CHAPTER XVI

THE BARK OF THE RED FOX

QUICK to act in the presence of danger, Bob instantly dashed the blazing torch to the ground, and set his foot upon it. Then, in company with his brother, he dropped flat to the earth, as they had been taught to do by the Irish trapper.

They half expected to hear the hiss of a feathered shaft as it whizzed through the air over them, and each boy gripped his musket nervously, as he crouched there among the bushes, waiting for he hardly knew what.

"Do you hear them coming?" whispered Sandy.

"No," replied the other; "but we must not stay here. They will try to surround us, and cut us off from flight."

"But if we leave here we must lose the trail," objected Sandy.

"True," replied his brother in the same guarded tone; "but should we be captured or killed what then would become of poor little Kate? Come!"

As usual, Sandy was ready to give in to the better judgment of his older brother, and hence, when Bob began to creep away, he kept as close at his heels as possible.

Doubtless their hearts beat faster than usual as the two lads thus moved over the ground. They had not gone ten paces when again Sandy drew the attention of the one in the lead to something he had discovered.

"Look to the left!" he whispered, as he poked at Bob's foot with the muzzle of his gun.

Turning his head, Bob saw a startling sight.

The late moon was just rising in the east. Because of a dip in the ground, and also a thinning out of the trees in that quarter, due to some tornado that had made a slash in the timbers, her blood-red disc could be seen just above the horizon.

And there, plainly marked against the face of the harvest moon, they could see the head and shoulders of an Indian brave! So plain did the picture appear that it was possible to even distinguish the feather that stood up in the hair of the red man.

"We must turn the other way," said Bob, as his brother crawled up alongside him, so that their heads came close together.

"Wait!" whispered the other. "Somehow that feather seems familiar to me."

"Do you mean it might be Blue Jacket?" asked Bob, eagerly; for, to tell the truth, he himself had had a similar idea flash through his mind.

"Nothing more. See, he seems to be looking around calmly, as though in no hurry to make a hostile move. There, he has put his hand up to his mouth. I believe he means to signal. Yes, listen, there goes the bark of the red fox, which you remember he always uses to tell us he is near. It must be Blue Jacket!"

Bob, however, laid a hand on his reckless brother.

"Let me try him first, Sandy," he said; and immediately there broke out the singular grunting sound which a hedgehog makes when turning over the dead leaves looking for his food.

Immediately a low voice called out:

"Bob! Sandy!"

After that there could no longer be any doubt as to the identity of the Indian whose head had been so strangely outlined against the circle of the moon. Gaining their feet, the two young pioneers directed the other to where they were standing. And it was with considerable satisfaction they thus made the discovery that it was a friend instead of a foe whose coming had alarmed them.

"Ugh!" said Blue Jacket, as he gripped a hand of each, having learned this method of greeting among the whites while an inmate of the Armstrong cabin, recovering from his wound. "Glad meet Bob, Sandy. Much wonder who carry torch in woods. Think paleface boy, no can be sure. What hunt so far away settlement?"

"Kate has been stolen by four Seneca Indians, and they are speeding as fast as they can go toward their village away to the far north!" Bob explained.

Had it been a white man he would have shown more or less astonishment at this startling news. Blue Jacket, being an Indian, and schooled to repress his feelings on all occasions, merely grunted, as he replied:

"Bad! Much hard get back. How know?"

Between them the two boys related how the awful shock had come upon them while they were about to return home after a successful hunt. They also mentioned what the reader already knows about Pat O'Mara being on the trail in advance, determined to save the daughter of his good friends.

"And you, Blue Jacket, will you not join us?" asked Sandy.

The young Shawanee never hesitated an instant to consider the matter.

"Me go where Bob, Sandy go. Never forget him mother, what she do. Tell much more. No can walk in woods till rest. Four Iroquois say? Who?" he said, in the terse way that was so much a part of his stoical nature.

"We believe that she was stolen by a young Seneca chief known by the name of Black Beaver among the settlers. Do you know him, Blue Jacket?" asked Bob.

He felt the Shawanee start, which told him that what he said must have given their red friend a shock.

"Black Beaver sent down by Pontiac, visit my people with war arrow. Tell that red men all over north ready dig up hatchet, and go on warpath. How Bob, Sandy see um?" he asked.

"He and three of his braves came to our settlement some time ago," returned the white boy. "They created quite an excitement, for it was believed that we were about to be attacked by the enemy. But they held their hands out, palms upward, in token of peace, and said they were a long way from their lodges, with their tobacco gone, and little ammunition left with which to kill game. So we gave them of both, and they pretended to go their way, saying that they were the friends of the white man."

"Yes," broke in Sandy just then; "but we saw how the young chief looked hungrily at our pretty little sister, Kate, and both of us worried, for fear that some day he might return to give us trouble. But we did not think it would come so soon. He hung around until the chance arrived; then the blow fell."

"Blue Jacket saw trail through the woods," continued the other, in his low musical voice; "where four braves and a squaw be followed by a paleface. He think something wrong. Then night come, and he camp under tree. Just at moonrise see dancing fire through woods. Think Indians hunt deer with torch as much do. Just get close, fire go. But Blue Jacket know then it not Indian, but white boy. He think of Bob, Sandy. Listen for while; then give bark of red fox. Now know all."

"And you will stick to us through thick and thin, Blue Jacket?" demanded Sandy.

The Shawanee brave once more thrust out his dusky hand, and gravely took that of each of the young pioneers in turn. They knew from this that they might count on such assistance as he could give them. Actions take the place of words with an Indian; a look or a movement counts for volumes.

All made their way back to the trail, so that there would be no delay later on, when they were ready to once more take up the pursuit of the girl-stealers.

"How long must we lie idle here?" groaned Sandy, when a full hour had passed by, without any further action.

"Perhaps until morning," replied his brother, "so you had better try and get some sleep. We must be rested in order to carry on the pursuit."

"But supposing they were not more than a mile away from here," continued Sandy. "We might come upon them in an hour, if only we kept moving. It seems foolish to stop just because we are a little tired."

Bob knew that the poor fellow was so stiff he could hardly get up, once he lay upon the ground; but the spirit was willing, if the flesh proved weak, and Sandy would have gone on if he had to crawl.

"If they have halted they would not sleep without a sentry," said Bob.

"That is true, I suppose," admitted the other, grudgingly. "All Indians are careful not to be taken by surprise. Yes, they would be on their guard; but what of that, Bob? Surely, with Blue Jacket to help us, we could creep up close without any one being the wiser."

"You forget," said Bob, "that we could never follow the trail without a light; and those sharp eyes of the sentry would discover our torch long before we knew they were near. Then we would be made a target for a shower of bullets, and perhaps poisoned arrows."

Sandy was utterly disheartened. This sort of argument seemed unanswerable. He just gave a disgusted grunt, rolled over on the ground, and not another word did he speak during the entire balance of that long night.

Bob knew that sleep had finally overtaken his brother, for he could hear his regular breathing after a time. And he was glad of the fact, for both, of them stood much in need of rest before they would be in condition to take up the chase once more.

Morning found them awake, and ready to make a fresh start just as soon as the daylight proved strong enough for the Indian to see the trail. Bob was only too willing to turn over the lead to Blue Jacket, knowing that, while he, himself, might serve fairly well, he was not at all in the same class as the trained young Shawanee, accustomed to reading every tiny sign that marked the tracks of the red fugitives.

Once again they chewed some of the dried venison, washing the crude meat down with a draught from a near-by brook. Refreshed after their sleep, the two boys declared themselves to be in good condition, and ready to make a day of it, if need be.

More than once Bob noticed that the Indian cast an apprehensive glance upward. Sandy, too, saw this action, and took the first opportunity to question his brother as to what it might signify.

"Why does he turn his eyes up to the tops of the trees every little while?" he said in an aside to his brother, as the two of them trailed after Blue Jacket.

"The sun rose red this morning, you may have noticed?" replied Bob.

"Yes, that is true, for I saw it myself," Sandy went on.

"And that stands for rain, all woodsmen believe."

Every rover of the big timber in those days put the utmost faith in such signs. If they saw the sun set in a sea of angry gold they would make ready for bad weather, just as surely as they believed the north lay close to the direction where the moss grew heaviest on those forest trees.

"But we have no fear of the rain," declared Sandy, impatiently; "let it come, for a wetting can't stop us from following Black Beaver day in and day out till we overtake him."

"Still, if the trail is washed out, how then are we to follow?" asked Bob, with a frown on his face.

"Oh! what a fool I was not to understand what you meant," said the younger boy, now looking up toward the heavens quite as anxiously as their dusky guide had done.

"We can only hope that it will keep off long enough to let us come up with the redskins," said Bob, thinking to buoy up his brother's sinking spirits.

"Or that Pat O'Mara may be able to overtake the thieves, and rescue our sister," Sandy observed.

Then they fell into silence again, each busy with his own painful thoughts. All the time Blue Jacket was leading them on at a sort of dog-trot. His eyes followed the trail in a manner simply marvellous; and Bob again and again felt a sense of delight because good fortune had sent this red friend across their path just when they needed assistance most.

Hours passed, and they had covered many miles. Still, upon being questioned by the nervous Sandy, the Shawanee brave could not say that they were any nearer the little band they sought than when they had started, that morning.

How long this pursuit would keep up, who could say? Day might follow day, without their gaining any perceptible advantage. As a last resort, of course, they could make direct for the big water to the north, and seek the village from which Black Beaver had come. But that would mean disheartening delay, with accumulated difficulties about effecting the rescue of their sister.

Nor was this day fated to entirely pass without something occurring to thrill both young pioneers, and prove once more the truth of Pat O'Mara's words when he warned them of the constant need of watchfulness when abroad in the forest.

Blue Jacket in the advance was swiftly covering the trail, for he had heard a distant growl of thunder, and did not fancy what was coming. With his head bowed in earnest examination of the tracks left by those who had gone before, he could hardly be expected to see what lay ahead of him, leaving that for his comrades.

"Oh! Bob, look there!" Sandy suddenly exclaimed, as he raised his musket; "a panther just crouching to leap on our guide's shoulders. Shoot him, quick!"