Bos.—"He is fled—he is fled, and dare not sit it out.Bir.—What! has he made an escape! which way? Follow, neighbor Haggise."JONSON.
When Ichabod recovered from his swoon, he found himself in the presence of three Senecas, who had been attracted by the struggle between him and Guthrie. It was their presence that saved him from immediate death; for as Guthrie arose panting and struggling for breath, his first impulse was to present his rifle at the motionless form of Ichabod: but it was instantly pushed aside by one of the Senecas, who had reached the spot before his companions, and the charge passed behind the tree to which Ichabod was confined. When the latter regained his consciousness, Guthrie was nowhere to be seen. The hands of Ichabod were again secured, and a thong was now passed around his shoulders, so that he was bound in an upright and a much easier position, to the tree.
The night was rapidly approaching, and by the time Ichabod had been completely secured, it was almost impossible to discover surrounding objects in the darkness. A fire was kindled near the centre of the space around which the lodges had been erected, and it was consequently much closer to the lodge occupied by Ruth and Singing-Bird, than either of the others. An Indian had taken his position, as guard, within a few feet of Ichabod, and between him and the fire; and this Indian, as Ichabod discovered, was armed, besides his knife and tomahawk, with his ownoldfamiliar rifle. How earnestly he gazed upon it, as if almost expecting and hoping to see it recognize its old master and owner!
It was at this time, and when silence throughout the Indian encampment was so well preserved that Ichabod could plainly hear the crackling of the boughs which were placed upon the fire, although he was at a distance of eight or ten rods from it, that a wild yell, but one which denoted exultation upon the part of the Seneca from whom it proceeded, was heard to arise from the direction of the lodge in which Bagsley and his companion were confined. He heard some words in the Seneca language, pronounced, at which his guard arose erect, with an appearance of excitement. In a few moments he discovered the cause of the exclamation of the Seneca, and of the excitement under which his sentinel evidently labored. An Indian came rapidly towards the fire, around which his companions were gathered, with a bottle in his hand, of which he smelt and tasted with gestures of extravagant joy.
It seemed that the lucky Seneca, while in the lodge occupied by Bagsley and the bailiff, had been attracted by a peculiar odor which came from the breath of the latter, and which his olfactories at once pronounced "fire-water." Convinced that this odor must be caused by the presence of the article itself, in some quantity, he commenced a search of the unfortunate dignitary; and, hidden in a capacious pocket, wrapped in old writs and executions, but which were unintelligible to the Indian, he found the bottle which we have seen him carry towards his companions at the fire. It was at the moment of finding it, that he had uttered the loud exclamation of joy, which had fallen upon the ears of Ichabod.
Loud and frequent were the exclamations of "Ugh!" "ugh!" among the Indians, when it was discovered that such a prize had been found. Panther, who was attracted from his lodge by the noise, endeavored to induce the Indians to surrender the pleasure of drinking the "fire-water" on this occasion, for one more appropriate, and when less watchfulness was necessary. But all his endeavors were vain; for the authority of a chief, always precarious, cannot be enforced against the wishes and demands of the tribe. Theirs was an arbitrary government, and power was held only upon a feeble tenure, viz: the pleasure of the people. When Panther found that he could not prevent the larger portion of the Indians from indulging in the pleasant intoxication which would result from imbibing the "fire-water," he took such means—with the assistance of Deersfoot and a few others, who were determined to remain sober—as would be most likely to promote their safety, should the larger portion of the Senecas become unfit to discharge their duties.
The Indians who were about the fire, and among whom the whiskey bottle circulated freely, soon began to give evidence of unwonted excitement. Dancing, singing, shrieking, they appeared, to one at the distance from them at which Ichabod was placed, more like fiends in Pandemonium, than human beings, as the red light of the fire fell upon their distorted figures. The rays of the fire, when burning brightest, fell distinctly upon the form of Ichabod; but as the drunkenness increased, and the light diminished, he was thrown into a shadow. His guard labored under a strong desire to get a taste of the whiskey; for he would occasionally walk at a distance of three or four rods from him, where he would stand, looking towards the fire, until a fear for the security of his prisoner would steal across his mind, when he would rapidly return; and, perceiving by a glance that all was right, would, after a few moments, again move slowly in the direction of the fire. His guard had thus left him, for the second time, when, as he fancied, he heard his name faintly whispered behind him. In a moment afterwards, the thongs that bound his feet, hands and shoulders, were cut, leaving fastened, only that which bound him by the waist. The friend, whoever it was, that had performed this kindly act, doubtless knew that it would not do to unbind him completely, at once, as the tightness of the ligatures, and the length of the confinement, would be apt to deprive the prisoner, for a few moments, of the free use of his limbs. The thongs that had been cut, were so disposed that the guard, on his return, without a very close observation, would not be able to discover the deception. The unknown friend had evidently planted himself behind the tree to which Ichabod was fastened, waiting for the proper moment to sever the remaining thong.
"Know friend?" asked a voice, in a whisper, which Ichabod immediately recognized.
"Ah! is it you, Eagle's-Wing? I might have known that, though. No one else would have dared to do such a thing."
"This nothing, when Injins drunk. Poor Injin that get drunk. Say, when ready to have other thong cut."
"Don't be in a hurry, Eagle's-Wing. You see that red devil, yonder, that's been set here to guard me? He's got my rifle, and I want it. Wait till he comes up here again, and when he has fairly got his back turned, then cut the thong: or, if you've got a spare knife, just give me that, and I'll cut it myself, while you get the rifle. Hush! he's coming."
The Seneca advanced rapidly, evidently fearful that some accident might have happened during his long absence. At this moment, a large quantity of brush was thrown upon the fire, which almost wholly—for a few moments—obscured the light, and left them buried in thick darkness. This might be a circumstance either favorable or unfavorable, depending, however, upon the suspicious nature of the Indian. As it seemed, he was more than usually suspicious; and Ichabod breathed shorter, and the Tuscarora prepared for a sudden spring upon him, as the Seneca advanced close to Ichabod; and, with the intention of ascertaining that his prisoner was safe, he reached out his hand to feel of the thongs. Fortunately, his hand fell upon that which remained uncut, about the waist of Ichabod, which he slightly jerked; and feeling it secure, did not examine any further, but turned as if to walk back towards the fire. At this moment, a knife was passed to Ichabod by the Tuscarora, and at the same instant, the latter darted upon the Seneca, and struck him through the back with his knife. There was no struggle—no shriek, no sound that could have been heard four rods distant, even; for the blade had, doubtless, pierced the heart of the Seneca, and he fell with a slight shudder, forwards, on his face. The Tuscarora seized the rifle of Ichabod, and before the latter had fairly unfastened himself from the tree, he had secured beneath his belt the scalp of the unfortunate Seneca.
"Three scalp on war-path," said Eagle's-Wing. "That not bad."
"I am sorry that you should stick to that heathenish custom, Eagle's-Wing," said Ichabod; "but there's no use talking about it. An Injin's an Injin, and I suppose he must fight like an Injin."
Guided by the Tuscarora, Ichabod proceeded to the border of the clearing—but beyond the circle of light thrown by the fire—to the distance of eight or ten rods, where they found Ralph, anxiously waiting the result of Eagle's-Wing's enterprise. From his position, while the fire was burning, he was able to see both Ichabod and the Tuscarora, until the moment when the guard had returned to the tree, when the obscurity had withdrawn them from his sight. The sudden renewal of the light, as the fire leaped and crackled among the dry branches, showed him that they had escaped; and it was with no little pleasure that he again grasped the honest hand of Ichabod.
But there was yet another undertaking to be performed—and that was, the release of both Ruth and Singing-Bird. Ralph and Eagle's-Wing had hit upon a plan by which they hoped to accomplish their purpose; and it was rapidly communicated to Ichabod, who approved of it; when they immediately set about putting it into execution.
The lodge occupied by the two prisoners whom they now sought to release, was, as we have already mentioned, situated in the centre of a circle of lodges. The fire which the savages had kindled, was near the centre of the circle, and was in close proximity, therefore, to the lodge occupied by Ruth and Singing-Bird: but the fire was on the south of it, so that the north side of the lodge, as well as the lodges immediately in the rear, were thrown into the shade. When the hurried communication was made to Ichabod, of the plan proposed, they were standing directly in the rear of the lodge, and at a distance of only ten or fifteen rods from the outer lodges. It was necessary that their plan should be put in execution at once, as at any moment the discovery of Ichabod's escape might be made, when the Indians would set off in pursuit; and without their present plan could, therefore, be executed before that event should happen, it would be likely to fail altogether.
They advanced cautiously towards the lodges; and when they arrived at a point where they had them in full view, as well as the Senecas, who were yet dancing and screaming about the fire, they congratulated themselves on the fact, that no Indian was to be discovered in the direction in which they wished to proceed. They had reached within six rods of the outer lodges, and Eagle's-Wing had already thrown himself upon the ground, with the intention of creeping forward in the position, when Guthrie was seen, accompanied by Panther, approaching the lodge occupied by the two female prisoners. They came within a few feet of it, when they sat down upon a log, engaged, apparently, in earnest conversation. Their voices could be heard occasionally; and although their precise conversation could not be ascertained, it was obvious that Guthrie was warmly insisting upon some measure that was opposed to Panther. Once or twice Ralph thought he detected the name of Ruth Barton, as Guthrie was expostulating in a somewhat louder tone of voice than usual. Knowing the unscrupulous nature of the villain, he felt, by a sort of instinct, that Panther, in that conversation, for some reason of his own, was occupying a position in accordance with his own sentiments and feelings.
The presence of these two individuals disconcerted the whole plan of operations. It was a difficulty which had not been anticipated. After waiting for a short time, and seeing that neither Guthrie nor Panther showed any immediate intention of removing, they anxiously sought for some other plan, by which to accomplish their purpose. But ere that was done, Panther, to their great joy, arose and departed in the direction of the fire. Guthrie now remained alone. The Tuscarora significantly drew his knife, and pointed towards him; but Ichabod, at once, expressed his dissent.
"That will never do, Eagle's-Wing. You can't do that twice in one hour, and have it succeed; for if he makes the slightest noise, we shall be obliged to take to our heels. No—that won't do. I have it," said he, with a sudden idea, "and I'll do a little business of my own, at the same time;" and, after whispering a few words to his companions, he cautiously crept backwards into the wood, and then proceeded as cautiously in a westward direction, until he had reached a point sufficiently out of the course that it would be necessary for Ralph and Eagle's-Wing to pursue in making their escape.
Guthrie, in the meantime, remained seated in the same position which he had occupied during the conversation with Panther. He was evidently in a better mood; for, with his cap slouched over his eyes, and his head leaning upon his hand, he seemed to be muttering his grievances to himself. All at once, his ears were saluted with the peculiar grunt or growl of a bear. He raised his head, turned slowly round, and looked backwards toward the forest; then, examining his rifle, raised himself upon his feet. Now, a bear, in the days of which we are writing, was not, by any means, a very uncommon object with the hunter in this portion of the State; but those animals were sufficiently scarce, so that the capture of one, while it added largely to one's stock of provisions, also added very much to the reputation of the hunter. Guthrie, notwithstanding the mood which seemed to be upon him, did not choose to neglect so favorable an opportunity of, at the same time, ministering to the appetites of his companions, and to his own reputation as a skilful hunter. He again heard the growl of the bear, and, looking cautiously about to see that no one else had noticed the proximity of the favorite game, he moved slowly forward towards the forest.
When he had advanced to a point where his back was turned towards the position occupied by Ralph and Eagle's-Wing, the latter crept quickly forward in the direction of the lodge; he passed the outer lodge, and halting for a moment to see that he was not observed, moved again rapidly towards the lodge where he expected to find Ruth and her companion.
As Guthrie advanced into the forest, Ichabod, from whom the sounds had proceeded that attracted his attention, moved as cautiously before him, occasionally, however, imitating the growl of the animal he was personating, so as to keep Guthrie from straying from the right direction. In this manner, he had succeeded in leading Guthrie nearly half a mile from the lodges of the Senecas, when, as he believed that before that time, Ralph and Eagle's-Wing must have succeeded in their efforts, as a failure on their part would have been signalled by the cries of the enemy, he determined to end the hunt upon which Guthrie was engaged, by letting him know the precisegameof which he had been in pursuit. Secreting himself behind a tree, that he might not be too early discovered by Guthrie, as it was not so dark but that objects at two or three rods' distance might be discerned with tolerable accuracy, he waited the coming of his enemy. As Guthrie was about passing him, slightly bent forward, as in the attempt to pierce into the obscurity of the forest, he leaped upon him and pinioned him in his muscular arms. In a moment more, Guthrie was disarmed, and was lying helplessly upon the ground, his hands being securely fastened by a cord which Ichabod had drawn from his pocket. Guthrie, in his astonishment and fear, had not yet recognized the person of his captor.
"Get up here, you infarnal villain!" cried Ichabod; "what's the use of lying upon the ground, when you can just as well stand on your feet?" and he caught hold of him to assist him in rising. Guthrie now saw that he was in the power of Ichabod—and at once, with the characteristic meanness and cowardice of a rascal, began to beg for life.
"You judge of me, I reckon," said Ichabod, with contempt, "by what you'd do yourself, were you in my place, you white-livered Tory. Stop your howling. I don't intend to kill you. I never do that kind of thing in cold blood; and yet I don't know why a man's conscience should be burdened any by smothering the venom of such areptileas this, anywhere he can catch him."
Ichabod surveyed the miserable wretch for a few moments, with a mixture of disgust, contempt, and pity. Fear seemed to deprive him of all rational power of speech, and he testified his agony by sobs and shrieks. Ichabod drew from his pocket another cord.
"I'll tell you what, you infarnal traitor, you shall have a touch of the same fare you sarved up for me; only you won't have anybody to guard you from the bears and wolves. You'll be tied up to this tree to-night; and if your friends find you scattered round in pieces in the morning, it will be the fault of the bears and wolves, and not mine."
With this, he fastened him securely to the tree. Then shouldering his rifle, he exclaimed, amidst the shrieks of the miserable wretch for help—
"You're a Tory, a traitor, and a liar; and there's no use in asking God to have marcy on your soul, under any circumstances. All I've got to say is, before bidding you good-night, that if you escape from here, and your miserable carcass ever crosses my path, I'll shoot you as I would a wolf."
So saying, he departed in a north-easterly direction, towards the clump of willows where the canoe of Eagle's-Wing was concealed. This spot had been agreed upon as the rendezvous; and Ichabod walked rapidly, spurred on by the excitements of the day through which he had already passed, and by the hope of meeting all his friends once more in safety. For nearly a quarter of a mile, the shrieks of Guthrie could be heard, mingled with oaths and cries for help; but soon these sounds failed to reach his ears, and he was alone amidst the silence of the forest.
"The bow has lost its wonted spring,The arrow falters on the wing,Nor carries ruin from the string,To end their being and our woes."FRENEAU.
The Tuscarora, after the departure of Ichabod, followed by Guthrie, cautiously crept towards the lodge in which he expected to find Ruth and Singing-Bird. This he was enabled to do in comparative safety, as he moved in a deep shadow; and his only danger consisted in the chance of meeting some straggling Seneca, or someone who might have been selected as a guard for this particular quarter. But, without interruption, he gained the side of the lodge, the entrance to which was upon the west; but he could not reach it without a momentary exposure of his person to the eyes of anyone who might chance to be looking in that direction. Arriving at this point, he paused, and began imitating the shrill whistle or screech of the tree-toad, which, it seems, had been agreed upon between him and Singing-Bird, as a signal of his presence, in any emergency like the present. To his surprise, he received no answer. Again he gave the signal, but no answer was returned. A cold shudder ran through that frame of the Tuscarora, as he feared that the prisoners had been removed, and that their enterprise must fail. But he was determined to realize his worst fears by an examination of the interior of this lodge. With this view, he advanced to the extreme point where his person could be obscured in the shadow—a distance of six or eight feet from the entrance. He darted forward, with an agility quickened by the mixture of hope and fear, and found himself within the lodge. It was empty. For a moment, the impassable nature of the savage was overpowered, and he gazed around him with a look of despair; and a shudder passed over him, that shook his strong frame as a leaf is shaken by the wind. But despair could not bring relief, and activity and courage only could retrieve the time that had been lost. Again he passed the entrance, and with the same caution retreated to the place where he had left his companion.
"They are gone!" he said.
"Gone?" exclaimed Ralph.
But at the same moment a yell was heard; and they beheld the Indians darting from the fire towards the spot where Ichabod had been confined. It was now too late; their only hope was in flight. A few moments was left them, ere the Senecas would be upon their track; for the savages would readily comprehend that the escaped prisoner would fly in the direction of the cottage. Ralph and Eagle's-Wing hesitated for a moment; the last hope of relief to the unfortunate prisoners seemed extinguished by this premature discovery of the flight of Ichabod. They darted into the forest, and rapidly ran in the direction of therendezvouswhich had been agreed upon with their friend. Some little time elapsed, ere they discovered that they were pursued; but another, and wilder and fiercer yell from the Indians, denoted that some new discovery had taken place, which had excited them still more. Had Ichabod been again captured? That could not well be; as he had but a short time before left them; and they knew that he did not intend to return again to the lodges of the Senecas. A hope sprang to the heart of Ralph, that perhaps Ruth and Singing-Bird had also escaped; and that the Senecas had but just ascertained that these, the most prized of their prisoners, had fled. But the hope was too faint, too weak, to revive his drooping spirits.
They were now conscious that they were pursued, and that their pursuers could not be, at the most, more than a hundred rods behind them. It was yet half a mile to therendezvous; but they were both inured to exercise; and they ran with an ease and freedom, that promised to keep at least that distance between them and their pursuers. After the cries of the Senecas which had first fallen upon their ears, had died in the silence, occasionally was heard a wild shriek behind them; but at length these entirely ceased. It was a chase of life and death—the silence of the forest was unbroken by any sound save that of its own music, answering to the gentle pressure of the wind; but they knew well that this silence was owing to the caution of their unrelenting enemies.
They arrived, panting at therendezvous. Eagle's-Wing darted into the clump of willows, with the expectation of beholding Ichabod; but he was not there. What was now to be done? Should they remain here, or continue their flight towards the cottage? It was fully a mile distant; and yet, were they to be absent, should the Senecas again attack it, as they would be likely to do, in their present excitement, Barton and the negro would, perhaps, be unable to defend it; and they, too, would fall into the hands of the Senecas, from whom no mercy could now be expected. They must continue their flight; it was the only course. A few moments had been lost in this brief consultation; but the time lost had served to give them new energy for flight.
They proceeded onward with the same rapidity; the shanty was passed; and they reached the path leading from the cottage into the valley. They had arrived within a quarter of a mile of the cottage, when they discovered persons moving before them, in the same path in which they were traveling. They relaxed their speed, and advanced with more caution than they had yet observed. But, cautious as they were, their approach was detected by the persons they had observed.
"Speak, or I fire!" shouted the stentorian voice of Ichabod.
"Ichabod!" exclaimed Ralph, who with Eagle's-Wing now rapidly approached; and what was their surprise and joy, as they beheld with their friend, both Ruth and Singing-Bird.
Hearty were the salutations, and joyful the greetings between the re-united friends; but Ralph quickly explained the situation of matters; and the fact that the Senecas must be within a hundred rods of them, at least.
They had yet time to reach the cottage. Their flight was necessarily slow; but the Indians must run at least two rods to their one, to overtake them. This was great odds, under ordinary circumstances; but, although Singing-Bird was more used to this species of exercise than Ruth, yet even she was fatigued already; but the energy that fear will give, even when the physical powers are over-taxed, supported Ruth for a while. They were in sight of the cottage—it was not more than a furlong distant, when Ruth, who had been partially supported by Ralph, to this point, fell fainting into his arms. Yet sustaining her insensible form, he still advanced rapidly towards the cottage. It was now evident that some of their pursuers were close behind them; a fierce yell communicated to them the fact, that they had been discovered; and a wild scream from twenty throats a few rods more distant denoted that their pursuers was rapidly overtaking them.
"I'll have a crack at that Injin any way," exclaimed Ichabod; as the foremost Seneca came leaping towards them. Excited by the chase, he did not stop to count the odds; but with upraised tomahawk, the Indian rushed towards the flying group. Ichabod fired; and the scream of the Indian denoted that the ball had taken effect. It had, at least, learned him moderation; and he stopped leaning against a tree, awaiting the approach of his companions.
They passed the grove—the cottage door was opened, and Barton advanced to meet them. A moment more, and they had passed the threshold, and the door was barred. At this instant, the pursuers came rushing into the grove; and fierce and wild were the shrieks of anger, as they saw their escaped prisoners shut from their view.
We will take this opportunity, while the reunited friends are exchanging their congratulations at once more beholding each other in safety, to narrate briefly the history of the escape of Ruth and Singing-Bird.
It has been said that Singing-Bird, by the use of a little duplicity, had been able partially to deceive the Senecas. She had been able to make Panther believe that when they had once reached the country of the Senecas, beyond the lakes, she would yield to his wishes, and become his wife. From the time that Panther had formed this belief, she was much less carefully watched; and had such opportunities to escape, that nothing but her ignorance of the place where Eagle's-Wing was to be found, had prevented her from improving them. When Ruth was brought in as a captive, and she had ascertained the precise condition of matters, she at once resolved to fly, on the first opportunity. The same incident which had formed the escape of Ichabod—the debauch of the Indians—presented the opportunity she wished; and taking a favorable moment, when the larger portion of the Senecas were gathered about the fire, and the few who remained sober, were distributed as guards over a much larger space than usual, she and Ruth issued from the lodge. They passed the precise spot, which, but a few moments later, was occupied by Ralph and the Tuscarora—and entered the forest. At first, excited by the hope of liberty, and the fear of detection, they fled with a speed which their strength and power of endurance would not allow them long to continue; but as they began to feel the fatigue incident upon their efforts, and as they were not able to ascertain that the Senecas had learned their flight, they slackened their speed, and walked with as much rapidity as the nature of the ground would allow. They endeavored to keep a straight north-westerly course; and by doing so; they would naturally reach that point on the river, which had been selected, although unknown to them, by Ichabod and his friends, for a rendezvous.
They did, in fact, reach that particular spot; and were passing by it, when Ichabod, who had just before reached it, to his exceeding surprise beheld them, and at once presented himself, calling them by name, to prevent the fear which they would naturally feel, had he suddenly shown himself, when in the darkness, perhaps, they would not have been able to recognize him.
He informed them of the fact that Ralph and Eagle's-Wing were then engaged in efforts for their escape; and he debated for a few moments with himself, whether they should remain at the rendezvous, and wait the coming of their friends, or proceed towards the cottage. But the consideration, that should Ralph and Eagle's-Wing be discovered, or should the Indians ascertain the flight of himself and his companions, their position at the rendezvous would be much less safe, encumbered as they would be with companions whom it would be necessary to protect, and who could not add to the means of defence, determined him to proceed; and they set off immediately, in the direction of the cottage. The rest of the story has been already told.
When the family and friends found themselves once more united in the cottage, after the first hearty congratulations, they proceeded to observe the dispositions made by the Indians; and to discover, if possible, what might be their plan of operations. The grove by this time was filled with enemies; and a few, even, had advanced upon the lawn between the grove and the cottage; but they were soon recalled to their ideas of safety and self-protection, by the discharge of the rifles of Ichabod and the Tuscarora, not without effect. These more adventurous Senecas, immediately retired.
All necessary and proper precautions were at once taken; but the Indians made no movement that indicated an immediate attack. It was probable, even, that the result of their former attack, might altogether discourage them from a new attempt; but whatever was their intention, they were careful not to give any intimation of it. Within the grove, they were not, in the darkness, visible from the cottage, and it was only after a number of hours had passed, without any indications of an attack, that it was thought they would be left in peace for the night.
The proper precautions for safety were taken; and the over worn and over-tasked defenders of the cottage sought a broken repose.
"The miserable have no other medicine,But only hope;I have hope to live."MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
The morning sun arose bright and cheerful, with promise of one of those fair autumnal days which has crowned this peculiar season, as the "sweetest, saddest of the year." The inmates of the cottage, too, arose refreshed by a few hours of repose, and with energies strengthened for the labors or dangers of the day. They were once more united. The malice of their enemies had been defeated, and the courage and inspiration which are derived from success, gave promise of ultimate triumph over all their difficulties.
The morning meal passed off happily and cheerfully; and Ruth notwithstanding the excitement and fatigue of the preceding evening, possessed all that sweetness and calmness of spirit which had so much charmed Ralph, on the evening of his arrival.
"Really, Captain Weston," she said, "you must have a strange idea of this valley. You have been with us but four days, and we have had in that brief time, an Indian war—sieges and battles—captivities and escapes."
"I must say, Miss Barton, that you have provided me with one entertainment to which I was not invited; but we may hope now, that the "piping days of peace" are come. Your father has some fine trout-fishing yet in reserve for me, and Jenkins wishes to survey his location for a factory and city lots."
This rally at Ichabod was received with considerable merriment, but he was not at all disconcerted.
"You may laugh at that idea, Captin," said he, "but it isn't laughing at a sensible thing that makes it ridiculous. But Iwasrather provoked, when I proposed that idea to them Senecas in full council, and offered to provide 'em with cloth for pantaloons, coats and jackets, to see the pervarse creturs insist upon sticking to their Injin, heathenish sort of garments. But, after all, itisan innovation on their old habits, and I shall have to begin by fitting up Eagle's-Wing with Christian clothes, and send him out as a missionary on that business.
"No good for Injin to wear pale-face clothes," said the Tuscarora, with contempt. "How Injin look dressed like white man?"
"There you go!" exclaimed Ichabod. "Seneca or Tuscarora, it don't make any difference. If I was going to convart the Injins, the first step I should take, would be to send out a cargo of tailors; for Idobelieve that if you could only get them to put on decent clothes, they'd be willing to take up a decent religion."
"That's a new idea, certainly," said Ruth; "but I should pity the unfortunate workmen. They would scarcely make a living at the business."
"The idea is not unphilosophical," said Ralph, laughing. "Ideas are very much like clothes. They are just as easily put off or on; and to conquer the prejudices of the Indians in one respect, would be to conquer them in another. It is a pity, Ichabod, that you had not lived to be a coadjutor with Elliot. The result of his labors might have been vastly different."
"Well," replied Ichabod, "I never did know a new idea that wasn't laughed at. I suppose you want to have your fun at me, but I'll live to have mine at you, yet."
While the family were at breakfast, Sambo had been sent out to overlook the surrounding country for any signs of Indians. He now came running in to say that a "whole army of Injins was coming, and no mistake."
At this alarm, the party at once betook themselves to their defences; and from the lookouts they endeavored to get a sight of the approaching enemy.
"The lying nigger!" exclaimed Ichabod. "OnlyoneInjin and without we'pons at that."
"He is evidently coming with a message of some sort or other," said Barton. "Suppose you go, Ralph, and hear what he has to say."
Ralph went out towards the grove where the Indian was waiting for him. As he approached the Seneca, the latter took from his belt a letter and delivered it to him.
"Pale-face prisoners send letter to talk," said the Seneca, as he surveyed the document with a sort of superstitious fear. "Hear him talk, eh?"
"Perhaps so," answered Ralph. "I will give you an answer soon, if it should need one," and he again entered the cottage, while the Indian threw himself lazily upon the ground.
When Ralph reached the room where the inmates were assembled, much speculation was going on as to the probable contents of the letter; for its delivery to Ralph had been observed. It was evident that it must have been written by the attorney; and it was immediately opened, and the contents read aloud by Ralph. The letter ran thus:
"To Esquire Barton, or to whomsoever these presents shall come, Greeting:
"Sir—I am requested by that excellent but somewhat irascible chief, Panther, to address you a few lines—although I can scarcely say that they are written in a professional capacity. He has just advised me that he holds the Deputy Sheriff and myself in his hands, as a sort of equivalent for a certain Tuscarora Indian and his squaw, supposed and believed to be now at the cottage and he has even gone so far, though in a very civil manner, as to inform me, that without the said Indian and his squaw are delivered to him, he will be under the necessity of executing upon us some horrid species of capital punishment, for which I know no technical name; and for which, I think, none is to be found in the most approved authorities. He has requested me, as he himself is not skilled in clerical matters, to write this, and to say that he proposes a consultation, at which said matter shall be considered, and at which shall be present, besides myself and the said Deputy Sheriff, Rogers, two of each party, unarmed; the meeting to take place in the grove south of the cottage. This line is forwarded by the bearer, who is to precede us by half an hour.
"Your most humble servant,JOHN BAGSLEY."
P.S. Should Mr. Ichabod Jenkins be present at the cottage, I hope that he will consider himself under arrest, although a manual touching was not actually made upon his person, unfortunate circumstances preventing. Should he decline to consider himself under arrest, I hope that he may be detained until our arrival, and the making of the proposed exchange."
Ralph could not restrain his laughter as he read this curious epistle. The quiet confidence with which the attorney assumed that the exchange would at once be made, and the business-like appeal to Ichabod, were sufficiently provocative of a smile from all, except Ichabod, who did not seem to relish this public reminder of the unfortunate result of some of his previous speculations. But it was deemed advisable to consent to the meeting, as it was possible that some result might be arrived at, which would terminate the present difficulties.
Ralph therefore informed the Seneca that they would consent to treat with Panther on the terms proposed, at the time appointed; and the Indian at once departed to convey the answer.
"This attorney is a strange man," said Barton: "and he has probably involved himself and his companion in a difficulty from which they will not be able to escape."
"Who wants him to escape?" growled Ichabod. "A Seneca even, is a gentleman, compared with one of those sneaking attorneys; and yet, perhaps, it wouldn't be right not to try to save the creturs; seeing as how they're human flesh and blood;butif we do save 'em, I suppose I must bid you good-bye, and start for the settlements."
"Don't be discouraged, Ichabod," said Ralph; "we shall probably find some means to relieve you, should you be actually arrested. But the first thing is, to get these unfortunate men from the hands of the Senecas. They would seem to insist, from the letter, that Eagle's-Wing and Singing-Bird should be delivered up to them. If no other terms than these are proposed, Bagsley and his companion will have to suffer the penalty of their temerity. They were well advised beforehand."
"Dey lose scalp: don't know enough to keep 'em," said Eagle's-Wing. "What scalp good for, if they don't know 'nough to keep Injin from taking 'em?"
"It may be a small matter to you, Eagle's-Wing," said Barton, laughing, "but these prisoners would probably think their scalps of great importance to themselves. But if I am not mistaken, I see them approaching through the grove. I would suggest that Ralph and myself be selected for this meeting. You, Ichabod, and the Tuscarora, would be too likely to provoke an unfortunate termination of the matter, by the anger your presence would excite."
This selection was agreed to; and Ralph and Barton walked towards the grove, to the same place where the former consultation had been held. As they arrived at this spot, they saw approaching, at a few rods distance, Bagsley and the Deputy Sheriff, who were only bound by a strong thong passed around the left arm of Bagsley and the right arm of Rogers; so that they were effectually coupled. As Rogers was much taller than the attorney, the confinement seemed to be equally irksome; for, while the attorney was compelled to walk in a much more than usually erect position, his companion was compelled to stoop enough to meet him half-way. It was a compromise that did not seem to have the effect of pleasing either, and gave rise to frequent altercations between them; the attorney insisting that Rogers did not stoop enough, and the bailiff swearing that Bagsley did not lift himself up enough, to divide equally the difficulty.
They were accompanied by our old acquaintances, Deersfoot and Snake-tongue, who marched beside them with a steady gravity, which no one but an Indian could have preserved. When they reached the small plot of green-sward, the Indians made brief but dignified salutations to Barton and Ralph, who returned them in as brief and dignified a manner. But Bagsley made an effort to rush forward to grasp Barton by the hand, but he was withheld by the weight of his more saturnine companion.
"How often am I compelled to inform you, Mr. Rogers," said Bagsley with irritation, "that the line of conduct adopted by you is neither in accordance with courtesy nor good breeding? Could you not see that there is a propriety in accosting our friends with warmth, who are about to relieve us from an unpleasant situation? I declare, that under no circumstances, will I ever consent to be so closely united with you again. But excuse me, gentlemen. You will pardon any seeming disrespect, under the circumstances," casting a contemptuous glance over his left shoulder.
"There's no use in blowing up a fellow in this fashion," answered Rogers. "You hang down on me so, that it's no wonder I don't stir any more than I'm obliged to."
"Good day to you both," said Barton. "I am sorry to see you in such a situation; but you will give me the credit of having prophesied such a result to you."
"I must say, that the advise you gave us, was not far from correct," answered Bagsley; "but I relied upon the majesty of the law, and the sanctity of our persons, as its humble officers, as sufficient to protect us; and I am well convinced, that were our red friends to suffer me to instruct them in some of its elementary principles, they would see the error of their conduct, and discharge us with a proper acknowledgment in satisfaction of damages. But I am sorry to say, that they have thus far refused to listen to instruction relative to a system of jurisprudence, adorned by the writings of Bacon and Coke, and illumined and embellished by the lives of Hale and Mansfeld, and —— I really wish, Mr. Rogers, that you would suffer your person to become a little more pliable." This interruption was occasioned by Rogers having risen erect, in an attempt to illustrate the dignity of the profession of which he was an officer; and the consequence was, that the attorney found himself lifted from his feet, and suspended in the air.
"I aren't to blame," said Rogers gruffly, "for your being so small. Lay that to them as it belongs to."
"After the notice which you have received, gentlemen," said Bagsley, now opening the business of the meeting, "it cannot be necessary for me to state the object of this consultation. You are aware that Mr. Rogers and myself have fallen into the power of our red friends, without legal warrant or authority on their part; by which act, they have undoubtedly become liable to us in damages. But they allege, that they are sovereign in themselves, and only amenable to their own laws; but as they are now in the county of Tryon, this position is anomalous, to say the least; it is an establishment of animperium in imperio,which cannot exist—as I could substantiate by the authority of the best legal writers. But, notwithstanding such points and arguments as I have presented, and—as Mr. Rogers will admit, with considerable force—they adhere to their first expressed opinion as a pointres adjudicata, and refuse to release us, except upon terms. I have the more readily consented to those terms, as I am not called upon in any way to release our rights of action for damages."
"May I ask the precise nature of the terms you mention?" inquired Ralph.
"Of course, Captain Weston; that is a proper subject of inquiry The terms, in themselves, are easy, and I must say, much easier than could have been expected. They are, that we shall be released, on the delivery to them of a certain Indian and his squaw, who are somewhere hereabouts."
"I know the Indian to whom you allude," said Ralph. "The Senecas have already endeavored to obtain possession of him, after having grievously wronged him; and we have thus far defended him, at the risk of our lives."
"I know nothing about the original difficulty between this Indian and the Senecas," said Bagsley, "but whatever it may have been, I think the whole matter can now be amicably adjusted, and will be. You will deliver him and his squaw, and receive us in exchange: the Senecas will at once depart from this territory, and remove with them that anomaly in our laws of which I have spoken; while we, having completed the arrest of Mr. Jenkins, will depart also, and the territory will be quiet again."
The duty which devolved upon Barton and Ralph was becoming exceedingly unpleasant. It was hard to undeceive the unfortunate attorney, whose confidence in the exchange proposed was so strong. He evidently could not realize that any impediment could stand in the way; or that Ralph and Barton could hesitate for a moment in releasing them upon terms that seemed so easy.
"We have already intimated to you, Mr. Bagsley," said Ralph, with a seriousness that immediately attracted the attention of the attorney, "that the Tuscarora is our friend. He has rendered Mr. Barton and myself services for which we are deeply grateful to him."
"That, perhaps, complicates the matter, a little," answered Bagsley: "a debt of gratitude, although not strictly a legal obligation and of a nature to be enforced in a court of law, (although it will frequently support an executed contract by way of consideration,) is, I must confess, exceedingly hard to be rid of; and perhaps one would not be justifiable in repudiating it upon light occasions; but the question here presents itself in this manner; a debt of gratitude upon the one side, which, I have observed, is not actionable, and the lives of two gentlemen of the profession on the other. The preponderance of argument is so obvious, that I should be wasting time in calling your attention to it."
"There is an addition to the argument, upon what you deem the weaker side, that you have forgotten to mention—that is, thelivesof our friends, whom you ask us to surrender."
"That was not a matter unthought-of," said Bagsley, with complacency: "it was merely a point reserved. I cannot bring myself to believe that our red friends would carry matters to the extremity which they have threatened. It was probably only one of those pardonable subterfuges by which we endeavor, in the profession, to bring parties to terms—a matter merely held upin terrorem."
"I hope," said Ralph, who was determined to undeceive the attorney at once, "that it may be as you say; but neither Mr. Barton nor myself, however unpleasant to you or ourselves such a determination may be, can think, for a moment, of surrendering the Tuscarora into the hands of enemies who are thirsting for his blood."
This announcement, made in a firm tone, but with a look that indicated the sorrow with which it was made, struck the attorney with surprise and fear. A mortal pallor overspread his features.
"You do not mean, Captain Weston—youcannotmean, Mr. Barton, that you will not release us?"
"Anything that we can do, except the surrender of any of our friends into the hands of the Senecas, we will cheerfully, gladly do. But that, you will yourself see—however unpleasant it may be to you, to acknowledge it—we cannot do."
"My God! my God!" exclaimed Bagsley, forgetting, in his fear, his professional character, "what shall we do?"
"I consider it rather hard fare," said Rogers, who being of a more saturnine temperament than the attorney, was not so susceptible to sudden emotions. "If two white men, and professional gentlemen to boot, arn't reckoned of any more consequence than a couple of wild Injins, what's the use of being white folks, I'd like to know?"
Deersfoot and Snake-tongue, who had thus far preserved a perfect silence, now advanced to take part in the conversation:
"My brothers know," said Deersfoot, "that they must give us Canendesha and his squaw, or these pale-faces must die. We have spoken, and so it must be."
"Deersfoot," said Barton, "I cannot believe that you will put them to death. You are now at peace with the Colonies. These men have done you no harm. Even if you have cause for anger with us, these men are innocent. It would be a murder, for which the Colonists would take ample revenge in burning your villages and destroying your people."
"They are pale-faces, and that is all we know. If one pale-face does us harm, we will hurt all the pale-faces we can. We have buried the hatchet with the Colonies, and we will not dig it up. We are not on a war-path; but if we are injured, we will do what hurt we can. I have spoken."
"If you do any harm to these men," said Ralph, "we will punish you, if we have to follow you to your own country. There are men at the settlements who will take up this quarrel."
"Let the pale-faces take care of themselves," said Snake-tongue. "They may boast less, by-and-by.Wedo not boast, but we will do what we can. Our talk is finished. Let us go."
Deersfoot advanced towards the attorney, who remained as if stupified. "Come!" said he, laying his hand upon him. The attorney shrieked with fear.
"For Heaven's sake, Captain Weston—Mr. Barton, do not let these Indians take us back again."
"We pity you, unfortunate men; but we cannot help you. We wish we could," exclaimed Barton.
At this moment, Ichabod and the Tuscarora were seen issuing from the door of the cottage, with their rifles in their hands. Their faces expressed a determination that was unmistakable but at the same instant, a body of Indians was seen approaching at the opposite extremity of the grove. The Indians had evidently foreseen this result of the consultation, and were now approaching on some mischievous errand. Barton and Ralph immediately departed towards the cottage, into which Ichabod and the Tuscarora also retired, while the attorney and his companion departed in the opposite direction, under guard of the Senecas.
"And long shall timorous Fancy seeThe painted chief and pointed spear;And Reason's self shall bow the kneeTo shadows and delusions here."FRENEAU.
Deersfoot and Snake-tongue, with the two prisoners, after a short distance, met the main body of the Senecas. Beyond the grove was a small strip of partially cleared land, which was covered with a thick green-sward. Here the Indians halted, and immediately held a council, in which to deliberate upon the fate of their prisoners, and upon their future proceedings with reference to the cottage. When the failure of the negotiation was announced, the whole wrath of the Indians was concentrated upon the unfortunate attorney and his companion. In their eyes, the latter were answerable for all the wrongs which they fancied they had suffered from the pale-faces and their Tuscarora ally at the cottage.
Bagsley and the bailiff were placed in the centre of a circle of warriors. Rogers maintained a sullen silence, and surveyed the hostile countenances of the Senecas with a look of seeming indifference; but the attorney, from the moment that the unexpected refusal of Barton and Ralph to exchange him for the Tuscarora had shown him his imminent danger, remained seemingly stupefied with fear. But, as he beheld around him the assemblage of warriors, and a certain appearance of deliberation, he began to recover the use of his faculties. Perhaps, he thought that the act of deliberation implied a doubt of their actual intention; or, perhaps, seeing that he might have an opportunity to plead for his life, he placed some reliance upon his oratorical powers. But, whatever was the cause, it is certain that, in his appearance, he resumed a portion of his professional dignity of demeanor.
The warriors and their chiefs were assembled in council. Panther, as principal chief, occupied the most prominent situation; beside him sat Deersfoot and Snake-tongue, and two or three others, who were recognized as superior to the great mass of the Indians. When the assembly had finally assumed an appearance of order, the younger chief, whose name was Bearsclaw, arose to speak. He had never yet gained a reputation for oratory, and he assumed a modesty and humiliation that were proper to his station.
"Brothers," said he, "you know my name—it is Bearsclaw; it is a name which was given to me because I was thought to be strong in struggling with my enemy. I did not deserve it: I should have had a smaller name. I have not the tongue to speak; but I can tell what I think—I think these pale-faces should live. I think that we should keep them prisoners a little while, and then let them go. Shall I tell you why? They came to us freely; we did not take them! they have not wronged us. Perhaps I do not think right; I do not know but a little; but what I think I will speak. I see that you do not like my words, and I am sorry that you do not. If we kill them, we shall get into trouble. The pale-faces from the settlements will come out on the war-path, and will ravage our hunting grounds. I am not a coward—you have seen me in fight. My name is Bearsclaw. I cannot speak much; but I can tell what I think. I have spoken."
This speech was received in silence—a silence, perhaps, that implied dissatisfaction. But Bagsley argued from it a favorable result; for he thought a matter could not be predetermined, about which a chief had spoken, as if there was doubt as to the propriety of the course that had been threatened. When Bearsclaw sat down, Snake-tongue, as the chief next highest in rank arose and said:
"Brothers, you have heard the counsel of Bearsclaw: he has a large name. It is a great pity that a warrior with so brave a name, cannot be brave in speech. I do not think as he does. I am an Iroquois—of the nation of the Senecas. I have always been taught not to be afraid. Bearsclaw has said that the pale-faces from the settlements will follow us on the war-path. Let them come! We want to see them in the woods and fields. We do not want to see them skulking behind walls and log houses. Let them follow us into the woods: there is where I want to see them.
"I say that these pale-faces should die. They have been the cause of all our troubles. If it had not been for their fire-water to-day we should have tortured the brave that we tortured yesterday. He was a brave warrior, and it would have done us good to have tortured him. But he escaped; and how? The fire-water of these pale-faces made our young warriors careless, and we lost him; and we lost the pale-face squaw, and the squaw of Canendesha. We have lost, too, our pale-face friend; he has gone, and no one knows where. He was lost at the same time with the others. They have taken him and killed him. Should we let the pale-faces, who have done all this, go and laugh at us? No—let them die! They are not as brave as the warrior we had yesterday; but they will make sport for our young warriors. We shall be sorry if we do not take their scalps. We shall always think of it, and wish we had done it, when we think of our young men who have been killed in these forests. I have spoken."
He sat down amidst loud cheers. He was evidently on the popular side; and the countenances of Bagsley and Rogers grew pale, as they saw the effect of this speech. But there was some hope yet; only two of the warriors had spoken, and, so far, the council was equally divided in opinion. It was with the utmost anxiety that they waited for Deersfoot to arise.
After the noise had subsided, and silence was restored, the latter arose to speak. He stood next to Panther in the estimation of the Senecas; and some there were, who preferred him to that chief, as a braver and more cunning warrior.
"Brothers," he said in a tranquil tone, "we have come here to decide upon two things. We are to say whether these pale-faces shall die, and we are to say what we shall do about the pale-faces at the cottage. I have no secrets; my heart is as open as my face. Snake-tongue has said that these pale-faces are the cause of all of our troubles. May be this is so; but I do not see it as he does. Our young men should not love the fire-water of the pale-faces. If they had not loved it, then the pale-faces could not have done us any harm. I do not know that they are to be blamed. I want to think about it a little while.
"But the other thing Ihavethought about. I do not want to think any more about it. The pale-faces at the cottage have killed our young men. They have made us ashamed, that so few pale-faces can escape from so many Injins. I am so ashamed that my heart is sad; and it will not be happy any more until we have taken their scalps. I wish to fight them again. I wish to see if we cannot burn down the cottage, and take them all prisoners. I am sure that we can do it. If we cannot, I shall be much more ashamed: and I shall think that the Senecas, like the Oneidas and Tuscaroras, are squaws. I, for one will never leave the valley of the Pleasant River, until I take with me, the scalp of one of those pale-faces. The scalps of these pale-faces will not do me any good; for they have not killed our young men. I want to wear in my belt the scalp of the enemy who has taken the scalp of a Seneca. Until that is done, I shall always be ashamed.
"Let these pale-faces live until we have attacked the cottage. If we take the scalps of our enemies there, we shall have taken enough; and we shall not want any more. If we do not get them, then we will think about these pale-faces. I have spoken."
This speech, which had touched the hearts of the Senecas with shame, and kindled in them a wild hope of revenge, was received with shrieks of delight. In the direction which it had given to the thoughts of the Senecas, the prisoners were, for the moment, forgotten; and the counsel of Deersfoot would doubtless have been acquiesced in, had it not been for the fact that Panther did not share the general enthusiasm. When this was noticed, his more particular adherents at once become silent, and waited to take their cue from him. He was about to arise, when Bagsley, who had also become much excited by this appeal of Deersfoot, in his favor, and who was unable any longer to maintain silence, deeming this the favorable moment to make a finish of the "case," exclaimed, assuming as much of a forensic position and demeanor, as his connection with Rogers would allow:
"If the Court please, gentlemen of the—Council; for I may denominate this respectable body, a Court, while it is actually sitting inbanco, according to the peculiar laws by which it is governed—I have listened thus far, to this summary trial—a trial which, I may say, is unrecognized by any statute of which I am cognizant—with a high opinion of the ability and learning with which it has been conducted. But, as a prisoner on trial for his life, I respectfully submit, whether I have not the right to ask that this trial shall be conducted according to some recognized form. I have as yet seen no bill of indictment; I have not been called upon to plead; in other words, I have not had the privilege of alleging my innocence upon the record I have not been confronted with witnesses—therefore, in a legal point of view, I may consider this whole proceeding ascoram non judiceand void, and of no binding force whatever. According to the law of the land, as generally understood, I am entitled to all of these rights. I, therefore, upon these grounds, to say nothing about many other points which I consider equally conclusive, wish to raise the question of jurisdiction. I could, doubtless, make a motion in arrest of judgment,non obstante veredicto; but a question of jurisdiction can be interposed at any time. I therefore respectfully submit, whether, according to the advice of my friend, Deersfoot, anolle prosequishould not be entered."
"Bearsclaw has presented the case upon somewhat different grounds, but he arrives at the same conclusions. He alleges that we are guilty of no offence. He is correct, not only in fact, but as matter of law. It is a principle of the law, originating in a benevolent idea of mercy, that a prisoner is to be presumed innocent until he is proved guilty. I rely upon this principle, and I hope the court will make a note of it. On examination, it will be found to be a principle admirably adapted to Indian jurisprudence. Upon all of these grounds, I insist that Mr. Rogers and myself should be discharged."
At the conclusion of this speech, Rogers, who had listened with great pleasure, and who had a high idea of his friend's eloquence exclaimed with a gesture that lifted the attorney at least a foot from the ground, "Them's my sentiments, and they are good law anywhere."
The Indians had listened to this voluble speech of the attorney with mingled feelings of amazement and disgust. They could comprehend scarcely a word of the discourse, but its general tenor they understood; and that was, that he was begging for his life. If there is anything in the conduct of a prisoner which removes from an Indian all idea of mercy, it is an exhibition of cowardice, or a desire to escape torture, except by force or stratagem. The current which had set in their favor, on the conclusion of Deersfoot's speech, was effectually checked; and all that was now wanting, was Panther's approval, to decide them in favor of putting the prisoners to immediate torture.
Panther arose, and the assembly immediately became silent.
"Brothers," said he, "you have heard the words which have been spoken to you. It is for you to say which are wise, and which are foolish. Bearsclaw, Snake-tongue and Deersfoot have all told you what they think. The pale-faces, too, have spoken to you. You have heard their words. I think with Deersfoot, that we must have the scalps of the pale-faces at the cottage, and the scalp of Canendesha. There is no warrior here that does not say so. We have thought so from the first. It was not a new thing with Deersfoot; you have all thought so. That is not the matter we have come here to talk about. We should be ashamed to talk about it. We know what we will do.
"I say let these pale-faces die. They do not deserve to live. They are bad men—they are bad even among the pale-faces, and the pale-faces hate them. They are like snakes, and have forked tongues; they do not tell what they think. They lie in the grass, and bite at the foot of the unwary. Even the pale-faces hate them; but they are worse to the Injins than they are to the pale-faces; for they steal away our hunting-grounds. Why should we let them loose to lie like snakes in the grass and bite at us? Bearsclaw says that they came to us, and that we did not take them on the war-path. That is true; but they came to us with forked tongues, to get away our prisoner; and I do not know but that they did get him away. They came, and he is gone.
"If we keep them prisoners, we shall have to set some of the warriors to watch them. That we ought not to do; for we shall want all of our warriors to-night. I have said more than I meant to say. They are not worth talking about; they are not braves that will laugh at the torture, and please our ears with harsh words. They are cowards that will cry and faint. Such men are not fit to live. Let the pale-faces die."
This conclusion was received by the Senecas with shouts of savage exultation. The unfortunate prisoners quailed beneath the fiery glances of their enemies. The attorney endeavored to speak, but his utterance failed—fear deprived him of the power of speech. The bailiff, however, as the danger actually approached, grew firm and brave, and looked at them with that peculiar gaze with which the officer looks into the eyes of the thief.
The Senecas approached them for the purpose of preparing them for the torture.
"Stand back, you rascals!" cried the bailiff. "You are now in my bailiwick. Look me in the eyes, if you dare, and see if you can stand the gaze of the law."
But notwithstanding this effort at overawing them, the Indians rudely tore apart the thongs that bound the attorney and the bailiff together, and dragged them into the woods south of the little clearing in which they were.
We shall not attempt to narrate the disgusting and horrible scene; but on that day, the bar of Tryon county lost a distinguished member, and that bailiwick a faithful officer.
While these scenes of savage cruelty are being enacted, let us return to the cottage. The presence of the Indians in their neighborhood, was known to the inmates of the cottage; for, occasionally, during the council, the ferocious yells which had cheered the "hit" of some favorite orator, had been heard with distinctness. Neither Ichabod, Eagle's-Wing, nor any one who was acquainted with the customs and habits of the Indians, could doubt as to the nature of the proceedings, of which they heard frequent indications. It was rendered certain, by the fact that the Indians were about to take the lives of the prisoners, that the cottage would be again attacked.
"With us five inside here," said Ichabod, "I'd risk all the Injins this side of Tophet—provided they didn't set down in reg'lar siege, or set the buildings afire. I reckon that last remark of mine will be found to be a pretty good guess, as to the worst danger we shall run in this attack."
"Other time, Seneca want prisoner," said the Tuscarora. "Didn't want pale-face scalp, half so bad as now. They take 'em to-night, if they can."
"I think," said Ralph, "we can guard against danger by fire; but, nevertheless, we should not be so certain of it as to neglect any proper precautions. The wooden portions of the building are very dry and if the Indians can get fire upon the roof, we shall, indeed, run a serious danger, for we could not show ourselves upon the outside, without presenting fair marks for every Indian rifle."
"The house is well provided with water," said Barton. "We have a large cistern, which is supplied by an unfailing stream that comes down from the west."
"Yes, but the question is," said Ichabod, "how we're going to get the water upon the roof, in case of necessity? The difficulty, in that business, has been stated by the Captin. Now, I've got an idea about managing the matter, if it comes to the worst; and that is, to leave the cottage, and take to the water."
This idea took the whole party by surprise; and Barton, with a look of incredulity, asked Ichabod how he supposed they should be able to leave the burning building without being exposed to the watchful eyes of the Indians.
"That's the p'int, Squire, that I've been thinking about; and Eagle's-Wing and I have been talking it over, and you'll see we'll manage it, in case of necessity. It's rayther risky, sartin; but I calculate it ain't any more so than it would be to stay here, and be burnt up. The best calculations will fail sometimes, in war, as well as in business matters: but if them Injins should drive us to it, they'll have to show more cunning than the sarpints have yet shown, to keep our plan from working."
The manner of the escape—should it be necessary—with as many of the details as could be anticipated, were agreed upon and arranged. Any such anticipation was sufficiently melancholy, as, if they were driven from the cottage, they would be much more exposed to the danger of capture than they had yet been. On the conclusion of these arrangements, Ralph found himself by the side of Ruth, who seemed to be suffering a great depression of spirits, from the saddening forebodings which she had overheard. She had become attached to her quiet home—she had acquired a fondness for the objects by which she was surrounded; and she could not think of their destruction, without a feeling of exquisite sorrow.
"If such be the will of Heaven," she said to Ralph, "we must submit."
"It is but an anticipation. Ruth, against which we must guard. We may succeed in repelling this attack, as easily as we did the former. But it is not to be disguised, that while on the previous attack, the great object of the enmity of the Indians was the Tuscarora; now,weas well asheare the objects; and they will resort to the method we have anticipated, if possible."
"Would it not be better to escape at once? We could leave the cottage, now, without danger; but during the attack, it seems to me it will be impossible to do so."
"We should then certainly abandon the cottage to destruction, and encounter dangers that now are only possible and not certain. No, I am willing to trust to the plan suggested by Ichabod and Eagle's-Wing. Although they have not given us the full details of it, I think I understand it. We have, thus far, been signally successful, and let us rely upon our good fortune a little farther."
"Say, rather, Ralph, upon God. It is His power, only, that supports and protects us."
Ralph at once admitted the propriety of the correction. "In affairs of the world, we use worldly terms. We speak of the protection we receive from our good fortune, without intending to imply any doubt of the protection which we receive from Heaven."
"Would it not be better, Ralph, at all times to acknowledge, by a proper use of words, our dependence upon Him from whom good or bad fortune proceeds, than only to acknowledge the results of circumstances?"
"I do not doubt it. Let us rely upon His assistance, then," said Ralph. "We shall certainly need it, to-night."
The sun was already sinking behind the western hills, into a rich mass of crimson clouds. The night approached with a melancholy step, and every heart in the cottage beat with anxiety for the first sound that should indicate the presence of the enemy. The aspect of nature was calm and lovely. The setting sun wore the look of yesterday; familiar objects gazed brightly in the golden garments which were woven around them; the long shadows pointed eastward, towards the coming to-morrow. But who can foretell, from the look of this day, what shall be the appearance of the next?