DEATH-DEALER,
THE SHAWNEE SCOURGE;
OR,
THE WIZARD OF THE CLIFFS.

BY ARTHUR L. MESERVE.

NEW YORK,
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM STREET.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by
FRANK STARR & CO.,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

CONTENTS

[I The Death-Dealer] 9 [II The Wizard’s Den] 16 [III The Cabin Conference] 24 [IV Four Against Forty] 32 [V Out into the Darkness] 41 [VI The Midnight Ambush] 47 [VII The Maiden’s Doom] 55 [VIII The Trail Divided] 61 [IX The Death-Dealer at Work] 69 [X In the Shadow of Death] 78 [XI What Will He Do With Her?] 85 [XII Winding Up the Web] 90

DEATH-DEALER, THE SHAWNEE SCOURGE;
OR,
THE WIZARD OF THE CLIFFS

CHAPTER I.
THE DEATH-DEALER.

It was a sultry summer day, nearly a hundred years ago.

The heat was almost intolerable, and man and beast sought the cooling shade of the forest, to spend the hours until it should in a measure abate.

Not a breath of air was stirring.

In a leafy covert, a little removed from the right bank of the Scioto, a form lay stretched at full length upon the earth.

One would have needed almost a second glance to have told whether the object was human or brute.

Even then he might have said it was a cross between the two.

At first sight, a Barnum or a Darwin might have gone wild with delight.

The former would have thought that he had stumbled upon a veritable “What-Is-It?”; while the latter would have declared that he had at last found the long-looked-for connecting link between the human and brute creation.

There was the human form, though ungainly in its shape; but covered with hair from the crown of its head to the sole of its feet.

It was indeed a second Esau.

A great mass of bushy hair covered his head, which, from its appearance, had not known the presence of a comb for months.

A beard of the same reddish color as his hair, and with a like unkempt appearance, covered the lower part of his face, and reached up over his cheeks almost to his eyes.

These were small and deep-set, though sharp and piercing, and overhung by eyebrows of the same gigantic pattern as his beard and hair.

A strange and forbidding appearance the man presented about the head, and his form kept it company.

It was covered with the skins of wild animals, worn with the hair-side out, so that at a glance one would have supposed that it was his own natural covering, so much in keeping was it with that about his head.

As he lay there, one could see that his form was crooked and distorted, until it had hardly the shape of a human being.

But still it was not so noticeable as it was when he was upon his feet, and as erect as it was possible for him to be.

His altitude then was not more than five feet, with a monstrous hump upon his shoulders, which, if any thing, made him look shorter than he really was.

A rifle, almost as long as himself, was lying by his side, so close that he could place his hand upon it at a moment’s notice.

A huge knife was thrust into his belt, and the hand that rested upon the handle thereof, showed plainly that it had the strength to use it to a purpose when the occasion warranted.

Though that portion of his face which was not covered by a beard was turned to a dark brown, an observer would have said that he was a white man, though a long residence in the forest had almost changed his appearance and his nature.

The name this uncouth person had once borne was Richard Higgins.

But this had been lost or forgotten long ago. His ears had not heard that name for years.

When he had first appeared among the settlers along the river, as he had done in the capacity of scout and Indian-hunter, they had known him simply as Dick.

But as time wore on, another name became attached to him.

The Death-Dealer.

The red-skins gave him that, because his hand had slain more of their number than any other scout west of the mountains.

So he had come to be called Dick, the Death-Dealer, and his real name had been forgotten by any who by chance had ever known it.

Along the whole border there was not a man who could follow a trail as well as he.

It seemed almost as though he possessed the instincts of a bloodhound, for when once upon the scent he never lost it.

No matter how much in their cunning the savages might double upon themselves, they could not deceive him.

He was sure to follow them to their lair, and there obtain the vengeance he sought, if he did not get it before.

Could all the red-skins he had slain rise up before him, the number would have startled him. Yet he had slain none for the mere love of taking life. He hated a red-skin for the cruel deeds he done, yet he never shot one down unless he was engaged in something detrimental to the interests of the settlers.

The savages stood in mortal dread of him, and many were the plans they laid to take his life. But thus far all of them had failed, and he went on with his work as coolly as though danger was a thing unknown.

Slowly the sun declined toward the west, and at last a delicious coolness pervaded the forest, in place of the heat, which had been so oppressive.

The scout felt its influence, and after stretching out his limbs lazily, he arose to a sitting posture, and taking up his rifle, he carefully examined it, to make sure that it was in order.

The scrutiny revealed nothing amiss. It was in the best possible condition, and he felt sure that it would not fail him when he should have need to use it.

“Well, Dick, it’s about time that you were tramping,” he muttered to himself, as he cast a look westward and saw that the sun had almost touched the tree-tops. “You’ve got a powerful ways to tramp to-night, and you got to make up for the time you’ve fooled away here. I wish I felt a little bit clearer in my mind, as to what new deviltry the red-skins are planning now. They’re up to something, that’s sure. They’ve as busy for a day or two back as the devil in a gale of wind. They’re hatchin’ something, and I would give a sixpence if I only knew what it was. I must find out if I can afore they get ready to strike. I wish thar wa’n’t but one blamed red-skin in the world, and he stood out yander. We’d jest make an end of him in no time, wouldn’t we, Susannah?”

These last words were addressed to his rifle, which he patted affectionately as though it was a thing of life and understood what was said to it. Then he brought it to his shoulder and glanced along the barrel toward the spot which he had designated for the savage to stand.

At that very instant, as though his wish had been gratified, a savage suddenly appeared on the very spot which he had indicated.

So unexpected was his appearance, that for an instant the scout was startled and sat as motionless in his place as though he was a block of stone.

But the next moment his finger was playing with the trigger of his rifle, and in a second more a bullet would have sped in the direction of the savage, had he not bethought himself of the folly of the act.

A score of red-skins might be close at hand, and if so what benefit would the death of one of them be to him.

The savage had not seen him, therefore he remained motionless, but with the rifle still brought to bear upon him.

For the space of a minute the savage remained upon the spot where he had appeared, gazing about him as though in some way he scented danger, and then he moved on, and the next instant was lost to sight.

No sooner had he disappeared than the scout sprung to his feet, and after listening intently for a moment, as though to catch the sound of other footsteps, he glided swiftly away on the trail.

Hardly had two minutes elapsed from the time he had sprung to his feet, when the bushes were parted, and another savage stepped upon the very spot where the Death-Dealer had lain.

Carefully he bent down and examined the ground, and in a moment was satisfied that it had but just been vacated.

The twigs and wild grass which had been bent down by the weight of the scout’s body, were springing up, striving but vainly to stand erect again.

This told him as plainly as words could have done that whoever had lain there was only that moment gone.

The footprints about the spot told him that it was a white man; and evidently the savage felt assured that it could be none other than the Death-Dealer.

A mingled look of joy and rage came over his face, as he glanced eagerly along the trail the scout had left behind him.

Only for the space of a minute did he linger about the spot, and then glided swiftly along the trail which the scout had been at no pains to conceal.

In the mean time Dick had gone out to the spot where the red-skin had disappeared, and, taking the trail, hurried on after him.

That he was on some errand of mischief, and that he was not alone, he felt assured.

From the signs he had seen during the last twenty-four hours, he knew that the savages meant mischief to some of the settlements along the river.

But the exact spot where the blow was to fall he was in ignorance of.

This, by following close on the movements of the savage, who had so suddenly appeared before him, he was in hopes to discover.

He little thought that another savage was watching his movements full as closely; and only waiting for a chance to take his life and secure his scalp, which would be prized higher by him than a score of ordinary ones.

It would be no common triumph to boast that he had taken the scalp of the Death-Dealer, the scout most feared in all that region of country.

On went the foremost savage, all unconscious that the terrible Death-Dealer was upon his track.

Straight as an arrow from the bow was his way through the forest, and never once stepping from the trail came the unerring scout.

And close behind him came the other savage, if possible more intent upon his purpose than either of them.

For nearly a mile they went on in this way, and then the foremost savage suddenly paused.

In an instant the scout followed his example, hastily putting the trunk of a tree between them so that his presence might not be discovered.

The next moment the savage uttered a cry so much in imitation of an owl that a less practiced ear than that of the scout might have been deceived by it.

But he knew that it was a signal agreed upon between the savage and his comrade, when he should have reached the place of rendezvous.

Hardly had it died away before its exact counterpart was heard away to the right.

A moment later it was repeated on the left.

The woods were full of savages.

So it seemed to the scout, as he stood there as silent as death.

But as yet, though they came from every side, there were none behind him.

Where the danger to him was the greatest, there was no sign given to put him on his guard.

“Well, this is a lucky hit,” he muttered to himself. “All I’ve got to do is to keep quiet, and I shall find out what the red-skins are up to.”

Hardly had the words left his lips when there was a whizzing sound like an arrow cutting the air, and the next instant the deadly shaft was quivering in the trunk of the tree, hardly an inch above his cap.

Glancing quickly about he saw the savage, bow in hand, hardly a dozen paces from where he stood.

The quivering shaft told him that he was discovered, and quick as thought he brought his rifle to his shoulder and ran his eyes along the barrel.

The red-skin saw that he had missed, and turned hastily to cover himself by the trunk of a tree. But he was too late. The finger of the scout was on the trigger of his rifle, and the next instant the bullet it contained was on its errand of death.

The aim was an unerring one, and the leaden messenger did its work well.

With a howl of agony, the savage went down to the earth, never to rise therefrom.

His death-cry was echoed by one of rage on either side. Two others at the same moment had caught a glimpse of the scout, and they closed about him, determined that he should not leave the spot alive.

They felt now that they had the Death-Dealer in their power.

Dick knew that the odds were against him, but he was never more cool or self-possessed in his life.

He had been in a good many snug places before.

With wondrous rapidity he reloaded his rifle, and before it was accomplished a bullet whistled in unpleasant proximity to his ear.

To remain where he was until he was surrounded by the red-skins was no part of his plan. His only safety lay in flight. The only red-skin close upon him could not harm him now, for the barrel of his rifle was empty. With a bound he sprung from behind the tree and fled away.

He got a glimpse of the red-skin reloading his rifle, and had he been so minded he could have sent a bullet through his heart. But he did not care to do it. He wished to keep it against a time when it would do him a better service.

Ill-shaped and deformed as he was, it was wonderful how fast he got over the ground.

His steps were rather bounds than strides, and could a stranger have looked upon him as he fled away through the forest they would have said that it was a wild beast instead of a human being.

With fleet steps, straining every nerve in the race, the red-skins came after him.

But they stood but a poor chance of overtaking him. Their swiftest runners were no match for him in this respect.

He knew that as soon as the sun went down and the twilight came on he was safe.

It would be easy enough to elude his pursuers then.

Just as the sun went down, he paused on the summit of a slight eminence and looked behind for his enemies.

Not one of them in sight.

But he knew that they were still upon his trail, and it would not be long before they would show themselves, so he waited.

CHAPTER II.
THE WIZARD’S DEN.

One, two, five minutes passed, and the scout stood there as motionless as stone, with his eyes fixed back over the way he had come.

He held his rifle before him ready for instant use, the moment a savage should show himself.

He had made up his mind that there should be one the less to keep on his trail.

At last his eye caught sight of a form moving among the trees.

“Now, Susannah, my girl,” he said, as he sighted along the shining barrel, and look quick aim upon the foremost savage.

The next instant Susannah spoke, in a tone that woke the echoes of the forest, and the eye of the scout noted the savage as he bit the dust.

“Well done, my girl,” he said, caressingly. “Now we’ll be going. By that ’ere yell, there’s a hull snarl of ’em ahint. Well, let ’em come on if they want to. They’ll get a tussle afore they get you and I into their clutches.”

Suiting the action to the word, the scout went on again, reloading his rifle as he went; while each moment the dusk of evening grew in the forest, telling him that the end of his race and the night were near at hand.

Ever and anon as he paused for a moment, he could hear the savages coming on behind him, but he had no fear of their overtaking him. In a few minutes more he would be able to turn aside and let them go on in the wild pursuit, while he could stand quietly by and laugh at the trick he was playing upon them.

Deeper and deeper grew the shadows in the forest, and at last the darkness was so well down that it was all that he could do with his eyes, accustomed to the task, to mark the footsteps he was leaving behind him.

The moment had come for him to give them the slip.

Summoning to his aid all the energies he possessed, he bounded forward with the speed of the wind for some fifty rods on the course he had been following.

Here he paused, and listened for a few moments.

As he expected, there was no sound of the footsteps of his pursuers.

Assured of this, he turned abruptly to the right, and, after keeping this course for a few minutes, once more set his face in the direction from which he had come.

A little later, and he heard the sound of the savages’ footsteps as they hurried by him.

“Go it, ye varmints,” he muttered, “yer eyes have got to be sharper than I think they are, if ye can keep the run of my trail. Thar ain’t nothing like darkness to get a feller out of a fix as I knows on. It has saved you and I, Susannah, more’n a hundred times since we come into these parts.”

He patted the breech of his rifle affectionately, as if it was capable of understanding what he said. In truth he was as much attached to it as though it had been a human companion with whom he had spent an equal number of years.

“Well, I’m rid of them. But I ain’t a bit wiser than I was an hour ago. I ain’t got the least clue to what the varmints are up to. Thar’s something in the wind or there wouldn’t be such a snarl of ’em in these parts. There’ll be butchering and burning on the river somewhere afore morning, I’m afraid. I wish to mighty I knew where it was that they mean to begin their bloody work.”

He was silent for a few moments, turning the matter over in his mind, and trying to determine what he had better do.

“Let me see,” he broke out, at length, as he gazed about him, as if for the purpose of taking his true bearings. “That ere Wizard’s hole ain’t far from here. If he’s only in the right tune perhaps I can find out something by him. But, he’s a crafty old fox and sometimes I think he plays me false. He pretends to be a friend of the whites—says he tries to keep peace between them and the red-skins. But I’ve thought sometimes that he set ’em on to their devilish work. At any rate I’ll give him a call, and perhaps I can fine out something. I’m blind as a bat now, about what to do.”

For a few moments longer the scout remained in the attitude of listening, and then he threw his rifle over his shoulder and struck out at a round pace through the forest.

A silence most profound was around him. There was no sign to show that another living being was near. The savages, off the scent, had gone, he knew not whither.

With rapid strides he hurried on, intent upon reaching his destination as soon as possible.

Away to the eastward, the sky was lighting up with the rising moon, then a little past its full. Soon its beams would make it as light as evening in the forest.

For nearly an hour he kept on without once pausing; and at the end of that time there rose before him a high, jagged hill, crowned with splintered rocks, and stunted trees, bathed in the silver rays of the newly risen moon.

He was close upon the dwelling-place of him he sought.

In the heart of the hill, beneath the jagged rocks, the Indian Wizard had his home.

Both the white hunters and the red gave the spot a wide berth, for they stood greatly in awe of the strange being who haunted the spot.

Of the former, none had ever held converse with him except the scout, who now stood almost at the threshold of his den.

The red-men consulted him, when any thing of great moment was at stake; but there was not one of them who was not glad when his back was turned upon him.

Sometimes they brought their sick to him to heal, for he was reputed a great Medicine, and his skill was often of great avail.

All this the scout knew well, yet he felt no fear as he approached the spot. He had no fear of the unearthly powers which some said the Wizard possessed.

Arrived at the foot of the hill, the scout paused, and glanced up at the moonlit rocks above him.

No living thing was to be seen, and a silence like that of death brooded around the spot.

“I wonder if the old fellow is asleep?” he muttered. “I’ve almost forgot the way into his den, and am not sure that I can find it.”

At that moment the solemn hoot of an owl coming from the highest pinnacle of the cliff above, broke the silence that reigned around.

“That’ll fetch him out,” muttered Dick. “That bird serves him better than a red-skin would, perched up there. His eagle watches for him by day and his owl by night, and I’ll defy anybody to come round here without their knowing it. I don’t see how the old chap has got ’em trained so well as he has. There he goes ag’in. I should think that one such a hoot as that was enough to announce anybody. But hark! Somebody else is coming. I’ll be darned if that ’ere bird don’t know more than a human.”

A footstep only a few rods away had at that moment fallen upon the ear of the scout.

Close beside where he stood was a huge bowlder which at some former time had toppled down from the hight above, and it was only the work of a moment for him to ensconce himself behind it in such a manner that he would not readily be discovered.

“We won’t be hoggish, Susannah,” he said, in a whisper, as he placed his rifle so that it would be ready for instant use. “We’ll let the Wizard see this visitor first. I don’t see who in nater it can be who dares to venture here arter dark.”

The footstep came nearer and nearer, and in a few moments the scout caught a glimpse of a figure in the moonlight approaching the spot he had just vacated.

To his astonishment he saw that it was an Indian maiden, and as the moonlight fell full upon her features he saw that she was fair and comely.

“Well, this is the master,” muttered the scout. “Who would have thought that the old chap had such visitors as this?”

The Indian girl paused upon the very spot he had so lately vacated, and despite the lack of determination upon her face, he could see mingled with it, a look of apprehension as though she feared the interview she had evidently come to crave of the Wizard.

For the space of a minute she remained motionless, gazing up toward the spot from whence the hoot of the owl had come. A silence most profound reigned around, and the scout in his hiding-place almost feared that the loud beating of his heart would betray him.

Suddenly a voice came apparently from out of the very rocks, and so close to them, that they both gave a start of surprise.

“Who is it, that seeks the Wizard of the Rocks when the night has come? Let them speak, that he may know their errand at once.”

Out from among the rocks as though they had opened to give him egress, strode the once tall form of the Wizard, now bent with years, and the strange life he led. A sort of robe made of the skins of wild beasts covered his gaunt form and fell nigh to his feet. His face was wrinkled and old, but his eyes were as bright and piercing as they had been in his youth. Age and the long life of a recluse had not dimmed them in the least. In one hand he held a long staff, as though to give emphasis to the question he asked. The moonlight falling upon him gave him a weird look, and it was little wonder that those who saw him felt that there was something unearthly about him, and which sent a feeling of awe to their hearts.

“The Indian girl hears the words of the great Medicine. She has come to seek him that she may know of a thing that is dear to her heart. She has come through the forest alone, that no others may hear the words that may be spoken. Will the great Medicine listen to what she has to say?”

“Why does the Indian girl come hither to the Hollow Rocks, and speak with a forked tongue? Let her words be as straight as the flight on an arrow, and they shall be hearkened to. Why does she say that she came hither alone, while the watch-bird up yonder tells that there were two of them?”

“The Indian girl scorns a lie. Her tongue is not forked and she has not told an untruth. She came through the forest alone, and she knows not that others are near.”

The Wizard did not speak for a moment, but he fixed his piercing eyes full upon her face. She bore the scrutiny without flinching, and at last as though satisfied of her truthfulness he said:

“The tongue of the Indian was right. The watch-bird needs more training. It has been many moons since he spoke falsely before.”

The scout in his hiding-place breathed freer. He did not fear harm if he was discovered, but he had a purpose in remaining concealed for some time longer. Somehow he felt impressed that he might learn something of the errand on which he had come if he remained undiscovered. Besides, he was curious to know why it was that the Indian girl had come hither to hold a conference with the Wizard.

Meanwhile she stood silent, as though waiting for him to question her.

“Let the Indian girl speak,” said the Wizard, at length. “Let the daughter of the chief make known her errand.”

“Then the Wizard of the Rocks knows the Indian maiden. He calls her the daughter of the chief, and he spoke truly,” said the girl, proudly.

“Who has not heard of Minora, the Red Rose of the forest, the daughter of Leaping Panther? Many maidens of the tribe are fair, but none can compare with her. The eyes of Rushing Water have seen it, and his heart is full of her. He has asked her to go to his lodge, and she is willing. Before many moons shall go, the young chief will have carried her thither, and great will be the rejoicing of the tribe.”

A strange look of mingled disappointment and hate came over the face of the Indian girl, as these words fell upon her ear.

The scout could see it from his hiding-place behind the rock, and the Wizard noted it from the spot where he stood. Uncertain as the moonlight was, there was no mistaking it.

“The Wizard of the Rocks has heard the idle tale that has been told by the tribe; or it may be that Leaping Panther has told to his ears his hopes for his child. Moons ago this might have been. Rushing Water did woo the Red Rose and asked her to share his lodge with him. But his heart is turned from her now. His love is given to another, and it is of this that the daughter of the chief has come here to-night.”

“The Red Rose’s words are strange ones. The Wizard of the Rocks can hardly credit the words she utters. Why should Rushing Water break his faith and turn away from her. Where in all the lands of the red-men can he find a mate that can compare with her?”

“Rushing Water seeks not for a mate among his people. His heart is turned away from the maidens of his own race. He has given it into the keeping of a pale-face girl whose lodge stands in the wilderness apart from her people. Minora has seen her often, and she wishes now that her knife had found her heart.”

A look of deadly hate was on the face of the girl, and her hand as she spoke nervously sought the spot where her weapon rested.

The scout gave a start, and muttered to himself:

“She means Sam Wilson’s cabin; and little Ruth whom she would like to murder. Well, I’m glad I’ve found so much out. I guess, Min, you won’t get a chance to murder her, and Rushing Water, as you call him, won’t find a bride in that quarter. To my sartin knowledge she’s promised to Ned Tapley, and he won’t be cut out by a red-skin, I don’t believe.”

“Does the white maiden care for the chief?” demanded the Wizard.

“No. Her heart is given to one of her own race. She will never willingly go to the lodge of Rushing Water.”

“That’s a fact,” muttered the scout. “She’s hit the truth once, Susannah.”

“Then why need the Red Rose fear, so long as the white maiden cares not for him? Let her do her best to win back the love she has lost.”

“The Red Rose can do nothing. The time for her to work upon his heart, has gone by. But when he brings her to his lodge she shall die. Minora has sworn it by the Great Spirit. To-night with his warriors he has gone to fetch his bride. Before the sun comes again the sky will be red with the flames of the burning lodge, and all the pale-faces will die, but her.”

The scout gave a start which almost brought him to his feet. He had learned now, whither it was that the red-skins were bound. Little need was there now to consult with the Wizard as he had intended. Everything was plain to him.

He looked eagerly about him for a chance to steal away without being observed, but the moon was shining so brightly that he saw that he could not do it without being observed. So, though anxious to hurry away as soon as possible, he was obliged to remain quiet and listen to the remainder of the conversation.

The Wizard was silent for the space of a minute and then he said:

“Rushing Water is a foolish chief. He should have chosen for a bride one of his own people. But, why has the Red Rose come hither? What is it that she seeks?”

“The Wizard of the Rocks is wise, and he is a great Medicine. He knows of deadly plants, the juice of which is sure to kill. The Red Rose would have a potion to give to the pale-face maiden when she comes. Let it be safe and sure, so that she shall be sent at once to the spirit-land.”

The scout gave another start. He was so nervous now that he could hardly keep in his hiding-place. Yet he thanked his stars that he was where he chanced to be.

“Let the Red Rose go back to her wigwam, and fear not. Rushing Water shall never take the pale-face maiden to his lodge. If it need be, the Indian maiden shall have the deadly potion for which she asks. The Wizard of the Rocks will see to it. Let her have no fears, and she shall yet live in the lodge of the chief.”

“The Red Rose is content. She knows that the great Medicine will keep his word. When the morrow’s eve shall come, will he be at the Indian village?”

“The Medicine has promised. He will be there.”

No more words passed between them. The Indian girl turned and disappeared the way she had come, and a minute after, the rocks seemed to open their jagged jaws and swallow the Wizard up again.

CHAPTER III.
THE CABIN CONFERENCE.

The scout kept quiet until both of them had disappeared, and then he rose up from his cramped position behind the rock.

“Well, this is a pretty go,” he muttered to himself. “Both sides have got their plans laid kinder cute. But I guess I shall have a word to say in this ’ere business. Wal, we’ll have a reckoning some day. If I could see yer old head up thar among the rocks, I should be tempted to put a bullet through it. I’ll be darned if I hain’t a good mind to shoot yer owl off his perch, anyway. You thought he was fooling ye, but he wa’n’t. I was here myself, all the time. But I guess I’ll let him alone. The bird ain’t to blame, anyway. Jest git yer p’izen ready for little Ruth if you want to. I guess it will be some time before you’ll have a chance to give it to her. It will, anyway, if I and Susannah can get to Sam Wilson’s cabin afore the red-skins. They’ve got some the start, but they can’t come in. ’Tain’t no use. Dick, the Death-Dealer, will get there afore ’em, and if they don’t get a good peppering out of yer mouth, Susannah, then I miss my guess. Come on now, for we mustn’t let the grass grow under our feet.”

Thus addressing his mute companion, Dick threw it over his shoulder, and turning his back upon the abode of the Wizard, he dashed away through the forest at a pace that few could imitate.

Already since the moment when he had been started from his resting-place by the appearance of the first savage that afternoon, he had traversed many miles, a portion of which he had been obliged, as the reader already knows, to run for his life.

Still he felt not the first inclination of weariness, as most any man would have done. His powers of endurance were great, and he had been schooled in the work until it was a second nature with him.

The long rest he had had through the heat of the day was greatly in his favor, and at this moment he would have said that he felt as fresh as he did when he first rose from the earth from his nap.

Of only one thing did he think he stood in need, and that was food.

He had not broke his fast since morning. But he had often gone longer than this without eating, and now there was neither time nor opportunity for him to do so.

He knew that the safety of Sam Wilson and his family depended upon his reaching their cabin as soon as he could.

Over two hours had elapsed since he had given his pursuers the slip, and the distance they were in advance depended upon how much time they had spent in searching for him after they had lost his trail.

But be that as it might, he knew well that he had no time to lose, and therefore he bent every energy to the task of getting over the ground as fast as possible.

The moon had now risen high above the tree-tops, throwing a flood of silver light down into the forest, rendering it in places almost as light as day.

This was very much to his advantage, and aided him in various ways.

It enabled him to avoid difficult places, where his progress would have been slow, and it also served to keep him in a straight line toward the place of his destination.

Never turning from the point toward which his mind was set, the scout went onward.

But one thought was in his mind.

Should he be too late to save his friends from the terrible fate which threatened them?

Over and over again he asked himself this question.

He could only answer it by hoping for the best.

More than once had he warned Sam Wilson to leave his cabin in the forest and take up his abode in some settlement where he would not be so much exposed; but he would not listen to him.

He was as safe in one place as another, he always declared, but now the hour had come when he would find out his mistake.

It was near a half-dozen miles to the nearest settlement, and thus he was as completely cut off from aid as though he were in the heart of the wilderness.

On he went, never for a moment flagging in his pace.

The moon rose higher and higher, and at last he judged from it that midnight was near at hand.

He could not be far from the clearing now. Were the red-skins before or behind him?

The sky as yet gave no evidence of fire near at hand, and though he paused and listened he could not hear the slightest sound.

A calm unbroken by aught reigned around.

But it was always the stillest before a storm.

Would it prove so in this case?

From what he heard that night he could think it would be otherwise.

At last the broad field of moonlight which lay through the trees before him told him that he was close to the edge of the clearing.

A few minutes more and his suspense was at an end.

The cabin stood unharmed in the center of the clearing, and a light gleaming out from the window told him that they had not all retired as yet.

“Thank fortin we’re in time, Susannah,” he exclaimed, as he paused for a moment to wipe the profuse perspiration from his brow. “I wonder what it is that keeps ’em up so late? I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Ned Tapley was here sitting Ruth up. I hope he is, ’ca’se thar’ll be one more shot on our side. Ned can handle a rifle nigh about as well as I can you, Susannah.”

He did not lose many moments here, but with long strides he crossed the clearing and approached the cabin. Noiselessly he came up and peered in through the crevice of the window through which the light shone out.

He was right in his surmises. Ned Tapley was seated within, with Ruth’s head resting upon his shoulder. His arm was about her waist, and in their happiness they had little thought of the danger which menaced them, or that other eyes than their own were looking upon them.

Dick hugged his rifle close to him.

“They’re as loving as you and I,” he said to himself. “We’ve been in pretty ’tarnal tough scrapes afore now, Susannah, and if signs don’t fail they’ll be too, afore they’re out of this. I hate to disturb ’em but it’s got to be done. So here goes.”

Suiting the action to the word, he rapped loudly upon the door, bringing the startled lovers to their feet.

“Who is there?” demanded Ned.

“Dick. Open the door and let me in.”

“It is the scout,” said Ruth. “Where can he have come from at this time of night?”

As Ned could not answer this question of Ruth’s, he unbarred the door, giving admittance to the scout that he might reply for himself.

“Come in. I’m glad to see you,” exclaimed the young man, grasping him by the hand. “You are the last person that I would have thought of turning up to-night.”

“Am sorry to interrupt yer courting, youngster, but it had better be me than somebody else. Anyway I’m glad to see you here. I wish there was a dozen more from the settlement, for I’m afraid we shall need ’em afore morning.”

“What do you mean? Is there danger abroad to-night?” demanded Ned, anxiously, while Ruth’s hand which she had placed in that of the scout’s trembled in spite of her efforts to prevent it.

“’Tain’t no use to try to deceive you,” said Dick, after he had returned the greeting of Ruth. “I ain’t got the time, even if I wanted to. Call up Sam and I’ll tell you what I know. But first mind that the door is barred strong. There’s no telling when the red-skins may be upon us, and it’s best to be prepared.”

“I’m here,” exclaimed the settler, emerging from the other apartment with his rifle in his hand. “What is the matter, Dick? Are the red-skins on the rampage ag’in?”

Ned had been looking to the door, and now he came back again, and all waited anxiously for the scout to speak.

He did not keep them long in suspense, but in as few words as possible he made them acquainted with the danger they were in.

Though the face of Ruth was as white as snow, she did not cry out, when she comprehended the danger she was in, but the mother who had joined the group in season to hear the burden of the scout’s communication gave utterance to her fears.

“Oh, Ruth, my child, what shall be done?” she cried. “I was fearful the other day when the savage was here that you had offended him; but I did not think he would plan so terrible a thing as this.”

“I don’t know why you didn’t,” said the scout, bluntly. “You can’t trust one of the race half so far as you can see ’em. That I found out long ago. They never enjoy themselves half so much as they do when they are burning, and cutting, and slashing round and raising scalps. That’s what they were made for I suppose, and I don’t know as they can help it.”

“Do you think that they are close at hand?” asked Ned, as he took his rifle from the corner of the room and carefully examined the priming.

“Yes, I expect ’em any moment. It was a wonder that they didn’t get here afore me. I guess they hunted longer for my trail than I thought they would. But they had ought to know better by this time, than to think they could catch me arter I’ve got wind of what they’re up to.”

“What had we better do?” asked the settler, anxiously. “Stick by the cabin, hadn’t we?”

“Yes. It’s all the sight we’ve got. If we run for the woods, like as not we shall stumble right into their clutches. The walls of the cabin ar’ thick, and we’ve got three rifles to help ourselves with. We’re safer here than we should be anywhere else.”

“But there is another one to help us,” said Ruth. “The man up in the loft. He must be sound asleep not to hear us. Had we not better call him?”

“I’m a-coming,” cried a voice, overhead. “I’ll be down thar jest as soon as I can get my legs into my trowsers. Rot the luck, that ain’t the right hole anyway. I never could get on my fixin’s in the dark. Jerusalem! there goes a gallows-button! Right down through a crack in the floor as sure as preaching. Say, below there! Ye didn’t hear it drop, did ye?”

No answer was made to this inquiry, while the scout stared upward for a moment as if in astonishment, and then turned his inquiring gaze into the faces of those about him, as though he was mutely demanding who the stranger was.

But they had no chance to answer him, before a huge pair of feet appeared upon the upper round of the ladder, followed by a pair of legs so long that Dick began to wonder if any body would follow at all. But it did at length, crowned by a head, and the whole of the stranger was revealed to his wondering gaze.

Long and lank, it seemed to Dick as though he must be at least seven feet in hight. He had only stopped to half clothe himself, and the rest of his garments he carried upon his arm. His face was sharp and thin, and the lower part of it was covered with a long, thin beard, which stuck out in every direction like the quills of a porcupine. His eyes, which were small and restless, had a sharp look about them, and his tone and twang proclaimed him at once to be a Yankee.

If the scout gazed upon him curiously, the new-comer returned it with interest. Evidently he had never seen such an extraordinary figure as that presented by the scout. Evidently he wished to make some remarks upon him, but he contented himself with a single exclamation.

“Whew!”

“Who are you?” demanded Dick, a little impatient of the scrutiny the other had bestowed upon him, forgetting that he himself had been guilty of the same.

“Wal, I don’t mind telling ye,” answered the Yankee, as he went on with his toilet. “My name is Peleg Parker, and I hail from New Hampshire. I was raised in Pigwaket, right up under the shadder of the White Mountains. I couldn’t make money fast enough up there, and so I took to peddling, and so wandered away out into these ’ere parts. My pack is up in the garret, and I’ve got as good an assortment in it as ever was seen this side of the mountains. Prehaps I can trade a little with ye in the morning? Will sell cheaper than dirt. There didn’t any of you see that button drop down here, did ye? I wouldn’t lose it for a fourpence, for I couldn’t match it out in these parts.”

Mrs. Wilson replied in the negative, and then Ned Tapley said:

“You don’t know, perhaps, the danger we’re in. We’re expecting every moment that the savages will attack the cabin.”

“I know it, and I’m worried nigh about to death about my pack. If the red-skins get hold on it I’m ruined. My hull fortin is in it—ev’ry darned cent I’m worth. Say, Mister, you don’t think they can break in here, do you?”

This was addressed to Dick, who replied somewhat angrily:

“I wouldn’t wonder if they did. They’ll do their best to, at any rate. You had better worry about yer scalp than about that ’ere pack o’ your’n. If you wa’n’t asleep when I came here, you wouldn’t ask such a question as that.”

“Asleep! I’ll be darned if I’ve slept a wink to-night. I knew the young folks were courting down here, and it put me in mind of the time when I used to be in that business myself. I’ve courted more’n a dozen gals, off and on, up in New Hampshire, and nigh about every one of ’em give me the mitten in the end.”

“I don’t wonder at it,” muttered the scout.

“Wal, I thought of ’em down here for a good while, and got a-wondering if I couldn’t sell ’em a good bargain out of my pack if they were going to housekeeping, and then I rolled over and was just going to sleep, when you made that thundering racket at the door. And now here I am up ag’in without having got a wink of sleep to-night.”

“You’ll be lucky if you ever do again,” muttered the scout. “If we can’t keep the red-skins out of here, you’ve taken your last nap and cheated the last one you ever will.”

The Yankee was about to make some rejoinder to this, when Sam Wilson broke in:

“This won’t do for us to stand talking here. We must keep a watch without. I will go up into the loft and station myself at one of the loopholes there. We mustn’t let the red-skins get up under the walls of the cabin unless we want to be smoked out.”

“I will go,” said Ned, making a move toward the ladder. “Do you stay here and make ready for their coming. I’ll keep my eyes open, and give the alarm the first glimpse I get on them.”

“I swan, I wish I was in New Hampshire,” exclaimed Peleg. “I’ll bet a dollar that ’ere pack will go afore I get out of this scrape.”

“What have you got for weapons?” demanded the scout, sharply. “We shall have need of every thing in that line afore morning. Have you got a rifle?”

“How in the name of Jerusalem do you think I can carry a rifle along with a pack? I guess you never was in the peddling line, was ye?”

“No.”

“So I thought. And jest at this time I wish I wa’n’t neither. I guess it would be money in my pocket if I was out of this scrape.”

“But what have you got?” demanded the scout, impatiently. “Any pistols?”

“Yes, a pair of beauties up in my pack. But I don’t want to dirt ’em up in this scrape if I can help it. I calculated to make a good thing out of ’em when I found the right customer.”

Dick gave utterance to something which sounded very much like an oath.

“You’ve got a customer for ’em now, and if you save yer scalp in the trade you’ll make the best bargain you ever did. Bring them down and load them up at once. We ain’t got a moment to lose in getting ready.”

With evident reluctance the Yankee turned away and clambered once more up to the loft. It took him some little time to search them out in the dark, but when he returned he had them in his hands.

The scout took them from him, for the purpose of examining them to see if they were properly loaded and in good order.

“Come,” said Peleg. “What will you give me for ’em? I’ll sell ’em ’tarnal cheap. Speak out. I stump you to make me an offer.”

The sound of footsteps was heard above their heads, and the next moment the excited face of Ned was thrust down through the opening.

“They are coming; a half-score of them at least are crossing the clearing.”

Mrs. Wilson and Ruth grew paler if possible than before, while Sam and the scout exchanged glances, which told of the apprehension they felt. As for the Yankee, he only muttered:

“Darn it, why couldn’t they have waited a minute longer. They’ve sp’iled a trade.”

CHAPTER IV.
FOUR AGAINST FORTY.

It was only for a moment that the look of apprehension remained upon the face of the scout. Then it vanished and a look of stern determination took its place.

“Look well to the door, Sam,” he said. “There’s a crack there atween the logs by it, and if you get a good chance give ’em a shot that will tell. I’ll go up with Ned, and if we don’t pick off a couple of ’em at least afore they get here, why we’ll make some bad shots, that’s all.”

“What shall I do?” said the Yankee. “Keep the wimmin folks company?”

“Stay here with Sam, and if you find a chance to use them shooters, why do it,” said Dick, as he bounded up the ladder, and felt his way along to the spot where Ned Tapley was kneeling before a loophole which had been left between the logs for the very purpose for which it was now employed.

“Look,” said the young man, moving aside so as to give him a chance to peer into the outer world. “There is more of them than I thought. As near as I can make out there is a good two score of them.”

“So there is,” said Dick, as he glanced hastily through and noted the red-skins that as silently as so many spirits of evil were gliding toward the cabin.

“Rushing Water has got half his warriors with him, I guess. He don’t mean to fail in this thing if he can help it.”

“And I am afraid that he will not,” said Ned, in a low tone. “How can we ever contend against such a horde as that which is pouring down upon us.”

“If the cabin walls only prove true to us, we will make a good fight, and send howling away what we don’t leave stretched out about us. So here goes for one of ’em, Susannah. Mind, old gal, that you do yer duty.”

He thrust the muzzle of his rifle out between the logs and ran his eye along the barrel. Taking good aim upon the foremost savage, he pulled the trigger. There was a report and the savage lay stretched upon the earth.

A shout of rage burst from the throats of the savages, making the echoes of the forest ring on every side.

“There’s one of them gone under,” said the scout, exultingly. “Hear them howl. But they shall have a chance to again before we are done with them. Now, Ned, here is a chance for you.”

He moved aside, hastily reloading his rifle as he did so, and the young man took his place. A glance without showed him that the savages had widely separated, and were hurrying at the top of their speed toward the cabin.

They knew that when once beneath its walls that the marksmen within would not have the chance upon them that they had now.

Ned singled out one of them, and brought his rifle to bear upon him. The next instant, and the messenger of death sped forth upon its errand of destruction, and when the smoke cleared away he saw the savage lying motionless upon the field.

Another moment, and Sam’s rifle spoke from beneath them, and glancing out Ned saw that he, too, had been successful.

The scout’s rifle was reloaded now, and Ned hastily moved away to give him another chance. But, it was too late. The field between the cabin and the clearing was emptied of savages, except those who would never move again. They had gained the shelter of the cabin walls, and each felt a shudder run through his frame, as he thought how near the savage horde was to them, and only the walls of their little fort between them and destruction.