CHAPTER XII.
"BIRDS OF THE NIGHT."
The garrison within the block-house saw the November day draw to anend, and the darkness of night closing in over river, forest andclearing, with sad forebodings of what was to come before the risingof the morrow's sun.
Colonel Preston and Jo Stinger agreed that the experiment with theburning arrows had resulted more favorably to the Wyandots than to thewhites. The flaming missiles were undoubtedly launched as a test orexperiment. True, each one had fallen to the ground without inflictingmaterial damage, but one of them clung to its position so long as toencourage the assailants to repeat the attempt.
"When the roof is stuck full of 'em," said Stinger, "and they'rep'inting upward like the quills of a porcupine, and every one of themarrers is a camp-fire of itself, why then, look out,--that's all I'vegot to say."
"I know of no reason why--hello! there's another!"
The speakers ran to the loopholes and looked out. Megill said it hadbeen fired from the cabin nearest them: he had noticed the wisp ofburning tow at the moment it sprang upward from the window. The archerwho dispatched it, kept himself out of view, Megill only catchingsight of his brawny hand, as he launched the flaming shaft.
This arrow was not heard to slide down the roof and fall to the groundas did the others. It kept its place, and so profound was thestillness within the block-house that every one distinctly heard thecrackling of the flames overhead.
More than one heart beat faster, as the friends looked at each other,and more than one face blanched, when the full import of this ominousoccurrence became known.
Jo Stinger drew his chair beneath the trap-door and carefully liftedthe slabs a few inches. He saw the arrow, which had been fired withastonishing accuracy, and which had been sent to such a height that itdescended almost perpendicularly, the flint-head sinking a full inchin the dry wood.
This rapid sweep through air had fanned the twist of tow into a strongblaze, and it was now burning vigorously. The flame was so hot indeedthat the shaft had caught fire, and it looked, at the first glance, asthough it would communicate with the roof itself.
This was hardly likely; though, as Stinger himself had declared, thedanger would be very imminent when a large number were burning at thesame time on different portions of the top of the building.
The pioneer extended the barrel of his rifle until he reached theburning missile, when he knocked it loose by a smart blow. As before,it slid down the steeply shelving roof and dropped, smoking, to theground, where it burned itself harmlessly away.
The expectation was general on the part of the garrison that a showerof burning arrows would now be sent from every portion of the wood.The suspense was great, but, to the surprise of all, the minutespassed without any demonstration of the kind.
The night, like the preceding one, was chilly and crisp, but it wasclearer. A gibbous moon shone from the sky, save when the stragglingclouds drifted across its face, and sent grotesque shadows glidingalong the clearing and over the block-house and woods. A dozen blackspecks, almost in the shape of the letter Y, suddenly passed over themoon, and the honking cry which sounded high up in air, showed theywere wild geese flying southward.
As the minutes wore on without any molestation from the Wyandots, Mrs.Preston went down the ladder and started the smouldering embers intolife. This was not for the purpose of cooking, for enough of that wasdone at noon, and the rations had already been distributed; but it waswith a view of adding to the comfort of those above, by giving them alittle warmth.
She took care to keep out of the range of any lurking red men whomight steal up and fire through the windows on the opposite side, theonly spot from which a shot could reach her; but to attain the pointof firing, an Indian would have been forced to scale the stockade, andnone of them as yet had attempted that.
Ned Preston stooped at the loophole, looking out over the clearingtoward the Licking, from which he and Blossom Brown had made such adaring run for life and liberty. Out in the darkness beyond, he hadparted from Deerfoot the Shawanoe, the Indian youth who was so deeplyattached to him. Ned more than suspected his friend had given up hislife for his sake. Placed, as was Deerfoot, there seemed to be nopossibility of his eluding the Wyandots, who looked upon him as theworst of traitors that encumbered the earth.
"He asked me about the Great Spirit of the white man," thought NedPreston, as he recalled that conversation over the letter which wastied to the arrow sent through the window; "and I promised I wouldtell him something: I feel as though I had not done my duty."
The lad was thoughtful a moment, oppressed by the remorse which comesto us when we feel we have thrown away an opportunity that may neverreturn; but he soon rallied, as he remembered the words so oftenspoken by his good mother.
"God knows all hearts and he judges us aright: if Deerfoot was gropingafter our Great Spirit, he found him before he died, for God is sogood and kind that he has gone to him, but O how glad I would be, ifI could only believe Deerfoot had got away, and that I shall see himagain!"
Ned Preston was roused from these gloomy reflections by the discoverythat something was going on in front of him, though for some time hecould not divine its character.
The uncertain light of the moon annoyed him, and prevented hislearning what would have been quickly detected by Jo Stinger.
When the moon shone with unobstructed light, Ned could follow theoutlines of the Wyandot warrior stretched out in death on the clearingin front: when the clouds drifted over its face, everything wasswallowed in darkness.
In the mood of young Preston, a person sometimes shows a singulardisposition to observe trifling details and incidents. On almost anyother occasion he would not have noticed that the body of the Wyandotlay in such a position that the head was within an arm's length of astump, while the feet was about the same distance from another.
At the moment of deepest mental depression, the boy noted this, and hemuttered to himself, during the succeeding minutes, until the mooncame out again from behind the clouds. Just then he was looking towardthe prostrate figure, and he observed that it had shifted itsposition.
The head was within a few inches of a stump, while the feet werecorrespondingly removed from the other. The difference was so markedthat there was no room for self-deception in the matter.
"It must be he is alive!" was the thought of Ned, "and has beenfeigning death all these hours."
He was on the point of calling to his uncle, when he reflected that nomercy was likely to be shown the warrior, in case he was only wounded.Ned felt a sympathy for the poor wretch, and, though he had been hismost merciless enemy, the boy resolved that he would do nothing toobstruct his final escape.
He now centered his gaze on the figure and watched it with deepinterest. So long as the flood of moonlight rested on it, it remainedas motionless as the stumps near it; but at the end of ten minutes athick cloud sailed slowly by the orb, obscuring its light only a fewminutes.
As soon as all was clear, Ned exclaimed--
"_He's moved again!_"
"That's so, but he had help."
It was Jo Stinger who stood at the elbow of Ned, looking through theadjoining loophole. The boy turned to the scout, and said in anentreating voice--
"Don't shoot him, Jo; give the poor fellow a chance!"
Jo laughed--
"I don't waste ammunition on dead men: that varmint has been as deadas Julius Caesar ever since he was shot."
"But how does he manage to move himself then?"
"Bless your soul, he doesn't do it: there's a Wyandot behind thatstump at his head, and he's taking a hitch at him whenever the moongives him a show."
Ned Preston was astonished, for the truth had never occurred to him.Jo added--
"I've catched a glimpse of him once or twice, as he darted from onestump to another. He came from the river bank, and I could have pickedhim off, but I knowed what he's arter, and it's a principle with theColonel and me, never to interfere with the varmints when
they want tobury their dead."
Ned Preston was greatly relieved to hear this, but the two saidnothing to the others, through fear that Megill or Turner would not beso considerate of the wishes of the Colonel, whose authority over themwas more nominal than actual.
The Wyandot who had taken on himself the duty of carrying away thebody of his fallen companion, seemed to acquire confidence from hissuccess. While Ned and Stinger were watching his movements, and whilethe moon shone with unobstructed light, they saw the body drawnentirely behind the stump, where, after some maneuvering, the warriorpartly straightened up, holding the burden over his shoulders andback.
Then he sped with surprising quickness for the river bank, down whichhe vanished with the load.
His work was done, and the deliverer doubtless believed he hadoutwitted the whites, who could have shot him without difficulty as heran.
Colonel Preston, and indeed all the garrison, were constantlyexpecting the shower of burning arrows, and, because they weredelayed, no one dared hope the Wyandots had given over the intentionof burning them out of their refuge.
When Ned grew weary of scanning the clearing with its uncertain light,he walked to the northern side of the room which commanded a view ofone portion of the stockade.
Before doing so, he turned to converse a few minutes with his uncleand aunt. There was no light burning in the upper story, for thereason that it was likely to serve as a guide to some of the Indianmarksmen who might steal up near enough to fire through the loopholes.
The children had lain down in the corner, where, after saying theirprayers, they were sleeping the sweet refreshing sleep of innocencyand childhood.
"Their mother is pretty well worn out," said the Colonel, "and I havepersuaded her to take a little rest while the opportunity is hers."
"I am glad of that, but there is no telling when she will beawakened----"
"Hello! there's more mischief!"
The exclamation was recognized as that of Jo Stinger, who had alsoshifted his position to the northern side. Colonel Preston and hisnephew instantly hastened to the loopholes and looked out in thegloom, which just then was at its deepest, as a mass of clouds weregradually gliding before the moon, which could be seen only veryfaintly, when some of the torn edges allowed its rays to stealthrough.
"What is it, Jo?" asked the Colonel, rifle in hand.
"About a minute ago, I seen the heads of two of the varmints; Ioughtn't to have hollered as I did, but I was sort of took off myguard, as you may say."
"Where were they?"
"Out yonder on the stockade; I make no doubt they're climbing over."
"Give them a shot the moment you get the chance."
"You may be sure I will," replied Jo, who was just able to catch aglimpse of the moon, which seemed to be struggling to free itself fromthe clouds that were smothering it.
Colonel Preston and Ned also shoved their guns through the loopholes,so as to be ready to fire the instant the opportunity offered.
Jo had indicated the exact place, so that their gaze was turned to theright point. The Wyandots were not forgetful of the uncertain lightwhich alternately favored and opposed them. When, therefore, the eyeswere directed toward the proper point, nothing was seen but thesharply pointed pickets pointing upward, and which looked as difficultto scale as the spiked fences of modern days.
"They're there," whispered Jo, "and when you see a head, blaze away atit."
The words were yet in his mouth, when the outlines of a tufted crownappeared above the stockade, where the Wyandot paused, as if peepingover. Then a second was outlined at his elbow, the two remainingstationary a full minute.
"Don't shoot just yet," whispered Stinger.
Ned wondered why the delay was suggested, after his previousinstruction; but, a moment after, the two Wyandots, no doubt with theassistance of others, suddenly rose higher, so that their shouldersand bodies were dimly seen. They were climbing over the stockade.
"_Now!_" said Jo Stinger.
All three fired, and the red men instantly vanished. It was almostimpossible to take fair aim, but it looked as if the warriors had been"hit hard."
"We dropped them," said Ned, with some excitement.
"Yes, but they dropped themselves; they're inside the stockade."
"What harm can two of them do, if they _are_ there?" asked ColonelPreston, quite hopeful that they had slain the Indians.
"There are a half dozen of the varmints at least inside," was thedisquieting statement of Stinger.
"We ought to be able to see them," observed Colonel Preston, lookingsearchingly at the spot where the two were discovered.
"When they stand still, you can't see 'em; but when they stir around,you can just make 'em out."
The reason why the Wyandots had selected this side of the stockade,was now apparent. The position of the moon in the heavens was suchthat the pickets threw a wall of shadow several feet within thesquare. When the warriors dropped to the ground, they were in suchgloom that it was almost impossible to see them, except when theymoved away from the fence.
All this being true, it still was not easy to divine their purpose inclimbing the pickets. So long as they remained within the square, theywere in range of the Kentuckians' rifles as much as though on theclearing in front.