CHAPTER XXII
THE ESCAPE
"WHEN can we go, Blue Jacket?" asked the boy, with his usual impatience.
"No can get away yet some time. Sandy look out," came the reply.
"Well, I see what you mean," admitted the prisoner, reluctantly. "Theredoes seem to be considerable of a stir around. Everybody is movingabout. Even the dogs seem to be prowling around sniffing at things."
"Ugh! much stir. Talk heap. French trader try to palaver with chiefs.Make think English bad men. Steal Indian country, kill squaws,papooses, all. Ugh!" and, from the way Blue Jacket said this, it wasevident that he feared the influence of the smooth-voiced Jacques Laruewould undo all the good his harangue had accomplished.
Not that his people would think of putting Sandy to the stake. Thatbugbear had been effectually squelched after he had told how kind thetwo Armstrong boys had shown themselves to him. But they might refuseto let the prisoner go free, demanding that he be forced to join thetribe. The lodge was still to be a prison, for the squaw had betakenherself off, and Blue Jacket had said he would not be allowed to staywith his white brother.
Even Sandy understood something of his danger. Perhaps it had to dowith his impatience to get away from the village, with its clamor andits strange inhabitants.
He remembered the skinny old crone who had wanted to adopt him as herown son. She meant it all in kindness, perhaps, but the very thoughtmade poor Sandy shiver.
"But look here, Blue Jacket, what about Bob?" he said, presently, afterhe had turned away from peeping out at the exit of the lodge.
"Bob wait," replied the Indian with his customary taciturnity.
"Yes, but when time passes, and I fail to come, he may get impatientand do something that will get him into trouble?"
At this the young Indian shrugged his shoulders. Perhaps he had caughtthe manner from the French traders, oily men who often visited theShawanees in their villages to barter poor guns and powder for theirvaluable pelts.
"Bob no Sandy!" was his only comment; and it struck home, too, for theone who heard gave a little chuckle, as he hastened to reply:
"You are right about that, Blue Jacket; and perhaps it's just as wellthat he is not. One hothead in the family is quite enough. But youthink, then, Bob will bide his time patiently, and wait to hear fromyou?"
"Him say," answered the other, calmly.
"Oh!" observed Sandy; but he saw a great light.
It told him what a distinct impression that sober brother of his musthave made on the observing young Indian during the week of theirintercourse. Accustomed to reading people just as Sandy might the pagesof a printed book, Blue Jacket knew that, when Bob Armstrong said athing, that was just what he meant. His simple word was, in the eye ofthis native of the woods, as good as another's bond.
Presently Sandy spoke again, for he could not keep his mind long offthat fascinating subject.
"Is he near the border of the village, Blue Jacket?" he asked.
"Much close. Blue Jacket him hide Bob. No can find. P'raps dog smellhim. Not much danger that. You wait. Sleep. Time come bimeby. BlueJacket crawl in lodge, wake. Make not noise, but move like snake. Ugh!"
With that the young Indian abruptly left him.
Sandy threw himself down on the blanket and bearskin which he found inhis prison. Perhaps what the Indian suggested would be a wise thing forhim to do. He was very tired, and trembling with excitement. Of course,he hardly hoped to sleep any; but even lying there would rest him moreor less.
But, despite his fears, he must have passed away into dreamland veryshortly after dropping on the soft robes, for he could not rememberdoing any great amount of thinking over his past troubles and theuncertain future.
A cold hand touching his face awakened him.
Before he could utter a sound he heard a low hiss that warned himagainst making a single exclamation. It was well Blue Jacket adoptedthis course, because naturally Sandy supposed himself safe at home, inhis own newly-fashioned bed, and that it was Bob who had disturbed hisdreams.
Instantly he understood. The skin lodge was almost in darkness. Still,something of a flickering light seeped in through little openings atthe entrance; and he could just manage to make out a bending figurethat crouched beside him.
"Is it you, Blue Jacket?" he whispered softly, as his hand went out tofeel of this figure.
Again that warning hiss greeted him. Then there was a gentle pull athis buckskin tunic, which Sandy could not mistake. His ghostly visitorwanted him to follow his lead.
Expecting some such summons, Sandy had made all preparations for aquick departure. His precious gun was lying close beside him; moreover,he had secured powder-horn, bullet pouch, and all other belongings, sothat nothing would be left behind.
Blue Jacket turned and crawled away. To Sandy's surprise the youngShawanee did not head toward the opening of the lodge; but common sensetold him why. There was a fire still burning out there, and possiblysome brave might awaken just at the critical moment when they werepassing.
Evidently Blue Jacket had crept in at the rear, and meant to returnthe same way. He knew the possibilities of his own wigwam. Sandywriggled his body under the tightly drawn skin that, with its fellows,formed the wigwam. He could just barely see the figure of his guidemoving off ahead. And, when Blue Jacket had said they must glide likethe snake that goes upon its belly, he certainly hit the truth, forSandy could not discover the slightest movement of either arms or legs.Still the other made fair progress.
Between lodges, avoiding the smouldering fires, they went. Surely thered guide must have figured every inch of the route in advance. Noteven a dog seemed to be along the course; and Sandy's admiration forhis friend increased by bounds with every yard that they advanced.
He had been wise enough to observe the location of Blue Jacket's lodge,and hence knew that they were now heading in a general way toward thebank of the small stream near which this temporary hunting camp of theShawanees had been located.
This gave him a sudden and brilliant idea. Bid Blue Jacket mean thatthey should make their escape by water? It would save many weary milesof tramping, which task Sandy was not in very good physical conditionto undertake.
More than once the dark figure ahead came to a pause, and lay as stillas a log. Sandy was keenly awake to the situation, and copied hisactions to the letter. On one occasion a couple of dogs came runningpast, having evidently been hunting on their own account in theforest. They stopped to sniff the air, but luckily they were not onthe windward side of the crouching figures; and so the presence of apaleface was not discovered; for soon they went on among the lodges, tolie down and rest after their long chase.
Another time it was a moving warrior who caused alarm. But he seemed tohave only been down to the river for a drink, for he walked past thespot where the two shadows lay without any suspicion that anything wasamiss.
It was an exciting time for poor Sandy, and his heart seemed to be upin his throat with suspense as he kept his agonized eyes fastened onthat tall, dusky figure, until it was lost among the neighboring lodges.
All now seemed well, and the coast clear. Rapidly Blue Jacketadvanced. No longer was he content to wriggle like the rattlesnake. Hehad first arisen to his knees, and finally to his feet. True, he limpedsadly, and Sandy knew that, with an Indian's stoicism, his guide mustbe repressing the groans that a white boy would have uttered.
"He's game, all right," Sandy was saying to himself, filled withgratitude toward the young Indian; "good Blue Jacket! Will I everforget this? May my right arm wither if I should! And now, I wonderwhere Bob is?"
They had gone some little distance from the village, so that there nolonger seemed to be any danger that they would be seen if they walkederect. Sandy had impulsively thrown an arm about his companion, meaningto help him. Perhaps at another time the proud young Shawanee mighthave indignantly declined to accept any assistance; but he was weak,and he had learned to feel a singular affection for his two whitebrothers.
&nb
sp; They came to a stop near a tangle of thickets.
"Listen!" said Blue Jacket.
Then close by, so that it actually startled the white boy, came thebark of the red fox, twice repeated. And he remembered what his guidehad said about the signal which Bob was to recognize. Anxiously Sandywaited, every nerve on edge for fear lest his brother might have gone.
There was a stir in the thicket, and then came a low voice saying:
"Sandy! Blue Jacket, is it you?"
"Here!" exclaimed the escaped prisoner, unable to longer restrain hisfeelings; and in another moment he was clasped in a brother's sturdyembrace.
"No time lose," observed the practical Indian. "Come long me. Riverclose by. Canoe p'raps wait. Paddle home. Tell white squaw Blue Jacketmuch glad."
In two minutes they had arrived at the border of the little stream,where Blue Jacket produced his canoe, hidden for this very purpose latethat evening.
"Go quick! No time lose. Mebbe alarm come. Who can tell?" said theIndian.
Sandy had crept into the frail boat made of skins, and Bob was aboutto do so, after squeezing the hand of their red friend, when a smoothvoice suddenly said:
"Sacre! it ees just as I thought when I saw him paddle his canoe here.Not so quick, young messieurs. You are not yet out of ze woods."