The Frontier Angel Part 19

"Nor Jim Peterson," added that individual himself.

"There ain't even a trail of her, and she ain't nowhere about _h'yer_--she's _gone up_, she has. You might shoot at her all day, and not hurt her. H'yers as don't undertake any such foolery as to warn her--'cause why? thar ain't no need of it. She ain't in danger, and never was or will be."

"Wonder why she don't kill that devil McGable?" remarked Peterson, leaning on his rifle and gazing meditatively down the river.

"She'll give it to him _awful_ 'fore he gets through--see ef she don't.

His time ain't come yet."

Some further time was spent in similar remarks, when the three set out for the block-house. It was the intention of Dingle and Peterson to start for the Shawnee towns, but the commander instructed them to remain over until the next morning, when, if nothing unusual happened, they would be allowed to pursue their journey. The rangers were not very unwilling to this, as the sky gave appearance of another storm, and the adventure with McGable had its effect upon them.

The morrow came, but the rangers went not, and it was ordered that they never should again.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE ATTACK IN THE WOOD.

THE storm which threatened during the afternoon broke forth toward night and raged until morning. Little rain fell, but the wind was terrific, as it howled around the settlement and screamed through the forest. What rain fell came almost horizontally, and rattled like hailstones against the cabins.

All night long the dim, yellow light burned in the block-house, and the shadowy form of a s.h.i.+vering sentinel was never absent from the platform.

It was such a night as to make one relish the comforts of a shelter.

Chilly, windy, and dismal without, it was all light and suns.h.i.+ne within.

A huge fire of hickory logs was roaring in the fireplace, lighting up the bronzed faces of the hunters and rangers without the aid of the torch that smoked further back in the room. Now and then the men were furnished with drinks of whisky, and their spirits were light and jovial. Dingle and Peterson were there, relating and listening to stories as usual, and "all went merry as a marriage-bell."

Little apprehension of an attack was felt, as the late repulse had taught the Indians a lesson which they could not but heed. The s.h.i.+vering sentinel paced his walk, slowly and gloomily, while the keen wind whistled round his ears. As he heard the merry laugh of those within, he breathed more than one earnest prayer that the time would hurry by and bring a relief to take his place. He could not be said to keep a very vigilant watch, as the darkness was so intense as to prevent; and when the windy rain was hurtled in his face, he felt more like covering it up with his great cloak than in peering toward the hoa.r.s.e, soughing wilderness. He had first whistled a tune, then hummed it, and was now counting his steps, to pa.s.s away the time. He had calculated the number of turns he should be compelled to make before his watch would be up, and was now noting by this means the minutes as they slipped away.

His watch extended from nine o'clock until midnight. About half of it had transpired, and he was completely absorbed in enumerating his steps, when he was brought to a sudden stand-still, and felt a thrilling chill creep over him, as a voice, faint and suppressed, but yet distinct and clear, called out from the direction of the clearing:

"h.e.l.lo there?"

The sentinel stopped abruptly and looked in the direction from which the voice came. Once, it seemed, the outlines of a man was discernible, but it was only an illusion. He reflected that it might be an artifice, and hesitated before replying. "It's like enough he wants to find out where I stand, and then blaze away. However, I'll fix it so that I can answer him."

Leaning himself as much as possible behind the protection of the platform, he called out:

"What's wanting out there?"

"Admittance; I am half frozen to death. Will you let me in?"

"You must wait till morning, my dear sir."

"But I will perish. Have you a man in the fort named Jim Peterson?"

"Yes; what of it?"

"Call him; he will admit me if you will not."

"I don't know about that. Who are you?"

"Tell him Madison Drake wishes to see him."

The sentinel was too wary to leave his post. He suspected that this was a stratagem of the man to attack the gates; and yet, he reflected, that if he was innocent of any evil design, it was not right that he should be denied shelter. The commander had given imperative orders that no one should unfasten the gates after nightfall. So the sentinel adopted an artifice. He answered that he would call Peterson, and, at the same moment opened and closed the door. But he shut himself upon the outside, and remained a few moments listening. Hearing nothing, he concluded it was no risk to call the ranger. Accordingly he partly opened the door, put his head in quickly, and said in a loud tone:

"Peterson, there is a man named Madison Drake out here who wants to see you."

Had a thunderbolt fallen at the feet of Peterson it could not have startled him more. He was in the midst of a story, all life and animation, when the gruff words of the sentinel broke in so abruptly upon him. And yet it was not the words alone, but the _name_ p.r.o.nounced that so affected him, for Jim Peterson would have taken his solemn oath that that man was killed months before. He was sure of it, and what could the sentinel mean by breaking in upon them with such intelligence?

He looked around upon the faces all turned expectantly toward him, waiting for the remainder of his story. He believed he must have been mistaken.

"What did that feller say?" he asked, looking half ashamed at asking the question.

"He said there was a man named Drake who wanted to see you. What makes you look so scared, Jim; I hope you don't owe him anything."

"Wal, by the eternal, that gits my time. Ef that man's alive, then I'll swear that men don't die now-a-days unless they want to."

"Why, what's up now?" asked Dingle.

"Don't you remember that name?" asked Peterson, turning towards our hero.

"I was just thinking I had heard it somewhere."

"Wal, sir, he was on the flat-boat with me when all was killed 'cepting me. Yes, sir."

Peterson shook his head meaningly and slapped his hand upon his knee as he uttered these words:

"Like enough it's him," said Dingle, "Freeze me to death, if you can tell what's goin' to happen now-a-days."

"It may be a decoy of McGable," added the commander. "It is unnecessary to caution you, Peterson. Nevertheless, I will accompany you."

The two went out on the platform. The wind was so strong as to nearly lift them off their feet, and the darkness so great that they barely discerned the form of the sentinel beside them.

"Where is he?" asked the commander.

"He will speak in a minute."

They listened, and finally the suffering man called out:

"h.e.l.lo there, sentinel; hain't Peterson come out yet?"

"Yes, here I am; what do you want?" replied and asked the ranger.

"Don't you know me, Peterson? Don't you remember Madison Drake who was on the flat-boat with you?"

"Yes; but the one I knowed war _killed_ that night. Be you him?"

"I am he. I was not killed, although well-nigh so. But, if you will not admit me, I will not live long, as I am nearly perished now."

"Have patience, Drake, a few minutes and I will see about it."