CHAPTER XI.
A SUDDEN MEETING.
Three hours after they had left the island, the settlers found themselves on the main-land, with Shadow Lake between them and their homes. Walter had been absent for some time and they began to feel anxious about him. He had started off on a wild and perhaps dangerous errand—that of ferreting out the strange intruder, the owner of the mysterious voice.
He had now been gone several hours, and they were alarmed, for they thought the robbers were prowling about the forest, and he might fall in with them. Sol, having a high regard for him, and not wishing to have evil befall him, called Eben aside:
“See here, Eb,” he said, “d’ye want a job?”
“What is it?”
“Ter foller Walt. I’m afeard he’s got inter some scrape. Yer can go back ter the place whar Walt left us, and pick up his trail. Don’t leave it ontil ye find him. Ef yer want ter find us ag’in, all yer kin do is ter pick up our trail and overtake us. Yer understand?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Now thar’s no one lookin’—slip inter that hazel-patch yender.”
He sauntered slowly away until he reached the hazel-thicket, when he “loped” away toward the place where Walter had left them. Sol returned to the band, and bidding them follow, started off in search of the robber trail. For once the veteran was wrong.
Eben, walking rapidly, soon came to the spot where he was to take Walter’s trail. It was by a large cottonwood tree which towered above its adjacent companions. Here on every side, except that of the lake, stretched away the old gloomy swamp, ghastly and grim, even in the noontime. As the ground was springy, he had no difficulty in finding the trail, and picking it out from the others. It struck off along the “coast” of the lake, and the young man had in all probability made his way to the log-landing, where the unknown was last seen.
He slung his gun in the hollow of his arm, and bending to the trail, went on apace. It was quite distinct, and he felt sure he could follow it on a run.
He had not gone more than fifty yards when he heard a rustle in a thicket just ahead. With the instinct of a backwoodsman he went behind a tree like a squirrel, and cocked his gun.
The rustle was not such as would be made by a bird or small animal, but was a rustle and a dull thud. This, Eben, being quick-witted, readily construed into a footfall on a prostrate log.
He remained close hid for some little time, then peeped cautiously out. An intervening thicket obscured his view. Gently stepping, he crept to the thicket and peered through.
Before him was one of those numerous small glades with which the forest abounded. This glade was bare, but he was certain he heard a footstep, and in the present unsettled condition of things he was wary about venturing out in full sight. However, as he forced his way through the thicket he saw that on all sides of the glade the surrounding trees were somewhat diminutive in size—being for the most part a young growth of cottonwoods. They were too small to afford protection to any man, and beginning to lose his slight alarm, he stepped boldly out, still on the trail.
No one was in sight. The surrounding forest was devoid of human beings. He went up to a large log lying in the open space. It was decayed, and Walter’s trail passed directly over it. In fact he had stepped upon it, as his boot-mark was plainly visible in the soft, yielding punk. But as he noticed this, another object caught his attention.
It was another and different footmark, and he could see it had no heel, and the edges were not sharply defined; he knew at once it was the track of a moccasin.
“Hullo! Injuns?” he inquired, off his guard. “It can’t be—there are none within sixty miles. But, by thunder! ef I don’t b’lieve it is the track of one.”
Interested, he looked searchingly around for some further evidence, but to his extreme surprise he found none—it was a solitary footprint. It pointed at right angles to the trail he was pursuing, and he judged that as the surrounding ground was dry and rather hard, the owner must have passed by without leaving any other trail.
“Well—no matter!” he said to himself. “I’m on Walter’s trail—I mustn’t leave it. But, by thunder! I’d like to know where this one leads to.”
He gave a final look around, then bending again, went on, wondering. Now the ground was rather hard, but as he was on a “boot-trail,” he found no difficulty in keeping it.
Right ahead the dense thickets and soft ground came again. The moment he “struck” the latter, he started back at seeing he was now pursuing a double trail, the second being that of a moccasin; some one was trailing Walter ahead of him!
He noticed it was the same mark as the one on the log—at least it corresponded to it in size and shape. He pushed on a few paces, to see how far it continued, and if the second person was really on the track of Walter. He was, he found after going a small distance. Sometimes the moccasin overtopped the boot, as if the unknown was not desirous of keeping the trail for further use, and for every five steps of Walter, there were only two moccasin-marks; the fellow was evidently going at a smart pace.
Whoever he was, Eben was certain he was not far in advance, for just now he had heard him step on the decayed log. He pushed on, determined, as it lay in his way, to ferret out this rapid tracker, and perhaps by doing so he would rid Walter of an enemy.
He had been looking down at the trail. He now raised his head and looked around, to prevent being surprised by his fore-runner. Had he looked up a second quicker, he would have seen a form dart behind a huge tree, fifty yards or more in advance, with a smile on his face. But he did not see it, and went on, rapidly.
He approached the tree, keeping his eye bent on the trail; he drew nearer, and the man behind the tree smiled again. He came directly opposite the tree, and the man slipped around to the other side.
Eben passed the tree, then stopped short.
“Hullo! where’s the moccasin trail? I’ve left it, or it’s left me—one or t’other.”
He went back a step or two and discovered it again.
“Hullo! here it goes, branching off by this big sycamore. Shall I follow it?”
He hesitated a moment, then resolving to pursue it a little distance, went off, following it.
Went off? not far. Before he had taken two steps the man behind the tree came up behind him and gently touched him on the shoulder.
“How goes the day, young man?” he said.
Eben turned with a cry of surprise, and confronted him.
He saw before him the strangest man he had ever before seen. A man with a deformed, hunched back, with crooked, crazy legs, with long, swinging arms, and an enormous nose. He was dressed in a corduroy jacket, and leggings of the same material, which terminated in a pair of plain moccasins. On his head was an old flat cap covered with ashes—a cap made from green wood, Eben could see. An old cloak of undressed sheep-skin was flung over his shoulders, and this, in unison with his ghastly, white face, staring, fishy eye, and straggling drab hair, gave him, to say the least, a strange appearance.
Eben was, for the moment, alarmed at his ugly companion, and did not know what to do or say. At last he stammered out:
“Who are yer?”
“No matter—for the present. I will tell you after I have done talking with you. I have come to see you on business.”
“Business? What d’ye mean?” asked Eben, beginning to become more and more surprised.
“Time is scarce. The young man and woman are in danger. I need your help. There is work enough for both of us.”
“What man and woman?”
“The young woman that was lost.”
“Ha! do you know any thing of ’em? Speak quick!”
“Ha!” yelled the man at the top of his voice. “Do you hear that?”
The faint, melodious bay of a hound came wafted to their ears. Eben knew the sound.
“I do,” he said. “It is a bloodhound.”
“Ay!” and the hunchback brought his face close to that of Eben. “It is—and he is on the trail of the young man, who has found the young woman!”
Eben saw by the earnest expression of the cripple’s face he was terribly in earnest, and that he spoke the truth.
“Then come on!” he said. “Come on, to the rescue!”
The hunchback, with surprising agility, darted away through the thicket, followed by Eben.