Book: The Lost Trail

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THE LOST TRAIL

BY EDWARD S. ELLIS

AUTHOR OF "SETH JONES," "THE FOREST SPY," ETC., ETC.

1911






[Illustration: "THAT INDIAN HAS CARRIED CORA AWAY!"--_Frontispiece_.]




CONTENTS.

CHAPTER

I. The Shadow
II. The Adventures of a Night
III. The Jug Acquaintances
IV. An Ominous Rencounter
V. Gone
VI. The Lost Trail
VII. A Hibernian's Search for the Trail
VIII. The Trail of Death
IX. The Dead Shot
X. Conclusion




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

He held his long rifle in his right hand, while he drew the shrubbery
apart with his left, and looked forth at the canoe.

"A purty question, ye murtherin haythen!"

"Where does yees get the jug?"

Dealt the savage a tremendous blow

"Well, At-to-uck," said he, kindly, "you seem troubled."

The trail was lost!

"And so, Teddy, ye're sayin' it war a white man that took away the
missionary's wife."

"It's all up!" muttered the dying man. "I am wiped out at last, and
must go under!"

"Harvey Richter--don't you know me?" he gasped.




THE LOST TRAIL.





CHAPTER I.


THE SHADOW.

Ye who love the haunts of nature,
Love the sunshine of the meadow,
Love the shadow of the forest,
Love the wind among the branches,
And the rain-shower and the snow-storm,
And the rushing of great rivers.
Listen to these wild traditions.--HIAWATHA.


One day in the spring of 1820, a singular occurrence took place on one
of the upper tributaries of the Mississippi.

The bank, some fifteen or twenty feet in height, descended quite
abruptly to the stream's edge. Though both shores were lined with
dense forest, this particular portion possessed only several sparse
clumps of shrubbery, which seemed like a breathing-space in this sea
of verdure--a gate in the magnificent bulwark with which nature girts
her streams. This green area commanded a view of several miles, both
up and down stream.

Had a person been observing this open spot on the afternoon of the day
in question, he would have seen a large bowlder suddenly roll from the
top of the bank to bound along down the green declivity and fall into
the water with a loud splash. This in itself was nothing remarkable,
as such things are of frequent occurrence in the great order of
things, and the tooth of time easily could have gnawed away the few
crumbs of earth that held the stone in poise.

Scarcely five minutes had elapsed, however, when a second bowlder
rolled downward in a manner precisely similar to its predecessor, and
tumbled into the water with a rush that resounded across and across
from the forest on either bank.

Even this might have occurred in the usual course of things. Stranger
events take place every day. The loosening of the first stone could
have opened the way for the second, although a suspicious observer
might naturally have asked why its fall did not follow more
immediately.

But, when precisely the same interval had elapsed, and a third stone
followed in the track of the others, there could be no question but
what human agency was concerned in the matter. It certainly appeared
as if there were some _intent_ in all this. In this remote wilderness,
no white man or Indian would find the time or inclination for such
child's play, unless there was a definite object to be accomplished.

And yet, scrutinized from the opposite bank, the lynx-eye of a veteran
pioneer would have detected no other sign of the presence of a human
being than the occurrences that we have already narrated; but the most
inexperienced person would have decided at once upon the hiding-place
of him who had given the moving impulse to the bodies.

Just at the summit of the bank was a mass of shrubbery of sufficient
extent and density to conceal a dozen warriors. And within this,
beyond doubt, was one person, at least, concealed; and it was certain,
too, that from his hiding-place, he was peering out upon the river.
Each bowlder had emerged from this shrubbery, and had not passed
through it in its downward course; so that their starting-point may
now be considered a settled question.

Supposing one to have gazed from this stand-point, what would have
been his field of vision? A long stretch of river--a vast, almost
interminable extent of forest--a faint, far-off glimpse of a mountain
peak projected like a thin cloud against the blue sky, and a solitary
eagle that, miles above, was bathing his plumage in the clear
atmosphere. Naught else?

Close under the opposite shore, considerably lower down than the point
to which we first directed our attention, may be descried a dark
object. It is a small Indian canoe, in which are seated two white men
and a female, all of whom are attired in the garb of civilization. The
young man near the stern is of slight mold, clear blue eye, and a
prepossessing countenance. He holds a broad ashen paddle in his hand
with which to assist his companion, who maintains his proximity to the
shore for the purpose of overcoming more deftly the opposition of the
current. The second personage is a short but square-shouldered
Irishman, with massive breast, arms like the piston-rods of an engine,
and a broad, good-natured face. He is one of those beings who may be
aptly termed "machines," a patient, plodding, ox-like creature who
takes to the most irksome labor as a flail takes to the sheafs on the
threshing-floor. Work was his element, and nothing, it would seem,
could tire or overcome those indurated muscles and vice-like nerves.
The only appellation with which he was ever known to be honored was
that of "Teddy."

Near the center of the canoe, which was of goodly size and straight,
upon a bed of blankets, sat the wife of the young man in the stern. A
glance would have dissipated the slightest suspicion of her being
anything other than a willing voyager upon the river. There was the
kindling eye and glowing cheek, the eager look that flitted hither and
yon, and the buoyant feeling manifest in every movement, all of which
expressed more of enthusiasm than of willingness merely. Her constant
questions to her husband or Teddy, kept up a continual run of
conversation, which was now, for the first time, momentarily
interrupted by the occurrence to which we have alluded.

At the moment we introduce them the young man was holding his paddle
stationary and gazing off toward his right, where the splash in the
water denoted the fall of the third stone. His face wore an expression
of puzzled surprise, mingled with which was a look of displeasure, as
if he were "put out" at this manifestation. His eyes were fixed with a
keen, searching gaze upon the river-bank, expecting the appearance of
something more.

Teddy also was resting upon his paddle, and scrutinizing the point in
question; but he seemed little affected by what had taken place. His
face was as expressionless as one of the bowlders, save the
ever-present look of imperturbable good-humor.

The young woman seemed more absorbed than either of her companions, in
attempting to divine this mystery that had so suddenly come upon them.
More than once she raised her hand, as an admonition for Teddy to
preserve silence. Finally, however, his impatience got the better of
his obedience, and he broke the oppressive stillness.

"And what does ye make of it, Miss Cora, or Master Harvey?" he asked,
after a few moments, dipping his paddle at the same time in the water.
"Arrah, now, has either of ye saan anything more than the same
bowlders there?"

"No," answered the man, "but we may; keep a bright look-out, Teddy,
and let me know what you see."

The Irishman inclined his head to one side, and closed one eye as if
sighting an invisible gun. Suddenly he exclaimed, with a start:

"I see something now, _sure_ as a Bally-ma-gorrah wake."

"What is it?"

"The sun going down in the west, and tilling us we've no time to
shpare in fooling along here."

"Teddy, don't you remember day before yesterday when we came out of
the Mississippi into this stream, we observed something very similar
to this?"

"An' what if we did, zur? Does ye mane to say that a rock or two can't
git tired of layin' in bed for a thousand years and roll around like a
potaty in a garret whin the floor isn't stiddy?"

"It struck us as so remarkable that we both concluded it must have
been caused _purposely_ by some one."

"Me own opinion was, ye remember, that it was a lot of school-boys
that had run away from their master, and were indulging themselves in
a little shport, or that it was the bears at a shindy, or that it was
something else."

"Ah! Teddy, there are times when jesting is out of place," said the
young wife, reproachfully; "and it seems to me that when we are alone
in this vast wilderness, with many and many a long mile between us
and a white settlement, we should be grave and thoughtful."

"I strives to be so, Miss Cora, but it's harder than paddling this
cockle-shell of a canoe up-shtream. My tongue will wag jist as a dog's
tail when he can't kape it still."

The face of the Irishman wore such a long, woebegone expression, that
it brought a smile to the face of his companion. Teddy saw this, and
his big, honest blue eyes twinkled with humor as he glanced upward
from beneath his hat.

"I knows yees _prays_ for me, Misther Harvey and Miss Cora, ivery
night and morning of your blessed life, but I'm afeard your prayers
will do as little good for Teddy as the s'arch-warrant did for Micky,
the praist's boy, who stole the praist's shirt and give it away
because it was lou--"

"_Look!_"

From the very center of the clump of bushes of which we have made
mention, came a white puff of smoke, followed immediately by the faint
but sharp report of a rifle. The bullet's course could be seen as it
skipped over the surface of the water, and finally dropped out of
sight.

"What do you say, now?" asked the young man. "Isn't that proof that
we've attracted attention?"

"So it saams; but, little dread need we have of disturbance if they
always kaap at such a respictable distance as that. Whisht, now! but
don't ye saa those same bushes moving? There's some one passing
through them! Mebbe it's a shadow, mebbe it's the divil himself. If
so, here goes after the imp!"

Catching up his rifle, Teddy discharged it toward the bank, although
it was absolutely impossible for his bullet to do more than reach the
shore.

"That's to show the old gintleman we are ready and ain't frightened,
be he the divil himself, or only a few of his children, that ye call
the poor Injuns!"

"And whoever it is, he is evidently as little frightened as you; that
shot was a direct challenge to us."

"And it's accepted. Hooray! Now for some Limerick exercise!"

Ere he could be prevented, the Irishman had headed his canoe across
stream, and was paddling with all his might toward the spot from which
the first shot had been fired.

"Stop!" commanded his master. "It is fool-hardiness, on a par with
your general conduct, thus to run into an undefined danger."

Teddy reluctantly changed the course of the boat and said nothing,
although his face plainly indicated his disappointment. He had not
been mistaken, however, in the supposition that he detected the
movements of some person in the shrubbery. Directly after the shot had
been fired, the bushes were agitated, and a gaunt, grim-visaged man,
in a half-hunter and half-civilized dress, moved a few feet to the
right, in a manner which showed that he was indifferent as to whether
or not he was observed. He looked forth as if to ascertain the result
of his fire. The man was very tall, with a face by no means
unhandsome, although it was disfigured by a settled scowl, which
better befitted a savage enemy than a white friend. He held his long
rifle in his right hand, while he drew the shrubbery apart with his
left, and looked forth at the canoe.

[Illustration: He held his long rifle in his right hand, while he drew
the shrubbery apart with his left, and looked forth at the canoe.]

"I knew the distance was too great," he muttered, "but you will hear
of me again, Harvey Richter. I've had a dozen chances to pick you off
since you and your friends started up-stream, but I don't wish to do
_that_. No, no, not that. Fire away; but you can do me no more harm
than I can you, at this moment."

Allowing the bushes to resume their wonted position, the stranger
deliberately reloaded his piece and as deliberately walked away in the
wood.

In the meantime, the voyagers resumed their journey and were making
quite rapid progress up-stream. The sun was already low in the sky,
and it was not long before darkness began to envelop wood and stream.
At a sign from the young man, the Irishman headed the canoe toward
shore. In a few moments they landed, where, if possible, the wood was
more dense than usual. Although quite late in the spring, the night
was chilly, and they lost no time in kindling a good fire.

The travelers appeared to act upon the presumption that there were no
such things as enemies in this solitude. Every night they had run
their boat in to shore, started a fire, and slept soundly by it until
morning, and thus far, strange as it may seem, they had suffered no
molestation and had seen no signs of ill-will, if we except the
occurrences already related. Through the day, the stalwart arms of
Teddy, with occasional assistance from the more delicate yet firm
muscles of Harvey, had plied the paddle. No attempt at concealment
was made. On several occasions they had landed at the invitation of
Indians, and, after smoking, and presenting them with a few trinkets,
had departed again, in peace and good-will.

Not to delay information upon an important point, we may state that
Harvey Richter was a young minister who had recently been appointed
missionary to the Indians. The official members of his denomination,
while movements were on foot concerning the spiritual welfare of the
heathen in other parts of the world, became convinced that the red-men
of the American wilds were neglected, and conceding fully the force of
the inference drawn thence, young men were induced to offer themselves
as laborers in the savage American vineyard. Great latitude was
granted in their choice of ground--being allowed an area of thousands
upon thousands of square miles over which the red-man roamed in his
pristine barbarism. The vineyard was truly vast and the laborers few.

While his friends selected stations comparatively but a short distance
from the bounds of civilization, Harvey Richter decided to go to the
Far Northwest. Away up among the grand old mountains and majestic
solitudes, hugging the rills and streams which roll eastward to feed
the great continental artery called the Mississippi, he believed lay
his true sphere of duty. Could the precious seed be deposited there,
if even in a single spot, he was sure its growth would be rapid and
certain, and, like the little rills, it might at length become the
great, steadily-flowing source of light and life.

Harvey Richter had read and studied much regarding the American
aborigines. To choose one of the wildest, most untamed tribes for his
pupils, was in perfect keeping with his convictions and his character
for courage. Hence he selected the present hunting-grounds of the
Sioux, in upper Minnesota. Shortly before he started he was married to
Cora Brandon, whose devotion to her great Master and to her husband
would have carried her through any earthly tribulations. Although she
had not urged the resolution which the young minister had taken, yet
she gladly gave up a luxurious home and kind friends to bear him
company.

There was yet another whose devotion to the young missionary was
scarcely less than that of the faithful wife. We refer to the
Irishman, Teddy, who had been a favorite servant for many years in
the family of the Richters. Having fully determined on sharing the
fortunes of his young master, it would have grieved his heart very
deeply had he been left behind. He received the announcement that he
was to be a life-long companion of the young man, with an expression
at once significant of his pride and his joy.

"Be jabers, but Teddy McFadden is in luck!"

And thus it happened that our three friends were ascending one of the
tributaries of the upper Mississippi on this balmy day in the spring
of 1820. They had been a long time on the journey, but were now
nearing its termination. They had learned from the Indians daily
encountered, the precise location of the large village, in or near
which they had decided to make their home for many and many a year to
come.

After landing, and before starting his fire, Teddy pulled the canoe up
on the bank. It was used as a sort of shelter by their gentler
companion, while he and his master slept outside, in close proximity
to the camp-fire. They possessed a plentiful supply of game at all
times, for this was the Paradise of hunters, and they always landed
and shot what was needed.

"We must be getting well up to the northward," remarked the young
man, as he warmed his hands before the fire. "Don't you notice any
difference in the atmosphere, Cora?"

"Yes; there is a very perceptible change."

"If this illigant fire only keeps up, I'm thinking there'll be a
considerable difference afore long. The ways yees be twisting and
doubling them hands, as if ye had hold of some delightsome soap,
spaaks that yees have already discovered a difference. It is better
nor whisky, fire is, in the long run, providin' you don't swaller
it--the fire, that is."

"Even if swallowed, Teddy, fire is better than whisky, for fire burns
only the body, while whisky burns the soul," answered the minister.

"Arrah, that it does; for I well remimbers the last swig I took a'most
burnt a hole in me shirt, over the bosom, and they say that is where
the soul is located."

"Ah, Teddy, you are a sad sinner, I fear," laughingly observed Mrs.
Richter, at this extravagant allusion.

"A _sad_ sinner! Divil a bit of it. I haven't saan the day for twinty
year whin I couldn't dance at me grandmother's wake, or couldn't use a
shillalah at me father's fourteenth weddin'. Teddy _sad_? Well, that
is a--is a--a mistake," and the injured fellow further expressed his
feelings by piling on the fuel until he had a fire large enough to
have roasted a battalion of prize beeves, had they been spitted before
it.

Darkness at length fairly settled upon the wood and stream; the gloom
around became deep and impressive. The inevitable haunch of venison
was roasting before the roaring fire, Teddy watching and attending it
with all the skill of an experienced cook. While thus engaged, the
missionary and his wife were occupied in tracing the course of the
Mississippi and its tributaries upon a pocket map, which was the chief
guide in that wilderness of streams and "tributaries." Who could deny
the vastness of the field, and the loud call for laborers, when such
an immense extent then bore only the name of "Unexplored Region!" And
yet, this same headwater territory was teeming with human beings, as
rude and uncultivated as the South Sea Islanders. What were the
feelings of the faithful couple as their eyes wandered to the left of
the map, where these huge letters confronted them, we can only
surmise. That they felt that ten thousand self-sacrificing men could
be employed in this portion of the country we may well imagine.

As the evening meal was not yet ready, the missionary folded the map
and fell to musing--musing of the future he had marked out for
himself; enjoying the sweet approval of his conscience, higher and
purer than any enjoyment of earth. All at once came back the
occurrence of the afternoon, which had been absent from his thoughts
for the hour past. But, now that it was recalled, it engaged his mind
with redoubled force.

Could he be assured that it was a red-man who had fired the shot, the
most unpleasant apprehension would be dissipated; but a suspicion
_would_ haunt him, in spite of himself, that it was not a red-man, but
a white, who had thus signified his hostility. The rolling of the
stones must have been simply to call his attention, and the rifle-shot
was intended for nothing more than to signify that he was an enemy.

And who could this enemy be? If a hunter or an adventurer, would he
not naturally have looked upon any of his own race, whom he
encountered in the wilderness, as his friends, and have hastened to
welcome them? What could have been more desirable than to unite with
them in a country where whites were so scarce, and almost unknown?
Was it not contrary to all reason to suppose that a hermit or
misanthrope would have penetrated thus far to avoid his brother man,
and would have broken his own solitude by thus betraying his presence?

Such and similar were the questions Harvey Richter asked himself again
and again, and to all he was able to return an answer. He had decided
who this strange being might possibly be. If it was the person
suspected, it was one whom he had met more frequently than he wished,
and he prayed that he might never encounter him again in this world.
The certainty that the man had dogged him to this remote spot in the
West; that he had patiently plodded after the travelers for many a day
and night; that even the trackless river had not sufficed to place
distance between them; that, undoubtedly, like some wild beast in his
lair, he had watched Richter and his companions as they sat or
slumbered near their camp-fire--these, we may well surmise, served to
render the missionary for the moment excessively uncomfortable, and to
dull the roseate hues in which he had drawn the future.

The termination of this train of thought was the sudden suspicion that
this very being was at that moment in close proximity. Unconsciously,
Harvey rose to the sitting position and looked around, half expecting
to descry the too well remembered figure.

"Supper is waiting, and so is our appetites, be the same token in your
stomachs that is in mine. How bees it with yourself, Mistress Cora?"

The young wife had risen to her feet, and the husband was in the act
of doing the same, when the sharp crack of a rifle broke the
stillness, and Harvey plainly heard and felt the whiz of the bullet as
it passed before his eyes.

"To the devil wid yer nonsense!" shouted Teddy, furiously springing
forward, and glaring around him in search of the author of the
well-nigh fatal shot. Deciding upon the quarter whence it came, he
seized his ever-ready rifle, which he had learned to manage with much
skill, dashed off at the top of his speed, not heeding the commands of
his master, nor the appeals of Mrs. Richter to return.

Guided only by his blind rage, it happened, in this instance, that the
Irishman proceeded directly toward the spot where the hunter had
concealed himself, and came so very near that the latter was compelled
to rise to his feet to escape being trampled upon. Teddy caught the
outlines of a tall form tearing hurriedly through the wood, as if in
terror of being caught, and he bent all his energies toward overtaking
him. The gloom of the night, that had now fairly descended, and the
peculiar topography of the ground, made it an exceedingly difficult
matter for both to keep their feet. The fugitive, catching in some
obstruction, was thrown flat upon his face, but quickly recovered
himself. Teddy, with a shout of exultation, sprung forward, confident
that he had secured their persecutor at last, but the Irishman was
caught by the same obstacle and "floored" even more completely than
his enemy.

"Bad luck to it!" he exclaimed, frantically scrambling to his feet,
"but it has knocked me deaf and dumb. I'll have ye, owld haythen, yit,
or me name isn't Teddy McFadden, from Limerick downs."

Teddy's fall had given the fugitive quite an advantage, and as he was
fully as fleet of foot as the Irishman, the latter was unable to
regain his lost ground. Still, it wasn't in his nature to give in, and
he dashed forward as determinedly as ever. To his unutterable chagrin,
however, it was not long before he realized that the footsteps of his
enemy were gradually becoming more distant. His rage grew with his
adversary's gradual escape, and he would have pursued had he been
certain of rushing into destruction itself. All at once he made a
second fall, and, instead of recovering, went headlong down into a
gully, fully a dozen feet in depth.

Teddy, stunned by his heavy fall, lay insensible for some fifteen or
twenty minutes. He returned to consciousness with a ringing sensation
in his ears, and it was some time before he could recall all the
circumstances of his predicament. Gradually the facts dawned upon him,
and he listened. Everything was oppressively still. He heard not the
voice of his master, and not even the sound of any of the denizens of
the wood.

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