Zane Grey (21 page)

"I'm about as much behind as you was ahead of time," said Wetzel.
"We'll stay here fer the night, an' be off early in the mornin'."

Under the shelving side of the rock, and in the shade of the thicket,
the bordermen built a little fire and roasted strips of deer-meat.
Then, puffing at their long pipes they sat for a long time in silence,
while twilight let fall a dark, gray cloak over river and plain.

"Legget's move up the river was a blind, as I suspected," said
Wetzel, presently. "He's not far back in the woods from here, an'
seems to be waitin' fer somethin' or somebody. Brandt an' seven
redskins are with him. We'd hev a good chance at them in the mornin';
now we've got 'em a long ways from their camp, so we'll wait, an' see
what deviltry they're up to."

"Mebbe he's waitin' for some Injun band," suggested Jonathan.

"Thar's redskins in the valley an' close to him; but I reckon he's
barkin' up another tree."

"Suppose we run into some of these Injuns?"

"We'll hev to take what comes," replied Wetzel, lying down on a bed of
leaves.

When darkness enveloped the spot Wetzel lay wrapped in deep slumber,
while Jonathan sat against the rock, watching the last flickerings of
the camp-fire.

Will and Helen hurried back along the river road. Beguiled by the soft
beauty of the autumn morning they ventured farther from the fort than
ever before, and had been suddenly brought to a realization of the
fact by a crackling in the underbrush. Instantly their minds reverted
to bears and panthers, such as they had heard invested the thickets
round the settlement.

"Oh! Will! I saw a dark form stealing along in the woods from tree to
tree!" exclaimed Helen in a startled whisper.

"So did I. It was an Indian, or I never saw one. Walk faster. Once
round the bend in the road we'll be within sight of the fort; then
we'll run," replied Will. He had turned pale, but maintained his
composure.

They increased their speed, and had almost come up to the curve in the
road, marked by dense undergrowth on both sides, when the branches in
the thicket swayed violently, a sturdy little man armed with a musket
appeared from among them.

"Avast! Heave to!" he commanded in a low, fierce voice, leveling his
weapon. "One breeze from ye, an' I let sail this broadside."

"What do you want? We have no valuables," said Will, speaking low.

Helen stared at the little man. She was speechless with terror. It
flashed into her mind as soon as she recognized the red, evil face of
the sailor, that he was the accomplice upon whom Brandt had told Metzar
he could rely.

"Shut up! It's not ye I want, nor valuables, but this wench," growled
Case. He pushed Will around with the muzzle of the musket, which
action caused the young man to turn a sickly white and shrink
involuntarily with fear. The hammer of the musket was raised, and
might fall at the slightest jar.

"For God's sake! Will, do as he says," cried Helen, who saw murder in
Case's eyes. Capture or anything was better than sacrifice of life.

"March!" ordered Case, with the musket against Will's back.

Will hurriedly started forward, jostling Helen, who had preceded him.
He was forced to hurry, because every few moments Case pressed the gun
to his back or side.

Without another word the sailor marched them swiftly along the road,
which now narrowed down to a trail. His intention, no doubt, was to
put as much distance between him and the fort as was possible. No
more than a mile had been thus traversed when two Indians stepped
into view.

"My God! My God!" cried Will as the savages proceeded first to bind
Helen's arms behind her, and then his in the same manner. After this
the journey was continued in silence, the Indians walking beside the
prisoners, and Case in the rear.

Helen was so terrified that for a long time she could not think
coherently. It seemed as if she had walked miles, yet did not feel
tired. Always in front wound the narrow, leaf-girt trail, and to the
left the broad river gleamed at intervals through open spaces in the
thickets. Flocks of birds rose in the line of march. They seemed tame,
and uttered plaintive notes as if in sympathy.

About noon the trail led to the river bank. One of the savages
disappeared in a copse of willows, and presently reappeared carrying a
birch-bark canoe. Case ordered Helen and Will into the boat, got in
himself, and the savages, taking stations at bow and stern, paddled
out into the stream. They shot over under the lee of an island, around
a rocky point, and across a strait to another island. Beyond this they
gained the Ohio shore, and beached the canoe.

"Ahoy! there, cap'n," cried Case, pushing Helen up the bank before
him, and she, gazing upward, was more than amazed to see Mordaunt
leaning against a tree.

"Mordaunt, had you anything to do with this?" cried Helen
breathlessly.

"I had all to do with it," answered the Englishman.

"What do you mean?"

He did not meet her gaze, nor make reply; but turned to address a few
words in a low tone to a white man sitting on a log.

Helen knew she had seen this person before, and doubted not he was
one of Metzar's men. She saw a rude, bark lean-to, the remains of a
camp-fire, and a pack tied in blankets. Evidently Mordaunt and his men
had tarried here awaiting such developments as had come to pass.

"You white-faced hound!" hissed Will, beside himself with rage when he
realized the situation. Bound though he was, he leaped up and tried to
get at Mordaunt. Case knocked him on the head with the handle of his
knife. Will fell with blood streaming from a cut over the temple.

The dastardly act aroused all Helen's fiery courage. She turned to the
Englishman with eyes ablaze.

"So you've at last found your level. Border-outlaw! Kill me at once.
I'd rather be dead than breathe the same air with such a coward!"

"I swore I'd have you, if not by fair means then by foul," he
answered, with dark and haggard face.

"What do you intend to do with me now that I am tied?" she demanded
scornfully.

"Keep you a prisoner in the woods till you consent to marry me."

Helen laughed in scorn. Desperate as was the plight, her natural
courage had arisen at the cruel blow dealt her cousin, and she faced
the Englishman with flashing eyes and undaunted mien. She saw he was
again unsteady, and had the cough and catching breath habitual to
certain men under the influence of liquor. She turned her attention to
Will. He lay as he had fallen, with blood streaming over his pale face
and fair hair. While she gazed at him Case whipped out his long knife,
and looked up at Mordaunt.

"Cap'n, I'd better loosen a hatch fer him," he said brutally. "He's
dead cargo fer us, an' in the way."

He lowered the gleaming point upon Will's chest.

"Oh-h-h!" breathed Helen in horror. She tried to close her eyes but
was so fascinated she could not.

"Get up. I'll have no murder," ordered Mordaunt. "Leave him here."

"He's not got a bad cut," said the man sitting on the log. "He'll come
to arter a spell, go back to ther fort, an' give an alarm."

"What's that to me?" asked Mordaunt sharply. "We shall be safe. I
won't have him with us because some Indian or another will kill him.
It's not my purpose to murder any one."

"Ugh!" grunted one of the savages, and pointed eastward with his hand.
"Hurry-long-way-go," he said in English. With the Indians in the lead
the party turned from the river into the forest.

Helen looked back into the sandy glade and saw Will lying as they had
left him, unconscious, with his hands still bound tightly behind him,
and blood running over his face. Painful as was the thought of leaving
him thus, it afforded her relief. She assured herself he had not been
badly hurt, would recover consciousness before long, and, even bound
as he was, could make his way back to the settlement.

Her own situation, now that she knew Mordaunt had instigated the
abduction, did not seem hopeless. Although dreading Brandt with
unspeakable horror, she did not in the least fear the Englishman. He
was mad to carry her off like this into the wilderness, but would
force her to do nothing. He could not keep her a prisoner long while
Jonathan Zane and Wetzel were free to take his trail. What were his
intentions? Where was he taking her? Such questions as these, however,
troubled Helen more than a little. They brought her thoughts back to
the Indians leading the way with lithe and stealthy step. How had
Mordaunt associated himself with these savages? Then, suddenly, it
dawned upon her that Brandt also might be in this scheme to carry her
off. She scouted the idea; but it returned. Perhaps Mordaunt was only
a tool; perhaps he himself was being deceived. Helen turned pale at
the very thought. She had never forgotten the strange, unreadable, yet
threatening, expression which Brandt had worn the day she had refused
to walk with him.

Meanwhile the party made rapid progress through the forest. Not a word
was spoken, nor did any noise of rustling leaves or crackling twigs
follow their footsteps. The savage in the lead chose the open and less
difficult ground; he took advantage of glades, mossy places, and rocky
ridges. This careful choosing was, evidently, to avoid noise, and make
the trail as difficult to follow as possible. Once he stopped
suddenly, and listened.

Helen had a good look at the savage while he was in this position. His
lean, athletic figure resembled, in its half-clothed condition, a
bronzed statue; his powerful visage was set, changeless like iron. His
dark eyes seemed to take in all points of the forest before him.

Whatever had caused the halt was an enigma to all save his red-skinned
companion.

The silence of the wood was the silence of the desert. No bird
chirped; no breath of wind sighed in the tree-tops; even the aspens
remained unagitated. Pale yellow leaves sailed slowly, reluctantly
down from above.

But some faint sound, something unusual had jarred upon the
exquisitely sensitive ears of the leader, for with a meaning shake of
the head to his followers, he resumed the march in a direction at
right angles with the original course.

This caution, and evident distrust of the forest ahead, made Helen
think again of Jonathan and Wetzel. Those great bordermen might
already be on the trail of her captors. The thought thrilled her.
Presently she realized, from another long, silent march through forest
thickets, glades, aisles, and groves, over rock-strewn ridges, and
down mossy-stoned ravines, that her strength was beginning to fail.

"I can go no further with my arms tied in this way," she declared,
stopping suddenly.

"Ugh!" uttered the savage before her, turning sharply. He brandished a
tomahawk before her eyes.

Mordaunt hurriedly set free her wrists. His pale face flushed a dark,
flaming red when she shrank from his touch as if he were a viper.

After they had traveled what seemed to Helen many miles, the vigilance
of the leaders relaxed.

On the banks of the willow-skirted stream the Indian guide halted
them, and proceeded on alone to disappear in a green thicket.
Presently he reappeared, and motioned for them to come on. He led the
way over smooth, sandy paths between clumps of willows, into a heavy
growth of alder bushes and prickly thorns, at length to emerge upon a
beautiful grassy plot enclosed by green and yellow shrubbery. Above
the stream, which cut the edge of the glade, rose a sloping, wooded
ridge, with huge rocks projecting here and there out of the
brown forest.

Several birch-bark huts could be seen; then two rough bearded men
lolling upon the grass, and beyond them a group of painted Indians.

A whoop so shrill, so savage, so exultant, that it seemingly froze her
blood, rent the silence. A man, unseen before, came crashing through
the willows on the side of the ridge. He leaped the stream with the
spring of a wild horse. He was big and broad, with disheveled hair,
keen, hard face, and wild, gray eyes.

Helen's sight almost failed her; her head whirled dizzily; it was as
if her heart had stopped beating and was become a cold, dead weight.
She recognized in this man the one whom she feared most of
all—Brandt.

He cast one glance full at her, the same threatening, cool, and
evil-meaning look she remembered so well, and then engaged the Indian
guide in low conversation.

Helen sank at the foot of a tree, leaning against it. Despite her
weariness she had retained some spirit until this direful revelation
broke her courage. What worse could have happened? Mordaunt had led
her, for some reason that she could not divine, into the clutches of
Brandt, into the power of Legget and his outlaws.

But Helen was not one to remain long dispirited or hopeless. As this
plot thickened, as every added misfortune weighed upon her, when just
ready to give up to despair she remembered the bordermen. Then Colonel
Zane's tales of their fearless, implacable pursuit when bent on rescue
or revenge, recurred to her, and fortitude returned. While she had
life she would hope.

The advent of the party with their prisoner enlivened Legget's gang. A
great giant of a man, blond-bearded, and handsome in a wild, rugged,
uncouth way, a man Helen instinctively knew to be Legget, slapped
Brandt on the shoulder.

"Damme, Roge, if she ain't a regular little daisy! Never seed such a
purty lass in my life."

Brandt spoke hurriedly, and Legget laughed.

All this time Case had been sitting on the grass, saying nothing, but
with his little eyes watchful. Mordaunt stood near him, his head
bowed, his face gloomy.

"Say, cap'n, I don't like this mess," whispered Case to his master.
"They ain't no crew fer us. I know men, fer I've sailed the seas, an'
you're goin' to get what Metz calls the double-cross."