Front matter (continued 2)

There they sat, six stalwart young warriors, grouped in various attitudes of ease and comfort about the fire, gnawing the flesh from the bones of a young buck which one of their number had brought down by a well-directed arrow. The flame lighted up their bronzed figures and dark faces, and danced upon their waving plumes and beaded belts and moccasins. They were chatting in low tones over their feast, it being evident that they did not think it possible that the two whites—for they knew nothing of the Dead Chief—could escape from the hands of their companions above. But they had not reckoned upon the fertility of resource possessed by the Yankee scout. Long Seth touched his companions lightly, and they drew back cautiously at least a hundred yards from the dangerous vicinity, where they could converse with ease and not be heard by the Indians below.

"Ain't got much time tew talk 'bout it," said the Yankee. "What do yew say? Thar's six Injins, red with white blood. Shall we give 'em goss or not? If we lick 'em—I'd ingage tew lick the hull bilin' myself—we kin git the canoe tew ride tew Vincennes, and I'd ruther ride than walk, any time."

"I'm for thinning this band as much as we can," said Floyd. "There will not be so many to attack my father's stockade."

"Dead Chief is ready," said the Pottawatomie, in his short way.

"Good enuff!" replied Seth. "Waal, I'll creep down the bank below 'em and come up on the back. You two creep up in front, and jest ez soon as I give my loon-call, yew pick eout two of 'em and knock 'em over. Pick eout the biggest, they ginerally fight the best. I'll give a good account of number three, and then charge 'em like smoke. Them's the sentiments I express upon this momentous occasion. Now for it."

They separated, the chief and Floyd creeping cautiously to the front and making their weapons ready for a shot, and the Yankee moving away rapidly but silently to the left. After allowing five minutes to pass, they heard the loon-call on the river.

Lifting their rifles, each sighted a man and pulled trigger. Down went two of the savages, one shot through the brain and the other through the breast, and with a hearty border shout they grasped their smaller weapons and darted down the bank just as the weapon of Long Seth spoke and a third Indian uttered his death-cry. At the same time the Yankee appeared, and the three closed in upon their enemies, who, like rats in a trap, turned and fought like men.

Singling out an adversary, the determined whites rushed on. Dashing down the weak defense of his adversary, Seth struck him with his fist a blow which seemed to shatter his jaws, for the bones absolutely rattled as he went down.

"Take that, you red devil," he hissed, turning to seek a new foe. But, the struggle was already at an end. The Dead Chief had hurled his hatchet at his antagonist with the skill which only long practice in the use of that weapon can give, and he rolled to the earth, the bright bowl of the keen ax only showing through his skull. Will Floyd, at the expense of a slight flesh-wound in the arm, had buried his dagger in the breast of his own antagonist, and the struggle was over.

Seth knew that no time was to be lost, and darted for the canoe, though for what purpose the chief remained behind the young soldier could guess. When he joined them in the canoe he touched the soldier on the arm and offered him two bloody scalps.

"No, no," said Floyd, pushing back his hand. "I can not take them."

"Two for you, Long Man," said the chief, offering the others to the Yankee.

"I didn't hev time tew wait for 'em," replied Seth, coolly, taking the bloody trophies and thrusting them into his belt. "Thank yew all the same, chief. I reckon yew ain't used tew this sort of thing, cap.?"

"I confess I am not."

"Yew'll git over that. Climb intew the canoe and git hold of a paddle. I reckon we'll hev a hard time of it yit. I hear them devils up above coming down the rushes; hark! Du yew hear that?"

They listened and could hear the dip of paddles upon the river below. They had been mistaken in the number of their enemies after all, it seemed, and they had yet another patrol canoe below the rushes!

"Load up yure rifles, boys, and yew give the pistils fodder if they ain't full already, Will. This old thief, the Profit, meant business when he pitched on us. If we git threw it won't be for lack of head-work."

For some moments nothing was heard but the sound of preparation, as they loaded their weapons. Then the canoe, which was a large one, shot out into the stream, and Spink, who sat in the stern, caught up a heavy stone which lay on the bank and laid it in the bottom of the canoe, close to his feet. "Yew needn't mind the paddle jist yit, Will. Let the chief keep her stiddy, and put her rite on tew the other canoe, old man! I'll fix these heathen, yit."

The canoe was now only a few rods in advance, coming up under the full sweep of the paddles in the hands of half a dozen strong men. The morning was coming fast, but it was still too dark to distinguish faces.

"Put her straight for 'em," said Seth. "I'll show 'em a trick."

As the two canoes neared each other, the Dead Chief shouted to the coming savages in the Indian tongue:

"Who comes?"

"Brothers," replied the voice of the warrior in command. "Have the white dogs been taken?"

"Who can escape the snares of the Prophet?" replied the Dead Chief.

"Are they dead?" demanded the warrior.

"Why should we kill them?" replied the Dead Chief. "Come back and we will see them burn by the same fire."

The canoes were now side by side, and the Indians were trying to peer through the gloom of the morning to make out the figures in the other craft, when Seth rose suddenly, and, uttering a wild cry, dashed the huge stone through their canoe's bottom, tearing a great hole, through which the water rushed in a torrent, and in a moment the Indians were floundering in the water, while the other canoe, impelled by the strong arms of Floyd and Dead Chief, passed on down the river. In spite of the toils which the Prophet had set about them, his prey had escaped.

CHAPTER VI.

THE AMBUSCADE.

Vincennes, on the Wabash, was the seat of government chosen by Harrison, as Governor of that territory. Here he was gradually collecting his forces for the coming struggle which he was assured must come, with the Indians under the control of Tecumseh and the Prophet. In the mean time his spies were everywhere gathering such information as they could of the position and designs of the enemy. In choosing these men, Harrison showed great knowledge of the Indian character, and for this reason his most trusted scouts were from that class of bordermen who, trained in border warfare, had also suffered loss at their hands. These he sent into the Indian country upon all sorts of pretenses, to collect information for future use.

Thus he learned who were lukewarm in the British cause, and therefore might be won over to the Americans.

Thus, when the struggle commenced, he knew upon whom to depend, and what he had against him. The Governor was at his own private residence when informed that the Pottawatomie, Dead Chief, and his companions, Captain Floyd and Long Seth Spink, desired to speak with him. He at once ordered them to his presence. Floyd was admitted first, and found the Governor seated at a small table, covered with papers and maps.

"Ah, captain," he said, "I am pleased to see you, although your leave of absence has not yet expired. I don't see what brought you here ahead of your time. You surely can not have had a quarrel with Miss Madge?"

"No, your excellency. Far from that, but the family are in great danger."

"Ha! In what way?"

"The Indians are on the war-path."

Harrison started up eagerly. "By heaven, I thought so. Who are their leaders?"

"The Prophet and Willimack are with the party we met."

"Give an account of the affair in few words."

Floyd commenced with his meeting with the Yankee in the morning, and the attempt of Willimack to enter the stockade, and told the story up to their entrance into the town.

"Then there is not a moment to be lost. Take out your company of the rangers and as many more as you need, and march up the river to the stockade. How far do you call it?"

"About twenty miles."

"Very good. Get your men under arms. Take the Dead Chief with you as a guide, and I will let this man Spink go also. You may send him to me at once."

"The Dead Chief?"

"Seth Spink."

"Oh; do you know him, then?"

"I have heard of him," replied Harrison, with a slight smile. "This action on the part of Willimack is premature, it is evident, and I am certain that the Prophet is not pleased with it, nor do I think Tecumseh knows any thing about it. Send Spink to me."

Floyd went out into the next room, but the Governor followed him to the door, and, speaking with marked kindness to the Dead Chief, told him to go with the captain as guide. Then beckoning to the scout, he again entered the room. The Yankee followed him, closing the door after him. They remained closeted in the room for more than an hour, when the scout came out with a hurried step, and went down to the river-side, where the company of Will Floyd, consisting of nearly a hundred men, were under arms.

"Ha, Spink, my good fellow, hurry up," shouted the captain. "Death, man, do you not see that I am impatient?"

"No use to hurry now, cap," replied Seth. "My father died in a hurry. Ef he'd taken time tew think about it he needn't hev died at all. But, he got it intew his head he couldn't live, and so he went off without thinking. He won't dew that ag'in."

"Is this a time for jesting, sir?" said the captain, angrily. "Take your place. Fall in, men. By fours; trot!"

They set off at a rapid pace, and rode along the river-side beneath the bending branches, heavy with the morning dew. The birds sung in the laden branches, as if a thought of blood or battle never could or would disturb their grand old woods. But, the heart of young Floyd was heavy, for he feared that Willimack would make good his threat of the night before, and attack the stockade before his return. The men shared his fears, and a shade of doubt once or twice crossed the face of the Yankee, but he kept up a good heart, singing snatches of old songs now and then in a quaint way, which caused a smile among the ranks. But, before they had gone five miles his mood changed, and he began to glance quickly from side to side as if expecting an enemy. On they went through the oak openings until the woods began to thicken, when the Yankee bent in his saddle, and whispered in the ear of the captain.

"No, no," said Floyd, testily. "They have retreated, I tell you. They will not risk an encounter now."

"But I think I'm right, fer all that, cap."

"It is impossible. You do not know my rangers, or you would not think the Indians capable of resisting our march."

"I don't believe that the Prophet would fire a gun at a white man, dew yew?" said the Yankee, with a quizzical look. "Cum mi'ty nigh scorching yure legs last night, though."

"He is capable of any small villainy like that," replied the captain. "But, he certainly is too able a warrior to commence before his plans are ripe."

"It's forced upon him, cap. He knows that we've got clear, and that both yew and the Dead Chief are aware of his hostility, so he can't wait. You'd better ride a leetle grain more keerful."

"Nonsense."

"I ain't used tew being talked tew that way, cap. I'm a strange critter, yew know. I dunno heow it is, but I've got a sort of sneaking notion I know something 'bout Injin fi'tin'. Come; order the men tew pull in, and don't make quite so much noise in the ranks."

"You take a great deal upon yourself, friend Spink," said Floyd, with a light laugh. "Perhaps you had better lead the company yourself, as you seem inclined to take command."

"See what it is tew be young," muttered the Yankee, with an appearance of great vexation. "Yew'll force me tew dew something I don't want tew, cap. Now, look here; yew ain't going tew ride intew yonder narrow path, are yew, without sending out scouts?"

"What would you have me do, sir? You know as well as I do that it makes the road three miles longer to keep in the oak openings."

"S'pose it duz? Yew don't want to lose half these nice-looking boys, dew yew? Come; take good advice, and don't go threw them woods."

"I will ride directly forward without turning out of my course for a mere scarecrow cry from you."

A dark frown crossed the face of the Yankee, and he pulled hard on his bridle and left the ranks.

"Go on then, if yew will. Bet yew forty dollars yew don't go fur."

With an angry exclamation Floyd put spurs to his horse, and calling to his men to follow, dashed into the woods. Scarcely had he done so when there was a rattling volley of musketry, and several saddles were emptied, while high and wild above the rattle of the small-arms, rose the gathering cry of the forest banditti. Dark forms glided from bush to bush, and the young captain saw his error. Entangled in the thick woods they must have been lost, but for his prompt action. Snatching a bugle from the hand of a musician, he sounded the call to fall back, and, taking their wounded comrades—for the rangers would not leave them—they hastily retreated, and sheltered themselves behind the bushes in front of the woods and looked after their wounded comrades. Some of the savages showed themselves for a moment, but a volley from the rifles of the rangers quickly drove them back, and they waited for a new advance on the part of the horsemen.

Floyd cast a sidelong glance for the Yankee, but he was gone. In the melée he had taken his horse and slipped away, no one knew whither. Angry with himself for his error, Floyd sent the wounded men back to the village and buried the single dead man in the path, riding over it with the rangers several times so that the Indians could not find and mutilate the body. This done he took a wide detour, leaving the woods on his right, and set off at the best rate of speed for his home. Three miles on the way they met the Yankee coming back with a look of sorrow on his face.

"I couldn't wait tew see it, cap.," he said. "How many of the boys went under?"

"One," replied the captain, sorrowfully. "You were right, Seth. I ought to have kept out of that trap. I know it now, but, that will not atone for my folly. But, think what I feel now when I tell you that it would be a kindness in you to shoot me through the head."

"No," replied Seth, slowly. "I don't think that would pay us, principally because we kain't afford tew lose yew, and yew'll take advice next time. I've been out scouting a little in advance. Ride a little to the front and I'll tell yew what I've found eout."

They quickened their pace, and the Yankee bent in his saddle and said in a low voice: "Willimack hez been over the road since last night."

Floyd started violently, and his face grew pale. "How do you know that?" he cried.

"I kan read Injin sign," answered the Yankee, calmly. "Thar's another thing. I believe the critter they call the Skeleton Scout is arter Willimack."

"Why?"

"'Cause I've seen his sign. Ef he's a ghost, then he's a mighty heavy one. Why, he's got a foot bigger'n mine, ef I kin judge by his trail. Now mind, I don't say he's a human; sartin he don't act like one; but yew bet all yew'r worth he don't like Willimack, or heow in natur' would he chase him up the way he did last night."

"But my father; my dearest Madge!" moaned the unhappy young man. "Oh, why did I ever leave you?"

"'Twould only hev been tew more sculps ef we had been thar," replied the Yankee. "Now, I'll tell yew what I think. Willimack turned back with his own warriors arter the Skileton Scout set you free, and put out fer the stockade."

"I am afraid you are right. Let us press on as quickly as we can."

"No use of that. If he did turn back, and I'm pesky 'fraid he did, all we kan do won't bring us thar in time. I'm afeard the old man didn't half understand his danger, nuther, and was keerless arter we went away. Here, order yure men to close up. Them Injins are behind us now, but I reckin they won't leave a stick or stone standing along the Wabash, now that their blood is up."

The rangers closed up. They quickened their pace, and, late in the afternoon, began to near the clearing in which the settler had built his house and stockade. As they entered the clearing, a heavy smoke was seen to rise toward the summer sky, and, uttering a cry of agony, the young soldier spurred quickly forward, to see what he had most feared and yet had hardly dared to hope had not happened—his father's house in ruins, and still smoking, though the flames had nearly gone out! It was a terrible scene of desolation, but one all too common in the history of these Indian wars.

The rangers surrounded the blackened walls. In some places the fire had lost its power over the walls from their green state, and they still stood, though blackened and half consumed. The house itself had fallen, and the charred rafters lay among the smoldering embers of that once happy home. The desolation did not stop here, for there, in the opening between the stockade and the house, lay the bodies of the two soldiers, who had been killed and scalped and horribly mutilated.

"Poor Lefebre! unhappy Forbes!" said the young soldier. "Yours was indeed a sad, sad fate. God in his mercy take you in his keeping! But, where is my father?"

They searched here and there, and, at length, half hidden by a heavy beam which had fallen upon their lifeless bodies, they found the murdered forms of the three negroes, like the soldiers, scalped and gory. All the indignities which savage ferocity could invent had been heaped upon the wretched men who had here met their fate. Floyd was ghastly pale, and reeled in his walk like a drunken man as the five bodies were drawn out into the open space and laid down, side by side. One of the soldiers dismounted, and, taking his blanket from his saddle, and begging another from a comrade, covered the lifeless forms from the public gaze. The Yankee, whose face seemed twitching convulsively, looked fiercely about him as each new exhibition of savage spite showed itself.

"Why don't you help me, Seth?" said Floyd, feebly.

"I don't know. I'm sartin of one thing, and that is that Miss Madge would kill herself if she could to keep herself out of the hands of them pizen critters. It's awful, awful! Move round, boys, and look fer the capt'in's father. Be alive, men, and don't look so scared. I don't blame yew, poor lads, when tew of yure comrades are gone. And then, them black boys and the old lady. Here, take hold of these rafters and throw 'em off. Mebbe the old gentleman is underneath."

They tossed aside the still smoldering rafters and yet found nothing. The floor was only partly burned. The Yankee threw off a trap-door which had led into the cellar, and looked down. He could see nothing as yet, for a mass of dense smoke was rolling slowly upward from the cellar and he stood aside until this passed off, and then descended.

"Hurry!" he cried, at length. "I've got somebody. Two of you boys come down."

Down two of the rangers leaped, and in a few moments' time reappeared, bearing a body to the surface. It was found to be that of an Indian, who evidently had been killed by a pistol bullet. The rangers kicked the senseless form to one side just as the face of Seth appeared at the opening.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"It's a cussed Injin," answered one of the rangers.

"Darn him," roared Seth. "Raise his ha'r, some of yew, while I go down ag'in. I'm sartin I'll find somebody down here."

He disappeared again. By this time the smoke had passed out and he could see plainly. Upon the cellar floor was a track of blood, which led into the large drain in the corner. Following this trace, the Yankee stooped and saw that the feet of a man were just within the drain. He seized upon the feet and drew him out, and showed the bloody form of Mr. Floyd, senseless from a hatchet wound in the head, but breathing heavily, like one in a trance.

CHAPTER VIII.

TECUMSEH.

The body of the wounded man was carefully borne to the surface, and the young soldier, with a cry like a wolf seizing his young, lifted the beloved form in his arms, carried it out of the stockade and laid it upon the grass outside. The old man breathed heavily, and Floyd looked up with hope imprinted on every line of his young face. But, the Yankee was downcast in expression, and stood leaning against the wall of the stockade, at times striking his hand against it.

"Bring water, boys," cried Floyd, anxiously. "Water, water."

Two of the men hurried down to the spring with their canteens and brought them up full. The captain took one of these and washed the ghastly wound upon the skull and showed that it was fractured.

"Oh, heaven," cried the son. "My father, my dear father. Was it for this that I left you last night, to find you here, murdered by the hand of brutal savages? But he lives; you can see that, Seth. A little care might save him."

"Oh, he'll live fast enough," said Seth, gloomily. "It isn't that. I've seen that kind of a hurt afore and they ain't no good. Let me see what I can do, and while I am doing it, yew go and look arter the gal."

Floyd started up eagerly and hurried away, while the Yankee kneeled at the side of the wounded man, and looked at the wound, shaking his head. "'Twill be a pity for him if he does live, poor man," he muttered. "In course he'll be crazy while the bone presses down into the brain that way. Poor old man; I'd do any thing to save him, but I daren't touch that wound. It looks a little tew bad fur me to handle. Thar; he's coming round."

As he spoke, the eyes of the old man opened slowly and he stared vaguely about him like one in a dream. Seth tapped his forehead significantly and pointed at him, and the men understood. "Cracked," muttered the scout. "I know'd how it would be. Thar, old man. How dew yew feel?"

"Why don't you stop that horrible noise there?" demanded Floyd, angrily. "I won't have it in my house, you know. Silence, and listen to my orders at once."

"That's right, captaing. If any of them refuse to obey, you'd better order him forty lashes."

"What does he grin at me for?" cried the wounded man, starting to his feet. "What does he mean by it? Does he know that I am master here?"

"Of course he does," replied the Yankee, quietly. "He won't be quiet unless he gets forty lashes, I'm afraid."

"I don't know what's the matter with my head," said the old man, gravely, putting his hand up. "Didn't I fall somewhere?"

"Oh, yes," replied Seth. "You fell into the cellar. Don't you remember?"

"I believe you are right," said the captain, looking fixedly at the blood upon his hand. "Look at this now; my hand is exactly the color of a fellow I had some trouble with this morning, and I was forced to shoot him. I didn't like to do it, but I had to. Then I fell down and hurt my head, and it feels rather light."

"Yes, that fellow won't trouble you any more. Here is your son coming. Don't let him know that yure head is light or it will make him feel badly."

"He looks like a boy of mine," replied the demented man, looking at his son, who was approaching rapidly, overjoyed at seeing his father on his feet, although he had found no trace of his affianced. He ran to his father and took his hand eagerly.

"My dear father, you can not tell how overjoyed I am to find you so little injured."

"There, there," cried his father, pushing him back with his left hand. "I think you are getting too familiar."

"Father!"

"I allow no liberties taken with me, young man. I killed a red fellow this morning for this. By the way, do you know that I would like to get very drunk to-day in honor of the conjunction of the planets in their separate orbits? Venus is a particular friend of mine. I met her at a ball. No—where did I meet her? Where did you get that hat?"

"Seth, what does this mean? I do not understand this. Why does he act so strangely?"

"That is the funniest hat, as I'm alive," said the old man, laughing. "Why will you wear such an absurd thing, young man? I wish you would take pattern by me."

"Father, where is Madge?"

"Madge? Who is Madge? Oh yes, I know. A little rosy-cheeked creature that used to live here, on sufferance, mind you! Well, a red fellow came along yesterday—was it yesterday?—I don't remember exactly—and I gave her to him. She was no manner of use to me, so I thought I might as well part with her, as the red fellow really seemed to want her."

A look of agony came into the face of the young man. "This is horrible. He demented and can give us no information in regard to my dear Madge. What shall we do?"

"He must be sent down the river at once, for a doctor is what he wants. But, I don't see how it can be done. The woods are full of Indians."

"Let the Dead Chief speak," said the Pottawatomie, advancing. "Let me take him to my lodge, and the young war-chief can bring the medicine-man to my lodge. The Gray Hair would not live to go to Vincennes."

"I believe the chief is right," said Floyd. "Oh, my poor father, how it grieves me that you should be reduced to this piteous state."

"I would like to know what all this talk is about," said the old man. "I don't understand you at all. What does this man want?"

"Come and dwell in the wigwam of the Dead Chief," said the Pottawatomie.

"I really feel obliged to you, but I have so much business."

"You may make a good trade if you go there," said Floyd, though it made his heart ache to aid in deceiving his father. "We think you ought not to have given Madge to that red fellow you speak of. Which way did he take her?"

"How should I know? I fell into the cellar before she went away, and hurt my head. Well, if he cheated me, then the bargain is off. I'll go with this other red fellow and see about it."

They found a canoe at the landing, put him in it, and, with the chief and two of the dragoons for a guard, he set off up the river, while his son, affected almost to tears by his melancholy state, stood upon the bank watching him until he disappeared around a bend in the river. As he turned away they heard an ominous sound among the men, and the click of pistol-locks, as an Indian came out of the woods and advanced into their midst. A man of large size, with a lofty and commanding appearance, richly dressed for an Indian, and wearing a wampum-belt which denoted a chief of great rank. Half a dozen pistols were leveled, knives were half drawn from their sheaths, and the threatening murmur was deepening, when Yankee Seth threw himself between the weapons and the chief.

"What yew going tew dew? Don't yew know the great sachem? It is Tecumseh!"

"Tecumseh!"

The leveled weapons were dropped in an instant, and every one looked at the commanding figure of the chief, as he gazed in evident surprise at their hostile attitude.

"What is this?" he cried. "Do they level their weapons against the heart of so great a chief as Tecumseh when he comes to them with open hands?"

A louder murmur rose as the rangers pressed in upon him. "He is the chief." "No, no, do not harm Tecumseh." "He knows all about this villainy, and at least can punish the red devils who did it."

In the midst of all the chief stood firm, his eyes fixed upon the swaying mass of the rangers, flashing angrily at their attitude toward him. Once or twice his hand strayed to the hilt of a weapon, and he half drew it from its sheath, but the Yankee threw forward his rifle.

"Neow, see here, men. I'm a plain sort of feller, and I talk plain tew. Look eout what yew dew, fur, as sure as yew take a step tew hurt the chief, yew git me in yure ha'r! He cum among us in good faith, and by vum he shall go away safe."

"Down with your guns, men! What one among you has suffered greater wrong at the hands of the Indians than I have? The chief is innocent of all this bloodshed, I fully believe. Tecumseh, you have come among us in a bad time. Do you see yonder smoking ruins, and can you tell whose hands did the fatal deed? I warn you that I am not in a good temper to-day, but for all that I would not see wrong done you."

"The heart of Tecumseh is very sad," said the chief, laying his hand upon his broad breast, "for he sees the desolation about the home of his brother. Who has done this?"

"The men of Elskwatawa, led by Willimack the Wyandot," replied the young soldier. "Stand fast, men. Chief, come with me."

He led Tecumseh to the place where the bodies lay beneath the blankets, and throwing back the cloth from them, showed the gashed and gory faces of the dead. Tecumseh started back in evident surprise, not unmixed with anger.

"Listen, Floyd. Tecumthè[2] is above a lie. If by my hand these men were slain, or y my orders, I would not lie to save my life. If my brother's hand has done this deed, he is to blame, and is not the power among the tribes I thought him. Where is the Gray Hair?"

"He was stricken down by the blow of a hatchet, and has lost his mind."

"The Gray Hair never did any thing but good to the Indians. Why should they do him wrong? Where is Bright Eyes, the light of the Wabash?"

"She has been taken prisoner by the chief, Willimack," replied Floyd.

"Willimack is no friend of Tecumthè, although the Prophet loves him. You saw him, in the council-house at Vincennes, point his pistol at the breast of Tecumthè. He is a dog, and one day I will have him hung up in the center of the Shawnee village, because he is a traitor both to red and white men. Where has the Gray Hair gone?"

"The Dead Chief has taken him to his lodge. He will return soon."

A dark cloud passed over the face of the sachem as he heard the name of the great chief of the Pottawatomies. He hated him because he had denounced him to Harrison, and offered to do it in the face of the whole tribe.

"The Dead Chief is no friend to the white men," he said.

"You are wrong, Tecumseh. The chief is our firm friend, and says that because he is, you have ordered him to be slain."

Tecumseh did not deny this, but a look of terrible anger passed over his face, and his hand closed upon the hilt of his knife.

"We shall see whether the Dead Chief can make Tecumthè a dog," he said, savagely. "Then, listen: here above these dead men, I swear by the bones of my fathers that I had no part in their death, and that these are dogs who have slain them. Tecumthè has spoken."

"I believe yew, chief," said the Yankee, who had come up unobserved. "Yew are innercent, as fur as these murders are consarned. I believe my soul you mean fight, but yew'll fight fa'r, not murder wimmin and childern."

Tecumseh looked furtively at the Yankee, evidently studying him closely.

"You came between the pistols and Tecumthè," he said. "Why did you do it?"

"Oh, I like fair play, yew know! I always did, as fur as that goes."

"Tecumthè thanks you, and perhaps some day it may be in his power to give you aid. In that day, ask any thing in honor of Tecumthè and he will grant it."

He turned about and gave a loud, startling signal-whoop. Scarcely had he done so when there started out of the thicket a diminutive figure, that of a dwarf, who was the messenger of Tecumseh, a being scarcely three feet high, who stood looking up into the face of his revered leader.

"If you would send any word to Harrison, the Weasel will carry it," said Tecumseh.

"Will it go safe?" said Floyd.

"The honor of a chief is sacred. It shall go to Harrison, if you trust me."

"It shall be done. Order the men to dismount and picket their horses. The chief will remain with us until his return with the answer."

"It is well," said Tecumseh.

Floyd stooped and tore a leaf from his note-book, upon which he wrote in cipher to Harrison, acquainting him with the melancholy fate of his family, and asking permission to take Yankee Seth and as many of the rangers as the latter thought necessary, to track Willimack wherever he had taken Madge. This cipher he intrusted to the Weasel, who took it with a self-satisfied air, thrust it into a small bag he carried at his belt, and set off at a pace which bade fair to take him quickly to his destination.

The morning came at last, and the rangers were up and prepared breakfast. When they had finished, all waited anxiously for the coming of the dwarf, though few believed him capable of performing the journey in so short a time. Tecumseh said he would be at hand in half an hour, but while they waited there came a loud, defiant whoop, and the Dead Chief, gorgeously attired, suddenly bounded forward and faced the astonished Tecumseh, hatchet in hand.

FOOTNOTES:

CHAPTER IX.

HUNTING THE HUNTERS.

The first movement of surprise over, the chiefs glared at each other with looks of implacable meaning, and then Tecumseh turned carelessly away as if no such person as the Dead Chief lived upon the earth.

"Listen then, Tecumthè," shouted Dead Chief. "When a chief speaks, let a dog of a Shawnee listen to his words. Do you know that Nabockalish, the Skeleton Scout of the Americans, is on the trail of the Shawnee? He follows you from place to place; he saved the Dead Chief and Floyd from the anger of the Prophet, and he will live to tear the heart from Tecumthè, from Willimack and Elskwatawa, if the Dead Chief does not do it first."

"Who has seen Nabockalish?" said Tecumseh, turning to Floyd and paying no attention to Dead Chief.

"I have seen him," replied Floyd. "So has the Dead Chief and the Long Man."

"Yaas, yaas," said Seth, "I seen him, darn him. And I will say that, of all the outlandish critters I ever see, he beats my time."

"Nabockalish is like the wind of the prairies," said Tecumseh. "He comes and goes as he will. Tecumseh has never seen him, but the dead men his hand has laid low are many among the Shawnees. Some day Tecumseh will meet him, and then we shall see who is strongest, the Shawnee chief or the Skeleton Scout."

The Dead Chief again threw himself in the way of Tecumseh.

"Listen, Shawnee. Did you not bid Elskwatawa to slay me when we met?"

"I think the Weasel is coming, Floyd," said the chief. "I hear his whistle."

Dead Chief saw that it was the design of Tecumseh to utterly ignore his presence, and again throwing himself in the way, shook his open hand in the face of the Shawnee and uttered a single word in the Indian language. That word was the most bitter and opprobrious epithet which one Indian could give another, and an insult not to be forgiven or forgotten. The chief drew a long breath and his fingers which he had laid upon Floyd's arm, closed with a convulsive gripe, that it left black and blue spots upon the arm. But, Floyd knew that if the Dead Chief or Tecumseh ever met, one or the other must go down.

"That saws yure leg off, Dead Chief," whispered Seth, dragging the Pottawatomie away by main force. "Yew come along, neow. Here's the Weasel."

As he spoke the mannikin came gliding into camp, and drawing a letter from his pouch, handed it to the captain, who immediately called up his lieutenant and gave him his orders in a low voice.

"Tecumseh," he said, "you came among us freely and you must go away safely; you are at liberty to depart."

"Have you good news from the Governor?" said the chief.

"I can do as I wish," replied the soldier. "I think it better that you should depart now, and let us go our way. Yankee Seth, come here. The Dead Chief must stay with me too."

Tecumseh bid them good-by and turned away with a stately step, closely followed by the Weasel. He had hardly left camp, when the rangers were in the saddle, and after scouts had beat the bushes on every side to make sure that no Indians lurked there, they rode away toward Vincennes, taking the captain's horse with them.

"Take my hand, here, Seth Spink, and you, Dead Chief, and join me in this vow. I will not turn back from this search or see Vincennes again, until Madge Carlysle is freed from bondage or I know that she is dead. And if they have killed her, I swear to give my life to vengeance on her destroyers. Heaven hear my vow."

"And mine," said Seth, solemnly. "This is business."

"The Dead Chief is with you," added the Pottawatomie, quietly.

The three clasped hands over the compact and stood locked in that firm clasp, three strong men, confident in each other. Nothing can give a man respect for another like that of danger shared together.

"Now for the trail," said Floyd. "Can you find it, Seth?"

"I rayther judge I kan," replied the Yankee. "Leastways, I know a critter that kan do it fur me quicker than you can say scat, ef you kan find something the gal has worn lately."

"This will do, then," said Floyd, with a visible flush, taking a ribbon from his pocket. "I stole this from her neck last night when we parted, and have carried it since. What do you propose to make out of that?"

"I'll show yew."

He raised his hand to his mouth and emitted a long, sharp peculiar whistle. It had scarcely ceased to vibrate on the morning air when a rushing sound was heard and a huge wolf-dog, with a cross of the hound in him, came breaking through the bushes at a rolling gallop after the fashion of the beast from whom a part of his blood was derived. This creature fawned upon the scout, who laughed and patted him.

"Wolf is a good dorg," he muttered. "Yew wouldn't think it, but the pesky brute hez been on our trail ever sence I cum deown the river last night, and he wouldn't come to me unlest I called him, no matter how long I was a dewing of it. Here, Wolf; smell tew that ribbin."

The dog put his nose to the ribbon a moment and then ran up to Floyd and rubbed his cold muzzle against his leg.

"'Twon't dew," said the scout, with a puzzled look. "The ribbin ain't rite, 'cause yew hev carried it tew long. Must hev something else."

They searched carefully everywhere, until with a cry of delight, Floyd stooped and picked up a broken bracelet which lay upon the earth, half-trodden into the soil.

"Here is the very thing, Seth. This bracelet—I gave it to her myself in happier days—must be the thing to lead me to my darling."

"Let's have it," said the Yankee. "Here, Wolf."

The dog smelled the bracelet over and over, and then threw up his head, giving utterance to a low howl.

"Silence!" cried the scout. "Seek her, boy!"

The dog put his nose to the earth and began to run to and fro in an erratic manner over the ground, until he struck the scent he sought. This done, he gave a short yelp and struck into a slow trot, which the woodmen could easily keep up with, and started for the forest to the north. They slung their rifles and started upon the trail of the dog, which led into a forest-path. Keeping just far enough behind so that they could keep him in sight, they soon were in the dense forest. The Yankee took the lead with a stride which even the agile savage found it difficult to keep up with at a walk, and he took the long lope so characteristic to his race, and kept close to the heels of the Yankee. Will Floyd, dogged and determined, kept on after them, though it cost him more of an effort than either of the others. On, on, the forest growing deeper at every stride, the dog accommodating his pace to that of the men following, and looking back from time to time, to see that they had not lost him.

"That is a noble dog," said Floyd. "You must give him to me if we succeed."

"I couldn't do that, cap. Wolf and I are old friends. It's seven year now we hev tramped the woods together; but he's gitting old now, the old dorg is."

"How many Indians do you think the captors of Madge number?"

"Six," replied Long Seth, laconically.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I know it," was the somewhat dogmatic reply. "I ain't going to give any better reason."

"Is Willimack with them?"

"Ugh," said Dead Chief, laying his finger upon a spot in the path, "Willimack here; see!"

"I'm not posted enough in scouting to read a trace which might have been left by a falling leaf, it is so light. Do you see any thing of Madge?"

"White girl walk woods," replied Dead Chief. "Look close."

The young man stooped and examined the soft earth, and saw there the imprint of a delicate foot, and he realized how great was the knowledge of woodcraft possessed by the two men.

"I say no more," he said. "When the time for fighting comes, I shall not be behind you, but in scouting I am much inferior to either of you. Do you think we can catch them, Seth?"

"Got tew dew it, ain't we, if we keep our vow? I, fur one, want to see Vincennes ag'in. The Guvner treated me right well when I was thar this morning, and give me a rousing good drink, and it tasted mighty well arter so much river-water last night. Ha! the dorg is puzzled. He is trying back."

As he spoke the dog doubled suddenly and "tried back" on the trail, but without success, at first. His master encouraged him to continue, and at last he stopped at a half-uprooted tree, leaning at a very acute angle across a little stream, so that its bushy top was hardly ten feet from the ground on the other side.

"They've begun tew play Injin," said the Yankee. "Yes they hev, and it suits me. I like a hard job, ef I like any thing in natur'. And Willimack is a right good scout, once he sets his mind tew it. The dorg has lost his trail."

"Let us search for it," cried Floyd, eagerly. "My dear fellow, you see how impatient I am."

"I see it," said Seth, coolly. "The dorg hez lost the trail but I'm darned ef Seth Spink hez, nor the Dead Chief, either. Hev we, old boy?"

"Wah!" said the Dead Chief. "Willimack is a fool, if he thinks to throw dust in the eyes of so great a scout as the Yellow Hair."

"Sartin! sartin!" said Seth. "The trail is on the other side of the creek. Now, I s'pose it puzzles yew tew know how they managed tew break the trail afore they got tew the bank, capting?"

"It does indeed."

"Then look at this tree. Yew won't be the worse fur a lesson in woodcraft, and I'm the man tew give it. Yew see that the bark is scraped off a leetle here at the root. I s'pose Willimack got up, and one of his men handed up the gal tew him, and then he walked eout intew the branches, and dropped her on the other side, onlest one of his men went first tew help her. Anyway, they left footmarks when they dropped."

The Yankee ran up the tree like a cat, and the dog sprung up after him. The next moment they were clambering in the bushy top and dropped to the earth on the other bank.

"Thar's the trail," said Seth, "clear as mud. They made a good plant for green hands tew foller, but they don't half know me, the critters. Now look at this. By gracious, this is a new plant. The trail ends here."

"I am afraid we shall never overtake them," said Will.

"Yew shet up! It takes jest ez long tew hide a trail so that Wolf and me kain't find it as it duz tew find it, and no longer. I'll study that eout in a minnit."

He looked quickly about him. Under the tree-top, where the Indians had dropped to the earth, the soil was tramped hard in places, but these did not extend over a distance of more than ten feet, and none of them led toward the bank. How had Willimack broken the trail this time? The dog was at fault, for, though he ran to and fro, upon the trampled bank, he could not strike the scent again. At last the eye of the Yankee was attracted by the appearance of the ground toward the stream, and following the trace it led him to the bank. Looking down into the clear water he could see the tracks of moccasins in the sand at the bottom.

"Water don't leave no trail," he muttered. "Yaas, but sand does, bet yure life! Wolf, this way. Stay here, boys, and if I give a whistle, follow me as quick as yew could say 'scat'."

He ran swiftly up the bank of the stream, with the dog beside him. Five minutes after they heard his whistle and rushed after him. He stood upon the bank of the stream holding his dog by the neck.

"They took to the water. I knowed they would, Floyd."

"But how did they get to it?"

"Stripped a piece of bark from an elm and walked tew the water on it and then threw the bark intew the crick. 'Twas cute, by gravy. But, I'll cheat 'em yet, see ef I don't. Go it, Wolf!"

The dog again bounded forward on the trail, and the three men followed him with unabated vigor. Trick after trick in woodcraft was unraveled by the perseverance of the Yankee, whose skill was aided by that of the Dead Chief, no tyro in the art. Night came and found them still on the trail, which now began to freshen, so that they knew their enemies could not be many miles ahead. The scout halted when it became too dark to proceed easily and told them to sit down and eat something.

"Eat; what have we to eat? And besides, I have no appetite for any thing now."

"Hain't yew? That's jest whar we differ. I'm as hungry as a b'ar, and I'd like a bit of b'ar-meat tew. But, es that ain't accessible, so tew speak, we'll hev tew make eout with jerked venison. That won't come so bad, neither."

The scout produced a pouch and took from it a quantity of jerked deer-meat, and began to eat heartily, laying the meat out where his companions could easily reach it. He had hardly begun to eat when he had two helpers, for, upon second thought, the young soldier found himself quite as hungry as the others, and he devoured his share.

"That's something like it, boy. What kind of a fight dew yew s'pose yew'd make 'thout any fodder? Yew'd double up like a dish-clout in the hands of the fust Injin that yew struck, and that ain't the kind of man we want."

"Are they far ahead?"

"That's jist what I'm going tew be sartin of. No they ain't very fur ahead, leastways I think they ain't. Here, Wolf; ketch hold of that."

He threw a large piece of the venison to the dog, who devoured it eagerly. When they had finished, the scout signaled to them to follow, and, turning aside from the path they had been pursuing, he broke through the tangled bushes and came out in the center of a little clearing made by the hand of man.

In the midst of this sequestered spot some borderman had built a cabin of rough logs after the manner of the settlers of that day. The grass was green and bright about the cabin, but the logs were smoke-begrimed and the roof gone. Upon the grass not far from the door were three grave-like mounds, laid side by side. The one in the center was the largest, and the others looked like the graves of children.

"Yew stay here," said the scout. "It's a good place tew rest, and nobody ever comes here 'cept me and one other."

"Why do they not come here?"

"'Cause the place is ha'nted," replied Seth.

"Haunted!"

"Yes. Them mounds thar are what they look like, graves. And the hunters hev a story that the dead won't rest thar, because they were foully dealt with. Mebbe the story's trew, and those are the graves of little children. It mout be; sadder things hev happened in the history of these times."

"Do you know any thing of the settler who lived here?"

"He never ha'nted me; that I know, and I've stopped here many a time tew rest. Keep quiet here and wait for me."

"Suppose any thing should happen to you?" said Floyd.

"It won't. Waal, yew stay here until morning, and if I ain't here then, go on yure way."

He slung his rifle into the corner, looked to see that his knife and hatchet were in his belt, and disappeared in the darkness.

CHAPTER X.

TOO MUCH "FIRE-WATER."

The fears of Yankee Seth had been but too well founded, for Madge had indeed fallen into the hands of the traitorous Willimack. Early in the morning, not long after the escape of Will Floyd from the stake, the stockade had been surprised by a sudden onset from a savage party under the brutal chief. Matthew Floyd, defending her with desperate valor, was felled by the stroke of a hatchet and had dropped into the cellar just as the roof of the burning building began to fall. Willimack seized the half-fainting girl and dragged her out of the burning cabin by main force, keeping a tight grip upon her wrist, for he knew that she possessed enough moral courage to kill herself if he gave her the opportunity. A malicious grin writhed his dark face as the flames curled about the rafters of that doomed house.

"Wah!" he cried. "Burn, home of the white man, burn! The shelter which you refused to the chief, Willimack, you will give to no one. Burn, burn, burn!"

"You are a wretch," cried Madge. "Are you brave enough to kill me now and let me go to the noble man who had given the orphan girl a shelter through these long years?"

"Why should I kill you?" said Willimack. "No; live to cook the venison in the great wigwam of the Wyandot when the white man has ceased from off the land."

"Release me, then, and let me go back to my people. You have done wickedness enough."

He only laughed scornfully, and pointed to the bleeding bodies of the two soldiers and the negro servants. "You see all these," he said. "They stood by and laughed me to scorn when the Yellow Hair struck me down at his feet like a dog. Was this well? A chief is not a dog, and Willimack only lived for vengeance. See; you will from this time be an Indian, live as we live, die as we die, and be buried as we bury our dead. I have spoken. Willimack can not lie."

He turned about and uttered a signal-whoop, at which the men gathered about him, and he addressed them rapidly in the Indian language, which Madge did not understand. He had no sooner done so than they scattered and crossed the river in every conceivable conveyance, upon logs, planks and charred beams, leaving Willimack with only five men beside the ruins. He still held her hand, and turning away from the river, began his march to the West, closely followed by his men. She saw with ill-concealed fear the numberless artifices the man used to hide the trail, and feared that she was lost. Only once during the day he had stopped, and gave her food, and then marched on again. Her shoes were soon torn by the rough path over which she trod, and her feet bleeding. Once she stopped and said she would go no further, and Willimack turned fiercely upon her with a hatchet, but she did not blench.

"White girl," he said, "do you not fear death?"

"No," she said, boldly. "Death is preferable to the fate you design for me."

"Good. You will make a good wife for a warrior because your heart is strong. Must go; we drag you."

An Indian seized her by each hand and dragged her on. Seeing how powerless she was to resist them, she told Willimack that she would walk if they would not touch her, and kept up boldly until nightfall, when the savages paused and made a camp in a deep hollow, surrounded by heavy woods. He gave her food from his scanty store—cracked corn and dried venison, with water from the running stream hard by. She ate quite heartily, for the long walk had made her hungry. Willimack looked on with a calm smile while she ate, muttering to himself. When she had finished he took green withes and made her sit down at the root of a tree and tied her fast to the mossy trunk. He had hardly done so when one of the men, with a low chuckle, drew from his bosom a huge bottle which he had stolen from the stockade, and flourished it above his head.

"Ugh!" grunted his companions in chorus. "Obisenay somet'ing got, eh?"

"Fire-water! Wa-wa!" replied Obisenay.

The lucky finder lifted the heavy bottle, and a musical gurgle followed. When he lowered it there was quite a difference in the weight, and he passed the bottle to the chief.

"Good?" demanded Willimack.

"Much good," said Obisenay. "Drink."

Willimack did as he was requested, and drank quite deeply. The others followed, and the heavy bottle passed round the circle. A curious scene followed. A man who has never seen a number of Indians drunk has missed a remarkable scene. Seated in a circle, with the girl-prisoner in the center, they kept drinking at a rate which would have astonished a habitual drunkard among the whites, swaying their bodies to and fro, and giving utterance now and then to a short quick whoop as the liquor began to affect them. The bottle was quickly dispatched, and one of them, by a singular instinct, found out that he had purloined a similar one, and they took to this. Now they began to dance and howl, brandishing their hatchets and leaping wildly about among the trees, looking like demons in their war-paint. In the midst of the wild orgie an Indian came suddenly from among the trees and joined them. Willimack by this time was very drunk, but he had sense enough to see that a stranger had come among them. He was a tall, finely-formed man, painted for war, in the dress of a Huron.

Willimack advanced to meet him with stately gravity, reeling in his walk, and endeavoring to stand straight.

"How do, brudder?" he said. "Why you stand no still?"

It was a remarkable feature of the great Willimack that when he copied the white man's vices by getting gloriously drunk, he forgot that he could speak Indian and fell into broken English.

"What does my brother mean?" said the new-comer.

"Why you whirl, whirl, whirl, so? Make ground swing too much."

"My brother has fire-water."

"Ugh, good. Huron drink fire-water with his Wyandot brother," said Willimack.

They brought the second bottle, grievously lessened in weight, and the Huron lifted it to his mouth. He kept it there long enough to drink a great deal, but if he did, the throat did not show the process of swallowing in the slightest degree, and he kept his face partly turned away from the wild band. It seemed to affect him strangely, however, for he drew his hatchet and began to dance wildly with the rest until his eyes fell upon the bound captive.

"Who is here?" he cried. "Her skin is white. What does she here among the Wyandots?"

"Prisoner," said the chief. "Take much scalp, take much fire-water. Wah!"

He had indeed taken much, too much fire-water for his own good. The Huron looked hard at the prisoner, and then turned about and asked for the bottle, and prevailed upon the Indians to sit down again.

"Brothers," he said, "there is a devil in the woods."

"Wah," said Willimack.

"He is as tall as a blasted pine, his eyes are like blazing stars. We call him Nabockalish, and white men call him the Skeleton Scout."

Willimack shook his head gravely at the unwelcome name.

"Skeleton Scout no good. Hate him, hate Long Man, hate Floyd, hate every one. Skeleton Scout too much no good."

"It is true. But if the Skeleton Scout should come, what would my brother do?"

"Run!" said Willimack, shortly.

"Run! Does a chief of the Wyandots run? Ah! look, look, sons of the Wyandot."

One look was sufficient. Out of the woods, holding a blazing torch in each hand, came the tall figure of the being they had known as the Skeleton Scout, bearing down upon them with a frightful yell. It was too much for human nature to bear, and they stumbled over each other in their wild efforts to escape from their dreaded enemy. One fell into the clutches of the Skeleton Scout, and they went down together, and then the strange specter rose again, and pursued the now scattered and sobered savages, who, wild with terror, were flying in every direction. The Huron had not run far, and to the terror of Madge he came bounding back, flourishing over his head a heavy knife, and she closed her eyes, for it seemed the hour had come for death. But, to her utter surprise, instead of striking her, he cut the bonds upon her hands, just as Long Seth came out of the woods on one side and Floyd upon the other. The young soldier ran to Madge and clasped her in his arms, and the poor girl dropped her head upon his shoulder with a cry of joy.

"Oh, Will. I hoped you would come, and you did not desert me. But your dear father, Will. Alas, he is dead!"

"Almost as bad," said Will, sadly. "He is badly hurt, and is demented. But thank God, you are safe."

"Who is this Indian who cut my bonds?" she said, turning to him.

"Bright Eyes does not know a Pottawatomie in the war-paint of a Huron," replied the Indian. "Dead Chief is the man who will do much for the beautiful daughter of the forest."

"Thank you, chief. And Seth too; I might have known he would not desert me."

"Neow shet up," said the scout. "Nuff talk of that kind, yew know. Ef yew are glad I cum, keep it tew yureself. Talk abeout it, and I won't believe yew are glad, so thar. Besides, we ain't got time tew now, I jedge, seeing that the pesky varmints will be arter us in less than half an hour. But, by George, cap., ef I didn't see that pesky critter they call the Skeleton Scout, then I don't know nothing 'bout it. He shot by me like a ball out'n a rifle, the flamed critter did, and he yelled wuss than any painter yew ever hern tell of."

"A Wyandot lies yonder," said the Dead Chief. "Let us see if his hand is upon him."

Seth snatched up a blazing brand and followed the chief. Obisenay, the Wyandot, who had brought forward the first bottle of liquor, lay upon his face on the green sward. They turned him over, and as in the case of the man they had found outside of the stockade upon the night when Willimack first attacked the block-house, they could find no wound upon him. Without stopping to comment upon the singular circumstance, Seth signed to his companions to follow, and hurried away.

How had Seth come so quickly to the aid of Madge? It was explained easily. When he left Will Floyd and the Indian in the ruined hut, he knew well the camp of Willimack could not be far away, and he chose to go upon his first scouting expedition alone. He had found the camp not half a mile from the ruins of the hut, and, after satisfying himself with regard to it, he at once returned to his friends and went back on the trail. They first painted the Indian like a Huron, and so smeared and stained his scanty clothing that it might have belonged to any tribe, and sent him into camp after seeing that the Indians were likely to get very drunk. He had been instructed to brain an Indian with his hatchet upon getting a preconcerted signal, and was waiting for it when the Skeleton Scout burst out upon them, and put the Indians to flight.

"Seems tew my benighted intellec' that this skellington mixes in with my business a good deal," said Seth. "I was making up to git my posish so that I could throw an Injin cold, jest about the time I give the signal, when, "yah!" went this living skellington, blame him, and when I got thar the work was all done! You'd better kerry the gal, capt'ing. She's mighty tired."

Will lifted the girl in his arms, and carried her for some distance, when Seth reached out and took her. "Thar, baby," he said. "I'm ashamed of yew. Allow yer feelings to overcome yew that way, eh? Let me kerry her. I'm powerful strong in the legs and arms. Guess our fam'ly are all pooty healthy that way. Injin, don't let any of them niggers creep up on us unwar's. Keep yure weather eye open, fur I don't trust that pesky Willimack a cent's wuth. I don't by Jehosaphat."

Even while talking, the Yankee managed to keep up his long stride, carrying Madge like a child. "Lay yure head on my shoulder, little gal," he said. "Yew needn't be afraid of tiring me, not a bit! I ain't liable tew it, nohow. I've kerried heavier weights than yew are, twice as fur as from here to Vincennes, and rayther liked it, by gosh. Neow my father, when he was a hundred and forty year old, kerried two hundred pounds of wheat across his farm, easy."

"Oh, hush, Seth. How can you tell such stories?" said Madge, who somehow felt the utmost confidence in the skill and knowledge of the country possessed by the Yankee.

"Don't believe me, so tew speak. Neow, that riles up my feelings, powerful bad. It duz, by gracious! Tew think that this little critter hez the face tew doubt the family traditions! Ef it was a man that dared tew say it I'd make him repent in dust and ashes. But, as it's nothing but a gal, I dunno ef thar's any use getting mad. What's that, chief?"

"Wyandot on the trail," replied the chief.

"I thought so. Waal, thank fortin', they kan't trail us in the dark. Yew don't think the etarnal critter has picked up any more men, chief?"

"Good many," said the chief. "Prophet keep camp not far away. Bad Indian very bad! Good many in woods."

"I reckin yer right, chief. He's picked a party some'rs that he knowed of. He wouldn't hev stopped tew git drunk ef he didn't think himself tarnation safe. Oh, blame my cats ef this ain't tew cussed bad."

"Let us keep on all night," said the young soldier, eagerly.

"Oh, git eout! Willimack is sure tew hev every path as black with Injins as a nigger's pocket, and we're likely tew blunder intew a trap, I guess. So let's try another way."

He had stopped a moment hesitatingly, and turning aside from the path he had been pursuing, struck into the woods, crossed the clearing in which the hut stood, casting a sidelong look at the three graves whose outlines he could just make out in the darkness, and Madge felt a slight shudder run through his frame, and she thought him tired and begged him to set her down. But he refused. "I could kerry yew in one hand, little one," he said. "Yew rest easy. I tell yew, I was thinking of something else."

The clamor of pursuit could be heard on every side as the Indians closed in upon them, and the Yankee muttered to himself. "Hunted close! But I'll save her yit; I sw'ar it. Ah, here we ar'!"

As he spoke he reached the base of a little hill, rocky and precipitous, rising in the center of the forest. Up the rocky slope he climbed, lifting Madge over the rocks until he reached a sort of parapet running round the crest of the hill.

"Gather leaves and brush, boys," he said. "We've got tew hev a fire tew fight by. Build it here, outside the fort, so't it will throw a light down the hill. It's the only place they kin come up by, and three rifles will make it lively for 'em."

As the fire was kindled and the flames leaped up, Madge looked curiously about her. She was in the center of one of those curious Indian forts which remain in many of the States, now grassgrown and in decay. A low parapet, perhaps five feet high, inclosed a space of three or four hundred square feet. Behind them, the mountain rose high and wild, nearly inclosing three sides. The place where they had come up, a narrow defile not three feet wide, was the only course by which the Indians could assail them. The fire blazed merrily up, just as two or three savages appeared at the base of the hill.

"Fire!" cried Yankee Seth.

CHAPTER XI.

THE HIDING-PLACE.

As his command rung boldly out upon the air of night, the scout leveled his weapon and fired at the foremost savage. There was a horrible yell, and the man threw up his arms and rolled headlong down the slope. Two others darted out into the light and were received by the Dead Chief and Floyd. One of them fell, shot through the shoulder, and the other dragged himself groaning away, with a broken thigh. They quickly reloaded their rifles and were ready for the next rush. The warm reception the foremost had received somewhat damped the ardor of the rest, and they remained in the edge of the timber, firing a useless volley at the party so nicely concealed behind the old rampart.

"Kinder sets 'em back," laughed the Yankee. "They didn't s'pect us tew turn on 'em so darned quick. Neow, don't it beat all natur' that Injins back deown so quick? Oh, come out, Willimack, dew; I want tew see yew! Don't hang back and be a coward. That ain't acting like a man, yew know. Come out and be a man. I would, yew know."

But, in spite of this feeling adjuration, the Wyandot persisted in keeping out of sight. To tell the truth, he was not yet certain whether his brain was quite clear of liquor, and was inwardly cursing Obisenay up hill and down dale for putting temptation in his way. He had met with a party of his own men, who were coming down the river to join the Prophet, and had enlisted them in the service, so that at least sixty men were ranged in the woods in front of the ancient fort. But, they were mostly young men, and though good hunters, the majority of them had never been engaged in a battle except with men of their own race. The loss of one of their number and the severe wounding of two others, had given them a wholesome awe of the deadly rifles of the hunted men. Willimack was beside himself with rage, and moreover was in deadly fear of the Skeleton Scout. He had not dared to tell the new-comers that this fearful creature had assailed them, and that it was by his hand that the unfortunate bottle-holder, Obisenay, had met his death, for he feared they would scatter in every direction and leave him to do the fighting alone. None of his original party remained, for they were doubtless running yet, satisfied that the Skeleton Scout was at their heels. Willimack knew his men, and determined to try an assault, and passed the word to that effect.

Hardly had he done so when there came bounding over the rocks toward the fort a score or more of painted figures, howling like demons, and brandishing their weapons in air.

"Crouch down, Madge," cried Floyd; "you may get hurt."

"Am I better than the rest?" replied Madge. "Give me a knife. I will not fall alive into the hands of Willimack if I can help it."

There was no time to hesitate. With a look of unutterable affection the young man gave her a small stiletto which he carried inside his coat, and whirling suddenly, shot a savage completely through the head who was coming too near—"throw'd him cold," as the Yankee said. Two more went down before the weapons of the scout and Dead Chief, and the rest swarmed on for vengeance. Will Floyd said nothing, but, grasping his rifle by the barrel, he poised it for defense. The Indians must advance upon them through a narrow space where more than three could not pass abreast, and were hemmed in by perpendicular walls of rock thirty feet high.

"Give 'em the pistols, Will," cried the Yankee, "and then charge 'em."

Both men drew their pistols, and fired into the coming savages. The Dead Chief had no pistol, but he stood with his lips apart as if after a race, his body thrown into a statuesque attitude, with his left foot advanced, and body slightly inclined toward the coming foe, ready for a spring. They could trust him to fight bravely. The discharge of the pistols at such close quarters into the compact body of savages, could not fail to make bad work, and groans and cries succeeded. Then, uttering wild yells which none but forest-men could imitate, the three brave men leaped over the stockade and rushed at the leading savages.

"Give 'em goss!" cried the Yankee.

They stood in the narrow way, Seth and the Indian, with hatchet and knife, and the young soldier with his clubbed rifle. The foremost Indians, unused to such enemies, would have fallen back if possible, but their companions in the rear pushed them forward, only to fall by the deadly weapons of their determined foes. Willimack, who had heard the polite request on the part of the Yankee that he would "come out and be a man," had prudently kept in the rear, and now found that his men were meeting a strenuous resistance, and indeed that they made no advance, while the groans and cries from the front, the clash of weapons, and the triumphant cries of the defenders, told that they had the best of it. Indeed, it could hardly be otherwise, for the Indians were so wedged into the narrow space that they could scarcely move their hands, while the others stood where they could fight freely. Seeing that he was gaining nothing by this mode of fighting, the Wyandot called off his men, only to find them sadly decimated by their encounter with the trio.

Cursing the obstinacy of the defenders as heartily as any man could do, Willimack drew off his men after bringing away such of the dead and wounded as the Dead Chief would consent to part with. Upon counting the loss and gain, after the battle, Willimack found this total: four killed outright in the charge, three desperately wounded, and left on the ground, and as many more brought off. Over a dozen wounded in various ways, though not so badly as to disable them, and they had no reason to believe that their enemies had been wounded in the least.

They had already fallen back to the fort, and were taking breath after the struggle. The Dead Chief was coolly arranging the hideous trophies he had taken time to strip from the heads of his enemies, paying no attention to the look of horror upon the face of Madge, who wondered that a man who had fought as gloriously as he had done in beating back the enemy, could think of tearing and mutilating the dead. But, he handled them as coolly as if they had been pieces of paper, shook the blood from them, and thrust them into his belt with a gratified air.

"Wah!" he said. "Why do we wait? Let us charge the enemy and take their scalps."

"Easy, chief, easy," said the Yankee. "Don't rile up so darned quick. I reckin we are safer here than we would be eout thar in the woods. Etarnal Jehosaphat, but didn't we let intew 'em? The critter don't like us a bit, I judge."

"We are able to keep this pass against them," said Will.

"Throw a couple of sticks on that fire," replied Seth. "I reckon yure right, but it looks tew me as ef this pass was going tew keep us. We ain't got pervisions enough tew last half a day."

"I never thought of that. Indeed, we could not stand a siege," replied Will.

"No, cuss the luck. Give me enuff grub, and I'll hold this place alone ag'in' the hull Wyandot nation. But, Lord, I'd give my old moccasins fer a drink of water now."

"Here is my flask. There is about pint of brandy in it."

"Good," said Seth eagerly. "Take jest one swallow, and be sure yew don't make it a long one, 'cause we want it tew last."

Will did as the Yankee told him, and passed the flask along.

"I've got a big mouth," said Seth. "I could take the hull at one swaller, but that wouldn't be fair. Here, chief; take hold."

The chief shook his head.

"Oh, I forgot. Beg pardon, chief, yew are a teetotaller. It would be a darned sight better fer the Injins ef they all follered the same principle, but unfortnitly they don't. Here gal, take hold."

"No," said Madge. "Indeed, I am not thirsty. Remember that I had just been eating and drinking when you rescued me, and have not been going through the same struggle since. I can wait until to-morrow before I need any thing."

"Waal, lie down, little 'un, and try tew git a little sleep. I'd dew any thing tew save yew, little gal."

"Thank you, my good Seth. I know you would."

He scraped a pile of leaves and twigs into one corner of the work, and induced her to lie down and rest. Then he went back to the others.

"Now look here, boys," he said. "It's all right tew talk about holding eout a week or a fortnight here on a flask of brandy and a piece of jerked venison about big enough tew give one h'arty man a good meal, but, it won't work. We kan't dew it, and I reckon some on us has got tew go under. Neow look here! I kin hide that little gal so that the devil hisself kan't find her, and I kan hide one more along with her. But, I kan't hide three or four."

"Save her, Josh, at all hazards."

"That's what I say. I'm going tew save her, but someone hez got tew be with her, yew know. Now then, who shill it be?"

"You, by all means," said Will.

"Not a bit of it. I'm tew long tew stick intew my hiding-place handy, and besides, the gal mout not like it. I guess you'll hev tew be the one."

"I will not desert you, Seth."

"Oh, git eout. Desert the devil! Once I git yew tew safe I laugh at every Injin in the territory. Come here."

A nearly perpendicular but irregular wall of stone formed the back part of the fort. A point jutted out considerably further than the rest, leaving a fissure about four feet across. In this fissure a large stone, apparently broken off from the rock above, lay loosely upon the earth, with its side pressed against the rock. Putting his ponderous strength to the stone, the Yankee moved it easily to one side and disclosed an opening close to the ground, nearly three feet high. "Git in, and see how yew like it," he said. "It's one of my holes."

The young soldier crawled in, and striking a match, saw that he was in a hole scooped out by the hand of nature in the solid wall, which was large enough for two persons to sit in comfortably, though they could not rise to their feet. Having satisfied himself, he crept out as he came in. "The air seems pure," he said.

"How is it when the stone is replaced?"

"First rate. Lord love yew, I've been in that hole menny and menny a time. Yew kan't think heow com'fable it is tew lay thar and hear the Injins howl outside, and wonder heow the devil yew got away. It's mighty nice. Git the gal and bring her here. Tell her tew stoop low, 'cause some of them pesky cusses may be on the watch. Pass the word for the Dead Chief tew keep up a good look-out. Dead? He ain't dead, not much he ain't."

Madge was resting peacefully upon her bed of leaves, but rose and followed her lover without a word, while he explained to her the nature of the hiding-place which Yankee Seth had showed him. Seth saw that the young man was still very much averse to leaving him to fight himself out of the cordon of his enemies alone, and made an angry movement.

"Neow, don't say a darned word, Will Floyd. Who but yew ought to stay and take keer of the little gal? As fer me, I'm in the hands of the Great Being, even the Injins adores, and ef my time hez come tew die now, I ain't the man that will kick ag'inst it. But, my time ain't come yit, I feel it in my bones. Go in, little gal. Take yure rifle and am'nition, boy. Yew may need it."

"Yes," said Will, sternly. "Madge shall never go to an Indian lodge. I promise her that, and I will keep my word."

"That's right, keep yure word tew the little gal, and when the Injin wars are done and yew are married, I'll come tew see yew in yure house on the Wabash. Yew bet! See this peep-hole here, cap. Yew kan lie flat in thar and see all the fun, and I'm going tew give yew some."

"Do not be rash, Seth. Escape if you can."

"A rash man is never a good scout," was the quiet reply. "Go in!"

Will followed Madge into the hole in the rock and lay upon his face after the stone had been replaced, peeping out into the fort. The Yankee was standing just in front of him, with his hand upon the shoulder of the Indian, and Will thought he had never seen two nobler specimens of manly beauty in his life.

The firelight shone upon the noble figures of the two men, and the Yankee was whispering in the ear of the savage. A bright smile crossed the face of the Indian and he looked at him in a puzzled way, and then shook his hand heartily.

"I wonder what they are up to now?" muttered Will. "That Yankee is equal to any deviltry, and now that he has me off his hands he don't seem to fear the Indians in the least."

"What is he doing?" said Madge, who felt a strange security in the odd hiding-place.

"They are both laughing," replied Will. "There, they are trampling out the fire. I can see no more. Ha! the Indians are on the move; I can hear their hurrying feet. Do you fear, Madge?"

"No. Am I not with you, dear Will."

"Yes, darling, yes. And if they find us out—"

"You have two pistols. One for me, one for yourself. If you escape alive and I fall into the hands of Willimack, never look your friends in the face, for you will be a coward."

"Hush," he said, in a hoarse voice. "You have my promise already. Come close to me and keep quiet. When the time comes, give me the word, and then—oh God, it will drive me mad to do it."

"When the time comes I shall die as bravely as another," replied Madge. "Kiss me once upon the lips, and we will die together, my hero, my own!"

He kissed her frantically, and she returned the caress. At another time, it might have caused a blush to this innocent girl; but, in the presence of this great danger, she forgot all this, and with her hand clasped in his, waited for the blow which was sure to fall if their hiding-place was found.

A wild yell of mingled rage and hatred burst from the woods around, and the savage foe came pouring over the rampart of the old fort, some carrying torches, some holding their weapons ready for a blow. But, they found no enemy, and the frantic cries told that they were disappointed of their prey. Will pressed the hand of the brave girl, which did not tremble in his grasp, and kept his eyes fixed upon the movements of the enemy. They were rushing madly about the inclosure, looking in every place where a man could by any chance be concealed, without effect. Willimack was at their head, painted to the waist, holding in one hand a blazing torch and in the other a heavy hatchet.

As the young man saw the scoundrel, he raised his pistol, and it was only by the thought that her life would be sacrificed that he refrained from shooting the wretch through the heart.

The Indians came into the crevice in which they were hidden, and one of them actually leaned upon the rock which shielded them! The grasp of the soldier tightened upon the wrist of Madge, and she met his pressure by raising herself a little and putting one rounded arm about his neck. But, the danger passed, for the moment. The Indian went away and they breathed more freely, when a commanding voice, which seemed to come from the sky, shouted:

"Willimack!"

The chief looked up, and there, upon the rocks thirty feet above his head stood the Skeleton Scout, pointing his unshaking finger at the Wyandot.

CHAPTER XII.

THE LAST TRIAL.

At the sight, nearly all the cowardly followers of the Wyandot took flight and buried themselves in the woods, or burrowed like conies among the rocks. Willimack was evidently frightened beyond measure at the appearance of the being he so dreaded, but was too proud to seek safety in flight.

There stood the Skeleton Scout, the grinning death's-head revealed, the fire flashing from his lurid orbs, and that long finger pointing downward.

"Dog!" cried the spectral being in a hollow voice. "How much blood must you shed before you will be satisfied? How long must the spirits of the rocks and the trees carry your evil deeds to the Great Spirit before he sends the Great White Bear to carry you way to the abode of the lost?"

This was spoken in the Indian tongue, and seemed to have a terrible effect upon the savage, for he bowed his head in terror, with his arms folded upon his breast.

"Nabockalish is a strong spirit," he said. "The Wyandot nor the Shawnee is not strong enough to stand before him. Why does he hate the poor Indian?"

"Because the Indian is a fool!" replied the Skeleton Scout, fiercely. "Listen to the words of Nabockalish. I see a great cloud in the sky. The Indians have roused the anger of the Great Spirit, and an evil day is come upon them. There will be war along the Wabash, and many will fall in battle. The Shawnee will be driven out and no longer possess the land of his fathers. Perhaps the Wyandot will go with him? There is a cloud before my eyes and I can not see it plainly. Turn back, then, Willimack, and flee the wrath of the Great Spirit."

"Why should Willimack turn back?" replied the Indian, fiercely. "A lying spirit talks through Nabockalish—a spirit which has no love for the Indian. Let the lying spirit depart, for Willimack will not listen to his words. He will fight under the banner of the Prophet until the white man shall cease from the land."

"Then, listen," shrieked the specter. "The spirit of the rocks and trees have heard your words and will carry them to the Great Spirit. Behold!"

As he spoke there was a strange, hissing sound, and a brilliant flame leaped up, lighting the surrounding darkness. The flame ran in erratic circles like a fiery serpent and vanished into thin air, and when they looked again, the Skeleton Scout was gone, while the air was heavy with a sulphurous smell. The sight was too much for the savages, and they broke and ran in every direction, stumbling over the rocks, the redoubtable Willimack leading them in their flight. Bursts of horrible laughter followed them as they fled.

"Astonishing," muttered Will. "This passes my comprehension. Is my friend, the Skeleton Scout, an inhabitant of the lower world, after all? I am ashamed to say that he has very nearly succeeded in frightening me."

Terrible screams sounded through the forest and accelerated the flight of the savages. A dead silence succeeded, and then the stone was violently pushed aside.

"Now," cried Madge, "keep your word, if you love me, Will."

"Hold on," cried a voice they well knew, "none of that, Floyd; come eout. By gravy, that Skileton Scout is a gentleman of great penetration, and I'd give forty dollars fur the privilege of shaking hands with the darned fool. He's a little brimstony in his karacter, but darn it all, what's that, once yew git used tew it? He routed the Injins, hoss, foot and dragoons. Lord bless my heart alive, heow they did let eout. I thought Willimack would break his neck, sartin."

"Where have you been?" said Will, helping Madge out of their hiding-place.

"Oh, we shinned up the rocks thar. We couldn't lug the gal up or I'd 'a' done it afore. 'Twouldn't dew tew desart her, yew know. Now, chief, what are they dewing abeout these days?"

"Running," replied the Dead Chief, sententiously. "Very much scared."

"Yew look a little shaky yureself, old man!" said Seth, with a laugh, "and, by gosh, it set me back a leetle trifle, when that fiery sarpint went flashing deown the rocks. The outlandish critter desarves a pension for helping us eout of this scrape. Here; gimme the gal. Show a light, chief. The red devils will think it's the Living Skellington coming arter 'em ag'in, and run the faster. Haw! haw! haw! It tickles me most tew death tew see how the critters run."

The Dead Chief caught up a half extinguished torch which one of the Wyandots had dropped, and led the way out of the narrow pass. Once safe at the bottom, he extinguished the torch and led them in the darkness. The Yankee came next, carrying the girl in his arms, while Will Floyd, with leveled rifle, brought up the rear. In this way they passed on for over a mile, when they struck a well-beaten path, and pursued it for two hours in silence. Then the Yankee called a halt.

"I guess we may as well halt, boys. More as like ez not we'll foul a snag ef we keep on in the dark. The woods are chock full of Injins, and when Willimack gets over his little scare he'll come a-raving, and charging arter us, that I know. Sit down on this log, little 'un. Yew don't weigh so much on the start, but, Lord love yure little heart ef yew don't grow mitey heavy arter a while! I'm glad we got eout of that trap. How dew yew feel, little gal? Considerable kind o' tired, eh?"

"Very tired, and I am sorry to say, a little sleepy," replied Madge.

"That's all rite," said long Seth. "Nat'ral ez life. Waal, thar ain't anything ag'in' a snooze, ez I knows on. We won't go any furder till morning. Scrape up them leaves and make a bed fur the gal. Capting, yew won't mind lending her yure coat, I guess?"

He stooped and spread out the leaves, and Madge lay down beside the log and her lover spread his coat over her, and sat down to watch while the Yankee took his station, rifle in hand, to wait for any emergency which might arise, while the Indian rolled himself against the log and fell asleep, but with his weapons ready to start up, at a moment's warning. Madge was awakened at early morning and found her friends ready for a start.

"Rouse up, little 'un," said the Yankee. "We ain't got any time tew waste. I ain't got anything fur yew tew eat 'cept this cracked corn. The Dead Chief took it from an Injin last night that didn't want it no more. You kan eat it as yew march."

She followed them cheerfully, eating the corn he had given her, and laughing lightly. In the midst of great danger she maintained a cheerful confidence which was inspiriting to the men who had come to save her. This happy confidence in them made their task lighter. Yankee Seth would have carried her again, but she refused utterly, saying that her night's rest had left her strong and able to bear any ordinary fatigue. They marched slowly, for the signs were ominous, and once or twice the scout stopped and listened carefully to see if the sounds about him were suspicious. She could see that he feared danger, yet maintained an unswerving fortitude.

"Brave gal," muttered the Yankee. "Make a good sojer's wife, she will!"

They stopped at noon beside a little brook, which the young man remembered to have crossed the day before, and again took food. But, the Yankee scout kept glancing from side to side and often started up and looked about him. Near by was a giant sycamore, with a hollow near the root, large enough for a person to enter.

"See here, Miss Madge," said Seth. "We've got tew scout a little. I don't see no other way, so yew jest git intew that holler tree and wait fur us. We won't leave yew long. Yew'll find a step cut in the side, wide enough fur yew tew stand on. Yew'd better git up on that, fur mebbe an Injin might take it intew his darned old head tew look in thar. Now, boys, come with me."

The hollow was very dark, but Madge grasped the stiletto which her lover had given her, and did not fear. An hour passed, and they did not return. At the end of that time a head was thrust into the cavity.

"Bright Eyes," said a voice which sounded strangely hollow in the cavity. "Come down; the Yellow Hair has sent for you."

"Who is that?" said Madge.

"Dead Chief," was the reply.

She descended hurriedly, and stooped to emerge from the opening. As she did so, she was roughly seized upon and a hand pressed so tightly upon her mouth and nostrils that she found it impossible to cry out. A scarf was torn from her neck and speedily transformed into a gag, which was thrust rudely into her mouth, and when she looked up she saw the leering face of Willimack close to her own.