Wild Western Scenes Part 20

CHAPTER IX.

Sneak skills a sow that "was not all a swine"--The breathless suspense--The match in readiness--Joe's cool demeanour--The match ignited--Explosion of the mine--Defeat of the savages--The captive--His liberation--The repose--The kitten--Morning.

"Don't you think I know who you are, and what you're after?" said Sneak, as he observed a large black sow, or what seemed to be one, rambling about on the snow within a hundred paces of him. "If that ain't _my_ sow! She's gone, that's dead sure; and if I don't pepper the red rascal that killed her I wish I may be split. That Indian 'll find I'm not such a fool as he took me for. Just wait till he gits close enough. I ain't to be deceived by my own sow's dead skin, with a great big Osage in it, nohow you can fix it." Sneak's conjecture was right. The Indian that Joe had killed was a chief, and the apparent sow was nothing more than a savage enveloped in a swine's skin. The Indian, after reconnoitering the premises with some deliberation, evidently believed that his stratagem was successful, and at length moved in the direction of his dead comrade, with the manifest intention of bearing the body away.

"I'll let you have it now!" said Sneak, firing his rifle, when the seeming sow began to drag the fallen chief from the field. The discharge took effect; the savage sprang upright and endeavoured to retreat in the manner that nature designed him to run; but he did not go more than a dozen paces before he sank down and expired.

"That's t.i.t for tat, for killing my sow," said Sneak, gazing at his postrate foe.

"Come here, Sneak," said Boone, from the opposite side of the inclosure.

"There was but one, and I fixed him," said Sneak, when they asked him how many of the enemy were in view when he fired.

"They heard the gun," said Glenn, applying his ear to the c.h.i.n.k, and remarking that the Indians had suddenly ceased to work under the snow.

"Be quiet," said Boone; "they will begin again in a minute or two."

"They're at it a'ready," said Sneak, a moment after, and very soon they were heard again, more distinctly than ever, cutting away with increased rapidity.

"Suppose the match does not burn?" observed Glenn, in tones betraying a fearful apprehension.

"In such an event," said Boone, "we must retreat into the house, and fasten the door without a moment's delay. But I do not much fear any such failure, for the dampness of the snow cannot so soon have penetrated through the dry reeds to the powder. Still we should be prepared--therefore, as there is no necessity that more than one of us should be here now, and as I am that man, withdraw, all of you, within the house, and remain there until your ears and eyes shall dictate what course to pursue." Boone's command was promptly obeyed, and when they reached the house and looked back, (the door was kept open,) they beheld the renowned pioneer standing erect, holding a pistol in his right hand (which he pointed at the cotton that connected with a train of powder running along a short plank to the reed that reached the buried keg,) while the moon, now midway in the heavens, "and beautifully bright," revealed the stern and determined expression of pale brow and fixed lip. Thus he stood many minutes, and they seemed hours to those who gazed upon the breathless scene from the house. Not a sound was heard, save the rapid ticking of tomahawks under the snow outside of the inclosure, or the occasional hasty remark of those who were looking on in painful and thrilling suspense. Once Boone bowed his head and listened an instant to the operations of the savages, and when he rose erect again, the party looking on confidently expected he would fire the train. But the fatal moment had not yet arrived. Still he pointed the pistol at the combustible matter, and his eye glanced along the barrel; but he maintained a statue-like stillness, as if awaiting some preconcerted signal.

"Why don't he fire?" inquired Glenn, in a whisper.

"It is not quite time yet," responded Roughgrove.

"Dod! they'll crawl up presently, and jump over the fence," said Sneak.

"Oh, goodness! I wish he'd shoot!" said Joe, in low, sepulchral tones, his head thrust between Sneak's legs, whither he had crawled un.o.bserved, and was now peering out at the scene.

"Who are you?" exclaimed Sneak, leaping away from Joe's bandaged head, which he did not recognize at the first glance.

"It's n.o.body but me," said Joe, turning his face upward, that his friend might not suppose him an enemy.

"Well, what are you doing here? I thought you was a dying."

"I'm a good deal better, but I'm too weak to do any thing yet," said Joe, in piteous tones, as he looked fearfully at Boone, and listened to the strokes of the Indians without, which became louder and louder.

"Stand back a little," said Boone to those in the door-way, "that I may enter when I fire--the match may burn more briskly than I antic.i.p.ated."

A pa.s.sage was opened for him to enter. He pulled the trigger--the pistol missed fire--he deliberately poured in fresh priming from his horn, and once more taking aim, the pistol was discharged, and, running to the house, and entering a little beyond the threshold, he paused, and turned to behold the realization of his hopes. The light combustible matter flashed up brightly, and the blaze ran along the ground a moment in the direction of the end of the reed; but at the instant when all expected to see the powder ignited, the flames seemed to die away, and the darkness which succeeded impressed them with the fear that the damp snow had, indeed, defeated their purpose.

"Split me if it _shan't_ go off!" cried Sneak, running out with a torch in his hand, that he s.n.a.t.c.hed from the fireplace. When he reached the trench that had been dug along the palisade, and in which the slow match was placed, he looked down but once, and das.h.i.+ng his fire-brand behind him, sprang back to the house, with all the celerity of which he was capable. "Dod!" said he, "it's burning yet, but we couldn't see it from here. It'll set the powder off in less than no time!"

"I trust it will!" said Boone, with much anxiety. And truly the crisis had arrived, beyond which, if it were delayed a single minute, it would be too late! The _voices_ of the Indians could now be heard, and the sounds of the tomahawks had ceased. They were evidently on the eve of breaking through the icy barrier, and rus.h.i.+ng upon their victims.

Boone, with a composed but livid brow, placed his hand upon the ponderous door, for the purpose of retreating within, and barring out the ruthless a.s.sailants. The rest instinctively imitated his motions, but at the same time their eyes were yet riveted on the dimly burning match. A small flash was observed to illumine the trench--another and a larger one succeeded! The first train of powder was ignited--the Indians were bursting through the snow-crust with direful yells--the blaze ran quickly along the plank--it reached the end of the reed--a shrill whizzing sound succeeded--a sharp crash under the snow--and then all was involved in a tremendous chaotic explosion! An enormous circular cloud of smoke enveloped the scene for a moment, and then could be seen tomahawks, bows, and arrows, and even _savages_, sailing through the air. The moon was darkened for the s.p.a.ce of several minutes, during which time immense quant.i.ties of snow poured down from above. The startling report seemed to rend both the earth and the heavens, and rumbled far up and down the valley of the Missouri, like the deep bellowing of a coruscant thunder-cloud, and died away in successive vibrations until it finally resembled the partially suppressed growling of an angry lion.

When the inmates of the house sallied forth, the scene was again quiet. After clearing away the enormous ma.s.ses of snow from the palisade, they looked out from the inclosure through the loophole on the east, and all was stillness and silence. But the view was changed.

Instead of the level and smooth surface, they now beheld a concave formation of snow, beginning at the earth, which was laid bare where the powder had been deposited, and widening, upward and outward, till the ring of the extreme angle reached a height of fifteen or twenty feet, and measured a circ.u.mference of fifty paces. But they did not discover a single dead body. On the contrary, they soon distinguished the sounds of the savages afar off, in fiendish and fearful yells, as they retreated in great precipitation.

"Dod! none of 'em's killed!" exclaimed Sneak, looking about in disappointment.

"Hang it all, how could they expect to kill any, without putting in some lead?" replied Joe, standing at his elbow, and evincing no symptoms of illness.

"What're _you_ a doing out here? You'd better go in and finish dying,"

said Sneak.

"No, I thank you," said Joe; "my time's not come yet; and when it does come, I'll know what to do without your instructions. I'm well now--I never felt better in my life, only when I was eating."

"Go to the horses, Joe, and see if they have suffered any injury,"

said Glenn. "I don't believe a single Indian was killed by the explosion," he continued, addressing Boone.

"The snow may have preserved them," replied Boone; "and yet," he continued, "I am sure I saw some of them flying up in the air."

"I saw them too," said Glenn, "but I have known instances of the kind, when powder-mills have blown up, where men were thrown a considerable distance without being much injured."

"It answered our purpose, at all events," said Boone, "for now, no inducement whatever can ever bring them back"

"If I were sure of that," replied Glenn, "I would not regret the bloodless result of the explosion."

"You may rely upon it implicitly," said Boone; "for it was a surprise they can never understand, and they will attach to it some superst.i.tious interpretation, which will most effectually prevent them from meditating another attack"

"Goodness gracious alive!" exclaimed Joe, nimbly springing past Boone and Glenn, and rus.h.i.+ng into the house.

"What can be the matter with the fellow, now?" exclaimed Glenn.

"He was alarmed at something in the stable--see what it is, Sneak,"

said Boone.

"I've got you, have I? Dod! come out here!" exclaimed Sneak, when he had been in the stable a few moments.

"Who are you talking to?" asked Glenn.

"A venimirous Osage s.m.u.tty-face!" said Sneak, stepping out of the stable door backwards, and dragging an Indian after him by the ears.

"What is that?" demanded Glenn, staring at the singular object before him. The question was by no means an unnatural one, for no being in the human shape ever seemed less like a man. The unresisting and bewildered savage looked wildly round, displaying a face as black as if he had just risen from the bottom of some infernal lake. His tattered buckskin garments had shared the same fate in the explosion; his eyebrows, and the hair of his head were singed and crisped; and, altogether he might easily have pa.s.sed for one of Pluto's scullions.

He did not make resistance when Sneak led him forth, seeming to antic.i.p.ate nothing else than an instantaneous and cruel death, and was apparently resigned to his fate. He doubtless imagined that escape and longer life were utterly impossible, inasmuch as, to his comprehension, he was in the grasp of evil spirits. If he had asked himself _how_ he came thither, it could not have occurred to him that any other means than the agency of a supernatural power threw him into the hands of the foe.

"I thought I saw one of them plunging through the air over the inclosure," said Boone, smiling.

"Hanged if I didn't think so too," said Joe, who had at length returned to gaze at the captive, when he ascertained that he was entirely meek and inoffensive.

"Have you got over your fright already?" asked Sneak.