The Cryptogram: A Story of Northwest Canada

  CHAPTER XXXV.

  RETRIBUTION.

  Our first thought was that we had blundered into an ambuscade and thatthe bluffs to right and left of us swarmed with redskins. Our littlecolumn stopped short, confused and panic-stricken, and for a briefinstant we stood huddled in the narrow valley like sheep. Our musketswere lifted, but no foes were insight; we expected a withering fusilladeto be poured into our ranks.

  "They've got us, boys!" cried Tom Arnold, who was staring in alldirections while he held his wounded arm.

  But the silence remained unbroken--and I began to hope that our alarmwas groundless--at least, so far as an ambuscade was concerned. Justwhere the shot had been fired from I could not tell, for the wind hadquickly drifted the smoke away; but as I watched alertly I detected aslight movement in the evergreen-clad face of the hill on the left, at apoint some distance ahead, and about twenty feet from the ground.

  "There is only one redskin," was my instant reflection, "and he isloading for another shot."

  My gun was at mid-shoulder, and I did not hesitate a second. Takingswift aim at the spot, I pulled the trigger. The loud report wasfollowed by a screech; then the bushes parted, and an Indian pitched outheadforemost, landing with a thud in the soft snow.

  "Good shot!" cried Arnold. "One red devil the less! But what can theothers be about?"

  "It's doubtful if there are any more," said I.

  "By Heavens, Carew I believe you are right!" shouted Captain Rudstone."We've had a scare for nothing. This follow was certainly alone, or hiscomrades would have blazed away at us before this. I fancied I saw himstir just now--if he's not dead, we may get some information out ofhim."

  With that the captain started toward the fallen Indian, keeping hismusket ready and darting keen glances right and left. I would havefollowed him, but at sight of Arnold's pale face I changed my mind. Hisleft arm was bleeding profusely below the shoulder, and three or four ofhis men were standing about him.

  "Is the bone hit?" I inquired anxiously.

  "No; it's only a flesh wound," Arnold replied. "But I can't afford tolose much more blood. Fix me up, some of you fellows."

  Just then Christopher Burley pushed in among us, his countenanceagitated and frightened.

  "Is the danger over?" he cried.

  "Are there no more Indians in the hills?"

  Before I could answer him I was tapped on the shoulder, and turninground I saw Flora; she had left the sledge, and her eyes looked intomine calmly and fearlessly.

  "Do not be alarmed," I said. "It seems there was but one Indian."

  "I was afraid we were going to be attacked," she answered; "but I am nota bit frightened now. See, my hand is steady. Let me bandage this poorman's wound, Denzil."

  The plucky girl did not wait for permission, but took a knife from oneof the men and began to cut away Arnold's shirt sleeve. I had a largehandkerchief in my pocket, which I produced and gave to her. Meanwhile Iglanced forward to Captain Rudstone, who was kneeling beside the Indian,with his back turned to us. I saw him look quickly and furtively overhis shoulder, and his hands seemed to be actively engaged. I noted this,as I say, but at the time I thought nothing of the incident.

  A moment later the captain rose to his feet and turned round. He met myeyes, and his own dropped; for a passing second he looked slightlyconfused.

  "Here's a queer go, Carew," he called. "You've killed your man, and Ifancy there is something on him that will be of personal interest toyou."

  I hurried to the spot, in company with half a dozen others. The Indianlay dead on his side--an elderly, wrinkled savage with a featheredscalp-lock, dressed in buffalo robe, leggings and beaded moccasins. Hismusket was clutched in his hand, and blood was oozing from a wound inthe region of the heart.

  "What do you mean, Rudstone?" I asked.

  He pointed silently to the redskin's throat and bending closer, I saw anecklace of the teeth and claws of wild beasts. Something else wasstrung with it--a tiny locket of smooth gold--and the sight of it mademy heart leap. With a single jerk, I tore the necklace loose, and thelocket fell in the snow. I picked it up, looked at it sharply, andsuspicion became a certainty.

  "This is the working of Providence!" I cried hoarsely, "I have committedan act of just retribution. Look: the Indian killed my father nearly sixyears ago, and now he has died by my hand."

  "I suspected as much," said Captain Rudstone. "I remembered yourspeaking of a locket that your father always carried, and that wasmissing from his body."

  "This is the locket," I replied. "I know it well! And here lies themurderer! Thank Heaven, I have avenged my father's death!"

  "There is doubtless something in it," suggested the captain. "Mostlikely a miniature portrait."

  He looked me straight in the eyes as he spoke, and with an expression ofcalm curiosity.

  "It is the use to which such trinkets are usually put," he added. "I amglad you have recovered it, Carew. It is a memento to be prized andtreasured."

  By this time all of the party were gathered around me; Arnold's woundhad been tightly and deftly bandaged, and the flow of blood checked. Awhisper of my strange discovery ran from mouth to mouth, and Florapressed my arm in silent sympathy. There was a solemn hush, and everyeye was on me as I fingered the locket in search of a spring, for I knewit opened that way. I must have touched the spot by accident, for of asudden the trinket flew open. But the inside was quite empty. I couldnot repress a little cry of disappointment.

  "Strange!" muttered Captain Rudstone "I was sure the locket heldsomething! You say you never knew what your father kept in it, Carew?"

  "No, he never spoke of it," I replied. "It was rarely I caught a glimpseof it, though I knew that he always wore it."

  "Have you reason to believe that he kept anything in it?" askedChristopher Burley.

  "To tell the truth, sir, I have not," I answered.

  "Ah, that lets light on the matter," said the captain. "The trinket isprobably treasured for itself--for the sake of some old associationconnected with it."

  "That is very likely," I assented. "At all events, it is empty now."

  Christopher Burley begged to be allowed to examine the locket, and aftera close scrutiny he handed it back to me.

  "This is a very curious case, Mr. Carew," he said, speaking in dry andlegal tones. "It resolves itself into two issues. In the first place,the locket may have been empty when your father wore it. In the secondplace it may have contained something. But if we take the latter forgranted, what became of the contents? It is extremely unlikely that theIndian could have found the spring, or, indeed, suspected that the bitof gold was hollow."

  "Which goes to prove," put in Captain Rudstone, "that the trinket hasbeen restored to Mr. Carew in the same condition in which it was tornfrom his father's body. The redskin prized it merely as a glitteringadornment to his barbaric necklace."

  "I agree with you," said I, "and I think it is time we closed so triviala discussion. Justice has been done and I am satisfied."

  With that I thrust the locket deep into my pocket.

  "There is another thing," said Captain Rudstone; "why did the Indianfire on us? He may have been scouting in advance of a hostile force."

  "I do not think we are in any danger," I replied. "Indeed, I can offer asolution to the mystery. After my father's death the murderer was soughtfor, but his own tribe spirited him away, and I believe he fled to thefar West. His relatives declared at the time that he had gone crazy onaccount of a blow on the head, and believed he had a mission to killwhite men. This was likely true. And now, after a lapse of five years,the fellow wandered back to this neighborhood and fired on us at sight."

  Such was my earnest conviction, and for the most part the rest agreedwith me. But Tom Arnold was inclined to be skeptical, and shook his headgravely.

  "You may be right, my boy," he said, "but I'm a cautious man, and Idon't think overmuch of your argument. Leastways, the chances are eventhat y
our dead Indian belonged to the party who took Fort Royal, andthat the whole body is marching on Fort Charter. So off we go for arapid march, and let every man put his best foot forward."

  "Under any circumstances," I replied, "whether we are in danger or not,we ought to reach the fort as soon as possible, and at the best we can'tmake it before midnight."

  So a little later we were traveling south again, surmounting by the aidof snowshoes, all the rugged difficulties of the wintry wilderness.Flora was strapped on the sledge as before, and we had left the deadIndian--for whose fate I felt not the least compunction--lying where hehad fallen.

  We marched on for two hours, and then our fear of the weather proved tobe well founded. A furious snowstorm came on suddenly, and a violentwind whirled the flakes into our faces; the cold grew intense, and wecould not see a yard ahead of us. A more terrific blizzard we had noneof us known in the past.

  For a little while we floundered on resolutely, blinded and half-frozen,becoming more exhausted each minute. The storm seemed to be gettingworse, and we encountered great drifts. There was not a sign by which wecould steer in the right direction, and we could not be sure that wewere not traveling in a circle.

  "Hold on, boys; this won't do!" Tom Arnold cried at last. "We can't goany farther. We must find shelter and lie close until the morning, oruntil the weather takes a turn."