Waring was in the midst of these gloomy forebodings, when the noise of a light footstep startled him, and looking around, he turned to greet his friends:
"Well, what have you discovered?" he added. "Are we alone on the island?"
To his surprise he received no reply.
"What are the prospects of our getting over the mainland"——
As quick as lightning Waring's rifle was at his shoulder, and one of the approaching Shawanoes was shot through the breast. With a wild yell, he sprang high in the air, and fell dead upon the sand. At the same moment the white man saw something cleave the air, and heard a rushing sound close to his face, followed by the splash of the tomahawk in the water behind him. Clubbing his rifle, he stood on the defensive, when he noted that neither of the savages had possessed a rifle, and conscious that he was more than a match for the surviving one, he made a rush at him.
The Indian turned to flee, and Waring had hardly started in pursuit, when the report of a second rifle was heard among the trees, followed by a series of whoops and yells, as if a legion of demons had suddenly been loosed. With that presence of mind which ever characterized the young man, he comprehended his critical peril in an instant. The trees were swarming with Shawanoes. If he went a rod further, his destruction would be inevitable.
Wheeling around with such celerity, that his momentum carried him nearly off his feet, he flung his gun from him, and ran for life to the flat-boat. Stepping one foot intothe water, he made a tremendous bound, and alighted upon the gunwale, the same as a bird would have done; and then tearing his hat from his head, he concentrated all his energies in the one effort, and sprang full fifteen feet out into the river.
The instant he came to the surface, he gasped for breath and dove again, swimming while beneath the surface, as far out toward the Kentucky shore as it was possible, repeating the manœuver several times, until believing he was at a safe distance from the island, he swam sideways, and anxiously surveyed the island.
So prompt and rapid had been his movements, that he had not been seen, and his own escape, if he chose to improve the opportunity given him, was at least insured; but Luther Waring would have rather been smitten by instant annihilation, rather than desert the two beings that he had left behind him. The thought had never once entered his head.
He continued off the island until the current had nearly carried him half way to the water's edge, so that he believed he had run little risk of discovery. As he walked in under the shadows, several forms followed him like phantoms, while as many more closed around him from the wood. Waring had taken but a few steps, when he was startled by hearing a deep groan. His apprehension told him at once that it was the voice of Lander, and he was moving toward the point from which it came, when he caught a glimpse of the shadow-like figures around him, and saw that the most dangerous crisis of his life was upon him.
The Shawanoes had not yet surrounded him, and conscious that all depended upon a quick and energetic decision, Waring made a dash to regain the river. The dense undergrowth at this portion of the island impeded the movements of both pursuer and pursued; but the activity of the white man was superior, and he was the foremost at the beach, when, making another terrific leap, he bounded out into deep water, and dove beneath the surface.
While submerged, Waring heard distinctly the dull report of the rifles, and the skipping of the bullets, as they glanced over the water. Being a skilful swimmer, he turned upon his back, and as he was borne slowly upward, he allowed only his mouth and nose to be exposed, when, inhaling a sufficient quantity of air, he again dove, and repeated precisely the same manœuver that we have described before.
Finally, believing he was again safe, he allowed his head and shoulders to come to view, and looked back toward the island. To his dismay, an Indian canoe was within a dozen feet of him. Its occupants descried him at the same moment that he discovered them, and now commenced a most exciting race of life and death.
One minute would have decided the contest in the middle of the river, but fortunately, indeed, Waring's efforts had brought him within a few rods of the shore. Fearful of being fired upon, he repeated his stratagem of diving, and when he came to the surface, struggled frantically to gain the shore, with the canoe darting forward like a shadow. As soon as he could gain a foothold, he tore through the foaming water, and dashed into the woods, while the canoe was scarcely twice its length behind him.
It was only by the most skilful running, dodging, and doubling, that Waring succeeded in freeing himself from his agile pursuers. He had gone fully half a mile in the forest before this was accomplished, but he found himself, at length, entirely alone, and panting and exhausted, he seated himself upon the ground, to decide upon the next course to pursue.
He could not think of leaving the island, when he had every reason to believe that all he held dear on earth was upon it. Virginia was a captive in the hands of the merciless Shawanoes, and even if he could afford her no assistance, he could certainly learn something of her fate, and form some plan for her rescue.
With this determination he arose, and retraced his steps. It is hardly necessary to say that he made his way as silently, stealthily and cautiously as it was his ability to do; starting at every rustling wind, or falling leaf. Uponreaching the shore of the river, he found that he was above the island, and again wading it, swam out toward it.
Waring wished, if possible, to recover his rifle, and gain a glimpse of the band of Indians who had slain Lander, and who held his daughter captive. Steadying himself, he allowed the current to carry him downward, and when several rods distant, checked his motion, and took a survey of the flat-boat and the surroundings.
He saw his rifle lying on the beach, its ornamented stock and barrel shining in the moonlight. After carefully surveying every portion of the island, that came under his observation, he detected no sign of danger, and was about to let himself float forward again, when the lifted head of the Shawanoe rose above the gunwale, and remained in view for fully a minute.
As the moon shone fully upon the savage, Waring distinguished the features plainly. He concluded at once that there was several others upon the flat-boat, and all waiting for his return. The savage gazed carefully about him, and descrying nothing, his head disappeared from view.
"Ah, my fine fellow," thought Waring, as he noiselessly swam toward the Ohio shore, "you may watch there quite a while, before you catch me in any of your traps. You have had enough blood for to-night."
He now floated slowly down the river, keeping about midway between the island and the Ohio bank, and, so far as possible, examined the former, as he passed the bank. Reaching its extremity, he passed around it, and commenced ascending the opposite side, so as to complete his reconnoisance.
This was an extremely difficult task, and none but the most powerful swimmer could have accomplished it. But Waring succeeded, and finally "anchored" for a few moments abreast of the flat-boat, while he took another observation of it. He saw nothing more of the Indians, although he firmly believed they were still upon it.
He was convinced that the major portion of the Shawanoes were still upon the island, and after floating somewhatlower, he landed at precisely the same spot where he came so nigh being captured before. Feeling confident that he had not been seen, he unhesitatingly came ashore, and passed beneath the shadow of the trees.
Upon coming from the water, his limbs were so heavy, and he felt so exhausted, that he threw himself down upon the ground, to gain a few moments rest. Despite the exciting scenes through which he had just participated, and the terrible ordeal through which he had just passed, he fell asleep almost immediately.
It was in the midst of a fearful dream of tomahawks, scalping-knives, Indians and murders, that he was awakened by a grasp upon his arm. Believing resistance to be useless, he lay motionless, waiting for the command of his captors.
"If you've no objection, I should like to inquire whether you are not about through with your nap?" inquired the well-known voice of Hezekiah Smith.
CHAPTER VIII.
STILL ON THE ISLAND.
The dull, grey light that now began to overspread the sky, gave token of the coming day, and the three whites withdrew further into the grove for consultation.
"This is a bad business," remarked Waring, after he had exchanged experiences with his friends. "The infernal devils have outwitted us at last. God knows what will become of Virginia. Her poor father is already dead!"
"Yes, we have seen him," said Hezekiah, with a shudder at the remembrance of the awful scene. "He isn't a dozen rods away from us."
"Let us give him a decent burial," added Waring. "We can find some means to scoop out a grave for him."
The three moved away to the clearing, but, upon reaching it, nothing of the body was to be seen. The Shawanoes had carried it from the island.
"Perhaps it is as well," said Waring. "He is beyond all pain and suffering, and the disposal of his body can make no difference to him, although I would that we could have performed the last sad rites for him."
"Wall," said Hezekiah, clamping his rifle down upon the ground, as he came to a halt, and folding his arm over it, "here we is, and the question afore this assembly is how we're going to get away. What do you propose to do, my dear Patrick?"
"I advise that we ate breakfast."
"The only objection to that," replied Waring, "is that we have none to eat; but, badinage aside, we must first go over this island again, and learn whether there are any of the demons left. If not, we must get on their track, for, as true as the heaven is above me, I never go to that settlement without Virginia."
"I am certain—that is, as certain as I can be—that the last of the Indians left the island a half hour ago. We seen their canoes going off."
At the extremity of the island the three separated, as had been proposed, and commenced making their way back again.
In doing this, it was necessary to avoid exposing themselves to any who might be on either shore of the mainland, and, from the great caution that was necessary, the work was an extremely difficult and tedious one.
It was not until full two hours had elapsed that the three whites met on the spot where Virginia Lander had been taken prisoner.
Their search, or examination, as it might be termed, proved that the savages had, indeed, left the island, not a sign of one having been discovered. They had probably done this under the belief that the whites had succeeded in reaching the mainland, so that the latter were convinced that, if they kept themselves concealed through the day they would not be disturbed, and could easily getaway when night came again. The ashes of their camp-fire had been discovered, and blood upon the leaves, and other evidences of their recent visit.
"But, if you have no objection to tell, where's your rifle?" asked Hezekiah, who had noticed that Waring was unprovided with that weapon.
The latter looked through the trees.
"Yonder it lies this very minute. Strange, that they did not steal that also. I will go and recover it."
He paused, ere he had passed out from among the trees, for the very fact that the rifle lay there undisturbed, sent a suspicious pang through him. It seemed improbable that such an occurrence could be mere accident. A true Indian rarely, if ever, committed such an oversight. The rifle was magnificently mounted, and would have been a prize to any one.
There was another matter which, in Waring's state of mind, excited suspicion and apprehension. He believed the gun did not lie on the precise spot where he had thrown it. He recollected that he had flung it with such force that it must have gone very nearly to the edge of the beach, whereas it now lay either on the very spot that he had passed over, or a few feet upon the opposite side.
This circumstance, which, at any other time, would have attracted no attention at all, caused Waring great uneasiness. He felt that it was by no means certain that everything was right upon the island, even though it had been proven that their enemies had just left it. It looked to him as though a trap had been laid to ensnare him, and this rifle of his, lying but a few yards distant, was the bait.
Feeling pretty well convinced that there was some design in the presence of this rifle, he set himself to work to discover the precise means by which it was intended to entrap him. There being no Indians on the island, of course he ran no risk of being taken prisoner, in case he ventured out to recover the weapon. The distance from this point to either shore was so slight that it would havebeen the easiest matter in the world for a concealed savage to pick him off. The gun could not be recovered without exposing himself to this peril.
Ah! the flat-boat! Waring's heart leapt at the thought. Strange that it had not occurred to him before. There it lay, just as it had during the night, save, perhaps, that it had sunk a few inches lower. It was upon that he had seen the heads of several Indians, and there, in all probability they still lay in wait, watching for his reappearance.
What reason had these Shawanoes to suppose that Waring could again return to the island. The best of reasons. He had shown to them a desire to do so, and as long as he believed that Virginia Lander was there, the savages well knew he would linger in the vicinity. Once upon the island, he would not fail to recover his gun, provided he believed he incurred no additional danger in doing so.
That, then, he concluded, was the solution of the question. Taking other matters into consideration, Waring came to the conclusion that it was their desire to take him prisoner instead of shooting him, deeming, most probably, the latter death far too comfortable a mode for him to use in getting out of the world. He knew enough of the blood-thirsty savages to understand what a terrible fate would be his, in case he fell into their hands. They would take a fearful vengeance for the Shawanoe he had killed in self-defence. Well, indeed, had it been for the feeble Mr. Lander that he was so enfeebled and weakened. It brought him a speedy death, instead of a lingering torture.
These reflections, which we have recorded at some length, occupied Waring but a few seconds. He saw everything with a hunter's eye, and, with a shake of his head, stepped back a pace or two, and resumed his position beside the Irishman and Hezekiah.
"What's the matter?" asked the latter.
"It won't do—it won't do."
"What won't do? Do you mean to go out there and pick your rifle?"
"Yes, that is what I mean."
"What is to hinder?"
"I don't like the looks of that flat-boat."
"Whew!" blew Hezekiah, surveying the object in question as though he had never seen it. "If you've no objection, might I inquire why you don't like it?"
"I am afraid there are Indians concealed upon it. I saw them there last night."
And now arose a dispute in which all three of the whites engaged. Waring, who most certainly was the best qualified to judge, expressed it as his firm conviction that a half dozen Shawanoes, at least, were at that moment glaring out from the flat-boat, and waiting for their reappearance. Hezekiah dissented, and persistently maintained that there was but one savage upon the craft, and that he lay in the cabin sound asleep! He could give no satisfactory reason to the others for this belief, but he appeared sincerely to believe it himself. Pat Mulroony, on the contrary, was ready to swear that there wasn't a redskin on the island, flat-boat, either bank, or within five miles of them!
"Be jabers! I'll soon find out."
"How?"
"I am going on the owld flat-boat itself."
Pat's companions begged, entreated, and implored, but all to no purpose. He had resolved to prove what he had argued, and he now prepared to do it.
CHAPTER IX.
A FEARFUL ADVENTURE.
It is not to be supposed that Pat Mulroony was entirely free from fear, when he resolved upon the venture of which we have spoken. The strenuous assertions of Waring, the equally positive belief of Hezekiah, and their united protestations convinced him that they were at least sincere and honest in their efforts to preserve him from harm.Nevertheless, like a genuine Irishman, he sturdily combated them, determined to demonstrate his sincerity by actual experiment.
It is a fact that a man may commence with the assertion of an absolute falsehood, and conscious, at the beginning, that he is defending such, argues himself in time into the belief that it is genuine truth.
Pat Mulroony had walked two-thirds of the distance to the hulk, and was within a few feet of the water, when he paused. He had discovered a fearful and startling thing!
That which arrested the brave-hearted Irishman, was the sight of a human eye. At a small augur-like orifice at the mouth of the boat he suddenly distinguished the glowing eye-ball of a Shawanoe Indian! It was glaring like a demon's, and a cannon-ball would not have stopped him sooner.
Waring and Hezekiah, noticing his hesitation, called out in a whisper for him to return. This very call was the means of sending him forward again. He was resolved that they should never laugh at this adventure, and with rather a quickened step, he strode forward, and catching the gunwale by one hand, he carried himself with one bound over upon the deck.
He had left his rifle behind, and was armed only with his knife. His two friends breathlessly watched him and listened. They saw his head and broad shoulders gradually lower as he walked undauntedly toward the stern of the boat, until the bow hid them from sight, and then all was still.
The silence lasted for perhaps a full minute, and then was broken by a yell as startling and terrific as an explosion of thunder in the clear summer sky. Instantly a half dozen tufted heads was seen dodging hither and thither over the deck, all centering around one burly, bare-headed figure that was struggling like a lion amid a score of enemies which had dogged him nigh to death.
While Waring and Hezekiah gazed transfixed with horror, a powerful-limbed Indian shot up like a rocket in mid-air, and came down in the river. Ere he had struck, another went spinning after him, falling flat on his face in the water, with a concussion that cracked like a pistol. While they were swimming with all speed back to the boat, a heavy fall was heard, a faint shuffling noise, and then all was still.
As the foremost Indian was in the act of pulling himself over the gunwale of the flat-boat he let go with a horrid whoop, and fell back dead, killed by the bullet from Waring's rifle. The other attempted to swim behind the stern, but Hezekiah shot him through the brain ere it could be accomplished.
There could be but one cause for the sudden cessation of the tumult upon the flat-boat. Pat had either been overcome or slain. The silence that succeeded the fearful yell and the struggle was equally painful and impressive to his two friends. They waited long and impatiently for it to be broken.
"It's all up with him!" whispered Waring, as he primed his rifle. "I pity him, but our hands are clear of his blood."
"Too bad, too bad," muttered Hezekiah, who had just loaded his rifle, "he was a good fellow, my dear Patrick was indeed. I am sorry that he has come to this bad end!"
"We must look out for ourselves now. The best thing we can do is to get off this infernal island, which has been the scene of such misfortune to us. I am afraid that if we remain much longer, you will take it into your head to perform some such a feat, and I shall be left alone."
"No, indeed, I won't, there's no danger of that," added Hezekiah, so eagerly and earnestly that it brought a smile to the face of Waring.
"It is yet early in the forenoon, and I suppose we shall be compelled to remain here until night."
"Of course we shall! It won't do to start out in the river in open daylight. We'd be killed before we had gone a dozen inches."
"Hello! did you hear that?" exclaimed Waring.
Several whoops were heard upon the Kentucky shore, apparently in answer to these which had been uttered some minutes before by the captors of Pat Mulroony. Peering through the trees, Waring added:
"There is a party of the thieves, coming off from the mainland in a canoe. Get ready for hot work."
"Drat the things—can't we hide?" anxiously asked Hezekiah, looking around him for any place that might offer.
"No; we must stand our ground; they have just started."
The canoe which was approaching was a large Indian one, in which were seated three or four Shawanoes, all busily plying their paddles. They headed straight for the upper end of the island, while the whites stood each behind a tree, with cocked rifles, waiting until they were compelled to fire.
Just as the canoe seemed about to touch, it sheered off, and ran alongside of the flat-boat, where it lay against and parallel to it. The heads of four savages immediately appeared above, as though they were staggering under the weight of some heavy load. The next second, Pat Mulroony, bound hand and foot, was handed over, and deposited in the bottom of the canoe. His friends could hear him muttering dire threats of vengeance, and daring his captors to loose him for a moment, all of which it is needless to say attracted no notice whatever.
The captive disposed of, the Shawanoes followed, sinking the canoe to its very gunwales. They paddled away toward the shore, and in a few moments disappeared from view.
"Now, at least," said Waring, "the island and boat are free of the imps, and we can have a breathing spell. Let us go upon the old hulk."
"What in the world do you want to do that for?"
"It is the safest place."
"If you've no objection, I should like to inquire how it can be the safest place?"
"In the first place there is no one upon it, and in thesecond place, as its sides are bullet-proof, we can use it as a fort, and keep off any number of foes until dark, when we can get off ourselves."
"Let's go upon it, then, before they come back."
It was with some misgiving, slight enough, but still sufficient to occasion uneasiness, that Waring once more approached the flat-boat. When he reached the deck, he experienced an irresistible desire to explore every portion of it, not that he suspected the presence of any Indian, but that he could not feel positively assured until he had done so. The result was that it was found to be entirely empty of any persons except themselves. The cabin was half full of water, and it was here that the Shawanoes must have concealed themselves while their victim was approaching.
CHAPTER X.
COMPANIONS IN CAPTIVITY.
With his usual recklessness, Pat Mulroony, after arriving upon the hulk of the flat-boat, descended into the cabin. He had just reached the base, when he espied several Indians, and he immediately retreated to the deck again.
Knowing that he was "in for it," he turned, and catching the foremost Indian in his arms, threw him bodily into the water. The second he served in the same manner, when he found the redskins were coming up rather too fast for convenience. However, he gave the third a tremendous blow in the face, and commenced laying about him in regular Donnybrook style, when his foot slipped, and ere he could rise he was seized and bound.
"Trate me gintlemanly," said he, "for yese can't deny but what I sarved yese in the same manner."
The Indians could but respect the bravery he had shown, and they offered him no violence. He was then passed over the side into the canoe, and transported to theshore. Shortly after, his captors joined the main body, where he met Virginia Lander, in the same helpless situation as himself.
The Shawanoes were gathered in an irregular circle around the fire, some smoking, others chatting, and others apparently asleep.
The savages had thrown a brilliant crimson shawl over her shoulders, and her hair being as jetty black as theirs, and her head bowed, he had taken her for one of their number when he first looked upon them. Virginia sat with her head bowed, for her heart was stricken with grief. The picture of her cherished father springing up with his wild look, and running through the trees, pursued by his merciless enemies, was ever before her. She could not drive it from her, and shudder after shudder ran through her frame, and the tears trickled thick and fast between her fingers.
How changed since yesterday! Suffering, misfortune, and death, had come upon them—had swept her only relative upon earth from her, and separated her from him who was dearer than any relative could be! All alone—alone!
No, she was not all alone! There was One who was ever nigh her—who never lost sight of his stricken ones, and who only could comfort her in this dark hour which had come upon her. To Him she turned, as the human heart will turn, when bleeding and lacerated, and refusing to be comforted by any sympathy the world can give.
But it was hard to be separated from all kindred. The thought was loathsome and full of abhorrence that she, an unprotected woman, was alone among a party of blood-thirsty savages. She hardly dare look upon them, and yet looking through her tears she ventured to steal a glance at them. How her heart leaped, as her gaze rested upon the broad, jovial face of Pat Mulroony, his pitying blue eyes fixed upon herself. Removing her hands, she looked up, and with a mournful smile returned his nod of recognition. Comprehending the question her very looks formed, the quick-witted Irishman replied:
"Yes, I'm the only one beside yerself that the haythen have, and they wouldn't have got me if I hadn't struck at 'em too hard, and missed 'em. Ye jist keep quiet, my jewel, and ye'll hear of Pat Mulroony agin."
A sort of consultation was now held among the Shawanoes, relating not to the prisoners, but to those who were not, the debate being as to what means should be employed to capture them also. After a protracted discussion it was decided that the whole party, with the exception of enough to guard the prisoners, should cross over to the island and boldly attack them.
This decided upon, the preparations were instantly completed, and the warriors moved down to the bank, leaving Virginia and Pat to the guardianship of two of their number. At the very moment of reaching the river they descried the two whites as they climbed upon the flat-boat.
This caused a halt and a further debate. Large as was the Indian party, a majority were opposed to assaulting the whites in their stronghold. They had already learned enough of their mettle to understand that this would be a most dangerous undertaking upon their part, and many more were convinced that there was no hope at all of success, even with the loss of two-thirds of their number.
It was actually decided to give up the hope of securing the two remaining whites by this means. The sagacious Indians suspecting the relation which existed between one of them and one of the captives already in their possession, believed a much better opportunity would be offered. Love will play thewildwith any man, and lead him to attempt deeds which in his cooler moments he would pronounce madness. So they were content to bide their time.
CHAPTER XI.
As the Shawanoes had invariably come from and returned to the Kentucky side of the river, Waring concluded that the entire war party was upon that shore, andit was therefore determined in leaving the island that they should cross over to the same bank.
"It will bother us somewhat to manage our rifles," said he, "and as we may need them the instant we touch land, we must keep them and our ammunition out of the water."
"Rip off a piece of this old hulk, and float them over on that."
"A good idea."
The suggestion of Hezekiah was adopted at once. A portion of the cabin was loosened and placed in the water, and upon it was laid their two rifles and powder horns. The raft thus formed was so buoyant as to afford them material assistance in swimming.
The night was of inky darkness; the most favorable that the two adventurers could have wished. Yet, fearing that the savages might suspect some such stratagem as this, they allowed themselves to drift downward with the raft until they had passed the lowermost portion of the island, when they shoved out into deep water, and commenced working their way cautiously over toward the Dark and Bloody Ground.
"Be careful and keep your limbs under water," admonished Waring; "a single splash may betray us."
"Yes, I understand," whispered Hezekiah, kicking around like a frantic frog. "It appears to me that we're going down stream faster than across it."
Such was the case, as Waring found that his efforts alone tended to carry them across, Hezekiah's being as much in one direction as another, amounted to nothing.
"Drat it," muttered the latter, "it's something like that canoe I got into the other night. Never mind, we'll come out somewhere."
A few minutes later the two touched bottom, and pushing their craft carefully before them, came out in the woods, where the blackness was of Egyptian intensity. Hezekiah bumped his head several limes before he dare rise to a perfectly upright position, and then he could only discern the shadowy form of his companion beside him.
"Whatever happens, or whatever you see," whispered Waring, "don't speak or start."
"I know better than to do that—drat that limb! it has nearly sawed my neck off!"
Knowing that the current must have carried them a considerable distance down the river, Waring used the bank as his guide, and ascended a considerable distance before he began to look about him for the savages. After having progressed somewhat over a quarter of a mile, he caught the glimmer of a light through the trees, and touched Hezekiah upon the arm, as a caution for him to be on his guard.
Making their way carefully through the tangled undergrowth, through hollows and over fallen trees, across brooks and miry patches of earth, they at length stood within a hundred yards of the Shawanoe camp-fire.
Waring's heart sank within him, for he understood at once that the Shawanoe war party had divided, and that neither of the captives was before him. When had the separation taken place? What direction had the other taken? How could its trail be gained?
These were questions which instantly presented themselves to the young adventurer's mind, and which for a long time he was unable to answer. Amid the profound darkness which held reign, it was very obvious that nothing could be done. Even the full, bright moon was unable to penetrate with its light the solemn labyrinths of the Dark and Bloody Ground. Nothing could be done until morning.
As neither Waring nor Hezekiah had enjoyed any sleep for many hours they both felt fatigued, despite the exciting situation in which they were placed. Withdrawing a considerable distance further into the forest, they both lay down beside an uprooted tree, and were almost immediately locked in slumber.
The sleep of Waring was deep and dreamless. It was not until the sun had been up several hours that he opened his eyes. As soon as he recovered from his temporary bewilderment he arose, chagrined that he had lost so muchvaluable time. To his surprise, upon looking around, nothing was seen of Hezekiah Smith. Thinking, however, he could not be far away, Waring seated himself upon the tree and waited for his return.
An hour passed away, and still no sign of his missing companion. The young man had whistled, and gave utterance to all the signals at his command, but had elicited no response. He was now alarmed, and greatly vexed; alarmed at the singular disappearance of his friend, and vexed that now, when every minute was of the utmost value to him, he was thus compelled to remain, and accomplish nothing. At length his patience became insupportable.
"There is no use of remaining behind," he muttered. "The Shawanoes have gone, and every minute places them further from me. I will follow them alone, relying upon my own arm and the kindness of Heaven for success."
Throwing his rifle over his shoulder, he moved resolutely off, resolved never to turn his back upon his enemies until he had learned something of the fair captive they held. It was a desperate proceeding, indeed, for a single man thus to pit himself against a whole party of redskins, but our hero felt no hesitation in doing it.
It was now, too, that Waring began to experience the pangs of hunger. He had fasted a long time, and was so famished that he determined to secure some food at all hazards. At the period of which we write, game was very abundant in this portion of the West, and the decision had scarcely entered his mind when several wild turkeys, their wings outspread and their feet scarcely touching the earth, sped along within a stone's throw of him. As quick as thought the foremost was shot and in his hands.
The instant that Waring had secured his game, he regretted having discharged his piece, for he felt certain he had exposed himself to danger. Some of the Indians must certainly be within hearing, and would be attracted thither by a suspicion of the true state of the case.
To guard against capture Waring made all haste through the woods in the direction of the camp-fire which had been deserted by the savages, in the belief that this would be the last place where his enemies would seek for him. Upon reaching it he was gratified to find a large quantity of live coals, and, without hesitation, he plucked and dressed the turkey, and proceeded to cook it.
The bird afforded him a most needed and nourishing meal, besides furnishing enough for future use; and now that his immediate wants were attended to, Waring set to work in earnest upon the all important object that had brought him thither.
In the first place, it was necessary to discover the trails of the two war parties, and in trying this he failed completely. Although gifted with more than ordinary intelligence, shrewdness, and cunning, he had not yet learned enough of the woods to follow the faint footsteps of the wild Indians through its labyrinths, when the traces left were so faint that the human eye, unless trained by an experience of years, could not detect the least signs of the passage of any one.
Had the Shawanoes proceeded with their usual caution, it would have been absolutely impossible for Waring to have followed them a hundred yards through the wilderness. But, fully conscious that no enemy that need cause them the least uneasiness, was in their vicinity, they straggled forward as carelessly as a party of schoolboys. This only was the reason why our hero was enabled to follow them.
Waring, under the belief that they had penetrated further into Kentucky, for a long time examined the ground only upon that side of the fire. His efforts meeting with no success, he resorted to the opposite side, where the trail was discovered at once.
It being impossible to find any further signs of the passage of the Shawanoes in any other direction, he concluded that both parties must have gone this way, which, somewhat to his surprise, led toward the river. Keeping along on the trail, he found, as he had feared, that theyhad embarked in their canoes, and gone either up, down, or across the stream.
"And how am I to tell which way?" he muttered. "I must run the risk of getting the wrong choice out of these three." Waring, under ordinary circumstances, would have been discouraged at the formidable obstacles which now rose before him; but one of his temperament could never rest while the object of his choice was a captive in the hands of the savages, and he, therefore, did not once think of turning back.
"They cannot have goneupthe river," he reflected, "because they have come from that direction. And yet what reason is that why they should not have done so? Yet it strikes me that they have not taken that course. They could have gone much more rapidly overland. If their destination is in Kentucky, it surely is not on the banks of the Ohio; it must be a good distance back from the river, so that they would only have lengthened their journey by taking to the water. From all that I have ever heard or read of the Shawanoes Indians—to whom this war party surely belongs—I have been led to suppose that although they range at will on both sides of the river, still their towns and villages, and their home, in fact, is in southern Ohio. And what more natural, now that they have secured their prisoner, than that they should return to their home as rapidly as possible? Such, it seems reasonable to believe, is the true state of the case, and I must cross the river again."
Waring was on the point of venturing into the river, when his attention was arrested by a loud splash in the direction of the flat-boat, and to his surprise he descried several Indians upon it. Finding that he was not observed, he drew back and watched their actions.
A glance convinced him that they belonged to the same war party of Shawanoes, and were searching the craft for plunder. They had thrown over a sort of bench, which was fastened, bottom upward, to the stern of a canoe. They were some half dozen savages, who, a moment later, shoved off and paddled down stream.
Their light craft shot rapidly forward, inclining neither to one shore nor the other. From this, Waring's belief that the main body had crossed the river was changed into the conviction that they had all gone down the stream in their canoes; and that all that remained for him to do was to keep these redskins in sight.
This was a difficult task, indeed. Under the skilful guidance of the sinewy Indian, their canoe skimmed like a swallow over the water, and it required the most strenuous efforts of Waring to keep it in sight. Fortunately, indeed, the wood, a few yards from the shore, was open, and his footsteps were not much impeded.
Hurrying thus forward, now and then darting to the river bank, he kept up the pursuit for five or six miles, the canoe all the time gaining upon him, until finally he lost sight of it behind a bend in the river.
Waring was panting and perspiring, and in no pleasant mood, that, after all his efforts, he was compelled to fall behind, and he relaxed into a sullen walk.
"It seems as though everything is conspiring against me," he muttered. "I have done everything in my power, and here I am at last, left entirely alone, without knowing whither a single one of my friends has gone. It matters little what becomes of me. A curse upon the infernal Indians that have persecuted me thus!"
He walked moodily forward for an hour or so, by which time he had passed the bend in the river, around which the canoe had disappeared. The river at this point took a due southwest direction, running so nearly straight that a view of several miles was afforded. Nothing of the canoe, however, had been seen. It had gone, Waring knew not where.
Wearied and dispirited, he threw himself upon the ground, and endeavored to sleep. But he was too excited and nervous to rest; and devouring what he could of the remaining portion of the turkey, he threw the rest from him, and leaned his head on his hand to reflect upon the best course for him to pursue.
He had lost all traces of the Indians and their captives.How he should ever meet Virginia again it was impossible for him to imagine. In the impenetrable depths of the great wilderness which surrounded him, where the merciless red men wandered for miles, how could he, a single, unaided white man, follow them? How——?
The explosion of a rifle broke the stillness of the woods, and springing to his feet, Waring hurried madly forward, scarcely conscious of what he was doing. After running a short distance he paused, and parting the bushes, gazed upon a scene that thrilled his very being with the wildest of thoughts.
CHAPTER XII.
AN EXPLOIT OF HEZEKIAH SMITH'S.
Hezekiah Smith awoke two full hours before Waring. Looking toward him, and noticing that he was still slumbering, he concluded not to disturb him, as he well knew how exhausted his frame must be. Feeling perfectly wakeful himself, he arose to his feet and looked around him. The first sensation experienced by the New Englander was that of hunger—a craving for food immediately. The sun had just risen, and although he was well aware of the abundance of game in the wood, he dare not fire his gun on account of the proximity of his enemies.
"I guess I'll take a tramp down the river," he concluded, "and when I get out of their hearing I'll knock something over, and eat enough to last me a week."
He looked down upon the tranquil face of Waring.
"He appears to sleep very sound, and I guess it's hardly worth while to disturb him. He'll be there when I come back, and all the better for the extra rest he has received."
With this philosophical conclusion, Hezekiah wandered off in the woods. It was his intention to take a southerly direction, penetrating further into Kentucky, and such washis course at first. But, unconsciously to himself, he deviated to the right, parallel with the Ohio.
With no sensation, but that of hunger, with the resolve to attend to that immediately, and at all hazards, Hezekiah hurried forward without once noticing the course he was pursuing, or reflecting that it was more than probable he would be entirely lost in the trackless wilderness.
While still hurrying forward, his excited ear detected a faint gobble in the woods, as if a lost turkey were calling its companions; and proceeding stealthily onward, he suddenly came upon a gobbler, that was wandering about disconsolately, as if indeed lost. Before it could get out of his reach, Hezekiah discharged his piece, but only wounded it.
It started off on a rapid run, and, fearful that it would escape him if he paused to load his rifle, he dashed after it at the top of his speed, and now commenced a most interesting race.
All things considered, perhaps, in the condition of the gobbler, Hezekiah could outrun it, that is, where both were given the same chance; but the bird had a way of slipping through the undergrowth, jumping under the bushes, and trotting over fallen trees, as though they were not there, that gave him an immense advantage over his pursuer.
The latter tore headlong through the bushes, sometimes a rod or two in the rear, sometimes almost upon it, his hope constantly kept up to a most exciting point, by the hairbreadth escapes it made from him. More than once, he made a frenzied leap forward, and, as he fell on his face, caught perhaps the tail feather of the bird, while the bird itself glided through his grasp, leaving a most vivid impression of its tapering form upon his hands, which had slipped over it so neatly. Then, again, he would strike at it with his rifle, and perhaps pin another feather to the ground.
"Drat it," exclaimed Hezekiah, after one of those fruitless attempts. "It's enough to make me swear. I'll chase him as long as I can stand, but what I shall get him."
It is a fact, to which all hunters will testify, that, in the exciting pursuit of their game, they can travel mile after mile, with hardly any sensible fatigue. It is not until they come to retrace their steps, that they realize how great a distance they have passed over. The attendant, perhaps, whose mind does not participate in the same excitement, is exhausted even in following the hunter.
Thus it happened that Hezekiah Smith, who would not have believed he had gone more than half a mile, chased the gobbler for fully ten times that distance, at the end of which it did not seem fatigued in the least, the wild turkey, as our readers are aware, being a noted runner. With no thought of giving it up, Hezekiah still pursued it at the top of his speed, occasionally making a leap forward at it, and the bird as often eluding him, as cleverly as ever.
Suddenly he caught the glimmer of something through the trees, and to his joy, saw that they were approaching the banks of a river. He was now sure of the bird; he had fairly earned it; and his tormenting hunger was about to be satisfied.
Gracefully, and majestically, as the bird reached the edge of the river, it spread out its wings, and, sailing through the air, landed upon the Ohio side, and disappeared in the woods.
"That is unpleasant. If my rifle had only been loaded, I would have finished him."
In chasing the gobbler, with all his turnings and doublings, Hezekiah had become "turned around," himself, so that it seemed to him the Ohio River was running in the wrong direction, and that he was on the other side of it. Concluding however, that such a phenomena would be a miracle, he kept on down the river, having decided that it would be useless to retrace his steps, in the hope of finding Waring.
He was walking slowly forward, panting and fatigued, when it struck him that there was a peculiar smell in the air. It seemed as though something were burning, and, knowing that he was in the midst of an Indian country, heguarded his steps, and kept a more watchful eye upon his surroundings.
It turned out as he had expected. He was close upon an Indian encampment. He caught a glimpse of the gaudy, fantastic costumes of the savages through the trees, and approaching as nigh as he could, he concealed himself, as well as his position would admit.
It was with singular emotions, that Hezekiah recognized this party as the identical Shawanoes who had attacked his party, and who held Pat Mulroony and Virginia Lander as captives. The fact that they must have been here some time, proved that they had broken their last night's encampment at an early hour, and departed even before he himself had awakened.
The party seemed to have lost several of their number—some four or five—but there was no mistaking the others. Hezekiah recognized them at once. What surprised him still more, was that none of the captives were visible. What had become of them? Had they been sent in advance, in chance of a smaller party? What possible cause could the Shawanoes possess for taking such a step?
These questions ran rapidly through the mind of the New Englander, but there was another which constantly presented itself, and that was the one in regard to obtaining food, for satisfying his hunger, which was constantly growing greater. There seemed but one course left for him, and that was to take to the woods again. He was on the point of doing so, when his heart leaped at what appeared a most fortunate occurrence to him.
Several times he thought he had detected the smell of burning meat, and the cause of it was now explained. Some twenty rods to the right of the encampment of the savages, was a smaller fire, at which a single squaw was cooking. At the moment that Hezekiah caught sight of it, this squaw had left it, and the meat was entirely unguarded.
The temptation was too great; Hezekiah was only sensible of his intolerable hunger. Running back into thewoods a few rods, he came in the rear of the fire, and totally unmindful of his imminent danger, snatched the meat, and seating himself upon the ground, commenced devouring it like a wolf.
The first mouthful was dropped suddenly upon the lawn, being so hot that his tongue was blistered. But he soon became used to it, and in a few moments had swallowed the entire piece of meat, and was wiping his fingers upon his hair.
"Just as much as I could possibly get down me," he muttered. "I couldn't possibly swallow another mouthful, and—"
A shrill whoop suddenly broke the stillness of the woods, and turning his alarmed gaze behind him, he saw the squaw, standing within a dozen feet of him. She was fairly blue with fury, and was screaming as if to split her lungs.
"Heavens!" exclaimed Hezekiah, who now saw how foolhardy he had been, "the old woman is riled considerably, and if I ain't mistaken them Indians are likewise."
The outcries of the infuriated squaw had attracted the instant attention of the Shawanoes, who had caught a sight of the white man as he was rising to his feet, and three of their fleetest runners started in pursuit.
Hezekiah Smith's frame was gaunt and attenuated, and he was sinewy and muscular. He was not only very fleet, but possessed bottom, and was capable of holding his own against any one, and he now darted into the woods at a rate that excited the admiration of his pursuers. The three separated, so as to make sure of the fugitive, and called all their energies into play to overtake him.
The forest for a considerable distance was open, and afforded a good field for the runners. The distance between Hezekiah and the Shawanoe remained about the same for five or ten minutes, when one of the latter discharged his rifle, and the white sprang high in the air with a loud yell.
But he hadn't been struck. It was only fright. The report of the gun gave an impetus to his flight, and sooncarried him far ahead of the redskins. Dodging hither and thither, flitting in and out among the trees, it was impossible for the latter to gain anything like an accurate aim, and they did not repeat the attempt to bring him down.
All was now going well for the fugitive, and he would have escaped had he understood the woods. But his ignorance was fatal. Directly ahead of him was a deep gorge, or ravine, toward which the Shawanoes had managed to turn his face without much difficulty, and unconsciously to himself he was running directly into a trap.
It was not until he was on the very brink that Hezekiah realized his peril. His hair fairly rose on his head, then, as he glanced about him. To the right and left, stretched the deed yawning gorge, too broad to be leaped over, and offering no means of access except a sheer precipice, down which it would have been certain death for him to have gone. Escape was cut off! There was no help for him! He was fairly at bay!
"It's no use of talking," he exclaimed, wheeling round, and placing his back toward the gorge. "I'm cornered this time, and there's going to be a row!"
So saying, he clubbed his rifle, and awaited the onset of the Shawanoes!
CHAPTER XIII.
A STRUGGLE OF LIFE AND DEATH.
The Shawanoes, as we have before stated, had separated during the pursuit, and were now some distance apart. The center one being directly in the rear, was the closest to the fugitive, and came up to him considerably in advance of the others. This was fortunate, in one sense, for Hezekiah Smith, as he then had but a single opponent with which to contend.
The lithe, agile Indian was all eagerness to secure the white as his captive and forgetful of the axiom, "a stag at bay is a dangerous foe," he halted not in the least, butcame at full speed toward him. When within a rod or so, he whirled his tomahawk in a circle over his head, and hurled it with tremendous force full at the breast of his dauntless adversary. The latter, from the motion of his arm, comprehended what was coming, and dodging his head with lightning quickness, the weapon flashed over him, and went spinning end over end down the steep ravine.
Both of the combatants had dropped their rifles and drawn their knives. With a demoniac yell of triumph the painted Indian leaped high in air, and swinging his knife, sprang upon his foe. In a twinkling both were disarmed in a singular manner.
It so happened that the two struck at each other at precisely the same moment, the knives encountered with such force that the Shawanoe's shot out of his hand and followed the tomahawk down the ravine, while Hezekiah's was turned so suddenly that it fell to the ground several yards distant. Both were now entirely unarmed, and glaring at each other for a second, like baffled tigers, they closed in the struggle of life and death.
In point of strength the two were very nearly equally matched. In activity the redskin had decidedly the advantage, but the white man being an expert wrestler, and the savage a perfect novice, the former was in a fair way to end the contest in his own favor. The instant he grappled with his dusky adversary, he felt that he was at his power.
By a trick, or rather art, well known to wrestlers, Hezekiah twisted the savage off his feet, and threw him with stunning violence upon the ground, falling heavily upon him. Allowing him to rise, he repeated the performance several times, the redskin becoming more and more exhausted each moment, until it was manifest to himself that he had not the shadow of a chance in such warfare as this.
The cunning Shawanoe had noticed where the knife of his adversary fell, and each time that he went down he managed to work himself nearer to it. Hezekiah did notcomprehend what he was at, until the savage clutched it with the quickness of thought, and rising again to his feet, confronted him with the weapon.
Not the least daunted, for he was now terribly excited—he closed again with the Indian, receiving an ugly cut in his arm as he did so. At this moment he heard the yells of the other two Shawanoes, and driven to fury by his imminent peril, he concentrated all his strength in the one mighty effort, and grasping his adversary around the waist, he lifted him clear off his feet, and flung him like an infant over the precipice.
Down, like a meteor, through the dizzy air, shot the Shawanoe, with his arms clutching wildly at space, spinning from crag to crag, with his awful cry coming up like the wail of some spirit!
The struggle occupied scarcely a fifth of the time taken in describing it. Impelled by the most implacable hate on each side, the blows were quick and fierce, and the termination speedy and tragic. A shock when the two encountered, a few blows and strivings, another struggle, more determined than the others, and it was ended.
Hezekiah had secured his knife before throwing the savage into the ravine, and with this single weapon he confronted his two foes. They were both about the same distance from him, and he was in doubt whether to expect their united onset at the same moment, or whether they were going to attack him singly. The latter proved to be the case. One of the Indians seemed to be a sort of chief, or, at least, higher in authority than the other; for waving his hand for him to keep his distance, he advanced upon the white man, with the determination of disposing of him without assistance from any one else.
This savage was a much more formidable foe than the other, and Hezekiah being considerably exhausted from his recent efforts, he was in a poor condition to receive him. Nevertheless, there was no help for him, and he showed an undaunted front. The Shawanoe halted a moment, as if to decide upon the best method of attack, and then, with a yell as demoniac as the other, sprang forward.
He had passed over half the space intervening between him and his adversary, when he uttered another yell—a short, frenzied, agonized one, and throwing his arms aloft, fell dead!
Hezekiah had caught the report of a rifle, and saw a red spot suddenly appear on the forehead of the Shawanoe, so that he understood at once that he had been shot. But who had come up and fired his piece so opportunely? What friend had he in the Dark and Bloody Ground? Why did his friend remain concealed?
The remaining redskin had halted upon seeing his companion fall by the mysterious shot, but he evinced no disposition to flee. On the contrary, he continued to approach, fully resolved that the foe should not escape him.
"By thunder! you're the only one left, and I reckon as how I can dispose of you," exclaimed Hezekiah, preparing to receive him. "Though if there should happen to be another rifle around, it would be mighty welcome just now."
The Shawanoe had learned caution from what he had witnessed, and although as brave as a mortal could possibly be, he deemed it best to use prudence in the case. His mode of attack was peculiar. He commenced slowly circling around his adversary, his black, snake-like eye fixed upon him while the latter kept turning, as if on a pivot, so as to confront him.
In going in this circular manner, the Indian came to the very brink of the precipice, so that his form stood out in relief upon it. More than once when he was in this position, Hezekiah was upon the point of springing forward and shoving him over. His heart throbbed painfully, as he balanced himself for the leap, lest the risk was too great for him to attempt it. He more than half suspected the Indian was manœuvering for that purpose, and would succeed in throwing him over instead.
All at once, with the inevitable whoop, the redskin bounded forward, and struck at Hezekiah with his drawn knife. Singular as it may seem, the two weapons encountered in precisely the same manner as did those of the firsttwo combatants, and both were as suddenly deprived of all arms, except such as nature gave them.
As the two closed in with each other, it seemed to Hezekiah that this Indian was much more powerful and difficult to manage than the other, or possibly his own strength was failing. Remembering, however, that he was the only foe which it was necessary to overcome, and that a prolonged contest might bring some of his companions to the scene, he summoned all his strength to this last conflict.
He succeeded in throwing the Shawanoe, and falling heavily upon him, but it required such an expenditure of strength that he doubted whether this means of exhausting him would not first "use up" himself. Furthermore, he found it impossible to hold his foe. Whether his body was greased or not, he could not tell, but the redskin kept up such a twisting and squirming that he glided from his grasp as easily as an eel could have escaped him.
Concluding that it was vain to hope for any success by means of wrestling, Hezekiah now bent his efforts toward drawing him to the edge of the cliff with the determination of throwing him over. The savage comprehended his intention, and probably believing he could do the same thing with the white man, favored his efforts, and in a few seconds both were upon the very brink of the precipice.
And now commenced the awful struggle. With sinews strained to their utmost tension, with limbs braced and pressed against each other, their chests heaving, with teeth set, and their eyes gleaming with the most implacable hate, the combatants strove together!
In reaching the edge of the ravine, the Shawanoe was on the inside—that is, he was the nearest to it—and Hezekiah succeeded in keeping him there. Gradually working him nigher and nigher to the dread chasm, until he felt his strength going, the New Englander gathered his knee to his breast, and summoning all his power, with one mighty effort he kicked the savage from him and over the cliff!
But horror of horrors! in going over, the Shawanoe caught him with both hands by the ankle, and Hezekiah felt himself following! He clutched with the twigs and stones within his grasp, but they all yielded and came with him, and he could not shake off the dreadful incubus that was drawing him on to death. He screamed and shouted, and blistered his hands in his efforts to stay himself, but it was all useless.
Further, further, further—the Shawanoe's weight seems to increase each second—the white man's outspread hands slide over the earth and rock!—he is going, going, going!—his head slips over! and now down like a meteor, through the dizzying air, with wild, ecstatic thrills shooting through his brain—a second's delirium—an awful, stunning shock—and all was dark! The lifeless forms of Hezekiah Smith and the Shawanoe Indian lay side by side at the bottom of the gorge!
The reader will recollect that Luther Waring, in wandering through the woods, suddenly came upon an unexpected scene, and rushed forward in a state of great excitement. The sight that met his gaze was Hezekiah Smith and the second Indian struggling together. Without a moment's reflection he discharged his piece, killing the savage as before related. He was about to rush forward to the rescue of his friend, when he caught sight of the third Indian; and believing that a party had just arrived, and that he could afford him no assistance, and that he was in imminent danger of his own capture, he turned and fled.
Running some distance, he was considerably surprised to find that he was not pursued, and suspecting that, after all, he might have been mistaken, he cautiously retraced his steps. He arrived at the spot of the tragic scene we have just described, and looking over the brink, descried the two inanimate forms lying below.
With a painfully throbbing heart he hurried through the forest, and by a circuitous route entered the gorge. In a short time he came upon the two Indians and his friend. All three were bruised and bleeding, and as Waring lookedabove him at the height of the precipice, he took a melancholy consolation in the thought that the death of Hezekiah Smith had been speedy and almost painless.
"Would that I could give him a decent burial," he murmured; "but I cannot. He shall not remain here, however, to rot beside those fiendish savages. I will do what I can for him."
Taking him in his arms he carried him some distance to where there was a mass of debris and stones at the side of the ravine. Here depositing him carefully upon the ground, he first covered him over with brush, and then stones, until his body was entirely hidden from sight. The principal object in doing this was to secure his remains against outrage from the savages.
"Farewell," said Waring, as he turned away. "I have known you but a short time, and have learned but little of you, but I have learned enough to know that you were aFRIEND; and now, a last adieu to you, myFRIEND!"
With a saddened, mournful heart he turned away and walked slowly through the ravine.
CHAPTER XIV.
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.
Waring's meditations, as he walked through the gorge, were gloomy and melancholy enough. Now, indeed, he felt he was alone. Two of his companions had been slain, and the other two captured; and what could he, single and unaided, accomplish against these inhuman denizens of the wilderness? Absolutely nothing.
And yet he could not persuade himself to give up the hope of a final rescue of Virginia Lander. That hope gone, life looked dark and gloomy to him. Rather than never see her again, he felt that he could willingly share captivity and death with her.
The plan which Waring at length decided upon, was to make his way to the settlement, and seek the aid of the settlers. He could be no great distance from it; and, as the Shawanoes seemed to linger in the forest, there could be little difficulty in finding and following their trail.
With his head bent, and with feelings saddened and thoughtful, from the frightful scenes he had just witnessed, Waring walked slowly forward until he had emerged from the gorge, and was again threading the shadowy woods. At length he entered a portion where the undergrowth became more tangled and dense, and where from necessity he was compelled to recall his mind from its reverie, and occupy it with his immediate duties.
He had penetrated, perhaps, a third of a mile into this undergrowth, when, becoming exhausted, he threw himself upon the ground for a few minutes' rest. He had scarcely seated himself when he was fairly startled out of his senses by hearing the hum of voices! Listening carefully, he soon distinguished the words:
"Begorrah, it's meself that's thinking this is the most delightful retrate of my life, barring that it was a retrate from necessity. What do you think of it, my leddy?"
"Oh! I am so thankful to be free from those loathsome Indians that have persecuted us so long!"
"If we only had that long-legged Hezekiah Smith, and the handsome young felly that ye calls Waring, how much more pleasant the retrate would seem! Eh, wouldn't it now?"
"I do indeed pray that they may rejoin us. Since my poor father has fallen, I am lonely enough with him also gone. Who knows but that he, too, is in their hands?"
"It's meself that understands yer feelings. I mind the time that I lost Molly McMooney at the Tipperary fair, me heart was broken intirely till I found her agin."
Could Waring believe his ears! Those surely were the voices of Pat Mulroony and Virginia Lander, and, from their words they were alone. Could it be they had escaped? Have the Shawanoes voluntarily freed them? What could it all mean?
He arose and looked around him. Yes; but a few rods away he saw the two seated by a small fire, as comfortably as if on some pleasure excursion. The genial face of the Irishman was wreathed in smiles, as he blinked through the smoke at the girl upon the opposite side. The face of the latter was pale, and she wore a saddened, thoughtful expression, for it was hard for her to smile at the witticisms of her good-natured companion, when her terrible bereavement was so recent.
Hardly able to restrain his emotions, Waring approached the two. As he did so, the back of Virginia was turned toward him, while the Irishman faced him. The latter immediately caught sight of him, and signalling him to stop, said to Virginia:
"Did you ever hear, my leddy, that Pat Mulroony was a magician?"
She looked up as if she did not comprehend his question.
"A magician? What do you mean?" returned Virginia.
"A man who on account of his superior vartues is gifted with more than mortal powers. One who can do anything."
Thinking the words of the Irishman to be nothing more than some jest, intended to divert her attention from her grief, Virginia made no reply.