Chapter X: Danger and Deliverance

The savages, as has been seen, pursued the White Tiger and Silver Rifle to the edge of the forest, when the chase was given up, and the fugitives rejoiced to find themselves at liberty.

“We will not remain unmolested long,” said the youth, when they found themselves near the girl’s cave. “Having slain Ahdeek and the trader, the red fiends will give no rest to their feet until they have run us to earth.”

“They will certainly attempt to run us down,” replied the girl, calmly. “But when they bring Marie Knight to bay, they may lose some warriors.”

“So, then, you are a Knight?”

“Yes.”

“And you came hither in quest of the ring?”

“And a father,” finished the girl. “But he must be dead, else that half-breed would never have worn the ring. Did he ever tell you any thing about the ring?”

“But little, girl. He told me that it was a talking ring—that it was given him by an old man whom the Indians slew; that after he had avenged the old man’s death, he would seek you beyond the lakes and give you the ring that would tell you who you are.”

For a moment the girl was silent.

“But,” she said, looking up, disappointedly, “the ring is lost, and I will never know who I am.”

“Where is your mother?” asked the White Tiger, kindly.

“Dead.”

“Would she not tell you any thing?”

“She told me that on the shores of Lake Superior dwelt a man who possessed a ring which held my life mystery, and on her death-bed she bade me hunt him and demand the ring in her name, which he would restore. She intimated that that man was my father, and I believe he was. My mother would never speak of the past, and whenever I would ask where father was, she would point to the North-west and say, ‘Yonder, perhaps.’ I left Ontario after her death, and once, in these woods, encountered Ahdeek, your brother. He darted by me like a rocket; but I saw a ring on his finger, and knew that it was mine. How I trailed him then; how, not knowing that I was in the country, he eluded me. But,” with a sigh, “the trail is near an end.”

“Girl, I will hunt for the ring,” said the White Tiger, quickly following her last word. “You shall solve the mystery of your life. The ring shall be recovered, though in the search I tramp these woods till doomsday—though the trail leads into the jaws of death, the mouth of hell.”

The girl stopped sudden in the starlight, and put forth her hand.

“You are brave!” she said, her great blue eyes sparkling with tear-pearls. “I have not deserved such sacrifice at your hands. But, sir, give the ring to me, and I will reward you as best I can.”

He returned the pressure which she bestowed, and held her hand until, blushing, she withdrew it, and told him that they had best proceed.

They entered her cave-home with extreme caution, and, to their relief, found it tenantless. The gloom was dissipated by the flint, and igniting a bunch of bark films, Silver Rifle led her companion to the southern corner of the cavern.

“I’ll tell you why I shrieked when that Indian crossed our trail in the forest,” she said, pointing to an excavation at their feet. “’Twas here that I buried Dohma and Renadah. See, but one remains—’tis the giant. Dohma escaped from his tomb, and when I beheld him in the wood, believing him a ghost, I betrayed our presence. I wonder if the trader killed him?”

“He is dead; they never escape whom Doc Cromer chokes,” answered the White Tiger, shuddering at the thought of a man digging out of his own grave. “He has repeatedly choked panthers to death, so, of course, there is no hope for the Indian.”

“Oh, had I but known that Dohma was not dead when I buried him!” said the girl, in genuine regret. “But he lay so still that I was completely deceived. He saved my life, as I have told you, and I would have rewarded him. We will hope that Cromer did not slay him.”

“Are there no avenues of escape from this cave save that by water?” asked the youth, when they had returned to the fire.

“There is one other,” was the reply, “and I will make you acquainted with it.”

So she drew a torch from the fire, which they deadened, and led the way from the main cavern. Past the grave of Renadah and into a narrow, rocky corridor the twain walked, and, after many tortuous windings, felt the cool lake breeze on their faces.

“We have journeyed three miles under ground,” said the girl, thrusting her torch around a rock, that its light might not attract the attention of foes who, perhaps, were abroad on the lake. “There are places in the corridor where we could successfully defend ourselves against a tribe of red-men. We are below the pictured rocks now, having passed almost directly beneath the chapel. I seldom use this entrance, because bears and panthers have been known to lodge in the corridor, and I would not encounter the brutes unawares. Shall we return now?”

“Yes, it is getting light on the water,” said the youth, “and perhaps our presence is needed in the great cave.”

“I hope no one has entered during our absence. Dohma, to my knowledge, was the first Indian who ever visited it; then came Renadah.”

“It seems fatal for Indians to visit here,” said Dorsey Webb, with a smile. “Hitherto they have met with a warm reception, which is not encouraging for the red man.”

The torch was lifted again, fanned into a good blaze, and they started back. The journey was accompanied with much toil; there were masses of broken rock to surmount, and near two hours were spent in the feat.

Suddenly Silver Rifle reached forward, and took the torch from her companion’s hand.

“What is it?” he asked, in a low whisper, believing that she had discovered something.

“I heard nothing,” was the reply. “We must extinguish the fire now, for we are very near the mouth of the cave.”

He did not reply, but saw the torch put out and dragged at her side.

“Hist!”

Silver Rifle’s lips touched his ear as she spoke the premonition of danger, and he instantly became as motionless as a statue.

The tread of moccasined feet was heard, and they divined that somebody was groping along the western wall of the cavern, which was very uneven, and provided with stony shelves.

The person appeared to be searching for some particular object, for by running his hand along the shelves, he threw multitudinous pieces of broken stalactites to the ground, from which emanated ringing sounds as they struck.

But one person to all appearances tenanted the cavern, and the twain in the corridor listened intently until they were startled by sounds in their rear.

Silver Rifle clutched the Destroyer’s arm.

He instantly divined the cause of the gripe, for he had been listening to the sounds before they became so distinct as to cause alarm.

“Indians in our rear, and the cavern,” she whispered. “What is to be done?”

“Much, and that quickly,” was the low reply. “This fellow in the cave is approaching. What can he be looking for?”

“Heaven knows,” breathed Silver Rifle; “he must know that we have lately vacated the cave, else he would use a torch. But—”

The Destroyer’s hand closed gently over her mouth, and broke the sentence, and the next moment she felt him leave her side.

A cry of surprise, the fall of a heavy body quickly followed the leap, and the short, sharp struggle that succeeded was quickly over.

The girl sprung forward and landed at White Tiger’s side.

“I’ve killed him,” he cried. “Now we must fight the devils in the corridor.”

There was no time to look, for the savages who had followed them from the lake shore were quite near, and, as the couple waited for them to turn a curve that they might fire, a low, angry growl issued from the corridor.

“They’ve roused a bear among the rocks,” said Silver Rifle, “and the beast is being driven down upon us. He has turned the bend now; I hear him among the loose rocks; wait till the Indians follow his example. There! they’re around now. Ready—shoot low to kill Bruin if possible—fire!”

Simultaneously the rifles cracked, and the howl of brute and humanity were blended in the darkness.

The next instant the youth sprung to the smoldering fire, and a kick illumined the cavern with a dim light, which revealed the mouth of the corridor, beside which Silver Rifle stood with ready weapon.

The entrance was scarcely large enough to admit of the passage of a bear, and two persons stationed there could defend it against numbers of an enemy.

The bear had been wounded, and a moment after the shots, he turned with a howl of pain upon the Indians, who rose with cries of horror, and poured a volley into the infuriated beast. They shot at random, for they could not see him; but some of the shots took effect, and more painful howls followed. Then suddenly, with the impetuosity of a thunderbolt, he sprung past the young besieged, and confronted them with menacing attitude and defiant growls in the light of the flickering fire.

Here was a new danger, a new enemy to be met, and the now antagonist showed fight, and even moved slowly toward our friends at the mouth of the corridor.

Silver Rifle glanced at the young Destroyer, and then raised her rifle.

He saw this, then was compelled to look away, for the Indians were moving in the corridor again.

A moment later the report of a rifle resounded throughout the cave, and the bear rose on his hind feet, and with his front limbs extended like a two-legged monster, came forward to take vengeance for the shot which had plowed a terrible furrow through his eye.

Straight at the girl darted the brute, and retreating to the edge of the corridor with drawn knife, our heroine prepared for the battle.

She glanced at the Destroyer, who, with a low cry, recognized her danger and leaped toward the animal!

In a second he thrust his rifle forward, till it struck bruin’s breast with a dull thud, when his finger pressed the trigger.

There was a groan, the great head dropped upon the black breast, and the vanquished terror of the forest dropped dead at Silver Rifle’s feet.

Then, as the victors turned to the corridor again—for the scene which I have just described occupied but a minute—a dark, elongated form leaped into the cavern.

White Tiger struck as it rose erect before him, and a savage reeled away with a low cry, indicative of death. Another and another Indian made their appearance, and after a desperate resistance, Silver Rifle and the White Tiger found themselves captives once more. Their captors numbered four Chippewas, who quickly assured them that they had caught the glimmer of Silver Rifle’s torch from the water, and had pursued, little dreaming, until they found themselves in the corridor, that they were on the trail of their worst enemies.

Two savages had fallen in the conflict in the cavern, and the captives were secured with strong ropes, and thrown upon the ground near the fire, which the Indians had revived.

Young Webb watched the Indians narrowly, and all at once an expression of surprise crossed his face.

The Indian whom he had dispatched in the darkness was nowhere to be seen!

True he had not noticed him after kicking the fire into life but having struck him a terrible blow on the head with his tomahawk, he had bestowed no second thought upon him, for other and more eventful things demanded his attention.

Now the mystery of the missing body engrossed his every thought. If the savage was a Chippewa, and had recovered from the blow, why did he not make his appearance to his brethren? Why should he depart, when, from some darkened spot, he could shoot his foes, for the Destroyer also noticed that the rifle which he had knocked from his hands was missing also.

Two of the Indians were ransacking the cave, while the others sat by the fire guarding their helpless captives.

Silver Rifle possessed but little for the fiends to take. A rifle or two fell into their hands, and these they brought to their comrades, with many manifestations of delight.

All at once, while the savages were admiring {a} head-dress, which they had discovered, one of the {red-skins} groaned and staggered from the fire.

The captives caught sight of an arrow in his side as he wheeled.

The other savages turned as a rifle cracked, and a figure leaped from the ground with a cry of vengeance.

A second brought the new-comer to his foes, and before they could meet him, two sweeps of the rifle lowered them to the ground!

The impetuosity of the sudden attack could not be withstood.

The victor’s knife glittered over the prisoners for a moment, then they sprung erect, and recognized their liberator!

Had the dead arisen? After all, was not their rescuer but the ghost of one well known?

No; he was flesh and blood, for the gory furrow of the White Tiger’s tomahawk was visible near the temple.

The avenger snatched a brand from the fire, and resumed the search along the rocky shelves.

Silver Rifle and the Destroyer watched him in silence.

At last he turned away, with a cry of mingled disappointment and rage, and flung the torch on the ground.

“Silver Rifle’s ring gone again,” he said. “Ahdeek laid it there not long ’go. Somebody stole it. Him Ahdeek hunt now, an’ he speak not to Silver Rifle till he find it.”

Then, with a maddened glance at the rocks, and a farewell look at the late captives, the half-breed sprung over the dead Indians, and disappeared down the dark throat of the corridor!

“He is gone,” said Silver Rifle, recovering her self-possession. “Heaven speed him on his mission.”

“So say I, too, girl,” said the youth, and then his glance fell upon the slaughtered braves. “I hope these days of blood are drawing to a close. Oh, Heaven, are they not?”