The Secret Cache: An Adventure and Mystery Story for Boys

  XXIII A CAPTIVE

  Hugh's fall stunned him for a moment, and that moment was his undoing.When he came to himself, he was propped against the tree, his knife andhatchet gone. Two Indians were binding his wrists with a rawhide rope.Dizzy, his head spinning, he fought to free himself, but to no avail. Theknots were tied, and he struggled to his feet to confront the maliciousgrin of the young Indian whom he had first encountered, and the ugly,lowering face of another, older savage of short, squat figure. It musthave been this fellow's long, strong arms that had seized and thrown theboy. Recovering himself a little, Hugh looked desperately about for a wayof escape. His captors understood that glance. The squat man seized hisarm in a grip that almost made the boy cry out, while the young fellow,who had picked up his long gun, raised it threateningly.

  In spite of his aching head, the sickness at his stomach and a generalfeeling of misery and despair, physical and mental, the boy made anheroic effort to stand erect and, with calm and impassive face, look hisenemies in the eye. He knew that to show weakness or fear would only makematters worse. He must assume an indifference and unconcern he was farfrom feeling, at the same time keeping alert for any chance of gaining anadvantage.

  He was not left long in doubt of his captors' immediate intentions. Witha guttural grunt, the man who held his arm turned him about and led himaround the jackpine, the other following, musket ready. They went throughthe woods, and came out into an open rock lane bordered with trees andbushes. There they turned to the right. It was of no use to struggle.Hugh had no chance to get away. Even if he had been able to break loosefrom the iron grip of the squat man, or, by thrusting out a foot, triphim and twist himself from the Indian's grasp, he could not hope toescape the fellow with the gun. The latter would most certainly have shothim or clubbed him into unconsciousness.

  Hugh went in silence, until they entered a trail leading from the openlane. Then he attempted a question. "Where do you take me, to whom?" heasked.

  Receiving no answer but the young fellow's singsong "Ne compr'ney" and asullen grunt from the older savage, the boy made another attempt. Loudlyand vigorously, to make his anger clear by his voice and manner, heuttered an indignant protest. What did they mean by such treatment of awhite man of peaceable and friendly intentions, who had never done wrongto them or to any other Ojibwa? He voiced his indignation in both Englishand French, apparently without effect, except to cause the squat Indianto tighten his grip and the grinning one to prod the captive in the backwith his musket.

  Curiously enough, that prod, instead of frightening the lad, made himblaze with anger. The blood surged to his face. With difficulty herestrained himself from turning to give battle. But one cool spot in hisbrain told him that such an act would be suicide. He must keep his wrathunder control and use guile instead of force, if he was ever to seeBlaise again and escape with their joint inheritance. So he controlledhimself and went quietly where his captors led him. Questions andprotests were worse than useless.

  It was not a path they were following, merely a trail trodden down moreor less by use. As Indians and woodsmen always go single file, the waywas narrow. The squat Indian went ahead, the end of the rawhide thatbound Hugh's wrists wrapped about his hand. He went rapidly, and Hugh,his arms extended in front of him, had to step quickly to keep from beingdragged. Behind him the other man gave him an occasional reminder bytouching him between the shoulders with the gun barrel. Every time hefelt that touch, wrath surged up in Hugh. The boy would have been lessthan human if he had not been afraid of the fate in store for him, but hewas proving himself the true son of his father. Every threat or insultproduced in him a hot anger that, for the moment, completely blotted outfear. Yet he strove to hold himself in check, to keep calm and silent andto appear unconscious of the fellow behind him.

  Had Hugh not been active and light-footed, he could not have kept pacewith his guards on the rough and winding trail. The squat Indian showednot the slightest consideration for his captive. Hugh knew that if helagged, tripped or fell, he would be dragged along regardless of hiscomfort. In addition he would probably be kicked or prodded by the manbehind. So he exerted himself to keep up the swift pace with truly Indianagility.

  The trail turned to the right and led to the edge of an abrupt decline.The older Indian let go his hold of the boy, to climb down, but the otherman kept the muzzle of his gun between Hugh's shoulders. The lad wonderedif the two expected him to go down that almost vertical descent withbound arms. He was still wondering when the Indian in front reached thebottom. The man in the rear, without warning, suddenly seized the boyabout the waist, swung him off his feet, and literally dropped him overthe edge.

  Hugh went sliding down, trying to save himself from too rapid a descentby gripping the rock with his moccasined feet. In a flash he saw that hewould land right in the arms of the man at the bottom. If he could onlystrike the Indian in the stomach with enough force to knock him down, andthen dodge aside swiftly before the other fellow could pick up his gunagain---- Far more quickly than it can be told the plan was born in theboy's mind. The squat Indian's long arms were stretched out and up. Hispowerful hands gripped Hugh. The lad tried to throw himself forward, butthe sturdy figure stood firm. The Indian swung Hugh around, and in aninstant had him flat on his back in a tangle of prickly juniper. Thecaptive's one attempt to escape had failed.

  Bruised and battered by his slide down the rocks, Hugh was jerked to hisfeet. The younger savage was beside him now, ready to take up hisposition in the rear. The two wasted no time. The older man gripped therawhide again and the march was resumed. Speed was not slackened even inthe steep places, and Hugh was put to it to keep up and not lose hisfooting. The general course was downward, until they reached almost levelground, thickly wooded with evergreens, where the trail led over manyfallen tree trunks, decayed and moss covered. Then they went up a fewfeet of rise, like a low and ruinous rock wall. To his left among thetrees, Hugh could see the gleam of water.

  The squat Indian sprang down from the natural wall, and Hugh leaped withhim, to avoid being dragged down. He found himself almost on a level withthe water, among scattering broad-leaved trees and bushes. A few stepsfarther and, rounding a clump of mountain ash, he came in sight of asmall birch bark lodge, of the conical wigwam form sometimes used by theOjibwas for temporary dwellings to be occupied a few days or a week ortwo. The more permanent lodges were commonly of a different shape withrounded roofs. In a moment another, slightly larger wigwam came in view.A thin curl of smoke rose from the remains of a fire, and a canoe lay onthe sand beach. No human beings were to be seen.

  The two Indians marched their captive to the cleared spot where the firesmouldered. Then, before the boy realized his intention, the squat manturned quickly, put his arm about Hugh's waist, tripping him cleverly atthe same time, threw him backwards to the ground and sat upon him.Without a word spoken, the grinning savage dropped his musket, seized astrip of rawhide and set to work to tie the prisoner's ankles together.Hugh attempted to kick, but the squat man prodded him unmercifully in thestomach. The boy realized that he could not help matters by struggling.The younger Indian completed his work, rose to his feet and grinned downat him derisively. The older man tested the cord on Hugh's wrists, pulledit a little tighter and got to his feet, to the great relief of the soreand suffering captive. The squat Indian was heavily built, and Hugh feltthat a few moments more of that weight on his middle would crush himflat. He strove to control his features, however, and not to let hismisery, indignation and despair show in his face.

  Evidently the pair considered their work completed, or perhaps they hadtired of tormenting the prisoner. At any rate they left him to himself.For a time Hugh lay perfectly still, too miserable for effort of body ormind. His head still pained him from the fall against the tree, he hadseveral sore bruises on his body, his arms and shoulders ached from beingheld so long in one position, the thongs cut into his wrists and ankles,and he was sick at the
stomach from the treatment he had just received.As he lay on his back, his captors were no longer within his range ofvision, but he did not flatter himself that he was unwatched. That thetwo were not far away he knew from the sound of their voices that came tohim at intervals from somewhere down by the water. There was no need forthem to watch him closely, he thought bitterly. Bound as he was andunable to even raise himself to his feet, he had not the slightest chanceof escape.

  After a while he began to feel better, and his hopes rose a little.Turning his head from side to side, he looked about for some way to helphimself. He could no longer hear the voices of the Indians nor could hecatch any glimpse of them. Everything about him was quiet, except for theripple of the water on the sand and gravel of the beach, and theoccasional cries of a small flock of gulls.

  There was something familiar about this spot, this stretch of sandyground, with its sparse growth of trees and bushes, and its curvingbeach. Beyond and above, the tree-covered ridges towered. Hugh managed toroll over on his side, and looked across a narrow blue channel to anotherthickly wooded shore, where the trees ran down to the water. He knew theplace now. On that stretch of sand and pebbles, Captain Bennett hadbeached the _Otter_. Hugh himself had helped to clear the very spot wherethe wigwams now stood. The place looked somewhat different, to be sure,with all the ice and snow gone and the trees and bushes in full summergreen.

  Hugh's thoughts turned from the memory of that other camp to the presentsituation. He pulled at the thongs that bound him and tried to loosenthem by wriggling his hands and feet, but it was of no use. The cords,instead of loosening, only cut into his wrists and ankles more painfully.He was just about to attempt to sit up, when the gruff voice of the olderof his captors sounded close by, just beyond his head. Hugh composedhimself to lie still. The Indian came near and looked down frowningly onthe lad, then seated himself at a little distance and went to work on apiece of deerskin he was fashioning into moccasins. Hugh was familiarenough with Indian ways to grasp the significance of the fact that theman was making his own moccasins. That was women's work, if there werewomen about. It was evident that in this camp there were no squaws, orthe braves would not be doing squaws' work.

  Growing tired of watching his guard at his task, Hugh closed his eyes.The sun was warm and in this sheltered place there was little breeze. Hefelt very tired and all things around him conspired to make him drowsy.In a few minutes the captive had fallen fast asleep.