Rodney, the Ranger Part 6

CHAPTER VI

A WILD FLIGHT

Many a time in his wild flight that memorable night the boy thought what good fortune it was that the sky was clear and the moon shining.

By its light he was able to make good progress and avoid walking in a circle, as otherwise he doubtless would have done.

He directed his course toward the east, with the moon slightly on his right. Many a fall he had over slippery, moss-grown logs, and his face was bleeding from scratches received while rushing through the bushes.

He could not conceal his trail, hoping to do that by daylight. During the night he must make every effort to travel as fast and as far as possible.

His nerves were at the utmost tension. He realized that any moment he might hear a yell or see some shadowy form glide alongside. The instant an Indian awoke and discovered his escape the chase would begin.

The picture of the poor fellow murdered back at the creek was before his eyes and the horror of it spurred him to his utmost. Just at dawn he arrived at a small stream so nearly exhausted that he stumbled and fell while crossing it, yet he dared not stop to rest. He must first conceal his trail, which up to this place the savages could easily follow.

After crossing he walked a short distance alongside on the bank down stream, leaving plain imprints of his feet in the soft soil. Then he again entered the water and turned up stream.

For nearly an hour he forced himself onward, stumbling over the slippery rocks and not once leaving the water. Finally he came to a bare ledge jutting into the brook. He stepped from the water to this, careful to leave no imprints of his feet. At the farther end was a fallen tree. Walking along the trunk of this as far as he could, he stooped to the ground and rejoiced to note that it was firm, so that his moccasins left no impress on it. One who has never tried the experiment cannot realize the care necessary in walking through the woods not to displace a leaf or break a twig, which would attract the attention of a wary savage.

Rodney succeeded so well that, after he had gone nearly half a mile and came to a dense clump of underbrush, he decided it would be safe to hide there and sleep. He believed the Indians would think he had fled in the direction of the Ohio River, and, seeing his footprints on the bank, would follow down stream. He could not remember when he had been so tired and soon was in a sound slumber, not waking till nearly noon. He was very hungry but found a spring of sweet water and some checkerberry leaves, and, thus refreshed, continued his flight.

He did not rest again till nightfall. He had seen no game save squirrels and, having but one load for his rifle, hesitated to waste that on small game. From the first he had thought his only chance of escape would be to follow some stream flowing in the direction of the Ohio. At dusk he came to one and concluded it now safe to follow it, but soon he must eat, for he was very weak.

Selecting a convenient place he sat down to wait for a chance glimpse of game. Possibly a deer might come that way to drink, and a deer would be worth his one bullet. Rodney by this time concluded his pursuers had lost his trail and he felt as though he were alone in the great forest. His eyelids were heavy, but, recalling what happened to him through falling asleep three days before, he rose to his feet the better to keep awake. As he did so he was startled by a shot, fired a little way down the stream.

The boy's eyelids were no longer heavy. He experienced something like a chill and he asked himself, "What if I had seen game and fired?"

After waiting a few moments, it occurred to him that there was a possibility that the shot had been fired by white men. Of course it was improbable, but he must investigate. If they were Indians, they would gorge themselves with the meat and sleep soundly so that he ought to have no trouble in getting past them. Moreover, unless many were in the party, they would leave a portion of the carca.s.s if it were a deer they had shot. Why might he not secure that? He was hungry enough to eat the flesh raw.

Cautiously approaching he finally saw the gleam of firelight among the trees and then shadows of men, and his heart sank. They were Indians!

Two came up to the fire from the stream and the boy noted the direction whence they came. After the moon appeared he entered the brook to descend it and look about for signs of the place where the game was killed. At last he found it, and the carca.s.s of a deer from which the hind quarters had been cut. Quick work with his knife secured him a goodly portion of what was left and with this he hurried on down the brook, on the slippery bed of which he kept his footing with difficulty. His hunger urged him so that after going about a mile he decided he was far enough away to risk a fire.

He gathered a lot of dried twigs and rubbed them between his palms, thus making a small powdery ma.s.s into which, after mixing with it a few grains of powder from the priming, he struck sparks from the flint and steel of his rifle. The smell of the cooking meat made him ravenous and, like an Indian, he ate it half raw. He then lost no time in extinguishing his fire and renewing his journey.

The good food and the reflection that so far he had outwitted the savages, put him in a very happy frame of mind. He was congratulating himself on his good luck when he heard a dry twig snap in the dense growth beside the brook. It was a moment of horror for the lad and he instantly crouched in the shadow of the bushes and c.o.c.ked his rifle.

The noise continued, a shuffling sound, and then his straining ears detected the snuffing of some animal. One may imagine his relief.

The animal soon emerged from the bushes, a black, s.h.a.ggy bulk with muzzle uplifted, following the scent of the meat which Rodney carried.

Now, being followed by a hungry bear under such conditions would not be agreeable to most people, but the boy's courage was good and his relief at finding his pursuer not an Indian was so great that he felt like laughing; instead he hastened his pace.

The chase continued, mile after mile, though to the tired lad stumbling over the slippery stones it seemed league upon league.

Occasionally he stepped in a hole to his waist, but he was too excited to heed the drenching or the fatigue.

An hour pa.s.sed, and bruin yet followed. "Reckon he's hungry as I am,"

Rodney remarked to himself. Then came the thought, why not divide with the bear? Suiting action to word the lad quickly cut his meat in two pieces, flinging one behind. With a growl the brute savagely seized it and the boy hurried on. The respite was brief, however, for not many minutes pa.s.sed before he heard his pursuer, appet.i.te whetted by what he had eaten, following the trail.

Rodney was now more exasperated than frightened. The dangers through which he had pa.s.sed seemed to embolden him, though he knew his plight would indeed be unpleasant should he attempt to shoot bruin and by some cause miss fire. The muskets sold to the Indians were usually of the cheapest quality, and the one he carried certainly appeared to be of that variety. He looked behind. The bear was gaining. Seeing this, the lad resolved on extreme measures. First, he would try the effect of a rock and he picked one up, about as large as his two fists.

Rodney had thrown many stones in his life and most of them had been well aimed. This was no exception and landed fairly on bruin's snout.

The animal stood on the bank not twenty feet distant and he turned a somersault, in his pain and rage, landing in the water with a loud splash.

Young Allison did not stop to laugh, as he felt like doing, but put as much distance between himself and his pursuer as possible. After a time, hearing nothing of bruin, he concluded the old fellow had given up the chase and lay somewhere curled up and nursing his sore snout.

Now that the excitement was past the boy began to be sensible of his fatigue. Nature was a.s.serting herself and he must eat and sleep.

Just at dawn he noted a clear s.p.a.ce among large trees on a knoll a little way from the brook, which now had grown to a considerable creek. He reconnoitred and, finding no trace of an enemy, built a fire. While broiling a piece of the venison it occurred to him that he should husband what was left of the meat as it might be a long time before he could find venison, killed and dressed by Indians, awaiting him along the route. Accordingly, after eating a hearty breakfast, he cut crotched sticks and drove them into the ground on either side of the fire and placed green poles across, over the fire. By hanging the meat on these he planned to smoke and dry what remained, after cutting it into strips. Rodney seemed to forget about both Indians and the bear and was whistling softly as he worked when a noise behind him caused him to turn.

Not over fifteen feet away was the bear! He smelled the cooking meat and evidently was in an ugly mood. Scarcely thinking what he did, the boy, s.n.a.t.c.hing a brand from the fire, threw it full in the face of the brute and sprang for his rifle. The firebrand only seemed to infuriate the animal and he charged. Hastily Rodney fired.

A growl of rage and pain followed the report, and through the clearing smoke the boy saw the bear biting at the wound in his side. Round and round bruin whirled until he caught a glimpse of his a.s.sailant, when he rushed forward. As in a haze the boy saw the huge bulk almost upon him, the little fiery eyes gleaming like coals of fire, the open jaws flecked with b.l.o.o.d.y froth. The boy clubbed his rifle with no thought of running. The bear rose on his hind legs. One blow from his powerful paw, and all would be over. Rodney struck, shattering the stock of the gun, and sprang aside. He now was helpless!

The bear, full of fight, struck, his claws ripping the boy's sleeve.

Crack! A well-aimed shot from behind brought bruin down with scarcely a struggle and the huge bulk lay stretched at Rodney's feet.

A child's scream of delight followed the shot. A white boy of about ten years, accompanied by an Indian, came out of the thick woods, the little fellow crying, "He's mine. I want him, Caughnega."

To this pleading the Indian paid no heed. Confronting Rodney he demanded, with a sweep of his arm: "Pale face no hunt; Indian country."

Rodney, by this time, was in a somewhat hysterical condition. The idea that he was there for the pleasure or profit of hunting bears struck him as so ludicrous that he laughed loudly, a performance that evidently puzzled the redskin not a little.

The little fellow here renewed his plea, saying: "I saw him first and I want him to play with; he's mine," and he stamped his foot like a petty tyrant and seized Rodney by the hand, saying, "You'll play with Louis?"

"I'll be very glad to do so," Rodney replied, looking at the Indian rather than at the boy who tugged at his hand.

"No hunt, what for here?" the Indian asked and his voice was stern.

Rodney hesitated a moment. The red man's beady eyes, noting this, glittered. "I'm lost," Rodney finally said, adding, "I want to get back to the river."

"Humph!" And, having thus expressed himself, Caughnega turned to the work of skinning and cutting up the bear, in which task Rodney endeavoured to a.s.sist, his efforts, however, being received quite ungraciously.

When all was done, the meat was tied into two bundles, one of which the Indian ordered Rodney to take and walk ahead. Now, walking ahead of a hostile savage is not a pleasant arrangement, but the boy tried to comfort himself with the thought that, so long as the Indian might wish the bundle carried, he would not kill the carrier. Then the little fellow ran alongside and took the older lad's hand, an act of confidence and friendship the latter never forgot.

They forded the creek and climbed the bank to a small plateau overlooking a meadow through which the creek wound its way. Here, on this high land, were cl.u.s.tered about twenty huts or wigwams, some covered with skins and others with bark. As no one expected them, their approach did not excite especial commotion, fortunately for Rodney, otherwise he might have been compelled to run a gauntlet.

Caughnega stopped in front of one of the wigwams and motioned Rodney to enter.

Louis protested, saying, "He is mine, I found him," but to no avail.

Disappointed, he ran away, crying bitterly, while the scowling savage flung his prisoner into the hut, and indicated by word and gesture that the lad was not to leave it on peril of his life. Then he stalked away, and Rodney was left to the bitterness of his reflections.

CHAPTER VII

LISBETH WRITES FROM LONDON