Scouting Dave

Then strapping on his wallet, and looking at the priming of his rifle, Davy once more led the way forward.

The trail was broad, for no care had been taken to conceal it – the party having the prisoner in charge feeling no apprehension that any pursuit would take place. They were now obliged to proceed with the utmost caution, as their position was very unfavourable. A secure place having been selected as a rendezvous, Davy departed to reconnoiter the river. The hours dragged wearily away, but it was not till late in the afternoon that he returned. His easy and unconcerned manner at once quieted their anxious fears, while they gathered around, and impatiently inquired the cause of his delay.

“Wait till supper’s over, boys, and I hev time tew think. I’m jist a bit puzzled myself, this time.”

The pipes were at length exhausted, and after a long silence, the leader raised his eyes toward the sinking sun. Carelessly he remarked:

“Well, boys, there’s three or four hours afore ye can move, so the best use to make on’t is to lie down an’ sleep. Maybe a long while afore ye’ll find another sich place. I’ll keep watch, an’ see ’at no red-skins disturb ye.”

Thus admonished the young men threw themselves upon the ground. Although nothing was further from their thoughts than sleep, but a few minutes passed before both were buried in a refreshing slumber.

Davy regarded the sleepers attentively for a few moments, then turning away, he muttered:

“The boys are hevin’ a comfortable doze, so I’ll jist take a turn around, an’ see if all promises favourably. Blame me, though, if they don’t promise well for greenhorns. If they stick to this bisness they’ll make the toughest kind o’ scouts; maybe they’ll think sometime how they took their first lesson in Injin-craft of Davy Barring; maybe they will. I wonder how the red-skins would like the idee of leavin’ Davy behind ’em. Blame me, if I don’t think I kin work ’em some mischief, and these two boys with me. They’ll burn and murder to their hearts’ content, but can’t have it all their own way, jist yit.”

The worthy scout moved about in the direction of the party upon the river’s bank, till satisfied there was no danger to his confederates in that quarter; then he struck into the forest beyond. In an hour he returned. His companions were still sleeping soundly. With a quiet glance about him the hardy fellow sunk upon the ground, and lay for some time. A slight rustling at length aroused him, and looking around he saw that Charles had risen to his feet. Perceiving that David was awake, the young man approached, and inquired:

“How long before we set out?”

“The sooner the better; it is sufficiently dark.”

A beaming light broke over the face of the youth, for he was all impatience to be away.

“I am anxious to be off, that this fearful suspense may be at an end. It is dreadful to think of the position of that dear girl, thus dragged away – her father and brother inhumanly butchered, and all the suspense which must be hers!”

“Partly right and partly wrong! You must remember that now yer comparatively safe. We’re between tew bodies o’ the inemy, an’ when we move either way we go into danger. But rouse Alf, and we’ll off.”

The sleeper was awakened, rifles and pistols made ready for instant use, and soon the adventurers were quietly stealing through the forest. The direction they took was south-westerly, diverging from the course hitherto kept. The way was clear, and, by the dusky light, they could barely discern the form of the leader as he stole silently along in advance.

At length the scout seemed to proceed with more caution as the forest grew less dense. A few rods more, and like so many shadows they stood upon the banks of the Mississippi. For the first time the brothers felt how lonely was their position. Before them rolled the broad, silent waters, around them spread the wide, dark forest. Foes were upon every hand – savage, blood-thirsty, triumphant! Their friends – those who still lived – were flying from the rabble.

For a moment they stood thus, realizing the utter loneliness of their situation; then the scout whispered:

“You will keep shady here till I come down to you in a dug-out. If anything makes its appearance, keep the shadier. If ye hev tew fite, yew know how. These I’ll leave here” – depositing rifle, pistols, and powder-horn – “’cause I can’t use ’em. Now, be cautious as foxes and wise as weasels.”

With these words he left them – left them alone in the darkness.

David Barring had laid his plans with much deliberation. He had carefully noted the position of the canoes; and the disposition of the party left to guard them.

The rapid steps of the scout soon brought him to the vicinity of his swarthy foes. Now it became necessary for him to pursue his way with the utmost caution. For this purpose he crawled cautiously up until he reached a small eminence, which gave a distinct view of the scene below. A single large fire had been built, and around this at least half the savages were lazily reclining, smoking or eating. The remainder were scattered carelessly about, while the light of the fire revealed many a dusky form crouching in the boats.

The canoes had been drawn high up on the bank, while the larger boats had been left floating, being merely secured to the shore. There were many of the lighter craft floating also, and, so far as the keen eye of David could determine, the latter were unoccupied.

Even while the scout gazed he noticed that many of the savages were seeking their blankets for sleep, and he waited for a time in the hope that a general retiring might take place. In this he was not gratified; and, as delay might be dangerous, he carefully retreated, and moved away to the accomplishment of his design. Yet the cautiousness he was forced to observe required time, and it was a long while before he reached the margin of the stream.

At length he reached the uppermost of the flotilla, and beneath the deep shadow of a canoe he raised himself partially from the water, and drew a long breath of relief and pleasure. His heart gave a happy throb at his success.

The next task would be to select the proper boat. The one he grasped was too large for his purpose, the second too small. He dropped down till his hand rested upon the one he desired. He ran his hand and eye over it, felt the depth and capacity, assured himself no one was within, and at once pronounced it his own. Yet David was doomed to disappointment.

Cautiously moving near the middle of the boat, his foot struck something which a gentle pressure assured him was firm. Thinking it might be the ground, he rested upon it, and continued his onward movement. As ill-luck would have it, instead of stepping upon the river-bottom, the scout had planted his feet upon a large log, which had become partially imbedded there. He was not aware of the mistake until his foot slipped from the slimy wood, and, with a “plash,” he fell into the disturbed flood.

Quickly recovering his equilibrium, the swimmer glided from the spot, and reached the shadow of one of the large boats. Scarcely had he disappeared when a dusky visage might have been seen peering over the edge of a canoe near by. A single guttural exclamation soon brought half a dozen companions, who proceeded to a careful survey of the craft and water about.

Luckily the Indians were not deeply interested, merely supposing the disturbance caused by some aquatic animal, of which they sought traces only from idle curiosity. Finding nothing to reward their search, the savages seated themselves in the neighbouring boat, to await the reappearance of the nocturnal disturbant. A stealthy glance revealed to David the new position of his foes, and assured him that all further operations in that quarter were utterly impracticable.

It was a hundred yards or more to the further end of the flotilla, and, as attraction now tended this way, it was but reasonable to suppose he might succeed there. Sinking beneath the waters David swam a long distance, till compelled to come to the surface for air. He was gratified to find that he had passed more than half the distance, and was beyond the line of vision of the savages.

Striking out in an oblique direction he approached the boats. This time he moved with redoubled caution, and, as the deep shadow was in his favour, he soon selected a promising craft. In a few minutes he had cut the rope, towed it into the current, and was floating it gently downward.

No sooner was the scout satisfied of his security, than he threw himself into the boat, and groped about for the paddles. His heart gave a great leap – then stood still. He had no means of propelling or guiding his boat!

For a moment David was confounded; then his natural daring came to his aid. Leaping at once into the water, he gave the boat a vigorous push down the stream. Then he turned and paddled hastily toward the flotilla. Again he reached it unobserved, and selected a second boat, very similar to the other in size and construction.

Assuring himself that this contained the requisite number of paddles, he cut it loose and was soon drifting down the current as before.

It was not a pleasant thought to the brothers, that of their isolated condition and their peril, which would force itself upon them, after the departure of the scout. As time passed, and the possibility that he might have failed, even in his moment of confidence, would force itself upon them, they realized how much their fate was bound up in his – how very essential his welfare and success were to their own.

At length Alfred, who stood upon the brink of the river, earnestly listening for the approach of the scout, saw something which bore a resemblance to the expected boat. It was gliding gently along, and was quite near before he had discerned it. Satisfying himself as to its character, he addressed his brother. In a moment Charles was beside him.

“Look there?” whispered Alfred, pointing in the direction of the boat; “Davy is coming, at length.”

To their surprise, the object continued upon its course, and passed the point upon which they were standing. The young men looked at each other in mute surprise. Alfred was the first to speak.

“Can it be that he has mistaken the place where he left us?” he whispered.

Charles shook his head perplexedly.

In a moment more the strange object had passed from view.

“What does it mean?” asked the younger.

“It is all a mystery to me,” replied the other. “I am almost sure it can not be Davy. He would hardly have mistaken the rendezvous.”

“Indians?” suggested Alfred, in a tone which spoke more than the word itself implied.

“Hardly; though if it be so we shall soon hear from them. I could see no person in the craft, nor did its motions seem to indicate that it was loaded.”

“It can not be that the scout has been – ”

“Hist! Do not even mention that – it is too horrible for thought! Heaven only knows what our position would be, should harm come to him.”

Charles moved back to his former position, a few yards in the rear of his brother, to keep watch that no foe should steal upon them from that direction. The mind of each was filled with the most stirring apprehensions, and every moment they really expected to see their murderous foes stealing upon them, or hear their horrid yells.

Some minutes passed, when Alfred fancied he saw something move above them. His heart gave a great bound of joy, as he thought that the scout might be coming, and then a thrill of excitement passed over his frame, as he reflected that it might be their savage foes. He listened intently. This time the regular “dip” of paddles gave assurance that something of life was within the canoe. Signaling his brother, they silently awaited the approach of the floating object. They were not long in suspense.

The boat was quite near the shore, and heading directly toward the point upon which they stood. As it came nearer they could discern an upright figure, guiding it toward the land. In another moment it grated upon the sand, and David sprung out.

“Give me my tools,” he hastily exclaimed. “There’s not a minnit tew lose. I sarcumvented the devils, but they’re arter me; so be lively.”

He grasped his weapons as he spoke, and in another moment the three were seated in the boat. One vigorous push and it was afloat upon the dark waters.

“Lay her straight acrost the river,” exclaimed David, the Markleys having taken the oars to allow the taxed muscles of the scout to relax.

“Seems I didn’t git much start on ’em,” he added, “for they set up a yellin’ an’ started arter me with another boat. They gi’n me a race down the river, but that don’t matter – they can’t overhaul us!”

Bending his head over the side of the canoe, he listened intently. Suddenly he started up with energy.

“We don’t gain any,” he said, “but are holdin’ our own, good. Ladle the water with a will, boys, and we’ll weather ’em, for every stroke now counts one!”

The brothers realized the importance of their exertions, and, with ceaseless sweeps, sent the boat skimming forward. The scout was still leaning over the side, listening, when suddenly he started, as though struck by a rifle-shot.

“Hold up a moment; let me listen!” he remarked, in a tone of mingled impatience and alarm.

They obeyed. What sound was that which sent the blood back in cold streams to the hearts of the brothers? At no great distance in advance of them, could be heard the confused murmur of voices, and splashing of paddles? No wonder the scout’s cheek momentarily blanched, and his eyes seemed starting from the sockets, in the vain effort to penetrate the gloom. Much as the darkness obscured the vision, it was all that saved David Barring now.

Bending close to the brothers, and speaking in that calm tone which marked the man during seasons of greatest danger, he said:

“Turn her down-stream, boys, and row fer yer lives. We’re runnin’ square into a nest of the human hornets. Paddle lively; fer, if the moon rises, we’re goners – that’s all!”

The brothers comprehended only too well their peril to hesitate for a moment. The canoe was turned in the required direction; but, ere this was accomplished, they could distinctly hear the rapid approach of the Indian flotilla. So soon as the new direction was taken, they laboured with a determination which almost threw the craft from the water at each successive stroke; but a cruel fate was against them.

“It’s no use,” the scout at length whispered; “we can’t pass ’em in that way! All we kin dew, is to turn back, and run the resk of these red fiends behind us!”

It was a hazardous course, but the only one left open to the fugitives.

The result was highly fortunate for the adventurers. The pursuers had been guided only by the sound of oars, and, when these ceased to be heard distinctly, they paused, assured that the flotilla could not miss the refugees. Of course, the pursuers soon met the others, and instituted inquiries for the run-away boat. As no such object had been seen, the pursuers were placed in a suspicious light, and gladly turned to accompany their friends to the Illinois shore.

Meanwhile, Davy and his companions were making the most of every moment. Finding they were not likely to encounter the boat which had kept so closely in their wake, they bent every effort toward making good their escape. Almost before the party were aware of it, they shot in near the eastern shore of the river. Already the full light of the moon fell in gentle floods upon the water. The flotilla was thus fully revealed – every boat being brought out in dark outline upon the smooth surface of the river.

Considerable of the eastern side was shadow, rendered even darker by the gentle light falling around. In this broad belt of blackness our friends now lay, concealed from the sharp eyes of the approaching savages.

“I tell you, boys,” the scout observed, “if we’d run intew that neest, we’d stood a smart chance of havin’ our ha’r lifted afore this. It’s a lucky move we’ve made, this time, and now we’ll keep down in this ’ere shadder, till we git well out o’ their way.”

The party again bent themselves to their tasks, though panting and wearied, keeping the boat well within the deep shadow cast by the forest. They pulled silently down, until the scout, who had taken to the paddle, bent low, and peered across the river.

“Near’s I kin make out,” he remarked, “we’re about opposite one o’ the purtiest little hidin’-places that the good Lord ever made. Thar’s a little ’dentation, in the shore, what’s been washed out till it makes the neatest kind of a place. I kin hide a boat thare, so an Injin would step right over it forty times, an’ never think any thing was under him. If we kin git thare, ’twill be jist the place we want!”

The canoe was again turned across the Mississippi. The men it contained were still in the best of spirits, for, although they had met with trial and danger, it had only stimulated them to greater exertions.

As they reached the opposite shore, the scout ceased paddling, and motioned Charles to do the same.

“Blame me, if I kin hardly tell whar’ that place is,” he muttered, half perplexed. “It’s more’n two years since I had occasion tew use it, and may be ’twill bother me some to find it. But it may be of use to us, so I’ll ferret it out.”

They floated cautiously down for a few rods, when David uttered a quick exclamation of joy.

“There it is!”

“Can’t ye diskiver it?” he asked.

“I confess,” returned Charles, “that I should never suspect the existence of any hidden retreat here.”

The scout laughed, quietly.

“Nater made the place rayther secure,” he said; “and, if yer young eyes don’t suspect it, I guess there’s little danger o’ the red-skins spyin’ it out.”

Turning the head of the canoe shoreward, David carefully parted the bushes with his oar, and a dark retreat was revealed. With little effort, the canoe was pushed within the haven; the bushes closed behind them, effectually securing them from observation. Charles and Alfred glanced around, in the endeavour to discover the extent and surroundings of the place. The effort was futile. Overhanging masses of bushes shut out all rays of light, leaving the place clothed in deepest darkness.

The scout seemed perfectly at home. Turning the head of the canoe to the right, he gave a vigorous push, and, as the bottom of the boat struck the shore, grasped his rifle and leaped forth. As soon as the brothers could determine upon his whereabouts, they followed.

“Remove the paddles,” he said, cheerily, “and then we will attend to hidin’ the canoe!”

This was done, when the scout set about concealing the craft. Rocking it, until partially filled with water, he stepped into the river, and, with a strong motion, pushed it completely beneath the overhanging bank. It wedged in firmly, and, securing the oars, David once more stood upon the bank.

“I call this good fortin’!” he commenced, as they left the place. “We’re acrost the Missippy, the canoe stowed away, an’ nary a red the wiser for’t. To be sure, the wust is tew come! But most of the imps are acrost the river, an’ that’ll be a great ’vantage tew us. I know where Emily is – poor girl! We’ll git thar’ in good time, an’, when we do, we’ll make our presence known.”

“That we will!” exclaimed Charles, with enthusiasm. “But tell me, Davy, do you think Ashbey will be there soon? Do you think he will torture Emily with his detested presence before we can reach and save her?”

“I can’t tell,” the scout replied. “I hardly think he will cross the river ag’in for some days, unless he suspects where we’re gone tew. But we’re here fust, and kin ’tend tew him when he comes.”