“Bah!” sneered the white man. “And you call yourself a Shawnee warrior!
Do not palefaces leave tracks in the dark, as well as in the light? You
must find their trail; you must follow and overtake them. Do you hear me?
Rouse yourselves! Get torches! I will accompany you. Five pounds to the
brave who first strikes their trail; ten pounds to him who first gains
sight of them! Let’s be off! Hurry! Hurry!”
Stimulated by the prospect of reward, the braves hurriedly prepared
for the pursuit. Out of the cabin they trooped, Long Gun in the lead.
Bradford accompanied them. The camp was enveloped in darkness; the rain
still fell steadily—persistently. Up the creek they proceeded, their
flaming torches lighting the surface of the muddy stream. They reached
the ravine, crossed it, and disappeared in the thick woods. And still the
rain fell, and still the camp was wrapped in darkness and slumber.
The next day, the allied tribes at Wildcat Creek packed their scanty
effects and set out for the village of the Miamis, upon the Mississinewa.
* * * * *
Now let us return to the escaped captive and his friends.
The sun was several hours high when Ross awoke. The sky was clear; the
morning air crisp and biting. The young man stretched his limbs and
drank deeply of the sweet, invigorating atmosphere. The grateful odor
of cooking meat greeted him. A brisk camp-fire blazed at his feet; and
suspended over it, by means of a tripod of green sticks, was a hunk of
venison, roasting. Douglas took in all this at a glance. Then he looked
around for his companions. They were nowhere in sight.
“Strange,” he muttered, picking up Bradford’s rifle and carefully
examining it. “Are mysteries never to end? Where can Farley and Bright
Wing be? Of course they have not deserted me. But where are they? Why
didn’t they wake me? They have gone to investigate something, probably,
for they have left the meat cooking. How soundly I must have slept! Their
absence makes me uneasy.”
Dropping upon the ground, he continued his critical examination of the
gun he held in his hands, all the while communing with himself:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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