The Frontier Angel Part 20

"Do you believe he is not trying to deceive us?" asked the commander, in a low tone.

"That's his voice--I'd swear to it 'mong ten thousand. But I'll swear, too, that he has been _killed_ once!"

"Fudge! Jim, you ain't such a fool as that? Go down and let him in, if you ain't afraid. Remember what I said and be careful."

The ranger, without a word, turned and made his way downward. As he pa.s.sed out toward the gate, it was not without considerable misgivings and a hearty wish that matters and things in general would not take it into their head to a.s.sume such mysterious and inexplicable a form to him. He had no fear of anything mortal, but he would have rather faced a dozen yelling Shawnees than the ghostly apparition which he believed was waiting for him upon the outside.

"Where'n thunder ar' you?" he demanded spitefully as he approached the gate.

"Here, just on the outside, half chilled to death," was the reply from the rattling teeth of the sufferer.

"Sure there ain't no reds about as ar' goin' to try to dodge in atween your legs?"

"No, no; and in Heaven's name, how much longer are you going to keep me here?"

"Wal, you needn't be so cross 'bout it."

With these words, Peterson cautiously unbarred the gate, and opened a small s.p.a.ce. Instantly, a cold, wet skeleton-apparition glided through and stood trembling beside him.

"How are you, Jim? You don't appear glad to see me," it said, pushing a cold, bony hand toward him.

"Just wait--wait till I fasten this gate and then I'll go up to the block-house with you," replied the ranger, working at the ma.s.sive bolts, and at the same time, glancing furtively over his shoulder, at what he believed to be a veritable ghost beside him.

"Now, give us your hand, Jim, for, if ever a white man was glad to see another, I am glad to see you: Jeh-u-u-u! _ain't_ it cold?" exclaimed the apparition desperately, as a regular spasmodic shock shook him, and apparently ejected the words in a most unceremonious hurry from his rattling teeth. Peterson could not refuse the proffered hand; but, as he took it, he felt a cold chill crawl, from the finger ends of the ghost, up through his arms, clean to the crown of his head where it seemed to halt, gather in a big ma.s.s, and then separating into a number of arrowy needles, shoot through every part of his system, even contracting his very toes.

"How--_how'r_ yer--'tis cold--let's go in," he said, turning toward the block-house, and walking hurriedly away.

We should like to know whether any of our readers have been in a situation, where their greatest desire has been to get ahead as fast as possible, and yet they felt ashamed to either look behind them, or to increase their gait. If they have, they can appreciate the peculiar sensations of the really brave-hearted Peterson. Imagine yourself, on a dark night, when within a few rods of your own door, where you know your friends are peering into the darkness in expectation of your momentary arrival--we say imagine that, just at that moment, you hear a footfall behind you! You start and your heart commences to throb, and you hastily debate whether it is best to walk unconcernedly along, as though such a thing as fear never entered your head, or to glance behind you, and break into a regular run for the door. But ridicule, more potent than fear, prevents you, and you walk, it is true, a little faster, but as you push open the door, you cannot help shoving yourself in rather hurriedly, as your friends judge.

It was with feelings somewhat similar to these, that Peterson walked toward the block-house, his unwelcome visitor stalking after him.

"H'yer we is," he exclaimed, as he ushered him into the warm glowing room of the block-house, where the hardy backwoodsmen sat conversing.

"A dismal night, gentlemen," said Drake, bowing to the men, and approaching the fire, against which he turned his back and gazed composedly at the men. "A reg'lar snorter this night is; thought I'd freeze to death. Jeh-u-u-u! that fire feels good. But I can't blame you for your tardiness and suspicion in such times as these. Though Mad Anthony has taught the Indians manners, it seems that they forget them once in a while."

The hunters were not men to sit silent and unsocial when a stranger claimed their hospitality. They saw it was no ghost, but a veritable flesh and blood human being who stood before them. He was a tall, cadaverous-looking man, his face all hair and eyes, and yet his voice showed him to be a good-natured gentleman. His garments were soaked with water, which slowly dropped from his ragged shirt, and every turn of his clothes, and steamed constantly from them on account of his proximity to the fire. He was without weapons of any kind. Without waiting as long as it has taken us to introduce this description, the commander replied:

"A cold and dismal night indeed. Let me give you something to warm you within, for it is plain you need it."

"Thank you," replied Drake, taking the proffered cup of raw whiskey and swallowing it. "No more, thank you. I feel considerably better now."

"Why, Drake, that _is_ you," suddenly exclaimed Peterson; "give us your hand and tell us how you are getting along."

"Ha! ha! has it taken you all this time to discover my ident.i.ty? I thought you acted strangely when you admitted me into the gate."

"I own up, Mat, I took you for a _spook_, and it goes hard yet to think as how it is _you_ standin' thar lookin' so jolly, when the last I seed of you, you had knocked under. Come, you've got warmed up a little, let's hear how it was."

"Well. I will."

And thereupon, the new-comer related his experience, which may be summed up briefly, as follows:

This Madison Drake, as the reader has probably suspected, was one of the number on the flat-boat, whose sad fate was related at the commencement of this work. When the Shawnees made their rush upon it, he, with all the rest, was too bewildered to offer the slightest resistance. He remembered seeing Peterson spring overboard, and attempted to follow him; but he was not soon enough to escape a terrible blow from an Indian's tomahawk. As he descended into the water, his wound rendered him perfectly crazy, and, without knowing it, he swam in to the Ohio sh.o.r.e. Here he was immediately seized by several savages, who made no attempt to offer him further injury. After the ma.s.sacre was completed, the Indians a.s.sembled upon the bank, and the others then noticed his presence. But, instead of killing him, a strange whim possessed them to spare his life. He was too frightened to utter a complaint about the horrible wound in his back, as he knew it would be relieved only by death. They traveled all night and most of the next day without halting.

After a time, they reached the Shawnee towns in the Sciota Valley, where he had remained a prisoner until the day before. An opportunity had then offered of escaping, which he instantly seized. He knew the location of the settlement and made all haste toward it, where, as shown, he effected his arrival.

All listened breathlessly to this recital. Before he had fairly finished, Peterson asked:

"Are you the only one, Mat, 'ceptin' me that got off?"

"I am the only one."

"Are you sure? Did you ever hear anything of Marian?"

"I am sure I am the only person the Indians took from that boat."

"But, I follered them that night and part of the next day, and I didn't see nothin' of you, and you might seen nothin' of her."

"Our party just after starting, separated and did not reunite until just before we reached the Shawnee towns. You followed the wrong one. You might easily have done this, as both parties were large. No; do not hope that Marian or _any one_ besides us had escaped, I could not have helped knowing it."

"That settles the matter, then," said the commander, "we will tell Abbot, in the morning. Poor man! I pity him and his wife."

"Is he here?" asked Drake, "I do pity him then; it was a hard blow for him."

"But, I have heard," continued the commander, who saw that Mansfield was painfully affected, "that there was a female captive among them."

"Yes; there was one; but she was captured from a settler on the Virginia frontier. Poor creature! she died long ago from her sufferings. But, friends, you will excuse me I trust. I have had a hard run for freedom; and, if you have no objections, I will now turn in for the night."

"Certainly; let me help you to another snifter, to make you sleep soundly."

Drake did not refuse the offered drink. At it was now late, the sentinel was called in, another sent to take his place, and those within stretched themselves out upon the floor, where, wrapped in their blankets, they were soon oblivious to external things.

All excepting Mansfield, who sat listening to the howling wind without, and gazing into the glowing embers with feelings which we shall not attempt to describe.

When the morning broke, the slumberers were astir. The storm cleared off toward daybreak, and the sun came out bright and cold. Mansfield, who had not slept one moment, arose and took himself toward Abbot's house with a heavy, painful heart. Deeming that it would be a relief to his wife to hear his intelligence, he introduced it before them both, stating what Drake had said and that there could now be no room for further hope. It would be presumption, they all felt, to entertain the slightest hope that Marian could still be living.

"I have cherished no hope of again seeing her on earth," said the mother. "I thank my heavenly Father that I am satisfied now that she was killed outright. I have nothing now to do but to wait until He calls me to rejoin her."

"Let us go patiently at work, dear wife," said Abbot. "It is a relief to know that she was killed at once. It was a bitter cup for us to drink, but we have swallowed the bitterest portion. I thank G.o.d for this intelligence. And, you, Russel, is this a relief to you?"

"Yes," he faintly answered, turning his head away.

And so the hope which had been exhumed and fanned into a feeble life died again and was now reburied.

The expedition of search by the rangers for Marian, of course was now given up. It was still their determination to capture McGable, but the attempt was reluctantly deferred until a few months later, when it was rightly judged the caution of the renegade would be worn off, and an opportunity would present itself.

It was decided by a number of settlers to spend most of the time in the wood, felling trees. It was necessary to collect a large quant.i.ty of fuel,--besides it was in contemplation to erect one or two cabins. This was one of the duties, devolving upon the settlement, which was always dangerous, and yet one that must be done sooner or later.

So, a company of men numbering over a dozen, including Abbot, Mansfield, and Peterson, pa.s.sed through the gate, across the clearing, each bearing a rifle and an ax. It was quite early in the forenoon; therefore they calculated upon doing a good day's work.