Dusty Star Part 13

The lynx was bewildered. He had fought wolves before, and with success, leaving the marks of his claws deep in their torn and bleeding flesh; but Kiopo's tactics were something fresh in his experience. Not only was there more cunning, but the strength and ferocity of half-a-dozen wolves seemed to unite in his foe's mighty frame.

On his second descent to earth, the lynx again made use of his strong hind-quarter springs. The only difference was that on this occasion he took care to re-bound into the air _away_ from his antagonist instead of _upon_ him! A clear five feet he bounded from the ground, landing on the side of a granite boulder. He was not allowed to remain. With a snarl that was more like a roar, Kiopo hurled himself at the rock.

As the lynx pulled himself up the boulder, the wolf reached his right flank, and inflicted a ripping wound. Screeching in rage and terror, the defeated lynx sprang over the boulder and disappeared into the trees.

And now Kiopo, triumphant, but by no means pacified, was able to glut his hunger upon the deer. It was the first full meal he had enjoyed for a long time, and he was not slow to make the most of it. Usually, after such a meal, he would have been inclined to settle himself down for a long sleep; but in his present enraged state of mind, sleep was impossible.

All the evening, and through the night, he traveled maddened, and raging, devoured with the l.u.s.t to kill. Woe to any living creature that should fall across his path! Fortunately for themselves, the forest dwellers seemed to receive mysterious signals that madness was abroad.

That night, the Spirit of the Wild Creatures did much business on the trails. East, west, south and north, the warnings travelled. Along the lake sh.o.r.e, through the decaying silence of the cedar swamps, into the whispering glooms of the spruce woods, the voiceless tidings went.

Hunting was understood--the plain, pitiless killing for food. It meant death, and terror, but at least it followed the ancient law of the wilderness that one killed in order to live. But this other thing that recognized no law, and hounded to death merely because of the madness in its heart--this nameless Terror that seemed, in the haunted darkness, to be everywhere at once--_this_ they shrank from, trembling, as from something more deadly than even death itself. And so, realizing that it was Madness and not Hunger that went hunting down the trails, the forest-folk took heed to the tidings, and slunk into their lairs.

CHAPTER XIX

THE PURSUIT

After Dusty Star had dropped from his tree to escape the grizzly, his one thought was to put as much distance as possible between himself and his terrible foe. He ran on and on, listening fearfully for any sounds which should tell him that the bear was in pursuit. Yet the fear of what was behind was not all. There was an equally great danger in front lest he should find himself face to face with the returning Indians who had gone out to seek the bear. His dread was all the greater because he knew that it was the same direction in which he was now travelling which they had taken on leaving the camp, and that it was extremely probable that, not having come upon the grizzly, they would now be on the homeward trail. At the slightest sound, he would stop, and listen, nervously scanning the trees ahead lest he should catch sight of a red-skin figure standing motionless in the shade. And behind, he would listen for the pad, pad of great bear feet, or the rustling of leaves in the pursuit.

Yet in spite of all alarms, the sun was sloping a long way to the west when Dusty Star found himself still undiscovered and working his way along the side of a great hill many miles to the northward of the camp.

He continued to travel swiftly, yet still with the utmost silence.

Although he saw little of any wild creatures, he was aware of their presence, though most of them kept well out of sight as they crouched in hiding, or drifted soundlessly as driven smoke along the ancient deer-paths that had been worn by the feet of the wilderness, age after countless age.

As the day wore on, it grew darker under the trees, and presently he noted the on-coming of that swift northern twilight which so soon deepens into night. So far, he had not struck any trail which could cause him uneasiness; and although a few moons earlier he might have stood in fear of some of the larger and fiercer of the forest beasts, his intimacy with Kiopo had taught him many things which kept the fear at bay. And yet, as he glided softly along, stepping as warily as one of the deer themselves, his fear of the greater beasts seemed to have pa.s.sed into an awe of the forest itself. Often and often, in the deep stillness there had come to him a sense of something behind the beasts, elder to the oldest of them, more wise than the most cunning, which ran when they ran, stalked you with their stalking, and watched you with their eyes; something which, in the old darkness of the world, had spilt itself into fur and feathers, and moved with wings or feet. It was perhaps not exactly a comfortable thought; yet for all that, it need not necessarily be a bad Thing. On the contrary, it might even do you good, if you could get close enough to it, and learn not to be afraid.

Darker and darker under the trees! At last, so dark that you could not tell them by their shape. Yet to Dusty Star the shape did not matter, since he could feel them by their smell. Now it was hemlock; now balsam fir. And now he caught black poplar; and again the scent was birch. And so he went his way less by sight than feeling,--_seeing_ things by their smell.

At length he came to a part of the forest so thick with undergrowth and creepers, that further progress in that direction was impossible in the dark. He decided to camp here for the night. So when he had found a suitable spot in which to make his couch, he lay down and almost immediately fell fast asleep.

When he awoke, dawn had already began to break, and he could distinguish the shapes of the trees. He sat up and looked about him. He felt that none of his enemies would track him here. Only keen noses of beasts might scent him, and they, as likely as not, would give him a wide berth. He lay quiet in the intense morning stillness, feeling full of thankfulness that he was once more free. If only he could make his way home in safety, and find Kiopo there to meet him, happiness would come to him again. He could not believe that Kiopo had been killed. He remembered what Kitsomax had said. If the wolf had met his death as well as the Indian, surely she would have mentioned both? The recollection comforted him, as he got up and once more started on his way.

Though the country he was pa.s.sing through was utterly strange to him, he knew that the river must be somewhere to the north-east, and that if he wished to strike the sh.o.r.es of the great lake, he must keep to the neighbourhood of the river for a guide. He pushed on rapidly, and, when the sun was half-way towards noon, saw with relief the light on the water between the trees. But now, owing to the swampy nature of the ground, the going was not so good, and he found it necessary to go back continually into the woods in order to travel on firmer ground. Evening was already drawing on before he heard the roar of the rapids in the distance, and knew that the lake was not far off. But he also knew that it was necessary now to travel with extreme caution, owing to the fact that there had been plenty of time for his enemies to have learnt of his escape, and have sent out a party to re-capture him. In spite of all his efforts, it was night before he reached the rapids, and could see in the darkness the glimmer of the foam.

All that night, the roar of a great water mingled with his dreams.

Whatever noises sounded in the forest, they were drowned by the rapids.

If any enemy had crept towards him now, he would have received no warning. But he trusted to the darkness, and slept soundly.

On leaving the rapids at early dawn, Dusty Star travelled as quickly as he could along the eastern sh.o.r.e. It was still thickly covered with mist, which, although it prevented him from seeing what danger might be ahead, also kept his own movements from being observed. As he went on, he crossed many trails to the water's edge, but as they were only those of thirsty animals going down to drink, he knew he had nothing to fear.

Suddenly he heard a sound that made him stop and listen intently. It was a splas.h.i.+ng noise, repeated at irregular intervals, and was not far ahead. He approached the spot with the utmost care, straining his eyes in the mist. Suddenly a large shape loomed out directly in front of him.

The creature's fore quarters were humped to a ridge on the powerful shoulders, covered with thick, glistening hair of a dark shade that was almost black on the upper parts. The under parts were a tawny yellow.

The ridge along the back sloped to the hind quarters which, compared with the fore quarters, were small. A little tail with a thin tuft of hair finished off the animal in that direction. A much smaller animal of a similar shape was browsing along the lake sh.o.r.e a little distance away. Dusty Star did not know that this odd-shaped creature was a moose, but he did know that, whatever the creature was called, she was a cow with her calf. As he looked, he saw the moose lift one of her large fore hoofs and paw the water among the water-lily leaves on which she had evidently been feeding.

He was so intent on watching these animals that he set his foot on a twig which cracked. It was only a slight sound but it startled the moose. Instantly she wheeled round in order to face the possible danger which threatened from the sh.o.r.e. She paused for a moment or two, while her big ears turned towards every side, and her wide nostrils scented the air. Then she gave a harsh and peculiar cry, as a summons to her calf, which immediately came blundering and splas.h.i.+ng up to her.

Dusty Star remained absolutely still, not daring to flick an eyelid. He would not have been afraid of the odd beast if she had been alone; but he knew that a cow with her calf beside her was a totally different matter; and that an alarmed and angry mother is one of the most deadly perils of the wilderness.

For a few seconds, owing to his complete stillness, the cow did not see him, and neither ears nor nose helped her, partly because the light air which was blowing did not carry his scent towards her. In spite of this, the moose suspected that something she had not yet seen was within the range of her eyes, if only it would betray itself by some motion, however slight. Giving her calf a push with her long nose to make it get behind her, she advanced cautiously a step or two in-sh.o.r.e. And still what she was looking for remained indistinguishable. She stopped, pawed the water angrily with her hoof and again advanced.

Dusty Star began to feel uncomfortable. He know that if the cow came within very short range, she might discover him in spite of that absolute motionlessness which often deceives the eyes of the wild creatures.

As if she had heard a fresh sound somewhere down the lake, she turned her head in that direction. Dusty Star unwisely took the opportunity to step softly back. Instantly the cow swung her head round. Dusty Star froze to stillness as before. And yet it was as if the movement he had just made still vibrated about his stillness, like a quivering of the air. The great eyes of the cow fastened upon him, and she _saw_!

Without a second's hesitation, and snorting with anger and defiance, she charged.

In the forest things usually happen very quickly or they do not happen at all. The moose had been so intent in searching for Dusty Star that she had not perceived a much greater danger stalking her unawares. At the very moment the boy leaped aside to escape her furious onset, a long dark body shot itself through the air, and all but landed on her back.

All but, yet not quite!

The panther had calculated his spring to a nicety, but he had not forseen the sudden leap with which the moose swerved as the danger launched itself upon her. Swift though her movement was, she did not receive the warning soon enough to jump entirely clear; and although the panther had not succeeded in landing on her neck as he had intended, he caught her shoulder with a raking sweep of his paw. Two long gashes, from which the blood sprang freely, showed the track of those murderous claws. Yet the blow was not a disabling one, and only served to rouse the moose to fury. Rearing on her hind legs, she brought her hatchet-edged fore hoofs down with all her force. Where she aimed, she struck--the panther's neck. The blow from these terrible weapons, of which every wild animal stands rightly in awe, with all the force of her great weight behind them, was tremendous. With a howl of pain the panther went down; but as he sank, he buried his fangs deep in the cow's neck. His weight pulled her to one side. She lost her footing, and plunged into the lake.

Dusty Star saw a fountain of spray and a welter of b.l.o.o.d.y foam. Then, out of the seething whirlpool, the panther's dark body emerged and staggered to the bank. The cow meantime had struggled to her feet, and gave a defiant bellow of rage. Dusty Star fully expected to see the battle begin again. But the panther, evidently not relis.h.i.+ng the sight of the Mother Fury, thought better of it, and slunk off into the bushes.

Dusty Star followed his example, and while the moose was busy in nosing her terrified calf to a.s.sure herself that it had come to no harm, he made quickly off into the woods, so that when the cow once more turned her blazing eyes to the sh.o.r.e in search of her enemies, Dusty Star, like the panther, was lost among the trees.

After his adventure with the moose, nothing disturbed the still monotony of the sultry day. The mist had lifted now, and a grey haze veiled the distance. He travelled as rapidly as possible, avoiding the swampy ground. Every time he reached a point where he could look back along the lake, he gazed anxiously for the shape of a canoe. Yet nothing broke the glimmering levels of its vast expanse. For all that, he grew more and more uneasy as the day wore on. He could not rid himself of the sense of a danger already on its way. The fact that it gave no outward sign of its approach only served to increase his anxiety. He went on steadily, hoping that every fresh point he reached would show the end of the lake.

At length, from a narrow spit of sand (the very same in which Kiopo had recovered himself) he saw it. Beyond in a dusky background, the forest lay for leagues; and after the forest, the valley: and--in the valley--home! He turned to look behind him, down the lake. As he did so, his heart bounded. Far away in the hazy distance, he saw the shadowy outline of a canoe.

They were coming then! The warning had spoken truly. He had not been deceived. Without an instant's delay, he darted from the sand-spit and plunged into the woods.

Owing to the extent and thickness of the willow swamps, it was some time before he reached the head of the lake. Beyond that, as he knew, the forest was more open, and he would be able to travel much more rapidly.

But what would be good for him, would also help his pursuers. All he could hope was that he would be able to get a long enough start of them to keep well ahead--till he could find a sufficiently safe hiding-place.

He found an old deer-path, and followed it for a long distance, though it trended rather too much to the south. Behind him he heard the harsh calling of a couple of jays, and now and then he came across a chipmunk which chattered indignantly at his presence. Otherwise he neither saw nor heard anything to cause him alarm. As the time went on, he began to hope that he had out-distanced his pursuers. And yet he could not rid himself of the feeling that he was being followed.

In front of him the forest climbed the slope of a small hill. Here and there the trees gave way to rocky s.p.a.ces where enormous rocks towered between them. At a glance, Dusty Star could see that it would be a good place to hide in. He stood for a moment or two and looked carefully along the back trail. He saw only the endless tree-trunks, grey-green in the shadows. Nothing stirred.... Ah, what was that? His eyes fastened on the spot where for the fraction of a second something seemed to have flickered. He could not say that he had _seen_ an Indian flit from one tree-trunk to another. Yet the sense that something was there made him almost sure. If he had obeyed his first instinct to continue his flight he would, most probably, have fallen at once into his enemies' hands.

Instead, he climbed quickly up among the rocks.

There was no time to lose in searching for the best hiding-place; yet he stumbled by chance upon one which might have been made for the very purpose. It was a narrow opening that led into a pa.s.sage running into the very centre of a pile of flat-topped rocks which enclosed it on all sides, and which was so curiously formed that they looked exactly as if deliberately placed one on top of another in the form of a building. To all appearances, the pa.s.sage had only one entrance, and it was not until Dusty Star had crept to the extreme end that he found another opening so thickly covered with ferns and brambles that it could not be seen by any one on the outer side. He parted the undergrowth with the utmost care and looked out. Almost immediately afterwards he saw what made his heart beat with renewed fear. He saw an Indian leave the cover of the trees and advance quickly towards the rocks. He was followed by another, and yet another. Dusty Star counted five in all. Before he could tell exactly what part of the rocks they were making for, they disappeared.

After that, he lay perfectly still trembling at the lightest sound.

All at once he was conscious of a shadow which darkened the pa.s.sage. He looked up and saw, through the fern, an Indian apparently gazing straight down at him.

Dusty Star knew only too well what an Indian's eye can see, in spite of leafy coverings; and because he could observe every detail of the tall figure towering above him in the light, it seemed almost impossible that he himself could escape detection. He lay stiff with fear, scarcely daring to take breath, while those moments of terrible suspense pa.s.sed slowly one by one and he dreaded that the next would bring his doom.

He closed his eyes, lest even the flicker of an eyelid should betray him, and waited helplessly for the worst. When at length he found courage to open them again, the Indian had gone.

The shadow of the wilderness had saved him; the ancient darkness that is darker than men's cunning in a shadow-casting land.

For a long time he did not dare to move. When at last he crept from his hiding-place, the afternoon was well advanced. He moved from point to point with the utmost caution, but could see no trace of his enemies.

That, however, as he well knew, did not mean that they were gone. That things were out of sight only too often meant that they were very close at hand. Yet, in spite of the danger of continuing his flight, Dusty Star decided to take the risk, in case the Indians should return and make a more thorough search among the rocks. He travelled on as swiftly as he dared, keeping his eyes to the utmost on the alert.

It was only the merest motion of a fir-branch well to the right, such as might have been caused by the weight of a perching bird, or the movement of the breeze; but Dusty Star saw it and took the alarm. When, an instant later, an Indian broke cover and came bounding towards him like a buck, Dusty Star was already on the run.

One swift glance behind, showed him that his foe was coming at full speed. As he came, he uttered a shrill whoop as a signal to his companions that their quarry was in sight. The cry sent a thrill of terror through the boy's veins. From the start, he felt that unless he put forth his utmost strength, he was doomed.

And now he fled between the trees as if his moccasins were wings. His running power was marvellous. The prairies and the wolves between them, had given him that. If the antelopes went like the wind, Dusty Star went like the antelopes. Even his pursuers, as relentless and almost as tireless as the wolves themselves, and who pa.s.sed their lives among winged and footed swiftnesses, were astonished at such running, the like of which they had never seen. To their amazed eyes he seemed less to be running than _floating_ out of their sight. There was "medicine" in his feet!