Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 168, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 July 1914 — The MAID of the FOREST [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The MAID of the FOREST

RANDALL PARRISH

D.J.LAVIN T t t ' coFVj?/tffr

SYNOPSIS. ~Untt»d States army. on blaway to Fort Haraur, meets Simon Girty, a renegade -whose name has been connected with all manner of atrocities, also headed for Fort Harmar, with a message from the British general, Hamilton. Hayward jguides him to the fort. At General Harmar’s headquarters Hayward meets Kene XTAurray, who professes to recognise him. although he haa no recollection of ever having seen her before. Hayward volunteers to carry message for Harmar to Sandusky, where Hamilton is stationed. The northwest Indian tribes “f® for war and are only held back by the refusal of the friendly Wyandots to Join. The latter are demanding the return of "yfa-pa-tee-tah, a religious teacher, whom they believe to be a prisoner. Hayward s mission is to assure the Wyandots that the man is jpot held by the soldiers. Rene asks Hayward to let her accompany him. She tells him that she is a quarter-blood Wyandot and a missionary among tne Indiahs. She has been in search of her father. She insists that she has seen Hayward before, ourtZ.in a British_ uniform. Hayward starts for the north accompanied by a scout named Brady ana a private soldier. - CHAPTER IV—Continued. “Put her into the bank there, boys, to the right," I commanded. "Beyond the roots of that big oak. We’ll breakfast, and then rest awhile." This was accomplished with a sweep of the paddles, and we stepped ashore, the Indians drawing the light canoe well up- into the. mud, Brady stamping about to restore circulation. Schultz collapsed in his seat, and I stopped to shake him. “Tired, man? Move about and you’ll feel better.” "Mein Gott," he moaned, rolling hte eyes up at me imploringly. “I vos mos' ded mit der tire-ness. Mein feet von’t zpove altready.” “That will be right, Schultz,” I •aid kindly. “11l help you ashore, and you can rest awhile, until you feel' better. I’ll do the cooking this morning.” We were still too close to the settlements to be in very much danger, and felt little necessity for guarding our presence. White hunters penetrated •s far north as the forks, and any raiding parties of hostile Indians would have been reported. Brady shook his head when I mentioned the possibility, smoking calmly. . "There aln’t no red-skins down in yer,” he returned confidently. “Or some o’ the boys along the river would o’ let me know.” “How far have we comet’ He spoke to the Delawares, and one of them replied in his own language. “He reckons bout fifty miles, though it would be less than that straight across country. It takes maybe two' days an’ a night ter make the forks with good paddling.” As none of the toil of our progress up stream had thus far fallen upon me I remained on guard over the tired sleepers, cleaning away the debris of the meal, and packing the cooking utensils back in the canoe. The men slept soundly, although I noticed how any movement, even the slight rustle of leaves in a sudden puff of wind, served to rouse Brady or the Indians to instant consciousness. They possessed the Instinct of wild animals, ever alert to danger. It must have been fiilly noon when I aroused theip, and we again headed the canoe up stream, Brady willingly taking the soldier’s place at the after paddle, while I lay back in the stern, my coat serving for a pillow, and finally fell asleep. The river narrowed rapidly as we advanced northward, until the great trees on either bank nearly obscured .the sdn overhead. The Delawares were already exhibiting a disinclination tp proceed, and we- were compelled to hold them by threats to their- work., Each mile of advance northward added to their terror, and made our task more difficult Once Brady struck the chief, driving him back to his place in the canoe. This was when we discovered unmistakable signs that a party of Mlamls had crossed the river only shortly before we passed the spot However, we ran the gauntlet safely, a mere silent shadow slipping along in the dark shade of the protecting bank, and* thus finally attained the forks, and landed on the west shore. It was dark when we got there, but the Delawares were so eager to return, that we Immediately put ashore all we intended to pack with us, and parted with them gladly. The canoe shot swiftly away into the gloom, leaving the three of us alone. Bearing our loads with us, we groped a blind way through the forest, back ‘toward the foot of the bluff, where we made camp, as best we might, at the mouth of a ravine, well sheltered by underbrush, and lay down, without venturing to light a fire. For some time, scarcely a memory of Rene D’Auvray had remained with me, my mind being fully occupied with the increasing peril of our position; yet as I lay there in the silence, looking up at the stars, her eyes seemed suddenly to smile again into mine, and I dreamed of her as I slept The dawn found us safe, seemingly alone in the wilderness. CHAPTER V. Tlrt Trail of a War Party. Before the shn’s rays touched the summit of the bluff we were climbing the sides of the ravine, with light packs on our shoulders. Brady led the iway, tireless and watchful, his long ifffte held ready in the crook of bis

ground ahead. Behind him lumbered Schultz, heavy-footed, and grumbling Dutch oaths at every misstep, yet somehow managing to keep up; while I brought up the rear, my gaze intent on the surrounding ridges. For three days we encountered, nothing to alarm. Brady purposely kept away from all trails, trusting implicitly to his Instinct as a woodsman to discover a safe passage. He possessed the instincts of the wild, the subtlety of the savage, born of constant peril and loneliness^—— ——■ Once, where we forded a considerable stream, which I think now must have been the Vermilion, we came upon: tire blackened remains of a campfire, apparently deserted but a few hours before. Brady examined it with great care, trailing the party to the river bank, and then making a wide, circuit of the woods, before he finally returned satisfied. “Less than three hours gone,” he said soberly, “and traveling north.” “Do you know who they were?” I asked. “How many were in the party?” Mlamls and Ojibwas, I reckon, and they had a prisoner, bound to that small tree out yonder; see here, Hayward, the fellow had boots on, and not moccasins. From the trail they made here on the bank there must have been ay, and a white renegade,” be bent down again to study a track in the mud, “for this is no red-skin’s foot, with the toee turned out.” He swore, the only oath I had heard thus far from his lips, plucking a few long hairs from Off a spittle of underbrush, and holding them up into the sunlight. “A war party all right, with scalps. One fellow brushed against this bush as he came down the bank; from the color they must have been raiding tfae German settlements.”

stared at the floating hairs, shuddering in horror, and hands. gripped hard on my rifle. “Good God! and they ar^going our way?" "That needn’t trouble us, while they leave a plain trail behind. Those devils feel safe enough now, or they’d take more care. We are In no danger while they keep ahead of us.” We made a detour to the righty plunging straight forward Into the unbroken woods. Brady led at a fast gait, his trained Iron muscles tireless, while I urged the breathless soldier to new exertions, frightening him by constant reference to .the raiders so close at hand. The perspiration rolled down his face, yet he kept close at Brady’s heels, falling flat on the ground during our brief halts, but determined not to be left behind. There was certainly good stuff In the fellow, although he swore stiffly, and had a tread like an elephant Just before dark, the forest about us already in gloom, we suddenly emerged from out the shadow of great trees, and stood on the shore of a lake girded with woods. A few hundred feet from where we stood a small rocky Island, dense with trees, rose above the mirrored surface. After one swift glafice about the line of shore Brady’s eyes rested on this haven, as though questioning its feasibility as a night camp. There was a yellow tinge to the intervening water, suggestive of shallowness, and I spoke first. "It will be dark in a few mihutes more; isn’t that a sand-ridge leading out yonder?” ' "It looks so to me,” he replied quietly, "but the only sure way to tell is to test the passage. In my judgment we

better get but there if we can, for there’s no knowin’ where these Injuns may be.” He led’ the way, and we followed in single file, our pecks and rifles held high overhead. The water deepened nntil it reached Schultz’s armpits, but there was no perceptible current, and the sand underfoot was firm as rock. Deep purple shadows seemed to shut us in, as we clambered up the steep bank of tbs island, our clothes drlp-

ping. Brady with outstretched hand helped me to climb, clinging with bis other to a sapling. Then he pointed across the. darteped surface toward the lower end ot the lakb. Tn thedistance there was the red glow of a fire, barely visible. The island was wider than I had supposed, and must have contained jfully five “acres, densely wooded, with no sign of a trail any where. Apparently we were the first explorers to penetrate its thickets. Suddenly we came to the edge of a small opening, sloping down like a saucer, grass covered and treeless, open to the sky, but with a dark irregular something at its center. So shapeless was this black blotch that I took it at first to be a clump of brush, but the scout gripped my arm. "Hayward! there’s a log house!” he whispered, pointing. "Do you see? Keep the Dutchman back.” I dropped to my knees, and studied the dim outline, which the night rendered so indistinct Little by little it assumed more definite shape—a Onestory log hut, with an extension at the rear, and an outside Chimney forking up beside the roof. It was a gloomy looking place, with no glimmer of light showing anywhere. "What do you make of it?” asked Brady In a whisper, as though doubt ing his own eyes. “It’s a house, all right,” I answered. "Some French hunter’s shack.” He shook hie head negatively. “They don’t build like that It beats me, but whoever built that house put it up to live in. Howsomever I don’t see I goin* ter find out what the shebang looks like. Dutchy, you stay yere, an’ watch these things, while the two o’ us scouts ’round a bit” Stooping low, eo as not to be so easily perceived in the darkness, the two of us, grasping our rifles in readiness, stole across the open space toward the house. There was no sign of life so far as could be seen or heard, yet if the place was deserted it could not have been for long, as there were no appearances of decay or abandonment of the premises. The log walls were firm, the clay between resisting the pressure of our fingers In an attempt to dislodge It, and the only door noticed was tightly closed. We hesitated to open this, uncertain what mystery might await us within, and listening anxiously for ahy sound. The stillness was so profound as to be painful, and, whispering to me to stand back, with rifle poised Brady silently lifted the strong wooden latch. The door slid back in grooves, the sound of movement barely perceptible, and we stared Into the black-interior, seeing nothing except a little section of dirt floor, dimly revealed by the stars overhead. “We’ll feel it out, boy,” muttered the scout, his hand gripping my arm. "Nobody at home, I reckon, but it won’t do to risk a light. You take that side, an* I’ll take this, an’ see what we find.” I moved forward slowly, foot by foot, feeling blindly with one hand, the other grasping my rifle. I came to a rude bench, home-made without nails, touched a small table with crossed legs, holding nothing but aq empty pewter bowl, felt the shaggy skin of some animal fastened mgainst the log wall, and then a few articles of warm clothing dangling from Wooden pins. These were rough garments, made of skins, with a single coarse shirt Beyond them my fingers came in contact with the latch of a door. As I touched this the menacing growl of some animal broke the intense stillness. I stepped back, startled, unnerved, and inmy recoil, came into contact with a man. A hand like iron gripped me, but it was Brady’s voice that spoke: “From the other room,” he said shortly, "a dog.” “A dog! Then why hasn't he barked?” “Because he is not that kind, I reckon; a big brute from his growl. Did you find anything?” I told him briefly. “Fireplace on my side, two chairs and an ax in the corner,” he added shortly. "Nobody home but the dog, I reckon, but we will have to fight it out with him, before we take possession. Stand where you are until I feel out the door. Leather hinges, and opens this way. Here, Hayward, take hold of the latch; we’ll have to brain the brute- Don’t open until 1 say so, and then only about a foot Brace yourself to hold, it firm, and keep your gun ready; I’ve got the ax.” I took my position, but with heart beating rapidly, and waited. The dog, as . though realizing danger, flung himself with full force* against the door, and gave one deep bark, of savage ferocity. Brady touched my hand, locating the opening. Then there was an instant of silence.. “Now!” he eaid. I lifted the wooden latch, gripping with b3th bands, my shoulders and foot braced. There was a fierce leap of the brute, so sudden as to cause me to give back, the thud of descending ax, a bowl of pain and rage, the ugly snap of jaws. Coarse hair swept my bands; there was another blow, the sound of a falling body; then the helve of the ax struck my foot. Baek and forth on the dirt floor man and brute struggled, crashing into the table, and overturning it Brady uttered one

oath ; then the dog snarled, and lay still, while I stood with the ax poised, unable to tell which was which in the dartoesfc -Semething -moved, nnrf.L. took a step forward. “Brady!” ' “All right,” he said breathlessly, “I —I had to knife the brute—-he—was as . big as a calf, and—and he got my shoulder. Did you find a window on your side?' "No." “There was none on mine. We’ll have to risk a light, I reckon, for I’m bleedin’ considerable. Try the fireplace yonder.” I felt my way along the wall, discovered some tinder, and, with flint and steel from my pocket, coaxed a blaze. There were a few pieces of wood piled up on the hearth, and a moment later, the curling red flames revealed the entire interior. Brady rested against the bench, the sleeve of his blouse ripped into shreds, blood dripping from his fingers, and sinking into the. earth floor. A few feet away, a great mass of shaggy hair, lay the dog in a heap, his lips still drawn back in a snarl, revealing the cruel white teeth, the shaft of a knife protruding from the throat. He was a massive animal, terrifying to look upon even in death. YetT barely glanced that way, assured that he was dead, and all my interest centered on Brady, his face ghastly under the brown tan. There was a water bucket half filled on a low bench, and I tore down'the shirt from the peg, and swabbed out the wound. It was a jagged, ugly gash, the print of each tooth revealed, and the num clinched his hands in agony as I worked rapidly. The blood staunched somewhat I bound it tightly with a silk neckerchief, and gave him a drink of brandy from my pocket flask. This brought a little, color back into the man’s face, and he found strength to sit up, resting against the bench, his eyes on the dead dog.

“Mastiff,” he said, “and the biggest devil I ever saw. 1 hit him with the ax the first blow, but in the dark failed to strike high enough, I reckon. What do you suppose he was guardin’ so savage?" I shook my head, glancing about at the open door. Brady’s eyes followed mine. “Get a light of some kind, Hayward, and take a look,” he said slowly, "and then have Dutchy bring in the packs.” I did as he suggested, finding a bit of pitchy wood that burned freely, and holding it out before me as 1 peered curiously through the opening. A glance about told me that the lean-to wks used as a shed, for it was half filled with split wood, opened boxes,. and various odds and ends. This knowledge came to me in a flash, but the sight which riveted my eyes was the body of a man lying directly beyond the doorway, face upward, his skull cleft as if by the vicious blow of an ax.

CHAPTER VI. Captain D’Auvray. "What le it?” asked Brady, startled by my sudden exclamation, and striving to get up. I glanced back at him. "A dead man; stay where you are; he is dead all right I’ll be back in a moment” I stepped within, and held the torch down closer, the ghastly yellow light falling full on the upturned face. He was a man of seventy, or over, a sturdy looking fellow for his years, in the garments of a French courier des bois; his features strong, refined, bearing even in death a certain peculiar dignity, increased by a snow-white beard. Apparently he had not been dead long, nor was there slightest evidence of struggle; the hands were empty, and, judging from the ugly gash in his head, he had been struck from behind unexpectedly. It was a ghastly wound, and the man had probably died Instantly. The blow must have been a treacherous one, delivered by some person acquainted with the cabin; otherwise the dog would have sprung to his master’s defense. Plainly this was murder, and the assassin had taken his time; had closed the door, locked in the dog; had even washed off the blade of the ax, and left it standing there against the wall. What could jjpve been the object? Was it Revenge? Robbery? I felt in the pocket of the loose blouse, finding nothing, but my eye caught the glimmer ot a medal fastened to the front of .the shirt. I unpinned it, and held it up to the light of the torch, studying out the French Inscription, letter by letter, half guessing at its meaning—it was a medal of honor, given for special gallantry in action at Fontenoy to Capt. Raoel D’Auvray. (TO BE CONTINUED.) .

He Led the Way and We Followed in Single File.