The Wilderness Fugitives by Edward Sylvester Ellis (jenna bush book club TXT) 📖

intention to manage the business without asking for or accepting any suggestions from his friends.

The company had advanced something like a half mile when the morning was fairly upon them--another of those clear, mild summer days common to this latitude at that season of the year. They were approaching rising ground, and soon began ascending to a higher level than that which they had been treading for some time. The Indian still stuck to the forest, for he felt a confidence in its shadows such as the open country could not afford.

While progressing in this manner it was noticed by the youths that he led them over as rough and stony paths as possible, and that at the same time he stepped as carefully as he knew how--no doubt with the purpose of hiding their tracks from the too curious Iroquois.

Lena-Wingo evinced no objections to his companions talking together as they picked their way along, provided they kept their voices below "concert pitch"--a precaution which they were sure to remember, in view of what they had passed through so recently. For all that, the Mohawk advanced with a confidence which at times resembled recklessness, and Ned Clinton more than once was on the point of remonstrating with him. But he held his peace, through fear of offending him. The journey was continued in this fashion, the party walking quite rapidly until they were well into the rising ground of the mountains, when a halt was made.

It was a good omen that the whites had been able to go thus far without encountering any of the Iroquois, and they were not a little cheered thereby. But the fact remained--and it took somewhat from their rejoicing--that they were further from Wilkesbarre at the time of halting than they were at starting. It was because they had gone away from instead of toward their destination that accounted for their immunity from disturbance. Still, it is the longest way home which is often the surest, and the Mohawk, in conducting his companions in that direction, was only carrying out a plan which he had formed while on the other side of the Susquehanna, and of which this was but the preliminary step.


CHAPTER XXI.

A CURIOUS DISCOVERY.

"Stay here," said the Mohawk, as soon as they halted; "Lena-Wingo go look for Iroquois--soon be back--don't go away--don't make noise, listen--watch, don't go away."

"But suppose some of them come down upon us, Jack?" asked Ned, determined to understand the situation as fully as possible.

"Keep out way--won't come down--stay away."

"Well, if you are enough satisfied to give me a written guarantee, that's all there is about it. How long do you expect to be gone?"

"Not long--soon be back."

This was not very definite, but it was all the Mohawk would say, and without any more words he took his departure, walking back over the trail which they had been following since leaving the river.

"I can't understand why he is sure that no one will make a call on us while he is gone," said Jo Minturn to Ned, as the three once more seated themselves, this time on a fallen tree.

"The only reason that suggests itself to me is that he believes we are so far off the track of the Iroquois that the only possibility that can lead them this way is by their discovering our trail, and if they attempt that, they will run against him, as he is going backward over it."

"That seems to be a pretty good reason, but he may miss it, nevertheless. There may not be much danger of an invasion from any other direction, and yet there's no telling, either, from what point of the compass these wretches may come."

"You ought to have explained all that," said Rosa. "I am quite sure that Lena-Wingo would be grateful for all the instruction you can give him in the ways of the woods. But you know he is so much younger than you, and has had so little experience, that you must be charitable, and not judge him too harshly."

Jo laughed and shook his head at his sister, who persisted in "touching" him up on every occasion.

"As we are to stay here indefinitely," said Ned, "there can be no harm in taking an observation and learning something for ourselves."

"How are we to do it?" asked his friend.

Ned pointed to the towering trees which stood on every hand.

"Climb up among those branches; what better outlook can one ask than he can get among those limbs?"

"What a nice target a man would be, too, if an Indian should catch sight of him!" said Rosa, as she looked up at the leaves gently swaying in the slight morning breeze. "But after what Lena-Wingo said, I don't think there's much to be feared of that, and I look upon your idea as a good one, Edward."

"If my sister considers the idea a good one," said Jo, "that settles it, and you need have no further fear."

"Of course not," was the prompt assent of Ned, who moved to the tree which he had selected as his lookout.

As there was a remote possibility that some such a contingency as the one intimated by their fair companion might occur, Jo and Rosa stationed themselves beneath the tree to guard against surprise, Jo holding his gun ready, while Ned left his own piece in the hands of Rosa, who, should the occasion arise, knew how to employ it effectively. It was the work of a few minutes for the athletic young man to make his way to the top of the tree, which was one of the tallest in the neighborhood, and gave him the opportunity he wished. Ned remembered the words of Rosa, which, uttered in jest as they were, contained a good deal of sense. While making his way among the limbs, he frequently paused and carefully scrutinized the ground below, on the lookout for lurking Indians.

The most rigid scrutiny failed to reveal anything alarming, and reaching as high a point as was prudent, he settled himself among the luxuriant branches, and then, like the shipwrecked mariner, looked long and searchingly over the waste around him.

Peering to the northward, from his elevated perch, Ned saw the stretch of woods, cultivated fields, the broad, smoothly-flowing Susquehanna, with the faint view of the ruins of Fort Wintermoot and of Forty Fort beyond. The view was a lovely one, as seen in the clear sunlight of this summer morning, and it was hard to realize that the fair vale had been desecrated within so brief a time by the merciless white and red men, who had not yet left the valley. No wonder that the beauties of this enchanting spot have drawn the tribute of the poets of the Old and New World.

Ned Clinton had often gazed on the attractions of his native vale, and he appreciated them always, but he restrained the admiration which he might have felt at any other time. The first glance over the extended scene failed to discover any signs of life; but when he had looked again, he detected the figure of a canoe crossing the river, the distance making it appear but a speck, while the number of occupants was indistinguishable. To the southwest, almost in the line of the Susquehanna, he observed a black cloud resting like a smirch of dirt against a clear, blue sky. This, he had no doubt, was the smoke from some conflagration of the night before.

The little primitive town of Wilkesbarre, with its rude fortifications, lay also along the bank of the river, but owing to some intervening trees of tall growth, standing close to the fort, the view in that direction was not as complete as in others. Having scanned the outer boundaries of the field, Ned attended to those portions which lay nearer to him. It was a long time before he could fix upon any spot that promised to give him information of friend or foe. Nothing could be seen of Lena-Wingo, who was pursuing his investigations in his own way, and was not likely to return until he had accomplished something upon which to base an intelligent course of action. But by and by, as the youth was scanning a point two or three hundred yards away, his eye fell upon something which promised to give him the very knowledge he was seeking.

In an open space at the distance mentioned, he observed a large flat rock, which had nothing peculiar in its appearance, but which, it was evident, was being used by some one as a means of concealment, while he in turn took a survey of the young man in the tree. Ned was under the impression that no matter how much he played the sentinel, he was invisible to all outsiders that might be attempting to steal toward him and his friends. It happened that he glanced directly at the object at the moment that a man, whose dress showed him to be of the same race as the young scout, rose to his feet, stood a second or two, and then dropped down out of sight again. His action was such as a man would make when he suspected that some one else was trying to obtain a closer scrutiny than was agreeable. Ned was not a little puzzled by what he witnessed. He looked down to his friends, and spoke in a careful undertone:

"Keep a sharp lookout; I have discovered something which I want to study a while."

"All right," called back Jo; "manage your end of the rope as you ought, and we'll take care of ours."

Left thus free, the sentinel devoted himself to the task of watching the movements of the stranger, and learning what his intentions were in conducting himself in the manner described.

"He can't get away from where he is without my seeing him," was the reflection of the watcher, "and if he means mischief, I shall detect it in time to prevent his hurting us."

The stranger at this period was invisible, as he must continue to be so long as he kept behind the rock; but it was hardly likely that he would stay there long.

"It may be he is some fugitive like ourselves," added young Clinton, "and he doesn't feel certain enough of our identity as yet to trust himself within reach."


CHAPTER XXII.

ANOTHER FUGITIVE.

At the end of five or ten minutes Ned Clinton, with his eyes fixed upon the broad, flat rock, was sure he saw the figure of a man behind it. It was only the top of his head, thrust a little above the edge of the stone, as if the stranger were seeking a view of the one who was watching him without his purpose being detected. The slouched hat and the eyes and forehead were in plain sight for a minute or two, when they sank down again and all was as before.

"If he is a friend," thought Ned, "he is very timid, or he has a queer way of showing his good will."

The distance between the two was too great for either to do anything in the way of shooting, but the youth was inclined to send a rifle shot in that direction, as a challenge for the strange craft to come out and show its colors.

He called down to Jo again, to watch for the approach of any foe, for he was compelled to give close attention to this particular stranger, and another might steal up beneath