Back Aa

Wild Huntress

Close

<SPAN name="chap65"></SPAN> <h3>Chapter Sixty Five.</h3> <h4>A Sharp Shot.</h4> <p>Slender as appeared the prospect of my being freed from my fastenings, by the method proposed, I was not without some faith in Sure-shot being able to cut the thong. His skill in the use of the rifle was notorious even among good marksmen—and his aim believed to be unerring. I had known him to bring down with his bullet a bird upon the wing; and had heard him declare that it was not by the <i>eye</i> but by the <i>mind</i> that he did it. In other words: he meant, that his skill was not mechanical; but that he was guided in the act by some mental operation—which he himself but imperfectly understood. I could believe this the more readily—since Sure-shot was not the only marksman I had known possessed of this peculiar power. A something inexplicable, which may be classed with the mysterious phenomena of clairvoyance and “horse-whispering.”</p> <p>With such belief in his skill, therefore, I was not without some hope that he might succeed in his design; and, to give him the chance he desired, I made a violent effort, and wrenched my arm downward. It was, to all appearance, a demonstration of my wrath, at what the pseudo-renegade had been saying to me; and it seemed to be thus interpreted by most of the savages who stood around him. The words of Sure-shot, spoken in English, were of course unintelligible to them; but, notwithstanding the inappropriate gestures which he had made use of, the suspicions of one were aroused. This was Red-Hand himself.</p> <p>“What says he of the yellow scalp-lock to the captive?” inquired the chief in Spanish. “Let him take heed, or he too shall become a shooting-mark for the Arapaho warriors!”</p> <p>Sure-shot’s reply was characteristic. It was also in broken Spanish, which the ranger had picked up during our campaign, on the Rio Grande. Translated, it ran thus: “I’m only telling him how I’m about to get square with him. <i>Carrambo</i>! great chief! when I was a soldier in the army, yon fellow was my <i>capitano</i>, and gave me a flogging. Believe me, chief, I’m right glad of this opportunity to have revenge on him. That’s what I have been saying to him.”</p> <p>“Ugh!” grunted the savage, apparently satisfied with the explanation.</p> <p>“Neow, capting!” angrily shouted the rifleman, once more raising his piece to the level, “look e’ out! Don’t be skeert abeout my hittin’ o’ ye! The whang lies well ageen the bit o’ timber. The ball’s a big un. I recking I kin bark it anyheow. Heer’s to try!”</p> <p>A tall yellow-haired man standing with a rifle to his shoulder—his sallow cheek resting against the stock—the barrel apparently aligned upon my body—the quick detonation of a percussion-cap—a stream of red fire and smoke from the muzzle—a shock, followed by the quivering of the timbers to which I was tied, were perceptions and sensations of almost simultaneous occurrence. Twisting my head, and turning my eyes almost out of their sockets, I was able to note the effect of the shot. The thong had been hit, just at the point where it doubled over the edge of the wood. It was cut more than half through! By raising my elbow to its original position, and using it as a lever, I could tear apart the crushed fibres. I saw this; but in the anticipation of a visit from the marker, I prudently preserved my attitude of immobility. In a moment after, the grinning savage came gliding in front of me; and, perceiving the track of the bullet, pointed it out to those upon the plain. I was in a feverish state of suspense lest he might suspect design; but was relieved on seeing him step aside—while the shuffling grating noise from behind admonished me, that he was once more letting himself down over the edge of the platform.</p> <p>The crowd had already closed around Sure-shot, who appeared to be expostulating with the chief—as if offering some explanation of his failure. I did not wait to witness the <i>dénouement</i>. Raising my elbow, and giving my arm a quick jerk, I heard the thong snapping asunder; and saw the broken ends spring out from their folds. Another wrench set my right arm free; and then, clutching the loosened coils, I unwound them with as much rapidity, as if I had been freeing myself from the embrace of a serpent! Not one of the Indians saw what I was about, till after I had undone my fastenings. Their eyes had been turned upon Sure-shot—with whom they appeared to be engaged in some angry altercation. It was only after I had sprung to one side, and stood clear of the crucifix, that I heard their ejaculations of astonishment, followed by a wild continuous yelling.</p> <p>I stayed not to note what they were doing. I merely glanced towards them, as I turned away; and perceived that they were still fixed to their places, as if petrified by surprise! The moments were precious; and, bounding across the platform, I leaped down upon the opposite side.</p> <p>There was a little shelf about six feet below the summit. I found it occupied by the indigenous artist. He was seated upon the edge, with his legs hanging over. His back was towards me; and he was only apprised of what had transpired by seeing me as I sprang to his side. He had already heard the yells from the other side; and was about to get to his feet, at the moment I dropped down behind him. He was too late for the accomplishment of his purpose. I saw that he was unarmed; but was apprehensive that by flinging himself upon me, he might hold or delay me. I hesitated not as to what I should do. Bushing forward, I planted my foot against his shoulder, and giving his body a violent impulsion, projected it clear over the edge. I saw it striking upon the angular prisms, and bounding from block to block—till it sunk out of sight amidst the tortuous branches of the cedars. I ran down the sloping path—taking many yards at a step.</p> <p>Not far off, was my horse—with that of Wingrove, and the mules. They formed a little group—but no longer under charge of a guard: for the latter had just left them, and was running forward to intercept me. I saw that he had a weapon in his hand. It was a gun. He was pointing it upon me as he ran—endeavouring to take aim before firing. I heeded not the threatening attitude, but rushed straight towards him. I could not go round him: since he was between me and the horses. We both ran, as if to meet one another. When less than five paces separated us, the Indian stopped, sighted me and pulled trigger. His gun snapped! Before he could lower the piece, I had clutched the barrel: and, with a desperate effort, wrenched the weapon from his grasp. I made a feint to strike him over the head. He threw up his arms to ward off the blow. Instead of using the gun as a club, I thrust him with the butt right under the ribs; and stretched him gasping upon the grass. He fell, as if shot through the head! Still holding on to the gun—which, by a strange accident, proved to be my own rifle—I ran up to my horse. The creature welcomed me with a neigh of joy! It was but the work of a moment to draw the picket-pin, gather up the laryette, and spring to his back. Once there, I felt that I was free!</p> <p>The Indians came screaming around the butte—most of them afoot, and with no other weapons than the empty muskets. A few, more prudent than their fellows, had made towards their arms and horses; but, both being at a distance, they had not yet reached them; and the advantage was mine. I was no longer hurried in my actions—not even afraid. I had no apprehension of being retaken. On the back of my brave steed, I felt like an ocean cast-away, who has climbed up the sides of a strong ship, and once more stands safely upon deck! I felt confident that from my pursuers, I could gallop away at will; and, after taking time to adjust my laryette as a halter, I gave the head to my horse, and rode off. My Arab needed no urging. Up the valley went he, like a bird upon the wing. I could laugh to scorn the savage pack that came hallooing behind me.</p> <hr /></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />

1 of 2

2 of 2