Chapter XII: Winding Up the Web

Let us now return to the scout and his companions, and see how it has fared with them since we parted company at the spot where Dick had dealt the blows which delivered his friends from the savages.

The reader will remember that they had turned their backs upon this place; and had set out to endeavor to find the other trail in the moonlight, in the hopes of following it on, and overtaking Rushing Water before he could reach the Indian village with his captive.

But that they had not succeeded in coming up with them, the reader already knows, for he has seen what passed in the lodge after they had gained it.

Aided by the moonlight, Dick had struck the trail without much difficulty, and they had followed on, as fast as they could under the circumstances.

But the chief and his companions were so far in advance that they stood no show of coming up with them.

In fact the night was far gone when they drew near the Indian village.

Long before they reached this point, the scout had become satisfied that they were too late, and that if they accomplished their object they had got to do it under more difficulties than had yet beset them.

They had got to penetrate into the very lodge of Rushing Water, which stood perhaps in the very heart of the village.

There would not be time to accomplish this to-night, even if it could be done successfully.

They must lie quiet somewhere in the depth of the forest and wait until the darkness of another night.

They followed the trail almost to the verge of the village, so impatient were his companions to rescue Ruth if the thing lay in their power; and then convinced that it did not, in the remaining hours of that night at least, they were ready to comply with what the scout had to propose.

This was that they should retire back from the village for something like a mile and lie through the day in some darksome covert, where there would be little likelihood of their being discovered by the savages.

This plan was now carried into effect and by the time the day had fairly broke they were snugly ensconced in their hiding-place.

The sun rose above the tree-tops, giving promise of a beautiful day, and over and over again did they wish that Ruth was with them that they might be hurrying toward a place of safety instead of lying idly there.

Fears that she would never be restored to them oppressed the heart of the mother. The chief had her now securely in his power and how were they ever to tear her from his clutches?

It seemed impossible to her that so few of them could do it.

Yet they were determined to accomplish the task before them, or lose their lives in the attempt.

The scout knew that it could not be done by mere strength of arms alone; but more than once had he accomplished his ends by outwitting the savages and he meant to succeed in this way now.

Slowly the minutes went on and higher and higher the sun rose up into the cloudless sky.

Suddenly the sound of a footstep struck upon the watchful ear of the scout.

Glancing hastily out from their hiding-place, he saw a savage slowly advancing toward the spot where they lay.

He did not seem to be seeking for any trail; but his head was bowed and his eyes fixed upon the earth as though some grave subject occupied his mind.

Sam Wilson’s gaze fell upon him a moment after, and as it did so he gave a great start.

“It is Rushing Water,” he exclaimed in surprise. “Where is Ruth? What could he have done with her?”

“You are right,” exclaimed the scout in a whisper. “It is the chief himself. Now, boys, he must not leave us alive; but we must get him into our hands unharmed, if the thing can be done. When he is close to us we must spring out upon him. If we can get hold on him we are all right. Stand by me, and I guess there is enough of us here to match any savage that ever burned a cabin.”

Slowly the savage came on, apparently in deep thought, and unconscious of all that was passing around him. They could see a look upon his face that told something pained and troubled him.

Nearer and nearer he came, and at last the instant arrived for them to act.

Noiselessly they crept forth from their hiding-place and approached their intended victim.

Had he raised his eyes he must have seen them, but he did not.

With a spring like that of a panther the scout bounded upon him, and his enemies followed his example.

The struggle was a short one.

With the odds against him, and taken thus by surprise, the chief could make but slight resistance.

In a minute’s time he was thrown to the earth and his hands and feet firmly secured with strong thongs which the scout produced from about his person.

Not a word did the scout utter until this was accomplished, and the wily savage lay a helpless prisoner before them.

Then with his knife held menacingly above his breast, the scout demanded, while the rest of the party with eager looks gathered about them:

“Where is the pale-face maiden? Speak! and let your words be true ones, or you die at once.”

“Rushing Water is not afraid to die. The words of the Death-Dealer can not frighten him. He will speak the same as though they were not sounding in his ears. The Death-Dealer is a great warrior, but the chief is not a squaw that he should be afraid of his words.”

Mrs. Wilson knelt down by his side and cried, appealingly:

“Where is my daughter? Tell me that she is unharmed, and restore her again to my arms, and no harm shall come to you. Only give her back to us, and we will forgive you the loss of our home, and all else that you have done to us.”

“The pale-face mother can not have her child again. The chief has not the power to give her again into her arms if he would. The Great Spirit has called her home.”

“Oh, Heaven!” cried the agonized mother. “You do not mean to say that she is dead? that you have killed her?”

Ned Tapley drew his knife, and with a face as pale as death, would have sprung forward and plunged it into the heart of the savage, had not the strong arm of the scout held him back.

“Let him speak, youngster,” he said. “If he has harmed so much as a hair of her head, we will have vengeance.”

“The white maiden did not die by my hand,” said the chief, calmly. “The Great Spirit himself called her home. When the daylight came, she lay upon her couch as white and cold as the snow of winter. The Great Spirit himself knows that Rushing Water harmed her not.”

A wail of agony broke from the lips of the parents, and Mrs. Wilson staggered and would have fallen to the earth had not her husband supported her.

“But you killed her as surely as though your hand had plunged a knife into her heart, and for this you shall die!” cried Ned, as he made another effort to deal the helpless savage a blow with his knife. But this he was again prevented from doing by the scout, who exclaimed:

“But where is the white maiden lying now? We would look upon her, that we may know that your words are not lying ones.”

“The form of the White Rose lies in the cavern of the great Medicine, beneath the rocks. Rushing Water has carried her there to see if she can not be brought back to life.”

“I know the spot,” cried the scout. “Let us go there at once, and see whether this red-skin is lying or not. He’s bound so securely that he cannot escape us, and we shall find him here when we come back. Let him live till then, that we may know how to deal with him. If by his means Ruth has died, a dozen deaths would not be enough for him.”

Ned was the last to assent to this. He was fearful that in some way the chief might escape him. But he agreed to it at last, after he had seen the savage gagged, so that it was impossible for him to call any one to his assistance.

With hearts oppressed by sorrow and grief they hurried away toward the dwelling-place of the Wizard. Arrived there, they found that his brute sentinel had given notice of their approach, and that he was standing in his accustomed place to receive them.

His astonishment was great when he saw who his visitors were, and their errand he divined at once, before the scout could open his lips.

“The pale-faces have come for the white maiden,” he said. “It is well. The Medicine is glad to see them. When the sun is half-way home in the sky, she shall go with them.”

A cry of joy and gladness broke from the lips of all.

“Thank God! my child is then alive,” cried Mrs. Wilson, in a tone of joyous thankfulness.

“The white maiden lives, but her strength has not come back to her yet. But let the pale-faces enter so that the eyes of the red-men may not see them. Then the Medicine will tell them all.”

They followed him into a sort of outer cavern, which was partly illuminated by a small fire that was burning in one corner. Another passage led further into the rocks, but thither they were forbidden to go. A panther sat therein as though to guard the mysteries that lay beyond, and who growled savagely at this unwonted intrusion, while perched upon a projecting point of rock over his head was a huge owl who looked down upon them with his great staring eyes, and who ruffled its feathers as though it, too, did not like the appearance of the strangers.

At a word from the Wizard, his companions were mute and motionless; and then he turned toward a couch in one corner, which, owing to the darkness, they had not perceived until this moment.

Stretched thereon was the form of Ruth, and no sooner did Mrs. Wilson behold it, than she sprung forward and clasped it in her arms.

“Ruth, my Ruth!” she cried. “Speak to me.”

“Mother,” said the girl, faintly. “Oh, I am so glad that you have come,” and she twined her arms about her neck.

Each one of the party now presented themselves, and a scene of joyous greeting followed that our pen can not describe.

“How is this?” demanded the scout, turning upon the Wizard. “With my own ears I heard you promise the Indian girl that little Ruth here should die, should Rushing Water bring her to his lodge.”

“And so she has to them,” answered the Wizard. “I worked for the good of my people and that of the pale-faces at the same time. I knew that the red-men wanted not the chief to take a pale-face for a bride; but he was so set upon it that he would have his own will. I prepared a potion for her, that I knew would make her seem as though the Great Spirit had called her home. Nekomis, the old woman that cares for the lodge of the chief, gave it to her, and then called upon him to look upon his dead bride. He was well-nigh stricken with grief, and came for me to try to restore her to life. I had her brought hither, and when he had gone, not to return until the morrow, I gave her another potion which restored her to life. In a little while she will be as strong as ever again, and then you must fly with her, before the chief comes.”

“Jerusalem! I guess that won’t be till somebody lets him loose,” exclaimed the Yankee, who had been staring about him with all his eyes, and who for a wonder had maintained silence until this.

“What does the pale-face mean?” demanded the Wizard. “The white warriors have not harmed him?”

In a few words the scout told him of the condition in which they had left the chief, and then added, that he desired the Wizard to set him free when it could be done in safety to themselves.

“The white warriors have done well,” he said. “The Medicine will see to him. The white maiden shall be as dead to him, and by and by he will wed with Minora, the Red Rose of the tribe, and happiness will come to his lodge again.”

“Wal, I swan you’ve got a long head on yer shoulders,” exclaimed the Yankee. “You’ve planned matters pretty shrewd, I’ll be darned if you ain’t. But, say, how’ll you trade that owl of your’n for some of the notions in my pack? I should like to have him stuffed, and kerry him home as a sort of trophy of this ’ere scrape.”

This proposition for a trade, on the part of Peleg, the Wizard declined, and he now turned his attention to the further recovery of Ruth; and so successful was he that in a couple of hours her strength was in a great measure restored to her, and she declared that she was able to commence her homeward journey at any time, when they were ready to depart. This they were glad to do at once, and taking leave of the Wizard, with many thanks on their part for his kind offices, they went forth from the cavern, and set their faces once more toward the settlement.

An hour after their departure, the Wizard stood by the side of the captive chief. He had no difficulty in finding the spot, for the scout had described it so that he could not miss it. He looked up in the face of the Medicine as he cut the bonds that held him, mutely asking the question, the answer he so much feared to hear.

“The white maiden is gone, and none of the arts of the Medicine can bring her back,” he said, simply.

“And the pale-faces, her friends—where are they?”

“Bearing her back to their home that the chief made desolate, that she may be near them.”

The chief asked no more questions. Turning his back upon the Wizard, he strode away in the direction of the Indian village, fully convinced that the pale-face upon whom he had set his heart, had gone to the spirit land.

He did not harm Nekomis as he had threatened to. On the contrary she kept his lodge as usual, until, before a year had gone round, he brought Minora to keep it for him. He was happy and contented with her. The Wizard kept his secret well, and none among the savages ever knew of the part he had played.

On through the forest our friends went, rejoicing in their escape from the fiery furnace with hardly so much as a singe upon their garments.

The Yankee clung to his pack, which he had stuck to through thick and thin, and which he was at last bearing out triumphantly. Ruth bore the fatigue well, helped along as she was by the hand and strength of her lover, and in due time the nearest settlement was reached, and they were safe from any further dangers.

Sam Wilson did not return to his clearing, and so the cabin in the wilderness was not reërected.

He had experienced dangers enough from living apart from the body of the settlers, and was now content to abide with them. A piece of land was taken up close to them, and two cabins erected thereon. Not long after they were completed, Ned Tapley and Ruth were married and took up their abode in one of them, while the parents of the latter dwelt in the other.

Rushing Water neither of them saw again. Whether he was ever undeceived they had no means of knowing. Happy themselves, they were willing that he and Minora should be likewise.

Dick, the Death-Dealer, was ever a prized friend to them; and they were glad to have him take up his abode with them whenever he was not abroad upon his work in the forest. Many were the timely services he performed for all of his settlers, and he was looked upon as the benefactor of them all.

It may be some satisfaction to our readers to know that the Yankee made one trade with our friends. Ruth’s wedding-dress was purchased of him, and though he said that he was selling it so low for friendship’s sake that he was ruining himself, he was afterward heard to chuckle and declare that he had “made a darned handsome thing out of it,” as doubtless he had.

Whether he ever went back to New Hampshire is unknown; but whether he did, or remained in the West, there is one thing sure: he looked out for Number One on all occasions, and that he and his pack stuck together through thick and thin.

THE END.

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Transcriber’s Notes

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is public-domain in the country of publication.

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—Created a Table of Contents based on the chapter headings.