In Hartford, where the expedition arrived safe and well after a week of steadfast traveling, Mr. Bradley encountered much that surprised him. Sometimes we judge the world by our own standards, thinking that everybody moves as rapidly or slowly as we ourselves; suddenly we are brought face to face with the real situation, and we find ourselves outwitted and outrun.
It so happened to Mr. Bradley, who up to this time had made no efforts to extend his trade as far as the Connecticut River. When finally he arrived on the scene, he discovered that competitors had established themselves long ago in this paradise of the huntsman and the trapper.
The Englishmen from Massachusetts Colony, who had come here in the previous year, had erected themselves sturdy log huts with a strong fort in the midst, to protect them against a possible attack of the Indians, and all along the river traders were plying their craft.
However, others had been there even before them. From the South, Dutch trappers had come from New York, and these had gained the good will of the Indians, from whom they purchased their furs. The Dutch were very cunning, and while they did not always treat the Indians fairly, they nevertheless maintained their friendship and cooperation.
The land along the Connecticut River was very fertile, and the Pequot Indians, who sided with the Dutch, had driven away the original tribes which had dwelled there. These expelled tribes were friendly to the Puritans, and when the Puritan settlers seized the land, they brought back the Indians whom the Pequots had just driven away. At this the Pequots were enraged, and they now took revenge by killing English traders where they had opportunity. The English at once punished the Indians by hanging a few of their representative men, and they threatened them with war, should they engage in other punitive measures.
The Dutch, however, whom the invading Englishmen crowded out, incited the Indians to rebellion war against the Puritans, and thus there was sown the seed of hatred and war which in time brought forth vicious fruits.
When Mr. Bradley arrived at Hartford, he at once met several friends who encouraged him not to turn back, but to establish a trading post up the river, near enough to the fort to enjoy its protection.
This he did, and the venture gave the children no little pleasure. Indian help was readily obtained, and in addition several skilled carpenters, who urged the Indians to work hard and rapidly, so that within a month a large and strong log house was completed. It stood on the west bank of the river, about ten miles from the fort, which could easily be reached by the boat. As hostilities might be expected, it was built much like a small fort, the second story jutting out over the first so that it could the more easily be defended. The log house had no windows, but there were a number of small, narrow apertures through which the inmates could shoot in case of attack.
The furs and stores were provided for in the first story, while in the second there were three rooms in which the traders might live and sleep.
No sooner was the trading post established when Mr. Bradley left with his wife to return to Boston, where important business negotiations had to be attended to by himself. He promised to send John Rawlins, and put Fred and Matthew in charge of the log house.
Agnes was to return to the Boston Colony, but she begged her parents to permit her to remain, and this permission was finally granted. So after a last service, Mr. and Mrs. Bradley left, and the three children remained in the wilderness alone, amply supplied with provisions and articles of trade.
For their traffic Mr. Bradley had purchased a fine, strong boat, in which they could easily reach Hartford whenever they cared to go there. In the barn which was built to the house, stood three horses, accustomed to traveling in the woods, and altogether faithful and reliable.
Fred, who till the arrival of John Rawlins was in charge of everything, at once made preparations to become acquainted with the Indians and to gain their friendship, for on them he depended for furs.
He secured a Pequot Indian boy, from whom he could learn the native language, and he won his confidence and good will by little gifts which he gave him.
The task of learning the language of the Indians was the most important one, and each morning several hours were set aside for that purpose. The work proved itself a very delightful one, for the method was simple.
Each of the three white children had a little notebook into which they would write the words which the Indian boy mentioned to them, and although many mistakes occurred at first which caused a good deal of laughter, they progressed very fast so that in a short time they knew the Indian words for the most important articles.
But also on their expeditions the Indian boy had to serve as teacher, and so he was troubled with perpetual questions which his inquisitive friends asked him. As the Pequot Indians had long associated with the Dutch, not a few Dutch words were added to their vocabulary, though strangely changed by the lips of the Indians.
The visits to the Indians, whether made by boat or on horseback, also proved themselves a source of pleasure. It is true, they did not find them in the same friendly mood as the Mohicans, but since open hostilities had not been declared, there was still a chance to win them over.
And how could the Indians resist the three children, who came to them so boldly, and yet so innocently and kindly! Not a village they left without having enriched it with treasures which the Indians prized very much. Wherever they went, they spread the spirit of peace and good will.
Agnes was of great help to the two boys, for by her fine singing and her alluring playing on her faithful lute, she endeared herself to the Indian women, who gave to her the name "little bird of the woods."
When the Indians came to the trading post, they were received kindly, and when they brought furs, they were paid the highest prices possible. In addition, Fred doled out to them little sacks of tobacco, while Agnes usually won over the women and children by some sweets of sugar or fruit.
Thus it happened that when winter came, the trading post became a center of much activity. Furs came in aplenty, which were stored away first in the log house, and then were taken to Hartford, where they were secured in the fort, in which they were safe against a possible attack by the Indians.
That winter John Rawlins did not come, for no sooner had Mr. Bradley returned when he took sick, and was confined to his bed for many months with a lingering illness.
The children heard of this through messengers at Hartford, which, in view of impending troubles, kept in close contact with the stronger colonies in Massachusetts. Though they longed to see their foster-father, yet they realized that their presence in Connecticut was absolutely necessary, and they knew that they could serve his interest best by staying where they were and doing their duty.
However, they did more. One evening when the work was done and they were gathered around the table, Agnes said, "We have forgotten one important duty."
"And what is that?" asked Fred who in all things was most conscientious.
"We have not included Mr. Bradley in our prayers," the girl replied."Let us do so right away."
This they did at once, and from that time on they never omitted the holy work of praying for their foster-parents, whom they loved dearly and to whom they were sincerely grateful, as they had bestowed upon them so many and great kindnesses.
Of course, not a day passed on which they did not study the Bible. In those early times attention was not drawn away from the spiritual values by all kinds of worldly interests. There were no daily papers, no trashy books, and at the trading post, where the three children lived, they did not come in contact with men whose influence was bad. The work was hard; traps had to be set and examined; the furs had to be cured and prepared for trade; the Indian trappers who were in the employment of the post, had to be superintended; supplies had to be bought at the fort, and so the children were kept incessantly busy. When the evenings came, the children were glad to be alone, and to find comfort and strength for their daily tasks in that book, which was found in almost every settler's home,—-the Holy Bible.
However, as the winter continued, and the snow depended, shutting them off from the outside world, and at times interrupting their work, they sought new activities in which they could exercise themselves profitably.
The thought was really suggested by Matthew, who was keenly interested in spiritual things, and who chafed under the monotony of the dreary Sundays which the children spent alone in the wilderness.
While the river was still open, they had worshiped at Hartford, but now heavy snow covered the ice that they could reach that settlement neither by boat nor on their skates.
"Well, what do you suggest that we should do?" Fred asked.
"My idea is that we gather the Indian children on Sundays and instruct them in the Bible and psalmody."
"That's a fine thought!" Agnes exclaimed; "and I know that we shall always get enough children to attend."
That same week they invited a number of children through Tom, the Indian boy, who always stayed with them, and on the following Sunday several Indian children gathered in the house. Several of them had brought their mothers, who were glad to have an occasion to hear Agnes sing and play, and at once the Sunday school was opened. The children were instructed in Bible stories, Agnes sang many of her fine hymns which she had crudely translated into the Indian language, and afterwards the children were treated to such dainties as they had in the house. The venture proved so successful that after that several classes were arranged for, which kept the little teachers so busy all day that they no longer complained of monotony.
The new venture, however, also cemented the friendship with the adult Indians, and during the whole winter the furs came in from everywhere so that the supply in the fort increased from week to week.
When finally spring came and the trapping ceased, the children found themselves richly repaid by their work, and when at last Mr. Rawlins arrived with a number of pack horses to convey the furs to the Boston Colony, there were so many of them that more pack horses had to be secured.
So with grateful hearts Fred locked the door of the trading house, turned the key over to an old, friendly trapper, who spent his summers in Hartford, and returned to Massachusetts.
The children as well as John Rawlins were in high spirits, and had it not been for the heavily loaded pack horses, they would have galloped all the way to Massachusetts.
But they had to be patient, while day after day they covered small distances through the thick woods.
They were dressed oddly enough, and looked more like Indians than like white people. Agnes was dressed like the boys, with a fur cap on her head, fur coats and trousers on her body, and her feet covered with moccasins. Yet no one took notice of that, for many of the settlers were clothed in this way, since it was hard to obtain woolen cloth from the old country.
When they returned to Massachusetts, they were greeted with great joy, not only by their foster parents, but also by the other villagers, who marveled that children so young had undertaken so serious a venture.
Yet we must not judge the children of that time by standards of our own day. Their life was lived largely outdoors where they grew up like the trees of the ever present forest. Their daily experiences made them alert and self confident, and while they were behind the children of our time in school learning, they knew a thousand arts which the children of our later times have never heard of.
Life was hard, and the struggle for existence made them strong, hardy, and enterprising. Had those early pioneers been of a weaker fiber, the history of our country would never have been written in glory. But let us not forget that the pioneers were mostly men of deep piety, whose rugged strength was rooted in true faith and the fear of God. Let those who scoff at religion, remember that without it our country would never have become what it is today. The fear of God is not only the beginning of wisdom, but also the keynote to prosperity and a nation's success.
The brief New England summer passed much too quickly for our three friends, for whom summer time meant a long and pleasant vacation. As usual they made trips on horseback or on boat to the other Colonies, which were being planted in New England in ever greater number. In this way they widened their circle of acquaintances, and enjoyed many pleasant hours in company with other good New England youths.
Mr. Bradley, in view of the fact that the children had so successfully carried out their mission, excused them from all work, and gave them unlimited time in which to enjoy themselves to their hearts' content.
Yet they were not of the class of young people that wished to be idle, and they were heartily glad when the prospect of continuing their work at the Connecticut river trading post was discussed.
"Of course, we will go, Mr. Bradley," Fred said when the question was put to them.
"We have established friendship with the Indians; we speak their language, and our little Sunday school scholars are surely waiting for us," Matthew commented; "so why should we stay? We do not fear the Indians!"
Nevertheless, Mrs. Bradley was much alarmed at the report of Indian hostilities, and she objected to the trip in gentle but emphatic words.
"We must not send them," she urged, "until we have heard that the country is safe."
"You are right, darling," her husband assented after a while; "money does not mean much to me. The good Lord has blessed us abundantly, and while my fur business is falling off somewhat, my trade in general merchandise is increasing among the settlers."
So the matter was postponed, much to the dissatisfaction of the three children who would have left for Connecticut that very day, had not their parents restrained them.
"Wait, until we get news from Mr. Rawlins," Mr. Bradley finally suggested, and to this all agreed.
After a few days the Indian guide, who was in Mr. Bradley's service, arrived, and the letter was immediately read and discussed by the whole family at the dinner table.
The message was encouraging. While Mr. Rawthis reported that the Indians were becoming more surly from day to day, he also expressed the opinion that there was no immediate danger, since the settlements were well protected, and the militia was well armed for war. But what was better than all this, was that the Englishmen were trying to conciliate the Pequots and to win their good will.
"That decides the matter," said Fred gleefully; "we shall leave as soon as we can get ready."
"But you, Agnes, must stay at home this time," Mrs. Bradley affirmed; "I won't let you go. The boys might escape, if danger should arise, but how can you bear the hardships which follow an Indian War?"
"I must go along, Mrs. Bradley," Agnes pleaded; "why, how could the boys get along without me? Please, mother, let me go."
"No, Agnes," Mrs. Bradley objected; "we must not tempt God, and I would wish that also you boys would not go. It is safer here than in Connecticut."
"But, mother," Fred said; "there is no danger, and if we wait, until the world is a paradise of peace, we shall never accomplish anything at all in life."
The upshot was that Mrs. Bradley finally permitted Agnes to go, and she was happy at the thought.
When she was alone with Fred, she said to him, "Brother, your life is linked with mine, and I will never let you go alone. Where thou goest, I will go. United we will do what the good Lord will give us to do in this life."
Fred kissed his sister tenderly. "You are as true as gold," he said, "and I would miss you greatly if you would stay at home."
"There is no danger to fear," Agnes said; "the good Lord is everywhere, and we are in His hand. But I do not fear the Indians either; yes, I feel it to be my mission to conciliate and help them."
So after a few days when their preparations were completed, they left the safe and comfortable home to take the trail that led to the forests.
Their departure was somewhat delayed by the arrival of good PastorEliot, who came with his young wife to visit the Bradleys.
He was a pious and good man, and he discussed the proposition, which the children had in mind, with conscientious care.
"If we were living in England," he said, "I, no doubt, would dissuade the children from making so hazardous a trip. But since I have lived in America, I have learned many a lesson. Here the people are different. They are men and women, while in years they still are boys and girls. They think in terms which in old England only mature men and women use. They are not afraid of anything. The forest is their home. Hard work is their pleasure. Enterprises are the topic of their conversation. The spirit of adventure is bred into their hearts. What shall we say of this peculiar and heroic generation? May the Lord keep them in piety; otherwise, we, trusting in our strength, will perish."
"Your words are very true," Mrs. Bradley said; "but these children, thank God, are pious and unspoiled. They honor and respect their superiors; they are devout in their prayers and Bible studies; they care nothing for the sinful pleasures of the world; but I wish they would not go to dangerous Connecticut."
"We must entrust them to the Lord," said the good pastor; "perhaps some good will come out of this mission."
So after many a prayer and with many blessings, our three friends left their New England home, accompanied by an Indian guide and an Indian servant who had charge of the three pack horses.
"Hm," Fred muttered to himself, as he gazed around in wonder. "What is this?"
He immediately ran to the camp and called Matthew who was just rolling away the blankets in which they had slept.
"Look, what I have found!" he said to the boy. "It's an Indian arrow!"
"Where was it?" Matthew asked.
"It was driven tightly into a tree, right next to where the Indian guide slept."
"And where is the guide?" Matthew asked, growing pale.
"I don't know," said Fred while his lips trembled.
"Let us look for him," Matthew suggested.
"No, let us go back to the camp, and get ready to leave," said Agnes."This looks dangerous to me. Something is wrong."
The children had traveled for six days without having been molested by any one. It was late in August, and all nature seemed bathed in peace. They had not met a single Indian, but found the villages deserted. This had somewhat surprised them, yet as nothing happened, they had not attached to it any importance.
Only the guide had been suspicious. He was a Mohican, and a man of middle age, who was well acquainted with the ways of the Pequots whom he hated thoroughly.
The old Indian servant who had attended to the horses had observed nothing, and he was greatly surprised when he was informed that the guide was missing.
"I will look for him," he said.
"No, you quickly pack the horses and get things in readiness, whileAgnes and I will look for the guide. Matthew, you saddle the horses."
"Come, sister," Fred said, "let us investigate this mystery. Perhaps the guide has only gone after a rabbit, wishing to prepare us a dainty surprise for breakfast."
But Agnes shook her head. "It is not a Mohican arrow, but a Pequot one," she said. "It was driven into the tree by a warbow. See, how deeply it entered the tree! And how strong the flint is and how well preserved, in spite of its being driven into the hard wood. That arrow was sent to kill a man."
"We must not paint the devil on the wall," Fred said cheerfully; but suddenly he became pale, for at his feet the grass was crushed down, and two forms were lying on the ground covered with blood.
One was that of the guide, whose hand gripped the throat of his foe, a large and burly Pequot Indian.
The Pequot was dead, choked by the steel clasp of his enemy's hand. All around, the grass was trodden down, and the ground showed what a fierce struggle had been carried on in silence, while the rest slept in peace.
Suddenly Agnes bent over the form of the Mohican and pointed to a knife which his opponent had thrust into his back, to the heft.
"Ah," exclaimed Fred; "brave and good guide! I understand it all now. First the enemy shot the arrow and missed you, and then when you moved he fell on you from behind, and struck you with the knife. You, as a hero, without saying a word, rose and seized him by the throat, until he was dead. Brave Mohican!"
Tears gathered in the eyes of Agnes. "Oh, Fred," she whispered; "this is terrible. Let's go away."
"Sister," the boy said, "you must not talk that way; we will go away as soon as we can. But you have fear in your heart, and that is bad. Only courage and boldness will now by the grace of God save us. Be brave."
"Pardon me," Agnes stammered; "it was wrong of me to show fright. I will never do it again. God is with us, all is well."
"Thank you, dear sister," Fred said; "that makes it easier for me. And now let us bury our good guide."
Softly he touched the body, when suddenly the Indian moved. The wound in the back was serious, but the knife had not struck a vital organ. Only the loss of blood had been severe, as without flinching he held his foe in the death grip.
"The Mohican is alive!" Agnes exclaimed; "perhaps we can save his life."
Tenderly they lifted his body and laid it on the grass. The Mohican opened his eyes, but there was in them a glassy stare. Agnes rubbed his arms and patted his hair.
After a few moments a smile stole over the guide's face. He had recognized the girl.
"My good friend and brother," Fred spoke to him in the Mohican language; "I am so sorry. We thank you—-we thank you—-as the rain falls from the sky in summer. The pale face children are safe because of your valor. The Mohican fought like the brave warrior he always was. The men will sing of his bravery in the wigwam, and the women will tell his tale when the dusk falls. Never will be forgotten the brave Mohican guide who fought and conquered his foe in battle."
The Mohican tried to speak, but his tongue would not move. He grasped the lad's hand firmly.
Agnes bent over him. She remembered that he was a Christian. Her missionary heart overflowed with love for the guide's soul.
"Samowat," she tenderly pronounced his Indian name. "Samowat, friend of the white men, protector of the weak, brave and noble warrior that knows no fear, hear the voice of the little 'bird in the woods' that sings of Jesus. Samowat dies for his little friends that they might be safe. Jesus died for Samowat that he may be saved. Samowat, the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses you from all sin. Samowat, Jesus will come right away and take Samowat home to where happiness is. Samowat, hear my voice."
The Indian breathed heavily and he fought hard to speak. His native Mohican, pronounced with infinite tenderness by Agnes, had made a deep impression on him.
"Samowat," he stammered weakly, "has saved his little 'bird of the woods.' Samowat loves Jesus, and is not afraid to die."
For a moment he struggled in silence to gain strength for speech.
Fred poured some cold tea into his mouth which he sipped eagerly.
"It is well," he said after a few moments. "Samowat is going home to Jesus. But—-but little white warrior—-must go—-go—-north. Pequots on war path—-they south. Hurry, little paleface warrior. Kill horses—-go Indian fashion—-walk."
Fred bent over him for his voice was weak. Yet the Indian struggled bravely to finish his speech.
"He—-scout—-kill me. Pequots come soon. Flee."
These were his last words. Exhausted by the terrific loss of blood, his heart failed, and he died peacefully without even a trace of agony.
Agnes wept bitterly, as she pressed the guide's hand. Also Fred was overcome with emotion, and he bit his lips until the blood flowed.
"Sister," he said, "call Matthew and the Indian servant; we must bury the brave guide."
The task was assigned to the Indian servant, who alone knew how to bury him in a manner that would hide him from the curious and keen eyes of the Indians. The servant covered the graves with leaves and so skillfully did he conceal the resting place that not even Fred could see where it was.
"We must now kill the horses," the boy said when all was finished.
"But why kill the horses?" Agnes asked. "Why, we can cover more ground on horseback than on foot."
"We must leave the trail," Fred answered, "and in the woods they will betray us. Also on horseback the Indians can see us the better and shoot us before we know they are near."
"Let's not kill them now," Agnes pleaded. "Jenny is so true an animal.I can never see her die here."
"All right, sister," Fred assented; "we shall try to preserve their lives. Only I don't know how to get through the woods with them."
In obedience to the instructions of the dying Indian guide, Fred left the trail and pursued a northern route.
Traveling along the trail was bad, but finding away through the woods was impossible.
Fred realized this when the party had traveled for several hours through the dense forest. From the position of the sun he could tell what time of the day it was, yet he knew, too, that they had not covered more than a mile. There were creeks to cross, swamps to circumvent, fallen trees to avoid, and difficulties of all kinds.
At noon the three held a council and considered what to do.
"The guide was right in saying that we cannot travel through the woods on horseback," Fred began; "I fear we must get rid of the steeds."
"But how are we to walk through this mass of entanglement," Agnes asked."We certainly won't make headway without the horses."
"Agnes is right," Matthew ventured to say. "I don't know where we are going, but I do know that on foot we will not get anywhere. So let's keep the horses."
"I fear you are right," Fred meditated, "but I am sure the horses won't benefit us."
Suddenly Agnes exclaimed: "I know what we are going to do! We'll get back to the trail, and follow that to the next settlement. Samowat said that the Indians are south of us. Very well by this time they may be west of us, and we might escape them since we go east. Let's try it; at least then we know where we are going."
"I am in favor of it," Matthew replied; "if we are attacked, we can fight; but who is going to fight with conditions as we find them in this dense underbrush."
After some delay Fred gave in, and so the three adventurers turned the heads of their horses south, and after a few hours found the trail which they had left in the morning.
Quickly they pushed east, spurring on their horses who by this time were quite exhausted.
They traveled until dusk, and they were about to leave the trail and hide in the woods when suddenly Fred's steed neighed.
"What's the matter with you?" the boy reproved his horse. "You will never get any oats if you make such a noise like that."
To his great horror, however, the neighing was answered by another horse at some distance.
"It's time for us to hide!" Fred cried. "Away into the woods! TheIndians are coming."
Fortunately they found a deep ravine in the woods were they could conceal the horses.
"You stay here, till I come back," Fred said. "I will see who they are."
"I am coming along," Agnes ventured; "you cannot go alone on so perilous a mission."
"Stay back," the lad urged her; "this is a job for one man." But the girl would not listen, and so the two stole along the edge of the ravine hiding themselves as best they could.
Near the trail they climbed a huge tree from which they could look down conveniently.
In a short time they saw a horse, followed by several others. They were loaded heavily, and Fred saw at once that this was a troop of Indians carrying supplies.
In fact, he could not see a single warrior, for ugly women and children followed the train.
"The Indians are marching west," Fred whispered to his sister, "this is a troop of women and children. That means that the warriors are ahead of them. We are lucky to be informed of their movements, because we can now follow a definite course."
Agnes nodded, as she intently looked upon the passing horses and people. The women and children were in a jolly mood, and did not make any efforts to keep silence. For about half an hour the Indians were moving along the road.
Suddenly Agnes gave a start, and nimbly as a squirrel she slid down the huge tree, were she crept silently through the brush.
Soon Fred heard the hooting of an owl, and he perceived how at this cry one of the Indian girls, of the age of Agnes, detached herself from the crowd.
"It is time for me to join," he muttered to him self; "Sister cannot attend to that alone."
In a few moments he was near enough to hear what the girls were talking about. The girl was one of the Sunday school scholars whom Agnes had befriended by many acts of kindness.
"Pequots—-go—-west," she said to Agnes; "will go around big bend south and come back and take settlements. 'Little bird of the woods' go to big log house, and take boat and tell white men at Hartword. But quick, I must go."
In a few moment she was off, treading softly over the grass and joining the other Indians, as if nothing serious had happened.
At once Agnes stood by her brother's side.
"The path is clear, Fred," she breathed to "now for the horses; we are not far away from the trading post."
They reached the log house just as the sun was setting, but as they approached, Matthew emitted a cry of despair.
"The Indians have burned down the log house," he said sadly. "The smoke is still breaking through the woods."
Cautiously they made their way through the woods, and soon stood beside the remains of their log house, where during the previous year they had spent so many happy hours.
"What a pity," Agnes said; "so this is the fruit of war and hatred."Tears welled into her eyes.
"And our Sunday school classes have become our enemies, no doubt,"Matthew reflected; "all of love's labor is lost."
"War destroys, and peace builds up," Fred spoke calmly; "we must expect all this, and more. The end is not yet."
"What do you mean?" Agnes asked as she watched her brother's furrowed brow. "Do you expect trouble?"
"The Indians who burned this log house, are not far away," he whispered to her. "We must try to get to Hartford before they detect us."
"Let's talk it over quickly," Matthew suggested who in hours of danger was always impatient.
"Yes, let's do that," Agnes assented; "we'll hide our horses in the deep woods along the river. I know a fine place, where we may conceal ourselves."
"How about our boat?" Matthew asked. "Wouldn't it be better if we go to Hartford by way of the river?"
"Pst," Fred warned him, "you and Agnes are talking too loudly and excitedly. I am afraid that these woods have ears, as the Dutch say. Let's get away from here."
Fred was right. The children had not seen the Indians who, hidden behind the trees, observed every movement they made. So of this they were unaware, and in a moment they disappeared in the thick bush, drawing their horses after them.
The Indians did not disturb them, for they knew that they could not escape, though they were not many in number, since they constituted only a scouting party, left behind the main body which had moved west to come back from the south and thus surprise the white men.
As soon as the children had hidden their horses, they sought a small cave which they had discovered the year before, and here they held a council.
"First," said Fred, "let us kneel down in prayer; for if the Lord will not guide our thoughts, we shall never escape."
They prayed fervently, as people do who are in great trouble, and closed their devotion with a Lord's Prayer in unison.
"And now you wait here, till I return," Fred said; "but don't make any noise. I must find out whether our boat is still here."
He slipped away from them, carrying his rifle, but avoiding every possible noise.
"How clever Fred is!" Matthew said; "I wish I could be like him. But I fear I can never overcome my fright on expeditions such as these. I was not born to be a soldier."
Agnes smiled.
"The Lord has wisely not made all people alike," she said; "some He wants to be soldiers, other ministers, and others statesmen. Each has his peculiar gift. But oh, how I wish that I had been born a boy! I don't mind this at all."
Matthew looked at her with surprise.
"Aren't you, too, a bit afraid?" he asked her "It seems to me as if you really enjoyed this kind of frolic."
Agnes looked at him seriously. "Indeed," she said, "I do not, for I hate war. War is of Satan, and peace is of God. It is dreadful that People should kill each other, and this for the sake of money and gain. Had these Indians been treated kindly, they never would have gone on the war path. But the English traders deceived them, and the Dutch incited them to blooodshed. So here we are!"
"Itisa pity," Matthew said; "and what a fine Sunday school we had! The children could sing, and praise Jesus as well as the white people. There is no reason why they should not be true Christians, every one of them. It is the fault of the white men, as you say. I deeply regret that there are rascals who disgrace our religion."
Agnes did not answer. Her eyes were riveted to the entrance of the cave where she anxiously watched the fading light of day.
"It is getting to be night," she said, "and I am hungry as a bear. I wish Fred would come."
"I wonder where he can be," Matthew said wearily; "this business of waiting doesn't strike me as a very opportune thing just now. If I had my way, I would be running like a rabbit, until we were back at Boston. And never will I leave that place again! We did wrong in not obeying our parents."
Agnes looked at him reprovingly. "That does not solve our problems now," she ventured. "I, too, wish we were back, but we are here now, and we must make the best of it. But oh, if only Fred were here."
"Let's go and look for him," Matthew broke in.
"No," Agnes replied, "we must stay and wait. They also serve who only stand and wait."
Yet she also became tired as the moments crept on slowly and wearily. Darkness covered the cave, and she could hardly see the opening any more.
"Matthew," she whispered as she walked forward, "you remain here with the guns. I will go and look for Fred. It is dark now!"
In a moment she was gone, while Matthew almost wept for anguish of heart. Yet he had learned to obey both Fred and Agnes, though he was older than they. There was something indescribably firm in their voices and conduct which he never could understand, and often he himself wondered what made him stand in awe of them.
Just now he bitterly reproved himself for not having followed Agnes.
"She is a girl and you are a boy," he scolded himself; "but she is a heroine, and you are a coward. How could you let her go alone!"
He waited impatiently, but neither Agnes nor Fred returned.
Overcome with fear, he knelt down in prayer, for he was a very pious boy.
"Good Lord," he prayed, "help Fred and Agnes and me, and let us not perish in this wilderness. Show us a way to escape out of this trouble that we may praise Thy glorious name. Help us for Jesus' sake."
Then as the dreary hours passed slowly and monotonously, his strength gave way, and he soon was fast asleep.
How long Matthew slept, he could not tell, but suddenly he was awake, and some one was holding his hand over his mouth.
In the darkness the form seemed large and grotesque, and his first impulse was to cast aside the hand and to cry out.
But then he heard a soft voice spoken almost in a whisper, and he recognized Fred.
"Matthew," Fred whispered, "come to yourself; awake, and sit up. I have something to tell you. Where is Agnes?"
"She went away to look for you," Matthew replied; "she left a long, long time ago."
Fred could not suppress a painful cry.
"And she didn't come back?" he asked excitedly.
"No," Matthew muttered.
"Then she, too, was captured," Fred explained sorrowfully, "and she is in the hands of the Indians."
"Oh! Oh!" Matthew cried bursting into tears. "What have I done?"
"Be silent now," Fred warned him. "The Indians are following me. Let me briefly tell you how it all came about. I crept up to the place where the boat was hidden, but found it one. There was no noise, and so I thought I was safe. The boat might have slipped down into the stream. I stood up and looked, when suddenly the Indians seized me, tied me, muzzled me, and carried me off up the bank."
Matthew looked at him with dread written all over his face.
"Fred," he said, "you were captured?"
"Yes," the other replied, "I was, and those cowards at once took me into the woods, where quite a large band of Pequots were assembled."
"I thought there were only a few," Matthew interrupted him; "just a mere scouting party."
"There was originally," Fred continued, "but It seems as if they were joined by another scouting party, and there were even women with them. The Indians are shrewd and clever, much more than we white people think. While the main troop is going west, scouting parties are all over the woods, watching the movements of the whites, and killing off individuals or families as they find them. They are mopping up the woods, ridding them of the white foes. They are doing thorough work."
"But how did you escape?" Matthew asked.
"That wasn't hard," Fred answered; "as soon as they had taken me into the woods, I became very angry, and as well as I could I commanded them to remove the gag from my mouth. I spoke to them in the Pequot language, and this made an impression on them."
"How fortunate that we know that tongue!" Matthew exclaimed. "If I am caught, I know what to do."
"You never will be caught," Fred said emphatically; "I won't let you. If I hadn't been dreaming and forgetting the danger I was in, they never would have got me. But I learned a lesson."
"But tell me your story to the end," Matthew begged. "It is so interesting."
"Well," Fred started, "when they had removed the gag, I first fumed and scolded, much to their delight, for they kept on laughing as I rebuked them."
"I called them cowards who could do nothing else but seize little boys, and them unarmed. This amused them very much, and finally one after another stole away to the fire where the women were broiling large pieces of meat. Seeing that, I demanded food also, and at last an old squaw had pity on me and brought me a rich supply. Here is some of it; We may need it on our way. Lucky, that we have at least one musket! Mine the Indians took."
"But what then?" Matthew asked inquisitively. "How did you get away?"
"When the darkness fell over the camp," Fred related, "they simply lay down to sleep, after they had tied me to a tree. The Indian who attended to the work, must have liked me, for he took pains that the sinews were not strung too tightly. So what could I do? While they were sleeping, I cleared my hands, cut the bands, and slipped away from them. And look what I took along?"
He held up a large scalping knife.
"Where did you get that?" Matthew exclaimed in astonishment. "That knife will be very valuable to us."
"The scout was sleeping," Fred said, "though he was supposed to watch, and I crept up to him and removed it for safety's sake."
"You are quite a hero," Matthew praised him; "I could never be so brave as that."
"There was little bravery," Fred said contemptuously; "the Indians are not careful; they just began the war; later they will take more care of their prisoners. Now they still despise the whites."
"But what shall we do now?" Matthew asked. "We cannot stay here all night."
"That is true," Fred answered; "we must be going; but first let us thank the Lord for His goodness. Without Him we can do nothing. It is He who hitherto has helped us, and may He bring Agnes back to us."
After a brief pause in which both thanked the Lord, they departed, Fred carrying the musket, while Matthew held on to the knife.
Silently they crept up the high bank of the river through the deep brushwood, until they could see the Indian camp. But though they looked hard, the Indians were gone.
"What is the matter?" Matthew asked, as he looked at Fred with deep concern in his eyes. "I see no Indians."
"Lie low," Fred admonished him, "and follow me."
The boys crept on, but the Indians were gone, not a trace could be found of them.
"Perhaps it is a trap," Matthew commented; "we must be careful." Deeper and deeper they pierced the woods. Dawn came, and day light, and the boys were still walking, but not a trace of the Indians could be seen. They had disappeared completely.
"Well, if they don't bother us," Fred remarked, "we shall not bother them. We are angels of peace, and don't want war. So if they leave us alone, we are satisfied."
"I should say so," Matthew assented. "No war for me, if I can help it."
"Suppose we lie down here," Fred said after a while; "I am dead tired, and so are you. My head is spinning, and I cannot think clearly. 'He giveth His beloved sleep,' says the holy Word."
"You are right," Matthew responded; "nothing could be more welcome to me than a good bed at this time, though I am still hungry."
"If you are," Fred said, "have some more Indian meat; it is very good, although it is rather rare. But the Indians like it that way."
Matthew ate ravenously despite of the fact that the meat was only half done. But hunger is the best cook, as the proverb says, and he was not very fastidious. Anything would have tasted good to him just then.
"But don't eat it all," Fred admonished him; "we may need of it for dinner, though I hope that by that time we may have something better."
"I will mind your admonition," Matthew said smiling, as he plunged his teeth into the juicy bear meat.
Then they lay down and slept, as if they were at home and not in theIndian infested woods.
Yet they were safe, for the good Lord to whom they commended themselves before falling asleep, watched over them, better than they knew.
"Don't bother me," said Fred half awake; "it's not time for breakfast; just let me sleep a little more."
Matthew pinched his nose so that he could not breathe, and this broughtFred to his feet.
"Oh, I clean forgot!" he said laughing. "My, but that sleep was good!What time of the day is it anyway? We must have slept all day."
They looked to the sky, though the huge trees were much in their way, and noticed that the sun was far in the west.
"We are great heroes," Fred said laughing; "we sleep while the enemy is around us. Let us go."
The boys were in high spirits, and thanked God heartily for having preserved them so wonderfully.
"Who knows what was going on around us while we slept?" Matthew reflected. "Perhaps the Indians were in our vicinity, and we were shielded from their view. We have much to be grateful for."
"If only I knew where Agnes is!" Fred said; "she is a bright girl, and if they don't take better care of her than they did of me, I fear that she will escape them. She is as spry as a squirrel."
"We must find her," Matthew urged eagerly; "but where shall we go? I must confess that I am completely bewildered. Why, even that sun has turned. Before it was in the west, and now it is in the north. What's happening to me?"
"You need some more bear's meat," Fred said; "you are starved. So let us first eat and then think."
After eating a little of the meat, they found themselves wonderfully refreshed. A little brook furnished them a cool, welcome drink, and with renewed spirits they set forth on their trip. They walked all day and long after the sun had set, they were still groping in the dark.
"This will never do," Matthew finally said; "we are getting nowhere."
"You are right," Fred answered; "as long as the sun was shining, I knew the way, but now I am completely lost. We better lie down and sleep until it is day. Then we can see where we are."
They prayed still more fervently than they had done before, for their strength was exhausted and they were bewildered.
"If the Lord will not help us out of this," Matthew said, "we are completely lost."
"The greater the need, the nearer is God, indeed," Fred said; and after eating a little of the bear's meat, the boys lay down on the soft grass, creeping close to each other, for the nights were cool. They slept soundly until dawn, when Fred awoke and awakened his companion.
"Brother," he said; "listen, there are Indians in the neighborhood. I hear them. And now see, they are making a fire!"
The boys crept through the woods, and when they had reached the top of a low ridge, they saw the camp before them.
"It's the same band of Indians that burned down the log house," Fred suggested; "I recognize some of them."
"Then let's go, for it is not safe to be near them," Matthew urged. "I don't care to fall into their hands just now."
"The sun is rising," Fred said cheerfully, "and now we can again find our way through the woods. Here is the direction; we go east to the river."
They walked away swiftly, but they had not gone more than a few rods, when suddenly they saw two large dogs running after them.
"Shoot them," Matthew ordered his companion, "they look wild and hungry."
"Not by any means," Fred answered; "a shot in the woods will bring the whole Indian band on our tracks."
"But what shall we do?" Matthew asked.
"Run," Fred replied.
They ran as fast as they could, looking around occasionally to see whether they were followed by Indians, but only the dogs came after them, gaining a little more on them as the boys became weaker.
"I am through," Matthew finally said; "I cannot run any more."
"Neither can I," replied Fred; "but see, here is a hollow log; let us creep into it."
At once they remembered that this act was foolish, for the dogs, barking at their prey, would eventually attract the Indians. But they had no time to change their minds; they were dead tired, and no sooner had they slipped into the tree when the animals were upon them.
For a moment the boys were silent, while the dogs endeavored to follow them into the hollow log.
"Say, we are company enough," Fred muttered; "we don't need you in here.What shall I do, Matthew? Slip me the knife."
"If those dogs are as hungry, as I am," Matthew said, "a little bear's meat might do us good service."
"That's a great idea," Fred answered; "well, hand me some of what is left. It is unfit for us to eat anyway."
The plan worked out well. The dogs swallowed the pieces of meat greedily, and when Fred coaxed them with friendly words, spoken in Pequot, they wagged their tails and showed signs of conciliation.
Slowly Fred crawled out of the log, still feeding the hungry animals of the meat that remained.
Soon he had succeeded in winning their friendship, and when Matthew finally came out from the retreat, the dogs were completely won over.
Together they walked on, the dogs following them, as if they had been friends for many years.
"If we could only get rid of these beasts," Matthew sighed; "they will finally betray us."
"We'll give them the slip soon enough, just as we did to their masters,"Fred smiled; "wait."
The opportunity was soon granted them, for when suddenly a rabbit jumped out of the thicket, Fred sent them leaping after it, for he was well acquainted with the Indian way of hunting with dogs.
"Now we run straight forward, and the dogs will forget us and finally return to their masters."
They walked rapidly, and to their joy arrived after some time at the place where the log house had stood. While they had made no progress, they at least knew where they were, and could manage a way to reach Hartford.
"We must see whether our horses are still here," Fred said, as he hurried down the bank.
To his astonishment the horses were just coming out of the woods, feeding hungrily on the thick grass.
"Indians!" he muttered. But then he cried out with joy.
"Agnes!" he cried; "Agnes, you here?"
The girl, who had released the horses and was driving them out of their hiding place, smiled as she saw the boys.
"Brother," she said cheerfully, "Oh, what a surprise!" Then she fell around his neck and kissed him ardently.
"We must not stay," the girl said, as soon as she had greeted her brothers. "The Indians will surely come back, and we must reach the other side of the river. I am glad you are here. Oh, how good the Lord is! I prayed for your deliverance ever since I was captured, but did not believe that the good Lord would hear my prayers and grant my request so soon."
"What do you want to do?" asked Fred.
"Tie the horses together, and swim the river. There are no Indians on the other side, and we can make Hartford easily."
"How do you know that?" Matthew asked.
"Don't ask foolish questions," the girl pleaded; "help me get these horses roped together. Then I will leap into the river with the end of the rope tied to my saddle, and the horses must follow. You bring up the rear."
She was so resolute that the boys did not resist, but did her bidding.
"But where did you get that fine Indian pony?" Fred asked when the work was done.
"No questions, until we are on the other side," Agnes said; "that belonged to a Pequot chief once; now it is mine by right of spoils."
She mounted her pony and at once drove it into the stream; the other horses followed, urged on by the showers of blows which Fred and Matthew gave them. The crossing was dangerous, for the river was wide and the current swift. But after much struggling they got across and spurred their mounts up the bank.
"There is a trail that leads north," Agnes said; "let's find it. Loose the horses, and let me ride ahead."
"What a wonderful girl she is!" Matthew exclaimed; "she is a veritable leader."
Soon the boys heard the hooting of an owl, and they whipped their horses into a trot. Agnes had found the trail.
"Come now," she admonished them, "we must do some fast riding, until we are safe. Then I will tell you my story."
For two hours they rode in silence, Agnes taking the lead on her piebald pony which was a wonderful traveler in the woods, much more clever and docile than their own horses.
Sometimes the trail was hard to find, but the Indian pony followed his sense of smell and walked on and on.
"We are making good time, thanks to my pony," Agnes said jubilantly. "Come on with your steeds, gentlemen; don't mind it, if they are a little tired."
However, the horses were showing signs of fatigue, since they had not eaten for two days.
"Very well," Agnes said; "look!"
The river made a sweeping bend, and from the high bank they could see the fort.
"Hurrah!" Matthew cried; "how good it is to see the dwellings of white men."
"We shall rest now," Agnes suggested, "and allow the horses their meal. Look at my pony; isn't it a wonder? And it was gotten by just a little trick."
"Yes, tell us the story," Matthew begged.
"Not until the fire is burning, and the meat is cooking, and the horses are eating!" the girl said with a roguish smile.
Soon the log fire blazed brightly, and the horses were tied to ropes, enjoying the rest and the grazing abundantly.
"Where did you get that meat from?" Fred asked; "why, you have stacks of it."
"All Indian meat," the girl laughed; "spoils of war."
"Oh, tell us the story," Matthew asked again.
"Wait, until we are eating."
Afterwards, while they were sitting around the fire with the juicy meat stuck on bits of wood, and eating as if they had fasted for a week, Agnes told her story.
"You see," she began, "I ventured out very bravely, but I made the mistake which others made, and did not look out for the Indians."
"Your brother is guilty," Fred smiled; "the same fool head rests on us both. We are flesh of one flesh."
"Well," the girl went on; "the first thing I felt, were two arms around me, and then a band which pinned my hands together. A rude hand was thrust before my mouth, so that I could not cry out. The Indians then carried me up the bank, and brought me to the camp, where they quartered me with the women, quite comfortably, but nevertheless a prisoner."
"Just my story," Fred interposed, "only they did not trust me with the women."
"You don't belong there either," Agnes said; "they might have made you marry one of their number."
They all laughed while Fred shook his head.
"Never in my life," he affirmed.
"But where did the women come from?" Matthew queried. "I thought it was a scouting party, consisting only of men."
"That is true," Agnes explained; "but the scouting party was supplemented by other Indians from across the river. That is the reason why I urged you to cross the stream. The Indians are all over the other side, headed for the south where they are going to unite and attack the white men conjointly. I heard it all, for the women spoke about it, not knowing that I understood the Pequot language. It is always good to know many languages."
"That is true," Matthew agreed; "and if we get out of this, I am going to study all kinds of languages, until I am a regular Babel. That's the way."
"Go on with your story, Agnes," Fred urged her; "you just finished chapter one, and I am anxious to hear the rest. The reader is always looking for the climax."
"There is no climax to my story," Agnes smiled; "it is all the wonderful grace of God which freed me. You know, the women were very impolite. After I had been lying in the tent for some time, trying in vain to sleep, for the bands were cutting into my flesh and causing me much discomfiture, the women all left the tent and went out where a huge fire was burning and the men were eating. In fact, the men had eaten, for they were as impolite to their women, as these were to me. Well, the women went out to eat, and I thought that I ought to have some meat, too."
"So you stole away and got some," Fred interrupted. "That is just the way I acted."
"No, I did not," Agnes replied; "I was too firmly bound for getting away. But while I was thus lying in the tent, feeling miserable, suddenly a young Indian girl came in, who addressed me in the Pequot language. Talk about Indian ingratitude! When the war is over; I am going to locate right here, and start a huge Indian school, and invite them all to Sunday school every Sunday. Why, it pays wonderfully to teach the Indians religion!"
"That is what I believe," Matthew joined in; "I am going to be an Indian missionary like the good Pastor John Eliot. We must not destroy the Indians, but save them."
"That is true," Fred joined in; "and in order that you two missionaries may continue your work and not starve, I am going to build up the trading post again, and you shall be my guests as long as you live, and whatever expenses you have, I will repay."
"We shall hold you to your promise," Agnes replied, "shall we not,Matthew?"
"Not one word shall he have spoken in vain," Matthew said. "He must pay every cent. But now continue with your story."
"This good Indian girl," Agnes said, "had attended our Sunday school, and she was very grateful. Silently she cut my fetters and freed me. Then she told me to escape. It was not yet quite light, and so no one noticed me, as I lifted the rear part of the tent and crept through. But that was not all. My dear benefactress led me herself, and in order that I might not starve, she showed me the Indian kitchen, where large supplies of meat were kept, smoked sufficiently to keep it from spoiling. After I had taken all I could carry, she showed me where the horses were, and urged me to take the one belonging to the chief, since it was clever and gentle. At first I had compunctions of conscience, but no choice was left me, and I had to do it. I made a rude bridle of birch bark, and jumping on the horse, came here just a little before you."
"But what about the Indians?" the boys asked; "where did they go?"
"The girl told me," Agnes replied; "they were on their way west to join the other Indians, having received orders to come as soon as possible."
"Then we would have been safe on the other side!" Matthew stated."Why was it necessary for us to cross? I am all wet from the task."
"There are many stray Indians on the other side," Agnes replied; "but, no doubt, they will soon be gone; the whites are gathering their forces together, and then they will strike a speedy blow. But now we had better move on."
They tied the horses together, and after a while found a place where they could cross the river. They arrived safely, much to the surprise of the settlers who had gathered at the fort, which was filled to its capacity so that the stockade had to be enlarged to accommodate the fleeing settlers that left their homes in haste when they heard of the hostilities of the Indians.
A number of outrages had been perpetrated already, and the pioneers were lashed into fury over the horrid tales which were related.
Our three friends were received with open arms; no one manifested greater surprise than John Rawlins, who had gotten as far as Hartford, where he was confined to his bed by a severe attack of rheumatism, which made him as helpless as a child. He had now recovered sufficiently to limp about, but he was still in a bad shape so that he could not be of much service to any one.
"Your presence here will make me well in a short time," he exclaimed joyfully as he embraced the children. "And I am sure you have a real story to tell."
But how great was his surprise when he learned from the children the war plan of the Indians. Why, that is real news, for which we have been looking all this while. We were all interested in what the Indians would do. Tomorrow you must go to good Captain Mason and relate to him what you know. That will greatly help him in freeing the country from the Indian pest.
"Yes, tomorrow," said Agnes; "for tonight we are too tired, and the matter does not press."
For the first time after a long, long trip they slept as white men do, in real beds, protected by American soldiers.