The Frontier Angel Part 2

"In course I am, ain't you?"

"Yas, sir."

With this the ranger turned on his heel, satisfied that they had a traitor on board. This may seem strange to the reader, but it would not be to a backwoodsman who understood the case. The eagerness and quickness this man had evinced to point out danger, ever since he joined our friends, was good reason in itself for suspicion. Had he been a genuine ranger, he would have hesitated before giving his opinion, and not defeat his own ends by showing too much knowledge of what was unknown to the rest.

Peterson walked away from him, and communicated his suspicions to several of his friends. Just as he expected, they laughed at him, and accused him almost of meanness. Stung by this rebuke, the ranger became silent and sullen and left them.

In the meantime, the man upon sh.o.r.e was bellowing louder than ever. Not content with being once refused, he was limping along sh.o.r.e, and beseeching them in more piteous tones than ever. Still the whites resolutely turned their ears against him, and would not have noticed him at all, had not the stranger spoken.

"I declare, it looks queer anyhow. I never knowed one of them decoys to hang on like that."

"You have no notion that he is anything else but one, or that he has any object except our own destruction?"

"I didn't think different at first, but it begins to look doubtful. Just let me say a few words to him."

With this, he stepped to one side of the boat, and called out, "What's your name?"

"John Haggart."

"How come you to git in such an ugly fix?"

"I was out scouting it, and was cotched by the Shawnees, and have just got away from them. For G.o.d's sake, come and take me off, for they're after me."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "For G.o.d's sake come and take me off, for they are after me."]

"Jump into the river and swim out to us."

"My hurt is too bad; I've got a bullet clean through my thigh, and can just drag the leg after the other. Yonder is the smoke of their wigwams up on the hill and they ain't fur off. My G.o.d! don't leave a white man thus! Heaven would curse you if you did."

Our friends looked in the direction he indicated, and could faintly discern in the gathering gloom a thin wreath of smoke rising from the trees. The suffering man, as if aware of their thoughts, called out:

"That is whar' they are, and their runners are out after me. May G.o.d forever curse you, if you leave me here."

"What do yer think?" asked the stranger, turning round with an air of perplexity to the others. "I believe that man ain't a decoy, not at all; and ef he isn't, we orter not leave him there to be cooked by the red devils. Still, I shouldn't say nothing, but leave it with you."

"It will never do to run the boat ash.o.r.e," said several of the men, firmly.

"Oh, I didn't mean that. In course, it would be all-fired foolish to do that ar' thing. But I've been thinking"--and the man dropped his eyes, as if in great perplexity--"that we orter help that man off. To do sich a thing we ain't compelled by any duty to expose ourselves to any danger. What is your views, friends?"

"Why, if the thing can be done without imperiling ourselves, it is our Christian duty to do it; but we are at a loss at present to understand how we could manage it thus."

"Oh, easily enough; just run the boat in about half way where the water is so shallow that the fellow can wade out to us. Keep your eyes open, and if there is the least sign of treachery, we can fall into the current again and float off."

"A good plan, and I see no reason for not carrying it out."

All echoed this sentiment, with the exception of Peterson, who still stood apart, in a sullen, pouting mood, leaning against the side of the boat, with his head dropped upon his breast.

"Come, Jim, what do you think of it?" asked one of the emigrants, and the others all turned toward him for a reply.

"I think, in the first place, you are all a set of the thunderingest fools I ever heard of, not to see you've got a sneaking decoy right among ye, who's doing his purtiest to git you into sh.o.r.e to please that other trap."

"Outrageous! shameful!" exclaimed several, horrified at the blunt, plain-spoken answer they had received.

"Go on, and do what you please, but don't ax me nothin' more, for I've got nothing at all to say," added Peterson, who was touched to the quick by what he had heard in reply.

The stranger, it was observed, said nothing at all, except, after a few minutes, to urge the matter upon our friends. It was now quite dark, but the shadowy form of the man on sh.o.r.e could be seen struggling along, and calling out in tones that were really heartrending. The men consulted together a while longer, and then it was determined to follow the suggestion of their friend.

The long, guiding oars were dipped into the water, and with a loud plash swung a few feet, when the unwieldy flat-boat began slowly sliding in toward sh.o.r.e. It moved very tardily, however, and it was noticed that its progress down stream was continually growing less and less. This was accounted for by the fact that they were getting out of the current, and moving in shallow water.

The man, all this time, was limping and gesticulating on sh.o.r.e, imploring them to hurry, as his life stood in imminent danger every moment, and the whites, to their credit be it spoken, worked with a good will.

They had hardly commenced rowing, when Marian asked Peterson whether there was not another person upon the bank.

"It is a female, and see how motionless she stands! She is just below that man."

"Yes, I see her--she is waving her hands. Hark!"

"Keep off! keep off! You will all be killed! This man is a decoy!"

called out the person alluded to in a beseeching voice.

"Who is she?" asked Marian, growing more excited every moment.

"Ah! she's the Frontier Angel. Haven't you heard of her? When _she_ warns a white, he can depend on it she means what she says. This ain't the fust time she has done that thing."

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Frontier Angel.]

"O Jim!" implored Marian, "this is awful; tell them before it is too late. They cannot but heed you."

The ranger hesitated a moment, as he remembered the cutting rebuff he had received; but the imploring voice of Marian, together with his own sense of duty, conquered. He turned his head and looked at the oarsmen.

They had paused as the warning voice reached them.

"What does that mean?" asked one.

"That gal is the Frontier Angel that you've heard the boys talk about at the settlement. Ef any of you wants red night-caps, don't mind her; ef you doesn't, jest get back into the channel as soon as them oars will take you."

"_I've_ heard that that gal you call the _Frontier Angel_ is n.o.body but a crazy squaw," said one of the oarsmen, still hesitating.

"Go on, then," said Peterson, stung to the quick by this second repulse.

"I shan't say no more," he added, in a lower tone, to Marian.

"Didn't you know that gal is a crazy fool?" said the stranger, sneeringly. "Of course she is, and I thought you knowed it. Ef you're going to help that dyin' feller, you've got to be quick about it, 'cause the reds can't be far off."

Thus appealed to, the oarsmen commenced, although it cannot be said all were free from misgivings. But in the face of the suspicious actions of the man upon sh.o.r.e, and the continued warnings of the Frontier Angel, the flat-boat gradually approached its doom. Several of the men already half-repented their rashness, and stood with their eyes fixed upon sh.o.r.e, and an expression of painful doubt upon their features.

Peterson saw all these manifestations, and thus communed with himself.

"No use of talkin', they're all goin' sure, and, Jim Peterson, the question is what you purpose to do. You can tend to yourself well enough, but how 'bout Marian? It won't do to leave her. You hain't forgotten, Jim, the time them same reds butchered _your_ gal. No, Jim you never forgot that, and _you never will_; and how do you s'pose Mansfield will feel ef you leave his gal in the same fix? 'Twon't do, 'twon't do, Jim. Can you swim, Marian?" he asked, turning toward her.