Jos. E. Badger

“ The pursuers were too near for that.
Then a cry burst from his lips. Like a revelation, there flashed upon him a scene from the past: a deep, narrow gorge, yet too wide for man to cross it by leaping—a hunter standing upon the verge, peering downward, supporting himself by a stout grape-vine that dangled from the horizontal limb of the gnarled elm tree. By its aid an active man could cross the ravine.
Calling upon Dare to increase his exertions, Boone darted forward with the speed of a hunted deer through the now less dense forest. ”

“ The White Wolf shouts a few words, then rushes into the cavern. The Osages clutch their weapons and spring forward. The rifles of the marksmen below speak rapidly, each bullet sounding a death-knell. A savage kneels down and aims a vicious blow at the Wood King with a hatchet. His arm raises—a pistol flashes—the Indian falls forward, his skull shattered to atoms, his hot blood besprinkling Boone's face. ”

“ The savages yelled madly from their cover, but not one ventured to show himself. The hermit laughed loudly, then turned to Abel, who, pale and staring, was gazing over the platform:
"How do you like my style of working? But go and get some more of our jolly flint bullets—you'll find them yonder, in the cave behind you."
Awe-stricken, Dare rose to his feet to obey, but then paused as though transfixed. Then a joyous look overspread his face, as he sprung forward, crying:
"Edith, my darling! alive—thank God!" ”

“ A faint cry from Edith called their attention, then following the direction indicated by her trembling finger, they discovered the head of a savage slowly rising above the ledge. Quick as thought, Abel flung forward his rifle and fired, just as the hermit cried:
"Don't shoot—it's a trick—they're shoving up a dead man to draw our fire!" and then he clutched the bow and notched an arrow to the string.
As the rifle-shot rung out, a cry of triumph broke from the lips of the savages, and the corpse that had availed them so well was cast aside, while in quick succession they sprung upon the ledge. ”

“ Coolly the Kickapoo waited until the savages were within a score yards of the trunk, then his bow sent a feathered shaft deep into the breast of the foremost brave. Startled, the survivors broke for cover, but another missile overtook them, and Lightfoot yelled defiantly as another victim was added to the heavy price demanded for his life.
For a time all was still. Not an Indian could be seen; not a missile was discharged at the Kickapoo, though his position could be fairly defined. Once their chiefs had doomed Lightfoot to the stake; now they resolved that a similar death should be his. ”

“ Down through flesh and bone sunk the keen hatchet, scattering the skull like an egg-shell—gritting against his breast-bone the long knife.
A husky, gasping sound broke from the stricken brave's lips; it could scarce be called a death-yell. Yet it was heard—it and the furious death-blows, as the quick, sharp exclamations evinced.
Plucking his weapons from their quivering sheath, Lightfoot raised his voice in one loud, clear yell of taunting defiance as he spurned the corpse from him, and plunged into the darkness beyond. ”

“ A wild cry—horrible in its intensity of rage—rung through the cavern, and then a dark form shot through the air, alighting beside Grable, whose throat was clutched with a giant's grip, as he staggered backward, borne to the ground beneath the shock. It was Abel Dare, wrought to madness by seeing his loved one so brutally stricken down.
The savages started back in affright and amazement. At first they believed themselves attacked by something more than mortal man. Thus released, the hermit staggered upon his feet. ”

“ A shrill yell of exultation burst front Lightfoot's lips as he heard the death-shrieks behind him, and right deftly did he improve the advantage given him by the momentary hesitation of his pursuers, darting forward with the speed of a well-conditioned race-horse. It needed not the clear voice that shouted encouragement to him from out the gloom, to tell him who were the daring marksmen. Lightfoot knew that Boone and Dare had ventured from the forest in order to create a diversion in his favor. ”

“ Then hastily reloaded rifles from among the settlers were discharged—like a shaft of light another arrow sped from Lightfoot's covert, rankling deep in the very heart of a battle-scarred warrior.
With a loud cheer Boone broke cover, dashing down the hill. The settlers answer him—so does Lightfoot. The Pottawatomies believe themselves surrounded and outnumbered. With cries of dismay they turn and flee, leaving their dead and dying behind them.
They are not pursued far. The settlers have learned a lesson in prudence that they will not soon forget. ”

“ Sharply, with a spiteful cadence, rung out its voice, the bright flame leaping half-way across the ravine, dazzling the eyes of the Osages; the eyes of all but one—and he sunk down in death, the blood gushing from a perforated skull. For a moment the savages stood amazed; then turned and sought cover. But before the friendly bowlders were gained, though so near at hand, the rifle of the young settler was discharged, and a second savage fell at full length, sorely wounded. A single cry of agony, then he silently dragged his maimed body over the rocky ground, seeking to gain cover. ”

“ Clearing the rock-bed, he struck a direct course for the rendezvous. The cool morning breeze greatly revived him, and partially dispelled the drowsiness. Once he paused. There came to his ears the faint sound of yelling, from the far right. Though he knew it not, it was the discovery of Abel Dare by the Osages under Seth Grable.
Half an hour later Boone discovered two smokes: the nearest light and fleecy, the other dark and heavy, arising, as he calculated with a peculiar thrill, from the vicinity of the cave. Was it a signal kindled by Lightfoot to hasten his coming? ”

“ But then the name of the outcast was echoed from lip to lip, and the cry arose to capture him for the torture-post.
Choosing rather to die at once, Lightfoot sprung upon the Osages with desperate fury, dealing his blows with lightning rapidity, leaving behind and around him a swath of dead and wounded. With superhuman strength, he slowly pressed through the cordon, and then, with one triumphant whoop, he cut down the last warrior that barred his road to freedom, and darted forward toward the friendly forest, where, once it was gained, he would be comparatively safe. ”

“ Following each other in rapid succession the feathered shafts carried death into their midst, each shot accompanied by a devilish laugh. Paralyzed with horror, the savages flung themselves upon the blood-running floor, hiding their heads. Upon them poured the rangers, mad, raging, striking and slaying without mercy in their blind rage, until not one was left alive.
When the excitement was over, the over-wrought strength of the hermit gave way, and he staggered out into the firelight, and sunk to the floor like one dead. Boone, recognizing him, rushed to his assistance. ”

“ At this moment a cry came from the forest. The Osages answered it. A few minutes later, a considerable body of Indians—both Osages and Pottawatomies—entered the village. One approached and spat in Lightfoot's face. It was the White Wolf—Seth Grable.
Making no reply, the Kickapoo glanced quickly around. A ferocious fire filled his eye as he caught a glimpse of a white woman being led into a cabin. In the firelight, her hair, floating loosely over her shoulder, shone with a golden gleam.
The savages gathered together, and the White Wolf addressed them in hot, forcible words. ”

“ Uttering his thrilling war-cry, the outcast chief leaped forward, without awaiting the onset. With a motion rapid as thought, the heavy tomahawk fell; when it rose again it was stained a bright-red hue, and ruby drops fell from the once untarnished blade. Again and again it descended, now drinking the life-blood of an Osage, now parrying some deadly blow aimed at its wielder's life.
It was a thrilling sight to see that one man struggling against such fearful odds—fighting for liberty, for life! To see the blood-stained weapons flash in the weird flickering of the camp-fires ”

“ A lithe figure darted past them with the speed of thought. Was it that of friend, or of an enemy? Not until Lightfoot had passed the last cabin and rent the air with his shrill, taunting whoop, did they suspect the truth. But then pursuit was immediate. Burning with rage, they darted after the fleeing form. Twice that night had he bearded them—he should not live to boast of it. Were the Osage braves dogs that a degraded outcast should thus throw dirt in their faces? The deadly, vindictive yells answered no! ”

“ The bow relaxed—the arrow sped—an Osage sunk forward, transfixed by the feathered shaft, his death-cry carrying consternation to the hearts of the warriors, for they knew not whence the death-shot came. Another twang was followed with a like result, and then the madman's shrill laughter rung out clear and devilish. In terror the Osages leaped to their feet and darted to the entrance. From bad to worse. Half a dozen rifles cracked, so close that their flashes scorched the flesh; and then the rangers rushed on to a hand-to-hand struggle. But the terror-stricken savages turned and fled. ”

“ In that chamber Seth Grable had left them just as he was startled by the cries of his comrades, as the settlers began their desperate attack. And with beating hearts, whose throbs were almost suffocating, the captives listened, hoping, praying that the pale-faces might overcome the Indians, and rescue them from what, otherwise, was almost certain death.
Believing themselves alone, they gave free expression to their hopes and fears, little dreaming that human ears drank in their every word, that human eyes were even then upon them, as they lay just within the firelight. ”

“ Recovering himself, the hermit, still clutching the bow, sprung back and raised Edith in his arms, crying for Abel to follow them quickly, then darted into the darkness of the cave. Hard upon his heels trod the young settler, while, recovering from their momentary confusion, the Osages dashed after the fugitives with blood-curdling yells.
But the nimble-footed savages were too fleet for the fleeing trio, and the hermit, panting from exertion and growing weakness, exclaimed to Dare:
"I'll have to give in. There is but one thing to do. ”

“ A man dashed through the undergrowth, sprung down the sandy bank, and ran rapidly across the level bar, stumbling at the water's-edge, falling at full length. From his cover, the hunter could see a knife-blade flash in the sunlight, and then the fugitive cast from him the severed part of an arrow that had pierced his leg.
Freed from this incumbrance, he arose and dashed through the shallow water toward the western shore. But several precious moments had been lost, and, with yells of vindictive exultation, nearly a score of savages sprung out upon the river-bank. ”

“ Lightfoot felt at his breast A few drops of blood stained his fingers, but the arrow was gone. He probed the wound—it was but a trifle. The strength of the dying brave had not equaled his determination.
The Kickapoo arose, and by the quick-following flashes of lightning carefully scrutinized the spot. To his joy he found nothing of Edith—because by that he knew that she still lived.
In the alternate gloom and brightness he glided around, stooping momentarily over each one of the dead savages. He was an Indian. He knew how to strike his living enemies sorest. ”

“ A desperate effort that causes the whole human line to quiver and shake—then the bowlder is turned aside and goes thundering down the mound, dashing far out upon plain, its jagged points stained only with blood from the palms of the Wood King. ”

“ Several Indians rushed to where a good-sized bowlder lay, rolling it to the edge. Two rifles cracked—two Osages dropped, shot through the brain, having carelessly exposed their persons. The scaling party shouted exultantly. Those who had fired dropped the empty weapons and seized fresh ones, once more covering the ledge.
A savage drops flat upon his face, then pushes the bowlder forward by main strength. It rests upon the edge—another effort, and it topples over. A cry comes from the foremost man, now nearly at the top of the trail.
It is Boone. The next behind him is Jim Fosdick. ”

“ The trees grew less thickly, the ground more broken, strewn with flinty bowlders. Through the clear moonlight could be seen distant hills rising darkly, with their covering of trees, or bleak and bare, their rocky summits scarce affording subsistence for a scant growth of shriveled, prematurely-growing grass.
True to his latter calculation, the Wood King reached the gorge at a point only a few steps from the vine-wreathed elm tree, and then one stroke of his keen knife severed the pendent grape-vine close to its root. ”