Charlie to the Rescue Part 39

"You'll join us, I fancy," said Crux to Charlie Brooke.

"No; I remain with my sick friend Leather. But perhaps some of my comrades may wish to go with you."

It was soon arranged that Hunky Ben and d.i.c.k Darvall should join the party.

"We won't be long o' catchin' him up," said Crux, "for the Flint has become desperate of late, an' we're pretty sure of a man when he gets into that fix."

The desperado to whom Crux referred was one of those terrible human monsters who may be termed a growth of American frontier life, men who, having apparently lost all fear of G.o.d, or man, or death, carry their lives about with hilarious indifference, ready to risk them at a moment's notice on the slightest provocation, and to take the lives of others without a shadow of compunction. As a natural consequence, such maniacs, for they are little else, are feared by all, and even brave men feel the necessity of being unusually careful while in their company.

Among the various wild deeds committed by Jake and his men was one which led them into serious trouble and proved fatal to their chief. Coming to a village, or small town, one night they resolved to have a regular spree, and for this purpose encamped a short way outside the town till it should be quite dark. About midnight the outlaws, to the number of eight, entered the town, each armed with a Winchester and a brace of revolvers. Scattering themselves, they began a tremendous fusillade, as fast as they could fire, so that nearly the whole population, supposing the place was attacked by Indians, turned out and fled to the mountains behind the town. The Flint and his men made straight for the chief billiard room, which they found deserted, and there, after helping themselves to all the loose cash available, they began to drink. Of course they soon became wild under the influence of the liquor, but retained sense enough to mount their horses and gallop away before the people of the place mustered courage to return and attack the foe.

It was while galloping madly away after this raid that the murderous event took place which ended in the dispersal of the gang.

Daylight was creeping over the land when the outlaws left the town.

Jake was wild with excitement at what had occurred, as well as with drink, and began to boast and swear in a horrible manner. When they had ridden a good many miles, one of the party said he saw some Redskins in a clump of wood they were approaching.

"Did ye?" cried Jake, flouris.h.i.+ng his rifle over his head and uttering a terrible oath, "then I'll shoot the first Redskin I come across."

"Better not, Jake," said one of his men. "They're all friendly Injins about here."

"What's the odds to me!" yelled the drunken wretch. "I'll shoot the first I see as I would a rabbit."

At that moment they were pa.s.sing a bluff covered with timber, and, unfortunately, a poor old Indian woman came out of the wood to look at the hors.e.m.e.n as they flew past.

Without an instant's hesitation Jake swerved aside, rode straight up to the old creature, and blew out her brains.

Accustomed as they were to deeds of violence and bloodshed, his comrades were overwhelmed with horror at this, and, fearing the consequences of the dastardly murder, rode for life away over the plains.

But the deed had been witnessed by the relatives of the poor woman.

Without sound or cry, fifty Red men leaped on their horses and swept with the speed of light along the other side of the bluff, which concealed them from the white men's sight. Thus they managed to head them, and when Jake and his gang came to the end of the strip of wood, the Red men, armed with rifle and revolver, were in front of them.

There was something deadly and unusual in the silence of the Indians on this occasion. Concentrated rage seemed to have stopped their power to yell. Swift as eagles they swooped down and surrounded the little band of white men, who, seeing that opposition would be useless, and, perhaps, cowed by the sight of such a cold-blooded act offered no resistance at all, while their arms were taken from them.

With lips white from pa.s.sion, the Indian chief in command demanded who did the deed. The outlaws pointed to Jake, who sat on his horse with glaring eyes and half-open mouth like one stupefied. At a word from the chief, he was seized, dragged off his horse, and held fast by two powerful men while a third bound his arms. A spear was driven deep into the ground to serve as a stake, and to this Jake was tied. He made no resistance. He seemed to have been paralysed, and remained quite pa.s.sive while they stripped him naked to the waist. His comrades, still seated on their horses, seemed incapable of action. They had, no doubt, a presentiment of what was coming.

The chief then drew his scalping knife, and pa.s.sed it swiftly round the neck of the doomed man so as to make a slight incision. Grasping the flap raised at the back of the neck, he tore a broad band of skin from Jake's body, right down his back to his waist. A fearful yell burst from the lips of the wretched man, but no touch of pity moved the hearts of the Red men, whose chief prepared to tear off another strip of skin from the quivering flesh.

At the same moment the companions of the Flint wheeled their horses round, and, filled with horror, fled at full speed from the scene.

The Red men did not attempt to hinder them. There was no feud at that time between the white men and that particular tribe. It was only the murderer of their old kinswoman on whom they were bent on wreaking their vengeance, and with terrible cruelty was their diabolical deed accomplished. The comrades of the murderer, left free to do as they pleased, scattered as they fled, as if each man were unable to endure the sight of the other, and they never again drew together.

On the very next day Crux and his band of avengers were galloping over the same region, making straight for the town which the outlaws had thrown into such consternation, and where Crux had been given to understand that trustworthy news of the Flint's movements would probably be obtained.

The sun was setting, and a flood of golden light was streaming over the plains, when one of the band suggested that it would be better to encamp where they were than to proceed any further that night.

"So we will, boy," said Crux, looking about for a suitable spot, until his eye fell on a distant object that riveted his attention.

"A strange-looking thing, that," remarked the scout who had observed the object at the same moment. "Somethin' like a man, but standin'

crooked-like in a fas.h.i.+on I never saw a man stand before, though I've seen many a queer sight in my day."

"We'll soon clear up the mystery," said Crux, putting spurs to his horse and riding straight for the object in question, followed by the whole cavalcade.

"Ay, ay, b.l.o.o.d.y work bin goin' on here, I see," muttered the scout as they drew near.

"The accursed Redskins!" growled Crux.

We need scarcely say that it was the dead body of Jake they had thus discovered, tied to the spear which was nearly broken by the weight of the mutilated carca.s.s. Besides tearing most of the skin off the wretched man's body, the savages had scalped Jake; but a deep wound over the region of the heart showed that they had, at all events, ended his sufferings before they left him.

While the avengers--whose vengeance was thus forestalled--were busy sc.r.a.ping a shallow grave for the remains of the outlaw, a shout was raised by several of the party who dashed after something into a neighbouring copse. An Indian had been discovered there, and the cruelties which had been practised on the white man had, to a great extent, transferred their wrath from the outlaw to his murderers. But they found that the rush was needless, for the Indian who had been observed was seated on the ground beside what appeared to be a newly formed grave, and he made no attempt to escape.

He was a very old and feeble man, yet something of the fire of the warrior gleamed from his sunken eyes as he stood up and tried to raise his bent form into an att.i.tude of proud defiance.

"Do you belong to the tribe that killed this white man?" said Hunky Ben, whose knowledge of most of the Indian dialects rendered him the fitting spokesman of the party.

"I do," answered the Indian in a stern yet quavering voice that seemed very pitiful, for it was evident that the old man thought his last hour had come, and that he had made up his mind to die as became a dauntless Indian brave.

At that moment a little Indian girl, who had hitherto lain quite concealed in the tangled gra.s.s, started up like a rabbit from its lair and dashed into the thicket. Swiftly though the child ran, however, one of the young men of the party was swifter. He sprang off in pursuit, and in a few moments brought her back.

"Your tribe is not at war with the pale-faces," continued the scout, taking no notice of this episode. "They have been needlessly cruel."

For some moments the old man gazed sternly at his questioner as if he heard him not. Then the frown darkened, and, pointing to the grave at his feet, he said--

"The white man was _more_ cruel."

"What had he done?" asked the scout.

But the old man would not reply. There came over his withered features that stony stare of resolute contempt which he evidently intended to maintain to the last in spite of torture and death.

"Better question the child," suggested d.i.c.k Darvall, who up to that moment had been too much horrified by what he had witnessed to be able to speak.

The scout looked at the child. She stood trembling beside her captor, with evidences of intense terror on her dusky countenance, for she was only too well accustomed to the cruelties practised by white men and red on each other to have any hope either for the old man or herself.

"Poor thing!" said Hunky Ben, laying his strong hand tenderly on the girl's head. Then, taking her hand, he led her gently aside, and spoke to her in her own tongue.

There was something so unexpectedly soft in the scout's voice, and so tender in his touch, that the little brown maid was irresistibly comforted. When one falls into the grasp of Goodness and Strength, relief of mind, more or less, is an inevitable result. David thought so when he said, "Let me fall now into the hand of the Lord." The Indian child evidently thought so when she felt that Hunky Ben was strong and perceived that he was good.

"We will not hurt you, my little one," said the scout, when he had reached a retired part of the copse, and, sitting down, placed the child on his knee. "The white man who was killed by your people was a very bad man. We were looking for him to kill him. Was it the old man that killed him?"

"No," replied the child, "it was the chief."

"Why was he so cruel in his killing?" asked the scout.

"Because the white man was a coward. He feared to face our warriors, but he shot an old woman!" answered the little maid; and then, inspired with confidence by the scout's kind and pitiful expression, she related the whole story of the savage and wanton murder perpetrated by the Flint, the subsequent vengeance of her people, and the unchecked flight and dispersion of Jake's comrades. The old woman who had been slain, she said, was her grandmother, and the old man who had been captured was her grandfather.

"Friends, our business has been done for us," said the scout on rejoining his comrades, "so we've nothing to do but return home."

He then told them in detail what the Indian girl had related.

"Of course," he added, "we've no right to find fault wi' the Redskins for punis.h.i.+n' the murderer arter their own fas.h.i.+on, though we might wish they had bin somewhat more merciful--"