The Frontier Angel Part 21

The spot selected for their operations, was three or four hundred yards from the clearing. Here they stacked their rifles and scattered themselves in such a manner, that the weapons would be safe from the reach of any foe, and commenced their labors right merrily. The clear ring of their axes, the fall of the trees like a rumble of thunder, and the shout and song, could be heard at the block-house and settlement.

They wrought vigorously until noon when they ceased, and seating themselves upon the fallen trees, partook of the lunch they had brought with them. They sat close together, joking and laughing, their faces all aglow with good-humor and exercise. The meal was finished, and several of the men had risen to recommence their labors, when a crashing in the undergrowth was heard, and the next moment the Frontier Angel burst in upon them, her arms outstretched, her hair flying, her eyes all agleam, and her whole appearance that of a raving lunatic.

"Quick! quick!" she exclaimed; "fly! he is coming! _he_ is coming with a lot of Indians! No--you can't reach the fort--they are on that side of you! Take your guns quick! they are going to kill you all!"

Hardly were her words finished, before each man had seized his rifle, and stood waiting the orders of some one of their number.

"Get down between these two trees--I hear their tread!" commanded Mansfield, whose ears, quickened to supernatural strength, distinctly caught their tramp through the forest. "Hurry, boys, they're here!"

At the same instant he bounded over the fallen tree beside him, followed by all of the men, when, in a twinkling, they were so disposed that nothing but their heads and rifle-barrels were visible. Then, as they looked for the foe, they saw with horror that the Frontier Angel was still standing as if transfixed upon the same spot where she had uttered her warning.

"Fly, for G.o.d's sake!" exclaimed Mansfield, springing to his feet, and excitedly waving his hand toward her. "Fly, for your life, Frontier Angel! There they come!"

As he spoke she turned to flee, and, at the same moment, the sharp crack of a rifle was heard. She gave a scream, swung her arms wildly over her head and staggered further into the wood, where she was concealed from view. The woodman had no time to follow her, for immediately there was heard a rushing, and, as the bushes parted, near a score of Indians, led by McGable, bounded into the opening. As they caught sight of the settlers, they poured a deadly volley in upon them, whose fearful effect was told by more than one yell of agony.

"Now charge, boys!" exclaimed Mansfield, springing over the log and dashing straight at the yelling savages. There was an electric power in his words that thrilled every heart, and they charged with such enthusiasm after their gallant leader, that it was irresistible. The Indians were unprepared for any such movement. When nigh enough to touch them with their gun-muzzles, every rifle of the whites was discharged, and then swung over their heads.

"At them!" shouted Mansfield; "don't spare one!"

The rifles came down with murderous force, and, for a few moments, one of the fiercest hand-to-hand contests raged. But the number of the whites, after their discharge, was fully equal to the savages, and their fury could not be withstood. The Indians, in a short time, broke and scattered in the wood, and the panting whites suddenly gazed into each other's faces as they saw there was no foe left to encounter.

"Have they fled?" asked Mansfield, in astonishment.

"Not one is left--all are killed or fled! Any of us slain?"

"Yes; I heard some one groan when we started."

The whites turned back to the logs where they had first sheltered themselves; here they found two of their number dead, both having received a bullet through the brain, while several others had been given severe cuts.

A moment after, a dozen more men arrived from the block-house. They had heard the firing in the wood, and had been instantly dispatched by the commander; but their help was not needed, as not a foe was left, so signal had been the repulse. But, for the timely warning of the Frontier Angel, a most fearful ma.s.sacre must have taken place. Several of the settlers picked up the two dead men and carried them to the settlement, as the commander had instructed them to return the minute they could.

Mansfield, Peterson, Dingle, and Jenkins (the latter having come with the reinforcement) remained behind. Four Shawnees lay doubled up in death, while a fifth was rolling, and clutching, and flinging the leaves in his agony. Shortly, to the relief of all, death put him out of his misery.

"Who was killed?" asked Peterson.

"Smith and Thompson," replied Mansfield.

"Both single men; it is good for them that they have no women or children to mourn 'em. We've straightened out five of _them_, besides hacking a few more. By gracious, isn't that McGable h'yer? Ef I didn't hit him, then I'll never shoot agin," asked Peterson.

"He appears to have escaped. What is to be done with these dead Indians?"

"Why, leave 'em h'yer for the varmint, after we raises thar ha'r."

"In Heaven's name, Peterson, you are not going to do that?"

"I reckon I is. Eh, d.i.c.k?"

"In course, we must have their top-knots," replied Dingle, producing his hunting-knife.

"You are as much a savage as they are," said Mansfield, turning his back upon the sickening scene.

The two rangers were not to be deterred from scalping the Indians, although they had enough respect for the feelings of Mansfield, to go through the disgusting operation without their usual remark and braggadocio.

"They'd 've been glad to 've done that same thing for us," said Peterson.

"Freeze me," said Dingle, "if I don't believe thar is more of 'em round h'yer. S'posen we take a look? Jenkins, look through the bushes thar by you."

All, including Mansfield, now commenced searching the wood to see whether any of their number had crawled away to die in secret. Jenkins had beat about but a few minutes, when he exclaimed:

"Come here, quick! there's somebody under this bush! Just hear him groan!"

All hastened thither; and, as Dingle pulled aside the bush, the white, ghastly face of the renegade McGable was seen turned toward them.

"I thought I'd give you your last sickness," said Peterson, with a shocking want of feeling.

"Oh! let me alone, I am dying!" wailed the miserable wretch.

All feelings except pity left the heart of Mansfield, as he saw the poor man in his last moments. He hastily ran back, and, seizing an ax, cut away the bushes around him, so that the air could reach him. It was then seen that he had received the bullet of Peterson in his side. He was leaning upon his elbow, spitting blood, while his hands closed rigidly over the wound, and the blood oozed through them and pattered upon the leaves beneath.

"Can I do anything for you?" asked Mansfield, kneeling down beside him and opening his hunting-shirt.

"Oh, no! I can't live long. I deserve to die, but I don't want to. I thought--"

He paused as the blood in his throat choked him. Peterson and Dingle were both touched by his misery, and silently withdrew, followed shortly by Jenkins. Mansfield saw that he was alone, and determined to do his duty to the dying man.

"McGable, you are dying, it is true. Put away now all thoughts of this world, and turn your heart toward the hereafter. Your sins are great, but there is a G.o.d whose mercy is sufficient for everything."

"Do not talk of G.o.d and mercy to me," said the man with a look so full of horrible torment, that Mansfield shuddered to his very soul. "The day of mercy has pa.s.sed with me. A thousand years could not atone for the crimes I have committed. If you can forgive me, Mansfield--"

"I forgive you all, and so does Abbot--fear nothing of that."

"I have harmed you and him more than you have dreamed. Oh! this wound!

Can you not stay the flow?"

McGable removed his hand as he spoke, and before Mansfield could stanch it, such a quant.i.ty of blood spouted forth, that the miserable man fainted. The forgiving man bandaged it as well as he was able, and presently the sufferer revived.

"I have harmed you more than you suspect," he said, faintly, turning his dark eyes, all woe and misery, to him.

"You have not. What do you mean?"

"_Marian!_"

"How?--what?--McGable, you will not refuse me now."

"Mansfield, in a few minutes, you will have seen a monster die. Let me adjure you to remember it to your last breath. The pain of my wound is nothing to what I suffer in spirit. The awful torment is unutterable--"

"But what of Marian?" gently reminded Mansfield.

"Marian is--" muttered the man dropping his head back on Mansfield's arm and gasping for breath, "_Marian was not killed on the flat-boat that night!_"