having so good a disguise, the thing i had set myself to do would seem to ask for little more than peaceful boldness held in check by common caution.
the point where i had broken cover to step into the circle of fire light was nearly equidistant from the englishmen's camp on the right and the horse meadow on the left, so i had not to pass within recognition range of the great fire; indeed, i might have skulked in the laurel cover all the way, thus coming to the horses unseen by any, but that i was afraid falconnet might miss his trooper. so i thought it best to show myself discreetly.
copying our captive's lounging stride, i first held a sauntering course down to the stream's edge, keeping the great camp-fire and the droning indian hive well to the right and far enough aloof to baffle any over-curious eye at either. coming to the stream without mishap, i stopped and made a feint of drinking; after which i crossed and climbed slowly toward the makeshift powder magazine.
as i have said, the camp was pitched in a small savanna or natural clearing on the right bank of the little river. this clearing was hedged about by the forest on three sides, and backed by the densely wooded steeps and crags of the western cliff. i guessed the compass of it to be something more than an acre; not greatly more, since the fire at the troop camp lighted all its boundaries.
on the left or opposite bank of the stream there was no intervale at all. the ground rose sharply from the water's edge in a rough hillside thickly studded and bestrewn with boulders great and small; fallen cleavings and hewings from the crags of the eastern cliff. 'twas at the foot of one of the boulders, a huge overhanging mass of weather-riven rock facing the camp, that the powder cargo was sheltered; so isolated to be out of danger from the camp-fires.
from the hillside just below this powder rock i could look back upon the camp en enfilade, as an artilleryman would say. nearest at hand was the half-moon of indian lodges with the hollow of the crescent facing the stream, and a caldron fire burning in the midst. around the fire a ring of warriors naked to the breech-clout kept time in a slow shuffling dance to a monotonous chanting; and for onlookers there was an outer ring of squatting figures—the visiting tuckaseges, as i supposed.
beyond the indian lodges, and a little higher up the gentle slope of the savanna, were the troop shelters; and beyond these, half concealed in the fringing of the boundary forest, was the tepee-lodge of the women.
on the bare hillside beneath the powder magazine i made no doubt i was in plainest view from the great fire, and the proof of this conclusion came shortly in a bellowing hail from falconnet.
"ho, jack warden!" he called, making a speaking-trumpet of his hands to lift the hail above the chanting of the indian dancers. "have a look at that shelter whilst you are over there and make sure 'twill shed rain if the weather shifts."
now some such long-range marking down as this was what i had been angling for. so i came to attention and saluted in soldierly fashion, thereby raising a great laugh among my pseudo-comrades around the trooper fire—a laugh that pointed shrewdly to the baronet-captain's lack of proper discipline. but that is neither here nor there. having my master's order for it, i climbed to the foot of the powder rock.
here the bare sight of all the stored-up devastation set me athirst with a fierce longing for leave to snap a pistol in the well-laid mine. for if these enemies of ours had planned their own undoing they could never have given a desperate foeman a better chance. to hold the pine boughs of the rude shelter in place they had piled a great loose wall of stones around and over the cargo; and the firing of the powder, heaped as it was against the backing cliff of the boulder, would hurl these weighting stones in a murderous broadside upon the camp across the stream.
but since my dear lady would also share the hazard of such a broadside, i had no leave to blow myself and the powder convoy to kingdom come, as i thirsted to—could not, you will say, having neither pistol to snap nor flint and steel to fire a train. nay, nay, my dears, i would not have you think so lightly of my invention. had this been the only obstacle, you may be sure i should have found a way to grind a firing spark out of two bits of stone.
but being otherwise enjoined, as i say, i turned my back upon the temptation and held to the business in hand, which was to reach and recross the stream higher up and so to come among the horses.
as i had hoped to find them, the saddles were hung upon the branches of the nearest trees, margery's horse-furnishings among them. at first the black mare was shy of me, but a gentling word or two won her over, and she let me take her by the forelock and lead her deeper into the herd where i could saddle and bridle her in greater safety.
my plan to cut her out was simple enough. trusting to the darkness—the horse meadow was far enough from the fires to make a murky twilight of the ruddy glow—i thought to lead the mare quietly away up the stream and thus on to the foot of that ravine by which we hoped to climb to the old borderer's rendezvous on the plateau. but when all was ready and i sought to set this plan in action, an unforeseen obstacle barred the way. to keep the horses from straying up the valley an indian sentry line was strung above the grazing meadow, and into this i blundered like any unlicked knave of a raw recruit.
had i been armed, the warrior who rose before me phantom-like in the laurel edging of the meadow would have had a most sharp-pointed answer to his challenge. as it was,—i had left my sword with jennifer because the captured trooper whose understudy i was had left his sword in camp,—i tried to parley with the sentry. he knew no word of english, nor i of cherokee; but that deadlock was speedily broken. a guttural call summoned others of the horse-keepers, and among them one who spoke a little english.
"ugh! what for take white squaw horse?" he demanded.
"'tis the captain's order," i replied, lying boldly to fit the crisis.
at that they gave me room; and had i hastened, i had doubtless gone at large without more ado. but at this very apex point of hazard i must needs play out the part of unalarm to the fool's envoi, taking time to part the mare's forelock under the head-stall, and looking leisurely to the lacings of the saddle-girth.
this foolhardy delay cost me all, and more than all. i was still fiddle-faddling with the girth strap, the better to impose upon my indian horse-guards, when suddenly there arose a yelling hubbub of laughter in the camp behind. i turned to look and beheld a thing laughable enough, no doubt, and yet it broke no bubble of mirth in me. half-way from the nearest forest fringe to the great fire a man, white of skin, and clothed only in a pair of trooper boots, was running swiftly for cover to the nearest pine-bough shelter, shouting like an escaped bedlamite as he fled. it asked for no second glance, this apparition of the yelling madman; 'twas our captive soldier, foot-loose and racing in to raise the hue and cry.
now you may always count upon this failing in a cautious man, that at a crisis he is like to do the unwisest thing that offers. this cutting out of margery's mare was none so vital a matter that i should have risked the marring of ephraim yeates's plan upon it. yet having done this very thing, i must needs make a bad matter infinitely worse.
instead of mounting to ride a charge through the camp, and so to draw the pursuit after me toward the cavern entrance, as i should, i slapped the mare to send her bounding through the guard line, snatched a saddle from its oak-branch peg to hurl it in the faces of the sentry group, and darting aside, plunged into the laurel thicket to come by running where i could and creeping where i must to that place where i had left richard jennifer.
all hot and exasperated as i was, 'twas something less than cooling to find dick a-double on the ground, holding his sides and laughing like a yokel at his first pantomime.
"oh, ho, ho! did you—did you twig him, jack?" he gasped. "saw you ever such a mincing puss-in-boots since the lord made you? ah! ha! ha!"
"the devil take your ill-timed humor!" i cried. "up with you, man, and let us vanish while we may!"
by this the camp was in a pretty ferment, as you would guess—our late captive having had space enough to tell his tale. drunk or sober, falconnet was afoot and alert, shouting his orders to the englishmen who were scrambling for their arms, and to the indians who came swarming up from the lodges.
whilst we looked, the cherokees scattered like a company of trained gillies to beat us out of cover; and when the hunt was fairly up, the baronet-captain set his men in marching order to surround the wigwam of the captives.
as yet there was time for a swift retreat up the valley, or at least for the choosing of some battle-field of our own where the enemy need not outnumber us twenty to one; and again i urged richard to bestir himself. but it was the sight of falconnet's troopers deploying to surround the tepee-lodge, and not any word of mine, that broke his merriment in the midst.
at a bound he was up and handing me my sword.
"good by, jack; go you whilst you can. you'll be like to meet eph and the catawba coming in; turn them back and tell them to bide their time."
"but you?" i would say.
"my place is inside of that soldier-cordon our friend is drawing about his dove-cote. i shall be at hand when she needs me, as i promised."
"aye, so you may be; but not alone," said i; and with that we fell to running like a pair of doubling foxes through the wood on the steep slope behind the lodge, striving with might and main to gain the laurel thicket whence we had made our first reconnaissance before the converging lines of the redcoat cordon should close and shut us out.
we did it by the skin of our teeth, diving to cover through the closing gap not a second too soon. when we were in and hugging the bare ground under the scanty leafing of the laurel, i take no shame in saying that i would have given a king's ransom to be at large again. had there been but one of us the covert would have been cramped enough; and i was painfully conscious that my borrowed coat of scarlet was but a poor thing to hide in.
to make it worse, falconnet, who had lagged behind at the fire, was now heaping fresh fuel on, and this reviving of the blaze made the place as light as day. with the nearest links in the redcoat chain no more than a pike's-length at our backs, we dared not stir or breathe a word; and, all in all, we might have been taken like rats in a trap had any one of the sentries on our side of the circle chanced to look behind him.
having repaired the fire to his liking, the troop-captain came up to pass a word or two with his lieutenant. they spoke guardedly, but we could hear—could not help hearing.
"you have seen nothing, gordon?"
"nothing, as yet."
"make the round again and tell the men 'twill be ten gold joes and a double allowance of liquor to the man who first claps eyes on any one of the four."
the subaltern went to carry out the order, and falconnet fell to pacing back and forth before the little wigwam. i could see his face at the turn where the firelight fell upon him; 'twas the face of a villain at his worst, namely, a villain half in liquor. there was a lurking devil of passion peering out of the sensuous eyes; and ever and anon he stopped as if to listen for some sound within the captives' lodge.
when the lieutenant returned to make his report, he was given another order to cap the first.
"your line is too close-drawn and too conspicuous," said the captain, shortly. "move the men out fifty paces in advance, and bid them take cover."
"they will scarce be within hail of each other at that," says the lieutenant.
"near enough, with ten gold pieces to sharpen their eyesight. go you with them and hold them to their work."
the line was presently extended as the order ran, each link in the cordon chain advancing fifty paces on its front into the forest. dick fetched a deep sigh of relief; and i thought less of the thin-leafed cover and the scarlet coat of me.
falconnet had resumed the pacing of his sentry beat before the lodge, but when his men were out of sight and hearing he stopped short and stole on tiptoe to lay his ear to the flap.
"so, you are awake, mistress margery? send your woman out. i would speak with you—alone."
there was no reply, but we could both hear the low anguished voice of our dear lady praying for help in this her hour of trial. dick inched aside to give me room, freeing his weapon, as i did mine. we were not over-quiet about it, but the captain of horse was too hot upon his own devil's business to look behind him.
having no answer from within, he stooped to loose the flap. it was pegged down on the inside. he rose and whipped out his sword; the firelight fell upon his face again and we saw it as it had been the face of a foul fiend from the pit.
"open!" he commanded; and when there was neither reply nor obedience, he cut the flap free with his sword and flung it back.
the two women within the wigwam were on their knees before a little crucifix hanging on the lodge wall. so much we saw as we broke cover and ran in upon the despoiler. then the battle-madness came upon us and i, for one, saw naught but the tense-drawn face of a swordsman fighting for his life—a face in which the hot flush of evil passion had given place to the ashen graying of fear.
we drove at him together, dick and i, and so must needs fall afoul of each other clumsily, giving him time to spring back and so to miss the claymore stroke which else would have shorn him to the middle. then ensued as pretty a bit of blade work as any master of the old cut-and-thrust school could wish to see; and through it all this king's captain of horse seemed to bear a charmed life.
there was no punctilio of the code of honor in this duel à outrance. knowing our time was short, we fought as men who fight with halters round their necks; not to decide a nice point at issue, but to kill this accursed villain as we would kill a mad dog or a venomous reptile whose living on imperiled the life and honor of the woman we loved.
thrice, whilst i held him in play, dick rushed in to end it with a scythe-sweep of the broadsword; and thrice the scottish death was turned aside by the flashing circle of steel wherewith the man striving shrewdly to gain time made shift to shield himself.
yet it was not in flesh and blood to fend the double onslaught for more than some brief minute or two. play as he would—and no schlägermeister, of my old field-marshal's picked troop could best him at this game of parry and defense—he must give ground step by step; slowly at the pressing of the ferara, and in quick backward leaps when the great broadsword bit at him.
for the first few bouts he withstood us in grim silence. but now richard cut in again and the claymore stroke, less skilfully turned aside, brought him to his knees. this broke his bull courage somewhat, and though he was afoot and on guard before my point could reach him, he began to bellow lustily for help.
as you would suppose, the call was all unneeded. at the first clash of steel the outlying troopers were up and swarming to the rescue; and now on all sides came the trampling rush of the in-closing cordon line.
had falconnet held his ground a moment longer he would have had us fast in the jaws of the trooper-trap; but 'tis the fatal flaw in mere brute courage that it will break at the pinch. no sooner did the volunteer captain catch a glimpse of his up-coming reinforcements than he must needs show us a clean pair of heels, running like a craven coward and shouting madly to his men to close with us and cut us down.
"after him!" roared dick, who was by now as rage-mad as any berserker; and with a cut and thrust to right and left for the nipping trap-jaws we were out and away in chase.
now you may mark this as you will; that whilst the devil hath need of his bond-servant he will come between with a miracle if need be to keep the villain breath of life in his vassal. three bounds beyond the closing trap-jaws fetched us, pursued and pursuers, to the open camp field; and here the devil's miracle was wrought. out of the forest fringe, out of the skirting of undergrowth, out of the very earth, as it seemed, uprose a yelling mob of cherokees—the detachment we had met in the cavern returned in the very nick of time to cut us off from the pursuit and to ring us in a whooping circle of death.
"back to back, lad!" i shouted; and 'twas thus we met their onslaught.
in such a fray as that which followed 'tis the trivial things that leave their mark upon the memory. for one, i recall the curious thrill of master-might it gave me to feel the play of jennifer's great shoulder muscles against my back in his plying of the heavy claymore. for another, i remember the sickening qualm i had when the warm blood of my second—or mayhap 'twas the third—gushed out upon my sword hand, and i remember, too, how the impaled one, driven in upon the blade by the pressure of his fellows behind, would lay hold of the sharp steel and try in the death throe to withdraw it.
but after that sickening qualm i recall only this; that i could not free the sword for another thrust, and whilst i tugged and fought for space they dragged me down and buried me, these fierce tribesmen, piling so thick upon me that sight and sound and breath went out together, and i was but an atom crushed to earth beneath the human avalanche.
