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Deception
Deception
Robert M. Clark
William L. Mitchell
Los Angeles
London
New Delhi
Singapore
Washington DC
Melbourne
Copyright © 2019 by CQ Press, an imprint of SAGE Publications, Inc. CQ
Press is a registered trademark of Congressional Quarterly, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.
FOR INFORMATION:
CQ Press
E-mail: [email protected]
1 Oliver’s Yard
55 City Road
United Kingdom
3 Church Street
Singapore 049483
Names: Clark, Robert M., author. | Mitchell, William L. (William Leslie), author.
Sun Tzu
Although a number of books and journal articles deal with the historical and
theoretical aspects of deception, the focus tends toward Soviet-era
disinformation disciplines, which are now dated. This book includes many
historical examples because the principles are still relevant, but also
highlighted are more current illustrations. And deception is typically
presented almost as an afterthought in intelligence and operations courses.
But deception is deserving of its own educational and training infrastructure
that fits into today’s strategic context. Since the Russian deception that
supported its annexation of Crimea in 2014, increasing attention is being
given to the concept of deception. This text is designed to elevate the level of
education in intelligence and operations courses in terms of deception
planning as well as detecting and countering deception.
The basic principles of deception have not changed, and we’ll cover them in
some detail. But information technology, and specifically social media,
constitutes a new collection asset (and new channels for deception). In that
role, it adds a new dynamic to both the conduct and detection of deception
activities, both in their traditional roles and as a part of counterintelligence or
psychological operations. For example, the cyber domain provides a powerful
channel for conducting deception. Accordingly, it receives special attention.
The book provides a main framework for a deception planning course for the
civilian academic community, the intelligence community, and the military. It
bridges the divide between theory and practice concerning deception that
sometimes separates these communities. The target audience includes
intelligence analysts and operational planners, and the book addresses both
perspectives. Operations professionals have few chances during an entire
career to observe the successful execution of a deception operation. A book
that illustrates deception theory using historical and modern-day cases and
provides opportunities to practice with hypothetical case studies will
especially benefit them.
Above all, we are thankful for the efforts of Dr. Clark’s wife and partner in
this effort, Abigail, whose extensive revisions made this a better book.
Robert M. Clark
William L. Mitchell
Copenhagen, Denmark
About the Authors
Robert M. Clark
currently is an independent consultant performing threat analyses for the
US intelligence community. He is also a faculty member of the
Intelligence and Security Academy and adjunct professor of intelligence
studies at the Johns Hopkins University. He previously was a faculty
member of the Director of National Intelligence (DNI) Intelligence
Community Officers’ course and course director of the DNI introduction
to the intelligence community course. Dr. Clark served as a US Air
Force electronics warfare officer and intelligence officer, reaching the
rank of lieutenant colonel. At the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), he
was a senior analyst and group chief responsible for managing analytic
methodologies. Clark holds an SB from MIT, a PhD in electrical
engineering from the University of Illinois, and a JD from George
Washington University. He has previously authored three books:
Intelligence Analysis: A Target-Centric Approach (5th edition, 2016),
The Technical Collection of Intelligence (2010), and Intelligence
Collection (2014). He was co-editor, with Dr. Mark Lowenthal, of The
Five Disciplines of Intelligence Collection (2016). He co-authored
Target-Centric Network Modeling (2016) with Dr. William L. Mitchell.
William L. Mitchell’s
military and intelligence career spans three decades, including
operations in Afghanistan, the Balkans, Iraq, Africa, and French Guiana.
Dr. Mitchell is currently an active member of Danish Defence as an
advisor, instructor, and lecturer. While at the Royal Danish Defence
College (RDDC), he was responsible for the synchronization of theory,
practice, and education regarding intelligence, joint, and special
operations. He served as a member of the RDDC Research Board and
continues to support NATO and US Department of Defense research,
education, and doctrine development programs. He co-authored Target-
Centric Network Modeling (2016) with Robert M. Clark, has several
publications on military intelligence and battlespace agility, and was
awarded the 2014 NATO Scientific Achievement Award for his
contributions to NATO research. Dr. Mitchell has a BA, an MA with
distinction from Kent University, and a PhD in political science from
Aarhus University. He is a decorated war veteran of two countries, with
one citation and several medals, including the French Croix de
Combatant and the Danish Defence medal.
Part I Fundamentals of Deception and
Counterdeception
1 Deception: The Basics
This chapter introduces the basics of deception and the role of intelligence in
both supporting and defeating deception. It sets the stage, with definitions
and a set of basic principles, for the following chapters that explain how to
conduct deception and to identify an opponent’s use of it. But first, let’s look
at the case of a perfect deception—something that happens only in the
movies, of course.
The Sting
The popular media have given us many great stories about well-conducted
deceptions. The staged “sinking” of a Soviet ballistic missile submarine in
The Hunt for Red October (1990) and the elaborate scam to steal $160
million from a casino owner in Ocean’s Eleven (2001) come to mind. But
few if any Hollywood movies can offer the beautifully executed deception
operation set forth in the 1973 film The Sting.
The film is set in 1936, in the depths of the Great Depression. In it, a
small-time con man Johnny Hooker (Robert Redford) has helped pull off a
minor street scam with his friend Luther. Unfortunately for them, it turns
out that the mark was a courier of crime boss Doyle Lonnegan (Robert
Shaw) and Luther is quickly tracked and killed. Hooker must run for his
life from Lonnegan’s revenge. (Lonnegan does not know what Hooker
looks like, which turns out to be a key part of the story.) Hooker gets
advice that perhaps Luther’s old friend, the legendary con master Henry
Gondorff (Paul Newman) can help him start anew, and tracks down
Gondorff, who is hiding in Chicago from the FBI. Hooker subsequently
persuades Gondorff to undertake an elaborate con operation, partially to
honor Luther, targeting Lonnegan.
The next day, at the designated time, Lonnegan receives the tip to “place it
on Lucky Dan,” and makes his $500,000 bet at Gondorff’s parlor. The race
description is another part of the scam—broadcast by an announcer in a
back room of the parlor. As the race begins, the tipster arrives, and when
told that Lonnegan had bet on Lucky Dan to win, explains that when he
said “place it” he meant, literally, that Lucky Dan would “place.” The
panicked Lonnegan rushes to the teller window and demands his money
back, but the teller says he is too late. At this moment, Agent Polk, Snyder,
and a half-dozen FBI officers break into the parlor. Agent Polk tells
Gondorff that he is under arrest and informs Hooker that he is free to go. In
reaction to the apparent treachery, Gondorff shoots down Hooker; Agent
Polk guns down Gondorff and tells Snyder to get Lonnegan out of there
and away from the crime scene.
Once Lonnegan and Snyder are gone, Gondorff and Hooker get up, unhurt
—their deception is complete. “Agent Polk” and his fellow “agents” are, of
course, part of the con.
Aside from its entertainment value, the movie illustrates many features of a
deception operation that are covered in this book:
The movie also illustrates some other points. Most deceptions require good
showmanship, and Hollywood understands how to put on a good show—a
talent that the US government occasionally calls on, as we’ll see in a later
case study. In every deception, curveballs will present themselves. Success
demands constant observing, orienting, and reacting as events unfold. The
sudden appearance of the corrupt local cop, Snyder, looking for Hooker had
to be dealt with. The deception plan was changed to include him as a target. It
also creates an outcome that most often is the ideal—the “mark” or opponent,
Lonnegan, never realized that he had been deceived (nor did Snyder). On
some occasions, though, you prefer for an opponent to know he’s been
deceived because of the subsequent bad decisions that he makes.
Deception itself is a word that has been used in a great many contexts, from
deliberate acts within wars between nations to the deliberate acts in personal
relationships as exemplified in The Sting. In this sense deception is a process.
As it is used in this book, it also refers to a deliberate and rational process
executed by an actor, in order to benefit that actor within a subjective context.
The spectrum of contexts in this book is focused on actions promoting
governmental rather than private interests. That includes, for example, the
intelligence and operational planning processes of military, police, and/or
civilian organizations.
One does not conduct deception for the sake of deception itself. It is always
conducted as a part of a conflict or in a competitive context, intended to
support some overarching plan or objectives of a participant. In a military and
civilian intelligence context, the overarching plan or strategy is usually stated
clearly. So in this context, the most direct answer is the following axiom: The
more successful the deception in support of a plan, the greater the chance the
plan will be successful. In dealing with war and security issues, measures of
success are usually characterized by precious resources that include material
and people. Though by no means exhaustive on the issue, one of the most
accessible studies as to the effects of employing deception in operational- and
strategic-level military planning is Barton Whaley’s 1969 book Stratagem,
Deception and Surprise in War.1 By drawing on the comparative analysis of
122 historical cases, Whaley shows a clear relationship between deception,
surprise, and the ratio of adversary to friendly casualty results from
engagements. Figure 1-1 illustrates his results. The bottom axis is the ratio of
adversary to friendly casualties—higher numbers are better. As one succeeds
in either deception or surprise, casualty ratios become more favorable. The
ratio improves dramatically when deception is used and surprise is achieved.
Furthermore, deception has a substantial role to play in all conflicts, not just
military ones. Governments must be able to apply deception activity in
conflicts across the political, military, economic, social, infrastructure, and
information (PMESII) domains. Nonstate actors such as terrorists, criminal
groups, and other militants directly engage governments through social and
economic lines of operation. The insurgents in Afghanistan offer “shadow”
governance. Hezbollah militancy in Lebanon has a strong social and
economic engagement, as did Daesh (also known as ISIS, ISIL, or IS) in
Syria, Libya, and Iraq. However, “shadow governance” in Afghanistan is also
a cover for narcotics cartels. The social and economic engagement of
Hezbollah conceals ideological activities that support a militant agenda and
Iranian foreign policy. Daesh did the reverse, using a radical religious
ideological screen to hide the fragile economic and social connections to the
Sunni tribes that form their support base on the strategic level. On the
operational level they disguise their intelligence organization as an
organization of tribal engagement offices in major communities. They hide
military command and control (C2) within the social domain of the
population they control.
The statistics shown in Figure 1-1 and Figure 1-2 are generally available for
the outcomes of military conflict. No similar statistics have been found that
deal with the many deceptions in the political, economic, and social realms,
in part because outcomes of “victory” or “defeat” are harder to establish in
those arenas. But it is likely that similar ratios of success for both deception
and surprise apply in all the fields of conflict covered in this book.
Comparable statistics do not exist for the counterintelligence or psychological
operations (PSYOPS) disciplines for good reason. The statistics are almost
binary: Failure of the deception almost always means failure of the operation.
The series of deceptions executed by Soviet and later Russian intelligence to
protect two major US sources for almost twenty years, Aldrich Ames and
Robert Hanssen, are described in Chapter 6. Those two were able to operate
long after they should have been caught because the deceptions were so
successful. The World War II Black Boomerang PSYOPS described in
Chapter 3 succeeded because its listeners continued to believe that they were
hearing a German Wehrmacht radio broadcast.
Deception
There are a number of definitions of deception in a variety of contexts, some
of which overlap. The eminent author on deception, Barton Whaley, defines
deception as
Another prominent writer on the topic, J. Boyer Bell, defines deception very
simply:
Both definitions are accurate in the sense of defining an end result, in terms
of the belief and/or behavior of others. Both also correctly describe deception
as a process of deliberately inducing misperception in a target person or
group of people. Deception is therefore not an accidental or unintended
outcome.
Whaley explicitly takes the definition one step further, and it is an important
step. His focus is on manipulating behavior based on a false picture. That’s
the widely accepted view: that belief is not enough; action (or refraining from
an action that otherwise would be taken) is required for it to be deception.
This concise definition includes three basic concepts that we’ll revisit
frequently:
1. It emphasizes the idea that deception must have a target. In the next
section, we’ll introduce a structured approach to thinking about the
targets. The section following that discusses the means, in the form of
basic principles of deception.
2. It promotes the idea of using deception to gain an advantage. The key to
deception planning is being able to envision a future situation that is
more advantageous to the pursuit of the deceiver’s objectives than if he
or she did not conduct a deception. That future situation takes the form
of a “desired” scenario to be achieved through deception, as later
chapters will discuss.
3. It highlights the concept of imposing the false on the target’s perception
of reality. This false perception takes the form of a story, which will be
discussed in Chapter 5.
Counterdeception
Much like the definition of deception, the term counterdeception is often
differentiated by context and organizational mission. For example, the US
Department of Defense definition follows:
Counterintelligence
The US government defines counterintelligence as follows:
Operations
Operations is often thought of in a military context, and many of the
examples in this book describe deception to support military operations. But
law enforcement conducts operations to deter crime and capture criminals;
and CI, as the previous definition indicates, includes “activities”—that is,
operations. And nongovernmental organizations such as criminal and terrorist
groups conduct operations. So the term is used in its most general sense
throughout the book, in two ways: to describe an action taken, and to refer to
an organization that executes political, informational, or economic as well as
military actions.
Psychological Operations
Finally, before going further into the subject of deception, it’s important to
define psychological operations. The US military definition is as follows:
Your goal is not to make the opponent think something; it is to make the
opponent do something.
You want your opponent not only to do something—but do something
specific.
It is not always necessary to make the decision maker in your target
network believe in the false state of affairs that you want to project; but
it is enough to make him so concerned over its likelihood that he feels
that he must provide for it.
Non-action is a form of action; the decision to do nothing is still a
decision.
The decision maker(s) are the targets of deception, the intelligence
services are the customers of deception.9
CHAPTER III.
DUSKY DICK'S FIRST BLOW.
John Stevens felt not a little concern as he strode along the grass-
grown trail that Fred Wilson had so lately traversed. The discovery
made by the latter was truly a momentous one, and if true, the
danger impending was one that would require all their skill and
courage to avert.
He thought of the gentle Annie being exposed to all the horrors of an
Indian attack, and wild visions of daring deeds and heroic struggles
in her behalf flashed across his mind. He felt that he could
accomplish all these, for her sake.
And, in good truth, these fancies possessed his mind so greatly that
he forgot a greater portion of necessary prudence, striding along as
if in the utmost security, as though fully assured that there was not
an enemy within a hundred miles of his present location. But he was
speedily awakened from his abstraction.
A dark form suddenly sprung out before him, with leveled rifle-
muzzle threatening him. As his eyes fell upon the intruder, John
fancied he recognized the figure.
"Is that you, Dusky Dick?" he called out, halting and half-raising his
rifle.
"Keep your gun down—don't offer to shoot, or I'll plug ye! Yes, it's
me. But who the devil are you?" returned the man.
"Stevens—John Stevens, you know," laughed the young settler.
"Why, who'd you take me for?"
"Fer a Injun. They're 'round at thar tricks, I b'lieve. But whar are you
goin'?"
"Over to Wilson's—why?"
"Oh, nothin'—I didn't know. Folks all well at home?"
"Yes, all well; that is, all of our own. But there is a lame Indian there,
who hurt himself somehow, while out hunting, I believe. You know
him—Bob-tailed Horse?" added John, the better to allay any
suspicions the other might have entertained.
"Yes; a drunken dog. Mind out or he'll sarve you some dirty trick, yet.
Wal, if you're goin' to Wilson's, I won't hinder you no more. Jest give
them my respects, will you?" and Dusky Dick stepped to one side of
the path.
But, as he did so, John noted an evil glitter in his eyes as the
moonlight fell upon the renegade's countenance, through a rift in the
tree-tops. Stevens realized that Dusky Dick meant mischief.
"All right—I'll tell 'em," and the young settler strode lightly past the
man.
He saw the heavy rifle of the desperado raise and sweep through the
air, wielded by strong arms, evidently aimed at his head. But Stevens
ducked adroitly, and the weapon hissed harmlessly above his head,
the force of the unresisted blow swinging Dusky Dick around almost
against him.
With an angry cry, Stevens whirled his rifle around, its iron barrel
alighting full upon the traitor's head, felling him to the ground like a
dead man. But still a little cry broke from his lips.
Instantly all around was confusion, and the young settler shuddered
involuntarily at the terrible commotion he had aroused. Wild yells
filled the air until it sounded as though scores of devils had broken
loose upon earth, all thirsting for human blood.
Stevens knew his danger, and realized the full extent of his peril—
that he had fallen into an ambush of red-skins of whom Dusky Dick
was either a member, or else a chief. And he knew too that he would
be put to his best, if he escaped the threatened capture.
He had not alone to think of himself, either. The fate of more than
one probably depended upon the speedy accomplishment of his
errand. He must warn the Wilson family of their danger.
Uttering a low cry, John crouched down, and, summoning all his
powers, sprung with headlong force along the path, that he could
see now contained one or more of his enemies. But it was the only
road for him now. He knew that he would not stand the faintest
chance of success, in a run at night through the forest, with the well-
trained and fleet-footed Indians for competitors.
He leaped forcibly against the foremost Indian, hurling him
breathless to the ground, without receiving any particular harm
himself. But there another confronted him, with uplifted hatchet
gleaming in the moonlight, only a few feet distant.
John lowered his rifle and sprung forward, at the same time thrusting
out forcibly with his weapon. The rifle-muzzle took the red-skin full in
the pit of his stomach, doubling him up like a jack-knife, and causing
him to emit a fearful grunt; but at the same time he clutched the rifle-
barrel and held it with a firm grip. This, added to the impetus of his
rush, caused Stevens to stumble headlong, and ere he could recover
himself, several red-skins were upon him.
Literally so in this case, and the young settler was borne struggling
to the ground, almost smothered by the weight of the yelling red-
skins. And then their weapons flashed out and were uplifted to drink
his heart's blood.
It seemed as if the young man's fate was irretrievably sealed, and
his eyes closed as a faint prayer rose to his lips. But his time was not
yet.
Dusky Dick recovered his feet and sprung forward, his head dizzy
and confused by the sound blow he had received. But he knew
enough to see the peril of the young settler, and—for a purpose of
his own—resolved to avert it, for the present.
"Hold! don't strike!" he commanded, in the Sioux dialect. "You must
not kill him yet."
It is not likely that his words would have had the desired effect had
he not beaten the weapons aside with his rifle-barrel, and fairly
hurled one or two of the savages aside.
It was, perhaps, fortunate that John had not shed any blood,
although he had given some severe blows, for then, not even the
influence of Dusky Dick, great as that undoubtedly was, could have
saved Stevens from immolation. Even as it was, two of the red-skins
—those who had received John's compliments—were clamorous for
his death.
But Dusky Dick was firm, and fiercely declared that the man who
lifted a hand against Stevens, unless by his express orders, should
die the death of a dog. This threat, when uttered by one possessing
the renegade's resolution, sufficed; and then by his orders, the
young settler was firmly bound.
Dusky Dick drew aside with several of the principal braves, and
consulted earnestly for a few moments; then he returned, and
Stevens was lifted erect. Two savages held him firmly, while another
loosened the bonds that confined his feet, so that he could walk, but
not run.
"What do you intend doing, Dusky Dick?" he demanded, in a tone as
calm as he could make it, while such angry passions struggled within
his breast; "what do you mean by this outrage?"
"I told you the Injuns was on the war-path. Now you know it, don't
ye?" chuckled the renegade, triumphantly.
"What're you going to do with me?" persisted John.
"Keep you prisoner fer awhile; then burn you, maybe. You must ask
Sloan Young. You are his game."
John saw the uselessness of further speech, and remained silent.
He realized that he was in a truly perilous situation, and though he
felt some natural uneasiness for himself, by far the greater share of
his anxiety was for the peril that threatened Annie.
If Dusky Dick would act thus toward him, might he not do the same
with others? Stevens shuddered convulsively as he realized the peril
that threatened the family of his loved one, who were, as he
believed, totally unsuspicious of the outbreak.
And then his fears were confirmed by the direction taken by his
captors, they heading directly toward the point where the Wilson
cabin was located. As if to put the matter entirely beyond doubt,
Dusky Dick, after a few instructions to the leading red-skin, fell back
to a position just in front of Stevens—the entire party proceeding in
Indian file, as the narrow trail would not admit two abreast—and
tauntingly uttered:
"As you said you was goin' on to Wilson's, I thought I'd give you a
escort, like. Don't you feel highly honored? You hed ought, anyhow,"
and he chuckled grimly.
"You are not—" faltered John, his blood chilling at the significant tone
of the renegade.
"Ain't I? but I am, too. Thought you'd be lonely, a captyve by yourself,
so we've concluded to give you comp'ny. But don't count on too
much. Annie's fer me. You must be 'tented with the men critters,
onless you take the old gal."
John uttered a hoarse growl of anger, and would have sprung upon
his tormentor, bound though his hands were, had not the guard
behind him divined his intentions and drew him forcibly back. This
showed Stevens the folly of allowing his passions to get the better of
him, and so he kept silence, while Dusky Dick malignantly resumed:
"Yas, Annie's mine. That's settled, for good. She'll make a nice
squaw—don't you think so? Anyhow, I'm goin' to resk it. But t'others
—well, they'll prob'ly git jest the same as you will—'ither knocked on
the head decently, or else used fer a bonfire, jest to 'mind the reds o'
old times, when roasted white men warn't an uncommon dish.
"But you don't talk. Deaf, ain't ye? Or be you thinkin' o' the folks at
home? Need it, they do. You said Bob-tailed Horse was there, didn't
you? Well, he was sent there; and, what's more, he was sent thar by
Sloan Young, and he ain't hurt no more'n you be, not a bit! He was
sent thar to open the door at the night time, so 't the reds could walk
in quietly. It's nearly time fer the blow, too, as your folks go to bed
airly. I wonder how they'll feel by mornin'?" and Dusky Dick laughed
ferociously.
Stevens shuddered, but did not reply. He knew that Bob-tailed Horse
would scarcely admit his red brethren, but then there was other
danger. He knew that Fred would try and persuade the family to
hasten over to his house, and he—John—had evidence that the trail
was thickly beset by dangers.
Besides the band that held him a captive, Stevens had heard
enough to know that Sloan Young was also lying near at hand, only
awaiting the proper time to spring his trap upon the "people of the
great rock." Might not Fred also stumble upon one of these parties?
Dusky Dick was not a little provoked at the ill-success of his taunting
boasts, but soon desisted, and once more made his way to the front,
as the party were now rapidly nearing the cabin of Edward Wilson.
Their caution increased, and the party glided along the shadowy
path, like some grim forest hunter.
John was not idle, however. He resolved to escape, if it lay in human
power, as he felt that to remain captive was equivalent to death,
more or less speedy; and he might yet be able to accomplish
something. If too late to save the Wilson family, he might be of use to
his own people.
He worked assiduously upon the bonds that confined his hands.
They were of tanned buckskin, and defied his utmost efforts to break
them. The endeavor only resulted in abrading the skin of his wrists.
The knots appeared to be tied securely, and would neither slip nor
come untied. It seemed as though his hopes were doomed to be
frustrated by this one fact. And yet he did not give way to despair or
cease his efforts, only keeping them concealed—as he was enabled
to do by the darkness beneath the trees—from the red-skins before
and behind him.
Now the little party stood upon the verge of the clearing surrounding
the cabin of Edward Wilson, and peered curiously out upon it. An
Indian grasped John firmly by the neck, and rested one hand upon
his lips, evidently resolved that he should give no alarm.
All was quiet around the dwelling. There was no light within the
building, and it seemed as though the inmates had retired to rest,
with their usual feeling of security. Dusky Dick uttered a fiendish
laugh.
"You see," he muttered in John's ear, "your friends don't expect
visitors to-night. They will be agreeably surprised—I guess not—
when we wake them up. But, still, it may be a trap, and you must
guard us from it. Now I am goin' to make you walk jest afore me,
and, mind you, I have a long knife—long enough, anyhow, to reach
your heart—ready for use at the slightest sound from your lips. And I
will use it, too, if you give a single word or sign to alarm them."
In a few words Dusky Dick made known his plans to his followers,
and they expressed approval of it. John was brought to the front and
Dusky Dick crouched behind him. Then the others strung out in a
row, so that any shot from the house would miss them all, unless first
striking the young settler.
"Now, step out, young feller," muttered Dusky Dick, pricking Stevens
slightly with the point of his bared knife, "and remember that if you
rouse them up, their first shot must take you. Pleasant, ain't it?" and
he again gave vent to a fiendish laugh.
John dared not remonstrate, and obeyed the impulse given him by
the renegade, slowly advancing toward the log-cabin. Nearly two
hundred yards of clearing had to be traversed, and as may be
imagined, it was a trying ordeal for the young man's nerves, who
knew not at what moment a shot from his friends might sound his
death-knell.
But in this he was agreeably disappointed, for the side of the cabin
was gained in safety. Not a sound broke the stillness that filled the
clearing, save the usual hum and chirping of the summer insects. A
silence as of death seemed upon every thing.
Dusky Dick advanced to the door and gently rapped with his
knuckles. No answer; only the echo of the knock replied. Again and
again he repeated it, with the same result.
A glad hope sprung up in the heart of the young settler. He believed
that the family had taken alarm and sought safety in flight.
This same idea struck Dusky Dick, and he thumped loudly upon the
door. Then with a wild, angry cry he rushed forcibly against it. Still no
answering sound broke the silence.
"The birds have flown!" uttered a savage, in a tone of disgust.
"Break down the door and let's see," cried Dusky Dick, with a bitter
oath.
A simultaneous rush of several sturdy forms, broke down the
fastenings of the door, and then Dusky Dick rushed into the house.
He could hear no signs of its being occupied, and then hastily struck
a light. As the glare filled the room, an angry roar broke from his lips.
The floor was strewn with various articles, whose disorder told of
great haste; that told the renegade his anticipated victims had indeed
taken the alarm and had fled from the impending peril. Now he
bitterly cursed his folly in leaving the building unguarded, after his
vain attempt at compromise.
"Git torches and hunt fer sign," he cried, as he stirred up the embers
that still glowed in the huge fireplace. "They can't have gone far in
this little time. Quick! we will find them yet!"
In a few moments a number of the Indians had secured torches, and
were searching the ground without for some trace to tell them the
direction taken by the fugitives. Meanwhile Dusky Dick had hastily
searched through the building, and confirmed this belief. They were
indeed gone.
CHAPTER IV.
A TERRIBLE SURPRISE.
Tobe Castor sat down to the table and without ceremony began
what he would have termed a "square meal", eating as though his
whimsical assertion was true—that he had not eaten a bite for two
weeks. Evidently he was not a man to be disturbed by trifles, and
who threw his entire energies into one thing at a time.
Edward Wilson conversed earnestly with his wife and daughter,
telling the tidings imparted by their friend, the old hunter. He asked
their advice, for, like a sensible man, he did not think it derogatory to
his manhood, to consult one of the "weaker sex."
"What does Tobe say?" asked Mrs. Wilson.
"He says thet you hed better jest git up an' git, while you kin," replied
that worthy, as emphatically as the crowded state of his mouth would
admit. "They've got a dead open an' shet on ye, 's long's you stay
hyar. Dusky Dick wouldn't 'a' shot off his mouth thet a-way, unless he
had some one nigh to back him up. An' I know the pesky imps hez
riz, down furder; an' it stands to reason that it'll spread up this a-way,
whar thar's a few skelps to be got, 'thout much resk. So I say—
mosey!"
"But where—which way? If, as you say, the Indians have broken out
below us, they must be between here and the settlements—at least
such as are strong enough to offer any hope of safety."
"Jest so, Ed; but see. The longer you wait the wusser it'll be. An' it'll
keep a-spreadin', natur'ly, up this a-way. Ef you start now, you stand
a chaince o' gittin' through. Ef you wait ontil to-morrer—providin'
Dusky Dick don't put in his oar, afore—it'll be wuss, a heap. Dog-on
it! You must start to-night!" earnestly added Castor.
"But Fred—he is not here, and we can't leave him."
"No more shall you. My plan's this. Say we gits out o' here, an'
a'terwards Dusky Dick gives the cabin a call, an' finds us gone.
Won't he natur'ly s'pose you've struck out fer the settlements? An'
won't he look fer us in thet direction? In course he will. So much fer
so much, then.
"We'll take the hosses an' start in thet d'rection fust. Fer it's more'n
likely they'll hunt fer our trail by torchlight, ontil they set the p'int we
head torst. Then they'll set off to run us down. So we must go fur
enough on critter-back to fool 'em, thet way. Then we'll turn 'round
an' strike back in a crooked route, torst the Stevens shanty, find
Fred, tell our yarn, an' take the hull caboodle with us.
"We kin take a turn ag'in, an' then by hard ridin', make up fer lost
time. Ef we're ahead o' those imps by day, then we're all right fer
them. We must take the chances 'bout t'others. But I think we kin
work it. Thar—thet's my plan; what d' you think o' it, anyhow?"
demanded Castor, arising from the table.
The party were silent. They could see no other way, and yet this one
seemed full of danger. But indeed, if the rising of the Indians in
insurrection was a fact, which way could they turn without incurring
danger?
So this plan was finally acquiesced to, and the work of preparation
for flight commenced. Castor and Wilson set about saddling the
horses, while the women packed food and extra clothing, with such
little articles of value that they could not bring themselves to
abandon, in small and compact bundles.
They worked as if for dear life, and but a few minutes were
consumed ere all was pronounced ready for a start. Castor had
taken a hurried scout along the route they proposed to follow, and
discovered nothing suspicious.
There were only four horses, but Tobe scornfully declared that he
would none of them; that he never yet met the four-footed animal
that he could not wear out, on foot. But he advised them to take the
extra one along for Fred's use.
Then after a few words of caution, he led the way from the clearing,
and they entered the gloomy forest, leaving the home that had
sheltered them for two years, with sensations of choking regret. It
seemed like parting with some near and dear friend.
The trail was narrow and winding, and frequently the riders were
forced to stoop low down in their saddles, to avoid the pendent
boughs, but to offset this, they had the advantage of knowing the
route thoroughly, from so often traversing it. Tobe Castor led the way
with long, swinging strides, that forced the horses to their best
walking, to avoid being distanced.
There was urgent need of haste, as they understood matters to be,
for Fred might return to the deserted house, before they would have
time to gain Stevens', if any delay occurred. And unsuspecting the
threatening peril—as they believed—he might run into an ambush
and be either killed or captured by the red-skins.
"We've gone fur a plenty," said Tobe, when nearly a half-mile had
been traversed. "We must strike fer the other shanty now, or we
mought miss Fred. Take keer fer your heads, now, as thar hain't any
trail the way we must go."
"Ain't you afraid of losing the way, Tobe? It's so dark," muttered
Wilson.
"Nary time I ain't. Lose nothin'! Me? Git out! Wasn't I raised in the
woods? Couldn't I smell my way, even ef I was blinded? In course I
kin. Don't be skeered 'bout thet, Ned. I'll take you as straight thar as
a drunken Injun's trail—fer you know we've got to go mighty crooked
through the dark, on this bresh. Now keep cluss together and don't
make no n'ise. Don't holler out, even ef the limbs saws your heads
off. 'Tain't nothin'—a'ter you git used to it."
The guide hurried abruptly to his left, and strode rapidly along,
holding onto the bridle of the horse ridden by Mrs. Wilson. After her
came Annie, with Wilson bringing up the rear, leading the spare
horse.
Owing to the darkness, considerable noise was unavoidably made,
but as they soon gained a point at a fair distance from the trail
Castor believed there was but little danger of being overheard. As a
matter of course, he reasoned that such Indians—and he fell fully
assured that there were more or less in the neighborhood, from the
bold threats of Dusky Dick—as were lurking around, would naturally
keep near the main trail, as the two families were all living within
some miles of that point.
Thus he pressed on through the woods at a good pace, for now time
was precious. A long road lay before them, and unless a certain
distance could be gained before day-dawn, he believed their
chances of ultimate escape would be faint indeed.
The riders found that his warning was well founded, for more than
once they were almost brushed from their saddles, by the low-
hanging boughs, and only by lying almost flat along their horses'
necks, could they proceed with any degree of safety. Then their
animals were mainly left to their own guidance, but naturally followed
close in the footsteps of the one led by Castor.
For several miles the fugitives proceeded in this manner, which was
inexpressibly wearisome, and more than once had Wilson urged
Castor to seek the trail leading direct to the cabin of Wesley Stevens.
But the guide refused, as it would be incurring foolish risk. The
unbroken woods were far safer in his estimation.
But their journey was not to be completed without interruption, and
one soon came that threatened serious consequences. It occurred in
this manner.
As they were proceeding at a fair gait, a bright flash spouted forth
from one side of the little party, at only a few yards' distance, and
mingled with sharp report, came the spiteful hum of a ragged bullet
as it hurtled close to the head of Mrs. Wilson. Then a loud, fierce yell
broke upon their hearing.
The horses were badly frightened by these sudden and unexpected
sounds, and broke loose from all control, wildly plunging on through
the woods. And the voice of Castor was heard, crying:
"Keep together, an' let the animiles went! Foller me!"
Fleet-footed as a deer, he sprung forward and clutched the bridle-
rein that had been wrenched from his grasp; then ran beside the
horse, now leading the way. Occasionally he would raise his voice—
knowing that, if they were indeed followed, this could not add to their
peril, as the loud crashing made by the affrighted animals could be
heard further than his cries—and it was essential that none of the
party should become separated from the others.
For nearly a mile this headlong race was maintained, and then
Castor suddenly checked the horse he was guiding. He could hear
nothing of any pursuer, and had resolved that now, if ever, was the
time to throw any such off the scent.
"Is it all right, Ed?" he anxiously cried, approaching Wilson.
"Yes—I believe so. Is Mary hurt?"
"No—I am safe. But Annie—where is she?" replied Mrs. Wilson,
breathlessly.
"Here—I caught her horse as it ran past. Are you hurt, Annie?"
There came no answer, and Wilson repeated the inquiry, in
wondering alarm. Tobe Castor sprung forward with a cry, and stood
beside the horse.
It was dark and gloomy there, in the forest depths, where the thickly-
crested tree-tops effectually prevented the moon's rays from falling
on the earth, and nothing could be seen. The sense of feeling must
be depended upon, merely.
Castor reached out and touched the snorting horse. It trembled like a
leaf. He called aloud on Annie's name, but she did not answer.
His hands fell upon the saddle. It was empty—Annie was gone!
The old scout uttered a low cry and staggered back. The blow was a
fearful one, and he felt it as though the lost one had been his own
child.
"My God! Castor, what is it?" gasped Wilson, alarmed at the tone of
the hunter, and bending forward in the saddle as though he would
pierce the dense obscurity with his distended eyeballs.
"The gal is gone!"
Mrs. Wilson uttered a low, gasping groan, and reeled in her seat.
Tobe sprung forward and caught her sinking form lowering her gently
to the ground. In a moment Wilson was beside her, half-distracted by
the terrible events that pressed so closely upon them.
"Give her a sup o' this," gloomily said Castor, producing a small flask
of whisky. "'Tain't no time fer faintin' now. We've got our hands full
'thout thet."
"What must we—what can we do?" cried the father, chokingly, as he
strove to revive the fainting woman.
"Work—work like blazes. No use goin' furder ontil we find thet gal; ef
it kin be did. Ef—it must be did! Thunder! I'll find her ef I hev to take
an' rip the hull teetotal kentry through my old hat! See 'f I don't, now,"
and Castor spoke with strong emphasis.
Mrs. Wilson now gave signs of returning consciousness. Strong-
nerved, she was not one to yield long to any misfortune, however
heavy and bitter it might be.
"Now, Ed," added Tobe, thoughtfully, "this is what we must do. You
may stay here with her an' the hosses, 'ca'se we may need them
afore long. I'll go back 'long the trail as we kem by, an' look fer the
gal. She must 'a' bin knocked off by some pesky limb, an' won't hev
gone fur. I'll find her, never fear."
"But the Indians—those who fired at us? They may have found her,"
faltered Wilson.
"'Tain't likely, fer I didn't hear thar yell as they'd 'a' give ef they hed. I
don't think they'd notice her tumble a-tall. An' then ag'in, I don't think
thar was more'n one or two, or they'd 'a' follered us closter. Most
likely jest a stray, prowlin' critter, who run jest as soon's he shot at
us."
"I hope so—but why can't we all go?"
"Don't be a fool, now, Ed, don't. S'posin' thar was a wheen o' reds
nigh, wouldn't we look nice a-blunderin' right spang into 'em? They'd
hear us a-comin', an' then lay fer us. Then whar'd we be? No, sir.
Whatever's did I must do, alone, by myself. You must stay here to
keep her comp'ny—onless, indeed, you keep right on to the shanty
fer Fred. Which is it?"
"No, we must not leave Annie—Fred is a man, and better able to
take care of himself. We will wait here."
"All right, then. But fust, wait ontil I find a better place fer ye to lay
low in than this," and Castor started away from the spot.
"Is Annie gone, Edward?" murmured Mrs. Wilson feebly.
"Yes—but Tobe says he can find her. She is safe, I believe, but was
brushed off the horse's back. He will find her never fear."
"Here ye be, folks," muttered the old hunter, as he returned. "Kin you
walk a leetle, Mary?"
"Yes, I can; I think."
"Holp her, Ed, while I take the animiles. Foller me."
In a few moments the refuge was gained; a sort of natural bower,
where, even by the light of day, a casual observer would scarcely
have noticed their presence, and in the darkness, unless some noise
should betray them, an entire tribe of red-skins might have passed
within arm's-length of the covert, without suspecting their presence.
"You stay here an' keep still. Don't move or speak 'bove a cat's
whisper, ontil I come back. I'll give the call o' the night-hawk twicet.
You know it, Ed?"
"Yes, but be—"
Tobe did not wait to hear the conclusion of this sentence, but turned
and glided away. His mind was far from being at ease, although he
had endeavored to cheer up the fugitives with a confidence he was
far from possessing, as he knew that it was no time for
despondency.
He knew that Annie had most likely been knocked from the saddle
by a limb, and that she might have received such injury as prevented
her crying out. And then again she might have suddenly been
pounced upon by the one who had fired the treacherous shot, and
taken prisoner before she could give the alarm.
If hurt, the chances were against his finding her, in the darkness, and
to await the light of day would be perilous in the extreme, now that
the vicinity of deadly enemies was put beyond a doubt. Still he did
not entirely despair; it was not his nature to do so, while breath
remained.
Tobe glided along cautiously, seeming to avoid collision with the
thickly-growing tree-trunks and bushes by instinct, keeping as near
as he could tell, in the trace of their wild flight. His hearing was
keenly alert, and he looked for some signs or sounds to tell him
whether the hidden horseman had followed them or not.
But he reached a point near where the alarm had been given the
horses, without seeing or hearing aught to confirm either his
suspicions or hopes. Then he paused to listen more intently.
His lips compressed tightly and one hand sought the haft of his
ready knife, as he heard the sound of faint footfalls, apparently
approaching him. Still he did not speak or move, not knowing
whether friend or foe advanced.
The steps sounded more and more distinct, until Tobe felt assured
that the comer was not the girl he sought: the tread was too regular
and deliberate for that of a frightened wanderer. Then who could it
be but a foe?
A dark form appeared outlined against the less opaque atmosphere,
within a few feet of the crouching scout. With knife drawn, Castor
reached out, and finding a small twig, snapped it with a sharp noise.
A low guttural exclamation came from the figure, and it started back
as if in alarm. That satisfied Castor, who sprung forward with a low
howl of anger.
His arms closed around a brawny form, but a quick motion rendered
the knife-stroke futile, and then they fell to the ground together,
battling fiercely for the mastery. Their arms were twined around each
other, so that their knives were of little use.
It was now a struggle for life or death!
CHAPTER V.
THE BURNING CABIN.
A dim, shadowy, phantom-like chain flitting silently through the forest
depths. A living chain, composed of human beings—at least in
outward semblance—bent upon an errand of bloodshed and death.
They pause at the edge of a considerable clearing, and gaze out
upon it. A rude log-cabin stands here at the foot of a good-sized hill.
In the darkness, it seems as though there were two buildings, but
one is a huge square bowlder. A mass of rock that has puzzled many
to tell where it came from. It gives a name to the cabin and its
owners, "the people of the lodge by the great rock."
The cabin is the one where we met the Stevens family. The human
chain is led by One Eye—Sloan Young, the half-breed heretofore
alluded to. He and his comrades have come here to perform their
part of the bloody plan, to further which the Indian, Bob-tailed Horse,
had been sent to gain admittance into the cabin.
"It is nearly time," muttered One Eye, in the Sioux dialect.
"Yes, the pale-faces are asleep before now," added one of the
Indians.
"We will not wait any longer. Come, let us go," and One Eye entered
the clearing and glided stealthily toward the cabin that stood silent
and gloomy in the shadow of the hill.
The half-breed paused when beside the rude structure and uttered a
call; one common to that place and time of year—the cry of the
night-hawk. Then he stepped forward and pressed gently against the
door.
To his surprise it did not yield. He again uttered the signal, upon
which the traitor was to throw wide the door, but still without the
desired result.
"The fool has drank fire-water until his brain is asleep! He has
forgotten his duty," angrily hissed the half-breed.
"It is growing late and our weapons are hungry for white blood. Let
us break open the lodge. They can do nothing," muttered the Indian
who had spoken before, who was evidently of higher rank than the
others who stood silently behind him.
"We can do it. One rush will overpower them. But remember—the
young squaw must not be harmed. She is mine—for my squaw,"
earnestly added Young.
"It is well. One Eye shall have her," and then the chief spoke a few
words to his followers, who drew together and made a heavy rush
against the door.
It flew open so suddenly that one-half their number fell in a sprawling
heap upon the floor, half-way across the room. Then with wild yells
and cries Young and the chief sprung over their forms, and glared
around for their anticipated victims.
But where were they? Why did not their cries of wild alarm and terror
break forth upon the air? Surely there had been noise enough made
to awaken them from the soundest slumber!
Raging furiously, Young rushed into the second room, but silence
met him there, as well. He could no longer doubt the truth.
"A light—quick!" he snarled fiercely, in his rage speaking in English.
"They cain't all hev gone. Cusses on that drunken fool!"
A light was speedily struck, and applied to a heap of clothing that lay
upon the floor. As the blaze shot up, the interior of the cabin was
rendered visible. Here, as at Wilson's, the disordered furniture and
various articles strewn about the floor, told of a hasty and recent
flight.
The half-breed quickly ran through the rooms, and found nothing
there to wreak his fury upon. The loft, likewise, was empty. His anger
and disappointment was fearful.
Led by him the Indians procured lights and ran outside to find, if
possible, some trace of the fugitives. While some searched for a trail,
others sought among the brush and hollows along the hillside, in the
faint hope that the fugitives had sought shelter there.
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