Wyoming Part 16

Odd, flickering figures danced before him, and sometimes rock, wood, and sky were so jumbled together, that he had to glance in another direction, until he could recover his visual strength.

The wily Seneca, having failed to draw his shot, was now likely to attempt some other stratagem.

Furthermore, the ma.s.sacre of Wyoming was still going on, and this formidable body had not the patience to shut themselves out from their share in it.

In one sense it was tying themselves up to remain for hours, besieging a little company of fugitives, and, therefore, they were likely to display less indifference to the pa.s.sage of time than is the rule with their race.

Such was the conclusion of Mr. Brainerd, and we may as well say he was correct.

All at once the figure of an Indian warrior was seen against the sky, and the next instant he made a leap like a panther, his fine athletic form with his legs and arms gathered being seen for an instant apparently poised in mid-air, as he made his swift bound for the point behind the column of rocks, which, once secured, placed the life of every one of the patriots at his mercy.

But, while the lithe Seneca hung thus, for one moment, between heaven and earth, he emitted a screech, his limbs were thrown out convulsively, and, striking the point at which he aimed, he rebounded like a ball, and went tumbling to the bottom.

Mr. Brainerd had fired at the very crisis, and his aim was unerring.

"Let me have your gun," said he, reaching for the weapon in the hand of McEwen, while he kept watch of the point where the Seneca had appeared and disappeared with such suddenness.

The New Englander pa.s.sed the rifle to the settler, saying:

"It won't fail you."

"Please reload mine."

Habakkuk did as requested, and they exchanged weapons again.

The supposition of Mr. Brainerd was, that the shot he had fired would keep the Indians at bay for a considerable while, though he knew better than to trust to any such probability.

The gun that had served him so well was in his grasp again, and a feeling of self-confidence came with it.

Much less time had pa.s.sed since the disaster to the patriots on the other side the Susquehanna than would be supposed; but, while the settler lay stretched out on the rock, watching for the second Indian, he became aware that he was watching by the aid of moonlight and starlight alone.

It was all the harder to keep close guard, but it was indispensable, and he doubted not that when he pulled trigger a second time another Seneca would take a header down the ravine.

Some fifteen minutes pa.s.sed, when Mr. Brainerd either saw, or fancied he saw, a precisely similar fluttering movement as preceded the leap of him who fell a victim to his marksmans.h.i.+p.

He held his gun pointed, the hammer raised, and his finger on the trigger, ready to fire the second it should become necessary.

He was not kept waiting; sooner than he antic.i.p.ated, the crouching figure shot out into the air, as if propelled from a catapult, and, with the same remarkable aim, the patriot pulled the trigger at the moment the warrior was at the arch of the brief parabola.

But, to his consternation, the powder flashed in the pan, and no discharge followed the dull click of the flint.

CHAPTER XXII.

With the body of the Seneca covered by the rifle of Mr. Brainerd the latter pulled the trigger, at the very moment the body was in mid-air, but the gun was undischarged.

Habakkuk McEwen, in his flurry, had rammed down the bullet first, and the weapon was useless until the ball was extracted.

Where the elder had shown such vigilance, it was singular that he had forgotten to take a very simple precaution--he should have had the African or New Englander covering the same point, and arranged that one should fire with him.

The intervening s.p.a.ce was so brief there was no excuse for missing, and such a catastrophe could have been averted.

But though Mr. Brainerd's piece failed him, the second Indian emitted the same shriek, and went sprawling to the bottom, shot directly through the body.

"What the mischief have you done with my gun?" demanded Mr. Brainerd, flinging the weapon behind him; "let me have the one in your hand; there's something wrong with mine; draw out the charge and fix it."

"My gracious!" exclaimed the astounded Gimp, "what does _dat_ mean?"

"What does _what_ mean?"

"Why did dat Injin turn back summersets, and whoop it up in dat style, when your gun flashed in de pan?"

"_Somebody_ shot him."

"But who was he?"

Mr. Brainerd made no reply, for he had none to make. Some unknown friend had fired the second shot, that prevented the warrior obtaining a foothold where it would have been fatal to the whites.

As to the ident.i.ty of the friend, that could not be guessed.

The explanation upon which all agreed was, that some other settlers--one or more--had taken shelter somewhere in the vicinity, and had fired, either as a matter of self-protection, or for the benefit of those in the cavern.

Precisely how it should become necessary for some one to shoot the warrior, as a means of defense, was more than could be explained.

Another strange fact about it was, that Maggie Brainerd and Aunt Peggy insisted that, instead of being discharged from some point beyond and on the other side of the rocks, the marksman was perched directly over the heads of those in the cavern.

Where there were so many boulders and trees, the short echoes might well produce confusion, but the two ladies were positive that the man was immediately above them.

Gravity Gimp was inclined to the same opinion, and Mr. Brainerd was puzzled more than ever.

"I not only heard the gun," said Maggie, with great positiveness, "but I heard the man himself moving up there."

"That is impossible, my daughter," protested her father, feeling it had now become safe, for the first time, to relax his vigilance.

"Not at all," she replied, "you can hear plainly through a solid substance, and I caught a sound made by that man's shoe sc.r.a.ping over the rocks."

It was scarcely credible, and yet, knowing Maggie for the clear-headed girl that she was, her father could not doubt her a.s.sertion.

It was a vast relief to discover they had such an ally so close at hand, though there remained the element of doubt as to how much further his help would extend.

Twilight was ended at last, and the solemn night brooded over the scene.

"Better to be shot to the death here where we are," was the thought of Mr. Brainerd, "than to fall into their hands, and such shall be our fate, if it comes to a choice between the two."

But for all that, the conviction was strong upon him that the only possible hope for him and his dear ones was to get them all out of that place, and well on the way through the "Shades of Death," before the rising of the morrow's sun.