Mass' George Part 55

I obeyed, and felt the tension and loosening as he rapidly cut through the hide rope and the cane bonds which held me; but I was so stiff, and my wrists were so numbed, that the feeling had gone from my hands.

"Ma.s.s' George ready?"

"No; yes," I said, as I gazed wildly at the group about the fire, and felt that our movements must be seen. But the Indians made no sign, and Pomp went on--

"Injum ebberywhere now. Can't run away."

"But we must," I whispered.

"Catchum gain, dreckerly. Dis here tree. Ma.s.s' George go up fuss."

"Up the tree!" I faltered.

Then grasping the cleverness of the boy's idea, I stretched out my arms, seized a branch overhead, and in spite of my numbness, swung myself up and stood on it, holding by the branch of the great pine close behind the two small trees to which we had been bound.

Pomp was beside me directly. "Up!" he whispered; and as silently as I could, I crept on toward the dense crown, the many horizontal branches giving good foot-hold, and the fire gleaming among the needle-like foliage as I went higher, with Pomp always ready to touch me and try to guide.

It was a huge tree, quite a cone of dense foliage, after we were some distance up, and we had just reached the part where great, flat, heavily-laden boughs spread between us and the ground, when Pomp drew himself quickly to my side, and laid his hand on my mouth.

It was not necessary, for at the same moment as he I had noted the danger, just catching sight of two black shadows on the ground, which I knew were those of a couple of the Indians approaching our trees from the fire.

Then we could see no more, but remained there clinging to the boughs as if part of the tree itself, wondering what was to come.

It seemed quite a s.p.a.ce of time before from just below I heard a discordant yell which thrilled through me, and actually for the moment made me loose my hold. But I was clinging fast again directly, as the yell was answered by a couple of score of throats; there was the rapid beat of feet, the crunching of dead sticks and crushing of bushes, and I clung there with closed eyes, listening to a confused gabble of excited voices, and waiting for what I seemed to know would come next.

For in my excitement I could in fancy picture the Indians examining the cut thongs lying where they had dropped by the trees, and then one great stalwart fellow took a step out from the rest and pointed up to where we two clung forty feet from the ground, and I saw a score of arrows fitted to the bow-strings, and their owners prepare to shoot and bring us down.

I cannot attempt to describe the sensation that thrilled through me in what was almost momentary, nor the wild thoughts flashing in my brain.

I only know that I wondered whether the arrow which pierced me would hurt much, and thought what a pity it was that the tree we were in did not hang over the stream, so that we might have fallen in the water.

But no flight of arrows rattled among the boughs, and all we heard was the gabble of excited voices. Then came yell after yell from a little distance farther away from the settlement, and from the excited questioning which seemed to follow, I knew that a number of the Indians had returned to the camp to talk hurriedly to those beneath the tree.

Then there were a couple of yells given in a peculiar tone, and a faint series of sounds reached us, suggesting to me that the whole party had spread out, and were quickly and cautiously creeping along through the forest from the edge of the stream for some distance in, and then all was still.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

A pair of warm lips at my ear made me start again.

"Dey all 'tupid, dem Injum. I know dey nebber tink we get up tree.

Think we run home. All gone. Come down."

"No, no; it is not safe," I whispered.

"Yes; all gone dat way. We go oder."

He was already descending almost as rapidly as a monkey, and I followed as fast as I could, fully expecting to be seized; but all was silent, and the fire had sunk quite low as we bent down and crept along by the edge of the opening, and directly after were well in the shelter and darkness of the trees, with the fire behind only making its presence known by a dull glow.

"Where are you going?" I whispered at last.

"Get away from Injum. Come!"

He said this shortly, and I began thinking that it was our wisest course to get right away, and, as soon as we could find a spot at daybreak, cross to the other side, and then try to thread our way back home. But a curiously dull, deadening feeling came over me, as I felt that the Indians must now get there first, and that we should be too late to give the alarm.

I was just thinking this when Pomp stopped short.

"Ma.s.s' George take off um shoes," he whispered. "Carry um. Injum no see footmarks a-morrow."

I hurriedly did as he suggested, for there was wisdom in what he said, and I hoped that the print of my stockinged feet, if our trail was found and followed, might pa.s.s for the impressions made by moccasins.

I did not know much then about such matters, but still I had heard a good deal of talk about the skill of the Indians in tracking, and naturally felt nervous as I immediately began magnifying their powers, and fancied that as soon as it was day they would take up our trail like a pack of hounds, and follow it step by step, first my clumsy shoe-prints, then Pomp's bare feet, with the great toe spreading wide out from the others, which all seemed long and loose, as I had often noticed and laughed at when I had seen them in the mud or sand. In fact, I had more than once followed him by his footprints, and as I recalled all this, I seemed to see the fierce-looking savages coming on swiftly, and urged Pomp to make haste, though my heart sank as I felt that every step took us farther into the wilderness, and with the exception of the knife the boy had secured, we were without arms.

"Can't go no fa.s.ser, Ma.s.s' George," he said; "so dark. But done you be 'fraid. Dem on'y 'tupid savage. Pomp too clebber let um cotch him 'gain."

In spite of my anxiety I could not help smiling at my companion's conceit, and his reference to "'tupid" savages. Pomp's connection with civilisation was making its mark upon him in other ways beside the rapid manner in which he had acquired our tongue.

And so we tramped on hour after hour, going, as I knew by the stars whenever we got a glimpse of them, nearly due west, and trying to avoid breaking branch or trampling down thick patches of growth by making a detour.

Of course this hindered us a good deal, but still it was the surest way of avoiding recapture; and at last, after our long, weary walk, whose monotony I had relieved by softly chafing my arms and wrists to get rid of the remains of the numbness produced by the bonds, there came a familiar note or two from the trees overhead, and I knew that in a very short time it would be light.

"Tired, Pomp?" I said.

"No, Ma.s.s' George, but I dreffle hungly 'gain. Oh! Dem ugly tief 'teal de gun. No get duck for breakfa.s.s, eh?"

"Let's think about escaping and getting back to the house before these savages.--Ah, it's getting light."

I remember how eagerly I said this, as I saw the pale grey appearing through the leaves, and making the tall, gloomy-looking trunks stand up like great columns in all directions.

"Now," I said, "where do you think the river is?"

"Ober dah," said Pomp, without a moment's hesitation; and he pointed to the left.

"Is it far?"

"No, not far."

"Let's get to it at once then."

We struck off again, bearing to the left, and just at sunrise found that we were at the edge of the forest once more, with a well-defined track, showing where the river ran. Where we stood we were under the shade of the great trees, where scarcely anything grew beneath the spreading, tangled branches, while just beyond them there was a dense thicket of succulent growth glittering in the sunshine, where the leaves were still moist with dew, and some hundred or a hundred and fifty yards away there once more was the other edge of the forest, rising up over a rich band of growth similar to that which was close to where we stood.

The river lay between, I knew, though invisible from where we stood; and for the moment I felt more hopeful, for, after the long, dark tramp through the wilderness, we seemed to be now on the broad high-road which led straight past home.

Then my heart sank again, as I felt that perhaps the Indians were already on our track, and that even if they were not, they were between us and safety.

My reverie was interrupted by Pomp, who said briskly--

"Now, Ma.s.s' George, what you tink?"