The Frontier Angel: A Romance of Kentucky Rangers' Life

While Abbot was uttering these words, the renegade sat like a demon incarnate, his eyes blazing with the most baleful passion. His teeth were set and he drew his breath hard and gaspingly through them. He controlled this whirlwind of fury, in a measure, before Abbot had finished, and when he spoke it was in the low, frightful voice of suppressed passion.

"Richard Abbot, your daughter refused me, and I swore I would be revenged. I joined the Shawnees as Simon Girty and others did, but I kept watch upon your settlement. I found out that you was going to send her to this place in company with others. Then I cac'lated the time had come, and was only sorry that you wasn't there, too, that you could have been tomahawked, too! I found out when the boat started, and it was dogged till it reached the right spot, when we came down upon it. Don't ax me no more. I've had my revenge, and that's enough."

The stricken-hearted man sat as pale and silent as death while these burning words were being uttered. It was not his emotions alone that made him thus, but the mighty struggle it took to control them.

"Will you not tell me?" he asked, in a voice of wailing agony that it would have melted the heart of human.

"No; I'll tell you nothing!" fairly shouted McGable, glaring like a tiger upon him.

"Once more I ask you, McGable, and in the name of Heaven do not refuse me. Was Marian killed outright?"

"None your business," was the sullen reply.

Such a sudden dizziness came over Abbot at this point, that, for fear of fainting, he arose and hurried into the room which occupied the same floor, and which connected with the one in which he had been sitting. He hoped to return in a moment, and was so bewildered and overcome that he only thought of being alone till he could regain his self-command. It is said the Old Boy himself sometimes helps his favorites. Whether such is the the case we are not prepared to say; but what now took place is enough to make us skeptical, to say the least.

Most singularly it happened that just before Abbot withdrew, Dingle felt a sudden return of his sickness of the morning. It was so violent that his iron will could not resist it, and he staggered away for the same purpose of being alone; for, if our readers have noticed it, it is almost invariably the case that when a man, unaccustomed to sickness, is suddenly taken, his first wish is to be alone with himself. He felt, too, that perfect recklessness which is apt to come over us at such times, in regard to temporal matters, and had Dingle been admonished at this particular moment of his imprudence, his probable reply would have been that McGable might go to perdition for all he cared. Thus it happened that the terrible renegade was left with no guard at all except Jenkins.

Even then it might not have happened so unfortunately, had not the last-named individual taken it into his head to ascertain how matters were progressing inside. Being left without the companionship of Dingle, it was perfectly natural that he should take this means of passing away time.

"Hello! inside there, you, how you getting along?" he called out, poking his head in at the door. Receiving no reply, he shoved his head further in, and then made the discovery that the renegade was standing alone in the middle of the floor. "Hello! all alone, eh? what you thinking about? Your sins, I s'pose. Shouldn't wonder now if you did feel sorter down in the mouth."

"What do you want?" gruffly demanded McGable.

"Oh, nothing in particular. Dick has just gone off to see the doctor to get some medicine to take for the gripes he has just got, and I thought I'd look in to pass away time till he comes back."

"Where is he?" asked the man quickly, vainly striving to conceal his agitation.

"Just off here, a little ways. If you want to see him, I'll call him."

"Never mind."

"I s'pose now – umph!"

The last exclamation of Jenkins was perfectly involuntary, and caused by receiving a terrific blow from the foot of the renegade, directly in the stomach, which doubled him up like a jack-knife. As he gasped and rolled over upon the grass, McGable shot over his head like an arrow, and bounded away for the palisades. Nearly all the men were at the block-house, debating upon his fate, but several descried the flying fugitive, and shouted the alarm. An instant after he scaled the palisades, and Peterson and several other rangers sped across the clearing in pursuit. Dingle, who had nearly recovered, raised a regular war-whoop, and joined in the chase.

Late at night, several of the pursuers returned, moody and sullen with their ill success. In the morning, another made his appearance with the intelligence that Dingle and Peterson were still in rapid pursuit, but there was little hope of overtaking the renegade, as he possessed a wonderful fleetness of foot, and in all probability had given them the slip during the night.

So it proved. Some time after the two rangers returned and confirmed this suspicion. They had not even caught a glimpse of him after he crossed the clearing and entered the wood.

CHAPTER XII.

A MINGLING OF FEAR, DOUBT, AND HOPE

And so it happened that the terrible sentence, "He shall first be shot and then be burnt in the clearing and cast into the river," was never executed upon Tom McGable. The opportunity was never given.

The indignation at his escape could scarcely be repressed; but the version given by Jenkins so completely exculpated himself from blame, that he escaped entirely the shafts of indignation. There were some, it is true, who had their private opinion of this wonderful story; but, as there was no witness to disprove it, these opinions were unexpressed.

Jenkins affirmed that what first induced him to peep into the room was a strong smell of brimstone. Upon looking in, he saw McGable sitting astride of the devil, who was walking slowly toward the open door, holding a trident in one claw. Jenkins informed him that he was very sorry to oppose him, but nevertheless, he felt compelled by the stern dictates of duty to prevent his passage. At that, the father of all evil made a rush toward him, striking him in the breast with the trident, and grappling with him. They closed in with each other, and the struggle became fearful. Jenkins, securing the trident, used it as a "whip of scorpions," and was satisfied he gave some "strange horrors" with it. He believed he would have eventually triumphed, had he not been taken with one of his fainting fits at the critical moment. Victory thus secured, the arch-enemy galloped over his prostrate form, vanished in mid air, and left McGable skimming over the ground toward the sheltering wood.

More than one placed implicit faith in this story. Such is the superstition of the bravest of the brave – the border ranger!

But there was one thing which troubled the settlement more than the escape of the renegade: it was the fate of the Frontier Angel. There was no fear of what the Indians would do, for it was well known that a crazy or foolish person is regarded among them as one specially gifted by Manitou, and under no consideration will they venture to harm him; but it could hardly be expected that McGable would share in this superstition; and, now that his suspicions of the friendship of this being to the whites was resolved into an absolute certainty, some plan, it was rightly thought by the settlers, would be taken by him to close her lips forever. It was well known that there was no crime against the human race too great for the scoundrel to commit; and the weak, defenseless Frontier Angel, through the stupidity of the whites, would fall a victim to his vengeance.

"Freeze me to death, ef it shall be so!" exclaimed Dingle, who was discussing the subject with Peterson, the commander, and several others. "No, sir; ef that sperit is killed, her blood will be on us."

"If she is a spirit, she cannot be harmed by mortals," ventured Abbot.

"Wal, Tom McGable ain't a mortal; he's an infarnal imp."

"Whoever this strange being is, that you term Frontier Angel," remarked the commander, "it is evident to all that she is the firm friend of the whites. The timely warnings which she has so repeatedly given us, and, in fact, all the settlements along the Ohio, entitle her to their everlasting gratitude. If she is slain by McGable, as Dingle observes, the blood will be as much upon us. For it was ourselves who first told him she was our friend, and then allowed him to escape to do what he pleased with her. No, friends, it will never do. Some plan must be taken to warn her of her peril and afford her all the protection she will receive. Have you any plan?"

"Kill that renegade and then the matter will be set at rest," replied Peterson.

"That is easier said than done," remarked Mansfield. "If I may be allowed to give an opinion it is this: now that McGable has been convinced of our deadly enmity to him, and our anxiety to secure him, he will take particular care never to give us an opportunity. It will be only in battle where he will be likely to feel our will in regard to him. This Frontier Angel is still roaming through the forest, engaged in her truly angelic work of befriending the whites; and the plan that I propose is this: Let all the settlements which it is known she visits be notified of the whole circumstances, and instructed to warn her upon the first opportunity; and, besides this, let us all try to induce her to abandon the life she is leading, and to settle down and remain with us."

"Yes, do; tell her I'll marry her if she will," said Jenkins, all eager seriousness.

"Remember me and she is engaged," said Dingle.

"Didn't Mansfield just say you was going to get her to abandon savage life and become civilized; consequently, won't she have to leave you and come to me?"

"There, that will do," interrupted the commander. "The plan proposed by Mansfield strikes me as being the best, and I am in favor of adopting it at once."

"It's my opine it's the real thing," said Peterson. "What do you think, Dick?"

"It's the ticket, and h'yer's as moves we stop talkin' and go to workin'."

A short time longer was spent in consultation, when the following course was decided upon: Peterson was to go up the Ohio, and state the case at the different settlements, all the time seeking an interview with her, while Dingle and Mansfield were to range the vicinity of the Indian towns in the hope of meeting her.

This plan, with characteristic vigor, was acted upon at once, and in the afternoon of the day succeeding the escape of McGable, the three men were in the forest, seeking out the Frontier Angel. Dingle and Mansfield as said, took a northwest direction, toward the Shawnee towns, which they reached in due time. They remained in their neighborhood several days, and during that time gained one or two glimpses of McGable, but could see nothing of the being for whose benefit they came. At last they were satisfied she was not in them, and must either be in the Sciota valley, or engaged upon some errand of mercy or – had she already fallen a victim to revenge?

Some time after, Dingle and our hero were in the Sciota valley, carefully reconnoitering the Indian villages, but they obtained no further information, and were reluctantly compelled to the belief that she was either at the eastern settlements, or she had already been murdered by McGable. The latter, as Mansfield remarked, took such care of his person, that there was little hope of again obtaining possession of it. Several days were spent in the neighborhood, without further success, when they turned their faces homeward, convinced that they had done all that it was possible for them to do in this direction, although that all was nothing.

They reached the settlement and reported themselves, and then all waited anxiously for the return of Peterson. Before going out all knew the wishes of Abbot, and it was expected that something definite would be gained of the fate of poor Marian.

It was a week before Peterson came in; but, when he did come, he had a report to give that thrilled every heart in the settlement. At the first village he reached, he was told the Frontier Angel had left there that morning, and that her manner was so wild and strange as to induce the settlers to use everything except force, to retain her. From her rambling, incoherent manner, and several remarks she made, they gathered that her life had already been attempted by McGable, and that the memory and thoughts of it made her act so singularly.

From this settlement, he went on to the next, but she had not been seen here for several weeks. Having been instructed to visit all of the frontier villages, Peterson did so, but learnt nothing more of her. From this he supposed that, if not in the Shawnee towns, she could be at no great distance from the settlement first mentioned. Accordingly, he spent several days searching the woods and streams in the hope of obtaining some trace of her. He failed to find her, but was discovered himself by her.

He had lain down one afternoon to rest himself, and was just falling into a doze, when he was startled to his feet by her suddenly appearing before him.

"Are you looking for me?" she asked.

"Yes; but, confound it, how did you know it?"

"Do you, too, seek my life?" she asked, gazing at him with the most painful anguish and terror depicted in her face.

"No; I wouldn't hurt you for ten hundred thousand million pounds in British money. I'm looking for you to tell you, you must keep your eyes peeled, 'cause there's sunkthin' in the wind."