Woven with the Ship Part 38

"Nay, 'twas Mother Eve taught you, I'm thinking; and, as I may be--"

he hesitated, and then continued softly, "a long time in coming back, I thought I must tell you now or you might never hear it. I love you."

He turned away. "That's all."

She sprang toward him and grasped him by the arm.

"Go not," she whispered, her eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g. "Stay." Her head sank forward; she trembled as if she would fall. Unmindful of all others, he slipped his arm around her waist. "Stay," she continued so softly that he could scarce hear her words, though he bent his head eagerly to catch them. "Stay--for me."

"Then you love, too, thank G.o.d!" he cried. "Nay, I must go; but I go for you."

II.--THE MAN'S DARING

His horse was ready at the gate now. The place was filled with men; yet, reckless of all who might note, he bent his head low and kissed her unresisting. Then he tore himself away and sprang to the saddle.

With a wave of his hand toward the a.s.semblage, a long glance at the girl who stood with clasped hands and white, upturned face staring after him, he struck spur to his horse and dashed out through the gate. They followed him with their gaze for a short distance up the road until he was lost in the trees which covered its winding course.

And so the morning wore on. About noon the watchers saw three or four Indians in the trees. The little band halted out of rifle range on the edge of the clearing, and scanned the deserted settlement and the fort with its starry banner drooping idly from its staff. The mist was heavier now; it was almost a fog.

Two men were ordered to go out the postern gate under cover of the river bank, creep along the sh.o.r.e until they gained the trees, and then endeavor to discover whether or not there were more Indians there. A little party of twelve, under Captain Mason, was a.s.sembled near the gate, ready to dash out and attack the Indians in sight if it were deemed advisable. It often happened that such a swift, sharp blow diverted a more serious attack.

Nothing had as yet been heard of McCullough. Elizabeth Zane had pa.s.sed a morning of agonized apprehension. She was a motherless girl, who lived with her brother, the major; but she had spent most of her life in quiet Quaker Philadelphia at school. Only recently had she come to the frontier; this was her first experience in war--or love.

Suddenly the silence was broken by the sharp crack of a rifle. One of the Indians was seen to fall. The scouts had evidently attacked them.

The fire was returned by the group of savages. There was a sharp fusillade in the woodland. Captain Mason and his comrades tore out of the fort and ran toward the sound of the firing. A wave of mist rolled down and shut them in.

The eager watchers on the walls could hear the rattle of the rifles and see the dark shadows cast by the forest shot with flashes of fire.

The engagement seemed to be getting heavier. What was happening? They were not able to tell. The fog completely hid from their view the ravine in which the firing was going on.

Presently a man broke out of the mist and ran toward the fort. He was hatless; his gun was gone. He was bleeding from several wounds. His face was ghastly pale.

"Help!" he cried, brokenly. "The Indians are on us, hundreds of 'em!"

As he spoke he pitched forward and fell dead on his face just outside the gate. The fort was filled with excitement. The wife of the man who had just fallen shrieked with anguish, while the other women strove to comfort her and to hush the whimpering of the children.

Colonel Sheppard turned to another officer.

"Captain Ogle," he said, quickly, "take your company of twelve men, deploy them to the edge of the woods, and try to cover the retreat or bring off Mason and his men. Be careful, and do not be ambushed. We are but eleven men left here after you go to defend this post and one hundred women and children."

Again the gates were opened and a little band of determined hunters stole noiselessly toward the clearing. The rifle shots had ceased by this time, but they had been superseded by fierce Indian yells and a chorus of shrieks and cries from struggling men. Ogle's company stole rapidly forward, but before they could reach the place of conflict they were met by a fire which seemed to come from every direction. Out of the fog and smoke appeared the Indians, tomahawk in hand.

There was a fierce, wild _melee_ for a moment, and then silence. A sudden breeze blew down the valley, lifting the fog; and the dismayed garrison saw the ground strewn with the bodies of their friends and neighbors, while just out of range the Indians danced, yelling frantically, jumping high into the air, and flourishing gory scalps, which they had wrenched from the heads of the fallen while some of them were yet alive. Four or five desperately wounded men gained the fort under a rattling rifle fire.

As the day cleared the Indians sought cover in the deserted houses on the edge of the woods and opened fire on the stockade. A perfect storm of bullets was hurled upon the fort; but the defenders, well protected, suffered no loss, and, firing slowly and deliberately in return, strove to make every shot tell and with good effect. The Indians could not expose themselves for a moment without being hit.

Presently down the mountain came a party of rangers under the British flag, militia from Canada. With drums beating and fifes squealing they marched up the road, dragging a small cannon, with which they opened an ineffectual fire upon the fort. After a while, however, wearying of this fruitless duel, the a.s.sailants withdrew out of range and the roar of the battle died away, although the investment of the place was still vigorously maintained.

About four o'clock a burst of yells and shouts attracted the attention of the garrison to the top of the hill overlooking the fort. A single horseman suddenly appeared on the brink above the clearing, his tall figure plainly silhouetted against the sky-line. The hill where he overlooked it was some three hundred feet high and almost perpendicular, although the rough slope was broken here and there by drifts and ledges. He reined in his horse abruptly on the very brink and gazed backward.

Elizabeth Zane stood by her brother on the roof of one of the block-houses. With eyes lighted by affection, she knew McCullough instantly. Presently others recognized him also. They could hear the yelling drawing nearer. They saw McCullough look to the right and the left and shake his head; they saw him turn and discharge his rifle at his unseen pursuers.

They realized the situation at once. There was a lost man on the brink of that hill, his gun discharged, weaponless, surrounded by Indians, who were closing in upon him to take him alive and torture him. Death at the stake! There was no salvation for him!

What could he do? Would he dismount and face them? Would he try to ride over them? A moment would tell. Elizabeth closed her eyes, and her anguished lips strove in vain to form the words of a prayer.

"He is going to try the hill!" cried Major Zane, suddenly.

The bold hunter shortened the bridle, backed his horse away from the hill a few feet, and then launched him into the air. The cry of defiance that he gave as he dropped down the steep slope could have been heard for miles around. Scarcely had he vanished from the crest of the hill when the faces of the Indians appeared over it. The edge of the bluff was instantly ringed with fire.

"He falls!" cried one from the fort.

"He is down!" screamed another.

"No, he makes it!"

"They've hit him!"

"He's reached the ground safe!"

"They've got him!"

"No, he's up again!"

"He's coming here!"

"To the gate! to the gate!"

The bold hunter had actually leaped, scrambled, fallen down that mighty precipice; and horse and man apparently were both unharmed at the bottom. It was a feat of daring horsemanship which has been the pride of the vicinity ever since.

Between him and the fort, however, lay the Indians. Startled and surprised by the hardihood and success of the descent, they stood dazed for a moment. Grasping his rifle by the barrel, with the b.u.t.t up, McCullough swept down upon them. The first man who laid hand upon the bridle he brained with the rifle-b.u.t.t. Dropping the rein, he cut at the next with his hunting-knife. The excited horse struck out savagely and beat out the brains of a third. The rest gave back for a moment. He was through!

In another second, bending low over the saddle, he was galloping madly toward the fort. Again the rifles cracked around him. They saw him falter in the saddle, sway uneasily. At the same time his horse gave a great bound forward. They had both been hit, then.

The Indians in their excitement ran after him, forgetting they were within range until the riflemen on the walls sent bullet after bullet straight to the mark. The brave horse staggered and fell outside the gate, pitching the man heavily on his head.

Under cover of the rifle fire, two men ran out of the open gate, and one woman, Elizabeth Zane, followed after. They picked up McCullough and brought him within the stockade and laid him on the ground. The young girl, white-faced, despairing, dropped by his side and took his head in her arms. Her kisses and piteous pleadings seemed to revive him, and a draught of spirits restored him.

"Safe, safe, Elizabeth!" he murmured. "Keep up a good heart, all," he added as soon as he could speak clearly. "Colonel Sheppard, I found the Indians out there."

"I see you did, my boy," said the colonel, smiling grimly. "What then?"

"I rode off to Colonel Swearingen and told him you were beleaguered, sir."

"Yes, and what did he say?"

"He'll raise a force and be with you in the morning. Where are the rest of the men?" he cried, looking around at the little handful of people. "Why are the women using the rifles?" he went on, noticing that the weakness of the garrison had compelled some of the women to take the places of the dead soldiers. "I'm needed here, I see. I am not hurt," he continued; "let me up!"

"But you are wounded!" cried Elizabeth. "You cannot."

"Nay, 'tis nothing," he exclaimed; "a flesh wound in the arm and a graze along the chest. When the horse fell he threw me so heavily that it stunned me. When my arm is bound up I'll be all right."