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diff --git a/old/13077-0.txt b/old/13077-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..01092f4 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13077-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11750 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wild Western Scenes, by John Beauchamp Jones + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Wild Western Scenes + A Narrative Of Adventures In The Western Wilderness, Wherein The + Exploits Of Daniel Boone, The Great American Pioneer Are + Particularly Described + + +Author: John Beauchamp Jones + +Release Date: August 1, 2004 [EBook #13077] +Last updated: January 29, 2020 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILD WESTERN SCENES *** + + + + +Produced by Curtis Weyant, the Online Distributed Proofreading Team +and The Making of America Project + +[Illustration] + + + + +WILD WESTERN SCENES: + +A NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURES IN THE WESTERN WILDERNESS, + +WHEREIN + +THE EXPLOITS OF DANIEL BOONE, THE GREAT AMERICAN PIONEER ARE +PARTICULARLY DESCRIBED + +ALSO, + + +ACCOUNTS OF BEAR, DEER, AND BUFFALO HUNTS—DESPERATE CONFLICTS WITH THE +SAVAGES—WOLF HUNTS—FISHING AND FOWLING ADVENTURES—ENCOUNTERS WITH +SERPENTS, ETC. + + +New Stereotype Edition, Altered, Revised, and Corrected + +By + +J.B. JONES. + +Author of "The War Path," "Adventures of a Country Merchant," etc. +Illustrated with Sixteen Engravings from Original Designs +Philadelphia: + +J.B. Lippincott & Co. +1875 + +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by J.B. Jones, +in the Clerk's Office of the District Court +for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. +Stereotyped By L. Johnson & Co., +Philadelphia. + + +PREFACE. + + +When a work of fiction has reached its fortieth edition, one would +suppose the author might congratulate himself upon having contributed +something of an imperishable character to the literature of the +country. But no such pretensions are asserted for this production, now +in its fortieth thousand. Being the first essay of an impetuous youth +in a field where giants even have not always successfully contended, it +would be a rash assumption to suppose it could receive from those who +confer such honors any high award of merit. It has been before the +public some fifteen years, and has never been reviewed. Perhaps the +forbearance of those who wield the cerebral scalpels may not be further +prolonged, and the book remains amenable to the judgment they may be +pleased to pronounce. + +To that portion of the public who have read with approbation so many +thousands of his book, the author may speak with greater confidence. To +this class of his friends he may make disclosures and confessions +pertaining to the secret history of the “Wild Western Scenes,” without +the hazard of incurring their displeasure. + +Like the hero of his book, the author had his vicissitudes in boyhood, +and committed such indiscretions as were incident to one of his years +and circumstances, but nevertheless only such as might be readily +pardoned by the charitable. Like Glenn, he submitted to a voluntary +exile in the wilds of Missouri. Hence the description of scenery is a +true picture, and several characters in the scenes were real persons. +Many of the occurrences actually transpired in his presence, or had +been enacted in the vicinity at no remote period; and the dream of the +hero—his visit to the haunted island—was truly a dream of the author’s. + +But the worst miseries of the author were felt when his work was +completed; he could get no publisher to examine it. He then purchased +an interest in a weekly newspaper, in the columns of which it appeared +in consecutive chapters. The subscribers were pleased with it, and +desired to possess it in a volume; but still no publisher would +undertake it,—the author had no reputation in the literary world. He +offered it for fifty dollars, but could find no purchaser at any price. +Believing the British booksellers more accommodating, a friend was +employed to make a fair copy in manuscript, at a certain number of +cents per hundred words. The work was sent to a British publisher, with +whom it remained many months, but was returned, accompanied by a note +declining to treat for it. + +Undeterred by the rebuffs of two worlds, the author had his cherished +production published on his own account, and was remunerated by the +sale of the whole edition. After the tardy sale of several subsequent +editions by houses of limited influence, the book had the good fortune, +finally, to fall into the hands of the gigantic establishment whose +imprint is now upon its title-page. And now, the author is informed, it +is regularly and liberally ordered by the London booksellers, and is +sold with an increasing rapidity in almost every section of the Union. + +Such are the hazards, the miseries, and sometimes the rewards, of +authorship. + +J.B.J. + +Burlington, N.J., _March_, 1856. + + +CONTENTS. + +CHAPTER I. + +Glenn and Joe—Their horses—A storm—A black stump—A rough +tumble—Moaning—Stars—Light—A log fire—Tents, and something to +eat—Another stranger, who turns out to be well known—Joe has a snack—He +studies revenge against the black stump—Boone proposes a bear hunt. + +CHAPTER II. + +Boone hunts the bear—Hounds and terriers—Sneak Punk, the +hatchet-face—Another stump—The high passes—The bear roused—The chase—A +sight—A shot—A wound—Not yet killed—His meditations—His friend, the +bear—The bear retreats—Joe takes courage—Joe fires—Immense +execution—Sneak—The last struggle—Desperation of the bear—His +death—Sneak’s puppies—Joe. + +CHAPTER III. + +Glenn’s castle—Mary—Books—A hunt—Joe and Pete—A tumble—An opossum—A +shot—Another tumble—A doe—The return—They set out again—A mound—A +buffalo—An encounter—Night—Terrific +spectacle—Escape—Boone—Sneak—Indians. + +CHAPTER IV. + +The retreat—Joe makes a mysterious discovery—Mary—A +disclosure—Supper—Sleep—A cat—Joe’s flint—The watch—Mary—The bush—The +attack—Joe’s musket again—The repulse—The starting rally—The desperate +alternative—Relief. + +CHAPTER V. + +A strange excursion—A fairy scene—Joe is puzzled and frightened—A +wonderful discovery—Navigation of the upper regions—A crash—No bones +broken. + +CHAPTER VI. + +A hunt—A deer taken—The hounds—Joe makes a horrid discovery—Sneak—The +exhumation. + +CHAPTER VII. + +Boone—The interment—Startling intelligence—Indians about—A +skunk—Thrilling fears—Boone’s device. + +CHAPTER VIII. + +Night—Sagacity of the hounds—Reflection—The sneaking savages—Joe’s +disaster—The approach of the foe under the snow—The silent watch. + +CHAPTER IX. + +Sneak kills a sow that “was not all a swine”—The breathless +suspense—The match in readiness—Joe’s cool demeanour—The match +ignited—Explosion of the mine—Defeat of the savages—The captive—His +liberation—The repose—The kitten—Morning. + +CHAPTER X. + +The dead removed—The wolves on the river—The wolf hunt—Gum fetid—Joe’s +incredulity—His conviction—His surprise—His predicament—His narrow +escape. + +CHAPTER XI. + +Mary—Her meditations—Her capture—Her sad condition—Her mental +sufferings—Her escape—Her recapture. + +CHAPTER XII. + +Joe’s indisposition—His cure—Sneak’s reformation—The pursuit—The +captive Indian—Approach to the encampment of the savages—Joe’s illness +again—The surprise—The terrific encounter—Rescue of Mary—Capture of the +young chief—The return. + +CHAPTER XIII. + +The return—The young chief in confinement—Joe’s fun—His reward—The +ring—A discovery—William’s recognition—Memories of childhood—A +scene—Roughgrove’s history—The children’s parentage. + +CHAPTER XIV. + +William’s illness—Sneak’s strange house—Joe’s courage—The bee hunt—Joe +and sneak captured by the Indians—Their sad condition—Preparations to +burn them alive—Their miraculous escape. + +CHAPTER XV. + +Glenn’s History. + +CHAPTER XVI. + +Balmy Spring—Joe’s curious dream—He prepares to catch a +fish—Glenn—William and Mary—Joe’s sudden and strange +appearance—La-u-na, the trembling fawn—The fishing sport—The ducking +frolic—Sneak and the panther. + +CHAPTER XVII. + +The bright morning—Sneak’s visit—Glenn’s heart—The snake hunt—Love and +raspberries—Joe is bitten—His terror and sufferings—Arrival of +Boone—Joe’s abrupt recovery—Preparations to leave the West—Conclusion. + + + +WILD WESTERN SCENES: A NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURES. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +Glenn and Joe—Their horses—A storm—A black stump—A rough +tumble—Moaning—Stars—Light—A log fire—Tents, and something to +eat—Another stranger, who turns out to be well known—Joe has a snack—He +studies revenge against the black stump—Boone proposes a bear hunt. + + +“Do you see any light yet, Joe?” + +“Not the least speck that ever was created, except the lightning, and +it’s gone before I can turn my head to look at it.” + +The interrogator, Charles Glenn, reclined musingly in a two-horse +wagon, the canvas covering of which served in some measure to protect +him from the wind and rain. His servant, Joe Beck, was perched upon one +of the horses, his shoulders screwed under the scanty folds of an +oil-cloth cape, and his knees drawn nearly up to the pommel of the +saddle, to avoid the thumping bushes and briers that occasionally +assailed him, as the team plunged along in a stumbling pace. Their +pathway, or rather their direction, for there was no beaten road, lay +along the northern bank of the “Mad Missouri,” some two hundred miles +above the St. Louis settlement. It was at a time when there were no +white men in those regions save a few trappers, traders, and emigrants, +and each new sojourner found it convenient to carry with him a means of +shelter, as houses of any description were but few and far between. + +Our travellers had been told in the morning, when setting out from a +temporary village which consisted of a few families of emigrants, with +whom they had sojourned the preceding night, that they could attain the +desired point by making the river their guide, should they be at a loss +to distinguish the faintly-marked pathway that led in a more direct +course to the place of destination. The storm coming up suddenly from +the north, and showers of hail accompanying the gusts, caused the poor +driver to incline his face to the left, to avoid the peltings that +assailed him so frequently; and the drenched horses, similarly +influenced, had unconsciously departed far from the right line of +march; and now, rather than turn his front again to the pitiless blast, +which could be the only means of regaining the road, Joe preferred +diverging still farther, until he should find himself on the margin of +the river, by which time he hoped the storm would abate. At all events, +he thought there would be more safety on the beach, which extended out +a hundred paces from the water, among the small switches of cotton-wood +that grew thereon, than in the midst of the tall trees of the forest, +where a heavy branch was every now and then torn off by the wind, and +thrown to the earth with a terrible crash. Occasionally a deafening +explosion of thunder would burst overhead; and Joe, prostrating himself +on the neck of his horse, would, with his eyes closed and his teeth +set, bear it out in silence. He spoke not, save to give an occasional +word of command to his team, or a brief reply to a question from his +master. + +It was an odd spectacle to see such a vehicle trudging along at such an +hour, where no carriage had ever passed before. The two young men were +odd characters; the horses were oddly matched, one being a little dumpy +black pony, and the other a noble white steed; and it was an odd whim +which induced Glenn to abandon his comfortable home in Philadelphia, +and traverse such inclement wilds. But love can play the “_wild_” with +any young man. Yet we will not spoil our narrative by introducing any +of it here. Nor could it have been love that induced Joe to share his +master’s freaks; but rather a rare penchant for the miraculous +adventures to be enjoyed in the western wilderness, and the gold which +his master often showered upon him with a reckless hand. Joe’s +forefathers were from the Isle of Erin, and although he had lost the +brogue, he still retained some of their superstitions. + +The wind continued to blow, the wolves howled, the lightning flashed, +and the thunder rolled. Ere long the little black pony snorted aloud +and paused abruptly. + +“What ails you, Pete?” said Joe from his lofty position on the steed, +addressing his favourite little pet. “Get along,” he continued, +striking the animal gently with his whip. But Pete was as immovable and +unconscious of the lash as would have been a stone. And the steed +seemed likewise to be infected with the pony’s stubbornness, after the +wagon was brought to a pause. + +“Why have you stopped, Joe?” inquired Glen. + +“I don’t hardly know, sir; but the stupid horses won’t budge an inch +farther!” + +“Very well; we can remain here till morning. Take the harness off, and +give them the corn in the box; we can sleep in the wagon till +daylight.” + +“But we have no food for ourselves, sir; and I’m vastly hungry. It +can’t be much farther to the ferry,” continued Joe, vexed at the +conduct of the horses. + +“Very well; do as you like; drive on, if you desire to do so,” said +Glenn. + +“Get along, you stupid creatures!” cried Joe, applying the lash with +some violence. But the horses regarded him no more than blocks would +have done. Immediately in front he perceived a dark object that +resembled a stump and turning the horses slightly to one side, +endeavoured to urge them past it. Still they would not go, but +continued to regard the object mentioned with dread, which was +manifested by sundry restless pawings and unaccustomed snorts. Joe +resolved to ascertain the cause of their alarm, and springing to the +ground, moved cautiously in the direction of the dark obstruction, +which still seemed to be a blackened stump, about his own height, and a +very trifling obstacle, in his opinion, to arrest the progress of his +redoubtable team. The darkness was intense, yet he managed to keep his +eyes on the dim outlines of the object as he stealthily approached And +he stepped as noiselessly as possible, notwithstanding he meditated an +encounter with nothing more than an inanimate object. But his +imagination was always on the alert, and as he often feared dangers +that arose undefinable and indescribable in his mind, it was not +without some trepidation that he had separated himself from the horses +and groped his way toward the object that had so much terrified his +pony. He paused within a few feet of the object, and waited for the +next flash of lightning to scrutinize the thing more closely before +putting his hand upon it. But no flash came, and he grew tired of +standing. He stooped down, so as to bring the upper portion of it in a +line with the sky beyond, but still he could not make it out. He +ventured still nearer, and stared at it long and steadily, but to no +avail: the black mass only was before him, seemingly inanimate, and of +a deeper hue than the darkness around. + +[Illustration: A dark encounter.] + + +“I’ve a notion to try my whip on you,” said he, thinking if it should +be a human being it would doubtless make a movement. He started back +with a momentary conviction that he heard a rush creak under its feet. +But as it still maintained its position, he soon concluded the noise to +have been only imaginary, and venturing quite close gave it a smart +blow with his whip. Instantaneously poor Joe was rolling on the earth, +almost insensible, and the dark object disappeared rushing through the +bushes into the woods. The noise attracted Glenn, who now approached +the scene, and with no little surprise found his servant lying on his +face. + +“What’s the matter, Joe?” demanded he. + +“Oh, St. Peter! O preserve me!” exclaimed Joe. + +“What has happened? Why do you lie there?” + +“Oh, I’m almost killed! Didn’t you see him?” + +“See what? I can see nothing this dark night but the flying clouds and +yonder yellow sheet of water.” + +“Oh, I’ve been struck!” said Joe, groaning piteously. + +“Struck by what? Has the lightning struck you?” + +“No—no! my head is all smashed up—it was a bear.” + +“Pshaw! get up, and either drive on, or feed the horses,” said Glenn +with some impatience. + +“I call all the saints to witness that it was a wild bear—a great wild +bear! I thought it was a stump, but just as I struck it a flash of +lightning revealed to my eyes a big black bear standing on his hind +feet, grinning at me, and he gave me a blow on the side of the face, +which has entirely blinded my left eye, and set my ears to ringing like +a thousand bells. Just feel the blood on my face.” + +Glenn actually felt something which might be blood, and really had +thought he could distinguish the stump himself when the wagon halted; +yet he did not believe that Joe had received the hurt in any other +manner than by striking his face against some hard substance which he +could not avoid in the darkness. + +“You only fancy it was a bear, Joe; so come along back to the horses +and drive on. The rain has ceased, and the stars are appearing.” Saying +this, Glenn led the way to the wagon. + +“I’d be willing to swear on the altar that it was a huge bear, and +nothing else!” replied Joe, as he mounted and drove on, the horses now +evincing no reluctance to proceed. One after another the stars came out +and shone in purest brightness as the mists swept away, and ere long +the whole canopy of blue was gemmed with twinkling brilliants. The +winds soon lulled, and the dense forest on the right reposed from the +moaning gale which had disturbed it a short time before; and the waves +that had been tossed into foaming ridges now spent their fury on the +beach, each lashing the bank more gently than the last, until the power +of the gliding current swept them all down the turbid stream. Soon the +space between the water and the forest gradually diminished, and seemed +to join at a point not far ahead. Joe observed this with some concern, +being aware that to meander among the trees at such an hour was +impossible. He therefore inclined toward the river, resolved to defer +his re-entrance into the forest as long as possible. As he drove on he +kept up a continual groaning, with his head hung to one side, as if +suffering with the toothache, and occasionally reproaching Pete with +some petulance, as if a portion of the blame attached to his sagacious +pony. + +“Why do you keep up such a howling, Joe? Do you really suffer much +pain?” inquired Glenn, annoyed by his man’s lamentations. + +“It don’t hurt as bad as it did—but then to think that I was such a +fool as to go right into the beast’s clutches, when even Pete had more +sense!” + +“If it was actually a bear, Joe, you can boast of the thrilling +encounter hereafter,” said Glenn, in a joking and partly consoling +manner. + +“But if I have many more such, I fear I shall never get back to relate +them. My face is all swelled—Huzza! yonder is a light, at last! It’s on +this side of the river, and if we can’t get over the ferry to-night, we +shall have something to eat on this side, at all events. Ha! ha! ha! I +see a living man moving before the fire, as if he were roasting meat.” +Joe forgot his wound in the joy of an anticipated supper, and whipping +the horses into a brisk pace, they soon drew near the encampment, where +they discovered numerous persons, male and female, who had been +prevented from crossing the river that day, in consequence of the +violence of the storm, and had raised their tents at the edge of the +woods, preferring to repose thus until the following morning than to +venture into the frail ferry-boat while the waves yet ran so high. + +There was no habitation in the immediate vicinity, save a rude hovel +occupied by Jasper Roughgrove and his ferrymen, which was on the +opposite shore in a narrow valley that cleft asunder the otherwise +uniform cliff of rocks. + +The creaking of the wheels, when the vehicle approached within a few +hundred paces of the encampment, attracted the watch-dogs, and their +fierce and continued barking drew the attention of the emigrants in the +direction indicated. Several men with guns in their hands came out to +meet the young travellers. + +“We are white men, friends, strangers, lost, benighted, and hungry!” +exclaimed Joe, stopping the horses, and addressing the men before he +was accosted. + +“Come on, then, and eat and rest with us,” said they, amused at Joe’s +exclamations, and leading the way to the encampment. + +When they arrived at the edge of the camp, Glenn dismounted from the +wagon, and directing Joe to follow when he had taken care of the +horses, drew near the huge log fire in company with those who had gone +out to meet him. Several tall and spreading elms towered in majesty +above, and their clustering leaves, yet partially green, +notwithstanding the autumn was midway advanced, were beautifully tinged +by the bright light thrown upward from the glaring flames. The view on +one side was lost in the dark labyrinth of the moss-grown trunks of the +forest. On the other swept the turbid river, bearing downward in its +rapid current severed branches, and even whole trees, that had been +swept away by the continual falling in of the river bank, for the sandy +soil was always subject to the undermining of tho impetuous stream. A +circle of tents was formed round the fire, constructed of thin poles +bent in the shape of an arch, and the ends planted firmly in the earth. +These were covered with buffalo skins, which would effectually shield +the inmates from the rain; and quantities of leaves, after being +carefully dried before the fire, were placed on the ground within, over +which were spread buffalo robes with the hair uppermost, and thus in a +brief space was completed temporary but not uncomfortable places of +repose. The ends of the tents nearest to the fire were open, to admit +the heat and a portion of light, that those who desired it might retire +during their repast, or engage in pious meditation undisturbed by the +more clamorous portion of the company. + +Glenn paused when within the circle, and looked with some degree of +interest on the admirable arrangement of those independent and hardy +people. A majority of the emigrants were seated on logs brought thither +for that purpose, and feasting quietly from several large pans and +well-filled camp-kettles, which were set out for all in common. They +motioned Glenn to partake with them; and although many curious looks +were directed toward him, yet he was not annoyed by questions while +eating. Joe came in, and following the example of the rest, played his +part to perfection, without complaining once of his wound. + +The feast was just finished, when the dogs again set up a furious +yelping, and ran into the forest. But they returned very quickly, some +of them whining with the hurts received from the strangers they +encountered so roughly; and presently they were followed by several +enormous hounds, and soon after an athletic woodsman was seen +approaching. This personage was a tall muscular man, past the middle +age, but agile and vigorous in all his motions. He was habited in a +buck-skin hunting-shirt, and wore leggins of the same material. +Although he was armed with a long knife and heavy rifle, and the +expression of his brow and chin indicated an unusual degree of firmness +and determination, yet there was an openness and blandness in the +expression of his features which won the confidence of the beholder, +and instantly dispelled every apprehension of violence. All of the +emigrants had either seen or heard of him before, for his name was not +only repeated by every tongue in the territory, but was familiar in +every State in the Union, and not unknown in many parts of Europe. He +was instantly recognised by the emigrants, and crowding round, they +gave him a hearty welcome. They led him to a conspicuous seat, and +forming a circle about him, were eager to catch every word that might +escape his lips, and relied with implicit confidence on every species +of information he imparted respecting the dangers and advantages of the +locations they were about to visit. Boone had settled some three miles +distant from the ferry, among the hills, where his people were engaged +in the manufacture of salt. He had selected this place of abode long +before the general tide of emigration had reached so far up the +Missouri. It was said that he pitched his tent among the barren hills +as a security against the intrusion of other men, who, being swayed by +a love of wealth, would naturally seek their homes in the rich level +prairies. It is true that Boone loved to dwell in solitude. But he was +no misanthrope. And now, although questions were asked without number, +he answered them with cheerfulness; advised the families what would be +necessary to be done when their locations were selected, and even +pressingly invited them to remain in his settlement a few days to +recover from the fatigue of travel, and promised to accompany them +afterward over the river into the rich plains to which they were +journeying. + +During the brisk conversation that had been kept up for a great length +of time, Glenn, unlike the rest of the company, sat at a distance and +maintained a strict silence. Occasionally, as some of the extraordinary +feats related of the person before him occurred to his memory, he +turned his eyes in the direction of the great pioneer, and at each time +observed the gaze of the woodsman fixed upon him. Nevertheless his +habitual listlessness was not disturbed, and he pursued his peculiar +train of reflections. Joe likewise treated the presence of the renowned +Indian fighter with apparent unconcern, and being alone in his glory, +dived the deeper into the saucepan. + +Boone at length advanced to where Glenn was sitting, and after scanning +his pale features, and his costly though not exquisitely-fashioned +habiliments, thus addressed him:— + +“Young man, may I inquire what brings thee to these wilds?” + +“I am a freeman,” replied Glenn, somewhat haughtily, “and may be +influenced by that which brings other men hither.” + +“Nay, young man, excuse the freedom which all expect to exercise in +this comparative wilderness; but I am very sure there is not another +emigrant on this side of the Ohio who has been actuated by the same +motives that brought thee hither. Others come to fell the forest oak, +and till the soil of the prairie, that they may prepare a heritage for +their children; but thy soft hands and slender limbs are unequal to the +task; nor dost thou seem to have felt the want of this world’s goods; +and thou bringest no family to provide for. Thou hast committed that +which banished thee from society, or found in society that which +disgusted thee—speak, which of these?” said Boone, in accents, though +not positively commanding, yet they produced a sense of reverence that +subdued the rising indignation of Glenn, and looking upon the +interrogator as the acknowledged host of the eternal wilds, and himself +as a mere guest, who might be required to produce his testimonials of +worthiness to associate with nature’s most honest of men, he replied +with calmness, though with subdued emotion— + +“You are right, sir—it was the latter. I had heard that you were happy +in the solitude of the mountain-shaded valley, or on the interminable +prairies that greet the horizon in the distance, where neither the +derision of the proud, the malice of the envious, nor the deceptions of +pretended love and friendship, could disturb your peaceful meditations: +and from amid the wreck of certain hopes, which I once thought no +circumstances could destroy, I rose with a determined though saddened +heart, and solemnly vowed to seek such a wilderness, where I could pass +a certain number of my days engaging in the pursuits that might be most +congenial to my disposition. Already I imagine I experience the happy +effects of my resolution. Here the whispers of vituperating foes cannot +injure, nor the smiles of those fondly cherished deceive.” + +“Your hand, young man,” said Boone, with an earnestness which convinced +Glenn that his tale was not imprudently divulged. + +“Ho! what’s the matter with _you_?” Boone continued, turning to Joe, +who had just arisen from his supper, and was stretching back his +shoulders. + +“I got a licking from a bear to-night—but I don’t mind it much since +I’ve had a snack. But if ever I come across him in the daytime, I’ll +show him a thing or two,” said Joe, with his fists doubled up. + +“Pshaw! do you still entertain the ridiculous belief that it was really +a bear you encountered?” inquired Glenn, with an incredulous smile. + +“I’ll swear to it!” replied Joe. + +“Let me see your face,” remarked Boone, turning him to where there was +more light. + +“Hollo! don’t squeeze it so hard!” cried Joe, as Boone removed some of +the coagulated blood that remained or the surface. + +“There is no doubt about it—it was a bear, most certainly,” said Boone; +and examining the wound more closely, continued: “Here are the marks of +his claws, plain enough: he might easily be captured to-morrow. Who +will hunt him with me?” + +“I will!” burst from the lips of nearly every one present. + +“Huzza—revenge! I’ll have revenge, huzza!” cried Joe, throwing round +his hat. + +“You will join us?” inquired Boone, turning to Glenn. + +“Yes,” replied Glenn; “I came hither provided with the implements to +hunt; and as such is to be principally my occupation during my sojourn +in this region, I could not desire a more happy opportunity than the +present to make a beginning. And as it is my intention to settle near +the ferry on the opposite shore, I am pleased to find that I shall not +be far from one whose acquaintance I hoped to make, above all others.” + +“And you may not find me reluctant to cultivate a social intercourse, +notwithstanding men think me a crabbed old misanthrope,” replied Boone, +pressing the extended hand of Glenn. They then separated for the night, +retiring to the tents that had been provided for them. + +It was not long before a comparative silence pervaded the scene. The +fierce yelpings of the watch-dogs gradually ceased, and the howling +wolf was but indistinctly heard in the distance. The katydid and +whippoorwill still sang at intervals, and these sounds, as well as the +occasional whirlpool that could be heard rising on the surface of the +gliding stream, had a soothing influence, and lulled to slumber the +wandering mortals who now reclined under the forest trees, far from the +homes of their childhood and the graves of their kindred. Glenn gazed +from his couch through the branches above at the calm, blue sky, +resplendent with twinkling stars; and if a sad reflection, that he thus +lay, a lonely being, a thousand miles from those who had been most dear +to him, dimmed his eye for an instant with a tear, he still felt a +consciousness of innocence within, and resolving to execute his vow in +every particular, he too was soon steeped in undisturbed slumber. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +Boone hunts the bear—Hounds and terriers—Sneak Punk, the +Hatchet-face—Another stump—The high passes—The bear roused—The chase—A +sight—A shot—A wound—Joe—His meditations—His friend, the bear—The bear +retreats—Joe takes courage—He fires—Immense execution—Sneak—The last +struggle—Desperation of the bear—His death—Sneak’s puppies—Joe. + + +By the time the first streaks of gray twilight marked the eastern +horizon, Boone, at the head of the party of hunters, set out from the +encampment and proceeded down the river in the direction of the place +where Joe had been so roughly handled by Bruin. All, with the exception +of Glenn and his man, being accustomed to much walking, were on foot. +Glenn rode his white steed, and Joe was mounted on his little black +pony. The large hounds belonging to Boone, and the curs, spaniels, and +terriers of the emigrants were all taken along. As they proceeded down +the river, Boone proposed the plan of operations which was to guide +their conduct in the chase, and each man was eager to perform his part, +whatever it might be. It was arranged that a portion of the company +should precede the rest, and cross the level woodland about two miles +in width, to a range of hills and perpendicular cliffs that appeared to +have once bounded the river, and select such ravines or outlets as in +their opinion the bear would be most likely to pass through, if he were +indeed still in the flat bottom-land. At these places they were to +station themselves with their guns well charged, and either await the +coming of the animal or the drivers; the first would be announced by +the yelping of the dogs, and the last by the hunters’ horns. + +Glenn and one or two others remained with Boone to hunt Bruin in his +lair, while Joe and the remainder of the company were despatched to the +passes among the hills. There was a narrow-featured Vermonter in this +party, termed, by his comrades, the Hatchet-face, and, in truth, the +extreme thinness of his chest and the slenderness of his limbs might as +aptly have been called the hatchet-handle. But, so far from being unfit +for the hardy pursuits of a hunter, he was gifted with the activity of +a greyhound, and the swiftness and bottom of a race-horse. His name was +Sneak Punk, which was always abbreviated to merely Sneak, for his +general success in creeping up to the unsuspecting game of whatsoever +kind he might be hunting, while others could not meet with such +success. He had been striding along some time in silence a short +distance in advance of Joe, who, even by dint of sundry kicks and the +free use of his whip, could hardly keep pace with him. The rest were a +few yards in the rear, and all had maintained a strict silence, +implicitly relying on the guidance of Sneak, who, though he had never +traversed these woods before, was made perfectly familiar with the +course he was to pursue by the instructions of Boone. + +Although the light of morning was now apparent above, yet the thick +growth of the trees, whose clustering branches mingled in one dense +mass overhead, made it still dark and sombre below; and Joe, to divert +Sneak from his unconscionable gait, which, in his endeavours to keep +up, often subjected him to the rude blows of elastic switches, and many +twinges of overhanging grape vines, essayed to engage his companion in +conversation. + +“I say, Mr. Sneak,” observed Joe, with an eager voice, as his pony +trotted along rather roughly through the wild gooseberry bushes, and +often stumbled over the decayed logs that lay about. + +“What do you want, stranger?” replied Sneak, slackening his gait until +he fell back alongside of Joe. + +“I only wanted to know if you ever killed a bear before,” said Joe, +drawing an easy breath as Pete fell into a comfortable walk. + +“Dod rot it, I hain’t killed this one yit,” said Sneak. + +“I didn’t mean any offence,” said Joe. + +“What makes you think you have given any?” + +“Because you said _dod rot it_.” + +“I nearly always say so—I’ve said so so often that I can’t help it. But +now, as we are on the right footing, I can tell you that I wintered +once in Arkansaw, and that’s enough to let you know I’m no greenhorn, +no how you can fix it. And moreover, I tell you, if old Boone wasn’t +here hisself, I’d kill this bar as sure as a gun, and my gun is as sure +as a streak of lightning run into a barrel of gunpowder;” and as he +spoke he threw up his heavy gun and saluted the iron with his lips. + +“Is your’s a rifle?” inquired Joe, to prolong the conversation, his +companion showing symptoms of a disposition to fall into his habit of +going ahead again. + +“Sartainly! Does anybody, I wonder, expect to do any thing with a +shot-gun in sich a place as this?” + +“Mine’s a shot-gun,” said Joe. + +“Dod—did you ever kill any thing better than a quail with it?” inquired +Sneak, contemptuously. + +“I never killed any thing in my life with it—I never shot a gun in all +my life before to-night,” said Joe. + +“Dod, you haven’t fired it to-night, to my sartain knowledge.” + +“I mean I never went a shooting.” + +“Did you load her yourself?” inquired Sneak, taking hold of the musket +and feeling the calibre. + +“Yes—but I’m sure I did it right. I put in a handful of powder, and +paper on top of it, and then poured in a handful of balls,” said Joe. + +“Ha! ha! ha! I’ll be busted if you don’t raise a fuss if you ever get a +shot at the bar!” said Sneak, with emphasis. + +“That’s what I am after.” + +“Why don’t you go ahead?” demanded Sneak, as Joe’s pony stopped +suddenly, with his ears thrust forward. “Dod! whip him up,” continued +he, seeing that his companion was intently gazing at some object ahead, +and exhibiting as many marks of alarm as Pete. “It’s nothing but a +stump!” said Sneak, going forwards and kicking the object, which was +truly nothing more than he took it to be. Joe then related to him all +the particulars of his nocturnal affair with the supposed stump, +previous to his arrival at the camp, and Sneak, with a hearty laugh, +admitted that both he and the pony were excusable for inspecting all +the stumps they might chance to come across in the dark in future. They +now emerged into the open space which was the boundary of the woods, +and after clambering up a steep ascent for some minutes, they reached +the summit of a tall range of bluffs. From this position the sun could +be seen rising over the eastern ridges, but the flat woods that had +been traversed still lay in darkness below, and silent as the tomb, +save the hooting of owls as they flapped to their hollow habitations in +the trees. + +The party then dispersed to their coverts under the direction of Sneak, +who with a practised eye instantly perceived all the advantageous posts +for the men, and the places where the bear would most probably run. Joe +had insisted on having his revenge, and begged to be stationed where he +would be most likely to get a shot. He was therefore permitted to +remain at the head of the ravine they had just ascended, through which +a deer path ran, as the most favourable position. After tying Pete some +paces in the rear, he came forwards to the verge of the valley and +seated himself on a dry rock, where he could see some distance down the +path under the tall sumach bushes. He then commenced cogitating how he +would act, should Bruin have the hardihood to face him in the daytime. + +Boone and his party drew near the spot where the bear had been seen the +previous night. The two large hounds, Ringwood and Jowler, kept at +their master’s heels, being trained to understand and perform all the +duties required of them, while the curs and terriers were running +helter-skelter far ahead, or striking out into the woods without aim, +and always returning without effecting any thing. At length the two +hounds paused, and scented the earth, giving certain information that +they had arrived at the desired point. The curs and terriers had +already passed far beyond the spot, being unable to decide any thing by +the nose, and always relying on their swiftness in the chase when they +should be in sight of the object pursued. + +Now, Glenn perceived to what perfection dogs could be trained, and +learned, what had been a matter of wonder to him, how Boone could keep +up with them in the chase. The hounds set off at a signal from their +master, not like an arrow from the bow, but at a moderate pace, ever +and anon looking back and pausing until the men came up; while the +erratic curs flew hither and thither, chasing every hare and squirrel +they could find. As they pursued the trail they occasionally saw the +foot-print of the animal, which was broad and deep, indicating one of +enormous size. Presently they came to a spot thickly overgrown with +spice-wood bushes and prickly vines, where he had made his lair, and +from the erect tails of Ringwood and Jowler, and the intense interest +they otherwise evinced, it was evident they were fast approaching the +presence of Bruin. Ere long, as they ran along with their heads up, for +the first time that morning, they commenced yelping in clear and +distinct tones, which rang musically far and wide through the woods. +The curs relinquished their unprofitable racing round the thickets, +attracted by the hounds, and soon learned to keep in the rear, +depending on the unerring trailing of the old hunters, as the object of +pursuit was not yet in sight. The chase became more animated, and the +men quickened their pace as the inspiring notes of the hounds rang out +at regular intervals. Glenn soon found he possessed no advantage over +those on foot, who were able to run under the branches of the trees, +and glide through the thickets with but little difficulty, while the +rush of his noble steed was often arrested by the tenacious vines +clinging to the bushes abreast, and he was sometimes under the +necessity of dismounting to recover his cap or whip. + +It was not long before the notes of Ringwood and Jowler suddenly +increased in sharpness and quickness, and the curs and terriers, +hitherto silent, set up a confused medley of sounds, which reverberated +like one continuous scream. They had pounced upon the bear, and from +the stationary position of the dogs for a few minutes, indicated by +their peculiar baying, it was evident Bruin had turned to survey the +enemy, and perhaps to give them battle; but it seemed that their number +or noise soon intimidated him, and that he preferred seeking safety in +flight. How Boone could possibly know beforehand which way the bear +would run, was a mystery to Glenn; but that he often abandoned the +direction taken by the dogs, turning off at almost right angles, and +still had a sight of him was no less true. No one had yet been near +enough to fire with effect. The bear, notwithstanding his many feints +and novel demonstrations to get rid of his persecutors, had continued +to make towards the hills where the standers were stationed. Boone +falling in with Glenn, from whom he had been frequently separated, they +continued together some time, following the course of the sounds +towards the east. + +“This sport is really exciting and noble!” exclaimed Glenn, as the deep +and melodious intonations of Ringwood and Jowler fell upon his ear. + +“Excellent! excellent!” replied Boone, listening intently, and pausing +suddenly, as the discharge of a gun in the direction of the hills +sounded through the woods. + +“He has reached the standers,” remarked Glenn, reining up his steed at +Boone’s side. + +“No; it was one of our men who has not followed him in all his +deviations,” replied Boone, still marking the notes of the hounds. + +“I doubt not our company is sufficiently scattered in every direction +through the forest to force him into the hills very speedily, if, +indeed, that shot was not fatal,” remarked Glenn. + +“He is not hurt—perhaps it was not fired at him, but at a bird—nor will +he yet leave the woods,” said Boone, still listening to the hounds. “He +comes!” he exclaimed a moment after, with marks of joy in his face; “he +will make a grand circle before quitting the lowland.” And now the dogs +could be heard more distinctly, as if they were gradually approaching +the place from which they first started. + +“If you will remain here,” continued Boone, “it is quite likely you +will have a shot as he makes his final push for the hills.” + +“Then here will I remain,” replied Glenn; and fixing himself firmly in +the saddle, resolved to await the coming of Bruin, having every +confidence in the intimation of his friend. Boone selected a position a +few hundred paces distant, with a view of permitting Glenn to have the +first fire. + +The bear took a wide circuit towards the river, pausing at times until +the foremost of the dogs came up, which he could easily manage to keep +at bay; but when all of them (and the curs did good service now) +surrounded him, he found it necessary to set forward again. When he had +run as far as the river, and turned once more towards the hills, his +course seemed to be in a direct line with Glenn, and the young man’s +heart fluttered with anticipation as he examined his gun, and turned +his horse (which had been accustomed to firearms) in a favourable +position to give the enemy a salute as he passed. Nearer they came, the +dogs pursuing with redoubled fierceness, their blood heated by the +exercise, and their most sanguine passions roused by their frequent +severe skirmishes with their huge antagonist. As they approached, the +strange and simultaneous yelpings of the curs and terriers resembled an +embodied roar, amid which the flute-like notes of Ringwood and Jowler +could hardly be heard. Glenn could now distinctly hear the bear rushing +like a torrent through the bushes, almost directly towards the place +where he was posted, and a moment after it emerged from a dense thicket +of hazel, and the noble steed, instead of leaping away with affright, +threw back his ears and stood firm, until Glenn fired. Bruin uttered a +howl, and halting with a fierce growl, raised himself on his haunches, +and displaying his array of white teeth, prepared to assail our hero. +Glenn proceeded to reload his rifle with as much expedition as was in +his power, though not without some tremor, notwithstanding he was +mounted on his tall steed, whose nostrils dilated, and eyes flashing +fire, indicated that he was willing to take part in the conflict. The +bear was preparing for a dreadful encounter, and on the very eve of +springing towards his assailant, when the hounds coming up admonished +him to flee his more numerous foes, and turning off, he continued his +route towards the hills. Glenn perceived that he had not missed his aim +by the blood sprinkled on the bushes, and being ready for another fire, +galloped after him. Just when he came in sight, Boone’s gun was heard, +and Bruin fell, remaining motionless for a moment; but ere Glenn +arrived within shooting distance, or Boone could reload, he had risen +and again continued his course, as if in defiance of everything that +man could do to oppose him. + +“Is it possible he still survives!” exclaimed Glenn, joining his +companion. + +“There is nothing more possible,” replied Boone; “but I saw by his +limping that your shot had taken effect.” + +“And I saw him fall when you fired,” said Glenn; “but he still runs.” + +“And he _will_ run for some time yet,” remarked Boone, “for they are +extremely hard to kill, when heated by the pursuit of dogs. But we have +done our part, and it now remains for those at the passes to finish the +work so well begun.” + +Joe’s imagination had several times worked him into a fury, which had +as often subsided in disappointment, during the chase below, every +particle of which could be distinctly heard from his position. More +than once, when a brisk breeze swept up the valley, he was convinced +that his enemy was approaching him, and, every nerve quivering with the +expectation of the bear coming in view the next instant, he stood a +spectacle of eagerness, with perhaps a small portion of apprehension +intermingled. At length, from the frequent deceptions the distance +practiced upon him, he grew composed by degrees, and resuming his seat +on the stone, with his musket lying across his knees, thus gave vent to +his thoughts: “What if an Indian were to pounce upon me while I’m +sitting here?” Here he paused, and looked carefully round in every +direction. “No!” he continued; “if there were any at this time in the +neighbourhood, wouldn’t Boone know it? To be sure he would, and here’s +my gun—I forgot that. Let them come as soon as they please! I wonder if +the bear _will_ come out here? Suppose he does, what’s the danger? +Didn’t I grapple with him last night? And couldn’t I jump on Pete and +get away from him! But—pshaw! I keep forgetting my gun—I wish he +_would_ come, I’d serve him worse than he served me last night! My face +feels very sore this morning. There!” he exclaimed, when he heard the +fire of Glenn’s gun, and the report that succeeded from Boone’s, +“they’ve floored him as dead as a nail, I’ll bet. Hang it! I should +like to have had a word or two with him myself, to have told him I +hadn’t forgotten his ugly grin. The men must have known I would stand +no chance of killing him when they placed me up here. I should like to +know what part of the sport _I’ve_ had—ough!” exclaimed he, his hair +standing upright, as he beheld the huge bear, panting and bleeding, +coming towards him, and not twenty paces distant! + +Bruin had eluded the dogs a few minutes by climbing a bending tree at +the mouth of the valley, from which he passed to another, and +descending again to the earth, proceeded almost exhausted up the +ravine. Joe’s eyes grew larger and larger as the monster approached, +and when within a few feet of him he uttered a horrible unearthly +sound, which attracted the bear, and fearing the fatal aim of man more +than the teeth of the dogs, he whirled about, with a determination to +fight his way back, in preference to again risking the murderous lead. +No sooner was the bear out of sight, and plunging down the dell amid +the cries of the dogs, which assailed him on all sides, than Joe +bethought him of his gun, and becoming valorous, ran a few steps down +the path and fired in the direction of the confused melée. The moment +after he discharged his musket, the back part of his head struck the +earth, and the gun made two or three end-over-end revolutions up the +path behind him. Never, perhaps, was such a rebound from overloading +known before. Joe now thought not of the bear, nor looked to see what +execution he had done. He thought of his own person, which he found +prostrate on the ground. When somewhat recovered from the blow, he rose +with his hand pressed to his nose, while the blood ran out between his +fingers. “Oh! my goodness!” he exclaimed, seating himself at the root +of a pecan tree, and rocking backwards and forwards. + +“What’s your gun doing up here?” exclaimed Sneak, coming down the path. +Joe made no answer, but continued to rock backwards and forwards most +dolefully. + +“Why don’t you speak? Where’s the bar?” + +“I don’t know. Oh!” murmured Joe. + +“What’s the matter?” inquired Sneak, seeing the copious effusion of +blood. + +“I shot off that outrageous musket, and it’s kicked my nose to pieces! +I shall faint!” said Joe, dropping his head between his knees. + +“Faint? I never saw a _man_ faint!” said Sneak, listening to the chase +below. + +“Oh! can’t you help me to stop this blood?” + +“Don’t you hear _that_, down there?” replied Sneak, his attention +entirely directed to that which was going on in the valley. + +“My ears are deafened by that savage gun! I can’t hear a bit, hardly! +Oh, what shall I do, Mr. Sneak?” continued Joe. + +“Dod rot it!” exclaimed Sneak, leaping like a wild buck down the path, +and paying no further attention to the piteous lamentations of his +comrade. + +Ere the bear reached the mouth of the glen, the hunters generally had +come up, and poor Bruin found himself hemmed in on all sides. He could +not ascend on either hand, the loss of blood having weakened him too +much to climb over the almost precipitous rocks, and he made a final +stand, determined to sell his life as dearly as possible. The dogs +sprang upon him in a body, and it was soon evident that his desperate +struggles were not harmless. He grasped one of the curs in his deadly +hug, and with his teeth planted in its neck, relinquished not his hold +until it fell from his arms a disfigured and lifeless object. He boxed +those that were tearing his hams with his ponderous claws, sending them +screaming to the right and left. He then stood up on his haunches, with +his back against a rock, and with a snarl of defiance resolved never to +retreat “from its firm base.” Never were blows more rabidly dealt. When +attacked on one side, he had no sooner turned to beat down his sanguine +foe than he was assailed on the other. Thus he fought alternately from +right to left, his mouth gaping open, his tongue hanging out, and his +eyes gleaming furiously as if swimming in liquid fire. At times he was +charged simultaneously in front and flank, when for an instant the +whole group seemed to be one dark writhing mass, uttering a medly of +discordant and horrid sounds. But determined to conquer or die on the +spot he occupied, Bruin never relaxed his blows, until the bruised and +exhausted dogs were forced to withdraw a moment the combat, and rush +into the narrow rivulet. While they lay panting in the water, the bear +turned his head back against the rocks, and lapped in the dripping +moisture without moving from his position. But he was fast sinking +under his wounds: a stream of blood, which constantly issued from his +body and ran down and discoloured the water, indicated that his career +was nearly finished. Yet his spirit was not daunted; for while the +canine assailants he had withstood so often were bathing preparatory +for a renewal of the conflict, Boone and Glenn, who had approached the +immediate vicinity, fired, and Bruin, echoing the howl of death as the +bullets entered his body, turned his eyes reproachfully towards the men +for an instant, and then, with a growl of convulsed, expiring rage, +plunged into the water, and, seizing the largest cur, crushed him to +death. Ringwood and Jowler, whose sagacity had hitherto led them to +keep in some measure aloof, knowing their efforts would be unavailing +against so powerful an enemy without the fatal aim of their master, now +sprang forward to the rescue, both seizing the prostrate foe by the +throat. But he could not be made to relinquish his victim, nor did he +make resistance. Boone, advancing at the head of the hunters, (all of +whom, with the exception of Joe and Sneak, being there assembled,) with +some difficulty prevented his companions from discharging their guns at +the dark mass before them. He struck up several of their guns as they +were endeavouring to aim at the now motionless bear, fearing that his +hounds might suffer by their fire, and stooping down, whence he could +distinctly see the pale gums and tongue, as his hounds grappled the +neck of the animal, announced the death of Bruin, and the termination +of the hunt. The hounds soon abandoned their inanimate victim, and its +sinewy limbs relaxing, the devoted cur rolled out a lifeless body. + +“How like you this specimen of our wild sports?” inquired Boone, +turning to Glenn, as the rest proceeded to skin and dress the bear +preparatory for its conveyance to the camp. + +“It is exciting, if not terrific and cruel,” replied Glenn, musing. + +“None could be more eager than yourself in the chase,’ said Boone. + +“True,” replied Glenn; “and notwithstanding the uninitiated may for an +instant revolt at the spilling of blood, yet the chase has ever been +considered the noblest and the most innocent of sports. The animals +hunted are often an evil while running at large, being destructive or +dangerous; but even if they were harmless in their nature, they are +still necessary or desirable for the support or comfort of man. Blood +of a similar value is spilt everywhere without the least compunction. +The knife daily pierces the neck of the swine, and the kitchen wench +wrings off the head of the fowl while she hums a ditty. This is far +better than hunting down our own species on the battle-field, or +ruining and being ruined at the gaming-table. I think I shall be +content in this region.” + +“And you will no doubt be an expert hunter, if I have any judgment in +such matters,” replied Boone. + +“I wonder that Joe has not yet made his appearance,” remarked Glenn, +approaching the bear; “I expected ere this to have seen him triumphing +over his fallen enemy.” + +“What kind of a gun had he?” inquired Boone. + +“A large musket,” said Glenn, recollecting the enormous explosion that +seemed to jar the whole woods like an earthquake; “it must have been +Joe who fired—he had certainly overcharged the gun, and I fear it has +burst in his hands, which may account for his absence.” + +“Be not uneasy,” replied Boone; “for I can assure you from the peculiar +sound it made that it did nothing more than rebound violently; besides, +those guns very rarely burst. But here comes Sneak, (I think they call +him so,) no doubt having some tidings of your man. It seems he has not +been idle. He has a brace of racoons in his hands.” + +The tall slim form of Sneak was seen coming down the path. Ever and +anon he cast his eyes from one hand to the other, regarding with no +ordinary interest the dead animals he bore. + +“I did not hear him fire,” remarked Glenn. + +“He may have killed them with stones,” said Boone; and as Sneak drew +near, he continued, with a smile, “they are nothing more than a brace +of his terriers, that doubtless Bruin dispatched, and which may well be +spared, notwithstanding Sneak’s seeming sorrow.” + +Sneak approached the place where Boone and Glenn were standing, with +the gravest face that man ever wore. His eyes seemed to be set in his +head, for not once did they wink, nor did his lips move for some length +of time after he threw down the dogs at the feet of Glenn, although +several men addressed him. He stood with his arms folded, and gazed +mournfully at his dead dogs. + +“The little fellows fought bravely, and covered themselves with glory,” +said Glenn, much amused at the solemn demeanour of Sneak. + +“If there ain’t more blood spilt on the strength of it, I wish I may be +smashed!” said Sneak, compressing his lips. + +“What mean you? what’s the matter?” inquired Boone, who best understood +what the man was meditating. + +“I’ve got as good a gun as anybody here! And I’ll have revenge, or +pay!” replied Sneak, turning his eyes on Glenn. + +“If your remarks are intended for me,” said Glenn, “rely upon it you +shall have justice.” + +“Tell us all about it,” said Boone. + +“When I heard that fool up the valley shoot off his forty-four pounder, +I ran to see what he had done, and when I came near to where he was, +his gun was lying up the hill behind him, and he setting down whining +like a baby, and a great gore of blood hanging to his nose. I wish it +had blowed his head off! I got tired of staying with the tarnation +fool, who couldn’t tell me a thing, when I heard you shooting, and the +horn blowing for the men; and knowing the bar was dead, I started off +full tilt. I hadn’t gone fifty steps before I began to see where his +bullets had spattered the trees and bushes in every direction. +Presently I stumbled over these dogs, my own puppies—and there they lay +as dead as door nails. I whistled, and they didn’t move; I then stooped +down to see how the bear had killed ’em, and I found these bullet holes +in ’em!” said Sneak, turning their limber bodies over with his foot, +until their wounds were uppermost. “I’ll be shot if I don’t have pay, +or revenge!” he continued, with tears in his eyes. + +“What were they worth?” demanded Glenn, laughing. + +“I was offered two dollars a-piece for ’em as we came through Indiana,” +replied Sneak. + +“Here’s the money,” said Glenn, handing him the amount. After receiving +the cash, Sneak turned away perfectly satisfied, and seemed not to +bestow another thought upon his puppies. + +This affair had hardly been settled before Joe made his appearance on +Pete. He rode slowly along down the path, as dolefully as ever man +approached the graveyard. As he drew near, all eyes were fixed upon +him. Never were any one’s features so much disfigured. His nose was as +large as a hen’s egg, and as purple as a plum. Still it was not much +disproportioned to the rest of his swollen face; and the whole +resembled the unearthly phiz of the most bloated gnome that watched +over the slumbers of Rip Van Winkle. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +Glenn’s castle—Mary—Books—A hunt—Joe and Pete—A tumble—An opossum—A +shot—Another tumble—A doe—The return—They set out again—A mound—A +buffalo—An encounter—Night—Terrific +spectacle—Escape—Boone—Sneak—Indians. + + +Some weeks had passed since the bear hunt. The emigrants had crossed +the river, and selected their future homes in the groves that bordered +the prairie, some miles distant from the ferry. Glenn, when landed on +the south side of the Missouri, took up his abode for a short time with +Jasper Roughgrove, the ferryman, while some half dozen men, whose +services his gold secured, were building him a novel habitation. And +the location was as singular as the construction of his house. It was +on a peak that jutted over the river, some three hundred feet high, +whence he had a view eight or ten miles down the stream, and across the +opposite bottom-land to the hills mentioned in the preceding chapter. +The view was obstructed above by a sudden bend of the stream; but on +the south, the level prairie ran out as far as the eye could reach, +interrupted only by the young groves that were interspersed at +intervals. His house, constructed of heavy stones, was about fifteen +feet square, and not more than ten in height. The floor was formed of +hewn timbers, the walls covered with a rough coat of lime, and the roof +made of heavy boards. However uncouth this abode appeared to the eye of +Glenn, yet he had followed the instructions of Boone, (to whom he had +fully disclosed his plan, and repeated his odd resolution,) and reared +a tenement not only capable of resisting the wintry winds that were to +howl around it, but sufficiently firm to withstand the attacks of any +foe, whether the wild beast of the forest or the prowling Indian. The +door was very narrow and low, being made of a solid rock full six +inches in thickness, which required the strength of a man to turn on +its hinges, even when the ponderous bolt on the inside was unfastened. +There was a small square window on each side containing a single pane +of glass, and made to be secured at a moment’s warning, by means of +thick stone shutters on the inside. The fire-place was ample at the +hearth, but the flue through which the smoke escaped was small, and ran +in a serpentine direction up through the northern wall; while the +ceiling was overlaid with smooth flat stones, fastened down with huge +iron spikes, and supported by strong wooden joists. The furniture +consisted of a few trunks, (which answered for seats,) two camp beds, +four barrels of hard biscuit, a few dishes and cooking utensils, and a +quantity of hunting implements. Many times did Joe shake his head in +wonderment as this house was preparing for his reception. It seemed to +him too much danger was apprehended from without, and it too much +resembled a solitary, and secure prison, should one be confined within. +Nevertheless, he was permitted to adopt his own plan in the +construction of a shelter for the horses. And the retention of these +animals was some relief to his otherwise gloomy forebodings, when he +beheld the erection of his master’s suspicious tenement. He +superintended the building of a substantial and comfortable stable. He +had stalls, a small granary, and a regular rack made for the +accommodation of the horses, and procured, with difficulty and no +little expense, a supply of provender. The space, including the +buildings, which had been cleared of the roots and stones, for the +purpose of cultivating a garden, was about one hundred feet in +diameter, and enclosed by a circular row of posts driven firmly in the +ground, and rising some ten feet above the surface. These were planted +so closely together that even a squirrel would have found it difficult +to enter without climbing over them. Indeed, Joe had an especial eye to +this department, having heard some awful tales of the snakes that +somewhat abounded in those regions in the warm seasons. + +One corner of the stable, wherein a quantity of straw was placed, was +appropriated for the comfort of the dogs, Ringwood and Jowler, which +had been presented to Glenn by his obliging friend, after they had +exhibited their skill in the bear hunt. + +When every thing was completed, preparatory for his removal thither, +Glenn dismissed his faithful artisans, bestowing upon them a liberal +reward for their labour, and took possession of his castle. But, +notwithstanding the strange manner in which he proposed to spend his +days, and his habitual grave demeanour and taciturnity, yet his kind +tone, when he uttered a request, or ventured a remark, on the +transactions passing around him, and his contempt for money, which he +squandered with a prodigal hand, had secured for him the good-will of +the ferrymen, and the friendship of the surrounding emigrants. But +there was one whose esteem had no venal mixture in it. This was Mary, +the old ferryman’s daughter, a fair-cheeked girl of nineteen, who never +neglected an opportunity of performing a kind office for her father’s +temporary guest; and when he and his man departed for their own +tenement, not venturing directly to bestow them on our hero, she +presented Joe with divers articles for their amusement and comfort in +their secluded abode, among which were sundry live fowls, a pet fawn, +and a kitten. + +The first few days, after being installed in his solitary home, our +hero passed with his books. But he did not realize all the satisfaction +he anticipated from his favourite authors in his secluded cell. The +scene around him contrasted but ill with the creations of Shakspeare; +and if some of the heroes of Scott were identified with the wildest +features of nature, he found it impossible to look around him and enjoy +the magic of the page at the same time. + +Joe employed himself in attending to his horses, feeding the fowls and +dogs, and playing with the fawn and a kitten. He also practiced loading +and shooting his musket, and endeavoured to learn the mode of doing +execution on other objects without committing violence on himself. + +“Joe,” said Glenn, one bright frosty morning, “saddle the horses; we +will make an excursion in the prairie, and see what success we can have +without the presence and assistance of an experienced hunter. I +designed awaiting the visit of Boone, which he promised should take +place about this time; but we will venture out without him; if we kill +nothing, at least we shall have the satisfaction of doing no harm.” + +Joe set off towards the stable, smiling at Glenn’s joke, and heartily +delighted to exchange the monotony of his domestic employment, which +was becoming irksome, for the sports of the field, particularly as he +was now entirely recovered from the effects of his late disasters, and +began to grow weary of wasting his ammunition in firing at a target, +when there was an abundance of game in the vicinity. + +“Whoop! Bingwood—Jowler!” cried he, leading the horses briskly forth. +The dogs came prancing and yelping round him, as well pleased as +himself at the prospect of a day’s sport; and when Glenn came out they +exhibited palpable signs of recognition and eagerness to accompany +their new master on his first deer-hunt. Glenn stroked their heads, +which were constantly rubbed against his hands, and his caresses were +gratefully received by the faithful hounds. He had been instructed by +Boone how to manage them, so as either to keep them at his side when he +wished to approach the game stealthily, or to send them forth when +rapid pursuit was required, and he was now anxious to test their +sagacity. + +When mounted, the young men set forward in a southern direction, the +valley in which the ferryman’s cabin was situated on one hand, and one +about the same distance above on the other. But the space between them +gradually widened as they progressed, and in a few minutes both +disappeared entirely, terminating in scarcely perceptible rivulets +running slowly down from the high and level prairie. Here Glenn paused +to determine what course he should take. The sun shone brightly on the +interminable expanse before him, and not a breeze ruffled the long dry +grass around, nor disturbed the few sear leaves that yet clung to the +diminutive clusters of bushes scattered at long intervals over the +prairie. It was a delightful scene. From the high position of our hero, +he could distinguish objects miles distant on the plain; and if the +landscape was not enlivened by houses and domestic herds, he could at +all events here and there behold parties of deer browsing peacefully in +the distance. Ringwood and Jowler also saw or scented them, as their +attention was pointed in that direction; but so far from marring the +sport by prematurely running forward, they knew too well their duty to +leave their master, even were the game within a few paces of them, +without the word of command. + +“I see a deer!” cried Joe, at length, having till then been employed +gathering some fine wild grapes from a neighbouring vine. + +“I see several,” replied Glenn; “but how we are to get within gun shot +of them, is the question.” + +“I see them, too,” said Joe, his eyes glistening. + +“I have thought of a plan, Joe; whether right or wrong, is not very +material, as respects the exercise we are seeking; but I am inclined to +believe it is the proper one. It will at all events give you a fair +opportunity of killing a deer, as you will have to fire as they run, +and the great number of bullets in your musket will make you more +certain to do execution than if you fired a rifle. You will proceed to +yon thicket, about a thousand yards distant, keeping the bushes all the +time between you and the deer. When you arrive at it dismount, and +after tying your pony in the bushes where he will be well hid, select a +position whence you can see the deer when they run; I think they will +go within reach of your fire. I will make a detour beyond them, and +approach from the opposite side.” + +“I’d rather not tie my pony,” said Joe. + +“Why? he would not leave you, even were he to get loose,” replied +Glenn. + +“I don’t think he would—but I’d rather not leave him yet awhile, till I +get a little better used to hunting,” said Joe, probably thinking there +might be some danger to himself on foot in a country where bears, +wolves, and panthers were sometimes seen. + +“Can you fire while sitting on your pony?” inquired Glenn. + +“I suppose so,” said Joe; “though I never thought to try it yet.” + +“Suppose you try it now, while I watch the deer, and see if what I have +been told is true, that the mere report of a gun will not alarm them.” + +“Well, I will,” said Joe. “I think Pete knows as well as the steed, +that shooting on him won’t hurt him.” + +“Fire away, then,” said Glenn, looking steadfastly at the deer. Joe +fired, and none of the deer ran off. Some continued their playful +sports, while others browsed along without lifting their heads; in all +likelihood the report did not reach them. But Glenn heard a tremendous +thumping behind, and on turning round, beheld his man quietly lying on +the ground, and the pony standing about ten paces distant, with his +head turned towards Joe, his ears thrust forwards, his nostrils +distended and snorting, and his little blue eyes ready to burst out of +his head. + +[Illustration: Glenn heard a tremendous thumping behind.] + + +“How is this, Joe?” inquired Glenn, scarce able to repress a smile at +the ridiculous posture of his man. + +“I hardly know myself,” replied Joe, casting a silly glance at his +treacherous pony; and after examining his limbs and finding no injury +had been sustained, continued, “I fired as you directed, and when the +smoke cleared away, I found myself lying just as you see me here. I +don’t know how Pete contrived to get from under me, but there he +stands, and here I lie.” + +“Load your gun, and try it again,” said Glenn. + +“I’d rather not,” said Joe. + +“Then I will,” replied Glenn, whose horsemanship enabled him to retain +the saddle in spite of the straggles of Pete, who, after several +discharges, submitted and bore it quietly. + +Joe then mounted and set out for the designated thicket, while Glenn +galloped off in another direction, followed by the hounds. + +When Joe arrived at the hazel thicket, he continued in the saddle, and +otherwise he would not have been able to see over the prairie for the +tall grass which had grown very luxuriantly in that vicinity. There was +a path, however, running round the edge of the bushes, which had been +made by the deer and other wild animals, and in this he cautiously +groped his way, looking out in every direction for the deer. When he +had progressed about halfway round, he espied them feeding composedly, +about three hundred paces distant, on a slight eminence. There were at +least fifteen of them, and some very large ones. Fearful of giving the +alarm before Glenn should fire, he shielded himself from view behind a +cluster of persimmon bushes, and tasted the ripe and not unpalatable +fruit. And here he was destined to win his first trophy as a hunter. +While bending down some branches over head, without looking up, an +opossum fell upon his hat, knocking it over his eyes, and springing on +the neck of Pete, thence leaped to the ground. But before it +disappeared Joe had dismounted, and giving it a blow with the butt of +his musket it rolled over on its side, with its eyes closed and tongue +hanging out, indicating that the stroke had been fatal. + +“So much for you!” said Joe, casting a proud look at his victim; and +then leaping on his pony, he gazed again at the deer. They seemed to be +still entirely unconscious of danger, and several were now lying in the +grass with their heads tip, and chewing the cud like domestic animals. +Joe drew back once more to await the action of Glenn, and turning to +look at the opossum, found to his surprise that it had vanished! + +“Well, I’m the biggest fool that ever breathed!” said he, recollecting +the craftiness imputed to those animals, and searching in vain for his +game. “If ever I come across another, he’ll not come the ’possum over +me, I’ll answer for it!” he continued, somewhat vexed. At this juncture +Glenn’s gun was heard, and Joe observed a majority of the deer leaping +affrighted in the direction of his position. The foremost passed within +twenty yards of him, and, his limbs trembling with excitement, he drew +his gun up to his shoulder and pulled the trigger. It snapped, perhaps +fortunately, for his eyes were convulsively closed at the moment; and +recovering measurably by the time the next came up, this trial the gun +went off, and he found himself once more prostrate on the ground. + +“What in the world is the reason you won’t stand still!” he exclaimed, +rising and seizing the pony by the bit. The only answer Pete made was a +snort of unequivocal dissatisfaction. “Plague take your little _hide_ +of you! I should have killed that fellow to a certainty, if you hadn’t +played the fool!” continued he, still addressing his pony while he +proceeded to load his gun. When ready for another fire, he mounted +again, in quite an ill humour, convinced that all chance of killing a +deer was effectually over for the present, when, to his utter +astonishment, he beheld the deer he had fired at lying dead before him, +and but a few paces distant. With feelings of unmixed delight he +galloped to where it lay, and springing to the earth, one moment he +whirled round his hat in exultation, and the next caressed Pete, who +evinced some repugnance to approach the weltering victim, and snuffed +the scent of blood with any other sensation than that of pleasure. Joe +discovered that no less than a dozen balls had penetrated the doe’s +side, (for such it was,) which sufficiently accounted for its immediate +and quiet death, that had so effectually deceived him into the belief +that his discharge had been harmless. He now blew his horn, which was +answered by a blast from Glenn, who soon came up to announce his own +success in bringing down the largest buck in the party, and to +congratulate his man on his truly remarkable achievement. + +An hour was consumed in preparing the deer to be conveyed to the house, +and by the time they were safely deposited in our hero’s diminutive +castle, and the hunters ready to issue forth in quest of more sport, +the day was far advanced, and a slight haziness of the atmosphere +dimmed in a great measure the lustre of the descending sun. + +Animated with their excellent success, they anticipated much more +sport, inasmuch as neither themselves nor the hounds (which hitherto +were not required to do farther service than to watch one of the deer +while the men were engaged with the other) were in the slightest degree +fatigued. The hours flew past unnoticed, while the young men proceeded +gayly outward from the river in quest of new adventures. + +Glenn and his man rode far beyond the scene of their late success +without discovering any new object to gratify their undiminished zest +for the chase. It seemed that the deer which had escaped had actually +given intelligence to the rest of the arrival of a deadly foe in the +vicinity, for not one could now be seen in riding several miles. The +sun was sinking low and dim in the west, and Glenn was on the eve of +turning homeward, when, on emerging from the flat prairie to a slight +eminence that he had marked as boundary of his excursion, he beheld at +no great distance an enormous mound, of pyramidical shape, which, from +its isolated condition, he could not believe to be the formation of +nature. Curious to inspect what he supposed to be a stupendous specimen +of the remains of former generations of the aborigines, he resolved to +protract his ride and ascend to the summit. The mound was some five +hundred feet in diameter at the base, and terminated at a peak about +one hundred and fifty feet in height. As our riders ascended, with some +difficulty keeping in the saddle, they observed the earth on the sides +to be mixed with flint-stones, and many of them apparently having once +been cut in the shape of arrow-heads; and in several places where +chasms had been formed by heavy showers, they remarked a great many +pieces of bones, but so much broken and decayed they could not be +certain that they were particles of human skeletons. When they reached +the summit, which was not more than twenty feet in width and entirely +barren, a magnificent scene burst in view. For ten or fifteen miles +round on every side, the eye could discern oval, oblong, and circular +groves of various dimensions, scattered over the rich virgin soil. The +gentle undulations of the prairie resembled the boundless ocean +entranced, as if the long swells had been suddenly abandoned by the +wind, and yet remained stationary in their rolling attitude. + +“What think you of the view, Joe?” inquired Glenn, after regarding the +scene many minutes in silence. + +“I’ve been watching a little speck, way out toward the, sun, which +keeps bobbing up and down, and gets bigger and bigger,” said Joe. + +“I mean the prospect around,” said Glenn. I can’t form an opinion, +because I can’t see the end of it,” replied Joe, still intently +regarding the object referred to. + +“That is an animal of some kind,” observed Glenn, marking the object +that attracted Joe. + +“And a wapper, too; when I first saw it I thought it was a rabbit, and +now it’s bigger than a deer, and still a mile or two off,” said Joe. + +“We’ll wait a few minutes, and see what it is,” replied Glenn, checking +his steed, which had proceeded a few steps downward. The object of +their attention held its course directly towards them, and as it drew +nearer it was easily distinguished to be a very large buffalo, an +animal then somewhat rare so near the white man’s settlement, and one +that our hero had often expressed a wish to see. Its dark shaggy sides, +protuberant back and bushy head, were quite perceptible as it careered +swiftly onward, seemingly flying from some danger behind. + +“Down, Ringwood! Jowler!” exclaimed Glenn, preparing to fire. + +“Down, Joe, too,” said Joe, slipping down from his pony, preferring not +to risk another fall, and likewise preparing to fire. + +When the buffalo reached the base of the mound, it saw for the first +time the objects above, and halted. It regarded the men with more +symptoms of curiosity than alarm, but as it gazed, its distressed +pantings indicated that it had been long retreating from some object of +dread. + +Meantime both guns were discharged, and the contents undoubtedly +penetrated the animal’s body, for he leapt upright in the air, and on +descending, staggered off slowly in a course at right angles from the +one which he was first pursuing. Glenn then let the hounds go forth, +and soon overtaking the animal, they were speedily forced to act on the +defensive; for the enormous foe wheeled round and pursued in turn. +Finding the hounds were too cautious and active to fall victims to his +sharp horns, he pawed the earth, and uttered the most horrific +bellowings. As Glenn and Joe rode by the place where he had stood when +they fired, they perceived large quantities of frothy blood, which +convinced them that he had received a mortal wound. They rode on and +paused within eighty paces of where he now stood, and calling back the +baying hounds, again discharged their guns. The buffalo roared most +hideously, and making a few plunges towards his assailants, fell on his +knees, and the next moment turned over on his side. + +“Come back, Joe!” cried Glenn to his man, who had mounted and wheeled +when the animal rushed towards them, and was still flying away as fast +as his pony could carry him. + +“No—never!” replied Joe; “I won’t go nigh that awful thing! Don’t you +see it’s getting dark? How’ll we over find the way home again?” + +The latter remark startled Glenn, for he had lost all consciousness of +the lateness of the hour in the excitement, and to his dismay had also +lost all recollection of the direction of his dwelling, and darkness +had now overtaken them! While pausing to reflect from which quarter +they first approached the mound, the buffalo, to his surprise and no +little chagrin, rose up and staggered away, the darkness seen obscuring +him from view altogether. Glenn, by a blast of his horn, recalled the +dogs, and joining Joe, set off much dispirited, in a course which he +feared was not the correct one. Night came upon them suddenly, and +before they had gone a mile the darkness was intense. And the +breathless calm that had prevailed during the day was now succeeded by +fitful winds that howled mournfully over the interminable prairie. +Interminable the plain seemed to our benighted riders, for there was +still no object to vary the monotony of the cheerless scene, although +they had paced briskly, and, as they supposed, far enough to have +reached the cliffs of the river. Nor was there even a sound heard as +they rode along, save the muffled strokes of their horses’ hoofs in the +dry grass that covered the earth, the low winds, and an occasional cry +of the dogs as they were trodden upon by the horses. + +Ere long a change came over the scene. About two-thirds of the distance +round the verge of the horizon a faint light appeared, resembling the +scene when a dense curtain of clouds hangs over head, and the rays of +the morning sun steal under the edge of the thick vapour. But the stars +could be seen, and the only appearance of clouds was immediately above +the circle of light. In a very few minutes the terrible truth flashed +upon the mind of Glenn. The dim light along the horizon was changed to +an approaching flame! Columns of smoke could be seen rolling upwards, +while the fire beneath imparted a lurid glare to them. The wind blew +more fiercely, and the fire approached from almost every quarter with +the swiftness of a race horse. The darkened vault above became +gradually illuminated with a crimson reflection, and the young man +shuddered with the horrid apprehension of being burnt alive! It was +madness to proceed in a direction that must inevitably hasten their +fate, the fire extending in one unbroken line from left to right, and +in front of them; and they turned in a course which seemed to place the +greatest distance between them and the furious element. Ever and anon a +frightened deer or elk leaped past. The hounds no longer noticed them, +but remained close to the horses. The leaping flames came in awful +rapidity. The light increased in brilliance, and objects were +distinguishable far over the prairie. A red glare could be seen on the +sides of the deer as they bounded over the tall, dry grass, which was +soon to be no longer a refuge for them. The young men heard a low, +continued roar, that increased every moment in loudness, and looking in +the direction whence they supposed it proceeded, they observed an +immense, dark, moving mass, the nature of which they could not divine, +but it threatened to annihilate every thing that opposed it. While +gazing at this additional source of danger, the horses, blinded by the +surrounding light, plunged into a deep ditch that the rain had washed +in the rich soil. Neither men nor horses, fortunately, were injured; +and after several ineffectual efforts to extricate themselves, they +here resolved to await the coming of the fire. Ringwood and Jowler +whined fearfully on the verge of the ditch for an instant, and then +sprang in and crouched trembling at the feet of their master. The next +instant the dark, thundering mass passed over head, being nothing less +than an immense herd of buffalo driven forwards by the flames! The +horses bowed their heads as if a thunderbolt was passing. The fire and +the heavens were hid from view, and the roar above resembled the rush +of mighty waters. When the last animal had sprung over the chasm, Glenn +thanked the propitious accident that thus providentially prevented him +from being crushed to atoms, and uttered a prayer to Heaven that he +might by a like means be rescued from the fiery ordeal that awaited +him. It now occurred to him that the accumulation of weeds and grass in +the chasm, which saved them from injury when falling in, would prove +fatal when the flames arrived! And after groping some distance along +the trench, he found the depth diminished, but the fire was not three +hundred paces distant! His heart sank within him! But when on the eve +of returning to his former position, with a resolution to remove as +much of the combustible matter as possible, a gleam of joy spread over +his features, as, casting a glance in a direction from that they had +recently pursued, he beheld the identical mound he had ascended before +dark, and from which his unsteady and erratic riding in the night had +fortunately prevented a distant separation. They now led their horses +forth, and mounting without delay, whipped forward for life or death. +Could the summit of the mound be attained they were in safety—for there +the soil was not encumbered with decayed vegetation—and they spurred +their animals to the top of their speed. It was a noble sight to see +the majestic white steed flying towards the mound with the velocity of +the wind, while the diminutive pony miraculously followed in the wake +like an inseparable shadow. The careering flames were not far behind; +and when the horses gained the summit and Glenn looked back, the fire +had reached the base! + +“I thank all the saints at once!” exclaimed Joe, dismounting and +falling on his knees. + +“Thank your pony’s legs, also,” remarked Glenn, smiling. + +“Was there ever such a blessed deliverance!” said Joe, panting. + +“Was there ever such a lucky tumble into a ditch!” replied Glenn, with +spirits more buoyant than usual. + +“Was there ever an old hunter so much deceived!” said a voice a few +paces down that side of the cone least exposed to the glare of the +fire, and so much in the shadow of the peak that the speaker was not +perceived from the position of the young men. But as soon as the words +were uttered, Ringwood and Jowler sprang from the horses’ heels where +they had lain panting, and rushed in the direction of the speaker, whom +they accosted with marks of joyful recognition. + +“It is Boone!” exclaimed Glenn, leaping from his horse, and running +forward to his friend, who was now seen to rise up, and a moment after +his horse, that had been prostrate and still, was likewise on his feet. + +“Ha! ha! ha! You have played me a fine trick, truly,” laughingly +remarked Boone, returning their hearty salutations. + +“How?” inquired Glenn. + +“In the first place, to venture forth before my arrival; in the next to +inspire me with the belief that I was on the eve of encountering a +brace of Indians. But I will begin at the beginning. When I crossed the +river and reached your hut, (which is indeed impregnable,) I was +astonished to find you had gone forth to hunt without a guide; and not +so much fearing you would be lost, should night overtake you, as +apprehending serious danger from the fire, the approach of which I +anticipated long before night, from the peculiar complexion of the +atmosphere, I set out on your trail, in hopes of overtaking you before +the shades of evening set in; but darkness coming on, I could trace you +no farther than to this mound. In vain did I endeavour to ascertain +which direction you then travelled; but resolving not to abandon the +search, I continued cruising about the prairie until the near approach +of the fire forced me to retreat hither. It was when urging my horse to +his utmost speed that I beheld you and your bear-hunter charging from +another direction, and from the partial view, as we were all under +whip, (and knowing the Osages were not far off,) I was instantly +convinced that you were savages. Arriving first, I made my sagacious +horse lie down, and then concealed myself behind his body.” + +“I am not only rejoiced that we were not the savages you supposed, (for +then Joe and I must have perished in the flames somewhere,) on our own +account, but for the sake of the only man who can possibly extricate us +from this dilemma,” replied Glenn. + +“You are somewhat wide of the mark as respects my jeopardy, my lad,” +said Boone; “for had you been hostile Osages, most assuredly ere this +you had both been killed.” + +“Good gracious!” exclaimed Joe, whose predicament suddenly flashed upon +his mind; “for Heaven’s sake let us get home as fast as possible! He +says the Indians are about! Do let us go, Mr. Glenn; we can travel now +out yonder where the grass has all been burnt.” + +“Pshaw! You seem more alarmed now, Joe, than when there really was +danger. Are the Osages truly hostile?” continued Glenn, addressing +Boone. + +“They are not at war with the whites, as a nation,” replied Boone, ever +and anon looking towards the only point from which the fire now +approached; “but in thin settlements, where, they may easily be the +strongest party, as roving brigands, they may be considered extremely +dangerous. Your man’s advice is not bad.” + +“There! Don’t you hear that? Now, _do_ let’s go home!” continued Joe, +with increased alarm. + +Fortunately, that portion of the plain over which the scathing element +had spent its fury was the direction the party should pursue in +retracing their way homeward. + +The light dry grass had been soon consumed, and the earth wore a +blackened appearance, and was as smooth as if vegetation had never +covered the surface. As the party rode briskly along, (and the pony now +kept in advance,) the horses’ hoofs rattled as loudly on the baked +ground as if it were a plank floor. The reflection of the fire in the +distance still threw a lurid glare over the extended heath. As the +smoke gradually ascended, objects could be discerned at a great +distance, and occasionally a half-roasted deer or elk, was seen +plunging about, driven to madness by its tortures. And frequently they +found the dead bodies of smaller animals that could find no safety in +flight. + +“What’s that?” cried Joe, reining up his pony, and gazing at a huge +dark object ahead. + +“A prize, to which we are justly entitled!” exclaimed Glenn, riding +forward, on discovering it to be the buffalo (now dead) that they had +fired upon early in the evening, and which circumstance he was relating +to Boone at the moment of the discovery by Joe. + +“You have not only been lucky as hunters,” said Boone, as they +dismounted to inspect the animal, (which was an enormous bull,) “but, +what is extraordinary indeed, when you find your fallen game, it is +already cooked!” + +“Huzza for us!” cried Joe, momentarily forgetting the Indians, in his +extravagant joy of having aided in killing the animal, and at the same +time leaping astride of it. + +“The wolves have been here before us,” observed Boone, seeing a large +quantity of the buffalo’s viscera on the ground, which he supposed had +been torn out by those ravenous animals. + +“Oh! oh! oh! oh!” exclaimed Joe, leaping up, and running a few steps, +and then tumbling down and continuing his cries. + +“What has hurt the fellow so badly?” inquired Glenn, walking round from +the back of the animal to the front. The words were scarcely uttered +before he likewise sprang away, hastily, as he beheld a pronged +instrument thrust from the orifice in the body whence the bowels had +been extracted! + +“Dod! I wonder if it’s wolves or Injins!” exclaimed a voice within the +cavity of the huge body. + +“I’ve heard that voice before—it must be Sneak’s,” said Boone, laughing +heartily. + +Now the buffalo was observed to quiver slightly, and after some +exertion to extricate himself, the long snake-like form of the +redoubtable “Hatchet-face” came forth and stood erect before the gaping +mouth and staring eyes of Joe. + +“If I didn’t hear a white man speak, I wish I may be singed!” exclaimed +Sneak, wiping the moisture from his face, and rolling his eyes round. + +“What did you stick that sharp thing in the calf of my leg for?” +demanded Joe, shaking his head threateningly and coming forward. + +“He! he! he! That’s revenge for shooting my pups,” replied Sneak. + +“But how came you here?” inquired Boone. + +“I was taking a hunt”—here Boone interrupted him by asking where his +gun was. “I had no gun,” said Sneak; and then stooping down and running +his arm into the body of the buffalo, he produced a pronged spear, +about four feet in length; “this,” he continued, “is what I hunted +with, and I was hunting after muskrats in the ponds out here, when the +fire came like blazes, and like to ’ave ketched me! I dropped all the +muskrats I had stuck, and streaked it for about an hour towards the +river. But it gained on me like lightning, and I’d ’ave been in a purty +fix if I hadn’t come across this dead bull. I out with my knife and was +into him in less than no time—but split me, if I didn’t feel the heat +of the fire as I pulled in my feet! I knew the Injins was about, by the +buffalo; and the tarnation wolves, too, are always everywhere, and that +accounts for my jobbing that feller’s leg when he sot down on top of +me.” + +Glenn’s laughter at the above narration was arrested by Boone, who +placed one hand on his shoulder, and with the other pointed out towards +the fire about a mile distant, before which and thrown in relief by the +flames could be distinctly discerned the flitting forms of a band of +savages! A number were mounted, and others could be seen on foot, and +all moving about in various directions round a large herd of buffalo, +which occasionally made a stand to resist the foe that harassed them on +all sides, but were soon driven forward again by the flames. Now a +mounted chief could be seen to ride boldly up within a few paces of the +dark mass of animals, and drawing his arrow to the head, discharge it, +shaft and all, into the defenceless side of his victim. The enraged +animal thus pursued either fell or rushed furiously on its foe; but the +skilful savage, by a dexterous turn or sudden leap, seemed to avoid him +with ease, and flying round, sent forth another barbed messenger as he +careered at full speed. + +“As I’m afoot, I’ll go ahead!” cried Sneak, starting off at a gait that +verified his words. + +“Good gracious!” exclaimed Joe, leaping on his pony and whipping after +Sneak, while Boone and Glenn followed in a brisk gallop. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +The retreat—Joe makes a mysterious discovery—Mary—A +disclosure—Supper—Sleep—A cat—Joe’s flint—The watch—Mary—The bush—The +attack—Joe’s musket again—The repulse—The starting rally—The desperate +alternative—Relief. + + +The guidance of Sneak was infallible. Ere long the party reached the +vicinity of the river, which was indicated by the tall trees and the +valleys, and all apprehensions of immediate danger subsiding, they +slackened their pace. + +Sneak, though not so much distressed as the panting horses, fell back, +and entered into conversation with Boone relative to the probable +operations of the Indians, while Joe continued some little distance in +advance, apparently wrapped in contemplation of the recent scenes that +had so much astonished him. When he was within about a hundred paces of +his long-wished for home, he thought he saw an object moving about in +front of the palisade. He checked his pony for an instant; but +convinced that the savages could not possibly have arrived already, he +again whipped onward, inclined to believe it to be nothing more than a +phantom of the brain. But when he proceeded a few stops farther, his +pony stopped suddenly and snorted, while a being, which he could not +exactly define, was distinctly seen to rise up and glide swiftly out of +view round the inclosure. + +“Who’s that!” shouted he, and at the same time looking eagerly back at +his companions, whose near approach induced him to maintain his +position. + +“Go on, Joe! What’s the matter?” remarked Glenn, the head of his steed +having passed over the back of the pony as he stood across the path and +blocked up the way. + +“I beg to be excused! As sure as I’m alive, I saw an Indian run round +towards the gate!” replied Joe. + +“Foller me,” said Sneak, poising his spear in the air, and advancing. + +“Thank Heaven, it’s you!” exclaimed the mysterious object, coming +forward fearlessly, on hearing the men’s voices. + +“Dod rot your cowardly skin!” said Sneak, after looking at the +approaching form and turning to Joe, “how dare you to be frightened at +sich a thing as that—a female woman!” + +“It was not me—it was my pony, you great—” + +“What?” asked Sneak, sharply, turning abruptly round, as they paused at +the gate. + +“You great long buffalo tapeworm!” said Joe, alighting on the side of +the pony opposite to his quarrelsome companion, and then going forward +and opening the gate in silence. + +“What brings thee hither at this late hour, Mary?” inquired Glenn, on +recognizing the ferryman’s daughter. + +“Nothing—only—I”—stammered the abashed girl, who had expected only to +see our hero and his man. + +“Speak out, lass, if you have any thing important to say,” remarked +Boone, when they entered the inclosure, placing his hand encouragingly +on the girl’s head. + +Mary still hesitated, and Boone was no little puzzled to conjecture +rightly what it was she intended to impart; but he was convinced it +must be something of no ordinary nature that would induce a maiden of +reputed timidity to leave her father’s hut at a late hour of the night. + +“Now tell me, Mary, what it was you wished to say,” remarked Glenn, +addressing her in a playful tone, when they were seated in the house, +and a lamp suspended against the wall was lighted. + +“I did not expect to find Mr. Boone and Sneak with you—and now—” + +“What?” inquired Glenn, much moved by her paleness, and the throbbing +of her breast, which now seemed to be gradually subsiding. + +“Nothing—only you and Joe are both safe now,” she replied, with her +eyes cast down. + +“Were we in danger? How are we safe?” inquired Glenn, regarding her +words as highly mysterious. + +“Everybody is safe where Mr. Boone is,” replied Mary. + +“But what was the danger, my pretty lass?” inquired Boone, playfully +taking her hand. + +“Why Posin, one of father’s boatmen—” + +“Speak on, lass—I know Posin to be an unfeeling wretch, and a +half-blood Indian; but he is also known to be a great coward, and +surely no harm could have been feared from him,” said Boone. + +“But I heard him speaking to himself when I was filling my pitcher at +the spring, and he was standing behind some rocks, where he couldn’t +see me, and didn’t think any one was within hearing.” + +“What said he?” inquired Glenn, impatiently, and much interested in the +anticipated disclosure, for he had often remarked the satanic +expression of Posin’s features. + +“These were his words: ‘The Osages will be here before to-morrow +morning. If Raven, the chief, will go halves with me, I’ll tell him how +much money the young men have, and help to get it!’ Such were his very +words!” continued Mary, her dark eyes assuming a brightness, and her +voice a boldness unwonted on ordinary occasions, as she proceeded: “He +then started off towards the prairie with his rifle, and nobody has +seen him since. I told father about it but he wouldn’t believe there +was any danger; and when night came, he told me not to be uneasy, but +to sleep like a good girl. I did lie down, for I never like to disobey +my father; but I couldn’t sleep, and so I got up and came here to wait +till you returned, to tell you all about it.” + +“Thanks, Mary—I shall never forget your kindness,” said Glenn, as much +affected by her simplicity and gentleness as at the threatened danger. + +“You’re a sweet lass; God bless you, Mary!” said Boone, kissing her +smooth forehead. “Now run home and go to sleep, child; we will be on +our guard. As for you, your father is respected by all the Indians, and +therefore your own safety will be best secured under his protection.” + +“I will accompany you to the hut,” said Glenn, as the girl bid them +good night, and was about departing. + +“Oh no—I’m used to going alone,” said Mary, promptly declining the +proposition. + +“She speaks truly, and it is unnecessary,” said Boone, as the maiden +bowed and disappeared. + +The party then fastened the gate and secured themselves within the +stone house. Joe petitioned Glenn to permit him to bring in the dogs, +and Sneak seconded the motion, proposing to lie with them before the +fire. + +After a hearty repast, Boone and Glenn retired to their couches in +quest of repose, so much needed after the exercises of the day. Nor was +it long before they were steeped in that deep and solemn slumber which +throws a mysterious veil over the senses, obscuring from the vision all +objects of an unpleasant nature, relieving the mind of the cares that +may have pressed heavily upon it during the day, and at the same time +by the gentlest process refreshing and reinvigorating the weary +faculties for renewed exertion. + +Silence brooded over the fireside scene. The lamp threw a dim ray +around its small flame unruffled by the confined and motionless air. +The fawn was coiled in a sleeping posture under its master’s bed, while +the kitten purred upon its velvet back. On one side of the hearth lay +Sneak, his head pillowed upon one of the hounds, while the other slept +against his back. Joe was the only one present who had not fallen under +the magic influence of slumber. Hitherto he had yielded to a more +powerful impulse—that of the appetite—and he now sat upon a low stool +on the corner of the hearth opposite to Sneak, his back leaning against +the side of the fireplace, holding in his left hand a pewter platter, +and in his right a rib of the deer he had killed, well cooked, which he +raised to his mouth occasionally, and sometimes at very long intervals, +between the approaches of the sleep which was gradually overpowering +him. Once, when his eyelids sank heavily and closed, and the platter +rested on his lap, and his right hand, still clenching the savoury +bone, fell powerless at his side—Ringwood, in his hard breathing, +chanced to snuff up some ashes that caused him to sneeze. Joe started +at the sound, and after rolling his eyes round once or twice and +finding all right, raised the bone once more to his mouth and set his +jaws again in motion. + +“Dod, man! are you going to chaw all night?” asked Sneak, awakened by +the motion of Ringwood, and looking up at the face of Joe in +astonishment. + +“I had nothing to eat all day,” replied Joe, fishing for a cracker +floating in the greasy platter. + +“But ain’t you a-going to sleep some?” asked Sneak, half unconsciously, +the final utterance smothered in a guttural rumble as he again sank +back on his canine pillow. + +“Yes, when I’ve got my supper,” replied Joe lazily, and indistinctly, +with one end of the bone in his mouth. But it was not long before he +again nodded, and his hand with the bone in it was once more lowered +softly down at his side. He was soon palpably fast asleep. And now the +kitten, having finished its nap, came with a noiseless tread to the +comfortable fire, humming its low unvaried song; and, rubbing its soft +side against the head of Jowler, finally crouched down before the +embers, with its feet drawn under it, and its eyes apparently watching +the brilliant sparks that ever and anon flew up the chimney. But ere +long it scented the well-flavoured viand that dangled in the vicinity, +and after casting a glance at the face of Joe, and being satisfied that +he was insensible to all external objects, stealthily began to gnaw the +end of the bone that rested on the hearth. As long as it had in mind +the fear of interruption, it was permitted to feast moderately; but +when its ravenous propensity urged it to more active and vigorous +operations, Joe once more opened his eyes, and after looking slowly +around, but not down, again attempted to raise the rib to a is mouth. + +“Hello!—augh! scat!” he cried, leaping up violently. + +His first impression was that the Indians, about whom he had been +dreaming, were upon him; his next that a rattlesnake clung to his +finger; and finally, finding it to be the kitten bestowing some +scratches on the hand that sought to bereave it of its prize, he +uttered the latter exclamation, first in rage; but pleased that his +condition was no worse, soon after called the poor frightened pet to +him, and with one or two caresses gave it the bone, and then resigned +himself to unrestrained slumber. + +They were all aroused in the morning by the snorting of the horses +without, and the growling and sharp yelping of the hounds within. + +“What’s the matter with the horses and dogs, Joe?” inquired Glenn, +rising from his couch. + +“I don’t know what ails the foolish things. I know that I fed the +horses; and as for Ringwood and Jowler, I’ll soon kick them out. Let go +my ankle!” exclaimed he, turning to Sneak, who caught hold of him as he +rose to approach the door. + +“Don’t open the door yet,” said Boone, who had been listening to the +sounds outside, and then continued in an under tone, addressing Glenn: +“They are certainly here; but whether or not with an evil intent I am +unable to determine.” + +“Oh goodness! It’s the Indians!” exclaimed Joe, yielding to sudden +alarm, having momentarily forgotten the anticipated danger when he +proposed opening the door. + +“Keep your mouth shet!” said Sneak, listening with his ear placed near +the floor behind the door. + +“How many do you make them out to be?” inquired Boone, when Sneak had +occupied his position a few minutes. + +“It’s all right!” replied Sneak, eagerly; “there is only two or three +of ’em, and old Roughgrove’s out there talking to ’em! How do you open +the door? Let me out!” + +The door was opened with reluctance and cautiously by Joe, and Sneak +going foremost all the party sallied out into the fresh air. A snow of +several inches in depth had fallen, and within the circle enclosed by +the palisade not a single track was to be seen. But when the gate was +drawn back, several Osage Indians were observed standing a few paces +distant with their tomahawks hung in their belts and instead of +exhibiting any symptoms of hostility, they approached smiling, and +extended the hand of friendship to the whites. + +“How do!” exclaimed the leader, in imperfect English, grasping the +hands held out in salutation, while his actions were imitated by the +others in silence. + +“I’m very well, I thank you,” said Joe, bowing and retreating backwards +when they accosted him, unwilling to venture his hand within their +reach, as Glenn and the rest did. + +“Shake hands with them, you silly fellow,” said Boone, “or they will +think you are an enemy.” + +“Here, Mr. Osage!” said Joe, his teeth chattering as he extended his +hand; and the Indian, perceiving his alarm, squeezed it so tightly for +merriment that he was on the eve of crying out; and when liberated, he +sprang violently back, much inclined to run away, to their great +amusement. + +“That is Raven, the chief,” remarked Roughgrove to Glenn, pointing to +the one that first addressed them, and who was now conversing with +Boone, whom he seemed to know, or to have been familiar with his +character, from his animated gestures and the excited expression of his +features. Sneak stood in silence, a convenient distance apart, +apparently gleaning intelligence from the conference. The chief (as are +the members of this tribe generally) was extremely dark, tall, +athletic, and wore a ferocious aspect, while the few followers with him +manifested a curiosity to examine the apparel and accoutrements of the +whites, but without betraying any signs of an evil disposition. + +“Are there not more of them in the vicinity?” inquired Glenn. + +“Yes—quite a large party,” said Roughgrove; “but Raven said he did not +wish to intimidate the whites by showing them, without first extending +the hand of friendship himself. They profess to entertain the kindest +feeling towards us, and propose through their chiefs to traffic their +furs and moccasins for such goods as we may be disposed to give them in +return.” + +“I do not see your oarsman, Posin,” remarked Glenn, the disclosure of +Mary occurring to him—and then accosted Mary herself, who now joined +them with her eyes cast down in apparent bashfulness. + +“His absence is a mystery to me,” replied the old ferryman, “though I +do not attach the same importance to it that Mary does.” + +“Father”—uttered his daughter, and pausing in mingled timidity and +dread, as if some undefinable forebodings of harm oppressed her. + +“I’ll be shot if I understand all this to my liking,” said Sneak, +staring at the great number of moccasin tracks that had been made round +the enclosure, which truly indicated that more than the four chiefs +present had been prowling there before daylight. + +“Hush, Mr. Sneak!” said Joe; “they hear every word you say.” + +“Jest let me alone a minute,” replied Sneak, getting down on his knees +and examining the various foot-prints with great minuteness. When he +rose he made some signs to Boone, which the others did not comprehend. + +At this juncture several other Indians were seen to approach from the +valley above, where the party had encamped. These painted visitors +likewise came forward with sundry nods and gesticulations of +friendship, at the same time exhibiting several furred articles of +curious workmanship, and a few precious stones, as samples of what they +wished to barter. A short conference then ensued between them and the +head chief, which terminated in a pressing invitation for the whites to +accompany them to their encampment. + +“You may all do as you like—I shall stay here,” said Joe, stepping back +towards the gate. + +“You are a coward, Joe!” said Glenn; “you may remain, however, to +prevent them from pilfering any thing while we are away,” and he turned +towards the Indians for the purpose of accompanying them. + +“Stay!” said Mary, in a distinct and startling tone. + +“Why should we not go? We are armed, and could as easily withstand an +attack in their encampment as elsewhere. If it be their determination +to do us harm, their numbers will enable them to accomplish their +purpose notwithstanding all the opposition we can offer,” said Glenn. + +“There is no danger,” said Roughgrove, endeavouring to extricate his +arm from the grasp of Mary, who strenuously held him back. + +“I have a secret for thee, child,” said Boone, beckoning the trembling +girl to him. + +“Oh, what is it? You will not let him—I mean my father, go among them, +will you? _You_ know that Posin is away—perhaps in some ambush —” + +“Hush child!” said Boone, in a low tone, and employing gestures that +led the savages to believe he was quieting her fears, while he +whispered a message in her ear that had a singular effect. Though very +pale, the girl now smiled playfully, and returning to her father, said, +in tones so low that no one else could hear, “Father, he says you must +instantly cross the river for assistance—I will be safe, under _his_ +protection, till you return.” + +“I’ll do it!” replied Roughgrove, setting off towards the ferry. But +when he departed, the chief evinced much anger, and was only appeased +by the assurance that the old ferryman was gone for some article +desired by his child, and would return ere long. + +The footprint which had so much attracted Sneak was recognized by some +peculiar marks to be that of Posin, and when the discovery was +communicated to Boone, he at once surmised that danger lurked in the +vicinity; and the subsequent impatience on the part of the Indians to +urge the whites to visit their camp, convinced him that some foul +treachery had been concocted between the half-breed and the savages. He +had also caught a glimpse of several armed Indians behind some bushes +at no great distance from where he stood, notwithstanding Raven had +asserted that the rest of his party were in their encampment; and when +the chief grew angry, and almost menacing, on the withdrawal of the old +ferryman, he resolved to adopt the surest means of safety without +delay. No sooner was the ferry-boat seen to shoot out from the land +than Boone motioned the whites to enter the inclosure. As they turned +towards the gate, the chief made a movement to intercept them; but +Boone drew forth a brace of pistols that had been concealed under his +hunting-shirt, one of which he pointed at Raven, and with the other +intimidated the rest who had advanced likewise, until his friends were +all within the palisade. + +Boone drew forth a brace of pistols. + +Boone drew forth a brace of pistols that had been concealed under his +hunting-shirt, one of which he pointed at Raven, and with the other +intimidated the rest who had advanced on himself, until his friends +were all within the palisade. + + +Boone did not wish to be the first to shed blood, and in their own +language asserted as much to the savages; but at the same time he +warned them not to commit any violence in the settlement at their +peril. The chief had not thought there would be any necessity for +bloodshed so soon, and perhaps not at all, if Glenn could be enticed +from his house, while Posin and his comrades might obtain his money. + +Nor did he expect to meet with Boone, (renowned among all the tribes +for his wisdom and prowess,) much less to be anticipated on the very +threshold of the enterprise. His rage grew intense on finding himself +outwitted and defied. He drew forth his tomahawk, and though not +venturing to throw it, (for he perceived Glenn and Sneak behind, with +their guns in readiness to fire,) he shook it threateningly at Boone as +he closed the gate, and then strode away sulkily in the direction of +the bushes, where some of his followers had been seen partially +concealed. + +When the gate was secured, the inmates of the little fort crowded about +Boone and overwhelmed him with questions. + +“Do you think they can get over the posts?” inquired Joe. + +“Will they come before father returns?” asked Mary. + +“Do you think they will attack us at all?” interrogated Glenn. + +“There can be no doubt of it,” replied Boone; “but if we do our duty, I +think we shall be able to resist them. We must be ready to defend +ourselves, at all events—and in the mean time we must watch through the +loopholes on every side to prevent a surprise.” This was hardly spoken +before an arrow whizzed over their heads, and, striking against the +stone wall of the house, fell at the feet of Joe. + +“Ugh! look at that!” cried he, leaping some ten feet away. + +“Go in, child—and the rest to their posts!” remarked Boone, first to +Mary, and then addressing the men. + +“Yes—_do_ go in, Miss!” cried Joe, forcing Mary into the house, where +he also seemed determined to remain himself. + +“Come out here!” cried Sneak, going to the door. + +“Wait till I screw a flint in my musket,” said Joe. + +“You can see better out here,” replied Sneak. + +“But I haven’t found the flint yet,” answered Joe. + +“He’s a coward!” said Sneak, turning away and going to his post, whence +he could watch the valley below. + +Boone’s station was on the opposite side, in the direction of the +supposed encampment of the Indians. But not a savage could now be seen, +and the arrow that fell among them had evidently been discharged from a +great distance above. + +“Shall we fire if any of them come within the range of our guns?” +inquired Glenn, from his position on the east, which overlooked the +cliff. + +“Certainly,” replied Boone; “the arrow was their declaration of war, +and if they are again seen, it will be in a hostile attitude. Watch +close, Sneak!” he cried, as another shaft flew over the palisade from +the valley below, and penetrated the wood but a few feet above his +head. + +“Come out to your post, Joe!” cried Glenn, impatiently. + +“I will presently—as soon as I get my gun fixed,” replied Joe. + +“If you do not come forth instantly, I’ll thrust you out of the +inclosure!” continued Glenn, somewhat fiercely. + +“Here I am,” said Joe, coming out, and making an effort to assume a +bold bearing: “I’m ready now—I only wanted to fix my gun—who’s afraid?” +saying which, he strode in a stooping posture to the loophole on the +west of the inclosure. + +While the whole male force of the garrison was required to act as +sentinels, Mary, whose trepidation had been succeeded by deliberate +resolution, was busily employed moulding bullets. + +An hour passed, and no Indians had yet been seen, although an +occasional arrow assured the besieged party that the enemy still +remained in the immediate vicinity. They cleared away the snow at their +posts, and placing dry straw to stand upon, prepared to continue the +watch throughout the day and night. Nor were they to suffer for food; +for Mary, though she had not been requested so to do, ere long, to +their joyful surprise, came forth with a dinner handsomely provided, +which she placed before them with a smile of satisfaction playing on +her lips, and entirely unmindful of the shafts that continued to fly +overhead, which either pierced the wood and remained stationary, or +fell expended and harmless at her feet. + +Affairs thus remained till night, when the arrows ceased to fly. There +was not a cloud in the heavens, and the moon rose up in purest +brightness. A breathless stillness pervaded the air, and no sound for a +great length of time could be heard but the hooting of owls on the +opposite side of the river, and the howling of wolves in the flats +about a mile above. + +“I’m not a bit cold—are you?” said Joe, addressing Sneak. + +“Dad! keep an eye out!” replied Sneak, in a low tone. + +“There’s nothing out this way but a bush. But I declare it seems to be +bigger and nigher than it was in the daytime,” said Joe. + +“Don’t speak so loud,” remarked Boone, crossing to where Joe stood, and +looking through at the bush. + +“It’s nothing but a bush,” said Joe. + +“Do you wish to kill an Indian?” inquired Boone. + +“I wish they were all worms, and I could get my heel on them!” said +Joe. + +“That would be cruel—but as any execution we may now do, is in our own +defence, you may fire at that bush if you like,” continued Boone. + +“Well,” said Joe; and taking deliberate aim, discharged his musket as +directed, and was knocked down on his back in the snow by the rebound. + +“Plague take the gun!” said he, recovering his feet; “but I remember it +had two loads in—I forgot it was charged, and loaded it again. Ha! ha! +ha! but what’s become of the bush?” he continued jocularly, not +thinking he had fired at an Indian. + +“Look for yourself,” replied Boone. + +“Hang me if it ain’t gone!” exclaimed Joe. + +“Ay, truly it is; but had you hit the mark, it would have fallen. It +was rather too far, however, even for your musket,” said Boone, +returning to his former position. + +“You are the poorest marksman that ever I saw, or you’d ’ave killed +that red rascal,” said Sneak, coming up to Joe, and finding where the +bush had been. + +“I didn’t know it was any thing but a bush—if I’d only known it was an +Indian—” + +“You be hanged!” replied Sneak, vexed that such a capital opportunity +should be lost, and petulantly resuming his own station. + +An intense silence succeeded the discharge of Joe’s gun, after the +tremendous report died away, in successive reverberations up and down +the river, and over the low wood land opposite. The owls and wolves +were hushed; and as the watchful sentinels cast their eyes over the +snow, on which the calm rays of the moon rested in repose, there was +not the least indication of the presence of a dangerous foe. + +Joe leant against the palisade, holding with one hand the breech of his +gun, while the barrel was thrust through the loophole, and seemed to be +indulging in a peculiar train of reflections. + +“Now, I’d much rather be in Philadelphia,” said he, in a voice but +little louder than a, whisper, and unconscious of giving utterance to +his thoughts—“a great deal rather be there—in some comfortable +oyster-cellar—than standing out here in the lone wilderness, up to my +knees in snow, and expecting every minute to have a poisoned arrow shot +through my head. Hang it all! I wonder what pleasure Mr. Glenn can +enjoy here? Suppose, now, while I’m standing here thinking, an arrow +should dart over the, other side, and stick five or six inches into me? +I hope they keep a careful look-out. And that reminds me that I ought +to keep an eye out myself, for fear some one may he pinked from my +side.” He applied his eye to the hole, and continued in the same +strain: “I don’t see a single living thing; maybe they’ve all gone off. +If they have, I’ll deserve all the credit, for I’m the only person that +shot at them. And I don’t think that long hatchet-face Sneak will think +that I’m a coward any more. But these savages are strange beings; I had +no more idea that the bush hid an Indian than that there’s one not ten +feet off now, under the snow. And if we hadn’t found him out he might +have crawled up and shot me in the eye through this hole. I won’t hold +my eye here all the time!” said he, rising, and to his astonishment +Sneak stood at his elbow, whither he had glided softly, his quick ear +having caught the hum of Joe’s soliloquy, and his curiosity leading him +to find out the meaning of the mysterious jargon of his +companion-in-arms. + +“Of all the men I ever saw you are the dod-rottedest!” exclaimed Sneak, +after staring at him a few moments in silent wonderment, and then +striding back to his post. + +“I should like to hear that sentence parsed,” said Joe, looking after +him. + +The hours wore on in peace, until midnight, when a low chattering, like +that of a squirrel, was heard in the valley below; while a shrill +whistling, resembling that of quails was distinguished above. + +“Come hither!” exclaimed Boone in a whisper to Glenn. + +“Do you see any of them?” inquired Glenn, joining his friend. + +“Not yet—but we will see enough of them presently. The sounds in the +valleys are signals, and they will attack us on these sides. You may +abandon your watch on the east, and assist me here.” + +“And you may come and spell me,” said Sneak to Joe. + +“I must not desert my post,” said Joe. + +“If you stay there, you’ll be dead sure to be shot!” replied Sneak. + +“You don’t think they’re coming back, do you?” inquired Joe, gliding +swiftly to Sneak’s side. + +“They’ll be on us in no time. Is your gun loaded? + +“I declare I have forgotten whether I loaded it again or not!” said +Joe. + +“You’re, a purty feller, to watch with an empty gun, now ain’t you? +Never mind blowing in her—run down a cartridge as quick as you kin; it +makes no odds how much you have in; a big noise will do as much good as +any thing else,” said Sneak, hurriedly, evidently expecting to see the +savage enemy every moment, while Joe did his bidding, asserting all the +time that he believed his musket was already loaded, and expressing a +decided dislike to being kicked over every day from overcharging. + +As Boone predicted, but a very short time elapsed before a series of +startling and frightful yells were heard below, which were answered by +similar horrid sounds above. Joe first ran towards Boone and Glenn, and +then sprang back to his place at the side of Sneak, fully convinced +there were no means of retreat, and, being effectually cornered, at +length evinced an ardent desire to fire. When the yells died away in +the distance, a flight of arrows from the north south poured upon the +besieged party. Many of them pierced the outer side of the palisade, +while others, flying over, penetrated the opposite timbers, and +quivered above the heads of the men; and some rattled against the top +of the house, (the snow having melted from the roof,) and fell harmless +to the earth. + +There having been no shot yet fired in the direction whence the arrows +came, (for such was the order of Boone,) the savages, emboldened by the +absence of any demonstrations of resistance, and thinking their foes +were shut up in the house, or killed by their numberless shafts, +charged upon the premises simultaneously from both sides, shooting +their arrows and yelling as they came. When they had approached within +a hundred paces of the inclosure, Boone and Sneak fired with deadly aim +at the foremost of the party, and the next moment Glenn followed the +example, while Boone reloaded his gun. + +“Now fire!” exclaimed Sneak, shaking Joe by the shoulder, having seen +the savages pause when one of their party uttered the death-howl and +fell. + +“Here goes!” said Joe, pulling the trigger and falling over on his back +in the snow from the rebound, for the musket had been truly twice +charged. + +“Split me if you didn’t accidentally throw a handful of bullets among +their legs that crack!” said Sneak, observing the now discomfited and +retreating Indians, as they endeavoured to bear off their wounded, and +then firing on them again himself as they vanished down the valley. The +like result was witnessed above, and again in a very short time there +was not a savage to be seen. + +“What’s the matter? Why don’t you get up?” asked Sneak turning to Joe, +who still remained prostrate on the ground. + +“My mouth’s bleeding—I don’t know but I’m wounded. Didn’t an arrow come +through the hole when I was shooting?” asked Joe, rising partially up +and spitting out a quantity of blood on the snow. + +“It was nothing but the gun kicking you like it did in the bear hunt. +If it was an arrow you must have swallered it, for I don’t see the +shaft. But maybe you did—you’re sech a gormandizer,” said Sneak. + +“Hang it all, I don’t believe I’m much hurt!” exclaimed Joe, jumping up +suddenly. “Get from before the hole!” he continued, ramming down a +cartridge hastily, and thrusting out the muzzle of his gun. + +“Why don’t you blaze away?” asked Sneak, laughing, observing that he +hesitated. + +“Why, they’re, all gone!” cried Joe, joyfully, “and it was my old +cannon that swept them off, too.” + +Once more silence pervaded the scene. Boone, after the repeated +solicitations of Mary, partook of another bountiful repast, and the +others in turn likewise refreshed themselves, and then resumed the +watch. + +Nor was it long before the Osages were once more heard to howl like +fiends, and the sound had hardly ceased to vibrate through the air +before a singular and unexpected assault terrified the besieged party +for a moment. This was a shower of _blazing arrows_ coming from below, +(where all the savages now seemed to be collected,) which ignited the +palisade in many places where the snow had fallen off. But the fire was +easily extinguished, and all, with the exception of Boone, were +disposed to attach but little importance to any further device of the +enemy. Boone, on the contrary, was unusually grave, and requested his +companions to be on the alert, or they would yet be the victims of the +savages. + +“I like these kind of arrows the best,” said Joe, “for I can see how to +dodge them.” + +“But the wooden slabs can’t dodge—dod! they’re afire on the outside +now!” cried Sneak, truly discovering a flame reaching above the +inclosure from without. + +“Watch well from the loopholes!” cried Boone, throwing open the gate +and rushing out, and running round to where the fire was crackling. +“Come, Sneak!—I want your assistance—quick!” he exclaimed, finding the +flames making rapid progress. + +“Keep your eye skinned now!” said Sneak, as he left Joe alone to watch +for the Indians, and ran out to aid in subduing the fire. + +The savages could evidently see what was transacting, although unseen +themselves, for most of their arrows now seemed to be directed at those +without. + +“Look sharp!” said Boone to Joe, through the loophole. + +“Let me assist!” cried Glenn, imprudently leaving his post in his +eagerness to share the danger, and coming out with a spade. + +“Go in, my friend—we are sufficient here,” said Boone, addressing +Glenn. + +“Come in! come in! come in!” cried Joe. + +“I see no Indians,” remarked Boone. + +“The house is on fire! Fire! fire! fire!” screamed Joe, falling into +his old habit when in the city. + +Glenn ran back in this emergency, but when he arrived within the +inclosure, he found that this service had been anticipated by Mary, who +had quietly thrust her hands into the snow, and with balls thus made, +easily extinguished the fire on the roof. + +When Boone and Sneak had effected their purpose, they repaired to their +former positions, assured that the utmost caution must be observed to +prevent a surprise from some unexpected quarter, while their attention +was naturally directed to one particular point. But they had hardly +resumed their stations before their ears were saluted by the joyful +report of rifles in the valley. Relief was at hand. Roughgrove had +recrossed the river, with a party of recruits, and fallen upon the rear +of the savages, at a moment when success seemed to smile on their +sanguinary purpose. Their shouts of exultation at the prospect of +firing the premises were now changed to howls of despair, and they fled +in all directions. But Roughgrove, aware of the impolicy of pursuit, +led his men directly to the gallant little garrison; and the victorious +huzzas of his band were answered in like manner by the besieged, who +came forth and gave them a cordial welcome. Never, perhaps, when they +met, did hand grasp hand more heartily. But Mary, who had hitherto cast +aside all the weaker fears of the woman, no sooner beheld her aged +father in safety than she rushed into arms and fainted on his breast. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +A strange excursion—A fairy scene—Joe is puzzled and frightened—A +wonderful discovery—Navigation of the upper regions—A crash—No bones +broken. + + +Several weeks had elapsed since the incidents recorded in the last +chapter. The repulse of the Osages was succeeded by the arrival of a +war-party of Pawnees, and a deadly feud existing between these tribes, +the latter readily joined the whites, and speedily chased the enemy far +beyond the settlements. Boone had returned to his family on the other +side of the river; and Sneak, having made peace with Joe, had likewise +withdrawn to his own domicil, to pursue his avocations of hunting and +trapping in solitude. + +Glenn sat before a blazing fire in his little castle, his left hand +clasping a closed book he had been reading, while his dextral elbow was +resting on the rude arm of a chair which he had constructed and +cushioned with furs, and his palm supported his chin. He thus sat +silently, looking steadfastly through one of the little square windows +at the snow-encrusted branches of the trees beyond the inclosure, and +apparently indulging a pleasing train of reflections. + +Joe, on the contrary, was engaged in boisterous and mirthful exercise +on the deep and frozen snow without. He was playing with the kitten, +the fawn, and the hounds, and occasionally ran into the stable to +caress the horses. + +At length, with no other object than a dreamy impulse to wander among +the wild scenes in the vicinity, Glenn started up, and donning a warm +overcoat and seizing his rifle, set out along the cliff up the river, +(a direction which he had never yet traversed,) accompanied by Joe, who +seemed to look upon his master’s pale composed face, and determined +though gentle motions, with curiosity, if not mystery. + +“Why do you stare at me so often?” inquired Glenn, pausing, after they +had walked some distance in silence. + +“Because I don’t know what you’re after,” replied Joe. + +“You’ll see what I’m after,” said Glenn, setting forward, and +continuing his course along the cliff. + +A snow of several feet in depth rested on the earth, and the sun that +shone forth at noon had melted the surface so frequently, that the +freezing nights which had as often succeeded had formed an icy +incrustation quite strong enough to bear the weight of a man. Though it +was a dreary waste, yet Glenn gleaned a satisfaction in casting his +eyes around where his glance beheld no one striving to oppress his +fellow being that he might acquire riches and power, to be again +snatched from his grasp by others, but a peaceful scene, fresh from the +hand of God, and unmarred by the workmanship of meaner creatures. The +broad river far below was covered with a massy plate of ice, and the +snow that rested upon it gave it the appearance of an immense plain, +rather than an incrusted surface of the most perturbed and erratic +stream in the world. The geese and other fowl that wandered over the +frozen surface in quest of their native element, from the great +distance down, seemed to be no larger than sparrows. + +Ere long, Glenn and his man reached the valley above, and commenced a +descent through the timber in a diagonal direction, that would conduct +them, after numerous windings, to the edge of the frozen stream, along +which a narrow pathway ran northward about a mile. Glenn paused at an +abrupt angle in his descent, after having proceeded a few paces through +the undergrowth, and stood long in wonderment and admiration, gazing at +the scene that suddenly burst in view. His towering position overlooked +the whole valley. The ten thousand trees beneath, and their ten million +branches and twigs all completely clothed in crystal—while not the +slightest breeze was stirring—presented a view of fairyland, such as +flits across the vision in dreams, that the memory fain would cling to, +but which is lost in the real and conflicting transactions of returning +day. The noonday sun was momentarily veiled by a listless cloud, which +seemed to be stationary in the heavens, as if designed to enhance the +effect of the beauty below, that outvied in brightness even the usual +light above. Not a squirrel was seen to leap from bough to bough, nor a +bird to flit across the opening between the lofty trees; but all was +stillness, silence, and beauty. As Glenn stood entranced, Joe seemed to +be more struck with the operation of the enchantment on his companion’s +features and attitude, than with any effect from the same source +experienced on himself. + +“Ain’t you going down to the bottom of the valley?” asked Joe. + +“It is a scene such as is beheld by infants in their slumbers, when +they dream of paradise!” said Glenn, paying no attention to Joe, his +eyes immovably riveted on the innumerable sprigs of alabaster which +pointed out in every direction in profuse clusters, while his pale lips +seemed to move mechanically, and his brow expressed a mournful +serenity, as if entertaining a regret that he should ever be separated +from the pearly labyrinths before him, amid which he would delight to +wander forever. + +“I think you must be dreaming yourself,” said Joe, staring at him. + +“How composed is every object!” continued Glenn; “such must be the +abode of angels and departed spirits, who are not permitted longer to +behold the strifes of earth and its contaminations, but rove +continually with noiseless tread, or on self-poised wing, through +devious and delightful paths, surrounded by sedges of silver +embroidery, and shielded above by mazy fretwork spangled with diamonds, +or gliding without effort through the pure and buoyant air, from bower +to bower of crystal” + +“Ugh—talking of the icy trees makes me chilly!” said Joe. + +“With life everlasting and unchangeable!” continued Glenn, after a +momentary pause from the interruption of his man, which he only noticed +by a significant motion of the hand for him to be silent. + +“But I wouldn’t like the eternal _frost-work_,” said Joe. + +“Pshaw!” replied Glenn, pursuing his way downwards. When they reached +the bottom of the valley, they were yet a hundred paces distant from +its junction with the river, which was obscured by the many intervening +trees that grew along the frozen rivulet. Here Glenn again paused to +contemplate the scene. The hills that rose abruptly on either hand, and +the thick intertwining branches above, combined to produce a dusky +aspect scarce less dim than twilight. Glenn folded his arms composedly, +and looked thoughtfully round, as if indulging the delightful fancies +engendered when wandering forth on a summer’s pleasant evening. “There +seems to be a supernatural influence pervading the air to-day,” he +said, in a low-tone, “for I sometimes imagine that flitting spirits +become partially visible. On the pendent icicles and jewelled twigs, me +thinks I sometimes behold for an instant the prismatic rays of elfins’ +eyes—” + +“Don’t believe it,” said Joe; “or if it is so, they are weeping at the +cold, and will soon be frozen up.” + +“And at each sudden turn,” continued Glenn, “they seem to linger an +instant in view, and then vanish sportively, as if amused at the +expense of impotent mortals.” + +“I can’t hear ’em laugh,” said Joe. + +“And then,” continued Glenn, “although beyond human consciousness, +there may be heavenly sounds in the air—the melody of aërial harps and +fairy voices—to which our ears may be sealed, when, perchance, our +vicinity to their presence may inspire the peculiar sensation I now +experience.” + +“I heard a heap of curious sounds one warm sunshiny morning,” said Joe; +“but when I asked an old fellow jogging along the same road what they +meant, he said the day before had been so cold when the stage-driver +went by that his wind froze as it came out of the bugle, and was just +then thawing.” + +“If such beings do exist,” continued Glenn, paying no attention to Joe, +“it would delight me to commune with them face to face.” + +“I see a buck’s head!” cried Joe, looking down the dell, where the +object he mentioned was distinctly observable amid a cluster of +spicewood bushes, whence a slight jingling sound proceeded as the +animal plucked the nutritious buds bent down by the innumerable +icicles. + +“Why should not the sylvan gods”—continued Glenn. + +“Hush! I’m going to fire!” said Joe. + +“Why should they not resort hither,” said Glenn, unmindful of Joe, +“where no meaner beings abide?” + +Joe fired, and Glenn started in astonishment, as if he had had no +intimation of his companion’s intention. + +“Hang it all! Isn’t he going to die, I wonder?” said Joe, after the +buck had made one or two plunges in the snow, his sharp hoofs piercing +through the crust on the surface, and with much struggling extricated +himself and stood trembling, and looked imploringly at his foe. + +“What in the world are you about?” exclaimed Glenn, casting a listless +glance at the deer, and then staring his companion in the face. + +“Whip me if there was any lead in the gun!” said Joe. “I drew the +bullets out yesterday, and forgot to put them in again. But no +matter—he can’t run through the snow—I’ll kill him with the butt of my +musket.” + +“Move not, at your peril!” said Glenn, authoritatively, when Joe was +about to rush on the defenceless buck. + +“I do believe you are out of your head!” said Joe, staring Glenn in the +face, and glancing at the tempting prize, alternately. + +“At such an hour—in such an elysian place as this—no blood shall be +spilled. It were profanity to discolor these pearly walks with clotted +gore.” + +“The deuce take the pearls, say I!” said Joe. + +“Perhaps,” continued Glenn, “a god may have put on the semblance of a +stag to tempt us.” + +“And hang me, if I wouldn’t pretty soon spoil his physiognomy, if you +would only say the word!” said Joe, shaking his head sullenly at the +buck. + +“Come,” said Glenn, sternly; and, leading the way, he passed within a +few feet of the terrified animal without turning his head aside, and +directed his steps down the valley towards the river. Joe said nothing +when opposite the buck, awed by the impressive tone and mysterious +bearing of his master; but he grinned defiance at him, and resolved to +embrace the first opportunity to steal out alone, and fully gratify his +revenge; for such was the feeling he now harboured against the animal. + +When they reached the margin of the river, they wandered along the +narrow path that turned to the left, and continued up the stream, with +the ice but a few feet distant on one hand, and the precipitous +acclivity of rocks on the other. They maintained a brisk pace for about +thirty minutes, when the range of cliffs terminating abruptly, they +entered a low flat forest. + +“_Now_, what do you say to my firing?” exclaimed Joe, staring at an +enormous wolf, a short distance on the left, that seemed to be tearing +the flesh from the carcass of a deer. + +“You must not fire,” replied Glenn, viewing the scene with no interest. + +“Why not? If the deer’s a sylvan god, the wolfs sure to be a black +devil, and it’s a duty to take the god’s part,” said Joe. + +“No!” replied Glenn, still striding on. + +“Where are you going to, I should like to know? I hope you haven’t any +idea of going closer to the haunted island!” said Joe, following +reluctantly. + +“What haunted island?” asked Glenn. + +“Why that one right ahead of us!” replied Joe, pointing to a small +island a few hundred paces distant. + +“Who says it is haunted?” demanded Glenn. + +“Why, everybody in the country _knows_ it’s haunted. Didn’t you hear +Miss Mary telling all about it?” + +“What did she tell about it?” + +“That several years ago a man flew up the river riding on a black cloud +of smoke, and after scaring all the Indians and everybody else away, +took up his abode in yonder island. Not a soul, from that day to this, +has ever been nearer to it than we are now. But strange sights have +been seen there. Once a great big swan, as large as our house, was seen +to come out of the willows and leap into the water. After seeing it +paddle about an hour or two in every direction, an old beaver trapper +and deer hunter took it into his head that it was nothing more than a +water-fowl of some large species; and resolving to have a crack at it +anyhow, he crept behind the rocks at the end of the cliff, and blazed +away when it swam past the next time. Mercy on us! when he fired, they +say the thing turned his head towards him, and came at him in a +straight line, and as fast as lightning, blowing sparks of fire out of +its nostrils, while the poor man stood stock still, spell-bound, until +it seized upon him, and he has never been heard of since.” + +“Nothing more?” asked Glenn, lightly, and smiling. + +“Good gracious! what more would you want? But there _was_ more; for the +very next day, when the people were looking at the island from a +distance, and wondering what had been the fate of old Odell, another +large bird came out. But this was like an eagle, and instead of going +into the water, it flew up into the air, and kept going higher and +higher, until it was no bigger than a sparrow, and soon vanished +altogether! I declare we are too near the island now, Mr. Glenn; let us +go back; we have gone far enough!” said Joe, beseechingly, his own tale +having roused all the terrors which his nature was capable of +harboring. + +Glenn seemed to pay no attention to what his companion was saying, but +strode onward directly towards the island. + +“Mr. Glenn!” continued Joe, stepping ahead, and facing him by turning +round. “Oh, sir! you don’t certainly intend to venture any closer to +that fatal spot?” + +“Pshaw!” replied Glenn, pushing him aside, and continuing on. When they +were opposite the island, Joe, whose alarm had almost deprived him of +the power of motion, was now struck with horror as he beheld his master +pause, and then descend to the ice, and walk deliberately to the +haunted ground! When Glenn reached the bank, he turned to his pale and +shivering companion, and motioned him to follow. + +“Oh, Heaven! we’ll never be seen any more!” cried Joe, between his +chattering teeth. + +“Come on, Joe! I’ll take care of you,” said Glenn, encouragingly, as +his man hesitated in doubt when midway on the ice. + +“The holy saints preserve me!” said Joe, gliding over, quaking with +fear, and clinging to Glenn’s hand. + +They walked up a gentle ascent from the water’s edge, whence Glenn +expected to see nothing more than a surface of snow, and the dense +growth of young timber incident to such a place. But what was his +surprise, on beholding, in the midst of the island, and obscured from +view to the surrounding country by an almost impenetrable grove of +young willows, a round chimney-top rising over a high circular granite +wall! Nothing daunted, he continued his steps directly towards the +mysterious dwelling, notwithstanding the protestations and prayers of +Joe. When they drew near, a thin slightly coloured vapor could be +distinguished ascending from the chimney, indicating that the tenement +was certainly inhabited. When they reached the wall, they pursued their +way round it until they found a small iron gate. + +“Rap there, Joe,” said Glenn. Joe only turned his head, and looked at +him in silence. + +“Knock,” continued Glenn. + +“Oh!” exclaimed Joe, falling on his knees. “If ever you were prevailed +on not to do any thing you were doing, let me this one time persuade +you to leave this place.” + +“Knock!” repeated Glenn, emphatically. Joe struck the gate several +blows with his knuckles, but so gently that he could not hear them +himself. Glenn seemed to grow angry, and seizing his man’s musket, was +in the act of applying the end of it violently, when the gate flew open +at one spring, and a hoary porter stood bowing and beckoning before +him. + +“Do not enter!” cried Joe, throwing his arms around Glenn. + +“It is too late, now—you have knocked, and it is opened unto you—your +mission must be accomplished before you turn back. Mine is not yet +effected—I am the one who dared to face the magic swan—and like me, all +who come hither must remain until it shall be the pleasure of the +fire-wizard to release them,” said the old attendant. + +“Lead me to this fire-wizard!” said Glenn, firmly, stepping into the +inclosure. When they entered, the gate closed after them without any +apparent agency of the old hunter, and with such force that Joe sprang +several feet forward. + +“Oh, goodness! we are nothing but poor rats in the trap, now!” +exclaimed he. + +“I pledged myself for your safety, and will keep my word,” said Glenn. + +“But what will the wizard care about your veracity?” asked Joe. + +“Follow!” said the old porter, leading the way towards the house. After +passing several small buildings, Glenn found himself in a spacious +area, over which were scattered various and strange implements, and +divers nondescript machines. Some half dozen men were also observed, +their sleeves rolled up, and intently plying the chisel, the file and +other tools. These men cast a momentary and sullen glance at the +visitors, like convicts in the penitentiary, and resumed their labours +in silence. The party soon arrived at the door of the main building, +when the old porter entered alone, and after remaining a few moments +within, came forth and announced his readiness to conduct our hero into +the presence of the fire-wizard. Glenn motioned him to lead on, and +after following through a short hall, and turning into a large chamber, +the mysterious lord of the island was confronted, reclining before them +on a couch of furs. He appeared to be an emaciated and decrepit old +man, his long white beard extending down to his breast; and when he +motioned our hero to a seat, his hand seemed to tremble with +feebleness. Yet there was something in his eye that indicated no +ordinary spirit, and instantly impressed Glenn with the respect that he +conceived to be due to superior genius; for notwithstanding all the +miraculous things told of the fire-wizard, he rightly conjectured the +personage before him to be nothing more than a human being, a recluse, +perhaps, and, like himself, seeking in solitude the enjoyments which +(for peculiar reasons) could not be found among mankind. + +“What brings thee hither?” demanded the aged man, after a few minutes’ +silence, during which his brilliant eyes were closely fixed upon the +composed features of Glenn. + +“That which induced thee to seek such a solitary abode,” replied our +hero. + +“Have you no fears?” continued the old man. + +“None!” replied Glenn, firmly. + +“Give me your hand!” exclaimed the old man; “you are the only being +that ever confronted the fire-wizard without feeling terror—and for +those who know not fear there is no danger. Instead of a menial, or a +victim, I will make you my companion.” + +“Thank him, Mr. Glenn,” whispered Joe, “and perhaps he won’t hurt us.” + +“I am seeking amusement,” said Glenn; “and as long as I am pleased, it +matters not with whom or where shall be my abode. But the moment I +desire it, I will go hence.” + +The fire-wizard motioned the attendant to withdraw, who instantly +obeyed, leading Joe out at the same time, the poor fellow evincing +great reluctance to be separated from Glenn. + +“Before exhibiting to you the mysterious objects which have acquired +for me the name of magician,” said the old man, “I will briefly give +you my history. I was, in youth, they termed an idle dreamer—ever on +the alert for new discoveries—and was more laughed at than encouraged +in my pursuit of rare inventions. More than fifty years ago I +ascertained that steam might be made to propel machinery. I attempted +to explain the principles of this discovery to my fellow-men, and to +convince them of the vast benefits that might result from it. I was not +heeded—nay, I was insulted by their indifference—and made a solemn vow +that its advantages should never be reaped through my instrumentality. +In secret I constructed a small steamboat, and having placed on board +such materials as might be required, and secured the assistance of a +requisite number of artisans, I came hither, resolved to prosecute my +experiments to my own satisfaction in solitude, where the taunts of +skeptics could not reach me. Follow, and you shall behold what has been +the result of my unrestrained researches.” The old man arose, and +conducted our hero across the yard to a curtained shelter on one side +of the inclosure. + +“La! if that ain’t its foot!” exclaimed Joe, who joined our hero, and +observing a large foot, resembling in shape that of the swan, under the +folds of the curtain, while the old wizard paused a moment before +unveiling the curious object. It was as Joe surmised: when the canvas +was withdrawn, an artificial swan of monstrous dimensions, though +perfect in all its proportions, was revealed to their wondering gaze. A +little beyond, another curtain was drawn aside, and an eagle, holding +in its beak a bloody crown, and in its talons a silken banner of +stripes and stars, stood before them in the attitude of springing up in +the air. + +“Which will you try first?” demanded the fire-wizard, while a proud +smile played on his lips. + +“Can _either_ of them be set in motion by your art?” asked Glenn. + +“Both!” exclaimed the wizard. “If you will tarry till the ice is gone, +the swan shall rush through the strongest current as swiftly as the +wild horse careers over the prairie; or the eagle shall even now dart +beyond the clouds, and transport you in a few brief hours to where you +will see the briny waves rolling against the distant Atlantic coast!” + +Glenn was incredulous, and his unbelief was betrayed by a smile, in +spite of his efforts to the contrary. + +“Bring hither a lamp!” said the wizard to the attendant and was quickly +obeyed. + +“Oh, don’t make him mad! He’s going to do something now!” whispered Joe +to Glenn. The wizard touched a spring; the breast of the eagle flew +open, and within could be seen polished wheels and other portions of a +complicated machinery. The old man next applied the blaze of the lamp +to some spirits within, and in a very few minutes particles of steam +could be seen to escape from the eagle’s nostrils. The wizard touched +another spring, and the enormous bird strode out and paused in the +centre of the area. + +“If you would behold the home of your youth, be it whithersoever it +may, so that you name it, follow me, and your eyes shall gaze upon that +spot within a few hours,” said the sage, as the wings of the stupendous +eagle slowly unfolded, and rising to a horizontal position, uncovered a +transparency in the side of the chest, through which could be seen a +gorgeous couch within, sufficiently ample to contain two men, and +separate from the fire and machinery by a partition of isinglass. + +“Come!” exclaimed the sage, opening the tortoise-shell door under the +wing, and stepping into the couch. + +“Don’t do any such thing!” said Joe. + +“Ha! ha! ha! Do you think it can fly, Joe?” remarked Glenn, laughing. + +“It _will_ fly!” said the old man, emphatically; “and I charge you to +be prepared to ascend beyond the clouds, if you have the courage to +occupy a portion of my couch.” + +“Though I cannot believe it will rise at your bidding,” replied Glenn, +“yet, should it do so, I must be permitted to regard you as being only +flesh and blood, and as such, I do not hesitate to venture as much as +another mortal will;” Baying which, our hero seated himself beside the +reputed fire-wizard. + +The old man closed the door, and drawing forth a small compass (his +companion intimating the course,) adjusted several screws within +convenient reach, accordingly; he then pressed a small lever with his +foot, and the wings, after quivering a moment, flapped quickly, and the +great eagle darted almost perpendicularly up in the air, and was beyond +the reach of vision in a very few seconds! + +When a certain height was attained, the wizard turned the bird in the +course indicated by his companion. + +“What think you now of the fire-wizard!” demanded the sage, with an air +of triumph. + +“Still that he is a man—but a great one—and this, the perfection of his +art, the greatest extent the Supreme Being has permitted the mind of a +man to attain!” replied Glenn, gazing in admiration at the countries +far below, which he was passing with the velocity of a hurricane. + +“And still you fear not!” demanded the wizard. + +“And shall not!” replied Glenn, “so long as your features are +composed.” The old man pressed his hand and smiled. + +“Yonder is St. Louis!” cried Glenn, running his eye along the valley of +the Missouri, down to its confluence with the Mississippi; and a short +distance beyond, descried the town in question, though it did not seem +to be larger than one ordinary mansion, with its garden and customary +appendages. + +“We are far above the reach of vision from the earth,” said the wizard, +bounding forward to endeavour to regulate a part of the machinery that +had for some time attracted his attention, and which Glenn believed to +be not altogether right, from the abrupt movement of his companion. + +“How far above the earth are we?’ asked Glenn. + +“About twenty-five miles—but should this screw give way, it may be less +very speedily!” exclaimed the old man, almost incoherently, and +applying all his strength to the loosened screw to keep it in its +place. + +“Let me assist!” exclaimed Glenn, springing forward. + +“It’s gone!” cried the old man; “you have knocked it out! we are +falling—crushed!” + + +“That’s just what I expected,” said Joe, addressing the fawn, which had +been playing with the dogs, and at length ran against Glenn’s chair so +violently as to push it over. + +“Oh! oh! oh!” exclaimed Glenn. + +“Goodness! Are you hurt?” asked Joe. + +“Is it possible? Am I alive, and _here_?” exclaimed Glenn, staring +wildly round, and doubting his own identity. + +“Well, I never heard a dead man talk, as I know of, before; and as to +our being _here_, if your own eyes don’t convince you, I’ll swear to +it,” said Joe. + +“Did I not go up to the island this morning?” inquired Glenn. + +“No,” said Joe. + +“Did you not accompany me, and fire at the buck?” interrogated Glenn, +resuming his seat. + +“No—I’ll be hanged if I did!” said Joe somewhat warmly. + +“What have I been doing all day?” + +“You’ve been sitting there fast asleep, and I presume you were +dreaming.” + +“Thank Heaven, it was but a dream!” exclaimed Glenn, laughing. + +“A dream?” responded Joe, sitting down on his stool, and soliciting +Glenn to relate it to him. Glenn complied, and the narration was +nothing more than what the incredulous reader has been staring at all +this time. But we will make amends. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A hunt— A deer taken—The hounds—Joe makes a horrid discovery—Sneak—The +exhumation. + + +“It beats all the dreams I ever heard,” said Joe, feeling his right +shoulder with his left hand.. + +“Why do you feel your shoulder, Joe?” asked Glenn, smiling, as he +recollected the many times his man had suffered by the rebound of his +musket, and diverted at the grave and thoughtful expression of his +features. + +“It _was_ a dream, wasn’t it?” asked Joe, with simplicity, still +examining his shoulder. + +“But you know there was no lead in the gun, and it could not rebound +with much violence,” said Glenn. + +“I’ll soon see all about it,” exclaimed Joe, springing up and running +to his gun. After a careful examination he returned to his stool beside +the fire, and sat some minutes, with the musket lying across his knees, +and his chin in his hand, plunged in profound meditation on the +imaginary incidents which had just been related to him. Had the dream +been an ordinary one, and he not an actor in it, it might have passed +swiftly from his memory; but inasmuch as the conduct imputed to him was +so natural, and the expressions he was made to utter so characteristic, +he could not but regard it as a vision far more significant and +important than a mere freak of the brain during a moment of slumber. + +“What are you studying about?” interrogated Glenn. + +“I can’t understand it,” replied Joe, shaking his head. + +“Neither can the most renowned philosopher,” said Glenn; “but you can +tell whether your musket has been discharged.” + +“It hasn’t been fired,” said Joe. “But what distresses me is, that +there should be only a charge of powder in it, just as you stated, and +when I drew out the shot you were fast asleep. You must have heard me +say I intended to do it.” + +“Not that I remember,” said Glenn. + +“Then there must be a wizard about, sure enough,” said Joe, and he +crossed himself. + +“Suppose we take our guns and walk out in the direction mentioned?” +said Glenn; “I feel the want of exercise after my sleep, and have some +curiosity to test the accuracy of my dream by comparing the things +described with the real objects on the island.” + +“Not for the world!” cried Joe, lifting both hands imploringly; “but I +will gladly go anywhere else, just to see if the bushes are as +beautiful as you thought they were, and if the deer can’t run on the +snow-crust as well as the dogs.” + +“Come on, then—I care not which course we go,” said Glenn, taking up +his gun, and leading the way out of the inclosure. + +They pursued a westerly course until they reached nearly to the edge of +the prairie, when they paused in the midst of a cluster of hazel +bushes, to admire the beauty of the novel scene. The description had +been perfect. Even Glenn surveyed the emblazenry of magic “frost work,” +around him with some misgivings as to the fallacy of his vision. Joe +stared at his master with a curious and ludicrous expression. + +“I am not dreaming now, Joe,” said he, with a smile. + +“How do you know?” asked Joe. + +“That’s well put,” said Glenn; “indeed, I am very sure that many of my +lively and spirited friends in Philadelphia and New York, could they +but see me, would swear that I have been dreaming every day for the +last three months. However, I have not now the same reverence for the +sylvan gods I was so much inclined to worship in my last sleep; and, +moreover, I am the first to see the deer this time. Yonder it stands. +It is not a buck, though; capture it as soon as you please.” + +“Where is it?” exclaimed Joe, his superstition vanishing as he +anticipated some sport; and, gliding quickly to Glenn’s side, he +beheld, under the branches of a low scrubby oak tree, the head and ears +of a large doe. It was intently watching our pedestrians, and stood +motionless in the ambush, on which it vainly relied to obscure it from +the eyes of an enemy. + +“You must not fire,” said Glenn, placing his hand on the shoulder of +Joe. Joe lowered his musket reluctantly, and turning his eyes to his +master, seemed inclined to relapse into the belief that all was not +right and natural in their proceedings. + +“Now go to it,” said Glenn, gently taking the gun from Joe. + +“I’d rather not,” said Joe. + +“Why? A doe cannot hurt you—it has no horns.” + +“I don’t fear it—I’m only afraid it will run away,” said Joe, eager to +secure the prize. + +“Try it, at all events; if it should run very fast, I think I shall be +able to arrest its career with the gun,” said Glenn, who prepared to +fire, provided the deer was likely to escape the clutches of Joe. + +“Here goes!” cried Joe, leaping through the small bushes towards the +covert. The deer moved not until Joe reached within a few feet of it, +when, making a mighty spring, it bounded over the head of its +assailant, and its sharp feet running through the icy surface of the +snow, penetrated so far down, from the force of its weight, that it was +unable to escape. It now lay quite still, with its large blue eyes +turned imploringly to its foe. Joe seized it by the hind feet, and +exultingly exclaimed that the prize was safely his own. The trembling +and unresisting animal appeared to be as perfectly submissive as a +sheep in the hands of the shearer. + +“You have it, sure enough!” said Glenn, coming up and viewing the scene +with interest. + +“Lash me if I haven’t!” said Joe, much excited. “Have you got any sort +of a string about you?” + +“No.” + +“Please cut down a hickory withe, and peel the bark off for me, while I +hold its legs.” + +Glenn drew out his hunting knife, but paused when in the act of +executing his man’s request, and turning, with a smile playing upon his +lip, said— + +“Perhaps, Joe, this is but another dream; and if so, it is folly to +give ourselves any unnecessary trouble.” + +“Lash me if it ain’t reality!” replied Joe, as the deer at length began +to struggle violently. + +Extricating its feet from his grasp, the doe bestowed a well directed +kick on its foe’s head, which tumbled him over on his back. The animal +then sprang up, but aware there was no chance of escape by running, +faced about and plied its bony head so furiously against Joe’s breast +and sides that he was forced to scamper away with all possible +expedition. + +“Has it bruised you, Joe? If so, this is certainly no dream,” remarked +Glenn. + +“Oh, goodness! I’m battered almost to a jelly. I’ll take my oath +there’s no dreaming about this. Let me go after Ringwood and Jowler.” + +“It would be too cruel to let the hounds tear the poor thing,” said +Glenn; “but after you have bound its feet together, you may bring out +one of the horses and a sled, and convey it home unhurt.” + +“The horses can’t go in this deep snow,” said Joe. + +“True, I forgot that. Take your musket and shoot it,” said Glenn, +turning away, not wishing to witness the death of the deer. + +“I’d rather take him prisoner,” said Joe, lowering his musket after +taking a long aim. “I can drag it on the sled myself.” + +“Then go for it,” said Glenn; “and you may bring the hounds along; I +will exercise them a little after that fox which keeps such a +chattering in the next grove. But first let us secure the deer.” + +Joe charged upon the doe once more, and when it aimed another blow at +him, he threw himself under its body, and the animal falling over on +its side, the combined efforts of the men sufficed to bind its feet. +Joe then went to the house for the hounds and the sled, and Glenn leant +against the oak, awaiting his return. It was not long before the hounds +arrived, which was soon succeeded by the approach of Joe with the sled. +Ringwood and Jowler evinced palpable signs of delight on beholding the +bound captive, but their training was so perfect that they showed no +disposition to molest it without the orders of their master. One word +from Glenn, and the deer would have been instantly torn in pieces; but +it was exempt from danger as long as that word was withheld. + +Joe soon came up, and in a very few minutes the doe was laid upon the +sled. When he was in the act of starting homewards with his novel +burden, the hounds, contrary to their usual practice, refused to +accompany Glenn to the thicket north of their position, where the fox +was still heard, and strangely seemed inclined to run in a contrary +direction. And what was equally remarkable, while snuffing the air +towards the south, they gave utterance to repeated fierce growls. Joe +was utterly astonished, and Glenn was fast losing the equanimity of his +temper. + +“There’s something more than common down there; see how Ringwood +bristles up on the back,” said Joe. + +“Run there with the hounds, and see what it is,” said Glenn. + +“And I’ll take my musket, too,” said Joe, striding in the direction +indicated, with the hounds at his heels and his musket on his shoulder. + +When he reached a narrow rivulet about one hundred paces distant, that +gradually widened and deepened until it formed the valley in which the +ferry-house was situated a half mile below, he paused and suffered the +hounds to lead the way. They ran a short distance up the ravine and +halted at the edge of a small thicket, and commenced barking very +fiercely as they scented the air under the bushes. + +“I’ll bet it’s another bear,” said Joe, putting a fresh priming in the +pan of his musket, and proceeding after the hounds. “If it is a bear, +ought I to fool with him by myself?” said he, pausing at the edge of +the thicket. “I might get my other ear boxed,” he continued, “and it’s +not such a pleasant thing to be knocked down by the heavy fist of a big +black bear. If I don’t trouble him, he’ll be sure to let me alone. What +if I call the dogs off, and go back? But what tale can I manufacture to +tell Mr. Glenn? Pshaw! What should I fear, with such a musket as this +in my hand? I can’t help it. I really believe I _am_ a little touched +with cowardice! I’m sorry for it, but I can’t help it. It was born with +me, and it’s not my fault. Confound it! I _will_ screw up courage +enough to see what it is, anyhow.” Saying this, he strode forward +desperately, and urging the hounds onward, followed closely in the rear +in a stooping posture, under the hazel bushes. + +In a very few moments Joe reached the head of the ravine, but to his +astonishment and no little satisfaction, he beheld nothing but a +shelving rock, from under which a spring of clear smoking water flowed, +and a large bank of snow which had drifted around it, but through which +the gurgling stream had forced its way. Yet the mystery was not solved. +Ringwood and Jowler continued to growl and yelp still more furiously, +running round the embankment of snow repeatedly, and ever and anon +snuffing its icy surface. + +“Whip me if I can figure out this,” said Joe; “what in the world do the +dogs keep sticking their noses in that snow for? There can’t be a bear +in it, surely. I’ve a notion to shoot into it. No I won’t. I’ll do +this, though,” and drawing out his long knife he thrust it up to the +handle in the place which seemed the most to attract the hounds. + +“Freeze me if it hasn’t gone into something besides the snow!” +exclaimed he, conscious that the steel had penetrated some firm +substance below the frozen snow-crust. “What the deuce is it?” he +continued, pulling out the knife and examining it. “Ha! blood, by +jingo!” he cried, springing up; “but it can’t be a living bear, or it +would have moved; and if it had moved, the stab would have killed it. I +_won’t_ be afraid!” said he, again plunging his knife into it, “It +don’t move yet—it must be dead—why, it’s frozen. Pshaw! any thing would +freeze here, in less than an hour. I’ll soon see what it is.” Saying +this, he knelt down on the embankment, and commenced digging the snow +away with all his might. The dogs crouched down beside him, growling +and whining alternately, and otherwise exhibiting symptoms of +restlessness and distress. + +“Be still, poor Ringwood, I’m coming to him; I see something dark, but +there’s no hair on it. Ugh! hallo! Oh goodness! St. Peter! Ugh! ugh! +ugh!” cried he, springing up, his face as pale as the snow, his hair +standing upright, his chin fallen, and his eyes almost straining out of +their sockets. Without taking his gun, or putting on his hat, he ran +through the bushes like a frightened antelope, leaping over ditches +like a fox-chaser, tearing through opposing grape vines, and not +pausing until his course was suddenly arrested by Glenn, who seized him +by the skirt of the coat, and hurled him on his back beside the sled on +which the deer was bound. + +“What is the matter?” demanded Glenn. + +Joe panted painfully, and was unable to answer. + +“What ails you, I say?” repeated Glenn in a loud voice. + +“Peter”—panted Joe. + +“Do you mean the pony?” + +“St. Peter!” ejaculated Joe. + +“Well, what of St. Peter?” + +“Oh, let me be off!” cried he, endeavouring to scramble to his feet. +But he was most effectually prevented. For no sooner had he turned over +on his hands and knees, than Glenn leaped astride of him. + +“Now, if you _will_ go, you shall carry me on your back, and I will +pelt the secret out of you with my heels, as we travel!” + +“Just let me get in the house and fasten the door, and I will tell you +every word,” said Joe imploringly. + +“Tell me now, or you shall remain in the snow all day long!” said +Glenn, with a hand grasping each side of Joe’s neck. + +“Oh, what shall I do? I can’t speak!” yelled Joe, trying outright, the +large tear-drops falling from his nose and chin. + +“You have not lost your voice, I should say, at all events,” implied +Glenn, somewhat touched with pity at his man’s unequivocal distress, +though he could scarce restrain his laughter when he viewed his +grotesque posture. “What has become of your musket and hat?” he added. + +“I left them both there,” said Joe, gradually becoming composed under +the weight of his master. + +“Where?” asked Glenn. + +“At the cave-spring.” + +“Well, what made you leave them there?” + +“Just get off my back and I’ll tell you. I’m getting over it now; I’m +going to be mad instead of frightened,” said Joe, with real composure. + +“Get up, then; but I won’t trust you yet. You must still suffer me to +hold your collar,” said Glenn. + +“If you go to the cave-spring you will see a sight!” + +“What kind of a sight?” + +“Such a sight as I never dreamed of before!” + +“Then it has been nothing but a dream _this time_, after all your +foolery?” + +“No, I’ll be shot if there was any dreaming about it,” replied Joe; and +he related every thing up to the horrid discovery which caused him to +retreat so precipitately, and then paused, as if dreading to revert to +the subject. + +“What did you find there? Was it any thing that could injure you?” + +“No,” said Joe, shaking his head solemnly. + +“Why did you run, then?” demanded Glenn, impatiently. + +“The truth is, I don’t know myself, now I reflect about it. But I’d +rather not tell what I saw just yet. I was pretty considerably alarmed, +wasn’t I?” + +“Ridiculous! I will not be trifled with in this manner Tell me +instantly what you saw!” said Glenn, his vexation and anger overcoming +his usual indulgent nature. + +“I’ll tell you now—it was a—Didn’t you see them bushes move?” asked +Joe, staring wildly at a clump of sumach bushes a few paces distant. + +“What was it you saw at the cave-spring!” shouted Glenn, his face +turning red. + +“I—I”—responded Joe, his eyes still fixed on the bushes. “It was +a—Ugh!”—cried he, starting, as he beheld the little thicket open, and a +tall man rise up, holding in his hand a bunch of dead muskrats. + +“Dod speak on—I want to hear what it was—I’ve been laying here all this +time waiting to know what great thing it was that skeered you so much. +I never laughed so in all my life as I did when he got a-straddle of +you. I was coming up to the sled, when I saw you streaking it through +the vines and briers, and then I squatted down awhile to see what would +turn up next.” + +“Ha! ha! ha! is it you, Sneak? I thought you was an Indian! Come on, +I’ll tell now. _It was a man’s moccasin_!” said Joe, in a low, +mysterious tone. + +“And you ran in that manner from an old moccasin!” said Glenn, +reproachfully. + +“But there was a _foot_ in it!” continued Joe. + +“A _he_ man’s foot?” inquired Sneak, quickly turning to Joe. + +“How could I tell whether it was a he man’s foot, or a female woman’s, +as you call them?” replied Joe. + +“Are you sure it was a human being’s foot?” demanded Glenn. + +“Well, I never saw any other animal but a man wear a buckskin +moccasin!” replied Joe. + +“An Irishman can’t tell any thing right, nohow you can fix it,” said +Sneak. + +“They can’t tell how you make wooden nutmegs,” retorted Joe. + +“Come,” said Glenn, “we will go and examine for ourselves.” + +The party set off in a brisk walk, and soon reached the scene of Joe’s +alarm. Sure enough, there was the moccasin, and a man’s foot in it! + +“It’s somebody, after all,” said Sneak, giving the frozen foot a kick. + +“Ain’t you ashamed to do that?” said Joe, knitting his brows. + +“He’s nothing more than a stone, now. Why didn’t he holler when you +stuck your knife into him?” replied Sneak. + +“Dig him up, that we may see who he is,” said Glenn. + +“I’d rather not touch him,” said Joe. + +“You’re a fool!” said Sneak. “Stand off, and let me at him—I’ll soon +see who he is.” Sneak threw down his maskrats, and with his spear and +knife soon extricated the body, which he handled as unceremoniously as +he would have done a log of wood. “Dod rot your skin!” he exclaimed, +when he brushed the snow from the man’s face. He then threw down the +body with great violence. + +“Oh don’t!” cried Joe, while the cold chills ran up his back. + +“Who is it?” asked Glenn. + +“It’s that copper-snake, traitor, skunk, water-dog, lizard-hawk, horned +frog—” + +“Who do you mean?” interrupted Glenn. + +“_Posin_, the maliverous rascal who collogued with the Injins to murder +us all! I’m glad he got his dose—and if he was alive now, I’d make him +swaller at least two foot of my spear,” said Sneak. + +“’Twas me—I killed him—look at the buck-shot holes in his back!” +exclaimed Joe, now recovering from his excitement and affright. + +“Yes, and you’re a nice chap, ain’t you, to run like flugins from a +dead man that you killed yourself!” said Sneak. + +“How did I know that I killed him?” retorted Joe. + +“Any fool might know he was dead,” replied Sneak. + +“I’ll pay you for this, some of these times,” said Joe. + +“How shall we bury him?” asked Glenn. + +“That can be done real easy,” said Sneak, taking hold of the dead man’s +leg and dragging him along on the snow like a sled. + +“What are you going to do with him?” demanded Glenn. + +“I’m a going to cut a hole in the ice on the river, and push him +under,” said Sneak. + +“You shall do no such thing!” said Glenn, firmly; “he must be buried in +the earth.” + +“Just as you say,” said Sneak, submissively, throwing down the leg. + +“Run home and bring the spades, Joe,” said Glenn, “and call for the +ferrymen to assist us.” + +“And I’ll take the sled along and leave it in the yard,” said Joe, +starting in the direction of the deer and calling the hounds after him. + +“Let the hounds remain,” said Glenn. “I am resolved to have my +fox-hunt.” Joe soon disappeared. + +“If you want to hunt, you can go on; Roughgrove and me will bury this +robber,” said Sneak. + +“Be it so,” said Glenn; “but remember that you are not to put him in +the river, nor must you commit any indecent outrage upon his person. +Let his body return to the earth—his soul is already in the hands of +Him who created it.” + +“That’s as true as gospel,” said Sneak; “and I would rather be froze in +this snow than to have his hot berth in the t’other world. I don’t feel +a bit mad at him now—he’s paying for his black dagiverous conduct hard +enough by this time, I’ll be bound. I say, Mr. Glenn, it’ll be rather +late when we get through with this job—will there be any vacant room at +your fireside to-night?” + +“Certainly, and something to eat—you will be welcome, provided you +don’t quarrel too much with Joe,” replied Glenn. + +“Oh, Joe and me understand each other—the more we quarrel the more we +love one another. We’ll never fight—do you mind that—for he’s a coward +for one thing, and I won’t corner him too close, because he’s +broad-shouldered enough to _lick me_, if he was to take it into his +head to fight.” + +Glenn called the hounds after him and set out in quest of the fox, and +Sneak turned to the dead body and mused in silence. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +Boone—The interment—Startling intelligence—Indians about—A +skunk—Thrilling fears—Boone’s device. + + +Ere long Joe was on his way back to the cave-spring, with several +spades on his shoulder, accompanied by Boone, (who had just crossed the +river on a visit to Glenn,) and Roughgrove, with his two oarsmen. + +“Is Glenn at the spring with Sneak?” asked Boone, in a very thoughtful +and grave manner. + +“Yes, sir, I left him there, and I now hear him with the hounds chasing +a fox,” replied Joe, in true native style. + +“If he is with the hounds, he is certainly not at the spring,” remarked +Roughgrove. + +“I meant that he was there, or _thereabouts_” replied Joe. + +“Who found the dead man?” inquired Boone. + +“I did—that is, when the dogs scented him—and it almost frightened me +when I dug out his foot,” said Joe. + +“No doubt!” observed Boone. + +The party now moved along in silence, still permitting Joe to lead the +way, until they suddenly emerged from the thicket in the immediate +vicinity of the spring, when an unexpected scene attracted their +notice. Sneak was composedly seated on the body of the dead man, and +very deliberately searching his pockets! + +“Well! that beats all the mean actions I ever beheld before!” said Joe, +pausing and staring indignantly at Sneak. + +“You’re a fool!” replied Sneak. + +“What for? because I wouldn’t rob the dead?” retorted Joe. + +“Do you call this robbing the dead? Hain’t this traitor stoled this +lump of gold from the Injins?” said Sneak, displaying a rough piece of +the precious metal about the size of a crow’s egg. + +“Is it gold?” asked Joe, with some anxiety. + +“Sartainly it is,” answered Sneak, handing it to him to be examined; +“and what good could come of burying it agin? I’ll leave it to Mr. +Boone to say if I ain’t right in taking it myself.” + +“Oh, any thing worth this much ought to be taken,” said Joe, depositing +the lump of gold in his pocket. + +“See here, my chap,” said Sneak, rising up and casting a furious glance +at him, “if you don’t mean to hand that out again, one or the t’other +of us must be put in the ground with the traitorious Posin—and if it is +to be you, it’ll be a purty thing for it to be said that you brought a +spade to bury yourself with.” + +“Didn’t I find the body?” said Joe. + +“But burn me if you found the gold,” said Sneak. + +“Shall I decide the matter?” interposed Roughgrove. + +“I’m willing,” said Sneak. + +“And so am I,” replied Joe. + +“Then give it to me, and I’ll cut it in two, and give a half to each of +you,” said Roughgrove. + +The decision was final; and seizing the spades, Joe, Sneak, and the +oarsmen began to prepare a resting-place for the dead body. Boone +continued silent, with his eyes steadfastly gazing at the earth which +the workmen began to throw up. + +“Posin’s done ferrying now,” said Dan Rudder, one of the defunct’s old +companions in the service of Roughgrove. + +“No he ain’t,” said Sneak, throwing up a spadeful of flint stones. + +“I’ll keep some of these for my musket,” said Joe. + +“Why ain’t he?” demanded Dan. + +“Because he’s got to cross the river—the river—what do they call +it?—the river Poles,” said Sneak. + +“Styx, you dunce,” said Joe. + +“Well, ’twas only a slip of the tongue—what’s the difference between +poles and sticks?” + +“_You_ never read any thing about it; you only heard somebody say so,” +said Joe, pausing to listen to the hounds that ever and anon yelped in +the vicinity. + +“If I didn’t, I don’t believe the man that wrote that book ever +crossed, or even had a squint at the river himself,” replied Sneak. + +“Whereabouts is the river?” asked Dan. + +“In the lower regions,” said Joe, striking his spade against a hard +substance. + +“What’s that you’re scraping the dirt off of?” asked Sneak. + +“Oh, my goodness!” cried Joe, leaping out of the grave. + +“Let it remain!” said Boone, in a commanding tone, looking in and +discovering a skull; “I once buried a friend here—he was shot down at +my side by the Indians.” + +“Fill up the hole agin! Posin shan’t lay on top of any of your +friends!” exclaimed Sneak, likewise leaping out of the grave. + +“It matters not—but do as you please,” said Boone, turning away and +marking the distressed yelping of the hounds, which indicated, from +some unusual cause, that they did not enjoy the chase as much as was +their wont. + +“Split me if he shan’t be buried somewhere else, if I have to dig the +hole myself,” said Sneak, filling up the grave. + +“I’ll stick by you, Sneak,” said Dan. + +“Dan and me ’ll finish the job; all the rest of you may go off,” said +Sneak, releasing the rest of the party from any further participation +in the depositing of the remains of Posin in the earth. + +“Glenn does not yet understand Ringwood and Jowler,” said Boone, still +listening to the chase. + +“I never heard the dogs bark that way before until to-day,” said Joe; +“only that night when we killed the buffalo.” + +“Something besides the buffalo caused them to do it then,” replied +Boone. + +“Yes, indeed—they must have known the fire was coming—but the fire +can’t come now.” + +“Sneak,” said Boone, “when you are done here, come to Mr. Glenn’s +house.” + +“I will, as soon as I go to my muskrat trap out at the lake and get my +rifle.” + +“Be in a hurry,” said Boone; and turning towards the chase, he uttered +a “Ya-ho!” and instantly the hounds were hushed. + +“Dod!” exclaimed Sneak, staring a moment at Boone, while his large eyes +seemed to increase in size, and then rolling up his sleeves, he delved +away with extraordinary dispatch. + +In a very short space of time, Ringwood and Jowler rushed from the +thicket, and leaping up against the breast of their old master, evinced +a positive happiness in once more beholding him. They were soon +followed by Glenn, who dashed briskly through the thicket to see who it +was that caused his hounds to abandon him so unceremoniously. No sooner +did he discover his aged friend than he ran forward and grasped his +hand. + +“I thought not of you, and yet I could think of no one else who might +thus entice my noble hounds away. Return with me, and we will have the +fox in a few minutes—he is now nearly exhausted,” said Glenn. + +“Molest him not,” said Boone. “Did you not observe how reluctantly the +hounds chased him?” + +“I did; what was the cause of it?” asked Glenn. + +“The breeze is tainted with the scent of Indians!” whispered Boone. + +“Again thou art my preserver!” said Glenn, in a low tone. + +“I came to give you intelligence that the Osages would probably be upon +you in a few days,” said Boone; “but I did not think they were really +in the neighbourhood until I heard your unerring hounds. Col. Cooper, +of my settlement, made an excursion southward some ten days ago to +explore a region he had never visited; but observing a large war-party +at a distance, coming hitherward, he retreated precipitately, and +reached home this morning. Excessive fatigue and illness prevented him +from accompanying me over the river; and what is worse, nearly every +man in our settlement is at present more than a hundred miles up the +river, trapping beaver. If we are attacked to-night, or even within a +day or two, we have nothing to depend upon but our own force to defend +ourselves.” + +“Should it be so, I doubt not we will be able to withstand them as +successfully as we did before,” said Glenn. + +“Let us go with Roughgrove to his house, and take his daughter and his +effects to your little fortress,” said Boone, joining the old ferryman, +whom a single word sufficed to apprize of the state of affairs. + +“I must prepare for the worst, now,” said Roughgrove; “they will never +forget or forgive the part I acted on the night of their defeat.” + +Boone, Glenn, and Roughgrove proceeded down the valley, while Joe +seemed disposed to loiter, undetermined what to engage in, having cast +an occasional curious glance at Boone and his master when engaged in +their low conversation, and rightly conjecturing that “something wrong +was in the wind,” as he expressed it. + +“Why don’t you go home?” asked Sneak, rolling the dead body into the +grave, and dashing the mingled earth and snow remorselessly upon it. + +“I’ll go when I’m ready,” replied Joe; “but I should like to know what +all that whispering and nodding was about.” + +“I can tell you,” said Dan; but his speech was suddenly arrested by a +sign from Sneak. + +“I wish you would tell me,” continued Joe, manifesting no little +uneasiness. + +“Have you got a plenty to eat at your house?” asked Sneak. + +“To be sure we have,” said Joe; “now tell me what’s in the wind.” + +“If I was to tell you, I bet you’d be frightened half to death,” +remarked Sneak, driving down a headstone, having filled up the grave. + +“No! no—I—indeed but I wouldn’t, though!” said Joe, trembling at every +joint, the true cause, for the first time, occurring to him. “Ain’t it +Indians, Mr. Sneak?” + +“Don’t call me _Mister_ agin, if you please. There are more moccasins +than the one you found in these parts, that’s all.” + +“I’ll go home and tell Mr. Glenn!” said Joe, whirling round quickly. + +“Dod rot your cowardly hide of you!” said Sneak, staring at him +contemptuously; “now don’t you _know_ he knowed it before you did?” + +“Yes—but I was going home to tell him that some bullets must be +run—that’s what I meant.” + +“Don’t you think he knows that as well as you do?” continued Sneak. + +“But I—I _must_ go!” exclaimed Joe, starting in a half run, with the +hounds (which had been forgotten by their master) following at his +heels. + +“Let me have the hounds, to go after my gun—the red skins might waylay +me, if I go alone, in spite of all my cunning woodcraft,” said Sneak. + +“Go back!” cried Joe, to the hounds. They instantly obeyed, and the +next moment Joe was scampering homeward with all the speed of which his +legs were capable. + +When he reached the house, his fears were by no means allayed on +beholding the most valuable articles of Roughgrove’s dwelling already +removed thither, and the ferryman himself, his daughter, Boone and +Glenn, assembled in consultation within the inclosure. Joe closed the +gate hurriedly after him, and bolted it on the inside. + +“Why did you shut the gate? Open it again,” said Glenn. + +“Ain’t we besieged again? ain’t the Indians all around us, ready to +rush in and take our scalps?” said Joe, obeying the command +reluctantly. + +“They will not trouble us before night,” said Roughgrove. + +“No, we need not fear them before night,” remarked Boone, whose +continued thoughtful aspect impressed Glenn with the belief that he +apprehended more than the usual horrors of Indian warfare during the +impending attack. + +“They will burn father’s house, but that is nothing compared to what I +fear will be his own fate!” murmured Mary, dejectedly. + +“We can soon build him another,” said Glenn, moved by the evident +distress of the pale girl; “and I am very sure that my little stone +castle will suffice to preserve not only your father and yourself, but +all who take shelter in it, from personal injury. So, cheer up, Mary.” + +“Oh, I will not complain; it pained me most when I first heard they +were coming once more; I will soon be calm again, and just as composed +when they are shooting at us, as I was the other time. But _you_ will +be in a great deal more danger than you were that night. Yet Boone is +with us again—he _must_ save us,” said Mary. + +“Why do you think there will be more danger, Mary?” asked Glenn. + +“Yes, why do you think so?” interposed Joe, much interested in the +reply. + +“Because the snow is so deep and so firm, they will leap over the +palisade, if there be a great many of them,” replied Mary. Glenn felt a +chill shoot through his breast, for this fact had not before occurred +to him. + +“Oh, goodness!—let us all go to work and shovel it away on the +outside,” cried Joe, running about in quest of the spades. “Oh, St. +Peter!” he continued, “the spades are out at the cave-spring!” + +“Run and bring them,” said Glenn. + +“Never—not for the world! They’d take my scalp to a certainty before I +could get back again,” replied Joe, trembling all over. + +“There is no danger yet,” said Roughgrove, the deep snow having +occurred to him at the first announcement of the threatened attack, and +produced many painful fears in his breast, which caused a sadness to +rest upon his time-worn features; “but,” he continued, “it would not be +in our power to remove the snow in two whole days, and a few hours only +are left us to prepare for the worst.” + +“Let them come within the inclosure,” said Glenn, “and even then they +cannot harm us. The walls of my house are made of stone, and so is the +ceiling; they can only burn the roof—I do not think they can harm our +persons. We have food enough to last for months, and there is no +likelihood of the siege lasting a single week.” + +“I’ll make sure of the deer,” muttered Joe; and before any one could +interpose, he struck off the head of the doe with an axe, as it still +lay bound upon the sled. And he was brandishing the reeking steel over +the neck of the fawn, that stood by, looking on innocently, when a cry +from Mary arrested the blow. + +“If you injure a hair of Mary’s gift,” said Glenn, in anger, “you shall +suffer as severe a fate yourself.” + +“Pardon me,” said Joe to Mary; “I was excited—I didn’t hardly know what +I was doing. I thought as we were going to be pent up by the Indians, +for goodness only knows how long, that we’d better provide enough food +to keep from starving. I love the fawn as well as you do, and Mr. Glenn +loves it because you gave it to him; but its natural to prefer our own +lives to the lives of dumb animals.” + +“I forgive you,” said Mary, playing with the silken ears of the pet. + +“Say no more about it,” said Glenn; “but as you are so anxious to be +well provided with comforts, if we are besieged, there is one thing I +had forgotten, that is absolutely necessary for our existence, which +you can procure.” + +“What is it? Be quick, for we havn’t a moment to lose,” said Joe. + +“Water,” replied Glenn. + +“That’s a fact—but—its way off at the spring, by the ferry,” said Joe, +disliking the idea of exposing himself without the inclosure. + +“True, yet it must be had. If you can get it nearer to us, you are at +liberty to do so,” said Glenn. + +“Here comes Sneak,” said Mary; “he will assist you.” + +Sneak readily agreed to the proposition, and he and Joe set out, each +with a large bucket, while the rest of the party, with the exception of +Boone (who desired to be left alone,) retired within the house. + +When Sneak and Joe were filling their buckets at the spring the second +time, the hounds (which attended them at Joe’s special request) +commenced barking. + +“What’s that?” cried Joe, dashing his bucket, water and all, in Sneak’s +lap, and running ten or fifteen feet up the hill. + +“Dod rot your cowardly heart!” exclaimed Sneak, rising up and shaking +the cold water from his clothes; “if I don’t pay you for this, I wish I +may be shot!” + +“I thought it was the Indians,” said Joe, still staring at the small +thicket of briers, where the hounds were yet growling and bounding +about in a singular manner. + +“I’ll see what it is and then pay you for this ducking,” said Sneak, +walking briskly to the edge of the thicket, while the water trickled +down over his moccasins. + +“What is it?” cried Joe, leaping farther up the ascent with great +trepidation, as he saw the hounds run out of the bushes as if pursued, +and even Sneak retreating a few paces. But what seemed very +unaccountable was a _smile_ on Sneak’s elongated features. + +“What in the world can it be?” repeated Joe. + +“Ha! ha! ha! if that ain’t a purty thing to skeer a full-grown man into +fits!” said Sneak, retreating yet farther from the thicket. + +“What makes _you_ back out, then?” inquired Joe. The hounds now ran to +the men, and the next moment a small animal, not larger than a rabbit, +of a dark colour, with long white stripes from the nose to the tail, +made its appearance, and moved slowly toward the spring. Sneak ran up +the hill beyond the position occupied by Joe, maintaining all the time +a most provoking smile. + +“Who’s scared into fits now, I should like to know?” retorted Joe. + +“I wish I had my gun,” said Sneak. + +“Hang me, if I’m afraid of that little thing,” said Joe. Still the +hounds ran round, yelping, but never venturing within thirty feet of +the animal. + +“I’ll be whipped if I understand all this!” said Joe, in utter +astonishment, looking at Sneak, and then at the hounds. + +“Why don’t you _run_?” cried Sneak, as the animal continued to advance. + +“I believe you’re making fun of me,” said Joe; “that little thing can’t +hurt anybody. Its a pretty little pet, and I’ve a notion to catch it.” + +“What are you talking about? You know you’re afraid of it,” said Sneak, +tauntingly. + +“I’ll show you,” said Joe, springing upon the animal. The polecat (for +such it was) gave its assailant a taste of its quality in a twinkling. +Joe grasped his nose with both hands and wheeled away with all possible +expedition, while the animal pursued its course towards the river. + +“My goodness, I’ve got it all over my coat!” exclaimed Joe, rolling on +the snow in agony. + +“Didn’t I say I’d pay you for spilling the cold water on me?” cried +Sneak, in a convulsion of laughter. + +“Why didn’t you tell me, _you rascal_?” cried Joe, flushed in the face, +and forgetting the Indians in his increasing anger. + +“Oh, I’ll laugh myself sore—ha! ha! ha!” continued Sneak, sitting down +on the snow, and laughing obstreperously. + +“You long, lopsided scoundrel, you. My Irish blood is up now,” said +Joe, rushing towards Sneak with a resolution to fight. + +“I’ll be whipt if you tech me with them hands,” said Sneak, running +away. + +“Oh, what shall I do?” cried Joe, sinking down, his rage suddenly +subdued by his sickening condition. + +“If you’ll say all’s square betwixt us, I’ll tell you what to do. If +you don’t do something right quick, they won’t let you sleep in the +house for a month.” + +“Well. Now tell me quick!” + +“Pull off your coat before it soaks through.” + +“I didn’t think of that,” said Joe, obeying with alacrity, and +shivering in the cold air. + +“Now twist a stick into it, so you can carry it up to the house, +without touching it with your hands, that is, if none of it got on +’em,” continued Sneak. + +“There ain’t a bit anywhere else but on the shoulder of my coat,” said +Joe, acting according to Sneak’s instructions. Filling their buckets, +they at length started towards the house, Joe holding a bucket in one +hand, and a long pole, on which dangled his coat, in the other. When +they entered, the company involuntarily started; and Glenn, losing all +control over his temper, hurled a book at his man’s head, and commanded +him not to venture in his presence again until he could by some means +dispense with his horrid odor. + +“Foller me,” said Sneak, leading the way to the stable, and taking with +him one of the spades he had brought in from the burial; “now,” he +continued, when they were with the horses, “dig a hole at this end of +the stall, and bury your coat. If you hadn’t took it in the house, like +a dunce, they’d never ’ave known any thing about it.” + +“Oh, my goodness! I’m sick!” said Joe, urging the spade in the earth +with his foot, and betraying unequivocal signs of indisposition. +However, the garment was soon covered up, and the annoyance abated. + +But no sooner was Joe well out of this difficulty, than the dread of +the tomahawk and scalping knife returned in greater force than ever. + +Boone remained taciturn, his clear, eagle-eye scanning the palisade, +and the direction from which the savages would be most likely to come. + +Joe approached the renowned pioneer for the purpose of asking his +opinion respecting the chances of escaping with life from the expected +struggle, but was deterred by his serious and commanding glance. But +soon a singular change came over his stern features, and as sudden as +strange. His countenance assumed an air of triumph, and a half-formed +smile played upon his lip. His meditations had doubtless resulted in +the resolution to adopt some decisive course, which, in his opinion, +would insure the safety of the little garrison. His brow had been +watched by the inmates of the house, and, hailing the change with joy, +they came forth to ascertain more certainly their fate. + +“How much powder have you, my young friend?” asked Boone. + +“Five kegs,” answered Glenn, promptly. + +“Then we are safe!” said Boone, in a pleasant and affable manner, which +imparted confidence to the whole party. + +“I thought—I almost _knew_ that we were safe, with _you_ among us,” +said Mary, playing with Boone’s hand. + +“But you must not venture out of the house as much as you did before, +my lass, when arrows begin to fly,” replied Boone, kissing the maiden’s +forehead. + +“But I’ll mould your bullets, and get supper for you,” said Mary. + +“That’s a good child,” said Roughgrove; “go in, now, and set about your +task.” + +Mary bowed to her father, and glided away. The men then clustered round +Boone, to hear the plan that was to avail them in their present +difficulty. + +“In times of peril,” said Boone, “my knowledge of the Indian character +has always served me. I first reflect what I would do were I myself a +savage; and, in taking measures to provide against the things which I +imagine would be done by myself, I have never yet been disappointed. +The Indians will not rashly rush upon us, and expose themselves to our +bullets, as they storm the palisade. Had they the resolution to do +this, not one of us would escape alive, for they would tear down the +house. It is a very large war-party, and they could begin at the top +and before morning remove every stone. But they shall not touch one of +them—” + +“I’m so glad!” ejaculated Joe. + +“Hush your jaw!” said Sneak. + +“They will be divided into two parties,” continued Boone; “one party +will attack us from the west with their arrows, keeping at a respectful +distance from our guns, while the other will force a passage to the +palisade from the east without being seen, for they will come under the +snow! We must instantly plant a keg of powder, on the outside of the +inclosure, and blow them up when they come. Joe, bring out a keg of +powder, and also the fishing rods I saw in the house. The latter must +be joined together, and a communication opened through them. They must +be filled with powder and one end placed in the keg, while the other +reaches the inclosure, passing through an auger hole. You all +understand now what is to be done—let us go to work—we have no time to +spare.” + +It was not long before every thing was executed according to the +directions of Boone, and at nightfall each man was stationed at a +loophole, with gun in hand, awaiting the coming of the savages. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +Night—Sagacity of the hounds—Reflection—The sneaking savages—Joe’s +disaster—The approach of the foe under the snow—The silent watch. + + +The night was beautiful. The moon sailed through a cloudless sky, and +the north wind, which had whistled loudly among the branches of the +trees in the valley at the close of day, was hushed, and a perfect calm +pervaded the scene. + +“What’re you leaving your post for?” asked Sneak, as Joe suddenly +abandoned his watch on the west side of the inclosure, and tripped +across to Roughgrove. + +“Mr. Roughgrove—Mr. Roughgrove,” said Joe, in a low tone. + +“Well, what do you want with me?” responded the old ferryman. + +“I wanted to tell you that your two oarsmen are forgotten, and to ask +you if we hadn’t better call to them to come up here, where they’ll be +out of danger?” + +“They are _not_ forgotten,” said Roughgrove; “I sent them over the +river to procure assistance, if possible.” + +“Thank you. I’m glad they’re out of danger. I couldn’t rest till I +found out something about them,” said Joe, retiring; but instead of +resuming his watch, he slipped into the house. + +“He’s at his old tricks agin,” said Sneak, when he observed him +stealthily enter the door. “Come out, I say!” he continued, in a loud +voice. + +“What is the matter?” interrogated Glenn, from his station on the +north. + +“Why, that feller’s crept into the house agin,” replied Sneak. + +“Well, but he’s come out again,” said Joe, reappearing, and walking +reluctantly to his loophole. + +“What did you go in for?” demanded Glenn. + +“I just wanted to tell Miss Mary that the two oarsmen that helped us to +bury Posin were gone over the river, and were safe.” + +“Did she ask for this information?” inquired Glenn. + +“No, not exactly,” responded Joe; “but I thought if I was uneasy about +the young men myself, that she, being more delicate than a man, must be +considerably distressed.” + +“A mere subterfuge! See that you do not leave your post in future, +under any circumstances, without permission to do so.” + +“I won’t,” replied Joe, peering through his loophole. + +Matters remained quiet for a great length of time, and Glenn began to +hope that even Boone had been mistaken. But Boone himself had no doubts +upon the subject. Yet he seemed far more affable and cheerful than he +did before the plan of resistance was formed in his mind. Occasionally +he would walk round from post to post, and after scanning the aspect +without, direct the sentinels to observe closely certain points, trees +or bushes, where he thought the enemy might first be seen. He never +hinted once that there was a possibility of escaping an attack, and the +little party felt that the only alternative was to watch with diligence +and act with vigor and resolution when assailed. + +“Do you think they are now in this immediate neighbourhood?” inquired +Glenn. + +“They are not far off, I imagine,” replied Boone; and calling the +hounds from the stable, he continued, “I can show you in which quarter +they are.” The hounds well understood their old master. At his bidding +they snuffed the air, and whining in a peculiar manner, with their +heads turned towards the west, the vicinity of the savages was not only +made manifest, but their location positively pointed out. + +“I was not aware, before, of the inestimable value of your gift,” said +Glenn, gazing at the hounds, and completely convinced that their +conduct was an unerring indication of the presence of the foe. + +“Eh! Ringwood!” exclaimed Boone, observing that his favorite hound now +pointed his nose in a northern direction and uttered a low growl. +“Indeed!” he continued, “they have got in motion since we have been +observing the hounds. I was not mistaken. Even while we were speaking +they divided their strength. One party is even now moving round to the +east, and at a given signal the other will attack us on the west, +precisely as I predicted. See! Ringwood turns gradually.” + +“And you think the greatest danger is to be apprehended from those on +the east?” said Glenn. + +“Yes,” said Boone, “for the others cannot approach near enough to do +much injury without exposing themselves to great peril.” + +“But how can you ascertain that they will cut a passage under the snow, +and the precise direction in which they will come?” + +“Because,” said Boone, “we are situated near the cliff on the east, to +the summit of which they can climb, without being exposed to our fire, +and thence it is likewise the shortest distance they can find to cut a +passage to us under the snow. Mark Ringwood!” he continued, as the +hound having made a semicircle from the point first noticed, became at +length stationary, and crouching down on the earth, (where the snow had +been cleared away at Boone’s post,) growled more angrily than before, +but so low he could not have been heard twenty paces distant. + +“This is strange—very strange,” said Glenn. + +A sound resembling the cry of an owl was heard in the direction of the +cliff. It was answered on the west apparently by the shrill howl of a +wolf. + +“The signal!” said Boone. “Now let us be on the alert,” he continued, +“and I think we will surprise _them_, both on and under the snow. Let +no one fire without first consulting me, even should they venture +within the range of your guns.” + +The party resumed their respective stations, and once more not a sound +of any description was heard for a considerable length of time. +Roughgrove was at the side of Boone, and the other three men were +posted as before described. The hounds had been sent back to their lair +in the stable. Not a motion, animate or inanimate, save the occasional +shooting of the stars in the begemmed firmament, could be observed. + +While Glenn rested upon his gun, attracted ever and anon by the +twinkling host above, a throng of unwonted memories crowded upon him. +He thought of his guileless youth; the uncontaminated days of enjoyment +ere he had mingled with the designing and heartless associates who +strove to entice him from the path of virtue; of the hopes of budding +manhood; of ambitious schemes to win a name by great and honourable +deeds; of parents, kindred, home; of _her_, who had been the angel of +all his dreams of paradise below: and then he contemplated his present +condition, and notwithstanding his resolution was unabated, yet in +spite of all his struggles, a tear bedewed his cheek. He felt that his +fate was hard, but he _knew_ that his course was proper, and he +resolved to fulfil his vow. But with his sadness, gloomy forebodings, +and deep and unusual thoughts obtruded. In the scene of death and +carnage that was about to ensue, it occurred to him more than once that +it might be his lot to fall. This was a painful thought. He was brave +in conflict, and would not have hesitated to rush reckless into the +midst of danger; but he was calm now, and the thought of death was +appalling. He would have preferred to die on a nobler field, if he were +to fall in battle. He did not wish to die in his _youth_, to be cut +off, without accomplishing the many ends he had so often meditated, and +without reaping a few of the sweets of life as the reward of his +voluntary sacrifice. He also desired to appear once more in the busy +and detracting world, to vindicate the character that might have been +unjustly aspersed, to reward the true friendship of those whose +confidence had never been shaken, and to rebuke, perhaps forgive, the +enemies who had recklessly pursued him. But another, and yet a more +stirring and important thought obtruded upon his reflections. It was +one he had never seriously considered before, and it now operated upon +him with irresistible power. It was a thought of things _beyond_ the +grave. The stillness of midnight, the million stars above him, the blue +eternal expanse through which they were distributed—the repose of the +invisible winds, that late had howled around him—the never-ceasing flow +of the ice-bound stream before him, and the continual change of hill +and valley—now desolate, and clothed in frosty vestments, and anon with +verdure and variegated beauty—constrained him to acknowledge in the +secret portals of his breast that there was a great, ever-existing +Creator. He then called to mind the many impressive lessons of a pious +mother, which he had subsequently disregarded. He remembered the things +she had read to him in the book of books—the words of prayer she taught +him to utter every eve, ere he closed his eyes in slumber—and he _now_ +repeated that humble petition with all the fervency of a chastened +spirit. He felt truly convinced of the fallacy of setting the heart and +the affections altogether on the things of this world, where mortals +are only permitted to abide but a brief space; and a hearty repentance +of past errors, and a firm resolve to obey the requisitions of the +Omnipotent in future, were in that hour conceived and engraven +indelibly upon his heart. + +“Mr. Boone—Mr. Boone—Mr. Boone!” cried Joe, softly. + +“Dod! don’t make sich a fuss,” said Sneak. + +“Be silent,” whispered Boone, gliding to Joe, and gazing out on the +snow, where he beheld about twenty savages standing erect and +motionless, not eighty paces distant. + +“I came within an ace of shooting,” said Joe, “before I thought of what +you had said. I pulled the trigger with all my might before I +remembered that you said I musn’t shoot till you told me, but as good +luck would have it, my musket wasn’t cocked.” Boone went to each of the +other loopholes, and after scrutinizing every side very closely, he +directed Sneak and Glenn to abandon their posts and join him at Joe’s +stand, for the purpose of discharging a deadly volley at the +unsuspecting foe. + +“Does it not seem cruel to spill blood in this manner?” whispered +Glenn, when he viewed the statue-like forms of the unconscious Indians. + +“Had you witnessed the barbarous deeds that _I_ have seen _them_ +perform—had you beheld the innocent babe ruthlessly butchered—your +children—your friends maimed, tomahawked, scalped, _burned_ before your +eyes—could you know the hellish horrors they are _now_ meditating—you +would not entertain much pity for them,” said Boone, in a low tone, +evidently moved by terrible memories, the precise nature of which the +one addressed could not understand. But Glenn’s scruples vanished, and +as a matter of necessity he determined to submit without reserve to the +guidance of his experienced friend. + +“I should like to know how them yaller rascals got up here so close +without being eyed sooner,” said Sneak to Joe. + +“That’s what’s been puzzling me, ever since I first saw them,” said +Joe, in scarce audible tones. + +“Split me if you havn’t been asleep,” said Sneak. + +“No indeed I havn’t,” said Joe. “I’ll declare,” he continued, looking +out, “I never should have thought of _that_. I see now, well enough, +how they got there without my seeing them. They’ve got a great big ball +of snow, half as high as a man’s head, and they’ve been rolling it all +the time, and creeping along behind it. They’re all standing before it +now, and just as I looked one moved his leg, and then I saw what it +was. This beats the old boy himself. It’s a mercy they didn’t come all +the way and shoot me in the eye!” + +“Hush!” said Boone. “They must have heard something, or supposed they +did, or else your neglect would have been fatal to you ere this. They +are now waiting to ascertain whether they were mistaken or not. Move +not, and speak no more, until I order you.” + +“I won’t,” said Joe, still gazing at the erect dark forms. + +“See how many there is—can’t you count ’em?” said Sneak, in a whisper, +leaning against Joe, and slyly taking a cartridge from his belt, +slipped it in the muzzle of the musket which was standing against the +palisade. + +“What’re you doing with my gun?” asked Joe, in a very low tone, as he +happened to turn his head and see Sneak take his hand away from the +muzzle of the musket. + +“Nothing—I was only feeling the size of the bore. It’s big enough to +kick down a cow.” + +“What are you tittering about? you think it’s a going to kick me again, +but you’re mistaken—it ain’t got two loads in this time.” + +“Didn’t Mr. Boone jest tell you to keep quiet?” said Sneak. + +“Don’t you speak—then I won’t,” responded Joe. + +The moon had not yet reached the meridian, and the dark shadow of the +house reaching to the palisade on the west, prevented the Indians from +observing the movements of the whites through the many slight apertures +in the inclosure, but through which the besieged party could easily +observe them. + +After a long pause, during which neither party had uttered a word or +betrayed animation by the least movement, Glenn felt the weight of a +hand laid gently on his shoulder, and turning beheld Mary at his side. +Without a motion of the lips, she placed in his hand some bullets she +had moulded, and then passing on to the other men, gave each a like +quantity. + +“Retire, now, my lass,” said Boone; and when she returned to the house, +he continued, addressing Glenn—“If they do not move one way or the +other very soon, we will give them a broadside where they are.” + +“And we could do execution at this distance,” observed Glenn. + +“I’d be dead sure to kill one, I know I would,” said Sneak. + +“Let me see if I could take aim,” said Joe, deliberately pointing his +musket through the loophole. The musket had inadvertently been cocked, +and left in that condition, and no sooner did Joe’s finger gently press +upon the trigger, than it went off, making an astounding report, and +veiling the whole party in an immense cloud of smoke. + +“Who did that?” cried Boone, stamping with vexation. + +“Was that you, Joe?” demanded Glenn. + +Joe made no answer. + +“Oh, dod! my mouth’s smashed all to pieces!” said Sneak, crawling up +from a prostrate position, caused by the rebound of the musket, for he +was looking over Joe’s shoulder when the gun went off. + +“Where’s Joe?” inquired Glenn, pushing Sneak aside. + +“He’s dead, I guess—I believe the gun’s busted,” said Sneak. + +“Now, sir! why did you fire?” cried Glenn, somewhat passionately, +stumbling against Joe, and seizing him by the collar. No answer was +made, for poor Joe’s neck was limber enough, and he quite insensible. + +“He’s dead in yearnest, jest as I told you,” said Sneak; “for that gun +kicked him on the shoulder hard enough to kill a cow—and the hind side +of his head struck my tooth hard enough to’ve kilt a horse. He’s broke +one of my upper fore-teeth smack in two.” + +“Every man to his post!” exclaimed Boone, as a shower of arrows rattled +about the premises. + +Sneak now occupied Joe’s station, and the first glance in the direction +of the savages sufficed to determine him how to act. Perhaps no one +ever discharged a rifle more rapidly than he did. And a brisk and +well-directed fire was kept up for some length of time, likewise, by +the rest of the besieged. + +It was, perhaps, a fortunate thing that Joe _did_ fire without orders, +and without any intention of doing so himself. It seemed that the +savages had been meditating a desperate rush upon the fort, +notwithstanding Boone’s prediction; for no sooner did Joe fire, than +they hastily retreated a short distance, scattering in every direction, +and, without a moment’s consultation, again appeared, advancing rapidly +from every quarter. It was evident that this plan had been preconcerted +among them; and had all fired, instead of Joe only, they might easily +have scaled the palisade before the guns could have been reloaded. +Neither had the besiegers been aware of the strength of the garrison. +But they were soon made to understand that they had more than Glenn and +his man to contend against. The discharges followed in such quick +succession that they paused, when but a moment more would have placed +them within the inclosure. But several of them being wounded, and Boone +and Glenn still doing execution with their pistols, the discomfited +enemy made a precipitate retreat. An occasional flight of arrows +continued to assail the besieged, but they came from a great distance, +for the Indians were not long in scampering beyond the range of the +loopholes. + +When Glenn could no longer see any of the dark forms of the enemy, he +turned round to contemplate the sad condition of Joe. Joe was sitting +up, with his hands locked round his knees. + +“Well, split me in two!” cried Sneak, staring at his companion. + +“What’s the matter, Sneak?” asked Joe, with much simplicity. + +“That’s a purty question for _you_ to ask, after there for dead this +half-hour almost” + +“Have the Indians been here?” asked Joe, staring round wildly. + +“Hain’t you heard us shooting?” + +“My goodness,” cried Joe, springing up. “Oh! am I wounded? say!” he +continued, evincing the most lively alarm. + +“Well, if this don’t beat every thing that ever I saw in all my life, I +wish I may be shot!” said Sneak. + +“What is it?” asked Joe, his senses yet wandering. + +“Jest feel the back of your head,” said Sneak. Joe put his hand to the +place indicated, and winced under the pain of the touch. He then looked +at his hand, and beholding a quantity of clotted blood upon it, fell +down suddenly on the snow. + +“What’s the matter now?” asked Glenn, who had seen his man sitting up, +and came swiftly to him when he fell. + +“I’m a dead man!” said Joe, mournfully. + +“That’s a lie!” said Sneak. + +“What ails you, Joe?” asked Glenn, his tone much softened. + +“I’m dying—oh! I’m shot through the head!” + +“Don’t believe him, Mr. Glenn—I’ll be smashed if its any thing but my +tooth,” said Sneak. + +“Oh—I’m dying!” continued Joe, pressing his hand against his head, +while the pain and loss of blood actually produced a faintness, and his +voice became very weak. + +“Are you really much hurt?” continued Glenn, stooping down, and feeling +his pulse. + +“It’s all over!” muttered Joe. “I’m going fast. Sancte Petre!—Pater +noster, qui es in coelis, sanctificeter nomen tuum; adveniat regnum +tu—” + +Here Joe’s voice failed, and, falling into a syncope, Glenn and Sneak +lifted him up and carried him into the house. + +“Is he shot?” exclaimed Mary, instantly producing some lint and +bandages which she had prepared in anticipation of such an event. + +“I fear he has received a serious hurt,” said Glenn, aiding Mary, who +had proceeded at once to bind up the wound. + +“I’ll be split if he’s shot!” said Sneak, going out and returning to +his post. Glenn did likewise when he saw the first indications of +returning consciousness in his man; and Mary was left alone to restore +and nurse poor Joe. But he could not have been in better hands. + +“I should like to know something about them curious words the feller +was speaking when he keeled over,” said Sneak, as he looked out at the +now quiet scene from the loophole, and mused over the events of the +night. “I begin to believe that the feller’s a going to die. I don’t +believe any man could talk so, if he wasn’t dying.” + +“Have you seen any of them lately?” inquired Boone, coming to Sneak’s +post and running his eye along the horizon through the loophole. + +“Not a one,” replied Sneak, “except that feller laying out yander by +the snowball.” + +“He’s dead,” said Boone, “and he is the only one that we are sure of +having killed to-night. But many are wounded.” + +“And smash me if Joe didn’t kill that one when his musket went off +before he was ready,” said Sneak. + +“Yes, I saw him fall when Joe fired; and that accident was, after all, +a fortunate thing for us,” continued Boone. + +“But I’m sorry for poor Joe,” said Sneak. + +“Pshaw!” said Boone; “he’ll be well again, in an hour.” + +“No, he’s a gone chicken.” + +“Why do you think so?” + +“Didn’t he say so himself? and didn’t he gabble out a whole parcel of +purgatory talk? He’s as sure gone as a stuck pig, I tell you,” +continued Sneak. + +“He will eat as hearty a breakfast to-morrow morning as ever he did in +his life,” said Boone. “But let us attend to the business in hand. I +hardly think we will be annoyed any more from this quarter, unless +yonder dead Indian was a chief, and then it is more than probable they +will try to steal him away. However, you may remain here. I, alone, can +manage the others.” + +“Which others?” inquired Sneak. + +“Those under the snow,” replied Boone; “they are now within twenty +paces of the palisade.” + +“You don’t say so?” said Sneak, cocking his gun. + +“I have been listening to them cutting through the snow a long while, +and it will be a half hour yet before I spring the mine,” said Boone. + +“I hope it will kill ’em all!” said Sneak. + +“Watch close, and perhaps _you_ will kill one yet from this loophole,” +said Boone, returning to his post, where the slow-match was exposed +through the palisade near the ground; and Roughgrove stood by, holding +a pistol, charged with powder only, in readiness to fire the train when +Boone should give the word of command. + +Boone applied his ear to a crevice between the timbers near the earth, +where the snow had been cleared away. After remaining in this position +a few moments, he beckoned Glenn to him. + +“Place your ear against this crevice,” said Boone. + +“It is not the Indians I hear, certainly!” remarked Glenn. The sounds +resembled the ticking of a large clock, differing only in their greater +rapidity than the strokes of seconds. + +“Most certainly it is nothing else,” replied Boone. + +“But how do they produce such singular sounds? Is it the trampling of +feet?” continued Glenn. + +“It is the sound of many tomahawks cutting a passage,” replied Boone. + +“But what disposition do they make of the snow, when it is cut loose.” + +“A portion of them dig, while the rest convey the loose snow out and +cast it down the cliff.” + +While the above conversation was going on, a colloquy of a different +nature transpired within the house. Joe, after recovering from his +second temporary insensibility, had sunk into a gentle doze, which +lasted many minutes. Mary had bathed his face repeatedly with sundry +restoratives, and likewise administered a cordial that she had brought +from her father’s house, which seemed to have a most astonishing +somniferous effect. When the contents of the bottle were exhausted, she +sat silently by, watching Joe’s apparent slumber, and felt rejoiced +that her patient promised a speedy recovery. Once, after she had been +gazing at the fawn, (that had been suffered to occupy a place near the +wall, where it was now coiled up and sleeping,) on turning her eyes +towards the face of Joe, she imagined for a moment that she saw him +close his eyelids quickly. But calling him softly and receiving no +answer, she concluded it was a mere fancy, and again resigned herself +to her lonely watch. When she had been sitting thus some minutes, +watching him patiently, she observed his eyes open slowly, and quickly +smack to again, when he found that she was looking at him. But a moment +after, conscious that his wakefulness was discovered, he opened them +boldly, and found himself possessed of a full recollection of all the +incidents of the night up to his disaster. + +“Have they whipt all the Indians away that were standing out on the +snow, Miss Mary?” + +“Yes, long ago—and none have been seen, but the one you killed, for +some time,” she replied, encouragingly. + +“Did I kill one sure enough?” asked Joe, while his eyes sparkled +exceedingly. + +“Yes, indeed,” replied she; “and I heard Mr. Boone say he was glad it +happened, and that the accident was, after all, a fortunate thing for +us.” + +“_Accident_!” iterated Joe; “who says it was an accident?” + +“Wasn’t it an accident?” asked the simple girl. + +“No, indeed!” replied Joe. “But,” he continued, “have they blown up the +other Indians yet?” + +“Not yet—but I heard them say they would do it very soon. They can be +heard digging under the snow now, very plainly,” said Mary. + +“Indeed!” said Joe, with no little terror depicted in his face. “I wish +you’d go and ask Mr. Boone if he thinks you’ll be entirely safe, if you +please, Miss Mary,” said Joe beseechingly. + +“I will,” responded Mary, rising to depart. + +“And if they ask how I am,” continued Joe, “please say I am a great +deal better, but too weak yet to go out.” + +Mary did his bidding; and when she returned, what was her astonishment +to find her patient running briskly across the room from the cupboard, +with a whole roasted prairie-hen in one hand, or at least the body of +it, while he tore away the breast with his teeth, and some half dozen +crackers in the other! In vain did he attempt to conceal them under the +covering of his bed, into which he jumped as quickly as possible. Guilt +was manifest in his averted look, his trembling hand, and his greasy +mouth! Mary gazed in silent wonder. Joe cowered under her glance a few +moments, until the irresistible flavour of the fowl overcame him, and +then his jaws were again set in motion. + +“I fear that eating will injure you,” remarked Mary, at length. + +“Never fear,” replied Joe. “When a sick person has a good appetite, +it’s a sure sign he’s getting better.” + +“If you think so you can eat as much as you please,” said Mary; “and +you needn’t hide any thing from me.” + +Joe felt a degree of shame in being so palpably detected, but his +appetite soon got the better of his scruples, and he gratified the +demands of his stomach without reserve. + +“But what did Mr. Boone say?” asked he, peeping out. + +“He says he thinks there is no danger. But the Indians are now within a +few feet of the palisade, and the explosion is about to take place.” + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +Sneak skills a sow that “was not all a swine”—The breathless +suspense—The match in readiness—Joe’s cool demeanour—The match +ignited—Explosion of the mine—Defeat of the savages—The captive—His +liberation—The repose—The kitten—Morning. + + +“Don’t you think I know who you are, and what you’re after?” said +Sneak, as he observed a large black sow, or what seemed to be one, +rambling about on the snow within a hundred paces of him. “If that +ain’t _my_ sow! She’s gone, that’s dead sure; and if I don’t pepper the +red rascal that killed her I wish I may be split. That Indian ’ll find +I’m not such a fool as he took me for. Just wait till he gits close +enough. I ain’t to be deceived by my own sow’s dead skin, with a great +big Osage in it, nohow you can fix it.” Sneak’s conjecture was right. +The Indian that Joe had killed was a chief, and the apparent sow was +nothing more than a savage enveloped in a swine’s skin. The Indian, +after reconnoitering the premises with some deliberation, evidently +believed that his stratagem was successful, and at length moved in the +direction of his dead comrade, with the manifest intention of bearing +the body away. + +“I’ll let you have it now!” said Sneak, firing his rifle, when the +seeming sow began to drag the fallen chief from the field. The +discharge took effect; the savage sprang upright and endeavoured to +retreat in the manner that nature designed him to run; but he did not +go more than a dozen paces before he sank down and expired. + +“That’s tit for tat, for killing my sow,” said Sneak, gazing at his +postrate foe. + +“Come here, Sneak,” said Boone, from the opposite side of the +inclosure. + +“There was but one, and I fixed him,” said Sneak, when they asked him +how many of the enemy were in view when he fired. + +“They heard the gun,” said Glenn, applying his ear to the chink, and +remarking that the Indians had suddenly ceased to work under the snow. + +“Be quiet,” said Boone; “they will begin again in a minute or two.” + +“They’re at it a’ready,” said Sneak, a moment after, and very soon they +were heard again, more distinctly than ever, cutting away with +increased rapidity. + +“Suppose the match does not burn?” observed Glenn, in tones betraying a +fearful apprehension. + +“In such an event,” said Boone, “we must retreat into the house, and +fasten the door without a moment’s delay. But I do not much fear any +such failure, for the dampness of the snow cannot so soon have +penetrated through the dry reeds to the powder. Still we should be +prepared—therefore, as there is no necessity that more than one of us +should be here now, and as I am that man, withdraw, all of you, within +the house, and remain there until your ears and eyes shall dictate what +course to pursue.” Boone’s command was promptly obeyed, and when they +reached the house and looked back, (the door was kept open,) they +beheld the renowned pioneer standing erect, holding a pistol in his +right hand (which he pointed at the cotton that connected with a train +of powder running along a short plank to the reed that reached the +buried keg,) while the moon, now midway in the heavens, “and +beautifully bright,” revealed the stern and determined expression of +pale brow and fixed lip. Thus he stood many minutes, and they seemed +hours to those who gazed upon the breathless scene from the house. Not +a sound was heard, save the rapid ticking of tomahawks under the snow +outside of the inclosure, or the occasional hasty remark of those who +were looking on in painful and thrilling suspense. Once Boone bowed his +head and listened an instant to the operations of the savages, and when +he rose erect again, the party looking on confidently expected he would +fire the train. But the fatal moment had not yet arrived. Still he +pointed the pistol at the combustible matter, and his eye glanced along +the barrel; but he maintained a statue-like stillness, as if awaiting +some preconcerted signal. + +“Why don’t he fire?” inquired Glenn, in a whisper. + +“It is not quite time yet,” responded Roughgrove. + +“Dod! they’ll crawl up presently, and jump over the fence,” said Sneak. + +“Oh, goodness! I wish he’d shoot!” said Joe, in low, sepulchral tones, +his head thrust between Sneak’s legs, whither he had crawled +unobserved, and was now peering out at the scene. + +“Who are you?” exclaimed Sneak, leaping away from Joe’s bandaged head, +which he did not recognize at the first glance. + +“It’s nobody but me,” said Joe, turning his face upward, that his +friend might not suppose him an enemy. + +“Well, what are you doing here? I thought you was a dying.” + +“I’m a good deal better, but I’m too weak to do any thing yet,” said +Joe, in piteous tones, as he looked fearfully at Boone, and listened to +the strokes of the Indians without, which became louder and louder. + +“Stand back a little,” said Boone to those in the door-way, “that I may +enter when I fire—the match may burn more briskly than I anticipated.” + +A passage was opened for him to enter. He pulled the trigger—the pistol +missed fire—he deliberately poured in fresh priming from his horn, and +once more taking aim, the pistol was discharged, and, running to the +house, and entering a little beyond the threshold, he paused, and +turned to behold the realization of his hopes. The light combustible +matter flashed up brightly, and the blaze ran along the ground a moment +in the direction of the end of the reed; but at the instant when all +expected to see the powder ignited, the flames seemed to die away, and +the darkness which succeeded impressed them with the fear that the damp +snow had, indeed, defeated their purpose. + +“Split me if it _shan’t_ go off!” cried Sneak, running out with a torch +in his hand, that he snatched from the fireplace. When he reached the +trench that had been dug along the palisade, and in which the slow +match was placed, he looked down but once, and dashing his fire-brand +behind him, sprang back to the house, with all the celerity of which he +was capable. “Dod!” said he, “it’s burning yet, but we couldn’t see it +from here. It’ll set the powder off in less than no time!” + +“I trust it will!” said Boone, with much anxiety. And truly the crisis +had arrived, beyond which, if it were delayed a single minute, it would +be too late! The _voices_ of the Indians could now be heard, and the +sounds of the tomahawks had ceased. They were evidently on the eve of +breaking through the icy barrier, and rushing upon their victims. +Boone, with a composed but livid brow, placed his hand upon the +ponderous door, for the purpose of retreating within, and barring out +the ruthless assailants. The rest instinctively imitated his motions, +but at the same time their eyes were yet riveted on the dimly burning +match. A small flash was observed to illumine the trench—another and a +larger one succeeded! The first train of powder was ignited—the Indians +were bursting through the snow-crust with direful yells—the blaze ran +quickly along the plank—it reached the end of the reed—a shrill +whizzing sound succeeded—a sharp crash under the snow—and then all was +involved in a tremendous chaotic explosion! An enormous circular cloud +of smoke enveloped the scene for a moment, and then could be seen +tomahawks, bows, and arrows, and even _savages_, sailing through the +air. The moon was darkened for the space of several minutes, during +which time immense quantities of snow poured down from above. The +startling report seemed to rend both the earth and the heavens, and +rumbled far up and down the valley of the Missouri, like the deep +bellowing of a coruscant thunder-cloud, and died away in successive +vibrations until it finally resembled the partially suppressed growling +of an angry lion. + +When the inmates of the house sallied forth, the scene was again quiet. +After clearing away the enormous masses of snow from the palisade, they +looked out from the inclosure through the loophole on the east, and all +was stillness and silence. But the view was changed. Instead of the +level and smooth surface, they now beheld a concave formation of snow, +beginning at the earth, which was laid bare where the powder had been +deposited, and widening, upward and outward, till the ring of the +extreme angle reached a height of fifteen or twenty feet, and measured +a circumference of fifty paces. But they did not discover a single dead +body. On the contrary, they soon distinguished the sounds of the +savages afar off, in fiendish and fearful yells, as they retreated in +great precipitation. + +“Dod! none of ’em’s killed!” exclaimed Sneak, looking about in +disappointment. + +“Hang it all, how could they expect to kill any, without putting in +some lead?” replied Joe, standing at his elbow, and evincing no +symptoms of illness. + +“What’re _you_ a doing out here? You’d better go in and finish dying,” +said Sneak. + +“No, I thank you,” said Joe; “my time’s not come yet; and when it does +come, I’ll know what to do without your instructions. I’m well now—I +never felt better in my life, only when I was eating.” + +“Go to the horses, Joe, and see if they have suffered any injury,” said +Glenn. “I don’t believe a single Indian was killed by the explosion,” +he continued, addressing Boone. + +“The snow may have preserved them,” replied Boone; “and yet,” he +continued, “I am sure I saw some of them flying up in the air.” + +“I saw them too,” said Glenn, “but I have known instances of the kind, +when powder-mills have blown up, where men were thrown a considerable +distance without being much injured.” + +“It answered our purpose, at all events,” said Boone, “for now, no +inducement whatever can ever bring them back” + +“If I were sure of that,” replied Glenn, “I would not regret the +bloodless result of the explosion.” + +“You may rely upon it implicitly,” said Boone; “for it was a surprise +they can never understand, and they will attach to it some +superstitious interpretation, which will most effectually prevent them +from meditating another attack” + +“Goodness gracious alive!” exclaimed Joe, nimbly springing past Boone +and Glenn, and rushing into the house. + +“What can be the matter with the fellow, now?” exclaimed Glenn. + +“He was alarmed at something in the stable—see what it is, Sneak,” said +Boone. + +“I’ve got you, have I? Dod! come out here!” exclaimed Sneak, when he +had been in the stable a few moments. + +“Who are you talking to?” asked Glenn. + +“A venimirous Osage smutty-face!” said Sneak, stepping out of the +stable door backwards, and dragging an Indian after him by the ears. + +“What is that?” demanded Glenn, staring at the singular object before +him. The question was by no means an unnatural one, for no being in the +human shape ever seemed less like a man. The unresisting and bewildered +savage looked wildly round, displaying a face as black as if he had +just risen from the bottom of some infernal lake. His tattered buckskin +garments had shared the same fate in the explosion; his eyebrows, and +the hair of his head were singed and crisped; and, altogether he might +easily have passed for one of Pluto’s scullions. He did not make +resistance when Sneak led him forth, seeming to anticipate nothing else +than an instantaneous and cruel death, and was apparently resigned to +his fate. He doubtless imagined that escape and longer life were +utterly impossible, inasmuch as, to his comprehension, he was in the +grasp of evil spirits. If he had asked himself _how_ he came thither, +it could not have occurred to him that any other means than the agency +of a supernatural power threw him into the hands of the foe. + +“I thought I saw one of them plunging through the air over the +inclosure,” said Boone, smiling. + +“Hanged if I didn’t think so too,” said Joe, who had at length returned +to gaze at the captive, when he ascertained that he was entirely meek +and inoffensive. + +“Have you got over your fright already?” asked Sneak. + +“What fright?” demanded Joe, with affected surprise. + +“Now, _can_ you say you weren’t skeered?” + +“Ha! ha! ha! I believe you really thought I _was_ frightened. Why, you +dunce, you! I only ran in to tell Miss Mary about it.” + +“Now go to bed. Don’t speak to me agin to night,” said Sneak, +indignantly. + +“I’ll go and get something to eat,” said Joe, retreating into the +house. + +“Tell Roughgrove to come here,” said Boone, speaking to Joe. + +“I will,” said Joe, vanishing through the door. + +When the old ferryman came out, Boone requested him (he being the most +familiar with the Osage language,) to ask the savage by what means he +was enabled to get inside of the inclosure. Roughgrove did his bidding; +and the Indian replied that the Great Spirit _threw_ him over the +palisade, because he once killed a friend of Boone’s at the +cave-spring, and was now attempting to kill another. + +“Why did you wish to kill us?” asked Roughgrove. + +The Indian said it was because they thought Glenn had a great deal of +money, many fire weapons, and powder and bullets, which they (the +savages) wanted. + +“Was it _right_ to rob the white man of these things, and then to +murder him?” continued Roughgrove. + +The savage replied that the prophet (Raven) had told the war-party it +was right. Besides, they came a long and painful journey to get +(Glenn’s) goods, and had suffered much with cold in digging under the +snow; several of their party had been killed and wounded, and he +thought they had a good right to every thing they could get. + +“Did the whites ever go to your village to rob and murder?” inquired +the old ferryman. + +The Indian assumed a proud look, and replied that they _had_. He said +that the buffalo, the bear, the deer, and the beaver—the eternal +prairies and forests—the rivers, the air and the sky, all belonged to +the red men. That the whites had not been _invited_ to come among them, +but they had intruded upon their lands, stolen their game, and killed +their warriors. Yet, he said, the Indians did not hate Boone, and would +not have attacked the premises that night, if they had known he was +there. + +“Why do they not hate Boone? He has killed more of them than any one +else in this region,” continued Roughgrove. + +The Indian said that Boone was a great prophet, and was loved by the +Great Spirit. + +“Will the war-party return hither to-night?” asked Roughgrove. + +The Indian answered in the negative; and added that they would never +attack that place again, because the Great Spirit had fought against +them. + +Boone requested Roughgrove to ask what would be done with the false +prophet who had advised them to make the attack. + +The savage frowned fiercely, and replied that he would be tied to a +tree, and shot through the heart a hundred times. + +“What do you think we intend to do to _you_?” asked Roughgrove. + +The savage said he would be skinned alive and put under the ice in the +river, or burned to death by a slow fire. He said he was ready to die. + +“I’ll be shot if he isn’t a spunky fellow!” said Sneak. + +“Do you desire such a fate?” continued the old ferry man. + +“The Indian looked at him with surprise, and answered without +hesitation that he _did_—and then insisted upon being killed +immediately. + +“Would you attempt to injure the white man again if we were not to kill +you?” + +The Indian smiled, but made no answer. + +“I am in earnest,” continued Roughgrove, “and wish to know what you +would do if we spared your life.” + +The Indian said such talk was only trifling, and again insisted upon +being dispatched. + +After a short consultation with Boone and Glenn, Roughgrove repeated +his question. + +The savage replied that he did not believe it possible for him to +escape immediate death—but if he were not killed, he could never think +of hurting any of those, who saved him, afterwards. Yet he stated very +frankly that he would kill and rob any _other_ pale-faces he might meet +with. + +“Let me blow his brains out,” said Sneak, throwing his gun up to his +shoulder. The Indian understood the movement, if not the words, and +turning towards him, presented a full front, without quailing. + +“He speaks the truth,” said Boone; “he would never injure any of us +himself, nor permit any of his tribe to do it, so far as his influence +extended. Yet he will die rather than make a promise not to molest +others. His word may be strictly relied upon. It is not fear that +extorts the promise never to war against us—it would be his gratitude +for sparing his life. Take down your gun, Sneak. Let us decide upon his +fate. I am in favour of liberating him.” + +“And I,” said Glenn. + +“And I,” said Roughgrove. + +“I vote for killing him,” said Sneak. + +“Hanged if I don’t, too,” said Joe, who had been listening from the +door. + +“Spare him,” said Mary, who came out, and saw what was passing. + +“We have the majority, Mary,” said Glenn; “and when innocence pleads, +the generous hand is stayed.” + +Roughgrove motioned the savage to follow, and he led him to the gate. +The prisoner did not understand what was to be done. He evidently +supposed that his captors were about to slay him, and he looked up, as +he thought, the last time, at the moon and the stars, and his lips +moved in deep and silent adoration. + +Roughgrove opened the gate, and the savage followed him out, composedly +awaiting his fate. But seeing no indication of violence, and calling to +mind the many wild joys of his roving youth, and the horrors of a +sudden death, he spoke not, yet his brilliant eyes were dimmed for a +moment with tears. His deep gaze seemed to implore mercy at the hands +of his captors. He would not utter a petition that his life might be +spared, yet his breast heaved to rove free again over the flowery +prairies, to bathe in the clear waters of running streams, to inhale +the balmy air of midsummer morning, to chase the panting deer upon the +dizzy peak, and to hail once more the bright smiles of his timid bride +in the forest-shadowed glen. + +“Go! thou art free!” said Roughgrove. + +The Indian stared in doubt, and looked reproachfully at the guns in the +hands of his captors, as if he thought they were only mocking him with +hopes of freedom, when it was their intention to shoot him down the +moment he should think his life was truly spared. + +“Go! we will not harm thee!” repeated Roughgrove. + +“And take this,” said Mary, placing some food in his yielding hand. + +The Indian gazed upon the maiden’s face. His features, by a magical +transition, now beamed with confidence and hope. Mary was in tears—not +tears of pity for his impending death, but a gush of generous emotion +that his life was spared. The savage read her heart—he knew that the +white woman never intercedes in vain, and that no victim falls when +sanctified by her tears. He clasped her hand and pressed it to his +lips; and then turning away in silence, set off in a stately and +deliberate pace towards the west. He looked not back to see if a +treacherous gun was pointed at him. He knew that the maiden had not +trifled with him. He knew that she would not mock a dying man with +bread. He neither looked back nor quickened his step. And so he +vanished from view in the valley. + +He clapsed her hand, and pressed it to his lips. + +He clasped her hand, and pressed it to his lips. + + +“Dod! he’s gone! We ought to’ve had his sculp!” said Sneak, betraying +serious mortification. + +“We must give it up, though—we were in the minority,” said Joe, +satisfied with the decision. + +“In the what?” asked Sneak. + +“In the minority,” said Joe. + +“Let’s go in the house and git something to eat,” said Sneak. + +“Hang me if I ain’t willing to be with you there,” said Joe. + +The whole party entered the house to partake of a collation prepared by +the dainty hands of Mary. Mary had frequently insisted upon serving +them with refreshments during the night, but hitherto all her +persuasions had been unavailing, for the dangers that beset them on +every hand had banished all other thoughts than those of determined +defensive operations. + +Boone was so certain that nothing farther was to be apprehended from +the enemy, that he dispensed with the sentinels at the loopholes. He +relied upon Ringwood and Jowler to guard them through the remainder of +the night; and when a hearty meal was eaten he directed his gallant +little band to enjoy their wonted repose. + +Ere long Mary slumbered quietly beside her father, while Boone and +Glenn occupied the remaining couch. Sneak was seated on a low stool, +near the blazing fire, and Joe sat in Glenn’s large arm chair, on the +opposite side of the hearth. The fawn and the kitten were coiled close +together in the centre of the room. + +Save the grinding jaws of Sneak and Joe, a death-like silence reigned. +Occasionally, when Sneak lifted his eyes from the pewter platter that +lay upon his knees, and glanced at the bandages on his companion’s +head, his jaws would cease to move for a few moments, during which he +gazed in astonishment at the ravenous propensity of the invalid. But +not being inclined to converse or remonstrate, he endeavoured to get +through with his supper with as much expedition as possible, that he +might enjoy all the comforts of refreshing sleep. Yet he was often on +the eve of picking a quarrel with Joe, when he suffered a sudden twinge +from his broken tooth, while striving to tear the firmer portion of the +venison from the bone. But when he reflected upon his peculiar +participation in the occurrence which had caused him so justly to +suffer, he repressed his rising anger and proceeded with his labour of +eating. + +Joe, on the other hand, discussed his savoury dish with unalloyed +satisfaction; yet he, too, paused occasionally, and fixing his eyes +upon the glaring fire, seemed plunged in the deepest thought. But he +did not glance at his companion. At these brief intervals he was +apparently reflecting upon the incidents of the night. One thing in +particular puzzled him; he could not, for the life of him, conceive how +his musket rebounded with such violence, when he was positively certain +that he had put but one charge in it, and that only a moderate one. He +was sometimes inclined to think the blow he received on the head was +dealt by Sneak; but when he reflected it would be unnatural for one man +to strike another with his _teeth_, and that Sneak had likewise +sustained a serious injury at the same time, conjectures were entirely +at fault. + +“What are you a thinking about so hard?” asked Sneak. + +“I’m trying to think how I got that blow on the back of my head,” said +Joe, turning half abstractedly to Sneak. + +“Yes, and I’d like to know how you come to mash my mouth so +dod-rottedly,” said Sneak, in well-affected ill nature. + +“Hang it, Sneak, you know well enough that I wouldn’t do such a thing +on purpose, when I was obliged to almost knock out my own brains to do +it,” said Joe, apologetically. + +“If I hadn’t thought of that,” replied Sneak, “I don’t know but I +should’ve shot you through when I got up.” + +“And I should never have blamed you for it,” said Joe, “if it had been +done on purpose. Does it hurt you much now?” + +“Don’t you see how its bleeding?” + +“That’s gravy running out of your mouth, ain’t it?” + +“Yes, but its bloody a little,” said Sneak, licking his lips. + +“I shall have to sit up and sleep,” said Joe; “for my head’s so sore I +can’t lie down.” + +“I’m a going to lay my head on this stool and sleep; and I’m getting so +drowsy I can’t set much longer,” said Sneak. + +“All’ll be square between us, about breaking your tooth, won’t it?” + +“Yes, I can’t bear malice,” said Sneak, shaking Joe’s extended hand. + +“Oh me!” said Joe, “I shan’t be able to doze a bit, hardly, for trying +to study out how the old musket came to kick me so.” + +“I’ve got a notion to tell you, jest to see if you’ll sleep any better, +then.” + +“Do you know?” asked Joe, quickly; “if you do, I’ll thank you with all +my heart to tell me?” + +“Dod! if I don’t!” said Sneak; “but all’s square betwixt us?” + +“Yes, if you’re willing.” + +“Well, don’t you remember when I told you to count the Indians standing +out there, I leant agin you to look over your shoulder? I stole a +cartrich out of your shot-bag then, and slipt it in the muzzle of your +musket. Don’t you know it was leaning agin the post?” + +Joe turned round and looked Sneak full in the face for several moments, +without uttering a word. + +“When it went off,” continued Sneak, “it made the tremendousest crack I +ever heard in all my life, except when the keg of powder busted.” + +“You confounded, blasted rascal you!” exclaimed Joe, doubling up his +fists, and preparing to assault his friend. + +“Now don’t go to waking up the folks!” said Sneak. + +“I’ll be hanged if I hain’t got a great notion to wear out the iron +poker over your head!” continued Joe, his eyes gleaming with rage. + +“Look at my tooth,” said Sneak, grinning in such manner that the +remaining fragment of the member named could be distinctly seen. The +ludicrous expression of his features was such as constrained Joe to +smile, and his enmity vanished instantaneously. + +“I believe you got the worst of the bargain, after all,” said Joe, +falling back in his chair and laughing quite heartily. + +“You know,” continued Sneak, “I didn’t mean it to turn out as bad as it +did. I jest thought it would kick you over in the snow, and not hurt +you any, hardly.” + +“Well, let’s say no more about it,” said Joe; “but when you do any +thing of that kind hereafter, pause and reflect on the consequences, +and forbear.” + +“I’ll keep my mouth out of the way next time,” said Sneak; “and now, as +all’s square betwixt us, s’pose we agree about how we are to do with +them dead Indians. S’pose we go halves with all the things they’ve +got?” + +“No, I’ll be hanged if I do!” said Joe quickly. “The one I shot was a +chief, and he’s sure to have some gold about him.” + +“Yes, but you know you’d never a killed him if it hadn’t been for me.” + +“But if it hadn’t been for you I wouldn’t have got hurt,” replied Joe, +reproachfully. + +“Well, I don’t care much about the chief—the one I killed maybe took +all his silver and gold before I shot him. Anyhow, I know I can find +something out there in the snow where they were blowed up,” said Sneak, +arranging a buffalo robe on the hearth and lying down. + +“And we must hereafter let each other alone, Sneak,” said Joe, “for the +fact is, we are both too much for one another in our tricks.” + +“I’m willing,” replied Sneak, lazily, as his eyes gradually closed. + +Joe placed his dish on the shelf over the fireplace, and folding his +arms, and leaning back in his great chair, likewise closed his eyes. + +But a few moments sufficed to place them both in the land of dreams. +And now the silence was intense. Even the consuming logs of wood seemed +to sink by degrees into huge livid coals, without emitting the least +sparkling sound. The embers threw a dim glare over the scene, such as +Queen Mab delights in when she leads her fairy train through the +chambers of sleeping mortals. A sweet smile rested upon the lips of +Mary. A loved form flitted athwart her visions. Roughgrove’s features +wore a grave but placid cast. Boone’s face was as passionless and calm +as if he were a stranger to terrific strife. Perils could now make no +impression on him. There was sadness on the damp brow of Glenn, and a +tear was stealing through the corner of his lids. A scene of woe, or +the crush of cherished hopes, was passing before his entranced vision. +Sneak, ever and anon grasped the empty air, and motioned his arm, as if +in the midst of deadly conflict. And Joe, though his bruised face +betrayed not his cast of thought, still evinced a participation in the +ideal transactions of the night, by the frequent involuntary motions of +his body, and repeated endeavours to avoid visionary dangers. + +The kitten lay upon the soft neck of the fawn, and at intervals resumed +its low, humming song, which had more than once been hushed in perfect +repose. At a late hour, or rather an early one, just ere the first +faint ray of morning appeared in the distant east, puss purred rather +harshly on the silken ears of its companion, and its sharp claws +producing a stinging sensation, the fawn shook its head violently, and +threw its little bed-fellow rather rudely several feet away. The +kitten, instead of being angry, fell into a merry mood, and began to +frisk about in divers directions, first running under the bed, then +springing upon some diminutive object on the floor as it would upon a +mouse, and finally pricking again the ear of the fawn. The fawn then +rose up, and creeping gently about the room, touched the cheeks or +hands of the slumbering inmates with its velvet tongue, but so softly +that none were awakened. The kitten, no longer able to annoy its +companion by its mischievous pranks, now paced up to the fire and +commenced playing with a dangling string attached to Joe’s moccasin. +Once it jumped up with such force against his foot that he jerked it +quickly several inches away. But this only diverted puss the more. +Instead of being content with the palpable demonstration thus effected, +it followed up the advantage gained by applying both its claws and +teeth to the foot. While it confined its operations to the stout +buckskin, but little impression was made; but when it came in contact +with the ankle, which was only covered with a yarn stocking, the result +was entirely different. + +“Ugh! Confound the fire!” exclaimed Joe, giving a tremendous kick, +which dashed puss most violently into Sneak’s face. + +“Hey! Dod! What is it?” cried Sneak, tearing the kitten (whose briery +nails had penetrated the skin of his nose) away, and throwing it across +the room. “I say! did you do that?” continued Sneak, wiping the blood +from his nose with his sleeve, and addressing Joe, who kept his eyes +fast closed, though almost bursting with suppressed laughter, and +pretending to be steeped in earnest slumber. “I won’t stand this!” said +Sneak, smarting with his wounds, and striking the chair in which Joe +sat with his foot. “Now,” continued Sneak, “if you done that, jest say +so, that’s all.” + +“Did what?” asked Joe, opening his eyes suddenly. + +“Why, throwed that ere pestiverous cat on me!” said Sneak. + +“No. Goodness! is there a pole-cat in here?” exclaimed Joe, in such +well-counterfeited tones of anxiety and alarm, that the real encounter +occurring to Sneak, and his pain being now somewhat abated, he gave +vent to a hearty fit of laughter, which awoke every person in the +house. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +The lead removed—The wolves on the river—The wolf hunt—Gum fetid—Joe’s +incredulity—His conviction—His surprise—His predicament—His narrow +escape. + + +When Sneak opened the door, the sun had risen and was shining brightly. +In a moment the inmates of the house were stirring. The horses neighed +in the stable for their accustomed food and water, and when Joe +hastened to them, he embraced the neck of each, in testimony of his joy +that they were once more saved from the hands of the Indians. The +hounds pranced round Boone and Glenn, manifesting their delight in +being relieved of the presence of the enemy. The gate was thrown open, +and the scene of the explosion minutely examined. Fortunately the +channel cut under the snow by the savages ran a few feet apart from the +powder, or the whole of them must inevitably have perished. As it was, +not a single one lost his life, though many were blown up in the air to +a considerable height. Joe and Sneak found only a few spears, knives, +and tomahawks, that had been abandoned by the savages; and then they +repaired to the west side of the inclosure, where the two dead Indians +were still lying. They had scarce commenced searching their victims for +booty, when a solitary Indian was seen approaching from the upper +valley. + +They had scarce commenced searching their victim. + +They had scarce commenced searching their victims for booty, when a +solitary Indian was seen approaching from the upper valley. + + +“We hain’t got our guns!” exclaimed Sneak, pulling out his knife. + +“I’ll get mine!” cried Joe, running away with all his might. + +“What’s the matter?” inquired Boone, smiling, who had also seen the +approaching Indian, and was walking to where the dead savages lay, +accompanied by Glenn and Roughgrove, when he met Joe running swiftly +towards the house. + +“Hang me, if the Indians ain’t coming back again,” replied Joe. + +“There is but one, and he has a white flag,” said Boone, who had +discovered a small rag attached to a pole borne by the Indian. + +“What can he want?” inquired Glenn. + +“He wants permission to bury the dead,” replied Roughgrove. + +“He’s the very rascal we let loose last night,” said Sneak. + +This was true. Although the singed savage had removed some of the black +marks produced by the explosion, yet so many palpable traces of that +event were still exhibited on his person, there could be no doubt of +his identity. + +The Indian came for the purpose mentioned by Roughgrove, and his +request was granted. He made a sign to a comrade he had left some +distance behind, who, in a very few minutes, was seen to approach in a +hasty though timorous pace. + +“Don’t go to shooting out here!” exclaimed Sneak, hearing a clicking +sound, and the next moment observing Joe pointing his musket through +the loophole nearly in a line with the spot where he stood. + +“Come in! come in! come in!” cried Joe. + +“Put your gun away, and be silent,” said Glenn. + +“I’ll be silent,” replied Joe, “but I’d rather stand here and watch +awhile. If they ain’t going to hurt any of us, it’ll do no harm; and if +they _do_ try to kill any of you, it may do some good.” + +When the second Indian arrived, he seized the body of the savage +enveloped in the swine-skin, (knowing that permission to do so had been +obtained by his comrade,) and bore him away with great expedition, +manifesting no inclination whatever to tarry at a place which had been +so fatal to his brethren. But the other had every confidence in the +mercy of the whites, and lingered some length of time, gazing at the +corpse before him, as if hesitating whether to bear it away. + +“Why do you not take him up?” inquired Roughgrove. + +The Indian said it was the false prophet Raven, and that he hardly +deserved to be buried. + +Sneak turned the dead Indian over, (he had been lying on his face,) and +he was instantly recognized by the whole party. + +“I’m glad its him,” said Sneak. + +“I think we will have peace now,” said Boone, “for Raven has ever been +the most blood-thirsty chief of the tribe.” + +“Where is the war-party encamped? When do they return to their own +country?” asked Roughgrove. + +The Indian replied that they were encamped in a small grove on the +border of the prairie, where they intended to bury their brothers, and +then it was their intention to set out immediately for their villages. +He added that one of their tribe, whom they had left at home, arrived +that morning with intelligence that a war-party of Pawnees had invaded +their territories, and it was necessary for them to hasten back with +all possible dispatch to defend their wives and children. + +Glenn asked Boone how the Indians managed to sleep in the cold prairie; +and, Roughgrove repeating the inquiry to the savage, they were informed +that the war-party carried with them a long but very light sled, in the +shape of a canoe, to which was tied a rope made of buckskins, by which +they pulled it along on the snow with great swiftness. This kept them +warm with exercise through the day. A quantity of furs and buffalo +skins were packed in the canoe that served to keep them warm at night. + +“Mr. Roughgrove! Mr. Roughgrove!” cried Joe, from his loophole. + +“What do you want with me?” responded the old man. + +“Why, Miss Mary’s gone down to your house to see if the Indians have +been there, and they may be there now, perhaps.” + +“There’s no danger now, you blockhead,” replied Roughgrove. + +“Keep your mouth shet!” said Sneak. + +“Your mouth’s mashed—recollect who did it,” retorted Joe. + +The savage at length lifted up the dead body, and set off at a brisk +pace towards the prairie. The party then returned to the house and +partook of a plenteous repast that had been provided by Mary. + +When the breakfast was over, they repaired to the cliff, to examine the +place where the Indians had first penetrated the snow. They had +commenced operations at the very brow of the cliff, on a shelving rock, +to attain which, without being seen from the garrison, they must have +crawled on their hands and knees a considerable distance. Below could +be seen an immense heap of snow, which had been thrown down from the +place of entrance, just as Boone had described. + +“Jest look yander!” cried Sneak, pointing up the river. The scene was a +remarkable one. They beheld a very small deer (the lightness of which +enabled it to run on the snow that covered the ice with great +fleetness, without breaking through the crust,) chased about on the +river by a pack of wolves! These hungry animals had evidently been +racing after it a great length of time, from the distressed appearance +of the poor victim, and, having driven it upon the ice, they seemed +resolved to prevent it from ever again entering the thickets. The plan +they adopted was systematic, and worthy the imitation of biped hunters. +They dispersed in various directions, and formed themselves in a circle +of about a half mile in diameter, hemming the deer in on all sides, +while only one or two of their number at a time chased it. Round and +round it ran; and though its pursuers were left far in the rear, yet it +remained entirely surrounded by the enemy. Occasionally, when a chasing +wolf became exhausted, one of the guards (abandoning his post) would +enter the ring, and, not being fatigued, was able to carry on the +pursuit with redoubled vigour. Thus the chase was kept up with +increasing fierceness by means of a succession of fresh wolves, until +the poor deer finally sank down and surrendered its life. The voracious +pack then rushed from their stations indiscriminately, and coming in +contact immediately over their prey, a most frightful contest ensued +among them. Horrific yells and screams could be heard by the men as +they looked on from their distant position. At times the wolves were so +closely jumbled together that nothing could be distinguished but one +black, heaving, and echoing mass. But the struggle was soon over. In a +very few moments, they became quiet, and started off in a comparatively +peaceful manner towards the island, whence their prize had been driven, +in quest of others. When they abandoned the spot where their victim had +fallen, not so much as a bone remained. + +“That’s making a clean business of it!” said Sneak. + +“Its no such thing!” said Joe; “it’s a nasty trick to swallow hide, +bones, and bowels, in that manner.” + +“Its clean for wolves,” said Sneak. + +“Oh, may be you’re part wolf,” said Joe. + +“Now, none of your gab, or I’ll play some other trick on you, worse +than that at the spring.” + +“You be hanged,” retorted Joe; “I’ll give you leave to do it when you +get a chance the next time.” + +“It is a great pity that the deer are subject to such destruction,” +remarked Glenn. + +“The wolves we saw are all on yonder island,” said Boone, “and if you +are disposed to have a hunt, I have no doubt we might kill some of +them.” + +“We are entirely dependent upon the deer for animal food,” said +Roughgrove; “and if we could only surround that party of wolves as they +did the deer, we might do the settlement much good service.” + +“I go in for it,” said Sneak. + +“I’d rather wait a day or two, till the Indians have gone clean off,” +said Joe. + +“There is nothing to fear from them now,” said Boone, “unless something +they might steal should fall in their way. But it will not require an +hour to rout the wolves on the little island.” + +“Then let us hasten and get our guns, and be upon them before they +leave it,” said Glenn. + +They returned to the house, and were all soon equipped for the +onslaught, except Joe, who made no preparation whatever. + +“Get ready, Joe,” said Glenn; “your redoubtable musket will do good +service.” + +“I’d rather not,” said Joe; “I’m hardly well enough to walk so far. +I’ll take care of Miss Mary. I wonder what’s become of her? Mr. +Roughgrove, Miss Mary hasn’t come back yet!” + +“Yes she has,” replied the old ferryman; “I saw her bring this frozen +flower up, while we were standing on the cliff, and she has only +returned for the other pots, I hear her singing down the valley now,” +he added, after stepping to the gate and listening a moment. + +“Have you any gum fetid?” asked Boone, addressing Glenn. + +“I’ve got lots of it,” interposed Joe, “that I brought along for the +horses, because an old man at St. Louis told me they would never die so +long as I kept a lump of it in the rack.” + +“What use do you make of it?” asked Glenn. + +“The scent of it will at any time collect the wolves,” said Boone, +directing Joe to bring it along. + +The party set out at a brisk pace, Joe with the rest, for it was +necessary to station the men at as many points as possible. Boone, +Roughgrove, and Glenn, when they reached the upper valley, descended to +the river, while Sneak and Joe were directed to station themselves on +the main-land opposite the upper and lower ends of the island. The +party of three advanced towards the island on the ice, and Sneak and +Joe pursued their way in a parallel direction through the narrow skirt +of woods that bordered the range of bluffs. + +Ere long the two on land descended from their high position and entered +a densely-timbered bottom, the upper part of which (a half mile +distant) was only separated from the island by a very narrow channel. + +Here, for the first time that day, the thought that the island he was +approaching was the haunted one of Glenn’s dream occurred to Joe, and +he paused suddenly. + +“What are you stopping for?” asked Sneak. + +“Because”—Joe hesitated, positively ashamed to tell the reason; and +after a moment’s reflection he was impressed with a thorough conviction +that his apprehensions and scruples were ridiculous. + +“Don’t you hear me?” continued Sneak. + +“I was thinking about going back for the dogs,” said Joe. + +“Yes, and they would be torn to bits in a little less than no time,” +said Sneak. + +“Come on, then,” said Joe, setting forward again, and dismissing all +fears of the fire-wizard from his mind. + +“Let me see how much asafoetida you’ve got,” said Sneak, after they had +walked a few moments in silence. + +“Here it is,” said Joe, unwrapping a paper containing several ounces; +“but hang me, if that ain’t rather too strong a joke of Mr. Boone’s +about its collecting the wolves. I can’t believe that.” + +“Did you ever hear of Mr. Boone’s telling a lie?” asked Sneak. + +“No, I never did, and that’s a fact,” said Joe; “but I’m afraid he’s +got into a scrape this time—Jingo! look yonder!” he continued, throwing +his musket up to his face, and pointing it at a very large black wolf +that stood in the path before them. + +“Don’t shoot! I put two loads in your gun,” cried Sneak, hastily. + +“Confound your long-necked gourd-head, I say!” said Joe, throwing down +the muzzle of his musket in an instant, and the next moment the wolf +disappeared among the tall bushes. “Why, hang me, if you didn’t tell a +lie!” continued Joe, running down his ramrod. + +“Don’t I know it?” replied Sneak. “I jest said so to keep you from +shooting; becaise if you had shot, you’d ’ave skeered all the other +wolves away, and we wouldn’t ’ave killed any.” + +“It’s well you didn’t put in another cartridge,” said Joe, “for I wish +I may be smashed if I stand this kicking business any longer.” + +“Now, I guess you’ll believe there’s something in the asafoetida, after +all! and the wolves’ll come all round you and won’t go off for shooting +at ’em, if you’ll only rub it on the soles of your boots.” + +“I’ll try it!” said Joe, suiting the action to the word, and then +striding onward, and looking in every direction for the wolves. + +“You’ll have to tree, if they come too thick.” + +“Pshaw!” replied Joe, “you can’t scare me in that way. I don’t believe +a hat full of it would make them stand and be shot at.” + +They were now opposite the island. Joe selected a position even with +the upper end of it, and Sneak remained below. Boone, after stationing +Roughgrove and Glenn to the best advantage, walked out to the +main-land, and taking some of the gum fetid in Joe’s possession, +returned to the island; and, ere long, he, Roughgrove, and Glenn were +heard discharging their guns with great rapidity, and the cries of the +wolves attested that they were labouring with effect. But none of the +beleaguered animals had yet retreated from the scene of destruction. On +the contrary, several were seen to run across from the main-land and +join those on the island. Presently Sneak commenced a brisk fire. There +seemed to be a whole army of wolves congregated in the vicinity. Joe at +first laughed, and then became confused and puzzled. He anxiously +desired to make the roar of his musket join the melée; but at times he +thought the ravenous enemy rather too numerous for him to be in perfect +safety. The firing on the island continued without abatement. Sneak’s +gun was likewise still heard at regular intervals, and what seemed an +extraordinary matter to Joe was that Sneak should yell out something or +other about the “asafoetida,” and “moccasin tracks,” after every +discharge. Joe was not long idle. He soon saw a huge black wolf +trotting along the little deer path he had just traversed, with its +nose down to the ground. A moment after, another, and then a third, +were seen pursuing the same course, some distance behind. Joe became +uneasy. His first impulse was to scamper over to the island: but, when +he thought of the jeers and jests that would ensue from Sneak, he +resolved to stand his ground. When the foremost wolf had approached +within thirty paces of him, he leveled his musket and fired. The wolf +uttered a fierce howl and expired. + +“Hang me, if I haven’t floored you, any how,” said he, exultingly, as +he proceeded to reload his gun with as much expedition as possible. But +the other wolves, so far from being alarmed at the fate of their +comrade, seemed to quicken their pace towards the position of Joe. +“Slash me, if there ain’t too many of them!” ejaculated Joe, as he +perceived several others, and all advancing upon him. “I’ll settle your +hash, by jing!” he continued, firing at the foremost one, which was not +twenty paces distant. The leaden contents of the musket entered its +breast, and it fell dead without a growl. Still the others advanced. +Joe had no time to charge his gun again. + +“I’ll make tracks!” said he, starting toward the frozen channel that +separated him from the island. But he had not gone ten paces before he +discovered two enormous wolves approaching from _that_ direction. “I’ll +cut dirt back again!” he continued, whirling suddenly around, and +rushing back to his stand, where he stood not a moment, but sprang up +in a tree, and after attaining a large limb that put out from the +trunk, some fifteen feet above the snow, paused, and pantingly surveyed +his assailants. There were now no less than twenty wolves in sight, and +several were at the root of the tree yelping at him! “I’ll be hanged if +I half like this,” said he. “Snap me, if I don’t begin to believe that +the asafoetida does charm them, after all. Confound Sneak! he’s always +getting me into some hobble or other! Now, if it wasn’t for this tree, +I’d be in a nice fix. Hang it! all the wolves in the world are broke +loose to-day, surely—where the mischief could they all have come from? +Just hear the men, how they are shooting! And they are killing the wild +black dogs every crack—but still they won’t back out! I’ll blaze away +at ’em again!” Saying this, he reloaded his musket as quickly as his +peculiar position would allow, and, for the purpose of ridding himself +as soon as possible of his disagreeable visitors, he poured in an +additional charge of buckshot. “Now,” he continued, “what if the gun +should fly out of my hands? I’d be in a pretty condition then! I +wouldn’t mind the kick at all, if I was only on dry land—but if the gun +should kick me over here, I’d tumble right down into their mouths! I +wish I’d thought of that before I rammed down the wadding. I haven’t +got my screw along, or I might draw out the load again. I’ll not shoot +at all. I’ll just watch till somebody comes and scares them away. Ugh! +you black rascal! what’re you staring up here for?” he continued, +looking down at the largest wolf, which was standing upright against +the tree, and tearing the bark away furiously with his long teeth. The +number of Joe’s enemies continued to increase. There were now perhaps +twenty under the tree. And still the firing on the island was kept up, +though not so incessantly as at first, which inspired Joe with a hope +that they would either kill all the wolves in their vicinity very soon +or force them to join his flock under the tree, when the men would +surely come to his relief. Sneak’s fire abated somewhat, likewise, and +Joe’s reliance upon having their aid in a very short time caused his +fears to subside in a great measure. + +“If you’re so crazy after asafoetida,” said he, looking down at the +fiercely staring animals again, “I’ll give you a taste, just to see +what you’ll do.” He took a small portion of the gum which he had +retained, and rubbed it over a piece of paper that he found in his +pocket. He then dropped the paper in their midst. They sprang upon it +simultaneously, and in an instant it vanished, Joe knew not whither. +“Hang me, if I couldn’t pepper a half-dozen at a shot when they all +rush up together so close, if I wasn’t afraid of being kicked down. +I’ll be teetotally smashed if I don’t fix and try it, any how!” said +he, pulling out a strong leather string from his pocket, one end of +which he attached firmly to a small limb of the tree, and the other he +tied as tightly round the wrist of his left arm. He then pulled out his +bandanna, and likewise made his musket fast to a bough. “Now, my +snapping beauties,” he continued, “I’m mistaken if I don’t give you a +dose of blue pills that’ll do your business in short order.” Saying +this, he tore off another piece of paper, and rubbing on the gum, +dropped it down as near as possible to the spot where he wished the +wolves to cluster together. No sooner did it fall than the whole gang +sprang upon it, and he fired with precision in their midst. Joe did not +look to see what execution was done. He was dangling in the air and +whirling round and round at a rapid rate, like a malefactor suspended +from the gallows, with the exception that his neck did not suffer, and +he cried out most lustily for assistance. When the cloud of smoke that +enveloped him cleared away a little, and he became better acquainted +with his critical situation, his yells increased in rapidity and +violence. His condition was truly perilous. The small bough to which he +had attached himself had not sufficient strength to bear him up when +his feet slipped from the larger one below, and it was now bent down a +considerable distance, and that too in a divergent direction from his +recent foothold, and unfortunately there was no limb of the tree of any +strength within his reach. His legs hung within six feet of the surface +of the snow. The discharge had killed four or five of the wolves, but, +undismayed, the remainder assailed him the more furiously. The most +active of them could easily spring as far up as his feet! Never was +terror more strongly depicted in the human face than it was displayed +in Joe’s when he saw the whole pack rushing towards him! They sprang up +with fearful snarls and yells. Joe yelled likewise, and doubled his +knees up to his chin. They missed his feet by several inches, and were +borne out fifteen or twenty feet to one side by the impetus of the +leap. It was by a mighty effort that he thus avoided them, and no +sooner had they passed under him than his legs again dangled downward. +In a moment they whirled round and were again rushing at their victim. +Once more Joe screamed, and drew up his legs while they passed under +him. “Help! help! for God’s sake!” cried he, when they whirled round +again. His cry was heard. Several sharp reports resounded from the +river bank, a few paces on the east. Three or four of the wolves howled +and fell. The rest hesitated, their eyes glistening, and fixed on Joe’s +suspended boots. “Come quick! for Heaven’s sake! I can’t pull up my +legs any more!” cried Joe. This was true, for his strength was fast +failing. The guns were again discharged with deadly effect, and all but +one of the largest of the wolves precipitately ran off, and disappeared +among the bushes. + +They sprang up with fearful snarls and yells. + +They sprang up with fearful snarls and yells. Joe yelled likewise, and +doubled his knees up to his chin. + + +“Jerk up your leg! that feller’s a going to take one of your feet along +with him, if he kin!” cried Sneak. Joe saw the wolf charging upon him, +but he was altogether unable to avoid it in the manner he had done +before. It was now only a few feet distant, its mouth open, displaying +a frightful set of teeth, and springing towards him. Finding it +impossible to prevent a collision, Joe resolved to sell his foot as +dearly as possible. As much as he was able, he bent up his knee-joints, +and when his assailant came, he bestowed his heels upon his head with +all his might. The wolf was stunned, and fell under the blow. + +“Take that!” cried Sneak, running up and plunging his knife into the +animal’s side. The wolf groaned and died. + +“Ha! ha! ha! you were born to be hanged,” said Roughgrove, coming +forward with Boone and Glenn, and laughing heartily. + +“He has been hung,” said Boone. + +“And almost quartered,” said Glenn. + +“Oh, goodness! Jump up here, Sneak, and cut me loose,” said Joe, +beseechingly. + +“There’s no danger of you ever dying,” said Sneak. + +“Oh, please don’t laugh at me, Sneak, but cut me down; that’s a good +fellow. The string is beginning to cut my wrist like fury!” + +“How did you git in such a fix?” continued Sneak. + +“Oh, hang it, Sneak, just get me out of the fix, and I’ll tell you all +about it.” + +“It’s hung _now_—didn’t you say ‘hang it, Sneak?’” continued Sneak. + +“Oh, come, now,” continued Joe; “if you were in this way, don’t you +think I’d help you?” + +“Cut him down, Sneak,” said Boone; and in a twinkling Sneak was up in +the tree, and the string was severed. Joe came down with great force, +his feet foremost, and running through the snow-crust to a great depth. + +“I wish some of you would help me out of this,” said he, after +struggling some time in vain to extricate himself. + +“You’ll want me to carry you home next, I s’pose,” said Sneak, +assisting him up. Joe made no reply; but as soon as he could cut the +string away from his wrist, seized Sneak by the throat, hurled him on +his back, and springing upon him, a violent struggle ensued for a few +moments before they could be separated. + +“What do you mean?” exclaimed Glenn, dragging Joe away from his +prostrate victim. + +“What did you do that for?” asked Sneak, rising up and brushing the +snow from his head and face, his fall having broken the icy surface. + +“You rascal, you! I’ll show you what for!” cried Joe, endeavouring to +get at him again. + +“Joe!” said Glenn, “if you attempt any further violence, you shall not +remain another day under my roof!” + +“He boxed my ear like thunder!” said Sneak; “I didn’t think the fellow +had so much pluck in him! I like him better now than ever I did. Give +us your paw, Joe.” Joe shook hands with him reluctantly, and then wiped +a flood of tears from his face. + +“He told me to put some asafetida on my hoots, and said I could then +kill more wolves,” said Joe; “and it came within an ace of making them +kill me.” + +“It was very wrong to do so, Sneak,” said Boone, “and the boxing you +got for it was not amiss.” + +“I believe I think so myself,” said Sneak. “But it did make him kill +more wolves after all—jest look at ’em all around here!” + +Joe soon recovered entirely from the effects of his swing, his fright, +and his anger, and looked with something like satisfaction on his many +trophies lying round him; and when he disengaged his musket from the +bough of the tree, he regarded it with affection. + +They moved homeward, entirely content with the result of the excursion. +Boone explained the reason why so many of the wolves were congregated +about the island. He stated that the vines and bushes on which the deer +feed in the winter were abundant and nutritious in the low lands along +the river, and that great numbers of them repaired thither at that +season of the year. The wolves of course followed them, and having now +destroyed all the large deer in the vicinity of the island, and the +small ones being enabled to run on the snow-crust, they found it +necessary to muster in the chase as great a number as possible, and +thus prevent their prey from escaping to the prairies. He said that the +wolves preferred the timber, being enabled to make more comfortable +lairs and dens among the fallen trees than out in the cold prairies. +But their guns had wrought a fearful destruction among them. Perhaps +three-fourths of them fell. + +The party soon reached Glenn’s house. As they entered the inclosure, +they were surprised to see Ringwood running wildly about, whining and +snarling and tearing the snow to pieces with his teeth. Jowler was more +composed, but a low, mournful whine issued continuously from his mouth. + +“Dod! what’s the dogs been after?” ejaculated Sneak. + +“Go in, Joe, and ask Mary what it means,” said Rough grove. + +“I’d rather not—the house may be full of Indians,” replied Joe, +relapsing into his natural cowardice. + +“Mary,” said Roughgrove, approaching the door and calling +affectionately. Receiving no reply, the old man entered and called +again. A silence succeeded. Roughgrove reappeared a moment after, with +a changed countenance. Boone gazed at his pale features, and asked the +cause of his distress by a look, not a word. + +“She’s gone! gone! gone!” exclaimed Roughgrove, covering his face with +both hands. + +Boone made no answer, but turning his face in the direction of the +southern valley, he called upon the name of Mary three times, in clear +and loud tones. He listened for her reply, in a motionless attitude, +several minutes. But no reply came. Now a change came over _his_ +features. It was a ferocity from which even the blood-thirsty savages +would have fled in horror! + +“My eternal curse upon them! They have seized her! I have been +deceived! I will have vengeance!” said he, in a low, determined tone. + +“Will they kill her, or keep her for a ransom?” inquired Glenn, in +extreme and painful excitement. + +“A ransom,” said Boone; “but they shall pay the weight of the silver +they demand in blood!” + +“May Heaven guard her!” said Roughgrove, in piteous agony. + +“Cheer up—we will get her again,” said Boone; and then giving some +hasty directions, preparations were made for pursuit. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +Mary—Her meditations—Her capture—Her sad condition—Her mental +sufferings—Her escape—Her recapture. + + +When the men departed for the island in quest of the wolves, Mary was +singing over her neglected flowers, at her father’s house in the +valley, and her clear ringing notes were distinctly heard by the whole +party. After they were gone she continued her song, and lingered long +over every faded leaf and withered blossom, with no thought of danger +whatever, and none of pain, save the regret that her long cherished +plants had been forgotten in the consternation of the previous day, and +had fallen victims to the frost-king. But nothing had been touched by +the savages. The domestic fowls clustered about her, and received their +food from her hands as usual. The fawn was with her, and evinced the +delight afforded by the occasional caress bestowed upon it, by +frequently skipping sportively around her. Mary was happy. Her wants +were few, and she knew not that there was such a thing as a malicious +enemy in the world, save the wild savage. Her thoughts were as pure as +the morning dew, and all her delights were the results of innocence. +She had never harmed any one, and her guileless heart never conceived +the possibility of suffering ill at the hands of others. She smiled +when the beautiful fawn touched her hand with its velvet tongue, and a +tear dimmed her eye for an instant when she looked upon her stricken +rose. + +While looking at one of the homely shelves in a corner of the deserted +house, Mary accidentally espied a small volume of poems, the gift of +Glenn, that had been neglected. She seized it eagerly, and after +turning over the pages the fiftieth time, and humming over many of the +songs, she paused suddenly, and lifting her eyes to the bright +sun-beams that streamed through the window, long remained in a listless +attitude. Something unusual had startled her simple meditations. At +first a shade of painful concern seemed to pass across her brow, and +then glancing quickly at the book she still held in her hand, a sweet +smile animated her lips. But again and again, ever and anon, the +abstracted gaze was repeated, and as often succeeded by the smile when +her eyes fell upon the volume. Did her thoughts dwell upon the giver of +that book? Undoubtedly. Did she love Glenn? This she knew not herself, +but she would have died for him! She was ignorant of the terms +courtship, love, and marriage. But nature had given her a heart +abounding with noble and generous impulses. + +At length she drew her shawl closely round her shoulders, and, closing +the door of the hut, was in the act of returning up the hill, when she +was startled by the furious and sudden barking of the hounds, which she +had left confined in the inclosure on the cliff. She paused, and looked +steadily in every direction, and was not able to discover, or even +conjecture, what it was that had roused the hounds. Yet an undefinable +fear seized upon her. The fawn at her side likewise partook of the +agitation, for the hair stood upright on its back, and it often snuffed +the air with great violence, producing, at each time, a shrill, +unnatural sound. + +Mary started briskly up the path, determined to shut herself up in +Glenn’s house until her father returned from the island. When she had +proceeded about twenty paces, and was just passing a dense thicket of +hazel that bordered the narrow path, she heard a slight rustling on the +left, and the next moment she was clasped in the arms of a brawny +savage! + +“Oh me! who are you?” demanded she, struggling to disengage herself, +and unable to see the swarthy features of her captor, who stood behind +her. No answer being made, she cast her eyes downwards, and beheld the +colour of the arms that encircled her. “Father! Mr. Glenn! Mr. Boone!” +she exclaimed, struggling violently. Her efforts were unavailing, and, +overcome with exhaustion and affright, she fainted on the Indian’s +breast. The savage then lifted her on his shoulder, ran down to the +rivulet that flowed through the valley, and fled outwards to the +prairie. When he reached the cave-spring, a confederate, who had been +waiting for him, seized the burden and bore it onwards, in a westerly +direction, with increased rapidity. Thus they continued the retreat, +bearing the insensible maiden alternately, until they came to a small +grove some distance out in the prairie, when they slackened their pace, +and, after creeping a short time under the pendent boughs of the trees, +halted in the camp of the war-party. + +The Indians gathered round the pale captive, some with rage and deadly +passions marked upon their faces, and others with expressions of +triumph and satisfaction. They now made preparations for departing. +Mary was wrapped in a large buffalo robe, enveloping her body and face, +and placed in the snow-canoe. The party then deposited their tomahawks +and other cumbersome articles at the feet of their captive, and, +grasping the leather rope attached to the canoe, set off rapidly in a +southerly direction. + +Ere long, Mary partially awoke from her state of insensibility, when +all was dark and strange to her confused senses. She pulled aside the +long hair of the buffalo skin that obscured her face, and looked out +from her narrow place of confinement. The blue heavens alone met her +view above. The incident of the seizure was indistinct in her memory, +and she could not surmise the nature of her present condition. She +turned hastily on her side, and the occasional bush she espied in the +vicinity indicated that she was rushing along by some means with an +almost inconceivable rapidity. She could scarce believe it was reality. +How she came thither, and how she was propelled over the snow, for +several moments were matters of incomprehensible mystery to the +trembling girl. At first, she endeavoured to persuade herself that it +was a dream; but, having a consciousness that some terrible thing had +actually occurred, all the painful fears of which the mind is capable +were put in active operation. The suspense was soon dispelled. Hearing +human voices ahead, and not readily comprehending the language, she +hastily rose on her elbow. The party of Indians dragging her fleetly +over the smooth prairie met her chilled view. But she was now +comparatively collected and calm. Instantly her true condition was +apparent. She watched the swarthy forms some moments in silence, +meditating the means of escape. Presently one of the savages turned +partly round, and she sank back to escape his observation. Again she +rose up a few inches, and their faces were all turned away from her. +She gradually acquired resolution to encounter any hardship or peril +that might be the means of effecting her escape. But what plan was she +to adopt? The almost interminable plain of which she was in the midst +afforded no hiding-place. Then, the speed of the flying snow-canoe, +were she to leap out, would not only produce a hurtful collision with +the hard snow-crust, but certainly cause her detection. The poor girl’s +heart sank within her, and, for a time, she reclined submissively in +the canoe, and gave way to a flood of tears. She thought of her +gray-haired father, and a piercing agony thrilled through her breast. +And she thought, too, of others—of Boone, of _Glenn_, and her pangs +were hopelessly poignant. Thus she lay for several long hours, a prey +to grief and despair. But some pitying angel hovered over her, and +kindly lessened her sufferings. By degrees, her mind became possessed +of the power of deliberate and rational reflection; and she was +inspired with the belief that the savages only designed to exact a +heavy contribution from the whites by her capture, and would then +surrender her up without outrage or injury. Another hope, likewise, +sprang up in her breast: it was, that the Indian she had been +instrumental in releasing from captivity might protect her person, and, +perhaps restore her to her father. She also felt convinced that Boone +and Glenn would join her father in the pursuit, and she entertained a +lively hope that they would overtake her. But, again, when she looked +out on the surface of the snow, and beheld the rapidity of the savages’ +pace, this hope was entertained but for a moment. She then resolved to +make an effort herself to escape. If she was not successful, it would, +at all events, retard the progress of her captors, and she might also +ascertain, with some degree of certainty, their purposes with regard to +her fate. She rose as softly as possible and sprang upon the snow. The +Indians, as she feared, instantly felt the diminution of weight, and +halted so abruptly that every one of them was prostrated on the +slippery snow-crust. Mary endeavoured to take advantage of this +occurrence, and, springing quickly to her feet, fled rapidly in the +opposite direction. But before she had run many minutes, she heard the +savages in close pursuit and gaining upon her at every step. It was +useless to fly. She turned her head, and beheld the whole party within +a few paces of her. The foremost was a tall athletic savage, bearing in +his hand a tomahawk he had snatched from the snow-canoe, and wearing a +demoniac scowl on his lip. Mary scanned his face and then turned her +eyes to heaven. She felt that her end was near, and she breathed a +prayer taught her by her buried mother. The savage rushed upon her, +entwining his left hand in her flowing hair, and waving his tomahawk +aloft with the other, was in the act of sinking the steel in the fair +forehead before him, when the blow was arrested by a mere stripling, +who came up at the head of the rest of the Indians. The Herculean +savage whirled round and scowled passionately at the youth. The young +Indian (the chief just elected in the place of Raven) regarded him a +moment with gleaming eyes, and a determined expression of feature, and +then with much dignity motioned him away. The huge savage was strangely +submissive in a moment, and obeyed without a murmur. Mary was conducted +back to the snow-canoe by the young chief, who led her by the hand, +while the rest walked behind. Once the young warrior turned and looked +searchingly in the face of his fair prize, and she returned the gaze +with an instantaneous conviction that no personal harm was intended +her. The chief was not half so dark as the rest of his tribe, and his +countenance was open, generous, and noble. (It may seem improbable to +the unthinking reader that a timid and alarmed maiden should be able to +read the character of a foe by his features under such circumstances. +But those very circumstances tended to produce such acuteness. And this +is not only the case with human beings, but even with dumb brutes—for, +at the moment they are about to be assailed, they invariably and +instinctively look the assailant in the eye, mercy being the only +remaining hope.) Again the young warrior turned to behold his captive’s +face, and Mary was in tears. He paused abruptly, and, after gazing some +moments in silence and deep thought, resumed his pace. When they +reached the snow-canoe, and while in the act of lifting his captive +into her couch, the young chief observed for the first time a massive +ring of curious workmanship on her finger (the glove she had hitherto +worn being partially torn from her hand in the recent struggle,) and +seemed to regard it with much interest. Mary saw that his eyes were +riveted on the jewel, and notwithstanding it possessed a hallowed value +in having been worn by her mother, yet she felt that she could resign +it to the one who had saved her life, and whose noble bearing, so +different from that of the rest, promised to shield her from future +harm. But he neither asked it as a gift nor tore it from her, but +turned away in silence, and ordered the party to proceed. The command +was instantly obeyed. + +There was another Indian that had attracted the notice of Mary—one who +studiously avoided her glance by constantly enveloping his face in his +hairy robe whenever she turned towards him. This he continued to do +until she was again seated in the snow-canoe, and the order was given +to proceed on the journey. He then lingered behind the rest, and +throwing aside his mask, she saw before her the savage that had been +thrown within the inclosure by the explosion. He pointed to the north, +the direction of her home, and, by sundry signs and grimaces, made Mary +understand that he had not been a party to her capture, and that he +would endeavour to effect her escape. He then joined the others, and +the poor girl was once more coursing over the prairie more rapidly than +ever. + +The savage rushed upon her. + +The savage rushed upon her, entwined his left hand in her flowing hair, +and, waving his tomahawk aloft with the other, was in the act of +sinking the steel in the fair forehead before him, when the blow was +arrested by a mere stripling, who came up at the head of the rest of +the Indians. + + +There was now mingled with the captive maiden’s thoughts another +subject of contemplation. It was the young chief. His image seemed to +be familiar to her dreamy visions, and she often thought that they had +really met before. But when or where, her memory failed to designate. +She was glad to find herself so unexpectedly under the protection of +one so brave and generous, and she hoped when her father and his +friends should overtake them, he might not be hurt in the conflict that +must inevitably ensue. + +The Indians long continued their flight in silence. Scarce a word was +uttered, until the sun was sinking low in the west. And then Mary heard +them speaking about the place of encampment; for her frequent +intercourse With the savages, before the arrival of Glenn in the +vicinity, had enabled her, as well as her father, to acquire an +imperfect knowledge of their language. But they still swept onward, +without any diminution of speed. The chief had probably objected to +their making, a halt by a shake of the head, for Mary did not hear him +reply to those who desired to stop. + +When the shades of night fell around, and the broad red face of the +moon peeped over the eastern horizon, the party still careered over the +prairie. More than thirty miles had been traversed. The Indian is more +distinguished for bottom than speed, and has been known to pursue a +victim, or fly in the retreat, more than twenty-four hours without +resting. But this band had suffered much from fatigue before they set +out with their captive. The attempt to surprise the fort had cost them +both blood and labour, and when the moon had risen midway up in the +heavens, they again became clamorous for food and rest. The chief then +told them to turn from their course, and in a few minutes Mary saw that +they were approaching a grove of towering trees. Ere long they halted +under an enormous beech, whose spreading and clustering branches not +only greatly obscured the light from above, but had in a great measure +prevented the snow from covering the earth at its roots. It was not +long before a fire was struck, and the savages having scattered in +every direction in quest of dry wood and bark, in a very short space of +time a large bright blaze flashed up in their midst, around which they +spread their buffalo robes and commenced preparing their venison. Each +one cooked for himself, save the chief, who was provided proportionably +by all. He offered Mary a part of his food, but she declined it. He +then proffered to lift her from the snow-canoe, and place her nearer +the fire. This too she declined, stating that she was warm enough. She +was likewise influenced in this determination by the gestures of the +Indian whom she had befriended the preceding night, who sat by in +apparent unconcern, but at every opportunity, by looks and signs, +endeavoured to cheer and encourage the captive maiden. + +After a hearty repast the savages, with the exception of the chief, +rolled themselves in their warm, hairy robes before the glowing fire, +and were soon steeped in profound slumber. The chief long reclined in a +half-recumbent attitude on the couch that had been prepared for him, +and fixing his eyes on the glaring flame, and sometimes on the pale sad +features of Mary, seemed to be under the influence of deep and painful +meditations. At times his features assumed a ferocity that caused Mary +to start and tremble; but at others they wore a mournful expression, +and ever and anon a tear rose up and glistened in his eye. Thus he sat +for more than an hour after all the rest were sunk in motionless +slumber. Finally his bedecked head, adorned with a profusion of rich +and rare feathers, sunk by degrees on the rude pillow, and he too was +soon wandering in the land of dreams. + +But sleep brooded not upon the watchful lids of Mary. She gazed in +silence at the wild savage scene before her. The uncouth beings who had +so recently hooted and yelled like sanguinary demons, with intent to +slay and pillage, around her father, her friends and herself, now lay +motionless, though free and still hostile, within a few feet of her, +and she was their captive! She thought of her humble but peaceful home, +and sighed bitterly. And she thought, too, of her distressed friends, +and she was the more distressed from the consciousness that they +sympathized with her sufferings. Poor girl! She looked at the dark +brows and compressed lips of her captors as the fitful flashes of the +flames threw a bright ray upon them, and, in despite of the many hopes +she had entertained, she was horror-stricken to contemplate the reality +of her sad predicament. + +At a late and solemn hour, the Indian who had been the captive the +night before, suddenly ceased his snoring, which had been heard without +intermission for a great length of time; and when Mary instinctively +cast her eyes towards him, she was surprised to see him gently and +slowly raise his head. He enjoined silence by placing his hand upon his +mouth. After carefully disengaging himself from his comrades, he crept +quietly away, and soon vanished entirely from sight on the northern +side of the spreading beech. Mary expected he would soon return and +assist her to escape. Although she was aware of the hardships and +perils that would attend her flight, yet the thought of again meeting +her friends was enough to nerve her for the undertaking, and she waited +with anxious impatience the coming of her rescuer. But he came not. She +could attribute no other design in his conduct but that of effecting +her escape, and yet he neither came for her nor beckoned her away. She +had reposed confidence in his promise, for she knew that the Indian, +savage as he was, rarely forfeited his word; but when gratitude +inspired a pledge, she could not believe that he would use deceit. The +fire was now burning quite low, and its waning light scarce cast a beam +upon the branches over head. It was evidently not far from morning, and +every hope of present escape entirely fled from her bosom. But just as +she was yielding to despair, she saw the Indian returning in a stealthy +pace, bearing some dark object in his arms. He glided to her side, and +beckoned her to leave the snow-canoe, and also to take with her all the +robes with which she had been enveloped. She did his bidding, and then +he carefully deposited the burden he bore in the place she had just +occupied. A portion of the object becoming unwrapped, Mary discovered +it to be a huge mass of snow, resembling, in some respects, a human +form, and the Indian’s stratagem was at once apparent to her. +Relinquishing herself to his guidance, she was led noiselessly through +the bushes about a hundred paces distant from the fire, to a large +fallen tree that had yielded to some furious storm, when her conductor +paused. He pointed to a spot where a curve caused the huge trunk to +rise about a foot from the present surface, under which was a round +hole cut through the drifted snow down to the earth, and in which were +deposited several buffalo robes, and so arranged that a person could +repose within without coming in contact with the frozen element around. +Mary looked down, and then at her companion, to ascertain his +intentions. He spoke to her in a low tone, enough of which she +comprehended to understand that he desired her to descend into the pit +without delay. She obeyed, and when he had carefully folded the robes +and divers furs about her body, he stepped a few paces to one side, and +gently lifting up a round lid of snow-crust, placed it over the +aperture. It had been so smoothly cut, and fitted with such precision +when replaced, that no one would have been able to discover that an +incision had been made. He then bade Mary a “Dud by” in bad English, +and set off in a run in a northern direction for the purpose of joining +the whites. + +Long and interminable seemed Mary’s confinement to her, but she was +entirely comfortable in her hiding-place, as respected her body. Yet +many dreadful apprehensions oppressed her still. She feared that the +Indians would soon ascertain that she had left the canoe, and return +and discover her place of concealment. At times she thought of the wild +beasts prowling around, and feared they would devour her before +assistance came. But the most harrowing fear was that the friendly +Indian would abandon her to her fate or perhaps be _killed_, without +making known her locality and helpless condition! Thus was she a prey +to painful apprehensions and worrying reflections, until from +exhaustion she sank into an unquiet and troubled slumber. + +With the first light of morning, the war-party sprang to their feet, +and hastily dispatching a slight repast, they set out on their journey +with renewed animation and increased rapidity. Before starting, the +chief called to Mary, and again offered some food; but no reply being +returned, or motion discovered under the robe which he imagined +enveloped her, he supposed she was sleeping, and directed the party to +select the most even route when they emerged in the prairie, that she +might as much as possible enjoy her repose. + +The Indian who had planned and executed the escape of Mary, with the +well-devised cunning for which the race is proverbial, had told his +companions that he would rise before day and pursue the same direction +they were going in advance of them, and endeavour to kill a deer for +their next night’s meal. Thus his absence created no suspicion, and the +party continued their precipitate retreat. + +But, about noon, after casting many glances back at the supposed form +of the captive reclining peacefully in the snow-canoe, the chief, with +much excitement, betrayed by his looks, which seemed to be mingled with +an apprehension that she was dead, abruptly ordered the party to halt. +He sprang to the canoe, and convulsively tearing away the skins +discovered only the roll of snow! He at first compressed his lips in +momentary rage, and then burst into a fit of irrepressible laughter. +But the rest raved and stamped, and uttered direful imprecations and +threats of vengeance. Immediately they were aware of the treachery of +the absent Indian, and resolved with one voice that his blood should be +an atonement for the act. Their thoughts had dwelt too fondly on the +shining gold they were to get in exchange for the maiden, for them ever +to forgive the recreant brother who had snatched the prize from them. +The chief soon recovered his usual grave expression, and partook in +some measure the general disappointment and chagrin. His motives were +not of the same mercenary cast which actuated his tribe, nor did he +condemn the conduct of the one who had rescued the maid, being aware of +the clemency extended him when in the power of the enemy; but the +thought of being outwitted and thwarted roused his anger, and he +determined to recover the lost captive, if possible. + +The snow was quickly thrown out, and the war-party adjusted their +weapon’s, with the expectation of encountering the whites; and then +whirling about they retraced their steps even more swiftly than they +had been advancing. Just as the night was setting in, they came in +sight of the grove where they had encamped. They slackened their pace, +and looking eagerly forward, seemed to think it not improbable that the +whites had arrived in the vicinity, and might be lying in ambush +awaiting their return in search of the maid. They then abandoned the +canoe, after having concealed it under some low bushes, and entered the +grove in a stooping and watchful posture. Ere long the chief attained +the immediate neighbourhood of the spreading tree, and with an arrow +drawn to its head, crept within a few paces of the spot where he had +lain the preceding night. His party were mostly a few feet in the rear, +while a few were approaching in the same manner from the opposite +direction. Hearing no sound whatever, he rose up slowly, and with an +“Ugh” of disappointment, strode carelessly across the silent and +untenanted place of encampment. + +Vexation and anger were expressed by the savages in being thus +disappointed. They hoped to wreak their vengeance on the whites, and +had resolved to recapture the maiden. Where they expected to find them, +the scene was silent and desolate. And they now sauntered about under +the trees in the partial light of the moon that struggled through the +matted branches, threatening in the most horrid manner the one who had +thus baffled them. Some struck their tomahawks into the trunks of +trees, while others brandished their knives, and uttered direful yells. +The young chief stood in silence, with his arms folded on his breast. A +small ray of light that fell upon his face exhibited a meditative brow, +and features expressing both firmness and determination. He had said +that the captive should be regained, and his followers ever and anon +regarded his thoughtful attitude with the confidence that his decision +would accelerate the accomplishment of their desires. Long he remained +thus, motionless and dignified, and no one dared to address him. [He +had been elected chief by acclamation, after the death of Raven. He was +not an Osage by birth, but had been captured from one of the +neighbouring tribes (the Pawnee) when only six years old. His bravery, +as he grew up, had elicited the admiration of the whole tribe, and it +had long been settled that he should succeed Raven. His complexion was +many degrees lighter than that of the Osages, or even that of the +Pawnees, and had it not been for the paint and stains with which the +warriors decorate their faces, he might have passed, if properly +attired, for an American. When taken in battle he was saved from the +torture by a young Indian maiden. She procured his release and he +refused to return to his own nation. He said that he was no Pawnee, and +when asked to what nation he belonged, he either could not or would not +reply, but said he was satisfied to hunt and fight with any tribe, and +if the chief would give him his daughter (the one that saved his life,) +he would be an Osage. It was done, and his brave exploits soon won for +him the title of the “Young Eagle.”] + +The young chief called one of the oldest of the party, who was standing +a few paces distant absorbed in thought, to his side, and after a short +conference the old savage prostrated himself on the snow, and +endeavoured like a hound to scent the tracks of his recreant brother. +At first he met with no success, but when making a wide circuit round +the premises, still applying his nose to the ground occasionally, and +minutely examining the bushes, he paused abruptly, and announced to the +party that he had found the precise direction taken by the maid and her +deliverer. Instantly they all clustered round him, evincing the most +intense interest. Some smelt the surface of the snow, and others +examined the bushes. Small twigs, not larger than pins, were picked up +and closely scrutinized. They well knew that any one passing through +the frozen and clustered bushes must inevitably sever some of the twigs +and buds. Their progress was slow, but unerring. The course they +pursued was the direction taken by Mary and her rescuer. It was not +long before they arrived within a few feet of the place of the maiden’s +concealment. But now they were at fault. There were no bushes +immediately around the fallen tree. They paused, the chief in the van, +with their bows and arrows and tomahawks in readiness for instant use. +They knew that the maiden could not return to her friends on foot, or +the treacherous savage be able to bear her far on his shoulder. They +thought that one or both must be concealed somewhere in the +neighbourhood, and the fallen tree, were it hollow, was the place most +likely to be selected for that purpose. After scanning the fallen trunk +a few minutes in silence, and discovering nothing to realize their +hopes, they uttered a terrific yell, and commenced striking their +tomahawks in the wood, and ripping up the bark in quest of some +hiding-place. But their search was in vain. The fallen trunk was sound +and solid throughout, and the young chief sat down on it within three +paces of Mary! Others, in passing about, frequently trod on the very +verge of the concealed pit. + +Mary was awakened by the yell but knew not that the sound came from her +enemies. The Indian had told her that he would soon return, and her +heart now fluttered with the hope that her father and her friends were +at hand. Yet she prudently determined not to rush from her concealment +until she was better assured of the fact. She did not think the savages +would suspect that she was hid under the snow, but yet she thought it +very strange that her father did not come to her at once. Several +minutes had elapsed since she had been startled by the sounds in the +immediate vicinity. She heard the tramp of men almost directly over her +head, and the strokes against the fallen trunk. She was several times +on the eve of rising up, but was as often withheld by some mysterious +impulse. She endeavoured to reflect calmly, but still she could not, by +any mode of conjecture realize the probability of her foes having +returned and traced her thither. Yet an undefinable fear still +possessed her, and she endeavoured with patience to await the pleasure +of her friends. But when the chief seated himself in her vicinity, and +fell into one of his fits of abstraction, and the whole party became +comparatively still and hushed, the poor girl’s suspense was almost +insufferable. She knew that human beings were all around her, and yet +her situation was truly pitiable and lonely. She felt assured that if +the war-party had returned in pursuit of her, the same means which +enabled them to trace their victim to the fallen trunk would likewise +have sufficed to indicate her hiding-place. Then why should she +hesitate? The yells that awakened her had not been heard distinctly, +and under the circumstances she could not believe that she was +surrounded by savages. On the other hand, if they were her friends, why +did they not relieve her? Now a sudden, but, alas! erroneous thought +occurred to her. She was persuaded that they were her friends, but that +the friendly Indian was not with them—he had perhaps directed them +where she could be found, and then returned to his home. Might not her +friends, at that moment, be anxiously searching for her? Would not one +word suffice to dispel their solicitude, and restore the lost one to +their arms? She resolved to speak. Bowing down her head slightly, so +that her precise location might not instantly be ascertained, she +uttered in a soft voice the word “FATHER!” The chief sprang from his +seat, and the party was instantly in commotion. Some of the savages +looked above, among the twining branches, and some shot their arrows in +the snow, but fortunately not in the direction of Mary, while others +ran about in every direction, examining all the large trees in the +vicinity. The chief was amazed and utterly confounded. He drew not +forth an arrow, nor brandished a tomahawk. While he thus stood, and the +rest of the party were moving hurriedly about a few paces distant, Mary +again repeated the word “FATHER!” As suddenly as if by enchantment +every savage was paralyzed. Each stood as devoid of animation as a +statue. For many moments an intense silence reigned, as if naught +existed there but the cheerless forest trees. Slowly, at length, the +tomahawk was returned to the belt, and the arrow to the quiver. No +longer was a desire to spill blood manifested. The dusky children of +the forest attributed to the mysterious sound a supernatural agency. +They believed it was a voice from the perennial hunting-grounds. Humbly +they bowed their heads, and whispered devotions to the Great Spirit. +The young chief alone stood erect. He gazed at the round moon above +him, and sighs burst from his breast, and burning tears ran down his +stained cheek. Impatiently, by a motion of the hand, he directed the +savages to leave him, and when they withdrew he resumed his seat on the +fallen trunk, and reclined his brow upon his hand. One of the long +feathers that decked his head waved forward, after he had been seated +thus a few minutes, and when his eye rested upon it he started up +wildly, and tearing it away, trampled it under his feet. At that +instant the same “FATHER!” was again heard. The young chief fell upon +his knees, and, while he panted convulsively, said, in ENGLISH, +“_Father! Mother! I’m your poor William—you loved me much—where are +you? Oh tell me—I will come to you—I want to see you!_” He then fell +prostrate and groaned piteously. “Father! oh! where are you? Whose +voice was that?” said Mary, breaking through the slight incrustation +that obscured her, and leaping from her covert. + +The young chief sprang from the earth—gazed a moment at the maid—spoke +rapidly and loudly in the language of his tribe to his party, who were +now at the place of encampment, seated by the fire they had kindled—and +then, seizing his tomahawk, was in the act of hurling it at Mary, when +the yells of the war-party and the ringing discharges of firearms +arrested his steel when brandished in the air. The white men had +arrived! The young, chief seized Mary by her long flowing hair—again +prepared to level the fatal blow—when she turned her face upwards, and +he again hesitated. Discharges in quick succession, and nearer than +before, still rang in his ears. Mary strove not to escape. Nor did the +Indian strike. The whites were heard rushing through the bushes—the +chief seized the trembling girl in his arms—a bullet whizzed by his +head—but, unmindful of danger, he vanished among the dark bushes with +his burden. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +Joe’s indisposition—His cure—Sneak’s reformation—The pursuit—The +captive Indian—Approach to the encampment of the savages—Joe’s illness +again—The surprise—The terrific encounter—Rescue of Mary—Capture of the +young chief—The return. + + +We return to the white men. The grief of Roughgrove, and of all the +party, when it was ascertained beyond a doubt that Mary had been +carried off by the savages, was deep and poignant. The aged ferryman +sat silent and alone, and would not be comforted, while the rest made +the necessary arrangements to pursue the foe. The sled was so altered +that blankets, buffalo robes, and a small quantity of food could be +taken in it. Bullets were moulded and the guns put in order. Joe was +ordered to give the horses water, and place a large quantity of +provender within their reach. The hounds were fed and then led back to +their kennel, and Glenn announced, after Roughgrove declared his +determination to go along, that Ringwood and Jowler alone would be left +to guard the premises. + +“My goodness!” said Joe, when he understood that he was expected to +make one of the pursuing party, “I can’t go! My head’s so sore, and +aches so bad, I couldn’t go ten miles before I’d have to give up. Let +me stay, Mr. Glenn, and take care of the house.” + +“Do you forget that _Mary_ is in the hands of the Indians? Would you +hesitate even to _die_, while striving to rescue a poor, innocent, +helpless maiden? For shame!” replied Glenn. + +“I’d spill my heart’s blood for her,” said Joe, “if it would do any +good. But you know how I was crippled last night, and I didn’t sleep a +bit afterwards, hardly.” + +“Dod”—commenced Sneak. + +“Joe,” said Boone, “from the vigorous manner in which you fought the +wolves, I am induced to believe that your present scruples are not well +founded. We will need every man we can obtain.” + +“Oh, I wouldn’t mind it at all,” said Joe, “if it wasn’t that you’re a +going to start right off now. If I only had a little sleep—” + +“You shall have it,” said Boone. Both Glenn and Roughgrove looked +inquiringly at the speaker. “We will not start to-night,” continued he. +“It would be useless. We could not overtake them, and if we did, it +would cause them to put Mary to death, that they might escape our +vengeance the more easily. I have duly considered the matter. We must +rest here to-night, and rise refreshed in the morning. We will then set +out on their trail, and I solemnly pledge my word never to return +without bringing the poor child back unharmed.” + +“I _hope_ my head’ll be well by morning,” said Joe. + +“I _know_ it will be well enough,” said Glenn; “so you need entertain +no hope of being left behind.” + +“Now, Sneak, a word with you,” said Boone. “I think you would do almost +_any thing_ for my sake—” + +“If I wouldn’t, I wish I may be dod—” + +“Stop!” continued Boone, interrupting him. + +“Jest ax me to cut off my little finger,” said Sneak, “and if I don’t +do it, I wish I may be dod—” + +“Stop!” again interposed Boone. “My first request is one that poor +_Mary_ asked me to make. I know it will be a severe trial.” + +“Name it,” cried Sneak, “and if it’s to job out one of my eyes, dod rot +me if I don’t do it!” + +“_Hear_ me,” continued Boone; “she desired me to ask you not to use +that ugly word _dod-rot_ any more.” + +“Hay!” exclaimed Sneak, his eyes dilating, and his mouth falling wide +open. + +“I know it will be a hard matter,” said Boone; “but Mary thinks you +have a good and brave heart, and she says you are the only one among us +that uses bad words.” + +“I’d go my death for that gal, or any other female woman in the +settlement, any day of my life. And as she wants me to swaller them +words, that was born with me, dod—I mean, I wish I may be—_indeed_, +I’ll be starved to death if I don’t do it! only when I’m raven mad at +something, and then I can’t help it.” + +“Very well,” said Boone. “Now I have a request of my own to make.” + +“Sing it out! dod—no—nothing! I didn’t say it—but I’ll _do_ what you +want me to,” said Sneak. + +“I think _you_ will not suffer for the want of sleep,” continued Boone; +“and I wish you to go out and get as many of the neighbours to join us +as possible. You can go to three or four houses by midnight, sleep a +little, and meet us here, or in the prairie, in the morning.” + +“I shall cut stick—if I don’t I wish I may be do—I—_indeed_ I will!” +and before he ceased speaking he was rushing through the gate. + +The little party then took a hasty repast, and, throwing themselves on +the couches, endeavoured to sleep. Boone and Joe were soon wrapped in +slumber; but neither Roughgrove nor Glenn, for a great length of time, +could find repose. + +“Strive to be composed, my friend; all will be well,” said Glenn, when +the disconsolate old ferryman gave vent to numerous heart-rending +sighs. + +“If you only knew”—commenced Roughgrove, in reply, and the words he was +about to utter died upon his lips. + +“I can well imagine the extent of your bereavement,” said Glenn; “but +at the same time I am sure she will be returned to you unharmed.” + +“It was not Mary alone I alluded to,” said Roughgrove; “but to lose two +children—all that we had—so cruelly—Oh! may we all meet in heaven!” + +“Then you had _two_ children, and lost them both? I never heard the +other mentioned,” said Glenn, now evincing a most lively interest in +the subject. + +“No—it was my request that it should never be mentioned. Mary and he +were twins—only six years old, when he was lost. I wished Mary to +forget entirely that she ever had a brother—it could do no good for her +to know it, and would distress her. But now, Heavenly Father! both are +gone!” added the old man, in tears. + +“Was he, too, taken by the Indians? the Osages?” inquired Glenn. + +“No,” said Roughgrove. “He had been playing on the margin of the river, +and we were compelled to believe that he fell in the stream and was +drowned—at a time when no eye was upon him. Mary was near at hand, but +she did not see him fall, nor could she tell how he disappeared. His +poor mother believed that an Indian stole him away. But the only +Indians then in the neighbourhood were the Pawnees, and they were at +that time friendly. He was surely drowned. If the Pawnees had taken +him, they would soon have proposed a ransom. Yet his mother continually +charged them with the deed. In her dreams she ever saw him among the +savages. In all her thoughts it was the same. She pined away—she never +knew a happy moment afterwards—and when she died, the same belief was +uttered in her last words. I am now alone!” The old man covered his +face with his hands, and sobbed audibly. + +“Bear with patience and resignation,” said Glenn, “the dispensations of +an all-wise Providence. All may yet be well. The son, whom you thought +lost forever, may be living, and possibly reclaimed, and Mary shall be +restored, if human efforts can accomplish it. Cheer up. Many a happy +day may still be reserved for you.” + +“Oh! my dear young friend! if you but knew _all_!” said Roughgrove. + +“Do I not now know all?” asked Glenn. + +“No,” replied the old man; “but the rest must remain a secret—it +should, perhaps, be buried in my breast forever! I will now strive to +sleep.” They ceased to speak, and silence reigned till morning. + +Joe was roused from his couch in the morning by a tremendous “Ya-hoy!” +outside of the inclosure. + +“Run and open the gate,” said Glenn. + +“I’d rather not,” said Joe, rubbing his eyes. + +“Why?” asked Glenn. + +“Hang it, it’s the Indians again!” replied Joe, seizing his musket. + +“It is Sneak and his men,” observed Boone, when another shout was +uttered. + +“Hang me, if I don’t have a peep at ’em first, anyhow,” said Joe, +approaching the gate cautiously, and peering through a small crevice. + +“Ya-hoo!” repeated those without. + +“Who are you? why don’t you speak out?” said Joe, still unable to see +their faces. + +“Dod—I mean—plague take it! Joe, is Mr. Boone standing there with you?” +asked Sneak. + +“No,” replied Joe, opening the gate. + +“Then dod _rot_ your hide! why didn’t you let us in?” said Sneak, +rushing through the gate, and followed by five of the neighbours. + +“Why, Sneak, how could I tell that you wern’t Indians?” said Joe. + +“You be dod—never mind!” continued Sneak, shaking his head, and passing +to where Boone stood, near the house. + +“I am glad to see you all,” said Boone, extending his hand to each of +the hardy pioneers. “But let us not waste a moment’s time. I see you +are all armed. Seize hold of the sled-rope, and let us be off.” The +command was instantly obeyed, and the party were soon passing out of +the inclosure. The gate was scarce fastened before another “Ya-hoo!” +came from the valley below, and a moment after they were joined by Col. +Cooper and Dan. The other oarsman had been sent up the river for +reinforcements, and Col. Cooper and Dan having heard the great +explosion, finally resolved to cross over the river, and not await the +arrival of the trappers. + +The party now amounted to twelve, and no time was lost in commencing +the march, or rather the chase; for when they reached the prairie and +found the trail of the snow-canoe, their progress equalled that of the +savages. But they had not gone far before Joe was taken suddenly ill, +and begged to be permitted to return. + +“I declare I can hardly hold my head up!” said he still holding on to +the rope, and keeping pace with the rest, though his head hung down. + +“Possomin’—dod—I mean he’s jest ‘possomin’,” said Sneak. + +“No indeed I ain’t—plague it, don’t _you_ say any thing, Sneak,” Joe, +added, in an undertone. + +“I am something of a physician,” said Boone, whose quick ear had caught +the words addressed to Sneak. “Let me feel your pulse,” he added, +ordering the party to halt, and turning to Joe, whose wrist he seized. + +“I feel something better,” said Joe, alarmed at the mysterious and +severe expression of Boone’s face. + +“I hope you will be entirely well in _two minutes_,” said Boone; “and +then it will not be necessary to apply my remedy.” + +“I’m about well now,” said Joe: “I think I can go ahead.” + +“I believe your pulse is good now; and I think you will hardly have +another attack to-day. If you do, just let me know it.” + +“Oh, now I feel perfectly well,” responded Joe; and, seizing the rope, +they were all soon again flying along on the trail of the savages. + +A little before noon, while casting his eyes along the dim horizon in +advance, Sneak abruptly paused, causing the rest to do likewise, and +exclaimed, “Dod rot it.” + +“What’s the matter, Sneak? Remember the promise you made,” said Boone. + +“Oh,” replied Sneak, “in sich an extronary case as this, I can’t help +saying that word yet awhile. But look yander!” he continued, pointing +to a slight eminence a great distance in advance. + +“True!” said Boone, “that is an Indian—but it is the only one +hereabouts.” + +“He is coming to meet us,” said Glenn. + +“Yes! my goodness! he’s looking at us now,” cried Joe, retreating a few +steps. + +“If there are more of them watching us,” said Col. Cooper, “they are +somewhere in our rear.” + +“Oh! we’re surrounded!” cried Joe, leaping forward again. + +“Come on,” said Boone; “we’ll soon learn what he wants with us.” + +When they were within a few hundred yards of the solitary Indian, they +again halted, and Joe ran to the sled and seized his musket, which he +cocked and threw up to his shoulder. + +“Take down your gun!” said Boone; “that is the Indian whose life we +spared. I was not deceived in his integrity. He was not the one that +stole away Mary. I doubt not he brings intelligence of her.” + +“God grant she may still be unharmed!” said Roughgrove, advancing to +meet the Indian, who, being now within gunshot, raised his small white +flag. “Tell me! tell me all about her!” exclaimed Roughgrove, in the +Osage language, when he met the Indian. When the Indian informed him of +the condition of Mary, the old man could not repress his raptures, his +gratitude, or his tears. “She’s safe! she’s safe! Heaven be praised!” +he exclaimed, turning to his companions, who now came up, and +experienced almost as much joy at the announcement as himself. + +“Hang me, if you ain’t a right clever fellow,” said Joe, shaking the +Indian’s hand quite heartily. “Now,” he continued, when all the +particulars of Mary’s escape were made known, “there won’t be any use +in fighting; we can just get Miss Mary out of the snow, and then go +home again.” + +“You don’t know—keep your mouth shet—dod—,” said Sneak, suppressing the +last word. + +“We are not sure of that,” said Boone; “on the contrary, I think it is +very probable we shall have fighting yet. When the war-party discover +the deception, (as they must have done ere this,) they will retrace +their steps. If it was early in the day when they ascertained that the +captive had escaped, we may expect to see them very soon. If it was +late, we will find them in the grove where they encamped. In either +event we must expect to fight—and fight hard too—for they outnumber us +considerably.” + +Joe sighed, but said nothing. + +“Are you getting ill again?” inquired Boone. + +“No—I was only blowing—I got a little tired,” said Joe, in scarce +articulate tones. + +“And I feel weak—very weak—but it is with joy!” said Roughgrove. + +“And I have observed it, too,” said Boone. “Get in the sled; we will +pull you along till your strength returns.” + +“I will be able to use my gun when I meet the foe,” said the old man, +getting into the sled. + +The party set forward again, guided by the Indian, and in high spirits. +The consciousness that Mary was in safety removed a weight from the +breasts of all; and, as they ran along, many a light jest and pleasant +repartee lessened the weariness of the march. Even Joe smiled once or +twice when Boone, in a mock heroic manner alluded to his exploits among +the wolves. + +“Blast me,” said Joe, when Sneak mentioned a few cases of equivocal +courage as an offset to Boone’s compliments, “blast me, if I haven’t +killed more Indians than any of you, since I have been in this plagued +country.” + +“True—that is, your musket has,” said Boone. + +“Joe can fight sometimes,” said Glenn, smiling. + +“I’ll be hanged if I haven’t always fought, when there was any fighting +going on,” said Joe, reproachfully. + +“Yes, and he’ll fight again, as manfully as any of us,” said Boone. + +“Dod—why, what are you holding back for so hard?” said Sneak, remarking +that Joe at that instant seemed to be much excited, and, instead of +going forward, actually brought the whole party to a model ate walk by +his counter exertion. + +“What do you mean?” asked Glenn. + +“Are you going to be ill?” asked Boone. + +“No, goodness, no! Only listen to me a minute. An idea struck me, which +I thought it was my duty to tell. I thought this Indian might be +deceiving us. Suppose he leads us right into an ambush when we’re +talking and laughing, and thinking there’s no danger. + +“Dod—you’re a cowardly fool!” said Sneak. + +“I have likewise a remedy for interruptions—I advise rot to stop +again,” said Boone, when Joe once more started forward. + +Just as night was setting in, the party came in sight of the grove +where Mary was concealed. They slackened their pace and drew near the +dark woods quite cautiously. When they entered the edge of the grove, +they heard the war-party utter the yell which had awakened Mary. It was +fully understood by Boone, and the friendly Indian assured them from +the sound, that the Osages had just returned, and were at that moment +leaving the encampment on his trail. But he stated that they could not +find the pale-faced maiden. And he suggested to the whites a plan of +attack, which was to station themselves near the place where he had +emerged from the grove, after hiding Mary; so that when they followed +on his trail they could thus be surprised without difficulty. This +advice was adopted by Boone. The Indian then asked permission to +depart, saying he had paid the white men for sparing his life. + +“Oh no!” cried Joe, when Roughgrove interpreted the Indian’s request, +“keep him as a hostage—he may be cheating us.” + +“I do not see the impropriety of Joe’s remark this time,” said Glenn. + +“Ask him where he will go, if we suffer him to depart,” said Boone. To +Roughgrove’s interrogation, the Indian made a passionate reply. He said +the white men were liars. They were now quits. Still the white men were +not satisfied. He had risked his life (and would probably be tortured) +to pay back the white men’s kindness. But they would not believe his +words. He was willing to die now. The white men might shoot him.. He +would as willingly die as live. If suffered to depart, it was his +intention to steal his squaw away from the tribe, and join the Pawnees. +He would never be an Osage again. + +“Go!” said Boone, perceiving by a ray of moonlight that reached the +Indian’s face through the clustering branches of the trees above, that +he was in tears. The savage, without speaking another word, leaped out +into the prairie, and from the circuitous direction he pursued, it was +manifest that nothing could be further from his desire than to fall in +with the war-party. + +Boone directed the sled to be abandoned, and, obedient to his will, the +party entered a small covert in the immediate vicinity of the spot +where their guide said he had emerged from the grove on his return to +meet the whites. Here the party long remained esconced, silent and +listening, and expecting every moment to see the foe. At length Boone +grew impatient, and concluding they would encamp that night under the +spreading tree, (the locality of which he was familiar with,) he +resolved to advance and surprise them. He was strengthened in this +determination by the repeated and painful surmises of Roughgrove +respecting Mary’s piteous condition. Glenn, and the rest, with perhaps +one or two exceptions, likewise seemed disposed to make an +instantaneous termination of the torturing suspense respecting the fate +of the poor girl. + +Boone and Sneak led the way. The party were compelled to proceed with +the utmost caution. Sometimes they were forced to crawl many paces on +their hands and knees under the pendent snow-covered bushes. They drew +near the spreading tree. A fire was burning under it, the flickering +rays of which could be occasionally seen glimmering through the +branches. A stick was heard to break a little distance on one side, and +Boone and Sneak sank down on the snow, and whispered to the rest to +follow their example. It was done without a repetition of the order. +Joe was the hindmost of all, but after lying a few minutes in silence, +he crept softly forward, trembling all the while. When he reached the +side of Boone, the aged woodman did not chide him, but simply pointed +his finger towards a small decayed log a few paces distant. Joe looked +but a moment, and then pulling his hat over his eyes, laid down flat on +his face, in silence and submission. An Indian was seated on the log, +and very composedly cutting off the dry bark with his tomahawk. Once or +twice he paused and remained a moment in a listening attitude. But +probably thinking the sounds he heard (if he heard any) proceeded from +some comrade like himself in quest of fuel, he continued to cut away, +until an armful was obtained, and then very deliberately arose and +walked with an almost noiseless step to the fire, which was not more +than fifty yards distant. Boone rose softly and whispered the rest to +follow. He was promptly obeyed by all except Joe. + +“Come, sir! prepare your musket to fire,” said Boone, stooping down to +Joe, who still remained apparently frozen to the snow-crust. + +“Oh! I’m so sick!” replied Joe. + +“If you do not keep with us, you will lose your scalp to a certainty,” +said Boone. Joe was well in a second. The party were now about midway +between the fallen trunk where Mary was concealed, and the great +encampment-tree. Boone rose erect for an instant, and beheld the +former, and the single Indian (the chief) who was there. One of the +Indians again started out from the fire, in the direction of the whites +for more fuel. Boone once more passed the word for his little band to +lie down. The tall savage came within a few feet of them. His tomahawk +accidentally fell from his hand, and in his endeavour to catch it, he +knocked it within a few feet of Sneak’s head. He stepped carelessly +aside, and stooped down for it. A strangling and gushing sound was +heard, and falling prostrate, he died without a groan. Sneak had nearly +severed his head from his body at one blow with his hunting-knife. + +At this juncture Mary sprang from her hiding-place. Her voice reached +the ears of her father, but before he could run to her assistance, the +chiefs loud tones rang through the forest. Boone and the rest sprang +forward, and fired upon the savages under the spreading tree. At the +second discharge the Indians gave way, and while Col. Cooper, the +oarsmen, and the neighbours that had joined the party in the morning, +pursued the flying foe, Boone and the remainder ran towards the fallen +trunk where Mary had been concealed, but approaching in different +directions. Glenn was the first to rush upon the chief, and it was his +ball that whizzed so near the Indian’s head when he bore away the +shrieking maiden. The rest only fired in the direction of the log, not +thinking that Mary had left her covert. They soon met at the fallen +tree, under which was the pit, all except Glenn, who sprang forward in +pursuit of the chief, and Sneak, who had made a wide circuit for the +purpose of reaching the scene of action from an opposite direction, +entirely regardless of the danger of being shot by his friends. + +“She’s gone! she’s gone!” exclaimed Roughgrove, looking aghast at the +vacated pit under the fallen trunk. “But we will have her yet,” said +Boone, as he heard Glenn discharge a pistol a few paces apart in the +bushes. The report was followed by a yell, not from the chief, but +Sneak, and the next moment the rifle of the latter was likewise heard. +Still the Indian was not dispatched, for the instant afterwards his +tomahawk, which was hurled without effect, came sailing over the +bushes, and penetrated a tree hard by, some fifteen or twenty feet +above the earth, where it entered the wood with such force that it +remained firmly fixed. Now succeeded a struggle—a violent blow was +heard—the fall of the Indian, and all was comparatively still. A minute +afterwards, Sneak emerged from the thicket, bearing the inanimate body +of Mary in his arms, and followed by Glenn. + +“Is she dead? Oh, she’s dead!” cried Roughgrove, snatching her from the +arms of Sneak. + +“She has only fainted!” exclaimed Glenn, examining the body of the pale +girl, and finding no wounds. + +“She is recovering!” said Boone, feeling her pulse. + +“God be praised!” exclaimed Roughgrove, when returning animation was +manifest. + +“Oh! I know you won’t kill me! For pity’s sake spare me!” said Mary. + +“It is your father, my poor child!” said Roughgrove, pressing the girl +to his heart. + +It is your father, my poor child! + +“It is your father, my poor child!” said Roughgrove, pressing the girl +to his heart. + + +“It is! it is!” cried the happy girl, clinging rapturously to the old +man’s neck, and then, seizing the hands of the rest, she seemed to be +half wild with delight. + +“Dod—I—I mean that none of the black noctilerous savages shall ever +hurt you as long as Sneak lives,” said Sneak, looking down at his gun, +which had been broken off at the breech. + +“How did you break that?” asked Boone. + +“I broke it over the yaller feller’s head,” said he, “and I’d do it +agin, before he should hurt Miss Mary, if it _is_ the only one I’ve +got.” + +“I have an extra rifle at home,” said Glenn, “which shall be yours, as +a reward for your gallant conduct.” + +“Where is the chief? Is he dead?” asked Mary. + +“If he ain’t dead, his head’s harder than my gun, that’s all,” said +Sneak. + +“Oh, I’m so sorry!” said Mary. + +“Why, my child?” asked Roughgrove. + +“Because,” said Mary, “he’s a good-hearted Indian, and never would have +harmed me. When he heard you coming, and raised his tomahawk to kill +me, I looked in his face, and he could not strike, for there were tears +in his eyes! I know he never would have thought of killing me, when +calm, for he treated me very kindly before I escaped.” + +“Maybe he ain’t dead—I’ll go and see,” said Sneak, repairing to the +late scene of conflict. When he arrived he found the young chief +sitting upright, having been only stunned; a gold band that confined +his head-dress prevented the blow from fracturing his skull. He was now +unresisting and sullen. Sneak made him rise up, and after binding his +hands behind him with a strong cord, led him forth. + +“You did not intend to kill me, did you?” asked Mary, in soothing +tones. The chief regarded her not, but looked steadfastly downwards. + +“He don’t understand you, Mary,” said Boone. + +“Oh, yes he does,” continued Mary; “and he can speak our language, too, +for I heard him talking, and thought it was you, and that was the +reason why I came out of the pit.” Roughgrove addressed him in his own +language, but with no better success. The captured chief resolved not +to plead for his life. He would make no reply whatever to their +questions, but still gazed downwards in reckless sullenness. + +“What shall we do with him?” asked Glenn, when the rest of the party, +(with the exception of Joe,) who had chased the savages far away, came +up and stared at the prisoner. + +“Let us set him free!” said Roughgrove. + +“Kill him!” cried several. + +“No!” exclaimed Mary, “what do _you_ say, Mr. Boone?” + +“It would be useless to kill him,” said Boone. + +“Let him go, then,” said Glenn. + +“No!” said Boone. + +“Why?” asked Glenn. + +“Because,” replied Boone, “he is a chief, and we may make him the means +of securing the settlement against future attacks. We will confine him +in your garrison as a hostage, and send some friendly Indian to the +Osages announcing his capture, and informing them that his life will be +spared provided they keep away from the settlement for a certain length +of time, at the expiration of which he shall be restored to them.” + +“I am glad of that,” said Mary, “for I don’t believe he is a bad +Indian. We will treat him kindly, and then I think he will always be +our friend.” + +“Take him along, and bind him fast in the sled, Sneak,” said Boone; +“but see that you do not injure him in the least.” + +“I will. Oh, me and him are purty good friends now. Gee-whoa-haw,” +continued he, taking hold of the string behind, and endeavouring to +drive the silent captive like an ox. The young chief whirled round +indignantly, and with such force as to send Sneak sprawling several +paces to one side. He rose amid the laughter that ensued, and +remembering the words of Boone, conducted his prisoner away in a more +respectful manner. + +“Where’s Joe?” at length inquired Glenn, seeing that he alone was +missing. + +“Oh! I’m afraid he’s dead,” said Mary. + +“If he is, I shall mourn his loss many a day,” said Glenn; “for with +all his defects, I would not be without him for the world.” + +“Give yourself no uneasiness,” said Boone; “for he is as well at this +moment as you or I.” + +“I hope so,” said Glenn; “but I have not seen him since we first fired +at the Indians.” + +“Let us repair to that spot, and there we will find him, for I saw him +fall down when he discharged his musket. I venture to say he has not +moved an inch since.” + +The party repaired to the place mentioned, and there they found him, +sure enough, lying quite still on his face beside the Indian that Sneak +had killed. + +“He _is_ dead!” said Glenn, after calling to him and receiving no +answer. + +“We’ll soon see,” said Boone, turning him over on his back. “I will +open a vein in his arm.” + +“Bring a torch from the fire,” said Col. Cooper to one of the men. + +“Oh!” sighed Joe, lifting his hands to his head. + +“I thought he would soon come to life again,” said Boone, examining his +face with the torch that was brought, and then laughing outright. The +spectacle was ludicrous in the extreme. Joe was besmeared with blood, +and, when he opened his eyes and stared at the flaming light, he +resembled some sanguinary demon. + +“Where in the world did all this blood come from?” exclaimed Glenn. + +“I’m recovered now,” said Joe, rising up and assuming an air of +importance. + +“What have you been doing?” asked Glenn. + +“I’ve been doing as much as any of you, I’ll be bound,” replied Joe, +very gravely. + +“Well, what have you done?” repeated Glenn. + +“I’ve been fighting the last half hour, as hard as anybody ever fought +in this world. Only look at the stabs in that Indian!” said he, +pointing to the savage. + +“Why, you scoundrel! Sneak killed this Indian,” said Glenn. + +“Sneak thought he did,” replied Joe, “but he only wounded him. After a +while he got up and clinched me by the throat, and we had it over and +over on the snow, till we both got so exhausted we couldn’t do any +thing. When we rested, we went at it again, and it hasn’t been five +minutes since I stuck my knife in his breast. When he fell, I stuck him +four or five times, and then fainted myself.” + +“Here is a wound in the savage’s breast,” said Glenn. + +“But here’s another in the throat,” said Boone, showing where the +arteries had been severed by Sneak. + +“Joe,” said Glenn, “you must abandon this habit of lying, if indeed it +is not a portion of your nature.” + +“Hang it all, I ain’t lying—I know Sneak did cut his throat, but he +didn’t cut it deep—I cut it deeper, myself, after the Indian got up +again!” persisted he. + +The party hastily glanced at the four or five dead savages under the +trees, that had fallen victims to their fire, and then returned to the +sled. Mary was placed beside the captive chief, and they set out on +their return, well satisfied with the result of the expedition. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +The return—The young chief in confinement—Joe’s fun—His reward—The +ring—A discovery—William’s recognition—Memories of childhood—A +scene—Roughgrove’s history—The children’s parentage. + + +The party on their return did not travel so rapidly as they had +advanced. They moreover halted in a grove which they espied about +midnight, and finding a spreading tree that had entirely shielded a +small space of ground from the snow, they kindled a fire, arranged +their robes, and reposed a few hours. The captive chief was still +sullen and unresisting. He was suffered to recline in the sled +enveloped in skins, with his hands and feet yet bound, and an extra +cord passed round his body, the end of which Sneak held in his hand +while he slept. When daylight appeared, they set forward again in a +moderate pace, and arrived at Glenn’s domicil at evening twilight. The +neighbours that Sneak had enlisted departed for their homes, and Boone +and Col. Cooper, after bidding our hero, Roughgrove, and Mary, a hearty +adieu, without entering the inclosure, recrossed the river to their own +settlement. + +The remainder of the party, except the oarsmen, accepted Glenn’s +invitation to remain with him till morning. When the gate was thrown +open, the faithful hounds manifested great delight to behold their +master again, and also Mary, for they pranced so much in the path +before them that it was almost impossible to walk. They barked in +ecstasy. The poor fawn had been forgotten, neglected, and had suffered +much for food. Mary placed her arm round its neck and wept. Glenn +ordered Joe, who was in the stable caressing the horses, to feed the +drooping pet instantly. + +The party then entered the house, leading in the chief, and soon after +Sneak had a bright fire blazing on the hearth. + +The food that remained from the last repast amply sufficed, the captive +refusing to partake with them, and Joe having dined during the last +twelve miles of the journey on the way. + +“How we’ll be able to keep this Indian here, when we go out, I should +like to know,” said Joe, regarding the manly and symmetrical form of +the young chief, who was now unbound, and sat silent and thoughtful by +the fire. + +“I think he ought to be killed,” said Sneak. + +“Oh, no!” said Mary; “he is not bad like the other Indians.” The +Indian, for the first time since his capture, raised his head while she +spoke, and looked searchingly in her face. “Oh!” continued Mary, +thinking of the horrors of savage warfare, and bursting into tears, +“you will never attempt to kill any of us again, will you?” + +“No!” said the chief, in a low but distinct tone. Every one in the +house but Mary started. + +“You understand our language, do you? Then why did you not answer my +questions?” asked Roughgrove, turning to the captive. The young chief +made no answer, but sat with his arms folded, and still regarding the +features of Mary. + +“He’s a perfect fool!” said Sneak. + +“He’s a snake in the grass, and’ll bite some of us some of these times, +before we know any thing about it,” said Joe. + +“Be silent,” said Glenn. “If the hope that fills my breast should be +realized, the young chief will cause more rejoicing than sorrowing +among us. The wisdom of Providence surpasses all human understanding. +Events that bear a frightful import to the limited comprehensions of +mortals, may nevertheless be fraught with inestimable blessings. Even +the circumstance of your capture, Mary, however distressing at the time +to yourself and to all your friends, may some day be looked upon as a +happy and fortunate occurrence.” + +“I hope so,” said Mary. + +“God is great—is present everywhere, and governs every thing—let us +always submit to his just decrees without murmuring,” said the old +ferryman, his eyes brightening with fervent devotion. + +“They’ve a notion to preach a little, I believe,” whispered Sneak to +Joe. + +“Let ’em go ahead, then,” replied Joe, who was busily engaged with a +long switch, that he occasionally thrust in the fire, and when the end +was burnt to a coal, slyly applied it to the heel of the young chiefs +moccasin. + +“You’d better not let him ketch you at that,” said Sneak. + +“He’ll think its a tick biting him—I want to see if the Indians scratch +like other people,” said Joe. + +Mary, being so requested by her father, began to relate every thing +that transpired up to her rescue, while she was in the possession of +the savages. The Indian riveted his eyes upon her during the recital, +and seemed to mark every word. Whether he understood all she said, or +was enchanted with her soft and musical tones, could not be +ascertained; but the listeners more than once observed with +astonishment his gleaming eyes, his attentive attitude, and the intense +interest exhibited in his face. It was during a moment when he was thus +absorbed that he suddenly sprang erect. Joe threw down his switch, +convulsed with internal laughter. Sneak leaned back against the wall, +and while he grinned at the amusing scene, seemed curious to know what +would be the result. Mary paused, and Glenn inquired the cause of the +interruption. + +“Its nothing, hardly,” said Sneak: “only a spark of fire got agin the +Indian’s foot. He ain’t as good pluck as the other one we had—he could +stand burning at the stake without flinching.” + +“Did either of you _place_ the fire against his foot?” demanded Glenn, +in something like anger. But before he could receive an answer, the +young chief, who had whirled round furiously, and cast a fierce look at +his tormentor, relaxing his knit brows into an expression of contempt, +very deliberately took hold of Joe’s ear, and turning on his heel like +a pivot, forced him to make many circles round him on the floor. + +“Let go my ear!” roared Joe, pacing round in pain. + +“Hold your holt, my snarvilerous yaller prairie dog!” cried Sneak, +inexpressibly amused. + +“Let go my ear, I say!” cried Joe, still trotting round, with both +hands grasping the Indian’s wrist. “Mr. Glenn! Mr. Glenn!” continued +Joe, “he’s pinching a hole through my ear! Shoot him down, shoot him +down. There’s my gun, standing against the wall—but its not loaded! +Take my knife—oh, he’s tearing my ear off!” When the Indian thought he +was sufficiently punished, he led him back to his seat, and +relinquished his hold. He then resumed his own seat, and composedly +turning his eyes to Mary, seemed to desire her to proceed with the +narration. She did so, but when she spoke of her attempt to escape in +the prairie, of the young chief’s noble conduct, and his admiration of +her ring (and she pulled off her glove and exhibited it as she spoke,) +he again rose from his seat, and walking, apparently unconsciously, to +where she reclined upon her father’s knees, fixed his eyes upon the +jewel in a most mysterious manner. He no longer dwelt upon the maiden’s +sweet tones. He did nothing but gaze at the ring. + +“He’s got a notion to steal that ring!” said Joe, with a sneer. + +“Shot your mouth!” said Sneak, observing that Mary looked reproachfully +at Joe, and paused. + +“Don’t talk that way, Joe!” said the offended girl. “If he wanted it, +why did he not take it when I was his prisoner? I will freely let him +have it now,” she continued, slipping it off from her finger. + +“No! keep it, child—it is a family ring,” said Roughgrove. + +“I will lend it to him—I know he will give it me again,” she continued, +placing it in the extended hand of the young chief, who thanked her +with his eyes, and resumed his seat. He now seemed to disregard every +thing that was said or done, and only gazed at the ring, which he held +first in one hand and then in the other, with the sparkling diamond +uppermost. Sometimes he would press his forehead with his hand and +cover his eyes, and then gaze at the ring again. Then staring wildly +around, and slightly starting, he would bite his fingers to ascertain +whether the scene was reality or a dream. Finally, giving vent to a +piteous sigh, while a tear ran down his stained cheek, he placed his +elbows upon his knees, and, bending forward, seemed to muse over some +event of the past, which the jewel before him had called to +remembrance. + +Glenn narrowly watched every look and motion of the young chief, and +when Mary finished the account of her capture, he introduced the +subject of the lost child, Mary’s brother, that Roughgrove had spoken +about before starting in pursuit of the war-party. + +“I can remember him!” said Mary, “and mother, too—they are both in +heaven now—poor brother! poor mother!” + +The young chief raised his head quickly, and staring at the maiden’s +face, seemed to regard her tears and her features with an interest +similar to that of a child when it beholds a rare and curious toy. + +“Has it not occurred to you,” said Glenn, addressing Roughgrove, “that +this young chief might possibly be your own son?” + +“No!” replied the old man, promptly, and partially rising, “_he_ my +son—_he_ Mary’s brother—and once in the act of plunging the tomahawk—” + +“But, father,” interrupted Mary, “he would never have harmed me—I know +he would not—for every time he looked me in the face he seemed to pity +me, and sometimes he almost wept to think I was away from my friends, +among savages, cold and distressed. But I don’t think he can be my +brother—my little brother I used to love so much—yet I could never +think how he should have fallen in the river without my knowing it. +Sometimes I remember it all as if it were yesterday. He was hunting +wild violets—” + +“Oh! oh!” screamed the young chief, springing from his seat towards +Mary. Fear, pain, apprehension, joy and affection, all seemed to be +mingled in his heaving breast. + +“He’s crazy, dod”—the word died upon Sneak’s lip. + +“I should like to know who burnt his foot then,” said Joe. + +“Silence! both of you,” said Glenn. + +“What does he mean?” at length asked Roughgrove, staring at the young +chief. + +“Let us be patient, and see,” said Glenn. + +Ere long the Indian turned his eyes slowly downward, and resumed his +seat mournfully and in silence. + +“Oh!” said Mary, “if he _is_ my poor brother, my heart will burst to +see him thus—a wild savage.” + +“How old are you, Mary?” asked Glenn. + +“Nineteen,” said she. + +“Your brother, then, has been lost thirteen years. He may yet be +restored to you—re-taught our manners and speech—bless his aged +father’s declining years, and merit sister’s affection.” + +“Oh! Mr. Glenn! is he then alive? is this he?” cried Mary. + +“No, child!” said Roughgrove, “do not think of such a thing, for you +will be most bitterly disappointed. Your brother was _white_—look at +this Indian’s dark face!” + +Glenn approached the chief, extending his hand in a friendly manner. It +was frankly grasped. He then gently drew the furs aside and exposed the +young man’s shoulder. It was as white as his own! Roughgrove, Mary, and +all, looked on in wonder. The young chief regarded it with singular +emotions himself. He seemed to associate it in some manner with the +ring he held, for he glanced from one to the other alternately. + +“Did Mary wear that ring before the child was lost?” asked Glenn. + +“No,” replied Roughgrove, “but her mother did.” + +“I believe he is your son!” said Glenn. “Mary,” he continued, “have you +any trinkets or toys you used to play with?” + +“Yes. Oh, let me get them!” she replied, and running to a corner of the +room where her father’s chests and trunks had been placed, she produced +a small drum and a brass toy cannon. “He used to play with these from +morning till night,” she continued, placing them on the floor. She had +not taken her hand away from them, before the young chief sprang to her +side and cried out— + +“They’re mine! they’re mine! they’re William’s!” + +“What was the child’s name?” asked Glenn, quickly. + +“William! William!” cried Mary. “It is my brother! it is my poor +brother William!” and without a moment’s hesitation she threw her arms +round his neck, and sobbed upon his breast! + +“The poor, poor child!” said Roughgrove, in tremulous tones, embracing +them both, his eyes filled with tears. + +“Sister! sister!” said the youth, gazing in partial bewilderment at +Mary. + +“Brother, brother! I am your sister!” said Mary, in tones of thrilling +tenderness. + +“But mother! where’s mother?” asked the youth. The father and sister +bowed their heads in silence. The youth, after clinging fondly to Mary +a few minutes, started up abruptly and looked amazed, as if waking from +a sweet dream to the reality of his recent dreadful condition. + +“Brother, why do you look so coldly at us? Why don’t you press us to +your heart?” said Mary, still clinging to him. The youth’s features +gradually assumed a grave and haughty cast, and, turning away, he +walked to the stool he had occupied, and sat down in silence. + +“I will win him from the Indians,” said Mary, running after him, and +sitting down at his side. + +“Ugh!” exclaimed the youth in displeasure, and moved a short distance +away. + +“He’s not true grit—I ’most wish I had killed him,” said Sneak. + +“Yes, and pinch me if I don’t burn him again, if I get a chance,” said +Joe. + +“Silence!” said Glenn, sternly. For many minutes not a word was spoken. +At length Mary, who had been sobbing, raised her head and looked +tenderly in the face of her brother. Still he regarded her with +indifference. She then seized the toy-drum, which with the other +articles had been thrust out of view, and placed them before him. When +his eyes rested upon them; the severe and wild expressions of his +features again relaxed. The young war-chief was a child again. He +abandoned his seat and sat down on the floor beside his sister. Looking +her guilelessly in the face, an innocent and boyish smile played upon +his lips. + +“You won’t go away again and leave your poor sister; will you, +William?” said Mary. + +“No, indeed. And when the Indians come we’ll run away and go to mother, +won’t we, Mary?” said the youth, in a complete abandonment of time and +condition. + +“He _is_ restored—restored at last!” exclaimed Roughgrove, walking +across the room to where the brother and sister sat. The youth sprang +to his feet, and darted a look of defiance at him. “Oh! wretched man +that I am! the murderous savages have converted the gentle lamb into a +wolf!” Roughgrove then repeated his words to the youth in the Osage +language. The youth replied in the same language, his eyes flashing +indignantly. He said it was not true; that the red man was great and +noble, and the pale face was a beast—and added that he had another +tomahawk and bows and arrows in his own country, and might see the day +when this insult would be terribly resented. The old man sank down on +his rude seat, and gave way to excruciating grief. + +“Brother William!” cried Mary, tapping the drum. The youth cast down +his eyes to where she sat, and their fierceness vanished in a +twinkling. She placed the toy in his possession, and rose to bring some +other plaything she remembered. + +“Sister, don’t go—I’ll tell mother!” cried the youth, in infantile +earnestness. + +“I’ll come back presently, brother,” said Mary, tripping across the +room and searching a trunk. + +“Make haste—but I’m not afraid—I’ll frighten all the Indians away.” +Saying this, he rattled the drum as rapidly as possible. + +“See what I’ve got, brother,” said Mary, returning with a juvenile +book, and sitting down close at his side. He thrust the drum away, and, +laughing heartily, placed his arm round his sister and said: “Mother’s +got _my_ book; but you’ll let me look at yours, won’t you, sister?” + +“Yes that I will, brother—see, this is the little old woman, and +there’s her dog—” + +“Yes, and there’s the peddler,” cried the youth, pointing at the +picture. + +“Now can’t you read it, brother?” + +“To be sure I can—let me read: + + + +“‘There was a little woman + +As I have heard tell, + +She went to market + +Her eggs for to sell.’ + + +“See! there she goes, with a basket on her arm and a cane in her hand.” + +“Yes, and here she is again on this side, fast asleep, and her basket +of eggs sitting by her,” said Mary; “now let me read the next: + + + +“‘She went to market, + +All on a market day, + +And she fell asleep + +On the king’s highway.” + + +Now do you read about the peddler, brother. Mother used to say there +was a naughty word in it.” + +“I will,” cried the youth, eagerly; but he paused and looked +steadfastly at the picture before him. + +“Why don’t you read?” asked Mary, endeavouring to confine his thoughts +to the childish employment. + +“That’s a pretty _skin_, ain’t it?” said he, pointing to the red shawl +painted on the picture. + +“_Skin_!” said Mary; “why, that’s her shawl, brother.” + +“I’ll steal one for my squaw,” said he. + +“_Steal_, brother!” said the trembling girl. + +“No I won’t, either, sister—don’t you know mother says we must never +steal, nor tell stories, nor say bad words.” + +“That’s right, brother. But you haven’t got an ugly _squaw_, have you?” + +“No indeed, sister, that I haven’t!” + +“I thought you wouldn’t have any thing to do with the ugly squaws.” + +“That I wouldn’t—mine’s a pretty one.” + +“Oh, heaven!” cried the weeping girl, throwing herself on her brother’s +bosom. He kissed her, and strove to comfort her, and turned to the book +and continued to turn over the leaves, while Mary sat by in sadness, +but ever and anon replying to his childish questions, and still +striving to keep him thus diverted. + +“Have you any of the clothes you wore when he was a child?” asked +Glenn, addressing Roughgrove. + +“Yes,” replied the old man; and seizing upon the thought, he unlocked +the trunk that contained them, and put them on. + +“Where’s mother?” suddenly asked the young chief. + +“Oh, she’s dead!” said Mary. + +“Dead? I know better!” said he, emphatically. + +“Indeed she is, brother,” repeated Mary, in tears. + +“When did she die?” he continued, in a musing attitude. + +“A long time ago—when you were away,” said she. + +“I wasn’t gone away long, was I?” he asked, with much simplicity. + +“Oh, very long—we thought you were dead.” + +“He was a very bad Indian to steal me away without asking mother. But +where’s father? Is he dead, too?” he continued, lifting his eyes and +beholding Roughgrove attired in a suit of velvet, and wearing broad +silver knee buckles. “Father! father!” he cried, eagerly clasping the +old man in his arms. + +“My poor boy, I will be your father still!” said Roughgrove. + +“I know you will,” said the youth, “for you always loved me a great +deal, and now that my poor mother’s dead, I’m sure you will love sister +and me more than ever.” + +“Indeed I will, poor child! But you must not go back to the naughty +savages any more.” + +The youth gazed round in silence, and made no reply. He was evidently +awakening to a consciousness of his condition. A frown of horror +darkened his brow as he contemplated the scenes of his wild abode among +the Indians; and, when he contrasted his recent mode of life with the +Elysian days of his childhood, now fresh in his memory, mingled +emotions of regret, fear, and bliss seemed to be contending in his +bosom. A cold dampness settled upon his forehead, his limbs trembled +violently, and distressful sighs issued from his heaving breast. +Gradually he sank down on a couch at his side, and closed his eyes. + +When some minutes had elapsed, during which a death-like silence was +maintained, Mary approached lightly to where her father stood, and +inquired if her brother was ill. + +“No,” said Roughgrove, in a whisper; “he only sleeps; but it is a very +sound slumber.” + +“Now let us take off his Indian dress,” said Glenn, “and put on him +some of my clothes.” This was speedily effected, and without awaking +the youth, whose senses were benumbed, as if by some powerful opiate. + +“Now, Mary,” said Roughgrove, “you must likewise have repose. You are +almost exhausted in body and mind. Sleep at your brother’s side, if you +will, poor girl.” Mary laid her head on William’s pillow, and was soon +in a deep slumber. + +For several moments Roughgrove stood lost in thought, gazing +alternately at the reposing brother and sister, and Glenn. He looked +also at Sneak and Joe reclining by the fire; both were fast asleep. He +then resumed his seat, and motioned Glenn to do likewise. He bowed his +head a brief length of time in silence, apparently recalling to mind +some occurrence of more than ordinary import. + +“My young friend,” said he, at length, while he placed his withered +hand upon Glenn’s knee, “do you remember that I said there was +_another_ secret connected with my family?” + +“Distinctly,” replied Glenn; “and I have since felt so much anxiety to +be acquainted with it that I have several times been on the eve of +asking you to gratify my curiosity; but thinking it might be +impertinent, I have forborne. It has more than once occurred to me that +your condition in life must have been different from what it now is.” + +“It has been different—far different. I will tell you all. I am a +native of England—a younger brother, of an ancient and honourable +family, but much decayed in fortune. I was educated for the ministry. +Our residence was on the Thames, a few miles distant from London, and I +was early entered in one of the institutions of the great city. While +attending college, it was my practice twice a month to visit my +father’s mansion on foot. I was fond of solitary musings, and the +exercise was beneficial to my weak frame. It was during one of those +excursions that I rescued a young lady from the rude assaults of two +ruffians. After a brief struggle, they fled. I turned to the one I had +so opportunely served, and was struck with her unparalleled beauty. +Young; a form of symmetrical loveliness; dark, languishing eyes, a +smooth forehead of lily purity, and auburn hair flowing in glossy +ringlets—it was not strange that an impression should be made on the +heart of a young student. She thanked me for my generous interposition +in such sweet and musical tones, that every word thrilled pleasantly +through my breast. She prevailed upon me to accompany her to her +mother’s cottage, but a few hundred paces distant; and during our walk +thither, she hung confidingly on my arm. Her aged mother overwhelmed me +with expressions of gratitude. She mildly chid her daughter for +wandering so far away in quest of flowers, and then withdrawing, left +us alone. Again my eyes met those of the blushing maiden—but it is +useless to dwell upon the particulars of our mutual passion. Suffice it +to say that she was the only child of her widowed mother, in moderate +but independent circumstances, and being hitherto secluded from the +society of the other sex, soon conceived (for my visits were frequent) +an affection as ardent as my own. At length I apprized my father of the +attachment, and asked his consent to our union. He refused to sanction +the alliance in the most positive terms, and commanded me never to +mention the subject again. He said that I was poor, and that he would +not consent to my marriage with any other than an heiress. I returned +to London, resolved to disobey his injunction, for I felt that my +happiness entirely depended upon my union with the lovely Juliet. But I +had never yet definitely expressed my desire to her. Yet there could be +no doubt from her smiles that my wishes would willingly be acceded to. +I determined to arrange every thing at our next interview, and a few +weeks afterwards I repaired to the cottage for that purpose. Instead of +meeting me with her ever blissful face, I found my Juliet in tears! She +was alone; but in the adjoining chamber I heard a man’s voice, and +feared that it was my father. I was mistaken. Juliet soon brushed away +her tears, and informed me that she had been _again_ assailed by the +same ruffians, and on the lawn within sight of the cottage. She said +that the gentleman in the next room was her deliverer. I seized her +hand, and when about to propose a plan to secure her against such +annoyances for ever, her mother entered and introduced the stranger to +me. His name was Nicholson, and he stated that he was a partner in a +large banking establishment in Lombard Street. He was past the bloom of +youth, but still his fine clothes and his reputed wealth were +displeasing to me. I was especially chagrined at the marked attention +shown him by Juliet’s mother. And my annoyance was increased by the +frequent lascivious glances he cast at the maiden. The more I marked +him, the more was my uneasiness. It soon occurred to me that I had seen +him before! He resembled a person I had seen driving rapidly along the +highway in a chariot, on the morning that I first beheld my Juliet. But +my recollection of his features was indistinct. There was a +condescending suavity in his manners, and sometimes a positive and +commanding tone in his conversation, that almost roused my enmity in +spite of my peaceful calling and friendly disposition. It was my +intention to remain at the cottage, and propose to Juliet after he had +departed. But my purpose was defeated, for he declared his intention to +enjoy the country air till evening, and I returned, disappointed and +dispirited, to the city. + +“A few days afterwards I visited the cottage again. What was my +surprise and vexation to behold Mr. Nicholson there! He was seated, +with his patronizing smile, between Juliet and her mother, and +presenting them various richly bound books, jewels, &c., which seemed +to me to be received with much gratification. I was welcomed with the +usual frankness and pleasure by Juliet, but I thought her mother’s +reception was less cordial, and Mr. Nicholson regarded me with manifest +indifference. I made an ineffectual effort at vivacity, and after an +hour’s stay, during which my remarks gradually narrowed down to +monosyllables, (while Mr. Nicholson became excessively loquacious,) I +rose to depart. Juliet made an endeavour to accompany me to the door, +where I hoped to be assured of her true affection for me by her own +lips, but some pointed inquiry (I do not now recollect what) from +Nicholson, which was seconded in a positive manner by her mother, +arrested her steps, and while she hesitated, I bad her adieu, and +departed for the city, resolved never to see her again. + +“It was about a month after the above occurrence that my resolution +gave way, and I was again on the road to the cottage, with my mind made +up to forgive and forget every thing that had offended me, and to offer +my hand where my heart seemed to be already irrevocably fixed. When I +entered who should I see but the eternal thwarter of my happiness, the +ever-present Nicholson! But horror! he was now the wedded lord of +Juliet! The ceremony was just over. There were but two or three +strangers present besides the clergyman. Bride, groom, guests, and all +were hateful to my sight. The minister, particularly, I thought had a +demoniac face, similar to that of one of the ruffians who had tested +the quality of my cane. Juliet cast a look at me with more of sadness +than joy in it. She offered me her hand in silent salutation, and it +trembled in my grasp. The deed was done. Pity for the maiden who had +been thus sacrificed to secure a superabundance of wealth which could +never be enjoyed, and sorrow at my own forlorn condition, weighed +heavily, oh, how heavily! on my heart. I returned to my lonely and +desolate lodgings without a malicious feeling for the one who had +robbed me of every hope of earthly enjoyment. I prayed that he might +make Juliet happy. + +“But, alas! her happiness was of short duration. Scarce six months had +passed before Mr. Nicholson began to neglect his youthful and confiding +bride. She had still remained at her mother’s cottage, while, as she +stated, his establishment was being fitted up in town for their +reception. He at first drove out to the cottage every evening; but soon +afterwards fell into the habit of visiting his bride only two or three +times a week. He neither carried her into society nor brought home any +visitors. Yet he seemed to possess immense wealth, and bestowed it upon +Juliet with a liberal, nay, profuse hand. My young friend, what kind of +a character do you suppose this Mr. Nicholson to have been?” said the +old man, pausing, and turning to Glenn, who had been listening to the +narrative with marked attention. + +“He was an impostor—a gambler,” replied Glenn, promptly. + +“He _was_ an impostor! but no adventurous gambler, as you suppose. I +will proceed. About seven months after his marriage, he abandoned +Juliet altogether! Yet he did not forget her entirely. He may have felt +remorse for the ruin he had wrought—or perhaps a slight degree of +affection for his unborn—; and costly presents, and many considerable +sums of money, were sent by him to the cottage. But neither the aged +mother nor the deserted wife found the consolation they desired in his +prodigal gifts. They sent me a note, informing me of their distressful +condition, and requesting me to ascertain the locality of Mr. +Nicholson’s establishment, and, if possible, to find out the cause of +his unnatural conduct. I did all in my power to accomplish what they +desired. I repaired to the cottage, unable to give the least +intelligence of Mr. Nicholson. I had not been able to find any one who +had ever heard of him. Juliet became almost frantic. She determined to +seek him herself. At her urgent solicitation, I accompanied her to the +city in an open curricle. A pitying Providence soon terminated her +insupportable suspense. While we were driving through Hyde Park, we +were forcibly stopped to permit, among the throng, the passage of a +splendid equipage. The approaching carriage was likewise an open one. +Juliet glanced at the inmates, and uttering a wild piercing shriek, +fainted in my arms. I looked, and saw her quondam husband! He was +decked in the magnificent insignia of ROYALTY. Nobles were bowing, +high-born ladies smiling, and the multitude shouted, ‘There comes his +royal highness, the Prince of—’ + +“Man cannot punish him,” continued Roughgrove, “but God can. HE will +deal justly, both with the proud and the oppressed. But to return. He +saw Juliet. A few minutes after the gorgeous retinue swept past, one of +the prince’s attendants came with a note. Juliet was insensible. I took +it from the messenger’s hand, and started when I looked the villain in +the face. He had been the parson! He smiled at the recognition! I +hurled my cane at his head, and hastened back to the cottage with a +physician in attendance. Juliet soon recovered from her swoon. But a +frenzied desperation was manifest in her pale features. I left her in +her mother’s charge, and returned in agony to my lodgings. That night a +raging fever seized upon my brain, and for months I was the victim of +excruciating disease. When convalescent, but still confined to my room, +I chanced to run my eye over one of the daily papers, and was petrified +to see the name of Mrs. Nicholson, in the first article that attracted +my attention, in connection with an attempt upon the life of the king! +She had been seized with a fit of temporary insanity, and driving to +town, sought her betrayer with the intention of shedding his blood. She +waited at the gate of St. James’s palace until a carriage drove up in +which she expected to find the prince. It was the king—yet she did not +discover her error until the blow was made. The steel did not perform +its office, as you are aware from the history of England, in which this +event is recorded. The king humanely pardoned her on the spot. A single +word she uttered acquainted him with her history, and her piteous looks +made an extraordinary impression on his mind. He too, had, perhaps, +sported with innocent beauty. And now the spectre of the weeping maniac +haunted his visions. Soon he became one himself. The name of Juliet +fortunately was not published in the journals. It was by some means +incorrectly stated that the woman who attacked the king was named +_Margaret_ Nicholson, and so it remains on the page of history. + +“As soon as I was able to leave my chamber, I repaired to the cottage. +Juliet was a _mother_. Reason had returned, and she strove to submit +with Christian humility to her pitiable lot. She received me with the +same sweet smile that had formerly beamed on her guileless face. Her +mother, the promoter of the fancied advantageous alliance, now seemed +to suffer most. They both clung to me as their only remaining friend, +and in truth I learned that all other friends had forsaken them. I +looked upon the deceived, outraged, but still innocent Juliet, with +pity. Her little cherub twins—” + +“Twins!” echoed Glenn. + +“Ay, twins,” replied Roughgrove, “and they lie behind you now, side by +side, on yonder bed.” + +Glenn turned and gazed a moment in silence on the sleeping forms of +William, and Mary. + +“Her poor little ones excited my compassion. They were not blamable for +their father’s crime, nor could they enjoy the advantages of his +exalted station. They were without a protector in the world. Juliet’s +mother was fast sinking under the calamity she had herself in a great +measure wrought. My heart melted when I contemplated the sad condition +of the only female I had ever loved. It was not long before the fires +of affection again gleamed brightly in my breast. Juliet had committed +no crime, either in the eyes of man or God. She did not intend to err. +She had acted in good faith. She had never designed to transgress +either the laws of earth or heaven, and although the disguised prince +did not wholly possess her heart, yet she deemed it a duty to be +governed by the advice of her parent. These things I explained to her, +and when her conscience was appeased by the facts which I demonstrated, +her peace in some measure returned, but she was still subject to +occasional melancholy reflections. Perhaps she thought of me—how my +heart had suffered (for, young as I was, the occurrence brought +premature gray hairs; and even now, although my head is white, I have +seen but little more than forty years)—and how happy we might have +travelled life’s journey together. I seized such a moment to renew my +proposals. She declined, but declined in tears. I returned to the city +with the intention to repeat the offer the next time we met. Not many +weeks elapsed before her aged mother was consigned to the tomb. Poor +Juliet’s condition was now immeasurably lamentable. She had neither +friend nor protector. I again urged my suit, and was successful. But +she required of me a promise to retire from the world for ever. I +cheerfully agreed, for I was disgusted with the vanity and wickedness +of my species. We came hither. You know the rest.” + +When Roughgrove ceased speaking, the night was far advanced, and a +perfect silence reigned. Without uttering another word, he and Glenn +rose from their seats, and repairing to the remaining unoccupied couch, +ere long yielded to the influence of tranquil slumber. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +William’s illness—Sneak’s strange house—Joe’s courage—The bee hunt—Joe +and Sneak captured by the Indians—Their sad condition—Preparations to +burn them alive—Their miraculous escape. + + +Just before the dawn of day, Roughgrove and Glenn were awakened by +Mary. She was weeping at the bed-side of William. + +“What’s the matter, child?” asked Roughgrove, rising up and lighting +the lamp. + +“Poor brother!” said she, and her utterance failed her. + +“He has a raging fever!” said Glenn, who had approached the bed and +placed his hand upon the young man’s temples. + +“True—and I fear it will be fatal!” said Roughgrove, in alarm, as he +held the unresisting wrist of the panting youth. + +“Fear not,” said Glenn; “God directs all things. This violent illness, +too, may in the end be a blessing. Let us do all in our power to +restore him to health, and leave the rest to Him. I was once an ardent +student of medicine, and the knowledge I acquired may be of some +avail.” + +“I will pray for his recovery,” said Mary, bowing down at the foot of +the bed. + +I will pray for his recovery. + +“I will pray for his recovery,” said Mary, bowing down at the foot of +the bed. + + +“Dod—I mean—Joe, it’s most daylight,” said Sneak, rising up and rubbing +his eyes. + +“Well, what if it is? what are you waking me up for?” replied Joe, +turning over on his rude pallet. + +“Why, I’m going home.” + +“Well, clear out them.” + +“But you’ll have to get up and shut the gate after me” + +“Plague take it all, I believe you’re just trying to spoil my nap!” +said Joe, much vexed. + +“No I ain’t, Joe; I’m in earnest, indeed I am,” continued Sneak; +“bekaise I hain’t been inside of my house, now, for three or four days, +and who knows but the dod—mean the—Indians have been there and stole +all my muskrat skins?” + +“If they have, then there’s no use in looking for them now.” + +“If they have, dod—I mean, _burn_ me if I don’t foller em to the other +end of creation but I’ll have ’em back agin. But I ain’t much afeard +that they saw my house—they might rub agin it without knowing it was a +house.” + +“That’s a pretty tale,” said Joe, now thoroughly awakened, and staring +incredulously in his companion’s face. + +“It’s a fact.” + +“Whereabouts is your house?” + +“Why, it’s in the second valley we crossed when we went after the +wolves on the island.” + +“Then your skins are gone,” said Joe, “for the Indians have been in +that valley.” + +“I know they was there well enough,” said Sneak; “but didn’t I say they +couldn’t find the house, even if they was to scratch their backs agin +it?” + +“What kind of a house is it?” + +“’Spose you come along and see,” said Sneak, groping about in the dim +twilight for his cap, and the gun Glenn bad given him. + +“I should like to see it, just out of curiosity,” replied Joe. + +“Then go along with Sneak,” said Glenn, who approached the fire to +prepare some medicine; “it is necessary that every thing should be +quiet and still here.” + +“If you’ll help me to feed and water the horses. Sneak, I’ll go home +with you,” said Joe. Sneak readily agreed to the proposition, and by +the time it was quite light, and yet before the sun rose, the labour +was accomplished, and they set out together for the designated valley. +Their course was somewhat different from that pursued when in quest of +the wolves, for Sneak’s habitation was about midway between the river +and the prairie, and they diverged in a westerly direction. But their +progress was slow During the night there had been a change in the +atmosphere, and a constant breeze from the south had in a great measure +softened the snow-crust, so that our pedestrians frequently broke +through. + +“This is not the most agreeable walking I ever saw,” said Joe, breaking +through and tumbling down on his face. + +“That’s jest as much like swimming as walking,” said Sneak, smiling at +the blunder of his companion. + +“Smash it, Sneak,” continued Joe, rising up with some difficulty, “I +don’t half like this breaking-through business.” + +“You must walk lighter, and then you won’t break through,” said Sneak; +“tread soft like I do, and put your feet down flat. I hain’t broke in +once—” But before the sentence was uttered, Sneak had broken through +himself, and stood half-submerged in the snow. + +“Ha! ha! ha! you musn’t count your chickens before they’re hatched,” +said Joe, laughing; “but you may score one, now you have broken the +shell.” + +“I got in that time,” said Sneak, now winding through the bushes with +much caution, as if it were truly in his power to diminish the weight +of his body by a peculiar mode of walking. + +“This thaw ’ll be good for one thing, any how,” said Joe, after they +had progressed some time in silence. + +“What’s that?” asked Sneak. + +“Why, it ’ll keep the Indians away; they can’t travel through the slush +when the crust is melted off.” + +“That’s as true as print,” replied Sneak; and if none of ’em follered +us back to the settlement, we needn’t look for ’em agin till spring.” + +“I wonder if any of them _did_ follow us?” asked Joe, pausing abruptly. + +“How can anybody tell till they see ’em?” replied Sneak. “What’re you +stopping for?” + +“I’m going back,” said Joe. + +“Dod—you’re a fool—that’s jest what you are. Hain’t We got our guns? +and if there _is_ any about, ain’t they in the bushes close to Mr. +Glenn’s house? and hain’t we passed through ’em long ago? But I don’t +keer any thing about your cowardly company—go back, if you want to,” +said Sneak, striding onward. + +“Sneak, don’t go so fast. I haven’t any notion of going back,” said +Joe, springing nimbly to his companion’s side. + +“I believe you’re afeard to go back by yourself,” said Sneak, laughing +heartily. + +“Pshaw, Sneak, I don’t think any of ’em followed us, do you?” continued +Joe, peering at the bushes and trees in the valley, which they were +entering. + +“No,” said Sneak; “I only wanted to skeer you a bit.” + +“I’ve killed too many savages to be scared by them now,” said Joe, +carelessly striding onward. + +“What was you a going back for, if you wasn’t skeered?” + +“I wonder what always makes you think I’m frightened when I talk of +going into the house! Sneak, you’re _always_ mistaken. I wasn’t +thinking about myself—I only wanted to put Mr. Glenn on his guard.” + +“Then what made you tell that wapper for, the other night, about +cutting that Indian’s throat?” + +“How do you know it was a wapper?” asked Joe, somewhat what embarrassed +by Sneak’s home-thrust. + +“Bekaise, don’t I know that I cut his juggler-vein myself? Didn’t the +blood gush all over me? and didn’t he fall down dead before he had time +to holler?” continued Sneak, with much warmth and earnestness. + +“Sneak,” said Joe, “I’ve no doubt you thought he was dead—but then you +must know it’s nearly as hard to kill a man as a cat. You might have +been mistaken; every body is liable to be deceived—even a person’s eyes +deceive him sometimes. I don’t pretend to say that I haven’t been +mistaken before now, myself. It _may_ be possible that I was mistaken +about the Indian as well as you—I might have just _thought_ I saw him +move. But I was there longer than you, and the inference is that I +didn’t stand as good a chance to be deceived.” + +“Well, I can’t answer all that,” said Sneak; “but I’ll swear I felt my +knife grit agin his neck-bone.” + +Joe did not desire to pursue the subject any further, and they +proceeded on their way in silence, ever and anon breaking through the +snow-crust. The atmosphere became still more temperate when the bright +sun beamed over the horizon. Drops of water trickled down from the +snow-covered branches of the trees, and a few birds flitted overhead, +and uttered imperfect lays. + +“Here we are,” said Sneak, halting in the midst of a clump of enormous +sycamore trees, over whose roots a sparkling rivulet glided with a +gurgling sound. + +“I know we’re here,” said Joe; “but what are you stopping _here_ for?” + +“Here’s where I live,” replied Sneak, with a comical smile playing on +his lips. + +“But where’s your house?” asked Joe. + +“Didn’t I say you couldn’t find it, even if you was to rub your back +agin it?” + +“I know I’m not rubbing against your house now,” replied Joe, turning +round and looking up in the huge tree he had been leaning against. + +“But you have been leaning agin my house,” continued Sneak, amused at +the incredulous face of his companion. + +“I know better,” persisted Joe; “this big sycamore is the only thing +I’ve leant against since we started.” + +“Jest foller me, and I’ll show you something,” said Sneak, stepping +round to the opposite side of the tree, where the ascent on the north +rose abruptly from the roots. Here he removed a thin flat stone of +about four feet in height, that stood in a vertical position against +the tree. + +“You don’t live in there, Sneak, surely; why that looks like a wolf’s +den,” said Joe, perceiving a dark yawning aperture, and that the +immense tree was but a mere shell. + +“Keep at my heels,” said Sneak, stooping down and crawling into the +tree. + +“I’d rather not,” said Joe; “there may be a bear in it.” + +Soon a clicking sound was heard within, and the next moment Joe +perceived the flickering rays of a small lamp that Sneak held in his +hand, illuminating the sombre recesses of the novel habitation. + +“Why don’t you come in?” asked Sneak. + +“Sneak, how do you know there ain’t a bear up in the hollow?” asked +Joe, crawling in timidly and endeavouring to peer through the darkness +far above, where even the rays of the lamp could not penetrate. + +“I wonder if you think I’d let a bear sleep in my house,” continued +Sneak, searching among a number of boxes and rude shelves, to see if +any thing had been molested during his absence. Finding every thing +safe, he handed Joe a stool, and began to kindle a fire in a small +stone furnace. Joe sat down in silence, and looked about in +astonishment. And the scene was enough to excite the wonder of an +Irishman. The interior of the tree was full eight feet in diameter, +while the eye was lost above in undeveloped regions. Below, there was a +surface of smooth stones, which were comfortably carpeted over with +buffalo robes. At one side was a diminutive fireplace, or furnace, +constructed of three flat stones about three inches in thickness. The +largest was laid horizontally on the ground, and the others placed +upright on it, and attached to a clay chimney, that was by some means +confined to the interior side of the tree, and ran upward until it was +lost in the darkness. After gazing in amazement several minutes at this +strange contrivance, Joe exclaimed: + +“Sneak, I don’t understand this! Where does that smoke go to?” + +“Go out doors and see if you can’t see,” replied Sneak, placing more +fuel on the blazing fire. + +“Go out of the _hole_ you mean to say,” said Joe, creeping out. + +“You may call it jest what you like,” said Sneak; “but I’ll be switched +if many folks lives in _higher_ houses than I does.” + +“Well, I’ll declare!” cried Joe. + +“What ails you now?” asked Sneak, thrusting his head out of the +aperture, and regarding the surprise of Joe with much satisfaction. + +“Why, I see the smoke pouring out of a hole in a _limb_ not much bigger +than my thigh!” cried Joe. This was true. Sneak had mounted up in the +tree before building his chimney, and finding a hollow bough that +communicated directly with the main trunk had cut through into the +cavity, and thus made a vent for the escape of the smoke. + +“Come in now, and get something to eat,” said Sneak. This was an +invitation that Joe was never known to decline. After casting another +admiring glance at the blue vapour that issued from the bough some +ninety feet from the ground, he passed through the cavity with +alacrity. + +“Where are you?” cried Joe, upon entering and looking round in vain for +his host, who had vanished in a most inexplicable manner. Joe stared in +astonishment. The lighted lamp remained on a box, that was designed for +the breakfast-table, and on which there was in truth an abundance of +dried venison and smoking potatoes. But where was Sneak? + +“Sneak, what’s become of you?” continued Joe, eagerly listening for a +reply, and anxiously scanning the tempting repast set before him. “I +know you’re at some of your tricks,” he added, and sitting down at the +table, commenced in no indifferent manner to discuss the savoury +venison and potatoes. + +“I’m only up stairs,” cried Sneak, in the darkness above; and throwing +down a rope made of hides, the upper end of which was fastened to the +tree within, he soon followed, slipping briskly down, and without delay +sprang to Joe’s assistance. + +When the meal was finished, or rather, when every thing set before them +had vanished, Sneak rose up and thrust his long neck out of the +aperture. + +“What are you looking at?” asked Joe. + +“I’m looking at the warm sun shining agin yonder side of the hill,” +said Sneak; “how’d you like to go a bee-hunting?” + +“A bee-hunting!” iterated Joe. “I wonder if you think we could find a +bee at this season of the year? and I should like to know what it’d be +worth when we found it.” + +“Plague take the bee—I mean the _honey_—don’t you like wild honey?” +continued Sneak. + +“Yes,” said Joe; “but how can you find any when there’s such a snow as +this on the ground?” + +“When there’s a snow, that’s the time to find ’em,” said Sneak; +“peticuly when the sun shines warm. Jest come out here and look,” he +continued, stepping along, and followed by Joe; “don’t you see yander +big stooping limb?” + +“Yes,” replied Joe, gazing at the bough pointed out. + +“Well,” continued Sneak, “there’s a bee’s nest in that. Look here,” he +added, picking from the snow several dead bees that had been thrown +from the hive; “now this is the way with all wild bees (but these are +tame, for they live in my house), for when there comes a warm day +they’re sartin as fate to throw out the dead ones, and we can find +where they are as easy as any thing in the world.” + +“Sneak, my mouth’s watering—suppose we take the axe and go and hunt for +some honey.” + +“Let’s be off, then,” said Sneak, getting his axe, and preparing to +place the stone against the tree. + +“Stop, Sneak,” said Joe; “let me get my gun before you shut the +_door_.” + +“I guess we’d better leave our guns, and then we won’t be so apt to +break through,” replied Sneak, closing up the aperture. + +“The bees won’t sting us, will they?” asked Joe, turning to his +companion when they had attained the high-timbered ridge that ran +parallel with the valley. + +“If you chaw ’em in your mouth they will,” replied Sneak, striding +along under the trees with his head bent down, and minutely examining +every small dark object he found lying on the surface of the snow. + +“I know that as well as you do,” continued Joe, “because that would +thaw them.” + +“Well, if they’re froze, how _kin_ they sting you?” + +“You needn’t be so snappish,” replied Joe. “I just asked for +information. I know as well as anybody they’re frozen or torpid.” + +“Or what?” asked Sneak. + +“Torpid,” said Joe. + +“I’ll try to ’member that word,” continued Sneak, peeping under a +spreading oak that was surrounded by a dense hazel thicket. + +“Do,” continued Joe, contemptuously, “and if you’ll only recollect all +you hear me say, you may get a tolerable education after a while.” + +“I’ll be shivered if this ain’t the edication I wan’t,” said Sneak, +turning round with one or two dead bees in his hand, that he had found +near the root of the tree. + +“Huzza!” cried Joe, “we’ll have a mess of honey now. I see the hole +where they are—its in a limb, and we won’t have to cut down the tree,” +and before Sneak could interpose, Joe mounted up among the branches, +and asked for the axe, saying he would have the bough off in five +minutes. Sneak gave it to him, and when he reached the place, (which +was not more than fifteen feet from the ground,) he commenced cutting +away with great eagerness. The cavity was large, and in a few minutes +the bough began to give way. In spite of Sneak’s gesticulations and +grimaces below, Joe did not bethink him that one of his feet still +rested on the bough beyond the place where he was cutting, but +continued to ply the axe with increasing rapidity. Presently the bough, +axe, and Joe, all fell together. Sneak was convulsed with laughter. Joe +sprang to his feet, and after feeling his limbs and ribs, announced +that no bones were broken, and laughed very heartily himself. They +began to split open the severed bough without loss of time. But just +when they were in the act of lifting out the honeycomb, four stalwart +savages rose softly from the bushes behind, and springing nimbly +forward, seized them both before they could make any resistance. The +surprised couple yelled and struggled to no purpose. Their hands were +soon bound behind them, and they were driven forward hastily in a +southerly direction. + +“Oh! for goodness sake, Mr. Chief, please let me go home, and I’ll pay +you whatever you ask!” said Joe, to the tallest of the savages. + +The Indian, if he did not understand his captive’s words, seemed to +comprehend his terrors, and was much diverted at his ludicrous +expression of features. + +“Oh pray! good Mr. Chief—” + +“Keep your mouth shet! They’ll never git through torturing us, if you +let ’em know you’re afraid,” said Sneak. + +“That’s just what I want,” said Joe; “I don’t want them to ever quit +torturing us—because they’ll never quit till we’re both dead. But as +long as they laugh at they’ll be sure to let me live.” + +Ere long, the savages with their captives, entered the dense grove +where Mary had been taken, before they set out with her over the +prairie. But it was evidently not their intention to conduct their +present prisoners to their villages, and demand a ransom for them. Nor +were they prepared to convey them away in the same dignified and +comfortable manner, over the snow-clad plains. They anticipated a +gratification of a different nature. They had been disappointed in all +their attempts to obtain booty from the whites. The maid they had taken +had been recaptured, and their chief was in the possession of the +enemy. These, to say nothing of the loss of a score of their brethren +by the fire-weapons of the white men, stimulated them with unerring +precision to compass the destruction of their prisoners. Blood only +could satiate their vengeful feelings. And the greater and longer the +sufferings of their victims the more exquisite would be the luxury of +revenge. And this caused them to smile with positive delight when they +witnessed the painful terrors of poor Joe. + +When they reached their place of encampment, which was in the midst of +a cluster of small slim trees that encircled an old spreading oak of +huge dimensions, the savages made their prisoners stand with their +backs against two saplings that grew some fifteen paces apart. They +were compelled to face each other, that they might witness every thing +that transpired. Their arms were bound round the trees behind them, and +a cord was likewise passed round their legs to confine them more +securely. The savages then seemed to consult about the manner of +despatching them. The oldest and most experienced, by his hasty +gestures and impatient replies, appeared to insist on their +instantaneous death. And from his frequent glances northward, through +the trees, he doubtless feared some interruption, or dreaded the +arrival of an enemy that might inflict an ample retaliation. During a +long pause, while the Indians seemed to hesitate, and the old crafty +savage drew his steel tomahawk from his belt, Sneak sighed deeply, and +said, in rather mournful tones— + +“The jig’s up with us, Joe. If I was only loose seven seconds, you +wouldn’t ketch me dying like a coon here agin a tree.” Joe made no +other response than a blubbering sound, while the tears ran down and +dropped briskly from his chin. + +[Illustration: Joe and Sneak in difficulty.] + + +The savages gave vent to a burst of laughter when they beheld the agony +of fear that possessed their captive. The three that were in favour of +the slow torture now turned a deaf ear to the old warrior, and advanced +to Joe. They held the palms of their hands under his chin, and caught +the tears as they fell. They then stroked his head gently, and appeared +to sympathize with the sufferer. + +“Mr. Indian, if you’ll let me go, I’ll give you my gun and twenty +dollars,” said Joe, appealing most piteously to the one that placed his +hand on his head. The Indian seemed to understand him, and held his +hand out for the money, while a demoniac smile played on his dark lips. + +“Just untie my hands,” said Joe, endeavouring to look behind, “and I’ll +go right straight home and get them.” + +“You rascal—you want to run away,” replied the old Indian, who not only +understood Joe’s language, but could himself speak English imperfectly. + +“Upon my sacred word and honour, I won’t!” replied Joe. + +“You lie!” said the savage, bestowing a severe smack on Joe’s face. + +“Oh, Lord! Come now, Mr. Indian, that hurts!” + +“No—don’t hurt—only kill musketer,” replied the savage, laughing +heartily, and striking his prisoner on the other side of the face. + +“Oh! hang your skin!” cried Joe, endeavouring to break away, “if ever I +get you in my power, I’ll smash—” Here his sudden courage evaporated, +and again the tears filled his eyes. + +“Poor fellow!” said the savage, patting his victim on the head. “How +much you give for him?” he continued, pointing to Sneak. + +“If you’ll only let _me_ go, I’ll give you every thing I’ve got in the +world. He don’t want to live as bad as I do, and I’ll give you as much +for me alone as I will for both.” + +“You’re a purty white man, now, ain’t you?” said Sneak. “But its all +the same. My chance is jest as good as your’n. They’re only fooling +you, jest to laugh. I’ve made up my mind to die, and I ain’t a going to +make any fun for ’em. And you might as well say your prayers fust as +last; they’re only playing with you now like a cat with a mice.” + +The old Indian moved towards Sneak, followed by the others. + +“How much you give?” asked the savage. + +“Not a coon’s tail,” replied Sneak, with firmness. + +“Now how much?” continued the Indian, slapping the thin lank cheek of +his prisoner. + +“Not a dod-rotted cent! Now jest take your tomahawk and split my skull +open as quick as you kin!” said Sneak; and he bowed down his head to +receive the fatal blow. + +“You brave rascal,” said the Indian, looking his captive in the eye, +and hesitating whether to practice his petty annoyances any further. At +length they turned again to Joe. + +“That wasn’t fair, Sneak,” cried Joe, when the savages abandoned his +fellow-prisoner; “you ought to have kept them away from me as long as I +did from you.” + +“I’m gitting sick of this tanterlizing business,” said Sneak. “I want +’em to git through the job, without any more fooling about it. If you +wasn’t sich a coward, they’d let you alone, and kill us at once.” + +“I don’t want them to kill us—I’d rather they’d do any thing in the +world than to kill us,” replied Joe. + +“Me won’t hurt you,” said the old savage, again placing his hand on +Joe’s head; but instead of gently patting it, he wound a lock of hair +round one of his fingers, and with a sudden jerk tore it out by the +roots. + +“Oh, my gracious! Oh, St. Peter! Oh, Lord! Mr. Indian, I beg and pray +of you not to do that any more. If you’ll only untie me, I’ll get down +on my knees to you,” exclaimed poor Joe. + +“Poor fellow, me won’t hurt him any more—poor head!” said the Indian, +tearing off another lock. + +“Oh! oh! goodness gracious. _Dear_ Mr. Indian, don’t do that! You can +have no idea how bad it hurts—I can’t stand it. I’ll faint presently!” +said Joe, trembling at every joint. + +“You’re a fool,” said Sneak, “to mind ’em that way. If you wasn’t to +notice ’em, they wouldn’t do it. See how they’re laughing at you.” + +“Oh, Sneak, I can’t help it, to save my life, indeed I can’t. Oh, my +good Lord, what would I give to be away from here!” said Joe, his eyes +fit to burst from their sockets. + +“I’ve killed many a deer in a minit—it don’t hurt a man to die more +than a deer. I wish the snarvilorous copper-skinned rascals would git +through quick!” said Sneak. + +“Me try you agin,” said the savage, again going to Sneak. + +“Well, now, what’re you a going to do? I’m not afraid of you!” said +Sneak, grinding his teeth. + +“Me rub your head,” said the savage, seizing a tuft of hair and tearing +it out. + +“Take some more,” said Sneak, bowing down his head. + +“A little more,” iterated the savage, grasping a handful, which, with +much exertion, he severed from the head, and left the white skin +exposed to view. + +“Won’t you have some more?” continued Sneak, without evincing the least +pain. “Jest take as much as you please; if you tear it off till my +head’s as bald as an egg, I won’t beg you to let me alone.” + +“You brave fellow—won’t pull your hair any more,” said the chief. + +“You be dod rot!” said Sneak, contemptuously. + +“You mighty brave, shake hands!” continued the laughing savage, holding +his hand out in mockery. + +“If you’ll untie my foot a minit, I’ll bet I kick some of the ribs out +of your body. Why don’t you knock our brains out, and be done at once, +you black wolves you!” said Sneak. + +“Oh, Sneak! for my sake—your poor friend’s sake, don’t put such an idea +as that into their heads!” said Joe, imploringly. + +“You’re a purty friend, ain’t you? You’d give so _much_ to ransom me! +They aint a going to quit us without killin’ us, and I want it all over +jest as soon as it kin be done.” + +“Oh, no, Sneak! Maybe they’ll take pity on us and spare our lives,” +said Joe, assuming a most entreating look as the savage once more +approached him. + +“You make good big Osage; you come with us, if we let you live?” +demanded the old Indian. + +“I pledge you my most sacred word and honour I will!” + +“You run away, you rascal,” said the savage, plucking another tuft of +hair from Joe’s head. + +“I’ll be hanged if I stand this any longer!” said Joe, striving to +break the cord that confined him. + +“Don’t notice the black cowards,” said Sneak. + +“How can I help noticing them, when they’re pulling out my hair by the +roots!” said Joe. + +“Look where they pulled mine out,” said Sneak, turning that part of his +head in view which had been made literally bald. + +“Didn’t it hurt you?” asked Joe. + +“Sartinly it did,” said Sneak, “but I grinned and bore it. And now I +wish they’d pull it all off, and then my scalp wouldn’t do ’em any +good.” + +“That’s a fact,” said Joe. “Here, Mr. Osage,” he continued, “pull as +much hair off the top of my head as you want.” The savages, instead of +paying any attention to him, seemed to be attracted by some distant +sound. They stooped down and placed their ears near the earth, and +listened intently for some time. At length they sprang up, and then +ensued another dispute among them about the manner in which the +prisoners should be disposed of. The old savage was yet in favour of +tomahawking the captives and retreating without delay. But the others +would not consent to it. They were not satisfied with the small amount +of suffering yet endured by the prisoners. They were resolved to glut +their savage vengeance. And the prisoners now observed that all traces +of mirth had vanished from their faces. Their eyes gleamed with +fiendish fury, and drawing forth their glittering tomahawks, they +vanished in the thicket, and were soon heard chopping off the small +boughs of the trees. + +“What are they doing Sneak?” asked Joe. + +“Don’t you know what they’re doing? ain’t they cutting wood as fast as +they kin?” replied Sneak. + +“Well, I’m not sorry for that.” said Joe. “because its almost dark, and +I’m getting chilly. If they’d only give me something to eat, I’d feel a +heap more comfortable.” + +“You varasherous fool you, they’re cutting wood to burn us up with. Oh, +I wish I was loose!” + +“Oh, goodness gracious!” cried Joe, “I never thought of that! Oh, I’m +gone!” + +“Are you?” cried Sneak, eagerly; “I’d like to be off too, and we’d give +them a race for it yit.” + +“Oh! Sneak, I mean I’m ruined, lost for ever! Oh! St. Peter, pity my +helpless condition!” + +“Don’t think about pity now,” said Sneak; “nothing of that sort is +going to do us any good. We must git loose from these trees and run for +it, or we’ll be roasted like wild turkeys in less than an hour. I’ve +got one hand loose!”. + +“So have I almost!” cried Joe, struggling violently. + +“One of ’em’s coming!—shove your hand back, and pertend like you’re +fast, till he goes away agin!” said Sneak, in a hurried undertone. + +The savage emerged from the bushes the next moment, and after +depositing an armful of billets of wood at the feet of Joe, and walking +round behind the prisoners to see if they were still secure, returned +for more fuel. + +“Now work for your life!” said Sneak, extricating his wrist from the +cord, and striving to get his feet loose. + +“Hang it, Sneak, I can’t get my hand out, though the string’s quite +loose! Make haste, Sneak, and come and help me,” said Joe, in a tone +that indicated his earnestness. + +“Let every man look out for himself,” replied Sneak, tugging away at +the cord that bound his feet to the tree. + +“Oh, Sneak, don’t leave me here, to be burnt by myself!” said Joe. + +“You wouldn’t promise to give any thing to ransom me, a while ago—I’ll +cut stick as quick as I kin.” + +“Oh, Sneak, I can’t untie my hands! If you won’t help me, I’ll call the +Indians.” But Joe was saved the trouble. He had scarce uttered the word +when all four of the Indians suddenly appeared, and throwing down their +wood, proceeded with much haste to put their horrid purpose in +execution. They heaped up the fagots around their victims, until they +reached half way to their chins, and when all was ready, they paused, +before applying the fire, to enjoy the terrors of their captives. + +“You cold—me make some fire to warm—huh,” said the old Indian, +addressing Joe, while the others looked on with unmixed satisfaction. + +“Oh! my dear Mr. Osage, if you only knew how much money you’d lose by +killing me, I know you’d let me go!” said Joe, in tremulous but +supplicating tones. + +“You lie—you got no money,” replied the savage; and, stooping down, he +began to split some dry wood into very small pieces to kindle with. Joe +looked on in despair, and seemed to anticipate a blister from every +splinter he saw. It was different with Sneak. Almost hid by the wood +heaped around him, he embraced every opportunity, when the eyes of the +savages were turned away, to endeavour to extricate himself from the +cords that bound him to the tree. Hope had not yet forsaken him, and he +resolved to struggle to the last. When the old savage had split off a +large quantity of splinters and chips, he gathered them up and began to +arrange them in various parts of the pile of green timber preparatory +for a simultaneous ignition. While he was thus engaged, Sneak remained +motionless, and assumed a stoical expression of features. But when he +turned to Joe, Sneak again began to tug at the cord. + +“Oh pray, Mr. Indian!” exclaimed Joe, when he saw the savage carefully +placing the combustible matter in all the crevices of the pile around +him—“just only let me off this time, and I’ll be your best friend all +the rest of your life.” + +“Me warm you little—don’t cry—poor fellow!” replied the Indian, +striking a light with flint and steel. + +“Oh, Sneak, if you’ve got a knife, run here and cut me loose, before +I’m burnt to death!” said Joe, in the most heart-moving manner. + +“Keep your mouth shet!” said Sneak; “jest wait till they go to put some +fire here, and I’ll show you a thing or two,” he continued, pouring a +handful of _powder_ among the dry splinters. The effect of the +explosion when the Indians attempted to surprise Glenn’s premises +occurring to Sneak, and recollecting that he had a quantity of powder +in his pockets, he resolved in his extremity to try its virtue on this +occasion. + +“But they’re going to burn me first! Oh, Lord!” exclaimed Joe, as he +beheld the savage applying the fire to the splinters near his feet. + +“Don’t say nor do nothing—jest wait till they come to me,” said Sneak, +with great composure. “Do you jess keep your mouth shet—it’ll be a long +while a kindling—it won’t begin to burn your legs for an hour.” + +“Oh, goodness gracious! My knees begin to feel warm now. Oh, pray have +mercy on me, good Mr. Osage!” cried Joe, before the flame was as large +as his hand, and yet full three feet distant from him. The greater +portion of the fagots being green, the fire made very slow progress, +and it was necessary for the savages to procure a constant supply of +dry splinters to prevent it from going out. + +At length, after the combustible material had burned out, and been +replenished several times, the more substantial billets of Joe’s pile +began to ignite slowly, and the old Indian then took up a flaming brand +and moved towards Sneak. + +“Come on! you snarvilerous rattlesnake you, I’ll show you sights +presently!” said Sneak. + +“You brave fellow—me burn you _quick_,” said the savage, applying the +torch, and, stooping down, placed his face within a few inches of the +crackling blaze, and began to blow it gently. Sneak twisted his head +round the tree as far as possible, and the next moment the powder +exploded, throwing down the pile of wood, and dashing the savage +several paces distant violently on the ground, and blackening and +scorching his face and hair in a terrible manner. The other Indians +instantly prostrated themselves on their faces, and uttered the most +doleful lamentations. Thus they remained a few minutes, evidently +impressed with the belief that the Great Spirit had interfered to +prevent the destruction of the prisoners. Hastily gathering up their +arms, they fled precipitately in the direction of their distant home, +and their yells of disappointment and defeat rang in the ears of their +captives until they died away in the distance. + +“Sneak! make haste! they may come back again!” said Joe. + +“They’ve tied my feet so tight I’m afraid I can’t undo it in a hurry,” +replied Sneak, endeavouring to break the cord by thrusting a stick +(that he had slipped from the pile to knock out the brains of one of +the Indians should his gun-powder plot not succeed,) between it and the +tree, and forcing it out until the pain produced became insufferable. +By this means the cord was loosened gradually, and moving it a little +higher up where the muscles had not yet been bruised, he repeated the +process. In this manner he laboured with certain but tardy success. But +while he was thus engaged, Joe’s predicament became each moment more +critical. The wood being by this time pretty well seasoned, began to +burn more freely. The blaze was making formidable advances, and the +heat was becoming intolerable. + +“For heaven’s sake, Sneak!” cried Joe, “make haste and come here, or +I’ll be roasted alive!” + +“Wait till I get away from my own tree,” replied Sneak. + +“Oh Lord! I can’t wait a minute more! My shins are getting blistered!” +cried Joe, writhing under the heat of the blaze, which now reached +within a few inches of him, and increased in magnitude with awful +rapidity. + +“Well, if you won’t wait till I git there, just go ahead yourself,” +said Sneak, at last extricating his feet by a violent effort, and +hopping to Joe’s assistance, with some difficulty, for his nether limbs +were considerably bruised. + +“Hang it, Sneak, pull these burning sticks away from my knees!” said +Joe, his face flushed with pain. + +“I’ll be bursted with powder, if you didn’t like to git into a purty +tight fix,” said Sneak, dashing down the consuming billets of wood. + +“Now, Sneak, cut me loose, and then let’s run home as soon as +possible.” + +“I hain’t got my knife with me, or I wouldn’t ’ave been so long gitting +loose myself,” said Sneak, slowly untying Joe’s hands. + +“My goodness, how my arms ache!” said Joe, when his hands were +released. “Now, Sneak, undo my feet, and then we’ll be off in a hurry.” + +“I’ll be slit if your feet ain’t tied like mine was, in rich a hard +knot that no mortal being can git it undone. I’ll take a chunk, and +burn the tarnation string in two,” said Sneak, applying the fire. + +“Take care you don’t burn _me_,” said Joe, looking at the operation +with much concern. + +Sneak’s plan of severing his companion’s bonds was successful. Joe +sprang in delight from his place of confinement, and, without uttering +another word, or pausing a single moment, the liberated companions +retreated from grove with all possible expedition. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +Glenn’s History. + + +The young chief, or rather the restored youth, awoke in a few days from +the delirium into which the fever had plunged him, to a state of +convalescence and a consciousness of his altered condition. He now +uttered with earnest tenderness the endearing terms of “sister” and +“father,” when he addressed Mary and Roughgrove. He spoke freely of the +many things he had witnessed while living with the Indians, expressing +his abhorrence of their habits and nature, and declared it was his +intention never to have any further intercourse with them. He promised, +when he should be able to leave his bed, to read and study with Mary +and Glenn, until he had made amends for the neglect of his education. +These symptoms, and the tractable disposition accompanying them, caused +Mary and Roughgrove to rejoice over the return of the long-lost youth, +and to bow in humble thankfulness to the Disposer of events for the +singular and providential circumstances attending his restoration. + +Joe had arrived in due course of time, (which was brief,) after his +almost miraculous escape from the savages and the flames, and told his +story with various embellishments. The Indians were hunted the next day +by Sneak and a few of the neighbours, but they had doubtless abandoned +the settlement, for no traces of them remained after their mysterious +flight from the grove. + +A few mild days, during which frequent showers had fallen, had in a +great measure removed the snow from the earth. And Joe having soon +forgotten his late perilous adventure, amused himself with the horses. +He resolved to make some amends for their long confinement in the +stable, and to effect it he galloped them several hours each day over +the grounds in the vicinity. The hounds, too, seemed delighted to place +their feet once more on the bare earth, and they were permitted to +accompany the horses in all their excursions. + +One night, when William, Mary, and Joe were all quietly sleeping, +Roughgrove took occasion to express his gratitude to Glenn for the many +and important services rendered his family. + +“Whatever good may have attended my efforts,” said Glenn, “you may rest +assured that I have been amply repaid in the satisfaction enjoyed +myself.” + +“I am sure of it!” exclaimed Roughgrove; “and it was a conviction that +you harboured such sentiments that induced me to confide in you, and to +disclose things which I intended should remain for ever locked within +my own breast.” + +“Your confidence shall not be abused,” said Glenn; and to prove that I +am not averse to an exchange of secrets, if you will listen to my +recital, I will endeavour briefly to give you a sketch of _my_ +history.” + +“I will listen attentively, my young friend, even were it as sad a tale +as mine, which can hardly be the case,” said Roughgrove, drawing his +chair close to Glenn’s side, and placing more fuel on the fire. + +“Would to Heaven it had not been!” said Glenn, after reclining his head +on his hands a few minutes, and recalling transactions which he could +have wished to be blotted from his memory for ever. “I am a native of +New York,” he continued, heaving a sigh and folding his arms, “and was +left an orphan at a very early age. My father was once reputed one of +the wealthiest merchants in Broadway; but repeated and enormous losses, +necessarily inexplicable to one of my age, suddenly reduced him to +comparative poverty. Neither he nor my mother survived the blow many +months, and before I was ten years old, I was left (with the exception +of an uncle in Philadelphia) alone in the world, possessed of only a +few hundred dollars. My uncle placed me with an eminent physician, who +had been my father’s friend, after my education was completed. He told +me that he was rich, and would see that I should not suffer for means +until I had acquired a profession, which, with energy and diligence, +would enable me to procure an honourable support. But he informed me +that he had a family of his own, and that I must not depend upon his +assistance further than to accomplish a profession. + +“It was during my studies, and when about seventeen years old, that my +misfortunes began. My preceptor had another student, named Henry Wold, +several years my senior, whose parents were wealthy. Wold and I +entertained the highest esteem for each other. But our circumstances +being different, I could not indulge in all the excesses of +extravagance that he did, but made better progress in my studies. He +attended all the gay parties and fashionable places of amusement, while +I seldom spent an evening from home. He was tall, manly, and possessed +of regular and beautiful features—these, with his unlimited wealth, +made him a welcome guest in every circle, and extremely popular with +the ladies. + +“One Sabbath morning, while sitting in church, (which I attended +regularly,) I was struck with the appearance of a stranger in an +opposite pew across the aisle that belonged to a family with whom I was +on the most intimate terms. The stranger was the most beautiful young +lady I ever beheld. Dark, languishing eyes, glossy ringlets, pale, +smooth forehead—oh! I will not describe her—let it suffice that she was +an angel in my eyes! It was impossible to remove my gaze from her, and +I fancied that she sometimes returned an approving glance. Before the +service was over, I was delighted to observe that she whispered +something to Mrs. Arras, (the name of the lady whose pew she was in,) +for this assured me that they were acquainted, and that I might obtain +some information about the fair being who had made such a sudden and +deep impression on my heart, and perhaps procure an introduction to +her. When I retired to my couch that night, it was not to sleep. The +image of the fair stranger haunted my restless and imperfect slumbers. +Nor could I study by day, for my thoughts wandered continually from the +page to the same bright vision. Such was my condition throughout the +week. The next Sunday I found her seated in the same pew. Our eyes met, +and a slight blush that mantled her fair face encouraged me to hope +that she might likewise have bestowed some thoughts on me during the +preceding week. It was in vain that I uttered the responses during the +service, or knelt down when the clergyman offered up his prayers. I +could think of nothing but the angelic stranger. I resolved that +another week should not pass without my calling at Mrs. Arras’s. But my +object was obtained sooner than I expected. When the congregation was +dismissed, Mrs. Arras beckoned me across the aisle to her. + +“‘Charles,’ whispered she, ‘don’t you want an introduction to my niece? +I saw your eyes riveted on her several times.’ + +“‘I—if you please,’ I replied, with feelings of mingled delight and +embarrassment. + +“‘Laura,’ she continued, turning to the young lady who lingered behind, +but seemed to be conscious of what was passing, ‘let me introduce you +to my young friend, Charles Glenn.’ The bland and accomplished Mrs. +Arras then moved onward, while I attended at the side of Laura, and +continued with her until I assisted her up, the marble steps of her +aunt’s stately mansion. + +“I then bowed, and strode rapidly onward, I knew not whither, +(completely bewildered with the enchanting spell that the fair Laura +had thrown over me,) until I reached the extremity of Broadway, and +found myself in Castle Garden, gazing like a very maniac at the bright +water below me. I wandered about alone, enjoying the exhilarating +fancies of my teeming brain, until the sun sunk beneath the horizon, +and the bright stars twinkled in the blue vault above. Oh! the +thoughts, the hopes, the bliss of that hour! The dark curtain that +veils the rankling corruptions of mortality had not yet been lifted +before my staring eyes, and I felt as one gazing at a beautiful world, +and regarded the fair maid as the angel destined to unfold all its +brilliance to my vision, and to hold the chalice to my lips while I +sipped the nectar of perennial felicity. Alas, that such moments are +brief! They fly like the dreams of a startled slumberer, and when they +vanish once, they are gone forever! + +“Without calling at my lodgings for the usual refreshments, I hovered +about the mansion of Mrs. Arras till lights were gleaming in the +parlour, and then entered. Laura received me with a smile, and the +complaisant matron gave me an encouraging welcome. + +“‘You are pale this evening, Mr. Glenn,’ said Mrs. Arras, in a +good-humoured, though bantering manner. ‘Are you subject to sudden +attacks of illness?’ + +“‘I assure you I never enjoyed better health in my life, and feel no +symptoms of indisposition whatever,’ I replied, but at that moment I +chanced to gaze at a mirror, and was startled at my haggard appearance. +But when Mrs. Arras withdrew, (which she did soon after my arrival,) +the affable and lovely Laura banished every thought of my condition. My +wan cheek was soon animated with the flush of unbounded admiration, and +my sunken eye sparkled with the effervescence of enraptured delight. +Deep and ineradicable passion was engendering in my bosom. And from the +pleasure indicated in the glitter of Laura’s lustrous eyes, the +exquisite smile that dwelt upon her coral lips, and the gentle though +unconscious swellings of her breast, a conviction thrilled through my +soul that my sudden affection was reciprocated. Hours flew like +minutes, and I was surprised by the clock striking ONE before it +occurred to me that it was time to depart. Again I traversed the +streets at that solemn hour, insensible to every feeling, and +regardless of every object but the flaming torch lit up in my heart and +the seraphic image of Laura. At length I was warned by the scrutinizing +gaze of a watchman to repair to my lodgings. But my pillow afforded no +rest. All night long I pondered on the exhilarating events of the day. +Many were the endearing accents that escaped my lips as I addressed in +fancy my beloved Laura. I resolved to declare my passion ere many weeks +should pass. I began to settle in my mind the plans of life, and then, +for the first time, the future presented a dark spot to my view. I was +poor! Laura was rich and her family proud and aristocratic. Her father +was a distinguished judge. And the most high-born and haughty of the +land would doubtless (if they had not already) sigh at her feet! I +sprang upright on my couch when this discordant thought passed across +my mind. But the next moment I was consoled with the belief that I +already possessed her heart. And with a determination to have her, in +spite of every obstacle, should this be the case, I sank back through +weariness, and was soon steeped in deep, though unquiet slumber. + +“The two next succeeding Sundays I attended Laura to church. The +evenings of both days, and nearly all the intervening ones, I was with +her at the mansion of Mrs. Arras. But the evening of the last Sunday +was to me a memorable one. That evening I opened all my heart to Laura, +and found that every pulsation met a responding throb in hers—such, at +least, I believed to be the case—and so she asserted. During the short +time she remained in New York, I was her accredited lover, and ever, +when together, the attachment she manifested was as ardent as mine. +Indeed, at times, her passion seemed unbounded, and I was more than +once tempted to propose a clandestine and immediate union. I was the +more inclined to this, inasmuch as her father (who had now returned +from a trip to Washington) began to regard my visits with displeasure. +But he soon passed on to Boston to attend to the duties of his office, +and again I had unrestrained access to Laura. But I am dwelling too +long on this part of my story. + +“One day Henry Wold, my fellow-student, inquired the cause of the +palpable change in my bearing and disposition. Would that my lips had +been sealed to him forever! I knew that he was honest and generous by +nature, but I knew not to what extent his dissolute habits (gradually +acquired by having ample means, and yielding by degrees to the +temptations of vice) had perverted his good qualities. I told him of my +love, and while describing the charms of Laura, I was pleased to +attribute the interest he evinced at the recital to his disinterested +friendship for me, without the thought that _he_ could be captivated +himself with the bare description. He begged me to introduce him. This, +too, gratified my pride, for I knew he would admire her. The perfect +form, rare beauty, intelligence, and wealth of Wold did not startle an +apprehension in my breast. But I knew not—alas! who can know?—the +impulses that govern woman. Wold accompanied me that night to Mrs. +Arras’s. He seated himself at Laura’s side, and poured forth a flood of +flattery. They smiled in unison and returned glance for glance. Wold +exhibited his fine person and exerted all his captivating powers of +intellect. Laura scanned the one and listened attentively to the other. +Still I sat by in satisfaction, and strove to repress every rising fear +that my supremacy in Laura’s heart might be endangered. That evening, +as we returned homeward, in answer to my questions, Wold stated that my +‘intended’ was _pretty enough_ for any young man, and would, without +doubt, make a _very good wife_. So far from exhibiting the extravagant +admiration I expected, he seemed to speak of the object of my adoration +with comparative indifference. But a few evenings afterwards, I found +him with Laura when I arrived! I started back on beholding them seated +on the same sofa as I entered the parlour. Mrs. Arras was present, and +wore a thoughtful expression of features. Laura smiled on me, but I +thought it was not a happy smile. It did not render me happy. Wold +bowed familiarly, and made some witty remark about taking time by the +forelock. I sat down in silence, with a compressed lip, and an icy +chillness in my breast. An embarrassing pause ensued. At length Mrs. +Arras rose, and opening a folding-door, beckoned me into the adjoining +room. After we had been seated a few moments, during which her brow +assumed a more grave and thoughtful cast, she observed— + +“‘You seem to be excited to-night, Charles.’ + +“‘I have cause to be so,’ I replied. + +“‘I cannot deny it,’ said she, ‘when I consider every thing that has +transpired. You doubtless have an attachment for Laura—I have _seen_ +it—and I confess it was and _would_ be with my goodwill had I control +of the matter. I was acquainted with your family, and acted with the +best of motives when I permitted, perhaps encouraged, the intimacy. But +I thought not of the austere and passionate nature of my +brother-in-law. Neither did I think that any man could object to your +addresses to his daughter. But I was mistaken. Judge ____ has written +that your interviews with Laura must terminate.’ + +“‘Has he given any reason why?’ I asked, in tremulous tones. + +“‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘but such as mortify me as much as they must pain +you. He says that your fortune and family connections are not +sufficient to permit the alliance. Oh, I implore you not to suppose +these to be my sentiments. I know your family is devoid of ignoble +stain, and that your fortune was once second to none. Had I the +disposal of Laura’s hand it should be yours!’ + +“‘I believe it, Mrs. Arras!’ said I. ‘But do you net think these +objections of Judge ____ may be overcome?’ + +“‘Alas, never!’ she replied; ‘he is immovable when any thing of moment +is decided in his mind.’ + +“‘But,’ I continued, while the pulsations of my heart were distinctly +audible, ‘what says Laura?’ + +“‘Would I had been spared this question! You saw her a few minutes +since. HE who sees all things knows how my heart ached while I sat by. +I can only tell you she had just finished reading her father’s letter +when Mr. Wold was announced. Spare me, now, I beseech you!’ I folded my +arms and gazed, I know not how long, at the flame ascending from the +hearth. Oh! the agony described of the dying were bliss to that moment. +What could I think or do? I sat like one whose heart has been rudely +torn from his breast, and who was yet debarred the relief of death. +Existence to me at that moment was a hell, and my sufferings were those +of the damned! I thank God I have survived them. + +“I was aroused from my lethargy by hearing the street door close after +Wold, and I desired Mrs. Arras to permit me to have an interview with +Laura alone. It was granted, and I was soon in the presence of the +lovely maid. She was aware of my perturbation and its cause. She sat +with her eyes cast down in silence. I looked upon her form and her +features of perfect beauty, and oh! what tongue can describe the +mingled and contending emotions that convulsed my breast! I repressed +every violent or boisterous inclination of my spirits, however, and +taking her unresisting hand, sat down in sorrow at her side. + +“‘Laura,’ said I, with difficulty finding utterance, ‘do we thus part, +and for ever?’ She made no answer, but gazed steadfastly at the rich +carpet, while her face, though somewhat paler than usual, betrayed no +change of muscle. + +“‘Laura,’ I repeated, in tones more distinct, ‘are we _now_ to part, +and _for ever_?’ + +“‘Father says so,’ she replied. Her hand fell from my grasp. The +unmoved, _indifferent_ manner of her reply froze my blood in my veins! +I again stared at her composed features in astonishment allied to +contempt. + +“‘But what do _you_ say?’ I asked, with a bluntness that startled her. + +“‘Father knows best, perhaps!’ she replied, turning her eyes to mine, I +thought, with calmness. + +“‘Laura,’ said I, again taking her hand, for I was once more subdued by +her beauty, ‘I love you with my whole soul, and must continue to love +you. Ay, were you even to spurn me with your foot, so indissolubly have +my affections grown to your image, that my bleeding heart would turn in +adoration to the smiter. And I fondly hoped and believed that the +passion was returned—indeed, I had your assurance of the fact; nay, +think not I design to reproach you. It were bootless, had I the heart +to do it. Be assured that were you not only cruel to me, but steeped in +crime and guilty of injustice to the whole human race, I would still be +your friend were all others to forsake you. Deem me never your foe, or +capable of ever becoming such. May heaven bless you! We part—but, under +_any_ circumstances, should adverse fortune overtake you and I can be +of service, I beg you not to hesitate to apply to me. You will find me +still your friend. I will not attempt to reverse the decision which you +have made. However humiliating and poignant the thought may be that I +was unconsciously the means of introducing the _object_ that influenced +your decision, yet I will not murmur, neither will I become _his_ +enemy, for your sake. I hope you will be happy. I pray that heaven may +incline your heart to be true and _constant_ to Wold.’ + +“‘I hope so,’ said she in a low tone. + +“‘Laura,’ said I, rising, ‘you confess, then, that Wold possesses your +love?’ + +“‘Yes,’ said she; ‘but I cannot help it!’ + +“‘Farewell!’ said I, kissing her yielding hand, and turning +deliberately away, though with the sensation of one stunned by a +thunderbolt. I returned home, and threw myself like a loathsome carcass +upon my couch. I could not even think. My mind seemed like some +untenanted recess in the unfathomable depths below. Instantaneous +death, and even eternal perdition afterwards, could have presented no +new horrors then. It was haply the design of Providence that the +thought of self-destruction should not occur to me. With the means in +my reach, I would in all probability have rushed, uncalled and +unprepared, into the presence of an offended Creator. + +“A fever and delirium, such as possessed the poor youth lying there, +ensued. Under the kind care of my preceptor, my malady abated in a few +weeks; and, as I recovered, a change took place in my sentiments +regarding the events that produced my illness. My pride rose up to my +relief, and I resolved to overcome the effects of my disappointment. +Yet my heart melted in tenderness when I recalled the blissful moments +I had known with Laura. But I determined to prosecute my plans of life +as if no such occurrence had transpired. + +“A few days after bidding Laura adieu, she returned to Boston, +accompanied by Wold. Wold obtained his diploma while I was writhing +with disease. Even the loss of my degree was now borne with patience +and resignation. I forgave Wold, and implored him to make Laura happy. +He promised faithfully to do so when on the eve of setting out with +her. I did not desire to see her myself, but sent my forgiveness and +blessing. + +“In a few months my diploma was obtained, and I commenced the practice +under the most favourable circumstances. My late preceptor was now my +partner. Nearly a year elapsed before Wold returned to New York. But a +rumor preceded him which again opened all the fountains of bitterness +in my heart. It was said (and only two or three were possessed of the +secret) that he had betrayed and ruined the lovely Laura! I sought him, +to ascertain from his own lips if he had truly committed the act +imputed to him. I resolved to avenge her! But Wold avoided me. I could +not obtain his ear, and all my notes to him remained unanswered. +Despairing of getting an immediate answer from him, I repaired to Mrs. +Arras. Her house was in gloom and sorrow. When she appeared, my heart +sank within me to behold her sad and mournful brow. She pressed my +extended hand, while a flood of tears gushed from her eyes. + +“I knew by the disconsolate aspect of the aunt that the niece had been +dragged down from her high estate of virtue, fortune, and fame. I sat +down, and bowed my head in sorrow many minutes before the first word +was spoken. I still loved Laura. What could I say? how begin? + +“‘It is true!’ I at length exclaimed, rising up, and pacing the floor +rapidly, while many a tear ran down my cheek. + +“‘Alas! it is too true,’ iterated Mrs. Arras. + +“‘The black-hearted villain!’ I continued. + +“‘Ah, Mr. Glenn, her fate would have been different, if your addresses +had not been so cruelly spurned! God knows I was not to blame!’ said +she. + +“‘No, Mrs. Arras,’ said I; ‘had your will been done, I had not been +made miserable by the bereavement, nor the beautiful, the +innocent—the—Laura, with all her errors, dishonoured, ruined, crushed! +But the betrayer, the viper that stung her, still breathes. I loved +her—I love her yet—and I will be her avenger!’ Saying this, I rushed +away, heedless of the matron’s half-uttered entreaties to remain and to +desist from my plan of vengeance. + +“There was a young student of my acquaintance, a brave, chivalrous, +noble Virginian, to whom I imparted Laura’s sad story. He frankly +agreed with me that the venomous reptile in the human shape that could +beguile an unsuspecting and lovely girl to minister to his unhallowed +desires, and then, without hesitation or remorse, abandon her to the +dark, despairing shades of a frowning world, while he crawled on to +insinuate his poison into the breasts of new victims, should be +pursued, hunted down, and exterminated. Yet there was but one way for +me to punish Wold. The ignominy of the act, and the indignation of a +virtuous community were to him matters of indifference. The circle in +which he moved would smile at the misfortune of his victim, and applaud +his address, were the affair published. I resolved that he should +answer it to me alone. I had sworn in my heart to be Laura’s avenger. + +“I penned a message which was delivered by my young Virginian friend in +person. Wold said he had no quarrel with me, and strove to evade the +subject. He sent me a note, demanding wherein he had ever wronged me, +and stating that he was ready and willing to _explain_ any thing that +might have offended me. I returned his note, with a line on the same +sheet, informing him that I was the friend of Laura; and that he must +either meet me in the manner indicated in my message, or I would +publicly brand him as a dastardly scoundrel. He bit his lip, and +referred my friend to one of his companions in iniquity, a Mr. Knabb, +who lived by the _profession_ of cards and dice. It was arranged that +we should meet on one of the islands near the city, and that it should +be the next morning. This was what I desired, and I had urged my friend +to effect as speedy a consummation of the affair as possible. All the +tumult and perturbation that raged in my bosom on parting with Laura +had returned, and the throbbing of my brain was almost insufferable. It +was with difficulty that my young friend prevailed upon me to embrace +the few intermediate hours before the meeting to practice with the +pistol. I heeded not his declaration that Wold was an excellent shot, +because I felt convinced that justice was on my side. I thought that +the criminal must inevitably fall. However, I consented to practice a +little to quiet his importunity. Truly, it seemed that his urgent +solicitation was reasonable enough, for the first fire my ball was +several feet wide of the mark. I had never fired a pistol before in my +life. But there was no quivering of nerve, no misgiving as to my fate; +for notwithstanding I was aware of being a novice, yet I entertained a +conviction, a presentiment, that the destroyer of my Laura’s innocence +would fall beneath my hand. The next fire I did better, and soon +learned to strike the centre. + +“We were all on the ground at the hour appointed. While the seconds +were arranging the necessary preliminaries, Wold, finding that my eyes +rested steadily upon him, endeavoured to intimidate me. There was a +bush some thirty paces distant, from which a slim, solitary sprout ran +up several feet above the rest of the branches. He gazed an instant at +it while I was marking him, and then raised his pistol, and fired in +the direction. The sprout fell. Turning, his eyes met mine, while a +slight smile was visible on his lip. The effect did not realize his +hopes. I looked upon the act with such cold indifference that he at +first betrayed surprise at my calmness, and then exhibited palpable +signs of trepidation himself. He beckoned Knabb to him, and, after a +brief conference in a low tone, his second returned to my friend, and +inquired if no amends, no reconciliation, could avert the exchange of +shots. My friend reported his words to me, and my reply was that +nothing but the restitution of the maiden’s honour—instant +marriage—would be satisfaction. Wold protested—marriage was utterly +impossible under existing circumstances—but he would do any thing else. +But nothing else would answer; and I insisted on proceeding to business +without further delay. Wold heard me, and became pale. When we were +placed at our respective stations, and while the final arrangements +were being adjusted, I thought his replies to his friend’s observations +betrayed much alarm. But there was no retreat. I was never calmer in my +life, I even smiled when my careful friend told me that he had detected +and prevented a concerted plan that would have given Wold the +advantage. The word was given. Wold’s ball struck the earth before me, +and threw some sand in my face. Mine entered the seducer’s side! I saw +him gasp, reel, and fall, while the blood gushed out on the beach. My +friend hurried me away, and paused not until he had placed me in a +stage just starting for Philadelphia. I clasped his hand in silence, +and the next moment the horses plunged away at the crack of the +driver’s whip, and we were soon far on the road. Reflection ere long +convinced me that I had been guilty of an unjustifiable act. If it was +no crime in the estimation of men, it was certainly a grievous +transgression in the eyes of God! I then trembled. The bleeding form +and reproachful stare of Wold haunted my vision when the darkness set +in. Oh, the errors, in act and deed, of an impetuous youth thrown upon +the world with no considerate friend to advise him! The pity I felt for +Laura was soon forgotten in the horrible thought that I was a MURDERER! +Oh, the anguish of that night! Why did I not leave Wold to the judgment +of an offended God? Why did I not permit him to suffer the gnawing of +the canker that must ever abide in his heart, instead of staining my +hands with his blood? Freely would I have abandoned every hope of +pleasure in the world to have washed his blood away! + +[Illustration: “I saw him gasp, reel, and fall.”] + + +“When I arrived in Philadelphia, with a heavy heart, I sought a quiet +hotel, not daring to confront my uncle with such a tale of woe and +crime. For several days I remained in my chamber without seeing any one +but the servant that brought my food. At length I asked for a New York +paper. For more than an hour after it was brought I could not summon +courage to peruse the hated tragedy. Finally I snatched up the sheet +convulsively and glanced along the columns. When my eyes rested upon +the paragraph I was in quest of, I sprang to my feet in ecstasy. The +wound had not been fatal! Wold still lived! + +“In a twinkling I was dressed and on my way to my uncle’s residence. +Notwithstanding there was a dreadful epidemic in the city, and hearses +and mourners were passing every few minutes, I felt within a buoyancy +that defied the terrors of disease and death. + +“But it seemed that disaster and desolation were fated to attend me +whithersoever I turned. A gloom brooded upon my heart when I approached +my uncle’s mansion, and found the badge of mourning at the door. I +paused and asked the servant who was dead. He informed me that my uncle +alone remained. His wife and children, all had been consigned to the +tomb the day before, and he himself now lay writhing with the fell +disease. I rushed in and entered the sick chamber. It was the chamber +of death. My uncle pressed my hand and died. I followed him to the +grave, the chief and almost only mourner. + +“I returned and shut myself up in the mansion, bewildered and +stupefied. I was now the possessor of immense wealth. But I was +unhappy. I knew not what to do to enjoy life. Gradually the pestilence +abated and disappeared, and by degrees the gloom that oppressed me +subsided. At the end of a few months, I was informed by my young +Virginian friend that Wold had entirely recovered. I likewise received +a letter from Mrs. Arras, stating that Judge ____ had sought out Laura, +(who had been enticed to an obscure part of the city,) and, as her +misfortune had been kept a profound secret among the few, he forgave +the offence, and once more extended to her a father’s love and a +father’s protection. I need not say that a blissful thrill bounded +through my veins. Wold was living, and Laura not irrecoverably lost. +Yet I did not then deem it possible that I could, under such +circumstances, ever desire to possess the once adored, but since truly +fallen, Laura. But I experienced a sweet gratification to be thus +informed of the prospect of her being reinstated in society. My love +was not yet wholly extinguished! + +“When it was generally known that I possessed great riches, a crowd of +flatterers and sycophants hovered around me. I was a distinguished +guest at the mansions of the fashionable and great, and had in turn +many brilliant parties at my residence. But among the tinsel and +glitter of the gay world I sought in vain for peace and happiness. Many +beautiful and bewitching belles lavished their sweetest smiles upon me, +but they could not re-ignite the smothered flame in my bosom. Wine +could only exhilarate for a moment, to be succeeded by a gnawing +nausea. Cards could only excite while I lost, to be succeeded by +irritability and disgust. + +“Thus my time was spent for twelve months, when I suddenly conceived +the resolution to seek a union with the ill-fated Laura, +notwithstanding all the obloquy the world might attach to the act. I +still loved her in spite of myself. I could not live in peace without +her, and I determined without delay to offer her my hand, heart, and +fortune. I set out for Boston, and on my arrival instantly proceeded to +the residence of Judge ____. Again my evil star was in the ascendant. +Desolation and death presided in Judge ____’s family. The ominous badge +of mourning greeted me at the threshold; Laura’s mother had just been +consigned, broken-hearted, to the cold grave. The venerable Judge bowed +his hoary head to the blows that Providence inflicted. He could not +speak to me. His reply to my offer in relation to his child was only a +flood of tears. He then retreated into his library and locked the door. +An aged domestic told me all. Laura had abandoned her parental roof, +and voluntarily entered one of those sinks of pollution that so much +degrade human nature! I stood upon an awful abyss. The whirlpools of +deceit, ingratitude, indifference, and calumny, howled around me, and +the dark floods of sensual corruption roared below. Turn whithersoever +I might (alas, I thought not of heaven!) gloom, discord, and misery +seemed to be my portion. + +“I hurried back to Philadelphia, and strove to mitigate my grief in the +vortex of unrestrained dissipation. I lavished my gold on undeserving +and unthankful objects. I cared not for life, much less for fortune. I +was the victim of a frenzy that rendered me reckless, and bereft me of +calm meditation. My frantic laughter was heard at the gaming-table, and +my plaudits were boisterous at the theatre, but I was a stranger to +enjoyment. There was no pleasure for me. My brawling companions swore I +was the happiest and noblest being on earth. But I knew too well there +was not a more miserable fiend in hell. + +“At length disease fortunately arrested my demoniac career before my +wealth was expended. It was my good fortune to secure the services of a +distinguished and skillful physician. He was a benevolent and +universally esteemed _Quaker_. His attention was not only constant, but +soothing and parental. His earnest and tender tones often made me weep. +When I recovered, I resolved to amend my life. This _friend_ had +applied a healing balm to my aching heart. I determined to prosecute my +profession, and before a year elapsed my exertions began to be crowned +with success. + +“I was a frequent attendant at the lectures, and on terms of the +closest intimacy with the professors. Indeed, I had a prospect of a +professorship myself. I devoted my attention particularly to the +anatomical department of my studies, which I preferred; and it was in +this department of the institution that I would probably be installed +in a few months. The gentleman who occupied that chair was about to +resign, and, being my friend, used his influence to procure my +election. + +“My medical friend invited me one evening to be present at a +dissection, which promised to be one of extreme interest. He described +the subject as one that had elicited the admiration of the class. He +said it was a female of perfect proportions, but who had recently been +an inmate of a brothel of the lowest description. She had, in a state +of beastly inebriation, fallen into the fire. Yet, with the exception +of a small but fatal orifice in the side, her form and features +remained unaltered. I consented to meet him at the hour appointed, and +made my arrangements accordingly. + +“That evening there were many more persons in the dissecting-room than +usual. I had now become much more cheerful, and enjoyed the frank +greetings of my many friends with a relish and an ardour that had +hitherto been unknown to me. Many flippant remarks and careless +observations were exchanged in relation to the business before us. We +had become accustomed to such scenes, and habit had rendered us callous +to the reflections and impressions generally produced when gazing upon +the cold lineaments of the dead. Dissection was an indispensable act. +It had been resorted to under the deliberate conviction that it was +necessary to the perfection of science, and in a great degree redounded +to the welfare and preservation of the living. To us the pale inanimate +limbs, and the attenuated, insensible bodies of the dead brought no +disagreeable sensations. We cut and sawed them with the same composed +indifference with which the sculptor hews the marble. + +“‘This is a beautiful subject we have to-night, Glenn,’ observed one of +my friends, as we approached the dead body. He then threw up the white +cloth, and exposed the corpse, the head being still obscured. A +breathless silence reigned, while all gazed at the lifeless form in +admiration. She was a perfect Venus! Not having been wasted and +shrivelled by disease, the symmetry of her lineaments was preserved in +all the exactness of life and health. Her bust was full, plump, and the +skin of the most exquisite whiteness, except where it had been marred +by the fire that caused her death. Her limbs surpassed any model I had +ever beheld, round and tapering, smooth and white as ivory. Her ankles +were most admirably turned, and her feet of the smallest dimensions. +Her handsome and gently swelling arms were covered with a slight gauze +of short, dark hair, through which the snowy whiteness of her skin was +displayed to greater advantage. Her hands were extremely delicate, and +indicated that she had been accustomed to ease and luxury. + +“I was requested to open her breast and exhibit to the students the +formation and functions of the heart. She was lying on her back, on a +long narrow table, around which the students stood gazing at her fair +proportions. Some reflected in sorrow that so beautiful and lovely a +being should die and be conveyed to the dissecting-room; while others +joked and laughed in a light unfeeling manner. When about to make an +incision with the sharp glittering steel in my hand, for the first time +since I had graduated, I confessed that my nerves were too much +affected by the sight of the subject to proceed, and I begged my +friends to be patient a few minutes, during which I would doubtless +regain my accustomed composure. + +“‘What was her name?’ I inquired of the friend who had accosted me on +my entrance. + +“‘Haven’t you heard?’ said he, smiling—‘I thought you all knew her. +Nearly every person in the city has heard of her, for she was the most +celebrated and notorious “fallen angel” in the city—celebrated for her +unrivalled beauty and many triumphs, and notorious for her heartless +deceit and reckless disregard of her own welfare. She has led captive +many an unguarded swain by a passing smile in the street, and then +unceremoniously deserted him to join some drunken and beastly party in +an obscure and degraded alley.’ + +“‘Her name—what was her name?’ I again asked, once more taking up the +knife, my nerves sufficiently braced by the above recital. + +“‘Anne R____,’ he replied; ‘I thought,’ he continued, ‘no one could be +ignorant of her name, after hearing a description of her habits.’ + +“‘_All_ of us,’ I continued, rallying, ‘are not familiar with the +persons and names of the “fallen angels” about town. But let us look at +her face.’ Saying this, I endeavoured to lift the white cloth from her +head, but finding that the resurrectionist had tied a cord tightly +round the muslin enclosing her neck and head, I desisted. + +“‘Her face is in keeping with her body and limbs,’ said my merry +friend; ‘she was a perfect beauty. I have seen her in Chestnut Street +every fair day for the last six months, until she got drunk and fell in +the fire.’ + +“I now proceeded to business, but my flesh quivered as my knife +penetrated the smooth fair breast of the subject. Soon the skin and the +flesh were removed, and the saw grated harshly as it severed the ribs. +When the heart was exposed, all bent forward instinctively, scanning it +minutely, and seemingly with a curiosity to ascertain if it differed +from those of others whose lives were different. + +[Illustration: It was Laura, the loved, adored Laura!] + + +“When the operation was over, my anxiety to see her face returned. +After an ineffectual effort to untie the cord, I became impatient, and +seizing the knife that lay on the table, ripped open the muslin that +hid her features! My God! The knife dropped from my hand, and +penetrating the floor, quivered upright at my feet, while every member +of my body trembled in unison with it! I raised my hands with my +fingers spread out to the utmost tension. My mouth fell open, and my +eyes felt as if they were straining to leap from my head. _It was +Laura_—the loved, adored Laura—_my_ Laura! My friends heard me repeat +the name, and marked with surprise and concern my inexplicably +miserable condition. They gathered round me, and endeavoured to divert +my attention from the dead and now gory body. It was in vain. I heeded +not their words, but gazed steadfastly at the sad features of Laura, +with my hands still uplifted. I was speechless, deaf, and immovable. No +tear moistened my eyes, but burning thoughts rushed through my brain. +My heart was cold, cold. Ah, I remembered how I had loved her once! I +thought of the time when I was happy to bow down at her feet, and in +good faith attribute to her many of the pure qualities pertaining to +_risen_ angels. And this was her end! The beautiful and innocent—the +loving and beloved—the high born and wealthy—the light and joy of fond +and indulgent parents—had been beguiled by the infernal tempter to make +one step aside from the straight and narrow-path of duty—and this was +the result! The sensitive and guileless girl became an incarnate fiend, +callous to every modest and virtuous impulse—scorned by the honest and +good, and hating and undermining the redeeming principles of her +species—rushing from the high station which her ancestors had arduously +laboured for generations to attain, and voluntarily taking up her abode +in the dens of squalid misery and indelible pollution—closing her eyes +to the might and majesty of a merciful God, beckoning her to his +eternal throne in heaven, and giving heed to the fatal devices of the +enemy of mankind, till she was dragged down, down to the innermost +depths of a raging and roaring hell! Such was the fate of Laura. Such +is the fate of thousands who willingly err, though it be ever so +slight, for the sake of enjoying an impious gratification. Poor Laura! +Oh, how I loved her! But it is bootless to think of her now. + +“I was gently forced from the dissecting-room by my friends, and +conducted to my home in silence—in silence, because I had no words for +any one. I pressed their hands at the door of my mansion, and bowing, +they departed for their homes to muse over the incidents of the +evening. I entered my silent chamber, but not to rest. I threw open the +casement and gazed out at the genial rays of the moon. The dark green +leaves of the linden trees were motionless, and the silvery rays +struggling through them cast a checkered and faint tint of mingled +light and shade on the pavement beneath. The cool fresh air soothed my +throbbing temples. I sank back in my seat and gazed up at the +innumerable stars in the boundless sky. I thought the stellar host +glittered with unusual brilliance, as if there were a joyous and holy +revelry going on in heaven. My heart grew calm. I felt a conviction +that true happiness, and purity of thought and purpose were +inseparable. I knew that the contaminations of the world had overthrown +many a righteous resolve, and linked the noblest minded with infamy. I +thought of Laura. The seductions of the world had literally prostrated +an angel before my eyes. I determined to _leave_ the world, if not for +ever, at least as long as its temptations to err, in the remotest +degree, were liable to beset my path. I came hither.” + +When Glenn finished his narrative, Roughgrove rose in silence, and +producing a small Bible that he always carried about his person, read +in a low, but distinct and impressive tone, several passages which were +peculiarly applicable to the state of their feelings. Glenn then +approached the couch where William slumbered peacefully. A healthful +perspiration rested on his forehead, and a sweet smile played upon his +lips, indicating that his dreams were not among the savage scenes in +which he had so lately mingled. Mary, who had fallen asleep while +seated at his side, overcome with silent watching, yet rested with her +head on the same pillow, precisely in the same attitude she reclined +when Glenn began his recital. Roughgrove took her in his arms, and +placing her softy at her brother’s feet, bestowed a kiss upon her brow, +and retired with Glenn to rest. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +Balmy spring—Joe’s curious dream—He prepares to catch a +fish—Glenn—William and Mary—Joe’s sudden and strange +appearance—La-u-na—The trembling fawn—The fishing sport—The ducking +frolic—Sneak and the panther. + + +It was now the first week in May. Every vestige of winter had long +since disappeared, and the verdure of a rich soil and mild temperature +was fast enrobing the earth with the freshest and most pleasing of +colours. Instead of the dreary expanse of ice that had covered the +river, its waters now murmured musically by in the early morn—its +curling eddies running along the sedgy shore, while the rising sun +slowly dissipated the floating mists; and the inspiring notes of all +the wild variety of birds, contributed to invest the scene with such +charms as the God of nature only can impart, and which may only be +fully enjoyed and justly appreciated by guileless and unsophisticated +mortals. + +Glenn rambled forth, and, partaking the harmony that pervaded the +earth, air, and waters, his breast swelled with a blissful exultation +that can never be known amid the grating voices of contending men, or +experienced in crowded cities, where many confused sounds vibrate +harshly and distracting on the ear. He stood in his little garden among +the flowers that Mary had planted, and watched the humming-birds poised +among the trembling leaves, their tiny wings still unruffled by the +dew, while their slender beaks inhaled the sweet moisture of the +variegated blossoms. Long he regarded the enchanting scene, unconscious +of the flight of time, and alike regardless of the past and the future +in his all-absorbing admiration of the present, wherein he deemed he +was not far remote from that Presence to which time and eternity are +obedient—when his phantasm was abruptly and unceremoniously put to +flight by his man Joe, who rushed out of the house with a long rod in +his hand; yawning and rubbing his eyes, as if he had been startled from +his morning slumber but a moment before. + +“What’s the matter?” demanded Glenn. + +“It was a wapper!” said Joe. + +“What was?” + +“The fish.” + +“Where?” asked Glenn. + +“I’ll tell you. I dreamt I was sitting on a rock, down at the ferry, +with this rod in my hand, fishing for perch, when a thundering big +catfish, as long as I am, took hold. I dreamt he pulled and I +pulled—sometimes he had me in the water up to my knees, and sometimes I +got him out on dry land. But he always flounced and kicked back again. +Yet he couldn’t escape, because the hook was still in his mouth, and +when he jumped into the river I jumped to the rod, and so we had it +over and over—” + +“And now have done with it,” said Glenn, interrupting him. “What are +you holding the rod now for?” + +“I’m going to try to catch him,” said Joe, with unaffected simplicity. + +“Merely because you had this dream!” continued Glenn, his features +relaxing into a smile. + +“Yes—I believe in dreams,” said Joe. “Once, when we were living in +Philadelphia, I had one of these same dreams. It was just about the +same hour—” + +“How do you know what hour it was you dreamt about the fish?” again +interrupted Glenn. + +“Why—I—,” stammered Joe, “I’m sure it was about daybreak, because the +sun rose a little while after I got out.” + +“That might be the case,” said Glenn, “if you were to dream about the +same thing from sun-down till sun-up. And I believe the fish was +running in your head last night before I went to bed, for you were then +snoring and jerking your arms about.” + +“Well, I’ll tell you my other dream, anyhow. I dreamt I was walking +along Spruce Street wharf with my head down, when all at once my toe +struck against a red morocco pocket-wallet; I stooped down and picked +it up and put it in my pocket, and went home before I looked to see +what was in it.” + +“Well, what was in it when you did look?” asked Glenn. + +“There was a one thousand dollar note on the Bank of the United States, +with the president’s and cashier’s names on it, all genuine. Oh, I was +so happy! I put it in my vest-pocket and sewed it up.” + +“But what have you done with it since?” asked Glenn. + +“I—Hang it! it was only a dream!”[1] said Joe, unconsciously feeling +in his empty pocket. + +“But what has that dream to do with the fish?” pursued Glenn. + +“I’ll tell you,” said Joe. “When I got up in the morning and discovered +it was a dream, I slipped on my clothes as quickly as possible and set +off for the wharf. When I got there, I walked along slowly with my head +down till at length my toe struck against an oyster-shell. I picked it +up, and while I was looking at it, the captain of a schooner invited me +on board of his vessel to look at his cargo of oysters, just stolen +from Deep Creek, Virginia. He gave me at least six dozen to eat!” + +“And this makes you have faith in such dreams?” asked Glenn, striving +in vain to repress his laughter. + +“I got _something_ by the dream,” said Joe. “I had a first rate +oyster-breakfast.” + +“But what has all this to do with the fish?” continued Glenn; “perhaps, +instead of the fish, you expect to catch a _frog_ this time. You will +still be an Irishman, Joe. Go and try your luck.” + +“St. Patrick forbid that I should be any thing else but an Irishman! I +should like to know if an Irishman ain’t as good as anybody else, +particularly when he’s born in America, as I was? But the dream in +Philadelphia _did_ have something to do with a fish. Didn’t I catch a +fish? Isn’t an oyster a fish? And it had something to do with _this_ +fish, too. I’ve been bothering my head ever since I got up about what +kind of _bait_ to catch him with, and I’m sure I never would have +thought of the right kind if you hadn’t mentioned that _frog_ just now. +I recollect they say that’s the very best thing in the world to bait +with for a catfish. I’ll go straight to the brook and hunt up a frog!” +Saying this, Joe set out to execute his purpose, while Glenn proceeded +to Roughgrove’s house to see how William progressed in his studies. + +The intelligent youth, under the guidance of Roughgrove, Glenn, and his +unwearying and affectionate sister, was now rapidly making amends for +the long neglect of his education while abiding with the unlettered +Indians. He had already gone through the English grammar, and was +entering the higher branches of study. The great poets of his own +country, and the most approved novelists were his companions during the +hours of relaxation; for when the illimitable fields of intellect were +opened to his vision, he would scarce for a moment consent to withdraw +his admiring gaze. Thus, when it was necessary for a season to cease +his toil in the path of learning, he delighted to recline in some cool +shade with a pleasing book in his hand, and regale his senses with the +flowers and refreshing streams of imaginative authors. And thus sweetly +glided his days. Could such halcyon moments last, it were worse than +madness to seek the wealth and honours of this world! In that secluded +retreat, though far from the land of his nativity, with no community +but the companionship of his three or four friends and the joyous +myriads of birds—no palaces but the eternal hills of nature, and no +pageantry but the rays of the rising and setting sun streaming in +prismatic dies upon them, the smiling youth was far happier than he +would have been in the princely halls of his fathers, where the +sycophant only bent the knee to receive a load of gold, and the friend +that might protect him on the throne would be the first to stab him on +the highway. + +A spreading elm stood near the door of Roughgrove’s house, and beneath +its clustering boughs William and Mary were seated on a rude bench, +entirely screened from the glaring light of the sun. A few paces +distant the brook glided in low murmurs between the green flags and +water violets over its pebbly bed. The morning dew yet rested on the +grass in the shade. The soft sigh of the fresh breeze, as it passed +through the motionless branches of the towering elm, could scarce be +heard, but yet sufficed ever and anon to lift aside the glossy ringlets +that hung pendent to the maiden’s shoulders. The paroquet and the +thrush, the bluebird and goldfinch, fluttered among the thick foliage +and trilled their melodies in sweetest cadence. Both the brother and +sister wore a happy smile. Happy, because the innocence of angels dwelt +in the bosom of the one, and the memory of his guileless and blissful +days of childhood possessed the other. Occasionally they read some +passages in a book that lay open on Mary’s lap, describing the last +days of Charles I., and then the bright smile would be dimmed for a +moment by a shade of sadness. + +“Oh! poor man!” exclaimed Mary, when William read of the axe of the +executioner descending on the neck of the prostrate monarch. + +“It is far better to dwell in peace in such a quiet and lonely place as +this, than to be where so many cruel men abide,” said William, +pondering. + +“Ah me! I did not think that Christian men could be so cruel,” said +Mary, a bright tear dropping from her long eyelash. + +“But the book says he was a tyrant and deserved to die,” continued the +youth, his lips compressed with firmness. + +“He’s coming!” exclaimed Mary, suddenly, and the pitying thought of the +unfortunate Charles vanished from her mind. But as she steadily gazed +up the path a crimson flush suffused her smooth brow and cheek, and she +rose gracefully, and with a smile of delight, welcomed Glenn to the +cool and refreshing shade of the majestic elm. + +“You have come too late. William has already said his lesson, and I’m +sure he knew it perfectly,” said Mary, half-reproachfully and +half-playfully. + +“Mary don’t know, Mr. Glenn; because I am now further advanced than she +is,” said William. + +“But what kept you away so long this beautiful morning?” continued the +innocent girl. “Don’t you see the dew is almost dried away in the sun, +and the morning-glories are nearly all closed?” + +“I was lingering in the garden among the delicate flowers you gave me +Mary; and the green and golden humming-birds charmed me so that I could +not tear myself away,” replied our hero, as he sat down between the +brother and sister. + +“I shall go with brother William on the cliff and get some wild roses +and hare-bells, and then all your humming-birds will leave you and stay +here with me,” said Mary, smiling archly. + +“But you will be the prettiest bird among them, and flower too, to my +eyes,” said Glenn, gazing at the clear and brilliant though laughing +eyes of the pleased girl. + +“If that were the case, why did you linger so long in the garden?” +asked the maid, with some seriousness. + +“I should not have done so, Mary, but for Joe, who, you know, will +always be heard when he has any thing to say; and this morning he had a +ludicrous dream to tell me.” + +“I like Joe a great deal—he makes me laugh every time I see him. And +you must tell me what he said, and how he looked and acted, that I may +know whether you did right to stay away so long,” said the thoughtless +and happy girl, eager to listen to the accents of the one whose +approach had illumined her features with the mystical fires of the +heart. + +Glenn faithfully repeated every word and gesture of his dialogue with +Joe, and the unsophisticated girl’s joyous laugh rang merrily up the +echoing vale in sweet accompaniment with the carols of the feathered +songsters. + +When the narration ended, they both turned with surprise to William, +who, instead of partaking their hilarity as usual, sat perfectly +motionless in deep thought, regarding with apparent intensity the +straggling spears of grass that grew at his feet. The book he had taken +up, which had dropped from Mary’s lap when she hastily rose at the +approach of Glenn, now fell unobserved by him from his relaxed hand. +His face became unusually pale. His limbs seemed to be strangely +agitated, and the pulsations of his heart were audible. + +“What’s the matter, dear brother?” cried Mary, in alarm. + +“La-u-na—LA-U-NA!” he exclaimed, and, sinking softly down on his knees, +applied his ear close to the ground in a listening attitude. + +“Dear brother William! _do_ tell Mary what ails you! What is La-u-na!” +said the startled and distressed girl, with affectionate concern. + +“_La-u-na_—THE TREMBLING FAWN!” cried William, pantingly. + +“Listen” said Glenn, checking Mary when she was about to repeat her +inquiry. A plaintive flute-like sound was heard at intervals, floating +on the balmy and almost motionless air down the green-fringed vale. At +times it resembled the mournful plaint of the lonely dove, and then +died away like the last notes of the expiring swan. + +Before many minutes elapsed another sound of quite a different +character saluted their ears. This was a rustling among the bushes, +heard indistinctly at first, while the object was far up the valley, +but as it approached with fearful rapidity, the rushing noise became +tremendous, and a few moments after, when the trembling sumachs parted +in view, they beheld Joe! He dashed through the briers interspersed +among the undergrowth, and plunged through the winding brook that +occasionally crossed his path, as if all surrounding obstacles and +obstructions were contemptible in comparison with the danger behind! +Leaping over intervening rocks, and flying through dense clusters of +young trees that ever and anon threatened to impede his progress, he at +length reached the spot where the little group still remained seated. +Without hat or coat, and panting so violently that he was unable to +explain distinctly the cause of his alarm, poor Joe threw himself down +on the earth in the most distressed and pitiable condition. + +“What have you seen? What is the cause of this affright?” asked Glenn. + +“I—oh—they—coming!” cried Joe, incoherently. + +“What is coming?” continued Glenn. + +“I—Indians!” exclaimed he, springing up and rushing into the house. + +“They are friendly Indians, then,” said Mary; “because the hostile ones +never come upon us at this season of the year.” + +“So I have been told,” said Glenn; “but even the sight of a friendly +Indian would scare Joe.” + +“It is La-u-na!” said William, still attentively listening. + +“What is _La-u-na_?” interrogated Mary, again. + +“The _Trembling Fawn_!” repeated William, with emphasis, in a +mysterious and abstracted manner. Presently he stood up and intently +regarded the dim path over-shadowed by the luxuriant foliage that Joe +had so recently traversed, and an animated smile played upon his lips, +and dark, clear eyes sparkled with a thrill of ecstasy. + +A slight female form, emerged from the dark green thicket, and glided +more like a spirit of the air than a human being towards the wondering +group. Her light steps produced no sound. In each hand she held a rich +bouquet of fresh wild flowers, and leaves and blossoms were +fantastically, though tastefully, arranged in her hair and on her +breast. A broad, shining gold band decked her temples, but many of her +raven ringlets had escaped from their confinement, and floated out on +the wind as she sped towards her beloved. + +“La-u-na! La-u-na!” cried William, darting forward frantically and +catching the girl in his arms. He pressed her closely and fondly to his +heart, and she hid her face on his breast. Thus they clung together +several minutes in silence, when they were interrupted by Roughgrove, +whose attention had been attracted by the sudden affright of Joe. + +“William, my dear boy,” said the grieved old man, “you must not have +any thing to do with the Indians—you promised us that you would not—” + +“Leave us!” said the youth, sternly, and stamping impatiently. + +“Do, father!” cried Mary, who looked on in tears, a few paces apart; +“brother won’t leave us again—I’m sure he won’t—will you, William?” + +“No, I will not!” exclaimed the youth. The Indian girl comprehended the +meaning of his words, and, tearing, away from his embrace, stood with +folded arms at his side, with her penetrating and reproachful eyes +fixed full upon him, while her lips quivered and her breast heaved in +agitation. All now regarded her in silence and admiration. Her form was +a perfect model of beauty. Her complexion was but a shade darker than +that of the maidens of Spain. Her brows were most admirably arched, and +her long silken lashes would have been envied by an Italian beauty. Her +forehead and cheeks were smooth, and all her features as regular as +those of a Venus. The mould of her face was strictly Grecian, and on +her delicate lips rested a half-formed expression of sad regret and +firm resolution. Her vestments were rich, and highly ornamented with +pearls and diamonds. She wore a light snowy mantle made of swan skins, +on which a portion of the fleecy down remained. Beneath, the dress was +composed of skins of the finest finish, descending midway between her +knees and ankles, where it was met by the tops of the buckskin +moccasins, that confined her small and delicately-formed feet. Her +arms, which were mostly concealed under her mantle, were bare from the +elbows down, and adorned at the wrists with silver bands. + +“Why, hang it all! Was there nothing running after me but this squaw?” +asked Joe, who had ventured forth again unobserved, and now stood +beside Glenn and Mary. + +“Silence!” said Glenn. + +“Oh, don’t call _her_ a squaw, Joe—she’s more like an angel than a +squaw,” said Mary, gazing tenderly at the lovers, while tears were yet +standing in her eyes. + +“I won’t do so again,” said Joe, “because she’s the prettiest wild +thing I ever saw; and if Mr. William don’t marry her, I will.” + +“Keep silent, Joe, or else leave us,” again interposed Glenn. + +“I’ll go catch my fish. I had just found a frog, and was in the act of +catching it, when I saw the sq—the—_her_—and I thought then that I +would just run home and let you know she was coming before I took it. +But I remember where it was, and I’ll have it now in less than no +time.” Saying this, Joe set off up the valley again, though not very +well pleased with himself for betraying so much alarm when there was so +little danger. + +“La-u-na, I am no Indian,” said William, at length, in the language of +her tribe, and much affected by her searching stare. + +“But you were once the young chief that led our warriors to battle, and +caught La-u-na’s heart. I heard you were a pale-face after you were +taken away from us; and I thought if you would not fly back to La-u-na, +like the pigeon that escapes from the talons of the eagle and returns +to its mate, then I would lose you—forget you—hate you. I tried, but I +could not do it. When the white moon ran up to the top of the sky, and +shone down through the tall trees in my face, I would ever meet you in +the land of dreams, with the bright smile you used to have when you +were wont to put your arm around me and draw me so gently to your +breast. I was happy in those dreams. But they would not stay. The +night-hawk flew low and touched my eyes with his wings as he flapped +by, and I awoke. Then my breast was cold and my cheeks were wet. The +katydids gathered in the sweet rose-bushes about me and sung +mournfully. La-u-na was unhappy. La-u-na must see her Young Eagle, or +go to the land of spirits. She called her wild steed to her side, and, +plucking these flowers to test his fleetness, sprang upon him and flew +hither. He is now grazing in the prairie at the head of the valley; and +here are the blossoms, still alive, fresh and sweet.” The trembling and +tearful girl then gently and sadly strewed the flowers over the grass +at her feet. + +“Sweet La-u-na!” cried William, snatching up the blossoms and pressing +them to his lips, “forgive the young chief; he will still love you and +never leave you again.” + +“No—no—no!” said the girl, shaking her head in despair; “the pale face +youth will not creep through the silent and shady forest with La-u-na +any more. He will gather no more ripe grapes for the Trembling Fawn. He +will not bathe again in the clear waters with La-u-na. He will give her +no more rings of roses to put on her breast. The Trembling Fawn is +wounded. She must find a cool shade and lie down. The dove will perch +over her and wail. She will sing a low song. She will close her eyes +and die.” + +Oh, no! cried William, placing his arms around her tenderly. + +“Oh, no!” cried William, placing his arms around her tenderly; “La-u-na +must not die; or, if she does, she shall not die alone. Why will not +La-u-na dwell with me, among my friends?” The girl started, and +exhibited signs of mingled delight and doubt. + + +“Oh, no!” cried William, placing his arms around her tenderly, “La-u-na +must not die, or if she does, she shall not die alone. Why will not +La-u-na dwell with me among my friends?” The girl started and exhibited +signs of mingled delight and doubt, and then replied— + +“The pale maiden would hate La-u-na, and the gray-head would drive her +away.” + +“No, La-u-na,” said William; “they would all love you, and we would be +so happy! Say you will stay with me here, and you shall be my wife, and +I will have no other love. My sister is sweet and mild as La-u-na, and +my father will always be kind.” + +The dark eyes of the girl assumed an unwonted lustre, and she turned +imploringly to Mary, Glenn, and Roughgrove. + +“Oh!” cried William, in his native tongue, addressing his white +friends; “let La-u-na dwell with us! She is as innocent as the lily by +the brook, and as noble as a queen. Father,” he continued, stepping +forward and taking Roughgrove’s hand, “you won’t refuse my request! And +you, sister Mary, I know you will love her as dearly as you do me. And +you, my friend,” said he, turning to Glenn, “will soon hear her speak +our own language, and she will cull many beautiful flowers for you that +the white man never yet beheld. Grant this,” added the youth, after +pausing a few moments, while his friends hung their heads in silence, +“and I will remain with you always; but if you refuse, I must fly to +the forest again.” + +“Stay! Oh, brother, you shall not go!” cried Mary, and rushing forward, +she threw her arms round his neck. The Indian girl kissed her pale +brow, and smiled joyfully, when the youth told her that Mary was his +dear sister. + +“He loves her, and her affection for him is imperishable!” said Glenn. + +“And why may they not be happy together, if they dwell with us?” asked +Roughgrove, pondering. + +“There is no reason why they should not be. Let us tell them to remain +and be happy,” said Glenn. + +When fully informed that she might abide with them and still love her +Young Eagle, La-u-na was almost frantic with ecstasy. She looked +gratefully and fondly on her new friends, and pressed their hands in +turn. She seemed to be more especially fond of Mary, and repeatedly +wound her smooth and soft arms affectionately about her waist and neck. + +William led his Indian bride to the seat under the spreading green +tree, and signified a desire to commune with her alone. When seated +together on the rude bench, the maiden’s hand clasped in William’s, +Mary fondly kissed them both and withdrew in company with Roughgrove +and Glenn. Roughgrove prostrated himself in prayer when within the +house. Mary ran up to the top of the beetling cliff to cull flowers, +and Glenn directed his steps down the valley towards the river, whither +Joe had preceded him with the frog he had succeeded in capturing. + +Glenn was met about midway by Joe, who was returning slowly, with +peculiar marks of agitation on his face. He had neither frog, rod, nor +fish in his hand. + +“I thought you were fishing,” remarked Glenn. + +“So I am,” replied Joe; “and I’ve had the greatest luck you ever heard +of.” + +“Well, tell me your success.” + +“I had a bite,” continued he, “in less than three minutes after I threw +in my hook. It was a wapper! When he took hold I let him play about +awhile with a slack line, to be certain and get it well fixed in his +mouth. But when I went to draw up, the monster made a splash or two, +and then whizzed out into the middle of the river!” + +“Where was the hook?” asked Glenn. + +“In his mouth, to be sure,” replied Joe. + +“And the line?” + +“Fast to the rod.” + +“And the rod?” + +“Fast to the line!” said Joe, “and following the fish at the rate of +ten knots, while I stood on the bank staring in utter astonishment.” + +“Then, where was your great success?” demanded Glenn. + +“It was a noble _bite_,” said Joe. + +“But you were the _bitten_ one,” remarked Glenn, scanning Joe’s visage, +which began to assume a disconsolate cast. + +“If I’d only been thinking about such a wapper, and had been on my +guard,” said Joe, “splash me if he should ever have got my rod away in +that manner—I’d have taken a ducking first!” + +“Have you no more lines?” asked Glenn. + +“No,” replied Joe, “none but your’s.” + +“You are welcome to it—but be quick, and I will look on while you have +your revenge.” + +Joe sprang nimbly up the hill, and in a few minutes returned with fresh +tackle and another frog that he found on his way. They then repaired to +the margin of the river; but before Joe ventured to cast out his line +again he made the end of the rod fast to his wrist by means of a strong +cord he had provided for that purpose. But now his precaution seemed to +have been unnecessary, for many minutes elapsed without any symptoms of +success. + +Glenn grew impatient and retired a few paces to the base of the cliff, +where he reclined in an easy posture on some huge rocks that had +tumbled down from a great height, and lay half-imbedded in the earth. +Here he long remained with his eyes fixed abstractedly on the curling +water, and meditated on the occurrence he had recently witnessed. While +his thoughts were dwelling on the singular affection and constancy of +the Indian girl, and the probable future happiness of her young lord, +his reflections more than once turned upon his _own_ condition. The +simple pleasantries that had so often occurred between Mary and himself +never failed to produce many unconscious smiles on his lips, and being +reciprocated and repeated day after day with increased delight, it was +no wonder that he found himself heaving tender sighs as he occasionally +pictured her happy features in his mind’s eye. He now endeavoured to +bestow some grave consideration on the tender subject, and to think +seriously about the proper mode of conducting himself in future, when +he heard the innocent maiden’s clear and inspiring voice ringing down +the valley and sinking in soft murmuring echoes on the gliding stream. +Soon his quick ear caught the words, which he recognised to be a short +ballad of his own composing, that had been written at Mary’s request. +He then listened in silence, without moving from his recumbent +position. + + + +THE CRUEL MAIDEN. + +I. + +She heard his prayer and sweetly smiled, +Then frown’d, and laughing fled away; +But the poor youth, e’en thus beguiled, +Still would pray. + +II. + +He’d won her heart, but still she fled, +And laugh’d and mock’d from dell and peak +While his sad heart, that inward bled, +Was fit to break! + +III. + +Where the bright waters lead adown +The moss-green rocks and flags among, +He paused—and on his brow a frown +Darkly hung! + +IV. + +A shriek came down the peaceful vale, +Full soon the maid was at his side, +Her ringlets flowing, and cheeks all pale, +A _willing_ bride! + + +Glenn long remained motionless after the sounds died away, as if +endeavouring to retain the soothing effect of the ringing notes that +had so sweetly reverberated along the jutting peaks of the towering +cliff! + +“I’ve got a bite!” exclaimed Joe, bending over the verge of the bank +and stretching his arms as far as possible over the water, while his +line moved about in various directions, indicating truly that a fish +had taken the hook. + +“Hold fast to the rod this time, Joe,” remarked Glenn, who became +interested in the scene. + +“Won’t I? Its tied fast to my wrist.” + +“Is it not time to pull him up?” asked Glenn, seeing that the fish, so +far from being conscious of peril, inclined towards the shore with the +line in quest of more food. + +“Here goes!” said Joe, jerking the rod up violently with both hands. No +sooner did the fish feel the piercing hook in his mouth than he rose to +the surface, and splashing the water several feet round in every +direction, darted quickly downwards, in spite of the strenuous efforts +of Joe to the contrary. + +Nevertheless, Joe entertained no fears about the result; and the fish, +as if apprized of the impossibility of capturing the rod, ran along +parallel with the shore, gradually approaching the brink of the water, +and seemingly with the intention to surrender himself at the feet of +the piscator. But this was not his purpose. When Joe made another +strong pull, in the endeavour to strand him in the shallow water, the +fish again threw up the spray (some of which reached his adversary’s +face,) and, turning his head outwards, ran directly away from the +shore. + +“Pull him back, Joe!” said Glenn. + +“I am trying with all my might,” replied Joe, “but he’s so plaguy +strong he won’t come, hang him!” + +“He’ll get away if you don’t mind!” continued Glenn, evincing much +animation in his tones and gestures. + +“I’ll be drenched if he does!” said Joe, with his arm, to which the rod +was lashed, stretched out, while he endeavoured to plant his feet +firmly in the sand. + +“He’ll have you in the water—cut the rod loose from your wrist!” cried +Glenn, as Joe’s foothold gave way and he was truly drawn into the +water. + +“Oh, good gracious! I’ve got no knife! Give me your hand!” cried Joe, +vainly striving to untie the cord. “Help me! Oh, St. Peter!” he +continued, imploringly, as the fish drew him on in the water, in quick +but reluctant strides. “Oh! I’m gone!” he cried, when the water was +midway to his chin, and the fish pulling him along with increasing +rapidity. + +“You are a good swimmer, Joe—be not alarmed, and you will not be hurt,” +said Glenn, half inclined to laugh at his man’s indescribable +contortions and grimaces, and apprehending no serious result. + +“Ugh!” cried Joe, the water now up to his chin, and the next moment, +when in the act of making a hasty and piteous entreaty, his head +quickly dipped under the turbid surface and disappeared entirely. Glenn +now became alarmed; but, when in the act of divesting himself of his +clothing for the purpose of plunging in to his rescue, Joe rose again +some forty paces out in the current, and by the exertion of the arm +that was free he was enabled to keep his head above the water. The +current was very strong, and the fish, in endeavouring; to run up the +stream with his prize in tow, made but little headway, and a very few +minutes sufficed to prove that it was altogether unequal to the +attempt. After having progressed about six rods, Joe’s head became +quite stationary like a buoy, or a cork at anchor, and then, by +degrees, was carried downward by the strong flow as the fish at length +became quite exhausted. + +“Now for it, Joe—swim towards the shore with him!” cried Glenn. + +“He’s almost got my shoulder out of place!” replied Joe, blowing a +large quantity of water out of his mouth. + +“I see his fin above the water,” said Glenn; “struggle manfully, Joe, +and you will capture him yet!” + +“I’ll die but I’ll have him now—after such a ducking as this!” said +Joe, approaching the shore with the almost inanimate fish, that was no +longer able to contend against his superior strength. When he drew near +enough to touch the bottom, he turned his head and beheld his prize +floating close behind, and obedient to his will. + +It required the strength of both Glenn and Joe to drag the immense +catfish (for such it proved to be) from its native element. It was +about the length and weight of Joe, and had a mouth of sufficient +dimensions to have swallowed a man’s head. It was given to the +ferrymen, who had witnessed the immersion, and were attracted thither +to render assistance. + +“I suppose you have now had enough of the fish?” remarked Glenn, as +they retraced their steps homeward. + +“I’ll acknowledge that I’m satisfied for the present; but I was +resolved to have satisfaction!” replied Joe. + +“Yes, but you have had it with a vengeance; and I doubt not that your +apparent contentment is but cold comfort,” continued Glenn. + +“I’m not a bit cold—I shan’t change my clothes, and I’m ready for any +other sport you like,” said Joe. + +“If you really suffer no inconvenience from the wet—and this fine warm +day inclines me to believe you—we will take our guns and walk out to +the small lakes on the borders of the prairie.” + +“Splash it”—began Joe. + +“No—_duck_ it,” interrupted Glenn. + +“Well, I should like to know exactly what you mean—whether you are in +earnest about going to the ponds, or whether you are joking me for +getting _ducked_—as there’s nothing in them now to shoot but _ducks_, +and it may have popped into your head just because I had the +_ducking_,” said Joe. + +“I am in earnest,” said Glenn; “I do not wish to annoy William, or to +meet Roughgrove and Mary until their domestic arrangements are all +completed.” + +“That’s strange,” said Joe. + +“What’s strange?” asked Glenn, quickly. + +“Why, your not wanting to meet Miss Mary. I say it is most mysteriously +strange,” replied Joe. + +“Say nothing more about it, and think less,” said Glenn, striding in +advance, while a smile played upon his lip. + +“But I can’t help dreaming about it—and my dreams all come true,” said +Joe. + +“What have you been dreaming—but never mind—bring out the guns,” said +Glenn, pausing at the gate of the inclosure, and not venturing to hear +Joe recite the dream about himself and Mary. + +When possessed of the necessary implements, they set out towards the +groves that bordered the prairie, among which were several lakes of +clear water, not more than fifty or sixty paces in diameter, where the +various wild fowl, as well as the otter and the muskrat, usually +abounded. Our hero had previously anticipated some sport of this +nature, and constructed blinds on the verge of the lakes, and cut paths +through the clustering bushes to reach them stealthily. The lake they +now approached was bounded on one side by the green meadow-like +prairie, and fringed on the other by hazel thickets, with an occasional +towering elm that had survived the autumnal fires. + +The morning breeze had subsided, and a delightful calm prevailed. A +thousand wild flowers, comprising every hue, filled the air with +delicious fragrance, while no sound was heard but the melody of happy +birds. + +“I think I see a duck!” whispered Joe, as they moved slowly along the +path in a stooping posture. + +“Where?” asked Glenn, as they crept softly to the blind and cast their +eyes over the clear unruffled water. + +“I thought I saw one on the muskrat house; but he must have gone to the +other side,” responded Joe, now looking in vain for it, and closely +scanning the little hillocks that had been thrown up in the lake by the +muskrats. + +“You must have been mistaken,” said Glenn; “suppose we go to the other +lakes.” + +“No, I wasn’t mistaken—I’d swear to it—be quiet and keep a bright +look-out, and we’ll see him again in a minute or two,” replied Joe, who +stood in an attitude of readiness to fire at an instant’s warning. + +“What is that?” asked Glenn, just then actually observing a small brown +object moving behind the hillock. + +“Wait till I see a little more of it,” said Joe, with his finger on the +trigger. + +“Don’t fire, Joe! its a man’s _cap_!” exclaimed Glenn, detecting under +the dark brim the large staring eyes of a human being, apparently +evincing a sense of imminent peril; and the next moment the muzzle of a +gun pointing above their heads came in view. + +“Dod rot it, look up that tree!” + +The smile that began to play on our hero’s features on recognizing the +voice of Sneak was quickly dispelled and succeeded by horror when he +cast his eyes upward and beheld an enormous panther, stooping, and on +the eve of springing upon him! + +“Oh!” exclaimed Joe, letting his gun fall, and falling down himself, +bereft alike of the power of escape and the ability to resist. + +“Be quiet!” said Glenn, endeavouring to raise his gun, which had become +entangled in the bushes; but before he could execute his purpose Sneak +fired, and the ferocious animal came tumbling down through the branches +and fell at his feet. + +“Ugh! Goodness!” exclaimed Joe, his hat striken down over his eyes by +the descending panther, and, leaping over the frail barrier of bushes +into the water, he plunged forward and executed a series of diving +evolutions, as if still endeavouring to elude the clutches of the +carnivorous beast, which he imagined was after him. + +[Illustration: He plunged forward.] + +He plunged forward, and executed a series of diving evolutions. + + +“Dod—come out of the pond! Its dead—didn’t you hear _me_ shoot?” said +Sneak, who had by this time paddled a little canoe in which he had been +seated to the shore. But Joe continued his exercises, his crushed hat +not only depriving him of sight, but rendering him deaf to the laughter +that burst from Glenn and Sneak. Sneak ran round to the opposite side +of the lake to a point that Joe was approaching, (though all +unconscious of his destination,) and remained there till the poor +fellow pushed his half-submerged head against the grass, when he seized +him furiously and bore him a few paces from the water, in spite of his +cries and struggles. + +“_I_ ain’t the painter!” said Sneak, at length weary of the illusion, +and dragging Joe’s hat from his head. + +“Ha! hang it! ha!” cried Joe, staring at Sneak and Glenn in +bewilderment. “Where is it?” he cried, when in some degree recovered +from his great perturbation. + +“Didn’t you hear _me_ shoot? Of course its dead!” replied Sneak. + +“Which do you prefer, Joe, _ducking_ or _fishing_?” asked Glenn. + +“I never saw a feller _duck_ his head so,” said Sneak. + +“Ha! ha! ha! you thought I was frightened, and trying to get away from +the panther! But you were _much_ mistaken. I was chasing a muskrat—I +got wet in the river, and was determined to see—” + +“You couldn’t see your own nose!” interrupted Sneak. + +“If I couldn’t see, I suppose I could hear him run!” replied Joe. + +“You couldn’t ’ave heard thunder!” said Sneak. + +“Did you ever try it?” asked Joe. + +“No,” replied Sneak. + +“Then you don’t know,” replied Joe; “and now I’m ready to kill a duck,” +he continued, looking up at a number of water-fowl sailing round and +awaiting their departure to dip into the water. + +“I will leave you here, Joe. When you hear me fire at the other lake, +you may expect the ducks that escape me to visit you,” observed Glenn, +and immediately after disappeared in the bushes. + +“And I’ll take the painter’s hide off,” said Sneak, going with Joe to +the blind, where he quietly commenced his labour, that Joe’s sport +might not be interrupted. + +Several flocks of geese and ducks yet flew round above, and gradually +drew nearer to the earth, but still fearful of danger and cautiously +reconnoitering the premises. + +“Suppose I pink one of them on the wing?” said Joe, looking up. + +“I don’t believe you _kin_,” said Sneak, as he tugged at the panther’s +hide. + +“Wait till they come round the next time, and I’ll show you—so look +out,” said Joe. + +“I’ll not look—there’s no occasion for my seeing—_I’m_ not after a +muskrat,” responded Sneak, stripping the skin from the animal, and +laughing at his own remark. When the ducks came round again, Joe fired, +and sure enough one of them fell—descending in a curve which brought it +directly on Sneak’s cap, knocking it over his eyes. + +“Dod rot it! hands off, or I’ll walk into you!” exclaimed Sneak, rising +up in a hostile attitude. + +“Good! that’s tit for tat,” cried Joe, laughing, as he loaded his gun. + +“You didn’t do it a purpose,” said Sneak, “nor I won’t jump into the +water nother.” + +“Yes I did!” continued Joe, much pleased at the occurrence. + +“You didn’t do any sich thing—or we’d have to fight; but nobody could +do sich a thing only by accident. You’d better load your gun, and be +ready by the time the next comes,” added Sneak, again tearing asunder +the panther’s skin. + +“I thought I _had_ loaded,” said Joe, forgetting he had performed that +operation, and depositing another charge in his old musket. + +Presently Glenn’s gun was heard, and in a few minutes an immense flock +of geese and ducks, mingled together, flew over the bushes and covered +the face of the lake. Joe very deliberately fired in the midst of them, +and the rebound of his gun throwing him against Sneak, who was still in +a stooping posture, they both fell to the ground. + +“I did that on purpose, I’ll take my oath—I knew you had put in two +loads,” said Sneak, rising up. + +“Yes, but I ain’t hurt—falling over you saved me, or else I’d a +thrashed you or got a thrashing,” replied Joe, his good humour +recovered on beholding some fifteen or twenty dead and wounded ducks +and geese on the surface of the water. By the time he had collected his +birds, by means of Sneak’s canoe, Glenn, who had met with the like +success, emerged from the bushes on the opposite verge of the lake, +bearing with him his game. Being well satisfied with the sport, he and +Joe retraced their steps homeward. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +The bright morning—Sneak’s visit—Glenn’s heart—The snake hunt—Love and +raspberries—Joe is bitten—His terror and sufferings—Arrival of +Boone—Joe’s abrupt recovery—Preparations to leave the west—Conclusion. + + +The sun rose the next morning in unusual glory. Not a breath of air +stirred the entranced foliage of the dark green trees in the valleys, +and the fresh flowers around exhaled a sweet perfume that remained +stationary over them. The fawn stood perfectly still in the grassy +yard, and seemed to contemplate the grandeur of the enchanting scene. +The atmosphere was as translucent as fancy paints the realms of the +blest, and quite minute objects could be distinctly seen far over the +river many miles eastward. Nor were any sounds heard save the +occasional chattering of the paroquet in the dense forest across the +river, a mile distant, and yet they appeared to be in the immediate +vicinity. The hounds lay extended on the ground with their eyes open, +more in a listless than a watchful attitude. The kitten was couched on +the threshold (the door having been left open to admit the pure air,) +and looked thoughtfully at the rising sun. The large blue chanticleer +was balanced on one foot with an eye turned upwards as if scanning the +heavens to guard against the sudden attack of the far-seeing eagle. +Nature seemed to be indulging in a last sweet morning slumber, if +indeed not over-sleeping herself, while the sun rose stealthily up and +smiled at all her charms exposed! + +“Hillo! ain’t you all up yit? Git up, Joe, and feed your hosses,” cried +Sneak, approaching the gate on the outside, and thus most +unceremoniously dispelling the charm that enwrapped the premises. + +“Who’s there?” cried Joe, springing up and rubbing his eyes. + +“It’s me—dod, you know who I am. Come, open the gate and let me in.” + +“What’s the matter, Sneak? Are the Indians after you?” said Joe, +running out, but pausing at the gate for an answer before he drew back +the bolt. + +“No—I thought-you had sense enough by this time to know no Indians +ain’t going to come this time a-year. Let me in!” added he, +impatiently. + +“What are you doing with them long sticks?” asked Joe, opening the gate +and observing two hickory poles in Sneak’s hand. “Are you going to try +your luck fishing?” + +“No, nor _ducking_ nother,” replied he, sarcastically. + +“Plague it, Sneak,” said Joe, deprecatingly, “never mind that affair; +you were mistaken about my being frightened. The next chance I get I’ll +let you see that I’m not afraid of any thing.” + +“Well, I want you to go with me on a spree this morning that’ll try +you.” + +“What are you going to do?” asked Joe, with some curiosity in his +looks. + +“I’m going a _snaking_,” said Sneak. + +At this juncture the dialogue was arrested by the appearance of Glenn, +whose brow was somewhat paler than usual, and wore an absent and +thoughtful cast; yet his abstract meditations did not seem altogether +of a painful nature. + +“Joe,” said he, “I want you to exercise the horses more in the prairie. +They are getting too fat and lazy. If they cannot be got on the boat +when we leave here, we will have to send them by land to St. Louis.” + +“Dod—you ain’t a going to leave us?” cried Sneak. + +“Well, I thought something was in the wind,” said Joe, pondering, “but +it’ll break Miss Mary’s—” + +“Pshaw!” replied Glenn, quickly interrupting him; “you don’t know what +you are talking about.” + +“Well, I can’t say I do exactly,” said Joe; “but I know its a very +mysterious matter.” + +“_What_ is such a mysterious matter?” asked Glenn, smiling. + +“Why, you—Miss Mary”—stammered Joe. + +“Well, what is there mysterious about us?” + +“Hang it, _you_ know!” replied Joe. + +“Pshaw!” repeated Glenn, striding out of the inclosure, and descending +the path leading to Roughgrove’s house, whither he directed Joe to +follow when he had galloped the horses. + +“Have you got any licker in the house?” asked Sneak, staring at the +retreating form of Glenn. + +“No—its all gone. Why do you ask?” returned Joe. + +“Becaise that feller’s drunk,” said Sneak, with a peculiar nod. + +“No he ain’t—he hasn’t drunk a drop for a month.” + +“Then he’s going crazy, and you’d better keep a sharp look-out.” + +“I know what’s the matter with him—he’s in love!” said Joe. + +“Then why don’t he take her?” asked Sneak. + +“I don’t know,” replied Joe; “maybe he will, some day. Now for a +ride—how are you, Pete?” he continued, opening the stable door and +rubbing the pony’s head that was instantly thrust out in salutation. + +“I’ll ride the hoss,” said Sneak. + +“Will you? I’m glad of it,” said Joe, “for that’ll save me the trouble +of leading him.” + +“That’s jest what I come for,” said Sneak, “becaise this hot morning +the snakes are too thick to fight ’em on foot.” + +“Can you see many of them at a time?” + +“Well, I reckon you kin.” + +“Won’t they bite the horses?” + +“No, the hosses knows what a snake is as well as a man, and they’ll +keep a bright eye for ’emselves, while we stave out their brains with +our poles,” said Sneak. + +In a few minutes the companions were mounted, and with the fawn +skipping in advance, and the hounds in the rear, they proceeded gayly +out toward the prairie on a _snaking_ expedition. + +The sunlight was now intensely brilliant, and the atmosphere, though +laden with the sweet perfume of the countless millions of wild flowers, +began to assume a sultriness that soon caused the horses and hounds to +loll out their tongues and pant as they bounded through the rank grass. +Ere long the riders drew near a partially barren spot in the prairie, +where from some singular cause the grass was not more than three inches +high. This spot was circular, about fifty paces in diameter, and in the +centre was a pool of bright water, some fifty feet in circumference. +The grass growing round this spot was tall and luxuriant, and +terminated as abruptly at the edge of the circle as if a mower had +passed along with his sharp scythe. + +“Sneak, I never saw that before,” said Joe, as they approached, while +yet some forty paces distant. “What does it mean?” + +“You’ll see presently,” said his companion, grasping more firmly the +thick end of his rod, as if preparing to deal a blow. “When I was out +here this morning,” he continued, “they were too thick for me, and I +had to make tracks.” + +“What were too thick for you?” asked Joe, with a singular anxiety, and +at the same time reining in his pony. + +“Why, the _snakes_,” said Sneak with much deliberation. “I was a-foot +then, and from the style in which they whizzed through the grass, I was +afraid too many might git on me at a time and choke me to death. But +now I’m ready for ’em; they can’t git us if we manage korect.” + +“I won’t go!” said Joe. + +“Dod, they ain’t pisen!” said Sneak; “they’re nearly all _black +racers_, and they don’t bite. Come on, don’t be such a tarnation +coward; the rattlesnakes, and copper-heads, and wipers, won’t run after +us; and if they was to, they couldn’t reach up to our legs. This is a +glorious day for _snaking_—come on, Joe!” + +Joe followed at a very slow and cautious pace a few steps farther, and +then halted again. + +“What’re you stopping for agin?” asked Sneak. + +“Sneak, the pony ain’t tall enough!” + +“That’s all the better,” replied Sneak; “you can whack ’em easier as +they run—and then they can’t see you as fur as they kin me. I’ll swap +hosses with you.” + +“No you won’t!” replied Joe, whipping forward again. But he had not +advanced many seconds before he drew up once more. This time he was +attracted by the unaccountable motions of the fawn, a short distance +ahead. That animal was apparently striking some object on the ground +with its feet, and ever and anon springing violently to one side or the +other. Its hair stood erect on its back, and it assumed a most +ferocious aspect. Now it would run back toward the men a moment, and, +wheeling suddenly, again leap upon the foe, when its feet could be +heard to strike against the ground; then it plunged forward, and after +making a spring beyond, would return to the attach. + +“Here, Ringwood! Jowler!” cried Joe, and the hounds ran forward to the +spot pointed out to them. But no sooner had they gone far enough to see +the nature of the enemy that the fawn was attacking, than they turned +away affrighted, and with their tails hanging down retreated from the +scene of action. + +They rode up and surveyed more closely the strange battle. The fawn, +becoming more and more enraged, did not suspend hostilities at their +approach. They paused involuntarily when, within a few feet of the +object, which proved to be a tremendous rattlesnake, some five feet in +length, and as thick as a man’s arm. It was nearly dead, its body, +neck, and head, exhibited many bloody gashes cut by the sharp hoofs of +the fawn. Every time the fawn sprang upon it, it endeavoured in vain to +strike its fangs into its active foe, which sprang away in a twinkling, +and before it could prepare to strike again, the fatal hoofs would +inflict another wound on its devoted head. It grew weaker and weaker, +and finally turned over on its back, when the infuriated deer, no +longer compelled to observe cautionary measures, soon severed its head +entirely from the body and stood over it in triumph. + +[Illustration: It grew weaker and weaker, and finally turned over on +its back.] + + +“Pete can do that if a deer can!” said Joe, somewhat emboldened at the +death of so formidable a reptile, and beholding the fixed though +composed gaze of the pony as he stood with his head turned sideways +towards the weltering snake. + +“Sartinly he kin,” said Sneak, standing up in his stirrups, and +stretching his long neck to its utmost tension to see if any snakes +were in the open area before them. + +“Do you see any, Sneak?” asked Joe, now grasping his rod and anxious +for the fray. + +“I see a few—about forty, I guess, lying in the sun at the edge of the +water.” + +“Sneak, there’s too many of them,” said Joe. + +“Dod—you ain’t a going to back out now, I hope. Don’t you see your pony +snuffing at ’em? He wants to dash right in among ’em.” + +“No he don’t,” said Joe—“he don’t like the smell, nor I either—faugh!” + +“Why, it smells like May-apples—I like it,” said Sneak; “but there +ain’t more than one or two copper-heads there—they’re most all racers. +Come on, Joe—we must gallop right through and mash their heads with our +sticks as we pass. Then after a little while we must turn and dash back +agin—that’s the way to fix ’em.” + +“You must go before,” said Joe. + +The number that Sneak mentioned was not exaggerated. On the contrary, +additions were constantly made to the number. The surface of the pool +was continually agitated by the darting serpents striking at the +tadpoles and frogs, while on the margin many were writhing in various +fantastic contortions in their sports. Nearly all of them were large, +and some could not have been less than eleven feet long. They were +evidently enjoying the warm rays of the sun, and at times skipped about +with unwonted animation. Now one of the largest would elevate his black +head some four feet from the ground, while the others wrapped +themselves around him, and thus formed the dark and horrid spectacle of +a pyramid of snakes! Then falling prostrate with their own weight, in +less than a twinkling they were dispersed and flying over the smooth +short grass in every direction, their innumerable scales all the time +emitting a low buzzing sound as they ran along. Every moment others +glided into the area from the tall grass, and those assembled thither +rushed towards them in a body to manifest a welcome. + +“Now’s the time!” cried Sneak, rushing forward, followed by Joe. When +Joe’s eyes fell upon the black mass of serpents, he made a convulsive +grasp at the reins with an involuntary resolution to retreat without +delay from such a frightful scene. But the violence of his grasp +severed the reins from the bit, and the pony sprang forward after the +steed, being no longer subject to his control! There was no retreating +now! Sneak levelled his rod at a cluster just forming in a mass two +feet above the ground, and crushed the hydra at a blow! Joe closed his +eyes, and struck he knew not what—but Sneak knew, for the blow +descended on his head—though with feeble force. In an instant the +horsemen had passed to the opposite side of the area and halted in the +tall grass. Looking back, they beheld a great commotion among the +surviving snakes. Some glided into the pool, and with bodies submerged, +elevated their heads above the surface and darted out their tongues +fiercely. Others raced round the scene of slaughter with their heads +full four feet high, or gathered about the dead and dying, and lashed +the air with their sharp tails, producing sounds like the cracking of +whips. The few copper-heads and rattlesnakes present coiled themselves +up with their heads in the centre in readiness to strike their poison +into whatever object came within their reach. + +So sudden had been the onset of the horsemen that the surprised +serpents seemed to be ignorant of the nature of the foe, and instead of +flying to the long grass to avoid a recurrence of bloodshed, they +continued to glide round the pool, while their number increased every +moment. + +“What’d you hit me on the head for?” asked Sneak, after regarding the +snakes a moment, and then turning to Joe, the pony having still kept at +the heels of the steed in spite of his rider’s efforts to the contrary. + +“Oh, Sneak,” cried Joe, in tones somewhat tremulous, “do, for goodness’ +sake, let us go away from here!” + +“I sha’n’t do any such thing—what’d you hit me on the head for?” + +“I thought I was a killing a snake,” replied Joe. + +“Do I look like a snake?” continued Sneak, turning round, when for the +first time he discovered the condition of his companion’s bridle. + +“Sneak, let’s ride away!” said Joe. + +“And leave all them black sarpents yander poking out their tongues at +us? I won’t go till I wear out this pole on ’em. Ha! ha! ha! I thought +you hadn’t spunk enough to gallup through ’em on your own accord,” said +Sneak, looking at the pony, and knowing that he would follow the steed +always, if left to his own inclination. + +“Come, Sneak, let’s go home!” continued Joe, in a supplicating tone. + +“Come! let’s charge on the snakes agin!” said Sneak, raising the rod, +and fixing his feet in the stirrups. + +“Hang me if I go there again!” said Joe, throwing down his rod. + +“You’re a tarnation coward, that’s what you are! But you can’t help +yourself,” replied Sneak. + +“I’ll jump off and run!” said Joe, preparing to leap to the ground. + +“You jest do now, and you’ll have forty sarpents wrapped round you in +less than no time.” + +At that moment two or three racers swept between them with their heads +elevated as high as Joe’s knees, and entered the area. + +“Oh goodness!” cried Joe, drawing up his legs. + +“Git down and git your pole,” said Sneak. + +“I wouldn’t do it if it was made of gold!” + +“If you say you’ll fight the snakes, I’ll git it for you—I’m a going to +stay here till they’re all killed,” continued Sneak. + +“Give it to me, then—I’ll smash their brains out the next time!” said +Joe, with desperate determination. + +“But you musn’t hit me agin!” said Sneak, dismounting and handing up +the weapon to Joe, and then leaping on the steed again. + +“Sneak, you’re no better than a snake, to bring me into such a scrape +as this!” said Joe, leaning forward and scanning the black mass of +serpents at the pool. + +In a few minutes they whipped forward, Sneak in advance, and again they +were passing through the army of snakes. This time Joe did good +service. He massacred one of the coiled rattlesnakes at a blow, and his +pony kicked a puffing viper to atoms. Sneak paused a moment at the +pool, and dealt his blows with such rapidity that nearly all the black +racers that survived glided swiftly into the tall grass, and one of the +largest was seen by Joe to run up the trunk of a solitary blasted tree +that stood near the pool, and enter a round hole about ten feet from +the ground. + +But if the serpents were mostly dispersed from the area around the +pool, they were by no means all destroyed; and when the equestrians +were again in the tall grass, they found them whizzing furiously about +the hoofs of their horses. Once or twice Sneak’s horse sprang suddenly +forward in pain, being stung on the ham or shoulder by the tails of the +racers as they flew past with almost inconceivable rapidity. + +“Oh! St. Peter! Sneak!” cried Joe, throwing back his head, and lifting +up his knees nearly to his chin. + +“Ha! ha! ha! did one of ’em cut you, Joe? They hurt like fury, but +their tails ain’t pisen. Look what a whelk they’ve made on the hoss.” + +“Sneak, why don’t you get away from this nasty place! One of them shot +right over the pony’s neck a while ago, and came very near hitting me +on the chin.” + +“You must hit ’em as they come. Yander comes one—now watch me!” Saying +this, Sneak turned the steed so as to face a tremendous racer about +forty paces distant, that was approaching with the celerity of the wind +with its head above the tall grass. When it came within reach of his +rod, he bestowed upon it a blow that entirely severed the head, and the +impetus with which it came caused the body to fly over the steed, and +falling upon the neck of the pony, with the life yet remaining (for +they are constrictors,) instantly wrapped in a half dozen folds around +it! Pete snorted aloud, and, springing forward, ran a hundred paces +with all the fleetness of which he was capable. But being unable to +shake off the terrible incumbrance, with his tongue hanging out in +agony, he turned back and ran directly for the horse. When he came up +to the steed, he pushed his head under his neck, manifesting the +greatest distress, and stamping and groaning as if becoming crazed. + +“Dod! let me git hold of him!” cried Sneak, bending forward and seizing +the snake by the tail. The long head-less body gave way gradually, and +becoming quite relaxed fell powerless and dead to the earth. + +“Oh, Sneak, let’s go!” said Joe, trembling, his face having turned as +pale as death while Pete was dashing about in choking agony under the +tight folds of the serpent. + +“Smash me if I go as long as there’s a snake left!” replied Sneak, +striking down another huge racer; but this one, having its back broken, +remained stationary. + +Thus he continued to strike down the snakes as long as any remained on +the field; and, as they became scarce, Joe grew quite valorous, and did +signal service. At length the combat ceased, and not a living serpent +could be seen running. + +“Sneak, we’ve killed them all—huzza!” cried Joe, flourishing his rod. + +“Yes, but you didn’t do much—you’re as big a coward as ever.” + +“Oh, I wasn’t _afraid_ of them, Sneak,” said Joe; “I was only a little +cautious, because it was the first time I ever went a snaking.” + +“Yes, you was mighty cautious! if your bridle hadn’t broke, you’d have +been home long ago.” + +“Pshaw, Sneak!” said Joe; “you’re much mistaken. But how many do you +think we’ve killed?” + +“I suppose about a quarter of a cord—but I’ve heard tell of men’s +killing a cord a day, easy.” + +“You don’t say so! But how does it happen so many are found together? +When I go out I can never find more than a dozen or so.” + +“There’s a _snake den_ under that clear place,” said Sneak, “where they +stay all winter—but its not as big a den as some I’ve seen.” + +“I don’t want to see more than I have to-day!” said Joe, whipping past +the steed as they started homewards, having mended his bridle. But as +he paced along by the decayed tree mentioned above, he saw the +glistening eyes of the large racer peering from the hole it had +entered, and he gave it a smart blow on the head with his rod and +spurred forward. The next moment, when Sneak came up, the enraged +serpent sprang down upon him, and in a twinkling wound himself tightly +round his neck! Sneak’s eyes started out of his head, and being nearly +strangled he soon fell to the earth. Joe looked on in amazement, but +was too much frightened to assist him. And Sneak, unable to ask his +aid, only turned his large eyes imploringly towards him, while in +silence he vainly strove to tear away the serpent with his fingers. He +thrust one hand in his pocket for his knife, but it had been left +behind! He then held out his hand to Joe, and in this dumb and piteous +manner begged him to lend him his knife. Joe drew it from his pocket, +but could not brace his nerves sufficiently to venture within the +suffocating man’s reach. At length he bethought him of his pole, and +opening the blade thrust it in the end of it and cautiously handed it +to Sneak. Sneak immediately ran the sharp steel through the many folds +of the snake, and it fell to the ground in a dozen pieces! The poor +man’s strength then completely failed him, and he rolled over on his +back in breathless exhaustion. Joe rendered all the assistance in his +power, and his companion soon revived. + +“Dod rot your skin!” exclaimed Sneak, getting up and seizing Joe by the +collar. + +“Hang it, it wasn’t _me_! it was the _snake!_” said Joe, extricating +his neck from his companion’s grasp. + +“What’d you _hit_ the sarpent for?” + +“Why, I wanted to kill him.” + +“Then why didn’t you help me to get it away from my neck?” + +“You didn’t _ask_ me,” said Joe, with something like ingenuousness, +though with a most provoking application. + +“I couldn’t speak! The tarnation thing was squeezing my neck so tight I +couldn’t say a word. But I _looked_ at you, and you might ’ave +understood me. Never mind, you’ll git a snake hold of you some of these +days.” + +“I’ll keep a sharp look out after this,” said Joe. “But Sneak, I’ll +swear now you were not born to be hung.” + +“You be dod rot!” replied Sneak, leaping on the steed, and turning +towards the river. + +“I would have cut him off myself, Sneak,” said Joe, musing on the odd +affair as they rode briskly along, “if I hadn’t been afraid of cutting +your throat. I knew you wasn’t born to be hung.” + +“Ha! ha! ha! that was the tightest place that ever I was in,” said +Sneak, regaining his good humour, and diverted at the strange +occurrence. + +“Didn’t he bite you?” asked Joe. + +“No, a black snake can’t bite—they havn’t got any fangs. If it had been +a rattlesnake or a viper, I’d been a gone chicken. I don’t think I’ll +ever leave my knife behind again, even if I wasn’t to go ten steps from +home. Dod—my neck’s very sore.” + +The companions continued the rest of the way in silence. When they +reached home, and returned the horses to the stable, they proceeded +down the path to Roughgrove’s house to report their adventure. + +Glenn and Mary, William and La-u-na, were seated under the spreading +elm-tree, engaged in some felicitous conference, that produced a most +pleasing animation in their features. + +Mary immediately demanded of Joe a recital of his adventures that +morning. He complied without reluctance, and his hearers were +frequently convulsed with laughter as he proceeded, for he added many +embellishments not narrated by the author. Sneak bore their merriment +with stoical fortitude, and then laughed as heartily as themselves at +his own recent novel predicament. + +La-u-na asked Sneak if he had been bitten by any of the poisonous +snakes. Sneak of course replied in the negative, but at the same time +desired to know the name of the plant that was used by the Indians with +universal success when wounded by the fangs of the rattlesnake. The +girl told him it was the _white plantain_ that grew in the prairies. + +“I’ll go and get some right straight,” said Joe, “because I don’t know +what moment I may be bitten.” + +“Never mind it, Joe,” said Glenn, rising. “We are now going to gather +wild raspberries on the cliff south of and we want you and Sneak to +assist us.” + +“Well—I like raspberries, and they must be ripe by this time, if the +chickens havn’t picked them all before us.” + +“Dod—if the chickens have ett ’em can that make ’em _green_ agin?” +replied Sneak to Joe’s Irishism. + +“You’d better learn how to read before you turn critic,” said Joe, +taking up the baskets that had been brought out of the house. He then +led the way, quarrelling all the time with Sneak, while Glenn, placing +Mary’s arm in his, and William imitating the example, followed at a +distance behind. + +When the party reached the raspberry thicket, they found truly that the +fowls were there before them, though quite an abundance of the +delicious berry still remained untouched. A few moments sufficed to +drive the feathered gatherers away, and then without delay they began +to fill their baskets. + +Many were the hearty peals of joyous laughter that rang from the +innocent lovers while momentarily obscured by the green clustering +bushes. Ere long they were dispersed in various parts of the thicket, +and Glenn and Mary being separated from the rest, our hero seized the +opportunity to broach a tender subject. + +“Mary,” said he, and then most unaccountably paused. + +“Well,” said she turning her glorious dark blue eyes full upon him. + +“I have something of moment to say to you, if you will listen +attentively—and I know not a more fitting time and place than this to +tell it. Here is a natural bower surrounded by sweet berries, and +shielded from the sun by the fragrant myrtle. Let us sit on this mossy +rock. Will you listen?” he continued, drawing her close to his side on +the seat in the cool retreat. + +“Have I ever refused to listen to you? do I not love to hear your +voice?” said the confiding and happy girl. + +“Bless you, Mary—my whole heart is yours!” exclaimed our hero, seizing +a rapturous kiss from the coral lips of the maiden. Mary resisted not, +nor replied; while tears, but not of grief, glistened on her dark +lashes. + +“You will not reject my love, Mary? Why do you weep?” + +“It is with joy—my heart is so happy that tears gush out in spite of +me!” + +“Will you then be mine?” continued Glenn, winding his arm round her +yielding waist. + +“Forever!” she replied, and, bowing her head slightly, a shower of dark +silken tresses obscured her blushing face, and covered our hero’s +panting breast. Thus they remained many moments in silence, for their +feelings were too blissful for utterance. + +“Are you always happy, Mary?” said Glenn, at length, taking her little +white hand in his. + +“No!” she replied, with a sigh. + +“Why?” + +“When you are away, I sometimes fear the Indians—or a snake—or—or +something may harm you,” said she, falteringly. + +“I thank thee, Mary, for thinking of me when I am away.” + +“I always think of thee!” said she. + +“Always, Mary?” + +“Ay, by day—and thou art ever with me in my dreams.” + +“And I _will_ be with thee always!” + +“Do!” said she. + +“But dost thou not sometimes repine that thy life is thus spent in the +wilderness far from the busy world?” + +“I sometimes wish I could see the beautiful cities I read of—but when I +think of the treacheries and miseries of the world, I look at the pure +fresh flowers, and list to the sweet birds around me, and then I think +there is more happiness to be enjoyed here than anywhere else.” + +“And such is truly the case,” said Glenn, pondering “But then, Mary, we +all have obligations to discharge. We were created for society—to +associate with our species, and while mingling with kindred beings, it +is our duty to bestow as many benefits on them as may be within the +scope of our power.” + +“You think, then, we should leave our western home?” she asked, with +undisguised interest. + +“Wilt thou not consent to go?” + +“If you go, I will go!” said she. + +“And now I declare I will not go unless thou art willing.” + +“But is it a _duty_?” she asked. + +“Your fa—Mr. Roughgrove says so.” + +“Then let us go! But why did you not say _father_?” + +“He is not your father.” + +“No!” exclaimed the maid, turning pale. + +“I will tell thee all, Mary.” And Glenn related the story of the +maiden’s birth. “Now, Mary,” he continued, “thou knowest thine own +history. Thou art of a noble race, according to the rules of men—nay, +thy blood is royal—if thou wouldst retract thy plighted faith (I should +have told thee this before,) speak, and thy will shall be done!” + +“Oh! Charles! I am thine, THINE ONLY, were I born an angel!” she cried, +throwing herself into his arms. At this juncture a violent rustling was +heard in the bushes not far distant, and the next moment Joe’s voice +rang out. + +“Oh me! Oh St. Peter! Oh murder! murder! murder!” cried he. Instantly +all the party were collected round him. He lay in a small open space on +the grass, with his basket bottom upward at his side, and all the +berries scattered on the ground. + +“What is the matter?” asked Glenn. + +“Oh, I’m snake-bitten! I’m a dead man! I’m dying!” cried he, piteously. + +“That’s a fib,” said Sneak, “bekaise a dead man can’t be a dying.” + +“Let me see,” said William, stooping down to examine the place on which +Joe’s hands were convulsively pressed. With some difficulty he pulled +them away, and tearing down the stocking, actually saw a small bleeding +puncture over the ankle bone! + +“What kind of a snake was it?” asked Glenn in alarm. “A +rattlesnake—Oh!” + +“Did you _see_ it?” continued Glenn, knowing Joe’s foible, though it +was apparent he suffered from some kind of a wound. + +“I heard it rattle. Oh, my goodness! I’m going fast! I’m turning +blind!” + +La-u-na told him to run to the house and cover the wound with salt, and +remain quiet till Sneak could obtain some plantain leaves from the +prairie. Joe sprang up and rushed down the hill. Sneak set out in quest +of the antidote, and the rest directed their steps homeward. + +When they reached Roughgrove’s house, they found Joe lying in the +middle of the floor on his back, and groaning most dolefully. He had +applied the salt to the wound as directed, and covered it and his whole +leg so plentifully with bandages that the latter seemed to be as thick +as his body. + +“How do you feel now, Joe?” asked Glenn. + +“I’m a dead man!” said he. + +La-u-na told him not to be alarmed, and assured him there was no +danger. + +“But I’ll die before Sneak can get back!” + +“Your voice is too strong to fear that,” said William; “but do you +suffer much pain?” + +“Oh, I’m in agony!” said he, rolling back his eyes. + +“Where does the pain lie?” asked Glenn. + +“Oh, St. Peter! all over me! In my toes, ankles, legs, arms, heart, +throat, mouth, nose, and eyes! Oh, I’m in tortures! I’m blind—I can’t +see any of you!” + +At this moment Roughgrove, who had been over the river on a visit to +Boone, entered the apartment with the renowned hunter at his side. When +fully informed of the circumstances, Boone stooped down and felt Joe’s +pulse. + +“The strokes are irregular,” said Boone. + +“Oh heaven!” exclaimed Joe. + +“But that may be caused by fright,” continued Boone. + +“Oh goodness! it ain’t that—I’m a dying man!” + +“Is the leg much swollen?” asked Boone, endeavouring to ascertain +without taking off the bandages. + +“Oh! oh! don’t do that! it’ll kill me in a minute—for its swelled fit +to burst!” cried Joe, shrinking from Boone’s grasp. + +“All the cases of snake-bite that I have seen differ from this. I have +always found the swollen limb nearly devoid of feeling. Did you kill +the snake?” + +“No—Oh!” + +“Tell me precisely the place where you were standing when it bit +you—there is a mystery about it that I must solve.” + +“Oh—it was—I can’t speak! my breath’s going fast! Oh! Paternoster—” + +William then described the spot to Boone in such precise terms that the +old woodman declared he would immediately repair thither and endeavour +to find the snake. He accordingly set out in the direction indicated +without further delay; while Roughgrove, believing that poor Joe was +really on the verge of eternity, strove to comfort his departing spirit +with the consolation that religion affords. + +“Oh! that ain’t the right one!” exclaimed Joe, pushing away the +Episcopal prayer-book held by Roughgrove. + +“Then here is one you cannot object to,” said Roughgrove, opening the +Bible. + +“Oh, that’s not it, either!” cried Joe, in great distress. “Is there no +priest in this region? I’m a Roman Catholic—oh!” + +“Can you not confess your sins _directly_ to God—the God who is +everywhere, and governs all things?” said the aged man, impressively, +and with animation. + +“I have prayed,” said Joe; “but now I want the ointment!” + +“Your body, which must be placed in the damp cold earth, needs no oil. +It is far better to purify the soul, which perishes not,” said +Roughgrove, in fervent and tremulous tones. + +“Oh!—Oh! Ugh!” cried Joe, in a deep guttural voice, and turning over on +his face. His fears had evidently been increased by the solemn tone and +look of Roughgrove. + +“Don’t be alarmed, Joe,” said Glenn, turning him again on his back. +“Sneak will soon be here, and La-u-na says the plantain will be sure to +cure you. William tells me that he has seen the Indians permit the +snakes to bite them for a mere trifle in money, so certain were they of +being restored by the plant. And indeed he never knew a bite to +terminate fatally.” + +“But I’m afraid Sneak won’t come in time,” replied Joe, somewhat +comforted. + +“Pshaw! he won’t loiter in a case of this kind—he knows it is no joke,” +continued Glenn. + +“But suppose he can’t _find_ any plantain—then I’m dead to a certainty! +Oh me!” + +“Does the pain increase much?” asked Mary. + +“Oh, yes! its ten times worse than it was ten minutes ago! I’m going +fast—I can’t move either leg now,” he continued, in a weak utterance. + +Glenn grew uneasy. Joe was pale—very pale, and breathed hard. + +Boone entered, with a smile on his lip. + +“Have you got the plantain?” asked Joe, in feeble accents, with his +languid eyes nearly closed, thinking it was Sneak. + +“Sit up and tell me how you feel,” said Boone, in vain striving to +repress his smile. + +“Oh, St. Peter! I haven’t strength enough to lift my hand,” said Joe, +his eyes still closed. + +“Did you find the snake?” asked Glenn. + +“Yes,” replied Boone. Joe groaned audibly. “I will tell you all about +it,” he continued; “I found the spot where Joe had been gathering the +berries, and tracked him without difficulty to every bush he visited by +the bruised grass under his foot-prints. At length I came to the +cluster of bushes where he received the wound. I stood in his cracks +and saw where he had plucked the raspberries. When about to cast down +my eyes in quest of the snake, suddenly I felt a blow on my own ankle!” + +“Did the same snake bite you?” asked Mary, quickly. + +“Yes,” replied Boone, still smiling. Joe opened his eyes, and after +gazing a moment at Boone, asked him if he did not suffer much pain. + +“Fully as much as you do—but hear me through. I sprang back with some +violence, I admit, but I did not run away. Lifting my cane, I returned +with a determination to kill the snake. I stooped down very low to +ascertain the precise position of its head, which was concealed by a +large mullen leaf—I saw its eyes and its _bill_—” + +“What!” exclaimed Joe, rising up on his elbow with unwonted vigour, and +his eyes riveted on the speaker. + +“Yes, its _bill_”, continued Boone. “And while my cane was brandished +in the air and about descending on its devoted head, a low clucking +arrested my arm, and approaching closer to it than before, and gazing +steadfastly a moment, I lowered my cane to its usual position, and fell +back laughing on the grass among the raspberries you had dropped.” + +“Mr. Boone—Mr. Boone!” cried Joe, springing up in a sitting attitude, +and seizing the hand of the veteran, “for Heaven’s sake tell me what it +was?” + +“It was an old SITTING HEN!” said Boone. + +“Upon your honour?” continued Joe, leaping upon his feet, and staring +the aged hunter in the face, while his eyes gleamed with irrepressible +hope and anxiety. + +“It was nothing else, upon my honour,” replied Boone, laughing in +concert with the rest. + +“Huzza! huzza!! huzza!!!” shouted Joe, casting the bandages hither and +thither, and dancing nimbly over the floor. “Fal-de-lal—tider-e-i— +tider-e-o— tider-e-um!” he continued, in frenzied delight, and, +observing Sneak at the door with an armful of plantain (who had +returned in time to witness his abrupt recovery, and now continued to +regard him with wonder and doubt—at times thinking he was delirious,) +skipped up and held out both hands, as if inviting him to dance. + +“Dod rot it, your leg ain’t swelled a bit!” said Sneak. + +“Don’t use that bad word, Sneak,” said Mary. + +“I won’t—but dod—he’s had me running all over—” + +“Tider-e-i—tider-e-um!” continued Joe, still dancing, while the +perspiration streamed over his face. + +“Have done with this nonsense, Joe!” said Glenn, “or else continue your +ridiculous exercises on the grass in the yard. You may rejoice now, but +this affair will be sport for others all your life. You will not relish +it so much to-morrow.” + +“I’d rather all the world would laugh at me alive and kicking, than +that one of you should mourn over my dead body,” replied Joe, leaping +over Sneak, who was sitting in the door, and striding to the grass plot +under the elm, where he continued his rejoicings. Sneak followed, and, +sitting down on the bench in the shade, seemed to muse with unusual +gravity at the strange spectacle presented by Joe. + +This was Joe’s last wild western adventure. The incident was soon +forgotten by the party in the house. Serious and sad thoughts succeeded +the mirthful scene described above. Roughgrove had brought Boone +thither to receive their last farewell! The renowned woodman and +warrior wore marks of painful regret on his pale features. The rest +were in tears. + +“William,” said Roughgrove, “listen to a tale concerning thy birth and +parentage, which I feel it to be my duty to unfold. Your sister has +already learned the story from your friend, who sits beside her. But I +will repeat it to all present. You who are the most interested can then +determine whether it shall ever be disclosed to other ears. The secret +was long locked in my bosom, and it was once my purpose to bury it with +my body in the grave. I pondered long on the subject, and prayed to +Heaven to be instructed. I have satisfactory evidence in my own heart +that I have acted correctly.” He then related the history of the twins, +as we have given it to the reader. When he concluded, La-u-na, who had +betrayed much painful interest during the recital, threw her arms round +William’s neck, and wept upon his breast. + +“Why do you weep, La-u-na?” asked the youth. + +“La-u-na must die!” said she; “her William will leave her and forget +her. The wild rose will bend over her grave—the brook will murmur low +at her cold feet—the rabbit will nip the tender grass by her tombstone +at night-fall—the katydid will chirp over her, and the whippor-will +will sing in vain. William will forget her! Poor La-u-na!” + +“No—La-u-na! no! Thou shalt go with me and be my bride, or else I will +remain with thee! Death only shall separate us!” said the youth, +drawing the slight form of the Indian maiden closer to his heart, and +imprinting a rapturous kiss on her smooth forehead. + +“We will all go together,” continued Roughgrove, “save our beloved +friend here, who tells me that no earthly consideration could induce +him to dwell in cities among civilized men.” + +“True,” said Boone; “I would not exchange my residence in the western +wilds for the gorgeous palaces of the east. Yet I think you do right in +returning to the society which you were destined to adorn. I shall +grieve when I miss you, but I will not persuade you to remain. Every +one should act according to the dictates of his conscience. It is my +belief that Providence guides our actions. You, my friends, were fitted +and designed to move in refined society, and by your example and +influence to benefit the world around you. The benefits bestowed by +_me_ will not be immediate, nor altogether in my day. I am a PIONEER, +formed by nature. Where I struggle with the savage and the wild beast, +my great grandchildren will reside in cities, I must fulfil my +mission.” + +At this moment Joe and Sneak appeared at the door. + +“There’s a covered flat-boat just landed down at the ferry,” said Joe. + +“It is from the island above,” said Roughgrove, “and the one I have had +constructed for our voyage down the river.” + +“Are we going, sure enough?” asked Joe. + +“Yes; to-morrow,” said Glenn. + +“Dod—are you _all_ going off?” asked Sneak, rolling round his large +eyes, and stretching out his neck to an unusual length. + +“All but me, Sneak,” said Boone. + +“And you won’t be any company for me. Dod—I’ve a notion to go too! If I +could foller any thing to make a living in Fillydelfa—” + +“If you go with us, you shall never want—I will see that you are +provided for,” said Glenn. + +“It’s a bargain!” said Sneak, with the eager emphasis characteristic of +the trading Yankee. + +“But poor Pete—the horses!” said Joe. + +“There are stalls in the boat for them,” said Roughgrove. + +“Huzza! I’m glad. Huzza!” cried Joe. + + +The next morning beamed upon them in beauty—and in sadness. The sun +rose in majesty, and poured his brilliant and inspiring rays on peak +and valley and plain. But the hearts of the peaceful wanderers throbbed +in sorrow as they gazed for the last time on the scene before them. +Though it had been identified with the many perilous and painful +encounters with savages, yet the quivering green leaves above, the +sparkling brook below, and the soft melody of happy birds around, were +intimately associated with some of the most blissful moments of their +lives. + +La-u-na retired to a lonely spot, and poured forth a farewell song to +the whispering spirits of her fathers. Long her steadfast gaze was +fixed on the blue sky, as if communing with the departed kings from +whom she descended. At length her tears vanished like a shower in the +sunshine, and a bright smile rested upon her features, as if her prayer +had been heard and all she asked were granted! Prophetic vision! While +the race from which she separated is doomed to extinction in the +forest, the blood she mingled with the Anglo-Saxon race may yet be +destined to sway the councils of a mighty empire. + +William mused in silence, guarding at a distance the bride of his +heart, and not venturing to intrude upon her devotions. The past was +like a dream to him—the present a bright vision—the future a paradise! + +Glenn and Mary were seated together, regarding with impatience the +brief preparations to embark. Boone, Roughgrove, Sneak, and Joe were +busily engaged lading the vessel. Sneak had hastily brought thither his +effects, and without a throe of regret abandoned his _house_ for ever +to the owls. Joe succeeded with but little difficulty in getting the +horses on board. The fawn, the kitten, the hounds, and the chickens +were likewise taken along. + +And now all was ready to push out into the current. All were on board. +Boone bid them an affectionate adieu in silence—in silence, but in +tears. The cable was loosened, and the boat was wafted down on its +journey eastward. William and La-u-na sat upon the deck, and gazed at +the receding shore, rendered dear by hallowed recollections. Glenn and +Mary stood at the prow, and as they marked the fleeting waters, their +thoughts dwelt on the happy future. Roughgrove was praying. Joe was +caressing the pony. Sneak was counting his muskrat skins. And thus we +must bid them adieu. + + + +THE END. + + +Footnote: + +[1] Thousands have had similar dreams about similar notes since Joe’s +dream.—_Printer’s Devil_. + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Wild Western Scenes, by John Beauchamp Jones + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILD WESTERN SCENES *** + +***** This file should be named 13077-0.txt or 13077-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/0/7/13077/ + +Produced by Curtis Weyant, the Online Distributed Proofreading Team +and The Making of America Project + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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