CHAPTER XVII
PERILS OF THE WILDERNESS
"NO shoot! no shoot!" cried Blue Jacket, who seemed to size up thesituation instantly; though up to that time he had not even suspectedthat he was about to be made the object of a savage attack on the partof a panther.
Bob, too, understood the motive that influenced the Shawanee brave toexclaim in this way, as he jerked out his knife and threw himself in anattitude of defence. Should a musket be discharged, there was always achance that the report might be carried to the ears of the Senecas, ifthey happened to be within a few miles of the spot.
Few Indians used guns in those days, the vast majority depending stillupon the bows and arrows of their race, backed by tomahawks and knives,and sometimes war clubs in time of battle. Hence, they might suspectthat pursuers were on their trail, should the boom of a heavily-loadedmusket be carried to their ears.
So Bob threw out his hand, and instantly covered the pan of hisbrother's gun, so that, when the hammer fell, it caught his fingers,and no spark followed. Bob winced under the sharp pain; but he hadaccomplished his end, and what mattered a trifling cut?
"THE BOYS SAW THE SHEEN OF HIS SATINY SIDES AS HESPRANG"]
But the panther had not waited all this time to accommodate theseintruders in his forest preserves. The boys saw the sheen of his satinysides as he sprang.
"Oh! he missed!" gasped Sandy; but Bob knew why this was so, for he hadseen the agile young Indian jump sideways just at the critical instant,so that, while the aim of the big cat may have been correct, he onlyalighted upon the ground.
Blue Jacket never wavered, but instantly threw himself upon the graybeast. His keen-pointed knife was raised, and came down once, twice,thrice in less than as many seconds. It was no longer glinting in thesunlight, for after that first descent the steel seemed to be dulled.
Both boys pushed forward, eager to get in a blow that would be of someassistance to this devoted red friend, who counted not his own safetyor comfort when a chance arose whereby he could help his palefacecomrades.
They had dropped their guns as useless, since they could not befired. Bob had drawn his knife, while Sandy had a hatchet in his grip;and both circled around, looking for an opening.
The Indian and the panther were revolving so fast, however, that itseemed well nigh impossible for any outsider to get in a blow, withoutrunning grave chances of seriously injuring the very one they wanted toassist.
And, while they thus made half-hearted blows, fearful lest they striketheir good ally, Blue Jacket suddenly sprang aside, leaving the animalstruggling on the ground. In vain it attempted to follow its humanadversary. The ready knife of the stalwart young Shawanee had struckin too deeply, and already was the panther feeling the throes ofapproaching death.
Even as the boys gazed, spellbound, the animal stiffened out, afterone last violent movement. Blue Jacket was breathing very hard; butupon his set face they could see the look that comes to a victor in awell-fought battle.
"Are you hurt much, Blue Jacket?" asked Sandy, fearful lest thoseterrible claws might have torn the young Shawanee.
The other glanced down at a few places where the blood had commencedto show, as marking the scratches he had received; then he shook hishead scornfully.
"Not much hurt," he announced. "Panther hard kill--fight back--takemany times finish," and he opened the fingers of both hands toillustrate how many strokes he had made with that knife before he feltthat he had accomplished his purpose.
"But why didn't you let me shoot him?" demanded Sandy, as thoughfeeling hurt, because at that short distance he knew one shot wouldhave surely finished the "woods terror," as such beasts were known atthe time.
"Make noise--tell Iroquois we here--no good, see, Sandy?" was theway Blue Jacket put it; and Sandy immediately realized how great asacrifice the other had just made in order to keep their presence onthe trail unknown to those they hunted.
He looked at his brother, and drew a long breath.
"Where could we have found a better friend, Bob?" he said, earnestly.
"We must have looked a long way, Sandy," returned the other. "But letme put a little salve my mother made on those cuts, Blue Jacket. Thereis poison in the claws of a tiger cat, and you may have a bad time,unless we look out for it."
"Ugh!" grunted the Indian, even while he allowed Bob to do as hewished. "Much papoose, warriors think. No care 'bout hurt. Get well,bimeby. Blue Jacket come 'cross medicine grass soon, chew and put oncut, good. If white squaw make, then try. Ugh!"
Anything Mrs. Armstrong did was all right in the eyes of the youngShawanee brave. He had watched her, and learned to respect the gentlewoman who ruled the Armstrong cabin with a sceptre of love.
Leaving the dead panther where it had fallen, the three pressed onwardagain. If, during the balance of that weary day, the limbs of BlueJacket ached, no one ever knew it, for not a single complaint or groanpassed his lips. Bob realized that he in all probability suffered, forsome of the scratches had been pretty deep; but he also understood thesingular nature of Indians, and how it was considered childish to showany evidence of pain.
Night came on, and they were forced to halt, with those they huntedstill far ahead. How the Iroquois managed to travel so far and so fastpuzzled both boys, especially since they knew that Kate could not havepossibly kept up under that fierce strain.
Blue Jacket told them that there were occasions when the footprints ofthe girl utterly vanished for a mile or more. At such times he wouldeven point out which of the four Indians must be carrying her, becausethe indentation of his moccasins showed deeper than those of hiscompanions.
And the boys were astonished at the simplicity of this reading ofsigns. Every hour they found something new to marvel over in connectionwith the work of their dusky friend. He pointed out twigs that had beenbent and righted; to leaves that had been displaced by the feet of thefugitives; and by such means easily figured just how long a time hadelapsed since the others had passed.
They started again at daybreak and, all the morning, followed the trailof the Iroquois.
The storm, that had threatened on the previous day and then passed bywithout a single drop falling, now came back for a second attempt. Andthis time they were not fated to escape.
"We are in for it," said Bob, when about noon the crash of thundersounded close at hand, accompanied by vivid lightning.
"Yes," declared Sandy, making a rueful face, "I think I can hear therain beating down in the treetops even now, over there. What a pity,when we were gradually overtaking the red thieves. Oh! what if we losethem, and have nothing left to follow? What can we do then, Bob?"
"Just what I said before," replied his brother, between his set teeth,as still another crash of thunder made the woods echo with its roll."We have only one plan to follow, then. Blue Jacket is of the sameopinion; for I talked it over with him this morning. We must pushstraight on for the Great Lakes, and try to waylay the party beforethey reach their village."
"A desperate chance," groaned Sandy.
"But we said we would never give up until the last gasp, Sandy. Youforget, too, that we have a good and wise friend at work for us," Bobwent on, cheerfully.
"You mean Pat O'Mara?" replied the other, quickly. "Yes, I did forget.I am too apt to be hasty, I fear. Oh! I do hope he may be able tosnatch Kate from the power of the young chief, Black Beaver. But whyshould he have stolen her at all? Kate is only a child, too young forany one to want to have for a squaw."
"I have been thinking about something Blue Jacket told me," said Bob.
"Then please let me know, too, for I am all in a mix," pleaded hisbrother.
"He said that he knew Black Beaver had only a short time ago lost alittle sister by some disease. He told me that the old squaw, hismother, sat day by day out where the child was laid away, after thecustom of the Indians, the body being sewed up in many thicknesses ofbuffalo skins, and placed on a platform, where the wolves could notreach her."
"Yes, I saw an Indian
graveyard when I was a prisoner among theShawanees, and it was just as you say," declared Sandy, eagerly. "Iknow that daily the squaws come to talk with the spirits of those whoare gone. I saw them placing earthen bowls of succotash on the ground,believing that the steam that arose was spirit food, since it vanished,and no one knew where it went." (Note 5.)
"Blue Jacket said that Black Beaver cared much more for his sister thanmost Indians do," Bob continued, between the angry growlings of thethunder; "and that he feared the old squaw would lose her mind if shekept on mourning. Now, you remember how he looked at our sister Katewhen he came in for a supply of tobacco and maize? I really believe hehad a sudden idea flash into his mind when he saw how pretty she was."
"Now I understand what you mean," cried Sandy, excitedly. "He believedthat our Kate might take the place of the sister that was dead! Theywould color her skin, and teach her to forget that her people were thehated palefaces. Bob, I believe you are right; and somehow the thoughtgives me much comfort, for then our little Kate will not suffer harm atthe hands of Black Beaver and those with him."
There was no time for further conversation, for the storm now rusheddown upon them with terrific violence. With the howling wind, the flashof lightning, and the crash of thunder came a tremendous downpour ofrain. It was possibly the breaking up of summer, and might be followedshortly by frost, such are the rapid changes that mark the meeting ofthe seasons.
They had found a means for sheltering themselves from the worst of thestorm. A hollow tree might have answered fully as well; but, with thosefrequent zigzag flashes of the deadly electric fluid, none of themfelt like taking such desperate chances, especially when a cleft insome rocks opened an avenue of escape.
Here they cowered and waited as the storm rolled over. Bob knew ofcourse that such a thing as trailing the Senecas after this wasentirely out of the question; and that the only thing remaining to themwas to strike out north, in the hope of finding the village to whichBlack Beaver belonged, and intercepting the party.
That would mean the placing of some hundreds of miles betweenthemselves and the dearly-beloved cabin on the Ohio, where that littlemother waited in daily hope and expectation of their return, with thelost Kate; but, for themselves these brave boys gave little thought.They were ready to face every species of peril in the endeavor torescue their sister.
When the wind had ceased to howl, and only the mutter of the retreatingthunder in the distance told that the storm was over, they came forth,grim and determined-looking, all three.
Sandy tightened his belt; and there even was something suggestive ofwhat was in his mind about that little action. It looked as though hewere preparing for the tremendous tramp that loomed up ahead, when theymust cross rivers, thread their way through tangled forests where fewif any of their kind had ever before stepped; and face all manner ofdangers by day and by night.
Blue Jacket never even asked what they would have him do; for healready knew the plan of campaign. Deliberately he turned, until thewestern sun, shining out from the broken clouds like a ball of gold,was exactly on his left. Then he started to swiftly walk away.
No longer did the young brave look down upon the ground as he movedalong. There existed no need for such a thing, since the trail had beenutterly washed out by that deluge of rain. Henceforth the tracklesswilderness lay before them, and at the other end they hoped to find thevillage in which Black Beaver had his wigwam.
Even upon the face of Sandy had come a grim look that seemed out ofplace in the features of a half-grown lad; but in those pioneer daysresponsibility set its mark early on the growing generation, and even alad of fifteen could shoulder the cares and burdens of manhood.
Days would come, and days would pass, and night must follow night.Sometimes sun and stars would beckon them onward; again perhaps stormswould buffet these bold adventurers; but through it all they would pushresolutely onward, with but that one impulse urging them on, the rescueof Kate.
What the near future held for them no mortal could say; but, no matterwhat lay beyond, Bob and Sandy would press on toward the goal, thoughthey had to face the whole of the Six Nations, or the confederatedtribes Pontiac had bound together in his wild hope for a general Indianwar.