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Camp-fire and Wigwam, a novel by Edward Sylvester Ellis |
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Chapter 11. Through The Forest |
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_ CHAPTER XI. THROUGH THE FOREST Jack Carleton occasionally gave his eyes fitful rest by holding them closed for a few moments, but the tantalizing visions did not leave him even then. His arm became so painfully cramped under his head that he was compelled to shift his position; and he seized the occasion to readjust his limbs, which were also becoming wearied because of the long time he had held them motionless. He was prudent enough, however, to give the whole movement the seeming of a natural action done in sleep. He flung himself about for a few seconds, and then rolled back almost in the same posture, apparently resuming his heavy slumber. But through the half closed eyelids, on which the dull glow of the camp-fire fell, he was peering at the faint outlines of the figure against the oak. He was sure Ogallah would start and rise to his feet, ready to check any steps on the part of the captive looking toward flight. But not the slightest stir was made, and the astonished lad, with a painful throb of his heart, said to himself: "He is asleep! Now is my chance!" It seemed to be too good to be true, and yet it certainly had that appearance. For some time past, Jack had known from the regular breathing of the figures near him that the couples wrapped up in their blankets were unconscious. Certainly there could be no doubt about the one who had been burned by the spark of fire, for he snored amain, like the "seven sleepers." It is at such times that one's senses are wonderfully acute, and Jack Carleton not only saw but heard with unusual keenness. With his ear close to, but not touching the ground, he distinctly caught a rippling sound in the streamlet which flowed so near. The fact that he heard it was proof that it was caused by some "foreign interference," since it was entirely different from the slight rippling noise along the banks. The first thought of Jack was that it was Deerfoot come to his rescue, and he could not but think how completely he would be master of the situation, should he suddenly rise to his feet in front of Ogallah and give him to understand he was not to move or speak; but a second thought destroyed the hope. It was exceedingly improbable that the young Shawanoe was within a score of miles, but while it was possible that he might be hunting somewhere in the forest, it was incredible that he would have betrayed his presence near camp in the manner named. Jack had barely reached this correct conclusion, when, peering at the figure of Ogallah, as it was faintly shown, he caught the gleam of the eyes of a wild beast just beyond, and in a direct line with the chief. The eyes were large, round and quite close together, with that phosphorescent, flickering glow often shown by animals when the light is faint. "_That_ will settle the question whether Ogallah is asleep or not," said the boy, watching with an intensity of interest which cannot be described. Whatever the nature of the animal, he was evidently on a reconnaissance, and had no purpose of venturing closer until satisfied the path was clear to do so. It must have been that he cared very little one way or the other, for while the two orbs were glaring upon Jack, they vanished with a suddenness that suggested that some one had seized his tail and flung him back into the gloom from which he first emerged. It was incredible, too, that the chief should have sat quiet and motionless with a wild beast so near him, unless he was asleep, but the possibility of being mistaken after all, kept Jack from stirring for fully a half hour longer. The time seemed much later than it really was, when the boy rose on his elbow and hesitated, while he looked intently around and listened for the slightest sound. He glanced right and left at the figures shrouded in the blankets, but they might have been so many dead men. He could barely discern their outlines in the gloom, for the fire was slowly, but steadily, sinking. Several times he had asked himself whether it would not be wise to wait until it died out altogether, but he was too strongly convinced that the night was nearly gone, and he would need every minute in which to widen the distance between him and his pursuers. "No," he murmured, "it won't do to wait another second." He was on one knee, with his hand pressing the ground, when the largest stick on the fire burned in two in the middle, and the larger portion rolled back and in front of the chief. The disturbance caused it to flare up for the moment with a glare which revealed the figure of Ogallah more distinctly than at any time since he had taken his position. Jack Carleton paused in his painful movement and became like a figure cut in marble, staring straight at the warrior brought into such unexpected prominence. As he did so, he saw that Ogallah was not only wide awake, but had turned his head, and was looking straight at him. The cunning fellow had not slept a wink from the moment he took his singular position. He had noted the wolf which ventured close enough to take a peep into camp, but, well aware that there was no danger, and convinced also that his captive was awaiting the chance to steal away, he held himself as rigid as iron until such an attempt should be made. Poor Jack almost fainted in a collapse of despair. He saw that his captors had trifled with him from the beginning, and with a sigh of utter wretchedness, he dropped back on the ground, feeling that it was worse than useless for him to expect or hope to outwit those cunning children of the forest. Reaction followed, and the lad speedily sank into a deep slumber which lasted until the sun had risen and the party had broken camp and were ready to resume their journey. Even then it was necessary for Ogallah to thrust his moccasin against him before he opened his eyes and stared confusedly around. The sight of the warriors who stood ready to move, recalled Jack to his hapless situation. He rubbed his eyes, and sprang to his feet, and walking to the streamlet lay down, took a draught of the cool, refreshing water in which he bathed his face, wiping it off with his handkerchief, and then turned about to signify that he awaited orders. He wondered that no signs of breakfast were to be seen, and at first suspected that his captors had partaken while he slept, but afterward concluded that like all their people they were anything but regular in their meals, especially when on the tramp. Without any ceremony, the journey was taken up, Ogallah again walking at the head, with the other four at the rear of the boy. They adopted their favorite custom of walking in Indian file, each warrior stepping in the tracks of the one in front. Jack was wise enough to adhere to the practice, so that had any one sought to follow the party, he would have noted but the single trail, though a skilled red or white man would have been quick to discover the precise number of the company. "We have traveled a good many miles since yesterday noon," thought Jack, "and it must be that we are not far from the Indian village. If that is so, it won't do for me to make any other attempt to run away. Ogallah knows I am anxious to go, for he saw me try it twice, and he will take good care that I don't try it again." Still, while taking this sensible view of the matter, Jack Carleton compressed his lips with the resolution that he would not throw away a single chance. If it should prove that many miles still lay before them and that several nights were to be spent on the road, he meant to do his utmost to give his captors the slip. The journey assumed the most monotonous character. It was simply tramp, tramp, without the least rest or variation. Jack was sure he had never seen such sameness in the forest, lasting mile after mile. There were the towering trees, their leafy branches interlocked overhead, the same array of shaggy columns of bark, spreading limbs and sparse undergrowth. Sometimes Ogallah would step so rapidly that a branch which he brushed from his path would swing back and switch the lad in the face, and once or twice a running vine would be uprooted by a vigorous fling or kick of the foot. But all this time the squat figure of the chief advanced like a machine. Jack noticed the swing of the muscular arms, the play of the legs and the occasional slight turning or ducking of the head. The straggling black hair, with the painted eagle feathers drooping like the plume of a lady's hat, the blanket slung loosely over the shoulders, the fringed hunting shirt and leggings, the faded moccasins, so soft that they spread out of all manner of shape when the weight of the body rested on them:--all these and much more were impressed upon the mind of the boy with a distinctness that he was certain would last him all through life. "My gracious!" thought he, "they have come from a long distance; what could have taken them down near Martinsville and so near the Mississippi? I wonder whether it is possible the tribes who live on this side the river ever cross over to look at the country on the other shore. It would not be strange if they did so, but it don't seem like an Indian to do that sort of thing. Can it be these warriors have their hunting grounds away out toward the Rocky Mountains? If so, I shall have a fine time in finding my way back home." The youth did not allow himself to consider the possibility that he would never have the chance to attempt the journey. The shuddering fear which first took hold of him was gone. Closely as the captors guarded him, he was persuaded they meant to inflict no personal harm--at least while on their way through the woods. It was a serious question indeed as to what would be his treatment after reaching the Indian settlement. The American race is cruel, treacherous, and revengeful, and though the red men frequently hold prisoners for months and years, they more frequently subject them to torture and death. It will be understood, therefore, why Jack Carleton was so anxious to make his escape from the party before they could arrive home. Present discomforts often drive away future horrors, and, by the time the sun was overhead, Jack gave his principal thought to one thing--the question of food. He was a-hungered, and viewed with a mental groan the prospect of keeping on the march until sunset, before securing anything to eat. "I have gone a full day many a time without food," he said, as he tramped along, "but it seems to me I never was as ravenous as now. I believe I could eat a pair of boiled moccasins, that is, if they had never been in use." He was ashamed of his weakness, and resolutely refrained from giving any evidence of his suffering, but when he detected the pale green foliage of the fragrant birch, he ventured to step out of the trail, break off a branch and chew the bark, thus securing temporary relief from the gnawing discomfort. High noon came, but no halt had been made. The lad had left the trail several times, and the warriors themselves were more careless about their own footsteps, but seemed to have no desire to partake of food. The first shock of surprise came when the party suddenly emerged from the woods and paused on the bank of a deep, swift stream, fully a hundred yards wide. The current, like the smaller one, was yellow and roiled, and the boy looked upon it with a feeling akin to dismay. Recalling the indignity to which he had been subjected earlier in the day, he dreaded trusting himself in the water again. "_This_ time they may take it into their heads to drown me," was his thought. But his nerves were not subjected to the trial. Nothing showed more clearly the wonderful woodcraft of the Indians than the fact that, after journeying many long leagues through the wilderness, without the slightest trail to guide them, they struck the stream within a hundred yards of the point at which they aimed from the first. This was proven by the action of the warriors themselves. After talking together for a few minutes, two of them walked a short distance up the bank and drew a large canoe from under the shore, where they had left it when journeying in the other direction. _ |
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