The Riflemen of the Miami by Edward Sylvester Ellis (reading books for 6 year olds .TXT) 📖

a bad scrape."

"Shawnee got him? Miami got him?"

"That's what I want to find out. Shouldn't be s'prised if both have nabbed him."

"How get him?"

There was something curious in the eagerness with which the Huron asked the questions. It was more noticeable from the fact that O'Hara spoke slowly and deliberately, so that the short, broken sentences of the savage seemed all the more short and broken.

"That I can't tell, Oonamoo," repeated the hunter, who, it will be noticed, evinced the remarkable fact of being in a good temper with the Indian. "You see, him and the gal----"

"Gal with him?" asked the savage, with amazing quickness.

"Yes; didn't I tell you that?"

"Bad--bad--gal make him blind--see notting, all time--she afore his face."

"You've got the idea this time, Oonamoo. Lew's in love, above his head and ears, and can't be to blame so much for what he's done," said O'Hara, a gleam of pity stealing through his rough nature, like a ray of sunshine entering a gloomy cave. "He's made a fool of himself, I'm afeard, 'cause there's a female on his hands."

"What want to do? Foller him--catch him?"

"That's it. The first thing to be done is to find the trail."

"Where lost? Where see him last?"

O'Hara proceeded to relate as best he could what is already known to the reader, or more properly that portion of it which was known to him. He stated that he and Dick Allmat had lost the trail in a small brook, and that their most persistent efforts had failed to recover it. Upon speculating further, he learned from Oonamoo that they were in the vicinity of the ravine where Dernor and Edith had so narrowly escaped the Indians, the latter fact of course being unknown to them. The Huron added, that there was "much track" in the woods around them, and O'Hara, thinking that perhaps his leader's might be among them, proposed that they should make an examination of them. To this the savage readily agreed, and the two moved forward through the wood for that purpose.

In the course of a few minutes they reached the ravine, and the Indian, pointing down into it, as they stood upon its bank, said:

"Full of tracks--many Injin pass there."

"Let us go down and take a look at them."

A few minutes later, they were following up the ravine, on a sort of half-run, the Huron leading the way, and evincing, at nearly every step, that remarkable quickness of sight and comprehension so characteristic of his race. Suddenly he paused so abruptly that O'Hara ran against him.

"What the deuce is the matter?" he asked, rubbing his nose.

"Look!"

Several dark drops of blood were visible on the ground which was also torn up by the feet of the combatants. As the reader probably suspects, this was the scene of the conflict between Dernor and the Miami Indian.

"See," said Oonamoo, walking slowly around, and pointing to the ground. "Track of Injin--track of white man--tear up ground--fight--till Injin killed. White man then run--see him tracks there, there, there," he added, pointing further and further from him as he uttered each of the last three words.

"But where's the gal?"

The Huron pointed to the spot where Edith had stood spell-bound while the contest was going on. O'Hara, although a skillful backwoodsman, was not equal to his savage companion; but he saw at once, from the dainty impress of the earth, that he was correct in supposing that Edith had stood there. They now resumed their pursuit, the hunter bringing all his wood-craft into play, in order to keep up with his companion.

"I can't see her tracks to save my life," said the former, after they had proceeded some distance.

"Him carry her," replied the savage, without the least hesitation.

"Hang me if you haven't got about as much brains as a person needs in these parts," muttered O'Hara, admiringly, as he imitated the monotonous trot of the savage. A moment later and he paused again.

"What's up now?" asked the hunter.

"Track gone."

"But I see plenty in front of us."

"White man's not there--gone."

A minute examination revealed the fact that most of the impressions were now made by persons passing _backward_ as well as forward, as though confusion had arisen from some cause. O'Hara suspected the reason of this, but, without venturing an opinion, questioned his dusky friend:

"Huntin' for tracks," he answered. "White man gone."

The two now walked slowly backward, their gaze wandering along the sides of the ravine instead of the bottom. In a moment the quick eye of the Indian discerned the spot where he judged the exit had been made, and a short examination proved that he was right. The feet of Dernor had sunk deep in the soft earth as he made his Herculean efforts in the ascent, while those of his pursuers were so light that they hardly disturbed them.

Up out of the ravine came the Huron and hunter, and into the woods they plunged, following the trail now with the greatest readiness. A short distance further they reached the banks where Edith had concealed herself, and here, for a time, even the red-skin was at fault. He saw that the shrubbery had been passed by most of the pursuers without their having approached closely enough to make an examination. From the circuit which Dernor had made to reach these bushes, the quick-witted Huron rightly suspected that he had turned them to some account. Accordingly, he cautiously parted them and looked in. An immediate "Ugh!" showed O'Hara that he had made some discovery.

"Hide gal there--then run on."

"Where is she?"

"Injin didn't git her in bushes," replied the savage, implying that if she was captured at all it was not done here.

"Go on, then," added O'Hara.

It was now noticed that the steps of the fugitive had shortened, it following, as a natural consequence, that he had slackened his speed at this point. Several hundred yards further on, another fact was observed. The pursuing Indians, instead of adhering to the trail, as they had done heretofore, separated and left it. This, to both Oonamoo and O'Hara was evidence that they had either come in sight of Dernor, or else were so certain of the direction he was taking that they did not deem it necessary to watch his footsteps. The Rifleman could not believe the former was the case, inasmuch as it was the very thing, above all others, which his leader would seek to avoid; for the most requisite condition to the success of his artifice, was that his pursuers should still think Edith was with him. Be that as it may, one thing was certain. The pursuer and pursued at this point were very close together--closer than the safety of the latter could admit for any length of time.

A few hundred yards further, the dark face of the Huron lit up with an expression of admiring pleasure.

"Him run agin," said he, glancing to O'Hara, who was now beside him.

The steps of the flying Rifleman now lengthened rapidly, as if he had traveled at superhuman speed. As O'Hara saw the remarkable leaps which he must have taken, he could not help exclaiming, in admiration: "Go it, Lew. I'd like to see the red-skin that could overhaul you, when you're a mind to bring your pegs down to it."

"Run much--like scar't deer," added Oonamoo.

"Yes, _sir_; Lew has been letting out just along here, and I reckon them Injins never seen such steps as he took."

It was very evident that the hunter had "let out" to his utmost ability, and with the determination of leaving his pursuers far in the rear. Previous to this he had not called his formidable power into play; but so rapidly had his gait increased that in many places his footsteps were fully ten feet apart!

It had not escaped the notice of Oonamoo and O'Hara, that a white man was among the pursuers, and it occasioned considerable speculation upon the part of the latter. The trails of the two were distinguishable, Dernor having a small, well-shaped foot, inclining outward very slightly, while that of the other was large, heavy, turning outward at a very large angle.

"Who can this chap be?" asked O'Hara of his companion.

"Renegade--bad white man--Girty--white chief."

"Whew! I see how it is now. That's the dog that hung around the settlers on the night of the storm, and got fired at a dozen times."

"Why no killed--no hurt?"

"We didn't know who he was, and all shot at his breast."

"Ugh! no hurt him, then."

"No, for, they say, the dog often wears a bullet-proof plate over his breast, and his life has, more than once, been saved by it. He's a brave man, for all he's such an inhuman brute; for who would dare to sit and let us fire agin and agin at him, when it was just as likely we'd fire at his head as at his breast? It was more of an accident than any thing else that we didn't kill him."

"Bad man--kill women and children," said Oonamoo.

"No one disputes that. What a pity we didn't know him when we first set eyes on him. I shouldn't wonder now if he's been fooling Lew, as well as us. My gracious! hasn't the boy used his pegs along here?" exclaimed O'Hara, again looking at the ground.

"No catch him," said the Huron. "No Injun run like him. Tracks turn round pretty soon."

"What makes you think so?"

"Gal bring him back--not leave _her_!"

"You're right. He won't forget she is behind him. But how is he going to throw the dogs off the scent?"

"How t'row white men off scent, eh?"

"I understand--by taking to the water."

"Take to water agin."

As the Huron spoke, they came upon the edge of a second brook--one, in fact, large enough to be called a creek. The trail led directly into this, it being manifest that Dernor had so shaped his flight as to reach it.

"I will cross over and examine the opposite side, while you do the same along this shore."

"No, won't," replied Oonamoo, with a decided shake of his head. "White man no cross--gal behind him--come out on this side agin."

The savage was so certain of this, that he refused even to allow O'Hara to enter the stream. A moment's reflection convinced him, also, that the supposition was correct, and they commenced their ascent of the bank. They had gone scarcely a dozen steps, when they came upon numerous moccasin-tracks, showing that, if the pursuers had crossed the creek, they had also returned. At this discovery, Oonamoo indulged in a characteristic exclamation:

"He hide trail--all safe--no cotch him."

"How are _we_ going to find it?" asked O'Hara.

Marvelous as was the skill of the Huron, he doubted his own ability to regain the trail in the ordinary manner, and he accordingly had resort to the same means that he used in ascending the ravine. Without attempting to search for the trail itself, he carefully examined the shore in order to find the point at which the fugitive could safely leave the stream. Oonamoo, from his knowledge of the leader of the Riflemen, knew that he would walk for miles in the creek, before he would leave it without the certainty of deceiving his pursuers. The course which Dernor had taken being such