Scouting Dave

“Hurry – hurry! minutes are years, now,” responded the voice. “If ye care for yer scalps, be speedy.”

Philip Markley had produced a light by this time, and, satisfying himself that but one person was at the door, hastily unbarred it. Surely he knew that tall form, with that jet hair and sparkling eyes. Four years had passed since they met, yet the recognition was instantaneous.

“David Barring! – Scouting Davy!” were the exclamations which greeted the new-comer, as he crossed the threshold.

“Stop!” he exclaimed, authoritatively; “it’s me, an’ I’m all right yet; but ye must hurry if ye want to save yer hair. The Injins are upon us!”

“Indians!”

Three horrified voices repeated that fearful word. Charles Markley felt too deeply for words. At the first mention of that – to him – horrible word, his thoughts ran back to the little cabin which contained Emily Hinton, and a feeling of dismay fell upon him. A host of questions were being showered upon the scout, but he raised his hand, and all paused before his voice sounded.

“Stop, don’t interrupt me; there’s no time to lose,” he vociferated. “Several hundred Injins have crossed the river, and are on their way to murder and destroy. They are sworn to gain possession of all this State. It’s pretty sure they’ll have things their own way for a time. You have horses?”

A silent assent.

“Then you, Mr. Markley, and Alf, jist put in yer best licks, and harness up. And mind – not a minute is ter lose.”

“Can we fight them till assistance arrives?” asked Mr. Markley.

The scout shook his head.

“If fight war’ possible, Davy is the last one what would say ‘run.’ But it isn’t. In half-an-hour at most, hundreds of ’em will be here, with old Black Hawk and that devil’s own pup, Wild Bill Ashbey, at their head. There’s nothin’ in this part to stop ’em, so jist hurry. And you, Miss Markley, jist scratch up yer choicest things, and what ye’ve got in the house that’ll do to eat.”

In a moment the three persons were busy at their appointed tasks, for they felt the leading mind of the scout – knowing that when he directed, they had but to perform. Charles had pressed near the scout, but, as yet, he found no opportunity to speak. Now, the scout placed a hand upon the shoulder of the young man, and drew him apace nearer himself.

“Young man,” he said, “I’ve somethin’ to tell ye.”

The fear which the young man had felt now deepened. His face grew fearfully pallid, and his voice trembled.

“Is it of – of Emily you would speak?” he gasped.

“Well, you’re right. An’ now, unless you’re the gritty chap you should be, you can never see her again.”

“Good Heaven! she is not – not – ”

“She’s safe in body, young man; but let me tell ye all. The first thing the Injins did was to burn out the Hintons. They set fire to the cabin, an’ when the poor men rushed out, shot ’em down like dogs. Emily was saved, an’ is a prisoner now.”

“My Emily a prisoner among the Indians! Oh, God!”

“She’s among them, but not in their power. Wild Bill, that most ornery villain, has her in his own power, and sent her off under a lot of his imps to his nest, over there.”

“Bill Ashbey? Impossible! Do you speak truly?”

The manner of Charles was excited, and he grasped the scout by the arm with a force which would have caused most men to writhe with pain.

“True? Of course I do, young man. But it’s better than if the Injins had her, for then she’d be tortured to death, sartin. Now, if you ain’t afraid of a few bullets, an’ hev no particular objection to knockin’ the brains out o’ two or three of ’em, why, your Emily can be yours still. I’ll go with ye, and help to git her back.”

“Oh, will you? Shall we then thwart them, and rescue Emily?”

“Nothin’ surer. As soon as I see yer father and mother on the way to safety, I’m off on the trail.”

“I am with you, my friend, to the end. May Heaven reward you for your noble efforts.”

“Don’t want any reward of that kind. If I can help to git back an angel like Emily, that’s enough.”

“She is an angel, David, you may well say that,” remarked the youth, impulsively. “But why may we not away at once?”

“No occasion for a hurry,” coolly replied the scout. “We must stay an’ see the old folks on their way, for they will have hot work, most likely. Then we will take the trail.”

“Then you are quite sure Mr. Hinton and George were both killed?” asked Charles, with a tear in his eye.

“Yes,” the scout returned. “They were both killed. I fixed a couple o’ the reds, one of ’em a chief at that, but I couldn’t save the poor men. However, it’s time we were movin’, so jist collect the rifles and traps, then hurry the rest up. I’ll go an’ see if there’s any signs o’ Injins.”

As David spoke he passed through the door, and was quickly in the depths of the forest. Philip and his son had not lost a moment, and soon the span of noble bays were attached to the strong wagon, and driven around to the door. Even then the red light from the burning cabin of the Hintons could be seen glaring above the tree-tops. Charles was just driving home the bullet in the rifle, and the little stock of articles which had been selected was soon placed on the vehicle.

At that moment a shadowy form appeared crossing the fields, but it was soon apparent that it was none other than the scout.

“Into the wagon, quick!” he exclaimed, as he drew near. “The red-skins are comin’.”

The persons in waiting needed no second bidding, but hastily scrambled into the vehicle. With a bound, like that of a panther, the scout followed them.

“Are yer shootin’-irons all right?” he asked, hurriedly.

An answer was given in the affirmative.

“Then drive ahead, for the cut-throats are close to us,” he commanded.

The horses sprung lightly forward under the direction of Alfred, who held the reins.

CHAPTER V.

THE WAGON TUSSLE AND THE TRAIL HUNTERS

A road had been cut from the settlement of the Markley family to a point, several miles distant, where it intersected a regularly beaten wagon trail, leading to the nearest trading-post. After leaving the cabin, it led through the depths of the wood for some two miles, beyond which point the way was more open.

The parties who were unacquainted with the details of the massacre now turned to the scout, and, in answer to their questions, David related the scene as it had transpired. He spoke more especially of Emily, and the compact entered into between himself and Charles. Neither of the parents spoke, for the danger to which their son and the brave scout were about to subject themselves, seemed stupendous in their eyes, but they shuddered when Alfred chimed in:

“Count me in for that expedition, Charley; I’m with you there.”

“Good fer yer pluck, boy,” rejoined the scout, well pleased. “But there’s some things ye must remember afore ye set out. Ye’ll have hundreds of miles to tramp, right in the midst of Injins, and danger of every description to look out for. I’m used to it, an’ don’t mind bruisin’; you are young, and tender-like.”

“What of that?” broke in the youth, impatiently. “I can learn, and now is as good a time as I shall ever have.”

“There is times,” returned the scout, “where one man can do what three can’t. But it’s oftener three can do more than two; so, if yer in earnest, we’ll call it settled, for I like yer grit right well.”

“Then settled it is,” the young man frankly exclaimed, as he grasped the extended hand of the scout.

As the scout relinquished the hand of the youth, he peered for a moment very earnestly into the gloom before them. Quickly exclaiming: