The Phantom of the River by Edward Sylvester Ellis (epub read online books txt) 📖

without the putting forth of any effort on his part. He was a practical believer in the doctrine that God helps them that help themselves.

When he paddled from the side of the flatboat, therefore, in the cause, he put forth as much care and skill as Kenton or Boone himself would have done.

Glancing over his shoulder, he noted the moment when the dim outline of the wooded shore loomed to view. Then, the swinging of his arms ceased for a few seconds while he peered off in the gloom and listened. Nothing was seen or heard to cause misgiving, or to show that any one had detected his approach.

"From what Kenton told me, the Shawanoes have a larger canoe hidden somewhere along the bank. It has not yet appeared among these sad troubles, but it must have a part to play, and I fear it will be used to carry the warriors to the other side that they may hurry my friends on their way to the block-house."

He did not cross the river in a direct line, but headed so far up stream that his canoe became diagonal. His intention was to strike the shore above Rattlesnake Gulch, thus keeping clear, as he hoped, of the canoe with the warriors who might be making ready to embark on it. At the same time, he was assured that he would thus shorten the path to the campfire, where he expected to find The Panther.

Still watching and listening, the missionary edged his way up stream, until he had gone as far as he wished, bearing off so that only the keenest eye of suspicion would have noticed his presence from the shore. Then, turning the prow straight toward land, he sent it skimming, like a swallow, over the surface by means of a half-dozen powerful strokes, ducking his head as it glided among the overhanging limbs, and its nose slid up the bank. He was out of the little craft in a twinkling, and drawing it still further so as to hold it secure, he set out, rifle in hand, to meet Wa-on-mon, chief of the Shawanoes.

It need not be repeated that the missionary comprehended the danger into which he was running, but, aside from the personal intrepidity that distinguished him through life, he was controlled and impelled by the highest of all motives that can direct the conduct of men--the desire to please God.

Careful meditation over what had taken place convinced him that it was his duty to enter the camp of the hostiles; and, with that conviction, ended everything in the nature of hesitation.

Having landed, it remained for him to find The Panther. There might be some persons, in the place of the reverend gentleman, who would have conceived it the proper thing to enter the hostile camp without carrying anything in the nature of a weapon; it may be said, indeed, that his errand was in the nature of a flag of truce, in which that course was demanded.

But Mr. Finley understood too well the nature of the people with whom he was dealing to attempt anything of that nature. Such sentimentality would be wasted. Besides he conceived it to be quite likely that he might be called upon to defend himself, in which event the gun would come in "mighty handy."

Engaged on the business described, the messenger did not add to his peril by trying to steal noiselessly up to camp, though the act might have been possible.

"I must advance openly," was his thought, "when near the camp, and it is better I should do so from the first."

It was hard work picking his course through the dense and tangled undergrowth, but, quite confident of the right direction to take, he pushed on until the gleam of a light apprised him that no mistake had been made.

And then, when within sight of The Panther and his ferocious party, and half suspecting he was already under the eye of some dusky sentinel, the missionary came to a halt, and, kneeling in the solemn depths of the woods, spent several minutes in prayer.

The sound of a rustling near him did not hasten the end of his devotions. When he had asked his Heavenly Father for all that was in his mind, he rose to his feet and resumed his advance upon the camp.

He knew he was followed, and that every step was watched, and it was then that his own manner of procedure saved him. The Shawanoe must have reasoned that no scout or person with hostile purpose would act thus recklessly, and, though the dusky sentinel followed and watched his course until the messenger came within the circle of firelight, yet no harm was offered him.

Probably, by that time the Indian recognized the visitor as the white man with such strange views, and so different in his words and conduct from most of those of his race. If so, he must have wondered at the temerity of the individual in entering the camp of The Panther at so critical a time.

While yet some rods distant the missionary recognized the chieftain, standing among his group of warriors, in excited conversation. The back of Wa-on-mon was toward him, so that he did not observe the white man; but he was quick to note the looks in the faces of the others, and the general turning of eyes in one direction. The chief also wheeled, and, to his astonishment, saw the man of God approaching him.

There was no mistaking the expression that overspread the painted countenance of The Panther. He was angered at this intrusion of a white man into his council of war, as it may be called. A muttered exclamation escaped him, which those near interpreted as an utterance of impatience that the visitor had been permitted to come even thus far. He must have been identified long before, and, in accordance with Indian custom, should have been shot or cut down ere he could disturb the chieftain and his cabinet.

But here he was, showing no more hesitation than had marked his course from the moment he left the side of the flatboat.

Mr. Finley, clad in his partly civilized costume, and with his gun grasped in his left hand, walked forward, neither timidly nor with an assumption of confidence it was impossible for him to feel. He was not only too well aware of the situation himself, but knew the Shawanoes could not be deceived by any such pretence on his part.

Wa-on-mon had leaned his rifle against the fallen tree upon which the three warriors were sitting when he first came up, so that he stood with arms folded and in an attitude of natural and unconscious grace, glancing from one painted countenance to another, as he asked a question or listened to whatever they chose to say to him.

It was evident that these were the most trusted of his warriors, for while the consultation was going on, no one ventured near. They may be considered as making up the chieftain's cabinet, and when they were in session all other business had to wait.

The missionary was quick to note the expression on the face of the terrible Wa-on-mon. He had seen a look there not so long before which told more plainly than words that he was welcome, but that time had passed.

Mr. Finley advanced with the same dignified step to the chief, and, making a half-military salute, said in Shawanoe:

"I greet my brother Wa-on-mon, in whose lodge I have slept in safety when there was no other place to lay my head."

As he spoke he extended his hand, but The Panther, with his serpent eyes fixed upon the face of his visitor, made no motion to unfold his arms. He continued to scowl, and his lips remained mute.

This was embarrassing to a certain extent, though the missionary knew the cause. He continued, in the same gentle persuasive voice.

"Why does Wa-on-mon frown when he looks upon his pale-faced brother--"

"He is not my brother," interrupted The Panther, with a scowl and look of indescribable fierceness. "He is a dog, and he shall die!"


CHAPTER XXVI.

IN THE LION'S DEN.

The Panther was in the ugliest mood conceivable. Missionary Finley was well aware of this before approaching and addressing him. Consequently, when the chieftain called him a dog and declared he should die, the good man was neither silenced nor overthrown, though it would be untrue to say he was not alarmed for his own safety, but he had counted the cost before making the venture.

"Wa-on-mon did not always look upon the missionary as a dog," he said, with gentle dignity; "he once called him brother."

"It was because he spoke with a single tongue and was the friend of the red man," The Panther made haste to say, with no abatement in the ferocity of expression or manner.

"The missionary always speaks with a single tongue, and he will be the friend of the red man as long as he lives."

If possible, the wrath of voice and action became more venomous on the part of The Panther. He unfolded his arms, so as to give facility of gesture, and with one step forward placed himself so near the white man that the two could have embraced each other with little change of position. Then he bent his hideous countenance until the gleaming eyes, the dangling hair, the white teeth and the painted features were almost against the mild, beneficent face, which did not shrink or show the slightest change of looks.

One of the warriors then threw additional wood on the fire, and the blaze of light lit up the scene as if at noon-day. The Shawanoes instinctively drew back, so as to leave the principal figures not only in prominent view, but apart from the others. No one presumed to take any part in the disputation, but in the stillness and general hush the words of both were audible to every warrior present.

Little Mabel Ashbridge was perplexed and uncertain what she ought to say or do, if indeed, she could say or do anything. She did not recognize the white man who suddenly appeared and addressed the dreadful Indian in a tongue she could not understand, for it will be remembered that, although the missionary had joined the company of fugitives some time before, she saw his countenance for the first time when it reflected the glow of the firelight.

Had Finley given her one encouraging word, or even look, she would have rushed to his arms and begged him to take her to her parents and brother. This would have been a dangerous diversion, and, dreading it, the missionary carefully acted as though he had no knowledge of her presence, but she was in his field of vision, and while talking with the savage chieftain he knew the child, mute and wondering, was seated on the log and intently watching both.

As The Panther stepped forward in the manner described, and thrust his baleful countenance into that of the white man, he said, with atrocious fierceness:

"The missionary lies; he has the forked tongue of the serpent, and like all the pale-faces, he is the enemy of the red man."

"But Wa-on-mon once said he was the friend of the missionary; why does he say now that he is an enemy?"

"Did he not fight against the Shawanoes this night? Did he not help the pale face dogs to flee across the river in the boat?"

These questions were expected by Finley,