Wyoming Part 41

"Just as I expected," exclaimed d.i.c.k Durkee. "Give it to 'em, boys!

Don't spare one!"

With incredible celerity the Iroquois fired their guns almost simultaneously with the Tory, and then darted off like so many shadows through the wood, the dim morning light being insufficient to betray them in the thick undergrowth.

But d.i.c.k Durkee and his men returned the volley instantly, and sprang after them.

Fred G.o.dfrey had not noticed the fall of his father, but, with his whole soul aflame at the outrage, he dashed toward the wretches, pistol in hand, determined to wreak vengeance on the party, who, he well knew, were inspired to the deed by Golcher himself.

On the edge of the wood, where the Senecas had stood for a single moment when they fired their guns, two of their number were stretched lifeless, proving that the return volley had done some execution.

The settlers charged through the undergrowth without any regard to order and the peril into which they might precipitate themselves.

Had Gray Panther and his warriors appeared on the ground at that crisis, in all probability he would have drawn the entire party into ambush, and cut them off to a man.

But the fleeing force was too small to attempt a stand, or any such tactics, and they devoted themselves entirely to getting away.

They were more expert in this than their pursuers, and scattering--as is the custom of the red men to this day, when closely pressed--each used all his energy and cunning in flight.

d.i.c.k Durkee and his men, including Fred G.o.dfrey, went cras.h.i.+ng and tearing ahead, glaring in front and to the right and left in quest of a target, but finding none, until, when the blind pursuit had lasted fifteen minutes or more, it dawned on those concerned that it was idle to attempt anything more.

Then they stopped for breath, and, turning about, began straggling back toward camp.

Fred G.o.dfrey would have been the last to rejoin his friends had he not been seized with a dread that something might go wrong with those who were left defenseless.

He therefore hastened, and in the gray light of the morning came upon a scene of sadness.

Richard Brainerd, his step-father, lay on his back, with his head in the lap of Maggie, while Eva was weeping over him, and Aunt Peggy was standing beside them, her face streaming with tears.

Gravity Gimp was rolling on the ground in an agony of sorrow, for he saw what was apparent to the young man--the loved father and master was dying.

Fred knelt by his side, and taking a whisky flask from the rough but kind-hearted d.i.c.k Durkee, pressed it to the white lips of the sufferer.

"It's no use, Fred," said he, with a sad smile; "I'm done for. Jake Golcher fired that shot, but he meant it for Maggie, and not for me.

I'm close to death."

"I hope it isn't as bad as that," said Fred, through his tears, his manner showing he could not believe his own words.

"It's as well that I should go," said the old man, rallying slightly; "and I'm thankful that the rest of you escaped. Good-bye, Fred."

The youth took the hand that was already growing clammy and limp, and, returning the pressure, could only murmur:

"Good-bye, good bye; would that it had been I, rather than such a n.o.ble father as you have always been to me."

Gravity Gimp, rousing to a sense of the situation, rushed forward with irrestrainable grief, and shook the hand of his master, bending over and kissing his forehead.

Aunt Peggy did the same, and then came the last, sad parting scene between the father and his loved daughters.

The murmured words were heard only by Maggie and Eva, who treasured them up in after-years as the most precious mementos of their lives.

When the mild, loving eyes of the parent gradually grew dim, they rested upon the tearful faces of the two girls; and, as he entered the land of shadows, his last memory of the world he left behind was illumined by those two yearning countenances, whose kisses were pressed upon his lips. And the dark angel, reaching out his hand, took that of the patriot, and led him through the shadowy valley into the bright realms beyond.

CHAPTER LII.

Among the most eager pursuers of the treacherous Tory and his Seneca allies, was Habakkuk McEwen, who had withdrawn to the rear of the settlers that held the Indians at their mercy during the interview between Jake Golcher and Fred G.o.dfrey.

The natural timidity of the new Englander led him to do this, but he was so infuriated by the act of the party, that he lost all thought of personal danger, and charged through the wood at the very head of the avengers.

McEwen had no rifle, but he quickly supplied himself with one. Catching sight of a Seneca who had fallen before the volley of d.i.c.k Durkee and his comrades, he s.n.a.t.c.hed the weapon from his rigid grasp and sped along like a deer.

He had ammunition, and a hasty examination showed that the gun was unloaded. With a coolness hardly to be expected, McEwen stopped in his pursuit and deliberately recharged the rifle, which seemed to be a fine weapon.

"I don't want to be catched without anything to help myself with," he said to himself, resuming the chase.

This was conducted in such a blind, headlong fas.h.i.+on, that Habakkuk speedily found himself not only out of sight of the Indians, but of his comrades, who were thres.h.i.+ng in different directions, some of them shouting like madmen.

"I think they'll make for the river," concluded the New Englander, after a moment's pause, "and I'll keep on till I reach the water myself."

As the flush of the first excitement wore off, Habakkuk began to doubt whether he was doing a prudent thing, in chasing a whole war party in this single-handed style.

"I'll take a little pains that they don't get after _me_," he thought, beginning to use more caution in his movements.

It was a considerable distance to the Susquehanna, but he pushed on, and just as the gray light of the morning was penetrating the wilderness and spreading over the water, he caught the familiar gleam of the beautiful stream.

Looking across, he paused in silent contemplation of the familiar scene.

Naturally, he first noticed that landmark so well remembered by old settlers, which was known as the "umbrella tree," on account of its peculiar shape, and which was visible a long distance, standing as it did on the mountains of the western sh.o.r.e.

But he was withdrawn from viewing the general features of the landscape, by the sight of the heavy smoke that rested like a pall on the other bank. It partly shut out from sight the straggling houses, most of which were smoldering ashes, and suggested the awful desolation that had been wrought in Wyoming Valley during the few hours that had pa.s.sed since the memorable battle was fought near Forty Fort.

"I've no doubt pandemonium was let loose there last night," muttered Habakkuk, "and it was a good thing for us that we got across when we did, and a much better thing that d.i.c.k Durkee and his men j'ined us--h.e.l.lo!"

He was standing where his body was pretty well screened, and was wondering that he saw no one moving, when he was alarmed by a splash in the water a short distance above him.

Fearful of being discovered, Habakkuk crouched down, and c.o.c.ked his gun.

"It must be some of the scoundrels, who are everywhere; I hadn't orter been quite so rash--"

At that moment some one sprang into the river, and, wading out a short distance, began swimming for the other sh.o.r.e.

The timid patriot did not dare look out at him until he had gotten some distance away, when he peeped through the undergrowth, and scrutinized the head and shoulders that were moving rapidly across the stream.

Then, to his amazement, he recognized the man as Jake Golcher, the Tory, who had wrought all this ruin and sorrow; though Habakkuk was far from suspecting the whole result of the shot of the renegade.

"By the great Caesar! it's him," gasped Habakkuk, trembling with excitement; "and that gives me a chance to win some laurels with the other folks, especially with pretty Maggie."

a.s.suming a kneeling position, he took the most careful aim of his life at the unsuspecting ingrate, and when certain there could be no miss, pulled the trigger.