Chapter V: The Burning Cabin

A dim, shadowy, phantom-like chain flitting silently through the forest depths. A living chain, composed of human beings--at least in outward semblance--bent upon an errand of bloodshed and death.

They pause at the edge of a considerable clearing, and gaze out upon it. A rude log-cabin stands here at the foot of a good-sized hill. In the darkness, it seems as though there were two buildings, but one is a huge square bowlder. A mass of rock that has puzzled many to tell where it came from. It gives a name to the cabin and its owners, "the people of the lodge by the great rock."

The cabin is the one where we met the Stevens family. The human chain is led by One Eye--Sloan Young, the half-breed heretofore alluded to. He and his comrades have come here to perform their part of the bloody plan, to further which the Indian, Bob-tailed Horse, had been sent to gain admittance into the cabin.

"It is nearly time," muttered One Eye, in the Sioux dialect.

"Yes, the pale-faces are asleep before now," added one of the Indians.

"We will not wait any longer. Come, let us go," and One Eye entered the clearing and glided stealthily toward the cabin that stood silent and gloomy in the shadow of the hill.

The half-breed paused when beside the rude structure and uttered a call; one common to that place and time of year--the cry of the night-hawk. Then he stepped forward and pressed gently against the door.

To his surprise it did not yield. He again uttered the signal, upon which the traitor was to throw wide the door, but still without the desired result.

"The fool has drank fire-water until his brain is asleep! He has forgotten his duty," angrily hissed the half-breed.

"It is growing late and our weapons are hungry for white blood. Let us break open the lodge. They can do nothing," muttered the Indian who had spoken before, who was evidently of higher rank than the others who stood silently behind him.

"We can do it. One rush will overpower them. But remember--the young squaw must not be harmed. She is _mine_--for my squaw," earnestly added Young.

"It is well. One Eye shall have her," and then the chief spoke a few words to his followers, who drew together and made a heavy rush against the door.

It flew open so suddenly that one-half their number fell in a sprawling heap upon the floor, half-way across the room. Then with wild yells and cries Young and the chief sprung over their forms, and glared around for their anticipated victims.

But where were they? Why did not their cries of wild alarm and terror break forth upon the air? Surely there had been noise enough made to awaken them from the soundest slumber!

Raging furiously, Young rushed into the second room, but silence met him there, as well. He could no longer doubt the truth.

"A light--quick!" he snarled fiercely, in his rage speaking in English. "They cain't all hev gone. Cusses on that drunken fool!"

A light was speedily struck, and applied to a heap of clothing that lay upon the floor. As the blaze shot up, the interior of the cabin was rendered visible. Here, as at Wilson's, the disordered furniture and various articles strewn about the floor, told of a hasty and recent flight.

The half-breed quickly ran through the rooms, and found nothing there to wreak his fury upon. The loft, likewise, was empty. His anger and disappointment was fearful.

Led by him the Indians procured lights and ran outside to find, if possible, some trace of the fugitives. While some searched for a trail, others sought among the brush and hollows along the hillside, in the faint hope that the fugitives had sought shelter there.

A faint ruddy glow now appeared upon the sky in the south-east, growing momentarily more vivid and clear. One of the Indians pointed it out to Sloan Young, who replied with a diabolical grin:

"It is the work of Dusky Dick. He has had better fortune than we."

Then as if this sight had reminded him of it, the renegade ran to the building and stirred up the dying fire, piling on clothes, bed-ticks, furniture and every thing movable, that would burn. Then he retreated once more, uttering a fiendish yell of delight.

Soon the flames burst through the open doorway, roaring and crackling as though in high glee at thus being turned loose to work its will. A torch was applied to the straw-thatched stables, and then as the affrighted stock ran lowing or neighing around their corrals, the dusky demons shot them down, uttering wild yells of diabolical exultation.

But the half-breed and his chief glided around, striving to decipher the meaning of the many tracks that covered the ground. They were moving toward the forest, where their own party had not so defaced the ground with their trampling to and fro, when an unexpected sound startled them.

It was a cry, long and unearthly, seeming like, yet unlike a human voice. But if indeed one, then it must proceed from some person either in agonizing pain or mortal terror.

Again and again it came to their ears, with increasing distinctness, and even more startling than at first. And the dusky crowd glanced at each other in mute alarm.

They knew not what to make of it. Wherever they turned, from that point the horrible shrieks seemed to issue. If they looked, it appeared to come down from the skies.

The savages ceased their work of barbarous destruction and gathered together. They felt alarm, that was rapidly increasing, at they knew not what.

The chief was scarcely less impressed, but Sloan Young did not exhibit the same symptoms. His face was eagerly turned toward the blazing cabin, through whose roof the flames were now ascending. Then as another yell broke upon his hearing, he said:

"It is from the lodge! The pale-faces have hidden beneath it, and are being _roasted alive_!"

The terror of the savages quickly gave place to emotions of anger, at thus being cheated out of the coveted scalps. The heat was now too intense for them to accomplish any thing in the way of releasing the sufferers.

Then they started back with cries of wondering dismay. A shrill shriek of fearful torture rung out, and then a figure sprung from the fiery furnace and darted toward them; its arms flung wildly aloft, its garments dropping in charred fragments from its limbs.

Then with another long-drawn cry, it sunk to the ground, almost at the feet of Sloan Young. The half-breed bent over it, but shrunk back at the horrible stench of burning flesh that arose from the body. Still he had recognized the unfortunate, burned and disfigured though it was.

"It is Bob-tailed Horse!" he exclaimed, turning to the chief.

And such was the case. He had been cast down the pit bound and gagged, as detailed, but soon recovered his senses. There he lay until he heard the angry voices of his confederates above him, and heard himself blamed for the disappointment.

He strove to cry out, but the gag had been firmly applied and his limbs were useless. In striving to free himself, he rolled over upon his face.

Then he heard the ominous crackling above him, and the pungent smoke that soon came to his nostrils, told him of a new and fearful peril. And yet he was helpless to avert it. His bonds would not give, nor could he utter even a groan.

The heat increased until the sweat streamed from every pore. The air became so close and hot that he nearly suffocated. At every breath it was like inhaling molten lead.

His prison became lighter, and he knew that the floor was being burned through. And still he struggled to burst his bonds; strove in vain. The skin cracked and shriveled up beneath the intense heat, and his tortures were excruciating.

The floor above him was one mass of coals. Then cinders fell upon his bare neck, hot and glowing. He shook his head, but the coal adhered to the hissing flesh.

Another and another fell, until his body was literally covered with the blazing sparks. Either the cords had been weakened by fire, or else the torturing coals had given Bob-tailed Horse a fictitious strength, for with one mighty effort he burst them asunder, and snatching the gag from his mouth, uttered a wild cry for help.

His hair caught fire and blazed furiously about his face. His flesh was fairly hissing beneath the heat, and it seemed as though he was one mass of fire. He screamed and yelled with frantic fury.

He sprung upward and caught at one of the glowing sleepers. It broke beneath his weight, and he fell back, covered with the hotly-blazing _debris_. Again he sprung to his feet and essayed to gain the level floor; and again he fell back, screeching--dying.

More of the floor crumbled away, and then he sprung upon the edge of the narrow pit. With yet another cry, he fell forward upon his face in the glowing mass of coals.

He tottered to his feet and rushed blindly forward, sinking nearly knee-deep in the burning embers. He ran against the still standing logs and staggered back; his eyesight was gone.

But he did not fall, and sprung ahead once more. This time he emerged from the doorway, and then with a gasping yell, he fell to the ground.

And yet, after all this torture, he still lived. Though he had undergone enough to have killed a half-score of men, the spark of life still flickered faintly in his breast.

He knew he was among friends, and cried out for water. More from his gestures, than aught else, he was understood, and Young hastened to supply his wants. Not from motives of pity, but because he hoped to gain some valuable information from the dying wretch.

The spring was close by, and a hatful of cold water was brought the scarred and mangled sufferer. He drank it down eagerly and begged piteously for more.

"Tell me first," said One Eye, in the Sioux dialect, "where are the pale-faces?"

"Gone--water--water!" gasped the wretch.

"_Where?_" sternly cried Young. "Tell me all or you shall perish for want of a drop of water. Tell me and you shall have all you wish."

"Gone to--over _there_," was the husky reply.

"To Wilson's?" asked Young, in English.

"Yes--young brave tell 'um--they go--run 'way--"

One Eye sprung to his feet with a peculiar cry. He had learned all he wished.

"Water--water!" gasped the sufferer, but his plea was unheeded.

He could be of no further service to them. He might die a dog's death, as he had lived a dog's life. What cared they?

"Come--there is no time to lose. We must hasten or they will escape us yet. Follow me, and their scalps shall hang at our girdles before another sun!" yelled One Eye, as he dashed away from the burning cabin, closely followed by the savages, leaving the dying wretch as he lay, to gasp out his feeble remnant of life in fruitless appeals for water!