The Frontier Angel Part 9

In a short time they were within a hundred yards of the upper end. Here they both nestled down, and waited some time before making a further movement.

"Keep powerful quiet, while I look around!" admonished Dingle, crouching down and commencing to move off in the darkness.

"Here, hold on a minute," whispered Jenkins, eagerly catching the skirt of his hunting-dress; "how long are you going to be gone?"

"I don't know--s.h.!.+"

The footsteps of some one were now heard, breaking through the bushes.

Dingle and Jenkins bent low, and in a moment discerned, looming up against the light in the village, the dark form of an Indian.

"By gracious! he's coming right onto us. Where's my gun?"

"Shut up, or I'll break it over your head," replied Dingle.

The hunter loosened his knife in his belt, for an encounter seemed unavoidable. The Indian came right straight ahead, in a line toward them; but when within ten feet, unconsciously to himself perhaps, he turned to the left and pa.s.sed on, thus escaping a collision and his own doom at the same time.

"Now don't stir from hyer till I come back," whispered Dingle, again.

"Just wait a minute, d.i.c.k; I want to ask a question or two."

"Spit them out, quick then!"

"How long are you going to be gone?"

"P'r'aps an hour or two."

"What must I do all that time?"

"Why, lay still--don't budge an inch, 'cept you want to lose your ha'r."

"Oh! I don't want to lose it. S'pose the Injins come poking round here, what's to be done then?"

"Keep docile, and like as not they won't see you; but if they does, why, jump up, give 'em a lunge with your knife, and put to the woods. You can run fast 'nough to give 'em the slip. In course, you'll have to make some tall dodgin' to do it, but I guess you are able."

"I'll try it, d.i.c.k, though I'd much rather you'd stay."

"I can't--so don't bother me agin."

With this, Dingle moved away as silently as a snake, and disappeared instantly. He made his way toward the opposite side of the village. It was not his intention to proceed thus far at first, but circ.u.mstances compelled him. It seemed impossible to gain the view he wished. At every point, some obstruction presented itself. The Indians, too, were so continually pa.s.sing through the wood, that discovery sometimes appeared inevitable. They made their appearance so suddenly, that they were not seen until almost upon him, and then it was only by the most labored caution that they could be avoided. Several times, indeed, had it come to that point, that he clutched his knife, and stooped to spring; but kind fortune still screened him.

Dingle had been absent about a couple of hours, and had reached a spot from which he believed he could obtain all the information he wished, when he was startled by the report of a rifle, and a series of yells from the quarter in which he had left Jenkins! He heard the rush of feet through the bushes and the signals of alarm all about him.

"That cussed fool has got himself into a fix, I'll swear!" muttered the ranger retreating several yards, so as to be concealed by the wood, and hurrying around toward the spot in which he had left him. He reached it in a few minutes, but all signs of commotion had ceased. An extraordinary stillness reigned over the village. He signaled for Jenkins, but no answer was returned. He found, at last, the precise spot in which he had left him. But he was gone, most certainly.

"Yas, the fool's in a fix, sure. Sarved him right. He'll larn sunkthin'

afore he gets back to the settlement again."

CHAPTER VIII.

A MAN IN TROUBLE.

DINGLE waited in the wood until morning, searching and signaling for Jenkins, but without success. He hoped at first that he had made his escape; but he was compelled, after carefully watching the village for a long time, to the belief that he had been captured. In fact, it was a certainty with the ranger. He understood the actions of the Shawnees well enough to be satisfied upon that point.

"Now, Dingle, what's to be done?" queried the ranger meditatively. "He's in their claws--that's a sure case, and it don't look right for you to leave him thar. But jest hold on a minute. The great moral question is this: which ar' to be saved--him or the whole settlements? Ef I stay h'yer, pokin' round for him, like as not, I'll get cotched myself--no, I won't either, for d.i.c.k Dingle don't get that thing done to him. The reds ar' goin' on a ha'r raise, that's sure; and they'll leave Jenkins till they come back afore they roast him. Consequently, he'll have time to look round and git acquainted with his friends, and p'r'aps make a bargain to let him off on a visit. No, Dingle, you must make tracks fur home powerful fast."

This decision arrived at, the ranger lost no time in putting it into execution. He knew he could not get much start of his enemies; and, although they would be armed at the settlement, yet it was imperatively necessary they should have more definite knowledge of the intended a.s.sault. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he turned his face to the south and plunged into the forest.

In the meantime Peter Jenkins _had_ managed to fall into an unpleasant predicament.

Upon the departure of Dingle, he made up his mind to obey every letter of his instructions. Accordingly, he squeezed himself into the smallest s.p.a.ce possible, and curled obediently up on the ground. He lay thus perhaps a half-hour, when he fell sound asleep. This was unintentional on his part; but the fatigue of the expedition, and the time he had pa.s.sed, without slumber, were too much for him, and he finally succ.u.mbed.

He would have slept, in all probability, until the return of Dingle, had it not been for a purely accidental circ.u.mstance. As his slumbers grew more heavy, he gave two or three jerks, and finally straightened out upon his back. In doing this, he naturally threw his hands backward, and by the merest accident in the world, struck a toad that sat blinking a foot or two distant. The creature made a startled leap and plumped down square in his face, but immediately sprang off again. It, however, seemed to awaken Jenkins, who rose to the sitting position, and entirely unmindful of where he was, commenced talking, in a mumbling tone, to himself.

"Like to know who that feller was that hit me in the face. Liked to knocked me out of bed; s'pose it was Dingle, though--just like him--makes my nose feel awful cold. Queer a feller can't sleep when he wants to--all-fired mean to 'sturb a person that way. Lay over on your own side, d.i.c.k. h.e.l.lo! he ain't here! Look at these bushes!--Thunderation! where am I?"

He stared bewilderingly about him. Gradually a recollection of his situation came to him. And then he was filled with apprehension lest he had betrayed himself. He listened carefully for a few minutes, but hearing nothing, judged that matters were all right; and, as he was excessively sleepy, he dropped languidly back again, and was falling rapidly into a state of unconsciousness, when he was waked again.

The fact was he had been overheard by a couple of brawny Shawnees who, at that moment, were pa.s.sing within a few feet of him. They dropped noiselessly to the earth, and commenced making their way toward him, as he fell back so unconsciously.

In the meantime, one of those little, active, prying dogs, that are always bobbing around an Indian village, made the same discovery. He ran fearlessly up to the prostrate man, poked his cold nose against his cheek, and gave a loud bark that electrized Jenkins completely.

Remembering the parting admonition of Dingle, to "fire and run," in case of discovery, he seized his gun, blazed away at the dog, and turned on his heel.

Even then he might have effected his escape, had it not been for the dog mentioned. The Indians suspecting he was a scout, were taken all aback by the unexpected manner in which he acted, and hesitated so long before following, that, as we said, he might have escaped, had it not been for the dog. The creature was unhurt by his shot, and with a yelp of alarm, sprang in front of him. Jenkins was too confused to notice him, the dog got entangled between his legs, and he pitched headlong to the ground.

Before he could rise the Indians were upon him, and yelling with exultation.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Before he could rise the Indians were upon him."]

"We kill--if fight--no run," muttered one in broken English.

"Jerusalem! I won't run--don't kill me. I won't run at least with you two fellers on my back. Don't kill me!"

"Stand up--quick!"

"Yes, I will--don't kill me!"

One of the savages had already secured his rifle; and, as he arose, one stood on either side of him and took a firm hold of his arms. By this time there were a score of other savages around, all dancing, shouting, and yelling; and in the midst of them our friend Jenkins was marched into the center of the Indian village.

Immediately a score of Shawnees scattered into the wood, to ascertain whether there were any more whites lurking in the vicinity, while Jenkins was hurried into a lodge, thrown upon his face, his hands tied securely behind him, and his feet locked as tightly together, as if they had been screwed in a vice.

"Consarn it! what's the use in serving a feller that way? I told you I wouldn't run away, and you shouldn't doubt my word."

Some eight or nine remained to guard, but no one seemed disposed to heed his request.

"You ugly old heathen, standing there by the door, grinning at me, just loosen these cords, will you?" said Jenkins. The Indian, still paying no attention to his entreaties. Jenkins supposed he did not understand the English language; and he repeated his request in a louder tone, as though that would a.s.sist his understanding. But with no better effect.

"I don't want the cords loosened--wouldn't have them untied if you wanted to do it," he added, sullenly.