Savage Abandon

—Edna St. Vincent Millay

“You dumb cluck, I’m freezin’ to death,” Jeb growled out to Clint as they waded out of the water, onto land. “Some idea you had to hide in those rushes by the edge of the river.”

“You’re still alive, ain’t cha?” Clint said, trembling from the cold, himself. “If we hadn’t jumped into the water and hid in those thick, tall rushes when we heard the Injun comin’ on his horse, we’d probably be dead. Our scalps would even now be hanging on poles in that savage’s lodge.”

“I just wish we could’ve gotten farther upriver before almost bein’ caught by the savage,” Jeb said, running his fingers through his dripping red hair and pushing it back from his face. “But I never thought about bein’ tracked. I thought we’d be safe stayin’ hidden in the forest beside the river while we waited for someone to come by in a boat. But there hasn’t been a single boat since we got here. I think we’re stuck, Clint. We might as well let the Injun have us now instead of later. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is that while we’re still alive and breathing and in possession of our scalps, we have a chance of gettin’ out of this mess,” Clint said, the moon’s light showing a glower on his whiskered face. “Jeb, let’s hightail it outta here. Let’s get as far upriver as we can. I don’t ‘spect the Injun to search this area again. There ain’t no reason to. He didn’t find us, so he must believe we’re gone.”

“If we make fresh tracks now, he’ll be able to find us and I think he will come lookin’ again,” Jeb said as he grabbed his rifle from its hiding place amid thick forsythia bushes while Clint grabbed his own.

They started walking quickly alongside the river, staying in the shadows of the trees.

“Did you see that huge bird awhile back?” Clint said, huffing and puffing as Jeb started walking faster. “I ain’t never seen anything like it. What sort of bird could live to get that big? The wing span reached so far, I couldn’t even say how wide it was.”

He shuddered. “And its eyes,” he said. “I saw the glitter in those eyes as they picked up the moon’s glow in ’em.”

“Yes, I saw that, too,” Jeb panted, sprinting now. His clothes were drying on him as he moved. “I felt as though if that bird had seen us, it might’ve dropped from the sky and sunk its claws in us and carried us away. You know, I’ve heard Injun myths where people turn into birds. Ain’t you?”

“Hogwash,” Clint growled out. “If you said that to anyone else but me, they’d say you was born daft. So just shut up such talk as that. It was only the shadows that made the bird seem so huge. Nothing more. Now concentrate on escapin’ the wrath of those Injuns. Keep an eye out for a boat.”

Suddenly Jeb stopped.

He reached out and grabbed Clint by the arm.

He sniffed long and hard.

Then he looked at Clint. “I smell smoke,” he said, his voice filled with a sudden bone-chilling fear. “Where there’s smoke, there’s people. Lordie, Clint, what if we’ve gone in the direction of the Injun village? We might be walkin’ straight into a trap.”

“Funny use of words,” Clint said, glancing over at Jeb. “Don’t poke fun, Jeb. This ain’t no time to compare anything with traps. We’ve left a few behind us in the forest. You know that we also left behind some mighty good pelts.”

“I ain’t jestin’,” Jeb said, his eyes peering through the darkness, seeing dark shadows and threatening shapes everywhere the moon did not reach. “I don’t know what to do, which way to go, for we truly don’t know what lies ahead of us. Smellin’ smoke ain’t good, Clint. It ain’t good at all.”

“Well, we sure ain’t gonna know who set that fire if we don’t go farther and investigate,” Clint mumbled. “Hurry into the darkness of the trees. Move onward with caution. Only thing I know is that I’m all turned ’round. I can’t tell where on earth we are, or who we might run across any minute now. I just know that smoke can mean two different things to us. It can mean we’re too close to Injuns, or we’ve come upon some traveler makin’ camp for the night.”

“I’m afraid to see who it is,” Jeb said, fear in his squinting eyes. “I’m afraid we might be takin’ our last breaths of life. If it’s the Injuns, we’re doomed. Doomed. What if it is Injuns?”

“We won’t know until we go and see, now will we?” Clint said, clasping his right hand harder around his rifle. “Come on. Don’t become a baby on me now. We need each other to get out of this pickle.”

“Yeah, each other,” Jeb mumbled. “If you want to know the truth, I wish I’d never laid eyes on you. You’ve been nothin’ but trouble for me. Yeah, I like the pelts we have stored at the old fort, such an ungodly amount for only one day, and I have you to thank for helpin’ me with the hunt, but I doubt now that we’ll ever be able to take ’em out of here. More’n likely, the Injuns’ll find ’em as they hunt for us.”

“Just shut up your whinin’,” Clint spat back at Jeb. “Come on. Time’s wastin’. If those who built the fire are friends, then we finally have a way out of this mess. We can come back later for the pelts. No one knows where they’re hid. Even the Injuns wouldn’t know where to find them. They are hid down in the darkness of that underground room, and the trapdoor that leads down there is well hid beneath a rug and a heavy piece of furniture.”

“Clint, look yonder,” Jeb said, reaching out and grabbing one of Clint’s arms. “Am I seein’ things or is that a scow moored at the banks of the river? Look at that thing. It seems to have everything on it, even what looks like a small house of sorts. I wonder who it belongs to?”

“Come on, let’s hurry to it,” Clint said, yanking his arm away from Jeb’s hand. “This is what we’ve been prayin’ for…a way to escape this god awful forest where Injuns are out for our blood.”

“It’s so big,” Jeb whined. “I don’t think we can man it.”

He squinted as he stepped from the shadows, to survey the scow. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw exactly where their flight had taken them.

The old fort where they’d left their pelts!

There it was as plain as day beneath the bright light of the full moon.

And by the light of the moon he also saw smoke spiraling skyward from somewhere inside the fort.

“The pelts,” he gasped. “Clint, there’s the fort. Those who arrived in that scow have taken refuge in the fort. What if they…?”