With an effort that seemed almost to destroy her, but which was lost upon Ichabod, as he had given himself up to the mastery of his indignation—she softly answered—
"I have said. Let the pale-face speak my words to his friend."
It was not merely astonishment—it was shame, uncontrollable disgust, towards the fair being who stood before him, that, for a moment, kept Ichabod silent. When at last he found words to communicate his thoughts, he exclaimed—
"I wouldn't have believed it, if all the Senecas this side of the infarnal regions had told me! Such a beauty! Such a heart. I'll abandon the settlements: I'll thank God, night and day, that I've no wife! Poor Eagle's-Wing! Go and die. No; I know the heart of Eagle's-Wing. He won't die for a squaw. He'll wince a little, at first: but he'll have the scalps off the heads of the whole tribe of Senecas." Then, as if concentrating all his indignation into one breath, he glanced at Singing-Bird with a look of abhorrence, and exclaimed—"Go, you painted lie!" and threw himself over on his bed, so as to avert his gaze from her.
Meanwhile, Singing-Bird stood with her eyes riveted upon the ground, and her countenance as calm and impassable as chiseled stone. A look of agony had impressed it for a moment, but that had fled. Not a gesture—not a breath, denoted that she felt the indignant speech of Ichabod. At its close, however, her ear detected a slight rustling among the leaves, near the door of the hut, and Panther glided from among the boughs, and crept towards an adjoining lodge.
Scarcely had she seen the retreat of the Seneca chief, than the whole expression of her countenance changed—her figure became erect—a fire gleamed in her eyes—a look of intense hatred clouded her countenance. Then, springing towards the bed of Ichabod, she exclaimed—
"Itisa lie. Look at me, friend of Eagle's-Wing. Itisa lie: the heart of Singing-Bird is with her husband. She thinks only of him. Tell Eagle's-Wing so. Tell him I shall soon fly from the Senecas."
Ichabod gazed on her now with admiration. Such consummateacting, though he thought himself skilled in Indian ways, he had never seen before. He had seen warriors die bravely, and, unmoved in the hour of peril, exasperate their enemies by words of reproach and shame: he had seen the Indian smile as the scalping-knife tore from his brow the lock of honor; but never did he imagine that one so young, so beautiful, so loving, could give to her countenance a look so false, with a heart so true.
"God bless thee, girl!" exclaimed he. "Give me a woman, after all, for stratagem. I don't knowwhenI shall see Eagle's-Wing, but when I do, I'll tell him if he don't snatch you from these red devils, he ought to be scalped by Panther himself. Who would have believed it?"
"Eagle's-Wing's friend don't hate Singing-Bird now?"
"Hate you? Lord love you, girl! Give me your hand——- Pshaw! I haven't got a hand to give you: but after this, girl, I'll always believe you, and will find some means to get you out of this scrape. When are these Indians going to leave here?"
"Don't know," said Singing-Bird. "They want to get Eagle's-Wing, first."
"It will be a long while, I reckon, before that happens. But I say," asked he, just thinking of the other captive who had been brought in that morning, "what other prisoner have they got here?"
"They brought in a pale-face girl. King George's man got her from cottage. She stays in hut with me."
"Ruth Barton, by all the devils!" exclaimed Ichabod. "Who do you say captured her?"
"King George's man: Guthrie, they call him."
Here was a new cause of wonderment. Guthrie was believed by Ichabod to have been killed by the Tuscarora.
"But I see into it, the white-livered villain. He'll get his pay for this. I say, Singing-Bird, I shall refuse to go on that rascally business for these Senecas. I suppose they'll be terribly mad about it, but I can't help it. Now, you see, you keep up this sham affair between you and Panther, and you can find some means to give me a hint of what's going on: and, I say, if you can, just bring me a knife. It gives a man a world of confidence, sometimes, to have a friend of that sort. Eagle's-Wing and the Captin won't be idle, and we shall hear something from 'em before long; and, till then——"
He was interrupted by a gesture from Singing Bird, who immediately assumed the appearance she had worn while Panther had been in hearing of the conversation. At almost the same moment, Panther and Snake-tongue entered the hut; and, at a gesture from the former, she silently departed.
Ichabod had endeavored to assume the appearance of indignation which his countenance had worn during the early part of his conversation with Singing-Bird, and with some degree of success.
"My brother has heard the Singing-Bird of the Tuscaroras," said Panther; "he has learnt that the Senecas have not got forked tongues."
"I must confess," answered Ichabod, "that I'm ashamed of that girl. I wouldn't have believed it from anybody else, although I'm beginning to have great respect for the word of a Seneca. I wouldn't have believed it, if she hadn't told me so."
"My brother has heard the song he wished to hear," said Panther, allowing a look of triumph to pass over his countenance. "It is pleasing to my brother. He will now go with my young men, and be free."
"I've no kind of objection to being free, in an honest sort of way," answered Ichabod; "but about that business you mentioned, I've been thinking that I've lived pretty nigh fifty years, and I never yet deceived a friend—nor an enemy either, except in a lawful manner—and I guess I won't begin now."
"What does my brother mean?" asked Panther, giving way to anger. "Does he mean to eat his own words? Does my brother mean to lie?"
"Lie!" exclaimed Ichabod. "You can use that word in perfect safety, while you are there and I am here: but you give me a fair chance, and I'd endeavor to teach you better manners. But the plain English of the thing is—I shan't go on that rascally errand, any way."
"My brother is a great warrior," said Panther. "He is cunning as a fox. He knows it well; but if my brother refuses to go, we will try and see how brave he is."
"If that means tortur' or anything of that sort," said Ichabod, quietly, "all I've got to say is, bring it on. I don't know whether I can stand all of your villainous inventions or not, and I ra'ally don't want to know; but if that isyourmind, I'll acquiesce, of course, seeing I can't help it."
"We leave our brother to his thoughts," said Panther. "He is brave, and will think it over, and be braver by-and-bye. We will let our brother know when we are ready."
So saying, the two Indians left the hut; and Ichabod, with a mind somewhat ill at ease, at the prospect before him, endeavored to follow the advice of the Senecas—although given by them for a contrary object—and gain strength of purpose by reflection.
"No tear relieved the burden of her heart;Stunned with the heavy woe, she felt like oneHalf-wakened from a midnight dream of blood."SOUTHEY.
We shall be compelled to return upon the course of our narrative, for the purpose of giving a relation of the manner in which Ruth had fallen into the hands of the savages. Guthrie, who was supposed by Eagle's-Wing to have been slain, was really but little injured. The Tuscarora had followed him down the stairway unnoticed, and guided more by sound than by sight, in the darkness of the room below, he glided after the Tory until the latter had reached the door. He heard the attempt to remove the bar which secured it, when, with a silent but rapid blow of his tomahawk, he had, as he supposed, cloven the head of Guthrie to the brain; but owing to the darkness, in which the form of the latter could with difficulty be distinguished, the blow fell upon his left shoulder. The pain as well as the surprise of Guthrie, had caused him to give the shriek which attracted the attention of those above, and which was followed by his fall upon the floor. As no further attack was made upon him by the Tuscarora, he rightly concluded that Eagle's-Wing thought the blow already given to have been fatal. With this impression he remained motionless, until the ill-advisedsortieof the defenders of the cottage offered him the opportunity to escape, when he sprung to his feet, and although suffering severely from his wound, rushed up the stairway with the intention of leaping from the window—a distance of ten or twelve feet, to the ground. But as he reached the upper floor, he saw Ruth, who had fallen upon her knees in the act of prayer for the assistance of Heaven towards the brave but few defenders of the cottage. Instantly, Guthrie planned a scheme of vengeance, which was at once carried into effect. Advancing rapidly towards Ruth he said:
"Come, Miss Ruth; the Indians will take the cottage; and your father has directed me to take charge of you and lead you to a place selected by him and his companions for arendezvous. There is no time for thought: come instantly."
Ruth arose, astonished by this sudden intelligence.
"My father," she exclaimed, "is he safe?"
"Yes," replied Guthrie, "they are all safe; but they have been compelled to retreat towards the forest. Come instantly, or you are lost."
Deceived by the earnestness of Guthrie, Ruth immediately followed him to the window. In a moment a small ladder which had been constructed for exit by the windows, in any emergency similar to the present, was let down upon the ground, and Ruth descended, followed by Guthrie. Taking her by the hand, and partly leading and partly carrying her, they proceeded rapidly towards the south-east into the forest. When they arrived at the base of the hill, near the shore of the pond, instead of meeting her father and his companions, she found herself in the midst of a small party of Senecas. She saw at once that she was betrayed, and shrieked for help.
"None of that, Miss Ruth," cried Guthrie, roughly; "it won't do you any good. Them Colony men at the cottage, have got as much as they can do, just now, to save their own scalps."
"Wretch—villain!" cried Ruth, and she fell fainting upon the ground.
By this time, it was apparent that the contest at the cottage had terminated; and a rough frame-work of light saplings and boughs was constructed, upon which Ruth was placed, and conveyed in the direction of the temporary lodges of the Senecas. Before arriving there, she had recovered from her swoon, when she realized the dangerous situation in which she was placed. Arming herself with the fortitude which was not uncommon among the women of the period, she commended herself to the protection of that Divine Being, upon whom she was wont to rely for aid and consolation.
When they reached the huts of the Senecas, and the Indians ascertained who was their prisoner, their exultation was announced in the shouts of triumph which Ichabod had heard. Ruth, however, without suffering any rudeness or ill-usage such as might have been expected, perhaps, in the present excited state of mind of the savages, was conveyed, by the direction of Panther, to the lodge occupied by Singing-Bird. She was not bound or confined in any manner, the savages relying upon their watchfulness to prevent her escape; and also upon the apparent fidelity of Singing-Bird.
When Ruth saw the entire absence of restraint in which Singing-Bird lived, and her apparent friendliness towards the savages, her mind recurred to the imaginative picture she had formerly drawn of the young squaw, separated by force from a husband she loved, and restrained by captivity, among enemies who were thirsting for his blood, she could not reconcile the present conduct of Singing-Bird with her own ideas of what should have been her conduct; and she felt a degree of disgust towards the young Indian beauty, who could so soon forget a husband so worthy of her affection as the Tuscarora.
"Can this be Singing-Bird, of whom I have heard so much?" asked Ruth.
"Who heard it from?" inquired Singing-Bird.
"I heard it at the cottage, of a Tuscarora chief who had lost his squaw by the treachery of the Senecas, and who were now seeking his life."
"Yes, Eagle's-Wing kill Seneca—and Panther must have Eagle's-Wing's scalp. Bad for Eagle's-Wing to kill Seneca."
"Can it be possible?" asked Ruth, "—no, it cannot be—that you are the Singing-Bird of whom I have heard."
The young Indian placed her hands upon her breast, as struggling with a violent emotion, and then looked at Ruth with an expression of entreaty which was not lost upon her.
"Hush!" faintly whispered Singing-Bird, "Seneca comes."
Ruth saw at once that Singing-Bird was acting a part, and appreciated that she did so from a feeling of necessity for the safety of herself, and perhaps of her husband. Scarcely had Ruth caught the whisper, ere the Indians who had stood by the door of the lodge departed, when Singing-Bird advanced towards Ruth, and said—
"Pale-face girl does not know Singing-Bird. She loves Eagle's-Wing. Hates Panther ever so much.Dotell me 'bout Eagle's-Wing."
Ruth related what she knew of the Tuscarora, and of the attack upon the cottage. Singing-Bird listened intently; and when Ruth had concluded, she placed her arm gently about her neck, and said—
"We sisters now; but look out for Seneca. They think me friend; but I want Eagle's-Wing to get all their scalp."
She then informed Ruth that another party of the Senecas had also brought in a prisoner, and from the description which she gave of the appearance of the captive, Ruth concluded that the unfortunate prisoner could be none other than Ichabod. She conjectured, also, that the Senecas had made no other prisoners, and that her father, together with Ralph and the Tuscarora, still remained in possession of the cottage. This fact at once gave relief to her mind; and she regained a serenity and composure which she had not before been able to feel since her capture.
"What are these Indians going to do with us?" asked she of Singing-Bird.
"Don't know what they do want with pale-face girl. P'raps want to trade for Eagle's-Wing. But Panther wantsmefor his squaw—wants me to go beyond the lakes, in the Seneca country, to live in his wigwam. Won't do it, though; I kill myself first."
"I never shall consent to be exchanged for Eagle's-Wing," said Ruth. "I shall rely upon some other means of deliverance."
Singing-Bird thanked her by a grateful smile. "O, Idowant to get away," replied she. "Oneida and Tuscarora warriors come pretty soon, I hope. When they come, then I get away; p'raps before, if Eagle's-Wing know how. He great warrior."
"I have friends, too, who will assist; and I hope they will find means to deliver us," said Ruth.
"Whatfriend?" asked Singing-Bird, suddenly. "Have you got husband, too?"
Ruth smiled and shook her head.
"Got friend, then," asked Singing-Bird, "who like to look at you—who give you his heart?"
Ruth blushed, and this time she did not smile.
Singing-Bird continued, "If you got lover, then, why don't marry?"
"Perhaps I may, sometime," answered Ruth, still blushing; "but I cannot, you know, until these troubles are all over."
"It's pleasant to live in wigwam with husband. When he gone on war-path, or gone hunting, then you work in field—that good way to live."
"We pale-face women do not work in the field. We make the men do that."
"That squaw's business; men hunt deer, catch fish, take scalp—that warrior's business. I don't want to stay in wigwam and do not'ing, Eagle's-Wing wouldn't like that."
"You do not mean to say that Eagle's-Wing would makeyoudo labor in the field?" asked Ruth, in astonishment.
"No—Eagle's-Wing wouldn'tmakeme do that; but if I didn't, he t'ink me lazy, good for not'ing squaw—then he get another squaw, p'raps.Ishouldn't like that."
Ruth was not acquainted with this custom of the Indians; and her astonishment was unfeigned. She could scarcely believe that one so seemingly delicate as Singing-Bird, could accustom herself to a species of labor, that was severe enough for the stronger muscles of the manly portion of creation. Yet, it is true, that while the Indian warrior undergoes the fatigues of war, or of the chase, with uncomplaining fortitude, when idle he never compromises his dignity by any servile employment. The cultivation of the field, and all of the severer domestic duties, are performed by the squaws, with as much patience and fortitude as the warrior displays on the war-path.
"But," asked Singing-Bird, "what pale-face womendo? sit still and do not'ing?"
"O, no; we have plenty of employment in attending to household matters. We shouldn't think ourselves able to do labor out-of-doors, in tilling land."
It was now Singing-Bird's turn to be surprised; and while she was expressing her wonderment at this want of love for their husbands on the part of the women of the pale-faces, Panther was seen approaching the lodge. At the suggestion of Singing-Bird, Ruth immediately assumed an appearance of extreme sorrow, while the former took that of the careless indifference which she had first exhibited to Ruth.
Panther entered the lodge, and without seeming to notice the presence of Ruth, approached Singing-Bird and said:
"The pale-face prisoner does not believe that Singing-Bird loves to live in the lodges of the Senecas. Will my sister go and tell him whether she does or not?"
Singing-Bird obeyed without reply; and followed by Panther, she proceeded to the interview we have already described between her and Ichabod.
Ruth had been left alone but for a few moments, when she heard a slow but heavy step approaching the lodge. With a look of uneasiness, she gazed in the direction of the sound, and beheld Guthrie about entering the doorway.
"Good morning, Miss," said he with a rude and familiar voice, that grated harshly on her ears. "I thought I'd just see how you get along. How do you like living with the Senecas?"
"Guthrie," answered Ruth, "in what manner has my father or have I, injured you, that you should commit the act you have, to-day?"
The villain chuckled for a moment. "That's neither here nor there, Miss. There never was any great love atween us, any way; and, you see, a wound like this, ain't apt to increase it," pointing to his shoulder, which had been bandaged. "It's enough for me to know that Squire Barton has given shelter up at the cottage to them as has injured me; and no man ever offends Ben Guthrie without getting his pay for't."
"There has been no time, Guthrie," said Ruth with a shudder, "since we have lived in this valley, but you have been welcomed at the cottage as a friend."
"Yes, yes; I know what kind of a welcome I've generally had:—such as you Colony folks give a Tory, as you call me—a scornful eye—a curling lip—and a hand that is never offered in friendship. But I'll let these interlopers into this territory know that if King George's men have all died in the settlements, there are some of 'em alive round here. Butthat'sneither here nor there. I've done you a kindness, after all; for that cottage will yet be taken—burnt down, p'raps—and then you'd better be here than there."
"Guthrie, you have been guilty of a great wrong, in placing me in the hands of these Senecas; and you may yet live to suffer for it. I never knew a wicked act, that was not followed by its punishment."
"Not so fast, Miss Ruth—not so fast," said Guthrie, "I want you to understand that you'remyprisoner; and that these Senecas only hold you for me; and that they are answerable to me for your safety."
"If you have the power, O, take me back to my father! Guthrie," said she imploringly, "and this act of yours to-day shall be forgotten and forgiven; and you will find in me a friend ever more. You know the agony my father must suffer. O, take pity on his gray hairs."
Guthrie gave a peculiar chuckle. "Can't do that, any way," said he, "or not if——You see. Miss, the matter's here. Now your father and Icanbe friends. There'soneway we can make this matter up. Let him give up that Tuscarora to these Indians, and take me for a son-in-law, and the thing's done at once."
Ruth, for a moment, was astounded at this infamous proposal. She looked at him, as if doubting the evidence of her senses; but disdained to reply.
"You see, Miss," continued Guthrie, "it wouldn't be so bad an affair, after all. I ain't much of a woman's man, it's true; but I've got a snug piece of land down here; and then, in these times, it isn't a bad thing to have a friend among these wild savages; and, you see, I could protect all of you."
Ruth answered indignantly, "I did not think, Guthrie, you could do me a worse wrong, than you committed in treacherously making me a prisoner; but youhavecommitted a worse one. Leave this hut, or I will appeal to these savages to protect me; not one of them but has more courtesy, and a better heart than you."
Guthrie looked fiercely angry at this reply; but walked deliberately towards Ruth, and seated himself upon a bench near her. "We'll see about that, Miss. I ain't accustomed to child's play. Now I've made up my mind that I want you for a wife, and my wife you shall be, any way. Now, there ain't no use in screaming, or them sort of things; but you might just as well make up your mind to it, first as last."
Ruth, shuddering with horror, rushed from the hut: Guthrie sprang after her, and caught her by the arm. "That won't do, Miss, any way. Them tantrums will answer in the settlements; but out here in the woods, we do things on squares. You can say, whether you will or you won't, and make an end of it, just to show your freedom in the matter; but whichever way you fix it, it don't make any difference to me; the thing has got to be done."
During this speech of Guthrie's, Ruth had been dragged back into the hut. She shrieked with fear and disgust, and cried aloud for help. Guthrie rudely endeavored to place his hand over her mouth, when Singing-Bird came running into the lodge, followed by two or three Indians. Guthrie, ashamed of his violence, retreated towards the door.
"I've hadmysay, Miss, and you can make up your mind to it, and save the folks at the cottage; or you can go into these tantrums, and let the other thing happen, just as you've a mind."
With this threat, he slowly departed, followed by the savages, while Ruth threw herself into the arms of Singing-Bird, weeping bitterly at this new addition to her misery.
"There was such lawing and vexation in the towns, one dailie suing andtroubling another, that the veteran was more troubled with lawing withinthe towne, than he was in peril at large with the enemie."HOLINSHED—CONQUEST OF IRELAND.
As we have said, Ralph and the Tuscarora, after the discovery of the capture of Ruth, anxiously sought the means of releasing her and Singing-Bird, as well as Ichabod, from the hands of the Senecas. They at length hit upon a plan, which they proposed to put in execution on the following night. They deemed it unsafe to attempt it in the daytime, as they would be much more likely to be discovered by the Indians, than when under the shelter of darkness.
Barton had recovered somewhat from his first paroxysm of grief, and was at length able to take part in the preparations which were in the making. But it was insisted upon by both Ralph and Eagle's-Wing, that he and the negro should remain at the cottage, as well for the purpose of defence should another attack be made during their absence, as for that of having an asylum in readiness, should they succeed in their enterprise. The cottage contained five or six rifles, in addition to those which had already been in use, and was well furnished with ammunition; and it was believed that, should another attack be made, Barton and the negro might defend it, until assistance could be rendered by the return of Ralph and the Tuscarora.
Some time had elapsed in these preparations, and it was already noon, before everything was completed in readiness for the enterprise. A few hours more were to elapse before it would be proper for them to set forth. They had no fear that any immediate injury could be contemplated by the Senecas to Ichabod or Ruth. They supposed that the Indians would not resort to any means of vengeance, until they had completely failed in their attempt to get possession of the Tuscarora. Therefore, it was with no fear, although with much anxiety, that they waited for the hour fixed upon by them for their hazardous enterprise.
It was just about noon that Sambo, who had been into the cattle-yard to look after the cattle, came running into the cottage, and announced the approach of two white strangers from the northward, who were coming on foot in the direction of the cottage. This intelligence was received with pleasure; for at any time, in the midst of the forest, when visitors are few and rare, there is no little excitement on the arrival of strangers, from whom welcome information of friends or of occurrences at the settlement may be obtained; but at this time, when surrounded by so many dangers, awhiteface was almost certain to be that of a friend.
The announcement had scarcely been made, when the strangers approached the door, and were invited cordially by Barton to enter.
The first of the strangers who attracted their attention was a man of slight stature, not more than five feet six inches in height, with a sly, cunning expression of countenance. His flesh was shrivelled and thin, and his complexion was of a yellowish white, resembling somewhat the color of parchment. He appeared to be about thirty-five years of age. He had a fussy, uneasy air, never seeming to rest, but constantly twitching and jerking about—a peculiarity that passes with most men as the result of great mental activity, but which is more often the evidence of a disarranged, unmethodized mind.
The other personage was of a large and bulky frame, with a dull, stolid expression of countenance; besides, his face wore unmistakable marks of his being addicted to the use of ardent spirits—blossoms indicating that fact being scattered in considerable profusion over it. He carried in his hand a rifle, which, either from want of use or because just at this precise time he was suffering from too familiar an acquaintance with his favorite pocket companion, he seemed to have no appropriate place for, and was unable to get into any convenient position.
The strangers entered the cottage, and the first individual we have described, with a nervous, twitchy manner, said, with an attempt at a graceful salutation—
"Good day, gentlemen. You do not know me, perhaps; my name is Bagsley—attorney-at-law—reside in Johnstown, the shire of Tryon County; and I am now out on a tour of professional business, gentlemen. This person, who accompanies me, is Mr. Nathan Rogers, one of a tributary profession. He is a bailiff, gentleman—deputy sheriff of the county of Tryon—a worthy, time-honored profession; but one, which, unfortunately, in this county, seems not to be properly appreciated, and is not in great demand."
"Ugh!" exclaimed the Tuscarora, and turned leisurely towards the window.
"You are welcome, gentlemen," said Barton, "but I am sorry chat I cannot offer you a better hospitality; but such as I am able to give, you are welcome to."
The strangers seated themselves with an easy familiarity.
"Quite a beautiful country through here," said Bagsley. "I am always delighted when I can escape from the drudgery of the profession, and hold communion with the beauties of nature. But I must confess, you have rathertoo muchof nature around here, gentlemen. Your roads are not remarkably well worn or broken; and we have had quite a fatiguing journey; have we not, Rogers?"
Rogers assented, with a sort of affirmative grunt.
"Belong in these parts?" asked Bagsley, turning towards Ralph.
"I am only on a visit here," was the answer. "I am quite as much a stranger as yourself."
"Will you allow me to ask," continued Bagsley, addressing Barton, "how long you have resided in this section?"
"But two years," Barton replied.
"I declare! you must have been active to have accomplished so much. But, I believe," said Bagsley, with a professional Gravity, "you cannot have the fee of the property here."
"I am a sort of tenant at sufferance of the Oneidas; but should the State purchase these lands—as I believe they will, soon—I may hope to obtain a title to what I already occupy."
"Perhaps—perhaps," answered Bagsley. "But you must be aware, as a gentleman of experience, that, by an act of the Honorable, the Legislature of the State of New York, passed July 25, 1782, this section is particularly and definitely reserved to the Indians of the Six Nations. Now, it may be questionable—I never speak with certainty out of my office—but it may be questionable—whether the State will ever purchase these lands. Should they not—you see the point—you lose, as a matter of course, all of your improvements, and may be ejected at any time."
"Of that fact I am well aware," answered Barton, "and I run my risk, of course. But will you allowmeto ask, sir—if my question is not too impertinent—what business gentlemen of your profession can find in these forests?"
"I might, sir, according to the doctrine of the common law—theleges non scriptæ—of England, which is yet the law of this State, so far as it has not been modified by statute, and according to well settled rules of the courts, decline answering that question, as it relates to business intrusted to one in a professional capacity, as well as upon other grounds; but, sir, to a gentleman of your apparent prudence and experience, and particularly so long as I may wish to obtain important information from you, I cannot refuse so reasonable a request."
"I did not ask the question," replied Barton, "from any desire to intrude upon your privacy, but only as a matter of surprise that a legal gentleman could findanybusiness in this remote wilderness that would compensate him for the trouble of coming here."
"Itmaysurprise you, sir—it would be likely to occasion surprise, sir—and I noticed that our red friend, here, expressed his astonishment on learning our profession; but the truth is, we are in pursuit of a notorious debtor, with acapias ad respondendum. I will describe the person, and you may be able to give me useful information as to his whereabouts. He is said to be about forty-five years of age, with grizzly hair, a tall, thin form, stoops much in walking, thin, dried-up face, but intelligent countenance, and is said to converse a great deal upon projects of speculation in property."
"Ichabod, for all the world!" exclaimed Ralph.
"Mr. Jenkins!" exclaimed Barton.
"Ugh!" broke in the Tuscarora.
"I am happy, gentlemen, that I have been able to give a description so brief, but comprehensive, that you are enabled at once to name the person of whom we are in pursuit. You see, Rogers, that we are on the right track after all."
"Yes," grunted that functionary. "We've got the track, but we haven't got the game."
"O, that will follow, as a matter of course," chuckled the attorney. "This Ichabod Jenkins probably resides in these parts?"
"I believe he is now in the neighborhood," answered Ralph, with a gravity that he could scarcely maintain.
"It is important that he should be arrested on thiscapias," said Bagsley. "The debt is for a large sum,towit: the sum of£25, 7s. 6d., which he owes and unjustly detains from one Samuel Parsons, plaintiff, and he has not paid the same, or any part thereof, although often requested so to do, wherefore the said Samuel Parsons claims damages, &c. And any information of a precise nature, that can be given, will be freely reciprocated on occasion. Perhaps we can get along without troubling Mr. Jenkins very much. You seem to be his friends; and as this is a bailable process, you can give bail for him."
"I doubt," answered Ralph, "whether it will be at all necessary. I am sorry to inform you, that Mr. Jenkins is now a prisoner among a party of Senecas in this immediate neighborhood."
"What!" exclaimed Bagsley, "have they also lodged a capias against him!"
"I am more fearful that they have taken him in execution," said Ralph, with an attempt at a pun, which we are happy to say, he at once rejected. "The truth is, that this cottage has been attacked by a party of hostile Senecas, and not only Jenkins, but Miss Barton have been made prisoners."
Bagsley put on a look of incredulity. "You do not mean to say, that in these times of peace, war has been levied in this territory against the peace of our Lord the —— rather, against the State of New York,ex gratia Dei, free and independent?"
"Fiddlesticks!" ejaculated Rogers.
"It is doubtless a mere assemblage of persons unlawfully together, for the purpose of committing riot or some other disorderly act; and probably a simple declaration that gentlemen of our profession are in the neighborhood, will be sufficient to quell the disturbance. Did I understand you to say, that this gentleman's daughter has been taken prisoner?" pointing to Barton.
"So I informed you, sir," answered Ralph.
"I am happy to offer you my services," addressing Barton: "you can undoubtedly sustain an action of trespass on the case, for the injury in detaining your daughter from your service. This action, sir—and you will notice the beauty and appropriateness of the law—is brought technically for the loss of service—but you recover smart money, by way of damages for harrowed feelings, &c. Miss Barton can also have her action for assault and battery. Then there's Jenkins, why here's a way provided, through the benignity and ubiquity of the law—for at once satisfying this debt. He also hashisaction for damages. Really, Rogers, we have done just the thing by coming here."
"Make out the papers," said Rogers, "and we'll serve 'em tonight."
"It is a most singular thing," said Bagsley, addressing the company indiscriminately, "the antipathy entertained generally, against gentlemen of our profession. Without us, I may venture to say, the world would be helpless—without us, what power would sustain the weak? Without us, there would be an entire ignorance of that beautiful system which has been adorned by a Holt, a Hale and a Mansfield. But once let us enter an ignorant village of this description, and intelligence upon this subject spreads with wonderful rapidity—men rush forward to try by experience the fruits of that system which has been adorned by the labors of genius, and perfected by the wisdom of ages. Indeed, gentlemen, we may be called the vanguard of civilization."
This eloquent tribute to the legal profession, seemed to provoke a variety of opinion. Barton and Ralph merely smiled. The Tuscarora ejaculated "ugh!" with considerable more force than usual; Sambo seemed to be perfectly enchanted—while Rogers, crossing his legs, and ejecting a quantity of tobacco-juice upon the floor, exclaimed, "right—Bagsley—right—and you might have added, what would have become of the bailiffs, if there were no lawyers?"
"Can you give me the direction towards the riotous assemblage you have mentioned?" inquired Bagsley.
"You certainly do not think of going thither?" exclaimed Ralph, in surprise.
"Of course, sir—of course;" answered Bagsley; "were there any certainty that Mr. Jenkins would immediately return, we would postpone the matter for the day; but upon your intimation that he is detainednolens volens, I think we shall be obliged to go in pursuit of him."
"You will encounter a great danger," said Ralph. "These Indians are highly excited and angry, and they may not discriminate between you and us at the cottage."
"No fear of that, sir," replied Bagsley with an air of dignity and complacency, "I think they cannot but apprehend the distinction. What do you think of that, Rogers."
"Right again," said the functionary. "I don't think anybody could mistake us. There's something in the eye and manner of a bailiff that make a rogue crest-fallen, at once. I'm ready."
"I beg you, gentlemen, as you value your lives," said Barton, "to give up this foolish (as I must term it) errand—for the present, at least. You will certainly regret it when too late."
"We know our duty," said Bagsley, with dignity, "and we shall make an overt of Mr. Jenkins, whether he be defended by his friends on the one hand, or the Indians on the other."
"I am sorry that you cannot take good advice," said Ralph; "but we, at least, shall be conscious that we have warned you of your danger."
"Well, gentlemen," said Rogers, rising and shouldering his rifle, "I've only got this to say—I never saw a rascal, yet, that dare look Nathan Rogers boldly in the face; and if these Injins have got more nerve than other rascals, I want to know it. If there't anybody in my bailiwick that will refuse to acknowledge my authority, I want to know it, and I will know it—that's all."
"I am very much obliged to you, gentlemen, for your advice and good wishes for our welfare," said Bagsley, rising; "but when duty calls, we must obey. If you will point us the direction, we will be doubly obliged."
Their direction was pointed out by Ralph, who again made an ineffectual effort to induce them to desist from their dangerous expedition.
"Good day, gentlemen," said Bagsley, as he was about leaving. "Our intention is to return here this afternoon, and should you have no objection, we will admit Mr. Jenkins to bail on your becoming bound in double the sum I mentioned to you. Good day, gentlemen." And the attorney departed, followed by the bailiff.
The first impulse of Ralph was to laugh at this little interlude in the tragedy that was being enacted around them: but the matter was too serious, after all, to be treated so lightly.
"They are gone to a long imprisonment—perhaps to death," said Barton.
"No get Jenkins, this time," said the Tuscarora. "Lose their scalps—that all they make."
The hour now approached for the departure of Ralph and Eagle's-Wing. The sun was just sinking behind the western hills, when, taking their rifles, they left the cottage, proceeding is a southerly direction.
"An host of furies,Could not have baited me more torturingly,More rudely, or more most unnaturally."BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
Ichabod, whom we have so long neglected, after the departure of Panther and Snake-tongue, remained in as easy a position as the nature of his confinement would permit, and gave himself up to reflection upon his unpleasant situation. It was evident that it was the intention of the Senecas to subject him to torture: but whether they would proceed to the last extremity, he could not conjecture. But the possibility that such might be their intention, could not but present itself to his mind. He had often been in positions where death was impending; but those were times when, amidst the excitement of conflict, the mind does not dwell with any fixed tenacity upon that event; or, if it does, contemplates it under the colors of excitement with which it is clothed. But now, bound hand and foot, he was about to be led unresistingly, and in cool blood, to that fate, about which all men think, and but few appreciate, until the mortal hour.
Ichabod had a sort of creed, upon which he had heretofore relied with confidence. Now, however, for the first time, he began todoubtwhether there was not a possibility of error in it, and whether he had sufficiently examined points of faith which he had heretofore rejected. But whichever way his mind wandered, he ever recurred, in his ignorance, to the simple articles of faith in which he had so long entertained confidence. Such were the nature of his thoughts, when Deersfoot entered the hut, to announce to him that the Senecas and their chief were waiting for him.
Now, Ichabod had, until this moment, been wholly engaged in the train of thought which we have mentioned; but when it was broken by this announcement, a new idea seemed suddenly presented to his mind.
"Yes, I know what that means, Deersfoot. It means that you are going to tortur' me, according to Indian law. I never did ra'ally think that I should live to be game for Senecas; but you do your duty according to your natur', and I'll do mine, according to such light as I've got. But, see here, Deersfoot, now, understand, that I don't ask for marcy, or anything of that sort; but if this businesscanbe compromised to the benefit ofusall then it's for your interest as well as mine to settle it. Now, I've got a proposition to make to Panther and the rest of you; and if you've a mind to hear it, well and good; and if you havn't, why, then you needn't."
Deersfoot listened, under the impression that Ichabod had, at last, repented of his resolution, and that he was willing to accept freedom upon the terms which had been proposed to him. After Ichabod had concluded, he replied:
"My brother is wise. I will say to the chief what my brother wishes. It is good for us to be at peace."
With this he departed. But a few moments elapsed, before he returned with the information that the Senecas and their chief would meet their prisoner in council. The withes that were bound about the ankles of Ichabod, were unfastened, yet it was some time before he was able to stand without assistance. When he had sufficiently recovered the use of his feet, he was conducted by Deersfoot to a lodge on the opposite side of the circle, where he found Panther and Snake-tongue, together with the larger portion of the Senecas, who were seated in a circle about the lodge, to listen to his proposal.
Ichabod was placed in the centre of the circle. Conforming to Indian custom, he preserved a perfect composure and silence, until, at length, he was addressed by Panther:
"My brother," said he, "had a cloud before his eyes, when he refused to listen to my counsel. The cloud has now passed away; he now sees clear; he sees that it will be wise to do as we wish. We have come together to listen: my brother can speak."
"I'm afraid we are laboring under some mistake here," replied Ichabod: "as for that business you proposed to me, there's no use in talking aboutthat. It's all well enough for a Seneca to propose it; but it would rather go agin my natur' to accept it. I came here to speak to you about a matter of a great deal more importance than that."
There was a loud murmur of dissatisfaction among the Senecas; and many of them sprang to their feet with the intention of taking vengeance, at once, for this seemingly public insult. Panther, however, immediately restored silence.
"My brother," said he, "is a great warrior; he is cunning as a fox; but he is surrounded by warriors as brave and cunning as himself. We will hear what he has got to say."
"Now, I want to say to you, Panther, and to the rest of you," continued Ichabod, unmoved, "what I said to Deersfoot before I was brought in here, that if you want to put me to tortur', and think that's the best use you can make of me, I've nothing to say agin it, for that's good Injin law; but if you ra'ally want to make the most out of me that you can, then you'll listen to what I've got to say."
He paused for a few moments; but as the Indians remained silent, he took it as a manifestation of their disposition to give him their attention.
"You see," continued he, "that ever since the white men came over the ocean to this country, they've been increasing and growing more powerful, and you've been growing weaker. The people who came over, in the first place, established colonies—theyfitthe French—theyfitthe Injins, and finally they had a fight with England for independence; and notwithstanding all their Cornwallis's and Burgoyne's, and the Injins to boot, they got what they fout for. Now, you can see, that there's no use in your keeping up these old-fashioned customs of tomahawking and scalping, and living in the woods, and acting like Injins, more than like white people. If you do, it won't be long before there won't be a red man left in the country. It's rather hard to tell you these things to your faces; but they're facts, as you can see with half an eye. Now thereisa way, in which you can not only keep your own, but get the start of the white people, in this territory, to boot. It may be going agin flesh and blood and color to tell such a secret toyou, but still, I'm willing to do it."
His auditory, at the first glance, would have seemed to be wholly unmoved at this long introduction; but on a closer view, it would have been seen, that while many of the Senecas shot forth wilder and fiercer glances from behind passionless faces, others seemed moved by a feeling of curiosity to hear the end of this strange exordium. Panther, after a short silence, replied:
"My brother is brave; he is not afraid to speak in the midst of his enemies. It is true that the Injins are weak and the pale-faces are strong. We are dropping like the leaves; and the hunter comes home to his wigwam at night, tired and hungry, and brings but little game. The pale-faces are growing stronger. I have thought of it much. Thereisa way to make them grow weaker; butthatis not the way which appears to the eyes of my brother. His way, I am afraid, is not a good way. He would have us forget that we are Injins.Thatwe cannot do. Tho Great Spirit made us red men; he made us Injins. He placed us in the forests; he gave us tomahawks and knives with which to fight our enemies; and bows and arrows to shoot the bear and deer. We cannot be anything but Injins. Our fathers and grandfathers were Injins; and the little pappoose is an Injin. As soon as he is grown, he takes to the path of his nation. I may speak foolish; but this is what I know. If the white men destroy us, we will die like Injins; if they drive us from our hunting-grounds, we will not go without scalps. We will do as the Great Spirit tells us."
There was a loud expression of satisfaction at this speech of Panther; and he sat down under a deluge of applause, that a little alarmed Snake-tongue for his laurels. He waited with impatience until Ichabod should give him an opportunity to assert his superiority in the way of speech-making. Silence having been again restored, Ichabod continued:
"To the threats you made, Panther, in your speech, I shall not reply. My business, just now, is peaceable; and I'm addressing you for your profit; and I shall not be diverted by angry insinuations. I've said that the Injins are growing weaker, and the white men are growing stronger. Now I want to give you a lesson, in the first place, in political economy. A nation never become great and prosperous, that relied wholly on fighting. There is no surer and better way for that, than for a nation to be industrious, and keep a sharp eye out for the chances. It may be, that you can't understand that idea, precisely; for I never knew an Injin thatcouldunderstand how anything could be made by honest labor: but I'll try and make the thing plain to you. Now, you see, as these Colonies are free and independent, this country that has been growing so fast, is going to grow a great deal faster. You'll see, in a few years, at most, that a valley like this will be occupied by white men, and villages will start up, and water-powers will be selected on all such streams as this. Now, why can't you get the start of the white men? I've been talking with Squire Barton about setting up a factory down here; and having all this land about here laid out into building lots. Now, you see, if you'll just look at the thing in a reasonable point of view, you'll see the advantages of going into this business with a jump. I'm given you a hint of the thing, Panther, and you might make a sly bargain with the Oneidas, and buy up a large quantity of these lots. They'll be valuable, some day, sartain. That's one way in which you could make money out of it. Then there's another way in which it would be a decided advantage to all your nation, male and female, old and young, under the present order of things. A man with half an eye can see that there's a a great lack of clothing among you; and some of you wouldn't hardly answer to be presented into fashionable company. You havn't but mighty little of it; and what you do wear, is of a kind of heathenish, Injin sort. Now, you see, at a small profit, we could supply you with cloth, so that you could wear pantaloons, jackets and coats, and look like gentlemen; and then all you'd have to do, would be to behave yourselves, to be a respectable sort of people. Now, if you can't see the advantages of this speculation, all that I've got to say is, that I pity you; and you may work your tortur' on me just as soon as you please. I've the satisfaction of knowing that I've done my duty by you like a Christian."
The Senecas seemed completely astounded by this long speech, and its conclusion. The most of them looked at each other with a vacant stare, as though they could not comprehend its meaning; while others regarded it as a public insult, and intended as such; which, while it exasperated their feelings, gave them a much greater regard for the bravery of their prisoner. At length Snake-tongue slowly arose, and glancing with a mien of dignity upon the assembly, proceeded to reply:
"My brother has spoken," said he; "he speaks with the tongue of a pale-face, and we poor Injins cannot understand. But we have heard enough; we can guess what our brother means. He means to put up a house on the river and drive away the fish. He means to cut down the trees, and make them into houses, and drive away the deer. He wants us to wear clothes like the pale-faces. It is a strange speech. My brother does not smile; he looks as if he talked from his heart. If he means us well, then we thank him, although we cannot see it as he does. We do not want the land of the Oneidas. The Oneidas are squaws; they stayed in their wigwams when their brothers went on the warpath. We do not want the land of the squaws; let them keep it; we will not steal it or buy it. But my brother wants us to wear the clothes of the pale-faces. It is strange that my brother should speak such a thing. How would an Injin look in the pantaloons and coat of a pale-face? His brethren could not know him; they would look him in the face and laugh. The little pappooses would laugh at him. It cannot be; my brother does not know the Senecas; they live after the traditions of their fathers—and their fathers never wore the clothes of the pale-faces. The Great Spirit gave them bows and arrows, and told them to shoot bears and deer, and make clothes from their skins. That is what we have done; that is what we mean to do. We have bought blankets from the pale-faces: some of our wise men have said that it was wrong to do so—that our fathers did not wear blankets of wool, and thatweought not to do it. I have thought so myself. But to wear pantaloons, jacket and coat! My brother might as well say that the Senecas should learn to read in books, and hoe corn and potatoes in the fields. We will not talk about it; my brother does not know the Senecas. We are Injins, and we will live like Injins."
"My brother has spoken; we have heard him, and we do not like his words. He is a brave warrior; we know it; but we are going to try and see how brave he is. Our young men will bind him to a tree, and will throw their tomahawks to see how near they can come to his head and not hit it. We will then try something else. We like to know a brave warrior. It does us good to see a brave warrior laugh at his enemies; and my brother must be glad to know that we are going to treat him like a brave. We shall hurt him all we can. We do not wear pantaloons, jackets and coats; if we did, we should not know how to honor him: we should be like the pale-faces. My brother must be glad that we do not dress like the pale-faces. Our young men are ready."
This speech was received with "rounds of applause" in other words, "it brought down the house;" and Snake-tongue sat down with a much greater reputation for oratory than he possessed when he arose. When the assembly once more became silent, and as three or four of the Senecas advanced towards Ichabod for the purpose of conducting him to the place selected for the torture, he said with a look of contempt:
"I might have known better than to cast pearls afore swine. They are nothing but venomous, thick-skulled Senecas; and they may go without clothes all their life-times, before I'll ever give 'em a piece of decent advice agin."
Ichabod was now led a short distance from the lodges, in the direction of the river, to the border of the cleared land. He was there fastened to a tree, with thongs around his feet and waist. The upper part of his body was left free, that he might display his fear by attempting to dodge the hatchets as they were thrown at him. It was now about four o'clock in the afternoon; and the bright autumn sun shone directly in his face, so that it was with extreme difficulty, after a little while, that he could even raise his eyes sufficiently to observe his enemies. Yet he did so; for he knew that any shrinking in that respect, would be deemed a mark of cowardice on his part.
The Indians had now gathered in front of him, at the distance of fifteen or twenty feet, and were preparing for the commencement of the ceremony. Resting against a stump, at a short distance on one side, was Guthrie, who was surveying the prisoner with a look of malicious pleasure, which he did not attempt to conceal.
Deersfoot was the first who advanced from the crowd of Senecas with his tomahawk in his hand. As he stepped forward, he said to Ichabod:
"I shall now throw my hatchet. I shall come as close as I can. I shall try not to hit my brother. If I do, he will be ashamed of me."
He threw his tomahawk with a force that drove the blade into the tree within an inch of Ichabod's head, almost to the handle. Ichabod, during the whole process, surveyed Deersfoot with a smile. As the hatchet struck the tree, he exclaimed:
"Well done, Deersfoot. That's almost as good as a bullet from a rifle inpractisedhand, could have done it. You've got an expert hand, any way, for that kind of we'pon."
A murmur of admiration broke from the Indians at this specimen of Ichabod's coolness. Another Seneca stepped forward, and had just raised his hatchet in the act to throw, when a loud yell in the opposite direction attracted the attention of the Senecas. In a moment, two of their number, who had been stationed as lookouts in that direction, were seen advancing towards the crowd, accompanied by two whites. The reader will at once recognize in these strangers, the attorney and his worthy companion, the bailiff. The latter, however, had been disarmed; and although they were not bound, their faces showed signs of indignation at what they, no doubt, supposed to be uncivil treatment. As they approached the crowd of Indians, Bagsley cried out,
"Will anybody be civil enough to show me the ringleader of this disorderly assembly?"
Panther stepped forward. "If the pale-faces wish to see the chief of the Senecas, he is here."
"I am happy to make your acquaintance, sir," said Bagsley. "I have the honor to be a member of the legal profession—an attorney-at-law, sir, and this gentleman who accompanies me is a deputy sheriff, sir—one who, at this moment, bears in his own person, all the dignity and authority of sheriff of the county of Tryon, in whose bailiwick you now are."
"Ugh!" ejaculated Panther; and the emphatic exclamation was answered by the whole crowd of Senecas.
"Our business here, sir, is to arrest one Ichabod Jenkins, upon acapias ad respondendum, at the suit of Samuel Parsons, for£25, 7s. 6d. I have been given to understand that he is in your custody, or that you know his whereabouts."
Panther made a gesture towards the tree where Ichabod was confined. Bagsley, whose view in that direction had been interrupted by the body of Indians who stood between him and the tree, now discovered the unfortunate debtor.
"I am much obliged to you, gentlemen," said he, "for having detained him until our arrival. I presume it was done as a matter of accommodation to us, as you probably had heard of our coming. Although you have made the arrest without color of law, andex colore officii, and also without process, yet I will undertake to defend you, should he be malicious enough to bring his suit for assault and battery and false imprisonment. And, further, as you have behaved so properly in this matter, I shall feel disposed to compromise amicably with you a cause of action for the same offence, in which I have been retained by Mr. Barton. Mr. Rogers, you will do your duty."
That worthy was about moving towards Ichabod, when his course was at once arrested. The Indians, evidently, did not understand the value of the proceeding, except that they were in danger of losing their victim if this movement was not prevented. At a gesture from Panther, the intruders were surrounded.
"The pale-face is our prisoner," said he. "We do not understand what you wish. Our young men are trying to see how brave he is, and we cannot let him go."
"You don't mean to say," exclaimed Rogers, "that you are going to prevent this arrest! I'd like to see you do that! Stand back there," shouted he, waving his arm towards the Senecas in his front. But this gesture had only the effect of narrowing the circle within which to stood.
"Gentlemen," said Bagsley, "you are probably entirely unacquainted with that beautiful system of jurisprudence which has been embellished by the writings of Coke, and adorned by the lives of Hale, Holt and Mansfield. You are probably, also, unacquainted with a statute recently enacted by the Honorable, the Legislature of the State, of New York. You cannot be aware that, by interfering with our proceedings, which are perfectly regular—I give you my word and honor, as an attorney—you are subjecting yourselves to fine and imprisonment."
"We know no law, except Injin law," said Panther, "and we are trying to do our duty, as we understand it. We do not know pale-face law and we do not want to know it."
"I must confess," answered Bagsley, "that I am not very well acquainted with the Indian system of jurisprudence. It is, I presume, an unwritten system—leges non scriptæ—and, as such, I have great respect for it; it is undoubtedly an admirable system; but it is not the system to which I allude. You are, gentlemen, in the county of Tryon, under the jurisdiction of the State of New York, and amenable to its laws. I really hope, gentlemen, that you perceive the point in the case, and will retire, and leave us to the discharge of our duty. It will be extremely unpleasant for us to be called upon to exercise the authority with which we are clothed, and I really hope there will be no occasion for it."
And he and Rogers again attempted to move forward; but the Senecas pressed still closer; and they now found themselves completely hemmed in, and unable to move in either direction. Ichabod, who had seen and understood the whole proceeding now exclaimed—
"If I've got any friend among you Senecas, here, I hope you'll finish this business as soon as practicable. A blow of a tomahawk will be thankfully received; or if you've got up this matter to try a new system of tortur' on me, I'll acknowledge myself a squaw at once, if that'll be any pleasure to you. I can't stand out agin this kind of horrors, any way."
Rogers, who now found he would not be suffered to proceed in the making of the arrest, by the actual touching of the person of Ichabod, cried out—
"Ichabod Jenkins, I arrest you by virtue of ——" but his voice was drowned in the yells of the Senecas; and the two intruders were immediately seized and bound.
"Gentlemen," said Bagsley, "bound or unbound. I will do my duty towardsyou, at least. I shall certify to the court, according to the statute, in such case made and provided, the names of the resisters, aiders, consenters, commanders and favorers, who have interfered with this arrest, and by a writ judicial, your bodies will be attached to appear in the same court."
The voice of the attorney was drowned in the yells of the now angry Senecas; and he, together with the bailiff, were at once led to one of the lodges, where they were left, bound hand and foot.
Ichabod laughed with great glee over the discomfiture of this new enemy, whom he looked upon as more formidable than the other.
"I thank you, red-skins, for this act of friendship; its ra'ally kind in you; and I shan't have nigh so bad an opinion of your nation, hereafter, as I have had. Youdohate a lawyer; and there we agree. It's a pity that we can't be friends, under the circumstances; but I reckon that's impossible. So, proceed to business again, and get through with this part of your tortur' as fast as possible."
Order having been again restored, the Indian who had been interrupted by the arrival of Bagsley and his companion, again stepped forward.
"My brother," said he, addressing Ichabod, "is brave when he faces an Injin; but he does not like the men with long, forked tongues. We do not like them either. We think too much of our brother to give him up. He is a great warrior; and we want to do him honor according to Injin law. I may hit my brother, but I shall try not to."
He threw his tomahawk as he spoke, and the blade grazed Ichabod's head so closely that it severed a lock of hair from his brows. This was considered a great exploit; and the Senecas testified their admiration by loud yells.
One after one, the tomahawks of the Senecas were thrown, with divers success. Those who did not possess full confidence in their ability to perform the ceremony with credit to themselves, threw more at random; and many of the weapons did not even hit the tree. The perfect composure with which Ichabod endured this species of torture, which, to one at all fearful or timid, would be exquisitely painful, excited the admiration of the Indians to the highest degree. At last, Panther, who had stood calmly by, watching the ceremony, approached Ichabod, and said—
"It is now my turn to do honor to the pale-face. I must say that he is brave. We are glad that he is so brave. I shall now throw my hatchet, and I hope I shall not hurt my brother very much. I expect to hurt him a little. Should I hurt him very bad it will be a mistake, and I shall be very sorry; for we mean to try something else. We mean to know how brave our brother is."
He threw his tomahawk with fearful rapidity and seeming carelessness. It passed the side of Ichabod's head, opposite that from which the hair had been partially shorn; but it grazed so closely that the hair was shorn to the skin, almost as smoothly as it could have been done with a razor. It must have been exceedingly painful; but the smile which rested upon the face of Ichabod, as the hatchet left the hand of Panther, remained, as the Senecas, with admiration divided between the victim and their chief, crowded around Ichabod to examine the effects of the blow.
"Well done! Well done!" exclaimed Ichabod. "I doubt whether I could beat that with my rifle. I must say that you are about as expert a set of fellows with them kind of we'pons as I ever come across."
Panther now approached Ichabod, and said, "we have tried our brother as well as we could with our tomahawks. He is very brave; and it does us good to do him honor. If we had our squaws here to scold at him, or our pappooses to shoot arrows at him, we might please him better; but we have not, and we please him as well as we can, to-morrow we will try and do better. But to-night, we will leave him here tied to the tree; but he shall have an Indian by him to keep away the wolves. We expect, in the morning, our brother will be weaker, and he will not then be so brave. It is not natural that he should be. We will then tell him what we mean to do. But let not my brother be troubled; it shall be something that will honor him much."
This was a species of torture which Ichabod had not expected. He had been bound to the tree in such a manner that he was entirely sustained by the thongs which confined him, and his position was becoming, momentarily, more painful. It must be confessed, that his spirit quailed at the idea of remaining so long a time in this painful situation; but he knew of only one way by which he could be relieved—and that was, by the betrayal of his friend. This he would not do; and he could only hope that he might find some means so to provoke his guard that in his anger the latter might, by some hasty blow, dispatch him. It was with much impatience, then, that he waited for the approach of darkness—until which time he would probably be left alone.
He closed his eyes, into which the sun had shone until the brilliant glare had nearly deprived him of the power of vision, and endeavored to draw strength and fortitude from within. But a short time elapsed, however, before he heard a step, as of someone approaching him from behind. It was Guthrie, who had separated himself from the Indians, and who now came up immediately in front of him, with an ironical smile upon his countenance. Ichabod surveyed him with a look of calmness and composure.
"I suppose," said he, "that you've come here for the purpose of havingyourchance at me. Now, all I've got to say to you, is, that I've a sort of respect for them red devils, for they do according to their natur' and color: but as for you, you're a white-livered traitor and Tory; and if anybody knows any other words in the English language that have got a more contemptible meaning, they know more than I do—that's all:" and Ichabod closed his eyes again, as with the effort to shut out of his view so disgusting a sight.
"Pluck to the last!" exclaimed Guthrie. "I must say, that you've got more nerve than I reckoned on; but I rather expect that you'll give in before to-morrow's over. Do you want to know what's coming next?" asked he, with a sneer.
"Well, stranger, I don't suppose I should know any more about it after you have told me, than I do now," answered Ichabod; "for I've set you down for an infarnal liar. I ain't at all particular as to what you say; but this I do know, if them Senecas—who are gentlemen born, compared to what you are—would give me that rifle of mine again, and set me loose for a few moments, I'd agree, that after I'd given you a proper sort of chastising, I'd come back here again and stand all they might choose to do to me. It rather provokes one with Natur' and Providence, to see such an infarnal villain as you are, live and breathe."
Guthrie chuckled, in his peculiar manner. "I've waited many a day to get a chance at you. You didn't knowme, when I saw you up at the cottage yonder; but I knowedyou. I've got a scar over here," pointing towards his back, "that will remember you as long as it burns. You give it to me in that scrimmage we had down here, in '79; and I thought I'd just let you know that you may thankmefor what you're getting now. As for that fighting you propose, I don't think that it's any object, for you're receiving, now, pretty much what you desarve." Then, approaching close to Ichabod, and laying his hand upon the spot shaven by the tomahawk of Panther, he continued—"That was a pretty close shave, any way. I was rather afeard he would make a bad job of it, and kill you. I knowed him do that once:" and the villain laughed.
Ichabod groaned in his helplessness and anger. The agony of that moment far exceeded any physical torture that the whole nation of Senecas could have inflicted upon him. He wept in his misery, and a sob that seemed to rend his frame, almost deprived him of consciousness for a moment. The fearful spasm that convulsed his limbs, did what no ordinary exercise of strength could have done,—the thongs that bound his hands snapped like threads; and in a moment, with a convulsive rapidity against which Guthrie could not guard, he seized the Tory by the throat—he shook him like a leaf, until the villain fell, breathless and struggling, to the ground. At the same moment, overpowered by this spasmodic exertion of strength, Ichabod fell, fainting suspended by the withes which bound his waist.