slowly the girl came back to life. even after she regained consciousness she lay with closed eyelids, conscious only of a dull pain that throbbed up and down her right leg. when at last she opened her eyes she found herself lying upon her back, staring upward at a canvas top that arched above her. at her feet, she could see a mass of tree trunks and interlaced branches, beyond which gleamed a speck of blue sky. weakly she turned her head to right and to left, and saw that she was lying on a rough bed in a wagon that was piled high with boxes and bales. wonderingly she stared, not understanding.
suddenly memory returned. the canvas top dissolved before her eyes. once more she saw the plodding mules, the white men on box and ground, the smoking rifles, the brief combat, the fall of wilwiloway. a spasm of fury swept over her, shaking her with its intensity. her teeth ground together; her fingers clinched until the nails bit into the soft palms.
wilwiloway was dead! wilwiloway, the kind, the brave, the generous, was dead, foully and treacherously murdered by the white men who had despoiled her people and had driven them step by step[82] backward from the ohio to the great lake. for years she had bees taught to hate the whites, to believe them robbers and murderers. and now she had the proof!
oh! how she hated them! how she hated them! if the chance ever came she would take a revenge that would make the blood run cold.
if the chance ever came! the thought brought her back to her surroundings. what was she doing in this wagon? who had put her there? what were they going to do with her? cautiously she raised her head. no one seemed to be near. perhaps she could escape!
with an effort she tried to raise herself, but the motion sent the blood rushing to her brain and woke the dull pain in her leg to a sudden swift agony that made her drop back, half-fainting. setting her teeth against the pain she put down her hand and found that the legging had been removed from her right leg and that the limb itself had been bandaged halfway below the knee. she felt for her hunting knife and found it gone! despair rushed over her and she threw her hands to her face, trying to choke back the dry sobs that shook her.
as she lay, overwhelmed, a dry branch cracked outside the wagon and a blustering voice broke the silence. alagwa did not understand half the words, but she caught the purport.
[83]“here! what the h—l are you trying to do,” demanded the voice. “gimme back that rifle.”
for a moment silence reigned. then another voice—a voice cool and deliberate—made answer. alagwa had heard that voice only once, but she knew it instantly for that of the young white chief who had comforted her just before she sank into unconsciousness.
“no!” he said. “i won’t give it back to you. you are under arrest. you have committed a brutal murder which may rouse all the friendly indians against us and may cost the lives of hundreds of white men, women, and children. if your errand were not so urgent i’d take you back to piqua and turn you over to colonel johnson. but the men at fort wayne need your ammunition. so i’m going to take you to girty’s town and if i don’t find colonel johnson there i’ll leave word for him and take you on to fort wayne and turn you over to the authorities there to be dealt with according to law.”
the man laughed scornfully. “you think you’re right much of a much, don’t you?” he sneered. “take me to fort wayne, will you? all right! that’s where i’m bound for. but if you reckon anybody there’s going to do anything about my shootin’ an injun, you’re all-fired wrong. do anything? lord! yes! they’ll do somethin’. they’ll give me a prize.”
[84]“all right! they’ll do as they please. i’m going to do my part. now, hand over that knife in your belt.”
the man laughed scornfully. “i’ll see you d—d first,” he gritted.
“oh! no! you won’t. pass it over. quick, now.” the voice was chill and definitive. then came a pause. alagwa could imagine the two men facing each other in the brief mental struggle that would break the nerve of one of them forever. at last came the other man’s voice, still surly but with all the backbone gone out of it. “take it, d—n you,” he growled.
“very well! now listen. we’ve got to go through girty’s town, where we’ll probably meet the friends of the shawnee you murdered. if i told them the truth you’d never get through alive. so i’m going to lie for you. i’m going to throw all the blame on your dead friend. understand?”
the man muttered something that alagwa could not hear.
but the answer came quick. “that’ll do!” ordered the chill young voice. “you’re a prisoner. you don’t give advice, you obey orders. you’ll do as i say till we get to fort wayne and you’ll do it quick. moreover, i don’t propose to carry you as a passenger. you’ll do your work right along. now climb on that box and start.”
the man snarled, but climbed upon the box.[85] alagwa felt the wagon sway to his weight. she felt that he was looking at her through the narrow half-circle in the canvas-closed front, and she closed her eyes. the next instant she heard his voice:
“what you going to do with this d— half-breed?” he demanded.
“half-breed! that boy’s as white as you—and whiter. you keep away from him or you’ll reckon with me. understand?”
“well! i ain’t hurtin’ him none, am i?” the man gathered up the reins. “you don’t need be so durned cantankerous. i just asked what you was going to do with him.”
“i’m going to take him to girty’s town and see if i can find his friends. if i can’t find them i’ll take him on to fort wayne.”
“humph!” the man lashed the unoffending mules with his whip. “git up there!” he ordered. then he spoke over his shoulder. “all right,” he said. “you’ll do as you want, i reckon. if i had the say i’d kick him out durned quick. an’ i’m tellin’ you you’ll be blamed sorry before you git shut of him. breed or no breed, he’s been brought up among the injuns or i ain’t no judge, an’ he’ll never be no good. them injun-bred boys never are. he’ll turn on you like a snake in the grass. you hear me.”
with a jerk and a jolt the wagon rolled off. the motion sent little thrills of pain through the girl’s[86] bullet-pierced leg, but the turmoil in her mind prevented her heeding them. desperately she tried to control her thoughts. first, her disguise had held good. the white men thought she was a boy. well and good; that was what she wanted them to think.
if they had not found her out when she was unconscious and at their mercy, they would probably not do so soon. her entry among them had not been auspicious, but at least it had been made—and made in a way that banished the last shred of hesitation from her heart. they were all robbers and murderers; gladly would she slay them all.
but how was she to do it? tecumseh had told her that runners would come to her from time to time to get any information she might have. but who were these runners; tecumseh had not told her; wilwiloway had not told her. perhaps the latter had meant to do so, but had waited until it was too late. perhaps, after all, it was not necessary that she should know them; they would know her and would come to her.
but could they find her? surely tecumseh had contemplated no such occurrence as that which had taken place. her trail would be broken; the runners might not find her; her mission would be a failure. she must watch and wait and snatch at any chance to send tidings.
but what were the white men going to do with[87] her? evidently they were divided in opinion. one of them—the man on the box, the man who had murdered wilwiloway—would have slain and scalped her if he had not been prevented; he still hated her and would maltreat her if he dared. the other, the young white chief with the blue eyes—alagwa wondered whether he could be her kinsman from the far south—wished her well. he had protected her. passionate gratitude rose in the girl’s heart, but she choked it back. he belonged to the hated white race; and she—her skin might be white, but her heart was red, red, red!
a thudding of hoofs in the dust came from behind the wagon and a horse thrust his head beneath the arched top. behind it appeared the face of the young white chief, peering into the shadowy depths of the wagon. from behind the veil of her long lashes alagwa watched him.
a moment later he drew back, but his voice came distinctly to the girl’s ears. “he hasn’t moved, cato,” he said. “i don’t wonder. poor little devil! he must have lost half the blood in his little body. i wonder who in thunder he is? he’s no half-breed, i’ll warrant.”
“ha’f-breed? ha’f-breed? you mean ha’f-injun, mars’ jack? no, suh, he ain’t no ha’f-breed, he ain’t. he’s quality, sure. he’s got de littlest hands and feet i ever see’d on a man. he ain’t no half-strainer, he ain’t.” words, accent, and intonation[88] were all strange to the girl; she understood only that the man was speaking of her and that his tones were friendly.
the other’s answer came promptly. “oh! yes! he’s of good stock, all right,” he said. “but confound it, who is he? and where in thunder did he come from? was he with that indian or was he trying to get away from him? and what in thunder did he come bounding out of those bushes for just in time to stop a bullet? i wish he’d wake up and tell us about himself.”
cato’s voice came again. “he sure do look mighty white, mars’ jack,” he commented. “you reckon he gwine die?”
“die nothing! the wound isn’t anything. but he’s lost a lot of blood and he’s got to be looked after. confound it! it’s bad enough to have to take charge of this wagon without having to look out for a fool boy into the bargain.”
a fool boy! indignation swelled in the girl’s bosom. a fool boy, indeed. what right had he——
but the voice went on and she listened. “confound those infernal fools that had to go shooting down an indian just because he was an indian.”
cato’s reply came slowly. “you sure dat injun gem’man didn’t mean no harm, mars’ jack?” he questioned, doubtfully.
“mean any harm! why, he had made the peace[89] sign and had dropped his rifle. it was sheer murder to shoot him, and i’m mighty glad he took his vengeance before he died. but i’ll have the dickens and all of a time explaining to the chiefs at girty’s town.”
“girty’s town! whar dat, mars’ jack?”
“that’s a shawnee village just ahead here. there’s no way around it and we’ve got to go through it.”
“you—you gwine drive right through without stoppin’, mars’ jack, ain’t you, suh?”
“no! i’m going to report what has happened. i’ve got to set things right. the indians about here are supposed to be friendly and i’ve got to do what i can to keep them so. war hasn’t begun yet, and anyway, i’m here on invitation from tecumseh himself.”
cato’s teeth began to chatter. “you—you ain’t gwine into dat injun village and tell ’em about what done happen, is you, mars’ jack?” he faltered.
“certainly i am. i’ve got to see that this ammunition gets through safely to fort wayne, haven’t i? our men will need it soon. i don’t want to go there. i want to go to wapakoneta and get miss estelle. but i’ve got to go. so the best i can do is to see colonel johnson, or send him word about this business and send tecumseh word that i’m coming back as quick as i can to redeem my promise.”
[90]alagwa understood not more than half of what she heard, but she gathered its purport. jack’s last words settled his identity once for all. beyond a doubt he was the young white chief from the south. she understood, too, that he had had no part in the killing of wilwiloway and that he was glad that the murderer had been punished. a soft comfort stole into the girl’s heart as she realized that she would have no blood feud against him. she had only to call to him and to show him the trinkets that tecumseh had given her, and all would be well. impulsively she opened her mouth to speak; then closed it again. what was she doing? had she forgotten her mission? had she forgotten the slaying of wilwiloway? was his murderer to go unpunished? no! a thousand times! no!
jack’s voice broke in on her thoughts. “there’s girty’s town just ahead,” he remarked. “see that your scalp is tight on your head, cato.”
girty’s town! the words struck the girl like a blow. for the first time she realized that the wagon was taking her, not toward piqua, not toward the camps of the white men for which she had set out, but away from them, back toward girty’s town and the st. marys river. often had she visited girty’s town and well she knew all the two score shawnees who dwelt within it. her revenge was ready to her hand; in a moment she would be in the midst of the warriors; then she would have only[91] to rise in her place and call to them that wilwiloway had been murdered, foully and treacherously, and that she herself had been shot by the man on the box, and they would hurl themselves upon him and drag him down. her blood ran hot at the thought.
then suddenly it cooled. the young white chief would not stand tamely by while his prisoner was killed. he would fight! he would fight hard. he would kill many of her people. but he would be pulled down at last and—and—no! not that! not that! her revenge must wait.
besides, tecumseh had not sent her south to fight but to spy. if she called for vengeance on the murderer of wilwiloway she betrayed herself and wrecked her mission. no! she must wait. there would be other chances.
but her friends in the village would know her! what would she say to them? abruptly she remembered the saving grace of her costume. all the indians knew her as a girl with painted cheeks, fillet-bound forehead, and long braids of hair. not one had seen her in shirt and breeches with clean-washed cheeks and short hair that curled upon her forehead. in such a guise perhaps even their sharp eyes might fail to recognize her.
the road grew smoother and she realized that the wagon was within the village. a moment later it halted and the pad of running feet and the murmur of voices arose about it. jack’s voice arose,[92] telling of what had happened and expressing his regret, but presenting the facts so as to screen the living murderer and lay the blame on the dead man.
a small hole in the canvas cover of the wagon was close to her face. she glanced toward the man on the box and saw that he was cowering back, listening with strained ears to jack’s words and paying no attention to her movements. gingerly she moved till her eye was at the hole.
“i know not the name of the dead chief,” jack finished. “but i saw upon his breast a token like to that upon my own.” he tore open his shirt and disclosed a mark, at sight of which a chorus of gutteral exclamations arose. “great is my grief,” he went on, “that the chief is slain. he, however, took vengeance before he died. he killed the man who killed him. i go now to fort wayne in the service of the great white father. in three days i will return to speak more fully of this before the white chief, colonel johnson.”
for a moment there was silence, then an indian—alagwa knew him as blue jacket, friend of the whites—stepped forward. “my brother speaks well,” he said. “far be it from me to doubt my brother’s word. but some of my tribe have dug up the hatchet. if my brother goes now, perhaps the white men will say that the rest of us are snakes in the grass and that we lay in wait for the white man and slew him. perchance they may descend[93] upon our village in wrath and may drive our young men to take the warpath. will not my brother stay and speak with a straight tongue to our father, colonel johnson?”
jack shook his head. “i can not stay,” he answered. “i must hurry to fort wayne. the seventeen fires command it. but i will leave a letter for colonel johnson. i will tell him that your hearts are good. if you will take it to him all will be well.”
the chief grunted with approval. “my brother speaks well,” he said. “we will send the letter to colonel johnson, who is even now at wapakoneta. some of my young men shall bring in the bodies for him to see.”
jack took a notebook from his pocket and wrote an account of the tragedy of the morning on two of its pages. these he tore out and handed to blue jacket. “this will make all safe!” he said.
the chief took it with grave thanks. “all shall be as my brother says,” he promised.
jack nodded. “it is well,” he said. “now one other thing i would ask. i come hither at the request of tecumseh, to take council with him concerning a great matter. will you bear him word that i am called away on duty but will return in five days.”
the chief shook his head. “i can not. tecumseh[94] has gone north with many braves. already he is far away!”
“humph!” jack’s face fell. he had counted on finding tecumseh and receiving the girl from his hands. just what to do he did not know. if tecumseh had gone north to join the british, war must be even nearer at hand than he had supposed. perhaps it had already begun. whether it had or not his first duty was to the country; he must make sure that the ammunition reached fort wayne safely; all private affairs must wait on that! yet his anxiety as to the girl was growing fast.
“let my brother listen,” he said. “a month ago a runner from tecumseh came to me where i dwelt far away on the big sea water to the south. he sent me this belt”—jack held out the belt—“and he called upon me as a member of the panther clan, raised up by his mother, methoataske, to come to wapakoneta and receive there at his hands a white maiden, alagwa by name, a kinswoman of my own, who had dwelt in his lodge since the death of her father, the chief delaroche. knows my brother of this maiden?”
blue jacket bowed. “i know her,” he said.
jack resumed. “for her i come,” he said. “but i find tecumseh gone. know you where he has placed the maiden?”
blue jacket did not answer at once. apparently he was turning the matter over in his mind. through[95] the hole in the canvas alagwa watched him narrowly, hanging on his words quite as anxiously as did jack. at last he beckoned a boy to his side and gave him instructions in a low voice. then he turned to jack.
“the maiden was at wapakoneta in tecumseh’s lodge yesterday,” he said. “i would say that she was there still but that another white chief—a chief from the north wearing a red coat—came to me an hour ago from wapakoneta asking tidings of her.”
“a white chief? in a red coat?” jack gasped. the redcoat officer could be only brito, but that he should dare to come down from canada in the existing state of international affairs took jack’s breath away. “did he find her?” he asked. “where is he?”
“he has not found her. he is still here. i have sent for him.” blue jacket pointed. “he comes!” he finished.
advancing through the indian village came a big man in the uniform of a british officer. alagwa recognized him instantly as he who had claimed kinship with her only the day before. easily and gracefully he strode along the path toward the wagon. as he drew near his eyes singled out jack.
“ah!” he said, halting. “you have news of the girl, fellow? let me have it at once!”
jack flushed hotly. he was young—not half the[96] age of the man who was addressing him—and he lacked the easy assurance that the other had gained by years of experience in the great world. bitterly he resented captain brito’s tones, but he tried to keep himself in check. he must uphold the blood of the american telfairs but he must not play the boor before this fashionable cousin of his.
“your pardon, sir!” he said, deliberately, “but to whom have i the honor of speaking.” in his voice was an uncontrollable catch, born of excitement.
captain brito stared. “well! i’m d—d,” he exclaimed, laughing shortly. “if the fellow doesn’t take himself seriously! come! my good man; i haven’t time for nonsense. where is the girl?”
jack met his eyes squarely. his agitation was dying away and his nerves were momently steadying. “first, you will please to answer my question,” he said. “who are you?”
a snarl curled captain brito’s lips, and his breath quickened a little. “damnation!” he began. then he caught himself up. jack’s eyes were chill, and the captain apparently decided that compliance would quickest gain his ends.
“i am captain count telfair,” he said, “of his majesty’s forty-first foot. now, sir, your news!” he drew out a purse. “you will be well paid for it,” he finished contemptuously.
jack paid no attention to the last words. his[97] flush had faded and his cheeks were very white. “i am jaqueline telfair, of alabama,” he said, deliberately; “and i demand to know the errand that brings a british officer into american territory at this time.”
captain brito’s eyes widened with astonishment. “well! i’m cursed,” he gasped. then, with a sudden change of tone, he went on: “can it be possible that i have chanced upon my american cousin? yes! yes! now that you tell me, i do see the family features. we have ever run close to type, we telfairs; even in america”—captain brito grunted—“you have kept the likeness. i’m glad to meet you, cousin!” he held out his hand.
jack took it. but his face did not lighten. “and i you,” he said courteously, but not enthusiastically. “as a kinsman i am glad to welcome you to america. but as an american i am obliged to repeat my question. what are you, a british officer, doing here in ohio?”
captain brito shrugged his shoulders. “egad!” he said. “you are”—he paused; a startled expression came upon his face. “has war been declared?” he demanded, eagerly.
“not that i know of!” jack spoke coldly. “if it had been, i should be compelled to arrest you out of hand, cousin or no cousin.” captain brito laughed shortly, but jack did not pause. “but it is well known that british emissaries are in this[98] country trying to stir up the indians to war against the whites. if you are one of those devils——”
“you would feel it your duty to arrest me. egad! mr. jaqueline telfair, paragon of all the virtues, i almost wish i were one of those patriotic and self-sacrificing servants of his majesty, so as to put your fine ideas of duty to the test. unfortunately, i can claim no such honor. i am here on a private matter—by god!” captain brito broke off, staring.
“well, sir!”
“of course!” captain brito began to laugh softly. “of course! i was a fool not to guess sooner. you are after the girl, the heiress! well! well! to think of it! you virtuous americans seem to be as keen after the dollar as we ‘devils of englishmen!’”
jack did not even flush. he attempted no denial. “her father, delaroche telfair, hated you and your house,” he said, coldly. “he foresaw that his daughter might inherit the french estates. at any rate he swore that his daughter should never fall into your hands, and he warned tecumseh against you. perhaps he was wrong, but that is what he did, and both tecumseh and i respect his wishes. at all events the girl shall not be driven or humbugged into marriage with you if i can prevent it. she shall have free choice after she knows who she is and what she possesses.”
[99]jack’s voice was steady and his eyes did not flinch. uncompromisingly he faced the elder man, and the latter stared back as determinedly and far more fiercely.
physically the two men looked not unequal. their weight was practically the same. captain brito was heavier, but at least part of his weight was fat, and his movements were slower and less springy than jack’s. how the two compared in strength and in endurance only actual test could tell.
for a moment brito said nothing. then, suddenly he reached out his hand and clutched jack by the shoulder, changing as he did so from the languid, supercilious gentleman to a devil with snarling lips. “hark you! young man,” he grated. “estelle telfair is to be my wife. understand that once for all! if you think to prevent it or to win her for yourself, abandon your plans and go back to your home if you love life. i am the head of the house. the estates should be mine and i intend to have them in spite of all the americans out of h—l. i’ll brook no interference from a boy like you—or from any one else. understand?”
jack flung the man off with a swing that sent him staggering backward, despite his height and weight. “that is as may be,” he said steadily. “i accept your defiance and i am ready to go[100] further into it with you at any moment you desire.” he leaned forward, his blue eyes flashing.
captain brito steadied himself. his breath was coming quickly. his hand closed on the hilt of his sword till his knuckles gleamed white. then he shook his head.
“not now,” he said. “your friends”—he glanced at the watching indians—“are too numerous. they are too cowardly to follow tecumseh northward to fight for their homes and liberty, but they are not too cowardly to join you against a single man. besides, i have no time to waste on boys. later—we will see. remember, my warning stands.”
jack shrugged his shoulders. the honors, for the moment at least, were his. “i accept your statement that you are here only on personal business,” he said, slowly. “therefore i let you go. but i shall send word of your presence to colonel johnson and i doubt whether he will accept such an explanation. i advise you to be gone.”
brito laughed. he had regained much of his coolness. “egad!” he said. “that’s good advice! au revoir, cousin, au revoir—till we meet again.” with a wave of his hand he turned and strode away.
as he disappeared among the huts a voice struck on jack’s ear. “talk! talk! talk!” it said. “much palaver! and it never does no good. i[101] been a-listening and a-listening and you never got nowhere till he grabbed you and you flung him off. that brought the cuss to terms mighty quick. there ain’t nothing like a little muscle to clear up trouble. i thought for a minute he was a-going to fight. lord! i’d ’a liked to seen a fight between you two. it would be——”
“rogers!” jack broke in on the old man’s monologue; a solution of the problem that was troubling him had suddenly dawned. “i’m glad to see you. can you do something for me?”
“i reckon so. i told you i could guide you——”
“all right. i’ll engage you.” jack drew out his purse. “here’s two months’ pay in advance. hunt up colonel johnson and tell him all you’ve heard—about my cousin, miss estelle telfair, and about this british officer and all. ask him to find her and care for her till i get back from fort wayne. put yourself under his orders and do just as he says. i’ll be back in about a week.”
the old hunter nodded. “i’ll do it,” he declared. “money talks in ohio same as elsewhere. and it talks a heap eloquenter than tongues——”
from the seat of the wagon williams leaned forward. “say, old man,” he called. “i want to speak to you before you go. i can’t——”
“ain’t got time now. see you later.” deliberately rogers turned his back and trotted away.[102] clearly he had not forgotten the slight that williams had put upon him the day before.
jack turned to williams. “go ahead,” he ordered.
alagwa started. absorbed in the conversation, she had forgotten her own situation and the pressing need that she should get word of her movements to tecumseh. now abruptly she remembered. she was leaving girty’s town without having been seen by any one. clearly jack had forgotten her. not once in his talk with blue jacket had he mentioned her part in the tragedy of the morning. he had asked no one to identify her. in another moment she would be gone. her trail would be broken and the runners from tecumseh would be unable to pick it up. anxiously, she rolled back from the peep hole and half raised herself, hesitating whether to call out. then she stopped with a gasp.
at the rear of the wagon, looking in, stood an indian. how long he had been there she did not know; but as her eyes met his he made a swift sign for silence.
“tecumseh send. i follow,” he muttered, in the shawnee tongue. “call like a whip-poor-will when you want.” another moment and he was gone.
alagwa dropped back on her couch and closed her eyes and lay still. as the wagon rolled away her heart was beating high. the runners had found her. the broken trail was whole again.
