Osceola the Seminole Part 64

It produced a cheering effect, and the men were now advancing in better spirits, when, to their surprise, Hickman suddenly drew up, and halted the line I rode forward to him to inquire the cause. I found him silent and apparently reflective.

"Why have you stopped?" I inquired.

"You must all o' ye wait here a bit."

"Why must we?" demanded several, who had pressed along side.

"'Taint safe for us to go forrad this way; I've got a idea that them red skins is by the pond--they've camped there for sartin--it's the only water that is about hyar; and its devilitch like that thar they've rendevoozed an' camped. If that be the case, an' we ride forrad in this fashion, they'll hear us a-comin' an' be off agin into the bushes, whar we'll see no more o' them. Ain't that like enough, fellers?"

This interrogatory was answered in the affirmative.

"Wal then," continued the guide; "better for yous all to stay hyar, while me and Jim Weatherford goes forrad to see if the Indyuns is thar.

We kin find the pond now. I know whar it lies by the direkshun the hoss war taken. It aint fur off. If the red skins aint thar, we'll soon be back, an' then ye kin all come on as fast as ye like."

This prudent course was willingly agreed to, and the two hunters, once more dismounting, stole forwards afoot. They made no objection to my going along with them. My misfortunes gave me a claim to be their leader; and, leaving my bridle in the hands of one of my companions, I accompanied the guides upon their errand.

We walked with noiseless tread. The ground was thickly covered with the long needles of the pine, forming a soft bed, upon which the footstep made no sound. There was little or no underwood, and this enabled us to advance with rapidity, and in a few minutes we were a long way from the party we had left behind.

Our only care was about keeping the right direction, and this we had almost lost--or believed so--when, to our astonishment we beheld a light shining through the trees. It was the gleam of a fire that appeared to be blazing freely. Hickman at once p.r.o.nounced it the camp fire of the Indians.

At first we thought of returning, and bringing on our comrades to the attack; but upon reflection, we determined to approach nearer the fire, and make certain whether it was the enemy's camp.

We advanced no longer in erect att.i.tudes; but crawling upon our hands and knees. Wherever the glare penetrated the woods, we avoided it, and kept under the shadow of the tree-trunks. The fire burned in the midst of an opening. The hunters remembered that the pond was so placed; and now observing the sheen of water, we knew it must be the same.

We drew nearer and nearer, until it was no longer safe to advance. We were close to the edge of the timber that concealed us. We could see the whole surface of the open ground. There were horses picketed over it, and dark forms rec.u.mbent under the fire light. They were murderers asleep.

Close to the fire, one was seated upon a saddle. He appeared to be awake, though his head was drooped to the level of his knees. The blaze was shining upon this man's face; and both his features and complexion might have been seen, but for the interposition of paint and plumes.

The face appeared of a crimson red, and three black ostrich feathers, bending over the brow, hung straggling down his cheeks. These plumed symbols produced painful recognition. I knew that it was the head-dress of Osceola.

I looked further. Several groups were beyond--in fact, the whole open s.p.a.ce was crowded with prostrate human forms.

There was one group, however, that fixed my attention. It consisted of three or four individuals, seated or reclining along the gra.s.s. They were in shade, and from our position, their features could not be recognised; but their white dresses, and the outlines of their forms, soft even in the obscurity of the shadow, told that they were females.

Two of them were side by side, a little apart from the others; one appeared to be supporting the other, whose head rested in her lap.

With emotions fearfully vivid, I gazed on these two forms. I had no doubt they were Viola and my sister.

CHAPTER EIGHTY.

SIGNAL SHOTS.

I shall not attempt to depict my emotions at that moment. My pen is unequal to the task. Think of my situation, and fancy them if you can.

Behind me, a mother murdered and basely mutilated--a near relative slain in like fashion--my home--my whole property given to the flames. Before me, a sister torn from the maternal embrace--borne ruthlessly along by savage captors--perhaps defiled by their fiendish leader. And he, too, before my eyes--the false, perfidious friend, the ravisher--the murderer! Had I not cue for indulging in the wildest emotions?

And wild they were--each moment growing wilder, as I gazed upon the object of my vengeance. They were fast rising beyond my control. My muscles seemed to swell with renewed rage--the blood coursed through my veins like streams of liquid fire.

I almost forgot the situation in which we were. But one thought was in my mind--vengeance. Its object was before me--unconscious of my presence as if he had been asleep--almost within reach of my hand; perfectly within range of my rifle.

I raised the piece to the level of those drooping plumes. I sighted their tips--I knew that the eyes were underneath them--my finger rested against the trigger.

In another instant, that form--in my eyes, hitherto heroic--would have been lifeless upon the gra.s.s; but my comrades forbade the act.

With a quick instinct, Hickman grasped the lock of my gun. Covering the nipple with his broad palm; while Weatherford clutched at and held the barrel. I was no longer master of the piece.

I was angry at the interruption, but only for an instant. A moment's reflection convinced me they had acted right. The old hunter, putting his lips close to my ear, addressed me in an earnest whisper:

"Not yit, Geordie, not yit; for your life, don't make a fuss! 'Twould be no use to kill _him_. The rest o' the varmints ud be sartin to git off, and sartin to toat the weemen along wi' 'em. We three aint enough to stop 'em--we'd only get scalped ourselves. We must slide back for the others; an' then we'll be able to surround 'em--that's the idea, aint it, Jim?"

Weatherford, fearing to trust his voice, nodded an affirmative.

"Come, then," added Hickman, in the same low whisper, "we musn't lose a minute; let's get back as rapidly as possible. Keep your backs low down--genteely, genteely;" and as he continued giving these injunctions, he faced towards the ground, extended his body to its full length, and, crawling off like an alligator, was soon lost behind the trunks of the trees.

Weatherford and I followed in similar fashion, until safe beyond the circle of the fire light, when all three of us came to a stop, and arose erect to our feet.

We stood for a moment listening _backwards_. We were not without anxiety lest our retreat might have disturbed the camp; but no sounds reached us save those to which we had been listening--the snore of some sleeping savage, the "crop-crop" of the browsing horses, or the stamp of a hoof upon the firm turf.

Satisfied that we had pa.s.sed away un.o.bserved, we started upon the back-track, which the hunters could now follow like a path well-known to them.

We advanced, dark as it was, almost in a run; and were progressing rapidly, when our speed was suddenly checked by the report of a gun.

Each halted as if shot. Surprise it was that stopped us; for the report came not from the Indian camp, but the opposite direction--that in which our party had been left.

But it could not be one of them who had fired. They were at too great a distance for their guns to have been heard so distinctly. Had they advanced nearer, tired of waiting for our return? Were they still advancing? If so, the shot was most imprudent; it would be certain to put the camp on the _qui vive_. What had they fired at? It might have been an accidental discharge--it must have been.

These conjectures were rapid as thought itself. We did not communicate them to one another; each fancied them for himself.

We had scarce time even to speak, when a second shot rang in our ears.

It came from the same direction as the former, appearing almost a repet.i.tion; and had there been time to reload, we should so have judged it; but there had not been time, even for the most accomplished rifleman. Two guns, therefore, had been fired.

My companions were puzzled as well as myself. The firing was inexplicable under any other hypothesis than that some Indians had strayed from their camp and were making signals of distress.

We had no time to reflect. We could now hear behind us the camp in full alarm, and we knew it was the shots that had caused it. We heard the shouts of men, the neighing and hurried trampling of horses.

Without pausing longer, we again hurried onwards in the direction of our friends.

Further on we perceived some men on horseback. Two there appeared to be; but in the darkness we were not certain, as their forms were scarce distinguishable.

They appeared to retreat as we approached, gliding off, like ghosts, among the trees.

No doubt these were they who had fired the shots. They were just in the direction whence the reports had come, and at the proper distance.

Were they Indians or whites? Hoping they were our friends, risking the chances of their being our foes, Old Hickman hailed them.

We paused to listen. There was no reply, not even an exclamation from either. We could hear, by the hoof-strokes of their horses, that they were hurrying off in a direction altogether different from either our party or the camp.