The Secret Cache: An Adventure and Mystery Story for Boys

  XXIV IN THE HANDS OF THE GIANT

  The sound of voices waked Hugh. He opened his eyes to find, looking downon him, the young Indian and a repulsive fellow with a strip of dirty redcloth bound about his black hair. The latter had evidently just come fromvisiting his snares, for he was carrying two rabbits. When he saw thatHugh was awake, he turned away, the young fellow, after favoring the boywith another of his malicious grins, following him. From the position ofthe sun Hugh knew that he had not slept long, but his head felt betterand the sick feeling had passed.

  Long and tedious hours of waiting followed. At least one of the Indianswas in sight and hearing every moment. Hugh was hungry, but he wasoffered no food, thirsty, but he disdained to ask for a drink. He stroveto lie quiet and to keep his feelings of discomfort, anxiety andapprehension from his face. The ground was hard, the sun beat down uponhis head and face, and he could not move to a more comfortable spot. Onlywith difficulty could he roll over on his side. His mental suffering,however, was far worse than his physical discomfort and pain.

  Why was he treated in this way? Into whose hands had he fallen? What werethey going to do to him and for what or whom were they waiting? The onepossible explanation of his treatment was that he had fallen into thehands of Ohrante's little band of outlaws. Why should even they want totake him prisoner? Was Ohrante looking for the hidden cache? A cold chillran up Hugh's spine, as he remembered the packet in the breast of hisshirt. If he had only had sense enough to leave that packet with Blaise!It must surely come to light should his captors strip him to torment ortorture him. Torture! He recalled the fiendish scene in the firelight.Was that what it meant to fall into the hands of the giant Iroquois? Theboy dared not think of that. He tried to assure himself that the outlawhad nothing against him. At any rate he must not give way to fear. If hecould keep cool and alert, he might yet find some way out of the perilsthat threatened him. He _must_ find a way.

  With such thoughts running through his head, the time dragged painfully.Late in the afternoon, the younger Indian renewed the fire and hung overit an iron pot of water. Into the pot he put several handfuls of wildrice and rabbit meat cut into small pieces. The odor was tempting toHugh's nostrils, but he strove to keep his hunger from showing in hisface.

  Sunset came. The stew was ready, but the pot was not unslung. The threeIndians sat about the fire, the younger one whiling away the time byplaying on a crude native flute with three holes. The sounds producedwere mournful and monotonous and did not inspire cheerfulness. The othertwo savages sat idle, eying the seething mixture in the kettle, but nonemade a move to dip into it. They were certainly waiting for the return ofthe rest of the band. Unusually well disciplined savages, Hugh thoughtthem, to postpone their own supper until their chief arrived.

  The squat man turned his head, gave a little grunt, rose and walked awaytowards the beach. The young fellow ceased his flute playing andfollowed, the other remaining to watch the stew. Hugh heard a canoe gratelightly on the gravel, a few words exchanged. He rolled over on his side,and saw, striding towards him--Ohrante. There could be no mistaking thathuge form, looking more gigantic than ever as it towered over theprostrate lad.

  For an instant Hugh forgot all else in wonder at the Indian's size.Ohrante was not less than seven feet in height, with proportionatebreadth of shoulder and depth of chest. Then, as he gazed into the facelooking down on him, a veritable panic of fear shook the lad. It was notan ugly face. In its outlines and proportions, its strongly cut, regularfeatures, it was unusually handsome for an Indian. But there was aninhuman hardness about it, a fiercely piercing quality in the eyes, cruellines about nostrils and lips, a general expression of bitter andvindictive malevolence that appalled the boy. A shudder passed throughhim, yet, fascinated, he could not take his eyes from the dark, piercingones.

  Ohrante spoke, and Hugh gave a start of surprise. It was not the wordsthat amazed him. All the Indian said was, "Who are you, white man? Howcome you here?" A simple question in curiously accented English. It wasthe voice that surprised Hugh. Weak, high pitched, almost squeaking, sucha voice as the boy had never heard in an Indian before, it wasludicrously incongruous with the size and appearance of the evil giant.Instantly the spell in which Ohrante had held him was broken. So greatwas the revulsion of feeling that Hugh actually wanted to laugh. Luckilyhe realized that to take any notice of the giant's weak point wouldsurely arouse his bitterest hatred. Self-possession regained, Hughcontrolled his features and answered steadily. He had had plenty of timethat long afternoon to plan the story he was to tell.

  "I am Hugh McNair. I came here by accident. High winds drove me out of mycourse and against the great rocks yonder." He jerked his head in thedirection of the mouth of the bay. "My canoe was wrecked, all my wintersupplies lost, my comrade drowned." He paused, rather surprised at thereadiness with which he told his false tale. Ordinarily Hugh wastruthful, inclined to regard a lie as a coward's refuge, but he had nointention of divulging his true name and purpose to his father'sbitterest enemy.

  Ohrante seemed to consider the reply. Then he spoke again. "Minong farfrom mainland," he said in his bad English. He was suspicious of thetale, but the boy was prepared for doubt.

  "We were going from the New Fort at the Kaministikwia," Hugh went on toexplain. "We had sold our furs and had all our supplies for the winter.Also we were very sleepy. We had drunk deep and we did not take carewhere we went. Then came the wind."

  Hugh was watching Ohrante's face closely, but he could not tell whetherthe Iroquois believed the story or not, or indeed how much of it heunderstood. He made no reply except a queer little sound in his throat.Because of his high-pitched voice, that sound could not be called agrunt, and Hugh was at a loss to know whether it meant assent, disbeliefor contempt. Before he could add anything more to his story, the giantturned abruptly away, walked over to the fire and seated himself on alog.

  Immediately one of his followers removed the pot, and, with along-handled, crudely carved wooden spoon, ladled out a generous portionof the stew into a birch bark dish. The chief received the dish insilence and commenced to eat, picking out the bits of meat on the pointof his knife, and taking up the rice on the flat of the blade. After hehad finished the more solid part of the food, he drank the soup andpassed the dish back to be refilled.

  The other Indians, eight in number, stood or sat about in silence. Notuntil the chief had finished his second portion and had signified, byturning the empty dish upside down on the ground, that he had had enough,did they venture to approach the kettle, each with his own bark or woodenbowl. Ohrante said something to the squat man who had been one of Hugh'scaptors, pointing to the boy as he spoke. At once the man, carrying hisown dish of stew, went over to the captive, seated himself cross-leggedbeside him, took up a piece of meat on the point of his knife and held itto Hugh's lips. In this way he fed the lad about half the contents of thedish, reserving the rest for himself for fear the kettle might be empty.Neither the wooden dish nor the knife blade was very clean, but Hugh wastoo hungry to be particular. He could have eaten more, but he wasthankful to get anything. Whatever the fate in store for him, he wasapparently not to be starved to death. He risked asking for a drink,making signs to explain his meaning, and the Indian brought him somewater from the lake in a bark cup.

  Ohrante did not speak to Hugh again that night, or show any furtherinterest in him. He was left lying bound and was not even given ablanket. Early in the evening, Ohrante retired alone to the smaller ofthe two wigwams, and a little later the others, all except the youngfellow with the malicious grin, crowded into the larger dwelling. Theyoung Indian, rolled in a dirty blanket, lay down on the opposite side ofthe fire from the prisoner.

  Hugh's arms and legs had grown so numb that he no longer felt the gallingof the cords, but he was very sore and uncomfortable from lying on thehard ground. He had no wish to sleep, he was too eager to find some meansof escape. If he could bring his bonds in contact with a coal
from thefire, he might burn them enough so that he could pull them apart. Hehitched nearer the flickering blaze and turned on his side towards it.The light was full on the face of the Indian beyond. Hugh could see thatthe man's eyes were open and fixed upon him. His lips were grinning inthe evil fashion the boy knew all too well.

  Hugh settled himself as comfortably as he could and closed his eyes.After what seemed a long time, the deep breathing of the guard seemed toprove that he slept. The captive opened his eyes and, cautiously and withpainful effort, rolled nearer to the fire. There was a low grunt from theIndian. He rose, came over to Hugh, seized him by the shoulder androughly dragged him back from the fire. Then he passed a skin rope aboutthe boy's body under the arms and tied it to a strong young birch. Therope was long and did not prevent Hugh from lying down and turning fromside to side, but it effectually anchored him too far from the fire toput his plan into operation. His guard had probably divined hisintention. So ended the captive's attempt to escape. There was nothingleft for him but to sleep, if he could, and gather strength and couragefor whatever the morrow might bring. It was long before he slept,however, and the discomfort of his position waked him frequently. At lastthe chill of early dawn refused to let him sleep longer.

  He had not long to wait before the camp was stirring. The man with thescarlet head band set about preparing a breakfast of boiled fish. Hugh'sguard of the night took his gun and went away somewhere. Breakfast waseaten at sunrise, and this time Hugh's hands were unbound that he mightfeed himself, but he was left tied to the tree. It was some time beforethe numbness wore off so that he could use his hands freely. His firstattempts to manage his food amused the Indians, and the boy felt theblood rise to his cheeks at their grins and unintelligible gibes.

  Breakfast was over when the young fellow with the grin returned. Hetalked with Ohrante, and afterwards the chief came over to Hugh and beganto ask questions. Again the boy was almost moved to mirth at the contrastbetween the giant's appearance and his voice. As Ohrante went on with hisquestioning, however, Hugh almost forgot the ludicrous voice. His replieskept his wits busy. The Iroquois wanted to know whether Hugh trapped forhimself or traded with others for furs, whether he sold to the OldCompany or to the New, where he intended to winter and other particulars.Hugh had believed that he had his story well planned, but several of thequestions were unforeseen, and he was obliged to think quickly and inventas he replied. Telling a false tale was not such a simple matter thismorning, and he was not at all sure that he made his convincing. AfterOhrante turned away, Hugh was left wondering if his answers had allayedthe giant's suspicions or aroused them.