CHAPTER XVI.

THE PHANTOM RIDER!

Five minutes later the little party was on the move again.

About the middle of the afternoon they halted for a moment’s consultation. Darke was not surprised when the scout informed him that the Indian encampment was not more than a half-dozen miles distant. He had long been anxious to reach the village. The suspense was growing to be almost unendurable to him.

At first, Leander Maybob took little part in the conversation and bent his gaze anxiously every few minutes upon the horizon in the direction whence they had come.

“Would you advise a bold charge through the Indian encampment?” asked Clancy. “Do you think we would be likely to accomplish our object in that way?”

The scout thought not. The savages might be on the look-out for some such movement as that, as they would probably expect that an attempt would be made to rescue Vinnie, in which case they would run great risk of falling into some trap set for them by the Indians, if they approached the encampment boldly and in the full glare of the sunlight. Their party was too small to hazard being taken at so great a disadvantage. They dared not show themselves openly in the camp of their enemies. The odds would be too great against them.

“No!” said Wimple, emphatically. “We mustn’t try such a plan as that. It would be worse than useless! What we do must be done by stratagem. There’s a steep bluff, only ’tain’t a bluff, neither—thar ain’t no river under it—jist back of the Injin camp. This hill’s all grown over with low scrub-oak and other stuff so thick ye can’t see a rod any way. If we could only git up there and hide till arter dark, and then two or three of us jist step quietly down and release the prisoners, leaving some one to have the horses ready to mount at an instant’s warnin’, I think we could git the gal cl’ar without much blood-lettin’, and maybe the other prisoners, whoever they are. It’s the best plan I can think of now.”

Darke agreed with the scout that nothing could be done by daylight, but he was getting very impatient.

“I think,” said the big hunter, “as how ye’re partly right in yer calkerlations and mayhap partly wrong. I don’t believe as how us four rushing into the imps’ nest would do much good. We’d be very likely to git our little lump of lead, every one on us, and that’d be the end on’t all; but instid o’ climbin’ the hill, if ye’ll jist take the advice of one who has fit Injins some, and stop in the border of the wood, down level with the edge of the prairie, and wait and see what happens, I b’lieve we can do suthin’ as ’ll amount to suthin’. I’ve knowed some of the best kind of jobs to be did in gittin’ away prisoners from the reds, jist by watchin’ and takin’ advantage of accidents and the like. If you’ll all do jist as I say and not git flustered or go to gittin’ away up there on top of the hill, I’ll promise that every prisoner in the Indian camp shall be safe before sundown—yes, in less than two hours. You don’t know what amazin’ helps accidents is sometimes, in sich cases as this one!”

“Can you do it?” asked Darke, eagerly.

“Yes.”

“What do you mean by accidents?” inquired Pete Wimple. “What d’ye expect’s goin’ to happen to-day?”

“Thar’s no tellin’ exactly,” replied the big hunter. “A feller can’t most always tell what is goin’ to take place. But I’m safe in guaranteein’ thirty or forty of them reds one of the tallest accidents in a little while—’bout as soon as we can git to their camp—they ever had any ijee of!”

“Do you expect to kill as many as that?” asked Clancy, in some wonderment.

“I calkerlate as how, if yer a mind to foller my lead, we can e’en a’most clean out the nest and git yer gal and the rest of the prisoners away safe, besides! What do ye say? Shall I go ahead?”

“Yes,” cried all three with one voice. “You shall lead us!”

“I believe you can do what you say!” added Darke. “But remember that a mistake on our part might prove fatal to Vinnie and the others!”

“There shan’t be no balks or mistakes!” said the giant, in a tone of assurance, taking his place at the head of the party. “We’ve got to leave this emigrant road here and take to the left a little. An hour’s sharp ridin’ ’ll bring us to the Injun camp. Let’s be movin’ on.”

And tightening their reins, the quartette dashed away.

There was a plain trail, left by Ku-nan-gu-no-nah’s band, leading directly to the encampment of the savages. The little party followed this for a while at a swift gallop, and then in obedience to a low, tersely-spoken command from their leader, left it suddenly, and bearing still further to the left, dashed for a few minutes through the edge of a broad belt of timber lying along the base of a range of low hills, halting at last in a chapparal not more than a hundred yards distant from the Indian village.

“Here we are,” said Leander Maybob, throwing himself off his horse. “Jist git off yer nags and stretch yerselves a little, while I take a look outside. Make the most outen your restin’-spell, for I can tell yer that ye won’t have long to lay idle. I’m expectin’ an accident soon!”

And with these strange words which the three men were assured held more meaning than they expressed, the giant strode away and disappeared from view among the shrubbery. In less than five minutes he came back, and his face showed that the result of his reconnoissance was satisfactory.

“There’ll be an accident soon,” said he.

“How soon?” queried the scout.

“Inside of a quarter of an hour.”

“Will it assist us in any manner?” inquired Darke.

“Yes; it’ll be the makin’ of our job.”

“How?” asked Clancy.

“It’s onsartin,” replied the big hunter. “Accidents is onsartin things; but this one ’ll be sartin to help us if we’re ready to help ourselves. I’ve noticed as how the same accident don’t happen twice, any more’n a boy takes his fust chaw of terbacker twice. ’Tain’t anyways likely this ’ere accident we’ve been waitin’ for ’ll happen more’n onc’t. So we must be ready to take advantage of it jest at the right minit! Now then, how many shots have we got altogether?”

“I’ve got a six-shooter and a rifle, both loaded,” said the scout.

“Seven,” said Leander, counting.

“And I’ve got six,” said Clancy.

“Thirteen,” counted the big hunter.

“And I’ve got two revolvers and a rifle,” said the scout.

“Twenty-six,” said the giant, “and I’ve got seven more—thirty-three in all. If there ain’t any of ’em wasted, we can shoot jist thirty-three Injuns without stopping to load! Now git on yer horses and stick yer pistols in yer belts and hold yer rifles ready for instant use. I want to take one more look-out, and I’ll be with ye in a minit.”

The big hunter’s prompt manner and cool, baffling way of talking had inspired the three men with the utmost confidence in himself and his power to bring their enterprise to a successful termination, and they obeyed his orders implicitly. In a moment they were mounted, their unerring rifles ready for use at a moment’s warning.

“Are we going to dash into the encampment?” asked Clancy, examining the lock of his revolver.

“It looks like it,” answered the scout, sententiously.

“What can the accident be?” questioned Darke.

“That’s a riddle!” said Wimple.

“And a hard one to guess!” added the young hunter.

Just then the giant came running through the chapparal, and hastily seizing his ride, which he had left standing against a tree, threw himself upon the back of his horse and rode to the head of the little band of wondering, anxious men.

“Wait a minit!” he half whispered.

There was a moment of dead silence, the four men almost holding their breath in their suspense.

Then a shriek rung out on the air—a shriek that was half a wail, half a curse—so weird and so unearthly that for a moment the blood seemed to stand still in the veins of the three startled men.

“My God! What is that?” cried Darke.

“It’s the accident we’ve bin waitin’ for,” said the big hunter, calmly. “It’s purty near time for us to take advantage of it. Git ready.”

At that moment there came from the direction of the Indian encampment an almost deafening report, followed instantly by cries of agony and fear.

“Now’s our time!” cried the big hunter. “Shoot down every red-skin you see! But don’t harm a hair of Ku-nan-gu-no-nah’s head if you can help it! Take him alive!!”

As they cleared the chapparal, they saw a sight for which even the terrible cry of a moment before had not prepared them.

It was a gigantic human skeleton, standing upright on the back of a milk-white horse that moved with more than the speed of the wind. In the bony, grisly arms of the Phantom Rider was _Vinnie Darke_!