IN WHICH PHIL ROWS THE BARGE UP THE BIG FISH RIVER
If there were any Indians between
the Castle and Kit Cruncher’s cabin, we were
certainly between two fires, and it was necessary that
something should be done very soon.
“What makes you think there
are Indians below us, Kit?” I asked.
“I’ll tell you, boy,”
replied the patriarchal hunter, as he turned a slice
of bacon in the pan. “I’ve seen Injun
tracks p’inted that way.”
“Where did you see them?”
“Over on the Little Fish.
It has rained hard sence I went up the river, and
the tracks I see was new ones.”
“Were they above or below the lower rapids?”
“Above, boy. I struck across
the country above the swamp, and hit my brook near
the spring where it starts. Two Injuns had come
down, I know.”
“Well, Kit, those were the two
who crossed the Big Fish on a log-two of
the four who went to the island this morning and captured
Miss Gracewood. The other two came around by
the river in the dugout, and camped near the lower
rapids. In my opinion, they had agreed to meet
there.”
“Most like it is as you say,
boy. I’m glad it’s no wus. But
’tain’t safe for the gal to stay hyer.
There’ll be a hund’ed Injuns down hyer
to-morrow, mebbe as arly as daylight. I cal’late
them two that come over this mornin’ is doggin’
round the Castle now.”
“If they are, they have found
a camp of soldiers there, and not a very good chance
to plunder the place.”
Kit Cruncher placed the frying-pan,
in which the great slices of bacon had been cooked,
upon a chest, with a basket of crackers. Ella
ate heartily of the meat, for it was very good, in
spite of the homely manner in which it was served.
We finished the meal without any interruption from
Indians or others. The poor girl declared that
she felt very much refreshed and strengthened, and
was able to walk again.
“Now we are ready for a start,”
said Kit, when he had put his house in order.
“How far is it through the woods
to the Little Fish, Kit?” I asked.
“Across hyer ’tain’t more’n
a mile.”
“Then I think we had better
go that way,” I added. “I left Mr.
Gracewood’s boat not far from the place where
the two rivers join, and we can go down in that.”
“Very well, boy; but I cal’late
there’s three Injuns atween us and the Castle
somewhar. But ’tain’t no matter; if
they show theirselves, my rifle will make quick work
on ’em.”
We crossed the brook, and struck into
the woods on the other side. Ella walked by my
side, holding my hand, while Kit led the way through
the gloomy forest.
“Where do you suppose my father
is now, Phil?” asked the poor girl.
“With the soldiers.”
“But where are the soldiers?”
“They are in the woods beyond
the Big Fish, I suppose. They must have scoured
the woods down to the Missouri before dark. I
have no means of knowing whether they were able to
find any tracks of the fugitives to assist them; if
not, they have been very much puzzled.”
“And all this time my poor father
thinks I am in the hands of the Indians, and fears
that I have been killed or abused,” added Ella.
“I am very sorry; but I do not
see that we can do anything to-night to relieve his
anxiety.”
“No, Phil, I see that you cannot.
You have been very brave and noble, and very kind
to me, and I shall remember you with gratitude as long
as I live.”
“I don’t ask for anything
better than to serve you,” I replied. “In
the morning the troops at the Castle will start, and
I have no doubt they will communicate with those beyond
the Big Fish in the course of the day.”
“I do wish father were here.
I am afraid he will expose himself to the Indians,
or wear himself out, he is so anxious for me.”
“We will do the best we can
to let him know that you are safe. Perhaps Kit
and I will try to find him, as soon as we have conducted
you to the Castle, and relieved the anxiety of your
poor mother.”
“We marched very cautiously
through the woods, and with our rifles in our hands
ready for instant use. In a short time, under
the skilful lead of the hunter, we reached the river;
but I had left the barge a mile farther down the stream.
“I am not sure that we shall
find the barge where I left it, Kit,” said I,
as we took the path on the bank of the Little Fish.
“Most like you won’t,
boy. That Injun that went down to look for t’other
mought have took it.”
“What will you do, then?” asked Ella.
“We shall be obliged to walk another mile, to
the landing-place.”
My trembling companion was constantly
in fear of an attack from the savages, or that a shot
from them would hit her, or some other one of the
party. I said all I could to comfort and assure
her; but the circumstances were so novel to her that
she could not be reconciled to them. As I was
not without fear myself, I could not take the matter
so coolly as Kit did. But the old hunter, steady
and brave as he was in peril, was a prudent man, and
not at all disposed to be reckless. He knew that
an Indian bullet could kill him, as well as another
man, and he had none of that affectation of courage
which so often belies the boaster and the reckless
man.
“Hyer’s your barge,”
said Kit, ahead of us, when we had gone less than
half a mile down the stream.
“So it is; but I did not leave
it here,” I replied, as I glanced at the boat.
“That Injun has come up stream
in it, and left it hyer. Most like he ain’t
fur from hyer.”
I assisted Ella into the barge.
Kit seated himself in the bow, and I took the oars.
“Fotch her over under the further
shore, boy,” said Kit, as I pushed off the boat.
“Keep as fur as you kin from danger allus.”
The old hunter’s suggestion
was certainly a good one, as was fully demonstrated
only a few minutes later. I pulled the barge to
the other side of the river; but we had gone only
a few rods before the crack of a rifle, followed by
a whizzing bullet, assured us the enemy were at hand.
The barge was painted white, and was a shining mark
in the night for the savages to fire at.
“O, mercy!” cried Ella.
“Did it hit you?” I asked, alarmed by
her cry.
“No, no-but -”
“Don’t make any noise, then.”
“Run the barge ashore hyer, boy,” said
Kit Cruncher, quietly.
I obeyed instantly; but another shot
followed the first one, though, fortunately, neither
of them did any harm.
“Let the gal go ashore,” added Kit.
I understood his plan, and assisted Ella to land.
“Run up the bank into the woods,
and get behind a tree,” I said to her, as a
third shot came across the river.
But the Indians were firing blindly
in the dark, and though the last bullet hit the boat,
we were still safe. Kit stepped on the shore,
and we dragged the boat out of the water. The
hunter paused on the bank of the river, and gazed
across in the direction from which the shots came.
“There’s three on ’em
over thyer,” said Kit. “The shots
was too near together to come out of one barrel.
Haul the barge up the bank afore they hev time to
load up agin.”
The barge was light, and we had no
difficulty in taking it up the bank into the woods.
For the present we were safe; but it was certain that
there were three savages on the bank of the river,
and between us and the Castle. We had, luckily,
escaped injury so far, and Kit was not the man to
lead us into any unnecessary peril. We were now
on the tongue of land between the Big and the Little
Fish Rivers, and only a short distance above their
junction. At the point where we landed it was
less than a quarter of a mile from one river to the
other.
“We can’t go down Fish
River to-night,” said I, when we had pulled the
boat up the bank.
“Not without resk, boy,” replied Kit.
“What shall we do?” asked the frightened
Ella.
“Don’t be skeered, little
gal,” interposed Kit, in a tone more tender
than he was in the habit of using. “You
are as safe hyer as you’d be in your marm’s
lap.”
“Can’t the savages come over here?”
she inquired.
“’Pears like they can’t;
leastwise, not without swimming, and we kin stop ’em
faster’n they kin come over. Rifle-balls
travels fast,” answered Kit, sagely. “But
I don’t reckon they’ll want to come over
hyer.”
“Do you suppose they know there are soldiers
at the clearing?” I asked.
“I don’t reckon they do.
They mought know it, and they mought not; but from
what you say, I cal’late they hain’t had
time to go down and see.”
“Perhaps they intended to go there to-night,”
I suggested.
“It mought be.”
“I think they were looking for
something to eat first. I believe the two Indians
who came across the river on the log were to meet the
other two at the camp on the brook where I went.
They knew they could get plenty of fish there.
After I shot one of the party at the camp, the remaining
one must have come across the other two. They
will keep between us and the Castle.”
“Most like they’ve been
lookin’ for the gal all the evenin’,”
added Kit.
“It seems to me, if they knew
the soldiers were at the clearing, they would not
stay here.”
“’Tain’t much use
to guess at these things. You mought as well shoot
at nothin’ in the dark. We can’t
go down Fish River to-night; that’s all that’s
sartin.”
“That is very true.”
“And I cannot see my mother to-night, then,”
said Ella.
“I dunno, little gal; ’pears
like you can’t; but mebbe you kin see your father,”
replied Kit. “And it mought be you kin see
both. I dunno. We must be keerful.
Better not see ’em till to-morrer ’n not
see ’em at all.”
“What do you mean by seeing
her father tonight, Kit?” I inquired, afraid
that he was kindling vain hopes in the mind of the
suffering maiden.
“I’ll tell you, boy.
Ef, as you say, them soldiers is rampagin’ over
the country ’tween the Fish and Crooked River,
we mought find ’em afore mornin’.
We kin kerry this boat over to the Big Fish, and land
on t’other side on’t.”
“That’s a capital plan,
Kit, and our safest course,” I replied.
We wasted no time in debating a question
on which we were perfectly agreed. We carried
the light barge across the tongue of land, and launched
it in the Big Fish. Our party embarked, and I
pulled up the river. I realized that it would
not be an easy matter to find the soldiers, for they
would not kindle any camp fire, which would betray
their presence to the savages.
I pulled vigorously, for half an hour,
against the current; and we were satisfied that the
three Indians had not crossed the river, for we were
not again annoyed by them. As the barge approached
the rapids, beyond which we could not go by water,
we heard a noise on the shore.
“Who goes there?” shouted a soldier.
“Friends,” I replied.
“Advance, friends, and give the countersign.”
We had no countersign, but I immediately
ran the boat ashore, and we landed.