"I say,stranger, you can't be very good at reckoning, for a man who has lived all his life in the woods, and ought to know the number of his enemies at first sight.Onlythirty-five, counting that redreptilethat lost his scalp. And as for them thirty-five, if they want Eagle's-Wing, all they've got to do, you see, is to come and take him."
Guthrie, who saw at once that his plan had failed, and that Barton knew accurately the number of the Senecas with whom, at the worst, he would have to contend, now changed his tactics.
"Well, friend," said he to Ichabod, "you might have been a little more civil, even if youareright, and I'm wrong. I didn't count 'em—I only saw 'em a long ways off, through the woods, and might be mistaken, you know. But," said he, with a manner of perfect frankness, turning to Barton, "whether there's thirty-five or a hundred, I don't know nor don't care, so far as I'm concerned; if you say fight, here I am, Squire, and I'll help you out with it, any way."
Barton suffered his feelings of distrust to be overcome at once. Grasping Guthrie's hand, he exclaimed—"That's right, friend. You and I are neighbors here, and there's no reason why we shouldn't be friends, at such a time as this. The Tuscarora has been deeply wronged by these Senecas, and if he has revenged himself, it's Indian law, and we can't blame him for it. No—I can't surrender him; and if they want to fight about it, why we'll get out of it the best we can."
Barton, who was extremely gratified at this addition to the force of the cottage, at once led Guthrie about the building and grounds, to show him his preparations for defence. Ralph was not at all pleased with the manner of Guthrie; but as he knew that Baron was much better acquainted with him than he pretended to be, he could not object to receiving the aid which was so frankly offered, and which might be needed. After the departure of Barton and his new ally, Ichabod and the Tuscarora fell into an earnest but whispered conversation, and Ralph left the apartment in search of Miss Baron, whom he had not seen since the events of the day before.
"I say, Eagle's-Wing," said Ichabod, "I don't half like this business. That stranger seems to be a kind of white Seneca. I never knew an honest man who was afraid to look another honest man in the eye. I don't like him."
"You guess right: I know him. He King George's man," said the Tuscarora, quietly.
"What! a Tory!" exclaimed Ichabod. "How do you know that, Eagle's-Wing?"
"Know? Know it sartin. Saw him down here on war-path. He fought with Senecas. No recollect?"
"That's it. Heavens and airth! why didn't I think of that? Here I've been trying for two days to remember where I've seen that hang-dog face. He was one of the leaders of them venomousreptiles. Nothing can beat an Indian for recollecting things."
"Indians got long memory. Know enemy always. Don't forget him."
"I say, Eagle's-Wing, do you think the sarpent recollectsus?"
"Yes—sartin. He recollect you—saw that. Recollectme, too. Most got his scalp: he recollect that, well, I know."
"How's that, Eagle's-Wing?"
"When Seneca run, he run too. I shoot, and he fell. I run to get scalp—but Seneca warriors turn—too many of 'em—and they take him off. He 'members that, sartin."
"Now Eagle's-Wing, that sarpent has come here to practise some deviltry on us. He's fairly cheated the old Squire, and I s'pose he thinks he has cheated us, too. What shall we do with him?"
"I know whatIdo," and he significantly pointed to his knife.
"No—that won't do at all. You see, if he is in league with them Senecas, there's onlyoneway that he can helpthemand injureus. Being inside here, he reckons he can open the door to 'em."
"Yes, that's the way—no other way."
"Well, you see, Eagle's-Wing, we'll let him play his game out, but we'll try and be there to see it done. Now, mind, Eagle's-Wing, until that does happen, we mustn't seem to know him at all."
"Yes, yes; make b'lieve friend—that the way."
"I reckon we'll hear from them reptiles to-night; and if we do, Eagle's-Wing, we'll thin out their numbers a little, and then to-morrow for the Singing-Bird. You'll see her again to-morrow, and no mistake."
A melancholy smile passed over the countenance of the Tuscarora. It was immediately followed by such a gleam of deadly ferocity, that even Ichabod started.
"Panther got lying tongue—I tear it out. Panther got bad heart—I tear it out. He takemysquaw—he never see his own squaw again."
"I don't blame you. Eagle's-Wing, for your feelings towards that reptile; but I do wish you Injins could learn a civilized mode of warfare. I shan't argue with you: I know better than that; but I ra'ally don't see how any Injin of your qualities can have such a strong desire for tearing scalps off from all his enemies. But it's Injin natur' I s'pose. When white people offer bounties for such things, I don't much blame Injins for speculating in that kind of article: but to do it when nothing's to be made out of it, beats my comprehension."
But we must leave Ichabod and the Tuscarora to their conversation, while we follow Ralph to the interview which he sought with Miss Barton.
Proceeding directly towards the front portion of the house, and entering a room which was fitted up tastefully, and adapted to "state occasions," if we may be permitted to apply that term to an apartment designed as well for a family room as a parlor, he found Ruth, who seemed to be yet suffering from the agitation and excitement of the day before.
"I am happy to see you, Miss Barton," said Ralph, "suffering no more from your perilous night-ride. That was an adventure which, I think, we shall remember."
"I shall not forget it very soon, at least," she replied. "I think you must confess that I showed you more of the peculiarities of forest life, than was arranged beforehand."
"Had you advertised me of precisely what we saw, we might have been a little better prepared," said Ralph: "but that adventure would make an excellent theme for a ballad, in the German style. It possessed sufficient of the mysterious and terrible for that purpose, certainly."
"You have visited us, Captain Weston," said Ruth, with seriousness, "in an unfortunate time for yourself. I hear that we are threatened with an attack from Indians."
"Do not say unfortunate. Miss Barton: rather, I deem myself most fortunate, in happening to be here at this time, should the attack which is threatened be made."
"I hope it may not be. O! it is horrible to think that this home I love so much should be the scene of such a conflict."
"I think that in no event can our safely be endangered," replied Ralph; "and that we have nothing to fear from the attack, should it be made. We have abundant means of defence, and the enemy is not strong enough, with the stout hearts we shall have within these walls, to force the cottage. But I can sympathize with your sorrow, Miss Barton. God has made this country too beautiful to be marred by the strife of men."
"It is a terrible blot on human nature," said Ruth, "that men dwelling so far from society, in the midst of the forest, where every object should excite sacred emotions, can engage in these unholy conflicts with each other. It is a proof—a strong proof, of the wretched condition of poor human nature, unassisted by the light that shines from above."
"Such is the nature of men," replied Ralph, "and surely perhaps, it will always be. The first men were warriors, and if ignorance and brutality always exist, the last men will be warriors, also. The whole history of the world has been written with the sword—places most sacred have been profaned by the bloody stains of human passion, and themes the most holy have given rise to the deadliest hatred and contention. We cannot expect that men educated in the ways of the forest, shall be wiser than those who boast of their civilization."
"But is there no way," asked Ruth, "in which this conflict can be avoided?"
"None, perhaps, that would be honorable." Ralph then gave an account of the wrongs which the Tuscarora had received from the Senecas, together with the capture of his squaw. Ruth acknowledged the impossibility of complying with the demands of the Senecas. Her heart at once sympathised with the wrongs of the Tuscarora; and the picture which her imagination drew of Singing-Bird in captivity in the hands of those unrelenting and unmerciful enemies, brought tears to her eyes.
"No, no," said she; "the Tuscarora has been our friend, and we cannot deliver him to his enemies. In such a cause, I could be a soldier myself."
Although Ruth had been educated to a far different manner of life, and in former times had enjoyed many of the luxuries which would then be afforded by persons in "comfortable" circumstances, yet she possessed sufficient of that heroism of character which the times had engendered, to enable her to throw off the habits of early education, and adopt the character of fortitude and patience in the midst of suffering, peculiar to the class of women in the station in which she then moved. Thus, although she viewed with dread the prospect of a strife with the savage and unmerciful enemies by whom they were then about to be attacked, she did not suffer herself to yield to the terrors which such an idea would be likely to inspire. The women of the times of the Revolution lost none of their feminine graces, by bearing with fortitude the perils and dangers by which they were encompassed.
Ralph gazed with admiration on that beautiful countenance, thus excited by a tender sympathy for the sufferings which she felt must be endured by the Tuscarora and Singing-Bird.
"With such soldiers," said he, "we could not but succeed; but we shall scarcely call upon Miss Barton to fall into the ranks, at present. We shall only do that as a last resort."
At this moment, their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Sambo, who informed Ralph that Mr. Barton desired his presence immediately. Ralph at once obeyed the summons; but its object we shall leave to the next chapter to unfold.
"Here, Persian, tell thy embassy! RepeatThat, to obtain my friendship, Asia's princeTo me hath proffered sovereignty of Greece."LEONIDAS.
Ralph found Mr. Barton and his companions in consultation upon some subject of apparent importance, from the anxiety which was manifested in their countenances. Two Indians of the Seneca Nation were seen approaching the cottage; and although as they were unarmed, no immediate hostility could be expected, yet it was evident they were coming upon some errand relative to the shelter of the Tuscarora. If such were the case, this departure from the ordinary caution of the Indian, might be evidence either of the desire not to come in conflict with the whites, or of a confidence, on their part, in their ability to succeed in any attack they might make upon the dwelling.
It was decided that Ralph, the Tuscarora and Gauthrie should remain in the cottage, while Barton and Ichabod should meet the approaching Indians, and ascertain the nature of their errand. With this view the two latter proceeded to a small grove which had been left uncleared, except of the underbrush, a short distance south of the dwelling.
The two Indians approached with an apparent feeling of security. They were to all appearance unarmed; and they exhibited a manner of confidence and amity intended to convince the persons with whom they were to deal, that their mission was a friendly one. One of these Indians was Deersfoot, whom we have already mentioned; the other was of a much less warlike appearance. He was small of stature, with a quick, cunning glance, and was celebrated among his people for oratory. His name was Snake-tongue,—given to him evidently, by reason of greater powers with his eloquence than with his rifle.
When they had approached within fifteen or twenty feet of the position occupied by Barton and Ichabod, the former advanced towards them with a smile, and welcomed them to his cottage.
"It is not often," said he, "that I have an opportunity to honor the young warriors of the Senecas. It is seldom that they visit the country of the Oneidas, in time of peace."
"The Oneidas and Senecas are brothers," said Deersfoot. "A cloud sometimes has passed between them; but there is no cloud now. They are brothers still. The young men of the Senecas came to look on the hunting grounds of their brothers."
"The country of the Senecas is not a good country, then?" asked Barton, "I had heard that the Senecas dwelt in a garden—that they owned large lakes that are filled with fish, and forests that are filled with deer."
"My father," said Deersfoot, in deference to the grey hairs of Barton, "my father tells the truth; such is the country of the Senecas. The Great Spirit has given us a good land to dwell in. He has given us lakes that are full of fish, and forests that are full of deer. The Senecas and Oneidas belong to the same nation;—together they conquered the Sennape; and the Senecas are proud when they hear of the fame of the Oneidas. Why should we not love to look upon the country of our brothers?"
"I am glad that you like to look upon this valley, Deersfoot. I am glad to hear that there is no cloud between the Senecas and the Oneidas. It would not be well if there were."
Barton had carefully abstained from touching the point which was likely to be that of controversy. It never comports with the dignity of an Indian to show haste or curiosity; and he knew that he could maintain a better position on the question which would probably arise, if he suffered them, without any manifestation of curiosity on his part, to unfold the nature of their errand.
"The Five Nations were once a great nation," said Deersfoot, "they could travel a great many day's journey and not leave their country: the wolf that howled amidst the snows north of the great lakes, they had a right to hunt; and to gather fruits from under the warm sun of the south. But it is not so now. We are now weak; and the pale-faces are strong. The Great Spirit has willed it, and we cannot help it: we would help it if we could. But it does no good to talk. We grow weaker every day."
"The Great Spirit," said Barton, "has not been so unkind to the Five Nations. The warriors of the Five Nations have not always been wise. If they had listened to the words of the Christian teachers who have talked to them, they would have been a stronger nation. But they dug up the hatchet against their brothers of the Colonies, and they lost a great many warriors."
A gleam of deadly ferocity passed over the face of Deersfoot for a moment, and his wild, dark eyes shot forth glances of hatred—but in an instant he recovered his composure.
"It may be that my father speaks wise. The Indians know but a little, and may be they were wrong. They lost a great many warriors, it is true. But they pleased the eyes of their old men and squaws with many scalps of their enemies. A white man followed every warrior of the Senecas, in the path that leads to the happy hunting grounds of the Great Spirit."
The tone in which this reply of the Seneca was uttered was sufficiently startling. Ichabod stretched his tall form as if he was about to intrude upon the conversation, but at a gesture from Barton, he remained silent.
Deersfoot, after a moment's silence, continued: "We have come to have a talk with the pale-faces of the cottage. The Senecas have not got forked tongues. They have buried the hatchet with the Yengeese, and with the Colony pale-faces. They would not dig it up again. Let my brothers hear and be wise. Snake-tongue will speak."
With these words, he stepped back, with dignity, while Snake-tongue, after a few moment's hesitation, advanced towards Barton. In a low but musical voice, he commenced his harangue:
"My name is Snake-tongue. It is a good name for friends to bear—it is a bad name for enemies. The warrior is known by his name.
"Deersfoot has said that the Five Nations are weak, and that the pale-faces are strong. It may be so; I cannot dispute it. I have seen the Yankee pale-faces fight the Great King over the water for seven winters and summers—they must be strong. Deersfoot has spoken the truth.
"Deersfoot has said that the Five Nations grow weaker every day. We are nowSixNations, and we are weaker than when we wereFiveNations. Why is it so? The pale-faces have slain a great many of our warriors; but that has not made us weak. It is because the Great Spirit has turned the hearts of his red children against each other. If a pale-face slays an Indian, it is wrong; but it is not so wrong as it is for one Indian to slay another. The sad spirit of the dead warrior goes on its path, and complains to the Great Spirit, that its enemy does not follow him, and the Great Spirit is angry. We must shed the blood of the murderer. It is the law of the Great Spirit, and it is a good law.
"The Yankee pale-faces are strong, when they come together in armies; but are they stronghere? My father is away from his friends in the settlements; he has but two or three pale-paces with him. Are two or three pale-faces a match for the young warriors of the Senecas? Let my father pause and think."
"There are five of us, Snake-tongue, with plenty of rifles and powder; and good walls behind which we can stand and pick out our enemies," said Barton, who saw the tendency of this harangue, and who was disposed to meet the issue half way.
Snake-tongue continued, cold and impassive. "My father speaks the truth. There arefivewarriors to defend the cottage of the pale-faces. There arefourpale-faces, and a red man. But we have buried the hatchet with the pale-faces:—we are no longer enemies, but friends. We do not care whether there are five warriors or twenty in the cottage. We are at peace with the pale-faces. It makes no difference to us. We are friends."
"Why then, does Snake-tongue make us this long war-speech? It is true that we are friends; let us continue so."
"My father speaks wise. Let us remain friends. There is no cloud between us and the pale-faces, that the pale-faces cannot put away. A young warrior of the Senecas has been killed, and his enemy has got his scalp. Did the pale-faces do that? No,—the pale-faces do not take scalps; but an Indian always does; a scalp looks good in his eyes. We would find the scalp of our young warrior! Where is it?"
"I am sorry," answered Barton, "if any of your young men have been killed; but Snake-tongue speaks true; he was not killed by the pale-faces. I do not know where his scalp is."
"But we know where it is," continued Snake-tongue. "It is hid beneath the belt of Canendesha. He has hid it from his friends; but he cannot hide it from the Senecas. Their eyes are sharp; they can see an enemy a great way off,—and they can find his trail if he hides. Canendesha is in the cottage of the pale-faces. We are at peace with the pale-faces; but we want the Tuscarora. He has killed a warrior of the Senecas. The Tuscarora must die. It is Indian law. It was taught us by the Great Spirit that we must punish our enemies. We want the Tuscarora."
The Indian paused, as if waiting for a reply. Barton answered—
"My brother has a bad tradition; it is not true; the Great Spirit does not teach the red men to punish their enemies. The red men have not heard right; their ears have been shut. The Great Spirit has said that the red men must love their enemies."
"I have heard," answered Snake-tongue, "of such a tradition among the pale-faces. It must be a false tradition, for the pale-faces do not believe it;theypunish their enemies.Webelieve inourtradition. It is a good one."
"I do not deny," said Barton, who saw that the conversation must be terminated, "but that the Tuscarora may have killed one of your young men; but did not the young Seneca try to prevent him from getting his squaw? We have heard that Panther has stolen the squaw of the Tuscarora, and will not give her up. Is that right? Do red men treat their brothers so, and expect that their hearts will be filled with peace?"
"The young squaw," answered Snake-tongue, quietly, "is in the wigwam of Panther; she can go if she does not wish to stay there; but her eyes like to look on Panther. He is a great warrior."
Ichabod could be restrained no longer. This slander of Singing-Bird was more than his friendship for Eagle's-Wing, would allow him to bear.
"See here, Snake-tongue," said he, "you're a sort of ambassador here, and its again all law to make war on that sort of people; but I don't know of any law to prevent my telling you that you lie like a rascally Seneca."
Both Deersfoot and Snake-tongue started at this defiant speech of Ichabod; and at the first impulse put their hands to their belts as if to grasp their knives; but in a moment they resumed their composure, and seemed to await the reply of Barton, who said, at length:
"We have heard your demand, Snake-tongue. The Tuscarora is our friend. He has been wronged by the Senecas. We do not believe that Singing-Bird wishes to remain in the wigwam of Panther. It cannot be true, although Pantherisa great warrior. We cannot give up the Tuscarora. He is our friend."
"And furthermore," said Ichabod, "we demand that you should release Singing-Bird; and tell your lying chief, that if she isn't sent along instanter, we'll come after her. I've fou't Senecas before."
"My brothers have spoken," said Snake-tongue, quietly; "I will give their words to the warriors of the Senecas. Perhaps they have spoken wise. It is not for me to say."
Thus saying, the two Indians withdrew from the grove, as quietly as they had entered it.
"The lying reptile!" exclaimed Ichabod. "To insinuate that Singing-Bird has a liking for that rascally red-skin. If he hadn't been an ambassador, I would have made him swallow his words on the spot."
"The Seneca lied, undoubtedly," said Barton; "but we have now got to defend ourselves. The language and tone of Snake-tongue implied nothing less. I am getting very much interested in the history of Singing-Bird, myself; and we will find some means, in case we succeed in repelling the Senecas from the cottage, to aid the Tuscarora in rescuing her."
"That's right, Squire," said Ichabod. "Eagle's-Wing and I have sworn to do that; and Providence permitting, I'll have a chance at that foul-mouthed rascal yet."
Barton and Ichabod now entered the house, where they found Guthrie and the Tuscarora engaged, apparently, in a friendly conversation. The result of the "talk" was communicated; and although it was agreed that the Senecas would make an attack upon the cottage, yet no one seemed to think that they would immediately do so. The arrangements for defence were now, however, all made, and the duty of each individual assigned, so far as it could now be done. When this was accomplished, the party separated; each, however, taking it upon himself to watch warily for the first signs of the attack.
Ralph walked out into the grove, where the recent conversation with the Senecas had taken place. He felt much anxiety for the result of the coming conflict; not that he really feared that the Indians would succeed; but he well knew that the issues of such encounters are never certain. Perhaps his warm attachment towards Ruth had much to do with this feeling; for in the event of failure in defending the cottage, were the Indians disposed to reap all the advantages of their success, as would probably be the case, in the heat of their excitement and passion, the situation of Ruth would be extremely dangerous. He would have been much better satisfied at that moment, were Ruth at the settlements, or in some place of safety, where she would not be exposed to the accidents of the impending encounter. But it was now too late to allow of her flight, even if it had been deemed advisable. While engaged in these thoughts, Ruth, who had observed him from the cottage, approached him, and laid her light hand on his shoulder. Ralph started, but smiled as he recognized Miss Barton.
"How now, Sir Knight?" said Ruth, "you do not seem to be occupied with very pleasant thoughts."
"They ought to be of a pleasant nature, certainly," said Ralph, "for I was thinking of no one else than Miss Barton."
"I am sorry," said Ruth, "if so unworthy a person as I can give Captain Weston such a serious countenance."
"Miss Barton, I do not wish to say anything to alarm you, but all our exertions will be required to defence our lives to-night."
"Is it certain we are to be attacked so soon?" inquired Ruth, with a slight look of alarm.
"I think there can be no doubt of it; and at such a time with so few defenders, and so unmerciful and vigilant an enemy, although we have not much cause to fear defeat, yet that result is possible."
"I did not think our situation was so serious," said Ruth, now evidently alarmed. "Whatcanwe do?"
"Nothing, but use such means as we possess for defending ourselves; and I think we shall succeed in doing so. But," said Ralph, with a slight embarrassment, "at such a time as this—when we are threatened with such a danger, it is not surprising that you should have found me thinking earnestly upon the situation of one so dear to me as yourself. Let me, Ruth," he continued, taking her hand, which reposed not unwillingly in his own, "tell you how much I esteem and love you, and that my whole happiness now depends upon you."
He paused, and whatever might have been the answer of Ruth, he saw that in her countenance which informed him that his wishes were well understood and answered.
In that fond dream of happiness in which all present danger was forgotten, they wandered through the grove, filled with those delightful thoughts and fancies, which are only born in the sweet hopes of requited affection.
The shades of approaching evening were creeping slowly over the valley. The long shadows of the trees fell upon the cleared meadow-land, the perfect picture of repose. Never sank a brighter sun among more lovely clouds—crimsoned in deep curtained folds, with golden edges, giving full promise of a fair to-morrow.
"It is a beautiful evening," said Ralph: "one of those hours when fair hopes are fairer; and the natural world seems to reflect the happiness of our souls. May this not be a promise for the future?"
"May it be so," answered Ruth; "but what events may take place, before that sun rises again!"
"Let us not fear too much," said Ralph. "We must meet the danger bravely, and when it is over, dear Ruth, we shall be none the less happy that it is past."
"Hush!" whispered Ruth suddenly, "look there!" pointing to a grove of small trees but eight or ten rods distant. Ralph looked in the direction indicated by her, and he beheld three Indians who were slowly creeping towards them. The Indians, who had no cover behind which to advance, had necessarily exposed their persons, and in this manner had progressed unobserved for a number of rods. They now saw that they were discovered, and rising with a wild whoop, rushed towards them.
Ralph and Miss Barton were just about equi-distant from the Indians and the cottage. Impulsively, Ralph, who was entirely without means of defence, caught Ruth in his arms and ran towards the building. The Indians pursued, and rapidly gained upon the fugitives. One of the pursuers far outsped the others, and had already reached within twenty feet of Ralph, when the discharge of a rifle was heard, and he leaped with a yell into the air and fell struggling upon the ground. In another moment Ralph and his precious burden were inside the door; but as it closed, the tomahawk of another pursuer quivered in the post beside it. Instantly the grove was filled with enemies.
"That wicked band of villeins fresh begon,That castle to assaile on every side,And lay strong siege about it far and wyde."CHAUCER—FAERIE QUEENE.
This sudden appearance of the Indians indicated that they could not have been far distant at the time of the interview between Deersfoot and Snake-tongue on the one side, and Barton and Ichabod on the other; and that upon the refusal of the latter to surrender the Tuscarora, they had at once resolved upon an attack upon the cottage.
On the entrance of Ralph and Miss Barton, they, together with Barton and the negro, who had remained below, at once proceeded to the upper apartment, where they found the remainder of the party stationed at the loop-holes on the south side of the house. Ichabod was loading his rifle.
"I have no particular reason to boast of uncommon accuracy with the rifle," said the latter as Ralph entered the room, "but I'm most always good for a Seneca. That rascal almost had his hand in your hair, Captin."
"It was a good service, Ichabod, and I hope to live to thank you for it," said Ralph, grasping his hand.
"Don't say anything about it, Captin: Eagle's-Wing would have done it in the hundredth part of a second more. It's only one reptile the less."
The cottage, the precise situation of which, with reference to surrounding objects, we have not yet described, was situated upon a slight eminence, which rose gradually westward from the small lake or pond, which we have before mentioned. Behind the cottage, on the west, the land gradually rose, spreading out into a wide plain with a rolling surface. On the north, however, at the distance of only three or four rods, there was a steep descent into a ravine some forty feet in depth, in the bottom of which flowed a small brook. This ravine had not yet been cleared, and the forest approached, consequently, to within four rods of the cottage. On the south, the land gradually sloped downwards for four or five rods, while at about twice that distance was left standing a grove of small trees of two or three acres in extent. It was in this grove that the Senecas were first discovered.
It was obvious that the most dangerous point of attack was from the north; as in that direction, the forest approached so near the cottage, that the Senecas might obtain a cover behind the trees, and should such be their object, find some means to set the buildings on fire.
The Senecas, however, still remained in the grove, and did not show any immediate intention of proceeding to the attack. They were gathered together, while Panther, who was easily recognized by Ichabod, was haranguing them; but although his words could not be heard, there was no difficulty in understanding from his manner and gestures that he was explaining the mode in which the attack should be made.
"I reckon," said Ichabod, "that I might easily pick off that varmint, even at this distance."
"No," said Ralph, "we are on the defensive, and we will not commence the fight. If they make an attack upon us, then we will all try to do our duty."
"I fancy it was something pretty nigh an attack," said Ichabod, "that them rascals just made on you and Miss Ruth. But, perhaps, it's all right, Captin. That account was settled on the spot; and may be it won't be agin law for us to wait until the scoundrels open another."
A small room had been constructed near the centre of the main apartment, supposed to be entirely secure from any stray bullet that might chance to enter the loop-holes.
Into this small apartment, Ruth had entered, on reaching the upper part of the house: but now she made her appearance among the little garrison, with a great confidence, and a determination to make herself of service if possible.
"Do not remain here, Ruth," said Barton: "you may be exposed to danger from some stray shot. It would be much better that you should be entirely out of danger."
This request was seconded by Ralph, with a look of earnest entreaty.
"I do not fear any danger," answered Ruth. "I can certainly be of no service shut up in that narrow cell; while I may possibly be of some little service to you here. I can act as a lookout, you know," advancing quietly to one of the loop-holes.
"No good for squaw to be in fight," said the Tuscarora, quietly; "squaw hide when warriors fight, that best for squaw."
"I am not going to shoulder a rifle, Eagle's-Wing, without it is absolutely necessary; but I want to look on, and see how warriors can fight."
It was evident that Ruth was not to be dissuaded from sharing the danger, if danger there was, to which the defenders of the cottage were exposed. Ichabod, who during this brief conversation had remained watching intently the motions of the enemy, now exclaimed:
"There are twenty of the red varmints, sartin, but they don't seem very anxious to begin the fight. What d'ye think they mean to do, Eagle's-Wing?"
"Mean to 'tack cottage; that what they mean: wait till dark, then see what they do."
"There's some motion among 'em now," said Ichabod, "there go thereptiles, creeping off through the wood. They're diving now, but they'll come up again somewhere, I reckon."
"I rather calculate," said Guthrie, who had thus far remained silent, "that they're going to give up the business as a bad job. That's the best thing they can do, any way."
"Warriors mean to surround cottage. That what it means," said the Tuscarora. "Pretty soon hear 'em over there,—hear 'em all round—see 'em, may be, if watch."
Night was now rapidly approaching, and surrounding objects had already become indistinct. One by one, the stars made their appearance, glaring with the peculiar brightness of an autumn evening. Yet the darkness would soon be sufficient to prevent any observation of the motions of the enemy, unless they should make their appearance within the little clearing that surrounded the cottage. There would yet be three hours before the moon would rise; and during that time the very closest observation would be necessary to detect the whereabouts of the savages, except as their position should be manifested by an open attack.
Ichabod and the Tuscarora now took a position upon the north side of the apartment, while Ralph and Barton remained at the south side. Sambo was stationed on the west, towards the cattle enclosure, while Guthrie was directed to keep a look-out on the east or front of the house. This was apparently the least dangerous point, as the land on this side was partially cleared quite to the shore of the pond.
But a few minutes had elapsed after this disposition of the forces of the little garrison, before it was evident to the Tuscarora and Ichabod, that a portion of the enemy had taken a position in the ravine. The night was so still, that the slightest sound could be heard from that distance, and the Tuscarora quietly called the attention of his companion to a slight snapping of dry underbrush which had been trodden upon by the foot of some careless Seneca; but, as if to deceive the defenders of the cottage as to the point from which the main attack would be made, suddenly, and as if by one impulse, the silence was broken by the yells of the enemy from all directions, and a general discharge of their guns at the building.
"Yell and fire, you infernal reptiles," said Ichabod. "They must have plenty of ammunition, to waste it in that style."
"That done to cheat," said Eagle's-Wing.
"Well, they've commenced the skrimmage, any way," said Ichabod, "and now, let one of them miserable creturs get before this rifle of mine and I'll settle an account with him."
"We shall be over nice in our scruples," said Ralph, "if we hesitate any longer to treat them as enemies. They have certainly committed an overt act of war; and duty to ourselves will no longer allow us to remain inactive."
Since the first demonstration on the part of the Senecas, no other had been made; and the silence without was as perfect and uninterrupted as though no enemy surrounded them.
It was obvious that the two most serious dangers to be encountered, were past—an attempt on the part of the enemy to get under cover of the walls of the cottage, where they would be in a great measure protected from the rifles inside, and where they might find means to force the doors; and, secondly, an attempt to set fire to the buildings.
Any object of the size of a man could readily, notwithstanding the darkness, be seen at the distance of four or five rods; and the garrison were certain, thus far, that no enemy had approached within that distance. Ichabod and the Tuscarora, as has been observed, were stationed upon the north side of the apartment. The position which had been chosen by the former, was near to the north-eastern angle, whence, with a little trouble, he might also keep a look-out on the east. This position had been chosen by him, owing to the distrust he entertained of the fidelity of Guthrie; for there was nothing in the conduct of the latter since his return to the cottage, that had been calculated to dispel any suspicions which Ichabod had entertained of his real character. He had taken little or no part in the plans of defence, and had maintained a moody silence that had rarely been broken, except by brief answers to such questions as were put to him.
"I say, friend," said Ichabod, addressing Guthrie, "you keep a sharp look-out over there, don't you?"
"I've been a woodsman all my life, I reckon," answered the latter, "and I don't need any instructions on that point."
"I don't suppose you do, friend," said Ichabod, "and least of all from me. I can't say asIhave been a regular woodsman, although I've had a little experience in the way of savages. A man who has spent a few years fighting for his life, learns, after a while, to know when it's in danger; but can you guess what that black lump may be, out yonder—right ahead of your eyes?"
"Well, if I can see straight, it's a stump, and nothing more."
"I ain't much acquainted in these parts, friend, and it may be you've got stumps here that wander round the lots at pleasure, butIcalculate that object ain't nothing but a venomous reptile," said Ichabod, taking sight over his rifle upon the object which attracted his attention. "Now, you see, if that's a stump, this bullet won't hurt it much; but if it's an Injin, he'll signify it some way."
The rifle of Ichabod was discharged; and the Seneca—for an Indian it was—who, creeping to reach a cover under the walls—rose to his feet with a leap, and then staggered and fell.
Again was that wild yell renewed, but in a moment all was silent. Guthrie ashamed, became angry, and turned with a fierce scowl on Ichabod.
"You havn't a very civil way tostrangers, friend," said he, "and we may find time to settle this business. You may bully Injins, but you won't me."
"I've just did my duty on that red varmint there," answered Ichabod coolly; "and all I've got to say, friend, is, that we've got enemies enough out-doors to attend to, without any civil war inside; but I ain't particular."
"Ichabod! Guthrie!" exclaimed Barton, "let there be no ill-blood between you now; the mistake of Guthrie might easily have been made by any one, however experienced."
Guthrie turned again towards the loop-hole, muttering indistinctly. As for Ichabod, he quietly reloaded his rifle saying:
"That's right, Squire, I'm a man of peace, any way—except with them infarnal Senecas. If I have any particular gift of which I can boast, it is in another sort of speculation. Give it to 'em Eagle's-Wing!" said he, as at this moment, he saw the Tuscarora about discharging his rifle. At the discharge, the whole ravine seemed to pour out a tempest of shrieks.
"That Injin," said Eagle's-Wing, "won't fight any more—great pity lose his scalp though."
"Never mind the scalp, Eagle's-Wing," replied Ichabod, "if you fix the owner, so that he won't have any more use for it; that's my doctrine."
"That bad doctrine for Injin—good doctrine for pale-face p'raps."
Notwithstanding the utmost watchfulness, on the part of the besieged, no further demonstration was made by the Senecas, for nearly an hour; until, at length, they began to hope that the contest might already be terminated, and that the loss of three of their warriors, without having been able to inflict any injury upon the garrison, had discouraged the Indians. As time passed by, no further attack being made, even Ichabod and the Tuscarora began to yield to the belief which Barton had expressed, but they did not for a moment relax their watchfulness.
Barton, Ralph and Ruth, had finally withdrawn from the loop-holes, while Guthrie lounged moodily about.
"I think," said Barton, "we shall have nothing more to apprehend to-night. The savages have doubtless repented of their temerity in attacking a place so well defended as this."
"Heaven grant it may be so," replied Ruth. "We have had but little experience, thus far, in the terrors of Indian warfare but as it is, it is horrible."
"I hope, with you, Miss Barton," said Ralph, "that the Indians have abandoned the attack; and yet I know so well their treacherous mode of warfare, that it would not be surprising to me, were the severest part of our labor yet to come. Ichabod seems, by his actions, to have the same opinion."
"Yes, Captin," answered Ichabod. "Idomistrust these infarnal villians; and I shall mistrust 'em till day-light, sartin. You'll find that they're plotting some deviltry which we shall know about before we are many hours older."
"It is strange," said Ruth, "that these savages should so resist all attempts for their improvement; and that they should persist in their cruel mode of warfare, after having received so much instruction from Christian teachers."
"I do not think it so very strange, perhaps," answered Ralph. "Their habits—their modes of life, are the result of ages of barbarity, and traditions communicated from father to son. No continuous effort has ever been made to Christianize them; and it would be a miracle, were we to find them now with Christian sentiments—adopting an entirely new mode of life."
"That's my opinion, Captin," said Ichabod. "That speculation has been a failure, and it always will be a failure. You might as well talk of civilizing wolves. Why, there's the Oneida nation, who have pretty much all been to school, and sat under sermons month after month,—let them hear the war-hoop, and they're as crazy as devils, and don't think of anything but scalps. There's Eagle's-Wing, being just as good a gentleman, for an Injin, as ever wore moccasins—I'll warrant you some foolish missionary reckonshimfor a convarted Injin; and yet," said he, with a whisper, "you'll find that infernal Seneca's scalp somewhere about him now. Don't talk to me of convarting Injins. I don't think they were ever intended to be convarted."
"You remember the divine injunction to the apostles, Ichabod?" asked Ruth; "that they were to go into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature?"
"Lord love you, girl!" answered Ichabod, "you don't suppose that meant to come over to America among these tomahawking savages! You see, in the first place, it would have been something of a job for one of them apostles to have got here; and in the second place, he'd wished himself away again, in a hurry."
"I agree with Miss Barton," said Ralph, "that there is no reason why these savages might not learn to cherish Christian principles. The efforts of the Jesuits show that something can be done to civilize them; and the labors of Elliot among the New England Indians prove that theycanbe Christianized."
"I reckon there's two sides to that question," answered Ichabod, "I've heard that those Injins were more troublesome than them that didn't have any preaching. Their religion all stopped with drinking Christianized rum. No, Captin, you can't give me any faith in that expectation, any way."
"I'm afraid Mr. Jenkins," said Ruth, "that the same reasons you urge against the conversion and improvement of the Indians, would apply as well to all mankind generally as to them. There are but few, of all who listen to the Scriptures, who act upon their precepts. They hear, as you say the Indians do, and at once forget, in their worldly intercourse, that there is such a book as the Bible."
"Well. I can't dispute that p'int," replied Ichabod. "In these new settlements, where men have so much to do, they ar'nt so much to blame, if they can't understand what the preachers in the city are quarreling about. I've lived a long while in the woods, and about the new settlement, Miss Ruth, and havn't had much time to settle doctrinal controvarsies; but I've got a faith of my own, which wouldn't, perhaps, answer for you; and yet I'm willing to live by it, and die by it."
"Of how many articles does your faith consist?" asked Ralph, smiling.
"Well, Captin, that may be as you've a mind to classify the different p'ints. I don't coincide quite, in my views of future life, with old Michael Wigglesworth, who had no marcy for anybody but his own sect—not for infants even. You recollect the varses on infants, Captin, where he says that although in bliss—
"They may not hope to dwell,Still unto them he will allowThe easiest room in hell."
No, Captin, a man cannot live in the forests, and look continually at the works of God, and forget that He exists; and I reckon that a man who always bears Him in mind, whether he be felling the trees, planting the ground, turning his hand in an honest speculation, or shooting a Seneca, will have marcy shown to him eventually. That's my doctrine."
"It is a creed that has the merit of being short, if not orthodox," said Ralph. "But I must acknowledge, that while I have not paid the attention to religious matters that I ought to have done, and have been too forgetful of claims that have been imposed upon all men, yet, from all my doubts, I have ever returned to the Bible as the only sure anchor of faith. Its opening revelations are corroborated in the history or tradition of all nations; its divine teachings, interpreted according to the simple understanding of one's own heart, accord with our reason—satisfy our hopes—alleviate our sorrows—cheer us in death. The uninstructed feelings of the heart, in this matter, are a purer, more excellent wisdom, than all the pride of intellect."
"Well, Captin," said Ichabod, "I never dispute on creeds—so you are welcome to yours: but onfacts, I've got a right to express my opinion. Now, as for them opening chapters being corroborated by the history of all nations—that's a question of fact, which I'm willing to leave to Eagle's-Wing, whose nation, according to their traditions, is older than I'd like to vouch for. Now, he'll tell you that the first thing that was made was a tortoise and that the earth was then made and placed upon its back. I say, Eagle's-Wing——Thunder and lightning!" exclaimed he, springing towards the stairway.
The fact was, that Ichabod had been so much engaged in this conversation, relying upon the prudence and watchfulness of the Tuscarora, that he had given up all his attention to it. But upon making his appeal to the Tuscarora, he had turned towards the position lately occupied by him when he discovered that both he and Guthrie were missing.
Scarcely had he sprung towards the stairway, ere there rang through the cottage a shriek of agony, immediately followed by the sound of a heavy body falling upon the floor, in the room below. This was succeeded by a tempest of shrieks, which apparently came from the whole body of the enemy, who were now close under the cover of the building, in front of the south door.
Ichabod was followed by Barton and Ralph, down the stairway. As they came towards the door, they beheld the Tuscarora standing silently beside it, while at his feet lay a black mass, indistinct in the darkness, which they took to be the body of Guthrie.
"What is the meaning of this, Eagle's-Wing?" demanded Barton.
The Tuscarora quietly pointed towards the door, the bar of which was partially raised. "He traitor; got bad heart; meant to open door and let Seneca come in. Can't do itnow, if he try ever so much."
"Eagle's-Wing," said Barton, with emotion, "you have saved our lives to-night. We owe you a double debt of gratitude."
"I suspected that fellow from the beginning," said Ichabod, "and Eagle's-Wing and I agreed to watch him; but you're a better warrior than I, old friend; you don't suffer yourself to be divarted by doctrinal p'ints."
It was now evident that some important movement was taking place out of doors. Scarcely had Ichabod ceased speaking, ere the door received a violent blow, as from a log thrown against it with great force.
"We can't stand that thumping," said Ichabod. "We've been on the defence agin them red devils long enough. Let's open the door and give 'em fight."
After some deliberation, this course was resolved upon. The party within doors were to range themselves in front of the door, where they would not at once be discovered in the darkness, by those outside; and as the log was next thrown, and while the Indians would probably be unprepared for this sudden attack, the door was to be suddenly thrown open, when the whole party would deliver their fire. In the surprise, they might as suddenly close it, should it be deemed necessary. This attack, from its very boldness and seeming temerity, would be likely to succeed.
Scarcely was the resolution formed and the party arranged ere the door received another shock, and was immediately thrown wide open by Barton. There were gathered before it ten or twelve Indians, four of whom held in their hands a log of five or six inches in thickness and about twelve feet in length, with which they were endeavoring to force the door. Immediately the five rifles inside were discharged, and two of the Indians fell. The remainder, surprised at this sudden attack, for a moment seemed paralysed. The Tuscarora, no longer to be restrained, but impelled not only by his Indian instincts, but by his hatred of the Senecas, leaped from the door, with his knife in his hand, upon one of the prostrate Indians.
At this sudden appearance of the Tuscarora, the Senecas filled the air with shrieks, and rushed towards him. But ere they had reached him, he rose erect with the scalp of the Seneca in his hand, and waving it over his head, uttered his defiance with a ferocious scream. Ichabod and Ralph, in a moment, were by his side; and now commenced a hand-to-hand combat, most desperate, indeed, on the part of the besieged. Barton and the negro, who had again loaded their rifles, once more discharged them upon the Senecas, and then sprang to the assistance of their friends. Another Indian had fallen, so that now there was no such fearful disparity of odds as when the strife commenced. Had it not been for the impulse of the Tuscarora, theruseof Ichabod would have been completely successful; but Ralph, although engaged warmly in the melee, saw the unfortunate position in which they were now placed. There were at least a dozen more of the Senecas about the cottage, who would be immediately attracted hither by the noise of the conflict, while the cottage was now entirely undefended, and Ruth exposed to the hostility of any savage who might take advantage of the conflict to force his way into the building.
"To the door!" cried he; "retreat towards the door at once."
The darkness added to the terror and difficulty of the conflict. Ichabod found himself, at first, engaged with Snake-tongue; but a blow from the butt-end of his rifle ended the unequal conflict, and the Seneca lay disabled. "Take that, you infarnal slanderer," he cried, as he dealt the blow. "Learn to use your cussed snake's tongue with more moderation, when speaking of respectable females." But Deersfoot now rushed upon him, and a strife commenced, more equal; both strong and powerful in frame, they were well matched. Ichabod caught the first blow of the tomahawk upon his rifle, and then, ere the Indian could use his knife, his long, muscular arms were about him. For a moment they wavered, as in an equal struggle, when both fell to the ground. At the same moment, a number more of the enemy came leaping to join the conflict.
"To the door, for your lives!" shouted Ralph. The contest was now desperate; and slowly retreating, they reached the door, the Tuscarora, being last to cross the threshold. The Indians followed, leaping into the doorway; but the Tuscarora, with the sweep of his rifle, for a moment drove them backwards, then springing within, the door was closed.
None of the party had escaped without injury; and it was not until the door was closed, and the air rang with triumphant yells from the Senecas, that it was discovered that Ichabod was missing. The first impulse was again to open the door, and rescue him, at any odds; but a moment's reflection taught Ralph, that such a course, now that the Senecas were reinforced, would only put their own lives in the utmost jeopardy, without their being able to assist their friend.
"No good foryouto open door," said Eagle's-Wing, "I go and save friend."
"No, no, Eagle's-Wing," exclaimed Barton, "you cannot save him now; and you will only lose your own life, and peril ours. They will not takehisscalp, but they willyours."
"That true—won't kill him to-night, any way. He great warrior—they like to torture great warriors. We save him to-morrow, some way."
It was with a feeling of sorrow that Ralph acknowledged their inability to do anything for the rescue of Ichabod. Willingly would he have risked his own life; but there was Ruth—who together with the others, might be sacrificed by the imprudent attempt. With a feeling of deep grief, he was obliged to leave him to his fate.
It was now discovered, too, that Guthrie was gone. Could it be that his body had been removed by a Seneca during the conflict? It was not possible; and it was evident, that while in the darkness, he was supposed to have been slain by the Tuscarora, he had counterfeited death, hoping to find some means of escape. With beating hearts, Ralph and Barton proceeded up the stairway. They reached the apartment which they had so recently left: but it was empty. From the window, near which Guthrie had stood, the fastening had been removed from the frame work of bars, and it was certain that through this window Guthrie had escaped, and had carried with him the unfortunate Ruth.
"'Tis vain to sigh! the wheel must on;And straws are to the whirlpool drawnWith ships of gallant mien."FRENEAU
No sooner had Barton realized his loss, than he gave himself up to the bitterest feelings of despair. This interim was succeeded by a burning thirst for revenge. "Come, Ralph!—Come, Eagle's-Wing! let us pursue them—let us destroy them! Oh, my God! thus in my old age to suffer this heavy blow!" and, excited to madness, he fled down the stairway, followed by Ralph and the Tuscarora. Before they could overtake him, he had unbarred the door, and crossed the threshold but no enemy was there.
Ralph, himself overwhelmed with grief, endeavored to console the old man; but there was no balm for such a wound, and he fell fainting into the arms of Ralph.
Ralph, although overborne by grief, possessed a firmness of mind that sought a remedy for affliction, where a remedy was attainable, instead of tamely yielding. Anxiously he and the Tuscarora counseled together upon the course to be pursued. Whether Ruth had been taken prisoner either by Guthrie or the Indians, the result would be the same—she would be a captive among the Senecas. They did not believe any attempt would be made upon her life; but they did fear that the Indians, who had, for the present at least, abandoned their attack upon the cottage, satisfied with the prisoners they had taken, might at once attempt a march to the country of the Senecas, and thus hold their prisoners in a long and tedious captivity. It was, then, with much anxiety that they consulted together upon the course now to be adopted. But we will leave them for the present, to follow the fortunes of Ichabod.
After he had been deserted, unintentionally, by his companions, the strife between him and Deersfoot was no longer equal. Scarcely had the Senecas been foiled in their attempt to follow their intended victims into the cottage, ere Ichabod was seized, and his arms securely pinioned. The Senecas manifested their joy by the most ferocious yells, when they discovered that they had in their possession an enemy so formidable.
"Yell, you red devils!" exclaimed Ichabod: "Ten to one ain't worth crowing about. But I'll tell you what—give me that rifle of mine, and I'll tackle any five of you, any way. But I never did know a Seneca that had a particle of the gentleman about him."
The Indians did not deign any reply to this proposition, but at once made preparations to remove their prisoner. Four of the Senecas were placed as a guard about him, and the march was begun towards their encampment. The remainder of the party bore the dead bodies of their companions, who had been killed in the affray: but Ichabod noticed that there were only fifteen in this party, and consequently there must be eight or ten more either about the cottage, or else already on the march towards their camp.
The route pursued by the Senecas, was that which we have already described as the one traveled by Ralph and Miss Barton on a former occasion, until they passed the shanty, when they struck off towards the left, in the direction of the river.
The encampment, or temporary village of the Senecas, was located in the widest portion of the flats we have before noticed, and at a distance of about ten or fifteen rods from the river, which at this point flowed for nearly a hundred rods in a north and south line. But before reaching this point, the course of the stream was extremely serpentine, making several long windings through the valley.
The encampment was in a clearing of an acre or two in extent; which had evidently been cleared many years before; for the ground was covered with a rich green-sward, while three or four old stumps, scattered about the field, denoted that years had elapsed since it had been rescued from the dominion of the forest. It was in an oval form, and entirely surrounded by wilderness. In the midst of this field or clearing, there had been erected five or six temporary huts, by the use of some small saplings and boughs, sufficient to answer for a protection from the sun, as well as from the rains. These huts were arranged in a circle, and in the centre was one smaller than the others; and from the fact, that it was more neatly as well as securely constructed, Ichabodguessedthat it must be occupied by Singing-Bird.
The party accompanying Ichabod, had reached the clearing soon after sunrise, when he was led to one of the outer huts, where, after his captors had securely fastened his feet, he was left upon a bed of leaves and boughs to digest his thoughts as he was best able under the circumstances. He had not remained a long time in this condition, before he heard the noise of the arrival of another party; and he readily imagined, from the joy with which they were received, that they, also, had brought with them a captive from the cottage. Who this could be, he could not conjecture; and this fact rendered his position still more uneasy. He had already devised half-a-dozen plans, through some of which, he calculated upon his escape, together with the rescue of Singing-Bird. But if the new captive should happen to be the Tuscarora, then the desire for vengeance, on the part of the Senecas, might forestall his plans, before they could be put in operation. He did not believe that the Indians intendedhimany bodily injury; for although he knew their crafty and murderous natures, he did not think they would dare, in the present condition of the Colonies, to violate a peace, which would be likely to draw upon them the vengeance of the whites. Uneasy at the conjecture that Eagle's-Wing might be the new captive, and pained by the tightness of the withes which had been bound about his feet and hands, he made a desperate effort to free himself from them. While engaged in this effort, a shadow darkened the doorway of the hut, and Panther and Snake-tongue stood before him. They had evidently detected the effort of Ichabod; but no expression upon their countenances denoted the fact.
The two chiefs approached the bed occupied by Ichabod, and surveyed their captive silently for a few moments; when Panther, directing his conversation to Snake-tongue, exclaimed:
"This is the warrior of whom we have heard. He is a great warrior; he has killed many Senecas; his eye is sharp on the war-path; his rifle is sure. Our old men and squaws have heard of him beyond the lakes. It is pleasant to have him in our hands."
"His arm is strong; Snake-tongue knows it," said Snake-tongue, who still retained a vivid impression of the blow which he had received from Ichabod in the recent encounter at the cottage. "The young men of the Senecas are no match for him; if the Great Spirit had given him a red skin, we should have been proud of him. But he is a pale-face, and it is good to have him bound in our huts. He cannot hurt the young warriors of the Senecas any more."
Ichabod had remained perfectly quiet during this by-conversation, although a smile for a moment lit up his countenance, at the compliments which the chiefs had bestowed upon his prowess. When they had concluded he exclaimed:
"I give you all the thanks for them compliments that you desarve. But youareright about it. Ihavekilled some of your warriors in my day, you may depend on it: and I reckon that this is the first time that any of your breed was quite so familiar with me. But I want to know, if it's considered gentlemanly, among the Senecas, to tie a fellow's legs so cussed tight?"
"The pale-face is a great warrior," said Panther: "he is cunning as a fox. The Senecas are poor and ignorant; they do not know as much as the pale-faces; but they know how to tie a warrior's feet so that he cannot run. They would be ashamed if they did not know how; and my brother would be ashamed of us too."
"I don't ask any kind of marcy of you, Panther," said Ichabod, "I know better than that. You've got me here, and I s'pose you'll do pretty much as you've a mind to; and when you want to begin with your deviltries, just speak, and I'm ready."
"My brother is not a squaw," said Panther, "if he was a squaw, and not a great warrior, we should unbind him, and let him wander round our tents; but the Senecas know how to honor their enemies, who are brave. But the Senecas do not hate the pale-faces; they have buried the hatchet with them, and we will not dig it up. We will let our brother go back to the pale-faces, if he wishes."
"Well, now, I call that pretty clever, considerin'; I shall begin to think youaregentlemen, after all," answered Ichabod, who saw the drift of the discourse. "I'm ready to start any time you'll take these things off my hands and feet."
"My brother is ready to go," said Panther. "It is good. He does not like the lodges of the Senecas; he likes his own people better. It is not well for a pale-face to dwell in the lodges of the red men; and it is not good for red men to dwell in the lodges of the pale-faces. They are different: the Great Spirit has made them different—and it is well. The pale-faces have killed five of our young men; but we will not do them any harm. We will not dig up the hatchet against them. Our young men are not painted for the war-path; they have not struck the war-post of their nation."
"For a civil people, who havn't dug up the hatchet, and who don't intend to, against the pale-faces, you made a suspicious demonstration on the cottage last night. I don't know but that is thegenuineSeneca way of being civil and peaceable."
"The pale-faces killed five of our young men; but they did it in defense," said Panther. "They did not want to do it; but Canendesha has killed two of our young men; he did it because he hated them. He is a great warrior, too, and we want him in your place."
"Providing I go back to the cottage," replied Ichabod, "I'll tell him what you want; but I won't promise that he'll be here at anyprecisetime. I couldn't do that."
"My brother has not got a forked tongue; he will do what he says; but that is not enough. Four of my young men will go with my brother, and he will deliver Canendesha to them."
"You mean, I reckon, that I shall take Eagle's-Wing and put these thongs round his limbs, and pass him over to you as a prisoner?" asked Ichabod, quietly.
"My brother is wise. He knows what I mean: he can do it and be free."
Ichabod was about to give way to a burst of indignation at this treacherous proposal; but he saw that by so doing he should defeat his own ends. He had also learned, to his great satisfaction, that the Tuscarora had not been captured. It was with great difficulty that he could conceal his joy from the inquisitorial eyes of the Senecas; but at length, with an appearance of hesitancy, he answered.
"I can't say, now, whether I will do as you wish or not. I want little time to think about it. Speculating in flesh and blood, in that way, and with a friend, too, is a kind of business I never yet undertook; but I suppose one may get used to it. A little practice will blunt the feelings, until one can come to bartering off friends—aye, one's own flesh and blood, too." Then, as if suddenly remembering the declaration of Snake-tongue, that Singing-Bird was reconciled to her captivity, he added, "you see, if the Tuscarora knew that Singing-Bird had forgot him, and had chosen the young chief of the Senecas for her husband, I calculate he wouldn't care much whether he was here or there. Now if that's true, Iratherreckon, I'll do as you want me to, though I look upon it as a rascally mean trick towards a friend."
"It is true, what my brother has heard," said Panther: "Singing-Bird will sing in the wigwam of Panther."
"Now, I don't mean any disparagement to the Senecas, and you in particular," said Ichabod; "I am beginning to think that you may be gentlemen, after all; butthatis a matter I can't take anybody's word for. I want toknowthat it is true."
"My brother shall hear with his own ears," said Panther. "He shallknowthat the words of Panther are true; he shall see Singing-Bird, and ask her if Panther has lied."
This was just what Ichabod had desired. If he had made the proposition himself, it was doubtful whether some ulterior purpose would not have been suspected; but his seeming willingness to comply with the wishes of Panther, had led the Seneca to suggest this as the surest mode of dispelling his doubts.
"My brother shall see Singing-Bird alone," said Panther, "we have not got forked tongues, or we would not let him do so."
The two Indians departed. Their willingness to allow this interview was, for a moment, almost sufficient to induce Ichabod to believe that Singing-Bird had become faithless to the Tuscarora. But he knew enough of Indian character to know that Singing-Bird might have adopted this line of conduct as the best mode of effecting her escape. With this belief, he silently awaited the interview, determined not to believe otherwise unless he received positive proof from Singing-Bird herself. Scarcely five minutes had elapsed after the departure of the Seneca, before a shadow again darkened the doorway of the hut, and the young squaw stood before him.
Singing-Bird—for she it was—was apparently not more than two-and-twenty years of age. She was of small, light stature, yet with a full and healthy development of body. Her features, although they possessed the distinctive Indian cast, were moulded into a beauty admirable to behold. Her complexion was a softening of the tawny-red of the warriors into a delicate tint, while her large, dark eyes were full of a gentle expression, that might, if need be, be exchanged for a wild and passionate fire. Her long, dark, glossy hair flowed in graceful waves down her neck, and were gathered in rich folds over her brow. Her costume was that of a young Indian female of the period, beautifully and tastefully decorated with ornaments of beads and flowers. As Ichabod first beheld her, the prevailing expression of her countenance was that of a gentle sorrow.
Ichabod was surprised. He had never beheld the wife of Eagle's-Wing, and never before had he beheld a female figure the beauty of which so much surprised and delighted him. He gazed at her with a pleasure he could not conceal, and then, while a melancholy smile passed over her countenance, he said—
"You have heard of me from Eagle's-Wing, perhaps, as an old friend? He and I have known each other as tried friends, in times gone by."
"I have heard of a pale-face," replied Singing-Bird, in a low, silvery voice, "who, on the war-path, saved the life of Eagle's-Wing, when he was in the hands of his enemies. I have heard it from Eagle's-Wing."
"That's a circumstance not worth mentioning; but Eagle's-Wing and Iarefriends. He knows he can always rely on me, in any sort of a speculation. But I'm in rather a bad fix here; yet we can always find some way of doing our duty by a friend, if we try. But Eagle's-Wing is free, and isn't far from here—you may depend on that."
Perhaps the slightest trace of an expression of joy passed over her countenance for a moment; but it was instantly subdued. With her eyes fixed upon the ground, she slowly said—
"I lovedonceto look upon Canendesha—but he has passed from my eyes."
"What!" exclaimed Ichabod with a start that fairly made the withes snap that were fastened upon his limbs.
A momentary look of agony clouded the face of Singing-Bird. She seemed endeavoring to speak, yet had not the power to command her organs of speech.
"Shall I tell Eagle's-Wing this?" exclaimed Ichabod, with indignation. "Shall I tell him to go back to the villages of his nation, and forget his squaw? Or shall I tell him to come and deliver himself up to his enemies?"