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The Phantom of the River, a novel by Edward Sylvester Ellis |
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Chapter 28. The Return |
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_ CHAPTER XXVIII. THE RETURN The interview between Missionary Finley and the Shawanoe chieftain had been prolonged; it was of the first importance. Many things that this narrative does not require should be recorded passed between them, and the hour was far advanced when the decision was reached; it was agreed that the life of the little captive, Mabel Ashbridge, should be determined by the result of the duel to the death between Simon Kenton and Wa-on-mon, known as The Panther. Aware as was the missionary of the departure of the ranger at the moment the flatboat was pushing from the Kentucky shore, he knew his course of action as well as if he had watched his every movement. "Throughout the whole interview he had scarcely removed his eyes from Wa-on-mon and me," was the conclusion of Finley, and he was right. "I will now go in search of the white hunter," he said, slightly modifying his manner of speaking; "I shall soon find him, and he will be at the rock." "And when the sun rises he will find Wa-on-mon awaiting him there," said the chieftain. Waving his hand in a half-military fashion, as a salute not only to the chief but to the leading Shawanoes, Finley turned about and walked away in the forest. He felt an almost irresistible yearning to go over to Mabel Ashbridge and utter a few comforting words in her ear; but her own welfare prevented anything of that nature. Besides, she had laid her weary head down upon the bark and was sleeping as soundly as if resting on her mother's bosom. After leaving the Shawanoe camp, the missionary directed his steps toward the Ohio, where he had left his canoe. There was no call for secrecy in his movements, and he tramped through the bushes and undergrowth as a countryman would have done had he held no suspicion of danger. If he excelled in any direction, it was in making more of a racket than such a countryman. As he anticipated, he had not gone far when a familiar signal arrested him. He instantly paused, and the next moment Simon Kenton was at his side. "I seed you and The Panther talkin'," remarked the ranger, "and it struck me powerful hard that the varmint was saying something that must be of interest to me." "I was confident you were lurking among the trees not far off, and since Wa-on-mon sometimes spoke pretty loud, I fancied you would catch the drift of our conversation." "I couldn't catch 'nough to do that, but I am interested in it." "No one can be more so; I left the camp to hunt for you; do you know of that rock which lies just above the gulch, on this side of the river? It is a small flat rock, rising only a few inches above the water." "I know the spot as well as I do the one where the block-house stands." "Wa-on-mon has pledged himself to be there when the sun rises, and I have given him my pledge that you will not be behind him." "I'll be there!" said Kenton in a low voice, and with a deliberation that made his earnestness the more impressive. "It's the chance I've been huntin' for years." "The agreement is that each of you is to be armed only with his knife. No one is to be present--not even myself. If Wa-on-mon wins by slaying you, then Mr. Ashbridge's little child must die." "And if I win?" "I am to take her back to her parents unharmed." "You've said 'nough, parson; I'll be there." The missionary did not know whether to accept it as a good or bad omen that Kenton, contrary to The Panther, and contrary to his own habit, made no boast of what he would do upon meeting the chieftain. "No danger of his flunking, I hope, parson?" "Not the slightest; but, Simon, may I say one word?" "You may say a thousand." "I have arranged for two persons to meet in deadly combat. There is something dreadfully shocking in the idea, and in some respects it is most distressing to me--" "It ain't to me," interrupted Kenton, with a chuckle; "all I'm afeered of is that the varmint may find some excuse not to meet me." "I have assured you that there is no cause for any such fear. What it has been in my mind to say is that when you do meet, remember that a truly brave man is merciful." "I don't understand you, parson." "Perhaps it is better that I shall not attempt to explain, but, if possible, remember my words." "I think that to make sartin there's no slip on my part, I'll go to the rock now." "I'll go with you." It was a brief walk to the place fixed upon for the meeting, and both were so familiar with the ground, or rather the shore of the river (for it has been explained that the missionary knew little about Rattlesnake Gulch itself), that it required only a few minutes for them to proceed directly to the place. "I'll leave you here and return to Wa-on-mon," said Finley; "God be with you, and, if you can, remember what I said just now." Kenton returned his salutation, and without further words they separated. On his return to the Shawanoe camp the good man used extreme caution for a time, as though fearful of being detected by some of the warriors whom he was seeking. When certain at last that no human eye saw him, he knelt in the midst of the solemn wood, and poured out his soul in prayer to the only One who could aid him in his dire perplexity. He spent a long time alone and in communion with his Maker, and then, much strengthened in spirit, he pressed forward with the same openness as before, until once more he stood in the Shawanoe camp. Little change had taken place during his absence. Instead of most of the warriors walking about all were seated--some sleeping, but the majority awake and talking with each other. Little Mabel was still unconscious, but instead of reclining on the log she lay on the leaves close to the fallen tree, one chubby arm doubled under her cheek, her slumber as sweet and restful as if in her trundle-bed at home. Since it was not reasonable to think the little one had made this change of position herself, it must have been done by one of the Shawanoes. An odd suspicion came to the missionary that it had been done by The Panther, but he deemed it unwise to inquire, so the truth was never known. But nothing escaped the eye of Finley. He noticed the chieftain sitting apart talking with four warriors, and two of them were not in the camp when the missionary left it. They had come in while he was away. Most likely they were scouts that had been watching the movements of the pioneers on the other side of the river. It was fortunate if it was so, for they must have brought news that the fugitives had ceased any effort to reach the block-house, and were quietly waiting until the missionary or Kenton, or both, had returned with their tidings. Finley endeavored to approach near enough to the group to catch something that was said, but the chief and his warriors were too cunning to permit this. Not wishing to interrupt, he seated himself on the fallen tree to wait until Wa-on-mon was ready to talk to him. The chief did not keep him waiting. Leaving the warriors, he came over and sat down beside him, the moccasins of the savage so close to the curly head that a motion of a few inches would have touched it with his toe. The Panther did not glance at the little sleeper, and it would be unwarrantable to suppose that any feeling akin to pity glowed within that sinister breast, which burned and seethed with a quenchless hatred of the people that were trying to drive the red men from their hunting grounds. Nevertheless, Missionary Finley clung to the belief that it was Wa-on-mon that had lifted the child from her hard seat on the log and deposited her so gently upon the leaves that her slumber was not disturbed. "Has my brother seen the white hunter?" asked Wa-on-mon, speaking in a much lower tone than was used in the former interview. "He parted with him a short time ago." "Is his heart glad that Wa-on-mon will meet him?" "His heart flows with joy," replied Finley, with deep depression that such should be the truth, over the prospect of so shocking an event. "He will not run away?" "Did he do so yesterday?" was the stinging question of the missionary, which struck the Shawanoe hard; "he is so afraid he will not be at the rock in time that he has gone there to await the coming of Wa-on-mon; he is there now; Wa-on-mon will find him when he goes thither." "Wa-on-mon will be there when the sun rises from its bed; he will not keep the white hunter waiting." "And the pale-faces that have crossed to the other side of the river will tarry there till the missionary returns to them." "My brother speaks with a single tongue," remarked The Panther, thereby uttering another strong tribute to the integrity of his visitor. "Does he not always speak with a single tongue?" asked Finley, feeling warranted in pushing the chieftain, now that the all-important question had been settled. "He does," was the prompt response of the fiery sachem, who thereby plumply contradicted what he had said a short time before. This, in a certain sense, might have been gratifying to the missionary, had not his knowledge of Indian nature told him unerringly the cause of the exultant mood of The Panther. Simply, he was gratified at the prospect of meeting the white man in mortal combat, for he held not a shadow of doubt that the career of Kenton was already as good as ended. An hour or so, and the famous ranger would vex the red men no more. It has been made plain to the reader that the vicious miscreant was anything but a coward. The events that had since occurred fully justified his failure to meet Kenton upon the former acceptance of his challenge. "The man's confidence in himself is unbounded; he does not think it possible he can fail to overcome Simon. It will be a fearful struggle when they do meet, and I shudder at the thought. Can it be that Simon underestimates the prowess of Wa-on-mon? I hope not, and yet, I fear--I fear." Within the following hour a dim, growing light began showing in the eastern part of the heavens. Day was breaking. "Wa-on-mon goes to meet the white hunter," said the chieftain, much as a groom might have announced his going forth to greet his bride. He made no farewell to the other warriors. He had explained everything to them and nothing was to be added. His words were addressed to the missionary, who was so oppressed by the situation that he could make no response, excepting a silent nod of his head. "Wa-on-mon will soon return," added the exultant Shawanoe, as if determined that his visitor should speak. "How soon?" the latter forced himself to ask. "When the sun appears there," said The Panther, indicating a point, by extending his arm, which the orb would reach within an hour after rising. "Wa-on-mon will come back, bringing the scalp of the white hunter with him. If he is still absent when the sun is there, the missionary may take the hand of the captive and go back to his people. The Shawanoe warriors will not stand in his way." It would be vain to attempt to depict the anguish of the dreadful minutes that followed. Missionary Finley underwent a struggle that was the keenest agony he had ever known. Most of the warriors dropped off in slumber. Included with these were those who had been wounded, and who seemed to have the faculty of overcoming their sufferings to a remarkable degree. Three remained awake to attend the fire and guard the camp. Little Mabel Ashbridge slept on in blissful ignorance of the awful fate impending over her childish head. Only the good man himself suffered a torture beyond the power of words to describe. He glanced upward through the leaves continually. At the very moment the sun reached the point indicated by Wa-on-mon, the undergrowth parted and the chieftain himself strode forward. And as he did so the missionary saw on his countenance an expression that he had never noted before. _ |
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