The Wilderness Trail

by H. Bedford-Jones

With the best of Brookfield's rich cargo stowed away in the four skiffs, the eight sound men piled down into one of them; by grim irony that cargo which was to have served for a lure had now been taken by the intended victim, and Norton writhed in his bonds at the thought. The boat in which he lay, with Red Hugh and the wounded, was taken in tow with the other two; Grigg descended among the men and took charge, and last of all came Duval. Even before he came, Norton saw why he had lingered, and what was intended.

As the four skiffs pulled out and drew away in a slow line, the horse-boat slowly drifted out into the stream, her lines severed. The moon had by this time gone down, but looking back, Norton saw a burst of flames from the boat. She drifted away with her load of dead, the fire rising high into a pyramid of flame and smoke above her ungainly shape.

Then they were passing out of the river by a narrow channel, and to his surprise the Louisianian found that this led into a good-sized lake, some ten miles across. The eight men who occupied the forward boat rowed steadily through the darkness, Grigg giving them low directions; there was a faint glare on the horizon, denoting the burning craft they had abandoned. After an hour or more of this progress, they drew in to a low shore ahead.

Norton was lifted and flung on shore, and as Red Hugh was sent after him, he saw that the latter had recovered consciousness. Then, while the cargoes were being transferred to wagons, Grigg and Duval engaged in a swift discussion as to the disposal of the wounded men.

"I won't have them around the camp at this juncture," came the cold tones of the lawyer. "When this business has been finished we'll have to separate and had best start here. Send two men with the wounded over to Kentucky in one boat, and sink the other three here as usual."

So two of the raiders rowed off with the three wounded men, these being unable to ride. The other boats were sunk under the shore-trees, and with their trail covered behind them, the raiders started. Norton and Red Hugh were lifted to a wagon, just as the grey dawn was breaking.

The Louisianian was too firmly bound to dream of getting free, and attempted no converse with his companion. Having fallen between two huge sacks of flax, he could see nothing and at last dropped into a troubled sleep, broken at short intervals by the jolting of the wagon.

Toward noon the first and only halt of the journey took place; and here occurred an incident which to Norton seemed slight enough at the time, but which was destined to have tremendous consequences later.

The stop had been made near a rude cabin built beside a spring, and when Norton had been lifted out of the wagon, he saw that it was an Indian clearing. The redskin farmer and his squaw were being forced into cooking for the party, whom they seemed both to hate and fear, probably with good cause.

Red Hugh lay beside Norton on the ground, watching grimly, in silence. Indeed, the old man had said no word that morning, and in his silent watching and his motionless endurance Norton read a tacit menace of strength restrained. Duval sent the Indian squaw to feed the prisoners some cornpone, refusing to loosen their bonds, while one of the men stood guard.