Cousin was fairly out of his head with the l.u.s.t to kill the chief, but the Shawnee took no chances. He was careful to keep the girl and her father between him and the cabins. I pushed Cousin's gun aside and fiercely upbraided him for placing the Dales' lives in jeopardy.

"You fool!" he cried. "They're gone already. Are you, too, blind? If you love that gal out there and want to do her the greatest kindness a man can ever do to a border woman, shoot her!"

Granville began shouting:

"Me 'n' my sister are comin' out. We surrender. Tell 'em, Mr. Dale! G.o.d knows 'nough blood's been spilt."

I heard their cabin door open. Then it closed with a bang and we heard the heavy bar drop into place. For a moment I believed they had changed their minds; then they crossed our line of vision, the man walking ahead with empty hands held high, his sister walking behind and wildly waving a white cloth. It was the Englishman, skeptical, because of our advice, who dropped the bar.

Cousin began muttering under his breath. I soon discovered the reason.

John Ward was approaching the group from the opposite side of the valley and trying to keep some of the whites between him and our cabin. The nearer he drew to the group, the easier this maneuver was. Ward had made a half-circuit of the valley and was advancing through the lines of hidden braves. Cousin would have tried a shot at the renegade if not for fear of instant reprisal on the girl. It was horrible to hear him curse and moan as he nursed the set of triggers.

"Shut up!" I whispered. "Watch them close!"

I meant Granville and his sister; for as they entered the zone held by the enemy I observed a clump of low bushes dipping and swaying behind them.

The woman saw something that frightened her, for she pressed close to her brother and shook the white cloth toward the ground. The grotesque fancy came into my head that she would do the same thing if she wanted to shoo some chickens out of a garden.

Granville and his sister walked up to Black Hoof, the woman still waving the cloth to make sure the chief beheld it and recognized its sacred character. Dale turned to give Cousin, the Englishman and me one last chance to save our lives; and the hideous work began.

John Ward seized Patricia from behind, holding her by her arms as a bulwark against our lead. Black Hoof with a lightning gesture raised his ax and struck Dale with the flat of it, sending him crashing to the ground. Almost at the same moment two devils leaped from the ground and with their axes struck Granville and his sister from behind. Black Hoof dropped behind his log the moment he struck Dale.

Ward remained standing, sheltered by the girl. But the two who had killed Granville and his sister forgot us in their l.u.s.t to secure the scalps. I got one as he was kneeling on the man, and Cousin shot the other through the head before he could touch the woman. I shall never forget the terrible scream which burst from the lips of Patricia Dale. Then she went limp and her head sagged over Ward's arms, and he began to walk backward with her to the forest.

I ran to the door and Cousin stuck out his foot and tripped me, and my head hit against the logs, and for a minute confused me beyond the possibility of action. When I would have renewed my efforts to pursue and die in attempting the rescue of the girl Ward was dragging her into the woods. Cousin's arm was around my neck, and as he pulled me back he pa.s.sionately cried:

"Will it help her to git killed? The ground's alive with 'em! You can't more'n show your head afore they'd have your hair!"

I got to a loophole and looked out. Several guns banged and the bullets pattered into the logs. There was no sign of life in the valley beyond this scattering volley, however. Ward and the girl were gone. The dead Indian and dog were partly in view among the weeds beside the lick-block.

The gown of the dead woman made a little patch of melancholy color against the green of the gra.s.s and ranker ground growth. Granville had been dragged behind some bushes to be scalped. I came near firing when I beheld two Shawnees making for the timber.

"Fellers we potted," murmured Cousin. "They've hitched cords to 'em an'

are draggin' 'em to the woods so's no one'll git their hair."

From the Granville cabin a gun roared loudly; and an Indian, clawing at his b.l.o.o.d.y breast, shot up in the heart of a clump of bushes and pitched forward on his face.

"Lawdy! But the Englisher must 'a' used 'bout a pint o' buckshot!"

exclaimed Cousin admiringly. "Pretty smart, too! He traced the cord back to where th' Injun was haulin' on it, an' trusted to his medicine to make the spreadin' buckshot fetch somethin'. Wish he had smoothbores an' a few pounds o' shot!"

Yells of rage and a furious volley against the two cabins evidenced how the enemy viewed the Englishman's success. Again the smoothbore roared and a handful of b.a.l.l.s scoured another thicket. A warrior leaped from cover and started to run to the woods. Cousin shot him off his feet before he could make a rod.

Our admiration for the smoothbore and its wholesale tactics was beyond expression. The Indians, also, thoroughly appreciated its efficacy, and there was a general backward movement toward the woods. No savage showed himself except for a flash of bronze leg, or the flutter of a hand, too transient for even Cousin to take advantage of. The Englishman fired again, but flushed no game.

"We oughter be goin'," Cousin mused. "But the ridge behind us is still alive with 'em. Reckon we must wait till it gits dark."

"Wait till night? Oh, I can't do that!" I cried.

"Your gal may be skeered to death, but she ain't been hurt any yet," he encouraged. "She's safe till they git her back to the towns. Black Hoof is too smart to hurt her now. If he gits into a tight corner afore he reaches the Ohio he'll need her to buy an open path with. She ain't in no danger s'long as he wants her on hand to swap if the settlers git him penned."

"No danger? And in the hands of that d.a.m.ned renegade!"

"Cataheca.s.sa is boss o' that band. Ward was only a spy. They may burn your gal when they git back on the Scioto where every one can enjoy it. But she won't be hurt any this side o' the Ohio. Our first job is to git clear o'

this cabin an' valley. Then we must head those dogs off an' do the next job right."

His words cleared my mind of madness. Instead of the dark forest, forty rods away, marking the end of everything, I need not entirely despair until the girl reached the Scioto.

"They've hitched a rope to Dale an' are draggin' him to the woods. The d.a.m.n fool ain't dead yet. Black Hoof fetched him a crack with the flat of his ax, but they'll roast him to a frizzle by 'n' by if our medicine don't fetch him out of it."

The man had been grossly mistaken and I pitied him. I wondered what he would think of the influence of trade on red heathens at war when he regained his senses! Surely he would learn the torments of h.e.l.l when he beheld his daughter a prisoner.

The cabin was like an oven and the sting of powder-smoke made our eyes water. Outside the birds were fluttering about their daily tasks. High among the fleecy cloud-bundles were dark specks which we knew to be turkey-buzzards, already attracted by the dead. For some time the only sign of the enemy's presence was when three horses galloped down the valley, running from the savages in the edge of the woods. As the animals drew near the cabins and showed an inclination to visit the lick-block a volley from the Indians sent one down. The other two dashed madly toward the Bluestone.

Cousin studied the ridge back of the cabin and failed to discover any suggestion of the hidden foe.

"Which ain't no token they ain't there," he muttered.

"If they hadn't scared the horses we could have caught a couple!" I lamented.

"We'd been shot off their backs afore we'd gone two rods," a.s.sured my companion. "Let me show you."

With that he took a big gourd from the corner and painted a face on it with a piece of charcoal found in the fireplace. To a few small wooden pegs stuck in the top he made fast some long strings of tow, shredded out to resemble hair. Then he placed my hat on top of the gourd and the effect was most grotesque. Yet from a distance it easily would be mistaken for a human face.

It was a vast improvement on the old trick of hoisting a hat on a stick.

His next maneuver was to enlarge one of the holes I had made in the roof.

When he thrust his hands through the hole, as if about to draw himself up, he focused every savage eye on the back of the cabin roof. Through the opening he slowly pushed the gourd, topped by the hat and having long hair hanging down the sides.

The decoy was barely in place before he was on the floor while a volley of lead and a flight of arrows rained against the roof.

"I 'low that they're still there," he said.

"They'll wait till dark and then rush us."

"They'll use fire-arrers first," he corrected. "The Hoof has a poor stomick for losin' more warriors. He'll need lots o' sculps an' prisoners to make up for the men he's lost. He'll take no more chances. When it gits dark they'll start a blaze on the roof. They'll creep mighty close without our seein' 'em. The minute we show ourselves they'll be ready to jump us.

The chief is reckonin' to take us alive. The towns on the Scioto will need more'n one stake-fire to make 'em forgit what this trip to Virginia has cost 'em."

The business of waiting was most dreary. There was no water in the cabin, and the sweat from our hands would spoil a priming unless care was taken.

At the end of this misery was almost certain captivity, ended by torture.

Cousin had the same thought for he spoke up and said:

"I'll live s'long's there's any show to even up the score, but I ain't goin' to be kept alive no three days over a slow fire just to make some fun for them d.a.m.n beggars."

I watched the bar of sunlight slowly move over the rough puncheon floor.

The time pa.s.sed infernally slowly for men waiting to test a hopeless hazard. By all logic the minutes should have been very precious and should have fairly flashed into eternity. The best we could reasonably wish for was death in combat, or self-inflicted. Yet we cursed the heat, the buzzing flies, the choking fumes of powder, the lack of water, and wished the time away.

I wanted to open the door a bit for a breath of outside air. Cousin objected, saying:

"We could do it, an' there ain't no Injuns near 'nough to play us any tricks. But they'd see the door was open, even if only a crack, and they'd know we was gittin' desperate, or sufferin' a heap, an' that would tickle 'em. I'm ag'in' givin' 'em even that bit of enjoyment. If we can make a break when it gits dark afore the fire-arrers begin lightin' things up we'll try for the Bluestone. If we could git clear o' this d.a.m.n bottle we'd stand a chance o' makin' our hosses."

I glanced down at the floor, and my heart tightened a bit. The bar of sunlight had vanished.