Chapter II: The Wizard’s Den

One, two, five minutes passed, and the scout stood there as motionless as stone, with his eyes fixed back over the way he had come.

He held his rifle before him ready for instant use, the moment a savage should show himself.

He had made up his mind that there should be one the less to keep on his trail.

At last his eye caught sight of a form moving among the trees.

“Now, Susannah, my girl,” he said, as he sighted along the shining barrel, and look quick aim upon the foremost savage.

The next instant Susannah spoke, in a tone that woke the echoes of the forest, and the eye of the scout noted the savage as he bit the dust.

“Well done, my girl,” he said, caressingly. “Now we’ll be going. By that ’ere yell, there’s a hull snarl of ’em ahint. Well, let ’em come on if they want to. They’ll get a tussle afore they get you and I into their clutches.”

Suiting the action to the word, the scout went on again, reloading his rifle as he went; while each moment the dusk of evening grew in the forest, telling him that the end of his race and the night were near at hand.

Ever and anon as he paused for a moment, he could hear the savages coming on behind him, but he had no fear of their overtaking him. In a few minutes more he would be able to turn aside and let them go on in the wild pursuit, while he could stand quietly by and laugh at the trick he was playing upon them.

Deeper and deeper grew the shadows in the forest, and at last the darkness was so well down that it was all that he could do with his eyes, accustomed to the task, to mark the footsteps he was leaving behind him.

The moment had come for him to give them the slip.

Summoning to his aid all the energies he possessed, he bounded forward with the speed of the wind for some fifty rods on the course he had been following.

Here he paused, and listened for a few moments.

As he expected, there was no sound of the footsteps of his pursuers.

Assured of this, he turned abruptly to the right, and, after keeping this course for a few minutes, once more set his face in the direction from which he had come.

A little later, and he heard the sound of the savages’ footsteps as they hurried by him.

“Go it, ye varmints,” he muttered, “yer eyes have got to be sharper than I think they are, if ye can keep the run of my trail. Thar ain’t nothing like darkness to get a feller out of a fix as I knows on. It has saved you and I, Susannah, more’n a hundred times since we come into these parts.”

He patted the breech of his rifle affectionately, as if it was capable of understanding what he said. In truth he was as much attached to it as though it had been a human companion with whom he had spent an equal number of years.

“Well, I’m rid of them. But I ain’t a bit wiser than I was an hour ago. I ain’t got the least clue to what the varmints are up to. Thar’s something in the wind or there wouldn’t be such a snarl of ’em in these parts. There’ll be butchering and burning on the river somewhere afore morning, I’m afraid. I wish to mighty I knew where it was that they mean to begin their bloody work.”

He was silent for a few moments, turning the matter over in his mind, and trying to determine what he had better do.

“Let me see,” he broke out, at length, as he gazed about him, as if for the purpose of taking his true bearings. “That ere Wizard’s hole ain’t far from here. If he’s only in the right tune perhaps I can find out something by him. But, he’s a crafty old fox and sometimes I think he plays me false. He pretends to be a friend of the whites—says he tries to keep peace between them and the red-skins. But I’ve thought sometimes that he set ’em on to their devilish work. At any rate I’ll give him a call, and perhaps I can fine out something. I’m blind as a bat now, about what to do.”

For a few moments longer the scout remained in the attitude of listening, and then he threw his rifle over his shoulder and struck out at a round pace through the forest.

A silence most profound was around him. There was no sign to show that another living being was near. The savages, off the scent, had gone, he knew not whither.

With rapid strides he hurried on, intent upon reaching his destination as soon as possible.

Away to the eastward, the sky was lighting up with the rising moon, then a little past its full. Soon its beams would make it as light as evening in the forest.

For nearly an hour he kept on without once pausing; and at the end of that time there rose before him a high, jagged hill, crowned with splintered rocks, and stunted trees, bathed in the silver rays of the newly risen moon.

He was close upon the dwelling-place of him he sought.

In the heart of the hill, beneath the jagged rocks, the Indian Wizard had his home.

Both the white hunters and the red gave the spot a wide berth, for they stood greatly in awe of the strange being who haunted the spot.

Of the former, none had ever held converse with him except the scout, who now stood almost at the threshold of his den.

The red-men consulted him, when any thing of great moment was at stake; but there was not one of them who was not glad when his back was turned upon him.

Sometimes they brought their sick to him to heal, for he was reputed a great Medicine, and his skill was often of great avail.

All this the scout knew well, yet he felt no fear as he approached the spot. He had no fear of the unearthly powers which some said the Wizard possessed.

Arrived at the foot of the hill, the scout paused, and glanced up at the moonlit rocks above him.

No living thing was to be seen, and a silence like that of death brooded around the spot.

“I wonder if the old fellow is asleep?” he muttered. “I’ve almost forgot the way into his den, and am not sure that I can find it.”

At that moment the solemn hoot of an owl coming from the highest pinnacle of the cliff above, broke the silence that reigned around.

“That’ll fetch him out,” muttered Dick. “That bird serves him better than a red-skin would, perched up there. His eagle watches for him by day and his owl by night, and I’ll defy anybody to come round here without their knowing it. I don’t see how the old chap has got ’em trained so well as he has. There he goes ag’in. I should think that one such a hoot as that was enough to announce anybody. But hark! Somebody else is coming. I’ll be darned if that ’ere bird don’t know more than a human.”

A footstep only a few rods away had at that moment fallen upon the ear of the scout.

Close beside where he stood was a huge bowlder which at some former time had toppled down from the hight above, and it was only the work of a moment for him to ensconce himself behind it in such a manner that he would not readily be discovered.

“We won’t be hoggish, Susannah,” he said, in a whisper, as he placed his rifle so that it would be ready for instant use. “We’ll let the Wizard see this visitor first. I don’t see who in nater it can be who dares to venture here arter dark.”

The footstep came nearer and nearer, and in a few moments the scout caught a glimpse of a figure in the moonlight approaching the spot he had just vacated.

To his astonishment he saw that it was an Indian maiden, and as the moonlight fell full upon her features he saw that she was fair and comely.

“Well, this is the master,” muttered the scout. “Who would have thought that the old chap had such visitors as this?”

The Indian girl paused upon the very spot he had so lately vacated, and despite the lack of determination upon her face, he could see mingled with it, a look of apprehension as though she feared the interview she had evidently come to crave of the Wizard.

For the space of a minute she remained motionless, gazing up toward the spot from whence the hoot of the owl had come. A silence most profound reigned around, and the scout in his hiding-place almost feared that the loud beating of his heart would betray him.

Suddenly a voice came apparently from out of the very rocks, and so close to them, that they both gave a start of surprise.

“Who is it, that seeks the Wizard of the Rocks when the night has come? Let them speak, that he may know their errand at once.”

Out from among the rocks as though they had opened to give him egress, strode the once tall form of the Wizard, now bent with years, and the strange life he led. A sort of robe made of the skins of wild beasts covered his gaunt form and fell nigh to his feet. His face was wrinkled and old, but his eyes were as bright and piercing as they had been in his youth. Age and the long life of a recluse had not dimmed them in the least. In one hand he held a long staff, as though to give emphasis to the question he asked. The moonlight falling upon him gave him a weird look, and it was little wonder that those who saw him felt that there was something unearthly about him, and which sent a feeling of awe to their hearts.

“The Indian girl hears the words of the great Medicine. She has come to seek him that she may know of a thing that is dear to her heart. She has come through the forest alone, that no others may hear the words that may be spoken. Will the great Medicine listen to what she has to say?”

“Why does the Indian girl come hither to the Hollow Rocks, and speak with a forked tongue? Let her words be as straight as the flight on an arrow, and they shall be hearkened to. Why does she say that she came hither alone, while the watch-bird up yonder tells that there were two of them?”

“The Indian girl scorns a lie. Her tongue is not forked and she has not told an untruth. She came through the forest alone, and she knows not that others are near.”

The Wizard did not speak for a moment, but he fixed his piercing eyes full upon her face. She bore the scrutiny without flinching, and at last as though satisfied of her truthfulness he said:

“The tongue of the Indian was right. The watch-bird needs more training. It has been many moons since he spoke falsely before.”

The scout in his hiding-place breathed freer. He did not fear harm if he was discovered, but he had a purpose in remaining concealed for some time longer. Somehow he felt impressed that he might learn something of the errand on which he had come if he remained undiscovered. Besides, he was curious to know why it was that the Indian girl had come hither to hold a conference with the Wizard.

Meanwhile she stood silent, as though waiting for him to question her.

“Let the Indian girl speak,” said the Wizard, at length. “Let the daughter of the chief make known her errand.”

“Then the Wizard of the Rocks knows the Indian maiden. He calls her the daughter of the chief, and he spoke truly,” said the girl, proudly.

“Who has not heard of Minora, the Red Rose of the forest, the daughter of Leaping Panther? Many maidens of the tribe are fair, but none can compare with her. The eyes of Rushing Water have seen it, and his heart is full of her. He has asked her to go to his lodge, and she is willing. Before many moons shall go, the young chief will have carried her thither, and great will be the rejoicing of the tribe.”

A strange look of mingled disappointment and hate came over the face of the Indian girl, as these words fell upon her ear.

The scout could see it from his hiding-place behind the rock, and the Wizard noted it from the spot where he stood. Uncertain as the moonlight was, there was no mistaking it.

“The Wizard of the Rocks has heard the idle tale that has been told by the tribe; or it may be that Leaping Panther has told to his ears his hopes for his child. Moons ago this might have been. Rushing Water did woo the Red Rose and asked her to share his lodge with him. But his heart is turned from her now. His love is given to another, and it is of this that the daughter of the chief has come here to-night.”

“The Red Rose’s words are strange ones. The Wizard of the Rocks can hardly credit the words she utters. Why should Rushing Water break his faith and turn away from her. Where in all the lands of the red-men can he find a mate that can compare with her?”

“Rushing Water seeks not for a mate among his people. His heart is turned away from the maidens of his own race. He has given it into the keeping of a pale-face girl whose lodge stands in the wilderness apart from her people. Minora has seen her often, and she wishes now that her knife had found her heart.”

A look of deadly hate was on the face of the girl, and her hand as she spoke nervously sought the spot where her weapon rested.

The scout gave a start, and muttered to himself:

“She means Sam Wilson’s cabin; and little Ruth whom she would like to murder. Well, I’m glad I’ve found so much out. I guess, Min, you won’t get a chance to murder her, and Rushing Water, as you call him, won’t find a bride in that quarter. To my sartin knowledge she’s promised to Ned Tapley, and he won’t be cut out by a red-skin, I don’t believe.”

“Does the white maiden care for the chief?” demanded the Wizard.

“No. Her heart is given to one of her own race. She will never willingly go to the lodge of Rushing Water.”

“That’s a fact,” muttered the scout. “She’s hit the truth once, Susannah.”

“Then why need the Red Rose fear, so long as the white maiden cares not for him? Let her do her best to win back the love she has lost.”

“The Red Rose can do nothing. The time for her to work upon his heart, has gone by. But when he brings her to his lodge she shall die. Minora has sworn it by the Great Spirit. To-night with his warriors he has gone to fetch his bride. Before the sun comes again the sky will be red with the flames of the burning lodge, and all the pale-faces will die, but her.”

The scout gave a start which almost brought him to his feet. He had learned now, whither it was that the red-skins were bound. Little need was there now to consult with the Wizard as he had intended. Everything was plain to him.

He looked eagerly about him for a chance to steal away without being observed, but the moon was shining so brightly that he saw that he could not do it without being observed. So, though anxious to hurry away as soon as possible, he was obliged to remain quiet and listen to the remainder of the conversation.

The Wizard was silent for the space of a minute and then he said:

“Rushing Water is a foolish chief. He should have chosen for a bride one of his own people. But, why has the Red Rose come hither? What is it that she seeks?”

“The Wizard of the Rocks is wise, and he is a great Medicine. He knows of deadly plants, the juice of which is sure to kill. The Red Rose would have a potion to give to the pale-face maiden when she comes. Let it be safe and sure, so that she shall be sent at once to the spirit-land.”

The scout gave another start. He was so nervous now that he could hardly keep in his hiding-place. Yet he thanked his stars that he was where he chanced to be.

“Let the Red Rose go back to her wigwam, and fear not. Rushing Water shall never take the pale-face maiden to his lodge. If it need be, the Indian maiden shall have the deadly potion for which she asks. The Wizard of the Rocks will see to it. Let her have no fears, and she shall yet live in the lodge of the chief.”

“The Red Rose is content. She knows that the great Medicine will keep his word. When the morrow’s eve shall come, will he be at the Indian village?”

“The Medicine has promised. He will be there.”

No more words passed between them. The Indian girl turned and disappeared the way she had come, and a minute after, the rocks seemed to open their jagged jaws and swallow the Wizard up again.