CHAPTER XVI THE SIGNAL FIRE
Grey walked rapidly toward Dan's cabin. His mind was wildly agitated, for his brief interview with Old Meg had given him no satisfaction. In passing the store he was tempted to enter and seek an explanation from Siwash Bill. He banished this thought instantly, however. No, he would see Dan first, and find out what he had learned.
A lighted candle was burning in the cabin, showing that the trapper had been there, although he was nowhere to be seen. Grey entered, and seating himself upon a bench tried to collect his thoughts. What was he to do? Madeline and the boy had been stolen away. What would the Major say when he heard about it? To think that he, Norman Grey, should so neglect his duty as to allow that boy to slip from his grasp! And then there was Madeline. Duty and love were the two forces which stirred his inmost being. He rose to his feet and paced restlessly up and down the small room. Why did not Dan return? Why was he away so long? Without the trapper he felt helpless. A few days before he would have laughed at anyone who even suggested that he could not manage his own affairs. But since coming to Hishu and meeting with this old man, he found how important it was to lean upon him for assistance. Dan knew the people of the place and the whole surrounding country, of which he himself was ignorant.
Thus the moments sped by, and the trapper did not appear. Something must have happened to him. Perhaps he had run across Windy Pete or Siwash Bill, and had got into trouble. At this thought Grey started for the door. He would go to the store and make inquiries. But ere he had time to lay a hand upon the latch the door swung slowly open, and the Indian, Hishu Sam, glided swiftly and noiselessly into the room.
Grey's face brightened perceptibly as he beheld the native who had done so much on behalf of the little child but a short time before. Then he had appeared at the moment when most needed, and now when the darkness was so deep he had suddenly come from the unknown. Grey at once reached out his hand to the native.
"Welcome," he said. "I'm glad to see you again. You're a good friend to the white man."
"Ah, ah," was the reply. "Hishu Sam savvey moche. Bah-bee all sam' lost, eh?"
"Yes, yes, lost," Grey exclaimed in surprise. "How did you know?"
"Hishu Sam see 'um. Beeg canoe go down reever all sam' wild goose."
"And were you along the river? You see canoe? Was the little boy along, too?"
"Ah, ah. Me see bah-bee head. Me see white squaw. Me come to Hishu quick."
"Were they Indians who stole them away?"
"Ah, ah."
"Who?"
"Beeg Lake Injuns."
"What! The Indians who are on the warpath with the Hishus?"
"Ah, ah."
"Look here, Sam; we must get that boy and woman. We must save them quick. What can we do?"
The Indian looked intently into Grey's face for a few seconds.
"Hishu Sam white man's friend," he at length remarked. "Come."
With that he turned toward the door, opened it and passed out into the night. There was nothing left for Grey but to follow. The native took it for granted that he would do so, and did not even once look back.
A short distance from the cabin the Indian turned sharply to the left, and entered upon a rough trail. In the deepening gloom it was hard for Norman to pick his steps, and often he stumbled, and several times fell flat upon the ground. But Hishu Sam walked as easily as in a carpeted room, and evidently knew every inch of the way. Up and up they moved, and after a long hard climb reached the top of a large hill. Here the guide paused and looked slowly around. Then he stretched out a long arm and pointed away to the right.
"Hishu over dere," he began. "Hishu busy. Bime by Hishu all come back."
Grey understood not the meaning of the words until he saw his companion go to a large pile of sticks and underbrush and touch a match to a small piece of bark. Instantly the tiny flame leaped to the inflammable material above, and soon the whole pile was converted into a wild, roaring, seething mass. So intense was the heat that Grey and the Indian were forced to retreat some distance, where the former silently viewed the magnificent spectacle. The hilltop for rods around was illumined by the bright flames, which would make it quite easy to see such a light for miles away.
While Grey stood gazing upon the fire the Indian crouched some distance off, intently peering forth through the darkness. At length Grey took up his position by his side, wondering much what it all meant. Once he questioned the Indian, but receiving no satisfactory reply he was forced to wait. The interest caused by the fire soon waned, and the old longing to be up and doing gripped him hard. He would ere this have hurried down the hillside and have left the Indian alone, but that he believed there was some definite purpose in the Indian's action. The native's silence was to him more eloquent than many words.
Silently they crouched together there on the hilltop. Presently the Indian gave a grunt of satisfaction, and pointed away to the right. At first Grey could see nothing. But as he looked a small light like the faintest star caught his eye. It became brighter. It glowed into a leaping flame, sending blazing cinders high into the air. It was the reply of fire to fire—the natives' crude method of signalling to one another when any great danger was afoot. Presently to the left another light streaked the night from a far-off hilltop, while a little later and to the right another appeared.
Grey understood now the meaning of it all. He recalled, too, the remarkable stories he had heard about the early explorers and their encounters with the natives. Fiery signals from hill to hill had heralded their approach, and brought about them bands of threatening Indians wherever they advanced. So now these fires were being used for a noble purpose. The Hishus would come in a body to his assistance. How long would it take them to return, and in the meantime what would happen to Madeline? He turned to his companion, who was watching the distant fires with much satisfaction.
"Sam," he said, "how long will it take for the Indians to reach Hishu? Will they come at once?"
"Ah, ah. Sun heem come up dere, sun heem go down dere. Hishu come."
"But are you sure they will come?"
"Ugh," grunted the native. "Injun no white man. Injun savvey moche."
"But will they know what the fire means? What will they think?"
"Injun come. Injun savvey fire. Injun savvey Hishu Sam. See?"
"Oh, they think the Big Lakes are coming. Is that it?"
"Ah, ah."
"And you stayed behind to keep watch, eh?"
"Ah, ah."
"Did you ever do this before? Did you ever call the Hishus in this way?"
The native looked thoughtfully before him for a few seconds ere replying.
"Ten winters ago," he at length answered, "bad Injun come up reever. Hishu Sam make beeg fire on hill. Hishu come. Bad Injun run, all sam' dog. Hishu make beeg potlatch. Moche glad."
The fire was smouldering low as Grey rose to his feet. The old impatience was upon him. He longed to be doing. To wait all day for the arrival of the Hishus was more than he could stand. He could do almost anything but wait. How could he tarry at the village while Madeline was being carried farther and farther into the wilderness? No, he must find Buckskin Dan, and discuss matters with him.
Leaving the Indian he hurried down the hill as fast as the roughness of the trail would permit. He reached the cabin, and entered. It was the same as he had left it, but the trapper was nowhere to be seen. A piece of paper lying on the table by the candle arrested his attention. He picked it up, and read the few words scrawled with a lead pencil:
"You'll find me at the store. Dan."
At once Grey left the cabin, and crossed over to the fur-trader's. Entering the building he found the place in darkness, although a faint glimmer of light came from the door at the rear of the room. Groping his way slowly toward this he gave it a push, but found it was securely fastened on the other side.
"Dan," he called, "are you there?"
Receiving no answer he stood for a space, undecided what to do. "Strange," he thought, "that the place should be so still, and the store in darkness. I wonder what has happened to Dan, and why he left that note."
Suddenly a feeling seized him that something was wrong. He became suspicious. Was it a scheme to lure him to the store for some evil purpose? He peered through the darkness in an effort to see what was there. The silence was ominous. He must get away as quickly as possible. Acting upon this impulse he started for the door. He had taken but a few steps forward when a heavy weight suddenly struck him and sent him staggering to the floor. Instantly a rush of feet was heard, and strong hands were laid upon him. Recovering himself as speedily as possible Grey threw out one arm with all the force he could command. It struck what he believed to be a human face, for immediately a groan was heard as something fell heavily to the floor. Then like a tiger he closed with the assailant whose hands were gripping him hard. It was no novice, he at once realised, who had attacked him, but a man of skill, and great muscular strength. But Grey himself was not to be despised when once thoroughly aroused. The blood beat wildly through his veins, and a deep rage filled his heart at the despicable attack which had been made upon a defenceless man, and in the dark at that. But he would show his assailant a thing or two. He caught him with a grip of iron, and hurled him back several steps. Then the two joined in a terrible embrace. Backwards and forwards they surged, and strained at each other. Time and time again Grey felt his opponent's hands reaching out for his throat. They seemed like the slippery, clammy tentacles of a hideous octopus. No word was spoken. Each was reserving his strength for the contest. At length Grey's fingers touched his adversary's throat. It was all that was needed, and almost like the spring of a trap they closed upon the coarse, tense flesh. It was his turn now, and he made the most of it. From his opponent's lips came a hoarse gurgling sound, while he frantically endeavoured to tear away those death-dealing fingers. Grey was madly triumphant now. The sense of victory possessed his soul as he felt his antagonist sink upon the floor. No bulldog held firmer than did he. But even in the midst of his triumph something touched him which brought a chill to his heart. Something was passed swiftly and deftly about his ankles, and then drawn tight. He loosened his grip upon the throat, and tried to regain his feet. But in vain, for his legs were fast bound, as if in a vise. Then in the twinkling of an eye his arms were seized and he was hurled to the floor face downwards, while his arms were fastened behind his back. He had forgotten his second assailant, who had returned to the attack with such marked success. Frantically he struggled to tear away his hands, and to throw off the weight pressing upon his body. But his efforts were all to no purpose, and at last he was forced to give up from sheer exhaustion. He could not see, but he could easily guess the identity of his captors. Two they were, that was evident, and what two except Siwash Bill and Windy Pete would make such a mean, savage attack?
"Lie there, ye young spyin' cur," one of them said, which the constable recognised as Bill's voice. "'Tain't sich fun is it comin' to Hishu? Not a holiday trip, eh? Ye'll think it less so before we git through with ye."
"The more you do with me," Grey replied, "the worse for yourselves. If you want to feel the noose, drive ahead."
"Ha, ha," laughed Pete. "We fear not the noose. All the d— Yellow-legs in the country haven't enough wit to stretch our necks. But come, Bill, lend a hand, and let's git out of this. Have ye the knife?"
"Sure."
Grey began to realise the seriousness of his position as the men lifted him bodily and carried him out into the night toward Buckskin Dan's cabin. This they entered, and laid him in the lower bunk. By the candle light he could see their faces, and they seemed to him like two diabolical fiends standing there in the middle of the room. They began to whisper to each other, while Siwash Bill drew a glittering hunting knife from its sheath at his side. Then the meaning of their action stabbed Grey's mind. They would murder him there in cold blood, in Dan's cabin, and let the blame rest upon the innocent old trapper! He recalled that scene out in the hills, and saw again Pete's form slinking through the night with the bared knife in his hand. The thought almost maddened him. Wildly he tore at his bonds, but they held firm. He sat up in the bunk, and then rolled out upon the floor, and on his knees faced his captors.
"You imps of hell!" he cried. "Would you murder a man in cold blood? Have you no hearts in your bodies? Free my hands and feet and let us fight it out. There are two of you, but I'll fight you both. I dare you to do it, you cowardly dogs."
"Hold yer jaw," cried Pete. "Come, Bill, douse that candle. There's too much light here fer this job."
Grey now felt that his last moment on earth had arrived. He saw a big hand reach out toward the table, and then all was dark. He made one mighty effort to rise, but failing in this he fell forward upon the floor, while from his lips leaped the wild piercing cry of "Dan, Dan! For God's sake, help!"