CHAPTER IX.

IN THE DARK AND BLOODY GROUND.—THE SEPARATION.

As the Indians had invariably come from, and returned to, the Kentucky side of the river, our friends concluded that the entire war-party was upon that shore, and it was therefore determined in leaving the island, that they should cross over to the same bank.

We have detailed the manner in which this was accomplished, and stated how the fugitives securely sheltered themselves in the wood, while our hero and the hunter started upon their undertaking, which, when all the circumstances connected with it, are considered can be termed as nothing more nor less than simply desperate. Two men, one of whom was almost entirely unacquainted with woodcraft, were about to attempt to rescue a captive from the grasp of a larger party of fierce and vengeful Indians.

The night was of inky darkness; the most favorable that the two adventurers could have desired. This fact, together with that of the Irishman being a prisoner among the same redskins who held Ruth may be said to have determined the two to make the attempt as they did. Teddy was quick-witted, and had encountered savages until he knew them “like a book.”

Beside this, as we have hinted in another place, Stoddard Smith was led by the controlling love toward Ruth McGowan. So long as she was a captive in the hands of those who knew no mercy, so long would he be unable to find rest for the soles of his feet. No; he fully resolved that she should be rescued, or he should perish with her!

The darkness being so intense, young Smith experienced considerable difficulty in making his way through the wood. He bumped his head several times, before he dare rise to a perfectly upright position, and then could only discern the dim, shadowy form of his companion beside him.

“Whatever happens, or whatever you see,” whispered Joe, “don’t speak or start.”

“Drat that limb! it has nearly sawed my neck off!” he involuntarily exclaimed, forgetting the caution he had just received.

Knowing that the current must have carried them a considerable distance down the river, the hunter used the bank as his guide, and ascended a considerable distance, before he began to look about him for the savages. After having progressed somewhat over a quarter of a mile, he caught the glimmer of a light through the trees, and touched Smith upon his arm, as a caution for him to be upon his guard.

Making their way carefully through the tangled undergrowth, through hollows and over fallen trees, across brooks and miry patches of earth, they at length stood within a hundred yards of the Indian camp-fire.

Napyank’s heart sank within him, for he understood at once, that the war-party had divided, and that neither of the captives was before him. When had the separation taken place? What direction had the other taken? How could its trail be gained?

There were questions which instantly presented themselves to the hunter’s mind, and which, for a long time, he was unable to answer. Amid the profound darkness which held reign, it was very obvious that nothing could be done. Even the full, bright moon, was unable to penetrate with its light, the solemn labyrinth of the Dark and Bloody Ground. Nothing could be done until morning.

As neither Joe nor Stoddard had enjoyed any sleep for many hours, they both felt fatigued, despite the exciting situation in which they were placed. Withdrawing a considerable distance farther into the forest, they both lay down beside an uprooted tree, and were almost immediately locked in slumber.

The sleep of Smith was deep and dreamless. It was not until the sun had been up several hours, that he opened his eyes. As soon as he recovered from his temporary bewilderment, he arose, chagrined that he had lost so much valuable time. To his surprise, upon looking around, nothing was seen of Napyank. Thinking, however, he should not be far away, he seated himself upon the tree, to wait for his return.

An hour passed away, and still no sign of his missing companion. The young man had whistled, and given utterance to all the signals he had at his command, but had elicited no response. He was now alarmed and greatly vexed; alarmed at the singular disappearance of his friend, and vexed that now, when every minute was of the utmost value to him, he was thus compelled to remain and accomplish nothing. At length his patience became exhausted.

“There is no use of remaining behind,” he muttered. “The Indians have gone, and every minute places them further from me. I will follow them alone, relying upon my own arm, and the kindness of Heaven, for success.”

Throwing his rifle over his shoulder, he moved resolutely off, resolved never to turn his back upon his enemies, until he had learned something of the fair captive they held. It was a desperate proceeding, indeed, for a single man thus to pit himself against a whole party of redskins, but our hero felt no hesitation in doing it.

It was now, too, that Stoddard began to experience the pangs of hunger. He had eaten very sparingly the night before, in order that the others might not want, and was so famished, that he determined to secure some food at all hazards. At the period of which we write, game was very abundant in this portion of the West, and the decision had scarcely entered his mind, when several wild turkeys, their wings outspread, and their feet scarcely touching the ground, sped along within a stone throw of him. As quick as thought, the foremost was shot and in his hand.

The instant that Smith had secured his game, he regretted having discharged his piece, for he felt certain he had exposed himself to danger. Some of the Indians must certainly be within hearing, and would be attracted thither, by a suspicion of a true state of the case.

To guard against capture, he made all haste through the woods in the direction of the camp-fire, which had been deserted by the savages, in the belief that this would be the last place where his enemies would seek him. Upon reaching it, he was gratified to find a large quantity of live coals, and without hesitation, he plucked, dressed the turkey, and proceeded to cook it.

The bird afforded him a most needed and nourishing meal, beside furnishing enough for future use; and now, that his immediate wants were attended to he set to work in earnest upon the all important object that has brought him thither.

In the first place, it was necessary to discover the trails of the two war-parties, and in the first place, he failed completely. Although gifted with more than ordinary intelligence, shrewdness, and cunning, he had not yet learned enough of wood-craft to follow the faint footsteps of the wild Indians through its labyrinths, when the traces left, were so faint that the human eye, unless trained by an experience of years, could not detect the least signs of the passage of any one.

Had the Indians proceeded with their usual caution, it would have been absolutely impossible for our hero to have followed them a hundred yards through the wilderness. But, believing that no enemy, that need cause them the least uneasiness, was in their vicinity, they straggled forward as carelessly as a party of school boys. This only, was the reason why our hero was enabled to follow them.

Smith, under the belief that they had penetrated further in Kentucky, for a long time examined the ground only upon that side of the fire. His efforts meeting with no success, he resorted to the opposite side, where the trail was discovered at once. It being impossible to find any further signs of the passage of the Indians in any other direction, he concluded that both parties must have gone this way, which, somewhat to his surprise, led toward the river. Keeping along on the trail, he found, as he had feared, that they had embarked in their canoes, and gone either up, down or across the stream.

“And how am I to tell which way?” he muttered, “I must run the risk of getting the wrong choice out of these three.”

Smith, under ordinary circumstances, certainly would have been discouraged at the formidable obstacles which now rose before him; but one of his temperament, could never rest while the object of his choice was captive in the hands of the savages, and he, therefore, did not think of returning back.

“They cannot have gone up the river,” he reflected, “because they have come from that direction. And yet, what reason is that why they should not have done so? Still it strikes me that they have not taken that course. They could have gone much more rapidly overland. If their destination is in Kentucky, it surely is not on the bank of the Ohio; it must be a good distance back from the river, so that they would only have lengthened their journey by taking to the water. From all that I have heard or read of these Shawanoe Indians, I have been led to suppose that although they range at will on both sides of the river, still their towns and villages, and their homes, in fact, is in southern Ohio. And what more natural, now, that they have secured their prisoner, than that they should return to their home as rapidly as possible? Such, it seems reasonable to believe, is the true state of the case, and I must cross the river again.”

Stoddard was upon the point of venturing into the river, when his attention was arrested by a loud splash in the direction of the flat-boat, and to his surprise, he descried several Indians upon it. Finding that he was not observed, he drew back and watched their actions.

A glance convinced him that they belonged to the same war-party of Indians, and were searching the craft for plunder. They had thrown over a sort of bench, which was fastened—bottom upward—to the stern of the canoe. There were some half dozen savages, who, a moment later, shoved off, and paddled down stream.

Their light craft shot rapidly forward, inclining neither to one shore nor the other. From this, his belief that the main body had crossed the river, was changed in the conviction that they had all gone down stream in their canoes; and that all that remained for him to do, was to keep these redskins in sight.

This was a difficult task indeed. Under the skilful guidance of the sinewy Indians, their canoe skimmed like a swallow over the water, and it required the most strenuous efforts of Smith to keep it in sight. Fortunately indeed, the wood, a few yards from the shore, was open, and his footsteps were not much impeded.

Hurrying thus forward, now and then darting to the river bank, he kept up the pursuit for five or six miles, the canoe all the time gaining upon him, until finally he lost sight of it behind a bend in the river.

Our hero was panting and perspiring, and in no pleasant mood, that, after all his efforts, he was compelled to fall behind; and he relaxed into a sullen walk.

“It seems as though everything is conspiring against me,” he muttered. “I have done everything in my power, and here I am at last, left entirely alone, without knowing whither a single one of my friends has gone. It matters little what becomes of me. A curse upon the infernal Indians that have persecuted me thus!”

He walked moodily forward for an hour or so, by which time he had passed the bend in the river, around which the canoe had disappeared. The river at this point took a due southwest direction, running so nearly straight, that a view of several miles was afforded. Nothing of the canoe, however, had been seen. It had gone he knew not where.

Wearied and dispirited, he threw himself upon the ground, and endeavored to sleep. But he was too excited and nervous to rest; and devouring what he could, of the remaining portion of the turkey, he threw the rest from him, and leaned his hand, to reflect upon the best course for him to pursue.

He had lost all traces of the Indians and their captives. How he should ever meet Ruth again, it was impossible for him to imagine. In the impenetrable depths of the great wilderness which surrounded him, where the merciless redmen wandered for miles, how could he, a single, unaided, white man, follow them? And even should he chance upon them, how could he wrest a captive from their jealous grasp? What would be her fate? A drudge, a slave, but he hoped no worse unless she voluntarily took to herself an Indian husband. They might tomahawk or scalp her, but he believed they would do no more. But Smith believed that the honor of his betrothed was safe in the hands of her deadliest enemies. This knowledge afforded him unspeakable satisfaction.

And then there was the mysterious disappearance of Joe. Where could he have gone in the night? Could it be possible that he, too, had fallen into the hands of his foes. Had they gained all of the whites except himself? Had they——?

The explosion of a rifle broke the stillness of the woods, and springing to his feet, Stoddard hurried madly forward scarcely conscious of what he was doing. After running a short distance, he paused, and parting the bushes gazed upon a scene that thrilled his very being with the wildest of thoughts.