“So some of my mistaken friends have thought,” returned the man, speaking for the first time in his natural voice, which caused a thrill to pass through Paul Bevan’s frame.
“He is a thief,” continued the chief, still gazing steadily5 at the blue glasses, “and a murderer!”
“He’s all that, and liar6 and deceiver into the bargain,” thought Tolly Trevor, but Tolly did not speak; he only vented7 his feelings in a low chuckle8, for he saw, or thought he saw, that the robber’s career was about to receive a check. As the thought passed through his brain, however, he observed from the position in which he stood that Stalker—for, as the reader has doubtless perceived, it was he—was working his hands about in a very soft slow, mysterious, and scarcely observable manner.
“Oho!” thought Tolly, “is that your little game? Ha! I’ll spoil it for you!”
He quietly took up a piece of firewood and began, as it were, to amuse himself therewith.
“You has many faces, many colours,” continued Unaco, “and too many eyes.”
At the last word he plucked the blue glasses off the botanist’s nose and flung them into the fire.
“My enemy!” gasped9 Paul Bevan, turning first very pale and then very red, as he glared like a chained tiger at his foe10.
“You knows him now?” said Unaco, turning abruptly11 to Paul.
“Yes; I knows him!”
“The white man with the forked tongue say jus’ now he not knows him.”
“Ay, Redskin, an’ I said the truth, for he’s a rare deceiver—always has been—an’ can pass himself off for a’most anything. I knows him as my mortal foe. Cast my hands loose an’ give me a knife an’ you shall see.”
“O father! your promise—remember!” exclaimed Betty.
“True, dear lass, true; I forgot,” returned Paul, with a humbled12 look; “yet it is hard for a man to see him there, grinning like a big baboon13, an’ keep his hands off him.”
During this dialogue the Indians looked from one speaker to another with keen interest, although none but their chief understood a word of what was said; and Stalker took advantage of their attention being turned for the moment from himself to carry out what Tolly had styled his “little game,” all unaware14 that the boy was watching him like a lynx.
Among other shifts and devices with which the robber chief had become familiar, he had learned the conjuror’s method of so arranging his limbs while being bound, that he could untie15 his bonds in a marvellous manner. On the present occasion, however, he had been tied by men who were expert in the use of deerskin thongs16, and he found some difficulty in loosening them without attracting attention, but he succeeded at last. He had been secured only by the wrists and forearms, and remained sitting still a few seconds after he was absolutely free; then, seizing what he believed to be his opportunity, he leapt up, dashed the Indian nearest him to the earth, and sprang like a deer towards the bushes.
But Tolly Trevor was ready for him. That daring youth plunged17 right in front of the big botanist and stooped. Stalker tripped over him and came violently to the ground on his forehead and nose. Before he could rise Tolly had jumped up, and swinging his billet of wood once in the air, brought it down with all his little might on the robber’s crown. It sufficed to stupefy him, and when he recovered he found himself in the close embrace of three muscular Redskins.
“Well done, Tolly Trevor!” shouted Paul Bevan, enthusiastically.
Even Tom Brixton, who had been looking on in a state of inexpressible surprise, managed to utter a feeble cheer.
But the resources of the robber were not yet exhausted18. Finding himself in the grasp of overwhelming numbers, he put forth19 all his strength, as if to make a final effort, and then, suddenly collapsing20, dropped limp and helpless to the ground, as a man does when he is stabbed to the heart.
The savages21 knew the symptoms well—too well! They rose, breathless, and each looked inquiringly at the other, as though to say, “Who did the deed?” Before they discovered that the deed had not been done at all, Stalker sprang up, knocked down two of them, overturned the third, and, bounding into the bushes, was out of sight in a few seconds.
The whole band, of course, went yelling after him, except their chief, who stood with an angry scowl23 upon his visage, and awaited the return of his braves.
One by one they came back panting and discomfited24, for the white robber had outrun them all and got clear away.
“Well, now, it was cliverly done,” remarked Paddy Flinders, finding his tongue at last; “an’ I raly can’t but feel that he desarves to git off this time. All the same I hope he’ll be nabbed at last an’ recaive his due—bad luck to him!”
“Now, Redskin—” began Bevan.
“My name is Unaco,” interrupted the chief, with a look of dignity.
“Well, then, Unaco,” continued Bevan, “since ye must see that we have nothing whatever to do wi’ the blackguard that’s just given ye the slip, I hope you’ll see your way to untie our hands an’ let us go.”
“You may not belong to that man’s band,” answered the chief, in his own tongue, “but you are a white man, and by white men I have been robbed of my wife and child. Your lives are forfeited25. You shall be slaves to those whom you call Redskins, and this girl with the sunny hair shall replace the lost one in my wigwam.”
Without deigning26 to listen to a reply, Unaco turned and gave orders to his men, who at once brought up the horse and pony27, set Betty and Tolly thereon, lifted Tom Brixton on their shoulders as before, and resumed their march deeper into the fastnesses of the Sawback Hills.
It was growing rapidly dark as they advanced, but the chief who led the party was intimately acquainted with every foot of the way, and as the moon rose before daylight had quite disappeared, they were enabled to continue their journey by night.
“No doubt” remarked Fred Westly to Paul, who was permitted to walk beside him, though Flinders was obliged to walk behind— “no doubt the chief fears that Stalker will pursue him when he is rejoined by his robber band, and wants to get well out of his way.”
“Very likely,” returned Bevan; “an’ it’s my opinion that he’ll find some more of his tribe hereabouts, in which case Master Stalker and his blackguards will have pretty stiff work cut out for them.”
“What think you of the threat of the chief to take Betty to be one of his wives?” asked Fred.
“Well, I don’t think he’ll do it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve got a hold over him that he’s not aware of just yet.”
“What is that, and why did you not make use of it just now to prevent our being needlessly led farther into these mountains?” asked Fred, in surprise.
“What the hold is,” returned Bevan, “you shall know at supper-time. The reason why I didn’t make use of it sooner is that on the whole, I think it better to stick by the Redskins yet awhile—first, because if Stalker should look for us, as he’s sartin sure to do, we would not be strong enough to fight him in the open; and, secondly29, because poor Tom Brixton needs rest, and he has more chance o’ that in the circumstances, wi’ the Redskins than he could have with us while being hunted by robbers; and, lastly, because Betty would come to grief if she fell into that villain Stalker’s hands just now.”
While Paul and Fred were thus conversing30, the Rose of Oregon and her little protector rode silently beside each other, buried, apparently31, in profound thought.
At last Tolly raised his head and voice.
“Betty,” said he, “what a lucky thing it was that we fell in wi’ Tom Brixton, and that you were able to give him somethin’ to eat.”
“Yes, thank God,” replied the girl, fervently32.
“He’d have died but for you,” said the boy.
“And you, Tolly,” added Betty.
“Well, yes, I did have a finger in the pie,” returned the boy, with a self-satisfied air; “but I say, Betty,” he added, becoming suddenly serious, “what d’ye think o’ what that rascally33 chief said about takin’ you to his wigwam? You know that means he intends to make you his wife.”
“Yes, I know; but God will deliver me,” answered the girl.
“How d’ye know that?”
“Because I put my trust in Him.”
“Oh! but,” returned the boy, with a slight look of surprise, “unless God works a miracle I don’t see how He can deliver us from the Redskins, and you know He doesn’t work miracles nowadays.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” replied the girl. “More than once I have seen a man who had been nearly all his life given to drinking, fighting, thieving, and swearing, and every sort of wickedness, surrender himself body and soul to Jesus Christ, so that he afterwards gave up all his evil ways, and led a pure and peaceable life, trying not only to serve God himself, but doing his best to bring his old companions to the same state of mind. What would you call that, Tolly?”
“I’m bound to say it’s as near a miracle as can be, if not one altogether. But in what way do you think God will deliver you just now?”
“That I cannot tell; but I know this, it is written in His Word that those who put their trust in Him shall never be confounded, and I have put my trust in Him. He will never forsake34 me.”
“I wish I had as strong faith as you, Betty,” said the boy, with a grave look.
“You may have it—and stronger than I have, for faith is the gift of God, and we shall get it not in proportion to our trying to get it or to our trying to rouse it, or to our working for it, but according as we ask for it. The Holy Spirit can work anything in us and by us, and He is promised to those who merely ask in the name of Jesus. Ah! Tolly, have I not often told you this, that in God’s Word it is written, ‘Ye have not because ye ask not?’”
While these two were yet speaking, the chief called a halt, and, after a brief consultation35 with some of his braves, ordered the band to encamp for the night.
Soon the camp fires were lighted under the spreading trees, and their bright blaze and myriad36 sparks converted the gloomy forest into a brilliant banqueting hall, in which, unlike civilised halls, the decorations were fresh and natural, and the atmosphere was pure.
There were at least six camp-fires, each with its circle of grave red warriors37, its roasting steaks and its bubbling kettle, in which latter was boiled a rich mixture of dried meat and flour. Some of the Indians stood conversing in low tones, their faces ruddy with the brilliant blaze and their backs as black as the surrounding background. Others lay at length on the ground or squatted38 thereon, placidly39 smoking their calumets, or the little iron pipes which formed part of the heads of their tomahawks, or tending the steaks and kettles. To an observer outside the circle of light the whole scene was intensely vivid and picturesque40, for the groups, being at different distances, were varied41 in size, and the intense light that shone on those nearest the fires shed a softer glow on those who were more distant, while on the few Indians who moved about in search of firewood it cast a pale light which barely sufficed to distinguish them from surrounding darkness.
Paul Bevan and his friends occupied a fire by themselves, the only native who stood beside them being Unaco. It is probable that the savage22 chief constituted himself their guard in order to make quite sure of them, for the escape of Stalker weighed heavily on his mind. To secure this end more effectively, and at the same time enable the captives to feed themselves, the right arm of each was freed, while the left was tied firmly to his body. Of course, Betty and Tom Brixton were left altogether unbound.
“I feel uncommon42 lopsided goin’ about in this one-armed fashion,” remarked Paul, as he turned the stick on which his supper was roasting. “Couldn’t ye make up yer mind to trust us, Unaco? I’d promise for myself an’ friends that we wouldn’t attempt to cut away like that big thief Stalker.”
The chief, who sat a little apart near the farther end of the blazing pile of logs, smoking his pipe in motionless gravity, took not the slightest notice.
“Arrah! howld yer tongue, Paul,” said Flinders, who made so much use of his one arm, in stirring the kettle, turning a roasting venison rib28, and arranging the fire, that it seemed as if he were in full possession of two; “why d’ye disturb his majesty43? Don’t ye see that he’s meditatin’, or suthin’ o’ that sort—maybe about his forefathers44?”
“Well, well, I hope his after mothers won’t have many sulky ones like him,” returned Paul, rather crossly. “It’s quite impossible to cut up a steak wi’ one hand, so here goes i’ the next best fashion.”
He took up the steak in his fingers, and was about to tear off a mouthful with his teeth, when Betty came to the rescue.
“Stay, father; I’ll cut it into little bits for you if Unaco will kindly45 lend me his scalping-knife.”
Without a word or look the chief quietly drew the glittering weapon from its sheath and handed it to Betty, who at once, using a piece of sharpened stick as a fork, cut her father’s portion into manageable lumps.
“That’s not a bad notion,” said Fred. “Perhaps you’ll do the same for me, Betty.”
“With pleasure, Mr Westly.”
“Ah, now, av it wouldn’t be axin’ too much, might I make so bowld—”
Flinders did not finish the sentence, but laid his pewter plate before the Rose of Oregon with a significant smile.
“I’m glad to be so unexpectedly useful,” said Betty, with a laugh.
When she had thus aided her half-helpless companions, Betty returned the knife to its owner, who received it with a dignified46 inclination47 of the head. She then filled a mug with soup, and went to Tom, who lay on a deerskin robe, gazing at her in rapt admiration48, and wondering when he was going to awake out of this most singular dream, for, in his weak condition, he had taken to disbelieving all that he saw.
“And yet it can’t well be a dream,” he murmured, with a faint smile, as the girl knelt by his side, “for I never dreamed anything half so real. What is this—soup?”
“Yes; try to take a little. It will do you good, with God’s blessing49.”
“Ah, yes, with God’s blessing,” repeated the poor youth, earnestly. “You know what that means, Betty, and—and—I think I am beginning to understand it.”
Betty made no reply, but a feeling of profound gladness crept into her heart.
When she returned to the side of her father she found that he had finished supper, and was just beginning to use his pipe.
“When are you going to tell me, Paul, about the—the—subject we were talking of on our way here?” asked Fred, who was still devoting much of his attention to a deer’s rib.
“I’ll tell ye now,” answered Paul, with a short glance at the Indian chief, who still sat, profoundly grave, in the dreamland of smoke. “There’s no time like after supper for a good pipe an’ a good story—not that what I’m goin’ to tell ye is much of a story either, but it’s true, if that adds vally to it, an’ it’ll be short. It’s about a brave young Indian I once had the luck to meet with. His name was Oswego.”
At the sound of the name Unaco cast a sharp glance at Bevan. It was so swift that no one present observed it save Bevan himself, who had expected it. But Paul pretended not to notice it, and turning himself rather more towards Fred, addressed himself pointedly50 to him.
“This young Indian,” said Paul, “was a fine specimen51 of his race, tall and well made, with a handsome countenance, in which truth was as plain as the sun in the summer sky. I was out after grizzly52 b’ars at the time, but hadn’t had much luck, an’ was comin’ back to camp one evenin’ in somethin’ of a sulky humour, when I fell upon a trail which I knowed was the trail of a Redskin. The Redskins was friendly at that time wi’ the whites, and as I was out alone, an’ am somethin’ of a sociable53 critter, I thought I’d follow him up an’ take him to my camp wi’ me, if he was willin’, an’ give him some grub an’ baccy. Well, I hadn’t gone far when I came to a precipiece. The trail followed the edge of it for some distance, an’ I went along all right till I come to a bit where the trail seemed to go right over it. My heart gave a jump, for I seed at a glance that a bit o’ the cliff had given way there, an’ as there was no sign o’ the trail farther on, of course I knowed that the Injin, whoever he was, must have gone down with it.
“I tried to look over, but it was too steep an’ dangerous, so I sought for a place where I could clamber down. Sure enough, when I reached the bottom, there lay the poor Redskin. I thought he was dead, for he’d tumbled from a most awful height, but a tree had broke his fall to some extent, and when I went up to him I saw by his eyes that he was alive, though he could neither speak nor move.
“I soon found that the poor lad was damaged past recovery; so, after tryin’ in vain to get him to speak to me, I took him in my arms as tenderly as I could and carried him to my camp. It was five miles off, and the road was rough, and although neither groan54 nor complaint escaped him, I knew that poor Oswego suffered much by the great drops o’ perspiration55 that rolled from his brow; so, you see, I had to carry him carefully. When I’d gone about four miles I met a small Injin boy who said he was Oswego’s brother, had seen him fall, an’, not bein’ able to lift him, had gone to seek for help, but had failed to find it.
“That night I nursed the lad as I best could, gave him some warm tea, and did my best to arrange him comfortably. The poor fellow tried to speak his gratitude56, but couldn’t; yet I could see it in his looks. He died next day, and I buried him under a pine-tree. The poor heart-broken little brother said he knew the way back to the wigwams of his tribe, so I gave him the most of the provisions I had, told him my name, and sent him away.”
At this point in the story Unaco rose abruptly, and said to Bevan—
“The white man will follow me.”
Paul rose, and the chief led him into the forest a short way, when he turned abruptly, and, with signs of emotion unusual in an Indian, said—
“Your name is Paul Bevan?”
“It is.”
“I am the father of Oswego,” said the chief, grasping Paul by the hand and shaking it vigorously in the white man’s fashion.
“I know it, Unaco, and I know you by report, though we’ve never met before, and I told that story in your ear to convince ye that my tongue is not ‘forked.’”
When Paul Bevan returned to the camp fire, soon afterwards, he came alone, and both his arms were free. In a few seconds he had the satisfaction of undoing57 the bonds of his companions, and relating to them the brief but interesting conversation which had just passed between him and the Indian chief.
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1
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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botanist
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| n.植物学家 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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vented
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| 表达，发泄（感情，尤指愤怒）( vent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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humbled
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| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
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baboon
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| n.狒狒 | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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untie
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| vt.解开，松开；解放 | |
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thongs
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| 的东西 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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collapsing
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| 压扁[平]，毁坏，断裂 | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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discomfited
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| v.使为难( discomfit的过去式和过去分词)；使狼狈；使挫折；挫败 | |
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forfeited
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| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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deigning
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的现在分词 ) | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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rib
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| n.肋骨，肋状物 | |
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secondly
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| adv.第二，其次 | |
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conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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rascally
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| adj. 无赖的，恶棍的 adv. 无赖地，卑鄙地 | |
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forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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43
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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forefathers
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| n.祖先，先人；祖先，祖宗( forefather的名词复数 )；列祖列宗；前人 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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47
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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48
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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49
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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50
pointedly
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| adv.尖地，明显地 | |
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51
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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52
grizzly
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| adj.略为灰色的，呈灰色的；n.灰色大熊 | |
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53
sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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54
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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55
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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56
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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57
undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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