Part 24 (2/2)

”Ay,” remarked Waller sarcastically, ”'cause they knows that the first man as comes on is sartin sure to fall, an' they knows that they can't come on without somebody comin' first.”

”But there's brave fellers among the redskins,” rejoined Bounce. ”I knowed a set o' young fellers as banded theirselves together, and swore they'd go through fire an' water, thick an' thin, but they'd niver turn back from the face o' danger wherever they met it. So, one day they wos crossin' a river on the ice, an' the first on 'em fell in, an' wos carried away by the current; an' what does the second do, but he walks straight into the hole, an' wos drowned too; an' the nixt wos goin' to foller, when the old warriors ran at him an' forced him back. If they hadn't stopped him, I do b'lieve--”

”They're makin' up their minds to do somethin' or other,” interrupted March.

”I sincerely hope they won't fight,” murmured Bertram earnestly. ”It is fearful to think of the blood that is shed by these men needlessly.”

From the conduct of the Indians it became evident that on this occasion they sympathised with the artist in his desire not to fight, for one of their number dismounted, and, advancing unarmed towards the trappers, made signs of friends.h.i.+p.

”It's as well to be bold an' appear to trust 'em,” said Redhand, laying down his rifle and leaping over the breastwork; ”keep your guns ready, lads, an' if ye see treachery, let drive at once. Don't be afraid o'

hittin' me. I'll take my chance.”

After a few minutes' conversation with the Indian, Redhand returned to his party.

”That redskin,” said he, ”tells me they're on an expedition to hunt the buffalo on the prairie, and that they're good friends of the white men, and would like to have a talk with us before they go on; but I don't believe 'em. From what I heard Mr McLeod say at the Mountain Fort, I think it not unlikely they are bound on an expedition against the whites. The very fact of their wis.h.i.+n' to keep friends with us instead of tryin' to lift our scalps and carry off our furs and horses, shows me they've some more pressin' business on hand. Mr McLeod described to me the appearance of one or two o' the Injuns that hates the fur-traders most, so that I might be on my guard, an' I'm quite sure that some of them are with that band. Now, what say ye? Shall I tell 'em we don't want their acquaintance?”

”Tell 'em they're a set o' lyin' thieves,” said Big Waller. ”I guess we'll have nothin' to say to 'em wotiver.”

”Oui, et give to dem mine complements,” added Gibault, ”an' say we ver'

moch 'blige by dere goodness, mais dey vill all be shooted if dey not go away queek.”

Redhand did not give these polite messages to the Indian, but on returning to him he presented him with a piece of tobacco, and advised him to continue his journey without loss of time, as the buffaloes were travelling south and might be out of the way when they reached the prairie.

Whether the Indians felt angry or not it is impossible to say. They seemed indifferent to their cool reception by the trappers, and soon after rode off at full speed, in a direction that led _away_ from the Mountain Fort, a circ.u.mstance which still further confirmed Redhand in his suspicions.

After an eager, hasty consultation, it was resolved that they should follow the savages, and if their trail was found to diverge, as was fully expected, towards the fort, that they should endeavour to pa.s.s them in the night, and proceed by forced marches, in order to get there in time to warn the fur-traders of their impending danger.

In less than an hour after the Indians left them, the trappers were galloping after them in hot haste. During the course of the day they found that the trail doubled back, as they had antic.i.p.ated, so, making a wide detour, they headed the Indians, and during the afternoon got a little in advance of them on their way to the Mountain Fort.

But the trappers had a subtle enemy to deal with. Just as the Indians were about to encamp that night for a few hours' rest, they chanced to diverge a short way from the direct line of march, and, in doing so, crossed the tracks of the trappers. A halt was called, and a minute inspection of the tracks made. One of the savages galloped back on them a considerable distance, and soon returned with the information that they led towards the camp of the pale-faces. From the appearance of the hoof-prints they knew that they were fresh, and thus at once guessed that their true intentions had been suspected, and might yet be frustrated by the trappers. Instead of encamping, therefore, they pushed on at full speed and very soon came up with the white men. It was a dark night, so that they could not see far in advance of them, and thus it happened that the two parties, on entering a narrow defile, almost rode into each other, with a yell of fierce surprise on both sides.

As there were at least fifty Indians, Redhand thought it better to avoid a doubtful combat by scattering his men through the woods, and letting each make the best of his way to the fort singly.

”Run, boys! scatter! to the fort!”

This was all that he deemed needful in the way of command or explanation. Firing a single volley at the enemy, they turned and fled.

”Foller me,” shouted Waller to the bewildered Bertram, as a shower of arrows whistled past their ears. The artist obeyed mechanically, and in another moment they were flying through the wood at a pace that seemed, and actually was, reckless under the circ.u.mstances. But the Indians did not attempt to pursue. They knew that their intention had been discovered, and that their only chance of success now lay in outriding the pale-faces. The ride, in fact, became a long race, neither party making the slightest attempt to hunt up the other, but each straining every nerve and muscle to get first to the doomed fort.

The scattered trappers rode for a long time singly, but as they neared the fort, one or two of them met, and when they came first in sight of the tall flagstaff, Bounce, Redhand, and Gibault rode abreast.

McLeod was standing in front of the fort, when the three hors.e.m.e.n came das.h.i.+ng over the plain. He hastily summoned his men and closed the gate, but as the foremost rider came near, he was recognised; the gate was thrown open, and they galloped into the square. In a few hasty words their errand was explained. Arms and ammunition were served out, and six men were stationed at the gate, to be in readiness to open it to approaching friends, or to shut it in the face of foes.

But the others of the party were not so fortunate as these three. The Indians reached the fort before they did, and one of their number was left, unknown to them, in a state of insensibility near the spot where the first rencontre had taken place.

When the Indians and trappers met in the narrow defile, as before related, one of the arrows, which had been discharged very much at random, entered the shoulder of March Marston's horse and wounded it mortally. At first March thought the wound was slight, and, hearing the shouts of some of the savages not far behind him, he urged his horse forward as rapidly as the nature of the ground would admit of. Before he had gone a quarter of a mile, however, the poor steed fell, throwing March over its head. In his flight the youth's forehead came into violent contact with a branch, and he fell to the ground insensible.

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