Part 5

While they were seated round the fire they noticed that their guide drew forth a black junk bottle, and began to take large and frequent draughts from it. The smell showed them plainly that it was spirits, and this discovery filled them all with uneasiness. They were afraid that their guide would make himself drunk at the very outset of their expedition; and if so, what could they do with a drunken Indian? Sam had probably procured the villanous “fire-water” when he crossed with them to Chatham, before starting, and had brought it here with the express purpose of swallowing the whole of it that night.

The effects of the intoxicating liquor were soon only too apparent. He began to talk with such volubility that his broken English was scarcely intelligible. As far as they could make out, he was trying to tell them about the best places there were for fishing and shooting, and illustrating his remarks with incoherent anecdotes about various parties which he had accompanied through these forests.

But as he went on he grew more and more excited, and at length gave up broken English, and spoke to them in his own language. Of course this made him totally unintelligible. There was now something that seemed to them uncanny in the sight of this man, as he sat there, half out of his senses, talking at them vociferously and volubly in his unintelligible jargon. It put an end to all their own conversation, and to all their pleasure. It was bad enough to be here; but to be here with a drunken Indian, a crazy savage, was too much.

But the Indian kept on. He still applied the bottle to his lips at short intervals, and continued his wild gabble as before. At first, he had been speaking to them, and now he seemed to be addressing his remarks to space; for his eyes were not any longer turned towards them, but were rolling in all directions,--sometimes resting on the trees, sometimes on the fire. He grew more and more excited. Holding the bottle in one hand, he swung it around, and with the other he made energetic gestures, which he used to give emphasis to his statements. His voice also gradually changed. At first it was natural; and so long as he spoke English, there had been nothing in it to excite particular attention; but when he broke forth in his native language, it grew deeper and more guttural, and stranger and more barbaric.

The long Indian monotone and drawl became intensified by him, and was developed into something that sounded like a strange, unearthly chant; and this fierce sing-song chant only served to increase the wild and savage effect of the whole.

Here, then, were the boys, in the midst of the lonely forest, face to face with a drunken Indian. The fire was flaming up, and its blaze shone upon the Indian, and threw a baleful glow upon his dusky face. He sat opposite to them, his long hair tangled and matted, his brows contracted, his bright, black eyes rolling restlessly in their orbits, the deep-wrinkled face revealed with startling distinctness against the dark background of the forest, and showing all the incessant working of its muscles, and the rapid play of its features. With his bottle clutched in one hand, and the other hand making fierce gesticulations, all the time he kept howling out unintelligible sounds in a whining guttural--a monotonous, but furious sing-song chant. Such was the scene before them; and it was no wonder that it excited some uneasiness.

What could they do?

They did not know.

What would this Indian do?

This also they could not know.

There was nothing in his appearance that could reassure them. Every moment he grew worse and worse. If this sort of thing went on much longer, he might grow violent enough to make an attack upon them. Already he looked far more like a wild beast than a human being. The maddening fumes of the liquor might excite the natural ferocity of his race, and urge him on to deeds of horror. They had no security whatever against such a suspicion, and no means whatever of defending themselves from any sudden attack.

As for Solomon, he had been watching the Indian most attentively all this time, and the sight of this wild associate had produced upon him quite as strong an effect as upon the boys, though of a totally different kind. Had the boys not been so fascinated by the Indian as to be unable to withdraw their gaze, and had they looked at Solomon, they would have been astonished at the change that had suddenly come over him.

He had been seated a little in the background, in a lazy, reclining posture, when his attention was aroused by the conduct of the Indian. He started up and sat erect for a time. Then, as the Indian grew worse, he became more excited. He rose up on his knees, and remained in that position--watchful and eager. At length, as the Indian grew more furious, the excitement of Solomon increased to a proportionate degree. He rose gradually to his feet, and stood there, eager, attentive, vigilant; every nerve on the stretch; his body advanced, his arms bent, his fists clinched, his brows contracted, his lips compressed, his eyes kindling with a dull glow; and as the flames illumined his dusky face and figure, they revealed a sight which was quite as impressive as that other spectacle upon which the eyes of the boys were fastened.

The old man was transformed. He was no longer the shambling, free and easy, indolent, gabbling, ridiculous, affectionate, rheumatic, pottering, and apparently feeble old Solomon, whom the boys had known and loved. He was changed. He was another being. As the feeble woman is roused to frenzy, and becomes transformed at the approach of danger to her child, so Solomon, at the suspicion of possible danger to his boys, his “chickens,” his “chil’en,” whom he loved with all the strength and devotion of his faithful and affectionate old heart, dropped his old self altogether. He became changed into the fierce, watchful, vigilant champion and defender of those whom he loved. Perhaps there was also some of the savagery of his African blood, and the natural ferocity of his race, which, long slumbering, had burst forth at that moment, at the impulse of his brother savage. But as it is difficult to imagine any taint of savagery, however faint, in one like Solomon, his present attitude may best be accounted for on the ground of his living watchfulness over the boys.

At any rate, there he stood, firm as a rock, and rigid as steel,--like a watch-dog awaiting the onset of the wolf. His “rheumatiz” was forgot in the excitement of that tremendous moment, just as the soldier, in the ardor of battle, is unconscious of dangerous wounds.

At length a crisis approached.

The Indian had gone on as before, growing more and more furious every moment. His eyes rolled fearfully. He had drunk most of the contents of the bottle, and his brain was on fire. His voice grew hoarser and hoarser, his gestures more violent, and his manner more threatening; his utterances were still of that sing-song character already mentioned, but they had now become almost unearthly in their intonations. What mad thoughts there might be in his mind at that time could not be known; nor could they imagine the exciting visions that were wrought in his distracted brain. Whatever they were, they at length passed away; and his eyes, that had been rolling at vacancy, now steadied themselves, and suddenly fastened themselves upon the boys with a look of concentrated hate and fury that was terrible.

So terrible was that look, that the boys all shrank back in horror. Then they started up to their feet, and stood close together, in silence, each nerving his young heart for the coming struggle, which now seemed imminent. As they thus stood, they were on a line with Solomon; but their attention was so occupied with the Indian that they neither thought of him nor saw him.

“Let’s stick together,” said Bart at length in hurried tones--“it’s our only chance.”

“Stick it is,” said Pat, who had recovered his coolness, “through thick and thin.”

Phil said nothing, but stood his ground with the others, and waited.

The movements of the boys had excited the Indian still more. A furious cry escaped him. He looked at them for a moment, and then moved to the right, and flung his bottle into the fire. The spirits poured out, and the blaze threw a bluish, ghastly glare over the scene. Then the madman gave a terrible yell, and rushed towards the boys.

The boys saw him coming. They stood firm. They gathered up all their strength.

But suddenly a dark shadow darted forward, and a dark figure flung itself against the Indian. It was Solomon. Watchful, eager, fierce, he had waited for the onset, and as the Indian advanced he made his spring. Rushing upon him, he struck him on the side, and the onset was so unexpected that the Indian had not time to guard against it. He fell to the ground. In a moment Solomon was upon him. He twined his legs around him. He grasped the savage by the throat. To that throat he clung with a death like tenacity, never relaxing that iron grasp, that convulsive grip, but clinging, holding, tightening his clutch all the more as his enemy strove to shake him off.

The boys stood there looking on in speechless amazement. They recognized Solomon, but could scarcely believe their own eyes. Where had Solomon gained that bounding activity, that tremendous strength and energy, which now availed him even against the madman’s fury? Could this be Solomon--the one who was afraid of his own superstitious fancies--the one who had just been in miserable thraldom to a drunken wife? It seemed incredible. Yet that this was Solomon himself they saw plainly.

The struggle was most violent. The Indian gasped, and groaned, and writhed, and sought to free himself from the grasp of his assailant. But Solomon’s grip could not be shaken off. He devoted all his strength to that one thing, and did not waste any of his energies in any useless efforts. The Indian’s struggles grew weaker. He was suffocating from that grasp on his throat. Had he been younger, he might have overpowered Solomon; but he was an old man himself, perhaps quite as old as Solomon, and therefore he was not so superior in strength as might be supposed.

And now a mighty feeling of triumph swelled through Solomon’s heart, and chased away the furious impulse that had animated him to this assault. The fainting efforts and the relaxing limbs of his enemy showed that the victory was his. A softer feeling now came over him, mingling with his triumph--he thought of the boys whom he had saved.

He turned his head and raised himself slightly.

“Nebber you fear, chil’en,” he said--“he do you no harm now.”

Suddenly the Indian made one last convulsive effort. Had Solomon not been speaking to the boys he could have resisted even this last throe of despair; but as it was, his attention was for the moment distracted, and he was taken by surprise. The Indian tore himself loose from Solomon’s grasp, jerked himself up by a mighty effort upon one knee, and threw himself free from his assailant. Both were now on their feet, facing one another, panting heavily. Once more the fury of the fight raged in Solomon’s heart. He stood poised--he prepared for a spring. The Indian’s strength lay in his madness; the strength of Solomon lay in his devotion to the boys--in the frenzy of his love and anxiety for their safety.

The boys came forward. This time they would not let Solomon fight their battle. They would assist him, and lend all their united strength to crush their savage assailant. It was one common impulse, part of self-preservation, part of regard for Solomon, that animated them, and they sprang to his side and waited.

All this was the work of a moment.

Another moment and Solomon would once more have made his tiger-spring, and flung himself upon the madman.

But that moment had sufficed for the Indian to take breath, and to receive a new impulse. This, time it was not hate or destructive fury. It was terror. The terrible struggle from which he had escaped with such difficulty had given a new turn to his frenzied thoughts. Fear overmastered him. A stifled exclamation escaped him. He started back.

Then he turned and ran.

He ran for his life; and in a few moments he had passed out of sight, and was lost amid the gloom of the forest and the night.

VII.

_Passing the Night.--On Guard.--The watchful Sentinel.--Plans.--Through the Woods.--The winding River.--Fishing.--The overcast Sky. Arrival of Pat with startling Tidings.--A useless Search._

FOR a few moments the whole party stood, confounded by this new and sudden turn which events had taken.

“He’s gone, anyhow,” said Pat, who was the first to break the silence.

The other boys said nothing. As for Solomon, he stared for a few moments all around, and then quietly seated himself by the fire.

“Well, of all de cur’ousest an strornar est things!” he exclaimed. “Ef dis don’t beat all creation holler, den I’m a niggar. An me in a fight--a rail battle; no play, mind you; but a fight for life and def. Clar ef I can understan it.”

And Solomon buried his head in his hands, quite overcome.

“Anyhow,” he resumed after a pause, “ye see how it was, chil’en. Dat ar demon was a plungin an a jumpin, an I see he was makin for you; so I ‘termined I’d hab a shy at him. Couldn’t stan dat ar nohow. Ain’t a fightin man; but dat ar Ingin war so dreadful aggravatin; mor’n flesh an blood could stan. Anyhow, I did gib him nuff ob it for one spell; an he’ll tink twicet afore he tackle any ob us agin.”

“I never was so astonished in my life,” said Bart. “And how you did pitch into him!” he continued, admiringly. “Why, you gave a leap like a tiger. Down he went, with you on top--at his throat.”

Solomon laughed long, joyously, and uproariously. He chuckled, he giggled, he slapped his knees, and finally he threw himself flat on his back, and lay there, laughing, chuckling, crowing, and making a confused medley of noises, all of which were intended by him to be expressive of triumph and exultation.

“Clar ef I know what ebber did git hold ob me dat time,” he said, in the intervals of his laughter. “Specs I mus hab gone clean mad an rabin stracted. Didn’t tink dar was so much clar fight in me. Ain’t such a rheumatic old nig, arter all. Fight any drunken Ingin on de face ob de erf. Ki yi! Yep! Ho-o-o-o-o! Dat’s so.”

At all this the boys looked on without saying anything, wondering at the change. Could this be the same man, thought Bart, that had always seemed so helpless? whose “rheumatiz” seemed always to prevent the slightest exertion? Could this be the same Solomon who allowed himself to be captured by a parcel of Gaspereaugian boys? Could this be the same man whom he had seen only a day or two before, cowering and cringing at the sight of an angry woman? Was the Solomon over whom Black Betsy had tyrannized so remorselessly indeed the same one who had just flung himself at the throat of a madman, and overpowered him? It seemed incredible.

Yet it was no other. Already Solomon was himself again, his old natural self. Already he began to investigate his joints, and to murmur doleful anticipations of a fresh attack of rheumatiz. But the boys had other things than this to think of. The question now was, how to pass the night. They did not feel altogether safe. The madman who had just threatened them had fled; but it seemed to them as though he was still lurking somewhere near them in the shadow of the gloomy forest, waiting his chance; waiting till they should go to sleep, so that he might rush upon them unawares. If they wished to sleep at all, it would never do, they thought, for them to sleep here with the firelight shining upon them, and revealing them to the gaze of their enemy. They must seek some other place.

On mentioning this to Solomon, he objected very strongly.

“Dar’s no danger, chil’en,” he said. “Dat ar Injun won’t ebber come back agin. He darsn’t. He nebber forget my grip. I frikend dat ar Injun away forebbermo.”

“O, that’s the very reason why he’ll be back,” said Bart. “He’ll wait till we’re all asleep, and then attack us. He’ll make a sudden spring at you first.”

“No, he won’t,” said Solomon; “nebba. He don’t do dat ar wid dis chile.”

“How can you prevent him if you’re asleep?”

“Cos I don’t’tend goin to sleep; dat’s how,” said Solomon. “Got him dar, anyhow. Yah, yah, yah.”

“What! do you intend to watch?”

“Jes so. I pose on dis yar solemn casion, my spected friends, to keep de fire a goin, and to hole a watch an a guard ober de party.”

“Do you think we’d let you do that?” said Bart. “Do you think we’d go to sleep, and leave you to watch us all night? No. If there’s going to be any watching, we’ll take turns.”

“Dat ar am all berry well,” said Solomon, with a dignified wave of his hand, “stremely well, an proppa for ordnary casiums; but dis yar casium’s a berry strornary casium. Dar’s danger; and de man dat’s goin to keep watch mus be able to face de enemy in a fight. Dat ars de reason, den, why I pose to keep a lookout. I’ll set heah, keep de fire a goin, an you can all sleep safe an sound. Dar’s no use for you to set up.”

“But you must sleep,” said Bart.

“O, I’ll wake you up early in de mornin, an hab my sleep den. So now don’t talk no more, for I’m a goin to do dat ar, an watch dis bressed night.”

Some further conversation followed, in which the boys insisted on watching for a part of the time, at least. They were so urgent, that Solomon at last had to consent. He insisted, however, that he would sit up during the first part of the night, as the danger would be most likely to take place then, if it took place at all, and promised to wake them towards morning. With this understanding the boys lay down by the fire, and in spite of their recent excitement, they soon fell asleep.

Solomon sat there by the fire keeping watch with all his senses on the alert. No danger was there of this faithful old sentinel sleeping at his post. The very possibility of danger to the boys was enough to keep all his mind wakeful and attentive. After a time he moved back a little, and rested his back against a tree.

The hours of the night passed on slowly and tediously. The boys slept soundly, and were lost in the land of dreams. Occasionally Solomon amused himself and beguiled the time by going forth and collecting sticks for the fire. The flames smouldered low, and the sticks that Solomon was able to gather were not sufficient to kindle them afresh to any great extent, and so the consequence was, that at length it nearly died out. It was profoundly dark; but still Solomon watched, and felt no inclination to sleep.

He had promised to awake the boys towards morning, but they slept so soundly that he had not the heart to keep his promise, and so he let them sleep on. At length Bart awoke, and, starting up, he looked all around. It was early morning twilight; the sky was brightening overhead, and the forms of the forest trees were visible around. As he started, Solomon got up, and walked towards him.

“Well, Mas’r Bart,” said he, “all right so far. De Injun gone off forebbamo.”

“Why didn’t you wake me before?” asked Bart.

“De gracious sakes, now, chile!” said Solomon; “dar wasn’t no casium. ’Tain’t mornin yet.”

“Well, you lie down now, and go to sleep,” said Bart.

“All right,” said Solomon; and going back to the tree where he had been sitting, he curled himself up on the moss at the foot of it, and, drawing his shawl over his head and shoulders, was soon in a sound slumber.

And now the morning advanced; slowly the shades of night faded away, until, at length, the day dawned, and a thousand birds awaked the echoes of the forest in all directions, and filled all the air with a flood of melody. Bart looked up at the sky, and noticed that it was overcast. There was also a very peculiar appearance there which excited his attention. There seemed clouds overhead; but the clouds had a sickly, yellowish color, which was unlike anything that he had ever seen. After a short time, Pat and Phil awoke, and Bart drew their attention to this. They, however, thought nothing of it.

“It’s only common clouds,” said Phil.

“Deed, an it’s a good sign, so it is,” said Pat, in his usual tone of confidence. “The trout bite wondherful whin they see a sky like that over thim. It’s lucky for us we’ve got sich weather.”

Bart had his doubts about this, but he kept them to himself, and then the boys began to consider what they had better do. The loss of their Indian guide made a change in their circumstances of a very important nature. As long as they had him with them, they had no care or anxiety, for they knew that he would take them to all the best places in the country. But, now that he had gone, what ought they to do first?

The idea of going back occurred, but it was at once dismissed. To go back would be very fatiguing, and would be of no particular use. For, if they did get another guide, he might turn out as badly as the one whom they had lost; and besides, their experience with Sam disgusted them with guides and with Indians altogether.

“If I only had a compass,” said Bart, “we’d be all right, for we could at least be able to choose some direction, and have some idea of where we went. But, as it is, we shall have to wander at random.”

“Sure and that’s the very best way there is to wandhcr, so it is,” said Pat. “It’s a mighty sight better to go sthrollin along as you like than it is to be taggin afther a big drunken Injin, any day.”

“Yes,” said Phil, “that’s the best way. Let’s go strolling along, fishing at every brook we come to, and enjoy ourselves. We can make camps, and if we come to any pleasanter place than usual, we can stay there for two or three days. Why, this is the very best way of enjoying ourselves. I’m sure I couldn’t imagine anything more glorious.”

“I wonder if there are any fish up that little brook,” said Bart.

“Sure an we’d betther try.”

“One of us had better stay behind with Solomon,” said Bart.

“I’ll stay,” said Phil; “I’ll get some sticks and build the fire again, and if you do get any fish, we’ll be able to have some for breakfast.”

Upon this, Bart and Pat prepared their rods, and lines, and went off up the brook. It was not very large, but it had the general appearance of a good trouting stream; and the appearance did not deceive them, for after a short time, to their great joy, they succeeded in hooking ten or a dozen very respectable trout, with which they returned to the “encampment.” Here they found a brisk fire, beside which Phil was sitting awaiting their return. As they reached the place, Solomon awoke from his nap, and joined them at the fire. Then followed breakfast, which consisted of broiled trout, and, as they had brought plenty of salt and pepper in their baskets, there was no lack of relish, and the fish was pronounced delicious.

After breakfast, they once more noticed the appearance of the sky. It had still that dull, sickly, yellowish hue which had first struck Bart’s attention. Although the day had advanced since then, the sky had not changed, and there was no increase of light.

“It’s smoke,” said Bart. “I wonder what’s the cause of it.”

“De woods are burnin,” said Solomon.

“I wonder if it is anywhere near,” said Phil.

“O, no!” said Bart; “it’s some distant fire or other. Perhaps they’re clearing land.”

“Dar’s alius smoke a floatin about d’ese times in de woods,” said Solomon. “Dey keep a clearin an a choppin--no end.”

“Sure an it’s all the betther fer us,” said Pat, “for an overcast sky is the thing for the throut; an sure they niver know the difference whither it’s smoke or clouds, so they don’t, an they bite all the same, so they do.”