THE
SKELETON SCOUT;
OR,
THE BORDER BLOCK.
BY MAJOR LEWIS W. CARSON,
AUTHOR OF THE FOLLOWING POCKET NOVELS:
17. Ben, the Trapper.
22. Indian Jo, the Guide.
NEW YORK:
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by
FRANK STARR & CO.,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
THE SKELETON SCOUT;
OR,
THE BORDER BLOCK.
CHAPTER I.
A YANKEE ON A LOG.
The scene opens upon one of those great rivers of the West, in the country which Tecumseh claimed and fought for so gallantly. The forest was at rest, save only the songs of birds and the splash of the fish leaping in the river. A thicket of bushes which bordered the path down to the water, was suddenly pushed aside and a grim face peered out, a face rendered doubly fierce by its war-paint, for it was that of an Indian of Tecumseh's noble race.
Satisfying himself that no one was in sight, the Indian rose slowly, stalked out into the path, and took his course toward the river.
Another and another followed, until ten had come into view, gliding in silence down the forest-path.
Each savage was naked save the breech-cloth and moccasins. Only the man who first showed himself, was differently dressed. He was a tall, stately warrior, bearing upon his naked breast the totem of his tribe painted in bright colors, and wearing upon his dark hair the plumed head-dress of a chief.
Each Indian carried a rifle of the most approved make in the English service, together with the inevitable scalping-knife and tomahawk.
Not one of them spoke, but followed their chief's cautious steps down to the water's edge, where, sheltering themselves behind the bushes, they peered across the stream.
It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was already out of sight behind the tree-tops on the western shore. But, not upon the glories of nature did the eyes of those fierce-visaged sons of the forest rest. What then?
Upon the other shore, close to the river, stood a log cabin of the largest size, with heavy walls and doors, calculated to resist any ordinary attack. The fields around it were green with varied crops, for it was now near the end of summer.
A strong wall of logs, hewn smooth, and leaving no chance to a climber, surrounded the house. It was plain that the builder, whoever he might be, was fully awake to the dangerous position he occupied in the midst of the Indian country, but that he did not apprehend any immediate attack was apparent, for his huge stockade gates were off the hinges and leaning against the walls on either side.
The Indians lay under cover of the bushes, their gleaming eyes riveted upon their expected prize, but they made no movement, for they beheld a man standing upon the point which stretched out into the stream, a rifle in his hand, pacing up and down as if on guard.
As they gazed a strange sight greeted their astonished vision. Something was coming down the river in mid stream. It seemed to be a man, seated in a canoe.
The current swept him rapidly downward, and, as the nondescript craft came near, they saw a man seated astride of a log, keeping its head down the current by the aid of a flat stick which he held in his hand. As he neared the stockade he began to paddle vigorously, and whirled the head of the log more toward the shore. By this time the watcher on the point had run down to the water's edge, and the click of a rifle-lock sounded.
"Ahoy, there!" he shouted.
"Hello!" replied the man on the log. "How de dew?"
"Hadn't you better come ashore?" said the sentry, persuasively, pointing his rifle.
"Seeing it's yew, I donno but I had," replied the navigator, coolly. "Yew seem mighty pressing, somehow."
"I'd like to persuade you to come ashore," replied the sentry, with a laugh.
"Ain't I coming?" growled the man on the log. "Yew needn't put on sech style over me, I guess! I ain't said nothing tew yew, I judge. Don't be sech a 'tarnal fool tew keep p'inting that weepin at me. It might go off."
"It will go off, if you don't come ashore, sir," replied the sentry. "Hurry up!"
The Yankee—there could be no mistake as to his nationality—turned the head of the log toward the shore, and as it struck the land, began to rise slowly from the water. The sentry kept up his attitude of command so long as his Yankee friend showed only the ordinary amount of bone and muscle, but his eyes opened as foot after foot rose from the water, and the Yankee stood six feet seven in his stockings! A queer looking specimen of the genus homo he was, such as, for the good of the race, nature rarely framed. In breadth of shoulder and girth of body he was no larger than men of ordinary size, and this added to his imposing hight. His face, which did not show a particle of beard, was round, good-natured and smiling, furnished with a mouth of mighty breadth, and a nose curved like the beak of an eagle. His arms were of extraordinary length, even for so tall a man, reaching nearly to the knee. His hair was of a flaming yellow.
He was dressed in a dirty shirt of homespun, which never had known any other cleansing since first put on than that it received from the clouds or streams. A black leathern belt was strapped about his waist, but it bore no more deadly weapon than an ordinary knife. His feet were covered by moccasins rudely made and tied with buck-skin strings. Upon his head he wore a cap of beaver-skin, mangy and worn bare in spots, giving him a far from prepossessing appearance. A certain whimsical, devil-may-care air marked the fellow, which was irresistible, and the sentry laughed aloud, as the long stranger faced him on the beach. The sentry was a young man in the dress of a rifleman, with the bar of a captain on his shoulders. He was a stout-built, handsome fellow, and looked with an air of commingled amusement and astonishment, at the lofty proportions of the new-comer.
"You are a nice specimen of a prize-baby," he said, running his eyes up the long, lank body.
"Yaas, yaas! My mother always said I was a sweet little infant!" replied the Yankee. "How's all the folks?"
"Oh, they are in good health. I hope you left your own family in a good state of preservation, my long friend."
"My fam'ly allers travel with me," said the stranger. "Thar ain't so many of us so't we kin afford to sep'rate. Got a right neat little place here, ain't yew? Sort o' like the looks of it myself."
"What were you doing on that log?" demanded the sentry.
"Lord love yew, I thought you knew that! I was riding."
"Any fool knows that," replied the young man, roughly.
"Then what made yew ask me, if yew know'd it so well?" demanded the Yankee, indignantly. "Yew git eout! kan' a feller-being take a ride if he wants tew?"
"Certainly."
"Waal, I was a-coming down the river, and I thought I'd ruther ride than walk, so I took to the water. But look a here, darn and blast sech contrary logs as that thar. I've bin pitched neck and crop inter the water four times in the last five miles, and darn my ear ef this ain't the trewest thing I've said this good while. I got along a darned sight better when I could get my foot on the bottom and steer that way. Yes I did."
"How far have you come?"
"I dunno nothing 'bout distances in these dangerous woods. It might have bin ten miles an' it might have bin twenty, I dunno."
"Do you travel without arms?"
"Not by a darned sight, I don't! What dew yew call them things?"
He stretched out a pair of arms nearly as long as an ordinary man's leg.
"Pshaw! I mean have you no weapons."
"Got a jack-knife," replied the Yankee, coolly.
"Is that all?"
"Ain't it enough? Thunder! yew don't want a man tew be a walking armory, dew yew?"
"You are an odd chicken. Perhaps you won't object to giving me your name?"
"No, thank yew, I don't like to give away my name. I dunno whether I could git a better one."
"What is your name?"
"Oh; yew want me tew tell my name. Waal, try Seth Spink, and see how that will work. I'm the all-firedest man yew ever did see. I've traveled from St. Louis tew Bostin, and from Oswego tew New Yorleans. Thar ain't no place on this created hemisphere where I ain't set my foot. Yaas," he continued, "I've rode alligators in the bayous of Louisiana and it make it more lively for a man, 'cause he has to keep jerking up his legs to keep the young alligators from chawin' 'em off."
"There; that lets you out," said the young captain. "Now I'll return your confidence. This is one of the outposts of the fur company, and my father's house at the same time. His name is Matthew Floyd. My name is William Floyd, and I have the honor to be a captain in the rifles, upon the staff of Governor Harrison."
"Glad tew meet yew, William," said the Yankee, extending a hand looking like a side of mutton. "Shake."
"Confound your impudence," said the staff officer. "It passes all belief. But come into the house and get something to eat, although I am afraid that long body will breed a famine."
"Don't yew believe it! yew give me a little hog or tew and a small beef-critter for supper, and I won't complain. I like a light meal, I dew."
"A small hog or two and a beef-critter? Do you mean to eat the provisions of the entire garrison at a single meal?"
"'Tain't much of a garrison that don't eat no more nor that! All right; then bring me a loaf of bread and a ham, and I'll show you how tew eat."
Captain Floyd laughed, and led the way into the house through the open gate of the stockade. The Yankee had picked up a stick on the bank and was whittling away dexterously, whistling in the minor clef, but keeping his eyes about him nevertheless. He shook his head when he saw the gates off the hinges, and muttered to himself. Floyd turned upon him quickly.
"What are you growling about there? Let me know at once."
"Git eout! Waal, if yew must know, I was thinking what a darned good pertection a gate is to a house when it's off the hinges, standing ag'in' the wall."
"You are inclined to be sarcastic, and are more observing than I gave you credit for. To tell the truth up to this time we have been in no danger. The Shawnees have been friendly, and Tecumseh himself has eaten in our house. The Prophet was here only last week."
"Who?"
"The Prophet; the brother of Tecumseh, who has built a town upon the upper Wabash near Tippecanoe."
"I dunno much about it, but it seems to me I did hear summers that that Prophet is a treacherous old cuss," said Seth.
"I have heard the same, but he appeared very friendly."
The Yankee said nothing more, and they entered the house. A girl, who was reading near a window, rose to receive them, looking surprised as she saw the stranger.
"Cousin Madge," said Floyd, in a bantering tone, "let me introduce to you an errant knight who has wandered from the paternal castle even to the banks of the Wabash. His ancestral name is Spink."
"How can you, Will?" said Madge, laughing. "I am sure Mr. Spink is very welcome."
She was very beautiful—a strange flower to bloom in the wilderness. She was not the daughter of Matthew Floyd by blood, but the child of a dear friend, Herbert Carlysle, who had long ago gone down into the valley of the shadow, leaving her to his care. And when the hour of trial came to her adopted father, she followed him boldly, to make a new home and fortune upon the prairies of the far west. She was, as we introduce her, a young girl, with hair banded back from a lofty brow, and rolled in great braids upon her regal head; a face a little browned by exposure to the sun, but very beautiful. She came forward immediately and greeted the Yankee with cordial ease and grace, and he looked down on her with a broad smile.
"A strange place tew bring sech a gal as this, Capting Floyd," he said. "The towns would be the safest place fur her, now."
"She will not leave my father," said Floyd. "If we could have our way she would not be here. Madge, our friend is hungry. Will you go to Phillis and ask her to get him something to eat? She probably will not do it unless you speak coaxingly to her, for a more obstinate old woman never breathed."
"W'at?" exclaimed a voice. "Who you's talking 'bout, mass' Will? You t'ink cause you's white dat dis chile gwine ter lay down so dat you can tramp on her, but she ain't; no sah! I's a nigger, but Goramity he med me black hese own self, an' all de water in Egypt can't wash me white, nohow."
"Now Phillis—" said Will.
"Oh, hold you hush, do, mass' Will! You gwine 'bout to mek mischief, dat's w'at you's gwine to do! You s'pose I gwine to dirty all my dish for dis low-lived Yankee truck, gwine 'bout in de woods like a roarin' lion for to come for to go fur to eat ebbery t'ing? How we give him 'nough to eat, a great long shadder?"
Phillis had come up unobserved while they were talking, and stood in the doorway when Will made that allusion to her native obstinacy. She was a ponderous female, weighing very nearly three hundred pounds, being built on the model of the redoubtable Wouter Van Twiller, of famous memory, who was five feet six inches high, and six feet five inches in circumference. She held in one hand a dishcloth, and in the other a frying-pan which she had been washing when curiosity called her to the door.
"There's a sight to wake the finer feelings of our natur'," said the Yankee, looking at the negress with a grin. "A good fat, healthy female like that is a credit to human natur', she is, by Jehosaphat. She makes me think of my maternal grandmother, only the old lady had the misfortune to be white, more the pity! 'Cause the good Book teaches us thar was a good chaince of black men in Scripter times. Now, my grandmother—"
"See yer," said the old housekeeper, "you's git inter trouble one of dese days, ef you fool roun' dis chile. G'way, g'way, you's makin' mischief! Oh, gosh all to pieces, you gwine stan' dar and poke fun at me all de time? Berry well; wait till I gub you any t'ing to eat, dats all!"
"But, aunty—" said Madge, coaxingly. "How can you act so?"
"Dar, dar, chile! 'Tain't dat I valley cookin' de leastest bit, it do mek me powerful mad when dey pokes fun at me."
"Did the old lady think I was funnin'?" said the Yankee, with a solemn face. "I wa'n't, now that's a fact. My grandmother was a bu'ster, now you'd better believe! Why, ef you was to put her on one end of a beam, and this old lady on the other, you'd see this old lady fly like a bird in the air. She wouldn't weigh a feather alongside of my old lady, that gal wouldn't."
"Tole 'em I wa'n't so drefful fat," said Phillis, considerably mollified. "But, dey won't none ob 'em beliebe me, nohow. Dar; I's go an' see w'at I kin pick up for de gemman. Would you like some venison?"
"Yaas."
"Or mebbe veal would suit ye better?"
"I ain't partic'lar. I'll taste 'em both. Ef ye've got some pickles handy, throw a bushel or two on the table with a couple of hams, and two or three loaves of bread. Any thing will dew for a lunch."
Phillis looked at him very much as she would have looked at a dangerous maniac unfit to go at large, and went slowly out into the kitchen, the floor shaking under her ponderous tread. The next moment a storm of vituperation directed at the heads of her satellites, announced that she was at work, and a savory smell was wafted to their nostrils. Seth pricked up his ears like the war-horse "that smelleth the battle afar off," and waited. When the table was set, he marched in and gave Phillis a grand exemplification of the power of a good appetite. Pone bread in huge masses leaped down his capacious maw. Slice after slice of venison followed, washed down by various cups of coffee. Phillis, appalled at his appreciation of her cookery, watched with uplifted hands, and finally fled to Will Floyd in dismay.
"You git dat wolf outer dis house jus' as quick as you kin! He stay har one week an' he eat us out ob house an' home."
CHAPTER II.
WILLIMACK, THE WYANDOT.
By the time the Yankee had finished his repast, night had come on, and he came hurrying out of the kitchen, with his mouth full of venison steak, and ran to the window.
"How many dew yew reckon in this post, boss?" he said, turning to the young soldier.
"Myself, my father, two soldiers of the rifles, and two black boys."
"Yaas. Now let me ask yew a little question. Does it look like common sense for yew tew keep yure gates off the hinges?"
"To tell you the truth, I have some doubts myself, but the Prophet seemed to think it showed confidence in the Indians on the Wabash to leave the gates open, and it was more to please him than any thing else that we did it."
"The Prophet? Now, see here, capting; I ain't bin but a little while in this kentry, but I know what the Shawnee Prophet is. He's a treacherous old fox. He's got some plot ag'in' the people of this section, and I know it, sartin sure! Jest see the raft of villains he's got round him up thar on the Wabash. Kickapoos, Winnebagoes, Micmacs, Shawnees, and the Old Scratch knows what other nations—the riff-raff and off-scourings of the tribes. They're nice fellers to live nigh, ain't they?"
"I have often thought them dangerous," said Floyd. "But what can we do?"
"Yew kan put up yure gates, anyhow. And say; hadn't yew better call in yure men, ef yew've got any outlyin', 'cause it's gittin' dark."
"I think you are right," said Floyd.
He took down a horn, and going to the door, took a long breath and blew a gallant blast, which echoed far and wide through the depths of the forest. Shortly after, the tramp of coming feet could be heard, and there emerged from the woods behind the house four men advancing at a hurried pace. As they entered the stockade the Yankee saw that two of them were common soldiers of the American army, one an Indian of the Shawnee nation, and the fourth an old man with white hair. The Yankee swung himself up on the head of a cask standing within the stockade, and, taking out a piece of pigtail tobacco, twisted off a mighty "chaw," and sat there, rolling the sweet morsel under his tongue.
"What made you so late, father?" said young Floyd, advancing.
"Willimack got puzzled in regard to the path, and if we had not heard your horn, I do not know how long we might have stumbled about in the darkness."
The Yankee uttered a long whistle and thrust his tongue into his cheek. The sound drew the attention of the old man to him, and he scanned him curiously.
"Who is this?" he said.
"A traveler, who has stopped here for shelter," replied the young man, coming forward. "What did you mean by that whistle, Spink?"
"Sho, now! Don't be so blasted inquisitive. I wouldn't, anyhow. I'll tell yew by an by; but, the fust thing yew dew is to put up them gates, do ye hear?"
The Indian had been standing just within the gates, and, as he heard the voice of the stranger, he cast a quick glance in his direction, and his hand stole to the handle of his hatchet. But, the Yankee sat upon the cask, beating time with his heels upon the sides, and muttering to himself. The Indian stalked gravely to his side, and looked fiercely into his face. The savage was a rather good-looking brave of the Wyandot tribe, whose powerful limbs, strong shoulders, and muscular hands gave promise of great strength. The down-easter endured his fixed gaze for the space of three minutes without moving a muscle of his set face, until the savage spoke.
"Who is this?" he said. "Dare you come here to sing an evil song in the ears of my father with the gray hair, to make him distrust his brethren of the Shawnees and Wyandots?"
"Oh, git eout! Who said any thing tew yew? The most cantankerous Injin I ever see in all my born days."
"You laugh at Willimack, the chief? Why should my father put up his strong gates?"
"'Cause he's a man of sense, I guess. Now, don't rile up, Injin, don't! 'Tain't that I care any thing about yew, understand, but I sort o' hate to see things go this way. Willimack, they call you?"
"Willimack is my name."
"All right. Been guiding this party on a prospecting tour, so tew speak?"
"We have been exploring," said the elder Floyd.
"See any Injin signs?" asked Seth.
"A great many," replied the old man. "What of that? The Indians are friendly now."
"Glad to hear it, 'cause I didn't know it. So this man Willimack lost his way?"
"Yes."
"Youngster," said the Yankee, leaping off the barrel, "you come here a minnit. I want tew speak with yew."
Young Floyd went with the Yankee aside, followed by the suspicious glances of the savage, who would have gone aside with them, but Floyd signed to him sternly to keep back, and he obeyed, chafing inwardly.
"Look here," said Spink, when they were out of ear-shot. "They say we Yankees are a little gumptious, an' I guess we be, but, it don't need much smartness tew see threw his gilding. That Injin is a Wyandot, and knows every foot of the soil along the Wabash, and yit he loses his way! Now, does that sound nat'ral? I only ask yew fair."
"It does look strange."
"Then put up yure gate. I won't tell yew why, but it'll be better for yew. Now I'll tell yew how tew prove Willimack, cuss him! Go out an' offer tew put up the gates, and yew see ef he don't huff and want tew hurry away."
"Let him go."
"Umph! No; don't dew any thing of the kind. Keep him all night, by all means."
"For what purpose?"
"Never mind. Yew will find eout, afore morning. Oh, blame my cats ef it ain't hard tew git any thing threw yew! Why don't yew go an' put up them cussed gates?"
"I will do it," said the young man, turning back quickly. "Here, Forbes, Lefebre! I want you to help me put up these gates."
Willimack started and turned upon the young man almost fiercely, for his eyes burned like glowing coals. The young soldier looked at him in surprise.
"Let my young brother pause before he puts his hands to something for which he will be sorry," said the Wyandot. "He has trusted the great tribe, and they have never deceived him, then why should he do wrong to them now? Let the gates rest. There is nothing to fear from the Shawnees and Wyandots."
"The Indians have no right to be angry if we close our doors," replied Floyd. "There are good warriors as well as bad, and some of these wicked ones might chance to pass by."
"Then the chiefs of the Shawnee would punish them," said Willimack.
"That would be but little help to us, you understand," said Floyd, "after they had taken our scalps. No, I think I will close the gates."
"Don't let him waste time talkin'. Shet 'em up now!"
"Ha, dog of the long back," screamed Willimack, "do you come to make a bad heart between the Indians and their white friends? Willimack will drink your blood."
"Ah, no yew won't," replied long Seth, with admirable composure, thrusting his hands into his pockets, and looking keenly at the savage. "Yew ain't so dry as that comes tew. Shet them gates, darn yew! I tell yew not tew lose time!"
Willimack suddenly drew his hatchet and rushed at the imperturbable Yankee, who did not even take his hands from his pockets, but, when the Indian came within reach, planted his moccasined foot in the region of the knife-belt, with a force which sent the Wyandot flying against the side of the stockade, half stunned. The elder Floyd would have helped him up, but Spink demanded of him angrily to desist, and help them to raise the gates, while the negro boys brought out the heavy bars and had them ready to drop into their places. Just as they were about to raise the first gate to its place, the Indian staggered to his feet, and turned to go away.
"Farewell, men of the bad heart," he said. "A deep sorrow has come upon the heart of Willimack. His soul is very sad, because the brother with the gray hair has turned against him."
"Oh, hush up, yew," said the Yankee, releasing his hold on the gate, "and git intew yure corner ag'in."
"No," said Willimack, "I will stay no longer in the place where I have been insulted."
"Yew won't, eh?"
"No; Willimack will go."
"I differ; Willimack will stay. Yew ain't goin' tew git eout and call yure comrades up here afore we git the gates in shape. Don't yew b'lieve it!"
"I really think you are too fast, my friend," said the elder Floyd. "The Indians have always treated me well."
"I don't care a darn how they've treated yew. That Injin ain't goin' out of this gate till it's hung; and if yew take my advice, yew'll keep him till morning, 'cause I b'lieve my soul he's got comrades outlying in them bushes."
"I will go!" screamed Willimack. "Who will stay the course of the chief of the Wyandots?"
"This identical cuss. Yew offer tew go eout of this gate, and I'll give yew a back-hander that will make yew forgit yure parents. Now yew bet yure boots on that."
Willimack was no coward, and made a rush at the immovable figure of the Yankee, knife in hand.
For the first time the ire of Seth Spink seemed to be fully aroused, and, rushing at the chief with a snarl like that of a wild beast, he caught him by the wrist, and, giving it a wrench, shook the weapon from his grasp. Then, seizing him by the shoulders, he lifted him from the ground, shook him as a terrier shakes a cat, and dashed him to the earth with stunning force.
"Bring ropes here!" he hissed. "The devil is in this condemned skunk, bigger than a woodchuck."
Will Floyd threw him some pieces of buck-skin, with which he bound the feet of the savage, and then sprung up to work upon the gate.
"Work, ye devils, work!" he shouted, applying his Herculean strength to the huge door. "Up with her, quick! How a man of yure understanding could take them gates off the hinges I don't know."
"We thought it would please the savages," said the elder Floyd. "I am afraid we are doing wrong."
"Ef yew don't sing another song in less than an hour, then I'm a nigger. Heave with a will, boys; no time to lose. It's the mercy of God that yure son blew that horn for yew tew-night, mister, or Willimack would have led yew into an ambush."
"I can hardly believe that, sir," said the old man.
"Can't yew? Take hold of that gate there. Lift away! What's that? Somebody give the son of a tinker a belt in the mouth."
Willimack, lying upon his back, had begun a succession of fearful yells, intended to hasten the movements of his friends. He was answered by a cry so close at hand that the people of the stockade were appalled by the closeness of their enemies. They worked away with desperate zeal, and with a cry of delight felt the door swing to its place and dropped the heavy bars before it. Long Seth turned in a fury upon the Indian.
"Yew ought to have yure coat tails filled chock full of boots—old boots, big boots, heavy boots, long boots, and moccasins tew match. Ef I had my way, yew'd git it, tew. Ah, yew pizen critter!"
As he spoke, they heard the sound of rushing feet, and the first of the savage band who had been lying upon the other bank of the stream, and who had crossed at dusk, rushed up against the gate and uttered loud cries of disappointment as they found it strongly barred against them. The signal of Willimack had come somewhat sooner than they expected; indeed, they had been waiting for him to lead Floyd and his soldiers into their ambush, and they were sorely disappointed when they heard his voice within the stockade. Nevertheless, they expected an easy prey, for they did not know that the acute Yankee had taken measures to have the gates put up. He answered their yells of disappointed rage by wild laughter.
"Haw! haw! haw! Didn't expect that, did yew? Now what dew yew say abeout the gates, mister?"
"I say that you have saved our lives, and we thank you," replied the old man. "I was foolish to trust a proverbially treacherous race. What do you think they will do now?"
"Kan't say," replied the Yankee. "Try tew gammon us, mebbe. It would be jest like 'em, by gosh. Neow I'm green, I allow; I'm awful green, that's a petrified trewth. But, I dew think Seth Spink is ekal in p'int of intellect to any Shawnee on the footstool, saving one man."
"And that man?"
"Tecumseh," replied Seth, shortly. "Now look here: We c'u'd hev had the good will of that man ef we was a mind tew, but we wouldn't hev it. Neow let me tell yew that he ain't no fool, the sachem ain't. Thar's wuss Ginerals in our army, tew. Let it go; we've made a mistake, and he's our inimy, I'm sorry tew say. These chaps want tew speak tew yew."
The Indians were pounding at the door of the stockade, and calling to the Floyds, under the names by which they were known to the Indians, to come out and speak to them.
"I will answer them," said Captain William. "In the mean time, load all the rifles and get out a supply of ammunition. I believe they mean to make the assault to-night, though how a dozen Indians mean to beat half that number of whites behind a strong stockade, I can not tell."
He stepped to a loophole and looked out. The warriors were grouped carelessly about the large gates, striking them with their hatchets, and making all the noise they could.
"What do you want here?" demanded Will. "Are the night-owls flying low to-night?"
"The warriors of the Shawnees would rest to-night under the roof of the Gray Hair," replied one of the braves. "Let him open his great gates, that we may enter."
"Let my brothers seek other shelter to-night," answered young Floyd. "A bird has sung in my ears to-day, warning me that the Shawnees and white men must not sleep under the same roof to-night. Shawnee braves are not children; let them rest under the bending boughs, and may they sleep well."
"Hugh!" cried the spokesman. "Does the young war-chief refuse a place under his roof to his friends?"
"We do not want any visitors to-night," replied the young man, firmly.
A chorus of angry cries arose, in the midst of which the Yankee sprung to the young man's side and whispered in his ear. He nodded gravely, and called out to the Shawnees to be silent. A hush fell upon them and he spoke again:
"I know that the Shawnees have come with malice in their hearts, and would have slain us if the gates had not been barred. Let them go back as they came, for if a single Shawnee is in sight when morning breaks, Willimack shall die."
"Would you slay the great chief of the Wyandots, the beloved of the Prophet?"
"Yes, and he deserves death a hundred times for his treachery."
"Willimack is the friend of the white man," replied the outside speaker.
"Yes, of the English," replied Seth.
"Dog of a Yengee!" shrieked a voice close at hand, "Willimack, chief of the Wyandots, laughs you to scorn."
The Yankee whirled quickly, and saw Willimack free from his bonds, standing upon the summit of the stockade. The next moment he waved his hand in derision and was gone.
CHAPTER III.
THE SKELETON SCOUT.
To their utter surprise, the Yankee ran madly toward the high wall of the stockade, and, leaping upward, clung like a cat to the top. It seemed hardly possible that so heavy a person could display such agility, and certainly no one in the stockade would have thought Long Seth capable of it, but for the way in which he had handled the Indian. He hung a moment upon the edge of the stockade, and then, drawing himself up by a strong muscular action, looked over. Then, waving his hand toward the occupants, he slid over the outside and dropped to the earth. No sound indicated that the savages had heard him, for they remained pounding at the gate, uttering wild threats against the Floyds if they did not open.
Somewhat surprised at the desertion of the Yankee, Will Floyd made no answer until the harsh voice of Willimack came to his ears.
"Hark to my words," shouted the chief. "You have disgraced Willimack, a chief of the mighty tribe. Dogs could not be used worse than you have treated him. I am not a fool and I will have revenge."
"Leave the gates," replied Floyd, angrily, "or my men shall fire."
"Let them fire at us if they will," replied the chief. "We will enter the big wigwam. I will eat the heart of the man who shook me, and kicked me with his foot."
"I tell you to go away!" said Will Floyd. "I have no desire to quarrel with you, but if you try to break in here it is your own fault if you get hurt."
The only reply was the crash of axes against the heavy gate, and the young man saw that they were determined upon making a persistent effort to break in. Bringing forward a short ladder which was lying near the wall of the house, he ran up to the top of the wall and fired his pistol at the Indians below, and knew by the cry of rage which went up that he had not missed his mark.
This determined course roused the ire of the savages and they began to bring up poles to climb the walls, full of hatred of the men inside. Will shouted to his men and they brought their ladders—for they had one for each defender, and the walls were manned. The number of savages was not great enough for an assault; yet they fought with determination. They climbed like cats up the sides of the wooden fort only to be beaten back by the defenders. Each soldier, besides his rifle, had a hatchet and a pair of pistols, and so armed, they were more than a match for the Shawnees, who retreated to a little distance, out of reach of the rifles, where they halted and seemed to consult for a moment.
Just then came a horrible yell, and, to the utter terror of the Indians, there bounded from a thicket near at hand a fearful creature calculated to strike terror to the stoutest heart. To the white men looking on from the wall, there was something supernatural in this strange appearance flaming out in the darkness. Two blazing eyes gleamed in its forehead, emitting lurid flashes as it bounded on. In hight it was nearly seven feet, and the head was that of a skeleton, grinning and ghastly!
The Indians saw that terrible creature coming down upon them, and, with wild cries of dread, they broke and ran in every direction, some seeking safety on the river and others running up the bank. Will Floyd beheld the figure seize upon a flying savage and drag him shrieking to the earth; then a great silence fell upon the scene. All was dark outside; the Indians were gone, and, in the place where the fiery figure gleamed a moment before, nothing was to be seen. Soon after the sound of hurrying feet was heard, and the Yankee came climbing over the rear of the stockade, evidently terrified nearly out of his senses.
"Did you see it?" he cried. "Oh, holy Moses! I never was so skeered in all my born days! Whew; I'm out of breath!"
"What did you leave us for?"
"Wanted to ketch that Injin. I couldn't, though; he run so like the devil. Then I calculated I'd git round in the rear and give 'em a shot, an then holler as ef a hundred sojers was in the woods, when, Jehosaphat! up got that b'ilin'-hot Image, with his fiery eyes, and skeered the life out of them Injins, and me too, I guess."
The Yankee sat down on a log and panted for breath.
"Did you see it closely?" said Floyd.
"Close as I want tew, darn it! This beats my fust wife's relations all tew pieces. Whew! I thought I were a goner."
The men looked at each other in surprise. What was this strange being, that came and went like a shadow, leaving no trace behind? Will Floyd was not naturally superstitious, and yet he could not account for this apparition in any natural way. Long Seth evidently was as much puzzled, and looked from one to the other in ludicrous dismay. The black boys, who also had seen the specter, stood with chattering teeth and a sort of ashy gray color in their faces. Nature had made it impossible for their hair to stand up straight or it would surely have done so, then.
"Hi, you Pomp," said one, "see dat ar' t'ing, dat time?"
"Iss, Dick; I seen him, an I so skeered I dunno w'at I's gwine ter do. Oh goodness gracious!"
"Dat's de debbil, Pomp. Dat's juss de Ole Harry, heself, an' notting else. We's gone chiles dese times."
"That's trew," said Seth, glad of an opportunity to pass his dread onto some one else. "And I have hern tell that the old 'un is partial to black fellows. Mebbe 'tain't trew; I ain't enuff 'quainted with the Old Boy to speak sartin, but I've good reason to believe that he duz like 'em."
"Sho, now, you!" roared Pomp, raising one leg in agony. "Git along dar! w'at you a-tryin' to do, say? De old debbil likes a Yankee. Eberybody knows he likes a Yankee."
"I don't think it," said Seth, as if revolving the subject in his mind. "May be jest as yew say, but, I think they'd make it tew lively fur the old man down thar. They'd trade him out of his throne, sartin! They ar' all-fired hands at a dicker, yew know, and they'd beat him, sartin! So I guess Yankees are pooty safe. Not too safe, yew understand, but pooty safe, pooty safe. I don't reckon they'll trouble us a great deal, nohow. Guess we'd better git a light an' go out an' try them cussed Injins, and see what's likely to be done."
"Maybe they are hiding somewhere," said Will Floyd. "If they are, it would not be safe to go out."
"Waal, ef I'm any judge, they ain't hiding anywhar on this side the river," rejoined Seth. "I hern 'em jump intew the water, an' swim as ef the devil was chasin' 'em clust. Yew see they're mighty feared of the devil, and ef that wa'n't him, then I dunno what it was. Old Satan on a scout, shure!"
"Did you ever hear of this figure before?"
"Yaas," said Spink. "When I was in old man Harrison's camp they said something 'bout it and they called it the Skeleton Scout."
"The Skeleton Scout!"
"That's the name. 'Tain't a purty name, nyther. Not by no manner of means. It makes me shake all over when I think the pesky critter is round here, though I must own he has an all-fired good way of cleaning out red-skins. Git a lantern or a torch."
Will went into the house for a lantern, and when he came back Seth took it from his hand and gave it to Black Dick.
"Here, boy, take that and go out and look around to see if any of the red niggers are hiding anywhere."
"Me, massa?"
"Yaas, yew! Who else do yew s'pose I mean? Come, don't keep us a-waiting. Why don't yew git?"
"But, mars' I dunno w'edder I likes to go out dar. Plenty Injin out dar, I t'inks. How we ebber fine 'em?"
"Oh, go 'long! That's what we want tew find out, whether they are or not. Ef they should be, why then they'll shoot at yew, and we'll hear 'em."
"S'pose dey hits Dick?" said the negro.
"Why then, Dick will holler like all possessed, and put back ef he kin. Ef he kain't, then we'll bury the sed Dick with the honors of war."
"See yer, marse Yankee, you t'ink I ain't a fool, I ain't. I's gwine ter stay yer."
"Then mebbe Pomp would like to go, seeing he ain't a coward? Come, Pomp; distinguish yerself and laugh at Dick."
"Don't tink's I keer 'bout it, marse," replied Pomp. "Dick good fren' ob mine. What I wants to laugh at he for?"
Long Seth laughed, and taking a pistol from the belt of one of the soldiers, led the way into the open air. An Indian lay under the wall, and the Yankee stumbled over him. Seth held the light closer and saw that the savage had a broken leg.
"Got a knife, boss?" he said, speaking to Will Floyd.
"Certainly I have."
"Stick this man and come along. I'd dew it myself only I've got both hands full."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't want tew save the red nigger, dew yew?"
"I will not allow him to be killed," replied the young soldier.
The Yankee straightened his long back, and looked at the young man as if taken completely aback by this speech. "Not kill a red-skin? Not stick him when yew've got him? By the mortal, ef this ain't pizen. Not—good gracious, yew raise my dander mortal bad! What yew goin' tew dew with the critter then, if I may ask 'thout giving offense?"
"Take him into the stockade, cure him of his wound if possible, and—"
"Give him yure skulp when he gits strong enuff tew take it! That's right! Keep up the repitation of the fam'ly, by all means! Waal, I won't say no more. Come along, yew! But, if the time don't come when yew jest ez live stick an Injin as eat a b'iled potater, then ther ain't no snakes in Kentuck'."
They hurried on to the place where the Skeleton Scout had been seen; the grass was bent and trodden down, and, further on, an Indian was lying on his face, dead. Floyd turned him over, and saw that it was a Winnebago, a desperate villain, who had been suspected of the murder of a white family, years before, but escaped through insufficient evidence. However, innocent or guilty, he had met his fate at last.
"How was he killed?" said Floyd. "I don't see any blood."
They examined him closely, but not a mark could be found upon the body to show how he had died. Dead he certainly was, and the stiffened muscles told that he had not died easily. The puzzled look again came into the face of Seth Spink.
"Now, don't this beat all natur'?" he ejaculated. "We'll hev tew believe pooty soon that the Skileton Scout is a skileton, arter all. Leastways he don't leave no marks upon his victims."
"It is strange indeed," replied Captain Floyd. "Hold the lantern close, will you? There must be a mark on him somewhere."
A still closer search failed to elicit any further information. The Indian was dead, but how? He had not been choked, for the face of a man who dies in that way always shows unmistakable signs of strangulation. His neck was not broken, as Floyd began to believe, and not a drop of blood was visible upon his person.
Yankee Seth stood holding the lantern, and looking down upon the face of the dead Indian, while his young companion was searching him. A slight noise, so slight that Floyd did not notice it, but Seth heard it, yet did not turn his head or show that he was aroused. Looking covertly toward the spot he saw a dark object extended upon the earth, not ten feet away, and caught the gleam of a rifle-barrel. Giving his companion a sudden push which sent him rolling to the earth, Long Seth bounded four feet into the air just as a rifle cracked, and came down uninjured upon the back of a prowling savage, who, hiding in the bushes, had crept up unobserved.
As Will Floyd started to his feet, confused and angry, a terrific struggle was going on upon the grass a few feet away. Seth found his enemy, whoever it was, "no chicken," to use his own expression, and his powerful muscles were tried to the utmost.
Will Floyd darted forward, but the lantern had gone out and he dared not strike in the darkness, fearing that he might wound his friend. Then, two figures rose; there was a muttered curse, and a heavy blow or two, and the sound of hurrying feet succeeded, followed immediately by a splash in the water, and Seth came back, furiously angry.
"He got away, the cussed sneak," he said. "He'd 'a' cooked yure goose or mine in another minnit. Lucky I saw him."
"Why did you push me down?" cried Floyd, angrily.
"Did it jest tew be mean, young'un," said the Yankee, indolently. "Did it a-purpuss. Yure head was rite in a line with a rifle-barrill, and like ez not yew'd 'a' got hurt if yew'd 'a' stood up half a second longer. 'Tain't no matter."
"I beg your pardon, Spink," said Will, frankly. "I was so confused by your sudden action that I really did not know what to do or say. So you pushed me down because the rifle was aimed at me?"
"Sorter think I did! There; don't say nothin' 'bout it. Let's git back tew the stockade. 'Tain't edzackly safe tew stay here now; these critters mout come back, yew know, and a shot from a bush ain't what I hanker arter."
The rifle-shot had been heard, and Captain Floyd, with one of the soldiers, was hurrying out to meet them. He expressed his satisfaction at their safety, and listened eagerly to their explanations.
"The day of safety is over, then," he said. "All my endeavors to make friends with the savages have been of no avail. What had we better do, Mr. Spink? You seem to understand the Indians better than I do, after all."
"Any one is likely tew git fooled," replied the Vermonter. "Yew can't bet a cent on an Injin. Mout be friendly tew yer face while he was stealing out a knife tew take yure skulp. I'm sorry the gal is here; she ort tew be in the village."
"We can take her there."
"'Tain't safe. The road is full of red-skins. I tell yew that the Prophet—darned little profit we'll make eout of it—is up, and his cussid black-and-tan tribe are with him. 'Twon't be many days afore the woods will be full of the pizen heathen. My advice ain't much, but, if I was yew, I'd send one of the men tew Guvnor Harrison for reinforcements, and stay here til they cum."
"You think that the safest plan?"
"It's the only one I think of. Willimack 'll be on the watch, and yew kain't git eout. Give the man that goes a canoe and send him down-stream. I'll go with him and show the way."
"Who shall go?"
"I," replied Will, promptly.
"I am afraid we can not spare you, William," said the captain. "Let Forbes go."
"One more or less won't make no manner of difference," said Seth. "I think the young 'un is in the right of it, and I'll pilot him till I think he's safe. Look out sharp, night and day, till we come back. Now, young 'un!"
There was no time for long partings. Will ran into the house to bid Madge good-by, and came back with traces of emotion on his face. Then, pressing his father's hand, he followed the erect figure of Seth Spink out into the gloom.
CHAPTER IV.
A NIGHT OF PERIL.
The darkness was intense, but the Yankee moved on like a man who knew the ground well, toward the spot where the canoes were hauled up on the shore. They selected a light one, and the young soldier found a paddle and would have taken his place as paddler, but the other took it from his hand, and stationed himself in that place himself.
The canoe shot out into the darkness at once, and was headed down the river, gliding in between the green banks, the paddle dipping in the bright water without a sound! Nothing but long practice could have enabled any man to use a paddle so dexterously. On they floated down the tranquil stream in the darkness, while nothing but the cry of the loon and other night-birds disturbed the solemn stillness of the scene. Once Captain Will began to speak, but the guide laid his hand upon his knee with a low "Hist!" Floyd took the hint and was silent. He began to understand that the danger must be great, or the sagacious Yankee would not work so cautiously. He also began to feel a sort of respect for the knowledge of woodcraft which he saw that the strange man possessed, a great trait in a borderman.
After paddling on for nearly an hour, without making the slightest noise, the head of the canoe was turned toward the shore at a place where the overhanging bushes almost touched the water. Parting these bushes with great caution, Seth pushed the canoe past them, and showed an open space between the bushes and the bank deep enough for the canoe to lie in, without being seen from the bank above.
"Yew stay right here, cap.," whispered the Yankee. "I'm going on a scout."
"Had not you better let me go with you?" queried the young man.
"Yew! Kin yew walk like yew was steppin' on feathers, and hold yure breath an hour? Dew yew know every inch of ground atween this and Harrison's camp? and kin yew set down 'thout breaking a stick? Ther's a deal tew learn 'fore yew make a good scout."
"I know it. Perhaps I had better stay here then."
"Waal, prehaps yew had," said the Yankee. "Gimme that hatchet. All right; now lay low and keep dark. If yew hear the painter call three times, that's me."
So silently did he move away, that Will hardly knew when he went. Lying down in the canoe, which was kept in its place by the bushes which hung low on all sides, the young man waited anxiously for the coming of his friend. An hour passed, and there came no sound to indicate the whereabouts of his strange guide. He was about to give him up, and had almost concluded to take the paddle and attempt to escape in his own way, when he heard light footsteps on the bank above. Thinking that it was Seth Spink, and that he was returning with less caution than he showed in moving away, he was about to rise and meet him, when he heard a deep voice on the bank above, which was not that of the Yankee.
"Willimack?" it said.
"I am here, great chief," replied a voice which he well knew. "What would the Prophet say to his brother chief?"
"You have done wrong, Wyandot," said the other. "You have opened the eyes of the white men, and if the young war-chief gets safe to Vincennes, we can no longer throw dust in the eyes of Harrison. This was not well."
"Willimack would have had the scalps of all, but for the tall warrior who came on the log. He opened the eyes of Floyd, and he saw blood in the eyes of the Wyandot."
"Who is the tall warrior?"
"My brother has seen him many times at Vincennes. His hair is yellow as the rays of the setting sun, and his form tall as a pine. He is very strong and bold. Who is there in the Wyandot nation, unless it be Tecumseh, who can overthrow Willimack, the Wyandot?"
"The Long Man is very strong," said the other. "He is cunning as the red fox. But, he is on the river, and my brothers above and below will give a good account of him if he try to escape."