wood King, Daniel Boone! Loud and clear, above the -tumult, he cried: - -"Help! for the love o' God! Edith Mordaunt is held captive up in -this--" But then his speech was abruptly checked as Grable hurled him -heavily to the rocky ledge, at the same moment sinking out of sight -himself. - -But the words were heard and understood. The captive settler had been -seen and recognized. And with a simultaneous yell, the borderers sprung -forward, abandoning their horses, treading hard upon the heels of the -fleeing red-skins as they scrambled up the narrow trail. - -Cursing horribly, Grable dragged Dare into the passage along with -Edith; then seizing an armful of weapons, both muskets and bows and -arrows, he darted back to the ledge, just as the foremost Osage gained -it. A few hasty words--then the White Wolf leveled a musket, and fired -at the leading pale-face. A deep groan--then the slain man fell back -upon his comrades, momentarily checking their advance. Thus encouraged, -the Indians followed the example set them, and rained arrows and -bullets down upon the foe. Without means to return the compliment, the -settlers consulted prudence and hastily retreated, seizing their rifles -and seeking cover behind the bowlders, while the savages yelled loudly -in triumph. And above all rung the taunting laugh of the renegade. - -The Osages seemed intoxicated with their victory. At that moment one -word from the White Wolf would have sent them headlong down the hill, -charging upon the pale-faces. But Grable did not utter the word--nor -did he even think of it. Besides being a rascal, he was a coward. -However, their dance was abruptly terminated, as a single report came -from below, and a savage dropped to the ledge, shot through the brain. -The next moment not a living soul was to be seen. - -Five minutes later a strong voice from the plain called out: - -"Hellow, you fellers up thar! kin any o' you talk white man's lingo? 'F -so, step out an' show yourself." - -"Thet you may hev the fun o' takin' a crack at me, eh, Jim Fosdick?" -returned Grable from the ledge. - -"No--honest Injun. We want to see 'f we can't come to some sort o' -tarms. Show up--we won't tetch ye." - -"Wait a minit, an' I will." - -Grable hastened to where the two captives lay bound, and stooping -raised Edith in his arms. An angry cry broke from Abel's lips, and he -strove desperately to break free, but in vain. The next moment Seth -Grable stood upon the ledge, holding the maiden before him in such a -manner as to perfectly shield his body; and laughing, he demanded: - -"Now what ye want? Here I be--talk quick, though." - -"What'll ye give for us to let ye go free?" asked Fosdick. - -"_You_ let _us_ go free? Why, ye pesky fool, we're two to one now. You -cain't keep us here one minnit, 'f so be we want to git away," sneered -Grable. - -"Lyin's cheap, or you'd starved to death long ago. But never mind thet -now. The matter's jist this. You're up thar, we're down here. Yon -cain't come down unless we say so. We've got nineteen rifles--sixteen -men to han'le 'em, sence you rubbed out three. We kin pick ye off one -by one as fast as ye putt fut over the edge. An' it's either that or -starvin'. They ain't much game up thar, I don't reckon. Then you'll -sca'cely drown'd yourself, 'ca'se water's too sca'ce. Thar it is in a -bullet-mold. How d' y' like it?" - -"Even s'posin' it was all true--which it ain't by a durned sight, mind -ye--it'll be nice fun to think thet while you was starvin' _us_, you -was doin' the same to your fri'nds; to this gal an' Abel Dare." - -"It wouldn't be very scrumtious, I know," coolly returned Fosdick, "but -then, sich is life. 'F you fellers hold out, bein' durned contrairy -fools, why then they's got to suffer, thet's all. But I said tarms, a -bit ago. We want to give ye a chaince. Send down the boy an' gal, safe -an' sound, an' we'll 'low ye till mornin' to git to a safe spot. Mind -ye, 'tain't 'ca'se we love ye any, but we don't want to hurt the boy -an' gal, if so be we kin help it." - -"S'pose I say I won't do it?" sullenly replied Grable. - -"Then we'll do one of two things," abruptly cried the Wood King. "We'll -either take you by storm, or lie here until we starve you out. Now -decide, quick!" - -"I must talk 'th my braves fust," and Grable stepped beyond view of -those below, his face corrugated. - -The consultation was long and animated. Edith listened to their words, -though not comprehending the harsh dialect, and closely watched the -expression of each speaker. Her heart sunk deeply as the braves -followed each other. A new hope, faint though it was, had sprung up in -her bosom at the settlers' demand, but now it was destroyed. She knew -that the savages had refused to accept the terms offered them. - -"Ye see, pet, ye're mine, beyond all hope," laughed the White Wolf, as -he again raised Edith before him. - -"I'd rather die then--" - -"It's like you _will_; but then you've got to be mine _fust_. You -cain't overjump _thet_ nohow." Then adding, in a raised voice: "Hellow, -you fellers! down thar!--our answer is, jest do your level durnedest. -But, mark my words. The very fust lick you strike at us, 'll be the -death o' these captives. We've got a big fire a-burnin' in thar. We'll -jest rake it out here, tie the boy an' gal together an' pitch 'em on -the coals an' let 'em sizzle right afore your eyes. Mind ye, now, I'm -talkin' right from the book--it's swore to." - -"This is your last answer, then?" sternly demanded Boone. - -"With a few words more, yas. You jist take your critters an' ride -straight away east until you git to the fur-hill whar the two trees -grows side by side. You 'light thar. A'ter thet you kin do jist as you -please. Come back a'ter us, if so be you think best. We'll be out thar -in the open, then." - -"And if we refuse?" - -"Jest what I told ye afore. Strike one lick, and you kill your fri'nds. -We've got the deadwood on ye thar!" - -"Give _us_ ten minutes to think it over," added Boone. - -Grable granted the request, and then returned with Edith to where Abel -Dare lay. Here he began taunting the young man with all the ingenuity -of a foul-mouthed rascal, until called hastily away by a shout from the -savages without. Rushing to the entrance, he found his braves greatly -excited. In a moment he learned the truth. The settlers were about to -attack them, despite his sanguinary threats. - -Spreading out, holding their rifles primed and cocked, in readiness for -an instantaneous shot, the settlers were approaching the sloping trail. -A few yards from its base six of them halted, their weapons covering -the ledge. Two men glided up to each of the six, laying their rifles -at their feet, then making a rush for the mound. These last had their -knives and all the pistols belonging to the party. The other six were -to protect them while clambering up. - -Several Indians rushed to where a good-sized bowlder lay, rolling it -to the edge. Two rifles cracked--two Osages dropped, shot through the -brain, having carelessly exposed their persons. The scaling party -shouted exultantly. Those who had fired dropped the empty weapons and -seized fresh ones, once more covering the ledge. - -A savage drops flat upon his face, then pushes the bowlder forward by -main strength. It rests upon the edge--another effort, and it topples -over. A cry comes from the foremost man, now nearly at the top of the -trail. - -It is Boone. The next behind him is Jim Fosdick. The latter bows his -head to the rock, clutching the sides of the hollow path. The feet of -Boone rests upon his broad shoulders. His open hands are flung up and -meet the bowlder. A moment of horrible suspense. If his muscles were -unequal to the task, their fate was sealed. - -A desperate effort that causes the whole human line to quiver and -shake--then the bowlder is turned aside and goes thundering down the -mound, dashing far out upon plain, its jagged points stained only with -blood from the palms of the Wood King. Loud yell those below--the -Osages howl with baffled fury. - -The White Wolf shouts a few words, then rushes into the cavern. The -Osages clutch their weapons and spring forward. The rifles of the -marksmen below speak rapidly, each bullet sounding a death-knell. A -savage kneels down and aims a vicious blow at the Wood King with a -hatchet. His arm raises--a pistol flashes--the Indian falls forward, -his skull shattered to atoms, his hot blood besprinkling Boone's face. - -A yell, horrible and unearthly, comes echoing from the passage into -the hills behind them. Then a wild, maniacal laugh. Instinctively the -combatants pause, wondering, awe-stricken. - -Two Osages dart into the darkness; they are sworn friends to the -White Wolf. They fear he has met harm. That thought conquers their -superstition, redoubles their courage. - -Passing the fire, they pause. Where the captives laid, there is only -one body now--that of a man. They reach its side, stoop over it--start -back in horror. It is the gory form of the White Wolf! - -And from out the gloom beyond comes the horrible laughter. - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - - THE BOWELS OF THE EARTH. - - -Edith Mordaunt and Abel Dare lay side by side upon the rocky floor -of the passage into which they had been borne for safe-keeping. They -discovered that their prison was indeed a rocky chamber out of which -the passage led, both into the outer air and into the hill. In that -chamber Seth Grable had left them just as he was startled by the cries -of his comrades, as the settlers began their desperate attack. And with -beating hearts, whose throbs were almost suffocating, the captives -listened, hoping, praying that the pale-faces might overcome the -Indians, and rescue them from what, otherwise, was almost certain death. - -Believing themselves alone, they gave free expression to their hopes -and fears, little dreaming that human ears drank in their every word, -that human eyes were even then upon them, as they lay just within the -firelight. Then, with a step that made no sound, a tall figure glided -from out the darkness and stood over the wondering captives. And well -they might feel surprise, for the hermit stood before them in the -flesh, apparently unhurt! - -A loud cry came to their ears from without, followed by the rapid -tramp of feet. Some one was approaching from the outer air. Stooping, -the hermit severed the cords that bound the lovers, at the same time -warning them to lie still. Then he sprung back into the shadow. - -The White Wolf, a moment later, bounded into the fire-lighted circle, -his features horribly distorted, the devil painted in each bloodshot -eye. His intentions are easy told. He intended dragging the captives to -the ledge, and there expose them to view of the marksmen below, while -some of his braves knelt close behind them to pick off the attackers. -He knew that the settlers would not wantonly sacrifice their friends, -and depended upon that to free him from this new peril. - -"Come--them cussed hounds out yender hev spoken yer doom. Better lose -a squaw than a life, though I hate to see ye rubbed out, gal," muttered -Grable, bending down. - -"We'll live to see _you_ die!" gritted Abel, his hands clutching the -renegade by the throat, then hurling him with violence to the ground. - -A yell of terror broke from his lips, echoed back by a cry so horrible -that he glared around in amazement. Then a shadow sprung forward. The -hermit stood over him. The firelight without flickered up--there could -be no mistake. Grable shuddered with a nameless awe. There seemed -something supernatural in these abrupt vanishings and reappearances. - -"Mercy--don't kill me!" he gasped, as the bright glimmer of steel -filled his eyes. "I didn't mean you no harm when--" - -"A dog you've lived--a dog you die!" gritted the hermit. - -Then the long knife-blade descended twice, burying its length in the -heaving breast of the craven wretch. A horrible yell of agony--a shrill -laugh of diabolical glee--then the hermit sprung to his feet. - -From without came other sounds--the savages would soon be there to -investigate the alarm. Unarmed save with a knife, the pale-faces could -expect to do little. Knowing this, Abel seized Edith and clasped her -firmly to his breast, saying: - -"You know the crooks and turns of this place--lead on, then, before -those devils are upon our backs. Quick!" - -"True, _she_ must be saved; for you and I, it matters little. Follow -me--tread carefully, and keep in my tracks. You have seen a specimen -of what the cavern contains, but there is more. Let the heathen follow -us if they dare; there will be wailing and gnashing of teeth in the -lodges of their people!" and again the wild, almost maniacal laugh of -the hermit rung out, reaching the ears of the savages, causing them -to glare hurriedly around, with a vague expectation of beholding some -supernatural horror. - -Into the bowels of the hills--across a chasm spanned by a bridge, -taking a passage that led sharply to the right, the hermit led the way, -on through the darkness, never once faltering, though at more than one -point a single misstep would have ended in hurling the trio down to -inevitable destruction. - -On he led, Abel following, Edith close clasped to his breast. Still on, -winding deviously, now in one direction, now in nearly its opposite, -until Abel felt his brain grow unsteady and commence to whirl. - -"Now you can wait here until I return. Do not attempt to leave--the -ground is full of pitfalls made by nature." - -"But should--if you should not return as you expect?" - -"True--I forgot. Give me your hand. There--that is clay. By loosening -that you will find a passage that will lead you out upon the hill. Dig -twenty feet and you will come to a rock. Press hard against it, with -your shoulder, and you will roll it out. Here is a knife with which you -can dig. But don't attempt that for at least half an hour. There is no -danger of the heathen reaching you here, for, even if they attempt it, -I shall be in the way--and one man, with a knowledge of this trail, is -equal to a thousand in open ground. Remember--wait half an hour." - -The hermit rapidly retraced his steps. He was now totally unarmed, but -felt little concern on that score. He possessed a knowledge that was -equal to an armory. - -Pausing upon the bridge of rock, the hermit glared out upon the -swooning renegade, over whom stooped two braves, seeking to check the -flow of blood that saturated his garments. A devilish light deepened -in the hermit's eyes. He saw that the renegade still lived--possibly -might recover, and a bitter curse hissed through his grating teeth as -he groped around the edge of the rock with his hand. - -Then again he stood erect, a rugged fragment in either hand. True as -the bullet from a hunter's rifle the rock sped through the air. Full -upon the bended head of the nearest savage it fell, crushing in the -skull bone. The second brave sprung hastily to his feet. The other rock -struck him upon the breast, felling him like a shot. Laughing horribly, -the hermit sprung forward, bending over the terror-stricken renegade. - -The wounded savage utters a faint cry, and partially rising, flings -his knife at the hermit. The sharp blade sinks deep in the fleshy part -of the shoulder, but is unheeded by the seeming madman. The moaning -White Wolf is raised bodily from the blood-stained rock, and borne to -the edge of the muttering, rumbling abyss. A moment--then a horrible -shriek rings through the hollow hill as his body descends like a shot; -a sullen splash--then all is silence save the grumbling tones of the -water fiend. - -And now the hermit stood possessed of a knife, a hatchet, a stout bow, -and tolerably well-filled quiver. - -With ready bow he glided silently along, choosing the deepest shadow, -where the glow of the fire could not penetrate. He seemed to have only -thought for vengeance. He knew that he was death-stricken--in his -madness he resolved to exact a heavy compensation. His death would be a -dear one to the Osages. - -He paused, the phosphorescent glitter deepening in his eyes as he -caught sight of several human forms, crouching close to the rugged -walls, their attention turned toward the cave entrance, their weapons -in readiness for instant use. They were Indians. He could distinguish -them quite plainly by the light of day beyond, though from the ledge -they would be invisible. - -After escaping the death threatened by the bowlder, Boone had led his -men upon the ledge, winning it by a fierce though momentary struggle. -The Indians retreated into the cave darkness. To follow them there -would be little short of madness, and the Wood King called a halt to -consult upon the best plan of procedure. Lying close to either side -of the entrance they waited. Inside were the savages; beyond them the -hermit, all unsuspected, the fires of insanity blazing in his eyes, as -he bent the stout bow. - -The bow relaxed--the arrow sped--an Osage sunk forward, transfixed by -the feathered shaft, his death-cry carrying consternation to the hearts -of the warriors, for they knew not whence the death-shot came. Another -_twang_ was followed with a like result, and then the madman's shrill -laughter rung out clear and devilish. In terror the Osages leaped -to their feet and darted to the entrance. From bad to worse. Half a -dozen rifles cracked, so close that their flashes scorched the flesh; -and then the rangers rushed on to a hand-to-hand struggle. But the -terror-stricken savages turned and fled. - -Still before them sounded that horrible peal, and at the fire they -faltered in terror. Following each other in rapid succession the -feathered shafts carried death into their midst, each shot accompanied -by a devilish laugh. Paralyzed with horror, the savages flung -themselves upon the blood-running floor, hiding their heads. Upon them -poured the rangers, mad, raging, striking and slaying without mercy in -their blind rage, until not one was left alive. - -When the excitement was over, the over-wrought strength of the hermit -gave way, and he staggered out into the firelight, and sunk to the -floor like one dead. Boone, recognizing him, rushed to his assistance. - -"Where are our friends?" he asked. - -"Over there--take torches and bring them here, quick! I must not die -without telling him--haste, I am dying!" gasped the hermit, blood -tinging his long beard. - -A party of rangers started in search of our friends, and soon found -them. - -The meeting was a joyous one, and much hand-shaking was indulged in -before the last words of the hermit were remembered. Then the party -hastily retraced their steps, Abel still supporting Edith, whose nerves -had been sadly shattered by the terrible, heart-crushing events of the -past few days. - -They found the hermit lying in a pool of his own blood, his head upon -the Wood King's lap, his eyes closed as though in death. But at the -sound of footsteps he roused up and muttered a request for more liquor. -Reluctantly Boone complied, holding the flask of corn-juice to his -bloodless lips. The fiery liquor seemed to infuse new life into the -wounded man's veins, and his voice was strong and distinct as he spoke. - -"Abel Dare--come nearer to me. You must hear every word, for a dead man -speaks to you. Not long since you told me that you knew not whether -your father lived or was dead. I am the only being living that can -clear that mystery." - -"Tell me, then. Can it be that you are--" - -"Patience--I will tell you, but it must be in my own way. You told me -your mother forgave him upon her death-bed; she had nothing to forgive -_him_, for he never did her wrong in thought or deed! Two men loved -your mother--one was Reuben Dare, the other was James Hazelwood. The -last took her marriage so greatly to heart that he lost his mind. His -friends placed him in an asylum. One night it burned to the ground. -James Hazelwood was among the missing. All thought him dead--buried in -the ruins; but he was not. _His_ hand kindled the fire; then he escaped. - -"A short time afterward, your mother began to receive anonymous notes, -leading her to suspect the fidelity of her husband. At first she -treated them with silent scorn, but the cunning of a madman--for the -hand of Hazelwood was in this--made black seem white--the innocent -seem guilty. Then she sorrowed, still in silence. Reuben Dare, at any -other time, would have noticed this, and soon learned its cause, but he -was battling hard with adversity--trying to save himself from ruin. A -series of misfortunes had swallowed his fortune; he was a bankrupt. - -"Hazelwood saw all this, and timed his actions well. The night before -the truth must be known, he watched your father at his office--it was -nearly midnight when he started to go home. As he passed an alley, a -heavy blow felled him to the ground. The next he knew he was in a close -carriage, securely bound, rolling swiftly along. The carriage paused, -Hazelwood dragged forth his victim, and then told him all--of the -diabolical plot he had formed to ruin him even after death. Then there -was a cruel blow. When daylight came the corpse of your father was -floating far out upon the Delaware bay. Wait, I am nearly done. More -whisky--I am growing weak," muttered the hermit, faintly. - -"That day your father's name was coupled with dishonor. They said he -had robbed his creditors, and had fled with another man's wife. _That_ -was Hazelwood's revenge. But it was with _him_ that the woman fled. But -he was crazy--crazy." - -"And who are _you_, that you know of all this?" hoarsely demanded Abel -Dare, his eyes glowing, his breast heaving. - -"I am--I was--James--Hazelwood, the mad--" - -A grating cry broke from the young man's lips, and he darted forward, -but, with uplifted hand, the Wood King said: - -"Stay--he is beyond your power now--he is dead!" - -The words were true. The hermit was no more--had died with the horrible -confession upon his lips. There was much left unexplained, that would -now be forever buried in oblivion. Of his life since the crime--how he -came to be a wanderer in these wilds, a hermit, no one would ever know. - -Yet Abel felt a feeling of relief far down in his heart, for now he -knew that he had not been the son of a double criminal; though his -father had been unfortunate, he had not been guilty of the crime that -had rested upon his name. - -The day was far spent, and as much yet remained to be done, the rangers -decided not to return to the settlement that night. A soft couch of -leaves was made for Edith under shelter of a rock, where she almost -immediately sunk into a deep and dreamless slumber, the first she had -enjoyed since the night before the massacre. - -The Indian bodies were cast into the pitfall, but a grave was dug -outside for those of the settlers who had fallen. - -The rangers watched closely that night, but nothing was seen or heard -of any enemies. With early dawn they took up their return march, -reaching the settlement in safety. Within one week the insurrection was -put down--the savages sued for peace, and the country was once more -safe. - -That winter Abel Dare and Edith were married, and the girl who had been -mistaken by Lightfoot for Yellow-hair, stood bridesmaid, having been -released by the Osages at the new treaty. - -And so we leave the couple, safely through the storm, basking in the -sunshine of each other's love. - - - THE END - - - - - DIME POCKET NOVELS. - - PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY, AT TEN CENTS EACH. - - - 1--Hawkeye Harry. By Oll Coomes. - 2--Dead Shot. By Albert W. Aiken. - 3--The Boy Miners. By Edward S. Ellis. - 4--Blue Dick. By Capt. Mayne Reid. - 5--Nat Wolfe. By Mrs. M. V. Victor. - 6--The White Tracker. Edward S. Ellis. - 7--The Outlaw's Wife. Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. - 8--The Tall Trapper. By Albert W. Aiken. - 9--Lightning Jo. By Capt. Adams. - 10--The Island Pirate. By Capt. Mayne Reid. - 11--The Boy Ranger. By Oll Coomes. - 12--Bess, the Trapper. By E. S. Ellis. - 13--The French Spy. By W. J. Hamilton. - 14--Long Shot. By Capt. Comstock. - 15--The Gunmaker. By James L. Bowen. - 16--Red Hand. By A. G. Piper. - 17--Ben, the Trapper. By Lewis W. Carson. - 18--Wild Raven. By Oll Coomes. - 19--The Specter Chief. By Seelin Robbins. - 20--The B'ar-Killer. By Capt. Comstock. - 21--Wild Nat. By Wm. R. Eyster. - 22--Indian Jo. By Lewis W. Carson. - 23--Old Kent, the Ranger. Edward S. Ellis. - 24--The One-Eyed Trapper. Capt. Comstock - 25--Godbold, the Spy. By N. C. Iron. - 26--The Black Ship. By John S. Warner. - 27--Single Eye. By Warren St. John. - 28--Indian Jim. By Edward S. Ellis. - 29--The Scout. By Warren St. John. - 30--Eagle Eye. By W. J. Hamilton. - 31--The Mystic Canoe. By Edward S. Ellis. - 32--The Golden Harpoon. By R. Starbuck. - 33--The Scalp King. By Lieut. Ned Hunter. - 34--Old Lute. By E. W. Archer. - 35--Rainbolt, Ranger. By Oll Coomes. - 36--The Boy Pioneer. By Edward S. Ellis. - 37--Carson, the Guide. By J. H. Randolph. - 38--The Heart Eater. By Harry Hazard. - 39--Wetzel, the Scout. By Boynton Belknap. - 40--The Huge Hunter. By Ed. S. Ellis. - 41--Wild Nat, the Trapper. Paul Prescott. - 42--Lynx-cap. By Paul Bibbs. - 43--The White Outlaw. By Harry Hazard. - 44--The Dog Trailer. By Frederick Dewey. - 45--The Elk King. By Capt. Chas. Howard. - 46--Adrian, the Pilot. By Col. P. Ingraham. - 47--The Man-hunter. By Maro O. Rolfe. - 48--The Phantom Tracker. By F. Dewey. - 49--Moccasin Bill. By Paul Bibbs. - 50--The Wolf Queen. By Charles Howard. - 51--Tom Hawk, the Trailer. - 52--The Mad Chief. By Chas. Howard. - 53--The Black Wolf. By Edwin E. Ewing. - 54--Arkansas Jack. By Harry Hazard. - 55--Blackbeard. By Paul Bibbs. - 56--The River Rifles. By Billex Muller. - 57--Hunter Ham. By J. Edgar Iliff. - 58--Cloudwood. By J. M. Merrill. - 59--The Texas Hawks. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - 60--Merciless Mat. By Capt. Chas. Howard. - 61--Mad Anthony's Scouts. By E. Rodman. - 62--The Luckless Trapper. Wm. R. Eyster. - 63--The Florida Scout. Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - 64--The Island Trapper. Chas. Howard. - 65--Wolf-Cap. By Capt. Chas. Howard. - 66--Rattling Dick. By Harry Hazard. - 67--Sharp-Eye. By Major Max Martine. - 68--Iron-Hand. By Frederick Forest. - 69--The Yellow Hunter. By Chas. Howard. - 70--The Phantom Rider. By Maro O. Rolfe. - 71--Delaware Tom. By Harry Hazard. - 72--Silver Rifle. By Capt. Chas. Howard. - 73--The Skeleton Scout. Maj. L. W. Carson. - 74--Little Rifle. By Capt. "Bruin" Adams. - 75--The Wood Witch. By Edwin Emerson. - 76--Old Ruff, the Trapper. "Bruin" Adams. - 77--The Scarlet Shoulders. Harry Hazard. - 78--The Border Rifleman. L. W. Carson. - 79--Outlaw Jack. By Harry Hazard. - 80--Tiger-Tail, the Seminole. R. Ringwood. - 81--Death-Dealer. By Arthur L. Meserve. - 82--Kenton, the Ranger. By Chas. Howard. - 83--The Specter Horseman. Frank Dewey. - 84--The Three Trappers. Seelin Robbins. - 85--Kaleolah. By T. Benton Shields, U. S. N. - 86--The Hunter Hercules. Harry St. George. - 87--Phil Hunter. By Capt. Chas. Howard. - 88--The Indian Scout. By Harry Hazard. - 89--The Girl Avenger. By Chas. Howard. - 90--The Red Hermitess. By Paul Bibbs. - 91--Star-Face, the Slayer. - 92--The Antelope Boy. By Geo. L. Aiken. - 93--The Phantom Hunter. By E. Emerson. - 94--Tom Pintle, the Pilot. By M. Klapp. - 95--The Red Wizard. By Ned Hunter. - 96--The Rival Trappers. By L. W. Carson. - 97--The Squaw Spy. By Capt. Chas. Howard. - 98--Dusky Dick. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - 99--Colonel Crockett. By Chas. E. Lasalle. - 100--Old Bear Paw. By Major Max Martine. - 101--Redlaw. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - 102--Wild Rube. By W. J. Hamilton. - 103--The Indian Hunters. By J. L. Bowen. - 104--Scarred Eagle. By Andrew Dearborn. - 105--Nick Doyle. By P. Hamilton Myers. - 106--The Indian Spy. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - 107--Job Dean. By Ingoldsby North. - 108--The Wood King. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - 109--The Scalped Hunter. By Harry Hazard. - 110--Nick, the Scout. By W. J. Hamilton. - 111--The Texas Tiger. By Edward Willett. - 112--The Crossed Knives. By Hamilton. - 113--Tiger-Heart, the Tracker. By Howard. - 114--The Masked Avenger. By Ingraham. - 115--The Pearl Pirates. By Starbuck. - 116--Black Panther. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - 117--Abdiel, the Avenger. By Ed. Willett. - 118--Cato, the Creeper. By Fred. Dewey. - 119--Two-Handed Mat. By Jos. E. Badger. - 120--Mad Trail Hunter. By Harry Hazard. - 121--Black Nick. By Frederick Whittaker. - 122--Kit Bird. By W. J. Hamilton. - 123--The Specter Riders. By Geo. Gleason. - 124--Giant Pete. By W. J. Hamilton. - 125--The Girl Captain. By Jos. E. Badger. - 126--Yankee Eph. By J. R. Worcester. - 127--Silverspur. By Edward Willett. - 128--Squatter Dick. By Jos. E. Badger. - 129--The Child Spy. By George Gleason. - 130--Mink Coat. By Jos. E. Badger. - 131--Red Plume. By J. Stanley Henderson. - 132--Clyde, the Trailer. By Maro O. Rolfe. - 133--The Lost Cache. J. Stanley Henderson. - 134--The Cannibal Chief. Paul J. Prescott. - 135--Karaibo. By J. Stanley Henderson. - 136--Scarlet Moccasin. By Paul Bibbs. - 137--Kidnapped. By J. Stanley Henderson. - 138--Maid of the Mountain. By Hamilton. - 139--The Scioto Scouts. By Ed. Willett. - 140--The Border Renegade. By Badger. - 141--The Mute Chief. By C. D. Clark. - 142--Boone, the Hunter. By Whittaker. - 143--Mountain Kate. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - 144--The Red Scalper. By W. J. Hamilton. - 145--The Lone Chief. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. - 146--The Silver Bugle. Lieut. Col. Hazleton. - 147--Chinga, the Cheyenne. By E. S. Ellis. - 148--The Tangled Trail. By Major Martine. - 149--The Unseen Hand. By J. S. Henderson. - 150--The Lone Indian. By Capt. C. Howard. - 151--The Branded Brave. By Paul Bibbs. - 152--Billy Bowlegs, The Seminole Chief. - 153--The Valley Scout. By Seelin Robbins. - 154--Red Jacket. By Paul Bibbs. - 155--The Jungle Scout. Ready - 156--Cherokee Chief. Ready - 157--The Bandit Hermit. Ready - 158--The Patriot Scouts. Ready - 159--The Wood Rangers. - 160--The Red Foe. Ready - 161--The Beautiful Unknown. - 162--Canebrake Mose. Ready - 163--Hank, the Guide. Ready - 164--The Border Scout. Ready Oct. 5th. - - - BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York. - - * * * * * - - [Transcriber's Note: No Chapter X. heading in original text.] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOOD KING; OR, DANIEL -BOONE'S LAST TRAIL *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/69490-0.zip b/old/69490-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 9da756f..0000000 --- a/old/69490-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69490-h.zip b/old/69490-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e96dc36..0000000 --- a/old/69490-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69490-h/69490-h.htm b/old/69490-h/69490-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 8b8fbb1..0000000 --- a/old/69490-h/69490-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4705 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8"> - <title> - The Wood King;, by Jos. E. Badger, Jr.,—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> - <style> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap { font-variant:small-caps; } - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -x-ebookmaker-drop {display: none;} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph1 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Wood King; or, Daniel Boone's last trail, by Jos. E. Badger</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Wood King; or, Daniel Boone's last trail</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>Beadle's Pocket Novels No. 108</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Jos. E. Badger</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 7, 2022 [eBook #69490]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Northern Illinois University Digital Library)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOOD KING; OR, DANIEL BOONE'S LAST TRAIL ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter x-ebookmaker-drop"> - <img src="images/illusc.jpg" alt=""> -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>THE WOOD KING;</h1> - -<p>OR,</p> - -<h1>DANIEL BOONE'S LAST TRAIL</h1> - -<p>A ROMANCE OF THE OSAGE COUNTRY.</p> - -<h2>BY JOS. E. BADGER, <span class="smcap">Jr.</span>,</h2> - -<p>AUTHOR OF THE FOLLOWING POCKET NOVELS:<br> -No. 59. <span class="smcap">The Texas Hawks.</span><br> -No. 63. <span class="smcap">The Florida Scout.</span><br> -No. 98. <span class="smcap">Dusky Dick.</span><br> -No. 101. <span class="smcap">Redlaw.</span><br> -No. 105. <span class="smcap">The Indian Spy.</span></p> - - -<p>NEW YORK:<br> -BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,<br> -No. 98 WILLIAM STREET.</p> - -<p>Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, by<br> -BEADLE AND ADAMS<br> -In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<h2>THE WOOD KING.</h2> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">CHAPTER I.</p> - -<p class="ph1">LIGHTFOOT AND THE WOOD VETERAN.</p> - - -<p>Crack—<i>crack!</i></p> - -<p>Though faint and far away, there could be no mistaking these sharp, -spiteful reports for other than the voice of rifles. The sound was no -uncommon one for that region, which is even yet noted for its quantity -of game; half a century since "the Osage Country" was truly a hunter's -paradise.</p> - -<p>A man was crossing the Osage river, at a ford, and though near the -middle of the stream, the water barely reached his knees. As the twin -reports came echoing across the eastern forest, the hunter abruptly -paused, bending his head, listening intently.</p> - -<p>The rifle-shots alone could scarcely have occasioned the surprise -written so plainly upon the man's features, since this was -hunting-ground common to all—red as well as white. He himself had -fired more than once that day.</p> - -<p>But closely following the reports came a series of short, peculiar -yells—the cries so strongly resembling the yelping of a cur-dog when -in hot pursuit of a rabbit, that an Indian sends forth when closing -rapidly upon a fleeing foe.</p> - -<p>The hunter could not mistake this sound, nor its full significance. For -nearly half a century it had been familiar to his ear. Many a time had -it rung out upon his own trail, as he fled for dear life through the -forests of the "dark and bloody ground."</p> - -<p>"Thar's mischief afoot—can it be that the varmints have r'ailly took -to the war-path?" he muttered, glancing keenly around. "They're makin' -this way—it's the only ford for miles—reckon I'd better hunt cover!"</p> - -<p>The alarm came from the point toward which the hunter's face had -been turned, and as he listened, the quick, sharp yells grew plainer -and more distinct. Turning, he rapidly retreated to the shore he had -recently left.</p> - -<p>As he neared cover, it became evident that the hunter was white; though -his face was deeply bronzed, almost copper-hued, where the stout jean -trowsers had been rolled above his knees, the skin showed clear and -white.</p> - -<p>Nearing cover, he turned and listened. All was still; the yells no -longer echoed through the forest. It seemed as though the deed was done.</p> - -<p>Bending forward, the hunter was clearly revealed by the bright rays of -the noonday sun. That he was old, the long, snowy locks that fell below -his rude skin cap plainly evidenced. Yet the weight of years seemed to -sit lightly upon his frame. His step was light yet firm, his motions -quick and supple. The rude garb of gray jeans only half-concealed his -great muscular development. Altogether, he was what one might well term -an awkward customer to meet in a hand-to-hand struggle, despite his age.</p> - -<p>"No, they hain't got him yet, whoever he is," muttered the veteran.</p> - -<p>Upon the crest of a hill, full quarter of a mile beyond the river, his -keen glance detected the form of a human being. Only for a moment; then -the tree-tops hid him from view.</p> - -<p>Scarcely had he disappeared, when the hill-top was again occupied, this -time by a full score of men, apparently the pursuers. Again the sharp, -yelping cries came to the veteran's ears.</p> - -<p>"It's warm for a footrace, so I'd best take to cover. Lucky the cave's -handy."</p> - -<p>Turning, the veteran hunter strode rapidly through the shallow water, -his bare feet leaving no impress upon the gravelly bed. Two score yards -above his position a dark opening appeared in the river-bank, that, -though low at the ford, here rose abruptly into a considerable hill.</p> - -<p>Holding rifle and powder-horn above his head, the hunter suddenly sunk -down and swam rapidly into the opening. Just before the cave-mouth the -water was several yards in depth.</p> - -<p>Pausing just within the entrance, the hunter turned his face toward the -eastern shore. He had not long to wait.</p> - -<p>A man dashed through the undergrowth, sprung down the sandy bank, -and ran rapidly across the level bar, stumbling at the water's-edge, -falling at full length. From his cover, the hunter could see a -knife-blade flash in the sunlight, and then the fugitive cast from him -the severed part of an arrow that had pierced his leg.</p> - -<p>Freed from this incumbrance, he arose and dashed through the shallow -water toward the western shore. But several precious moments had been -lost, and, with yells of vindictive exultation, nearly a score of -savages sprung out upon the river-bank.</p> - -<p>The fugitive heard their cries, and glanced back over his shoulder. -He saw several of them with bended bows, and suddenly flung himself -forward at full length in the water, at this point about knee-deep.</p> - -<p>His ruse was successful. The barbed shafts passed over his head, -burying themselves harmlessly in the sparkling water.</p> - -<p>A loud voice from the bank gave utterance to several hasty words, and -as though in obedience to it, half a dozen braves sprung toward the -water, the remainder bending their bows ready for instant use in case -the fugitive should arise to continue his flight.</p> - -<p>With eager interest the white hunter watched this scene, though his -countenance showed evident relief when he saw that the fugitive as -well as pursuers were Indians. Though far from being one of that class -termed Indian-haters, he bore the race little love, for they had dealt -his heart more than one crushing blow.</p> - -<p>Even at that distance, he could distinguish peculiarities that marked -the pursuers as Osages, once the all-powerful rulers of that vast tract -of country. Whether or no the fugitive belonged to the same tribe, -he could not tell, owing to his so suddenly burying all but head and -shoulders in the water.</p> - -<p>Eagerly he watched the result. He saw a sudden movement of the hunted -red-skin's arms. At the same moment the foremost savage flung aloft -his hands, and fell backward, a feathered shaft quivering deep in his -brain.</p> - -<p>With yells of rage the Osages upon the bank let fly a shower of arrows, -while the others dashed into the shallow water. The hunter's heart beat -fast as he saw the fugitive disappear beneath the surface. He thought -him dead.</p> - -<p>But not so. With his feet braced against the gravelly bed, he had -impelled his body through the water a full dozen yards, the arrows -falling harmlessly in his wake.</p> - -<p>Again his arms rose—once more the sharp <i>twang</i> of the bowstring -sounded. Again the death-yell of the Osage rung out upon the air—again -his comrades yelled furiously, and then the entire party sprung forward.</p> - -<p>The fugitive rose to his feet and uttering a single cry, dashed toward -the western shore. It was a peculiar yell—the sharp, shrill war-cry of -the Kickapoos.</p> - -<p>A little cry broke from the hunter's lips as he heard this defiant -shout. He recognized it—and more; he recognized the fugitive for a -true and tried friend!</p> - -<p>A peculiar cry broke from his lips—low, yet clear and penetrating. -It met the ear of the Kickapoo, and he perceptibly faltered, casting -a swift glance along the now near shore. The Osages also heard the -signal, for they slackened their pace, seemingly fearful lest they -should be drawn into an ambush.</p> - -<p>The hunter's fingers still lingered at his lips, his gaze roving over -the enemy. The odds were long—at least ten to one. It seemed as though -nothing but death could follow his attempt to aid the fugitive.</p> - -<p>Yet the signal was uttered, and as with renewed life, the Kickapoo -dashed through the water toward the dark opening. He knew that there at -least one friend awaited him.</p> - -<p>The Osage at this ford is narrow; but little if any over a hundred -yards in width. Then a very few moments carried the Kickapoo to the -edge of the deep pool before the cave entrance.</p> - -<p>"Come in, chief," guardedly called out the old hunter, as the savage -sunk down into the water. "The varmints are bethinkin' themselves of -their we'pons ag'in. Down—down, chief!"</p> - -<p>A volley of arrows shot toward the cave, but the Kickapoo quickly dove, -and the hunter was shielded by a point of rock. The missiles pattered -harmlessly around.</p> - -<p>Then as the Osages splashed rapidly forward, the rifle of the hunter -spoke. For the third time within as many minutes a death-yell broke the -air, and the clear water was stained with the life-blood of an Osage -warrior.</p> - -<p>With laughable celerity the survivors scattered and buried themselves -in the water, barely keeping their noses above the surface, dreading -a volley from the cave. Nor was their chagrin lessened by hearing the -taunting cry of the Kickapoo echo out from the dark opening in the bank.</p> - -<p>A low, hearty laugh greeted the fugitive as he rose beside the old -hunter, who was now rapidly recharging his rifle. Driving home the -leathered bullet, the white man remarked:</p> - -<p>"Well, chief, the varmints hunted you close. But why is it? The -Kickapoos and Osages have long been friends."</p> - -<p>"Yeh—friends now—all but Lightfoot—he en'my. Osage dogs put dust -in Kickapoos' eyes. Mek all blind—mek dig up hatchet to strike the -painted post. Osage say blood is good—Kickapoo say take plenty white -scalps. Lightfoot he say <i>no</i>. Den Osage chief he say red dog go follow -his white master. Lightfoot is a chief—he is a man. The words were yet -hot on the lips of Huspah, when he died. See! his scalp is here," and -the Kickapoo fingered the ghastly trophy that hung at his girdle.</p> - -<p>"You rubbed the chief out, then, when his braves were lookin' on?" -asked the old hunter, evidently understanding the dialect into which -the savage had unconsciously glided, though at first using imperfect -English.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot rapidly recounted the events that had made him an outcast -and hunted fugitive, while the eyes of both kept close watch upon the -movements of the savages beyond.</p> - -<p>The Pottawatomies, Iowas, Foxes, Sauks and Kickapoos were growing -uneasy at the constantly increasing strength of the white settlements, -more especially of that section then known as the "Boone's Lick -Country"—now Howard county. In 1812 a plot was formed for a general -uprising, but was discovered in time to be foiled. Since then there had -been occasional skirmishing, with slight losses upon either side. But -now—in the spring of 1814—another and more dangerous plot was formed. -As he listened to the words of the Kickapoo chief, Daniel Boone—for he -was the old hunter—felt that the crisis was at hand.</p> - -<p>The chiefs of the different tribes had gathered at the Kickapoo -village, and at the council every voice but that of Lightfoot was -raised for war. His stubborn resistance raised the ire of Huspah, -the Osage, who called him a dog of the pale-faced invaders. The next -instant he fell dead, cloven to the chin by Lightfoot's tomahawk.</p> - -<p>The council seemed transfixed with surprise and horror at this bold -act, and untouched Lightfoot scalped his fallen enemy and darted from -the council-lodge, knowing that nothing but instant flight could save -him from a horrible and disgraceful death.</p> - -<p>Pursuit was made, and for nearly a score miles the Kickapoo fled with -the avengers of blood treading close upon his heels. Twice he was -wounded, else he would have distanced his enemies, for the name he bore -had not been idly bestowed.</p> - -<p>"It's unlucky our being cooped up here, just now," muttered Boone, -uneasily. "It's big news you've told me, chief, and the settlers don't -suspect thar danger. If the red-skins strike to-night, I'm dub'ous -this'll be a black day for us."</p> - -<p>"Mebbe not strike so soon, now Huspah dead—so mus' choose 'nudder -chief to lead 'em."</p> - -<p>"He was the head one, then?"</p> - -<p>"Yeh."</p> - -<p>A movement among the enemy now put a pause to the conversation. The -dark dots upon the river's surface were cautiously retreating toward -the further shore, in obedience to a peculiar signal from one of the -number, whose face, washed free of paint by the water, now showed white -and clear.</p> - -<p>"He white Injun—Osage call him White Wolf," said Lightfoot, in answer -to a look of inquiry from Boone.</p> - -<p>"Seth Grable!"</p> - -<p>The words came hissingly through the tight-clenched teeth of the -old hunter, and a stern fire filled his eyes. Evidently he bore the -renegade little love.</p> - -<p>His rifle was cocked and leveled, but as though suspecting some such -message, the white Indian took good care not to expose his precious -person. Creeping behind a sand ridge, he gained the woods in safety.</p> - -<p>As the savages reached the forest, they uttered a loud yell, which was -echoed back from the western shore. Boone started and frowned. This -showed him the impossibility of carrying out the plan that was even -then shaping itself in his mind. The cave could not be left now. They -must wait until the friendly shadow of night settled over the earth.</p> - -<p>But few words passed between the two scouts. Yet Boone was given ample -cause for anxiety, aside from his personal danger. Lightfoot believed -that an attack was to be made simultaneously upon all the white -settlements in the Osage Country. That very night might witness the -carnival of blood.</p> - -<p>The hours rolled on, the sun steadily sunk in the west, until hidden -behind the tree-dotted hills, and the shadows darkened the surface -of the gently flowing river. Within the cave-mouth crouched the two -scouts, scarce breathing a word, their weapons ready for instant use, -their every sense fully upon the alert. Yet no sound from without told -of the proximity of foemen. All was silent save for the hum of insects, -the chirping of birds, the splash of some fish as it sportively leaped -into the air, or now and then the shrill, piercing scream of the great -hawk that slowly circled above the scene.</p> - -<p>But then, like magic, all was changed.</p> - -<p>The water swept boldly around the upper edge of the cave entrance—the -side where Lightfoot was stationed. The Indian suddenly uttered a sharp -hiss, bending his strong bow.</p> - -<p>The water no longer flowed smoothly. Numerous bubbles dotted the -surface. The depths were discolored by sand and mud.</p> - -<p>A dark object parted the surface, darting rapidly into the mouth of the -cave. The long hair, the draggled plumes, the dusky face were those of -an Osage.</p> - -<p>The bow of the Kickapoo, bent nearly double, relaxed, the feathered -shaft sunk deep into the low brow of the savage. A stifled shriek—then -the body sunk below the surface, dyeing the water red with the tide of -life.</p> - -<p>Like magic the space before the cave appeared filled with heads, as the -maddened Osages swam rapidly forward, clutching their knives, their -tomahawks, thirsting for the blood of their daring enemies.</p> - -<p>Loud and reverberating the Wood King's rifle spoke, sounding the -death-knell of the foremost savage, who sprung half out of the water, -casting a long, glittering blade full at the hunter's heart. It was a -dying effort, and the weapon scarce penetrated the thick woolen frock.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot plied his bow rapidly, crouching back upon the shelf, sending -unseen death in swift succession into the crowded mass of his foes. -With knife in either hand, Boone stood in the water waist-deep, beating -back the desperate Osages with the strength and vigor of renewed youth.</p> - -<p>Though brief, the struggle was desperate and bloody. The Osages fought -against more than mortal foes. The water whirled swiftly round in -the strong eddy before the cave. Fighting with this, they gained a -foothold, only to be dashed back by the scouts, dead or wounded.</p> - -<p>A few moments thus—then, as by one accord, the Osages sunk down -beneath the water's surface and vanished from their enemies' sight. -That this was no subtle ruse, the yells of baffled rage, that soon -afterward arose from below, plainly told.</p> - -<p>"You're safe, chief?" hastily uttered Boone, emerging from the water, -panting heavily.</p> - -<p>"Yeh—me all right. You hurt?"</p> - -<p>"No—only a scratch. But come—this is our time. We must git out o' -here afore the varmints screw their courage up for another lick."</p> - -<p>Lightfoot grunted, without speaking, but the Wood King understood him, -and smiled quietly. He knew the cave secrets better than the Kickapoo -did.</p> - -<p>"Easy, chief. I know a way out that they never dream of. 'Tis no true -scout that runs his head into a hole with only one opening. Give me the -end of your bow—so. Now follow me carefully."</p> - -<p>Grasping one end of the bow, Boone retreated into the cave, proceeding -with the confidence of one knowing every inch of the ground to be -traversed. For a few yards the floor continued level and smooth; then -there came an abrupt ascent, over what seemed irregular steps cut in -the hard clay. This, however, was the work of nature, not that of man.</p> - -<p>Boone paused, with a grim chuckle. As Lightfoot gained his side, the -veteran said:</p> - -<p>"Look up—what do you see?"</p> - -<p>The Kickapoo obeyed. Far above his head shone a faint light, partially -intercepted by gently waving leaves. A dimly twinkling star told him -the truth. Then a cloud shot over this gleam.</p> - -<p>"Fix yourself for a tough climb, chief. It's up the inside of a tree we -must go. You'll need all your hands and feet," cried Boone, securing -his rifle upon his back.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot now understood all. Boone had not sought shelter in the cave -without knowing how he was to get out of it. And yet this den had often -been explored by himself. How had he missed noting this strange passage?</p> - -<p>Easily explained. A month or more previously Boone had shot a -wild-turkey as it sat upon the tree. It lodged, and, aided by the -thickly-clustering grape-vines that shrouded the gnarled trunk, he -ascended for his game. It had fallen into the hollow. Aided by a supple -vine, he descended into the shell. The bottom gave way beneath his -feet, precipitating him into the cave. Thus the discovery was made that -was now to open to them the road to freedom once more.</p> - -<p>Carefully feeling around, Boone soon secured the severed end of the -grape-vine, and then began the ascent. This was difficult, since the -hollow of the tree was barely large enough to admit the passage of a -human body, and little assistance could be given by the feet, since the -knees could only be bent a trifle.</p> - -<p>Still, though age and sorrow had sapped his strength, the Wood King -raised himself to the top of the trunk, where he clung, panting and -exhausted, shaking the vine as a signal to Lightfoot. As the vine -tightened Boone peered keenly downward.</p> - -<p>Though the tree-top had been broken off at some thirty feet from the -ground, its limbs were still vigorous, rising far above the stub, -thickly covered with leaves and twigs. Parting them, Boone gazed -downward and around, as well as the increasing gloom would permit.</p> - -<p>The hill was nearly bare of trees, with but scant underbrush, a notable -exception to the larger hills that rose around, in this respect, since -they were densely wooded.</p> - -<p>All was still below. Boone could hear nothing to rouse his suspicions, -and he believed that their trail was as yet unobstructed.</p> - -<p>Beyond a doubt the Osages were ignorant of this unique passage, and so -would only think of guarding the cave by the river side. It was but -natural to think that, under cover of the darkness, the two scouts -would endeavor to escape there by swimming and diving, and their whole -attention would be turned toward frustrating this.</p> - -<p>Thus Boone reasoned, and events proved that he was right.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot completed the ascent easily, and then Boone led the way down -the matted mass of grape-vines, using every caution to avoid making any -noise that might alarm the Osages. Five minutes later the scouts stood -side by side at the foot of the tree.</p> - -<p>"Come," muttered Boone, "we must strike out for our friends. They don't -dream of the danger brewin'."</p> - -<p>"Mus' go tell Yellow-hair fust," doggedly replied Lightfoot.</p> - -<p>Yellow-hair, as the Kickapoo called her, was the only daughter of -Edward Mordaunt, who, on one of his hunting-trips, had found the -Kickapoo senseless, almost dead, beside the body of a panther. With a -kindness almost foreign to the borderer in general, Mordaunt carried -the savage to his cabin, where Edith and her mother nursed him back -to life. By this act of kindness they gained his undying gratitude, -and it was mainly his love for them that induced him to fight against -the Indian uprising, since they too were numbered among those to be -massacred.</p> - -<p>"Mordaunt has bin the Osages' fri'nd—surely they won't hurt him?"</p> - -<p>"Injun don't know fri'nd now—only see white scalp. Kill, sure—all but -Yellow-hair. White Wolf say she be his squaw!"</p> - -<p>"The black-hearted devil! But never mind. The time 'll come when he'll -stand afore my rifle, an' then he won't need no more squaws," gritted -Boone, with an anger that he rarely displayed.</p> - -<p>"No—his scalp Lightfoot's," doggedly replied the Kickapoo.</p> - -<p>Boone made no reply, but crouching low down, glided noiselessly down -the hillside furthest from the river, followed by the chief. Reaching -the bottom, they entered a narrow valley, intending to round the large -hill before again taking to the water. The settlements were, for the -most part, upon the other side of the Osage.</p> - -<p>The sky was partially obscured by broken clouds, driving here and -there in angry confusion, betokening a storm. An occasional flash of -lightning would herald the deep rumbling of thunder, and quicken the -footsteps of the scouts.</p> - -<p>Half an hour after emerging from the hollow tree, the bank of the -Osage was reached, and with his rifle secured upon a log, which he -impelled before him, Boone swam the river, with Lightfoot beside him. -Scarce pausing for breath, they plunged into the forest, heading for -Mordaunt's cabin.</p> - -<p>"Hooh!" suddenly uttered Lightfoot, pausing and bending his ear as the -fresh breeze bore the sound of voices faintly to him.</p> - -<p>"The varmints have found out we've gone," and Boone laughed grimly.</p> - -<p>"Lose us, den t'ink oders—tek scalp now, <i>sure</i>. White Wolf t'ink -'bout Yellow-hair, now," muttered Lightfoot, uneasily.</p> - -<p>"Lead on, chief. I'm old, but I can stand a little brush, I reckon, 'f -pushed," retorted Boone.</p> - -<p>The two scouts pushed on through the tangled forest at a pace truly -marvelous, considering the gloom. And for full an hour they advanced -without pausing, until the edge of a small clearing was reached, near -the center of which stood a small, rude log-cabin.</p> - -<p>"They've gone to bed," muttered Boone, vexedly, for time was precious -now; an hour lost or gained might be either life or death to them all.</p> - -<p>Edward Mordaunt's voice rung out sharply in answer to Boone's hail, -demanding who was there, but a word from the old scout quickly set his -fears at rest. The scouts entered, barring the door behind them.</p> - -<p>"Wake the women, Ed, an' tell 'em to make haste. You've got to make -tracks for a safer spot than this. Do it—you kin take my word for -it—I'll explain while they're riggin' up," hastily uttered the Wood -King.</p> - -<p>Mordaunt obeyed without question, for he had long known the old hunter. -Yet he could scarcely believe that his peril was so great, for he had -ever treated the Osages with kindness. Still he was not foolhardy -enough to close his eyes to the truth.</p> - -<p>He hastily prepared his arms and ammunition, with a small bundle of -food. While thus occupied, the inner door opened and two women emerged; -mother and daughter.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot glided forward and knelt before them, bowing his proud head, -a softened light filling his eyes. He seemed about to speak, but then -suddenly turned his head.</p> - -<p>A rapid footstep sounded just without the door, and then a loud rap -followed. Once, twice—then a clear voice shouting:</p> - -<p>"Up—up, and away! The heathen come with fire and sword—they thirst -for blood! Away—flee, while yet there is time!"</p> - -<p>Another thundering knock, then the footfalls rapidly retreated, dying -away in the night.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">CHAPTER II.</p> - -<p class="ph1">THE WOODLAND TRAGEDY.</p> - - -<p>"The crazy man!" cried Boone.</p> - -<p>"The Hermit!" echoed Mordaunt.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot stood silent, though making a rapid sign with his thumb, that -might have represented a cross. An uneasy expression rested upon his -strongly-marked features.</p> - -<p>"It comes in good time," muttered Boone, drawing a long breath, "be he -devil or white man. The red-skins be afoot an' may be upon us at any -minnit. All ready?"</p> - -<p>"But is not this running blindly upon danger—is there not more safety -here behind these walls than out in the open woods?"</p> - -<p>"No—you stay here, the sun of to-morrow will never shine for you. -How long could you keep the varmints out? One shove from a stout pair -of shoulders an' down goes the door. You see now the truth of my -words—none but a fool thrusts his scalp into the hands of a Injun."</p> - -<p>"But the Osages seemed pleased at my confidence in them. Never an angry -word has passed between us!"</p> - -<p>"And Seth Grable?"</p> - -<p>Mordaunt started. This was a danger he had overlooked. He knew that the -half-wild hunter was now a bitter enemy, who had sworn revenge.</p> - -<p>Grable had made his mark, deep and bloody, on the pages of Missouri's -border history. With Indian blood in his veins—some say a -half-breed—he united the worst passions of both races, without the -slightest of their virtues. Yet, with at least half a dozen Indian -squaws, he had demanded the hand of Edith Mordaunt, as the price of -his protection and friendship. Losing sight of prudence, the settler -administered a thorough thrashing, ending by kicking the half-breed off -his clearing.</p> - -<p>"True, old man—but what are your plans?"</p> - -<p>"First, we'll strike out for Caughlands. With them we kin hold our -own ag'in' the varmints, bein' as the cabin is strong. 'Twon't be long -afore my boy, Nathan, 'll hear of the fuss, an' then the varmints 'll -have to hunt their holes."</p> - -<p>"They suspect nothing. Abel was here this evening."</p> - -<p>"Oh, boys will be boys, 'specially when there's gals in the same box. -But, never mind, Edith," and Boone turned to the blushing maiden, -"Abie's a good lad, an' you might go further an' fare wuss."</p> - -<p>"Too much talk," sharply interposed Lightfoot, who had been fidgeting -uneasily for several moments.</p> - -<p>"Right, chief. You know the trail—lead the way. Ed an' I'll see to the -women."</p> - -<p>First extinguishing the dim light, the party cautiously emerged from -the cabin, closing the door behind them. Gliding across the clearing, -they entered the forest. The trail led over a tolerably level tract of -ground, densely wooded, the hills being small and widely scattered.</p> - -<p>The storm threatened to break at any moment. The leaden masses of -clouds had united, shutting out the stars and moon. All below was -dark—an intense, almost palpable gloom. As the fugitives threaded the -forest in single file along the narrow trail, though keeping within -arm's-length, the keenest eye could do no more than dimly distinguish -the figure immediately before it.</p> - -<p>As though endowed with cat-like vision, Lightfoot led the way, without -faltering or once seeming at a loss. Even Boone felt a sense of wonder -at his skill.</p> - -<p>"That sound—what is it?" abruptly asked Edith, her voice sounding -strained and unnatural.</p> - -<p>"'Tis the varmints giving tongue—they've found the empty nest, but -what they lotted most on gittin' has slipped 'em."</p> - -<p>"Dey know trail, too, plenty well. Foller fast—Osage got long legs," -muttered Lightfoot.</p> - -<p>"Yes, we'll have to run for it now. They kin tell to a dot how long -we've been gone, an' 'll be sure we've made tracks for Caughlands. -They'll try to cut us off, an' 'f they do, our case 'll be desp'rit. -Ed, help your wife—I'll look to the little 'un. Chief, lead on—quick -time."</p> - -<p>The alarm no longer came to the ears of the fugitives. All was still -save for their own footsteps and the wailing of the storm-wind through -the forest tree-tops.</p> - -<p>The rage of the Osages had momentarily broken bonds, at the second -disappointment of that night, but was quickly subdued. Their resolve -deepened, their hatred and thirst for blood grew more intense. A few -sharp, quick commands; then they marched in silence. They entered upon -the trail that was to end only in death.</p> - -<p>"See! the storm is breaking away," panted Mrs. Mordaunt, and the -fugitives paused for a moment to regain breath. "The moon is—"</p> - -<p>"'Tis a black moon for us!" groaned the settler, his teeth strongly -gritting. "The devils have fired our cabin—now, indeed, we are -homeless!"</p> - -<p>"Easy, man—a log-cabin is easy raised where timber is so plenty as -hereabouts. Thank the Lord that your heads have still got their nat'ral -kivering," gravely added Boone.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot now arose from his prostrate position upon the ground and -muttered a few words in Boone's ear. The veteran seemed agitated, and -well he might be.</p> - -<p>The Kickapoo said that he had heard suspicious sounds coming from the -direction they were pursuing; barely audible yells and indistinct -reports of firearms. Making due allowance for the dense forest, he -believed these sounds came from Caughlands—from the cabin where they -had expected to find a secure refuge.</p> - -<p>No other dwelling was near. If the Indians had in reality attacked -that, what hope was left the fugitives? Incumbered by helpless women, -what could the borderers do? The prospect was dark.</p> - -<p>Again Lightfoot led the way along the winding, intricate trail. By -following its bends and curves the distance was lengthened, yet no -other course could be followed with safety, while feeble women were of -the party. The surrounding country was difficult, almost impassable in -the darkness, save by the narrow trail.</p> - -<p>Once more the guide paused, this time upon the crest of a considerable -elevation. No need to ask why—the reason lay plain before them.</p> - -<p>Over a mile distant was where stood the Caughland cabin. The spot was -plainly indicated now. Only for the surrounding trees, the sturdy log -walls might have been distinguished by the fugitives.</p> - -<p>A momentarily increasing glow illumined the dark forest, mounting up -toward the heavens. The blazon of death and destruction. The dread -signet of the fire-fiend.</p> - -<p>"My God! them too!" groaned Mordaunt.</p> - -<p>Edith turned ghastly pale and seemed about to faint. The loving arms -of her mother stole around her waist. She knew the sickening fear that -filled her daughter's heart.</p> - -<p>"The sign's mighty black, I must say, but mebbe 'tis better'n we think. -Mebbe the cabin got afire by accident. Anyhow, we mustn't stop here. -If the reds <i>is</i> at work down thar, we've got to pass by 'em. Our only -show is to get to the settlements beyond the Blue."</p> - -<p>"True. Courage, mother, and you, Edith. Be brave now, and we may -escape. But if not, then we will die together!"</p> - -<p>"Don't talk about dyin', man, while you've breath enough left to draw a -pipe," impatiently muttered Boone. "Foller us, now, an' remember that a -false step may end all. It's no fool of a game that we've got to play."</p> - -<p>Lightfoot gave a grunt of displeasure, then led the way down the -hillside. Taciturn himself, he saw little use in so many words.</p> - -<p>Cautiously parting the bushes that almost met above the trail, he -searched the level. A few hundred yards further on he paused, and again -spoke to the old hunter in the Kickapoo dialect.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter now?" anxiously asked Mordaunt.</p> - -<p>"Nothin'; the chief thinks it's best that he should go on ahead to spy -out the truth. As it is, we're goin' blindfold. We'll wait here ontil -he comes back."</p> - -<p>"But is it safe?"</p> - -<p>"Nothin's safe when the varmints is up an' ragin' for white blood. But -come—we may as well take to kiver."</p> - -<p>Boone turned aside from the trail and sought a level space where the -undergrowth was tolerably dense, though the trees were few. Here he -stationed the trio, then crouched down beneath a bush nearer the trail.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot had disappeared like some phantom shape, melting away -amidst the gloom. He no longer followed the trail; even without the -unmistakable guide in the broad glare of light, he well knew the -position of the forest cabin. Toward this he was now pressing with the -speed, the silence, the dexterity of a serpent.</p> - -<p>He had nearly gained the edge of the Caughland clearing, when he -suddenly paused. From behind there uprose a shrill, exultant yell from -a full score of throats. It was the cry of the Osages, and proceeded -from the crest of the hill near which he had parted from the white -fugitives.</p> - -<p>Almost as an echo the yell was returned, this time from the clearing in -front. There was a slight—almost imperceptible difference in the cry, -that told Lightfoot this was part of another tribe—Pottawatomies.</p> - -<p>For a moment he hesitated as if about to return to his friends, but -then turned and glided rapidly onward. He stood upon the edge of the -lighted clearing, gazing out upon a wild, peculiar scene.</p> - -<p>A massive log-cabin and stable were in flames, burning furiously, yet -the huge logs stubbornly resisted their doom. Around were grouped a -number of human figures, over a score in number. The firelight shone -redly over their almost nude bodies. The dull bronze color—the streaks -of paint—the brilliantly dyed plumes—all proclaimed the untamed -savage.</p> - -<p>Other forms was there, lying prone upon the ground. Some clad in light, -flowing garments, some nude; some of both races—the white and the red.</p> - -<p>The latter were ranged together, their limbs straightened and composed. -The pale-faces lay as they had fallen, mutilated almost beyond -recognition. The red flame cast a flickering light over the bare, gory -skulls. They had been scalped.</p> - -<p>As Lightfoot took in this scene, one of the Indians threw back his head -and uttered a long, peculiar cry—the eldritch screech of the panther. -At this a truly startling change came over the Kickapoo.</p> - -<p>His face became convulsed with what seemed fury and deadly hatred—his -eyes scintillated, glowing with a venomous fire. He snatched an arrow -from the quiver at his back, and then the tough bow was bent until the -flint-head fairly touched its back.</p> - -<p>The Pottawatomie still stood with one hand to his lips, the yell yet -reverberating through the forest, when the taut string relaxed—a -sharp <i>twang</i> smote upon their ears, drowned by a dull <i>thud</i> as the -feathered shaft quivered deep in the naked breast of Leaping Panther, -war-chief of the Pottawatomies.</p> - -<p>The giant form reeled, then stood grandly erect, with tightly-clenched -fists raised on high. Wild and clear, piercing as that of the beast -after which he was named, the Leaping Panther breathed forth his life -in one defiant war-cry—then sunk to the ground, dead!</p> - -<p>Until then, the braves had stood motionless as though petrified. But as -their chief fell in death, they darted aside, each seeking some cover -where the bright flames would not betray them to the fatal aim of the -hidden foe.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot glided away from the spot. Now that the deed was done, he -realized the folly of which he had been guilty, while other lives -depended upon his skill and prudence. True, he had slain a deadly -enemy, had kept a solemn oath, but by so doing he had increased the -danger threatening those for whom he would lay down his life without -a regret. The arrow that had carried death to the Pottawatomie, like -all the others in his quiver, was a marked one. A single glance would -declare the hand that had sent the death missile. He would be sought -for until killed; though it might be years hence, still the search -would never cease while he breathed or a Pottawatomie lived to carry on -the hunt of death.</p> - -<p>For himself alone it would matter little. He was an outcast—his own -tribe had outlawed him; the Osages had sworn his death—this made but -one more peril to fight against. But Yellow-hair? He almost cursed the -arm that sent the death-shaft upon its mission.</p> - -<p>Another cry came from the clearing. Lightfoot paused to listen. An -answer came from the hill. Then still others—signals, directions for -the movements of each party.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot smiled grimly as he read them. To spread out and beat every -inch of ground—to capture the audacious murderer <i>alive</i> at any cost. -Thus he interpreted the signals.</p> - -<p>It gave him an idea—bold, desperate, generous. He would yet save -Yellow-hair, even though it might be at the cost of his own life. Yet -to do so, he must gain speech with Boone.</p> - -<p>Rapidly he retraced his steps toward the spot where he had left -his friends, yet with a silence that was truly marvelous. Nobly he -sustained his <i>sobriquet</i>. The fall of the autumn leaf was scarcely -more silent than that of his moccasined feet.</p> - -<p>All was still in the forest—not a sound broke the air save the wind -rustling among the tree-tops, or the creaking of some dead bough. The -dark, shrouded heaven lowered angrily, yet the storm held off as though -to gather force to annihilate the living puppets below.</p> - -<p>Crouching down, Lightfoot listened. All was still. The hill loomed up -before him, dark and indistinct. His friends must be near.</p> - -<p>A peculiar sound passed his lips—low but penetrating—the significant -<i>skir-r</i> of the wood rattlesnake.</p> - -<p>Like an echo a similar sound came from his right. The signal was heard -and understood. Boone replied to it in kind.</p> - -<p>The next moment Lightfoot was beside him, having glided thither like -the serpent whose alarum he had usurped. Their heads close together, a -few rapid words passed between them.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot divulged his plan by which he hoped to baffle the peril that -threatened them. It was desperate, but the only one. Alone the men -might have crept through the savage cordon; with the women, this was -simply impossible.</p> - -<p>The Kickapoo turned and glided away, again heading toward the blazing -cabin. He used less caution now, for time was doubly precious. The -Osages, he knew, could not be many yards from the fugitives.</p> - -<p>Gaining several hundred yards, he dashed forward at full speed, -running to avoid the trees, stumps and other obstacles by intuition, -for eyesight could avail him but little in such darkness. Again he -paused, and now uttered a signal. It was answered almost immediately, -from in front, to the left and right. His calculations were correct. -The time was at hand for his action, nor did he hesitate, though the -result could scarcely be other than death.</p> - -<p>The bow he slung across his back. One hand clutched a knife, the other -a tomahawk. Then he glided forward, direct for the spot from which the -center signal had issued. His keen ear had not deceived him.</p> - -<p>A tall, dimly outlined figure uprose before him, and uttered a few -hasty words in the Pottawatomie dialect. Lightfoot did not wait to -understand their meaning. Time was by far too precious.</p> - -<p>With the ferocity of a maddened panther he leaped upon the savage, -dealing two swift, deadly blows as he did so. Down through flesh -and bone sunk the keen hatchet, scattering the skull like an -egg-shell—gritting against his breast-bone the long knife.</p> - -<p>A husky, gasping sound broke from the stricken brave's lips; it could -scarce be called a death-yell. Yet it was heard—it and the furious -death-blows, as the quick, sharp exclamations evinced.</p> - -<p>Plucking his weapons from their quivering sheath, Lightfoot raised his -voice in one loud, clear yell of taunting defiance as he spurned the -corpse from him, and plunged into the darkness beyond.</p> - -<p>For a moment his enemies stood as if confounded. Something in this bold -defiance puzzled them. It seemed the act of a madman, or of one who had -some particular point in view that he so daringly invited pursuit.</p> - -<p>Once more there came the sound of a brief struggle—again the outcast -uttered his shrill, taunting whoop. No longer hesitating, the -Pottawatomies dashed forward in hot pursuit.</p> - -<p>Crouching down in their leafy covert, the fugitives waited and listened -in acute suspense, scarce daring to breathe. They knew that enemies, -deadly, vindictive and marvelously keen-sensed, were gathered around -them, thirsting for blood, each moment drawing the meshes of the web -closer. They knew this by the low, peculiar signals that quavered upon -the air with the passage of every few moments, now from one side, now -the other, drawing nearer and nearer as the savages carefully searched -the undergrowth.</p> - -<p>Boone and Mordaunt listened painfully, their muscles strung, their -weapons in readiness for use when the fatal moment should arrive. They -listened for some sound from Lightfoot. Would he be in time? Or if so, -would the enemy all be deceived?</p> - -<p>The suspense was fearfully trying, but fortunately did not last long. -Crouching there, the fugitives heard the loud yell of Lightfoot, as he -sprung away from his first victim.</p> - -<p>The women shuddered as the cry echoed by, reverberating from the hills, -roaring through the tree-tops, strangely blending with the first -howlings of the tempest. Could it be human—the voice of a fiend?</p> - -<p>Yes—Boone recognized it without difficulty. Just then it sounded like -music in his ears.</p> - -<p>Other ears caught the sound, and with little cries the Osage warriors -sprung to their feet, bending forward, eagerly listening. They too -recognized the voice of the tribeless outcast!</p> - -<p>Crouching there, the fugitives could distinguish the outlines of more -than one savage foe, so near had they crept. Will they pass on? 'Tis a -moment of horrible suspense.</p> - -<p>Again the defiant cry of the Kickapoo sounds forth the death-knell of -a Pottawatomie, and then, with wild yells, the Osages leap forward, an -intense yearning scorching their hearts.</p> - -<p>Boone suddenly flattens his muscular figure to the earth, but the -effort is useless. A dark figure bounds through the air, crashing -through the frail bush, alighting fairly between the broad shoulders of -the Wood King.</p> - -<p>One of the Osages had blindly leaped upon Boone's back. A quick, -writhing movement, and the savage is hurled head-foremost to the -ground. And then a grip of iron is fastened upon his throat. A bright -blade hisses through the air and buries its length in the Indian's back.</p> - -<p>Stricken to death, the savage struggles and writhes convulsively, with -what seems more than mortal strength. The hunter's fingers contract -like the claw of an eagle, and the heavy knife once more buries itself -in the quivering flesh.</p> - -<p>With one frantic effort the savage frees his throat and gives utterance -to a maniacal shriek of death-agony. Then, as though satisfied that his -death would speedily be avenged, he lay motionless at the feet of the -old scout, dead!</p> - -<p>"Hist! for your lives! Don't stir a peg!" hissed the Wood King, as -Mordaunt partially arose.</p> - -<p>The death-shriek of the Osage had reached the ears of his comrades, and -they paused, startled, alarmed. All was still now, save the far-away -yells of the Pottawatomies, as they darted away in pursuit of Lightfoot.</p> - -<p>The fugitives' hearts beat high. They prayed that the savages might -pass on, lured by the thrilling chorus beyond. But this was not to be.</p> - -<p>Several of the braves turned and cautiously retraced their steps, -signaling each other constantly. Boone placed his lips close to -Mordaunt's ear, muttering:</p> - -<p>"If they find us, give 'em the best you've got. Tell the women to slip -off through the bushes at the fust yell—not afore. Speak sharp, so -they'll mind."</p> - -<p>Mordaunt obeyed. Half-paralyzed with terror the women promised to -follow his directions.</p> - -<p>Boone clenched his teeth. He saw that discovery was inevitable. Already -he could distinguish several dusky figures gradually nearing their -covert, and, knowing the advantage of dealing the first blow, signed to -Mordaunt to follow his example.</p> - -<p>The long rifle sprung to his shoulder, being cocked at the same moment. -Then it spoke, the bright flash illumining the spot for yards around, -also revealing full half a score crouching savages. A death-yell was -blended with the report—followed by another, as the settler's rifle -vomited forth its contents.</p> - -<p>"Scatter now!" hissed Boone, rolling rapidly aside, barely escaping -several bullets and arrows that tore the ground beneath the bushes.</p> - -<p>His further words were drowned by the angry yells of the infuriated -Osages, as they sprung forward, thirsting for blood.</p> - -<p>A horrible scene then transpired in the gloom. A ferocious <i>melée</i>—a -struggle for life or death.</p> - -<p>Twice the savages reeled back from before the pale-faces, but again -they surged forward, their number constantly augmenting. One, two, -three minutes of deadly strife. Then Edward Mordaunt sunk down upon -the pile of dead savages, his skull cloven in twain. A shriek of agony -burst from the wife as she witnessed his fall, and, forgetful of self, -she tottered forward with outstretched arms as though to protect him. A -blow—a groan—husband and wife united, never more to part!</p> - -<p>Edith shrieked as an Indian seized her, with uplifted hatchet. A dark -form sprung between—the Osage fell dead. Strong arms carried her a -few steps, then relaxed their grasp. A momentary flash of lightning -revealed to her the convulsed features of Lightfoot—then she saw no -more; she had swooned.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">CHAPTER III.</p> - -<p class="ph1">THE CHIEF'S PERIL.</p> - - -<p>The face upon which Edith Mordaunt's eyes fell during the momentary -glare of the lightning, was indeed that of Lightfoot, the Kickapoo -outcast.</p> - -<p>Even as his daring ruse seemed fully successful, he heard the double -report—the wild yell of angry vengeance that told of his friends' -discovery by the Osage braves. He knew that Yellow-hair was in peril -most imminent, and the knowledge nearly crazed him.</p> - -<p>Like a madman he turned abruptly and rushed back toward the spot -where he had left his friends, caring nothing for the risk he himself -run—thinking only of <i>her</i>. Bewildered by this new alarm, taken by -surprise by the desperate rush of the outlawed chief, the Pottawatomies -allowed their enemy to slip through their fingers, when the game was -fairly their own.</p> - -<p>Halting for nothing, Lightfoot dashed on at top speed, fearing lest -he should be too late. He sprung into the little opening with drawn -hatchet and knife.</p> - -<p>He heard Edith shriek, and thus guided, he sprung to her side. A brawny -Osage stood bending her head backward by the long hair, a blood-stained -tomahawk brandished on high.</p> - -<p>With a fierce, grating snarl, Lightfoot leaped at his throat. Then -followed a swift stroke—the savage writhed in death-agonies at the -feet of the Kickapoo.</p> - -<p>"Lightfoot save you, or die!" muttered the chief, as he gathered the -trembling form to his broad breast.</p> - -<p>He sprung forward a few steps, then faltered, his eyes dazzled, -blinded by the unusually vivid flash of lightning that shed around the -brightness of noonday.</p> - -<p>A dark form leaped before him—a heavy weapon fell with a dull -<i>thud</i> full upon the unprotected head, and Lightfoot sunk lifeless -to the ground. Edith shrieked faintly as she recognized the stricken -form—then, with a dim sense of being tight clasped by strong arms to a -broad breast, her senses reeled and she fainted.</p> - -<p>And Boone, the Wood King?</p> - -<p>He fought bravely, desperately, with the strength, skill and activity -of renewed youth. He struggled on while a gleam of hope remained—until -he alone of that little band of fugitives was left upon his feet. All -were down—either dead, dying, or senseless.</p> - -<p>Then he thought of his own safety. Flight, instant and speedy, alone -could save him, before the scattered Osages could fairly surround him.</p> - -<p>Calling into play every muscle of his stout frame, he sprung forward, -swinging the long, heavy rifle before him. Two savages fell before its -tremendous sweep, and an opening was made.</p> - -<p>Through this Boone darted, striking down, broken and helpless, the arm -that was raised to stay his flight. Then a wild thrill ran through his -veins as he realized that all his foes were behind him—and a single -exultant yell broke from his lips as he darted away through the -forest, entering upon a stern, desperate race for freedom, if not life.</p> - -<p>His shout told the Osages all, and they dashed after him with yells -of horrible rage, that not even the deafening peal of thunder could -entirely drown.</p> - -<p>At least the defiant cry of the Wood King was productive of one good -result, whatever might be its effect otherwise. Lightfoot was just -staggering to his feet, when Boone broke away, and drawn off by the -cry, the Osages passed him without notice.</p> - -<p>Still confused by the heavy blow that had felled him to the ground, -Lightfoot supported himself by a bush, and stared around him. The storm -was beginning to rage, the lightning-flashes followed each other in -rapid succession, lighting up a soul-harrowing scene.</p> - -<p>A glimpse of a woman's garments roused Lightfoot from his half-stupor, -and with an inarticulate cry he sprung forward and sunk to his knees. -Breathlessly he waited for the next gleam of lightning.</p> - -<p>In that score of seconds he suffered the tortures of the damned. He -knew that he knelt beside the dead. His hand rested shudderingly upon -the shattered skull of a woman. He feared it was that of Yellow-hair.</p> - -<p>The character of Lightfoot may seem exaggerated—overdrawn, but not -so. True, he was an Indian among a thousand, but such a being really -lived and breathed. Edith Mordaunt had, by her tender care and skillful -nursing, brought him safely out from the very shadow of death. He owed -his life to her. He was ready to repay the debt; for her sake he had -renounced his tribe, his people, his faith—for her he had become an -outcast. He would have died to spare her one moment's pang. And now he -believed he was kneeling beside her dead and mangled body.</p> - -<p>The flash of lightning came, and a cry of joy broke from the Indian's -lips. The blood-stained hair beneath his hand was gray—almost white: -that of Mrs. Mordaunt.</p> - -<p>His cry was echoed by that of another being—faint and rattling. As the -lightning died away, he turned quickly toward the point from whence it -proceeded. All was intensely dark: he could distinguish nothing.</p> - -<p>Again the lightning cast a brilliant glow over the scene, and revealed -to Lightfoot his peril. Only a few yards distant an Osage crouched low -to the ground, a bent bow in his hands, the barbed shaft pointed full -at his heart.</p> - -<p>This much he saw, and then the glow died out. At the same moment a -faint <i>twang</i> met his ear, and a burning pain seemed tearing deep to -his very heart.</p> - -<p>With an angry snarl he sprung forward, grappling with the Osage. It was -an unresisting enemy. Not a quiver or a moan followed the knife-thrust. -With the loosing of the arrow, the spirit of the Osage brave had fled -to its happy hunting-grounds. True to his teaching, his last act was to -deal the enemy a blow.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot felt at his breast A few drops of blood stained his fingers, -but the arrow was gone. He probed the wound—it was but a trifle. The -strength of the dying brave had not equaled his determination.</p> - -<p>The Kickapoo arose, and by the quick-following flashes of lightning -carefully scrutinized the spot. To his joy he found nothing of -Edith—because by that he knew that she still lived.</p> - -<p>In the alternate gloom and brightness he glided around, stooping -momentarily over each one of the dead savages. He was an Indian. He -knew how to strike his living enemies sorest. On the morrow the Osage -tribe would wail over their scalpless dead.</p> - -<p>Standing erect, he flung back his head as though bidding defiance to -the lightning's shaft, the thunder's bolt, as the long-pent-up storm -broke in all its fury. The wild, thrilling scalp-cry of the Kickapoos -resounded through the hills and forest—then the outcast chief turned -and disappeared in the darkness.</p> - -<p>And now the flashes came less frequent, the thunder-peals less heavy; -the rain falls in torrents, as though eager to wipe out forever the -evidences of crime and bloodshed that stained the earth's fair surface.</p> - -<p>Believing himself the only survivor, and knowing that his only hope of -escape with life was in speedy flight, Boone darted away through the -forest, closely followed by united Osage and Pottawatomie braves. In -that darkness, only relieved by the dazzling flashes of lightning that -left all in even denser gloom than before, by force of contrast, flight -was not only difficult but dangerous.</p> - -<p>Yet the veteran ranger, thoroughly skilled in the craft that had been -the study of his life, wound his way through the tree-trunks growing -so thickly around, over fallen timber and other obstacles, with truly -marvelous celerity and ease. But after him came others equally as -expert, fired by a burning thirst for vengeance upon the one who had -that night dealt them such a bitter blow.</p> - -<p>Boone had already shaped the details of a plan by which he hoped to -escape his pursuers, and now bent every energy of his body to the first -point: that of gaining a few yards greater lead. With this purpose he -dashed ahead at a dangerous pace, though knowing that a single misstep -might end in his death or capture.</p> - -<p>At this point the storm broke in all its fury and in it the scout -recognized a truly welcome ally. The rain fell in torrents, pattering -loudly upon the tree-tops, that soon began to shed their watery load -upon the undergrowth beneath their boughs.</p> - -<p>A few moments later Boone suddenly paused, pressing close to the -gnarled trunk of a huge tree that had been momentarily revealed by the -glare of lightning. Here, holding his breath, trying to still the loud -throbbings of his heart, he stood with knife tight clenched in his -hand, to await the result of his ruse.</p> - -<p>One, two, half a dozen savages dash by, running with hushed voices now, -for they dread losing their prey, since the tempest so nearly drowns -his footfalls. Then others pass by panting, losing hope with each step.</p> - -<p>A minute passes—then a wild yell comes from beyond the point toward -which the savages had chased a phantom. They had missed their prey. -Boone smiled grimly.</p> - -<p>"Yelp on, ye blood-thirsty curs—yelp on till your throats split with -hate an' fury. The trail's broken—the nose of a true-bred hound -couldn't splice it now," muttered the Wood King.</p> - -<p>Rapidly gliding a few yards to the right, Boone paused beneath a -broad-spreading elm tree, and clutching the ivy vines that shrouded -its trunk, clambered up to the limbs. When nearly a score feet from the -ground he paused, and crouching down upon the gnarled limb, listened -intently.</p> - -<p>Numerous signals filled the air, the voices of birds and beasts, but -the veteran smiled contemptuously at the frail disguise, perfect as the -imitations were. On such a night not even the panther ventured from -its den, still less the feathered tribe. He knew that the savages were -beating the forest for him, knowing that he had put some such ruse in -operation as the one described.</p> - -<p>"Let them hunt—an owl couldn't spy me out here in the night, an' -I reckon they'll tire of it afore day," muttered Boone, carefully -shielding the lock of his rifle from the rain-drops.</p> - -<p>More then once during that long night he could hear the cat-like -footsteps of the savages, as they prowled about hoping to light upon -some trace of their enemy. But then all grew still, save the dull, -monotonous patter of the rain-drops upon the already saturated leaves.</p> - -<p>Gradually the old hunter yielded to his fatigue, and leaning back -against the gnarled tree-trunk, slept on peacefully and calmly as -though in a bed beneath a hospitable roof. And when he awoke, the -new day had dawned, the sun-rays were just tinging the crests of the -tallest trees.</p> - -<p>The storm was over, and the fresh-washed face of Nature appeared doubly -beautiful. The feathered denizens of the forest were in full voice, and -for a moment the Wood King lay listening, half-dreamily, for the moment -forgetful of the dread events of the past night.</p> - -<p>But then he remembered all; once more he was the stern wood-ranger. -Listening intently, his keen eyes roved over every foot of ground -visible from his perch. A rapidly-flitting bird—a pair of playful gray -squirrels met his gaze; nothing human—nothing of the savages who had -hunted him so hard the night just past.</p> - -<p>Noiselessly he turned and forced the wiping-stick into his rifle. The -barrel had dried during the night. Then he loaded it carefully, packing -powder into the vent, priming it and then scraping the flint. He knew -that his life might depend upon the fidelity of his rifle.</p> - -<p>With the lightness of the velvet-footed panther, Boone dropped to the -ground, thumb upon hammer, finger touching the trigger, and glared -around. But his suspicions were unfounded. No enemy was near. They had -abandoned the search in despair, knowing that, their blows begun, there -could be no rest for them while a single pale-face drew breath in the -Osage country. Night and day they must labor, or a fearful retribution -would overtake them.</p> - -<p>Cautiously, with ready rifle, Boone retraced his steps toward the -opening that had been the scene of death. He had no hope of finding any -of his friends alive, yet he could not restrain the impulse that urged -him on.</p> - -<p>He stood upon the edge of the opening. The scene of the massacre was -marked by the snarling, scuffling forms of half a dozen wolves. As the -hunter strode forward, they slunk away, howling lugubriously.</p> - -<p>Stout-hearted, iron-willed though he was, Boone felt a thrill of -horror creep over his frame as he gazed down upon the torn and -trampled ground. A few tattered fragments of clothing—a number of -bare, dismembered bones, nothing more. The four-footed scavengers had -completed the work of their brother wolves in human form. This was all -that was left of the true-hearted settler and his wife. The hunter -turned pale even through the deep sun-dye, and fierce words gritted -through his tight-clenched teeth.</p> - -<p>"May God's curse rest upon the black-hearted devils, until every -mother's son o' them is like these poor critters! To think that only -yest'day they was all well an' hearty, an' little Edith—ha!"</p> - -<p>He paused abruptly in his mutterings and glanced hurriedly -around—almost wildly. Could it be? Only <i>two</i> skulls were -visible—only two! Then where were the others? Those of Edith and -Lightfoot?</p> - -<p>"Kin it be they got off? Sure I saw 'em both fall!"</p> - -<p>With heart throbbing painfully the old scout reached the vicinity, -fearing the worst—scarce daring to hope.</p> - -<p>Then he paused, glancing quickly toward the forest. The sound of -footsteps rustling among the undergrowth caught his ear, and he -crouched down behind a scrubby bush, with rifle cocked in readiness for -use.</p> - -<p>A human figure stepped into view, followed by another. Boone sprung to -his feet, for he recognized them. They were white men—settlers.</p> - -<p>"Fosdick—an' you, Kingsley, is all well at the settlements?" eagerly -cried Boone, springing forward.</p> - -<p>"Yas—but thar's b'en black work 'mong the outlyin' cabins, it seems. -So much fer trustin' the red devils too fur—ef all 'd 'a' be'n o' my -mind, this wouldn't 'a' happened, fer lack o' hands to do it with," -growled the burly borderer.</p> - -<p>In cooler blood, though, even Fosdick was forced to admit that <i>all</i> -the Indians were not bad, since to timely information given by several, -the "Boone's Lick Settlement" was saved from almost entire massacre, -and the insurrection nipped in the bud; only a few of the more isolated -cabins were destroyed and the settlers killed.</p> - -<p>"How did you chaince to hear of this so soon?"</p> - -<p>"Abe Dare brung us word—"</p> - -<p>"Abe Dare—then the varmints didn't kill him 'th the rest?" echoed -Boone, in astonishment.</p> - -<p>"No—he's thar by the cabin—or rather what <i>was</i> the cabin, 'th some -o' the boys, a-pickin' up the old folks."</p> - -<p>Boone hastened to the spot, and found the truth had been told. Here -too the four-footed wolves had been at their horrible feast. Around -the still smoldering ruins the bones of the ill-fated settlers were -scattered.</p> - -<p>The hunter found Abel Dare pale and stony—sadly changed by that -night's events. Boone wondered if he yet knew all, but feared to put -the question that would decide his doubts.</p> - -<p>From the talk of the settlers he learned how it came that Dare had -escaped the massacre of his adopted parents, for the young man spoke -never a word. Pale and icy stern he worked on, hollowing out a rude -grave to contain all that remained on earth of his loved ones.</p> - -<p>That evening Abel Dare had visited the Mordaunt cabin, for Edith -was his promised wife. On his return home he met the little son of -a neighbor, going in quest of assistance. By an awkward fall his -father had broken a leg. Abel returned with the boy, and by that act -of kindness, in all probability escaped death. The fracture was a -simple one, and he managed to set it. Scarcely had he succeeded, when -the little boy spoke of a bright light over the hill-top. Its position -roused Dare's fears—he believed it to be from his own clearing. At -top speed he hastened there—but too late. The tragedy was over. His -friends had rushed forth from the blazing pile, only to meet death at -the hands of the demoniac savages. He could see their ghastly bodies -lying in the full glare of the fire, with the yelling, exultant fiends -dancing around in mad glee.</p> - -<p>His rifle sprung to his shoulder, and the hammer fell; but with a -simple <i>click</i>. In his mad race through the forest the flint had fallen -out. This discovery recalled his senses. The savages numbered over -a score; to attack them now would but insure his own death—and he -resolved to live <i>for vengeance</i>. With this thought uppermost in his -mind, he turned and hastened at top speed for the settlements, never -faltering once on the long trail, his muscles nerved by the sight he -had just witnessed. He found the settlement greatly excited. Some -friendly Indians had betrayed the plot for its destruction. Yet half a -dozen men answered his appeal, for the most part single men, hunters -and scouts—the ones who were now with him.</p> - -<p>In silence Boone listened to the plans—if such they could be -called—of the scouts. They swore vengeance upon the tribe of -Pottawatomies in general. An Indian was an Indian to them; whether -their hands had shed <i>this</i> blood mattered not. "A life for a -life"—true border law—this was their creed.</p> - -<p>"An' thar drops number one!" snarled Jim Fosdick, throwing up his -rifle, as a dusky form stepped out into the clearing and advanced -toward them.</p> - -<p>"Stop!" cried Boone, knocking up the weapon, sending the ragged bullet -hissing over the tree-tops. "That's a true fri'nd—hurt him, an' you -must deal 'th <i>me</i>!"</p> - -<p>"He's a Injun," muttered the scout, sullenly.</p> - -<p>"But his heart's white; he resked his life last night to save the -Mordaunts—"</p> - -<p>"What—what did you say, old man?" cried Abel Dare, rousing from his -apathy, his face flushing, his eyes glowing like living coals.</p> - -<p>"Be cool, boy; 'tain't so bad but it might be wuss," muttered Boone, -uneasily, beckoning for the Indian to approach, for Lightfoot had -started toward cover at his unceremonious reception. "I don't -think—that is, I hope the gal is alive."</p> - -<p>Abel Dare sunk to the ground in a nerveless heap, with a groan of -heart-rending despair. This new blow, following so closely what he had -already undergone, broke down his forced composure, and he wept like -a child. Boone motioned the men aside. He knew that it was better so; -these tears might ease the over-tasked brain, and keep it from utterly -giving way.</p> - -<p>By his directions, the scouts gathered the remains of Mordaunt and -his wife together, and placed them in a shallow grave, while he and -Lightfoot searched the vicinity in the faint hope of finding some -trace of Edith. But their efforts were unavailing. The heavy rain had -obliterated all footprints.</p> - -<p>Boone closely questioned the Kickapoo, but instead of throwing any -light upon the subject, his statement rendered the uncertainty still -deeper.</p> - -<p>On recovering his senses, he had followed on after the Indians who were -hunting for Boone, mingling with them in the darkness without fear of -discovery. He soon learned that Edith was not with them, but neither -was the White Wolf, Seth Grable. Still hoping to learn something -of her—and resolving to free her, if need be, at the cost of his -life—Lightfoot kept near the savages, even after they abandoned their -hunt for Boone. They returned to the opening, to find their own dead -<i>scalped</i>. Their rage and shame were delicious morsels to the Kickapoo. -Carrying these to the hill, they hid the bodies in a gully, then set -forth on their mission of blood. Knowing that Edith would not be taken -upon such a tramp, Lightfoot left them and searched elsewhere; but all -in vain. He could find no trace of either her or Grable.</p> - -<p>"But we <i>will</i> find her, if alive—I swear to it!" and then the two men -crossed palms; in each other's eyes they read the same resolve.</p> - -<p>At this moment Abel Dare came up, ghastly pale, his eyes glowing like -those of a madman's. In husky tones he called upon the men to follow -him—that he would lead them to strike a blow for vengeance. The scouts -seemed to catch the infection—they cheered wildly and then followed -the lead of the half-crazed man.</p> - -<p>Only Boone and Lightfoot held back. Yet they did not expostulate. They -knew how useless that would be.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">CHAPTER IV.</p> - -<p class="ph1">THE OSAGE VILLAGE.</p> - - -<p>Boone seemed perplexed and ill at ease. For some minutes he watched -Lightfoot as he quartered the opening like a hound searching for a lost -scent; but then a signal called the Kickapoo to his side. With a few -low words, Boone turned and retraced the route they had followed the -night before in their flight from the Osages.</p> - -<p>The clearing that once contained the happy and peaceful home of -Mordaunt, was gained. A heap of black, unsightly ruins was all that was -now left.</p> - -<p>Making a circuit of the clearing, the scouts knew that no human being -had been there since the rain ceased. Boone frowned, though he had -scarcely dared hope for a different result.</p> - -<p>Pausing beneath the shelter of a tree, the scouts consulted on -their future course. Blind as the trail was, neither one dreamed of -abandoning the search until they should either rescue Edith or obtain -proof of her death.</p> - -<p>A sudden recollection caused Lightfoot's eyes to glisten—his hopes to -rise. He believed he possessed a clue by which the broken trail might -be regained.</p> - -<p>Several times mention has been made of Seth Grable, a mongrel renegade, -also that he boasted the possession of several squaws. Lightfoot -knew that one at least of these lived apart from her tribe and was -frequently visited by the White Wolf at her little cabin in a snug -valley beside the Osage. By mere accident Lightfoot had made this -discovery, while out hunting, and now as he recalled the lone and -well-hidden refuge, he believed Edith would be concealed there by the -renegade until the storm blew over.</p> - -<p>"The idee's wuth a trial, anyhow," said Boone, in a thoughtful tone. -"'T any rate, we kin find whar the varmints crossed the river. Lead on."</p> - -<p>Lightfoot glided forward, with Boone steadily tramping at his heels. -The distance was considerable, and the sun was high in the heavens -before the valley was reached. Cautiously the scouts crept toward -the little vine-covered cabin, though there was little need of their -precautions, for the nest was empty. The rain-softened earth around -retained no trace of feet—the cabin had evidently been deserted before -the storm.</p> - -<p>The scouts looked at each other in silence. Their disappointment -was great. Another hope was gone. Would the broken trail ever be -united—the lost one found?</p> - -<p>In dogged silence they headed up-stream. Across the river, stood the -village of the Osages, yet miles distant. If Edith had not been taken -there, they knew not what to think.</p> - -<p>For nearly an hour they pressed on, closely scrutinizing the -river-bank, so as not to overlook any trail. Then both scouts paused -abruptly.</p> - -<p>Now, as on the fatal night just past, the sound of firearms and human -voices raised in anger came to their ears from the direction they -were following. A moment Boone hearkened, then muttered, as he sprung -forward:</p> - -<p>"It's the boys—they've run ag'in' a nest of the varmints. Come, chief, -we must lend 'em a hand."</p> - -<p>The two scouts dashed forward along the river-bank at full speed, -the sounds of the conflict growing plainer and more distinct, now at -no great distance. Reaching the summit of a small hill, the scouts -momentarily paused.</p> - -<p>Below them were the combatants—a number of Pottawatomies and the -white settlers who had followed the reckless lead of Abel Dare. A true -bush-fight was in progress. Each man closely hugged his tree, stump or -log, carefully shielding himself, while keen to take advantage of any -false move of his adversary.</p> - -<p>Yet Boone's brow darkened as he took in the situation at a glance. -He saw that his friends were in really great peril—that they were -outnumbered, that the Pottawatomies were gradually spreading out so -as to command front and both flanks, where they could pick off the -settlers at their leisure.</p> - -<p>He glanced into Lightfoot's face. The answer to his unspoken question -was plainly written upon the Kickapoo's face. He too saw the peril -and was eager to baffle it, though more from hatred to the tribe of -Pottawatomies, than love for the hardly-bested white hunters.</p> - -<p>The distance was too great for Lightfoot to use his bow with effect, -and it was necessary for the success of their plans that the savages -should be terrified as well as surprised. Fifty yards below was a dense -clump of bushes, and toward this Lightfoot glided, trusting that, even -if observed, his features would not be recognized. Boone remained upon -the hill. His rifle easily commanded the enemy's position.</p> - -<p>Reaching the cover, Lightfoot quickly fitted an arrow to the bow, and -loosing it at the back of an exposed Pottawatomie, sent forth his -shrill, fear-inspiring war-cry. Almost simultaneously the rifle of the -Wood King spoke, and his full, deep voice sent encouragement to the -hearts of the settlers.</p> - -<p>Amazed, bewildered by this sudden and deadly attack in their rear, -the Pottawatomies leaped to their feet, glaring wildly around. -<i>Crack—crack—crack!</i> Then hastily reloaded rifles from among the -settlers were discharged—like a shaft of light another arrow sped from -Lightfoot's covert, rankling deep in the very heart of a battle-scarred -warrior.</p> - -<p>With a loud cheer Boone broke cover, dashing down the hill. The -settlers answer him—so does Lightfoot. The Pottawatomies believe -themselves surrounded and outnumbered. With cries of dismay they turn -and flee, leaving their dead and dying behind them.</p> - -<p>They are not pursued far. The settlers have learned a lesson in -prudence that they will not soon forget. One of their number is dead, -another at his last gasp, while scarcely one of the others but bears -some token of the struggle. Yet the savages had suffered far more -severely, since, in all, nine dead bodies marked the accuracy of the -pale-faces' aim.</p> - -<p>Boone drew aside with Abel Dare, who seemed far more like his usual -self, though still fitful and wild in both actions and speech. In a -few words Boone heard all he had to tell. No trail had been found -or any adventure met with until they stood face to face with the -Pottawatomies, when, without stopping to calculate the chances, the -settlers began the fight.</p> - -<p>At this moment Jim Fosdick advanced, evidently as spokesman of the -party. He said they had accomplished what they set out to do—dealt a -blow at the enemy and secured more than scalp for scalp. That their -duty now was to help protect the settlements.</p> - -<p>Abel Dare began a testy reply, but Boone checked him.</p> - -<p>"They're right, lad, though you mayn't think so just now. Every man's -arms is needed thar, for thar the varmints will strike the heaviest -licks. It's right—don't say any thing ag'in' thar goin'."</p> - -<p>"And you, too! So be it—I will work alone. Though all the rest abandon -you, Edith, I will save you, or die! For <i>you</i> don't think those devils -murdered her, do you?" he wildly added, imploringly gazing into the -face of the old hunter.</p> - -<p>"No, I don't. Never mind my reasons just now. But see—I b'lieve she's -alive; that I kin find her—an' I've swore that I'll git her away from -the varmints if mortal man kin do it," quietly replied Boone.</p> - -<p>"Then you ain't goin' back with us?"</p> - -<p>"No, Jim; the chief an' I have other work on hand."</p> - -<p>"And I—I go too."</p> - -<p>"You'd better go back with the boys, Abel. We two kin do all that's -needed, 'specially as sarcumvention must come into play."</p> - -<p>"I <i>will</i> go—if not with you, then alone," doggedly added Dare, his -black eyes gleaming.</p> - -<p>"All right—you shall go."</p> - -<p>A few more words were spoken and then the party separated, the settlers -carrying with them the bodies of their friends, to bury them in some -spot where the savages would not be likely to unearth them for the sake -of their scalps. The three scouts continued up the river-bank, shortly -after, crossing at the ford previously mentioned.</p> - -<p>At mid-afternoon they paused, and composed themselves to rest, snugly -ensconced in a dense thicket that covered the summit of a hill -overlooking the Osage village. They needed rest, and could do nothing -until the shades of night fell upon the earth.</p> - -<p>But few words were wasted in idle speech. During their tramp the -subject had been sufficiently discussed, and each perfectly understood -the part allotted to himself. Their search for Edith was to begin at -this point, since it was the village of that portion of the Osage tribe -to which Seth Garble had allied himself. Since the captive was not at -his own private cabin, she must be here.</p> - -<p>Boone and Dare lay down beneath the cooling foliage and were speedily -sound asleep. Lightfoot, though his eyes had been sleepless for at -least forty-eight hours, remained at his post overlooking the village, -seemingly as tireless as though a mere machine.</p> - -<p>The village seemed unusually lively and bustling, though, as he could -see, the crowd consisted mainly of squaws and pappooses, with a few -able-bodied warriors—probably a score, in all. Through his watch, he -saw nothing of Grable or Edith. Yet there was nothing in that to be -wondered at.</p> - -<p>The sun had long disappeared when Lightfoot touched Boone and Dare, as -a signal that the time was at hand for their work to begin. The sky was -clear and cloudless, the stars twinkled brightly though the moon had -not yet risen.</p> - -<p>"It's all understood, then," said Boone, with an uneasy glance at Abel. -"The chief is to enter the village an' find out whether the gal is in -there or no. We're to wait for him outside."</p> - -<p>"Yes—but it seems to me a coward part to play," muttered Dare, -fingering the knife at his belt.</p> - -<p>"It's <i>policy</i>. The chief is of thar own color, understands the lingo -as well as his own tongue. He kin go unsuspected whar we'd be found out -at a glimpse. You must see it's for the best; an', mind ye, Abel, you -mustn't strike in out o' turn, or we'll leave you to do the job in your -own way."</p> - -<p>Dare grumbled something about its being hard to be forced to remain -idle while others worked, but agreed to obey. Then the trio cautiously -glided down the hillside and neared the outskirts of the Indian village.</p> - -<p>This was a permanent place of habitation, where the Osages had lived -for many years, and was of a substantial nature. The village was -pitched amidst hills, to protect it from the cold winds of winter, -close to a creek that wound through the valley, only a few hundred -yards from the forest that furnished them with fuel for their meals. -Most of the huts were built of mud, with bark roofs—a few were of -stone rudely held up with clay mortar. Beyond the huts rose a stout, -commodious horse-corral, with boundaries defined by high walls of -timber, fallen trees dragged into place, strengthened by stakes planted -firmly in the ground.</p> - -<p>At the edge of the clearing Lightfoot left his comrades, and glided -out from the trees. Crouching low down in the gloom, he glided rapidly -toward the corral, then partially skirting the village.</p> - -<p>Gaining the wall, he paused to reconnoiter. The village was all -alive. A number of fires burned brightly. The savages were hastening -to and fro, or gathered in little knots, gossiping. There seemed -little likelihood of their settling down for the night. To enter the -lighted street was almost certain discovery, and that meant death to -the Kickapoo, now. Yet he did not hesitate long. A quick gesture, and -he was changed. A moment's fumbling altered his scalp-lock into that -of a Fox. His form seemed to sink into itself, becoming less tall, -more squat. In the grotesquely distorted features, one could scarcely -recognize the handsome Kickapoo chief.</p> - -<p>A moment later and he was within the lighted village, stalking -leisurely along, brushing shoulders with his most deadly enemies, -unsuspected. Yet, though he had almost completed the circuit of the -village, passing within earshot of each group of gossips, lingering -near each cabin, Lightfoot gained no knowledge of the one he sought. -Could it be that she was not in the village?</p> - -<p>He paused beside one of the cabins and listened intently. The sound -of low voices reached his ear, though but indistinctly. There seemed -something familiar in the tones of one of the speakers that sent a -thrill through his veins. With bated breath Lightfoot hearkened.</p> - -<p>The voices ceased, and the chief heard a light footstep. Mechanically -he started erect, but instead of seeking cover, he stood out in the -full glow of the firelight, once more Lightfoot, the handsome war-chief -of the Kickapoos. The footsteps came nearer—a light form turned the -corner of the cabin, then paused, with a faint exclamation of surprise. -Only for a moment; then the plump form was clasped tightly to the -breast of the Indian scout, as he drew back into the deeper shadow.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot forgot his mission, the peril he ran, every thing save the -presence of the Indian maiden who yielded herself so freely to his warm -embrace. Forgetful of all else, he poured soft words into her ears, for -the moment acting like a true lover, no longer the cool, calculating -warrior.</p> - -<p>Feather-Cloud was the daughter of a Kickapoo sub-chief. She had won -Lightfoot's love a year since, but the opposition of our friend -to the tribal alliance prejudiced the old chief against him. That -Feather-Cloud was now on a visit to some friends among the Osages, is -all that need be said.</p> - -<p>Though Lightfoot knew it not, jealous eyes were upon him. The rapturous -meeting with Feather-Cloud had been witnessed by a young warrior, who -was now creeping closer, his ear strained to catch their words. And he -soon heard enough to know that an enemy had entered the village of his -people.</p> - -<p>The Kickapoo's first intimation of danger was in a shrill yell that -rung out close behind him, and then a heavy form precipitated itself -full upon his back. Staggered by the rude awaking as much as the shock, -Lightfoot reeled and fell to the ground.</p> - -<p>But his surprise was only momentary. Scarce had he touched the ground -when all his faculties returned.</p> - -<p>The Osage clutched his throat with suffocating force, his yell of alarm -ringing through the village with startling distinctness, only to be -taken up by a score of throats as the warriors sprung in a body toward -the spot.</p> - -<p>The sinewy hands of Lightfoot rose and clutched the throat of his -antagonist, his fingers almost meeting in the yielding flesh, while -the bones fairly seemed to give way beneath the enormous pressure. -Quivering in every fiber, the Osage relaxed his grasp, and casting his -enemy from him like a child, the Kickapoo sprung upon his feet, knife -and tomahawk flashing in his nervous grip.</p> - -<p>Not a moment too soon. From every quarter came the Osage warriors. -Behind them flocked the squaws and children. All were yelling in -confused chorus. It seemed a scene from Pandemonium.</p> - -<p>Uttering his thrilling war-cry, the outcast chief leaped forward, -without awaiting the onset. With a motion rapid as thought, the heavy -tomahawk fell; when it rose again it was stained a bright-red hue, and -ruby drops fell from the once untarnished blade. Again and again it -descended, now drinking the life-blood of an Osage, now parrying some -deadly blow aimed at its wielder's life.</p> - -<p>It was a thrilling sight to see that one man struggling against such -fearful odds—fighting for liberty, for life! To see the blood-stained -weapons flash in the weird flickering of the camp-fires; to hear the -fatal blow, the half-stifled exclamation, as some keen weapon pierced -the sensitive flesh; to see here a human form fall to the earth, -perchance to rise no more, or else struggle to his feet and again -plunge into the <i>melée</i>.</p> - -<p>Fiercely, desperately Lightfoot fought, now out in the full glow of -the firelight. At first his life had been aimed at, and despite his -wondrous skill and celerity, more than one weapon had tasted his blood. -But then the name of the outcast was echoed from lip to lip, and the -cry arose to capture him for the torture-post.</p> - -<p>Choosing rather to die at once, Lightfoot sprung upon the Osages with -desperate fury, dealing his blows with lightning rapidity, leaving -behind and around him a swath of dead and wounded. With superhuman -strength, he slowly pressed through the cordon, and then, with one -triumphant whoop, he cut down the last warrior that barred his road to -freedom, and darted forward toward the friendly forest, where, once it -was gained, he would be comparatively safe.</p> - -<p>But even in the moment of triumph he was foiled. A boy flung himself in -the way, clasping the Kickapoo's legs with all his members—even biting -at them like a bull-dog.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot fell heavily to the ground. Before he could arise, or regain -the blood-stained weapons that were torn from his grasp by the fall, -half a score Osages were upon his back.</p> - -<p>A confused struggle—then Lightfoot was lifted up, bound hand and foot. -The Osage yell of triumph rung out loud and clear.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot smiled grimly as he glanced around. He had carved his name -in broad and deep letters upon their ranks. Their victory had been a -costly one.</p> - -<p>At this moment a cry came from the forest. The Osages answered it. -A few minutes later, a considerable body of Indians—both Osages -and Pottawatomies—entered the village. One approached and spat in -Lightfoot's face. It was the White Wolf—Seth Grable.</p> - -<p>Making no reply, the Kickapoo glanced quickly around. A ferocious fire -filled his eye as he caught a glimpse of a white woman being led into a -cabin. In the firelight, her hair, floating loosely over her shoulder, -shone with a golden gleam.</p> - -<p>The savages gathered together, and the White Wolf addressed them in -hot, forcible words. Others followed him, the majority supporting his -argument.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot listened to them, his features composed and cold. Though -his life swung in the balance, he appeared to take no interest in the -matter.</p> - -<p>Grable called for the outcast's immediate death—his death by the -fire-torture. In answer to those who advocated delay until the -entire tribe were assembled, he pointed out the great esteem—almost -adoration—in which Lightfoot had been held by his tribe before his -recent sentence, and hinted that the Kickapoos might interfere to save -him, when the Osages who had fallen by the traitor's hand must go -unavenged.</p> - -<p>This argument carried the day, and in the blood-thirsty yells of the -savages Lightfoot read his doom.</p> - -<p>The warriors who held him now securely bound him to a post, then -hastened off to assist in the preparations for the torture. Lightfoot -strained at his bonds with all the strength of his mighty muscles, but -in vain. The bonds were too stout to break, too well applied to slip or -come untied.</p> - -<p>He saw the Osages collecting fuel and placing it round a post, at a -little distance from where he was bound. Escape seemed impossible.</p> - -<p>A figure shrouded in a blanket glided past him, a fold of the garment -touching his person. Instinctively he glanced up. The figure abruptly -turned and repassed him, uttering two words:</p> - -<p>"<i>Be ready.</i>"</p> - -<p>The glance from a bright eye explained the meaning to the captive. The -figure was that of Feather-Cloud. She was working for his life.</p> - -<p>As though suspecting something of the kind, two braves came and stood -beside him, watching the growing of the death-pile. The respite was -rapidly shortening. Would Feather-Cloud be able to carry out her plan?</p> - -<p>As this thought flashed through his mind, Lightfoot felt a gentle touch -upon his arms where they passed around the post behind him. He was -answered. The Indian maiden was even then at work, unsuspected by the -warriors who stood by, within arm's-length.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot felt the bonds yield upon his feet, then upon his hands and -arms. Something cold and firm was slipped between his fingers. One hand -clutched the haft of a knife, the other that of a tomahawk.</p> - -<p>The lips of Feather-Cloud touched his hands, and then she glided away. -The time had come for action!</p> - -<p>Like lightning the double blow fell—death-stricken, the Osage -braves reeled back, uttering their quavering death-yells. Shrill and -triumphant rung out the war-cry of the Kickapoo as he turned and darted -toward the forest.</p> - -<p>He was nearly clear of the village before the Osages recovered from -their surprise. The pursuit was made, swift and instant.</p> - -<p>From before the fugitive two bright flashes illumine the scene—two -sharp reports break the air, and the pursuers falter as the -death-missiles break their ranks.</p> - -<p>But only for a moment—then they once more dart forward in deadly -pursuit.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">CHAPTER V.</p> - -<p class="ph1">SURROUNDED BY DEATH.</p> - - -<p>A shrill yell of exultation burst front Lightfoot's lips as he heard -the death-shrieks behind him, and right deftly did he improve the -advantage given him by the momentary hesitation of his pursuers, -darting forward with the speed of a well-conditioned race-horse. It -needed not the clear voice that shouted encouragement to him from out -the gloom, to tell him who were the daring marksmen. Lightfoot knew -that Boone and Dare had ventured from the forest in order to create a -diversion in his favor.</p> - -<p>But the savages quickly recovered from the confusion these shots had -thrown them into, and knowing—if only from there coming no other -reports—the number of the enemy, rushed forward with augmented fury. -Side by side the three scouts entered the woods; close after them the -Indians, yelling like very fiends.</p> - -<p>"Sep'rate—we'll meet you at the cave—by the river, chief," jerkingly -uttered Boone.</p> - -<p>No reply was made, but Lightfoot abruptly veered to the left, while -Boone and Dare ran on side by side. All thought of caution was -abandoned. The pursuers were too close for the fugitives to attempt -dodging, or trying to lessen the noise of their crashing footsteps. So -close were they that, when Lightfoot turned aside, the pursuers also -divided, resolved to win their prey by stern, desperate racing.</p> - -<p>For nearly a mile Lightfoot held his vantage with comparative ease, -thridding the tangled forest with the skill and ease that none but a -thorough woodsman can ever hope to attain. After that, he came upon -smoother traveling, breaking from the wood out upon a level, grassy -tract of open ground, fully a mile in width.</p> - -<p>The race, thus far, had not breathed the iron-limbed scout, though -thoroughly warming him up, removing the soreness he had begun to feel -from his wounds and bruises. And now as he entered the open, a clear, -exultant cry broke from his lips, and inhaling a deep draught of the -cool night-air, he bounded away over the level space with the litheness -and agility of a deer.</p> - -<p>With answering yells the Osages followed, straining every nerve to -overtake Lightfoot before he should reach the further side. Swift of -foot were they—some of them of wide renown—yet, foot by foot, the -outcast chief left them behind.</p> - -<p>Over two hundred yards in advance, Lightfoot plunged into the forest -again, uttering a taunting cry that half-crazed his pursuers. It seemed -as though his escape was fully assured—even the Osage braves began to -despair of overtaking him.</p> - -<p>And yet, even in the moment of his seeming triumph, an accident -occurred that threatened to prove fatal to Lightfoot. He had not run -fifty yards after leaving the open when his foot struck a stub or -projecting root, hurling him violently against a log. He lay as he had -fallen, motionless, senseless, as if dead.</p> - -<p>No longer yelling, but listening eagerly for the sound of footfalls, -the savages rushed on, knowing that, by pausing to hearken, their last -hope of overtaking the fugitive would be banished. On they dashed, -scrambling over the fallen tree brushing unconsciously past their -senseless foe, even casting a shower of decaying leaves upon his body, -so narrowly did they miss him.</p> - -<p>For fully an hour Lightfoot lay there, like one dead. But then -consciousness gradually returned, and he struggled to a sitting -posture, still clutching the limb that had broken short in his hand -when he fell. Slowly recollection came to him, and he recalled the -events of that night; but clearer than all these, a golden-haired woman -stood out before his mental vision, appealing to him for assistance.</p> - -<p>This thought seemed to put new life into his veins, and he sprung -lightly to his feet. His brain throbbed violently, and he glided to the -edge of the open ground, and peered keenly forth. Not a living soul was -to be seen. The moon now shone clear and brightly. A stiff breeze was -blowing. After a swift glance around, Lightfoot glided out from the -shadow, and began recrossing the natural meadow.</p> - -<p><i>He was returning to the Osage village!</i></p> - -<p>It seemed a foolhardy act, but the chief firmly resolved to again enter -the village, to rescue Yellow-hair, if it lay in his power. He felt -assured that she was there—that the captive brought in by Seth Grable -was none other than Edith Mordaunt.</p> - -<p>He was not acting without due reflection. The deed would be easier on -that night than any succeeding one, for several reasons. Nearly, if -not quite all of the braves had set forth in pursuit of himself and -friends. Even if not, they would scarce suspect a second attempt, after -the first having so nearly proven fatal. Nothing would be further from -their minds than that he would again venture into the village. For -these reasons Lightfoot resolved to make the attempt. He had vowed -eternal fidelity to Yellow-hair; he had abandoned his people because of -her—he would save her from the White Wolf's fangs, though it should -cost his life.</p> - -<p>Across the meadow he glided. In this lay his greatest danger. It was -not likely that the Osages had yet given over searching for him. Were -any of them gazing out upon the meadow, they must see him.</p> - -<p>Nearing the other side, he slackened his pace. When within arrow-shot, -he turned abruptly to the right, and ran at full speed for several -hundred yards, then darted into the woods. By this move he hoped to -escape any ambush that might have been laid for him. Yet no sound gave -token that such was the case, as he hastened on through the forest.</p> - -<p>Ten minutes later he stood gazing out upon the Osage village. The fires -were still smoldering, a few forms could be seen, but the place was -very quiet. Evidently the warriors had not yet returned.</p> - -<p>There seemed little fear of his being discovered, but Lightfoot feared -taking the time that must be consumed by crawling up to the log huts, -and, crouching low down, he glided along in a circuit that would bring -him up behind the corral. This he gained in safety, undiscovered, and -then crept toward the village in the shadow cast by the rude fence.</p> - -<p>Though he could plainly distinguish several braves sitting behind -the smoldering fires, lazily smoking, Lightfoot gained the outer row -of lodges unseen, even by the wolfish dogs that skulked round the -village. Here he paused to locate more perfectly the cabin into which -he had seen the captive maiden hurried. A few moments sufficed for -this, but then a black frown corrugated his brow.</p> - -<p>A fire smoldered before the cabin door. Beside it an Indian crouched; -one of the smokers he had before noticed. Fate seemed conspiring -against the bold Kickapoo, for while this guard remained on duty, he -could not hope to accomplish his aim.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot glanced keenly around. Only one other form met his eye—that -of the second smoker. All others in the village appeared buried in -slumber.</p> - -<p>A determined expression settled over Lightfoot's face. He had decided. -Too much had been dared to hesitate now. He might never again succeed -in entering the village. He dared not risk delay, lest the lamb should -be sacrificed to the lust of the wolf.</p> - -<p>Prostrating himself, like a shadow he glided over the ground, nearing -the cabin he felt assured contained Yellow-hair. The progress of a -snake could not have been more noiseless. 'Twas the perfection of skill.</p> - -<p>A moment more satisfied his doubts. In range with the guard, Lightfoot -saw that a cabin hid the smokers from each other. Could he silence the -one without attracting the attention of the other, he might succeed in -freeing the captive. The risk was very great, yet he resolved to dare -it.</p> - -<p>At that moment he longed for his trusty bow. With it he could easily -dispose of both these braves, without alarming the sleepers. And now he -had only knife and tomahawk to depend upon.</p> - -<p>Without alarm, he gained the cabin, then crawled to the corner. The -fire was but a few feet from the door. A single leap would place him -beside the drowsy guard. Yet he feared to risk it. A single cry—nay, a -gasp—a groan would be sufficient to arouse the other watch, and then a -whoop would alarm the sleepers. This Lightfoot reasoned as he silently -moved out from the shadow into the light, a bright blade gleaming in -his hand.</p> - -<p>Slowly, silently, scarce perceptibly, a veritable shadow of death, -the Kickapoo lessened the distance separating him from the drowsy -sentinel. Nearer, still nearer until, with extended arm, he could have -driven the long blade to the haft between the savage's shoulders. Yet -the stroke was withheld.</p> - -<p>Noiselessly Lightfoot drew himself together. Then his left arm was -gradually extended. The moment was at hand.</p> - -<p>The eye could scarcely follow his motions. His left hand closed like a -seal upon the Indian's mouth, bearing him forcibly backward to meet the -deadly blow dealt by the free hand. A peculiar <i>gritting</i> sound as the -keen blade was <i>pressed</i> lower, was all.</p> - -<p>And yet the sound met the ear of the second watcher, and Lightfoot -heard a suspicious grunt as he arose from beside the fire. Discovery -seemed inevitable, yet the Kickapoo did not seek safety in flight.</p> - -<p>With a sudden movement he threw a corner of the dirty blanket over the -wound, then crouched low down behind the corpse, supporting it in a -lifelike position, peering out from beneath a corner of the blanket. -He saw the savage step round the corner of a cabin, then pause, as if -undecided. By the dim light he could not detect the blood that was -slowly soaking through the blanket.</p> - -<p>"Did you call?" he demanded, presently.</p> - -<p>"No—I coughed, nothing more," promptly replied Lightfoot, suiting the -action to the words.</p> - -<p>As if satisfied, the Indian turned away. The Kickapoo smiled grimly. -Noiselessly he removed the well-filled quiver from the dead brave's -back, intending, with it and the bow that lay at his side, to prop -the body in a lifelike position to guard against suspicion, while he -attempted the release of Yellow-hair.</p> - -<p>But a new danger threatened the scout. As he worked, a dark form was -gliding nearer and nearer, coming from behind, as though copying the -example set by the Kickapoo.</p> - -<p>Then it darted forward with a malignant sound, half-yelp half-bark, its -long fangs closing upon the spy's shoulder. It was a dog—one of those -fierce, treacherous, slinking, skulking, wolfish curs that can only be -found among the Indians.</p> - -<p>An involuntary cry broke from Lightfoot's lips as he felt this attack, -and he sprung to his feet, tearing the cur from its hold, crushing him -to the ground with a force that snapped its bones like pipe-stems. The -slain sentinel fell forward, the plumes and long hair igniting in the -flickering blaze, sending up a bright, crackling flame.</p> - -<p>A cry came from beyond, and Lightfoot glanced up. An Osage brave stood -out in full view, evidently astounded by the scene. And then from the -surrounding cabins came an increasing bustle that showed Lightfoot his -peril.</p> - -<p>Stooping, he caught up the bow and quiver. With wonderful adroitness -the loop was fixed and an arrow notched. But, with another whoop, the -Osage sprung behind the cabin.</p> - -<p>Two cat-like bounds carried Lightfoot to its corner. The Indian was -hurriedly fitting an arrow to the string. 'Twas his last action in -life; a sharp twang—a shrill yell: the Osage lay struggling in death -agonies, transfixed by the feathered shaft, and Lightfoot darted away -toward the forest, with the speed of one who knew that life depended -upon his exertions.</p> - -<p>The village was aroused by the alarm; warriors hastily snatched up the -nearest weapon and hastened into open air. The fires were smoldering, -but the moon shone brightly.</p> - -<p>A lithe figure darted past them with the speed of thought. Was it -that of friend, or of an enemy? Not until Lightfoot had passed the -last cabin and rent the air with his shrill, taunting whoop, did they -suspect the truth. But then pursuit was immediate. Burning with rage, -they darted after the fleeing form. Twice that night had he bearded -them—he should not live to boast of it. Were the Osage braves dogs -that a degraded outcast should thus throw dirt in their faces? The -deadly, vindictive yells answered <i>no</i>!</p> - -<p>On Lightfoot dashed, a feeling of contempt for his pursuers banishing -that of chagrin at his double failure. But gradually the fact of his -being in danger forced itself upon him. He could hear the loud tramp of -the Osages close at his heels as he dashed through the forest; could -hear others spreading out by degrees upon either side to guard against -his doubling upon them. Were these braves swifter than any he had -before encountered? No. The change was in himself.</p> - -<p>He was weakened by long toil and little rest; by the loss of blood as -well. The arrow shot in the thigh of the day before; the numerous but -smaller hurts received in the furious <i>melée</i> at the village; the gash -upon the head inflicted by his fall—all combined served to weaken his -frame, to render his muscles less elastic. Every energy was brought -into play, yet he ran heavily, with difficulty, far different from his -usual light, springy leap.</p> - -<p>Still on he fled, running for life, with the yelping hunters close upon -his track. Through the forest, over the meadow, winding through steep -hills or crossing them direct as the nature of the ground demanded; -still on he fled, desperately holding his own, though unable to -increase his brief advantage.</p> - -<p>Still on, until an anxious look overspreads his face. The Osages yell -with increased malignancy. The ground is comparatively open, now, and -Lightfoot can see the folly of attempting to diverge from a straight -course. The savages chase him in the shape of the new moon. Only in a -direct course can he hope to escape them. And yet before him lies a -trap. This knowledge calls up that look—this knowledge draws the yells -of exultation from the lips of his pursuers.</p> - -<p>Clenching his teeth tightly, the Kickapoo sprung forward with increased -speed. Such a pace could not long be maintained, but he knows the end -is close at hand. His fingers tighten upon the bow—brings the quiver -round upon his breast. If the end is death, he will die as he lived—a -terror to his enemies.</p> - -<p>Across an open tract, he turned and glanced back. The Osages yelled -loudly; they fancied him securely trapped. Sending back a yell of -defiance, Lightfoot darted up the abrupt slope, forcing his way through -the thicket of scrubby pines and cedars. Beyond this lay a few yards of -open ground; then came empty space.</p> - -<p>Leaping out Lightfoot knelt down, an arrow fitted to the string, -another held between his teeth. Thus he waited the approach of the -Osages.</p> - -<p>He crouched upon the very brink of a precipice, at whose base, nearly -one hundred feet below, roared the Osage river. Its surface was dark -now, wrapped with shadows of the cliff, but the Kickapoo well knew how -it looked as the sullen roaring came to his ears.</p> - -<p>Plainly as though at midday he could see the swift current tearing -madly along, dashing itself into spray over the sharp, jagged crests -of scores of bowlders that had, from time to time, dropped from the -face of the cliff. The passage was not an easy one for a boat in -broad daylight; what then would be the fate of a swimmer in midnight -darkness—if one should leap down from the hight above?</p> - -<p>The Osages came on boldly enough, though they knew that, at bay, -an awkward customer awaited them. But they had been sorely smitten -that night—they thirsted for this man's blood with a vengeance that -overpowered the fear of death.</p> - -<p>As the first head showed above the thicket, the hunted outcast's bow -twanged loudly, and a muffled yell, as the head sunk down, told how -steady had been his nerves. Maddened to frenzy, the dead man's comrades -leaped out upon the open, resolved to end all by one desperate rush. -But another <i>twang</i> mingled with their cries—another dusky form reeled -back, the death-yell dying out in his throat in a husky gurgle.</p> - -<p>And then the hill was occupied by the Osages alone!</p> - -<p>As he loosed the second death-winged arrow, Lightfoot turned and -boldly sprung over the precipice, his wild war-cry sounding strangely -thrilling as it soared up from the depths below. It ceased abruptly. -Then came a peculiar sound. Was it the sullen plunge of a body into the -water, or the dull <i>thud</i> of a human form striking flatly upon some of -the jagged bowlders that pierced the waters surface?</p> - -<p>These questions asked the Osages. But not long did their indecision -last. With eager cries they ran along upon the precipice-edge, making -for a point where the river-bank was low. Dead or alive they resolved -to recover the body of their terrible foe.</p> - -<p>But Lightfoot was not dead. Besides the great distance, he had to run -the risk of falling upon some of the immense bowlders, which, in the -gloom, were invisible. Knowing this, he yet retained his presence of -mind, and, though expecting death to follow, leaped for life.</p> - -<p>Straight down, feet foremost he descended, one hand clutching the arrow -in his quiver, though with arm pressed close to his side. Striking the -water with almost stunning force, he sunk until his feet struck bottom -with a force that doubled him up in a ball. But then he shot up, -springing half out of the water, half-stunned, bewildered, confused, -but alive!</p> - -<p>With barely consciousness to keep afloat, he made no effort to avoid -the rocks. And perhaps 'twas as well, for the current carried him -through the perilous passage in safety, though more than once the -sharp, knife-like edges of the flinty rock cut through his skin.</p> - -<p>Then the river-bed widened, and the stream flowed more quietly. -Lightfoot had partially recovered from the stunning shock, and now swam -rapidly on, hearing, above the sullen roar of the waters, the yells of -the Osages upon the bank above. He easily divined their purpose, but -felt little doubt but that he could balk it.</p> - -<p>As the bank grew lower, he was forced to keep close in to the shore -to avoid the moonlighted space beyond, and the race was so close that -he could hear the rapid tread of the Osages as they rushed toward -this point. Still he passed the danger in safety, and then turning -upon his back he glanced back. Several Indians were already in the -water, eagerly looking for some trace of their enemy. Grimly smiling, -Lightfoot swam on, little heeding his aching bones.</p> - -<p>Half a mile below, he reached the ford, mention of which has so -frequently been made in this story. As he stood erect in the shallow -water an acute pain ran through his left leg, and he fell forward. A -quick examination told him the truth. His ankle was badly sprained; so -severely that further flight was not to be thought of. To save his life -he could not have walked a half-mile.</p> - -<p>Then Boone's parting words flashed upon his mind, naming the cave by -the river as the rendezvous. It was possible that his comrades were -even then awaiting his coming.</p> - -<p>Sinking down in the water Lightfoot swam toward the entrance, uttering -as he did so a signal often made use of between himself and the Wood -King. But no reply came; again, with the same result. He knew then -that the old hunter had not arrived, and, despite his own danger, a -thrill of pain agitated his mind. He had learned to almost worship the -noble-hearted woodsman.</p> - -<p>Swimming into the cavern, Lightfoot crawled up on the sandy beach, -half-fainting from pain and exhaustion. His labor that night had been -really Herculean.</p> - -<p>But then he turned and peered out upon the river that lay half in -darkness, half-revealed by the silvery moonlight. He gave a start and -dashed the dripping hair from his eyes. Two black dots were visible -upon the surface. Then two human forms reared themselves upright, -standing in the shoal water. They were Indians—Osage warriors. Their -object was plain. They had swam down here to intercept their foe's -escape, if alive, to secure his scalp if his dead body should float -down the river.</p> - -<p>Lightfoot frowned deeply and felt of his weapons, for the darkness -rendered eyesight useless. The bow was still strung, though the string -was somewhat lax, from being water-soaked. Rubbing this forcibly, he -succeeded in rendering it fit for use. The quiver still retained its -arrows; the girdle at his waist still supported the hatchet and knife -given him by the faithful Feather-Cloud. Again he smiled grimly. Though -crippled, he could yet make a stern fight for life.</p> - -<p>But then a new thought struck him. He would avoid the fight if -possible; and the tree above offered him the means of hiding until all -search was over, as he believed.</p> - -<p>Along the cave floor he crawled, reaching the hollow tree with -difficulty. Creeping inside, he loosened enough of the decayed wood to -cover up the entrance, then clutching the grape-vine, dragged himself -up to the mouth of the hollow. Ensconcing himself securely among the -dense boughs, he drew up the vine, coiling it beside him. And then, -utterly exhausted, he sunk into a sort of stupor, for it could scarcely -be called sleep.</p> - -<p>This stupor lasted until the sun was up, and was then only broken by a -shout from below. Bewildered, half asleep, he listened. Voices come to -his ear up through the hollow tree. He knew then that the cave had been -searched while he slept, and that the enemy had discovered the passage -he had used. And then he saw what a fatal accident his sudden awaking -had caused.</p> - -<p>His start had dislodged the coiled grape-vine, so that it fell down -into the hollow trunk. And now it became taut, jerking from side to -side as an Indian tried to drag himself up. Desperate, Lightfoot drew -his hatchet, and at one stroke severed the vine. A muffled yell came up -from below, then a heavy fall, followed by shrill cries of triumph as -the Osages discovered the cleanly severed vine. They had found their -prey.</p> - -<p>Instinctively Lightfoot clutched his bow and started to descend the -outside of the tree. But a twinge of pain reminded him that escape by -flight was useless. And then a yell from the hillside below called his -attention to a number of Osages running up to surround the tree.</p> - -<p>Coolly the Kickapoo waited until the savages were within a score -yards of the trunk, then his bow sent a feathered shaft deep into the -breast of the foremost brave. Startled, the survivors broke for cover, -but another missile overtook them, and Lightfoot yelled defiantly as -another victim was added to the heavy price demanded for his life.</p> - -<p>For a time all was still. Not an Indian could be seen; not a missile -was discharged at the Kickapoo, though his position could be fairly -defined. Once their chiefs had doomed Lightfoot to the stake; now they -resolved that a similar death should be his.</p> - -<p>A whiff of smoke came curling up the hollow shell. Lightfoot drew back. -The Osages yelled madly. The sport was fairly begun. How would it end? -How could it end but in the death of the hard-hunted outcast!</p> - -<p>Thicker and more dense grew the smoke. A dull, sullen roaring was -audible as the flames entered the shell, eating greedily into the -rotten wood. The leaves began to shrivel and turn black. The intense -heat drew great beads of perspiration from the skin of the Kickapoo. -The forked flames shoot out of the hollow top. Still further back draws -the outcast, now fully exposed upon a limb. His hair begins to shrivel, -his flesh to crack. His torture is excruciating, yet he, with a defiant -shout, echoes back the yells of the Osages.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">CHAPTER VI.</p> - -<p class="ph1">THE BOWLDER BULLETS.</p> - - -<p>Steadily Boone pressed on through the tangled forest, with the yells of -the Osage warriors ringing clearly in his ears, and something of the -fire of his younger days gleamed in his blue eyes and brought a flush -to his bronzed cheek, as he felt himself once more pitted against the -dusky heathen who had dealt him so many and bitter blows.</p> - -<p>Close in his footsteps trod young Abel Dare, sullenly fleeing from the -enemies he longed to turn upon and rend in his furious hatred. But the -Wood King had gained a strange ascendancy over his mind, and he obeyed, -though with an ill grace.</p> - -<p>At the time he had given the word to separate, Boone diverged slightly -to the right hand, bidding Dare follow him closely. And now they sped -forward over the tangled ground with all the speed possible, while the -Osages yelped like eager hounds close at his heels.</p> - -<p>Thoroughly acquainted with the surrounding country, Boone sought to -direct his course so as to avoid a serious obstacle that lay before -them; but even under the best auspices it is difficult to keep a -straight course through a thick wood; little wonder then that their -rapid flight through the darkness caused him to err in his calculations.</p> - -<p>Half an hour after leaving the Osage village, the veteran made this -discovery, and a feeling of anxiety agitated his mind, more for the -young man, who trusted in his skill and experience, than for himself. -As was the case with Lightfoot, a few hours later, he was running -headlong into a trap. Nor could he hope to shun it by turning aside. -The pursuers were too near for that.</p> - -<p>Then a cry burst from his lips. Like a revelation, there flashed upon -him a scene from the past: a deep, narrow gorge, yet too wide for man -to cross it by leaping—a hunter standing upon the verge, peering -downward, supporting himself by a stout grape-vine that dangled from -the horizontal limb of the gnarled elm tree. By its aid an active man -could cross the ravine.</p> - -<p>Calling upon Dare to increase his exertions, Boone darted forward with -the speed of a hunted deer through the now less dense forest. The trees -grew less thickly, the ground more broken, strewn with flinty bowlders. -Through the clear moonlight could be seen distant hills rising -darkly, with their covering of trees, or bleak and bare, their rocky -summits scarce affording subsistence for a scant growth of shriveled, -prematurely-growing grass.</p> - -<p>True to his latter calculation, the Wood King reached the gorge at a -point only a few steps from the vine-wreathed elm tree, and then one -stroke of his keen knife severed the pendent grape-vine close to its -root. Clutching this, he ran back a few paces, crying out to Dare as he -did so:</p> - -<p>"Watch me, lad—then foller. Ketch the vine as it comes back."</p> - -<p>Then springing from the ground, he shot swiftly through the air, across -the dark ravine, safely making the further side, whence he hurled back -the novel rope. The yells of the Osages came more clear—their heavy -tramp smote his ear, and Dare did not hesitate for a moment. Clutching -the vine, he too was safely landed on the other side, where Boone was -hurriedly driving home a well-battered bullet.</p> - -<p>"What shall we do with this?" muttered Dare, still holding the vine.</p> - -<p>"Let it go. 'Tain't long enough to tie, an' we cain't break it off. We -kin keep 'em from crossin' with our rifles. Take to kiver, an' load -up—for life!" hastily replied the Wood King, kneeling down in the -shade cast by a huge bowlder, adroitly priming his rifle as he spoke.</p> - -<p>With loud cries, the Osages rushed forward, but then paused, their -tones altering greatly. Where were their anticipated victims? the -swaying grape-vine answered, and so did the rifle of the old hunter.</p> - -<p>Sharply, with a spiteful cadence, rung out its voice, the bright flame -leaping half-way across the ravine, dazzling the eyes of the Osages; -the eyes of all but one—and he sunk down in death, the blood gushing -from a perforated skull. For a moment the savages stood amazed; then -turned and sought cover. But before the friendly bowlders were gained, -though so near at hand, the rifle of the young settler was discharged, -and a second savage fell at full length, sorely wounded. A single cry -of agony, then he silently dragged his maimed body over the rocky -ground, seeking to gain cover.</p> - -<p>"Now's our chance," said Abel, as he poured the wonderful black grains -into his rifle. "We can get to a safe distance before they think of -crossing."</p> - -<p>"Easy, lad," and Boone laughed silently. "Thar's plenty of time afore -us. The varmints won't ventur' to cross over as long's they think two -sech rifles as our'n is ready to dispute their passage, so we may as -well get a little more breath while we kin. There—hear them yelp!" -he added, as two or three subdued cries came from the opposite side. -"The fools—do they think to blind the eyes of one who has known them a -lifetime? Poor fools—they're sadly out."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" quickly asked Abel Dare.</p> - -<p>"This: they're yellin' there to make us think they're very busy -hatchin' some plan to git at us, and so keep us still a-watchin' to -drive 'em back when they try to cross. Now, though layin' bets is not -my natur', I'd stake my scalp ag'inst that of any red heathen among -'em, that the biggest part of the lot has gone round the ravine so's to -take us unbeknown in the rear," quietly replied the veteran woodsman.</p> - -<p>"Then why stay here, losing precious time that—"</p> - -<p>"As I told you, to git ready for another hard tramp. It's full half a -mile to the nearest end or crossin'-place, an' the ground is mighty -rough. But we'll go now."</p> - -<p>As he spoke, Boone raised his rifle and fired at one of the bowlders -beyond, though none of the savages were visible. Taunting yells greeted -this shot, but he knew that his object was gained. The Osages would -believe that the scouts had resolved to defend the pass, and so would -make no attempt at crossing until their friends completed the surround. -And this, Boone felt, would give them ample time to reach safety.</p> - -<p>Loading his rifle, as he proceeded, Boone led the way over the rocks, -after crawling stealthily until beyond view of the ravine. Abel, -comparatively inexperienced in such matters chafed restlessly at -the deliberate motions of the old hunter but knew the uselessness of -remonstrating. Thus they proceeded for fully half an hour, when from -the direction of the ravine, there came, borne upon the brisk breeze, -angry yells of rage and disappointment. The Osages had discovered the -flight of their enemies.</p> - -<p>"Now, lad, sence we've got our new wind, mebbe it'd be as well to do -a little more tall travelin', for we've a long trail afore us to the -place I told the chief we'd meet him at," said Boone, breaking into a -trot.</p> - -<p>For half a mile more Abel kept close at the veteran's heels, but then -his foot slipped, and in recovering his balance, the knife dropped -from his belt. A little incident, but one that was fated to produce -important changes in the lives of both the scouts.</p> - -<p>Picking up the weapon, Abel thrust it securely into his belt, then -resumed his course. Boone had not heard the slip, and now Abel just -caught a glimpse of his form as he passed around a huge bowlder. When -Abel gained this point, Boone had disappeared around another. Expecting -with every moment to overtake the hunter, Dare pressed on through -the broken country. The trail was winding and intricate, one among a -hundred others, though this fact the young settler was hardly aware of, -since the moon was already paling before the approach of day, and a -dim, uncertain light shrouded the earth, revealing outlines vague and -indistinct.</p> - -<p>For several minutes Abel Dare pressed on with as great speed as was -practicable under the circumstances; still nothing was to be seen or -heard of Boone. Then pausing, he called aloud, gently at first, then -louder; but only the mocking echoes answered back. Where could the -hunter be?</p> - -<p>For a few minutes Dare deliberated whether or no he should retrace his -steps and try to rejoin his friend; but he felt by no means sure that -he <i>could</i> do this, so many passages and trails seemed winding through -this rocky tract. And then, too, he knew that the Osages would be -searching for the fugitives. To return would be to rush into their arms.</p> - -<p>"No, I'll go on," he at length muttered, decisively. "This tract can -not extend much further, and once in the open ground, I can easily -manage to rejoin Boone. If not, then I'll strike for the settlements -and try to raise enough men to set poor, darling Edith free, whether or -no!"</p> - -<p>Acting upon this resolve, Abel Dare turned his face toward the north, -and pressed on at a rapid gait, all-unconscious of the danger that was -rapidly nearing him—that, in fact, he was advancing to meet.</p> - -<p>For an hour more he toiled on. The broken, rocky tract was left behind -him. The ground was now almost like a rolling prairie, thinly wooded -save in the deeper valleys where some small creek, sluggishly wound -its way. The sun had risen, clear and bright. The wind had nearly died -away. The day was lovely, inspiriting, and despite his weary limbs, his -hunger, the young settler pursued his way with a free, springy step.</p> - -<p>He had seen nothing of Boone, though he had searched keenly, had -halloed, once even discharging his rifle, but all without the result -wished for. Not daring to waste further time in the hope of finding -him, Dare turned his face toward the quite distant settlement, eager to -put into operation his plans for the rescue of Edith. For that she was -still alive and a captive, he firmly believed, from the reasonings of -the old hunter.</p> - -<p>His mind was filled with such thoughts, when, upon the ridge of a -considerable hill, Abel abruptly paused. Upon his left, fully half a -mile distant, his keen glance detected a score human figures, crossing -the hill in an opposite direction to that followed by himself. For this -reason he had not discovered them before.</p> - -<p>Quick as thought Abel flung himself flat upon the ground, but he was -too late to avoid observation. He saw the human figures turn toward -him, gesticulating violently. Even as he lay they could see him, for -the grass was short and scanty.</p> - -<p>Whatever doubts he might have entertained as to their identity, were -quickly solved. The bright sun shone clearly upon them. Even at that -distance he could distinguish the long flowing hair, the plumed beads, -the bronze, naked forms; all telling of savages, and consequently -enemies.</p> - -<p>Feeling assured that naught save another horrible, heart-sickening -flight could avail him here, Abel partially arose and cast a swift -glance behind him. In that direction, if any, must he flee, for in his -present jaded state he would need all the advantage he possessed.</p> - -<p>Fully two miles away a considerable-sized hill arose from the level -ground around. Though its crest was densely crowned with trees, the -sides and base were bare of vegetation, an uneven, dirty grayish cast. -Around its base lay scattered a number of bowlders that must be, to -be so distinctly visible at that distance, of large size. The thought -flashed upon Dare that if he could not find a secure covert there, -at least he could gain a position from whence he could sell his life -dearly.</p> - -<p>He had time for no more than one glance and its accompanying thought. -Though in silence, the Indians rapidly advanced along the ridge toward -him. Leaping to his feet, Abel turned and darted away at full speed, -casting a quick glance over his shoulder as he did so. That showed him -the savages bounding forward in hot pursuit, while their yells came -slowly to his ears.</p> - -<p>With eyes fixed upon the goal, Dare ran, as he had never ran before, -along the gradually-descending ridge. The turf was smooth, springy, -free from all obstacles. A more favorable spot for a race could not -have been picked out. And yet Abel knew that the savages were gaining -upon him, though slowly. The difference in the occasional yells plainly -told him that. Still, when one-half the distance had been traversed, he -glanced back, and felt assured that, barring accident, he would not be -overtaken before reaching the hill.</p> - -<p>On—on the competitors sped. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the distance -separating them lessened. But then the rocky mound now loomed up -quite near, and Abel could plainly distinguish the irregular seams -and fissures in its surface. Surely, in some of these he could find a -refuge? Hope sprung up anew in his heart, though he knew that he must -round the point of the hill before attempting to secrete himself, if he -wished to make the attempt successful, and every additional yard to be -run was adding to the task already sufficiently arduous.</p> - -<p>Panting heavily, his limbs trembling, his brain madly throbbing, Abel -Dare gained the foot of the hill. Still he did not pause, even to -glance back at his pursuers, but pressed on round the point at full -speed. Yelling madly the savages dashed on after him, knowing that the -end was nigh by his uncertain strides.</p> - -<p>A little stream of water was before Abel, and a wild, whimsical thought -was called up by it. Skirting the hill-base, he came upon what seemed -the source of the stream, where the water, clear, sparkling and cold, -came gushing through a round black hole, as though from the bowels of -the rocky mound. Here Abel paused, dropping upon his hands and knees, -plunging his head in the water, swallowing great mouthfuls of the -grateful liquid.</p> - -<p>"At any rate, I'll not die thirsting," was his thought, and regardless, -as it seemed, of the rapidly approaching enemy, he acted upon the idea.</p> - -<p>But this was only momentary. Scarce had he touched the water, when he -started. A clear, wild-sounding laugh filled his ear, apparently coming -from the empty air above his head. And following the laugh came these -words:</p> - -<p>"Does the hunted deer halt to appease his thirst or hunger while the -wild wolves snarl at his heels? Go learn wisdom from the dumb beasts. -Up, man! up and away—the blood-thirsty heathens are upon ye!"</p> - -<p>Thus directed, Abel Dare's eyes rested upon a tall, wild-looking -figure, standing upon a sort of projecting platform, half-way up the -hill. It was the same being who had warned the Mordaunt family of their -danger—the being sometimes called "the hermit"—oftener the devil, -by the settlers. Now for the first time, Abel beheld his face, though -more than once, during his hunting experience, he had caught a fleeting -glimpse of the rudely-dressed being.</p> - -<p>But the one glance was all that Dare gave him now, for from round the -hill-point came another series of yells from the pursuing savages, now -close at hand. Yet in that glance Abel noted a rude, faintly-defined -path leading up the precipitous hillside, ending at the platform where -stood the hermit. It could be scaled by an active man.</p> - -<p>Without pausing to consider whether such a course would be agreeable to -the hermit, Abel sprung forward, clambering up the smooth trail with -the agility of a cat. A peculiar cry broke from the hermit's lips, and -he retreated from sight. Almost immediately Abel heard him rolling a -heavy bowlder toward the point directly above him. At the same moment -loud, eager cries from the ground below told that the savages had -rounded the hill-point, and had discovered him.</p> - -<p>A double peril seemed threatening him, yet, spurred on by the malignant -whoops, Abel scrambled on and upward. Directly above his head hung a -large, jagged bowlder, poised upon the edge of the platform by the -strong arms of the hermit. To the young man, a look of devilish triumph -seemed dawning in the big black eyes that peered down upon him over the -top of the bowlder.</p> - -<p>"Quick! the heathen are beginning to bethink themselves of their -weapons. Reach me your hand—haste! Is life so worthless that ye would -cast it away without an effort toward saving it?" cried the man, in -tones so different from that first used that even Abel felt surprise.</p> - -<p>Still, great though that surprise was, increased, too, by finding a -friend when he had expected to meet an enemy, it did not prevent Dare -from obeying the hermit by extending his hand, which was clutched by -fingers like iron in their strength. Without any apparent effort the -hermit drew Abel Dare up over the escarpment, landing him safely by -his side, though now the rifles from below had begun to speak, the -bowstrings to twang, and the feathered shafts to hurtle through the -air. But the marksmen were unsteadied by their long race, and their aim -any thing but accurate.</p> - -<p>"Give them a taste of your metal, young man—take those with the -rifles," sharply cried the hermit, seemingly changed from a wild -enthusiast into a cool Indian-fighter.</p> - -<p>Abel, nowise loth, obeyed. A savage dropped to the ground, writhing in -agony. The hermit shook his head and frowned.</p> - -<p>"You overshot—at least two inches too high. 'Tis better, even in -dealing with such reptiles, to do your work neatly. But now hold this -rock, while I go and get my arms. Your shot checked them for a time."</p> - -<p>In a few moments the hermit returned, bearing in his hand a huge bow -of second-growth white-oak, full six feet in length, more resembling -a crow-bar, tapering slightly at both ends, than weapon to be used by -human arm. Besides this he carried a skin quiver filled with long, -flint-tipped arrows. Abel's eyes opened widely as he saw with what ease -the hermit bent this bow, to test the string. But soon they had their -hands full.</p> - -<p>In silence a number of Indians broke cover and darted toward the narrow -path leading upward, while a volley from those remaining concealed -swept the platform. Crouching low down the two defenders coolly watched -their movements, comparatively well shielded the while.</p> - -<p>Half a dozen braves succeeded in scaling the path for fully half the -distance, when, with a sudden push, the hermit toppled over the heavy -bowlder. True to his intention, it dashed along the hollow trail, and -tore resistlessly through the line of savages, crushing, mangling them -horribly, leaving but one alive of the six, and as he picked himself -up at the hill-foot, the huge bow was bent, and then an arrow passed -entirely through the poor devil's body.</p> - -<p>The savages yelled madly from their cover, but not one ventured to show -himself. The hermit laughed loudly, then turned to Abel, who, pale and -staring, was gazing over the platform:</p> - -<p>"How do you like my style of working? But go and get some more of our -jolly flint bullets—you'll find them yonder, in the cave behind you."</p> - -<p>Awe-stricken, Dare rose to his feet to obey, but then paused as though -transfixed. Then a joyous look overspread his face, as he sprung -forward, crying:</p> - -<p>"Edith, my darling! alive—thank God!"</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">CHAPTER VII.</p> - -<p class="ph1">THE WHITE WOLF SHOWS HIS FANGS.</p> - - -<p>With a low, glad cry the maiden sprung forward and was clasped tightly -to the breast of her lover, whose eager lips rained hot kisses upon -her face; for it was indeed Edith Mordaunt—Yellow-hair. It was a -rapturous meeting, so unexpected. For a time their speech was broken, -inarticulate.</p> - -<p>The hermit turned his head at the cry, and now stared at the young -couple in seeming surprise. As if by magic the old half-wild, -half-vacant expression came back to his face. One hand pressed his bow -with an impatient gesture, as he partially raised himself. A sharp, -spiteful report rung out from below, and a few threads of the iron-gray -locks fell upon his breast, severed by the passage of the renegade's -bullet. This seemed to break the spell that bound him, and the hermit -sunk back, saying, carelessly:</p> - -<p>"So you know the lady, then?"</p> - -<p>"Know her—But tell me, Edith, has this man dared to—"</p> - -<p>"No, he has treated me kindly—I believe I owe him my life," quickly -replied the maiden.</p> - -<p>"There, young man, let that knowledge satisfy you for a few moments—at -least until you can roll me out two or three such playthings as we used -a moment since. Then you can ask the lady what questions you will. One -man can easily hold this pass, though a tribe should attack it."</p> - -<p>The cool, quiet tone of the hermit acted like magic upon the young -borderer, and he obeyed without question. Just within the mouth of the -cave he could distinguish at least half a score of the flinty bowlders, -and several of these he managed to roll to the side of the hermit, who -was once more watching the movements of the enemy below. Though they -had not fled, the savages did not appear anxious to renew the assault -after such an overwhelming reception.</p> - -<p>Together the young couple seated themselves just within the mouth of -the cavern, side by side, hand in hand, conversing eagerly, yet saying -very little, yet repeating that little over and over again, which seems -to be a trait peculiar to lovers after a certain point. Yet, despite -these interruptions and digressions, Edith managed to tell her story, -which may be briefly summed up.</p> - -<p>The hermit was abroad on that fatal night, under the influence of what -may be termed a crazy fit, since he could remember nothing that had -transpired, after the spell was gone. In it he had warned the Mordaunt -family of approaching peril; in it, when he heard the firing of rifles, -the shrill yells of savages, together with the shrieking of women, he -rushed to the scene of death. An Indian was bearing the struggling -form of a woman in his arms. One stroke of his clenched fist felled -the savage senseless, and seizing the sinking form, he fled through -the raging storm, instinctively seeking his hill retreat. The cold, -driving wind beating upon the maiden's upturned face, soon restored her -to her senses, though still sadly confused and bewildered. A flash of -lightning revealed to her affrighted gaze the stern, wild face of the -one who bore her so swiftly through the forest. To her then it seemed -the face of a very demon. She strove to shriek aloud for help, but in -vain. A horrible dread chained her tongue.</p> - -<p>What followed was indistinct and dim, until she awoke with a new day, -though its light shone but dimly, into the place where she was resting. -The hermit crouched at her feet, gazing upon her with a puzzled air. -The crazy spell was broken: he was rational now. But the events of the -past night were buried in oblivion, so far as his memory was concerned. -Wonder was plainly written upon his features; how came this fair maiden -in his wild retreat?</p> - -<p>Seeing that Edith was awake, he eagerly questioned her, and then, -from his own knowledge of his occasional madness, the hermit read the -riddle. He pledged himself to protect and safely restore the maiden to -her friends, at the earliest moment consistent with her safety. And -there was something in his words and actions that told Edith she might -trust him implicitly.</p> - -<p>The voice of the hermit was now heard without, and Abel hastened to -learn what was the matter. The young settler started, a deep flush -suffusing his face as he heard a voice sounding from the plains below; -a voice that he recognized for that of a dastardly villain—the voice -of Seth Grable, the White Wolf!</p> - -<p>"You mought as well give in, fust as last," Grable said, "fer thet's -boun' to be the eend. I know you've got a snug kiver, as you say, but -it kin be taken; an' we've jest got the fellows to take it, too. You -see'd the Injuns thet kem up jest now. Thar's more'n a hundred braves -here who take my word fer law. Ef I say the word, up they go, though -you rub out the biggest half. But I don't want to say so. Why? Easy -told. You've got a gal up thar thet I've swore must be my squaw. She'd -be shore to git rubbed out in the muss. Thet's why I offer ye tarms."</p> - -<p>"What terms can a dirty scoundrel like Seth Grable, the renegade, have -to offer honest men?" said Abel Dare, standing boldly out into view, -his rifle half-poised.</p> - -<p>"Them's rough words o' yours, Abe Dare," returned Grable, his voice -trembling with ill-suppressed passion; "but they don't do no harm, -a'ter all. What tarms? Jest these. Give up peace'bly, 'thout makin' -no more fuss, and I promise you your lives. O' course you'll be kept -pris'ners, but mebbe you kin buy your freedom, some time."</p> - -<p>"A clumsy lie—a disgrace even to an idiot like you, Seth Grable. But -here's our answer. If you want us, come and take us—if you can," -laughed Abel, sinking down in time to avoid several arrows that hurtled -near.</p> - -<p>Then, once more, all became quiet. The savages remained hidden behind -the rocky breastworks. The hermit lay upon the platform, his bow in -hand, the bowlder beside him ready to be hurled down the hollow trail -in case the enemy should dare another onset. Abel retreated to the side -of his loved one, and they conversed earnestly, yet sorrowfully, for -the death of their friends pressed heavily upon their hearts.</p> - -<p>Grable had spoken no more than the truth when he admitted the position -was a strong one. Indeed it appeared impregnable. The hill stood alone -in the center of a plain, bare and treeless save at the very summit, -and from it the ledge was hidden. For a few yards from the top, the -rocks sloped abruptly down; then came a perpendicular descent of full -fifty feet, ending in a broad, table-like ledge that overhung the -mouth of the hermit's retreat. Only by a swaying rope from above could -the ledge be gained, and then, standing in the cave entrance, those -below would be hidden. The trail leading up from the plain below was -narrow, hollowed out of the rock, barely affording room for one person -to ascend at a time. This was the only avenue of approach from that -direction.</p> - -<p>Truly, it was well said: a strong position.</p> - -<p>Slowly the hours rolled by. All was silent save the voices of nature. -The savages seemed to have disappeared. The hermit lay upon the rock -motionless as though dead. A vacant expression rested upon his face. He -was brooding over the past, all-unconscious of the net that was fast -closing around him.</p> - -<p>Suddenly something whizzed through the air, followed by a double -<i>click</i>, sharp and peculiar. A cry broke from the hermit's lips as -he rolled over upon his back. The long locks of gray hair were fast -darkening with blood. A couple of headless arrows lay beside him; their -flinty heads had been shivered to atoms upon the hard rock.</p> - -<p>At the cry, Abel Dare sprung to his feet, rifle in hand. He saw the -blood—he believed the hermit was dead, so motionless did he lay. But -then came a rapid change.</p> - -<p>The hermit's arms were uplifted, bending the long bow until the notched -shaft touched his ear. Then it was loosed—its swift passage baffling -human eyesight.</p> - -<p>A cry—a shrill, blood-curdling shriek of mortal agony—came from -above. And then a dark form shot headlong down through the air, -striking with a sickening <i>thud</i> upon the rocky ledges, crushed into a -shapeless mass, bespattering the trio with clotted blood and brains.</p> - -<p>Wild and taunting rung out the laugh of the hermit as he sprung to his -feet, shaking his weapon at the savages upon the plain. Their cries -of rage and hatred caused the rocky mound to echo again. And then a -score of arrows and rifle bullets passed the shelf, pattering against -the flinty wall beyond. With another laugh, the hermit leaped back -unharmed.</p> - -<p>"You are wounded?" anxiously cried Abel Dare.</p> - -<p>"A scratch—nothing more," was the quiet reply. "But, the time is come -now. Those devils mean mischief. They hold the ledge above, and next -time will take better aim. But <i>they</i> can't touch us in here. All -we have to do now is to watch and pick off the devils as they show -themselves at the head of the path you came up by."</p> - -<p>Truly a narrow escape had been his. One of the arrows had grazed -his neck, cutting through the skin over the jugular vein. The other -had passed between his arm and side marking them both with a livid -welt. Considering the position they were forced to assume, and firing -directly downward, the wonder was that the Indians had made such good -shots, and that they missed being fatal.</p> - -<p>"Then, you think they will attempt to force their way up that—?"</p> - -<p>"I'm certain of it. They know our strength now, and they dare not -retreat—their tribe would disgrace them if they let two men foil them. -No, depend upon it, they'll give us work enough—and hot work at that."</p> - -<p>"God grant that we may be able to hold our own! Not for myself," Abel -hastily answered the hermit's keen glance, "but for <i>her</i>. She is all I -have left on earth now."</p> - -<p>"Then you—you are an orphan? Your mother is—"</p> - -<p>"Dead. But whether my father lives or no, I can not tell. I can -remember nothing of him but what my mother told me. On her death-bed -she bade me seek for him, nor rest satisfied until I had found him, -either living, or in his grave. If living, to give him her forgiveness -for the great wrong he had done her. But why do I tell you this? It can -not interest you—a stranger."</p> - -<p>"It does—deeply. Perhaps because you are a friend. Tell me more—about -<i>him</i>. Perhaps I can give you some clue—"</p> - -<p>"Hist! Is not that the scratching sound of feet upon the trail?" -hastily whispered Abel, bending his ear.</p> - -<p>"Yes—the devils are coming. I will take the first one that shows his -head—you the second. Remember waste no shot."</p> - -<p>Kneeling in the mouth of the cave, the two men silently awaited the -appearance of their enemies. The rifle was leveled, the long bow half -bent. And the scratching noise sounded more distinct.</p> - -<p>Then the black muzzle of a rifle crept noiselessly over the escarpment. -The hermit smiled. The guess was a poor one. The bullet would strike -two feet to the left.</p> - -<p>The rifle cracked. As though believing the smoke-cloud would screen -them, the savages uttered their war-cry, and sprung up to gain the -ledge.</p> - -<p>The hermit laughed aloud. As the foremost figure appeared in view, -the strong bow was bent—then the shaft leveled. Striking fairly, the -broad, muscular breast, the missile passed entirely through, falling -upon the plain far beyond the mound. Clutching, tearing convulsively at -the wound, the Indian, with the terrible yell almost universally given -by his race, fell heavily backward.</p> - -<p>At the same instant Abel Dare fired, the flame from his rifle -blackening the face of the second savage whose skull was crushed in. -The fall of these two bodies, checked the advance of their comrades, -and gave the hermit time to deal the finishing stroke by a daring deed.</p> - -<p>Dropping his weapon, he rushed forward, heedless of the yelling fiends -upon the ledge above, and seizing upon one of the large bowlders, -fairly raised it from the ground, and dashed it down upon the -struggling savages. Two arrows struck the rock by his side, one of them -tearing through his garments, but he did not hesitate. Stooping, he -seized a second rock. An arrow struck him, and he fell to the platform. -A yell of devilish triumph rung out from the savage marksmen above. But -their exultation was premature.</p> - -<p>With an angry cry, almost mad, the hermit struck the bowlder with his -hands, rolling it over like a feather-weight, sending it down the -hollow trail to complete the work its fellow had so terribly begun. -Another arrow splintered its flinty head beside him, but uttering -another cry he scrambled back to the mouth of the cave, well knowing -that the trail was once more clear of savages.</p> - -<p>Anxiously Abel bent over him. A long arrow was sticking deep in his -back, buried half its length in the flesh. It seemed impossible for the -wound to be other than mortal. But the hermit smiled grimly.</p> - -<p>"Don't be alarmed, lad; I've fought down harder blows than this. I -don't think it went deep enough to kill—you see it's only through -my side. Cut off the feathers, and push it through. I feel the point -pricking the skin."</p> - -<p>In silent amazement Abel obeyed, and then the blood-stained arrow was -cast aside. While thus engaged, the wounded man had torn a bit of -cloth from the young settler's shirt, and after chewing it hastily, -pressed it into the orifice; another bit closed the second, and then he -staggered to his feet, cutting a broad strip from his clothes.</p> - -<p>"This will do for a bandage. Tie it hard and tight."</p> - -<p>Abel tore the sleeve from his shirt, making two pads, which he placed -over the wounds, then drawing the broad strip of buck-skin around the -hermit's body as tightly as possible, secured it firmly. By this time -the strange being had apparently recovered. As he said, the wound had -in a manner paralyzed the muscles of his body, though only momentarily.</p> - -<p>Edith had been a pale and trembling witness of all this, crouching just -within the cave. Death seemed inevitable when the stern onset was made, -but now she breathed a prayer of thanksgiving that they all were yet -safe.</p> - -<p>The repulse had been bloody in the extreme, and the loss of the Indians -had been very severe. Yet it seemed only to increase their resolution -to conquer. As the hermit said, they would never be beaten by two men. -And now, though in silence, they were again advancing to the spot of -death.</p> - -<p>A dark line cautiously broke upon the grayish white edge of the rock, -rising noiselessly higher, until a pair of eyes glared strangely -toward the defenders. A faint cry from Edith called their attention, -then following the direction indicated by her trembling finger, they -discovered the head of a savage slowly rising above the ledge. Quick -as thought, Abel flung forward his rifle and fired, just as the hermit -cried:</p> - -<p>"Don't shoot—it's a trick—they're shoving up a dead man to draw our -fire!" and then he clutched the bow and notched an arrow to the string.</p> - -<p>As the rifle-shot rung out, a cry of triumph broke from the lips of the -savages, and the corpse that had availed them so well was cast aside, -while in quick succession they sprung upon the ledge. They believed -the game was in their own hands now, for the marksmen above had -telegraphed them the fall of the hermit, and now that the other's rifle -was empty, a single rush would end all.</p> - -<p>But the first one whose foot touched the ledge bounded backward, -yelling convulsively, a feathered shaft quivering deep in his skull. He -fell half-way down the hill, but to one side of the trail, that was now -densely crowded with yelling warriors, rushing to the ledge above.</p> - -<p>Like living shadows, the yelling red-skins leaped upon the narrow -ledge, the bright blades of their brandished weapons gleaming in the -sunlight. Twice in rapid succession the hermit's bow twanged sharply, -the death-note of as many screeching fiends. Again the weapon was -bent—but the wielder staggered forward, as, with a sullen sound, -the frayed string snapped in twain, the arrow dropping useless to -the ground. It seemed as though all was over, for Abel Dare was just -ramming home a bullet. Before he could withdraw the rod, the enemy -would be upon them bodily.</p> - -<p>All this had occurred with the rapidity of thought. The red-skins had -not yet recovered from the surprise given them by being confronted with -one whom they supposed dead.</p> - -<p>Recovering himself, the hermit, still clutching the bow, sprung back -and raised Edith in his arms, crying for Abel to follow them quickly, -then darted into the darkness of the cave. Hard upon his heels trod the -young settler, while, recovering from their momentary confusion, the -Osages dashed after the fugitives with blood-curdling yells.</p> - -<p>But the nimble-footed savages were too fleet for the fleeing trio, and -the hermit, panting from exertion and growing weakness, exclaimed to -Dare:</p> - -<p>"I'll have to give in. There is but one thing to do. You go on through -the passage, leave the girl and me—I'll see that no harm comes to -her—and make your way out of the other end of the passage. There -you'll be in the open country, and, if you are spry, you can bring the -settlers down to help us. It's the only way. Go at once, or we all -perish here together."</p> - -<p>Abel hesitated. What, leave Edith? She guessed the thought.</p> - -<p>"Go, Abel. I feel that it is the only way to save me. Do as our friend -suggests. Get the settlers or Lightfoot on the trail, and all will yet -be well."</p> - -<p>"I will go! God forgive me if any ill happens to you!" and he -disappeared in the darkness.</p> - -<p>The savages, led by the renegade, were soon up with the old man and -his charge, and came down on them with the fierceness of tigers. Their -leader, however, interposed to save the fugitives from slaughter; he -had other designs upon them than to permit the old hermit an easy death.</p> - -<p>The captives were led backward to the outer world again, and then on -toward the Indians' late camp, around whose still burning fire the -party gathered.</p> - -<p>It was strange, but true, that Abel had, in pursuing his tortuous -course through the cave, come out near this very spot, and when the -party emerged in view from above, he beheld all from his hiding-place. -With the eyes of a basilisk Abel watched. Edith was placed upon a -couch of leaves to one side of the fire. The hermit, held by two -stout braves, was brought into the full firelight. The White Wolf -hurriedly addressed his braves, his words being received with evident -gratification. Then he turned to the captive.</p> - -<p>"Wal, old man, I don't s'pose you onderstand what I said to these -braves, so I'll repeat. You've did us a heap o' mischief—killed a -durnation lot o' critters as you wasn't fit to hold a torch to, an', -o' course, you've got to take the consequence. 'Tain't much—only a -little fun, ye see, an' you kin go free a'ter it's over, 'f ye want -to. You see the point o' rock up thar? We'll jist throw a rope over -it, then hitch a slip-knot over your thumbs an' haul ye up a little -ways. Unfort'nately fer <i>you</i>, the boys hes built a fire under it, -but thet'll soon burn down. Understand?" and the White Wolf laughed -diabolically as he peered into the hermit's face, while the savages -appeared delighted.</p> - -<p>"Do your devil's work," coldly replied the hermit, apparently unmoved -by the horrible threat. "I am a man—words alone can not frighten me."</p> - -<p>"We'll try more'n words, then," angrily snarled Grable, as he made a -sign to the savages, then seized the captive.</p> - -<p>A rude though stout rope was now produced. It had been manufactured -from strips cut from the skins found in the cavern. This was, with -considerable difficulty, cast over the point of rock alluded to by -the renegade, both ends reaching the floor. Upon one of these a neat -slip-knot was made.</p> - -<p>"Now tell me whar the young feller hid—Abel Dare," suddenly uttered -Grable, stooping forward to peer into the captive's face, a venomous -glitter in his eyes.</p> - -<p>"I am not a white Indian—a traitor and renegade, to betray my kind. Go -seek—mayhap you will find him."</p> - -<p>"Better tell—it'll make it easier fer ye, 'f ye do."</p> - -<p>"A lie—foolish and bare-faced. You have resolved to kill me, and even -if <i>you</i> were inclined to be merciful, these men around would take the -job out of your hands. Go on—you will gain nothing from me," coldly -replied the hermit.</p> - -<p>In his rage Grable struck the captive a brutal blow in the face, the -blood trickling from where his heavy fist alighted; but the hermit did -not flinch an atom. Half-frantic, Grable cut the bonds that held the -captive's arms, and raised both hands above his head, to slip the noose -over them. Quick as thought, the hermit wrenched loose from the savages -who were holding him, and struck the renegade to the ground. But then -he was seized again and held fast, despite his desperate struggles.</p> - -<p>Howling with rage, Grable sprung up and plunged a knife in the -captive's breast. With a wild cry, Edith sprung forward to arrest the -blow. Cursing her, Grable struck her a fierce blow in the face. With a -moaning cry, she sunk to the ground.</p> - -<p>A wild cry—horrible in its intensity of rage—rung through the -cavern, and then a dark form shot through the air, alighting beside -Grable, whose throat was clutched with a giant's grip, as he staggered -backward, borne to the ground beneath the shock. It was Abel Dare, -wrought to madness by seeing his loved one so brutally stricken down.</p> - -<p>The savages started back in affright and amazement. At first they -believed themselves attacked by something more than mortal man. Thus -released, the hermit staggered upon his feet. Then, with a hollow cry, -he turned, and rushing forward to the edge of the encampment, he leaped -and was gone!</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">CHAPTER VIII.</p> - -<p class="ph1">A FIERY ORDEAL.</p> - - -<p>The Wood King did not notice the pause of Abel Dare, nor did he make -the discovery that he was alone, until fully a mile had been traversed. -Then, as he repeated an unanswered query, he turned around.</p> - -<p>The young man was not in sight. Believing him to be close at hand, -Boone uttered a low whistle, to hurry him up. But there came no answer. -Again and again, with increased volume, the signal rung out; but the -result was the same. No answer came to the impatiently listening ears.</p> - -<p>Wonderingly Boone began retracing his steps. What could have happened? -Surely no serious accident, or he must have been alarmed.</p> - -<p>His soliloquy abruptly terminated. A faint sound met his ear that, -at first, he thought might be the strayed, but then he knew better. -Instead of one pair of feet, there were a full score. The Osages were -once more closing upon him.</p> - -<p>For a moment the Wood King listened as though undecided what course to -pursue. By pressing forward in that one originally pursued, he might -possibly escape detection, but it would almost certainly be fatal to -Abel Dare, who, ignorant of the crooks and turns of the trails, would -easily become bewildered and thus fall an easy prey to the savages. -Reasoning thus, Boone struck into a trail that bore abruptly to the -right, gliding rapidly along.</p> - -<p>For a while he believed he would escape without being sighted by the -Osages, but then this hope died out. As he turned an abrupt curve in -the trail, he caught sight of a dark figure gliding toward him. There -could be no mistaking it; the moonlight was still too clear for that. -The figure was that of an Osage warrior.</p> - -<p>A collision was inevitable. At nearly the same moment, the savage -caught sight of the pale-face, and drawing his tomahawk, flung back his -arm for a cast, uttering the shrill yell of discovery. Quick as were -his motions, the Wood King anticipated them, and with a spiteful report -the long rifle sent its leaden pellet crashing through the Indian's -brain, turning the cry of triumph into a shriek of horrible agony. Then -a corpse lay quivering upon the rocks.</p> - -<p>For a moment Boone almost despaired. In answer to the yell of the now -dead savage, cries were echoing from every point of the compass. The -wood-ranger was surrounded. Since entering the rocky tract, the Osages -had scattered, some entering each one of the numerous trails that -branched off from the main one, so that, by Boone's backward movement -in quest of Abel Dare, he had glided into their very midst. Death or -capture seemed inevitable.</p> - -<p>Still the Wood King was not one to tamely submit while a chance -remained him. Knowing that the yell and rifle-shot would draw the -savages directly to that spot, he darted forward past the dead body, on -the faintest chance that this trail was now unoccupied by other than -himself.</p> - -<p>Scarcely had a hundred yards been traversed ere a shrill whoop rung out -from the right, telling that his flight was discovered. Clenching his -teeth, Boone darted ahead with all the speed he could bring into play -over such a rough trail. Bounding over bowlders with the activity of -one in his prime, scrambling up or climbing down an abrupt ascent or -descent, the Wood King fled from his enemies, who were now fairly upon -his track. A thrill of renewed hope pervaded his being as he became -convinced that his enemies were all behind him; that the slain savage -had been the only living obstacle in the way of his flight.</p> - -<p>Having more than once explored this strange tract of ground, Boone -improved every little advantage, losing no time in making useless -turns, heading direct for a place of refuge not far distant, where he -hoped to elude his persistent pursuers. Evidently the Osages divined -his purpose, for they pressed on at reckless speed, more than one -coming to grief upon the jagged rocks in their mad haste. Their yells -rung out loud and piercing. Boone's brows contracted as he thought of -the result should their cries arouse some of the wandering band of foes -ahead, and enable them to cut off his flight. Then he smiled grimly at -the wild, improbable idea.</p> - -<p>The rock-bed was cleared, and the hunted scout darted forward with -accelerated speed. A narrow, gravelly tract was passed; then came one -of sand, thickly covered with coarse grass. Beyond this the grass grew -more rankly, with straggling oak and thorn bushes. Through this Boone -darted, heading straight as the crow flies, with the nearest savage two -hundred yards behind, now running in stern silence, straining every -muscle to the utmost in the endeavor to overtake the fugitive before he -could reach the covert for which he was heading.</p> - -<p>On through the stiff, stubborn bushes Boone dashed; then another belt -of grass lay before him. The end was now near at hand, and he felt -invigorated. Again the savages yelled, this time partaking more of -chagrin than anticipated triumph. Boone smiled grimly, his head bent -forward, his steps carefully calculated.</p> - -<p>The nature of the ground changed again. It would give beneath his feet, -springy, elastic. Occasionally a few drops of water would be dashed -aside. It resembled the edge of a swamp; the mud, though growing soft, -was not sticky. The grass began to grow in irregular patches, with -black spaces between. Here and there the moonlight was reflected back -from water. Still beyond grew a dense wall of something grayish brown. -This was the hiding-place toward which Boone had been tending.</p> - -<p>In fact it was a large shallow pond, covered with a dense growth of -wild-oats, reeds and bushes. The water was nowhere deeper than a man's -hight. Amidst this thick-laced growth a fugitive might lie hidden -within arm's-length of an enemy, without being seen.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Boone raised his head. The yells of his pursuers were echoed -back from the opposite side of the pond. Faintly glimmering through -the undergrowth he could distinguish a camp-fire. Evidently a party of -savages had been resting there until aroused by the shouts of their -kindred, and were now spreading out to intercept the game that was -afoot.</p> - -<p>Even had he not resolved upon it, there was now no other course open -to the Wood King but to seek refuge in the pond, and he hastened on, -bounding from one tussock to another like a deer in full flight. -Suddenly he disappeared from view of the savages who had paused at the -edge of the pond. He had sunk down in the water, crawling forward until -the dense grass was reached. These he carefully replaced behind him, -and then listened intently.</p> - -<p>All was still save the rustling of the fresh breeze swaying the grass -and reeds. What devil's plot were the savages hatching? Why did they -not search for their prey? This course Boone had counted upon their -following, feeling sure that while they were thus engaged he could -manage to steal away unseen. While wondering, he cautiously loaded his -rifle, and then, noiselessly as possible, pushed on toward the middle -of the pond.</p> - -<p>For half an hour he stood waist deep in the water, anxiously listening -for some sound by which he might judge of the enemy's movements, but -in vain. But then his face was upturned, and he sniffed quickly at -the air. A faint trace of smoke was perceptible—and yet the wind -was blowing away from the camp-fire he had seen. Could it be? An -involuntary exclamation of horror broke from his lips. Only too plainly -he read the truth.</p> - -<p><i>The Indians were setting fire to the reeds and grass!</i></p> - -<p>But would it burn? Eagerly Boone felt of that growing so thickly around -him. It cracked and crumbled beneath his hand. It was dry as tinder -to within a foot of the water. And now the smoke was thicker and more -dense.</p> - -<p>Hastily he plunged on, seeking for a spot where was open water, but -in vain. The reeds grew everywhere. Then he paused. A warning sound -came to his ears. It was the roaring, rushing voice of the devouring -element, crying aloud for its victim.</p> - -<p>Crushing a handful of the stuff, he placed it upon the pan, then -discharged his rifle. A spark caught. Tenderly he blew his breath upon -it. It flickered—grew larger—then died out. And the roaring of flames -grew louder and nearer, and the smoke was almost unbearable.</p> - -<p>Slinging the rifle on his back, Boone cut and slashed at the -stout-stemmed grass and reeds, flinging them from him in handfuls, -clearing a space around. The sweat rolled from his face—not alone -from the violence of his exertions, for the air was now hot and -parching—like that of an oven. Already he found it difficult to -breathe.</p> - -<p>Sinking beneath the surface, he tore at the muddy bottom, scooping up -great handfuls, and then daubing it over his head and face. Then he -tore off the woolen hunting-shirt and wound it round his head and neck. -He could breathe more freely now, since the smoke was excluded. And, -too, it shut out the horrible glow that now lighted up the scene, and -deadened the sickening roar.</p> - -<p>Again and again he dipped beneath the surface to cool his aching -temples; then as he felt the intense heat, the falling particles of -the reeds and rushes, Boone knew that the fire-fiend was upon him, and -inhaling a long breath, he sunk beneath the surface, his head touching -the cool, muddy bottom. Clinging to the slimy roots, he lay there until -it seemed as though his lungs would burst. Then the long-pent-up breath -came forth. For a few moments longer he resisted, then rose to the -surface. Though the breath he inhaled seemed blistering his throat, -Boone gasped with delight. It was renewed life. But then the heat -seemed melting his very brain, scorching the woolen garment that now -steamed like a furnace, and again the hunter sunk to the bottom.</p> - -<p>Twice was this repeated, then as a cooler current of air struck the -shrouded head, he tore the bandage free and glared around. A broad wall -of flame was gradually receding. The surface of the pond seemed one -living coal. A second glance showed him this was the water-soaked part -of the growth, too green to blaze up.</p> - -<p>The fiendish yells of the savages came indistinctly to his ears above -the crackling roar. He started and bent his ear keenly. Then his face -lighted up. From one side there came no yells. It seemed as though the -savages had deemed it impossible for the pale-face to live through -the fiery ordeal, and had all flocked to cut off his retreat to the -opposite side to that on which the fire had been started.</p> - -<p>Without reflecting that, notwithstanding the silence, some might have -been left to guard this point too, Boone plunged forward, thrusting the -glowing stalks down into the water as he proceeded, feeling that this -was his only chance of escape. To wait until the fire was out and the -smoke-cloud raised from the surface, he knew would be fatal. Then the -keen-eyed savages would espy him, when captivity or death must follow; -for he was too greatly exhausted to flee for life now.</p> - -<p>Hurriedly he pressed forward, too hardly bestead for time to think of -using much caution, for he must gain the undergrowth beyond before the -flames died out, or be discovered. Gaining the shallow water, he crept -forward, crouching low down, with drawn knife, ready to sell his life -dearly. But no alarm was raised as he gained the edge of the pond. That -side seemed deserted.</p> - -<p>With a muttered prayer of thanksgiving, the Wood King pressed on with -as much speed as he could extract from his weary, sorely-tasked limbs. -At length he sunk down behind the first line of bushes, and glanced -back.</p> - -<p>The flames had swept the pond clear to the further shore, and were -now rapidly dying out. Flitting here and there, he could just discern -several human forms. They were the Indian, and he knew, by their -actions, that his flight had not been discovered. Still, knowing that -his trail would eventually be found and followed, Boone dared not -give way to the drowsiness that was stealing over him, and so arose, -pressing steadily on until the rock-bed was gained. Here his trail -would be lost. Knowing this, he felt that he was saved, and kneeling, -rendered thanks to the One who had so wonderfully preserved him.</p> - -<p>Yet he dare not halt here for the rest he so greatly needed. He knew -that his trail would be followed to the rock-bed, and that thoroughly -searched by the savages before they would allow such an enemy to -escape. So he wearily pressed on, through the gray light of coming -dawn, shaping his course by the knowledge that Lightfoot must be -impatiently awaiting his coming at the cave by the Osage.</p> - -<p>Clearing the rock-bed, he struck a direct course for the rendezvous. -The cool morning breeze greatly revived him, and partially dispelled -the drowsiness. Once he paused. There came to his ears the faint sound -of yelling, from the far right. Though he knew it not, it was the -discovery of Abel Dare by the Osages under Seth Grable.</p> - -<p>Half an hour later Boone discovered two smokes: the nearest light and -fleecy, the other dark and heavy, arising, as he calculated with a -peculiar thrill, from the vicinity of the cave. Was it a signal kindled -by Lightfoot to hasten his coming? This interpretation did not satisfy -him, though he could think of none other.</p> - -<p>Both smokes were before him, almost in a direct line. Hastily advancing -to the opposite swell, he crept along until he could look down into -the valley. From a small grove of trees beside a tiny creek, arose the -smoke. Even as he looked, a body of horsemen filed out into the open -ground. A wild cheer broke from his lips, and leaping up, Boone ran -forward, waving his hand as a signal.</p> - -<p>The party instantly halted and seemed about to turn back into the -grove, but then appeared to recognize the comer as a white man. -Breathlessly Boone gained their side, but not until he spoke did they -recognize him. Black mud had dried upon his face and hair. His skin, -what little was visible, was burned to a blister, blackened with smoke. -A more deplorable looking object could scarcely be imagined.</p> - -<p>Amid their hasty questions, the eyes of Boone were anxiously fixed upon -the smoke-column beyond the prairie. Reason told him that Lightfoot was -too good a scout to kindle such a beacon when so many enemies roamed -through the country. Abel Dare might have done it, but was he there? -Boone doubted it.</p> - -<p>"Boys," he said, speaking hurriedly, "I believe that smoke means danger -to a friend of ours—one true as steel, though his skin <i>is</i> red. I -mean Lightfoot, the Kickapoo chief. Will you lend a hand, or must I go -alone?"</p> - -<p>"Nary 'lone—not much!" cried Jim Fosdick. "You think the reds is at -the devil's work over thar—wal, we jest kum out skelp-huntin', an' -these 'll do as well 's any others, 'specially as we kin save a fri'nd -by wipin' 'em out. What say, boys—be I right?"</p> - -<p>Every voice was raised in assent, and then Boone leaped up behind the -lightest weight, and gave the word for hard riding. From the next -valley they heard rifle-shots coming from the direction of the smoke. -Upon the next ridge human voices were borne to his ear; the yelling of -exultant savages. And the smoke grew blacker and blacker, rising in a -tall, sloping pillar.</p> - -<p>The party grew more excited. Knife-points were used as spurs. Snorting -with pain and excitement, the horses thundered on at break-neck speed. -The prairie was passed, the timber began, the ground grew more broken; -but the smoke-column now floated above their heads.</p> - -<p>"'Light and tie," cried Boone, leaping to the ground. "We kin go faster -now afoot, an' the horses' hoofs would tell the heathen we was comin'."</p> - -<p>Rapidly the settlers obeyed, and then hastened across a densely-wooded -ridge. From its summit Boone saw that his fear was well-founded. From -the hill that crowned the cave, the smoke arose. The red flames were -bursting from the hollow tree. <i>And seemingly standing amidst the -roaring fire, was a human figure!</i></p> - -<p>Down the hill they glided, across the valley, then up to the last belt -of bushes, unheard, unseen by the yelling demons above. As their rifles -cracked, a wild cry broke from their lips. The human form leaped out -from the tree, its garments ablaze, holding a flaming bow in one hand. -Down—down, until it reached the ground, with a dull, sullen <i>thud</i>!</p> - -<p>Unheeding the cry in their excitement, the savages broke cover and -rushed in a body toward the figure. At that moment the settlers poured -in a deadly volley, then charged up the hill, uttering their terrible -war-cry.</p> - -<p>Over a dozen braves fell—the others seemed petrified with horror. But -as the settlers came closer, the survivors turned and fled with all the -speed left in their bodies.</p> - -<p>In hot pursuit the settlers followed—all but the Wood King. He rushed -to the spot where the man had fallen, and tore the still smoking -garments away. A groan broke from his lips as he recognized the body. -It was that of Lightfoot.</p> - -<p>Boone knelt beside the body of his comrade. Then he started abruptly -back. A hand moved—glided swiftly to the charred belt, clutching the -hot handle of a knife. The chief's eyes opened, a mad fire burning in -their depths. He struck viciously at the kneeling form. Boone caught -the hand and held it fast.</p> - -<p>"Chief—don't you know me—your friend?"</p> - -<p>Slowly a change came over the blistered face, the fire softened in his -eyes, and the weapon fell to the ground. The mouth opened—a husky -gurgle followed. He could not speak. He had breathed the scorching -flames too long.</p> - -<p>Great tears rolled down the Wood King's face, for he knew now that -his friend—tried and true, though with a red skin—was dying. But -he dashed them aside, as Lightfoot made a peculiar gesture. One hand -traced a circle in the air then touched his own bare and blistered -head, afterward motioning toward a dead Osage that lay near.</p> - -<p>Boone read the pantomime aright, and shuddered, but he could not refuse -the last request of a dying friend. He dragged the Osage near, then -averted his face. Lightfoot partially raised his body, and tore the -scalp from the gory skull. Then he shook it aloft, a horrible sound -parting his lips.</p> - -<p>Boone turned quickly. The outcast fell back. He had died while -attempting to sound his exultant war-cry.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">CHAPTER IX.</p> - -<p class="ph1">BOUND TO THE STAKE.</p> - - -<p>Snarling with the intense ferocity of some wild beast, Abel Dare fell -upon the renegade, burying his fingers deep in the flesh of his throat, -shaking, worrying him much as a terrier handles a rat. Had he a weapon, -however small, the career of the White Wolf would have ended then and -there, for, though a strong man, the maddened lover handled him like a -child. Already his tongue protruded, his face blackened.</p> - -<p>But then an Osage warrior recovered from the surprise sufficiently to -administer a sharp tap upon the back of Abel Dare's head that felled -him senseless upon Grable.</p> - -<p>Grable staggered to his feet, gasping, rubbing his livid throat, his -tongue and eyes gradually assuming their usual position and appearance. -Speechless, he made signs that Abel should be firmly pinioned. Edith -crept to the side of her lover, as though to shield him from injury -with her own person. Cursing bitterly, Seth Grable tore her away.</p> - -<p>Grable, having regained his voice, was frightfully enraged. He showered -curses the most horrible upon the helpless settler, spitting in his -face, buffeting, kicking him unmercifully. A whitish froth tinged his -lips—he seemed a madman.</p> - -<p>At length he turned and uttered a few hasty words to his followers, -and a yell of fiendish delight greeted the speech, as the warriors -glided away to execute the order. Grable again crouched down beside the -captive, a devilish grin upon his face, as the words parted his lips:</p> - -<p>"You heerd me tell the Injuns? But mebbe you don't understand the -lingo. Wal, I told 'em to git a lot o' wood an' pile it up down thar -at the foot o' the path. Goin' to hev a barbecue—d' y' know what thet -means?" and the brute laughed diabolically.</p> - -<p>Abel made no reply. He did understand the renegade's meaning, -perfectly. He knew that he was doomed to perish horribly at the -fire-stake. Though a sickening chill crept over his frame at the -thought, he gave no outward sign that the words had made any impression -upon him.</p> - -<p>Grable eyed him steadily for a moment, then turned hastily away, as -though afraid to trust his passions. He hated this man so intensely -that a single blow, though it carried death with it, would not satisfy -his revenge. Afraid to tempt himself, he strode hastily to the cave -opening.</p> - -<p>"Abel—Abel Dare," faintly uttered a low, quavering voice.</p> - -<p>"Edith—thank God! I feared you were dead!"</p> - -<p>"No—better that I was, perhaps. But you, oh! Abel, why did you act so -rashly, when you were once safely beyond the reach of these demons?" -and Edith groaned.</p> - -<p>"I saw him raise his coward hand and strike you—I saw you fall as -though dead, and it made a madman of me. I thought only of avenging -your murder, and—"</p> - -<p>"So got caught yourself—'zactly so, my children," added the harsh -voice of Grable, as he advanced and seized Abel by the collar. "But -you've talked a-plenty fer now. Don't be impatient, little 'un; I'll -come fer you in a minnit."</p> - -<p>He dragged the captive over the ground toward the outer rim of the -camp, which was in the rocky hollow from which the passage started. -Near this outer boundary of the spot was a deep rift or pit in which -to fall was to go to doom. Gaining the ledge, Grable lifted Dare upon -his feet, pointing one hand down to the plain below. The Indians were -hastily gathering fuel from among the rocks to the left, where it had -fallen down the cliff from the trees above. A considerable pile was -already collected.</p> - -<p>"More'n enough to roast <i>you</i> to a turn, anyhow," chuckled Grable. "I -put it down thar so the smell won't bother my new squaw in thar. We'll -set here, looking at ye. So screw up your courage—'member a woman 'll -be lookin' on."</p> - -<p>Abel bit his lips hard, and threw all the strength of his frame into -one effort to burst his bonds; but in vain. The stout skin did not -betray its trust.</p> - -<p>"No use, man—not a bit. You're booked fer—"</p> - -<p>Why did Seth Grable pause so suddenly and turn his eyes down upon the -plain? Why did the savages drop their loads of wood and dash toward the -trail leading upward to the cavern? Why did Abel Dare utter such an -exultant cry?</p> - -<p>Because the quick, heavy thud of horses' hoofs beating the turf in full -gallop, came to their ears. Because a body of horsemen, nearly one -score strong, burst into view around the spur of the mound, charging -with a hoarse cheer—their rifles and pistols playing rapidly upon the -fleeing forms of the surprised savages, who had left their weapons -within the cavern, laying out a full dozen of the dusky warriors, -writhing in death-agony, or lying motionless as they fell, their blood -staining the white shingle.</p> - -<p>At their head rode one—tall, muscular, his face and long gray hair -stained with black swamp mud; yet through this disguise Abel Dare -recognized the Wood King, Daniel Boone! Loud and clear, above the -tumult, he cried:</p> - -<p>"Help! for the love o' God! Edith Mordaunt is held captive up in -this—" But then his speech was abruptly checked as Grable hurled him -heavily to the rocky ledge, at the same moment sinking out of sight -himself.</p> - -<p>But the words were heard and understood. The captive settler had been -seen and recognized. And with a simultaneous yell, the borderers sprung -forward, abandoning their horses, treading hard upon the heels of the -fleeing red-skins as they scrambled up the narrow trail.</p> - -<p>Cursing horribly, Grable dragged Dare into the passage along with -Edith; then seizing an armful of weapons, both muskets and bows and -arrows, he darted back to the ledge, just as the foremost Osage gained -it. A few hasty words—then the White Wolf leveled a musket, and fired -at the leading pale-face. A deep groan—then the slain man fell back -upon his comrades, momentarily checking their advance. Thus encouraged, -the Indians followed the example set them, and rained arrows and -bullets down upon the foe. Without means to return the compliment, the -settlers consulted prudence and hastily retreated, seizing their rifles -and seeking cover behind the bowlders, while the savages yelled loudly -in triumph. And above all rung the taunting laugh of the renegade.</p> - -<p>The Osages seemed intoxicated with their victory. At that moment one -word from the White Wolf would have sent them headlong down the hill, -charging upon the pale-faces. But Grable did not utter the word—nor -did he even think of it. Besides being a rascal, he was a coward. -However, their dance was abruptly terminated, as a single report came -from below, and a savage dropped to the ledge, shot through the brain. -The next moment not a living soul was to be seen.</p> - -<p>Five minutes later a strong voice from the plain called out:</p> - -<p>"Hellow, you fellers up thar! kin any o' you talk white man's lingo? 'F -so, step out an' show yourself."</p> - -<p>"Thet you may hev the fun o' takin' a crack at me, eh, Jim Fosdick?" -returned Grable from the ledge.</p> - -<p>"No—honest Injun. We want to see 'f we can't come to some sort o' -tarms. Show up—we won't tetch ye."</p> - -<p>"Wait a minit, an' I will."</p> - -<p>Grable hastened to where the two captives lay bound, and stooping -raised Edith in his arms. An angry cry broke from Abel's lips, and he -strove desperately to break free, but in vain. The next moment Seth -Grable stood upon the ledge, holding the maiden before him in such a -manner as to perfectly shield his body; and laughing, he demanded:</p> - -<p>"Now what ye want? Here I be—talk quick, though."</p> - -<p>"What'll ye give for us to let ye go free?" asked Fosdick.</p> - -<p>"<i>You</i> let <i>us</i> go free? Why, ye pesky fool, we're two to one now. You -cain't keep us here one minnit, 'f so be we want to git away," sneered -Grable.</p> - -<p>"Lyin's cheap, or you'd starved to death long ago. But never mind thet -now. The matter's jist this. You're up thar, we're down here. Yon -cain't come down unless we say so. We've got nineteen rifles—sixteen -men to han'le 'em, sence you rubbed out three. We kin pick ye off one -by one as fast as ye putt fut over the edge. An' it's either that or -starvin'. They ain't much game up thar, I don't reckon. Then you'll -sca'cely drown'd yourself, 'ca'se water's too sca'ce. Thar it is in a -bullet-mold. How d' y' like it?"</p> - -<p>"Even s'posin' it was all true—which it ain't by a durned sight, mind -ye—it'll be nice fun to think thet while you was starvin' <i>us</i>, you -was doin' the same to your fri'nds; to this gal an' Abel Dare."</p> - -<p>"It wouldn't be very scrumtious, I know," coolly returned Fosdick, "but -then, sich is life. 'F you fellers hold out, bein' durned contrairy -fools, why then they's got to suffer, thet's all. But I said tarms, a -bit ago. We want to give ye a chaince. Send down the boy an' gal, safe -an' sound, an' we'll 'low ye till mornin' to git to a safe spot. Mind -ye, 'tain't 'ca'se we love ye any, but we don't want to hurt the boy -an' gal, if so be we kin help it."</p> - -<p>"S'pose I say I won't do it?" sullenly replied Grable.</p> - -<p>"Then we'll do one of two things," abruptly cried the Wood King. "We'll -either take you by storm, or lie here until we starve you out. Now -decide, quick!"</p> - -<p>"I must talk 'th my braves fust," and Grable stepped beyond view of -those below, his face corrugated.</p> - -<p>The consultation was long and animated. Edith listened to their words, -though not comprehending the harsh dialect, and closely watched the -expression of each speaker. Her heart sunk deeply as the braves -followed each other. A new hope, faint though it was, had sprung up in -her bosom at the settlers' demand, but now it was destroyed. She knew -that the savages had refused to accept the terms offered them.</p> - -<p>"Ye see, pet, ye're mine, beyond all hope," laughed the White Wolf, as -he again raised Edith before him.</p> - -<p>"I'd rather die then—"</p> - -<p>"It's like you <i>will</i>; but then you've got to be mine <i>fust</i>. You -cain't overjump <i>thet</i> nohow." Then adding, in a raised voice: "Hellow, -you fellers! down thar!—our answer is, jest do your level durnedest. -But, mark my words. The very fust lick you strike at us, 'll be the -death o' these captives. We've got a big fire a-burnin' in thar. We'll -jest rake it out here, tie the boy an' gal together an' pitch 'em on -the coals an' let 'em sizzle right afore your eyes. Mind ye, now, I'm -talkin' right from the book—it's swore to."</p> - -<p>"This is your last answer, then?" sternly demanded Boone.</p> - -<p>"With a few words more, yas. You jist take your critters an' ride -straight away east until you git to the fur-hill whar the two trees -grows side by side. You 'light thar. A'ter thet you kin do jist as you -please. Come back a'ter us, if so be you think best. We'll be out thar -in the open, then."</p> - -<p>"And if we refuse?"</p> - -<p>"Jest what I told ye afore. Strike one lick, and you kill your fri'nds. -We've got the deadwood on ye thar!"</p> - -<p>"Give <i>us</i> ten minutes to think it over," added Boone.</p> - -<p>Grable granted the request, and then returned with Edith to where Abel -Dare lay. Here he began taunting the young man with all the ingenuity -of a foul-mouthed rascal, until called hastily away by a shout from the -savages without. Rushing to the entrance, he found his braves greatly -excited. In a moment he learned the truth. The settlers were about to -attack them, despite his sanguinary threats.</p> - -<p>Spreading out, holding their rifles primed and cocked, in readiness for -an instantaneous shot, the settlers were approaching the sloping trail. -A few yards from its base six of them halted, their weapons covering -the ledge. Two men glided up to each of the six, laying their rifles -at their feet, then making a rush for the mound. These last had their -knives and all the pistols belonging to the party. The other six were -to protect them while clambering up.</p> - -<p>Several Indians rushed to where a good-sized bowlder lay, rolling it -to the edge. Two rifles cracked—two Osages dropped, shot through the -brain, having carelessly exposed their persons. The scaling party -shouted exultantly. Those who had fired dropped the empty weapons and -seized fresh ones, once more covering the ledge.</p> - -<p>A savage drops flat upon his face, then pushes the bowlder forward by -main strength. It rests upon the edge—another effort, and it topples -over. A cry comes from the foremost man, now nearly at the top of the -trail.</p> - -<p>It is Boone. The next behind him is Jim Fosdick. The latter bows his -head to the rock, clutching the sides of the hollow path. The feet of -Boone rests upon his broad shoulders. His open hands are flung up and -meet the bowlder. A moment of horrible suspense. If his muscles were -unequal to the task, their fate was sealed.</p> - -<p>A desperate effort that causes the whole human line to quiver and -shake—then the bowlder is turned aside and goes thundering down the -mound, dashing far out upon plain, its jagged points stained only with -blood from the palms of the Wood King. Loud yell those below—the -Osages howl with baffled fury.</p> - -<p>The White Wolf shouts a few words, then rushes into the cavern. The -Osages clutch their weapons and spring forward. The rifles of the -marksmen below speak rapidly, each bullet sounding a death-knell. A -savage kneels down and aims a vicious blow at the Wood King with a -hatchet. His arm raises—a pistol flashes—the Indian falls forward, -his skull shattered to atoms, his hot blood besprinkling Boone's face.</p> - -<p>A yell, horrible and unearthly, comes echoing from the passage into -the hills behind them. Then a wild, maniacal laugh. Instinctively the -combatants pause, wondering, awe-stricken.</p> - -<p>Two Osages dart into the darkness; they are sworn friends to the -White Wolf. They fear he has met harm. That thought conquers their -superstition, redoubles their courage.</p> - -<p>Passing the fire, they pause. Where the captives laid, there is only -one body now—that of a man. They reach its side, stoop over it—start -back in horror. It is the gory form of the White Wolf!</p> - -<p>And from out the gloom beyond comes the horrible laughter.</p> - -<hr class="chap"> - -<p class="ph1">CHAPTER XI.</p> - -<p class="ph1">THE BOWELS OF THE EARTH.</p> - - -<p>Edith Mordaunt and Abel Dare lay side by side upon the rocky floor -of the passage into which they had been borne for safe-keeping. They -discovered that their prison was indeed a rocky chamber out of which -the passage led, both into the outer air and into the hill. In that -chamber Seth Grable had left them just as he was startled by the cries -of his comrades, as the settlers began their desperate attack. And with -beating hearts, whose throbs were almost suffocating, the captives -listened, hoping, praying that the pale-faces might overcome the -Indians, and rescue them from what, otherwise, was almost certain death.</p> - -<p>Believing themselves alone, they gave free expression to their hopes -and fears, little dreaming that human ears drank in their every word, -that human eyes were even then upon them, as they lay just within the -firelight. Then, with a step that made no sound, a tall figure glided -from out the darkness and stood over the wondering captives. And well -they might feel surprise, for the hermit stood before them in the -flesh, apparently unhurt!</p> - -<p>A loud cry came to their ears from without, followed by the rapid -tramp of feet. Some one was approaching from the outer air. Stooping, -the hermit severed the cords that bound the lovers, at the same time -warning them to lie still. Then he sprung back into the shadow.</p> - -<p>The White Wolf, a moment later, bounded into the fire-lighted circle, -his features horribly distorted, the devil painted in each bloodshot -eye. His intentions are easy told. He intended dragging the captives to -the ledge, and there expose them to view of the marksmen below, while -some of his braves knelt close behind them to pick off the attackers. -He knew that the settlers would not wantonly sacrifice their friends, -and depended upon that to free him from this new peril.</p> - -<p>"Come—them cussed hounds out yender hev spoken yer doom. Better lose -a squaw than a life, though I hate to see ye rubbed out, gal," muttered -Grable, bending down.</p> - -<p>"We'll live to see <i>you</i> die!" gritted Abel, his hands clutching the -renegade by the throat, then hurling him with violence to the ground.</p> - -<p>A yell of terror broke from his lips, echoed back by a cry so horrible -that he glared around in amazement. Then a shadow sprung forward. The -hermit stood over him. The firelight without flickered up—there could -be no mistake. Grable shuddered with a nameless awe. There seemed -something supernatural in these abrupt vanishings and reappearances.</p> - -<p>"Mercy—don't kill me!" he gasped, as the bright glimmer of steel -filled his eyes. "I didn't mean you no harm when—"</p> - -<p>"A dog you've lived—a dog you die!" gritted the hermit.</p> - -<p>Then the long knife-blade descended twice, burying its length in the -heaving breast of the craven wretch. A horrible yell of agony—a shrill -laugh of diabolical glee—then the hermit sprung to his feet.</p> - -<p>From without came other sounds—the savages would soon be there to -investigate the alarm. Unarmed save with a knife, the pale-faces could -expect to do little. Knowing this, Abel seized Edith and clasped her -firmly to his breast, saying:</p> - -<p>"You know the crooks and turns of this place—lead on, then, before -those devils are upon our backs. Quick!"</p> - -<p>"True, <i>she</i> must be saved; for you and I, it matters little. Follow -me—tread carefully, and keep in my tracks. You have seen a specimen -of what the cavern contains, but there is more. Let the heathen follow -us if they dare; there will be wailing and gnashing of teeth in the -lodges of their people!" and again the wild, almost maniacal laugh of -the hermit rung out, reaching the ears of the savages, causing them -to glare hurriedly around, with a vague expectation of beholding some -supernatural horror.</p> - -<p>Into the bowels of the hills—across a chasm spanned by a bridge, -taking a passage that led sharply to the right, the hermit led the way, -on through the darkness, never once faltering, though at more than one -point a single misstep would have ended in hurling the trio down to -inevitable destruction.</p> - -<p>On he led, Abel following, Edith close clasped to his breast. Still on, -winding deviously, now in one direction, now in nearly its opposite, -until Abel felt his brain grow unsteady and commence to whirl.</p> - -<p>"Now you can wait here until I return. Do not attempt to leave—the -ground is full of pitfalls made by nature."</p> - -<p>"But should—if you should not return as you expect?"</p> - -<p>"True—I forgot. Give me your hand. There—that is clay. By loosening -that you will find a passage that will lead you out upon the hill. Dig -twenty feet and you will come to a rock. Press hard against it, with -your shoulder, and you will roll it out. Here is a knife with which you -can dig. But don't attempt that for at least half an hour. There is no -danger of the heathen reaching you here, for, even if they attempt it, -I shall be in the way—and one man, with a knowledge of this trail, is -equal to a thousand in open ground. Remember—wait half an hour."</p> - -<p>The hermit rapidly retraced his steps. He was now totally unarmed, but -felt little concern on that score. He possessed a knowledge that was -equal to an armory.</p> - -<p>Pausing upon the bridge of rock, the hermit glared out upon the -swooning renegade, over whom stooped two braves, seeking to check the -flow of blood that saturated his garments. A devilish light deepened -in the hermit's eyes. He saw that the renegade still lived—possibly -might recover, and a bitter curse hissed through his grating teeth as -he groped around the edge of the rock with his hand.</p> - -<p>Then again he stood erect, a rugged fragment in either hand. True as -the bullet from a hunter's rifle the rock sped through the air. Full -upon the bended head of the nearest savage it fell, crushing in the -skull bone. The second brave sprung hastily to his feet. The other rock -struck him upon the breast, felling him like a shot. Laughing horribly, -the hermit sprung forward, bending over the terror-stricken renegade.</p> - -<p>The wounded savage utters a faint cry, and partially rising, flings -his knife at the hermit. The sharp blade sinks deep in the fleshy part -of the shoulder, but is unheeded by the seeming madman. The moaning -White Wolf is raised bodily from the blood-stained rock, and borne to -the edge of the muttering, rumbling abyss. A moment—then a horrible -shriek rings through the hollow hill as his body descends like a shot; -a sullen splash—then all is silence save the grumbling tones of the -water fiend.</p> - -<p>And now the hermit stood possessed of a knife, a hatchet, a stout bow, -and tolerably well-filled quiver.</p> - -<p>With ready bow he glided silently along, choosing the deepest shadow, -where the glow of the fire could not penetrate. He seemed to have only -thought for vengeance. He knew that he was death-stricken—in his -madness he resolved to exact a heavy compensation. His death would be a -dear one to the Osages.</p> - -<p>He paused, the phosphorescent glitter deepening in his eyes as he -caught sight of several human forms, crouching close to the rugged -walls, their attention turned toward the cave entrance, their weapons -in readiness for instant use. They were Indians. He could distinguish -them quite plainly by the light of day beyond, though from the ledge -they would be invisible.</p> - -<p>After escaping the death threatened by the bowlder, Boone had led his -men upon the ledge, winning it by a fierce though momentary struggle. -The Indians retreated into the cave darkness. To follow them there -would be little short of madness, and the Wood King called a halt to -consult upon the best plan of procedure. Lying close to either side -of the entrance they waited. Inside were the savages; beyond them the -hermit, all unsuspected, the fires of insanity blazing in his eyes, as -he bent the stout bow.</p> - -<p>The bow relaxed—the arrow sped—an Osage sunk forward, transfixed by -the feathered shaft, his death-cry carrying consternation to the hearts -of the warriors, for they knew not whence the death-shot came. Another -<i>twang</i> was followed with a like result, and then the madman's shrill -laughter rung out clear and devilish. In terror the Osages leaped -to their feet and darted to the entrance. From bad to worse. Half a -dozen rifles cracked, so close that their flashes scorched the flesh; -and then the rangers rushed on to a hand-to-hand struggle. But the -terror-stricken savages turned and fled.</p> - -<p>Still before them sounded that horrible peal, and at the fire they -faltered in terror. Following each other in rapid succession the -feathered shafts carried death into their midst, each shot accompanied -by a devilish laugh. Paralyzed with horror, the savages flung -themselves upon the blood-running floor, hiding their heads. Upon them -poured the rangers, mad, raging, striking and slaying without mercy in -their blind rage, until not one was left alive.</p> - -<p>When the excitement was over, the over-wrought strength of the hermit -gave way, and he staggered out into the firelight, and sunk to the -floor like one dead. Boone, recognizing him, rushed to his assistance.</p> - -<p>"Where are our friends?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Over there—take torches and bring them here, quick! I must not die -without telling him—haste, I am dying!" gasped the hermit, blood -tinging his long beard.</p> - -<p>A party of rangers started in search of our friends, and soon found -them.</p> - -<p>The meeting was a joyous one, and much hand-shaking was indulged in -before the last words of the hermit were remembered. Then the party -hastily retraced their steps, Abel still supporting Edith, whose nerves -had been sadly shattered by the terrible, heart-crushing events of the -past few days.</p> - -<p>They found the hermit lying in a pool of his own blood, his head upon -the Wood King's lap, his eyes closed as though in death. But at the -sound of footsteps he roused up and muttered a request for more liquor. -Reluctantly Boone complied, holding the flask of corn-juice to his -bloodless lips. The fiery liquor seemed to infuse new life into the -wounded man's veins, and his voice was strong and distinct as he spoke.</p> - -<p>"Abel Dare—come nearer to me. You must hear every word, for a dead man -speaks to you. Not long since you told me that you knew not whether -your father lived or was dead. I am the only being living that can -clear that mystery."</p> - -<p>"Tell me, then. Can it be that you are—"</p> - -<p>"Patience—I will tell you, but it must be in my own way. You told me -your mother forgave him upon her death-bed; she had nothing to forgive -<i>him</i>, for he never did her wrong in thought or deed! Two men loved -your mother—one was Reuben Dare, the other was James Hazelwood. The -last took her marriage so greatly to heart that he lost his mind. His -friends placed him in an asylum. One night it burned to the ground. -James Hazelwood was among the missing. All thought him dead—buried in -the ruins; but he was not. <i>His</i> hand kindled the fire; then he escaped.</p> - -<p>"A short time afterward, your mother began to receive anonymous notes, -leading her to suspect the fidelity of her husband. At first she -treated them with silent scorn, but the cunning of a madman—for the -hand of Hazelwood was in this—made black seem white—the innocent -seem guilty. Then she sorrowed, still in silence. Reuben Dare, at any -other time, would have noticed this, and soon learned its cause, but he -was battling hard with adversity—trying to save himself from ruin. A -series of misfortunes had swallowed his fortune; he was a bankrupt.</p> - -<p>"Hazelwood saw all this, and timed his actions well. The night before -the truth must be known, he watched your father at his office—it was -nearly midnight when he started to go home. As he passed an alley, a -heavy blow felled him to the ground. The next he knew he was in a close -carriage, securely bound, rolling swiftly along. The carriage paused, -Hazelwood dragged forth his victim, and then told him all—of the -diabolical plot he had formed to ruin him even after death. Then there -was a cruel blow. When daylight came the corpse of your father was -floating far out upon the Delaware bay. Wait, I am nearly done. More -whisky—I am growing weak," muttered the hermit, faintly.</p> - -<p>"That day your father's name was coupled with dishonor. They said he -had robbed his creditors, and had fled with another man's wife. <i>That</i> -was Hazelwood's revenge. But it was with <i>him</i> that the woman fled. But -he was crazy—crazy."</p> - -<p>"And who are <i>you</i>, that you know of all this?" hoarsely demanded Abel -Dare, his eyes glowing, his breast heaving.</p> - -<p>"I am—I was—James—Hazelwood, the mad—"</p> - -<p>A grating cry broke from the young man's lips, and he darted forward, -but, with uplifted hand, the Wood King said:</p> - -<p>"Stay—he is beyond your power now—he is dead!"</p> - -<p>The words were true. The hermit was no more—had died with the horrible -confession upon his lips. There was much left unexplained, that would -now be forever buried in oblivion. Of his life since the crime—how he -came to be a wanderer in these wilds, a hermit, no one would ever know.</p> - -<p>Yet Abel felt a feeling of relief far down in his heart, for now he -knew that he had not been the son of a double criminal; though his -father had been unfortunate, he had not been guilty of the crime that -had rested upon his name.</p> - -<p>The day was far spent, and as much yet remained to be done, the rangers -decided not to return to the settlement that night. A soft couch of -leaves was made for Edith under shelter of a rock, where she almost -immediately sunk into a deep and dreamless slumber, the first she had -enjoyed since the night before the massacre.</p> - -<p>The Indian bodies were cast into the pitfall, but a grave was dug -outside for those of the settlers who had fallen.</p> - -<p>The rangers watched closely that night, but nothing was seen or heard -of any enemies. With early dawn they took up their return march, -reaching the settlement in safety. Within one week the insurrection was -put down—the savages sued for peace, and the country was once more -safe.</p> - -<p>That winter Abel Dare and Edith were married, and the girl who had been -mistaken by Lightfoot for Yellow-hair, stood bridesmaid, having been -released by the Osages at the new treaty.</p> - -<p>And so we leave the couple, safely through the storm, basking in the -sunshine of each other's love.</p> - - -<p class="ph1">THE END</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p class="ph1">DIME POCKET NOVELS.</p> - -<p class="ph1">PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY, AT TEN CENTS EACH.</p> - - -<p>1—Hawkeye Harry. By Oll Coomes.<br> -2—Dead Shot. By Albert W. Aiken.<br> -3—The Boy Miners. By Edward S. Ellis.<br> -4—Blue Dick. By Capt. Mayne Reid.<br> -5—Nat Wolfe. By Mrs. M. V. Victor.<br> -6—The White Tracker. Edward S. Ellis.<br> -7—The Outlaw's Wife. Mrs. Ann S. Stephens.<br> -8—The Tall Trapper. By Albert W. Aiken.<br> -9—Lightning Jo. By Capt. Adams.<br> -10—The Island Pirate. By Capt. Mayne Reid.<br> -11—The Boy Ranger. By Oll Coomes.<br> -12—Bess, the Trapper. By E. S. Ellis.<br> -13—The French Spy. By W. J. Hamilton.<br> -14—Long Shot. By Capt. Comstock.<br> -15—The Gunmaker. By James L. Bowen.<br> -16—Red Hand. By A. G. Piper.<br> -17—Ben, the Trapper. By Lewis W. Carson.<br> -18—Wild Raven. By Oll Coomes.<br> -19—The Specter Chief. By Seelin Robbins.<br> -20—The B'ar-Killer. By Capt. Comstock.<br> -21—Wild Nat. By Wm. R. Eyster.<br> -22—Indian Jo. By Lewis W. Carson.<br> -23—Old Kent, the Ranger. Edward S. Ellis.<br> -24—The One-Eyed Trapper. Capt. Comstock<br> -25—Godbold, the Spy. By N. C. Iron.<br> -26—The Black Ship. By John S. Warner.<br> -27—Single Eye. By Warren St. John.<br> -28—Indian Jim. By Edward S. Ellis.<br> -29—The Scout. By Warren St. John.<br> -30—Eagle Eye. By W. J. Hamilton.<br> -31—The Mystic Canoe. By Edward S. Ellis.<br> -32—The Golden Harpoon. By R. Starbuck.<br> -33—The Scalp King. By Lieut. Ned Hunter.<br> -34—Old Lute. By E. W. Archer.<br> -35—Rainbolt, Ranger. By Oll Coomes.<br> -36—The Boy Pioneer. By Edward S. Ellis.<br> -37—Carson, the Guide. By J. H. Randolph.<br> -38—The Heart Eater. By Harry Hazard.<br> -39—Wetzel, the Scout. By Boynton Belknap.<br> -40—The Huge Hunter. By Ed. S. Ellis.<br> -41—Wild Nat, the Trapper. Paul Prescott.<br> -42—Lynx-cap. By Paul Bibbs.<br> -43—The White Outlaw. By Harry Hazard.<br> -44—The Dog Trailer. By Frederick Dewey.<br> -45—The Elk King. By Capt. Chas. Howard.<br> -46—Adrian, the Pilot. By Col. P. Ingraham.<br> -47—The Man-hunter. By Maro O. Rolfe.<br> -48—The Phantom Tracker. By F. Dewey.<br> -49—Moccasin Bill. By Paul Bibbs.<br> -50—The Wolf Queen. By Charles Howard.<br> -51—Tom Hawk, the Trailer.<br> -52—The Mad Chief. By Chas. Howard.<br> -53—The Black Wolf. By Edwin E. Ewing.<br> -54—Arkansas Jack. By Harry Hazard.<br> -55—Blackbeard. By Paul Bibbs.<br> -56—The River Rifles. By Billex Muller.<br> -57—Hunter Ham. By J. Edgar Iliff.<br> -58—Cloudwood. By J. M. Merrill.<br> -59—The Texas Hawks. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.<br> -60—Merciless Mat. By Capt. Chas. Howard.<br> -61—Mad Anthony's Scouts. By E. Rodman.<br> -62—The Luckless Trapper. Wm. R. Eyster.<br> -63—The Florida Scout. Jos. E. Badger, Jr.<br> -64—The Island Trapper. Chas. Howard.<br> -65—Wolf-Cap. By Capt. Chas. Howard.<br> -66—Rattling Dick. By Harry Hazard.<br> -67—Sharp-Eye. By Major Max Martine.<br> -68—Iron-Hand. By Frederick Forest.<br> -69—The Yellow Hunter. By Chas. Howard.<br> -70—The Phantom Rider. By Maro O. Rolfe.<br> -71—Delaware Tom. By Harry Hazard.<br> -72—Silver Rifle. By Capt. Chas. Howard.<br> -73—The Skeleton Scout. Maj. L. W. Carson.<br> -74—Little Rifle. By Capt. "Bruin" Adams.<br> -75—The Wood Witch. By Edwin Emerson.<br> -76—Old Ruff, the Trapper. "Bruin" Adams.<br> -77—The Scarlet Shoulders. Harry Hazard.<br> -78—The Border Rifleman. L. W. Carson.<br> -79—Outlaw Jack. By Harry Hazard.<br> -80—Tiger-Tail, the Seminole. R. Ringwood.<br> -81—Death-Dealer. By Arthur L. Meserve.<br> -82—Kenton, the Ranger. By Chas. Howard.<br> -83—The Specter Horseman. Frank Dewey.<br> -84—The Three Trappers. Seelin Robbins.<br> -85—Kaleolah. By T. Benton Shields, U. S. N.<br> -86—The Hunter Hercules. Harry St. George.<br> -87—Phil Hunter. By Capt. Chas. Howard.<br> -88—The Indian Scout. By Harry Hazard.<br> -89—The Girl Avenger. By Chas. Howard.<br> -90—The Red Hermitess. By Paul Bibbs.<br> -91—Star-Face, the Slayer.<br> -92—The Antelope Boy. By Geo. L. Aiken.<br> -93—The Phantom Hunter. By E. Emerson.<br> -94—Tom Pintle, the Pilot. By M. Klapp.<br> -95—The Red Wizard. By Ned Hunter.<br> -96—The Rival Trappers. By L. W. Carson.<br> -97—The Squaw Spy. By Capt. Chas. Howard.<br> -98—Dusky Dick. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.<br> -99—Colonel Crockett. By Chas. E. Lasalle.<br> -100—Old Bear Paw. By Major Max Martine.<br> -101—Redlaw. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.<br> -102—Wild Rube. By W. J. Hamilton.<br> -103—The Indian Hunters. By J. L. Bowen.<br> -104—Scarred Eagle. By Andrew Dearborn.<br> -105—Nick Doyle. By P. Hamilton Myers.<br> -106—The Indian Spy. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.<br> -107—Job Dean. By Ingoldsby North.<br> -108—The Wood King. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.<br> -109—The Scalped Hunter. By Harry Hazard.<br> -110—Nick, the Scout. By W. J. Hamilton.<br> -111—The Texas Tiger. By Edward Willett.<br> -112—The Crossed Knives. By Hamilton.<br> -113—Tiger-Heart, the Tracker. By Howard.<br> -114—The Masked Avenger. By Ingraham.<br> -115—The Pearl Pirates. By Starbuck.<br> -116—Black Panther. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.<br> -117—Abdiel, the Avenger. By Ed. Willett.<br> -118—Cato, the Creeper. By Fred. Dewey.<br> -119—Two-Handed Mat. By Jos. E. Badger.<br> -120—Mad Trail Hunter. By Harry Hazard.<br> -121—Black Nick. By Frederick Whittaker.<br> -122—Kit Bird. By W. J. Hamilton.<br> -123—The Specter Riders. By Geo. Gleason.<br> -124—Giant Pete. By W. J. Hamilton.<br> -125—The Girl Captain. By Jos. E. Badger.<br> -126—Yankee Eph. By J. R. Worcester.<br> -127—Silverspur. By Edward Willett.<br> -128—Squatter Dick. By Jos. E. Badger.<br> -129—The Child Spy. By George Gleason.<br> -130—Mink Coat. By Jos. E. Badger.<br> -131—Red Plume. By J. Stanley Henderson.<br> -132—Clyde, the Trailer. By Maro O. Rolfe.<br> -133—The Lost Cache. J. Stanley Henderson.<br> -134—The Cannibal Chief. Paul J. Prescott.<br> -135—Karaibo. By J. Stanley Henderson.<br> -136—Scarlet Moccasin. By Paul Bibbs.<br> -137—Kidnapped. By J. Stanley Henderson.<br> -138—Maid of the Mountain. By Hamilton.<br> -139—The Scioto Scouts. By Ed. Willett.<br> -140—The Border Renegade. By Badger.<br> -141—The Mute Chief. By C. D. Clark.<br> -142—Boone, the Hunter. By Whittaker.<br> -143—Mountain Kate. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.<br> -144—The Red Scalper. By W. J. Hamilton.<br> -145—The Lone Chief. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.<br> -146—The Silver Bugle. Lieut. Col. Hazleton.<br> -147—Chinga, the Cheyenne. By E. S. Ellis.<br> -148—The Tangled Trail. By Major Martine.<br> -149—The Unseen Hand. By J. S. Henderson.<br> -150—The Lone Indian. By Capt. C. Howard.<br> -151—The Branded Brave. By Paul Bibbs.<br> -152—Billy Bowlegs, The Seminole Chief.<br> -153—The Valley Scout. By Seelin Robbins.<br> -154—Red Jacket. By Paul Bibbs.<br> -155—The Jungle Scout. Ready<br> -156—Cherokee Chief. Ready<br> -157—The Bandit Hermit. Ready<br> -158—The Patriot Scouts. Ready<br> -159—The Wood Rangers.<br> -160—The Red Foe. Ready<br> -161—The Beautiful Unknown.<br> -162—Canebrake Mose. Ready<br> -163—Hank, the Guide. Ready<br> -164—The Border Scout. Ready Oct. 5th.</p> - - -<p class="ph1">BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p class="ph1">[Transcriber's Note: No Chapter X. heading in original text.]</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOOD KING; OR, DANIEL BOONE'S LAST TRAIL ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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