The Devil's Own Part 36

CHAPTER XXIX

THE VALLEY OF THE BUREAU

I glanced backward across my shoulder toward the others. Both girls were sleeping soundly, while beyond them, down the slope, the three horses were quietly cropping away at the herbage. I managed to rise.

"Let's move back to the spring, where we will not wake them up," I suggested. "Now we can talk."

My eyes sought the face of the lad questioningly. He was a loose-lipped, awkward lout, trembling still from a fright he could not conceal.

"You belonged to that squad killed out yonder?"

"Yes, seh; I reckon I'se the only one whut ain't ded," he stammered, so tongue-tied I could scarcely make out his words. "I wus gone after wahter, an' when them Injuns begun fer ter yell, I never dun nuthin'

but just run, an' hid in the bush."

"But you are wounded?"

He put a red hand to his face, touching it gingerly.

"I dun got racked with a branch; I wus thet skeered I just cudn't see nuthin', seh."

"I understand. What is your name?"

"Asa Hall."

"Well, Asa, I suppose those were militiamen; you belonged to the company?"

He nodded, his eyes dull, his lips moving, as though it was an effort to talk. Quite evidently whatever little intellect he had ever possessed, now refused to respond. Kennedy broke in impatiently.

"It takes thet boy 'bout an hour fer ter tell enything, Cap," he explained gruffly. "I reckon he's skeered half ter death in the furst place, an' then thar's sumthin' wrong with him enyhow. Maybe I kin give ye the main pints. Them thar fellers belonged ter Cap. Hough's company frum down Edwardsville way--greener then gra.s.s, most ov 'em.

They'd c.u.m up frum sumwhar on the Illinoy, an' wus a headin' fer Dixon.

Never onct thought thar might be Injuns down yere, an' never kept no guard. Them Injuns jumped 'em at daybreak, an' not a soul knew they wus thar, till they yelled. 'Twan't no fight, just a ma.s.sacre. This feller he got away, just as he sed he did, by a hidin' in the bush. I reckon he wan't even seed at all, but he wus so blame close thet he heerd 'bout all thet went on, an' even seed a bit ov it. Lord! I hed ter poke him out; he wus thet skeered he cudn't stand."

"Wal, I reckon yer'd a bin too," the boy stuttered angrily. "I ain't never seed no Injuns afore."

"An' don't wanter ever see no more, I reckon. h.e.l.l! I don't hanker after eny myself. Howsumever, it's whut he seed an' heerd, Cap, thet sounds mighty queer ter me. He sez thar wus mor'n fifty bucks in thet party, an' that ol' Black Hawk wus thar hisself, a leadin' 'em'--he done saw him."

I turned, surprised at this statement, to stare into the boy's face.

He half grinned back at me, vacantly.

"Black Hawk! He could scarcely be down here; what did he look like?"

"'Bout six feet high, I reckon, with a big hooked nose, an' the blackest pair o' mean eyes ever yer saw. I reckon he didn't hav' no eyebrows, an' he wore a bunch o' eagle feathers, an' a red blanket.

Gosh' Mister, but the Devil cudn't look no worse'n he did."

"Wus thet him, Cap?" burst in Tim, anxiously.

"It's not a bad description," I admitted, yet not convinced. "I can't believe he would be here with a raiding party. If he was, there must be some important object in view. Is that all?"

"No, 'tain't; the boy swears thar was a white man 'long with 'em, a feller with a short moustache, an' dressed in store clothes. He wan't no prisoner nuther, but hed a gun, an' talked ter Black Hawk, most like he wus a chief hisself. After the killin' wus all over, he wus the one whut got 'em ter go off thar to the south, the whole kit an' kaboodle.

Onct he spoke in English, just a word, er two. Asa cudn't make out whut he sed, but 'twas English, all right."

"I don't doubt that. There have always been white renegades among the Sacs and plenty of half-breeds. Those fellows are more dangerous than the Indians themselves--more savage, and revengeful. If Black Hawk, and this other fellow are leading this band, they are after big game somewhere, and we had better keep out of their way. I favor saddling up immediately, and traveling all night."

"So do I," and Tim flung a half-filled bag from his shoulder to the ground. "But I vote we eat furst. 'Tain't much, only a few sc.r.a.ps I found out thar; but it's a way better then nuthin'. Here you, Hall, give me a hand, an' then we'll go out, an' round up them hosses."

If the party of raiding Indians, whose foul deed we had discovered, had departed in a southerly direction, as their trail would plainly seem to indicate, then our safest course would seemingly be directed eastward up the valley. This would give us the protection of the bluffs, and take us more and more out of the territory they would be likely to cover. All this I explained to Eloise as we struggled with the hard bread, and a few strips of smoked bacon. Most of the bag had held corn meal, but no one suggested a fire, as we were glad enough to possess anything which would still the pangs of hunger. Eloise, filled with sympathy, attempted to converse with Hall, who ate as though half-starved, using hands and teeth like a young animal, but the boy was so embarra.s.sed, and stuttered so terribly, as to make the effort useless. Within twenty minutes we were in saddle, descending the steep hillside through the darkness, Tim walking ahead with the lad, his horse trailing behind, and the long rifle across his shoulder.

It was a hard night journey. Occasionally as we toiled onward I could hear Elsie moan and sob, but Eloise gave utterance to no sound, except to reply cheerfully whenever I addressed her. The exceeding roughness of the pa.s.sage made our progress slow, and quite frequently we were all obliged to dismount, generally glad enough of the change, and plod forward for some distance on foot. I possessed no knowledge then as to where we were, the map having deceived me so often I had long since lost all confidence in it as a guide, but now, in this later day, I can trace our progress with some degree of accuracy, and know that we pa.s.sed that night in the valley of Bureau Creek, blindly groping our way forward toward a fate of which we little dreamed.

Nor did those weary hours of darkness bring to us the slightest warning, I do not recall feeling any special fear. In the first place I was convinced that we must already be at the extreme limit of Black Hawk's radius, and that, traveling as we were eastward, must before morning be well beyond any possible danger of falling into the hands of his warriors. The other pursuers I had practically dismissed from thought. Not for twenty-four hours had we perceived the slightest signs of Kirby's presence in our rear, and my faith was strong that his party had either lost our trail, or been turned aside by fear of encountering Indians. In this respect Kennedy remained more pessimistic than I, yet even in his mind confidence began to dawn that we had outstripped our enemies, both white and red, and that a few miles more must bring us in safety to some pioneer settlement. The poor condition of our horses compelled us to rest frequently, and our own utter exhaustion led to our dropping asleep almost the moment we halted. We were without food, and in no mood to converse. Shortly after midnight my horse strained a tendon, and could no longer uphold my weight. On foot, with the poor beast limping painfully behind me, I pressed on beside Eloise, both of us silent, too utterly wearied with the strain for any attempt at speech.

The early dawn found us plodding along close beside the creek, a fair sized stream, which meandered quietly through a beautiful valley protected on either side by high bluffs, rising to the plateau of prairie beyond. The bluffs themselves were wooded, but the lower expanse was open, covered with luxuriant gra.s.s, and containing only an occasional tree, like some lone sentinel, diversifying the landscape with the darker coloring of its leaves. It was a delightful scene, a bit of wilderness beauty undefiled, appearing so peaceful and perfect in its outer aspect as to cause even our tired, jaded eyes to open in eager appreciation. I noticed Eloise straighten up in the saddle, her face brightening in the early light as she gazed enraptured at the varied shades of green decorating the near-by bluff, fading gradually into the delicate blue of the arching sky overhead. The clear water of the creek sparkled and rippled musically over a bed of yellow gravel, while the soft lush gra.s.s clothing each bank waved gracefully in the light wind, rising and falling like the waves of the sea. It was all primitive nature untouched, nor was there evidence anywhere within our vision, that this isolated valley in the midst of the prairie, had ever before been visited by man. No dim trail crossed our path; no appearance of life, human or animal, met our eyes; we forced our own pa.s.sage onward, with nothing to guide us, feeling more and more deeply the dread loneliness and silence of this strangely desolate paradise.

The rising sun topped the summit of the bluff, its red rays seeming to bridge with spans of gossamer the little valley up which we toiled. I had lost my interest, and was walking doggedly on, with eyes bent upon the ground, when the girl beside me cried out suddenly, a new excitement in her voice.

"Oh, there is a cabin! see! Over yonder; just beyond that big oak, where the bluff turns."

Her eager face was aglow, her outstretched hand pointing eagerly.

The logs of which the little building had been constructed, still in their native bark, blended so perfectly with the drab hillside beyond, that for the moment none of us caught the distant outlines. Tim possessed the keenest sight, and his voice was first to speak.

"Sure, Miss, thet's a cabin, all right," he said grimly. "One room, an' new built; likely 'nough sum settler just com' in yere. I don't see no movement, ner smoke."

"Fled to the nearest fort probably," I replied, able myself by this time to decipher the spot. "Be too risky to stay out here alone.

We'll look it over; there might be food left behind, even if the people have gone."

We must have been half an hour in covering the distance. There were a number of shallow gullies to cross, and a long, gently sloping hill to climb. The cabin stood well up above the stream, within the shade of the great oak, and we were confirmed, long before we reached it, of our former judgment that it was uninhabited. The door stood ajar, and the wooden shutter of the single window hung dejectedly by one hinge. No sign of life was visible about the place; it had the appearance of desertion, no smoke even curling from out the chimney. A faint trail, evidently little used, led down toward the creek, and we followed this as it wound around the base of the big tree. Then it was that the truth dawned suddenly upon us--there to our right lay a dead mule, harnessed for work, but with throat cut; while directly in front of the cabin door was a dog, an ugly, ma.s.sive brute, his mouth open, p.r.o.ne on his back, with stiffened legs pointing to the sky. I dropped my rein, and strode forward.

"Wait where you are," I called back. "There have been savages here; let me see first what has happened inside."

The dog had been shot, stricken by two bullets, and I was obliged to drag his huge body to one side before I could press my way in through the door. The open doorway and window afforded ample light, and a single glance was sufficient to reveal most of the story. It was a well-built cabin, recently erected, with hip roof and puncheon floor, the inside of the logs peeled, and white-washed. It had a homelike look, the few scattered articles of furniture rudely but skillfully made. A bit of chintz fluttered at the window, and a flower in a can bloomed on the sill. The table had been smashed as by the blow of an axe, and pewter dishes were everywhere. The bed in one corner had been stripped of its coverlets, many of them slashed by a knife, and the straw tick had been ripped open in a dozen places. Coals from the fireplace lay widespread, some of them having eaten deeply into the hard wood before they ceased smouldering.

I saw all this, yet my eyes rested upon something else. A man lay, bent double across an overturned bench, in a posture which hid his face from view. His body was there alone, although a child's shoe lay on the floor, and a woman's linsey dress dangled from a hook against the wall. I crept forward, my heart pounding madly, until I could gain sight of his face. He was a big fellow, not more than thirty, with sandy hair and beard, and a pugnacious jaw, his coa.r.s.e hickory s.h.i.+rt slashed into ribbons, a bullet wound in the center of his forehead, and one arm broken by a vicious blow. His calloused hands yet gripped the haft of an axe, just as he had died--fighting.

The sight of the man lying in that posture of horror was so terrible that I instantly grasped the body, dragging it from off the overturned bench, and seeking to give it a resting place on the floor. But it was already stiffened in death, and I could only throw over it a blanket to hide the sight. Tim's voice spoke from the doorway.

"Injuns, I reckon?"

"Yes, they have been here; the man is dead. But there must have been others, a woman and child also--see that shoe on the floor, and the dress hanging over there. The poor devil fought hard."

Kennedy stepped inside, staring about him.

"I reckon likely he wus yere alone," he commented slowly, evidently thinking it out. "I figure like this--thet he'd heerd rumors o' Injuns bein' raidin' this way, an' hed sent his fam'ly back ter sum fort 'round yere, but decided fer ter take his own chances. Thar ain't no waggon round yere, an' no hosses, 'cept thet muel. He'd sure hav' sum sorter contivance fer ter ride in. Then agin he sorter looks like thet kind ov a feller ter me--he wudn't do no runnin' hisself, but I reckon he'd take keer o' his folks. Whut's this yere under the bench?--h.e.l.l, a letter." He held it up to the light, in an effort to decipher the description. "'Herman Slosser, Otterway, Illinoy--ter be held till called fer.' Thet's it, Cap; thet's his name, I'll bet ye; an' so we can't be so blamed fur frum this yere Otterway fort. Good Lord! won't I be glad fer ter see it."

"Do you think it best to stop here?"

"Why not? 'Tain't likely them devils will be back agin. Thar sure must be somethin' fer us ter eat in the place, an' the Lord kno's we can't go on as we are. Them gurls be mighty nigh ready ter drop, an'