Grinning in his imperturbable fashion, the Mohawk turned part way round, and made a signal, evidently for some one invisible to all. Be that as it may, it was instantly responded to by the coming forward of a man in the ordinary dress of a farmer settler of the valley. He had an honest countenance, and was about forty years old. As he came into full view, so that the firelight fell full upon his face, he was recognized as an old acquaintance, named Perkins, who lived but a short distance from where the camp fire was burning.
"Wall, how are ye all?" he asked in a drawling voice and an accent that betrayed the fact that he was one of the descendants of the Connecticut pioneers that built Forty Fort, not a great many years before. "I say, how are ye all?" he continued, as he began shaking hands round. "I'll be shot if I expected to see any oneof ye folks round here. I say, how are ye all agin?"
"Well, Ike," replied Ned Clinton, who was well acquainted with him, and felt authorized to answer, "we are all right, as you can see for yourself, and you seem to be equally fortunate."
"Wall, I s'pose I am," was the hesitating answer, "the main trouble being that we have been suffering for the last few days from a dreadful scare; but then we hain't been injured in any way, thanks be to the Lord for it all."
"Then you aren't alone—"
"Yes, I am," interrupted the farmer; "that is, when I'm abroad."
The precise meaning of this was not clear to the listeners, but Ned continued without noticing it:
"I did not see you in the battle, Mr. Perkins."
"No, thanks be to the Lord for it all, I was able to keep out by running away, when the battle begun, or rather a little before. I had hard work to get clear; thanks to the Lord, I managed to do it."
"Where's your family?"
"Wall, now, thar's where I've ben specially favored again. You know that there are three of us—myself, Mrs. Perkins, and Master George Washington Perkins, aged four years, so I had my hands full in looking after them; but the second Mrs. Perkins is a remarkable woman, and possesses an exceedingly powerful mind—an exceedingly powerful mind, beyond all question. I must give her the credit for the able management of this enterprise, for she deserves more credit than I. You know how brave a man I am by nature, and how I have a natural hankering for gore. Wall, that yearning to be killing some one made me furious to plunge head first into the battle when it began raging down the valley, and I started seventeen times—yes, seventeen times—to go in to do or die, I didn't care which, but Mrs. Perkins had her eagle eye on me, and every time I made a rush, she rushed also, and caught me by the coat-tails, and nothing short of an earthquake could have persuaded her to let go. Wall, to make that story short, she prevailed, and kept me out of the struggle, thanks be to the Lord for all that."
"But how did you manage to keep clear of the Indians?"
"There it was her planning again. She called to mind a spot in the woods not far away, where, when she was a sweet little girl, she used to play hide-and-whoop with her playmates, and where she was always able to secure a hiding that baffled the skill of her young friends, and straightway it occurred to her that there was the very spot in which to take refuge, and there we went."
"Any trouble in getting there?"
"Nothing to speak of," replied the farmer, in his lofty way. "Of course the Tories and Indians tried to head us off, but I had a gun, and the strength of my good right arm, and more than all that, I had Mrs. Perkins as my second in command, and where was the use of any one trying to break such a combination as that? We were bound to prevail, and we never allowed ourselves to be turned aside by any trifles, and we reached the refuge in safety, and there we are staying, and expect to stay till things quiet down again."
"But how did you manage for food?" asked Jo, desirous of testing the accuracy of the Mohawk's judgment when he declared that the first gun fired had been discharged by a man in the situation of Perkins while searching for something to eat.
"Wall," he said, in the old drawling style peculiar to men who love to hear themselves talk, "when stealing becomes a matter of necessity, it ain't stealing any longer, and I have been in the habit of slipping out on the sly and fetching down some of the stock that's roaming through the woods without knowing who their master is—thanks be to the Lord for all that!"
"Was that you who fired off your gun a little while ago?"
"I've shot off my rifle twice within the last hour. The first time was at a hog, and I missed him, for, somehow or other, the rampaging of the Indians and Tories through the valley seems to have upset everything, the dumb animals as well—Mrs. Perkins is more nervous than usual—thanks be to the—I was about to say that the dumb critters know that something is going on round them that ain't right, and they are as wild as mad bulls, which is why I come to miss hitting that porker."
So the rather lengthy reply of the loquacious farmer proved that Lena-Wingo was accurate in his opinion as to the reason the former shot was fired.
"Was your second shot sent after another wild animal?"
At this question, Mr. Perkins looked meaningly at the Mohawk and laughed:
"Wall, no; I don't suppose it would be safe to call Red Jack a wild animal, but when I caught sight of him, or, rather, heard him moving through the woods, I set him down as one of the Iroquois, who have made Mrs. Perkins so nervous—thanks to the—I say I set him down as one of those villains, and I blazed away."
"Did you hit him?"
"Wall, no—thanks to the Lord for it all—for, to tell the truth, I didn't try, for I don't like to pick off a man in that style without giving him a little notice, though I'm sorry to say I've had to do it more than once. I just meant to give him a scare, and I guess I made out to do that—didn't I, Jack?"
"Not much scare—don't shoot straight," was the rather uncomplimentary reply of the Mohawk.
"Wall, we won't quarrel over that, Jack, for I'm mighty glad I didn't hurt you. I would have felt very bad if I had shot such a good fellow as you."
"Do you know whether there are any more Indians in this neighborhood?"
"I don't think there are any nearer than Forty Fort; they have been rampaging up and down the valley for the past two or three days, but they must have found that I'm around, for they are a good deal more afraid than they were. But then there was quite a lot of them through these parts to-day."
"Did you see Colonel Butler and his party?"
"Oh, yes," answered the settler, as though he pitied the ignorance of his listeners, "I have had them under my eye ever since they came out of the fort. Do you know that I came very near capturing them all?"
Ned replied that they had no knowledge of such a startling fact.
"The minute I laid eyes onto them, I made up my mind they were up to some deviltry, and I watched them—watched them as a cat does a mouse. I heard that old rascal say something about his looking for the purtiest lady in the valley, and I knew at once he meant Mrs. Perkins, and that roused my dander, as you may guess, and I swore I would go for him. I was so madthat I was determined to snatch the whole party, and I laid my plans to do it."
"And how was it that you failed?"
"By the merest slip in the world. My plan was to follow close behind, dogging their footsteps, and picking them off one by one till they were all gone. It would have been a big thing, wouldn't it?"
"Most certainly it would; and why did you fail?"
"Wall, I'm just telling you; it didn't take me long to fix up all my scheme, and I had just drawn a bead on Colonel Butler, having Captain Bagley in a line, too, so that I was sure to fetch them both, when I happened to remember that my gun wasn't loaded. I drew off to load it with an extra large charge, when something must have told them of the danger that threatened, for they moved off and before I could find them again it was so dark that they couldn't be found, and so by that narrow chance they all escaped."
Mr. Perkins having been allowed to relate his own story—in the telling of which he drew a pretty long bow—his listeners judged it was time to do something practical. He was asked therefore whether he could inform them where to lay hands on a boat with which to cross the Susquehanna.
"Do I know where a boat is?" he repeated, as if surprised at the mere idea that he could not give the information. "Why, of course I do. There's one only a short distance from where we are standing this very minute."
"Perhaps you refer to the one which Colonel Butler appropriated for himself," suggested Ned, whose faith in the man was considerably lessened by what he told them.
"No such thing; I'll put one in your hands in five minutes, if you will go with me."
The three friends looked at Lena-Wingo, as if they wished his opinion before they assented tothe proposal. The Mohawk had been a patient listener throughout, and he nodded his head and set the example by leading the way.
"Go with him—he find boat."
Mr. Perkins seemed to form an exalted idea of his own usefulness by the consciousness that he was the real guide for the time being, and he stalked off like some leader of his clan. The apprehension that he was misleading them was quieted by the confidence which the Mohawk showed in his offer.
"I don't think there's any Indians or Tories about here, and the Lord be thanked," remarked the settler, who found it about impossible to hold his tongue when it was once loosed; "but it will be well to act as if there was danger at every turn now. I advise you all to do like me—and that is, not to speak a word when on the way through the woods—for I tell you that it is the easiest thing in the world to let a whole tribe know your poking round—"
"Be still!" struck in the Mohawk, evidently angered, where the others were only amused. "Talk too much!"
This peremptory summons to put a check to his clatter was accepted in the most philosophicmanner by the individual for whom the command was intended.
"That's what I have always maintained," he said. "People are ever inclined to use their tongues more than they ought."
"Is your gun loaded?" asked Lena-Wingo, in a more considerate manner.
"Yes. I have got a double charge in her."
Thereupon the Indian whispered to Ned Clinton and Jo Minturn to drop quietly behind, doing it in such a way that their disappearance would not be noticed by their vaunting leader. The hint was acted upon and within five minutes from the time it was given, Mr. Perkins was conducting only the red scout through the forest, while he supposed the three were directly in the rear of him, awed and speechless by the stunning observations he was continually making for their benefit.
"As I was about to remark when you interrupted me," continued the loquacious settler, "there is no fault more frequent than that of using the tongue when it should be permitted to rest, and the Lord be thanked that weakness can never be laid to my charge. When Mrs. Perkins and me was a-coming to our retreat inthe woods, she was so inclined to talk that I had to admonish her several times it was likely to get us into trouble. But law me! who ever heard of a handsome young lady that would take any advice about talking? Mrs. Perkins is very sensitive on that subject, and she chose to disregard what I said, and what was the consequence? Why, my friends—it wasn't five—certainly not ten—minutes after that, while we were picking our way along as best we could—What's that?"
The settler paused in his walk and talk, like one who was suddenly apprised that he was on the brink of some peril.
"What's that?" he repeated in a whisper, turning his head toward the Mohawk, who was dimly discernible in the gloom.
"Iroquois Indian look for you."
"Good heavens and earth! You don't think so, do you?" fairly gasped the man, trembling with affright.
"He Indian—he hear you talk—he come look for you."
"Oh, heaven! It won't do for me to stay here," whispered the poor fellow, beginning a cautious retreat that brought him into collision with theMohawk, who was standing perfectly still, as if listening for something that would tell him what the real danger was.
Lena-Wingo threw him off with such force that he stumbled forward upon his hands and knees.
"What the blazes are you doing?" demanded the indignant Perkins, scrambling to his feet. "What's the use of knocking a feller over that way?"
By this time he was erect and gazing, or rather glaring, back into the gloom, as if to make sure where his man was standing and then demolish him. But, to his amazement, his man was not to be seen; he had fled,—driven away, as the settler believed, by the fear of the other Indians that were so near at hand. Perkins was silent for a moment, not knowing what he should do. Then he called the name of the Mohawk in a cautious tone:
"Hello! Leaner-Winger, where are you?"
But the silence gave no token, and he pronounced the name of Ned, Jo and Rosa in turn, without any further success.
"They've all left me," he muttered angrily. "All of them together haven't the courage that I have alone. Wall, I can get along without themif they can without me; but if there are Indians, I'll bet they'll be sorry they gave me the slip. It ain't every party that's lucky enough to have a man of my experience and skill and courage to help them out of trouble—blazes!"
The bravery of the settler, which had been growing during the silence succeeding the first alarm, suddenly collapsed when his ear caught a sound, precisely as if some one was stealing over the leaves toward him. There must be real danger after all!
"Who's there?" called Perkins, in a shiver. "If you don't answer I'll shoot."
Nevertheless, no answer was evoked by such a threat and the settler made up his mind that if he could not effect an orderly retreat he must make some kind of a fight. Accordingly, he peered ahead in the darkness, seeking a view of the crouching redskin, with the purpose of giving him the whole charge of the musket.
"I hope there ain't more than one of them, for if there happens to be," he said to himself, "I ain't likely to get a chance to reload before they come down on me. It was an infernal mean piece of business in that crowd to sneak off that wayand leave me in the lurch just when I was likely to need their help."
While he was muttering in his endless fashion, he was still retreating as stealthily as possible, hoping to get far enough off from the dangerous spot to give himself a chance to make a run for some safe concealment. He had taken only a step or two, when he was hailed from somewhere in the gloom ahead.
"Stop, white man, or me take scalp!"
The settler paused at this fearful summons and his knees smote together.
"Wh-wh-what do yo-yo-you want?" he stammered, hardly conscious of what he was saying.
"Want your scalp, white man."
"Thunderation! I hain't got any! My wife pulled out all my hair the first week we were married. I'm bald-headed, so what's the—"
"Stop!" broke in the voice of the hidden Indian, who seemed to know that he was trying to steal away.
"Well, what do you want?" asked the victim, showing a disposition to argue the matter.
"Want your scalp! Come up—hand it to me."
This was more than flesh and blood could stand. With a howl of terror the settler whirledaround and dashed into the depths of the forest, never pausing long enough to notice that the voice which addressed such terrifying words to him was that of Lena-Wingo, the Mohawk.
After the unceremonious flight of Mr. Perkins, the whites gathered around the Mohawk and expressed a fear that their little joke had resulted in the loss of the boat which the frightened settler was about to place in their possession. But the Indian assured them there was no loss on that account, as he knew the precise point where, if there was any boat within reach, it would be found. He proved the truth of what he said by leading them to the shore of the river, where, sure enough, the very thing for which they were looking was discovered.
"I feel like forgiving Ike for all those tremendous yarns he told us," said Clinton, when the prize was found.
"Well, I don't think he has suffered any harm beyond a good scaring, which he deserved," added Rosa, who enjoyed the discomfiture of the settler as much as did the Mohawk himself.
When they came to examine the vessel more carefully, however, there was some disappointment; for, instead of being a neat, clean canoe, like the one in which the girl had spent a portion of the day, it was a very ordinary structure, known along the rivers of the eastern part of the country as a "scow," and which under any circumstances was incapable of any speed. It was not propelled in the same manner as a canoe, the only implement being a long pole, so that if they should happen to get beyond their depth, they would be totally at sea. The only good quality it appeared to possess was that it was perfectly tight,—a quality not often seen in crafts of its class,—and the bottom was without a drop of water. Ned and Jo were so disappointed in the boat that they proposed, in the same breath, that they should look further before making the attempt to reach the other side.
"Suppose we were seen by Colonel Butler or any of his men," said Jo. "We would be at their mercy. It strikes me as very likely that we may encounter them, and what will we do, with nothing but a pole to push the old thing through the water?"
"I am of the same opinion," said Ned. "It will be a hard task to work our passage over, any way, not to mention the danger of being seen by some of the Iroquois. What do you think, Rosa?"
"I don't fancy a voyage in such a vessel; but the river is not very wide, and I am afraid that if we stop to hunt up another, to-morrow morning will find us on this side of the Susquehanna."
While these words were passing between the three, the Mohawk stood somewhat apart, silent, grim, and listening. He appeared interested in what was said, but showed no inclination to say anything until directly appealed to.
"Are you satisfied to trust yourself in such a craft?" asked Jo, as he faced the silent one. "Tell us what you think of it."
They were now entirely out of the forest, so that the faint light of the moon enabled them to see each other's faces quite well. When Lena-Wingo was appealed to, it was natural that the others should look him full in the face and, as they did so, each saw the old grin with which they were becoming so familiar.
"Lena-Wingo say nothing," was the unexpected reply of their guide, who still leaned on the pole as if waiting for the others to finish their discussion and enter the boat.
"But you must say something," persisted Jo; "you don't suppose we are going to let our haste to cross blind us to the means we use."
"If want to go over t'other side, Lena-Wingo push over—if don't want to go in boat, Lena-Wingo wait and get t'other boat."
This answer was hardly more satisfactory than the first, and Jo refused to accept it as an answer at all.
"We aren't going to let you get out that way," continued the young scout; "we want a reply to the question I put to you."
Without relaxing the broad grin on his painted face, the Mohawk said:
"Lena-Wingo take over in this boat, if want to go."
Jo was half angry, and was on the point of saying something impatient, when his sister interfered.
"Lena-Wingo has answered your question, Jo; he says that he will take us across in this boat,if we want him to, and I'm sure that is as plain an answer as any one could ask for."
"It isn't as clear as I want, but if you are satisfied I'm certain that Ned and I are also, and have nothing more to say."
"I am not afraid to trust myself in this boat with him, for I am convinced he wouldn't undertake it if he wasn't confident he could accomplish the voyage. So go ahead, Lena-Wingo, for there has been so much delay that we'll never get across if we wait much longer."
This settled the question, and the preparations for the embarkation followed immediately. The scow was shoved off a little from the shore, so that the combined weight would not make it too difficult to move it. Then Rosa took her place in the furthest part, and her brother and lover did the same. Lena-Wingo waited till all had arranged themselves, when he forced the craft clear of the land, and sprang lightly into it, as it was still moving away into the stream.
The handling of a pole is not an occupation to which the Indians, as a general thing, are trained, and it was not to be expected that the Mohawk would display anything like the skill which he possessed in the management of the paddle. ButLena-Wingo was one of those individuals, occasionally seen, who seem to take naturally to any kind of physical exercise, and he controlled the rather awkward implement in a way that excited more than one commendatory remark from the two youths who were watching him.
This species of craft is intended for water close to the land, and always where it is shallow, so that the redman was under a disadvantage, even with all his skill. As the pole was long enough to touch the bottom in any portion of the stream, there was no fear that he would not reach the other shore, provided he was not disturbed by his enemies; but when his companions reflected on what might take place, in case they were forced to resort to anything like a contest with the Iroquois, they could not but shudder, and regret that the start was made.
They had hardly left the land behind them when, as if by a common impulse, all three of the whites turned their heads and gazed doubtfully at the shore they were approaching. In the gloom of the night it could not be seen at all, a dark wall seeming to shut it from view. As the water deepened, the current became swifter and the task of managing the unwieldly craft moredifficult, though it was hard to see how any one could have done better than the Mohawk.
It was impossible to cross in anything like a direct line, and it was found that they were drifting rapidly down stream. Still, Lena-Wingo persevered in his calm, unexcited way until the middle of the river was nearly reached, when it struck both the young scouts that it was hardly the thing for them to sit idle in the boat while he was toiling so manfully to work his way over. Ned whispered to Jo that he meant to take a hand at the pole.
"Do so," whispered his friend back again, "and when you are tired, I will try it, for it will tire us all pretty well before we make the other shore. I am sure you can do as well as he."
Ned arose at once, and stepping across the length of the swaying craft, reached out his hand for the pole.
"Let me help you, Jack; there is no need of wearying yourself out when we are doing nothing."
Ned expected that the Mohawk would refuse to let him interfere, but, to his surprise, he assented at once.
"Take him—he ain't a paddle," replied the redman, passing the implement over to him.
"You are right on that point," laughed the youth as he accepted it from him, and almost immediately found the truth of the declaration verified in his own experience.
They were in deeper water than they supposed, the depth having increased very rapidly in the last few minutes. But Clinton went at the work manfully, with the determination to do all he could for the "good of the cause."
Ned pressed the pole into the bottom of the river, which was so far below that only a few feet of the stick remained above the surface, and he was forced to lean over the side of the craft to secure any leverage. Any one who has tried it knows that it is next to impossible to accomplish much under similar circumstances, and the young scout was of the opinion that he was not making any progress at all toward the other shore.
"We are in the deepest part," said Jo, with a view of encouraging him.
"And it looks as if we were going to stay there," replied Ned, straining and pushing at his work.
"This deep part must be very narrow, and you'll soon be over it."
"That's the trouble," said his friend, with a laugh, "I am over it, and don't see that there is much prospect of my getting anywhere else."
Still he worked and toiled at the greatest possible disadvantage, the swaying of the boat frequently causing it to baffle all his efforts to move onward. Several times, when he braced his shoulders, the craft would sag against the pole with such force as almost to wrench it from his grasp.
"Keep heart," called out Jo. "I think you are gaining."
"In which way?"
"We're a few inches nearer the southern shore than we were—"
"When we started," interrupted Ned, showing a very modest estimate of his own abilities in the way of managing the craft.
Jo rose and went to the side of his friend, hoping that he might be of assistance, for he clearly needed something of the kind.
"Let me take hold," said he, "or we are stuck, as sure as you live."
"I don't see how you can be of any help to me," answered Ned, who would have been glad enough to receive it, if there was any direction in which it could be applied. "You notice the trouble is that it so deep just here, and the current so strong, that it bothers a fellow amazingly. Now, if you will get overboard and push thestern you will do some good, but I don't see that you are going to amount to anything in any other way."
"Then I rather calculate that I won't amount to anything at all," was the sensible conclusion of the other, as he returned to his place beside his sister and the Mohawk.
There was reason to believe that the labors of Ned Clinton were not entirely in vain, even though they were not encouraging. The boat was certainly progressing, and the height of the pole above the water showed that the depth was less by a few inches than before.
It must continue to diminish, and as it did so, the boatman would gain, in a corresponding degree, his control of the craft. A few minutes after this the truth became apparent to Ned himself, and he toiled all the harder, until he regained, in a great degree, his mastery over the scow.
"Whew!" he exclaimed, as he paused a moment to catch breath. "I feel like giving a hurrah for me!"
"You deserve a great deal of credit," said Rosa, "I thought several times you had undertaken something more than you could accomplish. Butyou stuck to it bravely, and if it was only safe, I should like to hear a cheer for you."
"Very well; we'll consider it given."
"If you wait much longer with that pole doing nothing," added Rosa, looking down stream as she spoke, "I think we'll arrive opposite the fort, where some of the Iroquois will be sure to see us."
Once more the pole was thrust against the bottom, and immediately the craft responded to the impulse, and all felt high hopes of making the other bank in a few minutes.
While the light talk was going on, the Mohawk was scanning the shore they were approaching, for it was all-important that they should strike it at some point where none of their enemies could see them. Several times he hushed his companions when they were talking in too unrestrained a manner, for the sound of anything can be heard a long distance over the water on a still summer night, and there was danger of being betrayed in that way. The party had advanced so far by this time, that the outline of the bank was dimly discerned ahead of them. It was nothing more than a heavy wall of shadow, showing where thetrees came down to the edge of the water, but it was the kind of shore they wanted to see.
"Let me take a hand," said Jo, as he stepped up beside his friend. "You must be pretty well tired out by this time."
"I can take the old scow to the land as well as not, but, as you haven't had anything to do since we started, I'll let you try it awhile."
Accordingly, Jo pressed the pole against the hard bottom of the Susquehanna, and the progress continued without interruption until some half a dozen rods were passed, when operations were suddenly checked by the Mohawk uttering his warning aspiration:
"'Sh!"
This was as effective as if he had called out in a loud voice that the Iroquois were upon them. Jo paused on the instant, and like the rest glanced at the Indian to learn what it meant. Up to that moment all, with the exception of him who managed the pole, were seated on the gunwale, but the Mohawk, at the instant of uttering the exclamation, rose to his feet, and was seen to be looking toward the land which was their destination. Since this placed his back towardhis friends, they could only gaze in the same direction in quest of the cause of his alarm.
At first they saw nothing, but in a few seconds the explanation came in the shape of a light, which resembled a torch carried in the hands of some one who was walking along the edge of the water. As this light showed itself near the spot at which they were aiming, it was high time they halted. The whole party, gazing in the direction of the strange illumination, made an interesting tableau while drifting down the river. The torch—if such it was—continued visible but a few seconds, when it vanished as if plunged into the water.
Here was another unexpected interference with their plans, and the old feeling of doubt came to the heart of Rosa Minturn, when she recalled the extraordinary delay that had attended their attempts to get to Fort Wilkesbarre, and now when her hopes were high, and they were actually in sight of the shore, this mysterious light had come to warn them off.
Lena-Wingo did not stand idle long when they were confronted by such danger, but turning about, stepped hastily back to where Jo wasawaiting the word of command, and took the pole from him.
"Must go back—Iroquois heard us coming—watch for us."
More than one heart sank as these words were uttered, for all felt that it was a bad omen thus to turn back, when they were so near the land they were seeking. There was another fact which was equally apparent, and which caused them no very pleasant reflection. They had very likely betrayed themselves by their own indiscretion, in talking in tones that reached the ears of those who were watching for them. No one was to blame, therefore, but themselves for the unfortunate situation in which they were placed.
Jo yielded the pole without a murmur, and the Mohawk applied it with a power and skill that made the retrogression much faster than was the progress in the other direction. When the deepest portion of the channel was reached, Lena-Wingo used the implement with a great deal more cleverness than Ned Clinton had displayed, and it was crossed in considerably less time than before. Then, as the more shallow water came, and the craft was quite manageable, the Mohawkstopped work, and holding the pole motionless and motioning his friends not to speak or move, he listened, they also using their eyes and ears to the best of their ability.
Ear and eye were strained to catch sound or sight that would tell something of their enemies. All, even the Mohawk, expected to hear the ripple of the paddles of the Iroquois in pursuit, but the stillness of the tomb was not more profound than that in which they were now enfolded. Probably a half mile below them another light was seen shining, and almost directly opposite was a similar one. It looked as if the Iroquois were signaling to one another; and, if it so happened that this scow, with its occupants, was the object of these communications, the latter might well feel anxiety about their situation.
Lena-Wingo seemed puzzled to find that there was no evidence of his enemies being immediately behind them, for he was confident that the light which had arrested the forward movement of the boat was not only in the hands of one of the Iroquois, but was intended as a signal to apprise others that the fugitives had been discovered, andthe time had come to close in upon them. What, therefore, meant this profound stillness, at a time when the sounds of the most active pursuit ought to have been heard? Could it mean, after all, that the light was an accident, and the redmen had seen nothing of the fugitives stealing in upon them? While the Mohawk was revolving the matter in his mind, Rosa Minturn uttered a suppressed exclamation:
"See there!"
It so happened, at that moment, that she was the only one of the party gazing in the direction of the shore which they had originally left, and she alone made the discovery that instantly turned all eyes in that direction. Exactly at the spot where they would have been landed by the Mohawk—allowing for the inevitable dropping down stream—was still another light, resembling the first that had startled them.
This was complicating matters, indeed, and the alarm of the whites became greater than at any time since starting. It looked as if they had not only been detected, but that the Iroquois had quietly perfected their preparations for capturing them. The Mohawk, as was his peculiarity under all circumstances, was as cool as ever, and helooked back and forth as if not particularly desirous of learning who were the torch-bearers.
"Don't stand up," he whispered, fearing that some of his companions would rise to their feet in their excitement.
There was a possibility that the fugitives had not been detected, though the probabilities were against such a hopeful fact. It would have seemed to an uninterested spectator that if the Iroquois were aware that the party whom they were seeking had embarked, they would have kept them under surveillance until they learned where they were likely to land, and then would have made preparations to capture them as they left the boat. Such was the simplest plan, and it would have been more effective than any other. That they had neglected to do so was ground for the hope of the Mohawk that he and his friends were still undiscovered.
It was equally probable that the redmen on the southeastern shore, having learned that their game was coming into their hands, had signaled the fact to their allies across the Susquehanna, so that they might be prepared for the retrograde movement which was actually made. Under the circumstances, there was but one thing remainingfor the Mohawk to do, and that was to drift with the current until below the point where the last light had shown itself, and then to make an effort to land. Fortunately, the woods were dense at this place, so that if they could secure a foothold once more, there was a good prospect that this natural protection could be turned to account. And this was what the guide now attempted to do.
Stooping low in the boat, so that his head and shoulders barely appeared above the gunwale, he held the pole ready to use any instant it might be required, and patiently awaited the moment when the flat-bottomed craft should reach the point desired. The excitement was the more intense because none dared move, and all were in a state of expectancy that made the suspense of the most trying nature. It seemed to the whites as they peeped cautiously over the low gunwale of the scow, that the moon threw double the light that it did when they were in the middle of the river and anxious to gain a view of the land they were seeking to reach. Again and again Rosa was sure she saw shadowy figures stealing along in the darkness, watching them with the keenness of so many lynxes, and quite as frequently she was equally sure she detected stealthy movements by the sound of the moccasin-covered feet on the bank.
Before they were a dozen feet below the point where the light was seen, it vanished from sight and the gloom enveloped them on every hand. While this was taken as another ominous sign by the whites, the Mohawk did not accept it as such. If the torches were meant as signals, nothing was more natural than that, having performed their duty, they should be withdrawn. The four parties in the scow maintained their cramped positions until the boat was a hundred yards below where the alarming light was seen. At this time, the Mohawk rose partly to his feet still keeping the greater portion of his body concealed, and the pole was carefully thrust over the side into the water.
No noise accompanied the cautious movement, but the others noticed that the boat felt the impulse at once. Lena-Wingo was using it for its legitimate purpose, and was gradually, but none the less certainly, working in toward the land. It seemed to the others that such a proceeding was dangerous in the highest degree, for the boat, on account of its size, was likely to attract attention. It was impossible that the others should keep their own persons out of sight when the situation was so critical. Ned and Jo closed their hands upon their rifles, ready to use them at an instant's notice, for to them nothing was more probable than that they would be called upon to resist an attack as soon as, if not before, they placed their feet on the shore.
When they were within a rod or so, the Mohawk ceased work with the pole, and devoted himself to listening for a short time. Unlike the others, he did not confine his observations to a single spot, but peered toward every point of the compass, on the watch for some canoe creeping down upon them from the other side of the stream. His keen vision was unable to detect anything upon the surface of the stream itself, but he saw once more the light that had caused them to turn back from landing. It was in very nearly the same spot, too, where it was first seen, and, what was more, it was moving precisely as if intended to convey a hasty message to parties on the opposite side the stream.
Lena-Wingo studied the action closely, for he was capable of reading many of the signs of the Iroquois unknowable to others, and there was achance for him to gain important information. The torch was not merely vibrating as if carried by a person walking along the margin of the river, but it was swung round in a circle, slowly and impressively, beginning in this fashion, and increasing until it resembled a fiery wheel. Suddenly it disappeared, and all was darkness and stillness again on both sides of the Susquehanna.
"The whites and the Mohawk scout are on the river, and will try to return to the shore which they left."
This was the interpretation of Lena-Wingo, and it was about impossible for him to make any mistake. The retrogression of the fugitives had been detected, and the confederates on the bank toward which they were working their way were notified to be prepared for their coming. Certainly it was high time that the little party in the scow looked to what they were doing.
With the hostile Iroquois on both sides the Susquehanna, and the awkward scow near the shore, it will be seen that the situation of the fugitives, striving to reach the protection of Wilkesbarre, was not of an encouraging nature. The Mohawk was confident that he had read the meaning of the waving torch aright, and that if he expected to reach the shore immediately behind him, it must be done at once.
The signal light was scarcely extinguished when he rose to a stooping position, and applied the pole with all the vigor at his command. It was astonishing to see the speed he was able to force out of the unwieldy structure. The foam actually curled away from the bow, and in a few seconds it ran plump against the bank and stuck fast.
"Now is our time," said Ned, as he caught the hand of Rosa, who sprang up at the same instant with her brother.
"Yes; it won't do to wait a second," added Jo.
"'Sh! move fast—don't make noise," put in the Mohawk.
In a twinkling the entire party had landed, and hurried away from the spot, expecting some of the Iroquois would be there within a very short time. They were right in this supposition, and were none too soon in getting away from the place. The Mohawk led the way directly up stream, keeping close to the shore, but still leaving enough space between them and the water for the passage of a number of their enemies.
It was certainly less than three minutes after the landing of the whites that sounds around them were detected, proving that the redmen were hastening to the spot. Their failure to be there when the landing took place seemed to point to the conclusion that they must have failed to keep track of the craft after receiving the notification from the allies across the river. The faintest possible "'Sh!" from the Mohawk apprised his companions that danger was close, and all came to an instant halt. The sounds of the Iroquois moving near them were slight, but they told the story as plainly as if the sunlight revealed every form.
As might be expected, the Indians did not take long to find the scow that had been abandoned by the fugitives. And when the craft was discovered it told its own story. The nest was warm, but the bird had flown. When the Iroquois realized this fact, they exchanged a few words, which the Mohawk heard and understood, for they were in his own tongue.
"We have come too late to find the pale faces," said one.
"They have gone," replied another. "They are hiding in the woods, and we shall not find them till to-morrow."
"They cannot cross the big brook," continued one who seemed to be the first speaker. "When the sun comes to light up the forest, then we will take their trail and hunt them to their holes, and before the sun goes down there shall not be a scalp left but on the head of the Flower of the Woods."
"And the traitor Lena-Wingo, what shall be done with him?"
"His scalp shall be torn from his head and flung in his face. Then he shall be taken to the towns of the Iroquois and tied to a tree, and left till the birds pick out his eyes. The Iroquois women andchildren shall dance around him, and laugh till his eyes are gone."
This was interesting information to the individual referred to, but it affected him little. He had heard too many such threats before.
"Lena-Wingo is cunning as the serpent that crawls in the grass," continued the Iroquois, who were dissecting him in his own hearing.
"You do not hear him move when he comes for his prey, or steals away from the warriors that are hunting him."
"But Brandt, the great chieftain, has sworn to take the scalp of Lena-Wingo, and he will do it, unless the traitor runs away from so great a warrior, as Brandt says he has run when he heard that he was hunting for him."
If ever there was an angry Indian, that one was Lena-Wingo, when he heard these words. The thought of his running away from any one through fear was a little more than he could stand with composure; and those who were crouching around him in breathless stillness were surprised to hear him shift his position and breathe hard, as though struggling to suppress his emotions. Could they have seen his face at that moment, distorted as it was by passion, theywould have been frightened at his appearance. His hand clutched his knife and he was on the point of stealing toward the warrior who had uttered the irritating untruth, when he seemed to gain the mastery of himself—aided no doubt by the fact that at the same instant his quick ear caught the sound of a paddle, so faint that no one else heard it. He was on the alert in a second, for a scheme flashed through his mind with the quickness of lightning.
The faint noise showed that several new-comers had arrived on the scene, and naturally a change in the current of conversation followed. The wish of Lena-Wingo was to learn where these later arrivals came from—whether from the other shore or whether they were prowling up and down the bank, where they were now grouped. To the whites, who could hear every word uttered, the talk of course was incomprehensible; but the loudness of the tones, as well as the rapidity and general jangle, led them to believe they were angry about something that had taken or had failed to take place, and that had produced a quarrel between them. Such was the fact, and Lena-Wingo listened to the high words with the hope that they would lead to blows, in whichthere would be a good chance of the one who had slurred his courage receiving his deserts.
Those in the canoe, it seemed, had been stealing up and down the shore, on the alert to detect the departure of the fugitives, but, from some cause or other, failed to do their duty, and they must have been quite a way off at the time the Mohawk put out his awkward scow. The party on shore were angry because of the failure, which was certainly a discreditable one, and they were very ready to accuse their comrades of being "squaws" on the war-path. The accused were equally ready to charge the others with being "old women" for permitting the whites to land under their noses, and to reach cover again. It would be hard to say which of the companies was most to blame, and, as is the rule at such times, each berated the other all the more on that account. The prospect was promising for a deadly quarrel; but one or two in the party appeared to be cool-headed, and they managed to quiet the rising storm, much to the regret of the listening Mohawk.
It being clear to all the Iroquois that Lena-Wingo was too cunning for them, although he had failed in carrying his charge across the Susquehanna, it was plain that all his enemies coulddo was to fix upon a plan to retrieve their own slip. And so, in full hearing of the leader of the fugitives, they discussed their different schemes. Lena-Wingo was not long in learning that there were plenty of his enemies watching both sides of the river, and that it was to be an undertaking of extreme difficulty for him to cross with his friends. This did not lessen his determination, but rather strengthened it, and he inwardly resolved that he himself would place his three companions on the southeastern shore, if Colonel Butler had his whole force of Indians and Tories arranged along the bank to prevent it!
The consultation between the Iroquois lasted all of half an hour, by which time they had decided what to do. They would all land and scatter up and down the river's margin, thus covering as much ground as possible, and watch for the moment when the whites would come out of their cover again. In other words, they meant to patrol the beach so vigilantly that it would be out of the power of the fugitives to leave their hiding-place without detection and capture.
All that could be done for a time by the fugitives was to maintain their position and remain as quiet as the grave until the Indians moved from their immediate vicinity. The prowling Iroquois were keen-witted, and although they may have been careless at first, yet they were on the lookout for the slightest indication of their enemies. Consequently, the least movement at that time would have been pretty sure to tell them that the whites, whom they would suppose were hiding somewhere in the woods, were really close at hand, and within their power. Every one of the fugitives realized this, and did not stir while the consultation was going on.
By some means or other—Ned could never explain how—he had reached out his hand, at the moment they took these positions, and grasped that of Rosa Minturn. It seemed to have been one of those instinctive actions that are natural under certain peculiar circumstances. Andso, during the better part of an hour, he enjoyed the sweet pleasure of feeling that delicate little hand nestling within his own.
At last, when the council of war was finished, the soft rustling among the leaves and undergrowth showed that the Iroquois were engaged in carrying out the programme they had just arranged among themselves. They were separating, and the danger now was that in leaving the spot they would stumble upon the whites themselves who were so near them. Nothing could be done to lessen this danger on the part of the fugitives, the only thing remaining for them being to continue the deathlike stillness until the peril was gone. Lena-Wingo was well satisfied that the Iroquois did not suspect the proximity of the whites, for the act of taking refuge so near their enemies was scarcely to be expected. They would not look, therefore, for them in such a place, and it was a matter of accident or providential interference that would carry the Iroquois beyond without learning of the presence of the fugitives. All the latter—even Rosa herself—understood this danger, and the succeeding few minutes were exceedingly trying.
The faint, catlike motion of the redskins proved they were very close, and likely to come closer any second; and if they happened to turn to the left but a few feet, it was sure to precipitate the collision that must be disastrous to the patriots. More than once Ned Clinton was certain a warrior was crouching so near him that he could touch him by reaching out his hand. The young scout was possibly correct in his surmise, for Rosa, who was next to him, was equally sure of the presence of an enemy, the supposition, in her case, extending even further. Her eyes were fixed upon the spot where she believed she could detect a dark form stealing along on the ground, so near that she fancied he must touch her dress. If she could see the Indian, she knew the eyes of the warrior were keen enough to discover her presence, from which some idea of the painful nature of her situation may be ascertained.
The senses of the girl were preternaturally acute, and still more, she was no less convinced that she could hear the breathing of the savage as he crept slowly forward. Fortunately for her, this fearful strain upon her nerves could last but a few minutes. If the Indian should come to a halt, she would take it as evidence that he haddiscovered the presence of the fugitives, and she would give the alarm to her friends, but so long as he kept moving, ever so slowly, there was cause to hope he was unaware of how close he was to the prize for which they were hunting. The dark form gradually passed from view, and a few minutes later the straining vision of Rosa was unable to discover anything to excite alarm, although her ears, for several minutes after, apprised her that some of the dreaded figures were still making their way through the undergrowth dangerously near to her and her friends.
It was, perhaps, a half hour more from the conclusion of the conference of the Iroquois that they got so far away from the spot that the fugitives felt as though the peril had lifted so that they could venture to draw a deep breath and move a cramped limb. However, all waited a while longer before they dared speak in the most cautious whisper, it being considered the duty of the whites to wait until Lena-Wingo took the initiative. Suddenly, in the gloom, it was noticed that the tall Mohawk was standing perfectly erect, as though looking at something in the direction of the river. He held this singular position a few minutes, and then knelt to the earth and appliedhis ear to the ground. This was one of his favorite methods when in the immediate vicinity of a foe, and it rarely failed to add to his knowledge of the movements of his enemies. While he was thus occupied, his friends patiently waited until he should be through and ready to direct them what to do. It did not take him long; for, according to the plans he had heard agreed upon, every minute only added to the difficulty of the task he had taken upon himself.
"Stay here," he whispered, his words being the first uttered since they crouched down in this spot. "Lena-Wingo go way—soon come back—don't make noise."
Every one wondered what the errand could be that should take the Mohawk away at this critical moment, and Rosa ventured to ask him.
"Why do you leave us, Lena-Wingo, when there is danger all around?"
"Won't go far—Lena-Wingo soon be back—stay right here."
"We've been staying now till we're tired of it, and if you can find other quarters, I'm sure I will be better satisfied, for one."
"Soon do so," responded the scout, and without any more explanation he began a cautiouswithdrawal from their presence. All were desirous of knowing what he was after, and they watched him as well as they could. This, of course, was only for an instant, but it was long enough to see that he was going in the direction of the river, from which they had retreated in so much haste. This fact led Clinton to suspect the true errand of the Mohawk the instant he started. He said nothing of his belief to his friends, however, as he had no wish to make a blunder, and the truth would soon become apparent. All were so impressed with the gravity of the situation, that only a few syllables passed between them during the absence of their leader.
As the Indian was not to be seen the three listened with the keenest attention, hoping to gain something of the purpose of the Indian. But the silence could not have been more profound had they been the only living creatures within a thousand miles. They could detect the soft flow of the Susquehanna, only a few yards from where they were hiding in the undergrowth. Once, too, the sound of a rifle broke upon their ears, but it seemed to be a full mile away, in the depths of the forest, and gave them no alarm, its only effect being to make the solemn stillness more solemnand impressive, and to inspire a feeling of loneliness that was almost painful. Once or twice a ripple of the water was heard, such as might be supposed to come from the movement of an enemy stealing through the current, but each of the three knew it was not caused by friend or foe. They had noticed the same thing many a time before, and knew it was caused by a drooping branch or projecting root, acted upon by the sluggish current which caused it to dip in and out of the stream.
And so that which might have excited apprehension in another caused no alarm on the part of those whose experience in the woods had taught them better. At the end of ten minutes, perhaps, Ned Clinton detected a slight rustle at his side, and turning his head to learn the cause, found that Lena-Wingo had returned.
Without using the broken language of the Mohawk scout, his mission may be explained. While the conference between the Iroquois was under way, he detected sounds that told him a canoe had arrived among them—confirmed immediately after by the sound of the quarrel already referred to. The instant he became aware of this, he resolved to obtain possession of the boat and appropriate it to his own use. Every reason urged him to do this. One of the most powerfully exciting causes was the wish—natural to the white as well as the red man—to outwit his enemies. To capture their canoe would be a brilliant winding up of the shrewd escape he had made from the parties on the water and land. Besides this, it had become plain that the only way to get across the Susquehanna was by using a craft equal in every respect to those employed by his enemies.
To venture out again in the scow would be to surrender to the Iroquois, and, as sharp as was the Mohawk, he could not but wonder that they were enabled, as it was, to get back after putting out from shore, with all the chances so against them. He supposed the redmen would leave the boat lying where it was, while they scattered up and down the shore to keep watch for the fugitives, should they attempt to repeat the embarkation. As the scow was moored near to where the canoe was drawn up, it was to be expected that the Iroquois would hold that place and its vicinity under close watch. This rendered the task of the Mohawk one of the most difficult in the world, and all the more relished on that account. Suffice it to say that he succeeded in reaching the spot, where he found one of the best canoes of his experience resting lightly against the bank. A further examination of the craft told the Mohawk that the boat was his own, having been stolen from a place up stream where he had left it, not suspecting it was in danger.
Lena-Wingo was rather pleased than otherwise to learn this, for it was proof that, if he could secure possession of the little vessel—abundantly able to contain all the party—he would have the one of all others which he could manage with his own consummate skill. The paddle was there, only awaiting a claimant. But in making his reconnoissance, Lena-Wingo ascertained that an Iroquois sentinel was stationed within a dozen feet, where he was using his eyes and ears as only a redskin knows how to use those organs. It was necessary to get the canoe from beneath his nose before there was any prospect of escape, and the question was as to how this should be done.
The Mohawk, with his usual perception, saw that the boat could not be entered at the point where it now lay, and he so informed his friends. His plan was to move it some twenty feet or more down stream, where it would be beyond the range of the sentinel's vision. That accomplished, he looked upon the rest as a small matter. He instructed them, therefore, to steal as quietly as they could for about the distance named down stream, and there await him. This being understood, they began the cautious movement, while he went back to the still more difficult task.
It was an easy matter for the three whites to do as they were bid without betraying themselves, and it was done in perfect silence, after which they resumed their waiting, watching, and listening. When Lena-Wingo reached the river-side again, he found the Iroquois at his station, where he would be likely to detect the first design upon the canoe. Then how was the latter to be used by the red scout? There was a method that would have suggested itself to any one. That was the very obvious plan of stealing up to the unconscious sentinel, and putting him out of the way so effectually that he could never disturb them more.
The reason why the warrior hesitated to employ the method which his enemies would have been only too glad to use against him was in obedience to that strange forbearance in his composition, and which rendered him reluctant to shed blood, unless in legitimate warfare. There was not a particle of doubt that he could have stolen up to the guard and dispatched him before he could make a single outcry or apprise his companions of what was going on. This would leave the coast clear for him to take the whites aboard and use hisown leisure to reach the other shore. But the scheme he had in his mind would leave the sentinel unharmed, while its after effect would be almost equal to death itself. This plan was to steal the canoe away without attracting the notice of the Iroquois—a proceeding which would be such a disgrace to the warrior that he was likely to fare ill at the hands of his comrades, who were exasperated over the failures already made.
His course of action being decided upon, the Mohawk went at it with his accustomed caution and promptness. His rifle had been left in the hands of Ned Clinton so that his arms were untrammeled, and he entered the water a short distance below where the boat was lying against the bank. Fortunately, the stream was deeper than he anticipated, rising to his waist when he was within a yard of the land. This gave him the facility he desired, as by stooping he was able to hide all but his head, which was so placed that the canoe, resting high upon the surface, was brought between him and the sentinel. This concealed him from the sight of the warrior, and gave him the shelter so indispensable. It then required but a minute to makehis way through the water to the stern of the canoe, which he cautiously grasped.
All depended upon the skill with which he managed this part of the scheme. If the Iroquois should suspect any such attempt, the suspicion was sure to defeat it. After placing his hand upon the rear gunwale, he paused for fully a minute and listened. The stillness remained undisturbed, and it looked as if the way were clear for the daring attempt. At the very instant that Lena-Wingo began to exert a gently increasing pressure, his keen sense of hearing told him the sentinel was moving, and the scout paused before the frail boat had yielded to the force.
The Iroquois was approaching the canoe, as if he suspected mischief.
The boat itself was no quieter than the Mohawk, as he listened to the advance of his enemy. He could tell what the latter was doing as well as if he were looking directly at him. He knew he was picking his way to where the boat was lying, and a minute after, had paused within arm's length of the same. There he stood while the Mohawk awaited his next move.
If the sentinel should step into the craft, it would show that he intended to look over the stern, in which case the Mohawk held himself ready to sink below the surface, coming up so far out in the stream that he would be invisible. But if the Iroquois really suspected any such act upon the part of the great enemy of his tribe, his fears were removed by the utter silence. After waiting a little longer, he returned to his former position with the same caution and silence as before. Lena-Wingo hardly paused until he was out of the way, when he drew a little harder upon the stern, and felt it slowly yielding to the force. A few more minutes of undisturbed action, and he was sure of having the canoe just where he wanted it!