“Some one lies there, depend upon it,” said Lejoillie. “Those birds, like the wolves, gather only to feed on the dead.”
We galloped forward. On the ground before the fire lay the body of a man, with an arrow sticking in his breast. If dead, he was only just so, for the savage brutes had not yet commenced their banquet. As we approached they retreated, still howling, to a distance. I threw myself from my horse, oppressed by a terrible dread that the body was that of my cousin. A glance at the features, on which the light of the fire fell, convinced me of the sad fact. It seemed as if only just then the breath had left his body, for it was still warm. I was joined by Lejoillie, while Tim held the horses.
“We can do nothing for him, I fear,” said my friend, feeling his pulse. “Even had there been life in him, the moment we withdrew the arrow he would have died. Let me warn you it is no safe place; the fellow who killed him may be watching to shoot us. We must be away from this, and it will be time enough to consider as we go along how he came here and met with his death. We will carry him with us to the camp, poor boy, and prevent him being torn to pieces by the wolves.”
Tim was inclined to give way to a howl of sorrow in honour of the young master, but I stopped him. He insisted, however, on carrying the body, as the last mark of respect he could show to my uncle’s son. “It would have broken my heart entirely, Mr Maurice, if it had been you. It’s bad enough, sure, as it is,” he exclaimed, as he placed the inanimate form across his saddle.
We galloped on, feeling that it was more than likely that we should have a flight of arrows whistling after us.
“Sure, as I’m a living man, it’s that villain Black Hawk did the deed!” exclaimed Tim. “I saw the look he gave when he heard that Mr Carlos had killed Spotted Wolf. He had planned the black deed for many a day.”
Lejoillie and I agreed with Tim, though how Carlos came to have been led so far away it was at first difficult to say. Perhaps Black Hawk had induced him to dismount, and then, taking his gun, had galloped off with his horse. Carlos, not being able to find his way back to the camp, had probably lighted a fire to keep off the wolves; and while seated before it, either Black Hawk or some other Indian had shot him. Such was the only way we could account for the position in which we had found him.
Captain Norton was much grieved, and blamed himself greatly for having allowed Black Hawk to accompany Carlos. We dug his grave close to our camp, and spent a portion of the night in piling up logs over it to mark the spot. Though I had before been looking forward to the satisfaction of falling in with my uncle, I now dreaded the meeting and the task I should have to perform of telling him of the death of my cousin. As no more was seen of Black Hawk, we had no doubt that he had committed the deed.
We had now reached as far north as there would be any use in going, as my uncle and his party must have come by this time fully as far south as we then were if they had not already passed us. Though the country was almost in as wild a state as in the southern parts, there were a few log-huts and other primitive buildings scattered about; but the inhabitants had fled for fear of the Indians. Both we and our horses being pretty well tired by a long day’s journey, we took up our quarters in one of these huts. The men were encamped outside, with the usual sentries placed at equal distances; and we had thrown ourselves on the rough tables and benches, the only remaining furniture, when the sound of distant firing reached our ears.
“Sure there’s fightin’ goin’ on!” cried Tim.