The Wilderness Fugitives by Edward Sylvester Ellis (good summer reads TXT) 📕

if it were possible."

Waiting a short time, he concluded to advance a little farther, so as to meet either of the two men if they were approaching, while at a greater distance from the cavern, though he was not unmindful that he was liable to miss them altogether. However, he had gone less than a hundred yards when he detected the signs of some one coming immediately in front. It was his ear which heard a crackling of a twig, so close that he had barely time to leap aside and conceal himself from view when the figure of Worrell, closely followed by Captain Bagley, came up a sort of path toward the open space from which Ned had fled in such haste. The youth barely caught sight of them when the forms of six Iroquois appeared, one by one, immediately in the rear of the two white men.

When Ned saw the latter, he was much concerned, fearing that they would detect the slight trail he must have left in his hurry for cover. But it was too late to make any further flight, as he would be discovered from the noise, if not by the sight.

From his concealment he watched the party, their manner of marching being peculiar, as the eight walked in Indian file. Worrell, being the guide, took the lead. Bagley kept so close that they could hold a conversation in low tones, while the Iroquois stalked along like so many phantoms of the wood.

If Ned was alarmed at sight of the redmen, knowing their skill in detecting and following a trail of an enemy, he was thrown into a cold perspiration of dread when the whole party halted in the open space from which he had bounded when he heard the crackling twig. The clear space covered something like an eighth of an acre, and Clinton was too disturbed to notice that the particular spot where the group was gathered was so far removed from his footprints that there was really little danger of their being noticed. But when they had stood awhile, and the two white men began a conversation, he noticed the gratifying fact and became composed enough to listen to the words that passed between Captain Bagley and Worrell.

"You may say what you please," said the former, "but there is more risk in this business than I want to assume. You are so anxious to get the reward promised by Colonel Butler that you can't see the difficulties in the way."

"If there were any difficulties I would see them, but they ain't there. Where's the difficulty in eight armed men taking possession of two who are asleep, and a woman who is also unconscious?"

"None, of course, when you put it in that way; but the Mohawk is somewhere about, and, as I told you a while ago, he has a way of turning up just when you don't want to see him."

"These Iroquois say they want to meet him, and if he is there, they'll have the chance."

"But I ain't anxious to meet him, and if he is about, as I feel in my bones he is, there'll be the mischief to pay."

Worrell uttered an imprecation. He had been obliged to keep up an argument with the captain ever since they started from the house with the Indians--even before; and now the man had halted again, more loth than ever to proceed. It was plain that he held the Mohawk in great fear.

"Where is this cave in which you say the party are asleep?" he asked, in reply to the explanation of the guide.

"You have only to go a little way further with me and you'll see it," replied Worrell, who was evidently unwilling that any one should share so valuable a secret with him.

"Colonel Butler has all of twenty of the best Iroquois with him, and the wisest thing for us is to go to his camp, tell him how the case stands, and get him to let us have eight or ten more; then we can come back and lay regular siege to the place. Then we shall be sure of catching them sooner or later."

"Yes, at the end of a month or so, and it won't do for Butler to stay much longer in the valley. He knows it, and will leave in a day or two."

"But why speak of waiting a month before they can be taken, when thirst and starvation will bring them to terms in a couple of days at the most?"

"It will, eh?" said Worrell, contemptuously. "There is a spring of water in one corner of the cavern, and they have enough provisions stored there to last all of a month."

"How came the provisions in that place?"

"I took them there myself, for I have used the cave many a time."

This was a falsehood, so far as the water and food were concerned, the cavern containing nothing of the kind.

"Do not any of these Iroquois know where the place is?"

"Of course not, and there is no danger of the Mohawk finding it under two or three days' hunt."

"You needn't tell me such stuff as that," said Captain Bagley. "There's nothing that you can hide from him."

"This is a pretty crowd that is afraid to go forward because there happens to be a single Indian somewhere in the woods. If you want to stay behind, let me have the warriors, and I will take them to the spot, and deliver the three into the hands of Colonel Butler inside of an hour. What do you say to that?"

"You are so determined, you may lead on, and we'll follow."

"Well, let's do it, then, without any more--"

At that instant, the crack of a rifle broke the stillness, and the man Worrell threw up his hand and fell forward on his face, dead!


CHAPTER XXX.

A MERITED FATE.

The amazement of Ned Clinton was no greater than that of Captain Bagley and the Indians over the sudden death of Worrell. For one moment the comrades of the deceased stood transfixed, staring at the inanimate form stretched on the ground before them. Then the Iroquois gave out their war whoop, and sprang to the cover of the nearest undergrowth. This brought them much nearer the youth than was pleasant. The thought struck him that these warriors would believe the one who fired the fatal shot was near by, and begin a search which must result in revealing Clinton himself. The precautionary action of the redmen served to recall Captain Bagley to his own situation, and he raised his gaze from the prostrate figure, and looked affrightedly around him.

"It was that Mohawk who fired that shot!" he exclaimed, making a hurried rush for the same cover that was sheltering the half dozen Iroquois.

As fate would have it, he crouched down in the undergrowth so close to Ned Clinton that the latter believed discovery was inevitable. He was well hidden, however, and flattened out until it seemed he must force himself into the ground, while he feared if the Tory escaped seeing him, he would learn of his presence from the throbbing of his heart. But there was one thing in favor of the youth. The shot--by whomsoever fired--had come from exactly the opposite direction, a fact which was perceptible to the Iroquois themselves even if unnoticed by the young man at the time.

Perfect stillness succeeded the report, and when some ten minutes passed, the warriors appeared to suspect their inaction would permit the daring Mohawk to escape, when there was a chance to secure his scalp. At the end of the time mentioned, Ned, from his concealment, caught a glimpse of two warriors stealing along the edge of the open space. Their backs were toward him, thus showing they were pursuing an opposite direction in quest of the one who had slain their leader. Shortly after he detected others, and last of all went Captain Bagley himself, he having changed from a leader to a follower. Thus in a brief time Ned found himself alone, with no one in sight excepting the inanimate form, now stark and stiff, telling its impressive story of a miscreant cut down in the middle of his wicked career.

"I wonder whether it was Lena-Wingo who did that," mused the youth, raising his head and peering through the undergrowth at the form. "Captain Bagley believed so, and I guess he was right, for I can't think of any one else who would do it."

After what had taken place, Ned was in doubt as to what his own course should be. From the conversation which he overheard between Worrell and Bagley, he knew that none of the survivors was aware of the location of the cavern, so that the fugitives might stay within it in safety. The youth concluded he had seen enough to carry back to his friends. He, therefore, cautiously retreated from the hiding-place, not wishing to encounter any of the Indians, who could be at no great distance, and desirous, too, of avoiding another sight of the dead man. It took but a short time to reach the tree, where he had first seen the one who had attempted to betray them, and who had come near succeeding, too, in the effort.

"I don't know that anything is to be gained by staying here, and I will go back to where I left Jo and Rosa, and tell them they may take refuge in the cavern without any danger or disturb--"

At that instant he heard a stealthy movement behind him, and he was in dread of a collision with some of the Iroquois, who seemed to be almost everywhere in the forest and on the mountain. As he wheeled about, there was the redman, painted and with gun in his grasp; but it was the redman whom, of all others, he was anxious to see, being no other than Lena-Wingo, the scout.

"Thank the Lord!" was the fervent exclamation of the youth, as he rushed toward the Mohawk and caught his hand. "Where have you been so long?"

Lena-Wingo took the proffered hand and shook it warmly, for he held the youth in the highest estimation, as he had shown on more than one occasion. At the same time, he put on his usual broad grin, and replied, in his broken way:

"Lena-Wingo been watching you. Seen you hide in bushes when Iroquois come, and he watch."

"That was you, then, who picked off Worrell?"

"Who Worrell?" demanded the Mohawk, sharply.

"Why, that chap that was shot while talking to Captain Bagley."

"His name not Worrell," said Lena-Wingo. "He Dick Evans."

"No!" gasped Ned, in return.

"That he--Lena-Wingo look good while for him--found him--shoot him--won't kill any more women and babies."

And who was Dick Evans, that the mention of his name should cause so much emotion on the part of those who heard it pronounced? He was one of the most infamous wretches produced by the Revolutionary war. He had been heard of in Wyoming valley for years before the invasion of the Tories and Indians, and was looked upon as an outlaw who was compelled to live in the woods to escape the penalty of his innumerable crimes against civilization. There was no deed too dark for him to perpetrate. When the Revolution broke out he turned against the land that gave him birth, and committed atrocities that no other Tory or Indian had exceeded. It was well known that he had slain women and children