Roland took all this in at a glance as he seized his rifle and prepared for eventualities. According to the traditional painter of Indian life and customs the proper thing for this savage to have said is "Ugh!" He said nothing of the sort. Nor did he give vent to a whoop and yell that would have awakened the wild birds and beasts of the forest and every echo far and near.
"Who goes there?" cried Roland, raising his gun.
"No shootee. No shootee poor Indian man. I friendee you. Plenty friendee."
Probably there was a little romance about Roland, for, instead of saying: "Come this way then, old chap, squat down and give us the news,"
he said sternly:
"Advance, friend!"
But the Indian stood like a statue.
"No undahstandee foh true."
And Roland had to climb down and say simply:
"Come here, friend, and speak."
Brawn rushed forward now, but he looked a terror, for his hair was all on end like a hyena"s, and he growled low but fiercely.
"Down, Brawn! It"s a good man, Brawn."
Brawn smelt the Indian"s hand, and, seeming satisfied, went back to the spot where Peggy sat wondering and frightened.
She gathered the great dog to her breast and hugged and kissed him.
"What foh you poh chillun sleepee all in de wood so? S"pose wild beas"
come eatee you, w"at den you do?"
"But, friend," replied Roland, "we are far from Burnley Hall, our home, and we have lost everything. We have lost our ponies, lost our way, and lost ourselves."
"Poh chillun!" said this strange being. "But now go sleepee foh true.
De Indian he lie on blanket. He watchee till de big sun rise."
"Can we trust him, Peggy?"
"Oh yes, yes!" returned Peggy. "He is a dear, good man; I know by his voice."
In ten minutes more the boy and girl were fast asleep.
The Indian watched.
And Brawn watched the Indian.
When the sun went down on the previous evening, and there were no signs of the young folks returning, both Mr. St. Clair and his wife became very uneasy indeed.
Then two long hours of darkness ensued before the moon sailed up, first reddening, then silvering, the wavelets and ripples on the great river.
"Surely some evil must have befallen them," moaned Mrs. St. Clair. "Oh, my Roland! my son! I may never see you more. Is there nothing can be done? Tell me! Tell me!"
"We must trust in Providence, Mary; and it is wrong to mourn. I doubt not the children are safe, although perhaps they have lost their way in the woods."
Hours of anxious waiting went by, and it was nearly midnight. The house was very quiet and still, for the servants were asleep.
Burly Bill and Jake had mounted strong horses at moonrise, and gone off to try to find a clue. But they knew it was in vain, nay, "twould have been sheer madness to enter the forest now. They coo-eed over and over again, but their only answer was the echoing shriek of the wild birds.
They were just about to return after giving their last shrill coo-ee-ee, when out from the moonlit forest, with a fond whinny, sprang Coz and Boz.
Jake sprang out of his saddle, throwing his bridle to Bill.
In the bright moonlight, Jake could see at once that there was something wrong. He placed his hand on Boz"s shoulder. He staggered back as he withdrew it.
"Oh, Bill," he cried, "here is blood, and the pony is torn and bleeding!
Only a jaguar could have done this. This is terrible."
"Let us return at once," said Bill, who had a right soft heart of his own behind his burly chest.
"But oh!" he added, "how can we break the news to Roland"s parents?"
"We"ll give them hope. Mrs. St. Clair must know nothing yet, but at early dawn all the ranch must be aroused, and we shall search the forest for miles and miles."
Jake, after seeing the ponies safe in their stable, left Bill to look to Boz"s wounds, while with St. Clair"s leave he himself set off at a round gallop to get a.s.sistance from a neighbouring ranch.
Day had not yet broken ere forty good men and true were on the bridle-path and tearing along the river"s banks. St. Clair himself was at their head.
I must leave the reader to imagine the joy of all the party when soon after sunrise there emerged from the forest, guided by the strange Indian, Roland, Peggy, and n.o.ble Brawn, all looking as fresh as the dew on the tender-eyed hibiscus bloom or the wild flowers that nodded by the river"s brim.
"Wirr--rr--r--wouff, wouff, wouff!" barked Brawn, as he bounded forward with joy in every feature of his n.o.ble face, and I declare to you there seemed to be a lump in his throat, and the sound of his barking was half-hysterical.
St. Clair could not utter a word as he fondly embraced the children. He pretended to scold a little, but this was all bluff, and simply a ruse to keep back the tears.
But soft-hearted Burly Bill was less successful. He just managed to drop a little to the rear, and it was not once only that he was fain to draw the sleeve of his rough jacket across his eyes.
But now they are mounted, and the horses" heads are turned homewards.
Peggy is seated in front of Burly Bill, of whom she is very fond, and Roland is saddled with Jake. The Indian and Brawn ran.
Poor Mrs. St. Clair, at the big lawn gate, gazing westward, sees the cavalcade far away on the horizon.
Presently, borne along on the morning breeze come voices raised in a brave and joyous song:
"Down with them, down with the lords of the forest".