The Wild Huntress Part 31

CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR.

A HUNDRED DEATHS.

For a full hour was the pitiless pastime continued--during which at least fifty shots had been fired at my person. The truculent chieftain had threatened me with a hundred deaths. He was fulfilling his threat to the letter; for, notwithstanding the unskilful practice, I felt, on the eve of each discharge, a certain creeping of the flesh, and curdling of the blood, as if that moment was to be my last. If I had not yet died a hundred times, for at least so many had I felt all the sensations that should precede actual death. In truth over a hundred times: for although but fifty shots had been fired, twice as often had the old guns snapped or flashed in the pan; and each of these was preceded by its especial pang. I had not escaped altogether unscathed: I had been hit in two or three places--in my arms and limbs. Blood was running down my legs, and creeping over my feet. I could feel it warm and wet, as it trickled between my toes. In a little hollow of the rock, directly in front of me, a crimson pool was collecting. The wounds could not be severe: since I scarcely felt them. Perhaps only the crease of a bullet? A scratch would be sufficient to cause the effusion of the blood--copious though it appeared to be; and I felt certain that no bone had yet been broken--that no vital part of my body had been touched.

After about an hour had been spent by the savages in their fiendish sport, the firing became suddenly suspended. I could not tell why; and sought for an explanation by watching the movements of the marksmen.

Had they exhausted their ammunition? This was the idea that came uppermost. The chiefs had turned face to face, and were again engaged in some earnest deliberation. The subject of their talk was made known by their gesticulations. They were pointing towards Sure-shot, who still lay, as I have described, flat upon his face.

Wingrove was no longer there; nor yet Su-wa-nee! Where could they have gone? I had seen both but the moment before! Had she unbound, and rescued him? Was it about them that the savages were in consultation?

No; the result proved not. It was the deserter who was the object of their attention--as was soon made manifest by their movements.

Half a dozen warriors were seen separating from the group and running up to the spot where Sure-shot lay. Stooping around him, they undid his fastenings; and then, having, raised him to his feet, commenced dragging him towards the crowd of marksmen. The terrified man made no resistance. It would have been idle. There was a brawny savage on each side, grasping him by the wrist; and three or four behind pushing him forward at a run. His long hair streaming loosely, strengthened the expression of despair that was depicted upon his countenance. No doubt he deemed it his last hour. Whether could they be dragging him?

Whither but to death? This was my own belief--at first; but in a few minutes I had reason to change it. For a short while, Sure-shot was encircled by the dusky forms, and I saw him not--or only the crown of his head--conspicuous by its yellow hue among the darker _chevelures_ of the Indians. What were they doing to him? I could not guess; but they appeared to be offering him no further violence. After a time, the group scattered from around him, and the ex-rifleman was again uncovered to my view. With some surprise, I perceived that the expression of his countenance had undergone a total change. It was no longer that of terror--much less of despair. On the contrary, there was a certain air of confidence visible both in his look and manner--as if something had been said, or done to him, that had given him satisfaction! I was further surprised at perceiving that he had a gun in his hands--his own rifle--and that he was in the act of loading the piece! My surprise changed to indignation as I saw him step forward to the line, and stand facing me--evidently with the intention to fire! "Cowardly traitor! he has accepted life upon some base condition. Jeph Bigelow! Sure-shot!

whom I thought true as steel! I would not have believed it." Such was the reflection, to which my gag prevented me from giving utterance. In reality, I felt astonished at the behaviour of the old ranger. I believed him a better man; but the dread of death is a powerful test to apply to the human soul; and hard must be the conditions of life when, under such circ.u.mstances, they are refused. Sure-shot had succ.u.mbed to the temptation.

Such was my belief, as I saw him raise his piece, and stand confronting me--in an att.i.tude that too plainly bespoke his intention. Another surprise awaited me--another stimulus to my indignation. Instead of looking ashamed of his work, and cowering under my glance, he appeared eager and determined to execute the dastardly design. There was even an expression of fierceness, ill becoming his countenance habitually meek.

Under other circ.u.mstances, it would have been ludicrous enough.

"Bravado," thought I, "a.s.sumed, no doubt, to give satisfaction to his new allies?"

I had not recovered from the confusion of my surprise, when his voice fell upon my ear--uttered in a tone of anger, and accompanied with corresponding gestures. But the words that reached me explained all.

On hearing them, I no longer suspected the loyalty of my old comrade.

The angry expression _was_ a.s.sumed; but the counterfeit had a design, far different from that which I had attributed to it. It was Sure-shot himself--still tricky as true.

"Capting!" cried he, speaking quickly, and raising his gun with a gesture of menace, "pay 'tention to whet I'm 'beout to say. Look savagerous at me, an' make these yeer verming b'lieve you an' me's que'lling. Fo'most tell me, ef they've krippled ye 'beout the legs? I know ye can't speak; but shet yeer eyes, an' thet says 'No.'"

I was for the moment puzzled, by the matter as well as manner of his speech, which in no way corresponded. In an instant, however, I perceived that he had some design; and I hastened to obey his hurried instructions. As to the first, I needed to make no alteration in my demeanour. Under the belief that he was disloyal, I had been regarding him with a glance sufficiently scowling. I preserved the expression--at the same time closing my eyes, as a negative answer to his query.

Although I believed myself to be hit somewhere about the legs, I felt confident that I was not "crippled."

"So fur good!" continued he, still speaking loudly and angrily. "Neow!

slew yeer right elbow down a leetle, an' gi' me a better chance at thet eer strip o' hide. I kinder guess as heow I kin cut the thing. It 'peers to be all o' one piece, an' 'll peel off yeer body like a rope o'

rushes. Ef I cut it, theer'll be a chance for ye. Theer's only one o'

the verming ahint the mound. Yeer hoss air theer; make for the anymal-- mount 'im, an' put off like a streak o' greased lightnin'! Neow!"

As he finished speaking, he stepped nearer to the line, and placed himself in an att.i.tude to fire. I now fully comprehended his design. I saw, as he said, that the cord which bound me to the crucifix was all of one piece--a thin thong of raw-hide--lapped not very tightly around my arms, legs, and body. If cut through at any point, it could easily be detached; and, true enough, my horse must be behind the b.u.t.te, for I could not see him in front. By a quick rush I might succeed in reaching him, before the Indians could intercept me? If so, then indeed might there be a chance of escaping.

CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE.

A SHARP SHOT.

Slender as appeared the prospect of my being freed from my fastenings, by the method proposed, I was not without some faith in Sure-shot being able to cut the thong. His skill in the use of the rifle was notorious even among good marksmen--and his aim believed to be unerring. I had known him to bring down with his bullet a bird upon the wing; and had heard him declare that it was not by the _eye_ but by the _mind_ that he did it. In other words: he meant, that his skill was not mechanical; but that he was guided in the act by some mental operation--which he himself but imperfectly understood. I could believe this the more readily--since Sure-shot was not the only marksman I had known possessed of this peculiar power. A something inexplicable, which may be cla.s.sed with the mysterious phenomena of clairvoyance and "horse-whispering."

With such belief in his skill, therefore, I was not without some hope that he might succeed in his design; and, to give him the chance he desired, I made a violent effort, and wrenched my arm downward. It was, to all appearance, a demonstration of my wrath, at what the pseudo-renegade had been saying to me; and it seemed to be thus interpreted by most of the savages who stood around him. The words of Sure-shot, spoken in English, were of course unintelligible to them; but, notwithstanding the inappropriate gestures which he had made use of, the suspicions of one were aroused. This was Red-Hand himself.

"What says he of the yellow scalp-lock to the captive?" inquired the chief in Spanish. "Let him take heed, or he too shall become a shooting-mark for the Arapaho warriors!"

Sure-shot's reply was characteristic. It was also in broken Spanish, which the ranger had picked up during our campaign, on the Rio Grande.

Translated, it ran thus: "I'm only telling him how I'm about to get square with him. _Carrambo_! great chief! when I was a soldier in the army, yon fellow was my _capitano_, and gave me a flogging. Believe me, chief, I'm right glad of this opportunity to have revenge on him.

That's what I have been saying to him."

"Ugh!" grunted the savage, apparently satisfied with the explanation.

"Neow, capting!" angrily shouted the rifleman, once more raising his piece to the level, "look e' out! Don't be skeert abeout my hittin' o'

ye! The whang lies well ageen the bit o' timber. The ball's a big un.

I recking I kin bark it anyheow. Heer's to try!"

A tall yellow-haired man standing with a rifle to his shoulder--his sallow cheek resting against the stock--the barrel apparently aligned upon my body--the quick detonation of a percussion-cap--a stream of red fire and smoke from the muzzle--a shock, followed by the quivering of the timbers to which I was tied, were perceptions and sensations of almost simultaneous occurrence. Twisting my head, and turning my eyes almost out of their sockets, I was able to note the effect of the shot.

The thong had been hit, just at the point where it doubled over the edge of the wood. It was cut more than half through! By raising my elbow to its original position, and using it as a lever, I could tear apart the crushed fibres. I saw this; but in the antic.i.p.ation of a visit from the marker, I prudently preserved my att.i.tude of immobility. In a moment after, the grinning savage came gliding in front of me; and, perceiving the track of the bullet, pointed it out to those upon the plain. I was in a feverish state of suspense lest he might suspect design; but was relieved on seeing him step aside--while the shuffling grating noise from behind admonished me, that he was once more letting himself down over the edge of the platform.

The crowd had already closed around Sure-shot, who appeared to be expostulating with the chief--as if offering some explanation of his failure. I did not wait to witness the _denouement_. Raising my elbow, and giving my arm a quick jerk, I heard the thong snapping asunder; and saw the broken ends spring out from their folds. Another wrench set my right arm free; and then, clutching the loosened coils, I unwound them with as much rapidity, as if I had been freeing myself from the embrace of a serpent! Not one of the Indians saw what I was about, till after I had undone my fastenings. Their eyes had been turned upon Sure-shot-- with whom they appeared to be engaged in some angry altercation. It was only after I had sprung to one side, and stood clear of the crucifix, that I heard their e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of astonishment, followed by a wild continuous yelling.

I stayed not to note what they were doing. I merely glanced towards them, as I turned away; and perceived that they were still fixed to their places, as if petrified by surprise! The moments were precious; and, bounding across the platform, I leaped down upon the opposite side.

There was a little shelf about six feet below the summit. I found it occupied by the indigenous artist. He was seated upon the edge, with his legs hanging over. His back was towards me; and he was only apprised of what had transpired by seeing me as I sprang to his side.

He had already heard the yells from the other side; and was about to get to his feet, at the moment I dropped down behind him. He was too late for the accomplishment of his purpose. I saw that he was unarmed; but was apprehensive that by flinging himself upon me, he might hold or delay me. I hesitated not as to what I should do. Bushing forward, I planted my foot against his shoulder, and giving his body a violent impulsion, projected it clear over the edge. I saw it striking upon the angular prisms, and bounding from block to block--till it sunk out of sight amidst the tortuous branches of the cedars. I ran down the sloping path--taking many yards at a step.

Not far off, was my horse--with that of Wingrove, and the mules. They formed a little group--but no longer under charge of a guard: for the latter had just left them, and was running forward to intercept me. I saw that he had a weapon in his hand. It was a gun. He was pointing it upon me as he ran--endeavouring to take aim before firing. I heeded not the threatening att.i.tude, but rushed straight towards him. I could not go round him: since he was between me and the horses. We both ran, as if to meet one another. When less than five paces separated us, the Indian stopped, sighted me and pulled trigger. His gun snapped! Before he could lower the piece, I had clutched the barrel: and, with a desperate effort, wrenched the weapon from his grasp. I made a feint to strike him over the head. He threw up his arms to ward off the blow.

Instead of using the gun as a club, I thrust him with the b.u.t.t right under the ribs; and stretched him gasping upon the gra.s.s. He fell, as if shot through the head! Still holding on to the gun--which, by a strange accident, proved to be my own rifle--I ran up to my horse. The creature welcomed me with a neigh of joy! It was but the work of a moment to draw the picket-pin, gather up the laryette, and spring to his back. Once there, I felt that I was free!

The Indians came screaming around the b.u.t.te--most of them afoot, and with no other weapons than the empty muskets. A few, more prudent than their fellows, had made towards their arms and horses; but, both being at a distance, they had not yet reached them; and the advantage was mine. I was no longer hurried in my actions--not even afraid. I had no apprehension of being retaken. On the back of my brave steed, I felt like an ocean cast-away, who has climbed up the sides of a strong ship, and once more stands safely upon deck! I felt confident that from my pursuers, I could gallop away at will; and, after taking time to adjust my laryette as a halter, I gave the head to my horse, and rode off. My Arab needed no urging. Up the valley went he, like a bird upon the wing. I could laugh to scorn the savage pack that came hallooing behind me.

CHAPTER SIXTY SIX.

THE CHASE AND THE SYNCOPE.

I made direct for the canon whence issued the stream. Its gap grew wider as I approached it--though still appearing only a dark cleft between the rocks, like the entrance to some subterranean pa.s.sage. I looked forward to it with satisfaction. Its shadowy chasm promised shelter and concealment. When near the entrance of the gorge, I pa.s.sed the ground where the waggon had been captured. Part of its load-- barrels and heavy boxes--were lying upon the sward. They were all broken, and rifled of their contents. The plunder had been carried to the b.u.t.te. The dead bodies were still there--only those of the white men. I even halted to examine them. They were all stripped of their clothing--all scalped, and otherwise mutilated. The faces of all were blood-bedaubed. Under the red mask I could not have recognised them-- even had they been the faces of old friends! There were six of them.

Divested of their garments, I could form no conjecture as to who or what they had been--whether teamsters or emigrants, gold-seekers or soldiers.

The Mormon could not have been among them: the bodies were all too stout for his; while, on the other hand, there was none of them that could have been mistaken for that of the squatter, Holt. I turned away from the sickening sight, and continued my gallop.

My pursuers were a good mile behind me. The sun had already sunk over the crest of the cliffs, and I could just see the mounted savages through the darkling gloom--still fallowing as fast as their horses could gallop. In five minutes after, I had entered the gorge. The twilight continued no longer: in the canon it was night. I followed the stream upwards, keeping along near the bank. Thick darkness was over and around me; but the gleam of the water and its rippling sound served to guide me on the path. I could not see any track--either of horses or waggons--but I knew they had pa.s.sed over the ground. There was a narrow strip of bottom land thickly timbered; and an opening through the trees indicated the road that the waggons must have taken. I trusted the trail to my horse. In addition to his keen instinct, he had been trained to tracking; and with his muzzle projected forward and downward--so that his lips almost touched the earth--he lifted the scent like a hound. We could only make progress at a quick walk; but I consoled myself with the thought that my pursuers could go no faster.

Seeing how easily I had ridden away from them, they might determine to abandon the pursuit--returning to revenge themselves upon my fellow-captives.

About these my mind was filled with, bitter reflections; and strange enough, my strongest sympathies were with. Sure-shot! I could not help thinking that he had sacrificed himself to save me. There could be no doubt of his having done so. He had been offered life, on some traitorous condition, and could have lived. The Indian whom I had hurled over the rocks, if still alive, would explain my escape. The cunning savages would easily understand it. My brave comrade would take my place upon the crucifix?

For Wingrove I had less fear. Surely love--even slighted love--would save him from the sacrifice? Yet, after what had occurred, I had but little reason to hope even for him. I could think of but one chance of rescuing them: to overtake the train, and prevail upon the escort to return. I wondered at the dragoons having abandoned the waggon, and left the poor fellows who were with it to their fate! I could only explain such conduct, by supposing that these had been far behind, and that their disaster was still unknown to the people of the caravan. The six men who had fallen might have been the only ones along with the waggon; and their firing, as they defended themselves, might not have been heard? The roar of the water in the canon might have drowned the reports of their guns; and, as I now listened to its deafening sound, I could believe in this hypothesis.

Indulging in such conjectures, I had groped my way some two or three miles up the gorge, when I became sensible of a singular faintness stealing over me. A chill crept through my frame--not like that produced by cold from without; but as if the blood was freezing in my veins! The feeling was accompanied by a sense of torpor and la.s.situde-- like that experienced by one dropping to sleep in a snow-storm. I made an effort to rouse myself--thinking it was sleep that was oppressing me.

It might well have been--since it was more than thirty hours since I had slept, and then only for a short while. It occurred to me that, by dismounting and walking for a distance, I might recover warmth and wakefulness. With this design, I alighted from my horse. Once upon the ground, I discovered that I could not walk--that I could not even keep my feet! My limbs tottered under me, as if I had been for months bed-rid. Only by holding on to my horse could I stand erect! What could it mean? My Arab turned his face towards me, as if making the same inquiry! I endeavoured to remount him, but could not. I was unable even to clamber upon his back; and after an unsuccessful effort, desisted--still supporting myself against his body. Had he moved away, at the moment, I should have fallen. And I must have fallen--after my senses left me. In the last gleam of consciousness, I remembered standing by the side of my horse. But I must have fallen: for when thought returned, I found myself upon my back, stretched at full length along the gra.s.s!

CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN.