Bill Biddon, Trapper Part 13

"I suppose not. I cannot conceive how Biddon persuaded himself to believe that you did not discharge it when the case was self-evident.

But he is willing to believe almost anything since he has started."

"He shouldn't have gotten before my gun, for he knows my hand sometimes trembles."

"I trust you will be able to control it this time."

"No doubt of that; but, then, I'd advise you, as a friend, not to get before me, especially if you see the canoe coming."

I a.s.sured him that I should not, and we kept upon our way. Upon each of the occasions before, as near as I could judge, it was about noon that the canoe made its appearance; and, as it was that time now, we hurried forward, lest the opportunity should pa.s.s. The opportunity, I say--for, although it had appeared but twice as yet, I somehow or other was well satisfied we should see it again.

"What are you going to do?" asked Nat.

"It will depend upon what we see. If simply those two savages with the captive, as we judge her to be, are in the canoe, and no demonstration is made, I think it best not to attempt a rescue. It is only a supposition of ours that she is a captive, and we know not that she would thank us for interfering in her case."

In a short time we reached the elevation already mentioned. Here we seated ourselves so as to remain concealed from any stragglers in the vicinity, while we ourselves with a little care could detect the slightest object pa.s.sing. As I stooped, my hand came in contact with something cold, and upon looking at it, I saw it covered with dark clotted blood. I started, and wiped it on the gra.s.s, but it sent a shudder through me to reflect that it had once been the life-fluid of a human being.

"Ugh!" exclaimed Nat; "ain't that awful?"

"It is disagreeable, to say the least."

"Just look at the blood on the gra.s.s, too, and all around. I believe Bill must have hit a half-dozen Injins sure, the way things appear here."

"He must have wounded one terribly to make him bleed like this."

"And if he had been a flesh and blood Injin he would have never tramped in that manner. I tell you, William Relmond, there _is_ something more more than human about us. I can feel it in my bones, and I'm of Biddon's opinion that the sooner we get away from here the better."

"Fudge! I see you are beginning to get alarmed."

"Oh no; you are mistaken. I am not frightened at all. For Biddon's sake, but more especially for yours, I am anxious. If you are desirous of remaining hereabouts, and will take all the consequences, I will make no objections."

"Of course, if I run into danger of my own accord, I expect that I alone will suffer the penalty."

"Then we needn't say anything more about it; you know we pledged ourselves to remain true to each other, and I won't desert you."

"That's well spoken, Nat. The minute I am satisfied that our lives are imperiled, I shall not be the means of prolonging that peril a moment. It is only this great desire to solve and understand the singular occurrences that are transpiring around us, that leads me to still remain. I have determined that to-day we shall all be satisfied."

"My curiosity is extraordinarily high; but I guess that gal has as much to do with it as anything else. I'm determined to get a glimpse of her face, and, if possible, whisper in her ear that Nat Todd, from Maine, is about. I flatter myself that the minute she knows that, she will jump overboard and make for sh.o.r.e without saying a word to the chaps with her."

"The greatest difficulty, I fear, will be to convey your words to the captive, without conveying it also to her captors."

"I swow, it would be harder than I thought at first."

During this conversation, which was carried on in a half-whisper, Nat was constantly parting the bushes and peering through them, while now and then I glanced expectantly up the stream; but nothing as yet had rewarded our watchfulness. Suddenly I reflected that as I had been twice defeated in observing the disappearance of the canoe, from the exact spot upon which we were now seated, that we might make a better arrangement of ourselves, so as to insure this coveted knowledge to one of us at least.

I mentioned this to Nat.

"If one of us was on t'other side, the thing would be certain, but that can't be done very conveniently, and we shall have to try something else."

"Suppose you go down stream about a hundred yards near the bend yonder," I proposed to Nat.

"Guess I will!" he exclaimed, as he rose to go.

"Wait a moment," said I, detaining him. "Let me admonish you to exercise no ordinary caution, Nat, for you have seen enough to convince you that your own safety depends upon it. Remember that a word or false movement, however slight, may defeat our plans. Look out for danger to yourself, and not let your curiosity be the means of your destruction. _Be very careful._"

I know not what led me to thus warn him; but at the moment he arose to go, an unaccountable sense of impending danger came over me. It was not so much for me as for him I spoke thus. He promised to heed my words and departed.

As soon as he had disappeared, I cast another look up stream, but still there were no signs of the expected canoe, and a sudden apprehension that I should not see it again came over me. There was, in fact; as much reason not to expect it as to antic.i.p.ate its coming, and as I looked up at the sun and saw that it was already beyond the hour, I was half-tempted to turn back. While I was debating, I naturally looked up the river, and there, just rounding the bend where the canoe had first come into view before,--and there it was coming!

Quivering with agitation, I sank upon the ground, and gave a low whistle as a signal to Nat. He returned it, as an evidence of his watchfulness.

I saw from that point where I was seated, the view would be most obstructed when the canoe was nearest. Accordingly, I crept cautiously and quickly nearer the water's edge. This time, however, I slightly varied my course, and concealed myself behind the trunk of a fallen tree. This was within a yard of the water, and afforded complete concealment. I noticed the log was rotten and apparently hollow.

Here I lay, and intently listened and watched. A few moments and an almost inaudible ripple was heard, and the canoe was opposite. I exercised the most extreme caution, and was fortunate enough to obtain a perfect view of each of the occupants. They were the same--the dark, malignant faces of the savages, and the fair features of the captive.

She sat in the stern, her hand resting gently upon a guiding oar, and her gaze fixed upon the stream in front. The canoe floated with the current, and not a paddle was stirred, nor the least motion made by the beings before me. The headdress of the captive was, as mentioned before, eagle feathers and porcupine quills, while the dark, waving ma.s.ses of hair hung low upon the shoulders, contrasting with the whiteness of the face. A heavy crimson shawl enveloped the form, as when first seen. The features were regular, and, perhaps, in my state of feeling, their beauty was considerably enhanced; but the thought came upon me that if there were anything supernatural in my experience, it was in seeing such wonderful beauty as was now before me.

Unconsciously I forgot myself as the canoe was gliding past, and before I was aware, it was hid from view by intervening obstacles. I withdrew hastily, intending to hurry farther down, where the view would be more complete. I had taken but a step or two when Nat's rifle was discharged, and I heard distinctly a m.u.f.fled sound of his voice.

Wild with agitation, I dashed to the spot where I supposed him to be.

The view of the river at this point was clear, and I turned to look at the canoe. It had vanished!

I looked around for Nat, but he too, was gone. I called him, and once thought I heard a faint answer. But it was not repeated, and I could not tell its direction. I reached the ground, and beheld _the tracks of others beside his own_. I awaited until near night, but Nathan Todd was never to return.

CHAPTER VII.

ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS.

"Where's your friend?"

There was apprehension in the question of the trapper, or he would not have called Nat, as he had never called him before. The question was asked, too, the instant I appeared.

"I cannot tell," I answered, seating myself gloomily.

"Whar'd you leave him?"

"I cannot answer that either. He went with me to watch the river, as you remember. Espying that canoe which you saw yesterday, he concealed himself a few yards distant, in order to obtain a better view of it.

Since then I have seen nothing of him."

"Was it he who shot?"

"It sounded like his gun, although I am not positive that it really was."

"I heerd it, an' took it for him; and, shoot me, if I didn't know he'd get into some sc.r.a.pe."

"I fear he has, and the last one, too."

"My thoughts 'zactly. Luckily you did not, too."