Chapter Thirty Seven.

Chapter Thirty Seven.The Trail struck.Previous to his starting for the fort, Alfred had a hasty communication with his father and mother, in which he informed them simply that it was evident that Mary had been carried off, and that it was the opinion of Malachi and Martin that the Angry Snake was the party to be suspected.“But what cause could he have?” said Emma, weeping.“Merely to get powder and shot as a reward for bringing her back again,” replied Alfred; “so there is not anything to fear as to her being ill-treated; but if he has any other reason for what he has done, it is well known that an Indian always respects a female. But here comes my horse.”“But what are you going to do, Alfred?” said Mrs Campbell, who was in a state of great agitation.“Ride to the fort for assistance, bring Captain Sinclair, and go in pursuit as fast as we can, mother. Martin will get all ready by my return; Malachi is following up the trail with the Strawberry. But there is no time to be lost; I shall soon be back.”Alfred then sprang upon his horse, which Martin had brought to the door, and galloped away to the fort.As it may be supposed, Mr and Mrs Campbell and Emma were in great distress; this did not, however, prevent them from listening to Martin, and supplying him with all that he requested, which was salt-pork and other food for their journey, powder and shot for their rifles, etcetera. Having specified all that was wanted, Martin then went off to summon young Graves and Meredith; they were soon found, and when they heard the intelligence, were ready in a minute for departure. Their rifles and an extra pair of mocassins each was all that they required for the journey, and in a few minutes they accompanied Martin to the house. After they had been occupied for a little time in dividing the various articles into different packages, that each might carry his proportion, Mr Campbell said—“Martin, supposing that you and Malachi are correct in your supposition, where do you think that they will take my poor niece?”“Right away to their own wigwams, sir,” replied Martin.“Have you any idea how far that may be?” said Mrs Campbell.“Yes, ma’am, I have heard that the Angry Snake’s quarters are about twelve days’ journey from this.”“Twelve days’ journey! how far is a journey?”“As far as a stout man can walk in a day, ma’am.”“And will my niece have to walk all that way?”“Why, yes, ma’am; I don’t see how it can be otherwise; I don’t know of the Indians having any horses, although they may have.”“But she cannot walk as far as a man,” replied Mrs Campbell.“No, ma’am, and so I suppose they will be twenty days going instead of twelve.”“Will they ill-treat or ill-use her, Martin?” said Emma.“No, ma’am, I shouldn’t think they would, although they will make her walk, and will tie her at night when they stop.”“Poor Mary; what will she suffer?” exclaimed Emma; “and if you do come up with them, Martin, will they give her up to you?”“We shan’t ask their leave, miss,” replied Martin; “we shall take her.”“But not without bloodshed, Martin,” said Mrs Campbell.“No, ma’am, certainly not without bloodshed, for either the Indians must destroy us or we them; if we conquer, not an Indian will be left alive; and if they master us, it will be about the same thing, I suppose.”“Heaven protect us, but this is dreadful; I was prepared for difficulties and annoyances when I came out here,” exclaimed Mrs Campbell; “but not for such trials as these.”“Never fear but we’ll bring her back, ma’am,” said Martin; “Malachi is a better Indian than them all, and he’ll circumvent them.”“How do you mean?”“I mean, ma’am, that we will, if possible, fall upon them unawares, and then we’ll have the advantage, for half of them will be killed before they know that they are attacked; we’ll fight them Indian fashion, ma’am.”Mrs Campbell continued her interrogations till Alfred was seen at the end of the prairie returning at full speed, accompanied by Captain Sinclair and two other men, also on horseback.“Here they come,” said Martin; “and they have lost no time, that’s certain.”“Poor Captain Sinclair! what must be his feelings, I pity him,” said Mrs Campbell.“He must take it coolly, nevertheless,” observed Martin; “or he may do more harm than good.”Alfred and Captain Sinclair now dismounted; they had brought with them two of the soldiers who were well used to the woods, and excellent shots with the rifle. A hurried conversation of a few minutes took place, but time was too precious, and Alfred, embracing his father and mother, who, as they shook hands with Captain Sinclair, expressed in a melancholy way their hopes for their success, the party of seven which had been collected set off to rejoin Malachi and the Strawberry.Malachi and the Strawberry had not been idle; the latter had ran back to the lodge and procured a bow and arrows, and since that they had tracked the footmarks through the forest for more than a mile, when they had come to a small rivulet which ran through the forest. Here the trail was lost, at least, it was not to be perceived anywhere on the opposite side of the rivulet, and it was to be presumed that, to conceal their trail, the Indians had walked in the water, either up or down, for a certain distance before they put their feet on the other side; but as it was near the time that they might expect the arrival of Alfred and the others, Malachi had returned to the spot where Alfred and Martin had left them, leaving the Strawberry to walk down and up the side of the rivulet to recover the trail. As soon as the party joined him, they and Malachi set off to where the trail had been lost, and the latter had left the Strawberry.There they waited some time, as the Strawberry was not in sight, and they took this opportunity of distributing the provisions and ammunition among them. Captain Sinclair, although his feelings may well be imagined, was very active in arrangements, and shewed that, if his heart was smitten, his head was clear. The order of the march was settled by Malachi and him, and as soon as all was arranged, they waited impatiently for the return of the Indian girl; she came at last, and informed them that she had recovered the trail about three miles up the course of the stream, and they all started immediately. As was agreed, they kept perfect silence, and followed the newly-discovered trail for about a mile, when, on their arrival at a clear spot in the woods, where the grass was very short and dry, they were again at fault. They went over to the other side of the heath, to see if they could again fall in with it, but after half-an-hour’s search, could not discover it, when they were summoned by a low whistle from the Strawberry, who had returned to the spot where the trail had been lost.“They have turned back again,” said the Strawberry, pointing to the former footmarks; “see the track of the mocassins is both ways.”“That’s true,” said Malachi, after a close examination; “now then, Strawberry, to find out where they have left the old trail again. I told you, sir,” continued Malachi to Alfred, “that the Strawberry would be useful; she has the eye of a falcon.”It was not till another half-hour had elapsed that the spot where they had left the trail, which, to deceive those who might pursue them, the Indians had returned upon, was discovered, and then they started again, and proceeded with caution, led by the Strawberry, until she stopped and spoke to Malachi in the Indian tongue, pointing at a small twig broken upon one of the bushes.“That’s true, let us see if it happens again.”In a few moments the Strawberry pointed out another.“Then all’s right,” said Malachi; “I said that she could help us again if she chose, and so she has. The Injun woman who wrote the letter,” continued Malachi, turning to Captain Sinclair and Alfred, “is our friend still. See, sir, she has, wherever she has dared to do it without being seen by the Injuns, broken down a small twig as a guide to us. Now, if she has continued to do this we shall not have much trouble.”They continued their course through the woods until the sun went down, and they could see no longer, having made a journey of about nine miles from the settlement. They then laid down for the night under a large tree; the weather was very warm, and they did not light a fire as they had some cooked provisions.The next morning, as soon as it was daylight, they made a hasty meal, and resumed their task. The trail was now pretty clear, and was occasionally verified by the breaking of a twig, as before. This day they made sixteen miles’ journey, and at the close of it they arrived at the borders of a lake about ten miles long, and from one and a-half to two wide; the trail went right on to the shore of the lake and then disappeared.“Here they must have taken to the water,” said Alfred; “but what means have they had to cross?”“That we must discover somehow or another, sir,” replied Malachi, “or else we shall not find the trail again; perhaps, however, we shall see to-morrow morning; it is too dark now to attempt to find out, and we may do more harm than good by tracking down the bank. We must bring to for the night. There is a high rock there on the beach farther up; we had better go there, as we can light a fire behind the rock without being discovered by it, supposing the Injuns are on the opposite shore; and to-night we must cook all our provisions if we possibly can, for, depend upon it, we have travelled faster to-day than they can have done with the young lady, and if we can once get well on the trail again we shall soon be up with them.”“God grant that we may!” exclaimed Captain Sinclair; “the idea of what poor Mary must suffer almost drives me mad.”“Yes, sir, she will be terribly foot sore, I have no doubt,” replied Malachi; “but the Injuns will not treat her ill, depend upon it.”Captain Sinclair sighed, but made no reply.As soon as they had arrived at the mass of rock which Malachi had pointed out they all commenced collecting firewood, and the Strawberry in a few minutes had a sufficient fire for their purpose. They had not any cooking utensils with them, but the pork was cut in slices and stuck upon the ends of small sticks round the fire until it was sufficiently cooked, and then it was packed up again in parcels, with the exception of what was retained for their supper. They had finished their meal, and were sitting round the embers of the fire conversing and calculating the probabilities as to their overtaking the Indians, when Martin sprang up, with his rifle ready to bring to his shoulder.“What is it?” said Alfred in a low tone, as Martin held up his finger as a sign for silence.“There’s somebody coming this way—he is behind that large tree,” said Martin; “I see his head now, but it is too dark to make out who it may be.”As Martin said this a low and singular sort of whistle between the teeth was heard, upon which the Strawberry gently put down Martin’s rifle with her hand, saying—“It is John.”“John; impossible!” said Alfred.“It is,” replied Strawberry. “I know well that whistle. I go to fetch him. Have no fear.”Strawberry stepped out from the group, and went up to the tree, calling John softly by name, and in a few seconds afterwards returned, leading John by the hand, who, without saying a word, quietly seated himself down by the fire.“Well, John, how did you come here?” exclaimed Alfred.“Followed trail,” replied John.“But how—when did you leave home?”“Yesterday,” replied John, “when I came back.”“But do your father and mother know that you have come?” said Captain Sinclair.“I met old Graves, and told him,” replied John. “Have you any meat?”“The boy has had nothing since he left, I’ll answer for it,” said Martin, as the Strawberry handed some of the pork to John. “Have you, John?”“No,” replied John, with his mouth full.“Let him eat,” said Malachi; “it’s long for a lad to be two days without food, for I’ll answer he left as soon as he heard we were gone, and did not wait for yesterday’s supper. Indeed, he must have done so, for he must have followed the trail some time yesterday to be up with us to-night; so let him eat in quiet.”“What surprises me, Malachi, is how he could have found his way to us.”“Well, sir, I do confess that I’m as much surprised almost as I am pleased,” replied Malachi. “It is really a great feat for a lad to accomplish all by himself, and I am proud of him for having done it; but from the first I saw what a capital woodsman he would make, and he has not disappointed me.”“There are not many who would have been able to do it, that’s certain,” said Martin. “I wonder as much as you do, Mr Alfred, how he could have done it; but he has the gift.”“But suppose he had not come up with us, how would he have lived in these woods? It is a mercy that he has fallen in with us,” said Captain Sinclair.John slapped the barrel of his rifle, which was lying by him, and which Captain Sinclair had not perceived.“You don’t think that John would come into the woods without his rifle, sir, do you?” said Malachi.“I did not perceive that he had it with him,” said Captain Sinclair, “but I certainly ought to have known John better.”John having finished his supper, they all lay down to rest, one keeping watch that they might not be surprised.At daylight they made their breakfast, and then went down again to the borders of the lake, where the trail had been lost. After a long examination, Malachi called the Strawberry, and pointing to the edge of the water, asked her to look there. The Strawberry did so, and at last decided that there was the mark of the bottom of a canoe which had been grounded.“Yes, I thought so,” said Malachi. “They have had their canoe all ready, and have crossed the water. Now, we must walk quite round the lake to discover the trail again, and that will give them half-a-day’s start of us.”They immediately set off coasting the shores of the lake, until they arrived at the other side, carefully examining the ground as they went. This took them till noon, by which time they had arrived at that part of the lake which was opposite to the large rock behind which they had kindled their fire the night before; but no traces were to be perceived.“They have not crossed over in a straight line,” said Captain Sinclair, “that is evident; we must now try more to the northward.”This they did; and at last discovered that the canoe had crossed over to the north part of the lake, having coasted along the eastward shore the whole way. The spot of landing was very evident, and for some distance they could trace where the canoe had been hauled up. It was now late in the afternoon, and it became a question whether they should follow the trail or discover the place of concealment of the canoe, as it might be advantageous to know where it was when they returned. It was decided that they should first discover the canoe, and this was not done till after a search of two hours, when they found it concealed in the bushes, about one mile from the lake. They then followed the trail about two miles; the twigs had been bent and broken as before, which was a great help to them, but the night was now closing in. Having arrived at a clear knoll, they took up their quarters under the trees, and retired to rest. At daybreak they again started, and, after two hours’ walk, had to track across a small prairie, which gave them some trouble, but they succeeded in finding the trail on their arrival at the wood on the opposite side and then they made a very rapid progress, for the twigs were now more frequently broken and bent than before. During this day, with the bow and arrows brought by the Strawberry, Martin had procured them two wild turkeys, which were very acceptable, as their provisions would not last more than seven or eight days longer, and it was impossible to say how far they would have to travel. It was not far from dark when the quick ears of the Strawberry were attracted by a noise like that of a person breathing heavily. She at last pointed with her finger to a bush; they advanced cautiously, and on the other side of it they found an Indian woman lying on the ground, bleeding profusely. They raised her up, and discovered that it was the Indian whom they had cured of the sprained ankle, and who, they presumed, had been then discovered breaking the twigs that they might follow the trail, for, on examination, they found that she had received a heavy blow on the head with a tomahawk; but, fortunately, it had glanced sideways, and not entered into the brain. She was not sensible, however, at the time that they discovered her, for she had lost a great deal of blood. They stopped the effusion of blood with bandages torn from their linen, and poured some water down her throat. It was now dark, and it was not possible to proceed any further that night. The Strawberry went into the woods and collected some herbs, with which she dressed the wound, and, having made the poor Indian as comfortable as they could, they again lay down to rest, but not until Malachi had said to Alfred—“There is no doubt, sir, but that the Injuns have discovered this woman was marking the trail for us, and that they have tomahawked her for so doing, and have left her for dead. I think myself that the wound, although it is a very ugly one, is not dangerous, and so says the Strawberry. However, to-morrow will decide the point; if she is not sensible then, it will be of no use waiting, but we must go on as fast as we can.”When they awoke the next morning they found the Strawberry sitting by the Indian woman, who was now quite sensible and collected, although very weak and exhausted. Malachi and Martin went to her, and had a long conversation with her at intervals. Malachi had been right in his supposition; the Angry Snake had discovered her in the act of bending a twig, and had struck her down with his tomahawk. They gained from her the following information. The Angry Snake, irritated at the detention of the Young Otter, had resolved to have another hostage in lieu of him, and had carried off Mary Percival. He had six Indians with him, which were the whole of his grown-up warriors. They were now but one day’s journey ahead of them, as Miss Percival was very sore on her feet, and they could not get her along, but that in every other respect she had been well treated. That the Indians were not going to their lodges in a direct course, but by a circuitous route, which would make a difference of at least six or seven days; and that they did this that they might not be seen by some other tribes who were located in their direct route, and who might give information. She said that it was she who had written the Indian letter which Malachi had received the autumn before, and that she had done it because she had been so kindly treated by Mr and Mrs Campbell, when she had been found in the forest with her ankle sprained. That Percival was at the Indian lodges, quite well when they left, and that if the Angry Snake did not receive a large quantity of powder and shot, and a great many rifles in exchange for him, it was his intention to adopt the boy, as he was very partial to him. On being asked if the boy was happy, she replied that he was not at first, but now he was almost an Indian; that he was seldom permitted to leave the lodges, and never unless accompanied by the Angry Snake. In answer to their questions as to the direction and distance to the lodges, she said that they were about seven days’ journey by the straight road; but that the party with Miss Percival would not arrive there in less than fifteen days, if so soon, as she was every day less able to travel. Having obtained all this information, a council was held, and Malachi spoke first, having been requested so to do.“My opinion is this,” said Malachi, “that we can do no better than remain here at present, and wait till the woman is sufficiently recovered to travel, and shew us the direct road to the lodges. In two or three days she will probably be well enough to go with us, and then we will take the direct road, and be there before them. The knowledge of the place and the paths will enable us to lay an ambush for them, and to rescue the young lady without much danger to ourselves. They will have no idea of falling in with us, for they of course imagine the woman is dead; a tomahawk seldom fails.”After a long parley, the advice of Malachi was considered the most judicious, and a further conversation with the Indian woman confirmed them in the resolution. As they had no fear of the Indians discovering that they were on their trail, Martin and Alfred went out in pursuit of game for provisions, while the others raised up a large hut with branches of trees, for the accommodation of the whole party. In the evening Martin and Alfred returned, carrying a fine buck between them. The fire was lighted, and very soon all were busy cooking and eating. The Indian woman also begged for something to eat, and her recovery was now no longer considered doubtful.

Previous to his starting for the fort, Alfred had a hasty communication with his father and mother, in which he informed them simply that it was evident that Mary had been carried off, and that it was the opinion of Malachi and Martin that the Angry Snake was the party to be suspected.

“But what cause could he have?” said Emma, weeping.

“Merely to get powder and shot as a reward for bringing her back again,” replied Alfred; “so there is not anything to fear as to her being ill-treated; but if he has any other reason for what he has done, it is well known that an Indian always respects a female. But here comes my horse.”

“But what are you going to do, Alfred?” said Mrs Campbell, who was in a state of great agitation.

“Ride to the fort for assistance, bring Captain Sinclair, and go in pursuit as fast as we can, mother. Martin will get all ready by my return; Malachi is following up the trail with the Strawberry. But there is no time to be lost; I shall soon be back.”

Alfred then sprang upon his horse, which Martin had brought to the door, and galloped away to the fort.

As it may be supposed, Mr and Mrs Campbell and Emma were in great distress; this did not, however, prevent them from listening to Martin, and supplying him with all that he requested, which was salt-pork and other food for their journey, powder and shot for their rifles, etcetera. Having specified all that was wanted, Martin then went off to summon young Graves and Meredith; they were soon found, and when they heard the intelligence, were ready in a minute for departure. Their rifles and an extra pair of mocassins each was all that they required for the journey, and in a few minutes they accompanied Martin to the house. After they had been occupied for a little time in dividing the various articles into different packages, that each might carry his proportion, Mr Campbell said—

“Martin, supposing that you and Malachi are correct in your supposition, where do you think that they will take my poor niece?”

“Right away to their own wigwams, sir,” replied Martin.

“Have you any idea how far that may be?” said Mrs Campbell.

“Yes, ma’am, I have heard that the Angry Snake’s quarters are about twelve days’ journey from this.”

“Twelve days’ journey! how far is a journey?”

“As far as a stout man can walk in a day, ma’am.”

“And will my niece have to walk all that way?”

“Why, yes, ma’am; I don’t see how it can be otherwise; I don’t know of the Indians having any horses, although they may have.”

“But she cannot walk as far as a man,” replied Mrs Campbell.

“No, ma’am, and so I suppose they will be twenty days going instead of twelve.”

“Will they ill-treat or ill-use her, Martin?” said Emma.

“No, ma’am, I shouldn’t think they would, although they will make her walk, and will tie her at night when they stop.”

“Poor Mary; what will she suffer?” exclaimed Emma; “and if you do come up with them, Martin, will they give her up to you?”

“We shan’t ask their leave, miss,” replied Martin; “we shall take her.”

“But not without bloodshed, Martin,” said Mrs Campbell.

“No, ma’am, certainly not without bloodshed, for either the Indians must destroy us or we them; if we conquer, not an Indian will be left alive; and if they master us, it will be about the same thing, I suppose.”

“Heaven protect us, but this is dreadful; I was prepared for difficulties and annoyances when I came out here,” exclaimed Mrs Campbell; “but not for such trials as these.”

“Never fear but we’ll bring her back, ma’am,” said Martin; “Malachi is a better Indian than them all, and he’ll circumvent them.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, ma’am, that we will, if possible, fall upon them unawares, and then we’ll have the advantage, for half of them will be killed before they know that they are attacked; we’ll fight them Indian fashion, ma’am.”

Mrs Campbell continued her interrogations till Alfred was seen at the end of the prairie returning at full speed, accompanied by Captain Sinclair and two other men, also on horseback.

“Here they come,” said Martin; “and they have lost no time, that’s certain.”

“Poor Captain Sinclair! what must be his feelings, I pity him,” said Mrs Campbell.

“He must take it coolly, nevertheless,” observed Martin; “or he may do more harm than good.”

Alfred and Captain Sinclair now dismounted; they had brought with them two of the soldiers who were well used to the woods, and excellent shots with the rifle. A hurried conversation of a few minutes took place, but time was too precious, and Alfred, embracing his father and mother, who, as they shook hands with Captain Sinclair, expressed in a melancholy way their hopes for their success, the party of seven which had been collected set off to rejoin Malachi and the Strawberry.

Malachi and the Strawberry had not been idle; the latter had ran back to the lodge and procured a bow and arrows, and since that they had tracked the footmarks through the forest for more than a mile, when they had come to a small rivulet which ran through the forest. Here the trail was lost, at least, it was not to be perceived anywhere on the opposite side of the rivulet, and it was to be presumed that, to conceal their trail, the Indians had walked in the water, either up or down, for a certain distance before they put their feet on the other side; but as it was near the time that they might expect the arrival of Alfred and the others, Malachi had returned to the spot where Alfred and Martin had left them, leaving the Strawberry to walk down and up the side of the rivulet to recover the trail. As soon as the party joined him, they and Malachi set off to where the trail had been lost, and the latter had left the Strawberry.

There they waited some time, as the Strawberry was not in sight, and they took this opportunity of distributing the provisions and ammunition among them. Captain Sinclair, although his feelings may well be imagined, was very active in arrangements, and shewed that, if his heart was smitten, his head was clear. The order of the march was settled by Malachi and him, and as soon as all was arranged, they waited impatiently for the return of the Indian girl; she came at last, and informed them that she had recovered the trail about three miles up the course of the stream, and they all started immediately. As was agreed, they kept perfect silence, and followed the newly-discovered trail for about a mile, when, on their arrival at a clear spot in the woods, where the grass was very short and dry, they were again at fault. They went over to the other side of the heath, to see if they could again fall in with it, but after half-an-hour’s search, could not discover it, when they were summoned by a low whistle from the Strawberry, who had returned to the spot where the trail had been lost.

“They have turned back again,” said the Strawberry, pointing to the former footmarks; “see the track of the mocassins is both ways.”

“That’s true,” said Malachi, after a close examination; “now then, Strawberry, to find out where they have left the old trail again. I told you, sir,” continued Malachi to Alfred, “that the Strawberry would be useful; she has the eye of a falcon.”

It was not till another half-hour had elapsed that the spot where they had left the trail, which, to deceive those who might pursue them, the Indians had returned upon, was discovered, and then they started again, and proceeded with caution, led by the Strawberry, until she stopped and spoke to Malachi in the Indian tongue, pointing at a small twig broken upon one of the bushes.

“That’s true, let us see if it happens again.”

In a few moments the Strawberry pointed out another.

“Then all’s right,” said Malachi; “I said that she could help us again if she chose, and so she has. The Injun woman who wrote the letter,” continued Malachi, turning to Captain Sinclair and Alfred, “is our friend still. See, sir, she has, wherever she has dared to do it without being seen by the Injuns, broken down a small twig as a guide to us. Now, if she has continued to do this we shall not have much trouble.”

They continued their course through the woods until the sun went down, and they could see no longer, having made a journey of about nine miles from the settlement. They then laid down for the night under a large tree; the weather was very warm, and they did not light a fire as they had some cooked provisions.

The next morning, as soon as it was daylight, they made a hasty meal, and resumed their task. The trail was now pretty clear, and was occasionally verified by the breaking of a twig, as before. This day they made sixteen miles’ journey, and at the close of it they arrived at the borders of a lake about ten miles long, and from one and a-half to two wide; the trail went right on to the shore of the lake and then disappeared.

“Here they must have taken to the water,” said Alfred; “but what means have they had to cross?”

“That we must discover somehow or another, sir,” replied Malachi, “or else we shall not find the trail again; perhaps, however, we shall see to-morrow morning; it is too dark now to attempt to find out, and we may do more harm than good by tracking down the bank. We must bring to for the night. There is a high rock there on the beach farther up; we had better go there, as we can light a fire behind the rock without being discovered by it, supposing the Injuns are on the opposite shore; and to-night we must cook all our provisions if we possibly can, for, depend upon it, we have travelled faster to-day than they can have done with the young lady, and if we can once get well on the trail again we shall soon be up with them.”

“God grant that we may!” exclaimed Captain Sinclair; “the idea of what poor Mary must suffer almost drives me mad.”

“Yes, sir, she will be terribly foot sore, I have no doubt,” replied Malachi; “but the Injuns will not treat her ill, depend upon it.”

Captain Sinclair sighed, but made no reply.

As soon as they had arrived at the mass of rock which Malachi had pointed out they all commenced collecting firewood, and the Strawberry in a few minutes had a sufficient fire for their purpose. They had not any cooking utensils with them, but the pork was cut in slices and stuck upon the ends of small sticks round the fire until it was sufficiently cooked, and then it was packed up again in parcels, with the exception of what was retained for their supper. They had finished their meal, and were sitting round the embers of the fire conversing and calculating the probabilities as to their overtaking the Indians, when Martin sprang up, with his rifle ready to bring to his shoulder.

“What is it?” said Alfred in a low tone, as Martin held up his finger as a sign for silence.

“There’s somebody coming this way—he is behind that large tree,” said Martin; “I see his head now, but it is too dark to make out who it may be.”

As Martin said this a low and singular sort of whistle between the teeth was heard, upon which the Strawberry gently put down Martin’s rifle with her hand, saying—

“It is John.”

“John; impossible!” said Alfred.

“It is,” replied Strawberry. “I know well that whistle. I go to fetch him. Have no fear.”

Strawberry stepped out from the group, and went up to the tree, calling John softly by name, and in a few seconds afterwards returned, leading John by the hand, who, without saying a word, quietly seated himself down by the fire.

“Well, John, how did you come here?” exclaimed Alfred.

“Followed trail,” replied John.

“But how—when did you leave home?”

“Yesterday,” replied John, “when I came back.”

“But do your father and mother know that you have come?” said Captain Sinclair.

“I met old Graves, and told him,” replied John. “Have you any meat?”

“The boy has had nothing since he left, I’ll answer for it,” said Martin, as the Strawberry handed some of the pork to John. “Have you, John?”

“No,” replied John, with his mouth full.

“Let him eat,” said Malachi; “it’s long for a lad to be two days without food, for I’ll answer he left as soon as he heard we were gone, and did not wait for yesterday’s supper. Indeed, he must have done so, for he must have followed the trail some time yesterday to be up with us to-night; so let him eat in quiet.”

“What surprises me, Malachi, is how he could have found his way to us.”

“Well, sir, I do confess that I’m as much surprised almost as I am pleased,” replied Malachi. “It is really a great feat for a lad to accomplish all by himself, and I am proud of him for having done it; but from the first I saw what a capital woodsman he would make, and he has not disappointed me.”

“There are not many who would have been able to do it, that’s certain,” said Martin. “I wonder as much as you do, Mr Alfred, how he could have done it; but he has the gift.”

“But suppose he had not come up with us, how would he have lived in these woods? It is a mercy that he has fallen in with us,” said Captain Sinclair.

John slapped the barrel of his rifle, which was lying by him, and which Captain Sinclair had not perceived.

“You don’t think that John would come into the woods without his rifle, sir, do you?” said Malachi.

“I did not perceive that he had it with him,” said Captain Sinclair, “but I certainly ought to have known John better.”

John having finished his supper, they all lay down to rest, one keeping watch that they might not be surprised.

At daylight they made their breakfast, and then went down again to the borders of the lake, where the trail had been lost. After a long examination, Malachi called the Strawberry, and pointing to the edge of the water, asked her to look there. The Strawberry did so, and at last decided that there was the mark of the bottom of a canoe which had been grounded.

“Yes, I thought so,” said Malachi. “They have had their canoe all ready, and have crossed the water. Now, we must walk quite round the lake to discover the trail again, and that will give them half-a-day’s start of us.”

They immediately set off coasting the shores of the lake, until they arrived at the other side, carefully examining the ground as they went. This took them till noon, by which time they had arrived at that part of the lake which was opposite to the large rock behind which they had kindled their fire the night before; but no traces were to be perceived.

“They have not crossed over in a straight line,” said Captain Sinclair, “that is evident; we must now try more to the northward.”

This they did; and at last discovered that the canoe had crossed over to the north part of the lake, having coasted along the eastward shore the whole way. The spot of landing was very evident, and for some distance they could trace where the canoe had been hauled up. It was now late in the afternoon, and it became a question whether they should follow the trail or discover the place of concealment of the canoe, as it might be advantageous to know where it was when they returned. It was decided that they should first discover the canoe, and this was not done till after a search of two hours, when they found it concealed in the bushes, about one mile from the lake. They then followed the trail about two miles; the twigs had been bent and broken as before, which was a great help to them, but the night was now closing in. Having arrived at a clear knoll, they took up their quarters under the trees, and retired to rest. At daybreak they again started, and, after two hours’ walk, had to track across a small prairie, which gave them some trouble, but they succeeded in finding the trail on their arrival at the wood on the opposite side and then they made a very rapid progress, for the twigs were now more frequently broken and bent than before. During this day, with the bow and arrows brought by the Strawberry, Martin had procured them two wild turkeys, which were very acceptable, as their provisions would not last more than seven or eight days longer, and it was impossible to say how far they would have to travel. It was not far from dark when the quick ears of the Strawberry were attracted by a noise like that of a person breathing heavily. She at last pointed with her finger to a bush; they advanced cautiously, and on the other side of it they found an Indian woman lying on the ground, bleeding profusely. They raised her up, and discovered that it was the Indian whom they had cured of the sprained ankle, and who, they presumed, had been then discovered breaking the twigs that they might follow the trail, for, on examination, they found that she had received a heavy blow on the head with a tomahawk; but, fortunately, it had glanced sideways, and not entered into the brain. She was not sensible, however, at the time that they discovered her, for she had lost a great deal of blood. They stopped the effusion of blood with bandages torn from their linen, and poured some water down her throat. It was now dark, and it was not possible to proceed any further that night. The Strawberry went into the woods and collected some herbs, with which she dressed the wound, and, having made the poor Indian as comfortable as they could, they again lay down to rest, but not until Malachi had said to Alfred—

“There is no doubt, sir, but that the Injuns have discovered this woman was marking the trail for us, and that they have tomahawked her for so doing, and have left her for dead. I think myself that the wound, although it is a very ugly one, is not dangerous, and so says the Strawberry. However, to-morrow will decide the point; if she is not sensible then, it will be of no use waiting, but we must go on as fast as we can.”

When they awoke the next morning they found the Strawberry sitting by the Indian woman, who was now quite sensible and collected, although very weak and exhausted. Malachi and Martin went to her, and had a long conversation with her at intervals. Malachi had been right in his supposition; the Angry Snake had discovered her in the act of bending a twig, and had struck her down with his tomahawk. They gained from her the following information. The Angry Snake, irritated at the detention of the Young Otter, had resolved to have another hostage in lieu of him, and had carried off Mary Percival. He had six Indians with him, which were the whole of his grown-up warriors. They were now but one day’s journey ahead of them, as Miss Percival was very sore on her feet, and they could not get her along, but that in every other respect she had been well treated. That the Indians were not going to their lodges in a direct course, but by a circuitous route, which would make a difference of at least six or seven days; and that they did this that they might not be seen by some other tribes who were located in their direct route, and who might give information. She said that it was she who had written the Indian letter which Malachi had received the autumn before, and that she had done it because she had been so kindly treated by Mr and Mrs Campbell, when she had been found in the forest with her ankle sprained. That Percival was at the Indian lodges, quite well when they left, and that if the Angry Snake did not receive a large quantity of powder and shot, and a great many rifles in exchange for him, it was his intention to adopt the boy, as he was very partial to him. On being asked if the boy was happy, she replied that he was not at first, but now he was almost an Indian; that he was seldom permitted to leave the lodges, and never unless accompanied by the Angry Snake. In answer to their questions as to the direction and distance to the lodges, she said that they were about seven days’ journey by the straight road; but that the party with Miss Percival would not arrive there in less than fifteen days, if so soon, as she was every day less able to travel. Having obtained all this information, a council was held, and Malachi spoke first, having been requested so to do.

“My opinion is this,” said Malachi, “that we can do no better than remain here at present, and wait till the woman is sufficiently recovered to travel, and shew us the direct road to the lodges. In two or three days she will probably be well enough to go with us, and then we will take the direct road, and be there before them. The knowledge of the place and the paths will enable us to lay an ambush for them, and to rescue the young lady without much danger to ourselves. They will have no idea of falling in with us, for they of course imagine the woman is dead; a tomahawk seldom fails.”

After a long parley, the advice of Malachi was considered the most judicious, and a further conversation with the Indian woman confirmed them in the resolution. As they had no fear of the Indians discovering that they were on their trail, Martin and Alfred went out in pursuit of game for provisions, while the others raised up a large hut with branches of trees, for the accommodation of the whole party. In the evening Martin and Alfred returned, carrying a fine buck between them. The fire was lighted, and very soon all were busy cooking and eating. The Indian woman also begged for something to eat, and her recovery was now no longer considered doubtful.

Chapter Thirty Eight.Percival transformed.It was a great annoyance to Captain Sinclair to have to wait in this manner, but there was no help for it. He was satisfied that it was the most prudent course, and therefore raised no objection. Alfred too was uneasy at the delay, as he was aware how anxious his father and mother would be during the whole time of their absence. They were glad, however, to find that the Indian woman recovered rapidly, and on the fifth day of their taking up their abode in the forest, she said that she was able to travel if they walked slow. It was therefore agreed that on the sixth day they should start again, and they did so, having saved their salt provisions, that they might not be compelled to stop, or use their rifles to procure food. The evening before, they roasted as much venison as they thought they could consume while it was good, and at daylight again proceeded, not to follow the trail, but guided by the Indian woman, in a direct course for the lodges of the Indian band under the Angry Snake.As they had now only to proceed as fast as they could without tiring the poor Indian woman, whose head was bound up, and who was still weak from loss of blood, they made a tolerable day’s journey, and halted as before. Thus they continued their route till the sixth day, when as they drew up for the night, the Indian stated that they were only three or four miles from the Indians’ lodges, which they sought. Thereupon a council was held as to how they should proceed, and at last it was agreed upon that they should be guided by the Indian woman to a spot where they might be concealed, as near as possible to the lodges, and that when the party had arrived there, that the woman and Malachi should go and reconnoitre, to ascertain whether the chief and his band with Mary Percival had returned or not. The night was passed very impatiently, and without sleep by most of them, so anxious were they for the morrow. Long before break of day they again started, advancing with great caution, and were led by the Indian till they were within one hundred and fifty yards of the lodges, in a thick cluster of young spruce, which completely secured them from discovery. Shortly afterwards Malachi and the Indian woman, creeping on all fours, disappeared in the surrounding brushwood, that they might, if possible, gain more intelligence from listening. In the meantime, the party had their eyes on the lodges, waiting to see who should come out as soon as the sun rose, for it was hardly clear daybreak when they arrived at their place of concealment.They had remained there about half an hour, when they perceived an Indian lad come out of one of the lodges. He was dressed in leggings and Indian shirt of deer-skin, and carried in his hand his bow and arrows. An eagle’s feather was stuck in his hair above the left ear, which marked him as the son of a chief.“That’s my brother Percival,” said John in a low tone.“Percival!” replied Alfred, “is it possible?”“Yes,” whispered the Strawberry, “it is Percival, but don’t speak so loud.”“Well, they have turned him into a regular Indian,” said Alfred; “we shall have to make a paleface of him again.”Percival, for he it was, looked round for some time, and at last perceiving a crow flying over his head, he drew his bow, and the arrow brought the bird down at his feet.“A capital shot,” said Captain Sinclair, “the boy has learnt something, at all events. You could not do that, John.”“No,” replied John, “but they don’t trust him with a rifle.”They waited some little time longer, when an Indian woman, and then an old man, came out, and in about a quarter of an hour afterwards, three more women and an Indian about twenty years old.“I think we have the whole force now,” said Martin.“Yes, I think so too,” replied Captain Sinclair. “I wish Malachi would come back, for I do not think he will find out more than we know ourselves.”In about half-an-hour afterwards, Malachi and the Indian woman returned; they had crept in the brushwood to within fifty yards of the lodges, but were afraid to go nearer, as the woman said that perhaps the dogs might give the alarm, for two of them were left at home. The woman stated her conviction that the party had not come back, and now a council was again held as to their proceedings. The Indian force was nothing—an old man, one lad of twenty, and four women. These might be easily captured and secured, but the question was whether it would be desirable so to do; as in case one should by any means escape, information of their arrival might be conveyed to the absent party, and induce them not to come home with Mary Percival. This question was debated in a low tone between Malachi, Captain Sinclair, and Alfred. At last John interrupted him by saying, “They are going out to hunt, the old and the young Indian and Percival—they have all their bows and arrows.”“The boy is right,” said Malachi. “Well, I consider this to decide the question. We can now capture the men without the women knowing anything about it. They will not expect them home till the evening, and even if they do not come, they will not be surprised or alarmed; so now we had better let them go some way, and then follow them. If we secure them, we can then decide what to do about the women.”This was agreed upon, and Malachi explained their intentions to the Indian woman, who approved of them, but said, “The Old Raven” (referring to the old Indian) “is very cunning; you must be careful.”The party remained in their place of concealment for another quarter of an hour, till the two Indians and Percival had quitted the open space before the lodges, and had entered the woods. They then followed in a parallel direction, Malachi and John going ahead: Martin and Alfred following so as to keep them in sight, and the remainder of the party at about the same distance behind Martin and Alfred. They continued in this manner their course through the woods for more than an hour, when a herd of deer darted past Malachi and John. They immediately stopped, and crouched, to hide themselves. Martin and Alfred perceiving this, followed their example, and the rest of the party behind, at the motion of the Strawberry, did the same. Hardly had they done so, when one of the herd, which had been pierced by an arrow, followed in the direction of the rest, and after a few bounds fell to the earth. A minute or two afterwards the hunters made their appearance, and stood by the expiring beast, where they remained for a minute or two talking, and then took out their knives to flay and cut it up. While they were thus employed, Malachi and John on one side, Alfred and Martin from another direction, and the rest of the party from a third, were creeping slowly up towards them; but to surround them completely it was necessary that the main party should divide, and send one or two more to the eastward. Captain Sinclair despatched Graves and one of the soldiers, desiring them to creep very softly till they arrived at a spot he pointed out, and then to wait for the signal to be given.As the parties gradually approached nearer and nearer to the Indians and Percival, the Old Raven appeared to be uneasy, he looked round and round him, and once or twice laid his ear to the ground; whenever he did this, they all stopped, and almost held their breaths.“The Indian woman says that the Old Raven is suspicious; he is sure that some one is in the woods near him, and she thinks that she had better go to him,” said the Strawberry to Captain Sinclair.“Let her go,” said Captain Sinclair.The Indian rose, and walked up in the direction of the Indians, who immediately turned to her as she approached.She spoke to them, and appeared to be telling them how it was she returned. At all events, she occupied the attention of the Old Raven till the parties were close to them, when Malachi arose, and immediately all the others did the same, and rushed upon them. After a short and useless struggle, they were secured, but not before the younger Indian had wounded one of the soldiers, by stabbing him with his knife. The thongs were already fast round the arms and legs of the Indians, when Percival, who had not been tied, again attempted to escape, and by the direction of Malachi, he was bound, as well as the other two.As soon as the prisoners were secured, Martin and Graves and the soldiers employed themselves cutting up the venison and preparing it for dinner, while the Strawberry and the Indian woman were collecting wood for a fire. In the mean while Captain Sinclair, Alfred, Malachi, and John were seated by the prisoners, and directing their attention to Percival, whom they had been compelled to bind, that he might not make his escape; for his sojourn of nearly two years in the woods with the Indians, without seeing the face of a white man, had (as has been invariably proved to be the fact in every instance where the parties were very young) wholly obliterated, for the time, his recollections of his former life—so rapid is our falling off to the savage state. To the questions of Alfred he returned no reply, and appeared not to understand him.“Let me try him, sir,” said Malachi, “I will speak to him in the Injun tongue, he has perhaps forgotten his own. It is wonderful how soon we return to a state of nature when we are once in the woods.”Malachi then spoke to Percival in the Indian language; Percival listened for some time, and at last replied in the same tongue.“What does he say, Malachi?” said Alfred.“He says he will sing his own death song; that he is the son of a warrior, and he will die like a brave.”“Why, the boy is metamorphosed,” said Captain Sinclair; “is it possible that so short a time could have produced this?”“Yes, sir,” replied Malachi; “in young people a very short time will change them thus, but it won’t last long. If he were to meet again with his mother at the settlement, he would by degrees forget his Injun life and become reconciled; a woman has more effect than a man. Let the Strawberry speak to him. You see, sir, he is bound, and considers himself a captive, and let him loose we must not, until we have done our work; after that, there will be no fear, and when he has been with us a short time, he will come all right again.”Malachi called the Strawberry, and told her to speak to Percival about his home and his mother, and everything connected with the farm.The Strawberry sat down by Percival, and in her soft tones talked to him in her own tongue of his father and mother, of his cousins, and how he had been taken by the Indians when he was hunting, how his mother had wept for him, and all had lamented his loss; running on in a low musical key from one thing to another connected and associated with his former life in the settlement, and it was evident that at last he now listened with attention. The Strawberry continued to talk to him thus, for more than an hour, when Alfred again addressed him and said, “Percival, don’t you know me?”“Yes,” replied Percival in English, “I do; you are my brother Alfred.”“All’s right now, sir,” said Malachi; “only he must be kept fast; but the lad’s coming to his senses again. The Strawberry will talk to him again by-and-bye.”They then sat down to their meal; the two Indians were removed to a distance under the guard of one of the soldiers, but Percival remained with them. John sat by Percival, and, cutting off a tempting bit of venison, held it to his mouth, saying to him, “Percival, when we go home again, your hands shall be untied, and you shall have a rifle of your own instead of a bow and arrows. Come, eat this.”This was a long speech for John, but it produced its effect, for Percival opened his mouth for the venison, and, being fed by John, made a very good dinner. As soon as their meal was over, they consulted as to what steps should next be taken. The question discussed was whether they should now capture the women who were left in the lodges, or remain quiet till the Angry Snake and his party arrived.Malachi’s opinion was as follows:—“I think we had, at all events, better wait till to-morrow, sir. You see, the women will not be at all surprised at the hunting party not returning for even a day or two, as they know that they will not return without game, and may not find it immediately; their absence, therefore, will create no suspicion of our being here. I think we should return to our former place of concealment, and watch their motions. There is no saying when the party with Miss Percival may return; they may have arrived while we have been away, or they may come to-morrow. It will be better, therefore, not to encumber ourselves with more prisoners unless it is necessary.”This opinion was at last assented to, and they set off, on their return to the Indian lodges. They arrived about an hour before dusk at their hiding-place, having taken the precaution to gag the two Indians for fear of their giving a whoop as notice of their capture. Percival was very quiet, and had begun to talk a little with John.Scarcely had they been five minutes again concealed among the spruce fir-trees, when they heard a distant whoop from the woods on the other side of the lodges.“They are now coming on,” said Martin; “that is their signal.”One of the Indian women from the lodges returned the whoop.“Yes, sir, they are coming,” said Malachi. “Pray, Captain Sinclair, be quiet and sit down; you will ruin all our plans.”“Down, Sinclair, I beg,” said Alfred.Captain Sinclair, who was very much excited, nevertheless did as he was requested.“Oh, Alfred!” said he; “she’s so near.”“Yes, my good fellow, but if you wish her nearer, you must be prudent.”“True, very true,” replied Captain Sinclair.In about half an hour more, the Angry Snake and his party were soon seen to emerge from the woods, and it was perceived that four of the Indians carried a litter made of branches between them.“She could walk no farther, sir,” said Malachi to Captain Sinclair; “so they are carrying her; I told you that they would not hurt her.”“Let me once see her get out of the litter, and I shall be satisfied,” replied Captain Sinclair.The Indians soon were over the clearing, and stopped at one of the lodges; Mary Percival was lifted out, and was seen to walk with difficulty into the wigwam, followed by two of the Indian women. A short parley took place between the Angry Snake and the other two women, and the chief and rest of the party then went into another lodge.“All’s right so far, sir,” observed Malachi; “they have left her to the charge of the two women in a lodge by herself, and so there will be no fear for her when we make the attack, which I think we must do very shortly, for if it is quite dark some of them may escape, and may trouble us afterwards.”“Let us do it immediately,” said Captain Sinclair.“No, not immediately, sir; we have yet an hour and a-half daylight. We will wait one hour, for I think that as they have nothing to eat, and are pretty well tired from carrying Miss Percival, they will, in all probability, go to sleep, as Injuns always do. An hour hence will be the beat time for us to fall upon them.”“You are right, Malachi,” replied Alfred. “Sinclair, you must curb your impatience.”“I must, I believe,” replied Captain Sinclair; “but it will be a tedious hour for me. Let us pass it away in making out arrangements; we have but six to deal with.”“And only two rifles,” replied Alfred; “so we are pretty sure of success.”“We must watch first,” said Martin, “to see if they all continue in the same lodge, for if they divide we must arrange accordingly. Who will remain with the prisoners?”“I won’t,” said John, in a positive manner.“You must, John, if it is decided that you do,” said Alfred.“Better not, sir,” replied Malachi; “for as soon as the boy hears the crack of the rifles he will leave his prisoners and join us; that I’m sure of. No, sir, the Strawberry can be left with the prisoners. I’ll give her my hunting-knife; that will be sufficient.”They remained for about half-an-hour more watching the lodges, but everything appeared quiet, and not a single person came out. Having examined the priming of their rifles, every man was directed to take up a certain position, so as to surround the buildings and support each other. John was appointed to the office of looking after his cousin Mary, and preventing the women from escaping with her from the lodge in which she was confined; and John took this office willingly, as he considered it one of importance, although it had been given him more with a view that he might not be exposed to danger. Leaving the prisoners to the charge of the Strawberry, who, with her knife drawn, stood over them, ready to act upon the slightest attempt of escape on their part, the whole party now crept softly towards the lodges by the same path as had been taken by Malachi and the Indian woman.As soon as they had all arrived they waited for a few minutes while Malachi reconnoitred, and when they perceived that he did so, they all rose up and hastened to their allotted stations round the lodge into which the Angry Snake and his followers had entered. The Indians appeared to be asleep, for everything remained quiet.“Let us first lead Miss Percival away to a place of safety,” whispered Captain Sinclair.“Do you do it, then,” said Alfred; “there are plenty of us without you.”Captain Sinclair hastened to the lodge in which Miss Percival had been placed, and opened the door. Mary Percival, as soon as she beheld Captain Sinclair, uttered a loud scream of delight, and, rising from the skins on which she had been laid, fell upon his neck. Captain Sinclair caught her in his arms, and was bearing her out of the lodge, when an Indian woman caught him by the coat; but John, who had entered, putting the muzzle of his rifle into their faces, they let go and retreated, and Captain Sinclair bore away Mary in his arms into the brushwood, where the Strawberry was standing over the Indian prisoners. The scream of Mary Percival had roused the Indians, who, after their exhaustion and privations, were in a sound sleep; but still no movement was to be heard in the lodge, and a debate between Malachi and Alfred whether they should enter the lodge or not, was put an end to by a rifle being fired from the lodge, and the fall of one of the soldiers, who was next to Alfred. Another shot followed, and Martin received a bullet in his shoulder, and then out bounded the Angry Snake, followed by his band, the chief whirling his tomahawk and springing upon Malachi, while the others attacked Alfred and Martin, who were nearest to the door of the lodge. The rifle of Malachi met the breast of the Angry Snake as he advanced, and the contents were discharged through his body. The other Indians fought desperately, but the whole of the attacking party closing in, they were overpowered. Only two of them, however, were taken alive, and these were seriously wounded. They were tied and laid on the ground.“He was a bad man, sir,” said Malachi, who was standing over the body of the Indian chief; “but he will do no more mischief.”“Are you much hurt, Martin?” inquired Alfred.“No, sir, not much; the ball has passed right through and touched no bone; so I am in luck. I’ll go to the Strawberry, and get her to bind it up.”“He is quite dead, sir,” said Graves, who was kneeling by the side of the soldier who had been shot by the first rifle.“Poor fellow!” exclaimed Alfred. “Well, I’m not sorry that they commenced the attack upon us, for I do not know whether I could have used my rifle unless they had done so.”“They never expected quarter, sir,” said Malachi.“I suppose not. Now, what are we to do with the women? They can do no harm.”“Not much, sir; but at all events, we must put it out of their power. We must take possession of all the weapons we can find in the lodges. We have their two rifles; but we must collect all the bows and arrows, tomahawks, and knives, and either destroy or keep possession of them. John, will you look to that? Take Graves with you.”“Yes,” replied John, who, with Graves, immediately commenced his search of the lodges.The two women, who had been in the lodge with Mary Percival, had remained where they were, as John’s rifle had kept them from leaving the lodge; but the other two had escaped into the woods during the affray. This was of little consequence; indeed, the others were told that they might go away, if they would; and, as soon as they heard this from Malachi, they followed the example of their companions. John and Graves brought out all the arms they could find, and Malachi and Alfred then went to the bushes to which Mary Percival and Sinclair had previously retired. Alfred embraced his cousin, who was still too greatly agitated to say much, being almost overpowered by the sudden transition in all her thoughts and feelings:—and, in the variety of her emotions, perhaps the most bewildering was that occasioned by the re-appearance of Percival,—like a restoration from the dead. Alfred was in consultation with Malachi, when he perceived the flames bursting out of the lodges. Martin, as soon as his wound was dressed, had returned and set fire to them.“It’s all right, sir,” said Malachi; “it will leave the proof of our victory, and be a caution to other Injuns.”“But what will become of the women?”“They will join some other band, sir, and tell the story. It is better that they should.”“And our prisoners, what shall we do with them?”“Release them; by-and-bye, sir, we shall have nothing to fear from them, but we will first take them two or three days’ march into the woods, in case they have alliance with any other band whom they might call to their assistance.”“And the wounded Indians?”“Must be left to Providence, sir. We cannot take them. We will leave them provisions and water. The women will come back and find them; if they are alive they will look after them; if dead, bury them. But here comes John, with some bears’-skins which he has saved for Miss Mary; that was thoughtful of the boy. As soon as the flames are down, we will take up our quarters in the clearing, and set a watch for the night; and to-morrow, with the help of God, we will commence our journey back. We shall bring joy to your father and mother, and the sooner we do it the better; for they must be anything but comfortable at our long absence.”“Yes,” said Mary Percival; “what a state of suspense they must be in! Truly, as the Bible saith, ‘Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.’”

Percival transformed.

It was a great annoyance to Captain Sinclair to have to wait in this manner, but there was no help for it. He was satisfied that it was the most prudent course, and therefore raised no objection. Alfred too was uneasy at the delay, as he was aware how anxious his father and mother would be during the whole time of their absence. They were glad, however, to find that the Indian woman recovered rapidly, and on the fifth day of their taking up their abode in the forest, she said that she was able to travel if they walked slow. It was therefore agreed that on the sixth day they should start again, and they did so, having saved their salt provisions, that they might not be compelled to stop, or use their rifles to procure food. The evening before, they roasted as much venison as they thought they could consume while it was good, and at daylight again proceeded, not to follow the trail, but guided by the Indian woman, in a direct course for the lodges of the Indian band under the Angry Snake.

As they had now only to proceed as fast as they could without tiring the poor Indian woman, whose head was bound up, and who was still weak from loss of blood, they made a tolerable day’s journey, and halted as before. Thus they continued their route till the sixth day, when as they drew up for the night, the Indian stated that they were only three or four miles from the Indians’ lodges, which they sought. Thereupon a council was held as to how they should proceed, and at last it was agreed upon that they should be guided by the Indian woman to a spot where they might be concealed, as near as possible to the lodges, and that when the party had arrived there, that the woman and Malachi should go and reconnoitre, to ascertain whether the chief and his band with Mary Percival had returned or not. The night was passed very impatiently, and without sleep by most of them, so anxious were they for the morrow. Long before break of day they again started, advancing with great caution, and were led by the Indian till they were within one hundred and fifty yards of the lodges, in a thick cluster of young spruce, which completely secured them from discovery. Shortly afterwards Malachi and the Indian woman, creeping on all fours, disappeared in the surrounding brushwood, that they might, if possible, gain more intelligence from listening. In the meantime, the party had their eyes on the lodges, waiting to see who should come out as soon as the sun rose, for it was hardly clear daybreak when they arrived at their place of concealment.

They had remained there about half an hour, when they perceived an Indian lad come out of one of the lodges. He was dressed in leggings and Indian shirt of deer-skin, and carried in his hand his bow and arrows. An eagle’s feather was stuck in his hair above the left ear, which marked him as the son of a chief.

“That’s my brother Percival,” said John in a low tone.

“Percival!” replied Alfred, “is it possible?”

“Yes,” whispered the Strawberry, “it is Percival, but don’t speak so loud.”

“Well, they have turned him into a regular Indian,” said Alfred; “we shall have to make a paleface of him again.”

Percival, for he it was, looked round for some time, and at last perceiving a crow flying over his head, he drew his bow, and the arrow brought the bird down at his feet.

“A capital shot,” said Captain Sinclair, “the boy has learnt something, at all events. You could not do that, John.”

“No,” replied John, “but they don’t trust him with a rifle.”

They waited some little time longer, when an Indian woman, and then an old man, came out, and in about a quarter of an hour afterwards, three more women and an Indian about twenty years old.

“I think we have the whole force now,” said Martin.

“Yes, I think so too,” replied Captain Sinclair. “I wish Malachi would come back, for I do not think he will find out more than we know ourselves.”

In about half-an-hour afterwards, Malachi and the Indian woman returned; they had crept in the brushwood to within fifty yards of the lodges, but were afraid to go nearer, as the woman said that perhaps the dogs might give the alarm, for two of them were left at home. The woman stated her conviction that the party had not come back, and now a council was again held as to their proceedings. The Indian force was nothing—an old man, one lad of twenty, and four women. These might be easily captured and secured, but the question was whether it would be desirable so to do; as in case one should by any means escape, information of their arrival might be conveyed to the absent party, and induce them not to come home with Mary Percival. This question was debated in a low tone between Malachi, Captain Sinclair, and Alfred. At last John interrupted him by saying, “They are going out to hunt, the old and the young Indian and Percival—they have all their bows and arrows.”

“The boy is right,” said Malachi. “Well, I consider this to decide the question. We can now capture the men without the women knowing anything about it. They will not expect them home till the evening, and even if they do not come, they will not be surprised or alarmed; so now we had better let them go some way, and then follow them. If we secure them, we can then decide what to do about the women.”

This was agreed upon, and Malachi explained their intentions to the Indian woman, who approved of them, but said, “The Old Raven” (referring to the old Indian) “is very cunning; you must be careful.”

The party remained in their place of concealment for another quarter of an hour, till the two Indians and Percival had quitted the open space before the lodges, and had entered the woods. They then followed in a parallel direction, Malachi and John going ahead: Martin and Alfred following so as to keep them in sight, and the remainder of the party at about the same distance behind Martin and Alfred. They continued in this manner their course through the woods for more than an hour, when a herd of deer darted past Malachi and John. They immediately stopped, and crouched, to hide themselves. Martin and Alfred perceiving this, followed their example, and the rest of the party behind, at the motion of the Strawberry, did the same. Hardly had they done so, when one of the herd, which had been pierced by an arrow, followed in the direction of the rest, and after a few bounds fell to the earth. A minute or two afterwards the hunters made their appearance, and stood by the expiring beast, where they remained for a minute or two talking, and then took out their knives to flay and cut it up. While they were thus employed, Malachi and John on one side, Alfred and Martin from another direction, and the rest of the party from a third, were creeping slowly up towards them; but to surround them completely it was necessary that the main party should divide, and send one or two more to the eastward. Captain Sinclair despatched Graves and one of the soldiers, desiring them to creep very softly till they arrived at a spot he pointed out, and then to wait for the signal to be given.

As the parties gradually approached nearer and nearer to the Indians and Percival, the Old Raven appeared to be uneasy, he looked round and round him, and once or twice laid his ear to the ground; whenever he did this, they all stopped, and almost held their breaths.

“The Indian woman says that the Old Raven is suspicious; he is sure that some one is in the woods near him, and she thinks that she had better go to him,” said the Strawberry to Captain Sinclair.

“Let her go,” said Captain Sinclair.

The Indian rose, and walked up in the direction of the Indians, who immediately turned to her as she approached.

She spoke to them, and appeared to be telling them how it was she returned. At all events, she occupied the attention of the Old Raven till the parties were close to them, when Malachi arose, and immediately all the others did the same, and rushed upon them. After a short and useless struggle, they were secured, but not before the younger Indian had wounded one of the soldiers, by stabbing him with his knife. The thongs were already fast round the arms and legs of the Indians, when Percival, who had not been tied, again attempted to escape, and by the direction of Malachi, he was bound, as well as the other two.

As soon as the prisoners were secured, Martin and Graves and the soldiers employed themselves cutting up the venison and preparing it for dinner, while the Strawberry and the Indian woman were collecting wood for a fire. In the mean while Captain Sinclair, Alfred, Malachi, and John were seated by the prisoners, and directing their attention to Percival, whom they had been compelled to bind, that he might not make his escape; for his sojourn of nearly two years in the woods with the Indians, without seeing the face of a white man, had (as has been invariably proved to be the fact in every instance where the parties were very young) wholly obliterated, for the time, his recollections of his former life—so rapid is our falling off to the savage state. To the questions of Alfred he returned no reply, and appeared not to understand him.

“Let me try him, sir,” said Malachi, “I will speak to him in the Injun tongue, he has perhaps forgotten his own. It is wonderful how soon we return to a state of nature when we are once in the woods.”

Malachi then spoke to Percival in the Indian language; Percival listened for some time, and at last replied in the same tongue.

“What does he say, Malachi?” said Alfred.

“He says he will sing his own death song; that he is the son of a warrior, and he will die like a brave.”

“Why, the boy is metamorphosed,” said Captain Sinclair; “is it possible that so short a time could have produced this?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Malachi; “in young people a very short time will change them thus, but it won’t last long. If he were to meet again with his mother at the settlement, he would by degrees forget his Injun life and become reconciled; a woman has more effect than a man. Let the Strawberry speak to him. You see, sir, he is bound, and considers himself a captive, and let him loose we must not, until we have done our work; after that, there will be no fear, and when he has been with us a short time, he will come all right again.”

Malachi called the Strawberry, and told her to speak to Percival about his home and his mother, and everything connected with the farm.

The Strawberry sat down by Percival, and in her soft tones talked to him in her own tongue of his father and mother, of his cousins, and how he had been taken by the Indians when he was hunting, how his mother had wept for him, and all had lamented his loss; running on in a low musical key from one thing to another connected and associated with his former life in the settlement, and it was evident that at last he now listened with attention. The Strawberry continued to talk to him thus, for more than an hour, when Alfred again addressed him and said, “Percival, don’t you know me?”

“Yes,” replied Percival in English, “I do; you are my brother Alfred.”

“All’s right now, sir,” said Malachi; “only he must be kept fast; but the lad’s coming to his senses again. The Strawberry will talk to him again by-and-bye.”

They then sat down to their meal; the two Indians were removed to a distance under the guard of one of the soldiers, but Percival remained with them. John sat by Percival, and, cutting off a tempting bit of venison, held it to his mouth, saying to him, “Percival, when we go home again, your hands shall be untied, and you shall have a rifle of your own instead of a bow and arrows. Come, eat this.”

This was a long speech for John, but it produced its effect, for Percival opened his mouth for the venison, and, being fed by John, made a very good dinner. As soon as their meal was over, they consulted as to what steps should next be taken. The question discussed was whether they should now capture the women who were left in the lodges, or remain quiet till the Angry Snake and his party arrived.

Malachi’s opinion was as follows:—

“I think we had, at all events, better wait till to-morrow, sir. You see, the women will not be at all surprised at the hunting party not returning for even a day or two, as they know that they will not return without game, and may not find it immediately; their absence, therefore, will create no suspicion of our being here. I think we should return to our former place of concealment, and watch their motions. There is no saying when the party with Miss Percival may return; they may have arrived while we have been away, or they may come to-morrow. It will be better, therefore, not to encumber ourselves with more prisoners unless it is necessary.”

This opinion was at last assented to, and they set off, on their return to the Indian lodges. They arrived about an hour before dusk at their hiding-place, having taken the precaution to gag the two Indians for fear of their giving a whoop as notice of their capture. Percival was very quiet, and had begun to talk a little with John.

Scarcely had they been five minutes again concealed among the spruce fir-trees, when they heard a distant whoop from the woods on the other side of the lodges.

“They are now coming on,” said Martin; “that is their signal.”

One of the Indian women from the lodges returned the whoop.

“Yes, sir, they are coming,” said Malachi. “Pray, Captain Sinclair, be quiet and sit down; you will ruin all our plans.”

“Down, Sinclair, I beg,” said Alfred.

Captain Sinclair, who was very much excited, nevertheless did as he was requested.

“Oh, Alfred!” said he; “she’s so near.”

“Yes, my good fellow, but if you wish her nearer, you must be prudent.”

“True, very true,” replied Captain Sinclair.

In about half an hour more, the Angry Snake and his party were soon seen to emerge from the woods, and it was perceived that four of the Indians carried a litter made of branches between them.

“She could walk no farther, sir,” said Malachi to Captain Sinclair; “so they are carrying her; I told you that they would not hurt her.”

“Let me once see her get out of the litter, and I shall be satisfied,” replied Captain Sinclair.

The Indians soon were over the clearing, and stopped at one of the lodges; Mary Percival was lifted out, and was seen to walk with difficulty into the wigwam, followed by two of the Indian women. A short parley took place between the Angry Snake and the other two women, and the chief and rest of the party then went into another lodge.

“All’s right so far, sir,” observed Malachi; “they have left her to the charge of the two women in a lodge by herself, and so there will be no fear for her when we make the attack, which I think we must do very shortly, for if it is quite dark some of them may escape, and may trouble us afterwards.”

“Let us do it immediately,” said Captain Sinclair.

“No, not immediately, sir; we have yet an hour and a-half daylight. We will wait one hour, for I think that as they have nothing to eat, and are pretty well tired from carrying Miss Percival, they will, in all probability, go to sleep, as Injuns always do. An hour hence will be the beat time for us to fall upon them.”

“You are right, Malachi,” replied Alfred. “Sinclair, you must curb your impatience.”

“I must, I believe,” replied Captain Sinclair; “but it will be a tedious hour for me. Let us pass it away in making out arrangements; we have but six to deal with.”

“And only two rifles,” replied Alfred; “so we are pretty sure of success.”

“We must watch first,” said Martin, “to see if they all continue in the same lodge, for if they divide we must arrange accordingly. Who will remain with the prisoners?”

“I won’t,” said John, in a positive manner.

“You must, John, if it is decided that you do,” said Alfred.

“Better not, sir,” replied Malachi; “for as soon as the boy hears the crack of the rifles he will leave his prisoners and join us; that I’m sure of. No, sir, the Strawberry can be left with the prisoners. I’ll give her my hunting-knife; that will be sufficient.”

They remained for about half-an-hour more watching the lodges, but everything appeared quiet, and not a single person came out. Having examined the priming of their rifles, every man was directed to take up a certain position, so as to surround the buildings and support each other. John was appointed to the office of looking after his cousin Mary, and preventing the women from escaping with her from the lodge in which she was confined; and John took this office willingly, as he considered it one of importance, although it had been given him more with a view that he might not be exposed to danger. Leaving the prisoners to the charge of the Strawberry, who, with her knife drawn, stood over them, ready to act upon the slightest attempt of escape on their part, the whole party now crept softly towards the lodges by the same path as had been taken by Malachi and the Indian woman.

As soon as they had all arrived they waited for a few minutes while Malachi reconnoitred, and when they perceived that he did so, they all rose up and hastened to their allotted stations round the lodge into which the Angry Snake and his followers had entered. The Indians appeared to be asleep, for everything remained quiet.

“Let us first lead Miss Percival away to a place of safety,” whispered Captain Sinclair.

“Do you do it, then,” said Alfred; “there are plenty of us without you.”

Captain Sinclair hastened to the lodge in which Miss Percival had been placed, and opened the door. Mary Percival, as soon as she beheld Captain Sinclair, uttered a loud scream of delight, and, rising from the skins on which she had been laid, fell upon his neck. Captain Sinclair caught her in his arms, and was bearing her out of the lodge, when an Indian woman caught him by the coat; but John, who had entered, putting the muzzle of his rifle into their faces, they let go and retreated, and Captain Sinclair bore away Mary in his arms into the brushwood, where the Strawberry was standing over the Indian prisoners. The scream of Mary Percival had roused the Indians, who, after their exhaustion and privations, were in a sound sleep; but still no movement was to be heard in the lodge, and a debate between Malachi and Alfred whether they should enter the lodge or not, was put an end to by a rifle being fired from the lodge, and the fall of one of the soldiers, who was next to Alfred. Another shot followed, and Martin received a bullet in his shoulder, and then out bounded the Angry Snake, followed by his band, the chief whirling his tomahawk and springing upon Malachi, while the others attacked Alfred and Martin, who were nearest to the door of the lodge. The rifle of Malachi met the breast of the Angry Snake as he advanced, and the contents were discharged through his body. The other Indians fought desperately, but the whole of the attacking party closing in, they were overpowered. Only two of them, however, were taken alive, and these were seriously wounded. They were tied and laid on the ground.

“He was a bad man, sir,” said Malachi, who was standing over the body of the Indian chief; “but he will do no more mischief.”

“Are you much hurt, Martin?” inquired Alfred.

“No, sir, not much; the ball has passed right through and touched no bone; so I am in luck. I’ll go to the Strawberry, and get her to bind it up.”

“He is quite dead, sir,” said Graves, who was kneeling by the side of the soldier who had been shot by the first rifle.

“Poor fellow!” exclaimed Alfred. “Well, I’m not sorry that they commenced the attack upon us, for I do not know whether I could have used my rifle unless they had done so.”

“They never expected quarter, sir,” said Malachi.

“I suppose not. Now, what are we to do with the women? They can do no harm.”

“Not much, sir; but at all events, we must put it out of their power. We must take possession of all the weapons we can find in the lodges. We have their two rifles; but we must collect all the bows and arrows, tomahawks, and knives, and either destroy or keep possession of them. John, will you look to that? Take Graves with you.”

“Yes,” replied John, who, with Graves, immediately commenced his search of the lodges.

The two women, who had been in the lodge with Mary Percival, had remained where they were, as John’s rifle had kept them from leaving the lodge; but the other two had escaped into the woods during the affray. This was of little consequence; indeed, the others were told that they might go away, if they would; and, as soon as they heard this from Malachi, they followed the example of their companions. John and Graves brought out all the arms they could find, and Malachi and Alfred then went to the bushes to which Mary Percival and Sinclair had previously retired. Alfred embraced his cousin, who was still too greatly agitated to say much, being almost overpowered by the sudden transition in all her thoughts and feelings:—and, in the variety of her emotions, perhaps the most bewildering was that occasioned by the re-appearance of Percival,—like a restoration from the dead. Alfred was in consultation with Malachi, when he perceived the flames bursting out of the lodges. Martin, as soon as his wound was dressed, had returned and set fire to them.

“It’s all right, sir,” said Malachi; “it will leave the proof of our victory, and be a caution to other Injuns.”

“But what will become of the women?”

“They will join some other band, sir, and tell the story. It is better that they should.”

“And our prisoners, what shall we do with them?”

“Release them; by-and-bye, sir, we shall have nothing to fear from them, but we will first take them two or three days’ march into the woods, in case they have alliance with any other band whom they might call to their assistance.”

“And the wounded Indians?”

“Must be left to Providence, sir. We cannot take them. We will leave them provisions and water. The women will come back and find them; if they are alive they will look after them; if dead, bury them. But here comes John, with some bears’-skins which he has saved for Miss Mary; that was thoughtful of the boy. As soon as the flames are down, we will take up our quarters in the clearing, and set a watch for the night; and to-morrow, with the help of God, we will commence our journey back. We shall bring joy to your father and mother, and the sooner we do it the better; for they must be anything but comfortable at our long absence.”

“Yes,” said Mary Percival; “what a state of suspense they must be in! Truly, as the Bible saith, ‘Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.’”

Chapter Thirty Nine.The Family reunited.Not one of the party slept much on this night. There was much to do, and much to be looked after. Captain Sinclair, as it may be supposed, was fully occupied with Mary Percival, of whom more anon. As soon as they had taken up their position in the clearing, and made arrangements for the accommodation of Mary, they relieved the Strawberry from her charge of the prisoners, whom they brought to the clearing, and made to sit down close to them. Percival, who had not yet been freed from his bonds, was now untied, and suffered to walk about, one of the men keeping close to him and watching him carefully. The first object which caught his eye was the body of the Angry Snake. Percival looked on it for some time, and then sat down by the side of it. There he remained for more than two hours, without speaking, when a hole having been dug out by one of the party, the body was put in and covered up.Percival remained a few minutes by the side of the grave, and then turned to the two wounded Indians. He brought them water, and spoke to them in the Indian tongue; but while he was still with them, Mary sent for him to speak with him, for as yet she had scarcely seen him. The sight of Mary appeared to have a powerful effect upon the boy; he listened to her as she soothed and caressed him, and appearing to be overcome with a variety of sensations, he lay down, moaned, and at last fell fast asleep. The soldier who had been shot by the Angry Snake was buried before they buried the chief. Martin’s wound had been dressed by his wife, the Strawberry, who was very skilful in Indian surgery. She had previously applied cataplasms made from the bruised leaves which she and the Indian woman had sought for to the feet of Mary Percival, which were in a state of great inflammation, and Mary had found herself already much relieved by the application. Before the day had dawned the two Indians who had been wounded were dead, and were immediately buried by the side of the chief.Alfred and Malachi had resolved to set off the next morning, on their return home, if they found it possible to convey Mary Percival; but their party was now reduced, as one of the soldiers had been killed, and Martin was incapable of service. The Indian woman would also be fully loaded with the extra rifles, the two which they had captured from the Indians, the one belonging to the soldier, and Martin’s who could not carry anything in his present state.They were now only six effective men, as John could not be of much use in carrying, and, moreover, was appointed to watch Percival. Then they had the two prisoners to take charge of, so that they were somewhat embarrassed. Malachi, however, proposed that they should make a litter of boughs, welded together very tight, and suspended on a pole so as to be carried between two men. Mary Percival was not a very great weight, and, by relieving each other continually, they would be able to get some miles every day, till Mary was well enough to walk with them. Alfred assented to this, and, as soon as it was daylight, went into the woods with Malachi, to assist him in cutting the boughs. On their return, they found that all the rest of the party were up, and that Mary felt little or no pain. They made their breakfast on their salt provisions, which were now nearly expended, and as soon as their meal was over, they put Mary upon the litter and set off, taking the Indian prisoners with them, as they thought it not yet advisable to give them their liberty. The first day they made but a few miles, as they were obliged to stop, that they might procure some food. The party were left under a large tree, which was a good land-mark, under the charge of Captain Sinclair, while Malachi and Alfred went in search of game. At nightfall they returned with a deer which they had killed, when the Strawberry informed them that the Indian woman had told her, that about two miles to the southward there was a river which ran into the lake, and that there were two canoes belonging to the band, hauled up in the bushes on the beach; that the river was broad and swift, and would soon take them to the lake, by the shores of which they could paddle the canoe to the settlement. This appeared worthy of consideration, as it would in the end, perhaps, save time, and at all events allow Mary Percival to recover. They decided that they would go to the river, and take the canoes, as the Indian woman said that they were large enough to hold them all.The next morning, guided by the Indian woman, they set off in the direction of the river, and arrived at it in the afternoon. They found the canoes, which were large, and in good order, and having carried them down to the beach, they resolved to put off their embarkation till the following day, as they were again in want of provisions for their subsistence.Alfred, Malachi, and John went out this time, for Percival had shewn himself so quiet and contented, and had gradually become so fond of being near Mary Percival, that he appeared to have awakened from his Indian dream, and renewed all his former associations. They did not, therefore, think it necessary to watch him any more—indeed, he never would leave Mary’s side, and began now to ask many questions, which proved that he had recalled to mind much of what had been forgotten during his long sojourn with the Indians. The hunters returned, having been very successful, and loaded with meat enough to last for four or five days. At daylight the next morning, they led the prisoners about half a mile into the woods, and, pointing to the north as to the direction they were to go, cast loose the deer-thongs which confined them, and set them at liberty. Having done this, they embarked in the canoes, and were soon gliding rapidly down the stream.The river upon which they embarked, at that time little known to the Europeans, is now called the river Thames, and the town built upon it is named London. It falls into the upper part of Lake Erie, and is a fine rapid stream. For three days they paddled their canoes, disembarking at night to sleep and cook their provisions, and on the fourth they were compelled to stop, that they might procure more food. They were successful, and on the next day they entered the lake, about two hundred miles to the west of the settlement Mary Percival was now quite recovered, and found her journey or voyage delightful; the country was in full beauty; the trees waved their boughs down to the river side, and they did not fall in with any Indians, or perceive any lodges on the bank. Sometimes they started the deer which had come down to drink in the stream, and on one occasion, as they rounded a point, they fell in with a herd which were in the water swimming across, and in this position they destroyed as many as they required for their food, till they hoped to arrive at the settlement.Percival was now quite reconciled to his removal from an Indian life, and appeared most anxious to rejoin his father and mother, of whom he talked incessantly; for he had again recovered his English, which, strange to say, although he perfectly understood it when spoken to, he had almost forgotten to pronounce, and at first spoke with difficulty. The weather was remarkably fine, and the waters of the lake were so smooth, that they made rapid progress, although they invariably disembarked at night. The only annoyance they had was from the mosquitoes which rose in clouds as soon as they landed, and were not to be dispersed until they had lighted a very large fire, accompanied with thick smoke: but this was a trifle compared with their joy at the happy deliverance of the prisoners, and success of their expedition. Most grateful, indeed, were they to God for His mercies, and none more so than Mary Percival and Captain Sinclair, who never left her side till it was time to retire to rest.On the sixth day, in the forenoon, they were delighted to perceive Fort Frontignac in the distance, and although the house at the settlement was hid from their sight by the point covered with wood which intervened, they knew that they were not above four or five miles distant. In less than another hour, they were abreast of the prairie, and landed at the spot where their own punt was moored. Mr and Mrs Campbell had not perceived the canoes, for, although anxiously looking out every day for the return of the party, their eyes and attention were directed on land, not having any idea of their return by water.“My dear Alfred,” said Mary, “I do not think it will be prudent to let my aunt see Percival at once; we must prepare her a little for his appearance. She has so long considered him as dead, that the shock may be too great.”“You say true, my dear Mary. Then we will go forward with Captain Sinclair, and Malachi, and John. Let Percival be put in the middle of the remainder of the party, who must follow afterwards, and then be taken up to Malachi’s lodge. He can remain there with the Strawberry until we come and fetch him.”Having made this arrangement, to which Percival was with difficulty made to agree, they walked up, as proposed, to the house. Outside of the palisade, they perceived Mr and Mrs Campbell, with their backs towards them, looking towards the forest, in the direction which the party had taken when they left. But when they were half-way from the beach, Henry came out with Oscar from the cottage, and the dog immediately perceiving them, bounded to them, barking with delight. Henry cried out, “Father—mother, here they are,—here they come.” Mr and Mrs Campbell of course turned round, and beheld the party advancing; they flew to meet them, and as they caught Mary in their arms, all explanation was for a time unnecessary—she was recovered, and that was sufficient for the time.“Come, mother, let us go into the house, that you may compose yourself a little,” said Alfred,—that she might not perceive Percival among the party that followed at a little distance. “Let me support you. Take my arm.”Mrs Campbell, who trembled very much, did so, and thus turned away from the group among whom Percival was walking. Emma was looking at them attentively, and was about to exclaim, when Captain Sinclair put his finger to his lips.As soon as they arrived at the house, and had gone in, Alfred, in a few words, gave them an account of what had passed—how successful they had been in their attempt, and how little they had to fear from the Indians in future.“How grateful I am!” exclaimed Mrs Campbell. “God be praised for all His mercies! I was fearful that I should have lost you, my dear Mary, as well as my poor boy. He is lost for ever; but God’s will be done.”“It is very strange, mother,” said Alfred, “but we heard, on our journey, that the Indians had found a white boy in the woods.”“Alas! not mine.”“I have reason to believe that it was Percival, my dear mother, and have hopes that he is yet alive.”“My dear Alfred, do not say so unless you have good cause; you little know the yearnings of a mother’s heart; the very suggestion of such a hope has thrown me into a state of agitation and nervousness of which you can form no conception. I have been reconciled to the Divine will; let me not return to a state of anxiety and repining.”“Do you think, my dear mother, that I would raise such hopes if I had not good reason to suppose that they would be realised? No, my dear mother, I am not so cruel.”“Then you know that Percival is alive?” said Mrs Campbell, seizing Alfred by the arm.“Calm yourself, my dear mother, I do know—I am certain that he is alive, and that it was he who was found by the Indians; and I have great hopes that we may recover him.”“God grant it! God grant it in His great mercy!” said Mrs Campbell. “My heart is almost breaking with joy; may God sustain me! Oh, where is—my dear Alfred—where is he?” continued Mrs Campbell. Alfred made no reply; but a flood of tears came to her relief.“I will explain it to you when you are more composed, my dear mother. Emma, you have not said one word to me.”“I have been too much overjoyed to speak, Alfred,” replied Emma, extending her hand to him; “but no one welcomes your return more sincerely than I do, and no one is more grateful to you for having brought Mary back.”“Now, Alfred, I am calm,” said Mrs Campbell; “so let me hear at once all you know.”“I see you are calm, my dear mother, and I therefore now tell you that Percival is not far off.”“Alfred! he is here; I am sure he is.”“He is with Malachi and the Strawberry; in a minute I will bring him.”Alfred left the house. The intelligence was almost too overpowering for Mrs Campbell. Mary and Emma hastened to her, and supported her. In another minute Alfred returned with Percival, and the mother embraced and wept over her long-lost child, and then gave him to his father’s arms.“How this has happened, and by what merciful interference he has been preserved and restored to us,” said Mr Campbell, when their first emotions were over, “we have yet to learn; but one thing we do know, and are sure of, that it is by the goodness of God alone. Let us return our thanks while our hearts are yet warm with gratitude and love, and may our thanksgiving be graciously received.”Mr Campbell knelt down, and his example was followed by all the rest of the party assembled. In a fervent tone he returned thanks for the recent mercies vouchsafed to his family, which, he expressed a hope, would never be forgotten, but would prove a powerful inducement to them all to lead a more devout life of faith in Him who had so graciously supported them in the hour of peril and affliction—who had so wonderfully restored to them their lost treasures, and turned all their gloom into sunshine, filling their hearts with joy and gladness.“And now, my dear Alfred,” said Mrs Campbell, whose arms still encircled the neck of Percival, “do pray tell us what has taken place, and how you recovered Mary and this dear boy.”Alfred then entered into detail, first stating the knowledge which Captain Sinclair, Malachi, and himself had of Percival being still in existence from the letter written by the Indian woman, the seizure and confinement of the Young Otter in consequence, which was retaliated by the abduction of Mary. When he had finished, Mr Campbell said—“And poor Martin, where is he, that I may thank him?”“He is at his own lodge with the Strawberry, who is dressing his wound; for we have not been able to do so for two or three days, and it has become very painful.”“We owe him a large debt of gratitude,” said Mr Campbell; “he has suffered much on our account. And your poor man, Captain Sinclair, who fell!”“Yes,” replied Sinclair, “he was one of our best men; yet it was the will of Heaven. He lost his life in the recovery of my dear Mary, and I shall not forget his wife and child, you may depend upon it.”“Now, Mary, let us have your narrative of what passed when you were in the company of the Indians, before your rescue.”“I was, as you know, gathering the cranberries in the Cedar Swamp, when I was suddenly seized, and something was thrust into my mouth, so that I had no time or power to cry out. My head was then wrapt up in some folds of blanket, by which I was almost suffocated, and I was then lifted up and borne away by two or three men. For a time I kept my senses, but at last the suffocation was so great that my head swam, and I believe I fainted, for I do not recollect being put down; yet after a time I found myself lying under a tree and surrounded by fire or six Indians, who were squatted round me. I was not a little terrified, as you may imagine. They neither moved nor spoke for some time; I endeavoured to rise, but a hand on my shoulder kept me down, and I did not attempt a useless resistance. Soon afterwards an Indian woman brought me some water, and I immediately recognised her as the one whom we succoured when we found her in the woods. This gave me courage and hope, though her countenance was immovable, and I could not perceive, even by her eyes, that she attempted any recognition; but reflection convinced me that, if she intended to help me, she was right in so doing. After I had raised myself and drunk some water, the Indians had a talk in a low voice. I observed that they paid deference to one, and from the description which my father and Alfred had given of the Angry Snake, I felt sure that it was he. We remained about half an hour on this spot, when they rose and made signs to me that I was to come with them. Of course I could not do otherwise, and we walked till night came on, when I was, as you may imagine, not a little tired. They then left me with the Indian woman, retiring a few yards from me. The woman made signs that I was to sleep, and although I thought that was impossible, I was so fatigued that, after putting up my prayers to the Almighty, I had not lain down many minutes before I was fast asleep.“Before daylight, I was awakened by their voices, and the woman brought me a handful of parched Indian corn; not quite so good a breakfast as I had been accustomed to; but I was hungry, and I contrived to eat it. As soon as the day broke we set off again, and towards evening arrived at a lake. A canoe was brought out from some bushes; we all got into it, and paddled up along the banks for two or three hours, when we disembarked and renewed our journey. My feet were now becoming very sore and painful, for they were blistered all over, and I could scarcely get along; they compelled me, however, to proceed, not using any great force, but still dragging me and pushing me, to make me keep up with them. I soon perceived that I was a prisoner only, and not likely to be ill-treated if I complied with their wishes. Towards evening I could hardly put one foot before the other, for they had obliged me to walk in the water of a stream for two or three miles, and my shoes were quite worn out in consequence. At night they again stopped, and the Indian woman prepared some herbs, and applied them to my feet. This gave me great relief, but still she continued to take no notice of any signs I made to her. The next morning I found I had received so much benefit from the application of the herbs, that for the first half of the day I walked on pretty well, and was a little in advance, when, hearing the chief speak in an angry tone behind me, I turned round, and, to my horror, saw him raise his tomahawk, and strike down the poor Indian woman. I could not refrain from hastening to her; but I had just time to perceive that her skull was cloven, and that she was, as I imagined, dead, when I was dragged away, and forced to continue my journey. You may imagine how my blood curdled at this scene, and how great were now my apprehensions for myself. Why I had been carried away I knew not; for I was as ignorant as you were of Percival being alive, and of the Young Otter having been detained at the fort. My idea was, when the chief struck down the Indian woman, that it was to get rid of her, and that I was to replace her. This idea was almost madness, but still I had hope, and I prayed as I walked along to that God who sees the most secret act, and hears the most silent prayer of the heart, and I felt an assurance while praying that I should be rescued. I knew that my absence would be immediately discovered, and that there were those who would risk their lives to rescue me, if I was still in existence; and I therefore used all my efforts to walk on as fast as I could, and not irritate the Indians. But that night I had no one to dress my feel; which were bleeding and very much swelled, and I was very wretched when I lay down alone. I could not drive from my thoughts the poor Indian woman weltering in her blood, and murdered for no crime or fault—nothing that I could discover. The next morning, as usual, my food was some parched Indian corn, and of that I received only a handful for my sustenance during the twenty-four hours; however, hunger I never felt, I had too much pain. I was able to drag myself along till about noon, when I felt that I could not proceed farther. I stopped and sat down; the chief ordered me to get up again by signs; I pointed to my feet, which were now swelled above the ankles, but he insisted, and raised his tomahawk to frighten me into compliance. I was so worn out, that I could have almost received the blow with thankfulness, but I remembered you, my dear uncle and aunt, and others, and resolved for your sakes to make one more effort. I did so; I ran and walked for an hour more in perfect agony; at last nature could support the pain no longer, and I fell insensible.”“My poor Mary!” exclaimed Emma.“I thought of you often and often, my dear sister,” replied Mary, kissing her, “I believe it was a long while before I came to my senses,” continued Mary, “for when I did, I found that the Indians were very busy weaving branches into a sort of litter. As soon as they had finished they put me upon it, and I was carried by two of them swinging on a pole which they put on their shoulders. I need hardly say that the journey was now more agreeable than it was before, although my feet were in a dreadful state, and gave me much pain. That night we stopped by a rivulet, and I kept my feet in the water for two or three hours, which brought down the inflammation and swelling very much, and I contrived after that to gain some sleep. They carried me one more day, when they considered that they had done enough, and I was again ordered to walk; I did so for two days, and was then in the same condition as before. A litter was therefore again constructed, and I was carried till I arrived at the lodges of the Angry Snake and his band. What passed from that time you have heard from Alfred.”When Mary Percival had finished her narrative, they all sat down to supper, and it hardly need be said that Mr Campbell did not fail, before they retired to rest, again to pour forth his thanksgivings to the Almighty for the preservation of those who were so dear. The next morning they all rose in health and spirits. Martin came early to the house with the Strawberry; his wound was much better, and he received the thanks and condolence of Mr and Mrs Campbell.When they were at breakfast Mr Campbell said, “John, in our joy at seeing your brother and cousin again, I quite forgot to scold you for running away as you did.”“Then don’t do it now, sir,” said Malachi, “for he was very useful, I can assure you.”“No, I won’t scold him now,” replied Mr Campbell, “but he must not act so another time. If he had confided to me his anxious wish to join you, I should probably have given my permission.”“I must now take my leave and return to the fort,” said Captain Sinclair. “I do, however, trust I shall see you all again in a few days, but I must report the results of the expedition, and the death of poor Watkins. May I borrow one of your horses, Mr Campbell?”“Certainly,” replied Mr Campbell; “you know thebateauxare expected every day from Montreal; perhaps you will bring us our letters when it arrives.”Captain Sinclair took his leave, as it may be imagined, very reluctantly, and in a day or two the family again settled down to their usual occupations. The emigrants had, during the absence of the expedition, gathered in a great portion of the corn, and now all hands were employed in finishing the harvest.“How happy we are now, Mary,” said Emma to her sister, as they were walking by the stream, watching John, who was catching trout.“Yes, my dear Emma, we have had a lesson which will, I trust, prevent any future repining, if we have felt any, at our present position. The misery we have been rescued from has shewn us how much we have to be thankful for. We have nothing more to fear from the Indians, and I feel as if I could now pass the remainder of my life here in peace and thankfulness.”“Not without Captain Sinclair?”“Not always without him; the time will, I trust, come when I may reward him for his patience and his regard for me; but it has not yet come; and it is for my uncle and aunt to decide when it shall. Where’s Percival?”“He is gone into the woods with Malachi, and with a rifle on his shoulder, of which he is not a little proud. John is not at all jealous. He says that Percival ought to know how to fire a rifle, and throw away that foolish bow and arrows. Do you not think that his residence among the Indians has made a great change in Percival?”“A very great one; he is more manly and more taciturn; he appears to think more and talk less. But Henry is beckoning to us. Dinner is ready, and we must not keep hungry people waiting.”“No,” replied Emma; “for in that case I should keep myself waiting.”

Not one of the party slept much on this night. There was much to do, and much to be looked after. Captain Sinclair, as it may be supposed, was fully occupied with Mary Percival, of whom more anon. As soon as they had taken up their position in the clearing, and made arrangements for the accommodation of Mary, they relieved the Strawberry from her charge of the prisoners, whom they brought to the clearing, and made to sit down close to them. Percival, who had not yet been freed from his bonds, was now untied, and suffered to walk about, one of the men keeping close to him and watching him carefully. The first object which caught his eye was the body of the Angry Snake. Percival looked on it for some time, and then sat down by the side of it. There he remained for more than two hours, without speaking, when a hole having been dug out by one of the party, the body was put in and covered up.

Percival remained a few minutes by the side of the grave, and then turned to the two wounded Indians. He brought them water, and spoke to them in the Indian tongue; but while he was still with them, Mary sent for him to speak with him, for as yet she had scarcely seen him. The sight of Mary appeared to have a powerful effect upon the boy; he listened to her as she soothed and caressed him, and appearing to be overcome with a variety of sensations, he lay down, moaned, and at last fell fast asleep. The soldier who had been shot by the Angry Snake was buried before they buried the chief. Martin’s wound had been dressed by his wife, the Strawberry, who was very skilful in Indian surgery. She had previously applied cataplasms made from the bruised leaves which she and the Indian woman had sought for to the feet of Mary Percival, which were in a state of great inflammation, and Mary had found herself already much relieved by the application. Before the day had dawned the two Indians who had been wounded were dead, and were immediately buried by the side of the chief.

Alfred and Malachi had resolved to set off the next morning, on their return home, if they found it possible to convey Mary Percival; but their party was now reduced, as one of the soldiers had been killed, and Martin was incapable of service. The Indian woman would also be fully loaded with the extra rifles, the two which they had captured from the Indians, the one belonging to the soldier, and Martin’s who could not carry anything in his present state.

They were now only six effective men, as John could not be of much use in carrying, and, moreover, was appointed to watch Percival. Then they had the two prisoners to take charge of, so that they were somewhat embarrassed. Malachi, however, proposed that they should make a litter of boughs, welded together very tight, and suspended on a pole so as to be carried between two men. Mary Percival was not a very great weight, and, by relieving each other continually, they would be able to get some miles every day, till Mary was well enough to walk with them. Alfred assented to this, and, as soon as it was daylight, went into the woods with Malachi, to assist him in cutting the boughs. On their return, they found that all the rest of the party were up, and that Mary felt little or no pain. They made their breakfast on their salt provisions, which were now nearly expended, and as soon as their meal was over, they put Mary upon the litter and set off, taking the Indian prisoners with them, as they thought it not yet advisable to give them their liberty. The first day they made but a few miles, as they were obliged to stop, that they might procure some food. The party were left under a large tree, which was a good land-mark, under the charge of Captain Sinclair, while Malachi and Alfred went in search of game. At nightfall they returned with a deer which they had killed, when the Strawberry informed them that the Indian woman had told her, that about two miles to the southward there was a river which ran into the lake, and that there were two canoes belonging to the band, hauled up in the bushes on the beach; that the river was broad and swift, and would soon take them to the lake, by the shores of which they could paddle the canoe to the settlement. This appeared worthy of consideration, as it would in the end, perhaps, save time, and at all events allow Mary Percival to recover. They decided that they would go to the river, and take the canoes, as the Indian woman said that they were large enough to hold them all.

The next morning, guided by the Indian woman, they set off in the direction of the river, and arrived at it in the afternoon. They found the canoes, which were large, and in good order, and having carried them down to the beach, they resolved to put off their embarkation till the following day, as they were again in want of provisions for their subsistence.

Alfred, Malachi, and John went out this time, for Percival had shewn himself so quiet and contented, and had gradually become so fond of being near Mary Percival, that he appeared to have awakened from his Indian dream, and renewed all his former associations. They did not, therefore, think it necessary to watch him any more—indeed, he never would leave Mary’s side, and began now to ask many questions, which proved that he had recalled to mind much of what had been forgotten during his long sojourn with the Indians. The hunters returned, having been very successful, and loaded with meat enough to last for four or five days. At daylight the next morning, they led the prisoners about half a mile into the woods, and, pointing to the north as to the direction they were to go, cast loose the deer-thongs which confined them, and set them at liberty. Having done this, they embarked in the canoes, and were soon gliding rapidly down the stream.

The river upon which they embarked, at that time little known to the Europeans, is now called the river Thames, and the town built upon it is named London. It falls into the upper part of Lake Erie, and is a fine rapid stream. For three days they paddled their canoes, disembarking at night to sleep and cook their provisions, and on the fourth they were compelled to stop, that they might procure more food. They were successful, and on the next day they entered the lake, about two hundred miles to the west of the settlement Mary Percival was now quite recovered, and found her journey or voyage delightful; the country was in full beauty; the trees waved their boughs down to the river side, and they did not fall in with any Indians, or perceive any lodges on the bank. Sometimes they started the deer which had come down to drink in the stream, and on one occasion, as they rounded a point, they fell in with a herd which were in the water swimming across, and in this position they destroyed as many as they required for their food, till they hoped to arrive at the settlement.

Percival was now quite reconciled to his removal from an Indian life, and appeared most anxious to rejoin his father and mother, of whom he talked incessantly; for he had again recovered his English, which, strange to say, although he perfectly understood it when spoken to, he had almost forgotten to pronounce, and at first spoke with difficulty. The weather was remarkably fine, and the waters of the lake were so smooth, that they made rapid progress, although they invariably disembarked at night. The only annoyance they had was from the mosquitoes which rose in clouds as soon as they landed, and were not to be dispersed until they had lighted a very large fire, accompanied with thick smoke: but this was a trifle compared with their joy at the happy deliverance of the prisoners, and success of their expedition. Most grateful, indeed, were they to God for His mercies, and none more so than Mary Percival and Captain Sinclair, who never left her side till it was time to retire to rest.

On the sixth day, in the forenoon, they were delighted to perceive Fort Frontignac in the distance, and although the house at the settlement was hid from their sight by the point covered with wood which intervened, they knew that they were not above four or five miles distant. In less than another hour, they were abreast of the prairie, and landed at the spot where their own punt was moored. Mr and Mrs Campbell had not perceived the canoes, for, although anxiously looking out every day for the return of the party, their eyes and attention were directed on land, not having any idea of their return by water.

“My dear Alfred,” said Mary, “I do not think it will be prudent to let my aunt see Percival at once; we must prepare her a little for his appearance. She has so long considered him as dead, that the shock may be too great.”

“You say true, my dear Mary. Then we will go forward with Captain Sinclair, and Malachi, and John. Let Percival be put in the middle of the remainder of the party, who must follow afterwards, and then be taken up to Malachi’s lodge. He can remain there with the Strawberry until we come and fetch him.”

Having made this arrangement, to which Percival was with difficulty made to agree, they walked up, as proposed, to the house. Outside of the palisade, they perceived Mr and Mrs Campbell, with their backs towards them, looking towards the forest, in the direction which the party had taken when they left. But when they were half-way from the beach, Henry came out with Oscar from the cottage, and the dog immediately perceiving them, bounded to them, barking with delight. Henry cried out, “Father—mother, here they are,—here they come.” Mr and Mrs Campbell of course turned round, and beheld the party advancing; they flew to meet them, and as they caught Mary in their arms, all explanation was for a time unnecessary—she was recovered, and that was sufficient for the time.

“Come, mother, let us go into the house, that you may compose yourself a little,” said Alfred,—that she might not perceive Percival among the party that followed at a little distance. “Let me support you. Take my arm.”

Mrs Campbell, who trembled very much, did so, and thus turned away from the group among whom Percival was walking. Emma was looking at them attentively, and was about to exclaim, when Captain Sinclair put his finger to his lips.

As soon as they arrived at the house, and had gone in, Alfred, in a few words, gave them an account of what had passed—how successful they had been in their attempt, and how little they had to fear from the Indians in future.

“How grateful I am!” exclaimed Mrs Campbell. “God be praised for all His mercies! I was fearful that I should have lost you, my dear Mary, as well as my poor boy. He is lost for ever; but God’s will be done.”

“It is very strange, mother,” said Alfred, “but we heard, on our journey, that the Indians had found a white boy in the woods.”

“Alas! not mine.”

“I have reason to believe that it was Percival, my dear mother, and have hopes that he is yet alive.”

“My dear Alfred, do not say so unless you have good cause; you little know the yearnings of a mother’s heart; the very suggestion of such a hope has thrown me into a state of agitation and nervousness of which you can form no conception. I have been reconciled to the Divine will; let me not return to a state of anxiety and repining.”

“Do you think, my dear mother, that I would raise such hopes if I had not good reason to suppose that they would be realised? No, my dear mother, I am not so cruel.”

“Then you know that Percival is alive?” said Mrs Campbell, seizing Alfred by the arm.

“Calm yourself, my dear mother, I do know—I am certain that he is alive, and that it was he who was found by the Indians; and I have great hopes that we may recover him.”

“God grant it! God grant it in His great mercy!” said Mrs Campbell. “My heart is almost breaking with joy; may God sustain me! Oh, where is—my dear Alfred—where is he?” continued Mrs Campbell. Alfred made no reply; but a flood of tears came to her relief.

“I will explain it to you when you are more composed, my dear mother. Emma, you have not said one word to me.”

“I have been too much overjoyed to speak, Alfred,” replied Emma, extending her hand to him; “but no one welcomes your return more sincerely than I do, and no one is more grateful to you for having brought Mary back.”

“Now, Alfred, I am calm,” said Mrs Campbell; “so let me hear at once all you know.”

“I see you are calm, my dear mother, and I therefore now tell you that Percival is not far off.”

“Alfred! he is here; I am sure he is.”

“He is with Malachi and the Strawberry; in a minute I will bring him.”

Alfred left the house. The intelligence was almost too overpowering for Mrs Campbell. Mary and Emma hastened to her, and supported her. In another minute Alfred returned with Percival, and the mother embraced and wept over her long-lost child, and then gave him to his father’s arms.

“How this has happened, and by what merciful interference he has been preserved and restored to us,” said Mr Campbell, when their first emotions were over, “we have yet to learn; but one thing we do know, and are sure of, that it is by the goodness of God alone. Let us return our thanks while our hearts are yet warm with gratitude and love, and may our thanksgiving be graciously received.”

Mr Campbell knelt down, and his example was followed by all the rest of the party assembled. In a fervent tone he returned thanks for the recent mercies vouchsafed to his family, which, he expressed a hope, would never be forgotten, but would prove a powerful inducement to them all to lead a more devout life of faith in Him who had so graciously supported them in the hour of peril and affliction—who had so wonderfully restored to them their lost treasures, and turned all their gloom into sunshine, filling their hearts with joy and gladness.

“And now, my dear Alfred,” said Mrs Campbell, whose arms still encircled the neck of Percival, “do pray tell us what has taken place, and how you recovered Mary and this dear boy.”

Alfred then entered into detail, first stating the knowledge which Captain Sinclair, Malachi, and himself had of Percival being still in existence from the letter written by the Indian woman, the seizure and confinement of the Young Otter in consequence, which was retaliated by the abduction of Mary. When he had finished, Mr Campbell said—

“And poor Martin, where is he, that I may thank him?”

“He is at his own lodge with the Strawberry, who is dressing his wound; for we have not been able to do so for two or three days, and it has become very painful.”

“We owe him a large debt of gratitude,” said Mr Campbell; “he has suffered much on our account. And your poor man, Captain Sinclair, who fell!”

“Yes,” replied Sinclair, “he was one of our best men; yet it was the will of Heaven. He lost his life in the recovery of my dear Mary, and I shall not forget his wife and child, you may depend upon it.”

“Now, Mary, let us have your narrative of what passed when you were in the company of the Indians, before your rescue.”

“I was, as you know, gathering the cranberries in the Cedar Swamp, when I was suddenly seized, and something was thrust into my mouth, so that I had no time or power to cry out. My head was then wrapt up in some folds of blanket, by which I was almost suffocated, and I was then lifted up and borne away by two or three men. For a time I kept my senses, but at last the suffocation was so great that my head swam, and I believe I fainted, for I do not recollect being put down; yet after a time I found myself lying under a tree and surrounded by fire or six Indians, who were squatted round me. I was not a little terrified, as you may imagine. They neither moved nor spoke for some time; I endeavoured to rise, but a hand on my shoulder kept me down, and I did not attempt a useless resistance. Soon afterwards an Indian woman brought me some water, and I immediately recognised her as the one whom we succoured when we found her in the woods. This gave me courage and hope, though her countenance was immovable, and I could not perceive, even by her eyes, that she attempted any recognition; but reflection convinced me that, if she intended to help me, she was right in so doing. After I had raised myself and drunk some water, the Indians had a talk in a low voice. I observed that they paid deference to one, and from the description which my father and Alfred had given of the Angry Snake, I felt sure that it was he. We remained about half an hour on this spot, when they rose and made signs to me that I was to come with them. Of course I could not do otherwise, and we walked till night came on, when I was, as you may imagine, not a little tired. They then left me with the Indian woman, retiring a few yards from me. The woman made signs that I was to sleep, and although I thought that was impossible, I was so fatigued that, after putting up my prayers to the Almighty, I had not lain down many minutes before I was fast asleep.

“Before daylight, I was awakened by their voices, and the woman brought me a handful of parched Indian corn; not quite so good a breakfast as I had been accustomed to; but I was hungry, and I contrived to eat it. As soon as the day broke we set off again, and towards evening arrived at a lake. A canoe was brought out from some bushes; we all got into it, and paddled up along the banks for two or three hours, when we disembarked and renewed our journey. My feet were now becoming very sore and painful, for they were blistered all over, and I could scarcely get along; they compelled me, however, to proceed, not using any great force, but still dragging me and pushing me, to make me keep up with them. I soon perceived that I was a prisoner only, and not likely to be ill-treated if I complied with their wishes. Towards evening I could hardly put one foot before the other, for they had obliged me to walk in the water of a stream for two or three miles, and my shoes were quite worn out in consequence. At night they again stopped, and the Indian woman prepared some herbs, and applied them to my feet. This gave me great relief, but still she continued to take no notice of any signs I made to her. The next morning I found I had received so much benefit from the application of the herbs, that for the first half of the day I walked on pretty well, and was a little in advance, when, hearing the chief speak in an angry tone behind me, I turned round, and, to my horror, saw him raise his tomahawk, and strike down the poor Indian woman. I could not refrain from hastening to her; but I had just time to perceive that her skull was cloven, and that she was, as I imagined, dead, when I was dragged away, and forced to continue my journey. You may imagine how my blood curdled at this scene, and how great were now my apprehensions for myself. Why I had been carried away I knew not; for I was as ignorant as you were of Percival being alive, and of the Young Otter having been detained at the fort. My idea was, when the chief struck down the Indian woman, that it was to get rid of her, and that I was to replace her. This idea was almost madness, but still I had hope, and I prayed as I walked along to that God who sees the most secret act, and hears the most silent prayer of the heart, and I felt an assurance while praying that I should be rescued. I knew that my absence would be immediately discovered, and that there were those who would risk their lives to rescue me, if I was still in existence; and I therefore used all my efforts to walk on as fast as I could, and not irritate the Indians. But that night I had no one to dress my feel; which were bleeding and very much swelled, and I was very wretched when I lay down alone. I could not drive from my thoughts the poor Indian woman weltering in her blood, and murdered for no crime or fault—nothing that I could discover. The next morning, as usual, my food was some parched Indian corn, and of that I received only a handful for my sustenance during the twenty-four hours; however, hunger I never felt, I had too much pain. I was able to drag myself along till about noon, when I felt that I could not proceed farther. I stopped and sat down; the chief ordered me to get up again by signs; I pointed to my feet, which were now swelled above the ankles, but he insisted, and raised his tomahawk to frighten me into compliance. I was so worn out, that I could have almost received the blow with thankfulness, but I remembered you, my dear uncle and aunt, and others, and resolved for your sakes to make one more effort. I did so; I ran and walked for an hour more in perfect agony; at last nature could support the pain no longer, and I fell insensible.”

“My poor Mary!” exclaimed Emma.

“I thought of you often and often, my dear sister,” replied Mary, kissing her, “I believe it was a long while before I came to my senses,” continued Mary, “for when I did, I found that the Indians were very busy weaving branches into a sort of litter. As soon as they had finished they put me upon it, and I was carried by two of them swinging on a pole which they put on their shoulders. I need hardly say that the journey was now more agreeable than it was before, although my feet were in a dreadful state, and gave me much pain. That night we stopped by a rivulet, and I kept my feet in the water for two or three hours, which brought down the inflammation and swelling very much, and I contrived after that to gain some sleep. They carried me one more day, when they considered that they had done enough, and I was again ordered to walk; I did so for two days, and was then in the same condition as before. A litter was therefore again constructed, and I was carried till I arrived at the lodges of the Angry Snake and his band. What passed from that time you have heard from Alfred.”

When Mary Percival had finished her narrative, they all sat down to supper, and it hardly need be said that Mr Campbell did not fail, before they retired to rest, again to pour forth his thanksgivings to the Almighty for the preservation of those who were so dear. The next morning they all rose in health and spirits. Martin came early to the house with the Strawberry; his wound was much better, and he received the thanks and condolence of Mr and Mrs Campbell.

When they were at breakfast Mr Campbell said, “John, in our joy at seeing your brother and cousin again, I quite forgot to scold you for running away as you did.”

“Then don’t do it now, sir,” said Malachi, “for he was very useful, I can assure you.”

“No, I won’t scold him now,” replied Mr Campbell, “but he must not act so another time. If he had confided to me his anxious wish to join you, I should probably have given my permission.”

“I must now take my leave and return to the fort,” said Captain Sinclair. “I do, however, trust I shall see you all again in a few days, but I must report the results of the expedition, and the death of poor Watkins. May I borrow one of your horses, Mr Campbell?”

“Certainly,” replied Mr Campbell; “you know thebateauxare expected every day from Montreal; perhaps you will bring us our letters when it arrives.”

Captain Sinclair took his leave, as it may be imagined, very reluctantly, and in a day or two the family again settled down to their usual occupations. The emigrants had, during the absence of the expedition, gathered in a great portion of the corn, and now all hands were employed in finishing the harvest.

“How happy we are now, Mary,” said Emma to her sister, as they were walking by the stream, watching John, who was catching trout.

“Yes, my dear Emma, we have had a lesson which will, I trust, prevent any future repining, if we have felt any, at our present position. The misery we have been rescued from has shewn us how much we have to be thankful for. We have nothing more to fear from the Indians, and I feel as if I could now pass the remainder of my life here in peace and thankfulness.”

“Not without Captain Sinclair?”

“Not always without him; the time will, I trust, come when I may reward him for his patience and his regard for me; but it has not yet come; and it is for my uncle and aunt to decide when it shall. Where’s Percival?”

“He is gone into the woods with Malachi, and with a rifle on his shoulder, of which he is not a little proud. John is not at all jealous. He says that Percival ought to know how to fire a rifle, and throw away that foolish bow and arrows. Do you not think that his residence among the Indians has made a great change in Percival?”

“A very great one; he is more manly and more taciturn; he appears to think more and talk less. But Henry is beckoning to us. Dinner is ready, and we must not keep hungry people waiting.”

“No,” replied Emma; “for in that case I should keep myself waiting.”

Back to IndexNext