Читать книгу The Red Ranger - H. A. Cody - Страница 9

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For hours a long lean bark canoe had been speeding down river, driven by the strong arms of two Indians and a white man. The natives, swarthy and powerful, with great chests and shoulders, were stripped to the waist, for the day was hot. Their heads were bare, and their straight jet-black hair fell over their ears and necks. The white man seated astern, wore a thin gray shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up to the elbows. He was a young man, strong of limb and in keeping with his companions. His dark-bronze curly hair glinted beneath the glow of departing day. His sun-tanned face denoted determination, and his eyes were expressive of the daring fearlessness of a born leader. And so he was, for Paul Norvall had been trained in the stern wilderness school where weakness meant defeat, and cowardice brought contempt. Every movement of his lithe and finely-developed body betokened a restless energy, even in the prosaic task of paddling a canoe on a quiet summer evening. His body swaying to every paddle thrust was suggestive of great reserve strength. Given an opportunity, and all the possibilities of his one hundred and seventy-five pounds of flesh, bone and sinewy muscle would be aroused to magnificent action. He somewhat resembled a panther, ready to spring at the right moment.

His hips supported a stout moose-hide belt, attached to which were a sheathed hunting-knife, and a tinder-box. Within hand's reach lay his musket, powder-horn, and hatchet. Beneath these was his deer-skin jacket. On one of the sleeves exposed to view a small blood-red patch in the form of a heart could be plainly seen. All knew its meaning, and it was this more than the color of his hair that made Paul Norvall known and feared as the "Red Ranger" in trackless forest depths and on inland streams. The Indians also had their weapons near at hand. These, together with their ever-alert eyes, showed that they were prepared for greater game than birds and beasts.

There was something fascinating about these three rangers as with rhythmic strokes they drove the canoe steadily onward. Strength and confidence were stamped upon their every movement. The mystery of the vast wilderness was expressed in their alert bearing and watchful eyes, and the contrast between the young man seated astern and his dusky companions was most striking. Seldom they spoke and then only a few words in the deep guttural Indian tongue.

They had passed Point au Chenes, the Isle au Nois, and the Isle de Trent Sols was on their right when the northern heavens burst forth in such a magnificent and awe-inspiring display. Paul was looking over at Isle au Garce some distance ahead when exclamations from both Indians startled him. Then when he beheld the wonderful spectacle, he, too, stared in amazement.

"What does it mean?" he asked.

"Gara, gara," (war, war) Kondo, the Indian next to him replied.

"Ah, gara, gara," the other native, Matta, echoed.

"With the English?" Paul questioned.

"Maybe so."

Intuitively the three ceased paddling, rested their dripping blades upon the gunwale and allowed the canoe to drift. A feeling of awe came upon the naturally superstitious natives, and even Paul was unusually affected. For a moment their restless hearts were touched by a sense of a power stronger than themselves, mysterious and terrible. Natures such as theirs were not easily impressed by the beautiful world around them, nor the soft flower-scented air wafted across the water. Only by a startling manifestation such as they now beheld could their souls be stirred, not by any feeling of love and reverence, but by a superstitious dread of some impending disaster.

This feeling was only temporary, however, for when the flaming colors in the sky began to fade, the men again dipped their paddles silently into the water and continued on their noiseless way.

When opposite Isle au Garce they turned their canoe towards the shore and landed at a little inlet where a small brook flowed down from the hills. This was a good camping site, with plenty of fresh spring water. But Paul had another reason for stopping here. The memory of a girl he had seen for a few fleeting minutes months ago was still in his mind. So much had he dreamed of her as he moved from place to place or sat by his lonely camp fires that she had become a vital part of his life. To him she gradually assumed a being almost unearthly in surpassing beauty and nobleness. So now when at last near the object of his heart's affection, he was all impatient to look upon her face again. That he would see her he had no doubt. He took it as a matter of course that she would welcome him. That another had won her heart never once entered his mind. If love at times is blind and unreasonable, it was certainly so with Paul Norvall for the maiden of Isle au Garce.

It did not take the Indians long to prepare their simple meal. When it was over, Paul made ready for his visit to the island. He donned his buckskin jacket and slung a powder-horn over his shoulder. Carefully he brushed off some dirt that had fallen upon the blood-red heart on his sleeve. He had never allowed the color to fade, but had renewed it from time to time with the deep carmine dye which old Nadu, his forest mother, knew how to make. It was believed by the Indians and Frenchmen alike that the heart was the outward sign of the wearer's feelings. When he was excited or stirred to anger it glowed with a terrible light, so they said. But when Paul was calm it returned to its ordinary color. So as the Indians watched their leader this evening their eyes fell upon the heart and it looked exceptionally bright, so they imagined. They made no remarks, however, and their impassive faces showed no sign of what was in their minds.

Presently Kondo gave a startled exclamation, and pointed excitedly down river.

"See, see! A big canoe!"

"A big canoe!" Matta echoed.

Paul who was in the act of lifting his musket from the ground, straightened quickly up and followed with his eyes the direction of the pointed finger. For a few seconds the three gazed with undisguised wonder. Never before had they beheld such a large vessel upon the river. Was it a friend or a foe?

With the natural instinct of the wild the Indians stepped swiftly forward, seized the canoe, and dragged it well up among the trees. They were determined to be on the safe side no matter what the coming vessel might be.

Paul paid no attention to what his companions were doing, for his eyes were fixed upon those white sails away in the distance. His heart beat with high hope. Perhaps it was an English ship, a man of war! If so, how wonderful it would be. He had waited long, and for years he had dreamed of the time when the English would return, capture Fort Jemseg and recover Acadia. He glanced at the red badge upon his arm. Was his long patient waiting at last to be rewarded? When his father's death had been fully avenged, then, and only then would he be satisfied.

As the vessel drew nearer, he stepped back among the trees by the side of the watching Indians. His wilderness experience had taught him the lesson of caution. Where life is so precarious, and unknown dangers so imminent he had acquired the cunning and alertness common to the natives and the beasts of the forest. He was one of them in thought and manner of living, so far as it was possible for a white man, and a son of an English officer, to assimilate himself with the ways of the wild.

The vessel was close enough now for him to see its colors. He knew all the English and the French flags, but this one was entirely new to him. The Indians were also puzzled. They had never seen such a flag before, and, according to their nature, the unknown was to be feared and considered as an enemy.

Silently they watched, and when it seemed as if the vessel intended to keep steadily up the main channel, she swerved suddenly to the left, headed for the western shore and disappeared behind the lower end of the island. Then Paul and the Indians understood. The strange ship was a raider, and she had turned aside to capture the little trading post on the island. They had no doubt about it, for why should such a large ship come up the river unless it had evil designs?

Anxiously and watchfully they waited. Then when darkness deepened and the cannon roared its prelude of destruction, they launched their canoe, and with great strong strokes sped across the water. Something of an unusual nature was taking place on the other side of the island which they must not miss. Again the cannon sounded forth, and they could hear the crashing of timbers. They knew the meaning. The paddle bent beneath Paul's tremendous thrusts, for he was thinking of the maiden who was in danger. Had the crashing balls or the falling logs struck her? Would he be in time to rescue her? Reason forsook him as he thought of her peril, and he tossed caution to the wind with the wild recklessness of youth. Love, intense, passionate, burned in his heart. And mingled with this was a deadly hatred towards the unknown raiders who were demolishing the post.

As they drew near the shore on the eastern side of the island they ceased paddling and listened attentively. In a few minutes the sound of loud voices was heard accompanied by heavy blows, cursing and yelling. Feeling certain that the trader and his daughter were in great danger, Paul spoke to his companions. Their blades struck the water as one and in another minute the canoe touched the sandy beach in a sheltered little cove. With muskets in their hands, they glided among the trees. Not a sound did they make and they walked as unerringly as in broad daylight. Paul led, with the Indians close at his heels. They were only three, but whoever reckoned with them would have had to reckon with the hardest and most determined fighters in the whole country as many had learned to their sorrow.

When more than half way across the island, a light suddenly shimmered among the trees which caused them to stop dead in their tracks. In a few minutes the light increased, and they could hear the crackling of the fire as the flames of the burning building soared up into the night. Very carefully now they advanced for the light of the fire penetrated the forest and illumined its silent depths. From tree to tree they moved, shadowy figures alert and watchful. Not until they were in sight of the flame-enwrapped building did they again stop. Silent and motionless, they concealed themselves behind great trees and looked curiously upon the wild scene before them. When they saw the raiders, a strong desire filled their souls to creep around the edge of the forest shoot down as many as they could, and then spring upon the rest with their deadly knives and hatchets. The Indians were thirsting for the blood of those invaders, and their fingers toyed with the triggers of their muskets. But their innate caution restrained them. The strangers were too many. And, besides, they did not know who they were. This unknown quantity more than anything else, checked their wild impulse, and kept them carefully concealed.

And while they crouched there, Lucille stood suddenly before them. Her unexpected appearance was startling. Her flame-illumined form seemed unearthly, causing the Indians to quiver with superstitious fear. Paul, however, had no such feeling. The girl's tragic attitude made his heart beat fast, and his fingers to tighten upon his musket. She seemed terrified, and needed help. But what could he do? He longed to rush forward and assure her of his protection. But would that be advisable? He might frighten her all the more before he could explain who he was. She might spring away from him with a cry and thus attract the attention of the raiders from whom she had evidently escaped.

And as he waited he saw the girl turn swiftly and dash straight towards the place where he was standing. And behind her came a man in close pursuit. With the spring of a panther, Paul now bounded forward with the Indians following. Just as the raider with a laugh of triumph caught the girl in his arms Paul dealt him a terrific blow under the left jaw. With a groan, he fell to the ground like an ox under the butcher's axe. Instantly the Indians were upon him with their hatchets ready to strike. But a sharp command from Paul caused them to draw back. Their eyes gleamed, and their bodies quivered with passion. That they could be restrained by a word when the beast nature within them was aroused was a certain proof of the control their young leader had over them.

Paul knew that there was no time to lose, as the raiders were too near to delay. Ordering the Indians to leave the fallen man alone, he stooped, lifted Lucille in his arms and carried her through the forest as if she were a child. It was a joy such as he had never known to have saved the girl he loved, and to feel her body pressed so close to his heart. The distance to the little cove was all too short, and reluctantly he released his encircling arms as he placed her tenderly in the canoe. A great thrill of joy swept over him as the girl clung to him. Did she love him as he loved her? he asked himself. Then he heard her speaking, and he bent his head to catch her low whisper.

"I knew you would come, Jean. I was waiting for you."

Paul straightened suddenly up, and shrank back as from a blow. Lucille noticed this and a new fear came into her heart as she attempted to rise.

"You are Jean, are you not?"

"No! I am only Paul Norvall—a fool."

With a cry Lucille recoiled from him.

"The Red Ranger!" she gasped.

"Yes, the Red Ranger. But you need not fear. You are safe. Where do you want to go?"

"To Fort Jemseg. Warning must be given of the raiders."

Fort Jemseg! Paul was well aware what kind of a reception he would be likely to receive there. He was wanted, not as a friend, but as the deadliest enemy to the French along the river. Why should he endanger his life for the sake of this girl who had given herself to Jean LeJeune? And why should he give warning of the raiders? But he loved adventure and he loved Lucille, so in another minute his hesitation vanished, and his decision made. Yes, he would go to the fort, no matter what the outcome might be. He spoke to the Indians, and they received his words in silence. He then turned to the crouching girl.

"You wish to go to Fort Jemseg. To the fort you shall go. The Red Ranger may be a fool, but he is not a coward."