CHAPTER XVI
THE FIGURES AGAINST THE SKY
"THIS is what I call hard luck," remarked Sandy, as he dropped hisbundle of deer meat close to where the trapper sat upon the ground,rubbing his ankle.
"It is that same, by the token," grumbled Pat. "Av yees give me a hand,byes, it's mesilf will thry to sthand up, and say how well I can walk."
Willingly each of the lads took hold of an arm, and assisted him togain an upright position; but, when Pat started bravely to walk, hemade a sorry mess of it. He was a game fellow, however, and would notbe dismayed.
"Sure, it may pass away afther I've given the ould thing a littleexercise, like, and av yees say the worrd we'll pick up our packs anddo be goin' on our way, rejoicin' becase it's no worrse. What if I'dbroke me nick--that would have been a nice pickle for a man to be in!"
He even insisted on carrying his share of the venison, though Bobprotested; but Pat was a stubborn man.
"Think av all the mouths to be fed, would ye; and why should I lit itlay here, where it wull do no good at all, at all, save to fill thestomach av a wolf, or make a wildcat feel happy? Sure it goes along widme if I can limp."
And it did,--that is, for some little time, though Pat had to call fora stop, and rest, every hundred yards. Once he proposed that the twoboys desert him, and make for the place where the boat was tied upabove.
"'Tis only a matter av a mile or so, me lads," he said, "an' I'm deadsure ye'd be able to find the same widout much throuble. In good timePat would come limpin' into camp. Kape the river on your lift, that dobe all yees have to do."
"Well, that's something we'll never do, Pat, desert a comrade introuble," was the vehement reply of Bob; and Sandy was even moreemphatic; so the pleased Irish trapper had to be content with the waythings were going.
"We've got the whole night before us," Bob remarked, in a low voice,for Pat had warned them to be careful, because there was no tellingwhat might be abroad in the big timber bordering the river.
"And once we get aboard the flatboat," continued Sandy, in the samevein, "Pat can have his sprain looked after by mother; and there's noneed of him setting his weight on that foot again till it's well."
It was at one of the resting spells that something occurred to Bob.
"I was thinking," he remarked in a whisper, "that, if we looked around,we might find some good stuff here."
"Stuff for what?" asked Sandy.
"To make a litter out of," replied Bob.
"Oh! you mean so that we could carry Pat between us, and the venison,too," Sandy whispered back.
"Yes, what do you think of it, Sandy?"
"Seems like a good idea to me; and, if you say the word, I'll begin tolook about here right now, Bob," the other answered.
He was about to make the first move when Pat, who had been listening,broke in upon the conversation of the brothers.
"A litter is it that yees would be afther makin'," he remarked,quickly; "and to kerry me to camp like I was a dead soldier, so itbe? Wull, I've no objections to ye makin' wan av the same to kerry themate; but, by me faith, ye'll niver get Pat O'Mara to rist his boneson that litter unless he is out av his mind. An' av ye be falin' likeanother spell, lit's be away."
Of course, after that Bob could not insist, for only too well did heknow the independent spirit of the Irish trapper. As long as Pat couldput one foot to the ground he would persist in moving along; nor couldBob prevail on him to either throw his burden away, or divide it upbetween the other two.
"I'll do me share av the worrk, or know the rason why," Pat wouldanswer back, every time the idea was mentioned; and, as long as heshowed this obstinate streak, they could do nothing but let him havehis way.
Bob was keeping his wits about him all this while. He noticed thedirection they were taking, and could even give a pretty fair guess asto the distance yet to be traversed before they could hope to reach thetied-up boat.
"I don't believe we are more than a single mile away from them now; isthat so, Pat?" he asked, as they sat there, resting again.
"Sure, ye do be a smart lad, Bob," replied the other, in his usualwhisper, which the boys had come to imitate, though it gave a verymysterious air to their surroundings; "and, av I do know annything atall, that's about the distance we sthill have to cover. But don't beworryin' about me; for I tell yees I can make it by hook or by crook.It ain't often as Pat O'Mara--whist, he sthill now, both av yees!"
Bob felt a sudden thrill as the Irish trapper finished his sentencein this surprising manner. He knew what it must mean only too well.Pat had keen ears, even as he also possessed the eyes of a hawk. Hislong life in the woods had made him the equal of a redskin in theserespects, as well as many others pertaining to following a faint trail,reading signs from the track of a wild animal, big or small, and suchtricks as Indians know from boyhood.
It was plainly evident from his manner that he had either seen or heardsomething suspicious, and, under the circumstances, this could onlymean hostile Indians.
Bob saw that the other was looking away toward the left, which waswhere the river must lie, for it had been their intention, afterstriking the water, to try to follow up the shore, hoping to takeadvantage of the shallow strip of open that often lay between themargin of the river and the dense woods.
At the moment they happened to be down in a sort of shallow gully. Alow ridge arose between the spot where they rested and the river. Themoon was very nearly half full and, where the great trees did not shutout the light, it was easy to see the top of this small ridge, for ithappened to be bald in places.
Pat was staring straight upward toward one of these open spots; andBob naturally allowed his eyes to travel in the same quarter. He heardSandy give a low gasp; nor did Bob blame his brother in the least forthus allowing an indication of his astonishment and dismay to escapehim.
For against the clear sky, plainly outlined in the moonlight, there wasa figure, walking swiftly along the ridge, and heading up the river.There was no need for any one to explain what those feathers stuckin the scalplock meant, for Bob knew he was looking upon an Indianin his war dress. Doubtless, had he been closer, the paint that wasdaubed upon his cheeks and forehead could have been seen. Even the gunhe carried, undoubtedly purchased by a bundle of rich furs from theFrench traders of the Mississippi posts, could be seen, as he pickedhis way across the little gap in the dark intervening forest, and thenvanished beyond.
But already a second warrior had come into view, following closely inthe footsteps of the leading brave, it seemed. He, too, was decked outfor war, if those feathers that stood upright signified all the boysbelieved they did, and a gun was clasped in his hand, just as with thefirst dark spectre.
A third was in view even before the second had passed beyond the limitsof the watchers' vision. A fourth came trailing along, then a fifth;and the grim procession continued to move along like a column ofnightmare ghosts, until Bob had unconsciously counted twenty-two of thesavages.
What a narrow escape they had had! Suppose either he or Sandy had beenunwise enough to talk beyond the whisper which cautious Pat institutedas the margin of safety, what chance would they have had against such ahost of cruel foes?
They waited for a minute or so, fearful lest there might be a stragglerwho had fallen a little distance behind the rest; but, when noneappeared, Bob felt safe in speaking in the guarded tone used before.
"That was a close shave, now, I'm telling you," he said, drawing along breath. "If we'd been moving at the time, I'm afraid they'd havediscovered us long before we did them."
"Yis," grumbled Pat, "wid me makin' all the noise av a granehorn inthe woods, a-draggin' me lift lig afther me. But sure, that's not theworrst av it, byes. Did ye not notice the direction the bog trotters dobe goin'?"
"Up the river!" said Sandy, quickly.
"And the flatboat lies there, not more than a mile away!" gasped Bob,feeling suddenly cold all over, as a spasm of dread took possession ofhim.
"Oh! how can we warn them?"
asked Sandy, getting to his feet, as thoughsorely tempted to start on a run for the river, so that he could try tomake the camp before the murderous Indians reached it.
"Whist! be aisy now, and we'll thry and find some way to do thesame," remarked Pat, as he painfully arose, and made ready to clutchhold of the impetuous lad, if there was any sign that Sandy reallycontemplated giving them the slip.
"But something ought to be done at once," remonstrated the other, hisvoice filled with emotion, as he thought of the loved ones who mightbe caught unawares by the savages and fall victims to their crueltomahawks and knives. "Don't you think either Bob or myself might getthere ahead of them, if we went along the edge of the river? Please,Pat, think quick now, if ever you did in all your life."
"'Tis that same I'm doin', me bye," the trapper replied. "Ye must pullup, and howld yer horses. 'Tis a time to do the right thing, or be thesame token ye're apt to ruin the whole business. Just stop and remimberthat afore we lift camp I arranged all that wid yer father."
"The signals, you mean, Pat?" asked Sandy, while Bob gulped down thelump in his throat that had threatened to choke him, for a sudden senseof relief had come to him.
"The same, Sandy," the trapper replied, laying a kindly hand on the armof the excited boy. "Rist aisy now, would ye, for we have it in ourpower to sind warmin' to lit thim know danger hangs over the camp; andthat they must git aboord, and cut loose down the strame widout delay.But, befoore we sind that warrnin', 'tis only the parrt av wisdom, doye say, to lit the inimy cover more ground, so that we do be havin'a chanct to make our iscape, in case they sind back a parrt av theirnumber to look us up."
Sandy, after all, could be reasonable, once he grasped the breadth of aplan, and he hastened to declare his reliance on the shrewdness of theIrish trapper.
"You're right, Pat," he said, huskily; "but oh! don't wait too long;make it soon!"