Chapter V: Out Into the Darkness

It was by the sense of feeling alone, that Dick went up the ladder and moved along the loft with a cautious step.

The darkness was so great that it could almost be felt.

Only here and there above his head, a dull, red light shone on the charred beams, telling that a trace of the fire still lingered there.

But the coals were dim, and gave out no light to serve as a guide to his footsteps.

The rain had well-nigh extinguished them, and if it continued for a few minutes longer they would go out in deeper blackness.

Slowly the scout moved along until he came to a spot where the rain came down without hindrance upon his head.

Feeling with his outstretched hands in the darkness, he found that the aperture in the roof at this point was sufficiently large to admit of his passing through without any difficulty.

Thrice he made the attempt, but each time was unsuccessful.

The charred wood was not strong enough to support his weight, and it gave way, letting him back again.

But the fourth time he got a firmer hold and drew himself out upon the roof.

The rain seemed to beat down upon him with redoubled fury, as though it meant to drive him from his perch.

But he did not care for this. His only solicitude was for fear that the roof between him and the eaves was not strong enough to hold him, and that he would fall through into the loft again.

Slowly he moved down over the inclined plane.

It was no easy job to keep his hold good, and at the same time make sure that the roof was strong enough to bear his weight.

The rain made it slippery, and had it not been for the action of the fire upon the timbers of which it was composed, he could never have kept good his hold there.

But slowly and carefully he went on, and at last drew close to the eaves.

It was something like ten feet to the earth, but this was nothing for him to leap down.

On more than one occasion when his life was threatened, he had leaped more than double that distance.

He was close to the edge of the roof now, and was preparing himself for the spring.

He tried to peer down into the darkness to see if the coast was clear of enemies, but the gloom was so dense that he could not see an arm’s length before his face.

At that instant, as luck would have it, a pale flash of lightning lighted up the scene for a moment.

The scout used his eyes well, and thereby made a discovery.

The ground about the cabin was free from savages, except at one point, where a single one stood wet and forlorn.

Evidently he had been left to watch the cabin while his comrades sought shelter in the forest until the rain should be over.

It was a wonder that he caught a glimpse of the savage, for he was immediately beneath him, and had he sprung down he must have landed directly upon his head.

The flash was gone in a moment, and then if possible it was darker than before.

For a minute the scout was undecided what to do.

He could not retreat up again over the roof, the way was so difficult; and if he could, it would amount to nothing for him to do so.

There was but one feasible course before him, and that he decided upon.

It was to leap down upon the head of the unsuspicious savage, bear him to the earth and slay him before he could utter a sound of alarm.

Taking his knife from his belt, he placed it between his teeth, and then fixing his hands firmly upon the eaves he was ready for the spring.

For only an instant did he hesitate, and then he went down upon the unsuspicious savage, whose first intimation of danger was the full force of the descending scout upon his head and shoulders.

No one taken at such a disadvantage could resist the shock, and the red-skin went down to the earth as suddenly as though the cabin itself had fallen upon him.

He tried to utter a cry of alarm, but it died away before his lips could give it utterance.

The fingers of the Death-Dealer were upon his throat with a grip like iron, and he could utter no sound.

Another moment, and the scout had his knife in his right hand, ready to strike a fatal blow.

The savage struggled fiercely, but he was like a child in the hand of his enemy.

The opportunity the scout sought came soon. The breast of the savage was exposed, and he drove the knife to the hilt in his heart.

Coolly wiping the blade upon the garments of the savage, Dick rose to his feet and quietly listened.

Not a sound met his ear except the beating of the rain and the distant rumble of thunder away to the eastward.

“I wonder if thar is any more of the varmints sneaking round here,” he said to himself. “It looks light up thar to the westward, and the rain will be over soon I guess. I wish there would be another bit of a flash, so that I might get another glimpse of matters round here.”

Hardly had the thought been expressed, when as though in answer to his desire, another pale gleam of lightning lighted up the scene about him.

It was only momentary; but the scout used his eyes well, and was convinced that there was no savage near except the one whose corpse lay bleeding beside him. But he knew that the moment the rain held up a little they would be back again. From the looks of the sky he felt assured that they had only a few moments that they could call their own, and that they must bestir themselves if they hoped to escape.

Hastily he passed round the cabin to make assurance doubly sure, and then he approached the door and gave the three low raps upon it; the signal they had agreed upon.

They heard it, for he could hear them removing the barricade inside, and in a little time he heard the voice of Sam Wilson demanding as he opened the door a little way:

“It is you, is it not, Dick?”

“Of course it is. Open the door. There’s no danger jest now.”

The settler complied, and the scout stepped within and the door was immediately closed behind him.

“Are the savages gone?” demanded Ned.

“Yes, that is, they are now. I didn’t find but one of ’em there, and I fixed him so that he won’t trouble us ag’in. I guess it puzzled him a little to think where I come from when I landed on his head. But I did not give him a great while to think about it, afore he had a touch of my knife, which done for him so far as this world is concerned.”

Mrs. Wilson and Ruth shuddered. It made their blood run cold to hear him talk so coolly of what to them, despite the circumstances seemed almost like murder.

“And you still think that we had better leave the cabin?” said Ned.

“Of course. If we stay here a half-hour longer we can’t call our ha’r our own. It will be hanging to the belt of some of the red-skins. Get ready as soon as ye can. Don’t take any thing to weigh ye down for we shall have all we can do to get away with our lives I’m afraid.”

“I shall take my pack,” cried the Yankee. “You don’t think I’ll leave that behind, do ye? I had rather leave my ha’r than that. I might get money enough to buy a wig, but I could never get a new pack ag’in.”

“Take it if you want to,” growled Dick; “but I’ll bet a dollar that the red-skins will have the ransacking of it afore you’re out of this scrape. I believe you think more of that bundle than you do of any thing else in the world.”

“I guess you’re right,” chuckled the Yankee. “I do think a master sight of it. Nigh about as much as I should of a wife if I had one. But I’ll be deuced if I ain’t afraid that the rain will spile every thing there is in it. Say, mister, hadn’t we better wait ’till it holds up a little?”

“Can’t you hold that tongue of your’n?” cried the scout, angrily. “I never saw such a thing to wag in my life. Stay behind if you want to, and make a dicker with the red-skins if you can. Pass me Susannah, Ned, I believe it was you that took her when I went up.”

“Who is Susannah?” inquired the Yankee. “I didn’t know that there was any lady here by that name. Oh! it’s yer rifle, is it? I swan, I never heard a gun called by that name afore.”

Each in obedience to the scout’s commands prepared to leave the cabin.

Hastily Mrs. Wilson and Ruth donned their outer garments so that in a measure they might be protected from the rain.

They could take nothing with them. All they possessed they must leave behind to the savages.

But they gave no thought to this. Could their lives but be spared they would be content.

A few moments sufficed to make them ready for their flight, and then the scout laid his hand upon the door and opened it a little way.

“Come,” he said, quickly. “The clouds are breaking and the rain will be over in a minute. We haven’t got a moment’s time to spare.”

He stepped out into the darkness, followed by Ned, who held the hand of Ruth in his own. Mrs. Wilson came next, and after her the Yankee with his pack upon his back. The settler came last, closing the door of his home behind him with a sad heart. It was not likely, he thought, that he would ever set foot over its threshold again. Once in the hands of the savages they would not leave it until it was a mass of blackened embers.

“Fasten it if you can in some way,” said the scout, in a whisper. “I don’t want them to know that we are gone, if they get here within the next ten minutes.”

There was no way to do this upon the outside, the settler said. The scout hesitated for an instant. If he had felt sure of the time, he would have gone within, made it fast, and come out by way of the roof as he had done before. But he dared not do it, so he said:

“No matter, let it go. Perhaps they won’t think to try the door as soon as they get back. Follow me close and don’t speak above a whisper. We don’t know how near we may come to the red-skins in crossing the clearing. There’s a chance that we may run full into ’em. But we won’t take that so long as there is another. Come on, I’m afeard of them clouds up yonder where the moon is. If they break away and it comes out bright and clear afore we get to the edge of the woods it will be bad for us. If the red-skins get their eye upon us our chances will be slim.”

It was the shortest distance to the woods upon the south, but the scout did not start off in that direction. He thought, and wisely, that the savages would have fled to the nearest point for shelter when the rain drove them from the cabin. Therefore he bent his steps in the opposite direction, while the other fugitives followed close at his heels, hoping that the cover of the forest might be gained in safety before the moon by breaking forth should reveal them to their enemies.

Eagerly they pressed forward as fast as they were able. Despite the symptoms the moon gave of breaking through the clouds, it was still intensely dark. The way was rough, in some places over fallen trees, and here they found it impossible to make the time they hoped to do. Hardly a word passed between them, and when they did open their lips the words they uttered were hardly above their breath. Each felt how much depended upon secrecy and expedition, and therefore they used every caution which was in their power.

“Courage,” whispered the scout. “In three minutes more we shall be safe. I can see the dark line of the woods now, right ahead of us.”

Hardly had the words left his lips before through a rift in the dark clouds a flood of moonlight passed down, revealing the clearing and all it contained almost as plainly as the sunlight would have done.

“Quick! for your lives!” exclaimed the scout, as he broke into a run; but before either of them had gained the shelter of the forest, a fierce war-whoop behind them told that they were discovered.