CHAPTER XI.

TEDDY O’DONNELL AND RUTH McGOWAN—IRISH SHREWDNESS—A PUGILISTIC TRIUMPH—THE INDIAN FIGHT—LIBERATION.

It was one of those singularly fortunate occurrences that rarely happen more than once in a lifetime, that made Teddy the Irishman a prisoner in the hands of a body of Indians, possessing some claims—although it must be confessed rather slight—to chivalry. The identical chief of the party had once been made a prisoner by Teddy and a celebrated scout, and on that occasion was treated as a lawful prisoner of war, and formally released.

The leader being a genuine Indian never forgot the kindness. He was not one of the original party that captured the Irishman upon the flat-boat, but when he was brought ashore he recognized him at once. Teddy with all his shrewdness, contended that every Indian looked precisely as did all other Indians, and he therefore failed to suspect his identity.

The party, as has been already hinted, divided about a dozen, among whom was the chief just referred to, taking charge of the two captives and starting on a direct line for the Indian towns in the valley of the Piqua.

To the surprise of both they were allowed to walk side by side and no restraint was placed upon their conversation. No burdens or indignities were imposed upon each, and the chief seemed to graduate the progress of the party to the disposition and strength of the girl.

“Why do they not kill us!” asked Ruth, after Teddy had related the particulars of his capture, and the situation in which he had left his friends upon the island.

“Injins doesn’t always do things in that shtyle. It’s meself that has been a presn’r among ’em afore this, and they didn’t kill me but once. That time I broke me neck, but it was speedily set and mended agin.”

“Will they not slay me?”

“I hardly think so. How would ye like one of these copperskins for a husband?”

The look of detestation and horror which answered this, made the Irishman regret his attempt at a joke.

“Please don’t worry about this matter. It’s the habit of these same gintlemen to ax for a wife afore they take her. But the way that chief views yourself and me, he has taken a strong notion to one of us. P’rhaps he has a bootiful daughter and mither at hum, and he is admirin’ me as a future husband for one of ’em.”

The genial, good-natured air of the Irishman had its effect upon Ruth, who for the time may be said to have forgotten her captivity.

“Why, Teddy, would you like one of those dusky beauties for a life partner?”

“I couldn’t tell very well till I tried, as the man said when he was recommended to die by drowning; but one of ’em might do till I got tired of——. Begorrah! but Miss Ruth, does ye obsarve how that chap keeps his eye upon me? If I’m not as greatly mistook than I ever was in my life, I’ve met him afore.”

Teddy tried to recall the features. The more he looked at him the more certain was he that the two had encountered previously. But he was unable to place him in his memory; and the Indian, observing that he was subject to remark and scrutiny, turned his face away, and henceforth remained out of view as much as possible.

“Oh!” said Ruth, relapsing into her former despondency, “Are we ever to see our friends again?”

“Of course we are although we may be subjected to slight delay in the same. I expect to meet them considerable soon.”

“But how—how shall we do it?”

“Can’t exactly tell yet, but we’ll all larn in due season. They’d get tired of keeping us perhaps after awhile and give us lave to walk away.”

“Do they ever do such things?”

“I can’t say they do,” laughed Teddy, who hardly expected the earnestness manifested in the question. “But as my ould friend Patrick Henry observes, there is no way of judging by the future but by the past, and looking to the past, I axes what has been the conduct of the haythen Injins for the last ten years to give me hope of keeping me for any considerable time in their clutches. I’ve been there before and never staid.”

“But, how has it been with me?”

“Yes, being with me makes the same rule apply to yer own government, so be aisy and don’t worry and fret yourself which there is no good to come from it.”

But Ruth McGowan found it hard work to extract relief from the ingenious sophistries of her companion. Look at it as she might, everything was gloomy and cheerless. Her cherished friends left behind her, instead of being able to come to her rescue, most probably were unable to provide for their own safety. It was therefore vain to look for assistance from that direction.

Perhaps her father and mother were prisoners at that moment—perhaps murdered. And her lover Stoddard Smith—where was he? Free, a captive, or dead? If either of the former, were not his thoughts turned to her, and was he wondering at her situation? Should they ever meet again on earth—or were they now separated forever in this world!

The thought was saddening, and the distressed girl covered her face and wept. Teddy observing her sorrow remained silent awhile, but he was too cheerful himself to allow any unnecessary grief around him.

“If it was meself I wouldn’t shed a tear to plase ’em,” he said. “Some of the haythen are just cruel enough to be pleased to see it, although it doesn’t sthrike me that the chief is one of the number. He seems to be more tender-hearted than the others.”

“But how can I help it when I think of my friends?”

“I s’pose it ain’t aisy, but then don’t think of ’em. Just think of the situation we bees in this minute, and then larf.”

“Ah! it’s hard work to see anything to laugh at—oh!”

At this juncture, Teddy caught his toe in a root and stumbled to the ground. His fall was so ridiculously grotesque, that several of the stoical bronzed faces were relaxed, and Ruth could not forbear a smile herself. Not one of them suspected it was a piece of strategy, got up for the especial benefit of the female captive herself. Teddy took his discomfiture good-humoredly.

“You are not injured, I hope,” said Ruth; “you must pardon me, but I could not keep from laughing, you seemed so much taken by surprise.”

“I’d much rather see you laugh than cry; it’s more pleasant to all concerned. But did you see the unmannerly dogs grin at me? That chap seemed to enjoy it as much as yourself.”

Teddy was going sideways, looking toward the savages as he spoke, when he again stumbled so awkwardly as to bring a grin into the face of every savage in the company.

“What yes laughing at?” he demanded in either pretended or real fury. “Have ye no more manners than to laugh at a fellow that stubs his toe? Yer no christians but haythens, all of yes.”

“Poor man!” said one of them in much sympathy, “much hurt pale face—sorry—much hurt?”

“Don’t get too far wid your tongue or, or ye’ll run agin the fist of Mr. Teddy O’Donnell, who understands the noble art.”

“Poor man—much hurt—sorry——”

A terrific whack took the tantalizing Indian directly in the mouth and he toppled over backward like a ten pin. As he went to the ground, the spectators all manifested their enjoyment of the scene. The Indian was stunned and bewildered for a moment, and then, as he rose up with his mouth bleeding, his flashing eyes and wrathful demeanor showed that he was fully bent on avenging the mortal insult. Drawing his knife, he was about to spring upon him, when the chief advanced and disarmed him of his knife and tomahawk, seeing which Teddy voluntarily resigned his, and the two confronted each other with the arms only that nature had given them.

It is possible that in that moment, that the dusky pugilist was sensible that he stood at a disadvantage but there was no retreat for him, and he therefore advanced to the attack.

Teddy “squared” in the most approved style, and danced around on his feet as if anxious for the contest to begin. Pausing a moment, the Indian made an awkward plunging blow, and received another shock in the mouth that laid him as flat as before.

Nothing daunted, he sprang to his feet and made at his antagonist more resolutely than ever. Teddy now toyed awhile in order to give the savage more confidence, and then getting him fairly at his mercy, he dealt him a more tremendous blow than before—one that completely “knocked him out of time,” and ended the contest triumphantly in favor of the Irishman.

Upon rising to his feet, the Indian slunk among his comrades, who did not hesitate to jeer at him unmercifully, and to admire the conqueror in a proportionate degree.

This incident would be scarcely worthy of narration, were it not that it had an important bearing on the fate of the two captives themselves. Brave men always admire skill and bravery. This is especially true of an uncivilized people, who sometimes look upon a hero with a feeling of the strongest admiration.

It cannot be pretended that Teddy O’Donnell excited any such emotion as this, but he did produce a sentiment, that under Heaven, eventually proved the salvation of himself and Ruth McGowan. The leader, who entertained none but the kindest feelings toward him, was still doubtful whether it would do to allow him to go free, even with the explanation he might make to his brother followers. But now when he had witnessed his vanquishing of one of his best warriors he felt no hesitation in claiming the greatest favor for him.

In fact he was fully resolved that the man should be liberated but that the girl should be retained!

The chief now advanced straight to the Irishman and addressed him.

“Glad see you—me Wahlangson.”

“Mighty glad to see you,” responded Teddy, grasping his hand, and identifying him the moment he heard his name pronounced.

“Brave man,” added the chief admiringly. “Like much.”

Teddy understood Indian ways well enough to understand what all this was tending to. He felt that his case was safe and he did not hesitate to manifest a little of his joviality.

“Would yes like a thrial? If ye does, jist say the word, and I’ll do my best to accommodate yes.”

The Indian did not understand the precise meaning of this, at any rate he concluded to take no offence at it.

“Fight for Wahlangson?”

“That depends on circumstances, as the cobbler—”

An exclamation from one of the warriors arrested their attention. The chief turned his head, and his immobile countenance for once betrayed signs of emotion. The whole party manifested excitement, and it was not long before Teddy understood that a hostile party of Indians had appeared, and a conflict was inevitable.

“Big fight—big fight!” said the chief. “Kill big fight—white man fight for Wahlangson?”

“Aye! that he will,” replied the chivalrous Irishman, going into the trouble for the reason that he loved it, and because he believed it was policy to do so.

“Take her away,” said he, pointing to Ruth.

“Yes—you take.”

Teddy grasped her hand and led her some distance in the wood.

“Now do you stay there till the fight is done wid. It won’t be long, and I’ll soon be wid yes.”

“God protect you.”

Teddy hurried back, arriving just as the conflict began. Instead of fighting behind trees, as is the general custom of Indians, they “charged” on and the fight became hand-to-hand. This was just the thing for Teddy, who laid about him in the same ecstatic manner that he did before being captured on the flat-boat. While thus engaged he saw his old friend Wahlangson upon the ground, and hard pressed by two huge redskins. Springing forward he sent one turning flip flap, which so relieved the chief that he regained the advantage he had lost, and soon stood on the same footing with his warriors.

The contest was short, sharp and decisive. Ten minutes after it was made the attacking party fled in confusion, leaving two dead and several badly wounded.

If Wahlangson had experienced a deep admiration for the reckless Irishman, he was now literally overflowing with it. Going up to him, he took his hand, and undoubtedly, with great agitation, said,

“Much like—heap like—big like—heap like—B-I-G like!”

“Begorrah the same to yes. I intertain the most unbounded riverence to yer honor, as the boy said to the snapping turtle.”

“Want go home?”

“Well, yes, yer honor, I should rather like to do the same, bein’ as the ould woman will be out of praties, if I don’t help dig her some.”

“Go—go—Wahlangson willing.”

“Ye bees now—ye ain’t lying I hopes.”

“Go—no me follow—trail no touch—Wahlangson say so—no Shawanoe follow.”

“I axes only that condition—that none of yees attempt to foller me. Does ye agree to that?”

After considerable explanation, and by the help of pantomime, Teddy made the chief understand his wishes. The latter gave his promise, and gaily kissing him good-bye went off whistling St. Patrick’s Day in the morning.

Some considerable distance away he came up with Ruth, and gallantly offered her his arm. It need not be said she gladly took it, and the two speedily left the ground.

When the chief discovered that Teddy had taken away his cherished captive, he was somewhat chagrined, as this was more than he counted upon. But he did not follow. He was too much of a true Indian to molest one who had served him so well.