Текст книги "Doctor Syn on the High Seas"

Автор книги: Russell Thorndike

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Chapter 13

Redskins

The two hundred miles from St. John’s River to Charleston were

navigated in less days than they had hoped to be possible. The breeze

held steadily behind them and the weather fine, so that on the whole,

the way was pleasant. Clear of the pirates, they could now talk freely,

and the liking which had always existed between the companions ripened

into a real friendship. But no familiarity in Syn’s conversation could

break down the respectful attitude of Mipps, and the parson thanked God

for his ally. By the time they sighted Charleston, they understood each

other well, and each knew that he could depend upon the other in any

circumstances. They concocted a ringing-true story which Syn was to

carry to the Governor, and during sailing hours he had rehearsed this

over and over again, till both were satisfied. Each time some little

detail was added, till on one occasion at the end of his recital Syn saw

that the little pirate’s eyes were filled with tears, and asked him what

was wrong.

“It’s so pathetic,” blubbered Mipps. “I ain’t had a cry for years.

No, not since a friend of mine had an aunt, that died, who was very fond

of him. And if our story you keep telling me was true, I think I should

never stop crying. It’s a most wonderful yarn, I considers, and if the

Governor don’t cry hisself silly over our misfortunes, he’s a cold

pebble.”

But the Governor was no pebble. I ndeed, he proved himself a very

sympathetic friend. As luck would have it, he was walking with a wealth

merchant on the quay, when the wayfarers put in, and being curious as to

what they, were he sent a servant to inquire.

Now, although Mipps had considered it advisable to arrive in port

disheveled, dirty and unshaven, in order to heighten the effect of the

imagined hardships they had undergone, Syn had insisted upon making a

careful toilet before appearing.

“Elegance and cleanliness will gain more sympathy,” he had argued.

“In all tribulations a gentleman possessing fresh linen and a razor

should take the pains to use them.”

It was obvious, therefore, to the Governor, as he watched Syn’s

striking figure coming towards him on the quay, that there was a man of

parts, a gentleman. The manner in which he swept off his threecornered

hat and the dignity of his bow, confirmed the opinion, so that, without

waiting for the stranger to speak, the Governor said heartily:

“Welcome to Charleston, sir, and the Carolinas. I am the Governor of

the South State, and shall be honoured to know your name and business.”

“My name is Christopher Syn, sir,” he answered gravely, “and although

my sword and pistols seem to give the lie to it, I am yet a Doctor of

Divinity from our English Oxford.” And thereupon he recited the story he

had rehearsed so often to Mipps.

The Governor showed such commiseration over the fate of the illstarred Intention, and also at the hardships which the pirates had

inflicted upon the young parson and his faithful servant. But his pity

was outweighed by joy on learning that Black Satan and his Sulphur Pit

had gone to their last account, and he immediately invited Doctor Syn to

accompany him to his house so that they could crack a bottle in

celebration. Syn thanked him, but begged that he might first accompany

his servant to some inn, in order that they might stow away such

property as they had left them in the boat. The question of an inn

– 83 -

the Governor swept aside, sending a serv ant to assist Mipps in disposing

of the boat and conveying its contents to his own residence, in which he

declared they should both stay till they had formed their further plans.

As far as Doctor Syn was concerned, things could not have fallen out

better, since the Governor, being the best-informed man in the Colony,

was the most likely to give him information concerning Nicholas. But he

was sorry for Mipps, and told him so at the first opportunity.

“To think, my good Mipps, that you have lorded it as a High Sea

Adventurer should now be called upon to play the humble valet to an

English parson.”

To which Mipps replied, “What does it matter, sir, what I does, as

long as I does my duty? And my bounded duty is to serve you in all

weathers and under all conditions. You bought me body and soul at my own

pricing, and all I hopes is that you have not made the worse bargain.”

During their stay at the Governor’s, Syn learned much about his

enemy. At first the fellow had been liked well enough. He had spent

money freely: perhaps too freely, for he was soon in money difficulties

all over the town. His trading up-river was disappointing, and his name

became connected with many scandals, both in trade and private life. The

Governor did what he could, for, as he said, he was more than sorry for

the beautiful young wife and son.

“For their sakes,” he explained, “I managed to get the rascal out of

the State with a whole skin.”

“And you have any notion where they have gone?” asked Syn.

“His wife told me tha t her husband was attracted by the reports of

good trading up the Hudson River, and there is certainly business to be

done not only with the Indians, but also with the French. In which case,

the place to make inquiry would be Albany. I take it that you know the

man, and perhaps wish to get in touch with him?”

“I was at Oxford with him,” replied Syn. “Even there he had a way of

getting into scrapes. But sometimes the cleverest rascal goes too far.

Since the lady with him is my legal wife, you will own that I have the

strongest motive for getting in touch with him. And he will find that my

touch will not be gentle.”

“Perhaps I can help you,” went on the Governor. “for my cousin,

Colonel Clinton, is in command of the military in Albany. Between you, I

think this scoundrel could be brought to book.”

Three days later, Doctor Syn took leave of the Governor, and armed

with a letter of introduction to the Colonel, set sail with Mipps for

New York, from whence they could proceed to Albany.

The captain of the vessel, who had been told by the Governor of the

blowing up of the dreaded Sulphur Pit, never tired of questioning Doctor

Syn and Mipps about Black Satan.

On reaching New York, the captain was commissioned to carry a cargo

to Albany, so Syn and Mipps remained aboard and traveled with him up the

broad Hudson.

On arrival Syn took lodgings at the best inn, and then deposited the

bulk of their treasure in the vaults of an English Banking House. He

then presented his letter of introduction to Colonel Clinton, from whom

he learned that Nicholas had set out by canoe to trade with the Indian

tribes. He had taken Imogene and the boy, as well as an Indian

interpreter and guide. The Colonel advised Syn to await them in Albany,

assuring him that, short of any disaster overtaking them, the party

would return to the town on completion of business.

– 84 -

For weeks they waited patiently, during which time Doctor Syn, by

preaching from the principal pulpits of the town, gained respect and

popularity. At last a letter came from the Governor of South Carolina,

which determined their stay at Albany, for the news it brought was

disquieting. After the usual courtesies to himself and servant, and

inquiries and kind messages to the Colonel, the letter went on to st ate

that besides Syn and Mipps, who had so luckily escaped from the pirate

ship in time, there had been one other survivor from the explosion.

I should be glad, my good Doctor, for any information you have have

concerning him, for my task is difficult in knowing how to deal with

him. From my description, I think you will not fail to remember him. He

is a mulatto. As ugly as a looking devil as ever I clapped eyes upon.

Thin to emaciation, with skin like cracked parchment. High cheek -bones

and the most brilliant black eyes, which seem to shoot out the blackest

hatred. His hair is deathly white. He understands no English, but we

have been able to gather something of his story through the help of one

of my slaves, a West Indies boy, who talks to him in the Cuban dialect.

This has been the more difficult because our mulatto is dumb. He lost

the power of speech from the shock of the explosion. He arrived here in

the most deplorable condition, half-starved and with bleeding feet,

having walked along the coast. I have lodged him in the goal, where my

own surgeon is attending him, in the hope of recovering his speech. Then

I could be the better judge of his integrity, for since you and your

faithful servant have recounted so many details of the Sulphur Pit, I

shall see if he is lying, should his story not agree with yours. In

which case my judgment will be the harsher, whereas, I now feel inclined

to think that he has been punished enough for his piracy.

Both Syn and Mipps remembered the mulatto well, as a mutinous dog

who had on many occasions threatened the discipline which they had

imposed upon the pirates.

“But even if his tongue does wag again,” said Mipps, “by the old

man’s letter, he won’t be believed, sir.”

“We must take no chances of that,” return ed Syn. “For if this mulatto

becomes too convincing, he may well upset our story, and we must not

forget that he knows me as Syn the parson who turned pirate. I am

therefore determined that Syn shall disappear. We will let people think

that I have died. I shall tell my friends here that I have had a solemn

call to preach the Gospel to the Redskins. When I do not return, they

will no doubt give me a martyr’s crown. Meantime, we will go on

searching for my enemy, who I believe does not intend returning to

Albany. I rather think his instinct tell him that I am already on his

track. In three days’ time we shall be after him again. Are you willing

to risk your scalp amongst the Indians?”

“It’s your scalp. You bought it, sir,,” said Mipps. “In three days?

Then I’d best be purchasing a canoe, a barrel of rum, and eatables.”

“And I’ll make inquiry for a reliable guide,” said Syn.

Providing themselves with clothes more suitable for their journey,

they packed their seachests with such properties as they wished to

leave behind them, and deposited them in the same bank that was hoarding

their treasure. Syn then drew up an agreement with the banker that their

property should be handed over to one or both of them on personal

demand, but if neither of them came back within the year, the banker was

to sell jewelry and all, to the best advantage, and to send the value to

Solomon Syn, New Romney, England. Having

– 85 -

thus provided against emergency, Doctor Syn took leave of his many

friends in Albany, and set a northern course up the Hudson.

The Indian, who went by the high-sounding name of “Mountain Cat”,

proved himself at once to be efficient, very strong, but also very

silent. Knowing that the pastor’s object was to locate Nicholas and his

party, he went to work in his own way, seeming unperturbed at what Syn

and Mipps considered a gigantic and puzzling task. When Syn suggested

they might hail such craft as passed them, and ask if the party they

followed had been seen by them, he shook his head. He had his own

method, and it was curious. He would frequently head for the bank, and

that at places where his companions could see neither camp nor

habitation, disappear into the forest, but to return after an interval

and point once more with decision up -river. Syn let him go his own way,

but Mipps became cynical.

“Funny way of going on, I calls it,” he said when this method had

gone on for some days and nights. “Where the devil does old Puss -cat get

his information from? I never hears nothing but twittering of birds and

squawks of wild beasts?”

“He’s no doubt in touch with Indian tribes,” said Syn. “They’re a

silent race, and shy at showing themselves.”

“Unsociable, I calls it,” replied Mipps.

On one occasion the method changed, for instead of pointing up-river

he unpacked the canoe, hoisted it upon his shoulder, and signing them to

carry the provisions, set off through the woods. This was the prelude to

an incessant toil. Days and nights were spent in avoiding the worst

swamps, threading a way through what seemed impenetrable undergrowth, on

some occasions, scaling precipitous rocks in order to reach some other

river,

where the canoe could be refloated till its way was barred by thunderous

waterfalls.

Through all these trails, the Indian insisted not only silence should

be strictly observed, but also the greatest haste. At first they thought

he did this in order to finish the contract the sooner, but they had yet

to discover that his reason was the more alarming. They had been

traveling fast for many miles down a turbulent river, when the Indian

suddenly made for the shore. Above them hung a gaunt bare rock, which

their guide climbed rapidly as soon as he had seen the canoe made fast.

Syn and Mipps watched him, as his half-naked body squirmed its way t o

the top. He did not look over the crest of the crag, but lay still as

though listening, but as Mipps whispered to his master, “What Pussy

expects to hear with the noise of this damned trout-stream booming” was

beyond their ken. Presently he came down cau tiously, now and then

stopping to remove the marks of his own feet. It was obvious to the

others that this particular sport in the wilderness was known in every

detail by “Mountain Cat”, for no sooner had he rejoined them, than he

speedily unpacked the contents of the canoe and deposited them in a

hole, which he covered with dried leaves. He then pointed to a large

tree whose low branches interlaced with those of its neighbors. To the

base of this tree, he carried the empty canoe, which he leaned end up

against the trunk. Then, grasping the mooring-rope, he climbed to the

first branches and then up to the second. The thickness of the leaves

now hid him completely from night. The rope went tight, and the canoe,

swinging clear of the trunk, began to ascend aft er him. Syn and Mipps

hastened to ease the weight of it till it was pulled too high for their

reach.

“What does he want to go sailing in the tree -tops for?” whispered

Mipps.

– 86 -

“No doubt he has sensed unfriendly Indians,” replied Syn.

In a minute or so he had dropped once more to the ground, and

indicating with a stick the surest notches on the surface of the trunk

for hands and feet, indicated that they should climb it.

Up went Syn and Mipps, to find the canoe safely cradled across th ree

stout branches, which formed the most admirable dry dock. Indeed, so

secure was its position, that the companions took their customary seats

and waited. The Indian meantime busied himself by covering up the tracks

which their trampling had caused from the river to the tree. Then he

climbed the tree once more, and as though it was the most ordinary thing

to do, sat himself solemnly in the canoe with the others, where he

continued to sit with a warning finger to his mouth, commanding silence.

Syn and M ipps could hear nothing but the tumbling waters of the

river, whose music they were forced to listen to for some half-hour. It

was characteristic of Syn that even in this extremely odd and obviously

dangerous situation, he did not waste time. He produced a volume from

his pocket which had been given to him by the compiler, a mission parson

in Albany, who had done much preaching to the Indians. This book

contained a treatise upon the manners of speech employed by the Red

tribes, with a dictionary of all the useful words and phrases. Since

this worthy cleric had collected his material from amongst the

Adirondack Indians, it was likely to be of greater service to Doctor

Syn, who was now sitting up a tree in that very territory, as he had

learned from “Mountain Cat.”

Mipps spent his time in watching first his master and then the

Indian, who sat with eyes closed in mediation, but still holding his

finger to his lips. After a while the comically of thus sitting in a

boat up a tree overcame the control of his sense of humour. Attracting

his master’s attention he traced out invisible capital letters upon the

floor of the canoe, while tears of suppressed laughter ran down his

cheeks. Syn smiled too, for the little pirate had written, after jerking

his head towards the Indian, “Hush-a-by, Baby, on the tree-top.”

Sensing the movement of the canoe which Mipps caused at his writing

and shaking through silent giggles, the Indian, without opening his

eyes, pointed first towards the rock, and then straight down beneath

them. Through tiny peepholes in the thick foliage they looked. Upon the

highest crag of the rock, and silhouetted magnificently against the sky,

stood a feathered and war-painted Brave, shading his eyes against the

sun, and signaling with his murderous tomahawk to those beneath him.

These were in two files, one skirting the base of the rock and trotting

one behind the other, while the second file were passing close by the

very tree which concealed the canoe. This lot halted for some minutes as

though awaiting an order from the scouting Brave, and the three men, in

the tree, trembled lest one of them should discover their property

beneath the heap of leaves. Fortunately they were too intent upon

watching their leader, and presently they moved out of sight as silently

and as quickly as they had appeared.

Their guide explained that these warriors were from beyond the

mountains, and were no doubt out after scalps from an enemy village in

the next valley. Till the battle was over, it would not be safe

to leave their retreat, he said, so he climbed down and

collected food and drink from their covered hole.

Presently above the voice of the river, they heard the warcries and a mighty whooping and screaming, which continued

presistently throughout the day. The Indian said it must have

been a hard-fought

– 87 -

fight, but could not judge which side had been the victors. At last the

sun went down behind the mountains. The twilight was short, and dusk

quickly gave place to a black night. “Mountain Cat” then decided to spy

out the situation and to see whether or not it would be safe to continue

on the trail. He would be back, he said, within the hour, and enjoined

the Englishmen on no account to leave their hiding-place. So they waited

with what patience they coul d, listening to the loud screaming of a wardance.

When the moon arose, Doctor Syn calculated that their guide had been

absent some three hours, and feared that he had been either captured or

cut off. They then discussed whether or not they could go in search of

him.

When they had waited a considerable time, and still so sign of the

Indians, they climbed down from the tree, and set off.

Now, although the village was less than a mile away, they encountered

the greatest difficulties in reaching it. In most places the undergrowth

was breath high, and when overcome, led to one of the many impetuous

mountain streams that had to be crossed upon slippery boulders, and it

was actually dawn before they crawled over a hillock in the forest and

looked down upon a clearing. It as evident that here had been the site

of the village, but all that remained was charred wrecks of smoldering

habitations. Beneath a number of blackened stakes erected in a rude

circle lay many bodies that had been fired, while in the centre of this

grim arena, was a naked Indian tied to a trunk of a tree. He was still

alive, for his limbs kept moving as he attempted to relieve the tight

agony of the biting ropes that bound him. Around the clearing were

ranked more than a hundred warriors, the very men who had passed the

canoe the day before, because the Englishman recognized their leader,

who had stood upon the rock. He was going from man to man, as though

inspecting them. From every score or so he chose one, who stepped

forward from the lin e. When the five had been selected, the Brave

signaled to the rest, who turned and walked off silently into the woods.

Syn and Mipps noted that the five were not so gaily decorated either

with feathers or war -paint as their fellows who were watching. The B rave

then advanced to the bound man, and with his knife severed the cords.

The exhausted victim collapsed for a moment on the hard, beaten earth,

but after rubbing his chafed limbs he stoop up proudly and faced the

Chief.

Having his back to the hillock where Syn and Mipps crouched, they

could not see his face, but there was something in the bearing of his

tall, gaunt frame which made them certain that this was indeed their

missing guide.

“Those five rascals are to be his executioners,” whispered Syn.

“Compared to the others, they are the but youngsters and are no doubt

about to prove their worth with blood-letting. Had the rest not gone, we

should have been hard put to it, to resuce our ‘Mountain Cat’, but this

lot we can tackle. I think the Chief will follow his men and leave the

dirty work to these cadets. If so, we shall be rid of him the easier.”

It was then that they saw the Chief advance to the victim and, with

what seemed a gesture of courtesy, hand him his own tomahawk. This

looked a heavy weapon with a bright steel blade.

“He is allowing him the right to defend himself,” whispered Syn, as

he fingered the butts of his pistols. “And I was right in my guess. I

believe he is about to follow the tribe.”

Indeed, the Chieftain had turned his back upon the prisoner and with

majestic strides walked to the five young warriors, who at the same time

began to execute fantastic steps, working themselves up into a frenzy

for killing. The Chief halted some five paces in front of them, and

raising both arms to

– 88 -

the dawning sky, appeared to be blessing their prowess. He was then some

twenty paces from the armed prisoner, and still with his back to him.

It was then that they saw the man they took to be “Mountain Cat” take

two steps forward, s winging the tomahawk, and with a mighty effort hurl

it through the air. It struck the Chieftain with terrific force between

the shoulder -blades, the steel of the ax actually severing the long tail

of feathers from his head-dress. The hands, uplifted as they had been in

benediction, clawed the air convulsively, and then down he fell full

length upon his face. Bereft of his weapon, the prisoner folded his arms

and stoically awaited his death at the hands of the five. The sudden

killing of their Chief, whom they took to be dead without examination,

caused them to dance with the greater fury, and with each step they

capered nearer to his slayer.

“Now, Mipps,” said Syn. “You to his right, I to his left. Pistols and

then steel.”

“No quarter, eh?” asked Mipps as they ran.

“None,” replied Syn.

The whirling frenzy of the five did much to help the surprise attack

of the Englishmen, who were on them before they could realize that their

unarmed victim now supported. Then they rushed altogether. Syn brought

down his two flank men by firing his pistols simultaneously and

practically at point -blank range. Mipps fired his right pistol, and hit,

but did not kill, so, quickly changing over by dropping the discharged

weapon and grabbing the other with his right hand from his left, he used

the second charge upon the same attacker killing him then outright, and

hurling his pistol in the face of the next attacker, which checked him

for a second and enabled Mipps to draw his cutlass, a weapon with which

he had made himself acquainted aboard the pirate ship. With it he met

the murderous blow of the tomahawk, and ran his second man through the

stomach with the point. The middle man rushed not at Syn but at the

Indian, and had not Syn’s long blade darted in between his ribs the

Chieftains death must have been avenged. As it was, the rescued Indian

by refusing to leap back in the face of his enemies, received a bad

flesh cut in the leg as his attacker fell dead. From body to body went

Syn passing his sword through the heart of each, and crying out to Mipps

that they must get to cover quickly, lest the noise from this pistols

should bring the tribe back.

Mipps made a strange reply: “Well, I’ll be damned!” he said.

“And why?” demanded Syn, as he cleaned his blade with a handful of

dust.

Mipps scratched his head and pointed to the Indian. “Why, sir, this

‘ere ain’t Mister Pussy at all.”

Syn looked and said, “By gag you’re right! It’s not ‘Mountain Cat.’”

“‘Mountain Cat’ scalped and burned, said the Indian in English. “Me

knew him. Good guide same as me. Speak English both. Me Shuhshuhgah.

Mean Blue Heron. Son of Chief two mile there.” He pointed in the

direction taken by the warriors. “Them bad men may return. We hid a

time. This way. Quick.”

He took a step forward, but fell because of the wound in his right

leg. Syn saw that the muscle of the calf had been severed, so telling

him to put his arms around their shoulders, they dragged him to the

cover of the woods. At the foot of the hillock over which they had

crawled to the attack, Shuhshuhgah pointed to a curtain of thick,

overhanging creeper, behind which was a cunningly hidden cave. Into

this they crept, while Syn, tearing a strip from his shirt arm,

bound up the Indian’s leg.

As it happened, they had only just got to cover in time, for the

noise of the pistols had caused a party of the warrior tribe to return

to see what was amiss. When the fugitives peeped through the creeper

they saw them, three men standing over the body of their Chieftain. They

removed the tomahawk and

– 89 -

turned him over onto his back. Then they examined the bodies of the five

dead cadets, and seemed bewildered at not finding the body of

Shuhshuhgah. Then, cut from their Chieftain, they trotted off with wild

cries into the wood, following the direction of their fellows.

After waiting for some little time for the scouts to get clear,

during which time Syn and Mipps recharged and re-primed their pistols,

Shuhshuhgah proposed that they should set out for his father’s village,

which no doubt the war-trail party was no attacking.

“But you should not walk, even with our help,” said Syn. “Besides, we

shall find ourselves at a disadvantage coming up behind them with our

way to your village cut off.”

“Under them we shall walk,” explained the Indian. “There is a secret

way into my father’s camp.”

They selected two wigwam poles that had escaped the burning, and with

the long sheath-knife belonging to Mipps, had soon cut and bound some

strong tendrils of the climbing creeper that abounded in the woods.

Placing the Indian upon it, this was easy to carry stretcher -wise.

They followed the Indian trail through the woods, which made it

easier and quicker traveling. When they had gone about a mile, they once

more heard the warcries of the warriors. These cries growing louder and

louder as they advanced, Shuhshuhgah at last pointed to a thick clump of

bushes that fringed the trail.

“Put me down,” he whispered. “We crawl through them. Then pick up

secret trail.”

They set down the stretcher, and upon his stomach the Indian began to

crawl through, followed by Syn and Mipps, dragging the stretcher after

them. After some twenty -five yards of this difficult passage, they came

out upon another trail, when the Indian was once more put upon the

stretcher and carried on. Presently they heard the lowing of cattle

mingled with the war -cries, and at the same time the trail, which had

been rising steadily, reached a summit heavily overshadowed by trees.

Up this the Indian crawled from the stretcher, and, after peering over

cautiously, motioned the others to leave the litter below and join him.

From this vantage they looked down upon a grassy plateau where some two

hundred head of cattle were grazing, guarded by three our four mounted

Indians, who tro tted their shaggy ponies backwards and forwards along

the slope to prevent the cattle roaming into the range of arrow fire

from the stockade village. From the height where they crouched, the

three fugitives could see the main body of the attacking force awaiting

the order to advance against the palisades in the shelter of a dried -up

river-bed. Shuhshuhgah whispered that his father would await attack, and

then spare some half of his braves to run through the tunneled secret

path which came out into a cave at the base of the very hillock upon

which they now waited. The enemy were dancing safely in the river-bed,

working themselves up into the required frenzy for attack.

It was then that Mipps made what seemed to Syn an entirely irrelevant

remark, but which was destined not only to spell disaster to the

attackers, but to coin a name which was to become fearful enough to

terrorize the trade routes of the high seas.

Mipps pointed to Shuhshuhgah’s blood-stained bandage and whispered,

“Ere, look at that big beast. Enjoying a good meal off your blood,

Shushy mate.”

The Indian looked at his leg, and saw what, to the others, was a

large gag-or horsefly. He took the fearful insect very carefully

between his finger and thumb, and with a smile of triumph said, “It is

the Clegg. Terrible fellow too. You shall see what he can do. Look.”

– 90 -

He flung it into the air over the lip of the hillock in the direction

of the cattle. They saw it flying and heard its waspish note. The cattle

sensed its coming. Panic seized them. This fly was their worst enemy,

for it was too small to trample or toss, and yet, large enough to suck

their blood and cause the most maddening irritation. A medieval knight

in full armour might have felt the same toward a flea. Bellowing in

panic, they stampeded for the river-bed in full gallop, sliding down the

bank in terror right amongst the dancing Indians, who fell and scattered

before the giant impact. By now the invisible Clegg fly kept the cattle

on the run, and, like a sheep-dog, kept them well herded, so that as

they were driven down the river-bed they presented a solid wedge of hoof

and horn. The defending Indians, seeing what had happened, gave the

attackers no time to rally, but attacked in their turn, swarming over

the palisades and hurling themselves upon their trampled enemy, who had

no chief to encourage them. It was then that Shuhshuhgah pointed beneath

them, and round the base of the hill there came trotting a long line of