Edward Sylvester Ellis

“ In point of beauty, Isabel Moreland certainly had no superior in all Kentucky, and in those days real beauty was not so scarce as in this age of fashion and folly. She was the betrothed of Russell Trafford, and people had said they would make an excellent match, but that was all over now, and here stood the young man under the gallows, on the eve of a felon’s death, while his affianced wife wept bitterly as he bid her a final adieu. ”

“ Presently a man sauntered up to the door, attracted thither by the charming one who stood there. He was a big, burly fellow, with the brute plainly stamped on his coarse, red face, and an air of reckless depravity about him that proclaimed him any thing else but a man. He wore a slouched hat, pulled carelessly down on one side of his head, completely hiding his right eye. This was Jim McCabe, the veriest bully and profligate in the settlement, who, it was said, was so devoid of principle that no piece of deviltry was too great for him to commit. ”

“ There was scarcely a man present who did not recall the last words of Russell Trafford, as he spoke from the scaffold, and realize that an innocent man had been put to death! The revelation maddened the honest settlers, most of whom had been firm friends of the young man, and, as they thought of the awful mistake they had committed, self-reproach did not satisfy them. Here was the real murderer in their power—the black-hearted wretch who had caused the destruction of those two lives. ”

“ In an instant cheer after cheer rent the air, and the hardy settlers rushed forward in a body. Lifting Russell Trafford upon their shoulders, they bore him round the spot with shouts of joy, and the wildest confusion reigned. A great many, among whom was Mr. Moreland, shook the hands of Kirby Kidd, Nick Robbins and the Wyandott until the arms of the three champions ached from wrist to shoulder.
The tumult soon subsided. Then Russell, after thanking all for their manifestations of renewed friendship, joined the Moreland family and received the blessings of his future parents-in-law. ”

“ Wicked as I knew you to be, I am surprised to learn that you are a friend of the Indians, and doubly so that you are a confederate of the worst apostate and murderer that ever [59] lived. Wretch! Fiend! I can not believe God will permit you to succeed, and if the stain on Russell Trafford’s name is not purged away before the setting of to-morrow’s sun, I have overrated my ability. Poor Isabel Moreland! She shall not fall into the hands of that man if I can prevent it, nor shall the massacre be so complete as they have pictured it. ”

“ I wish I could forget that I ever saw any thing frightful in that haunted place; but even rum has lost its power to drown the memory of that awful night. I can no longer doubt that it was a spirit I saw, for Kirby Kidd, and Wapawah, and Nick Robbins were there, and they saw nothing. But how can I account for her being there in the embrace of that unearthly shadow? She, a living mortal, holding tryst with a—Well, it is simply inexplicable, and it drives me to distraction to think of it. Could it have been my imagination, after all, that made his face resemble that one under the ground? ”

“ A disposition of kindness and plain truthfulness is one of Kirby Kidd’s characteristics, and it is ever reflected, not only in his countenance, but also in his words and deeds, winning the love of all whom he meets on a friendly footing. As he sits on the ground with his trusty rifle lying across his lap, preparing his morning meal with that skill that can only be the result of experience, he frequently lifts his head and darts a glance at the opening in the rocks, so searching that nothing within its scope escapes notice. ”

“ To hear their conversation, one would judge their acquaintance was rapidly ripening into friendship, as they went so far as to almost make confidants of each other, and chatted as familiarly as if they had been on intimate terms for a number of years. In fact, Jim McCabe believed he had found a trustworthy friend in the old hunter, and reposed more and more confidence in him every moment, and, to all appearance, Nick Robbins was similarly worked upon. ”

“ A tiny stream ripples through the ravine. On one side of it is a large camp-fire, around which a band of Indians is congregated, sitting or reclining in various attitudes, some breakfasting and some smoking, while others are doing nothing. They number about thirty souls in all, and a single glance at them discovers more than one evidence of the fact that they are, or recently have been, on the war-path. ”

“ I am not a spirit, nor am I other than he whom I now seem to be. I am Russell Trafford, in the full possession of my health. After my conviction and sentence, you all know that I was locked up in the block-house, there to be in durance vile until the day set apart for my execution. Some of you know, likewise, that during my imprisonment, Kirby Kidd, and Wapawah came to the block-house and asked the privilege of a private interview with me. Their request was readily complied with, and the two scouts were shown into my cell. ”

“ Where did you come from so suddenly? You have been so long a while in making up your mind to follow me, that I had almost despaired of seeing you again very soon. That boy? Oh, he’s my cousin, Mike Terry. Come Mike; look up. Don’t you believe, I found him lying here asleep.”
“Did, hey? What’s he hyur fur?”
“He’s been searching for me, I presume. He is always wandering about and getting lost.”
“’Pears to me this is a bad place fur a chap o’ his heft to be strollin’ ’round alone,” said the hunter, gazing as closely and curiously at the boy as if he had never seen him before. ”

“ Thus far, Nick Robbins had listened to the conversation without moving from his tracks, but now, fearing the monster would carry out his dire threat, he thought the time for action had come. Beginning to hum a popular air, and dropping his gun to a trail, he walked boldly forward through the thick underbrush, creating as much noise as possible in the act. A few steps took him to a small opening in the woods, where Jim McCabe and the Irish boy, Mike Terry, were standing.
“Hello! what have we hyur?” exclaimed the hunter, stopping short and staring, with well-feigned surprise, at the lad. ”

“ Lying there on his back, the now thoroughly terrified villain looked up to see who his captors were. The first ones he noticed were old Kirby Kidd, and his Indian friend, Wapawah. Then, running his eyes further round the circle, he observed the twelve stalwart, well-armed men who had been sent with the emigrants as an escort, and was surprised to see that their number was not in the least diminished by the attack of the savages. Among them stood Nick Robbins, looking as cool and unconcerned as ever, with Mike Terry by his side. ”

“ Nick Robbins is approaching a deep ravine that lies a short distance away. He moves toward it step by step, with studied circumspection, his quick eye flashing from right to left occasionally, but the greater part of the time fastened upon the ravine in front. He creeps along with that caution usually exercised by hunters when stealing upon the game, or scouts when nearing an enemy’s camp, and yet he is the only person or living thing in sight. ”

“ He it was who had snatched Russell Trafford from the very jaws of a horrible death. The young man stepped up to him, seized him by the hand and said, with much feeling:
“God bless you, Mike! You have done a noble act, and proved yourself a true-hearted fellow after all.”
A great many others echoed these words, and the Irish boy was the hero of the hour. The body of the miserable wretch, Jim McCabe, was now borne away, and, shortly after, the crowd dispersed, and the people sought their different homes, there to muse and remark on the extraordinary events that had occurred in their midst. ”

“ He is a man of medium proportions, wearing the buck-skin garb of a hunter, and armed with the weapons usually carried by the early pioneers and wood-rangers. From beneath a coon-skin cap, lank locks of red hair fall just to his shoulders, and a coarse beard of the same hue disfigures, rather than adorns, his face. There is an ugly patch on his left check, and his right eye is completely hidden by a rough bandage that is tied around his head, all giving him a decidedly unprepossessing, if not repulsive, look.
After this, it is perhaps superfluous to add that the hunter’s name is Nick Robbins. ”

“ In the moonlight he saw the faces of three men, all scowling upon him as though he were [24] the worst person in existence! He knew them all at a glance. One of them, he who had seized him by the collar, was Kirby Kidd, the stalwart ranger who had acted the part of hangman in the execution of young Trafford. Another was the friendly Wyandott Indian, Wapawah, the constant companion of the white hunter. The third and last member of the group was Nick Robbins, the man of the bandaged eye and expressionless face. ”

“ I went. By careful maneuvering I managed to get outside of the stockade unseen, the sentry at the gate having temporarily deserted his post at the alarm of fire. Once beyond the limits of the fort, I felt that my flight was well commenced. I then struck out in a southerly direction, and traveled many, many weary miles toward the interior.
“At last I came upon a solitary hut in the woods. I found it occupied by a good-natured old hunter, who gave me rest, shelter and food. ”

“ Russell Trafford was one of the most honored and highly esteemed young men of the place, and yet, on this bright August afternoon, he was to be put to death for the willful murder of another person, who had enjoyed a like reputation. Being an orphan, the young man had lived with his uncle, Doctor Trafford, in the largest and most substantial cabin in the settlement, the worthy doctor being a kind but eccentric [10] individual, who could not have loved his nephew more had the latter been a son instead. ”

“ As we have intimated, the fourth side of the glen opens toward the river, and the least experienced in wild life could not but be struck with the appropriateness for a camping-ground, or a place of concealment from the savages.
It is used for both this morning. There is but one man in the glen, a grizzled old hunter, whose stature and general appearance [60] approach the gigantic, and he sits quietly by his fire, busily engaged in roasting a wild duck. The man is Kirby Kidd. ”

“ Then the crisis will come immediately. Ugh! won’t it be a terrible slaughter? The whites little dream that death is so near to them, and momentarily drawing nearer.”
“An’ the Injuns little dream what is in store for them,” thought the hunter, but the thought was not expressed. He added aloud: “Yas, thar’s goin’ to be hullsale destruction in less’n a minute, an’ the victims have no idea what’s goin’ to happen.” ”

“ It is evident, however, from his manner and actions, that he is not only intent on reaching a certain point ahead, but is extremely fearful that his footsteps will betray him to somebody or something before he can reach it.
“Strange that he should go there,” mutters the hunter. “Bad as he is, I should never have supposed that he was leagued with the Indians. He entered that ravine as he would have entered his own house, and I know there is a bivouac of savages there. ”

“ As we have already stated, the grave of Doctor Trafford’s supposed murderer was in a pretty little glade just outside of the settlement. Those who had known and liked the young man were only too glad to perform any office of respect to his corpse, and the grave had been dug so deep that there was no possibility of the body being reached by wild animals. ”

“ I’ve pulled the wool over more’n one feller’s eyes. An’ onkimmon ’cute chap, who b’ars the handle o’ Kirby Kidd, thinks I’m his truest friend, an’ has the utmost confidence both in my faithfulness an’ my skill as an Injun-fighter. Fur all that, I am disguised, whether I look like it or no.”
Jim McCabe was so astonished that he could not reply, and, observing this, the hunter continued:
“Maybe ye’d like to know what I am, since I ain’t what I seem? I’ll tell yer. Besides bein’ Nick Robbins, I am the companion, the confed’rate, the right bower o’ Simon Girty!” ”

“ Shots were fired at irregular intervals by both sides, our trio noting every flash and crack of the guns, and listening keenly for the result. From the uncertain foundation of what they heard—or, rather, did not hear—they deduced the opinion that none of the whites were hurt, while they knew that among the savages there was a fearful destruction of life. ”

“ Jim McCabe was impatient and restless.
“Girty is slow,” he exclaimed. “I wish he would hurry. I wonder if he thinks he has the whole night in which to do this job?”
He paused for a reply, but, receiving none, continued:
“I wish the thing was over, and I had my future wife in my arms. Confound the luck! I believe the man has drawn his men off without even attempting the massacre. If I but had the Indians under my command for a short time, I’d spread desolation over the face of the waters. ”

“ In his place stood—who but Russell Trafford!
The effect of this transformation on the throng of settlers who witnessed it, may be more easily imagined than described. Everybody in the settlement knew that ludicrous specimen of the Maine Yankee, known by the name of Jonathan Boggs, [90] and to see him change himself into a man whom they had never expected to see again on earth—no wonder every tongue was paralyzed, every form petrified! ”