Читать книгу The Red Ranger - H. A. Cody - Страница 13

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The boom of a ship's cannon shattered the air of the clear August afternoon. It echoed over the few patches of cultivated ground and reverberated among the reaches of the great dark forest. It brought panic to several feeding crows, and startled a gray hawk perched upon a branch of a towering pine tree. It sounded to the left down across water and lowlands, causing flocks of wild ducks to rise on rapid wing from reeds and rushes.

Marie Françis heard it, and with a low moan she clasped her babe to her breast and pressed its soft cheek against her own, wet with tears. She had remained calm and self-possessed until now. Even when she had bade her husband farewell she had borne up bravely for his sake. And during the voyage up the Jemseg, across the portage to the main river, and then over another carrying-place to the water beyond, she had shown no outward sign of emotion. But when that ominous cannon boom reached her ears, she could restrain herself no longer. She knew full well its meaning. It was the prelude of death and destruction, the opening note in the carnage which must inevitably follow. Neither was it long delayed. The fight was now on in earnest Marie was well aware. Lifting her head she listened with strained attention. Her face was pale, and her body trembled. She thought of her husband defending the fort against such overwhelming odds. She longed to be with him, and but for the babe she would never have left his side.

And as she listened, the fort guns suddenly ceased, and she knew that the worst had come. A while longer the ship's guns roared, and then were silent. Their work was done, and the fort in the wilderness was nothing but a mass of broken and twisted logs. Marie did not need words to tell her this. She surmised it only too truly. And what of her husband! Again she bowed her head to the child asleep in her arms.

Lucille, crouched at her feet in the bottom of the canoe, looked up into Marie's face. In her eyes was an expression of fear and sympathy. She remembered what havoc the Flying Horse had wrought at Isle au Garce, and her own narrow escape. And but for the Red Ranger she would have been carried off by those cruel raiders. Several times she had glanced at Paul as he sat astern. But he had not seemed to notice her, so intent was he upon his work. How grand and noble he looked to her. And this was the man her father and others so greatly feared. She had heard them talk about him, and from what they said she had considered the Red Ranger a most terrible person, gliding stealthily along forest trails, and over rivers and lakes bent upon destruction and revenge. Jean had told her what a dangerous man he was, and she had never doubted his word.

But Paul did not seem terrible to her now as his body moved at each paddle thrust in rhythm with the swaying Indians before him. His eyes were not fierce, and his face had a pleasing expression. Perhaps her father and Jean had been mistaken. She hoped so, anyway, and she wished that he would look at her.

Although Paul did not seem to take any notice of Lucille, he saw more than she imagined. He did not miss a single movement of her body, nor the shy glances she gave him. But she belonged to Jean, and to him she had given her heart, so why should he think about her any more? This was not easy, however, as she had been so much in his mind for months past. And now that she was near, but a few feet away, he had a great desire to look upon her, to feast his eyes upon her face and form. The image he had enshrined in his heart was now a breathing reality. Yet it was necessary for him to assume the indifferent and stoical manner of the natives. She belonged to another, so he was nothing to her. When he was through with this business he would hurry away and forget her, so he decided, as he pointed the canoe towards the narrow creek on the western shore.

Little had been said since leaving the fort. Marie was too much overcome with despair for words. Lucille, naturally bright and talkative, was awed into silence by her companion's grief. As for Paul and the Indians, speech was unnecessary. Theirs was the spirit of the wild, an instinct which prompted and directed them more unerringly than the spoken word.

It was Louise Elizabeth who broke the spell as she at length opened her eyes, looked up into her mother's face and smiled. This wee maiden had no fear of cruel raiders. The dangers of the wilderness held no terror for her. Wherever her mother was that was her home, her fortress, and her kingdom. She gave a gurgle of delight, and kicked her feet in the exuberance of her joy. The mother smiled through her tears, and Lucille clapped her hands with pleasure.

"What a darling!" she exclaimed. "May I hold her, Madame? She won't be afraid of me."

"You may, but be very careful of her."

"I will, Madame. I love babies, but I never held a white one before—only Indian babies, and they are so dirty."

Paul's heart quickened as he saw Lucille take the little one in her arms. It was a beautiful scene to him, especially the girl's flushed face as she gazed tenderly upon the babe. He had often seen Indian mothers fondle their papooses, but his heart had never been stirred as now. It was the girl who made all the difference.

A slight exclamation from Kondo aroused him. The Indian had ceased paddling and was looking down the narrow channel which led to the main river below. As Paul turned, a dark speck and the gleam of a paddle blade away in the distance met his eyes. At once the caution and suspicion of the wild swept upon him. Forgotten was the beautiful scene before him. Something was there on the water unknown to him, and that spelled danger.

"It must be the raiders, Kondo."

"Ah, ah. Big canoe."

"Big canoe," echoed Matta.

Paul stared a few minutes and an angry light appeared in his eyes.

"They must be after us. Some one is guiding them who knows the river well. We must make for the lake where we can watch them."

"Ah, ah. Good." Kondo agreed.

"Ah, ah. Good," Matta repeated.

Once more the canoe sped forward, through the narrow inlet and into the lake beyond. Instead, however, of making for the log cabin on the island ahead, Paul steered to the right towards an opening which could be dimly seen. The other canoes followed, the occupants greatly puzzled as to the meaning of this strange course. Several times Paul looked back, but when they at length passed through the opening into the upper lake and were securely hidden from view on the northern side, an expression of satisfaction appeared in his eyes. He looked at Madame de Soulanges, and smiled.

"We have escaped them so far, and are safe for a while," he informed her. "But if they follow us here we shall have to cross to the main river farther up. Do not be afraid, for they cannot catch us. You all remain here while the Indians and I keep watch."

"You are very good," Marie replied. "I know you will save us. But why are the raiders following us?"

"I cannot say, Madame. But I would like to know who is their guide, and I hope to find out."

"When?"

"To-night, most likely. I do not believe they will follow us up in the lake by day. They are too cowardly for that. They will wait for darkness and try to surprise us then."

"But why should they wish to capture us?"

"Raiders are never satisfied. Why did they destroy LeNoir's post and then attack Fort Jemseg? What was there to gain? Nothing much. It was revenge, and that will drive men far. But they won't harm you and the baby, Madame. Something may happen to them."

Paul said no more, but in this strong calm man Marie felt a great confidence. And so did Lucille. He was now a hero in her eyes, and she felt a thrill of pleasure whenever she looked at him.

While the others, twelve in all, went ashore, Paul and his two Indians kept watch upon the narrow opening to the lake beyond. Quietness reigned around them. Gradually the afternoon wore on to evening. Then when darkness had enshrouded the land, Paul and the Indians entered their canoe and sped silently southward. They were again the sleuth-hounds of the wild, cautious and terrible. Like weird spectres they glided along close to the shore through the deep shadows of the over-arching trees. Not a word was spoken, and their paddle blades caressed the water like softest down.

Reaching at length the narrow opening, they ran their canoe ashore, and Paul stepped out. Silently he threaded his way among the trees until he came near the shore on the opposite side of the long narrow point of land. Here he paused and listened. Hearing nothing, he dropped upon his hands and knees and crept forward to the very edge of the thick bushes. The dull leaden river spread out before him, but no sign of life could he see or hear. A soft gentle breeze drifting in from the west ruffled the surface of the water, the leaves, and the rushes around him. Here he waited, wondering if he had been mistaken. Perhaps the boat they had seen that afternoon had not been pursuing them, after all. Some of the raiders might have been on an exploration trip, and had long since gone back to the frigate. This idea annoyed him, for what would Madame and the others think of his blunder? Nevertheless, he could not rid himself of the idea that he had not been mistaken. Something had warned him of danger. It was like a sixth sense, common to the creatures of the forest. It had never failed him in the past, and he believed that it had not deceived him now. Anyway, he would wait a while longer, and if nothing happened he would go down to the fort and find out what was taking place there. Madame would like to know, he was certain.

For some time he remained in a watchful and listening attitude. At length a sound down river arrested his attention. It was very faint at first, but gradually became louder. He knew its meaning. A boat was coming towards him. He had not been mistaken, after all. The raiders were coming under cover of night for some special purpose. At this thought his body became tense and alert like some wild animal ready to spring.

The sound of oars in their row-locks was more distinct now, and ere long he could see the dim form of a boat but a short distance away. As it reached the opening into the lake, the rowing ceased, and low voices could be heard. What they said he could not at first distinguish until the boat had drifted nearer before the wind. Two only were talking, and he at once knew who they were, Jean LeJeune and Pete LeVine. Paul was only able to catch part of their conversation, but it was all he needed. And what he heard filled his heart with a burning rage. They had come to capture him and carry off Lucille. LeJeune wanted the girl. Their words were sharp, and they seemed on the verge of a quarrel. Pete was evidently not pleased with this night venture, and said so.

"Let's get through with this fool business at once. I'm sleepy, and so are the Dutchmen. They were up all last night and are not in a pleasant mood."

"We'll have to wait a while yet," Jean replied. "It's not late enough. We can't take any chance when the Red Ranger is around."

"So you expect to get him?"

"I do, dead or alive. The posts are now destroyed, and with that devil out of the way we'll have the full Indian trade to ourselves. I can manage the other rangers, all right. They are like sheep and will follow a leader any time."

"And you hope to get the girl in the bargain?"

"I certainly do. Old LeNoir thinks I'm going to marry her. But what do I want with a wife always tagging after me. No, I just want her for a while, and then she can go to the devil, for all I care. That's what women are for, anyway."

"But suppose you don't get her, Jean? Something might happen before you can lay your hands upon her. One can never be sure of anything when the Red Ranger is around."

"Oh, I can arrange that, all right. We'll let the Dutchmen go first. It's lucky they don't understand what we're saying. They think it's booty we're after, and that they'll get a big haul. They're fighting demons, so while they're attending to the Red Ranger and his Indian devils I'll make love to the girl. She thinks a lot of me, and she'll be so pleased to have me save her from the raiders, ha, ha. Yes, I'll save her, for myself."

Paul had heard enough. He knew that Jean was a villain, but he had never suspected him of such contemptible treachery. So he was planning to get the Red Ranger and the girl. Well, there might be some hitch in his plot.

Without a sound he made his way back to the canoe. In a low whisper he explained to the Indians his plan. Intuitively their right hands touched the keen hatchets at their waists to be sure that they were there. Paul did likewise. Then when the canoe had left the shore, it was driven through the narrow opening towards the boat beyond. Like a catapult it bore down upon the raiders. As it swept by three hatchets cleaved the air, and three blows fell upon the bodies of three startled men. Yells of fear, shrieks of pain, and wild curses rent the night. A panic ensued, and the boat was in danger of being capsized. Several groped for their muskets, but their hands had barely touched the weapons when again that terror of the night shot by on the opposite side, and three more slashing blows fell, more deadly than the first. The Dutchmen did not lack courage, and they were hardened by years of danger and daring deeds, and fighting was their life. But this silent and mysterious attack was more than flesh and blood could endure. They imagined the whole river was full of revengeful demons, bent upon their destruction. The unknown wilderness surrounded them, and the tales they had heard about the cruel and bloody-thirsty Indians added fuel to their imagination. Those who were not wounded seized the oars and sent the boat reeling down stream. Jean LeJeune was no longer in command. He was huddled in the bottom of the craft bleeding and half paralyzed with fear and pain.

Close to the shore Paul and the Indians waited and listened until the last sound of the retreating boat had died in the distance. They then turned and paddled swiftly up across the lake. They had done their work well. They had struck swift and sure, and they were satisfied.