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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hope and Have, by Oliver Optic
+
+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: Hope and Have
+       or, Fanny Grant Among the Indians, A Story for Young People
+
+Author: Oliver Optic
+
+Release Date: February 20, 2008 [EBook #24660]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOPE AND HAVE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from scans of public domain material produced by
+Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE CAPTURE OF THE INDIAN BOY. Page 201.]
+
+
+
+
+HOPE AND HAVE;
+
+OR,
+
+FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS.
+
+
+A Story for Young People.
+
+
+
+BY
+
+OLIVER OPTIC,
+
+
+AUTHOR OF "RICH AND HUMBLE," "IN SCHOOL AND OUT," "WATCH AND
+WAIT," "WORK AND WIN," "THE RIVERDALE STORY BOOKS,"
+"THE ARMY AND NAVY STORIES," "THE BOAT CLUB,"
+"ALL ABOARD," "NOW OR NEVER," ETC.
+
+
+"For we are saved by hope."--ST. PAUL.
+
+
+
+BOSTON:
+LEE AND SHEPARD,
+(SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO.)
+
+Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by
+WILLIAM T. ADAMS,
+In the Clerk's Office of the District Court
+of the District of Massachusetts.
+
+ELECTROTYPED AT THE
+BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY,
+4 _Spring Lane_.
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+MY YOUNG FRIEND,
+
+RACHEL E. BAKER,
+
+This Book
+
+IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.
+
+
+
+
+THE WOODVILLE STORIES.
+
+IN SIX VOLUMES.
+
+A LIBRARY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
+
+BY OLIVER OPTIC.
+
+
+1. RICH AND HUMBLE.
+2. IN SCHOOL AND OUT.
+3. WATCH AND WAIT.
+4. WORK AND WIN.
+5. HOPE AND HAVE.
+6. HASTE AND WASTE.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+The fifth volume of the Woodville stories contains the experience of
+Fanny Grant, who from a very naughty girl became a very good one, by
+the influence of a pure and beautiful example, exhibited to the erring
+child in the hour of her greatest wandering from the path of rectitude.
+The story is not an illustration of the "pleasures of hope;" but an
+attempt to show the young reader that what we most desire, in moral and
+spiritual, as well as worldly things, we labor the hardest to obtain--a
+truism adopted by the heroine in the form of the principal title of the
+volume, Hope and Have.
+
+The terrible Indian massacre which occurred in Minnesota, in 1862, is
+the foundation of the latter half of the story; and the incidents, so
+far as they have been used, were drawn from authentic sources. Fanny
+Grant's experience is tame compared with that of hundreds who suffered
+by this deplorable event; and her adventures, in company with Ethan
+French, are far less romantic than many which are sufficiently attested
+by the principal actors in them.
+
+Once more, and with increased pleasure, the author tenders to his
+juvenile friends his thanks for their continued kindness to him and his
+books; and he hopes his present offering will both please and benefit
+them.
+
+WILLIAM T. ADAMS.
+
+HARRISON SQUARE, MASS.,
+July 16, 1866.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                                   PAGE
+
+CHAP. I.     The Naughty Girl.                       11
+
+CHAP. II.    Thou shalt not steal.                   25
+
+CHAP. III.   Letting the Cat out.                    39
+
+CHAP. IV.    Fanny the Skipper.                      52
+
+CHAP. V.     Down the River.                         66
+
+CHAP. VI.    Kate's Defection.                       79
+
+CHAP. VII.   The Soldier's Family.                   93
+
+CHAP. VIII.  The Sick Girl.                         107
+
+CHAP. IX.    Hope and Have.                         120
+
+CHAP. X.     Good out of Evil.                      135
+
+CHAP. XI.    Penitence and Pardon.                  148
+
+CHAP. XII.   The New Home.                          162
+
+CHAP. XIII.  The Indian Massacre.                   176
+
+CHAP. XIV.   The Indian Boy.                        190
+
+CHAP. XV.    The Conference.                        204
+
+CHAP. XVI.   The Young Exiles.                      218
+
+CHAP. XVII.  The Night Attack.                      231
+
+CHAP. XVIII. The Visitor at the Island.             244
+
+CHAP. XIX.   The Indian Ambush.                     257
+
+CHAP. XX.    Conclusion.                            270
+
+
+
+
+HOPE AND HAVE;
+
+OR,
+
+FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE NAUGHTY GIRL.
+
+
+"Now you will be a good girl, Fanny Jane, while I am gone--won't you?"
+said Fanny Grant, who has several times before appeared in these
+stories, to Fanny Jane Grant, her namesake, who has not before been
+presented to our readers.
+
+"O, yes, Miss Fanny; I will be ever so good; I won't even look wrong,"
+replied Fanny Jane, whose snapping black eyes even then beamed with
+mischief.
+
+"I am afraid you don't mean what you say," added Miss Fanny,
+suspiciously.
+
+"Yes, I do; I mean every word of it, and more too."
+
+"You make large promises; and I find when you promise most, you perform
+least."
+
+"But, certain true as I live, I won't do a single thing this time,"
+protested Fanny Jane. "Won't you believe me?"
+
+"You have deceived me so often that I do not know when to trust you."
+
+"I have turned over a new leaf, and I mean to be just as good as ever I
+can be."
+
+"If you are not good, Fanny Jane, I shall feel very bad when I return.
+I have done a great deal for you, and I hope you will think of it if
+you are tempted to do wrong during my absence. This time, in
+particular, I wish you to behave very well, and not do any mischief.
+You know what father says about you?"
+
+"He don't like me," pouted Fanny Jane.
+
+"When you are good he likes you."
+
+"He scolds me all the time."
+
+"He never scolds you; he reproves you when you do wrong, and I am sorry
+to say that is very often indeed. He says, if you do not behave better,
+he shall send you back to your uncle at the west."
+
+"I don't want to go there."
+
+"But you must, if you do not do better. He would have sent you before
+if I had not interceded for you."
+
+"Hadn't what?"
+
+"If I hadn't begged him not to do so."
+
+"I won't be sent back to my uncle's, any how," replied Fanny Jane,
+sharply; for the intimations of what might be, roused a spirit of
+resentment, rather than of penitence, in her mind.
+
+"We will not talk about that now, Fanny Jane. We are going to Hudson to
+spend a week. The strongest objection to our visit was, that you would
+not behave well while we were gone."
+
+"O, I will behave well!"
+
+"We intend to trust you once more. If you disappoint me this time, I
+shall not be able to say another word in your favor; and I am quite
+sure father will send you off to Minnesota just as soon as we get
+back."
+
+The carriage was waiting at the door; Bertha was already seated, and
+Fanny, having done all she could to insure the good behavior of the
+troublesome young miss who had become her peculiar charge, hastened to
+join her sister, and they were driven away towards the railroad
+station.
+
+In the two tall and elegant ladies, seated in the Woodville family
+carriage, our readers would hardly recognize Bertha and Fanny Grant,
+for eight years have elapsed since they were introduced, as children,
+to our young friends. Bertha maintains her pure and beautiful
+character, and is still a blessing to the family, and to the
+neighborhood in which she resides. Fanny is taller and prettier than
+her sister; and, having put away her childish follies, she is quite a
+dignified personage.
+
+Mighty events had transpired since they were children, and the country
+was entering upon the second year of the great civil war, which
+desolated the sunny South, and carried mourning to almost every
+household of the free North. Richard Grant had already distinguished
+himself as a captain in a popular New York regiment, of which the Rev.
+Ogden Newman, whilom Noddy, was the chaplain.
+
+Mr. Grant had retired from active business, and had been succeeded by
+Mr. Sherwood, his clerk, who, having a high appreciation of the
+excellent character of Bertha, was about to enter into more intimate
+relations with his employer and predecessor in business. Bertha was to
+become Mrs. Sherwood in June, and, as Mr. Grant had reluctantly
+accepted a financial mission from the government, which compelled him
+to visit Europe, it had been arranged that the bridal tour should be a
+trip across the Atlantic, in which Fanny was to accompany them. If the
+general conduct of Miss Fanny Jane Grant had been sufficiently
+meritorious to warrant the extending of the privilege to her, doubtless
+she also would have been one of the party, for she had been for two
+years a member of the family.
+
+Fanny Jane was a distant relative of the Grants of Woodville. Mr.
+Grant had two cousins, John and Edward, the latter of whom--the father
+of the wayward girl--had died three years previous to her introduction
+to the reader. At the time of his decease, he was in the employ of the
+wealthy broker, as a travelling agent. Just before his death, which
+occurred in a western city, while conscious that his end was near, he
+had written a letter to Mr. Grant, begging him to see that his only
+child was properly cared for when he could no longer watch over her.
+
+Edward Grant's wife had been dead several years. At her decease Fanny
+Jane had been committed to the care of her father's brother, then
+residing in Illinois. Mr. Grant, impressed by the solemn duty intrusted
+to him by his deceased cousin, promptly wrote to the child's uncle, who
+was dependent upon his own exertions for his daily bread, offering any
+assistance which the orphan might need; but no demand was made upon
+him.
+
+A year after the father's death, Mr. Grant's business affairs required
+him to visit the west, and he improved the opportunity to satisfy
+himself that the charge committed to him by the dying father was well
+cared for. On his arrival he was not pleased with the relations
+subsisting between Fanny Jane and her aunt. Mrs. Grant declared that
+the child was stubborn, wilful, and disobedient, needing frequent and
+severe punishment. On the other hand, Fanny said that her aunt abused
+her; worked her "almost to death;" did not give her good things to eat,
+and whipped her when she "did not do anything."
+
+Mr. Grant was a prudent and judicious man. He conversed with each party
+alone, and, being then in doubt, he consulted the uncle. John Grant's
+testimony, in the main, confirmed that of his wife, though he was
+willing to confess that the aunt "might have been a little hard on the
+child." Mr. Grant was far from satisfied; he thought it more than
+probable that Fanny was wilful, but he could not endure to think of her
+being abused. The sacred duty imposed upon him could not be trifled
+with, and, as the only method by which he could meet the demands of his
+conscience, he decided to take the orphan to Woodville with him.
+
+The uncle and the aunt, who had no children of their own, objected to
+this procedure, both because they did not wish to part with the child,
+and because her withdrawal from their care implied a condemnation of
+their former treatment of the orphan. Mr. Grant, however, succeeded in
+overcoming both of these objections, and they consented that Fanny
+should remain at Woodville for two years; Mrs. Grant assuring the
+benevolent broker that he would be glad to get rid of her in less than
+six months.
+
+Fanny had behaved so well during the stay of Mr. Grant at her uncle's
+house, that he was completely deceived in regard to her real character.
+The presence of so important a person as the wealthy broker, who had
+been represented to her as a person hardly less dignified than the
+President of the United States, had overawed her, and put her on her
+best behavior. Her kind friend, therefore, was unable to realize that
+the orphan girl was half so bad as she was described to be by her aunt.
+
+Edward Grant, while in the employ of the broker, had often visited
+Woodville, and being especially pleased with the person and the manners
+of Miss Fanny, had named his own daughter after her. On the arrival of
+the orphan at her new home, it was deemed fitting that Miss Fanny
+should have the especial care of her namesake, then only ten years of
+age. Fanny Jane, amid the novelties of the great house, and the
+beautiful grounds, was so much occupied for a few weeks that she
+behaved very well; but when she grew weary of horses and boats, house
+and grounds, she astonished her young mistress by conduct so outrageous
+that Miss Fanny wept in despair over the miserable failure she made in
+governing her charge.
+
+Miss Bertha was called in to assist in taming the refractory subject;
+but it was soon found that Fanny Jane had none of the chivalrous
+reverence which had rendered the wild Noddy Newman tolerably tractable,
+and her failure was as complete and ignominious as that of her sister.
+Mr. Grant was finally appealed to; and the sternness and severity to
+which he was compelled to resort were, for a time, effectual. But even
+these measures began to be impotent, and the broker realized that the
+uncle and aunt had understood the case better than himself.
+
+As a last resort, he threatened to send the wayward girl back to her
+uncle, who had now removed to Minnesota; for it would be better for
+such a child to put her down to hard work, and to keep her constantly
+under the eye of her guardians. This threat was more efficient than all
+the other means which had been used to keep the child within the bounds
+of common decency; but even this had grown stale upon her.
+
+Miss Fanny, finding that her failure involved no disgrace, renewed her
+exertions to reform her pupil and charge. With the utmost diligence she
+instructed her in her moral and religious duties, and endeavored by
+love and gentleness to win her from the error of her ways. Sometimes
+she felt that there was much to encourage her, at other times she
+despaired of ever making any impression upon her pupil. Her father
+induced her to persevere, for he had hope. He remembered what Edward
+Grant, her father, had been when a child; that he was accounted the
+worst and most hopeless boy in the town where he resided; but in spite
+of this unpromising beginning, he had become a very worthy and
+respectable man. Such a change might in due time come over the
+daughter, and Mr. Grant frequently impressed upon Fanny the necessity
+of perseverance, and of remitting no effort to reach her pupil's moral
+and spiritual nature.
+
+If Miss Fanny did not improve her pupil, she did improve herself, for
+the more of love and truth we impart to others, the more we have for
+ourselves; making the very pretty moral paradox, that the more of love
+and truth we subtract from our store, the more we have left in our own
+heart.
+
+Fanny Jane was undoubtedly a very naughty girl. We do not mean to say
+that she was merely rude and unlady-like in her manners; that she was
+occasionally angry without a just cause; that she had a few bad habits,
+and a few venial faults: she was impudent to her benefactors; she was
+untruthful, and even dishonest. Not only to Fanny and Bertha, but also
+to Mr. Grant, she was openly defiant. She used bad language, told
+falsehoods by wholesale, and had several times been detected in
+stealing valuable articles from the house.
+
+Yet with all her faults and failings, there were some good traits in
+Fanny Jane, though they seemed like the two grains of wheat in the
+bushel of chaff. What these redeeming features of her character were,
+we shall let our story disclose. One meeting the wayward girl on the
+lawn for a moment, or spending a few hours in the house with her, would
+have been deceived, as Mr. Grant had been, for her black eyes were full
+of animation; her manner was spirited, and her answers were quick and
+sharp. She was light and rather graceful in form; she did not appear to
+walk; she flashed about like a meteor. She was bold and daring in her
+flights, and as strong as most boys of her years. She would not run
+away from a rude boy; she laughed in the thunder storm, and did not
+fear to go through the glen at midnight.
+
+Bertha and Fanny had gone up to Hudson to spend a few days with the
+family of Mr. Sherwood's father, previous to their departure for
+Europe. This visit had been talked about for a fortnight, and the
+wayward girl knew that it was to take place. Contrary to her usual
+custom, she made the fairest of promises to her kind mistress, who,
+from this very readiness, suspected her sincerity; and her fears were
+more than realized.
+
+Fanny Jane stood at the open door gazing at the carriage until it
+disappeared beyond the hill. Her black eyes snapped under the stimulus
+of certain exciting thoughts which agitated her mind. When the carriage
+could no longer be seen, she slammed the front door, and bounded like a
+gazelle across the entry to the library of Mr. Grant, which she
+entered, closing the door behind her.
+
+"O, yes! I'll be good!" laughed she; "I'm always good! Send me to my
+uncle's? I should like to see them do it! I won't go! There are not men
+and women enough at Woodville to make me go!"
+
+Then she bounded to the windows in the library, one after another, and
+looked out at each. She closed the inner blinds of one, before which
+the gardener was at work on the lawn.
+
+"I can do as Miss Berty did, if worse comes to worst," said she,
+throwing herself into a great armchair. "She went to live out, and had
+her own way, and I can do the same; but I won't be as poor as she was.
+Ha, ha, ha! I know their secrets," she continued, as she crawled under
+the desk, in the middle of the room, and pushing the middle drawer out,
+took from a nail behind it a key. "They needn't think to cheat me."
+
+She sprang to her feet again with the key in her hand, laughing with
+delight at her own cunning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THOU SHALT NOT STEAL.
+
+
+Fanny--as we shall call her when she is not in the company of her
+namesake--revelled in the possession of the key, and congratulated
+herself on her own shrewdness in obtaining it. She applied it to one of
+the drawers of the desk. Though her devoted young mistress had been
+faithful to the last degree in her efforts to instil good principles in
+the mind of her pupil, Fanny appeared to have no scruples of
+conscience. She did not hesitate, did not pause to consider the
+wickedness of her acts.
+
+The drawer was unlocked and opened with an eager rather than a
+trembling hand. She seemed to fear nothing, and to be intent only on
+obtaining possession of some coveted treasure. As she pulled out the
+drawer, she was startled by a very unexpected incident. A great black
+cat, suddenly released from imprisonment, sprang out of the drawer,
+and, terrified by the appearance of the naughty girl, ran around the
+room several times, and then disappeared through an open window. The
+cat was a stranger to her; it was not a Woodville cat; and, though
+Fanny was not frightened, the presence of the animal in the drawer was
+suggestive.
+
+"I am not so sharp as I thought I was," said she to herself, quite
+soberly. "The housekeeper must have seen me when I was looking for that
+key; but she needn't think I am afraid of a cat!"
+
+Fanny sneered at the thought, and after glancing at the window through
+which the cat had made her escape, she turned to the drawer again, but
+it was empty; or it contained only a great card, such as those used in
+the Sunday school, on which was painted, in large black letters,
+
+    THOU SHALT NOT STEAL!
+
+This card, which must have been placed there for her especial benefit
+by some member of the family, rendered it certain that her intentions
+were suspected, if not known.
+
+"That's a gentle hint not to take anything from that drawer," said
+Fanny to herself. "There is nothing there, and of course I must take
+the hint; but they can't cheat me. There is money somewhere in this
+desk, and I must have it."
+
+Perhaps, under ordinary circumstances, she would have been moved by the
+expedient which had been used to deter her from stealing. The
+commandment of God, staring her in the face at the very moment when she
+expected to place her hand upon the forbidden treasure, might have
+reached her conscience if she had not been engaged in a deeply-laid
+plan for revelling in stolen joys. As it was, she was only disappointed
+at not finding the money which the drawer had been supposed to contain.
+
+"Fanny Jane!" called Mrs. Green, the housekeeper, from the entry.
+
+It was not prudent to be seen in the library, and, hastily closing the
+drawer, and restoring the key to the nail under the desk, she stepped
+out at one of the long windows upon the piazza.
+
+"Fanny Jane!" repeated the housekeeper.
+
+"Here I am," said the guilty girl, entering the front door.
+
+"It is time for you to get ready for school," added Mrs. Green.
+
+"I'm not going to school to-day."
+
+"Not going to school? Why not, miss?"
+
+"Because I don't want to go."
+
+"I think you are going," said the housekeeper, firmly.
+
+"And I think I am not going!"
+
+"Very well; then I will send for Mr. Long," added Mrs. Green, with a
+coolness and decision which were not without their effect upon the
+stubborn girl.
+
+Mr. Long was a constable, and outside of his official duties, he was
+often employed in various miscellaneous offices by Mr. Grant. He lived
+in a small cottage adjoining the Woodville estate. This man was a great
+bugbear to Fanny, who had a very proper and wholesome regard for the
+strong arm of the law.
+
+"I don't care for Mr. Long," said Fanny, shaking her shoulders in
+defiance; but this was only a vain boast.
+
+Mrs. Green rang a bell for the man-servant who was employed in the
+house. This was more than the naughty girl could endure, for she knew
+that Mrs. Green would do all she promised.
+
+"You needn't send for Mr. Long," interposed Fanny, doggedly. "I'll go
+to school."
+
+"I thought you would; but you may do as you please."
+
+"I'll go, but I want fifteen cents to buy a new copy-book."
+
+As Mrs. Green knew that Fanny needed a new copy-book, she did not
+object to this request, and went into the library to procure the money.
+Instead of going up stairs to prepare herself for school, as the
+housekeeper had told her to do, Fanny went out upon the piazza again,
+and looking through the window, saw Mrs. Green open a closet in the
+library, and, from a drawer there, take out the money she had asked
+for. The housekeeper locked the drawer and the closet door, placing the
+key of the latter in a vase on the mantel-piece, and the key of the
+drawer under one of a row of volumes on a book shelf. All these
+precautions had been rendered necessary by the presence of the
+dishonest girl in the house.
+
+Fanny, having carefully observed where the keys were placed, ran up
+stairs, and presently appeared, dressed for school. Mrs. Green gave her
+the money for which she had asked, and having satisfied herself that
+the refractory girl had actually departed for school, she went up
+stairs to attend to her usual duties. Fanny went as far as the road,
+and then, instead of turning to the left, she went to the right, and
+keeping in the shadow of the trees, reached the rear of the mansion.
+From this point she crept round to the piazza, from which she passed
+into the library.
+
+"She can't cheat me!" said Fanny, again congratulating herself upon her
+own cunning. "She'll find, before night, that I'm too much for her."
+
+The wicked girl then went to the vase, and taking from it the key,
+opened the closet. From the place where she had stood, she could not
+determine exactly under which book the key of the drawer had been
+placed; but after raising half a dozen of them, she found the object of
+her search. The drawer was opened, and on the top of several bundles of
+papers lay a pocket-book. Her eyes snapped with unwonted fire as she
+discovered the prize.
+
+She opened it, and found a great roll of bills; in one of the pockets
+there was a mass of currency. There was no great staring placard, with
+"Thou shalt not steal" printed upon it, but the words seemed to be
+spoken from her own breast--seemed to be thundering in her soul. But
+Fanny was excited by the prospect of the stolen joys, in which she had
+been revelling in anticipation for a fortnight, and she heeded not the
+voice from her breast, and silenced the thunder-tones that rolled
+through her soul.
+
+"Shall I take it all?" whispered she, as she gazed on the great pile of
+"greenbacks and currency." "I may as well be hung for an old sheep as a
+lamb," she added, as she gathered up the money, and thrust it into her
+pocket.
+
+A noise in the entry startled her. She closed the drawer, locked it,
+and restored the key to the place where she had found it. The closet
+door was secured in like manner, and the key returned to the vase.
+Passing out of the library as she had entered, she made her way back to
+the road, and walked towards the school-house. Before she reached it,
+however, she turned down a lane leading to the river. It was a lonely
+avenue, completely shaded by trees, which concealed her from the view
+of the people in the adjoining houses. Increasing her pace to a
+bounding run, she soon reached the Hudson.
+
+Seated on a stone, near the river, was a girl of fourteen, who had
+evidently been waiting for Fanny. In her hand she held a couple of
+books, which indicated that she also had been sent to school.
+
+"Where have you been? Why didn't you come before?" asked the girl, as
+she rose at Fanny's approach.
+
+"I couldn't come before," replied Fanny.
+
+"Why not?" demanded the other, whose name was Kate Magner.
+
+"No matter why not," answered Fanny, rather testily, for she was not
+yet quite willing to confess what she had done in the library of the
+mansion-house.
+
+"Haven't the folks gone away?"
+
+"Yes; they all went off in the morning train. Where is Tom?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"But we want him; we can't get along without him."
+
+"He said he would come."
+
+"But he is late."
+
+"So are you."
+
+"I couldn't help it."
+
+"I suppose he can't, either. But what are we going to do, Fan?" asked
+Kate, who did not seem to be satisfied with the present prospect of the
+enterprise, whatever it was.
+
+"We are going to have a good time."
+
+"You said that before; but I want to know what we are going to do. You
+asked me to meet you here at half past eight. You come at nine, and I
+don't see that anything is to be done. I shall catch it for playing
+truant from school, and all for nothing."
+
+"You shall have the best time you have had in your life."
+
+"I don't know about that. Why don't you tell me what you mean to do?"
+
+"I am almost afraid to tell you, Kate."
+
+"Afraid of what?"
+
+"I'm afraid you won't dare to go with me."
+
+"Did you ever do anything I was afraid to do?" said Kate, with a sneer.
+
+"But this is a greater thing than we ever did before. We may be gone a
+long time, and we are certain to be found out."
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded Kate, apparently appalled by this frank
+statement of the difficulties of the enterprise.
+
+"I thought it would scare you," laughed Fanny.
+
+"But it don't scare me."
+
+"Yes, it does."
+
+"I will do anything that you dare to do," replied Kate, stung by the
+flings of her companion.
+
+"You shall have the greatest time that ever was, but you must take the
+consequences after it is all over."
+
+"If you can, I can."
+
+"Come with me, then," continued Fanny, as she moved along the bank of
+the river towards the Woodville landing pier.
+
+"I won't go a step till I know what you are going to do."
+
+"I'm afraid you will back out."
+
+"No, I won't; I solemnly promise you that I will go with you anywhere
+you please."
+
+"I have got some money," added Fanny, in a very mysterious manner.
+
+"How much?"
+
+"Two dollars."
+
+"Pooh! that ain't much!" sneered Kate.
+
+"Well, I've got five dollars."
+
+"Have you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Where did you get it?"
+
+"I found it."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"On the floor."
+
+Kate probably had her doubts in regard to the finding of the money, but
+she did not ask any troublesome questions, and repressed whatever of
+righteous indignation might have risen in her soul.
+
+"What are you going to do with it?" she asked.
+
+"We will have a good time with it."
+
+"But where are you going?"
+
+Fanny glanced at her companion, and hesitated to reveal the brilliant
+project, fearful that it might be disapproved.
+
+"We will go over to Whitestone, or down to Pennville, and buy
+something. But where is Tom? We must have him."
+
+"What do you want of him?" asked Kate, rather petulantly.
+
+"We must go over in a boat, and we want him to manage it for us."
+
+"Perhaps he will come; he promised to do so."
+
+"We will go up to the landing-place; perhaps he is up there."
+
+The two girls walked up to the Woodville pier; but Tom Magner was not
+there. He seemed to have no relish for the society of the interesting
+young ladies engaged in a brilliant enterprise; and if he had made any
+appointment to meet them, he neglected to keep it. Fanny was very much
+disappointed at his non-appearance, much more so than the young
+gentleman's sister, who, not knowing the extent of the enterprise, was
+in blissful ignorance of its perils and difficulties. Tom Magner was an
+almost indispensable part of the plan; but the young knight did not
+come, and the project must be abandoned or carried out without him.
+
+"I am afraid he won't come," said Fanny, after impatiently waiting for
+half an hour.
+
+"I know he won't now. I don't believe he intended to come at all,"
+replied Kate.
+
+"He is a mean fellow, then."
+
+"We can get along without him. We shall have more money to spend
+ourselves."
+
+"But how shall we get over to Whitestone?"
+
+"We can go up the river and take the ferry."
+
+"Yes; and the first person we meet may be your father, or some of the
+Woodville folks. No, Kate, we must not be seen; if we are, all our fun
+will be spoiled."
+
+"For my part I don't want Tom, or any other boy with us. I think boys
+are hateful!"
+
+"So do I; but I only want him to manage the boat. Don't you think you
+could go up and find Tom?"
+
+"I don't think I could," said Kate, indignantly.
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"At school, I suppose."
+
+"Couldn't you tell the teacher that your father wants him?" suggested
+Fanny.
+
+"No, I could not! I should be caught myself. I believe you want to get
+me into trouble."
+
+"I'm sure I don't, Kate, for that would get me into trouble. What shall
+we do?"
+
+"We will go up to the ferry. We can see who is in the boat before we go
+on board."
+
+"I won't do that if we don't go at all."
+
+And so the brilliant scheme seemed to be defeated for the want of a
+boatman; but Fanny was too bold and enterprising in mischief to give up
+without a struggle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+LETTING THE CAT OUT.
+
+
+"Pooh! I shall not give it up so!" exclaimed Fanny, when it was certain
+that Tom Magner did not intend to join the party.
+
+"What will you do?" asked Kate.
+
+"Go to Pennville, of course."
+
+"How will you get there?"
+
+"In the boat; we will take the Greyhound."
+
+"You know we can't do anything of the kind, Fanny Grant."
+
+"I know we can," replied the resolute girl.
+
+"But who will manage her?"
+
+"I will manage her myself."
+
+"You?"
+
+"Yes; I know how to manage a boat as well as any of them. I have sailed
+enough to understand the whole thing," added Fanny, as she led the way
+to the pier, off which the sail-boat was moored.
+
+"Do you think I will risk my life in a boat with no one but you to
+manage it?"
+
+"But I know how to handle the boat as well as any one," persisted
+Fanny. "There isn't much wind, and I'm sure there is no danger."
+
+Kate Magner had a great many doubts, but the vision of cakes and candy,
+lemonade and ice-cream, which her companion's money would purchase,
+tempted her to yield. The breeze was apparently very light, and it
+seemed hardly possible that the boat could be upset. She wavered, and
+Fanny saw the advantage she had gained.
+
+"If we don't get along very well, we can hire some boy or man to manage
+the boat for us," continued the resolute girl, pressing the point upon
+her yielding companion. "There are some men and boys fishing over
+there, and they will be very glad to make some money."
+
+"That will be the best way. If you will get one of those men to manage
+the boat, I will go with you; for there isn't any fun in being drowned,
+or in being run over by a steamboat."
+
+"Very well, I will do that," replied Fanny, her black eyes snapping
+with renewed vigor.
+
+Ben, the boatman, who usually haunted the pier and the boat-house like
+a familiar spirit, had added many infirmities to his burden of cares
+during the eight years which have intervened since we first knew him,
+and he was now confined to his house by an attack of rheumatism. There
+was no one near, therefore, to interfere with the execution of Fanny's
+plan. The Greyhound was moored a short distance from the pier, at which
+the small skiff, which served as her tender, was fastened. The two
+girls were about to embark in the little boat, when footsteps were
+heard at the upper end of the pier.
+
+Fanny started, released her hold of the painter of the skiff, and at
+once realized that her brilliant project was in imminent danger of
+being defeated. She turned to observe who the intruder was, and to her
+horror and consternation, discovered that it was Mr. Long, the
+constable, the greatest bugbear in the world to her on ordinary
+occasions, and especially so in the present instance, when her
+conscience accused her of a very wicked deed.
+
+There was no opportunity to retreat, for the enemy was between her and
+the main land. She had been so intent upon the argument with her more
+cautious companion, that she had not noticed the approach of the
+constable until his feet struck upon the planking of the pier. The
+money she had stolen was in her pocket, and it felt just like a coal of
+fire, which was soon to create a conflagration that might burn her up.
+She very much desired, just then, to get rid of this evidence of her
+crime, and she would have dropped the roll of bills into the water if
+it would have sunk to the bottom, and disappeared from the sight of the
+terrible man who was approaching.
+
+Fanny did not doubt that the loss of the money had been discovered by
+Mrs. Green, and that she had sent for the constable to arrest her and
+put her in prison--a threat which the housekeeper had injudiciously
+made on a former occasion, when the naughty girl had been guilty of a
+similar fault, but a threat which Mr. Grant would not have permitted to
+be carried out. This terrible punishment appalled Fanny, but she did
+not entirely lose her self-possession. She had done a very great wrong;
+she had staked everything upon the success of the present venture. She
+was entirely satisfied that Mr. Grant, on his return, would send her to
+her uncle in Minnesota, and she had prepared herself for the worst. Her
+object, therefore, was to escape present defeat, and she hoped,
+cornered as she was by the constable, that some means of getting out of
+the dilemma might be presented to her.
+
+"We are caught," said Kate, as Mr. Long moved down the pier.
+
+"Not yet," replied Fanny, with more confidence than she actually felt.
+
+The consciousness of being the leader in the enterprise led her to put
+on a bold face in order to inspire her friend with confidence, if for
+no other purpose.
+
+"What shall we do?" demanded Kate, nervously.
+
+"Keep still; don't you say a word."
+
+"What are you doing here, Fanny, at this time of day?" asked Mr. Long,
+as he approached the girls.
+
+"I'm not doing anything," replied Fanny, boldly.
+
+"Why are you not at school?"
+
+"The teacher sent us down to get some green branches to put over the
+clock. We are going to have some visitors in school this afternoon,"
+replied Fanny, promptly.
+
+"Did she send the other girl, too?"
+
+"Yes; she sent both of us."
+
+"I want to see you, Fanny; come with me," continued the terrible
+constable, beckoning her to follow him up the pier.
+
+"What do you want of me?"
+
+"I wish to speak with you a moment."
+
+"I can't stop long, for we must hurry back with the boughs," added
+Fanny, who had no relish for a confidential conversation with such a
+man, for she at once surmised its topic.
+
+"Are you looking for green boughs out on the end of that pier?" said
+he.
+
+"We only went out there for a moment," pleaded Fanny, as she followed
+Mr. Long, but it was with the intention of darting away from him at a
+favorable moment.
+
+But the constable stopped before he reached the head of the pier, which
+effectually prevented her retreat unless she jumped into the water.
+
+"What do you want of me, Mr. Long?" she asked, with increasing
+boldness.
+
+"Fanny, you have been very bad again," began the tormentor.
+
+"No, I haven't."
+
+"Yes, you have; and you needn't attempt to deny it."
+
+"What have _I_ done?"
+
+"You know what you have done."
+
+"I haven't done anything," protested she, speaking for the sake of
+speaking, rather than because she had any confidence in the impression
+her words would produce upon the mind of her tormentor, and all the
+while thinking how she could break away from the constable.
+
+"'Thou shalt not steal,'" said Mr. Long, impressively.
+
+"What do you mean by that?" demanded Fanny. "Do you mean to say that I
+steal? If you do, you are very much mistaken."
+
+"Fanny, if you didn't steal anything, it was only because you did not
+find anything to steal."
+
+What could he mean by that? She was perplexed, but she began to hope
+that he did not know what she had done.
+
+"I do not want to steal," said she; and now she spoke for the purpose
+of drawing out her accuser, to ascertain how much he did know.
+
+"You have been guilty of stealing several times," continued the
+constable, assuming a very stern and virtuous aspect.
+
+"I never meant to _steal_ anything."
+
+"But you meant to steal this time: the cat is out of the bag."
+
+The constable's stern features relaxed a little, and there was
+something like a smile playing upon his face, as if in faint
+appreciation of a joke.
+
+"The cat is out of the drawer, if that is what you mean," said Fanny,
+laughing, and now greatly encouraged by the new aspect of the case.
+
+"That is what I mean."
+
+"But I didn't let the cat out," protested Fanny.
+
+"Who did?"
+
+"Mrs. Green."
+
+"Fanny, you are lying to me, and you know you are," added Mr. Long,
+sternly.
+
+"I hope to die if it isn't just as I say!" persisted the wicked girl,
+earnestly. "Mrs. Green let the cat out of the drawer, and I had a good
+laugh over it."
+
+Fanny began to laugh very heartily. The constable was staggered, and it
+was evident that he was not smart enough to deal with one so shrewd and
+clever as the wayward girl.
+
+"What are you laughing at?" asked Mr. Long.
+
+"I was laughing to think of the poor cat as she jumped out of the
+drawer and ran away. What did you put her in there for? Were you afraid
+she would steal the meat or the milk? Could that cat read, Mr. Long?
+Were you trying to teach her one of the ten commandments?"
+
+"Do you mean to tell me, Fanny, that Mrs. Green let the cat out of the
+drawer?"
+
+"Yes, she did. Poor pussy mewed awfully in the drawer, where you put
+her. Perhaps she was saying over the commandment you gave her to learn;
+but Mrs. Green didn't understand her lingo, and let her out."
+
+"Fanny, I am going up to see Mrs. Green, and if you have told me a lie,
+it will be all the worse for you," said Mr. Long.
+
+"You can ask Mrs. Green herself."
+
+"I will ask her. You meant to steal: you were seen watching Mr. Grant
+when he had the key of the drawer."
+
+"And you set a trap to catch me; but you caught Mrs. Green!" laughed
+Fanny.
+
+"I don't believe a word of your story; but I am willing to be sure
+before I do anything."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"I shall take care of you; you will know what I mean when I have proved
+the case."
+
+"You ought to have told Mrs. Green where you put the cat, for the poor
+creature would have starved to death before I let her out."
+
+"We shall see. Mr. Grant told me to take care of you if you did not
+behave yourself while the family were away. I will go up and ask Mrs.
+Green about this matter, and if I find you have not told me the
+truth,--and I don't believe you have,--I shall take care of you."
+
+"When shall I see you again?" asked Fanny, with the most brazen
+impudence.
+
+"You will see me sooner than you will want to see me, if you have been
+doing wrong."
+
+"But I shall not be here when you come back. We are going right up to
+school now."
+
+"I can find you, wherever you are," replied the constable, confidently,
+as he walked away towards the mansion.
+
+Fanny was entirely relieved of all her fears; she was even jubilant
+over her success in cheating her persecutor. Her conscience did not
+trouble her now. She readily comprehended the details of the plan by
+which she was to be detected, if she attempted to steal from the
+library. Of course, the constable would soon find out that she had not
+told the truth, and that Mrs. Green knew nothing about the cat in the
+drawer.
+
+After the announcement that the family were to be absent a week, had
+been made, it was observed that Fanny was in unusually good spirits.
+Miss Fanny had detected her in the act of looking through one of the
+library windows, while her father was paying a bill in the room. Mr.
+Grant, wealthy as he was, had always been very methodical in his
+business affairs. He kept a sum of money in a drawer for household
+expenses, to which Mrs. Green and his daughters had access. When
+anything was paid out by any member of the family, the amount was put
+down on a paper in the drawer. After the advent of Fanny Jane, and
+after she had been detected in some small pilfering, the key of this
+drawer was concealed as we have described.
+
+Miss Fanny at once suspected the motive of her wayward charge, and told
+her father of the fact, on the day before the departure of the family
+for Hudson. Mr. Grant, more desirous of reforming the wicked girl than
+of anything else, consulted Mr. Long. Mrs. Green was told where she
+might find money for the payment of the household bills, and admonished
+to be very careful in concealing the keys; but nothing was said to her
+about the cat and the commandment. If Fanny did attempt to steal, the
+case was to be managed by the constable, who had been instructed to
+take her to his own house, and keep her in close subjection until the
+return of the family.
+
+The cat belonged to Mr. Long, who was confident that the animal, when
+released by the act of the thief, would run home, when her presence
+would inform him of the culprit's deed. The cat--true to her domestic
+instinct--had run home; but the constable had not immediately seen her.
+As soon as he discovered the tell-tale pussy, he hastened over to
+Woodville, expecting to find Fanny penitently studying the commandment,
+which was the moral of Mr. Grant's stratagem; but before he reached the
+house he saw two girls on the pier, and recognized Fanny as one of
+them.
+
+Willing to be entirely fair, and deeming it possible that Mr. Grant's
+plan had failed, he went up to the house to consult Mrs. Green, while
+Fanny rushed down the pier to join her companion in mischief.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+FANNY THE SKIPPER.
+
+
+"What did he want of you, Fan?" asked Kate Magner, with a curiosity not
+unmixed with anxiety, as her leader in mischief joined her at the foot
+of the pier.
+
+"O, never mind that," exclaimed Fanny, in reply. "We have no time to
+talk about it now."
+
+"But what did he say?" demanded Kate, who thought her present action
+ought to be governed in some measure by the words of the constable.
+
+"He didn't say much; it is all right now. Come, jump into the boat. We
+haven't a moment to lose."
+
+"I want to know what he said before I get any deeper into the mud,"
+persisted Kate; but we are compelled to acknowledge that her scruples
+were mere worldly prudence, and were not called forth by the
+upbraidings of an awakened conscience.
+
+"You can't back out now, Kate. I made it all right with Mr. Long,"
+replied Fanny, with energy, as she drew the skiff up to the steps,
+ready for her more timid companion to embark. "Now, get in, and don't
+waste another instant in talking about nothing."
+
+"You are keeping everything to yourself. If you don't tell me what Mr.
+Long wanted of you, I won't get into the boat. Was it about the money
+you _found_?" asked Kate.
+
+"No; he didn't say a word about that. He only asked me why I was not at
+school."
+
+"What did you tell him?"
+
+"I told him the teacher sent us down to get some green branches to put
+over the clock, for we were to have visitors at school this afternoon."
+
+"Did he believe you?"
+
+Kate laughed; she appreciated what she regarded as the joke of a clever
+deception; the wickedness of the act did not disturb her.
+
+"Of course he believed me--why shouldn't he? He has gone up to ask Mrs.
+Green if I went to school."
+
+"But he will find out all about it."
+
+"No, he won't; besides, if he does, we shall be a mile off when he gets
+back here again."
+
+"Didn't he say a word about the money you found?"
+
+"Not a word, Kate. Now, jump in, or we shall certainly get caught. We
+shall have time enough to talk about these things when we get away from
+the pier."
+
+Kate was satisfied, and stepped into the skiff. All her fears related
+to the money in the possession of her friend, which, she was almost
+certain, had been stolen. She was moralist enough to understand that
+even if the money had been found on the floor, as Fanny represented, it
+was just as much stolen as though it had been taken from Mr. Grant's
+pocket-book. Kate had not engaged in this theft, and she was not
+willing to bear any of the blame on account of it. If the crime had
+already been discovered, she did not wish to expose herself to the
+peril of helping to spend the money. According to Fanny's statement,
+nothing had been found out, and she got into the skiff.
+
+Fanny had been among the boats a great deal during her residence at
+Woodville, and rowing and sailing were suited to her masculine taste.
+She was a girl of quick parts; her faculty of imitation was highly
+developed, and generally what she had seen done she could do herself.
+She could row cross-handed very well, and she had no difficulty in
+pulling the skiff out to the Greyhound's moorings. Kate stepped on
+board of the sail-boat, and Fanny, fastening the painter of the skiff
+at the stern, began to bustle around with as much confidence as though
+she had been a skipper ever since she left her cradle.
+
+She had often sailed in the Greyhound with Ben and others, and she knew
+precisely what was to be done in order to get the boat under way. She
+understood how to move the tiller in order to make the craft go in a
+given direction, and had an indistinct idea of beating and tacking; but
+she was very far from being competent to manage a sailboat.
+
+The stops were removed from the sails, under the direction of the
+adventurous Fanny, and the foresail hoisted. It was a more difficult
+matter to cast off the moorings, but their united strength accomplished
+the feat, and the Greyhound, released from the bonds which held her,
+immediately drifted to the shore, for her unskilful skipper had not
+trimmed the foresail so that it would draw.
+
+"I thought you knew how to manage a boat," said Kate, contemptuously.
+
+"So I do," replied Fanny, as she gathered up the fore-sheet, and
+trimmed the sail.
+
+"What are you doing in here, then?"
+
+"I only came in here to get a fair start," added the skipper, not at
+all disconcerted by the mishap.
+
+"Folks don't generally run the boat ashore before they start," sneered
+Kate, who certainly had no confidence in the seamanship of the feminine
+skipper.
+
+"That's the way they do it!" exclaimed Fanny, triumphantly, as the sail
+began to draw, and the boat moved off from the shore. "Now, we are all
+right. That's just the way I meant to make her go."
+
+The wind came from the Woodville side of the river, but it was very
+light, and the Greyhound moved but slowly. Fanny was entirely satisfied
+with herself now, and was confident that she could manage any boat that
+ever floated. It was a very easy thing, she thought, and she did not
+see why folks made such a "fuss" about sailing a boat; anybody could do
+it, if they only thought they could. But the Greyhound did not move
+fast enough for her impatient temperament, and, against the
+remonstrances of her more prudent companion, she insisted upon setting
+the mainsail.
+
+"Mr. Long may be after us soon, and we must get along as fast as we
+can," said she, as she took the throat halliard, and gave the peak to
+Kate. "Now, hoist away. We are as good sailors as any one need be."
+
+The mainsail was set, and the Greyhound began to travel through the
+water pretty rapidly, much to the delight of Fanny. She had been
+deceived in regard to the force of the wind; under the lee of the
+shore, where it was obstructed by the bank, by the trees, and by the
+buildings, the breeze was very light: out in the middle of the river
+the wind was quite strong; but the boat had not yet begun to feel its
+full force.
+
+"Now she goes beautifully!" exclaimed Fanny, as she observed the effect
+by the added sail.
+
+"She goes very well; but don't you see how rough the water is out in
+the middle of the river?" replied Kate, rather anxiously, though she
+was not willing to acknowledge the full extent of her fears.
+
+"That's nothing."
+
+"But why don't you go down the river more, and keep out of that rough
+place?"
+
+"I like the waves! It's splendid to hear them beating against the
+boat."
+
+"It may be when you have a man in the boat with you," answered Kate,
+sceptically.
+
+"What are you afraid of?"
+
+"I'm not afraid; but I think folks ought to be very careful when they
+don't know anything about boats."
+
+"But I know all about boats. Don't you see how beautifully she goes? I
+wish she would go a little faster."
+
+"She goes fast enough," said Kate, as she listened to the ripple of the
+waves against the bow.
+
+"She might go a little faster; besides, we are in a hurry."
+
+"We are going fast enough, Fan."
+
+"The faster the better! I suppose, when Mr. Long goes over to the
+school and finds we are not there, he will come down to the pier after
+us. We want to be out of sight when he gets there."
+
+"Why should he come after us? I thought you said it was all right,"
+demanded Kate, nervously.
+
+"He will go over to the school to find out whether the teacher sent us
+after the boughs."
+
+"_I_ wish I had not come," continued Kate, gloomily.
+
+If she had known the whole truth, and understood the full extent of her
+bold companion's plans, she would have been still more dissatisfied
+with the situation.
+
+"Here, Kate, you take the tiller a moment," said Fanny, as she rose
+from her seat in the stern-sheets.
+
+"What are you going to do now?" asked Kate, nervously.
+
+"I'm going to hoist the other sail."
+
+"We don't want it hoisted. We are going fast enough."
+
+"We can just as well go faster; and I want to get out of sight before
+Mr. Long sees us," replied Fanny, persuasively, though her bright eyes
+snapped with increasing lustre under the excitement of the moment.
+
+"I won't touch the tiller; I say we go fast enough. You want to drown
+me--don't you?"
+
+"If I drown you, I must drown myself--mustn't I?"
+
+"I won't touch the tiller; I don't want the other sail hoisted,"
+persisted Kate.
+
+"What are you afraid of? I didn't think you were a coward. If I had, I
+shouldn't have asked you to come with me."
+
+"I'm not a coward, any more than you are. I don't see what you want to
+hoist the other sail for; we are going like fury through the water
+now."
+
+"We need more head sail," answered Fanny, using an expression she had
+borrowed from the nautical speeches of Ben, the boatman.
+
+"No, we don't need more head sail," replied Kate, who, however, had not
+the most remote idea of the meaning of her friend's language.
+
+"Take the tiller, Kate, and don't bother me."
+
+"I will not."
+
+"Then I will hoist the sail, and let the boat take care of herself
+while I do it. If she is upset, it will be your fault,--not mine."
+
+Fanny was resolute; she had a will, as well as a way, of her own. She
+did not want any advice, and she was not willing to take any. She
+looked upon her companion as a weak-minded, poor-spirited girl, and she
+treated her opinions and her wishes with the utmost contempt, now that
+she had her completely in her power. It was useless for Kate to attempt
+to oppose her.
+
+"I don't know anything about the tiller, as you call it. I don't even
+know what it is, and I'm sure I couldn't tell what to do with it,"
+continued Kate.
+
+"That's a good girl!" replied Fanny, in patronizing tones, when she saw
+that her companion was disposed to yield.
+
+"I don't want to touch it."
+
+"But you must."
+
+"Must! Who says I must?"
+
+"I say so; if you don't, we may be upset."
+
+"I have gone far enough, Fan Grant; I don't want to go any farther: I
+want to go on shore again!" exclaimed Kate, now completely disgusted
+with the venture, for in addition to the perils of wrong doing, she
+found she must submit to the impudence and the arrogance of her friend.
+
+"Well, why don't you go on shore?" replied Fanny, with the utmost
+coolness and self-possession.
+
+"You know I can't. Turn the boat round, and let me go back to the
+land."
+
+"I think not."
+
+"I have had enough of this thing."
+
+"Will you take the tiller, or will you let the boat upset?" added
+Fanny, with firmness and decision. "You can't go on shore again till I
+get ready to let you. I command this vessel, and if you ever want to
+put your foot on the dry land again, you must mind what I say."
+
+"Please to let me go back," pleaded Kate.
+
+"I won't please to do anything of the kind. Take the tiller, I say."
+
+"What shall I do with it?" asked the poor girl, cowed down and subdued
+by the force and decision of her companion.
+
+"Sit here," replied Fanny, pointing to the corner of the stern-sheets,
+where the helmsman usually sits. "This is the tiller," she added,
+indicating the serpent-shaped stick attached to the rudder, by which
+the boat is steered. "Keep it just as it is, until I tell you to move
+it."
+
+"I don't know how to move it."
+
+"When I say right, move it this way;" and Fanny pointed to the
+starboard side. "When I say left, move it the other way."
+
+Fanny watched her a moment to see that her instructions were obeyed.
+
+"We don't want this any longer," said she, unfastening the painter of
+the skiff and throwing it into the water, thus permitting the boat to
+go adrift.
+
+"What did you do that for?" demanded Kate, as the Greyhound dashed on,
+leaving the skiff behind to be borne down the river by the tide.
+
+"We don't want the skiff, and dragging it behind keeps us back some."
+
+"What did you bring it for, then?"
+
+"To keep Mr. Long from chasing us in it. All the rest of the boats are
+hauled up, and he will have to find one before he can come after us."
+
+Fanny went forward, and having fearlessly removed the stops from the
+jib, which required her to crawl out a little way on the bowsprit, she
+hoisted the sail, and carried the sheet aft to the standing-room, as
+she had often seen the boatmen do. The effect of this additional canvas
+was immediately seen, for the Greyhound had now reached the middle of
+the river, where she felt the full force of the wind, which was fresh
+from the north-west, and came in puffs and flaws.
+
+When the Greyhound went out from the shore, her sails were over on the
+right hand side; that is, she took the wind abaft the port beam. The
+boat was now careened over nearly to her rail, and was darting through
+the water like a rocket. Kate trembled, but Fanny was delighted.
+
+"Now we will go down the river," said Fanny, as she took the tiller.
+
+Suiting the action to the word, she put the helm up just as a flaw of
+wind came sweeping over the waves. The boat came round; the three
+sails, caught by the flaw, suddenly flew over, filled on the other
+side, and the Greyhound careened till she was half full of water.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+DOWN THE RIVER.
+
+
+Putting a boat about, as Fanny had turned the Greyhound, is nautically
+termed _gybing_ her. It is a dangerous manoeuvre when the wind is
+fresh, and should never be attempted by young or inexperienced boatmen.
+By putting the boat about in the opposite direction, hauling in the
+sheet as the sail flutters, the danger may be wholly avoided. The
+boat's head should always be turned in the direction from which the
+wind comes. But a person who does not understand the management of a
+boat should no more attempt to handle one than an unskilful person
+should attempt to run a steam engine.
+
+Fanny Grant knew but little about a boat, and it was fortunate for her
+and her companion in mischief that the wind was not strong enough to
+carry the Greyhound wholly over. If she had careened only a little
+more, she would have filled with water and sunk, for she was heavily
+ballasted. As it was, she was half full of water, and the situation of
+the young ladies, if not perilous, was very uncomfortable.
+
+"O, Fanny!" screamed Kate, in mortal terror, as the Greyhound heeled
+over, and the water rushed in over the washboard.
+
+"Don't be scared," replied Fanny, with wonderful self-possession. "It's
+all right, and there is no harm done."
+
+"We shall be drowned!" gasped Kate.
+
+"No, we shall not be drowned. Don't you see the boat stands up like a
+major? Don't be frightened. I understand it all."
+
+"No; you don't know anything about it. The boat is almost full of
+water, and we shall sink to the bottom."
+
+"I tell you she is doing very well. Pooh! that wasn't anything! She
+often takes in the water like that."
+
+"What shall we do?" moaned Kate.
+
+This was a question which appealed even to Fanny's prudence. Without
+answering in words, she let go the halliards, and hauled down the
+foresail. After the boat came about, she had not righted the helm, and
+the Greyhound had been thrown up into the wind as she heeled over and
+took in the flood of water. She now lay with her sails flapping, and
+Fanny cast off the main-sheet, rather to stop the fluttering than to
+avoid further peril. Fortunately, this was the proper course to pursue.
+
+"What shall we do?" repeated Kate, expecting every moment that the
+treacherous sails would carry them over again, and that they would soon
+find their way to the bottom of the river.
+
+"Bale out the water," replied Fanny, taking a pail and a dipper from
+the cuddy forward. "Now go to work, and we shall soon be ready to sail
+again."
+
+"I don't want to sail any more," whined Kate.
+
+"Dip away as fast as ever you can. Don't stop to talk about it now."
+
+Fanny took the pail herself, and gave the dipper to Kate, and both of
+them went to work with a zeal which promised soon to free the Greyhound
+from the burden under which she was laboring. There was a large
+quantity of water in the boat, and the process of dipping it out was
+very slow. Fanny was afraid that this accident would throw her into the
+power of her great enemy, the constable; and this was the only fear
+which troubled her. The perils of the mighty river had no terrors to
+her while she had a plank under her feet.
+
+Kate was utterly disconsolate and hopeless, and Fanny was obliged to
+use all her ingenuity to keep her in working condition. To show her
+confidence, she sang like a nightingale, as she dipped out the water;
+and Fanny was an excellent singer. She labored hard to prove to her
+desponding companion that there was no danger, and at last she
+succeeded in restoring Kate to a tolerable degree of self-possession.
+
+When about half the water had been dipped out, Fanny trimmed the sails,
+and headed the boat down the river, to the utter consternation of her
+timid associate, who was heartily sick of the adventure, and longed to
+put her feet on the dry land again.
+
+"Now, Kate, you take the pail, and I will use the dipper; I can work
+and steer the boat at the same time," said Fanny, when the Greyhound
+was under headway again.
+
+"The boat is going down the river, Fanny!" exclaimed Kate, as she took
+the pail.
+
+"Of course she is," replied the bold skipper. "Where did you expect her
+to go?"
+
+"But you are not going any farther--are you?"
+
+"To be sure I am. Do you think I am going to back out now?"
+
+"We shall certainly be drowned!"
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"I don't want to go any farther," moaned Kate, who felt like one going
+to execution.
+
+"I can't help it if you don't. I'm going down to Pennville," answered
+Fanny, still dipping up the water from the bottom of the boat.
+
+"I won't bale out any more then," ejaculated Kate, as she dropped the
+pail, and looked as though she actually meant what she said.
+
+"Very well; then I won't," added Fanny, throwing down the dipper.
+
+"If you will go back, I will bale out the water as hard as ever I can."
+
+"But I will not go back," replied Fanny, firmly. "Do you think I am
+going home to be shut up for a week, or sent back to my uncle, without
+having any fun at all? If you won't bale, I won't. I guess I can stand
+it as long as you can."
+
+"Do go back, Fanny," begged Kate.
+
+"I tell you I will not. You don't know what I am going to do yet."
+
+"What?"
+
+"I can't stop to talk about it now. If you don't take the pail and bale
+out the boat, I will hoist the other sail."
+
+"Don't, Fanny!"
+
+"If you will keep still, and mind what I say, I won't hoist the sail.
+We go along with only these two sails just as easy as anything can be,
+and there isn't a bit of danger."
+
+Kate, to avoid the greater evil, submitted to the less; and, as the
+Greyhound, now going very steadily under her jib and mainsail,
+continued on her course, she was soon freed from the water within her.
+The boat went along so well that Kate gathered a little courage, and
+ventured to hope that they might not be drowned, after all.
+
+"You mustn't turn her round again, Fan," said she.
+
+"What shall we do? We shall run ashore if I don't turn her."
+
+"Can't we lower the sails when you turn her?"
+
+"There is no need of that," replied Fanny, cheerfully. "I made a little
+mistake before, but I understand all about it now."
+
+"What was the mistake, Fan?"
+
+"I didn't turn her the right way," replied the confident skipper, who
+had been studying up the cause of the mishap and had reasoned out the
+correct solution. "I shall know just how to do it next time, Kate, and
+you needn't be the least grain scared. See here," said she, putting the
+helm down, and bringing the boat round till her head was thrown up into
+the wind.
+
+"Don't, Fanny!"
+
+"That's the way it is done," continued Fanny, proudly. "Don't you see
+how easily she does it? There isn't a bit of danger now;" and she
+brought the boat round to her course again.
+
+Kate was terrified at the very mention of turning the boat; but when
+she saw that the feat was accomplished without upsetting or even taking
+in any more water, her confidence was in a great measure restored.
+Fanny's exhibition of her skill produced the intended effect upon her
+companion, and the feminine skipper's easy and self-reliant way
+confirmed the impression. Fanny had learned more about the management
+of a boat in that brief half hour than she had ever known before, for
+the consciousness that her own life and that of her passenger depended
+upon her skill, sharpened her perceptions and quickened her judgment to
+such an extent that those moments of thrilling experience became
+equivalent to months of plodding study when the mind is comparatively
+dull and heavy.
+
+Mr. Long, the constable, evidently did not hurry himself in the
+investigation of Fanny's case; for when he had satisfied himself that
+the wicked girl had deceived him, and had reached the Woodville pier,
+having first visited the school, as the shrewd girl had intended he
+should, the boat was not in sight; or, at least, nothing could be seen
+of her but the white sails, which he could not identify, and the
+fugitives were in no present danger on account of his movements. He did
+not know whether the Greyhound had gone up or down the river; and he
+had no boat in which to follow her.
+
+Fanny felt that she had won a victory, for she did not realize that
+success in a wicked cause is failure and defeat. She congratulated
+herself on the feat she had accomplished, and she was vain enough to
+boast to her associate of what she had done; of her skill in managing
+the boat, and her shrewdness in planning the enterprise; and it is
+quite certain that if she had been less resolute and courageous, the
+expedition would have ended in failure almost at the beginning.
+
+"But you haven't told me what you are going to do yet," said Kate, when
+she had sponged out the bottom of the well, dried the seats in the
+standing-room, and taken her place by the side of Fanny.
+
+"I will tell you now," replied Fanny. "What do you suppose your father
+will do to you when he finds out that you played truant, and went on
+the river with me?" she added, apparently, but not really, avoiding the
+subject.
+
+"He'll kill me!" answered Kate, with emphasis.
+
+"No, he won't."
+
+"I don't know what he will do, then."
+
+"He will punish you in some way--won't he?"
+
+"Yes. I don't know what he will do."
+
+"Well, Kate, we must bring him to terms," added Fanny, with the most
+impudent assurance. "If you will mind what I say, he will not punish
+you at all. Will you do it?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"You don't know! Do you want to go back and be whipped like a baby, be
+shut up for a week, or something of that kind?"
+
+"Of course I don't."
+
+"And I will tell you how to get rid of all these things, and make your
+father as glad to see you as though you had been a good little girl all
+your life, and had been away on a long journey."
+
+"How?"
+
+"That's telling!"
+
+"You said you would tell me."
+
+"And so I will, if you are strong enough to bear it."
+
+"Well, I am."
+
+"Don't go home for a week or ten days. Your folks won't know where you
+are. When they find out you went with me in a boat, they will think you
+are drowned; and when you go back, they will be so glad to see you that
+they won't say a word."
+
+It would have been impossible for a girl who had been brought up by a
+loving mother to conceive of such a cold-blooded and diabolical
+proposition. Fanny had no mother, no father. Even the remembrance of
+the former had passed from her mind; and her father, while he was
+living, had been away from her so much that she hardly knew him as a
+parent. Her antecedents, therefore, did not qualify her to comprehend
+the loathsome enormity of the course she proposed to her companion.
+
+"I can't stay away from home a week, let alone ten days," replied Kate,
+who, bad as she was, was shocked at the proposition.
+
+"Yes, you can."
+
+"Where shall I stay?"
+
+"Stay with me."
+
+"Where will you stay?"
+
+"We will go down to New York city."
+
+"To New York city!"
+
+"That's where I intend to go," replied Fanny, coolly.
+
+"You don't mean so, Fan?"
+
+"Yes, I do; and I have meant it all the time."
+
+"But you said we were going to Pennville."
+
+"We are; and when we get there we will take the cars for New York city.
+We shall be there before twelve o'clock."
+
+"But what shall we do when we get there?" demanded Kate, who was
+absolutely appalled at the magnitude of Fanny's scheme.
+
+"We will have a good time, in the first place. There are plenty of
+shops where we can get cakes, and candy, and ice-cream; we can go to
+the museum, the theatre, and the circus; we can go to Central Park, and
+all the fine places in the city."
+
+"But where should we live?"
+
+"There are hotels enough."
+
+"What should we do at a hotel? Besides, it would take lots of money."
+
+"I've got money enough."
+
+"Five dollars wouldn't pay for our living a week. They ask three or
+four dollars a day for living at a hotel."
+
+"I've got more than five dollars," answered Fanny, rather cautiously.
+
+"Have you? How much have you got?"
+
+"I don't know exactly."
+
+"You don't know!" repeated Kate, very confident now in regard to the
+means by which the money had been obtained, which, with this added
+revelation regarding the amount, she did not believe had been found on
+the floor. "You don't know!"
+
+"I haven't counted it."
+
+"Fan, you didn't find that money on the floor!" exclaimed she.
+
+"I found it, anyhow," said Fanny, turning her head away from her
+companion.
+
+"Where did you find it?"
+
+"In the drawer, if you must know," replied Fanny, desperately.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+KATE'S DEFECTION.
+
+
+"Fanny Grant, you stole that money!" said Kate, as though she had made
+a great discovery.
+
+It was no discovery at all. She had been reasonably confident that the
+five dollars, which Fanny acknowledged to be in her possession, had
+been stolen, or, if not actually stolen, that it had been obtained in
+a manner entirely at variance even with a very low ideal of common
+honesty. She was willing to enjoy the good things which might be
+bought with the five dollars, but she was not disposed to bear the
+responsibility of the theft, either as principal or accessory. If, when
+the day of reckoning came, she could make it appear that she did not
+know the money had been stolen, she would escape the penalty and the
+odium of being a thief, or a receiver of stolen goods.
+
+Like many others, she could hold up her hands in holy horror at the
+crime made public, while she was willing to wink at or compromise the
+crime for her own benefit in the secret chambers of her own heart. If
+she had been taught in ancient Lacedaemonia that it is not a crime to
+steal, but a crime to be found out, she could not have been more
+faithful to its base policy.
+
+Fanny heard the charge, but made no reply, pretending to be occupied in
+watching the course of the boat.
+
+"You stole that money, Fanny Grant!" repeated Kate, with even more
+emphasis, and more holy horror than before.
+
+"Well, what if I did?" answered Fanny, who was disposed to have her
+associate as deep in the mud as she herself was in the mire; and she
+knew that it would be impossible to deny the fact when she exhibited
+the great roll of bills in her pocket.
+
+"I didn't think you would steal money, Fanny."
+
+"You would yourself, if you got a chance."
+
+"No, I wouldn't; I'm bad enough, I know, but I wouldn't steal."
+
+"Yes, you would! You needn't pretend to be so good. You will never be
+hung for your honesty. I know you."
+
+"Do you mean to say I would steal?" demanded Kate, not a little
+mortified to be thought so meanly of.
+
+"I know you would. Who stole the strawberries the other day?"
+
+"That wasn't money," pleaded Kate.
+
+"It was all the same."
+
+"I wouldn't take money. I'm not a thief."
+
+"You flatter yourself."
+
+"I wouldn't. But, Fanny," she added, willing to change the subject, "I
+shouldn't dare to go to New York city."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Something might happen to us."
+
+"What can happen to us?"
+
+"I don't know; but I'm afraid to go. What should we do with ourselves
+for a whole week?"
+
+"Have a good time; that's what we are going for?"
+
+"I can't go, Fan."
+
+"Yes, you can; and you must. You have got into the scrape so far, and
+you are not going to leave me alone now. You promised to go with me."
+
+"But you did not tell me what you were going to do."
+
+"I have told you now; and if you attempt to back out, you shall bear
+half the blame."
+
+"I didn't steal."
+
+"I don't care if you didn't; you shall bear your share of the blame.
+You shall go with me."
+
+"What will my mother say?"
+
+"She will say you are a naughty girl, and punish you for what you have
+done. If you go with me, she will be so glad to see you when you get
+back, that she won't say a word. She will find out what you are made of
+then; if you go back now, she will see that you are nothing but a
+chicken at heart, and she will punish you, as you deserve to be for
+deserting your friend."
+
+"My mother would feel awfully if I did not come back to-night,"
+continued Kate, thoughtfully, even sadly; and she was sincere now.
+
+"She will get over it."
+
+"She would feel dreadfully."
+
+"So much the better; the worse she feels the more glad she will be to
+see you when you do go back."
+
+Kate saw that it was useless to reason with her companion on this
+point; besides, there was a certain sacred feeling in her heart which
+Fanny could neither understand nor appreciate, and she was unwilling to
+expose it to the rude reproaches of one who seemed to have no heart.
+She was too timid, rather than too conscientious, to engage in such a
+gigantic scheme of wickedness as that which Fanny had indicated; and we
+must do her the justice to add, that the blessed influence of a
+mother's love, stronger and deeper in her heart than principle,
+asserted its sway, and to give her mother a week of pain and anxiety
+was revolting to her.
+
+She was fully determined not to go to New York city, and to get home as
+soon as she could. But Fanny had so much to say about "backing out,"
+and "deserting her friend," that she deemed it prudent not to mention
+anything about her resolution. She knew her companion well enough to
+believe that it would be useless to attempt to persuade her to abandon
+her brilliant scheme; and Fanny was so resolute and self-willed that
+she might find a way to compel her to go with her, whether she was
+willing or not.
+
+"Do you want to know how much money I have got?" asked Fanny, after a
+silence of some minutes, during which Kate had been thinking what she
+should do.
+
+"I should like to know," replied Kate, who, however, was really
+indifferent after she had decided not to partake of the good things
+which the stolen money could purchase.
+
+"You take the tiller then, and I will count it. Keep it just as it is,"
+said Fanny, resigning her place to her fellow-voyager.
+
+The boat was going along very easily with the wind on the starboard
+quarter, and did not need much attention. She was approaching
+Pennville, and the cruise was nearly finished. Fanny took the roll of
+bills from her pocket, and proceeded to count it. The notes were nearly
+all "greenbacks," with a few small bills on the state banks. There were
+twenties, tens, and fives, and the thief was almost frightened herself
+when she ascertained the amount she had obtained.
+
+"One hundred, one hundred five, one hundred and ten," said Fanny, as
+she counted the money; "one hundred and ten----"
+
+"Why, Fanny Grant!" cried Kate, horrified at the greatness of the sum.
+
+"Fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty----"
+
+"They will send you to the state prison for stealing so much money!"
+added Kate, trembling as the large numbers were mentioned.
+
+"The more the better," replied Fanny, trying to keep cool, though she
+was much agitated herself, as, measuring the crime by the amount of the
+money, she realized how guilty she had been.
+
+She finished the counting; and the whole sum was one hundred and
+seventy-three dollars and eighty-five cents.
+
+"There is a great deal more than I thought there was," said she.
+
+"Why did you take so much?" asked the terrified Kate.
+
+"I didn't know how much there was."
+
+"You will have all the constables in the county after you before
+night."
+
+"And after you, too."
+
+"I didn't steal it."
+
+"Well, you were with me, and I will give you some of it."
+
+"I don't want any of it."
+
+"Don't you?"
+
+"No, I don't; I don't think it is fair for you to try to make it out
+that I helped you steal the money, when I didn't, and when I didn't
+know anything about it."
+
+"You knew I had some money before you got into the boat. You are
+scared--that's all."
+
+"I am scared, and I wish I hadn't come."
+
+"I wish you hadn't, because you are so frightened; but now you have
+gone so far, you can't back out. You want to return to Woodville, and
+tell them I stole the money."
+
+"No, I don't."
+
+"I'm never going back to Woodville again. They have been talking about
+sending me to my uncle's, in Minnesota, and I'm not going to be sent
+there."
+
+"What shall I do, then?" demanded Kate, awed and astonished at the
+desperate purpose of her friend.
+
+"I will see that you get back home all right. Here is some money to pay
+your passage," added Fanny, counting out a portion of the bills.
+
+"I don't want that."
+
+"Very well," answered Fanny, putting the bills in her pocket; and she
+looked so firm and so "ugly" that Kate was actually afraid of her.
+
+The Greyhound had nearly reached the pier at Pennville; but Fanny did
+not intend to land at any public place, and she ran the boat up to the
+bank of the river, a short distance above the village, grounding it
+lightly on a kind of beach she had chosen as a landing-place. Fanny
+took the boat-hook in her hand, and jumped ashore.
+
+"Now, Kate Magner, before we go any farther, we must come to an
+understanding. If you think you are going to leave me to bear all the
+blame, you are mistaken."
+
+"I don't mean any such thing," replied Kate.
+
+"Yes, you do; you mean to betray me."
+
+"No, I don't."
+
+"Why didn't you take the money I offered you, then?"
+
+"I don't want it."
+
+"You are in the boat, and I am on the land. If you don't take the
+money, I will push the boat off, and she will carry you away--I don't
+know where."
+
+"Don't do that."
+
+"Will you take the money?"
+
+"Yes, I will," answered Kate, who was more afraid of the boat than she
+would have been of a demon.
+
+"Take it, then," said Fanny, handing her the little roll of bills she
+had taken from the package for this purpose. "There is twenty-one
+dollars."
+
+Kate took the money, and thrust it into her pocket.
+
+"Now we are both just the same. You have taken some of the money, and
+you are just as bad as I am. You can't back out now, if you want to do
+so."
+
+This was only an expedient on the part of the resolute mistress of the
+expedition to prevent her companion from deserting her, rather than to
+insure an equal division of the punishment for stealing.
+
+"What shall we do now?" asked Kate, as she landed from the boat, which
+Fanny held with the boat-hook.
+
+"We will go up to the railroad station, and take the train for New York
+city."
+
+"But what are you going to do with the boat?"
+
+"I don't care anything about the boat. I have had all I want of her.
+But I think I will let the sails down, and fasten her to the bank. If
+they should find her, she might betray us."
+
+Fanny lowered the sails, and fastened the painter to a stake on the
+bank. The two girls then started for the village, which was about a
+quarter of a mile below the place where they had landed. When they had
+gone a short distance, they saw a man mending a boat on the bank of the
+river. Kate took particular notice of him, for she was already planning
+the means of her deliverance from the arbitrary sway of her companion.
+
+The two girls were very well dressed, and it was not an uncommon thing
+for young ladies to manage their own boats on the Hudson; so, if they
+had been seen to land from the Greyhound, no notice was taken of the
+circumstance. They were not likely to be molested, except by their own
+guilty consciences. They walked directly to the railroad station, and
+ascertained that the train would leave in half an hour. Fanny, anxious
+to conciliate her associate, and accustom her to her new situation,
+invited her to a saloon, where they partook of ice-creams; but partial
+as Kate was to this luxury, it did not taste good, and seemed to be
+entirely different from any ice-cream she had ever eaten before.
+
+When it was nearly time for the train to arrive, Fanny bought two
+tickets, and they joined the crowd that was waiting for the cars. Kate
+seemed to be so fully reconciled to the enterprise, that her friend did
+not doubt her any longer; she had no suspicion of her intended
+defection.
+
+"I am almost choked," said Kate, when the whistle of the locomotive was
+heard in the distance. "I must have a drink of water."
+
+"You have no time."
+
+"I won't be gone but a second," replied Kate.
+
+"I will wait here--but be quick."
+
+Kate went into the station-house, and passing out at the door on the
+other side, ran off towards the river as fast as her legs would carry
+her. She reached the outskirts of the village before she slackened her
+pace, and then, exhausted and out of breath with running, she paused to
+ascertain if Fanny was in pursuit of her. No one was to be seen in the
+direction from which she had come, and taking courage from her success,
+she walked leisurely towards the place where the Greyhound had been
+left.
+
+The man she had passed on her way down was still at work on his boat,
+and Kate, telling him such a story as suited her purpose, engaged him
+to sail the Greyhound up to Woodville. They embarked without any
+interruption from Fanny, and in a couple of hours she was landed at the
+pier from which she had started. Kate paid her boatman three dollars
+from the money which Fanny had given her, and then walked up to the
+mansion.
+
+She told Mrs. Green the whole truth, and gave her the eighteen dollars
+remaining in her possession. She then went home to make peace with her
+mother, to whom also she told the whole story, blaming Fanny for
+everything except her own truancy, and pleading that she had been led
+away in this respect.
+
+Mr. Long was still engaged in the search for Fanny, though the loss of
+the money in the closet had not been discovered till Kate appeared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE SOLDIER'S FAMILY.
+
+
+Fanny stood on the platform in front of the station-house, waiting for
+the return of Kate. She had no suspicion that her friend had deserted
+her, and was at that moment running away as fast as she could. The
+train was approaching, and with the nervousness of one not accustomed
+to travelling, she feared they might be left. The cars stopped, and
+Kate did not return. Fanny rushed into the station-house in search of
+her. She was not there! she was not in the building; she was not to be
+seen from the open door.
+
+Then Fanny realized that her companion's courage had failed, and that
+she had deserted her. The bell on the locomotive was ringing, and the
+train was in the act of starting. Fanny was quick and decisive in her
+movements, and she bounded out of the building, and stepped upon the
+train after it was in motion. She was angry and indignant at the
+defection of Kate, and, taking a seat in the car, she nursed her bitter
+feelings until her wrath had expended itself.
+
+Kate's desertion affected the plans of the runaway, for in a few hours,
+at most, what she had done, and what she intended to do, would be known
+at Woodville. Mr. Long would take one of the afternoon trains for the
+city, and the whole police force of the great metropolis would be on
+the lookout for her before dark. Constables and policemen were now more
+than ever Fanny's especial horror, and she trembled at the very thought
+of being arrested for the crime she had committed.
+
+Fanny was a girl of quick, bright parts. She had read the newspapers,
+and listened to the conversation of her elders. She was better informed
+in regard to the ways of the world than most young persons of her age
+with no more experience. She knew all about the telegraph, and the uses
+to which it was put in the detection and arrest of rogues. Though it
+was hardly possible for Kate to reach Woodville, and inform the people
+there where she had gone, yet circumstances might conspire against her
+so as to render the telegraph available. Mr. Long might have discovered
+in what direction the fugitives had gone, and followed them down to
+Pennville. He might have met Kate there, and learned her destination.
+It was possible, therefore, that a despatch might reach the city before
+she did, and an officer be waiting for her at the railroad station.
+
+She was too cunning to be entrapped by any such expedients; and when
+the train stopped at Harlem, she got out, with the intention of walking
+into the city. Deeming it imprudent to follow the principal street, in
+which some of the terrible policemen might be lying in wait for her,
+she made her way to one of the less travelled thoroughfares, in which
+she pursued her way towards the city. The street she had chosen led her
+through the localities inhabited by the poorer portions of the
+population. The territory through which she was passing was in a
+transition state: broad streets and large squares had been laid out, in
+anticipation of vast improvements, but only a little had been
+accomplished in carrying them out. There were many tasty little houses,
+and many long blocks of buildings occupied by mechanics and laborers,
+and occasionally a more pretentious mansion.
+
+In some of the most ineligible places for building, there were houses,
+or rather hovels, constructed in the roughest and rudest manner,
+apparently for temporary use until the march of improvement should
+drive their tenants into still more obscure locations. Fanny passed
+near one of these rude abodes, which was situated on a cross street, a
+short distance from the avenue on which she was journeying to the city.
+In front of this house was a scene which attracted the attention of the
+wanderer, and caused her to forget, for the time, the great wrong she
+had committed, and the consequences which would follow in its train.
+
+In front of the house lay several articles of the coarsest furniture,
+and a man was engaged in removing more of the same kind from the hovel.
+He had paused for a moment in his occupation, and before him stood a
+woman who was wringing her hands in the agonies of despair. Fanny could
+hear the profane and abusive language the man used, and she could hear
+the piteous pleadings of the woman, at whose side stood a little boy,
+half clothed in tattered garments, weeping as though his heart would
+break.
+
+Fanny was interested in the scene. The woman's woe and despair touched
+her feelings, and perhaps more from curiosity than any other motive,
+she walked down the cross-street towards the cottage. Being resolute
+and courageous by nature, she had no fear of personal consequences. She
+did not comprehend the nature of the difficulty, having never seen a
+tenant forcibly ejected from a house for the non-payment of rent.
+
+"You'll kill my child! You'll kill my child!" cried the poor woman, in
+such an agony of bitterness that Fanny was thrilled by her tones.
+
+"Isn't it a whole year I've been waiting for my rint?" replied the man,
+coarsely. "Didn't ye keep promisin' to pay me for a twelvemonth, and
+niver a cint I got yet?"
+
+"I would pay you if I could, Mr. O'Shane."
+
+"If ye could! What call have I to wait any longer for me money?"
+
+"My husband has gone to the war, and I haven't heard a word from him
+for a year; but I'm sure he will send me some money soon--I know he
+will."
+
+"What call had he to go to the war? Why didn't he stay at home and take
+care of his childer? Go 'way wid ye! Give me up me house!"
+
+Mr. O'Shane broke away from her, and, rushing into the house, presently
+returned bearing a dilapidated table in his hands.
+
+"Have mercy, Mr. O'Shane. Pity me!" pleaded the woman, when he
+appeared.
+
+"I do pity ye; 'pon me sowl, I do, thin; but what can a poor man like
+me do?" replied the landlord. "I live in a worse house nor this, and
+work like a mule, and I can't make enough, for the high prices, to take
+care of me family. Didn't I wait month after month for me rint, and
+sorra a cint I iver got? Sure it isn't Mike O'Shane that would do the
+likes of this if he could help it."
+
+"But I will pay you all I owe, Mr. O'Shane."
+
+"That's what ye been sayin' this twelvemonth; and I can't wait any
+longer. Why don't ye stir yoursilf, and go among the rich folks?"
+
+"I can't beg, Mr. O'Shane."
+
+"But ye better beg than chate me out of me honest dues. Go 'way wid ye!
+Pay me the rint, or give me the house; and sorra one of me cares which
+you do."
+
+"I would move if I could. You know that my poor child is very sick. For
+her sake don't turn me out of the house to-day," added the woman, in
+the most beseeching tones.
+
+"Didn't I wait six months for the child to die, and she didn't die? She
+won't die. Sure, don't she sit in the chair all day? and what harm
+would it do to move her?"
+
+"I have no place to move her to."
+
+"That's what's the matter! Now go 'way wid your blarney, and don't be
+talking to me. It's Mike O'Shane that has a soft spot in his heart, but
+he can't do no more for ye. That's the truth, and ye must move to-day."
+
+The landlord went into the house again, for more of the furniture. As
+he had represented, it was, doubtless, a hard case for him; but it was
+infinitely harder for the poor woman, and Fanny was too deeply
+interested now to leave the spot. What she had known of human misery
+was as nothing compared with the suffering of this poor mother.
+
+"What's the matter, ma'am?" asked Fanny of her, when the harsh landlord
+had gone into the house.
+
+"This man is my landlord, and he is turning me out of the house because
+I cannot pay him the rent," sobbed the woman. "I wouldn't care, if it
+wasn't for poor Jenny."
+
+"Who is Jenny?"
+
+"She is my daughter. She has been sick, very sick, for nearly a year,
+and she cannot live much longer. The doctor gave her up six months
+ago."
+
+"How old is Jenny?"
+
+"She is fourteen; and she is such a patient child! She never complains
+of anything, though I am not able to do much for her," replied the
+afflicted mother, as her tears broke forth afresh at the thought of the
+sufferer.
+
+"Haven't you any place to go if this man turns you out of the house?"
+asked Fanny.
+
+"No, no!" groaned the woman, bursting out into a terrible paroxysm of
+grief.
+
+"I know it's hard for you, Mrs. Kent, but it's harder for me to do it
+than it is for you to have it done," continued Mr. O'Shane, as he came
+out of the house with a rocking chair in his hands.
+
+"O mercy! that is poor Jenny's chair!" almost screamed Mrs. Kent. "What
+have you done with her?"
+
+The mother, in her agony, rushed into the house to ascertain if any
+harm had come to her suffering daughter, who had been deprived of the
+easy chair in which she was accustomed to sit. Fanny was moved to the
+depths of her nature--moved as she had never been moved before. She
+couldn't have believed that such scenes were real. She had read of them
+in romances, and even in the newspapers; but she had never realized
+that a man could be so hard as Mr. O'Shane, or that a woman could
+suffer so much as Mrs. Kent. Between her grief and indignation she was
+almost overwhelmed.
+
+"You are a cruel man," said she, with something like fierceness in her
+tones.
+
+"That's very foine for the likes of you to say to the likes of me; but
+it don't pay me rint," replied Mr. O'Shane, not as angry as might have
+been expected at this interference.
+
+"You ought to be ashamed of yourself to do such a mean thing!" added
+Fanny, her black eyes snapping with the living fire of her indignation.
+
+"Shall I let me own childer starve for another man's childer?" answered
+the landlord, who, we must do him the justice to say, was ashamed of
+himself.
+
+"How much does the woman owe you?" demanded Fanny.
+
+"A matther of a hundred dollars--for a whole year's rint. Sure, miss,
+it isn't many min that would wait a twelvemonth for the rint, and not
+get it thin."
+
+"And her daughter is sick?"
+
+"Troth she is; there's no lie in that; she's got the consoomption, and
+she's not long for this world," replied the landlord, moving towards
+the door of the house, again to complete the work of desolation he had
+begun.
+
+[Illustration: THE CRUEL LANDLORD. Page 103.]
+
+"Stop, sir!" said Fanny, in tones so imperative that the man could not
+help obeying her.
+
+"What would I stop for?" asked Mr. O'Shane, rather vacantly.
+
+"You shall not do this cruel thing."
+
+"The saints know how it breaks me heart to do it, but I can't help it."
+
+"Now you put all these things back into the house just as you found
+them."
+
+"Faix, I'd like to do it, miss," said the man, taking off his hat and
+rubbing his tangled hair.
+
+"You must do it."
+
+"And not git me rint?"
+
+"You shall have your money--every cent of it. Put the furniture back,
+and you shall have your due just as soon as you have done it," said
+Fanny, as haughtily as though she had been a millionaire.
+
+Mr. O'Shane looked at her, and seemed to be petrified with
+astonishment. The deed he was doing, harsh and cruel as it was, he
+regarded as a work of necessity. Though he owned the house occupied by
+Mrs. Kent, and another in which he lived himself with two other
+families, both of them were mortgaged for half their value, and he was
+obliged to pay interest on the money he owed for them. He certainly
+could not afford to lose his rent, to which he was justly entitled. He
+had indulged his tenant for a year, and nothing but the apparent
+hopelessness of obtaining what was due had tempted him to this cruel
+proceeding. Nothing but starvation in his own family could justify a
+landlord in turning a mother with a dying child out of the house. He
+looked at Fanny with astonishment when she promised to pay him, but he
+was sceptical.
+
+"Why don't you put back the furniture?" demanded Fanny, impatiently.
+
+"It's meself that would be glad to do that same," replied he. "Would
+you let me see the color of your money, miss?"
+
+"Put the things back, and you shall have your money as soon as you have
+done it," added Fanny, moving down the street. "I will be back in a few
+moments."
+
+The landlord looked at her, as she walked away. He was in doubt, but
+there was something about the girl so different from what he had been
+accustomed to see in young ladies of her age, that he was strongly
+impressed by her words. Fanny sat down on a rock in the shade of a lone
+tree. Mr. O'Shane looked at her for a moment, and then decided to obey
+the haughty command he had received. He went to work with more energy
+than he had before displayed, and began to move the furniture back into
+the house, greatly to the surprise and delight, no doubt, of the
+grief-stricken mother.
+
+Fanny counted out a hundred dollars from the stolen bills in her
+pocket, and returned to the house. Mr. O'Shane had by this time
+completed his work, and was awaiting the result.
+
+"They be all put back, miss," said he, doubtfully.
+
+"There is your money," replied Fanny, proudly.
+
+Mr. O'Shane's eyes opened, and he fixed them with a gloating stare upon
+the bills. He counted them; there was a hundred dollars.
+
+"God bless you, miss, for a saint as ye are!" ejaculated he, as he put
+the money in his pocket. "Ye saved me from doing the worst thing I ever
+did in me life. I'll send the receipt to Mrs. Kent to-day;" and he
+walked away towards his own house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE SICK GIRL.
+
+
+The last part of the interview between Fanny and Mr. O'Shane had been
+witnessed by Mrs. Kent, who came out of the house when she had attended
+to the wants of her sick child. The dark cloud which menaced her a few
+moments before had rolled away, and, if the sunshine did not beam upon
+her, she was comparatively happy in having one trouble less to weigh
+her down. She was calm now, but the tears--they were tears of
+relief--still rolled down her wan and furrowed cheek.
+
+"I have prayed for help, and help has come," said she to her deliverer,
+as the harsh landlord walked away.
+
+Fanny could not make any reply to a statement of this kind. She was a
+fugitive and a wanderer; she was a thief, shunning the gaze of men, and
+she could not conceive of such a thing as that she had been sent as an
+angel of relief to the poor woman in answer to her prayers. As she
+thought what she was and what she had been doing, a blush of shame
+suffused her cheek. She was silent; there was nothing which she could
+say at such a moment.
+
+"Heaven will bless you for your good, kind heart. You are an angel,"
+continued Mrs. Kent.
+
+Fanny knew how far she was from being an angel, and she had no heart
+for deceiving the poor woman. It might be fun and excitement to deceive
+the people at Woodville, but Mrs. Kent seemed to be sanctified by her
+sorrows.
+
+"I hope you haven't robbed yourself by your good deed, miss," added the
+poor woman, wondering why Fanny did not speak.
+
+"O, no! I have some more money."
+
+Perhaps Mrs. Kent thought it singular that a young girl, like Fanny,
+should happen to have so much money about her, but she did not ask any
+questions; and perhaps she did not think that one who had been so kind
+to her could do anything wrong.
+
+"Now, you will come into the house and see poor Jenny. She will want to
+thank you for what you have done," said Mrs. Kent, leading the way to
+the door.
+
+Fanny could not refuse this reasonable request, but she felt very
+strangely. She found herself commended and reverenced for what she had
+done, and she could not help feeling how unworthy she was. Conscious
+that she had performed a really good deed, she could not reconcile it
+with her past conduct. It was utterly inconsistent with the base act
+she had done in the morning; and in the light of one deed the other
+seemed so monstrous that she almost loathed herself.
+
+She followed Mrs. Kent into the room where the sick girl was reclining
+upon the bed. There was no carpet on the floor, and the apartment was
+very meagerly furnished with the rudest and coarsest articles. Jenny
+was pale and emaciated; the hand of death seemed to be already upon
+her; but in spite of her paleness and her emaciation, there was
+something beautiful in her face; something in the expression of her
+languid eyes which riveted the attention and challenged the interest of
+the visitor.
+
+"Jenny, this is the young lady whom God has sent to be our friend,"
+said Mrs. Kent, as they approached the bedside.
+
+Fanny shuddered. "Whom God had sent"--she, a thief! She wanted to cry;
+she wanted to shrink back into herself.
+
+"May I take your hand?" asked Jenny, in feeble tones.
+
+Fanny complied with the request in silence, and with her eyes fixed on
+the floor. The sick girl took the offered hand in her own, which was
+almost as cold as marble.
+
+"Mother has prayed to Our Good Father, and I have prayed to Him all the
+time for help," said Jenny, whose accents were hardly above a whisper.
+"He has sent you to us, and you have saved us. Will you tell me your
+name?"
+
+"Fanny Grant."
+
+"Fanny, I am going to heaven soon, and I will bear your name in my
+heart when I go. I will bless you for your good deed while I have
+breath, and I will bless you when I get to heaven. You are a good girl,
+and I know that God will bless you too."
+
+Poor Fanny! How mean she felt! As she stood in the presence of that
+pure-minded child, already an angel in simple trust and confiding hope,
+she realized her own wickedness. The burden of her sins seemed to be
+settling down upon her with a weight that would crush her.
+
+"I love you, Fanny," continued the invalid, "and I will pray for you to
+the last moment of my life. Won't you speak to me?"
+
+"I was very glad to do what I did," stammered Fanny, almost suffocated
+by the weight which pressed down upon her.
+
+"I know you are; for it is more blessed to give than to receive."
+
+"I am very sorry you are so sick. Can I do anything to help you?"
+
+"You have done all that could be done, Fanny. I like to speak your
+name. It sounds like music to me. After what you have done, _Fanny_
+will always mean _goodness_ to me. You cannot do anything more; you
+have already done enough."
+
+"Don't you want anything?"
+
+"No; I am happy now. I shall soon pass away, and go to my Saviour."
+
+Mrs. Kent sobbed.
+
+"Don't cry, mother," continued Jenny. "God will take care of you, and
+we shall meet again."
+
+"Can't I get anything for you, Jenny? Isn't there anything you want?"
+asked Fanny, who felt that she must do something, or she would soon be
+overwhelmed by the emotions which agitated her soul.
+
+"Nothing, Fanny. I don't think much of the things around me now. I feel
+just as though I didn't belong here. This is not my home. Can you sing,
+Fanny?"
+
+"I do sing, sometimes," replied she.
+
+"Will you sing to me?"
+
+"I will; what shall I sing?"
+
+"Something about heaven?" answered Jenny, as she sank back upon the
+pillow, and fixed her gaze upon the ceiling, as though beyond it she
+could see the happy home which, was ever in her thoughts.
+
+Fanny, as we have said before, was a remarkable singer, not in the
+artistic sense, though, with proper cultivation of her talent, she
+might have been all this also. She had a fine voice, and sang as
+naturally as the birds sing. But this was not an occasion for artistic
+effects. Never before had the soul of the wayward girl been so stirred.
+She was a Sunday-school scholar, and familiar with most of the
+beautiful and touching melodies contained in children's song-books.
+
+She was asked to sing "something about heaven;" and she began at once,
+as though it had been selected by some invisible agency and impressed
+upon her mind, with the beautiful hymn:--
+
+    "There's a home for the poor on that beautiful shore
+      When life and its sorrows are ended;
+    And sweetly they'll rest in that home of the blest,
+      By the presence of angels attended.
+    There's a home for the sad, and their hearts will be glad
+      When they've crossed over Jordan so dreary;
+    For bright is the dome of that radiant home
+      Where so softly repose all the weary."
+
+The "home for the poor on that beautiful shore" seemed to be almost in
+sight of the singer, for the pale, dying girl spread heaven around her;
+and Fanny sang as she had never sung before. She could hardly keep down
+the tears which struggled for birth in her dim eyes, and her sweet
+voice was attuned to the sentiment of the words she sang, which were
+wedded to a melody so touching as to suggest the heaven it spoke of.
+
+There was a seraphic smile on the wan face of Jenny as the singer
+finished the first verse, and she clasped her thin white hands above
+her breast in the ecstasy of her bliss. Fanny sang the four verses of
+the hymn, and every moment of the time seemed to be a moment of rapture
+to the dying girl.
+
+"How beautiful!" cried Jenny, after a period of silence at the
+conclusion of the hymn. "I have never been so happy, Fanny. Let me take
+your hand in mine again."
+
+"Can I do anything more for you?" asked Fanny, as she gave her hand to
+the invalid.
+
+"No, nothing. It will make you tired to sing any more now."
+
+"O, no! I could sing all day."
+
+"But the sweet strains you have just sung still linger in my soul. Let
+me hold your hand a moment, and then I will go to sleep if I can. I
+like to hold your hand--you are so good."
+
+Fanny despised herself. She wanted to tell Jenny what a monster of
+wickedness she felt herself to be, and she would have done so if it had
+not been for giving pain to the gentle sufferer.
+
+"I would like to go to heaven now, holding your hand, and mother's, and
+Eddy's; for it seems to me I could carry you up to the Saviour with me
+then, and give you all to him; and he would love you for my sake, and
+because you are so good. But I shall never forget you; I shall bear
+your name to heaven with me, Fanny."
+
+The wicked girl shuddered. "Depart from me," seemed to be the only
+message the Saviour had for her.
+
+"Let me do something more for you," said Fanny, who could not endure to
+be called good by one who was so near heaven that there could be no
+hypocrisy or shadow of deceit in her heart.
+
+"You may sing me one more hymn, if you are not too tired," replied
+Jenny.
+
+"O, no! I am never tired of singing;" and she sang the song containing
+the refrain, "There is sweet rest in heaven," with exquisite taste and
+feeling.
+
+Mrs. Kent whispered that Jenny must be weary now, and Fanny took the
+hand of the sick girl, to bid her good by.
+
+"Good by, Fanny. I shall never see you again; but we shall meet in
+heaven," said Jenny, with her sweetest smile.
+
+"I will come and see you again, if I can."
+
+"How happy it would make me!"
+
+"Perhaps I will come again to-day."
+
+"I'm afraid if you don't, I shall never see you in this world again."
+
+"I will come to-day."
+
+"Good by," added Jenny, languidly, as Fanny followed Mrs. Kent out of
+the room.
+
+"Isn't there anything I can bring to her?" asked Fanny, when they had
+passed into the other room.
+
+"I don't know. Poor child! she knows how little I can do for her, and
+she never says she wants anything. She is very fond of flowers, and
+Eddy used to bring her dandelion blossoms, but these are all gone now."
+
+"I will bring her some flowers," replied Fanny, who could not help
+wishing for some of the beautiful flowers which grew in such profusion
+at Woodville.
+
+But to her Woodville now seemed as far off as the heaven of which she
+had been singing to the dying girl; but she thought she could obtain
+some flowers in the city; and she felt as though she would give all the
+rest of her ill-gotten treasure for a single bouquet.
+
+Fanny begged Mrs. Kent to tell her if there was anything she could do
+for the sick daughter, or for the family; and the poor woman confessed
+that she had nothing in the house to eat except half a loaf of bread,
+which was to be their dinner. Lest her visitor should think her
+destitution was caused by her own fault, she related the story of
+hardships she had undergone since her husband departed with his
+regiment.
+
+Mr. Kent was a mechanic, and having been thrown out of employment by
+the dull times at the commencement of the war, he had enlisted in one
+of the regiments that departed earliest for the scene of hostilities.
+He had left his family with only a small sum of money, and had promised
+to send all his pay to his wife, as soon as it was received. Mr. Kent's
+regiment had been engaged in the disastrous battle of Bull Run, since
+which he had not been heard from. It was known that he had been taken
+prisoner, but when exchanges were made he did not appear. His wife was
+unwilling to believe that he was dead, and still hoped for tidings of
+him.
+
+Jenny was sick when her father departed, but it was not supposed to be
+a dangerous illness; perhaps it would not have been if she had been
+supplied with the comforts of life. The family had been driven from the
+more comfortable abode, in which Mr. Kent had left them, to Mr.
+O'Shane's miserable hovel. The poor woman had gone out to work until
+Jenny's condition demanded her constant attention. She had then
+obtained what sewing she could; but with all her exertions she was
+hardly able to obtain food for her family, to say nothing of procuring
+clothes, and paying the rent.
+
+Mrs. Kent lived by herself, having little or no communication with the
+world around her. She had heard of the provision for soldiers'
+families, and had made an effort to obtain this aid; but she was unable
+to prove that she was a soldier's wife, and being delicate and
+sensitive, she had not the courage to face the rebuffs of the officials
+a second time.
+
+Fanny listened to this story with but little interest. She was thinking
+of Jenny, whose sweet smile of holy rapture still lingered in her mind.
+Promising to do something for the family, she took leave of Mrs. Kent,
+who had no words to express the gratitude she felt towards her
+benefactor. Fanny went to the nearest store, and purchased a liberal
+supply of provisions and groceries, which she sent back to the house.
+She felt better then, and walked down the street till she came to a
+horse car, in which she rode down to the Park.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+HOPE AND HAVE.
+
+
+Fanny got out of the horse car at the Park. She was in the midst of the
+great city, but she felt no interest in the moving, driving scene
+around her, for the thought of poor Jenny still engrossed her. She had
+even forgotten Mr. Long, and the dreaded policemen who might be on the
+watch for her. This was the good time for which she had stolen the
+money and run away from her happy home at Woodville. It was a mockery,
+and she even wished she had been caught before she left Pennville.
+
+It was now two o'clock in the afternoon, though hours enough seemed to
+have elapsed since she left Woodville to make a week. She had eaten
+nothing but an ice-cream since breakfast, and she was faint from the
+excitement and the exertion of the day. She found a saloon for ladies,
+and entered; but the nice things of which she had dreamed in the
+morning no longer existed for her. She ate a simple dinner, and walked
+down Broadway till she came to the Museum, which she had regarded as an
+important element in the enjoyment of her week in the city.
+
+She paid the admission fee, and went in. She wandered from room to room
+among the curiosities, hardly caring for anything she saw, till she
+came to the exhibition-room, where plays were acted. She had never seen
+a play performed, and she had looked forward with brilliant
+anticipations to the pleasure of seeing one. She was disappointed, for
+it had not entered into her calculation that a clean conscience is
+necessary for the full enjoyment of anything. The actors and the
+actresses strutted their brief hour before her; but to her the play was
+incomprehensible and silly. It had no meaning, and even the funny
+things which the low comedian said and did could not make her laugh.
+Before the performance was half finished, she had enough of it, and
+left the place in disgust.
+
+Jenny Kent was rapturously happy, dying in a hovel, in the midst of
+poverty and want, while she was miserable with health and strength,
+with plenty to eat, drink, and wear. Fanny tried to shake off the
+strange depression which had so suddenly come over her. She had never
+been troubled with any such thoughts and feelings before. If she had
+occasionally been sorry for her wrong acts, it was only a momentary
+twinge, which hardly damped her spirits. She was weighed down to the
+earth, and she could not rid herself of the burden that oppressed her.
+She wanted to go into some dark corner and cry. She felt that it would
+do her good to weep, and to suffer even more than she had yet been
+called upon to endure.
+
+"I'll bear your name to heaven with me," had been the words of the
+dying girl to Fanny; but what a reproach her name would be to the pure
+and good of the happy land! In some manner, not evident to our human
+sight, or understood by our human minds, the words of Jenny had given
+the wayward girl a full view of herself--had turned her thoughts in
+upon the barrenness of her own heart. Her wrong acts, so trivial to her
+before, were now magnified into mountains, and the crime she had
+committed that morning was so monstrous and abominable that she
+abhorred herself for it.
+
+In spite of the reproaches which every loving word of the dying girl
+hurled into the conscience of Fanny, there was a strange and
+unaccountable fascination in the languid look of the sweet sufferer.
+Wherever she turned, Jenny seemed to be looking at her with a glance
+full of heaven, while the black waters of her own soul rose up to choke
+her.
+
+Fanny struggled to get rid of these strange thoughts, but she could
+not; and she was compelled to give herself wholly up to them.
+Something, she knew not what, drew her irresistibly towards the dying
+girl, and she started up Broadway to find the flowers she had promised
+to carry to her. In a shop window she saw what she wanted. The flowers
+were of the rarest and most costly kinds; but nothing was too good for
+Jenny, and she paid four dollars for a bouquet. In another store she
+purchased some jelly and other delicacies such as she had seen the
+ladies at Woodville send to sick people. Thus prepared to meet the
+dying girl, she took a horse car, and by six o'clock reached the humble
+abode of Mrs. Kent.
+
+"How is Jenny?" asked she, as she entered the house, without the
+ceremony of knocking.
+
+"She don't seem so well this afternoon," replied Mrs. Kent.
+
+"Does she have a doctor?"
+
+"Not now; we had one a while ago, but he said he could do nothing for
+her."
+
+"Don't you think we had better have one?"
+
+"He might do something to make her easy, but Jenny don't complain. She
+never speaks of her pains."
+
+"I have come to stay all night with Jenny, if you are willing I
+should," continued Fanny, doubtfully.
+
+"You are very kind."
+
+"I will only sit by her; I won't talk to her."
+
+"I should be very glad to have you stay; and Jenny thinks ever so much
+of you."
+
+"If you please, I will go after a doctor."
+
+Mrs. Kent consented, and Fanny, after sending in her bouquet, went for
+a physician whose name she had seen on a fine house near Central Park,
+judging from the style in which he lived that he must be a great man.
+She found him at home, and he consented to return with her to Mrs.
+Kent's house. He examined Jenny very carefully, and prescribed some
+medicine which might make her more comfortable. He did not pretend that
+he could do anything more for her, and he told Fanny that the sufferer
+could not live many days, and might pass away in a few hours. Fanny
+offered him his fee; he blushed, and peremptorily refused it.
+Physicians who live in fine houses are often kinder to the poor than
+the charlatans who prey upon the lowest strata of society.
+
+Fanny procured the medicine which the kind-hearted doctor had
+prescribed, and administered it with her own hands. Jenny gave her such
+a sweet smile of grateful encouragement, that she was sorry there was
+nothing else to be done for her.
+
+"Now sit down, Fanny, and let me take your hand. I feel better to-night
+than I have felt for a long time."
+
+"I am glad you do," replied Fanny.
+
+"You have made me so happy!"
+
+"I wish I was as good as you are, Jenny," said Fanny, struggling with
+the emotions which surged through her soul.
+
+"You are better than I am."
+
+"O, no!"
+
+"You are an angel! You have been as good as you could be. Fanny, we
+shall meet in heaven, for I feel just as though I could not live many
+days. We shall be friends there, if we cannot long be here."
+
+"I hope you will get better," added Fanny, because she could think of
+nothing else to say.
+
+"No, I may die before morning, Fanny; but I am ready. You are so
+good----"
+
+"O, Jenny! I am not good! I cannot deceive you any longer!" exclaimed
+Fanny, bursting into tears.
+
+"Now I know that you are good. The blessed Bible says, 'He that
+humbleth himself shall be exalted.' I'm glad you don't think you are
+good."
+
+"But I am not good, indeed I am not," sobbed Fanny.
+
+"Don't weep, dear Fanny. I know how you feel; I have felt just so
+myself, when it seemed to me I was so wicked I couldn't live."
+
+"You don't know how wicked I have been; what monstrous things I have
+done," added Fanny, covering her face with her hands. "If you knew, you
+would despise me."
+
+"You wrong yourself, Fanny. Such a good, kind heart as you have would
+not let you do anything very bad."
+
+"I have done what was very bad, Jenny; I have been the worst girl in
+the whole world; but I am so sorry!"
+
+"I know you are. If you have done anything wrong,--we all do wrong
+sometimes,--you could not help being sorry. Your heart is good."
+
+"Shall I tell you what I did?" asked Fanny, in a low and doubtful tone.
+
+"O, no! Don't tell me; tell it to God. He will pity and forgive you
+because you are really sorry."
+
+"You would despise me if you knew how wicked I have been. It was seeing
+you, and thinking how good you are, which made me feel that I had done
+wrong."
+
+"I'm sure, after all you have done for mother and for me, I can't help
+believing that you are an angel. I love you, and I know that you are
+good."
+
+"I mean to be good, Jenny. From this time I shall try to do better than
+I ever did before."
+
+"Then you will be, Fanny."
+
+"I don't think I ever tried to be good, but I shall now," replied the
+penitent girl, as she wiped away her tears.
+
+Jenny seemed to be weary, and Fanny sat by the bedside gazing in
+silence at her beautiful and tranquil expression. The sufferer was
+looking at the rich flowers of the bouquet, which had been placed on a
+stand at the side of the bed. They were a joy to her, a connecting link
+between the beautiful of heaven and the beautiful of earth.
+
+"Will you sing me a hymn, Fanny?" asked the sick girl, without removing
+her gaze from the flowers.
+
+Without any other reply to the question, Fanny immediately sang this
+verse:--
+
+    "If God hath made this world so fair,
+      Where sin and death abound,
+    How beautiful, beyond compare,
+      Will Paradise be found!"
+
+"How beautiful!" murmured Jenny, her eyes still fixed upon the flowers.
+"Will you take out that moss-rose, Fanny, and let me hold it in my
+hand?"
+
+Fanny gave her the flower, and then sang another hymn. For an hour she
+continued to sing, and Jenny listened to the sweet melodies, entranced
+and enraptured by the visions of heaven which filled her soul. Then she
+asked Fanny to read to her from the Bible, indicating the book and
+chapter, which was the eighth chapter of Romans.
+
+"'For we are saved by hope,'" Fanny read.
+
+"Now, stop a moment: 'For we are saved by hope,'" said the sufferer.
+"Do you know what the emblem of Hope is, Fanny?"
+
+"An anchor."
+
+"Will you hand me that little box on the table?"
+
+Fanny passed the box to her, and she took from it a little gold
+breastpin, in the form of an anchor.
+
+"This was given to me by my father when I was a little girl. My
+Sunday-school teacher told me years ago what an anchor was the emblem
+of, and told me at the same time to remember the verse you have just
+read--'For we are saved by hope.' That anchor has often reminded me
+what was to save me from sin. Fanny, I will give you this breastpin to
+remember me by."
+
+"I shall never forget you, Jenny, as long as I live!" said Fanny,
+earnestly.
+
+"But when you remember me, I want you to think what the anchor means.
+You say you are not good, but I know you are. You mean to be good, you
+hope to be good; and that will make you good. Do you know we can always
+have what we hope for, if it is right that we should have it? What we
+desire most we labor the hardest for. If you really and truly wish to
+be good, you will be good."
+
+Fanny took the breastpin. If it had been worth thousands of dollars, it
+would not have been more precious to her. It was the gift of the loving
+and gentle being who was soon to be transplanted from earth to heaven;
+of the beautiful girl who had influenced her as she had never been
+influenced before; who had lifted her soul into a new atmosphere. She
+placed it upon her bosom, and resolved never to part with it as long as
+she lived.
+
+"Hope and have, Fanny," said Jenny, when she had rested for a time.
+"Hope for what is good and true, and you shall have it; for if you
+really desire it, you will be sure to labor and to struggle for it."
+
+"Hope and have," repeated Fanny. "Your anchor shall mean this to me.
+Jenny, I feel happier already, for I really and truly mean to be good.
+But I think I ought to tell you how wicked I am."
+
+"No, don't tell me; tell your mother."
+
+"I have no mother."
+
+"Then you are poorer than I am."
+
+"And no father."
+
+"Poor Fanny! Then you have had no one to tell you how to be good."
+
+"Yes, I have the kindest and best of friends; but I have been very
+ungrateful."
+
+"They will forgive you, for you are truly sorry."
+
+"Perhaps they will."
+
+"I know they will."
+
+Jenny was weary again, and Fanny sang in her softest and sweetest tones
+once more. It was now the twilight of a long summer day, and Mrs. Kent,
+having finished her household duties, came into the room. Soon after,
+the sufferer was seized with a violent fit of coughing, which seemed to
+weaken and reduce her beyond the possibility of recovery. When it left
+her, she could not speak aloud.
+
+"I am going, mother," said she, a little later. "Fanny!"
+
+"I am here," replied Fanny, almost choked with emotion.
+
+"We shall meet in heaven," said the dying one. "Have you been very
+naughty?"
+
+"I have," sobbed Fanny.
+
+Jenny asked for paper and pencil, and when her mother had raised her on
+the bed, she wrote, with trembling hand, these words:--
+
+    "_Please to forgive Fanny, for the sake of her dying friend,
+    Jenny Kent._"
+
+"Take this, Fanny: God will forgive you."
+
+It was evident to the experienced eye of Mrs. Kent that Jenny was going
+from earth. The sufferer lay with her gaze fixed upon the ceiling, and
+her hands clasped, as in silent prayer. She seemed to be communing with
+the angels. She struggled for breath, and her mother watched her in the
+most painful anxiety.
+
+"Good by, mother," said she, at last. "Good by, Eddy: I'm going home."
+
+Mrs. Kent took her offered hand, and kissed her, struggling all the
+time to be calm. Little Eddy was raised up to the bed, and kissed his
+departing sister.
+
+"Fanny," gasped she, extending her trembling hand.
+
+Fanny took the hand.
+
+"Good by."
+
+"Good by, Jenny," she answered, awed and trembling with agitation at
+the impressive scene.
+
+The dying girl closed her eyes. But a moment after she pressed the hand
+of Fanny, and murmured,--
+
+"HOPE AND HAVE."
+
+She was silent then; her bosom soon ceased to heave; the ransomed
+spirit rose from the pain-encumbered body, and soared away to its
+angel-home!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+GOOD OUT OF EVIL.
+
+
+Peacefully, on what had been her couch of pain, lay the silent form of
+Jenny. The room resounded with the sobs of the mother and the brother,
+and hardly less with the wailings of the stranger, who, in a few brief
+hours had found and lost the truest and best of earthly friends. The
+darkness gathered, and still they wept--the darkness from which Jenny
+had fled to the brightness of the eternal world, where there is no
+night or sorrow. There was woe in that humble abode, while heaven's
+high arches rang with paeans of rejoicing that a ransomed soul had
+joined the happy bands above.
+
+There were no kind and sympathizing friends to go into that hovel and
+deck the marble form in the vestments of the grave. Fanny was the first
+to realize that there was something to be done: she was a stranger to
+such a scene; she knew not what to do; but she told Mrs. Kent that she
+would go out and obtain assistance. With hurried step she walked down
+to the residence of the physician who had so gently and feelingly
+ministered to the sufferer. She found the doctor at home, and informed
+him of the sad event. Since his return he had told his wife and
+daughter of the beautiful girl who was dying in the cottage up the
+street. He called them into his library, and Fanny, with tearful eyes
+and broken voice, repeated her narrative of the passing away of poor
+Jenny.
+
+The ladies promptly expressed their intention to visit the bereaved
+mother, and discharge the duties the occasion required. A carriage was
+called, in which the benevolent physician, his wife and daughter, and
+Fanny, proceeded to the house of Mrs. Kent. They were the kindest and
+tenderest of friends, and the sorrowing mother, grateful to them for
+their good offices, and grateful to God for sending them to her, was
+relieved of a great load of pain and anxiety. At a late hour they
+departed, with the promise to come again on the following day.
+
+Hour after hour Mrs. Kent and Fanny sat in the chamber of death,
+talking about the gentle one who had passed away, and was at rest. It
+was nearly morning before Fanny, worn out by excitement and fatigue,
+could be prevailed upon to take the rest she needed. Mrs. Kent made a
+bed for her on the kitchen floor, and she slept for a few hours. When
+she awoke, her first thought was of Jenny; and all the events of the
+previous day and evening passed in review before her. Her soul had been
+sanctified by communion with the sainted spirit of her departed friend.
+On the day before, her current of being seemed suddenly to have stopped
+in its course, and then to have taken a new direction. Her thoughts,
+her hopes, her aspirations had all been changed. She had resolved to be
+good--so solemnly and truly resolved to be good, that she felt like a
+new creature.
+
+She prayed to the good Father, who had been revealed to her by the
+dying girl; and from her prayers came a strength which was a new life
+to her soul. From her strong desire to be good--to be what Jenny had
+been--had grown up a new faith.
+
+In the forenoon came the wife and daughter of the good physician again
+upon the mission of mercy. They had requested the attendance of an
+undertaker, and assumed the whole charge of the funeral of Jenny, which
+was to take place on the third day after her death.
+
+Fanny had hardly thought of herself since the angel of death entered
+the house, though she had been weighed down by a burden of guilt that
+did not embody itself in particular thoughts. In her sincere penitence,
+and in her firm and sacred resolve to be good and true, she had found
+only a partial peace of mind. She had not a doubt in regard to her
+future course: she must return to Woodville, and submit to any
+punishment which her kind friends might impose upon her. She was
+willing to suffer for what she had done; she was even willing to be
+sent to her uncle's in Minnesota; and this feeling of submission was
+the best evidence to herself of the reality of her repentance.
+
+She was not willing to return to Woodville till she had seen the mortal
+part of Jenny laid away in its final resting-place. But Mr. Grant, who
+was at Hudson with his daughters, might already have been informed of
+her wicked conduct; and Mr. Long was probably still engaged in the
+search for her. There was a duty she owed to her friends which her
+awakened conscience would not permit her to neglect. The family would
+be very anxious about her, for wayward and wilful as she had been, she
+felt that they still loved her. Procuring pen and paper, she wrote a
+letter to Mrs. Green, informing her that she should return home on
+Friday; that she would submit to any punishment, and endeavor to be
+good in the future. She sealed the note, and put it in the post-office,
+with a feeling that it was all she could do at present as an atonement
+for her faults. If it was not all she could do, it was an error of
+judgment, not of the heart.
+
+On Thursday the form of Jenny was placed in the coffin. It was not a
+pauper's coffin; it was a black-walnut casket--plain, but
+rich--selected by Mrs. Porter, the physician's lady, who could not
+permit the form of one so beautiful to be enclosed in a less
+appropriate receptacle. The choicest flowers lay upon her breast, and a
+beautiful wreath and cross were placed upon the casket before the
+funeral services commenced.
+
+The clergyman was a friend of Dr. Porter, and he was worthy to be the
+friend of so true a man. The service was solemn and touching; no word
+of hope and consolation was omitted because they stood in the humble
+abode of poverty and want. He spoke of the beautiful life and the happy
+death of Jenny, and prayed that her parents might be comforted; that
+the little brother might be blessed by her short life, and that "the
+devoted young friend, who had so tenderly watched over the last hours
+of the departed," might be sanctified by her holy ministrations. The
+father, living or dead, wherever suffering, or wherever battling
+against the foes of his country, was remembered.
+
+Fanny wept, as all in the house wept, when the good man feelingly
+delineated the lovely character of her who was still so beautiful in
+her marble silence; when he recalled those tender scenes on the evening
+of her death, which had been faithfully described to him by Fanny. The
+casket was placed in the funeral car, and followed by two carriages,--one
+of which contained Mrs. Kent, Eddy, and Fanny, and the other the family
+of Dr. Porter,--to Greenwood Cemetery. Sadly the poor mother turned
+away from the resting-place of her earthly treasure, and the little
+_cortege_ returned to the house from which the light had gone out. The
+last solemn, sacred duty had been performed; Jenny had gone, but her
+pure influence was still to live on, and bless those who had never even
+known her.
+
+When the little party reached the house, Dr. Porter, after some remarks
+about the solemn scenes through which they had just passed, inquired
+more particularly than he had been permitted to do before into the
+circumstances of the family. He promised to procure for her the money
+due to her as a soldier's wife, and to obtain some light employment for
+her. Mrs. Kent was very grateful to him for his kind interest in
+herself, and in her lost one, assuring him that she did not ask for
+charity, and was willing to work hard for a support.
+
+"You have been a blessing to me, Fanny," said Mrs. Kent, when the
+physician and his family had departed. "I am sure that God sent you
+here to save me from misery and despair. What should I have done if you
+had not come?"
+
+"I think I was sent for my own sake, rather than for yours, for I know
+that it has been a greater blessing to me than to you," replied Fanny.
+
+"That can't be."
+
+"It is so. When I told Jenny that I had been a very wicked girl, I
+meant so."
+
+"I'm sure that one who has been so kind can't be very bad," added Mrs.
+Kent, rather bewildered by the confession of her benefactor. "Where did
+you say you lived, Fanny?"
+
+The wanderer had been obliged to invent a story in the beginning to
+account for her absence from home, and the poor woman's heart had been
+too full of gratitude to permit any doubt to enter there.
+
+"I have deceived you, Mrs. Kent," replied Fanny, bursting into tears.
+"I do not live in the city; my home is twenty-five miles up the river.
+But I did not mean to deceive poor Jenny. I wanted to tell her what a
+wicked deed I had done, but she would not let me."
+
+"She was too good to think evil of any one, and especially of you, who
+have been so generous to us."
+
+"You know the paper she wrote and gave to me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I know from that she believed I had done something very bad."
+
+"Perhaps she did."
+
+"She told me how to be good. The very sight of her made me feel how
+wicked I was. I mean to be good."
+
+"Then I am sure you will be."
+
+"I shall always think of Jenny, and the anchor she gave me, when I am
+tempted to do wrong. I feel that Jenny has saved me, and made me a new
+being."
+
+"I'm sure I hope so; and I am glad you came here for your own sake, as
+well as for mine. But I can't believe that one who has been good to my
+dear lost one can be very bad," replied Mrs. Kent, gloomily.
+
+"I am--at least, I was; for I know I am ever so much better than I was
+when I came here. I ran away from home!"
+
+"Ran away!" exclaimed Mrs. Kent, appalled at the words.
+
+"Yes; and I did even worse than that."
+
+"Dear me! I hope not. I thought it was strange that a young lady like
+you should have so much money; but my heart was so full that I didn't
+think much about it."
+
+"Mrs. Kent, I stole that money!" added Fanny, her face crimson with the
+blush of shame.
+
+"Mercy on me! I can't believe it."
+
+"It is true."
+
+"It was wrong of me to take the money," added Mrs. Kent, actually
+trembling with apprehension at the thought. "I will pay it all back
+some time, Fanny. I can work now. I'm sure I wouldn't have taken the
+money if I had thought you did not come rightly by it."
+
+Fanny then told the whole story, and described her feelings from the
+time she had first seen Mrs. Kent in front of the house.
+
+"I am so sorry!" said the poor woman, wringing her hands as she thought
+of her own participation in the use of the stolen property. "I would
+rather have been turned out of the house than be saved by such money."
+
+"Don't cry, Mrs. Kent. I am almost sorry I told you anything about it."
+
+"I'm glad poor Jenny didn't know it."
+
+"So am I; but I am sure she knew how guilty I had been, though she
+didn't know exactly what I had done."
+
+"I think there is hope for you, Fanny. You must have a kind heart, or
+you couldn't have done what you did for Jenny. I'm sure I feel very
+grateful to you."
+
+"Now you know me as I am, Mrs. Kent; but I tell you most solemnly, that
+I mean to be good always after this. I am sorry for my wicked deeds,
+and I am willing to be punished for what I have done. I shall always
+bless poor Jenny for saving me from error and sin--if I am saved."
+
+"What are you going to do, Fanny?"
+
+"I am going back to Woodville to-morrow morning. I will give up all the
+money I have, confess my fault, and let them do with me as they think
+best."
+
+"You can tell them I will pay back all the money you spent for me, just
+as soon as I can."
+
+"Mr. Grant is very rich, and he will not ask you to do that. He is very
+kind, too."
+
+"But I must do it, and I shall have no peace till it is done,"
+protested the poor woman. "I'll tell you what I will do. I will give
+you a note for the money."
+
+Mrs. Kent was in earnest. She was sorely troubled by the fact that she
+had even innocently received any of the stolen money. In the evening
+she wrote the note, which was made payable to Mr. Grant, and insisted
+that Fanny should take it. They talked of nothing but the guilt of the
+runaway, though rather of the means of making reparation for the wrong,
+than of the consequences of the wrong acts. Mrs. Kent was fully
+convinced that Fanny was sincerely penitent; that her intercourse with
+Jenny had ushered her into a new life. She was even willing to believe,
+before they retired that night, that it was all for the best; that He
+who brings good out of evil, would bring a blessing out of the wrong
+which Fanny had done.
+
+The next morning the wanderer bade farewell to Mrs. Kent, and took the
+train for Woodville.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+PENITENCE AND PARDON.
+
+
+Fanny arrived at the station near Woodville by the early train from the
+city. On the way, she had been thinking of her own guilt, and
+considering what she should do and say when she stood in the presence
+of her injured friends. She was not studying how to conceal or palliate
+her offence, but how she could best tell the whole truth. She gave
+herself no credit for any good deed she had done during her absence;
+she did not flatter herself that she had been benevolent and kind in
+using the stolen money as she had used it; she did not believe that her
+tender vigil at the bedside of the dying girl made her less guilty.
+
+She felt that she deserved a severe punishment, and that it would do
+her good to suffer for what she had done. She was even willing to be
+sent to prison, to be disgraced, and banished from the happy home at
+Woodville, whose hospitality she had abused. She felt that the penalty
+of her errors, whatever it might be, would do her good. She was filled
+with contrition and shame as she left the station; she hung her head,
+and did not dare to look the people she met in the face. The Fanny who
+went from Woodville a few days before had returned an entirely
+different being.
+
+Slowly and gloomily she walked down the road that led to the residence
+of Mr. Grant. It seemed as though she had been absent a year, and
+everything looked strange to her, though the change was all in herself.
+All the currents of her former life had ceased to flow; the movements
+of the wheel of events had been abruptly suspended. What gladdened her
+before did not gladden her now, and what had once been a joy was now a
+sorrow. She felt as though she had been transferred from the old world,
+in which she had rejoiced in mischief and wrong, to a new world, whose
+hopes and joys had not yet been revealed to her.
+
+She approached the cottage of Mr. Long, the constable, who had probably
+been engaged in the search for her since her departure. She went up to
+the door and knocked. Mr. Long had just finished his breakfast, and she
+was shown into the little parlor.
+
+"So you have got back, Fanny Grant," said he, very coldly and sternly,
+as he entered the room where she stood waiting for him.
+
+"I have," she replied, just raising her eyes from the floor.
+
+"Where have you been?"
+
+"In New York city."
+
+"Where did you stay?"
+
+"At the house of a poor woman in the upper part of the city."
+
+"I thought so; or I should have found you. You have been a very bad
+girl, Fanny."
+
+"I know it, sir. You may send me to prison now, for I deserve the worst
+you can do to me," replied Fanny, choking with her emotions.
+
+"You ought to be sent there. What did you come here for?"
+
+"I stole the money, and I suppose you were sent to catch me. I am
+willing to be sent to prison."
+
+"You are very obliging," sneered the constable. "We don't generally ask
+people whether they are willing or not when we send them to prison."
+
+"I give myself up to you; and you can do with me what you think best."
+
+"I know I can."
+
+"You didn't catch me. I come here of myself; that is what I meant by
+saying that I was willing to be sent to prison."
+
+"What have you done with the money you stole?" asked the constable, who
+was very much astonished at the singular conduct of Fanny.
+
+"I have spent most of it."
+
+"I suppose so," replied Mr. Long, who deemed it his duty to be stern
+and unsympathizing. "How did you spend it?"
+
+"I will tell Mr. Grant all about it," answered Fanny, who did not care
+to repeat her story to such a person as the constable; and she felt
+that he would be fully justified in disbelieving her statements.
+
+"Perhaps you will tell me, if I wish you to do so."
+
+"I will, but I would rather tell Mr. Grant first, for it is a long
+story, and you will think it is a very strange one."
+
+"No doubt it is," said the constable, perplexed by the replies of the
+culprit, and doubtful what course he should pursue.
+
+"I suppose Mr. Grant has not got home yet," added Fanny. "You can put
+me in prison till he gets back; or I will solemnly promise you I will
+not run away."
+
+"Your promises are not worth much. Mr. Grant has got home. He came home
+just as soon as he heard that you had gone off. You have given him a
+heap of trouble, and you must settle the case with him. I will take you
+over to the house, and I promise you I won't lose sight of you again."
+
+"I will not attempt to get away," replied Fanny, meekly.
+
+"I won't trust you," said Mr. Long, putting on his hat.
+
+"I don't ask you to trust me."
+
+"Come with me," he added, taking her by the arm.
+
+"You need not hold me; I will not run away," said Fanny, as she left
+the house with the constable, who seemed determined to hold on to her
+as though she were some desperate ruffian, instead of a weak and
+self-convicted girl.
+
+"You won't get away from me, you may depend upon it," continued Mr.
+Long, as they walked towards the mansion of Mr. Grant.
+
+The constable seemed to be actuated by the vanity to make people
+believe that he had made a capture, and he did not release his grasp
+upon his prisoner till they reached their destination. They met several
+people, who stopped and stared at them, and evidently thought the
+constable had done a great thing. Mr. Long rang the bell at the front
+door. The man-servant, who admitted them, started with astonishment
+when he saw Fanny. They were shown to the library, and informed that
+Mr. Grant was at breakfast.
+
+"You can sit down in that chair," said the constable, pointing to a
+seat. "If you attempt to get away, I shall put the handcuffs on you."
+
+"I don't want to get away. I came back of my own accord," replied
+Fanny, astonished rather than indignant at the absurd behavior of the
+constable.
+
+"You are bad enough to do almost anything."
+
+"I hope I am not so bad as I was."
+
+"Perhaps you do hope so; but we shall see."
+
+"Can you tell me where Kate Magner is now?" asked Fanny, as Mr. Long
+relapsed into silence and pompous dignity.
+
+"She is at home, I suppose. She wasn't quite bad enough for you, it
+seems."
+
+"I hope she was not punished for what she did, for it was all my
+fault."
+
+"That's a fact. You have told the truth for once."
+
+"I mean always to tell the truth now, Mr. Long," said Fanny.
+
+"When you have done it a while, perhaps we can believe you. The Magner
+girl told the whole story, and delivered up the money you gave her;
+that saved her."
+
+"I am glad she was not punished."
+
+"She was punished."
+
+"Then I am sorry, for it was I who led her away."
+
+"We all know that. Now, be still; Mr. Grant is coming," said the
+constable.
+
+Mr. Grant entered the library, and walked towards the chair where Fanny
+sat, taking no notice of the constable. He paused before her, looking
+very sad, but very stern. Fanny's bosom was bounding with emotion. She
+trembled; her heart was rising up into her throat, and choking her. She
+raised her eyes from the floor and glanced at him,--only one glance at
+that sad, stern face,--and then burst into tears. She did not mean to
+weep; did not mean to do anything which could appeal to the sympathy of
+her kind friend and benefactor, but she could not help it.
+
+"I have brought her up to you, Mr. Grant," said the constable.
+
+"Where did you find her?"
+
+Mr. Long would have preferred to let Mr. Grant believe that he had
+caught her himself; but the question was so direct that he could only
+give a direct answer.
+
+"She came to my house this morning."
+
+"Very well, Mr. Long; I will not trouble you to remain any longer,"
+added Mr. Grant.
+
+"I hope you will not let her get away from you, sir," said the
+constable, who thought his official position was slighted by this
+intimation; and he was curious to hear what the culprit had to say for
+herself.
+
+"I will not try to get away, Mr. Grant," interposed Fanny.
+
+"There is no fear of her getting away, even if she is disposed to do
+so."
+
+Mr. Long found himself obliged to leave, his office ignored, and his
+curiosity ungratified.
+
+"Where have you been, Fanny Jane?" asked Mr. Grant, when the constable
+had gone, his tones being the counterpart of his stern, sad face.
+
+"In New York," replied Fanny, still sobbing.
+
+"What have you done with the money you took from the drawer in the
+closet?"
+
+"I spent most of it."
+
+"For what did you spend it?"
+
+"I have come back to tell the whole truth, Mr. Grant. I have been very
+wicked and ungrateful to you. I am very sorry for what I have done; I
+don't ask you to forgive me, for I know you can't. I am willing to be
+punished as you think best, for I deserve the worst you can do to me."
+
+Mr. Grant was a tender-hearted man. Perhaps his own children had
+suffered from the gentleness of his nature; if they had, the injury had
+been more than compensated for in the blessings imparted by his
+tenderness. He was more than astonished at the attitude of the returned
+wanderer. Fanny had never before been known to be in such a frame of
+mind. The sternness of his expression passed away; there was nothing
+but the sadness left. Probably he doubted the sincerity of the
+culprit's contrition; at least he did not realize the depth and
+earnestness of it.
+
+"I will hear whatever you wish to say," replied he, seating himself in
+his easy chair.
+
+"I have been so wicked that I know you will find it hard to believe me;
+but I mean to tell the whole truth," sobbed Fanny.
+
+"I hope you do. You may wait till you are better able to speak. The
+letter you sent to Mrs. Green informed us where you were, but we were
+unable to find you."
+
+"I came home as soon as I could; and I did not wish you to find me till
+I had done what I had to do," answered Fanny, drying her tears.
+
+She then commenced the narrative of her adventures from the time she
+had parted with Miss Fanny. She told how she had let the cat out of the
+drawer, and how she had found where the money was actually concealed;
+she related very minutely every incident that had occurred up to the
+time she had seen Mr. O'Shane and Mrs. Kent in front of the house in
+New York. At this point Mr. Grant became intensely interested in the
+story, and when Fanny said that she had paid the poor woman's rent with
+one hundred dollars of the stolen money, a slight smile gathered upon
+his sad face.
+
+Then she related the particulars of her interview with the sick girl,
+mentioning even the hymns she had sung to her. She described as well as
+she could the impression made upon her by the beautiful and patient
+sufferer; the sense of her own guilt and wickedness, which had then and
+there dawned upon her; and the oppressive burden she had borne in her
+soul when she went down into the city, which did not permit her to
+enjoy the pleasures of the great metropolis for which she had stolen
+the money, and run away from her home. Fanny was eloquent, but the
+simple truth was her only inspiration.
+
+Mr. Grant evidently understood the frame of mind which she described,
+and when she came to her final interview with the dying girl, he could
+hardly repress a tear in his own eyes. Fanny omitted nothing, but told
+every incident, and repeated all she could remember of the conversation
+of poor Jenny,--and hardly a word of it was forgotten,--confirming her
+statement by exhibiting the anchor on her bosom, and the paper given
+her by the dying saint.
+
+Mr. Grant read the paper, and the tears came to his eyes in spite of
+his efforts to suppress them.
+
+"For her sake, Fanny, I forgive you," said he.
+
+"I do not deserve to be forgiven, sir," sobbed Fanny.
+
+"I could not resist such an appeal as this," answered Mr. Grant,
+glancing at the paper again.
+
+"I would have come home then, when poor Jenny was gone, but I thought I
+ought to stay and do what I could for the poor woman;" and Fanny
+continued her narrative, describing everything that took place at Mrs.
+Kent's till her departure, including her visit to Dr. Porter's, the
+funeral, and her confession to the bereaved mother.
+
+"Mrs. Kent felt very bad when I told her that I had stolen the money;
+and she promised to pay you all I had spent for her. She gave me this
+note for you," continued Fanny, handing him the paper.
+
+Mr. Grant glanced at it, and put it in his pocket.
+
+"Fanny, if your penitence is sincere, as I hope and believe it is, I
+shall be thankful that this event has happened," said he. "I should
+have been glad of an opportunity to do what you have done with my
+money. It would have been wrong for you to steal it, even to relieve
+the distress of so needy and deserving a person as the soldier's wife;
+but you have put it to a good use. It is impossible for me to doubt
+your story, but I wish to confirm it. When you have had your breakfast,
+you may go to the city with me, and we will visit Mrs. Kent."
+
+"I have told the whole truth, Mr. Grant; and I am willing to do
+anything you say. I did not ask or expect to be forgiven."
+
+"I could have forgiven you, even without the request of the dying
+girl."
+
+"I do not deserve it. I expected to be sent to prison," sobbed the
+penitent.
+
+"I never thought of sending you to prison, or to any such place. I say
+I forgive you, but I shall be compelled to send you to your uncle's in
+Minnesota."
+
+"I am willing to go," replied Fanny, who, a week before, would have
+deemed this a greater hardship than being sent to prison.
+
+Fanny went to her breakfast. Mrs. Green and the servants were
+surprised, not to say disgusted, to see Mr. Grant treat her with so
+much tenderness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE NEW HOME.
+
+
+When Fanny had finished her breakfast, she put on her best clothes, and
+started for New York with Mr. Grant, who, perhaps, was more desirous of
+assisting the mother of Jenny than of confirming the story to which he
+had just listened with so much interest and sympathy. We need not say
+that the narrative of the returned wanderer was found to be true in
+every respect, or that Mr. Grant destroyed the poor woman's note of
+hand, by which she promised to pay the sums Fanny had expended in her
+behalf.
+
+Mrs. Kent, while she condemned and regretted the misdeeds of Fanny, was
+enthusiastic in the praise she bestowed upon her kindness to the dying
+girl, and of her tenderness and devotion in those last trying hours.
+Mr. Grant could not doubt that a great change had come over Fanny; that
+she earnestly intended to lead a true and good life. Whether she would
+persevere, and in any degree realize her present high aspirations,
+remained yet to be demonstrated; but he was hopeful. The solemn and
+impressive scene through which she had passed had left deep impressions
+upon her mind and heart, which he hoped would prove as lasting as they
+were strong.
+
+Mr. Grant called with Fanny to see Dr. Porter; and the benevolent
+physician gladdened his heart by the warm commendations he lavished
+upon Fanny; and, without knowing of her misdeeds, he declared she was a
+treasure in whom her friends ought continually to rejoice. It was not
+necessary that he should know what evil she had done, for he might
+never see her again, and Mr. Grant's business with him related solely
+to the future comfort of the soldier's family. The doctor had done
+everything that could be done for Mrs. Kent, and his family were so
+deeply interested in the poor woman that she was not likely to suffer
+in the future. Mr. Grant promised to see him again, and cooeperate with
+him in doing what might be needed for her comfort and happiness.
+
+Mr. Grant and Fanny returned to Woodville by the noon train. The
+penitent girl felt that she had been forgiven, and the kindness of her
+friend made her all the more determined to be faithful to the
+resolutions she had made. She had not hoped to escape the punishment
+she merited, and had not been prepared for the tender words which had
+been addressed to her when it was evident that her penitence was real.
+
+"Fanny," said Mr. Grant, as they entered the library, on her return, "I
+shall, as I said before, be obliged to send you to your uncle in
+Minnesota."
+
+"I am willing to go, sir," replied she, humbly.
+
+"I understand you have frequently declared that you would not go."
+
+"I have, but I am sorry I said anything of the kind."
+
+"But I do not intend to send you there as a punishment for what you
+have done. I freely forgive you."
+
+"You are very kind to me, Mr. Grant, and I will do anything you wish
+without complaining."
+
+"I am glad to see so excellent a spirit in you, which makes me sorry to
+send you away at this time. If your conduct had warranted it before, I
+might have made different arrangements; but it is too late now. I have
+written to your uncle, informing him that you would be with him next
+week. I promised him and your aunt, when I brought you here, that you
+should be returned to them in two years; and that time has now expired.
+We shall be absent in Europe about six months; when we return, if your
+uncle is willing, I should be very glad to have you come back to
+Woodville. I hope you will like your aunt better than you used to like
+her."
+
+"I shall, sir."
+
+Mr. Grant did not think it necessary to indulge in any long lectures.
+He had forgiven Fanny, and he hoped her future conduct would justify
+his clemency. Mrs. Green and the servants saw that she was a different
+being. She was no longer rough, disobedient, and impertinent, for she
+entered at once upon her effort to be kind and obliging to all in the
+house. In the afternoon Mr. Grant went up to Hudson, where he had left
+Bertha and Fanny. When he had gone, the reformed girl paid a visit to
+Ben the boatman, still confined to his bed with the rheumatism. She
+surprised him by offering to read to him from the Bible--an offer which
+he gladly accepted.
+
+The next day she went to school, carrying a note to the teacher, which
+Mr. Grant had written for her. She expected to be reproached and
+reproved here, but the teacher did not allude to her past conduct,
+prompted in this course by the note; her companions were astonished and
+awed by her quiet dignity, and even Kate Magner said less than might
+have been expected. Fanny told her what had happened after the
+separation at Pennville, and solemnly assured her that she intended
+always to be a good girl in the future.
+
+Fanny spent Saturday afternoon with Ben, seated by his bedside till
+dark, reading and singing to him, giving him his medicine, and
+supplying all his wants. She told him the story of her wanderings in
+New York, of the death and the funeral of Jenny, all of which the
+kindness and tenderness of Fanny to himself made real. He commended her
+good resolutions, and hoped that, in her new home in the West, she
+would be able to carry them out.
+
+On Monday the family returned from Hudson, and Fanny repeated her story
+to Bertha and her sister. They were moved to tears by her narrative. It
+had seemed to them that nothing short of a miracle could reform the
+wayward girl; but the miracle had been wrought, as was fully proved
+during the remainder of Fanny's stay at Woodville. It did not seem
+possible that the gentle and obliging girl, who was a blessing to all
+in the house, had ever been the grief and the sorrow of her friends, a
+thorn and a torment to all who came in contact with her.
+
+When the time for Fanny to leave for Minnesota arrived, it was hard for
+the family to part with her. Miss Fanny begged that the arrangements
+might be altered; that she might be permitted to remain at Woodville,
+or even to go to Europe with them; but her father thought it best that
+the original plan should be carried out; he believed that it would be
+better for Fanny herself. There were many tears shed when they parted.
+Miss Fanny was sorry to lose her _protegee_ just as her teachings,
+quickened into life by her visit to the city, were beginning to bear
+their fruits.
+
+Mr. Grant had decided to attend the young traveller to her new home,
+for he was unwilling to trust her to the care of any chance friend who
+might undertake the charge of her, fearful lest the good impressions
+which were beginning to take root in her soul might be weakened during
+the long journey. They travelled leisurely, and at the end of a week
+reached Mankato, at the great bend of the Minnesota River, in the
+southern part of the state.
+
+John Grant, Fanny's uncle, lived at a settlement near the southern line
+of the state, about seventy miles from Mankato; and thither Mr. Grant
+and Fanny proceeded in a wagon, hired for the purpose. They were warmly
+welcomed by the settlers, who seldom saw any one from the busy walks of
+civilization. Mr. Grant remained but one day, which he used mainly in
+informing the future guardians of Fanny in regard to her moral, mental,
+and spiritual needs. He told them of the change which had come over
+her, and hoped they would do all they could to foster and encourage the
+growth of her good principles. When he had faithfully discharged his
+duty to his late charge, he took an affectionate leave of her, and
+departed for his home, returning to Mankato in the wagon by which he
+had come.
+
+Fanny now entered upon her new life, and had an opportunity to take a
+survey of her future home. The settlement consisted of about fifty
+persons, most of whom had emigrated from states east of the
+Mississippi. Among them were a few Germans, Swedes, and Norwegians. The
+country was a perfect garden by nature, and the rich, deep soil
+produced the most abundant crops. The settlement was located on one of
+those beautiful lakes for which Minnesota is distinguished, whose
+bright, clear waters abound in fish. The lake was eight miles in
+length, with an average width of about three miles. From it flowed a
+small stream, and after receiving other tributaries, discharged its
+waters into the Watonwan, which in its turn entered the Minnesota.
+
+John Grant was one of the most important persons at the settlement. He
+had cleared up a large farm on the border of the lake, and, with more
+means at the beginning than most of his neighbors, had realized a high
+degree of prosperity. As he had no children of his own, he was glad to
+have Fanny as a member of his family, especially since he had learned
+of the improvement in her conduct.
+
+About one third of the population of the settlement were children, and
+a school had been established for their benefit. The instructor, Mr.
+Osborne, a young man, brother of one of the settlers, had lost his
+right leg and his left arm by a terrible railroad accident. He was a
+graduate of an Ohio college, and had been engaged in preparing himself
+for the ministry when the calamity occurred which rendered him unfit
+for the active duties of life. From choice rather than from necessity,
+he remained with his brother at the settlement, being both teacher and
+preacher.
+
+Fanny immediately entered his school, and devoted herself with great
+earnestness to her studies. She soon became a favorite of Mr. Osborne,
+who had learned a portion of her history, and felt a strong interest in
+her welfare. She was a good scholar, and her progress was entirely
+satisfactory to her teacher.
+
+In the home of her uncle, Fanny found, on her arrival, a boy of her own
+age. His name was Ethan French; and he had come from Illinois with Mr.
+Grant to work on the farm. He had no parents living, and was expected
+to remain with his employer till he was twenty-one. He was an uncouth
+fellow, and though he could read, write, and cipher, he seemed to be as
+uncultivated and bearish as the wild Indians that roamed through the
+country. Fanny tried to be his friend, and never neglected an
+opportunity to do him a kindness; but the more she tried to serve him,
+the more the distance between them seemed to be increased.
+
+"I don't want nothin' to do with gals," was a favorite maxim with
+Ethan; and Fanny found it impossible to be very sociable with him. He
+did not repel or resent her well-meant advances; but he edged off, and
+got out of the way as fast as he could.
+
+Fanny had made up her mind, before she came to her uncle's home, to be
+contented and happy there; and she was surprised to find that she liked
+her new residence very much. Her aunt was by no means the person her
+former experience had taught her to believe she was. Fanny was docile
+and obedient, and Mrs. Grant was no longer unjust and tyrannical. They
+agreed together remarkably well, and during the short period they were
+permitted to be together, no hard thoughts existed, and no harsh words
+passed between them.
+
+Though Fanny had not been accustomed to work at Woodville, she readily
+adapted herself to her new station. There were no servants at the
+settlement; people did their own work; and Fanny, true to the good
+principles she had chosen, did all she could to assist her aunt.
+
+Let it not be supposed that Fanny had no temptations; that the new life
+upon which she had entered was free from peril and struggles. She was
+tempted from within and without; tempted to be unjust, unkind, wilful,
+and disobedient. We cannot even say that she did not sometimes yield to
+those temptations; but she prayed for strength to resist them. She
+labored to be true to her high purpose. The anchor which she always
+wore on her breast frequently reminded her of her short-comings--frequently
+recalled the memories of the dying angel who had spoken peace to her
+troubled soul.
+
+"HOPE AND HAVE," she often said to herself; and the words were
+a talisman to keep her in the path of duty. Continually she kept before
+her what she hoped to be, and continually she labored to attain the
+high and beautiful ideal of a true life.
+
+She was happy in her new home, and her friends were happy in her
+presence there; but not long was this happiness to continue, for even
+then was gathering in the distance the storm which was to overwhelm
+them with woe and desolation. An experience of the most awful and
+trying character was in store for Fanny, for which her growth in grace
+and goodness was the best, and indeed the only preparation.
+
+By treaty and purchase the United States government had obtained vast
+tracts of the lands of the various sub-tribes of the Sioux and Dakotah
+Indians. By the original treaty the natives had reserved for their own
+use the country on both sides of the Minnesota River, including a tract
+one hundred and fifty miles in length by twenty in breadth. When the
+Senate of the United States came to act upon the treaty, it was made a
+condition of the approval that this reservation should also be ceded to
+the whites. The Indians assented to the condition, but no lands being
+appropriated for their use, as agreed, they had moved upon the
+reservation, and their right to it was recognized.
+
+A portion of this reservation was subsequently acquired by purchase,
+but the Indians continued to occupy the rest of it. By the various
+treaties, the Indians were paid certain sums of money every year, and
+supplied with quantities of goods, such as blankets, clothing, tools,
+and arms. But the money was not paid, nor the goods delivered, when
+due. The Indians were cheated by traders, and the debts due the latter
+were taken from the money to be paid the former. The neglect of the
+government,--fully occupied in suppressing the rebellion at the
+South,--and the immense frauds practised upon the simple natives,
+roused their indignation, and stirred up a hatred which culminated in
+the most terrible Indian massacre recorded in the annals of our
+country.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+THE INDIAN MASSACRE.
+
+
+Though there were no Indians residing very near the Lake Settlement,
+they frequently visited the place, and the settlers were on familiar
+terms with them. At the house of John Grant they were always treated
+with kindness and a generous hospitality. Among those who sometimes
+came was a chief called Lean Bear. Fanny was much interested in these
+denizens of the forest, and she exerted herself to please them, and
+particularly the chief of the Red Irons, as his tribe was called. She
+sang to him, brought him milk and bread, and treated him like a great
+man. He was a brawny fellow, morose and savage, and though he smiled
+slightly, he did not seem to appreciate her kindness.
+
+About the 15th of August, when Fanny had been at the settlement less
+than two months, Mr. Grant started for one of the Indian Agencies, on
+the Minnesota River, for the purpose of procuring supplies of the
+traders in that vicinity. He went with a wagon and a span of horses,
+intending to be absent ten days.
+
+One morning, when he had been gone a week, Mrs. Grant was milking the
+cows, of which they kept twenty. Ethan was helping her, and Fanny, not
+yet a proficient in the art, was doing what she could to assist.
+Doubtless she was rather bungling in the operation, for the cow was not
+as patient as usual.
+
+"Seems like you gals from the east don't know much," laughed Ethan.
+"You are on the wrong side of the creetur."
+
+"So I am! I thought there was something wrong, for the cow don't stand
+quiet," replied Fanny.
+
+"No wonder; cows allers wants things did accordin' to rule," added
+Ethan.
+
+"I didn't mind that I was on the wrong side."
+
+"What do the gals do out east that they don't know how to milk?"
+
+"They don't milk there."
+
+"They don't do nothin'--do they?"
+
+"Not much; at least, they didn't at Woodville."
+
+"Well, gals isn't good for much, nohow," said Ethan, philosophically,
+as he commenced milking another cow.
+
+"They can do some things as well as boys."
+
+"Perhaps they kin; but you couldn't milk a cow till you kim out hyer."
+
+"I could not."
+
+"Hokee!" suddenly exclaimed Ethan. "What's all that mean?"
+
+"What, Ethan?"
+
+"Don't you see all them hosses up to the house? Hokee! Them's Injins,
+as sure's you live!"
+
+Fanny looked, and saw about twenty Indians ride up to the house and
+dismount. The sight did not alarm her, though it was rather early in
+the morning for such a visit.
+
+"D'ye see all them Injins, Miss Grant?" said Ethan to his mistress.
+
+"Dear me! What can they want at this time in the morning? I must go
+into the house, and see to them, for they'll steal like all possessed."
+
+Mrs. Grant put her milk-pail in a safe place, and hastened to the
+house, which she reached before any of the savages had secured their
+horses. Five or six of the visitors entered by the front door, and the
+rest assembled in a group, a short distance from the dwelling.
+
+"I wonder what them redskins wants here so airly in the mornin'," mused
+Ethan, when Mrs. Grant had gone. "I wonder ef they know there ain't no
+one to home but women folks and boys."
+
+"Suppose they do know,--what then?" asked Fanny.
+
+"Nothin'; only I reckon they kim to steal sunthin'."
+
+"They wouldn't steal from aunt Grant."
+
+"Wouldn't they, though!" exclaimed Ethan, incredulously.
+
+"She has been very kind to them."
+
+"They'd steal from their own mothers," added Ethan, as he finished
+milking another cow, and moved towards a third.
+
+As he crossed the yard he stopped to look at the horses, and to see
+what had become of the riders.
+
+"Hokee!" cried he, using his favorite expression when excited.
+
+"What's the matter, Ethan?" asked Fanny.
+
+"As true as you live, one of them hosses is 'Whiteskin,'" replied he,
+alluding to one of Mr. Grant's animals.
+
+"One of the Indian horses?"
+
+"Yes; as true as you live! I kin see the old scar on his flank."
+
+"Where could the Indians get him?"
+
+"That's what I want to know," continued Ethan, now so much excited that
+he could not think of his milking. "Creation hokee!" he added--his
+usual expression when extraordinarily excited.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Creation hokee!" repeated Ethan.
+
+"What do you see, Ethan?" demanded Fanny, who was now so much
+interested that she abandoned her occupation.
+
+"There's the t'other hoss!" replied Ethan. "They've got both on 'em."
+
+"Where could they get them?" said Fanny, who regarded the fact
+indicated by her companion as sufficiently ominous to excite her alarm.
+
+"That's what I'd like to hev some 'un tell me. Fanny, I tell you
+sunthin' hes happened."
+
+At this moment a shrill and terrible scream was heard in the direction
+of the house, followed by the sharp crack of a rifle. Ethan and Fanny,
+appalled by the sounds, looked towards the house. They saw Mrs. Grant
+rush from the back door, and then fall upon the ground. Two or three
+Indians followed her, in one of whom Fanny recognized Lean Bear, the
+stalwart chief she had endeavored to conciliate. He bent over the
+prostrate form of the woman, was seen to strike several blows with his
+tomahawk, and then to use his terrible scalping-knife.
+
+At the sound of the rifle, which seemed to be a signal for the purpose,
+the savages who had grouped together outside of the house rushed in,
+yelling and hooting like demons.
+
+"Creation hokee!" gasped Ethan, his face as nearly white as its
+sun-browned hue would permit.
+
+Fanny's blood was chilled in her veins; she could not speak, and her
+limbs seemed to be paralyzed. And now in the distance harsh and
+discordant sounds rose on the still morning air. They came from the
+direction of the other portions of the settlement. The shrill screams
+of women, the hoarse cries of men, and the unearthly yells of the
+savages, mingled in horrible confusion. It was evident to the appalled
+listeners that a fearful Indian massacre had commenced. They had seen
+Mrs. Grant fall; had seen the fierce Lean Bear tomahawk and scalp her.
+
+It was madness to stand still in the midst of so much peril, but both
+Ethan and Fanny seemed to be chained to the spot where they stood,
+fascinated, as it were, by the anguished cries of agony and death that
+were borne to their revolting senses by the airs of that summer
+morning. The savages were at that moment busy in ransacking and
+plundering the house, but Fanny realized that she might be the next
+victim; that the tomahawk of the terrible Lean Bear might be glaring
+above her head in a few moments more. She trembled like an aspen leaf
+in the extremity of her terror, as she heard the terrific cries uttered
+by the mangled, mutilated, dying men, women, and children, far enough
+off to be but faintly heard, yet near enough to be horribly distinct.
+
+"It's time sunthin' was did," said Ethan, with quivering lips.
+
+"What can we do?" asked Fanny, in a husky whisper.
+
+"We must git out of sight fust. Come along with me, Fanny," added
+Ethan, as he led the way into the barn.
+
+"They will find us here," said Fanny.
+
+"P'rhaps they will; but there ain't nowhere else to go to."
+
+"Why not run away as fast as we can?"
+
+"We kin run, but I reckon bullets will travel faster 'n we kin."
+
+Ethan went up a ladder to the top of the hay-mow, and Fanny followed
+him. He carried up with him a small hay-fork, with which he went
+vigorously to work in burrowing out a hole in the hay. Fanny assisted
+him with her hands, and in a few moments they had made an aperture deep
+enough to accommodate them. This hiding-place had been made in the back
+part of the mow, next to the side of the barn, where there were wide
+cracks between the boards, through which they could receive air enough
+to prevent them from being stifled.
+
+"Now, you get in, Fanny, and I'll fix the hay so I kin tumble it all
+down on top on us, and bury us up."
+
+"Suppose they should set the barn afire," suggested Fanny.
+
+"Then they will; we must take our chances, such as they be. We hain't
+got much chance nohow."
+
+Fanny stepped down into the hole; Ethan followed her, and pulled the
+mass of hay over so that it fell upon them. They were four or five feet
+below the surface of the hay.
+
+"I would rather be killed by a bullet than burned to death in the
+fire," said Fanny, with a shudder, when her companion had adjusted the
+hay so as to afford them the best possible means of concealment.
+
+"P'rhaps they wouldn't kill you with a bullet. Them redskins is awful
+creeturs. They might hack you all to pieces with their knives and
+tomahawks," whispered Ethan.
+
+"It's horrible!" added Fanny, quivering with emotion.
+
+"I've hearn tell that there was some trouble with the redskins up on to
+the reserves; and I knowed sunthin' had happened when I see them two
+hosses. I was kind o' skeery when the varmints rid up to the house."
+
+"Do you suppose they have killed my uncle?" asked Fanny, sick at heart.
+
+"I s'pose they hev," answered Ethan, gloomily. "I reckon we'd better
+keep still, and not say nothin'. Some o' the redskins may be lookin'
+for us. They're pesky cunnin'."
+
+This was good advice, and Fanny needed no persuasion to induce her to
+follow it. Through the cracks in the side of the barn she could see a
+few houses of the settlement; and through these apertures came also the
+hideous sounds which denoted the progress of the massacre. Great piles
+of curling smoke were rising from the burning buildings of the devoted
+settlers, and the work of murder and pillage still continued, as the
+relentless savages passed from place to place in the execution of their
+diabolical mission.
+
+The greater part of the detachment which had halted at the house of Mr.
+Grant had now departed, though the sounds which came from the dwelling
+indicated that the rest were still there. Lean Bear knew the members of
+Mr. Grant's household. With his own hand he had slain the woman who had
+so often fed him, and ministered to his necessities, thus belying the
+traditional character of his race; and it was not probable that he
+would abandon his object without a diligent search for the missing
+members of the family.
+
+Fanny was safe for the present moment, but the next instant might doom
+her to a violent death, to cruel torture, or to a captivity more to be
+dreaded than either death or torture. She trembled with mortal fear,
+and dreaded the revelations of each new second of time with an
+intensity of horror which cannot be understood or described.
+
+"They are comin' out of the house," said Ethan, in a tremulous whisper.
+"There's seven on 'em."
+
+"Are they coming this way?"
+
+"No; they are lookin' round arter us. They are going down to the lake."
+
+"I hope they won't come here."
+
+"But they will kim here, as sure as you live."
+
+"Do you ever pray, Ethan?" asked Fanny, impressively.
+
+"Not much," replied he, evasively.
+
+"Let us pray to God. He can help us, and He will, if we ask Him in the
+right spirit."
+
+"I dunno how," added Ethan.
+
+"I will pray for both of us. The Indians can't hear us now, but God
+can."
+
+Fanny, in a whisper, uttered a brief and heart-felt prayer for
+protection and safety from the savage monsters who were thirsting for
+their blood. She prayed earnestly, and never before had her
+supplications come so directly from her heart. She pleaded for herself
+and for her companion, and the good Father seemed to be very near to
+her as she poured forth her simple petition.
+
+"Thy will, not ours, be done," she murmured, as she thought that it
+might not be the purpose of "Him who doeth all things well" to save
+them from the tomahawk of the Indians. If it was not His will that they
+should pass in safety through this ordeal of blood, she asked that they
+might be happy in death, or submissive to whatever fate was in store
+for them.
+
+Ethan listened to the prayer, and seemed to join earnestly in the
+petitions it contained. With his more devout companion, he felt that
+God was able to save them, to blunt the edges of the weapons raised to
+destroy them, or to transform their savage and bitter foes into the
+warmest and truest of friends.
+
+"I feel better," said Fanny, after a moment of silence at the
+conclusion of the prayer.
+
+"So do I," replied Ethan, whose altered look and more resolute tones
+confirmed his words. "I feel like I could fight some o' them Injins."
+
+"We can do nothing by resistance."
+
+"I dunno; if they don't burn the house, I reckon I know whar to find
+some shootin' fixin's."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Mr. Grant sort o' hid his rifle and things, for fear some un might
+steal 'em, I s'pose. I know where they be; and I reckon them redskins
+won't find 'em."
+
+"Let us not think of resistance. There must be hundreds of Indians at
+the settlement."
+
+"'Sh!" said Ethan, impressively. "They're comin'."
+
+The light step of the moccasoned feet of the savages was now distinctly
+heard in the barn. Their guttural jargon grated harshly on the ears of
+the fugitives in their concealment, as they tremblingly waited the
+issue.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE INDIAN BOY.
+
+
+Above the voices of the other savages, the harsh and heavy tones of
+Lean Bear were prominent. He spoke in the Indian dialect, and of course
+the anxious fugitives could not understand what he said; but he seemed
+to be angry and impatient, disappointed and chagrined; and Ethan and
+Fanny readily inferred that, as he was searching for them, he was the
+more ferocious because he could not find them. They lay silent and
+motionless in their hiding-place, hardly daring to breathe, lest a
+sound should reach the quick ears of their relentless foes.
+
+The Indians searched in every nook and cranny of the barn where a human
+being could possibly be concealed. They climbed to the top of the mow,
+pulled over the hay, jumped upon it, and thrust their knives deep down.
+The fugitives felt the weight of the pursuers pressing heavily down
+upon them; they realized that the points of the bloody knives were
+within a short distance of their vital organs; but, breathless and
+silent, they lay in the most agonizing suspense, expecting to be
+dragged from their retreat, and subjected to atrocities which it froze
+their blood to think of.
+
+The remorseless miscreants howled with disappointed rage as the search
+was abandoned. Fanny and Ethan drew a long sigh of relief when they
+heard their foes on the floor beneath them. The good Father to whom
+they prayed so earnestly had dimmed the eyes of the savages so that
+they could not see, and the danger of that terrible moment passed by
+them. Fanny breathed her thanks to God for her safety--she did not dare
+to speak them.
+
+The savages consulted together, using brief, sharp, and exciting
+sentences. Their words were not understood, and no clew to their future
+purposes could be obtained. Lean Bear spoke in tones even more savage
+than he had used before, and the steps of the Indians were heard as
+they left the barn.
+
+"Hev they gone?" asked Ethan, in a convulsive whisper.
+
+"Yes, I think they have," replied Fanny, in a tone not less agitated.
+"Let us thank God that we are still safe."
+
+"Don't whistle till you get out o' the woods," added Ethan, who
+referred, not to the thanks, but to the exultation which his companion
+appeared to feel at their apparent safety.
+
+"We must be thankful and submissive, Ethan. We have been saved this
+time, whatever may happen next."
+
+"I am thankful."
+
+"I know you are. We must trust in our Father in heaven if we expect him
+to hear our prayer."
+
+"'Sh!" interposed Ethan, as he became silent and motionless again.
+
+The voices of the Indians were heard near the barn again, and other
+moments of agonizing suspense were in store for the fugitives. The
+gruff tones of Lean Bear rose above those of his companions, and it was
+evident that they had not yet given up the search.
+
+"Ho, ho, ho! He, he, he!" yelled the monsters, which cries were to them
+expressions of satisfaction.
+
+It was painfully clear to Ethan and Fanny that the Indians had made
+some important discovery, or done some act which would accomplish their
+purpose. More agonizing than the thought came the reality, a few
+moments afterwards, while the wretches outside of the barn were still
+shouting their hideous yells. A smell of smoke, accompanied by a sharp,
+crackling sound, assured the waiting, trembling couple in the hay-mow
+that their worst fears were realized. The Indians had set fire to the
+barn.
+
+"We are lost!" exclaimed Fanny. "They have set fire to the barn!"
+
+"'Sh! Don't say a word," interposed Ethan.
+
+"We shall be burned to death!"
+
+"Don't give up; keep still."
+
+"Keep still?" repeated Fanny, amazed at the self-possession of her
+companion. "We shall be burned to death in a few minutes."
+
+"Don't say nothin', Fanny."
+
+It was not easy to keep still in that terrible moment of peril, but
+Ethan seemed to know what he was about, and his coolness and courage
+acted as inspiration upon his terrified companion. Fanny prayed again,
+in a hardly audible whisper; but this time, Ethan, though perhaps his
+heart was with her, was thinking of something else. She felt more calm
+after her prayer, though the dense smoke and the snapping flames
+admonished her that death was close at hand. The rough prairie boy
+looked resolute, and seemed to have conquered his fears. She wondered
+whether he had discovered any possible avenue of escape, for nothing
+but the promptings of a strong hope, whether real or delusive, could
+have produced such a change in his bearing.
+
+"Better be burned up, than butchered by the redskins," said he, at
+last.
+
+Was this the explanation of his new-born courage? It was a terrible
+alternative, but Fanny was forced to believe that what he said was
+true.
+
+"Is there no escape for us?"
+
+"Don'no; whar's the Injins now?"
+
+"I don't hear them," replied Fanny.
+
+"Nuther do I. We must stay here jest as long as we kin."
+
+"But the barn is on fire! If we are going to get out at all, we must do
+so at once."
+
+"Don't hurry. The fire's all out to t'other end o' the barn. It won't
+hurt us jest yit," said Ethan, with wonderful coolness. "I s'pose the
+Injins is in a hurry, and they won't stop no longer'n they want to.
+Jest as soon as they move off we'll git out."
+
+"How shall we get out after the barn is all in a blaze?"
+
+"That's easy enough. I ain't a bit afeered of the fire, but I am pesky
+skeered of the Injins."
+
+The confidence of Ethan increased the courage of Fanny. She had more to
+dread from the Indians than he had, and if he preferred to die by the
+flames, she ought to be willing to share his fate. She commended her
+soul and that of her companion to God, and tried to be calm and
+resolute, and she succeeded to an extent which astonished herself.
+
+The fire was rapidly leaping upward, and the barn was soon enveloped in
+flames. The Indians could not now be seen through the cracks, nor could
+their voices be heard, and the fire-besieged fugitives supposed they
+had gone to new fields of blood and rapine.
+
+"We can't stand it much longer--kin we?" said Ethan, as they heard the
+crash of some falling timbers at the other end of the building.
+
+"We are not burned yet, but I am nearly suffocated by the smoke,"
+replied Fanny. "Do you suppose the Indians are gone?"
+
+"I reckon they be; but they hain't gone fur yit," added Ethan, as he
+applied his shoulder to one of the boards on the side of the barn.
+
+"Let me help you," said Fanny.
+
+"You ain't nothin' but a gal, and you can't do much," replied Ethan.
+
+He was a stout boy, and the board, only slightly nailed, gave way
+before the pressure he applied to it; but it required a great deal of
+labor to detach it from the timbers above and below. He had not begun
+this work a moment too soon, for the flames were sweeping over the
+surface of the mow, and the roof was falling in upon them. The barn was
+stored full of new hay, which, being partially green, did not burn very
+readily, especially the solid masses of it. The heat was intense, and
+nothing but a greater peril without could have forced them to remain so
+long in the building.
+
+The first board was removed, and then a second, leaving an opening wide
+enough for them to get out. They were about fifteen feet above the
+level of the ground, but there was no difficulty, even to Fanny, in the
+descent, though some young ladies might have regarded this minor
+obstacle as one of some importance. Ethan thrust his head out at the
+aperture, and looked in every direction his position commanded a view
+of, in search of the Indians, but none of them were in sight.
+
+"Be quick, Ethan, or the fire will be upon us," said Fanny, who began
+to feel the near approach of the flames above her.
+
+"Where shall we go when we get out? We must understand matters a leetle
+grain aforehand."
+
+"I think we had better go down to the lake. We can take the boat and go
+over to the island."
+
+"That's fust rate," replied Ethan, with enthusiasm. "The Injins hain't
+got no boats, and can't foller us. Now we'll go down; but be keerful.
+It would be miser'ble to break your neck here, arter gittin' clear of
+the fire and the Injins both."
+
+Ethan descended, holding on at each side of the aperture with his
+hands, and thrusting his feet into the solid mass of hay in the mow.
+Fanny, adopting the same method, also reached the ground in safety.
+
+"'Sh!" said Ethan, as he took her arm. "Run for them bushes!" and he
+pointed to a little thicket near the barn.
+
+Fanny ran with all her speed to the bushes, and concealed herself
+behind them. She was immediately followed by Ethan. The barn was now
+nearly consumed; the portion of the roof which had not before fallen
+in, now sunk down with a crash upon the masses of burning hay. The lake
+was beyond the house, which they were obliged to pass in order to reach
+their destination.
+
+"I s'pose the sooner we start, the sooner we'll git there," said Ethan,
+after he had carefully surveyed the ground to ascertain if any savages
+were near.
+
+"I am ready, Ethan. I will do whatever you say."
+
+"We'll go now, then. Foller me, Fanny."
+
+Ethan led the way, but they had hardly emerged from the bushes before
+they were appalled to find that they were discovered by their savage
+foes.
+
+"Ho, ho, ho!" yelled the Indians from behind them.
+
+It appeared that Lean Bear and his companions had waited in the
+vicinity until the burning barn was so far consumed that it was not
+deemed possible for a human being to remain concealed in it, and then
+moved off towards another part of the settlement. With watchful eyes
+behind as well as before them, they had discovered the young fugitives
+when they left the clump of bushes.
+
+"Ho, ho, ho!" shouted the painted wretches, as they gave chase to Fanny
+and Ethan.
+
+"Run for the house!" cried Ethan.
+
+"Why not for the lake?" asked Fanny, in an agony of despair.
+
+"They'll ketch you afore you git half way there. Run for the house!"
+
+They were both running with all their might; and Fanny, though against
+her judgment, directed her steps to the house. As they approached the
+back door, an Indian boy and a squaw came out of the building, where
+they had probably been searching for such valuables as might have
+escaped the hasty observation of the party who had sacked the premises.
+The boy was apparently about ten years old, and the woman appeared to
+be his mother.
+
+Fanny, not suspecting any harm from a woman and so young a boy, still
+ran towards the door, being in advance of Ethan, who was chivalrous
+enough to place himself in position to cover the retreat of his
+companion in case of need. To the surprise of Fanny, the squaw placed
+herself in her path, and attempted to seize her, uttering yells hardly
+less savage than those of her male companions. The terrified girl
+paused in her rapid flight till Ethan came up. The resolute fellow had
+already picked up a heavy cart stake, and when he saw the new and
+unexpected peril which menaced Fanny, he rushed forward, and though the
+squaw drew a long knife and stood her ground, he dealt her a heavy blow
+on the head, which felled her to the ground.
+
+"Run into the house as fast as you kin, Fanny," said Ethan.
+
+She obeyed, and, in doing so, passed the scalped and mutilated form of
+her aunt, which lay near the door. The sight made her sick at heart,
+and she had almost fainted under the horror induced by a single glance
+at the ghastly spectacle. Such might, and probably would be her own
+fate, for it was hoping against hope to expect any other issue.
+
+She reached the door, and clung to the post for support. Then she saw
+that Ethan, instead of following her, was pursuing the Indian boy. It
+was but a short chase, for he immediately overtook the youth, and in
+spite of his yells, dragged him into the house with him. Ethan seemed
+then to have a savage spirit, for he handled the boy without mercy,
+dragging him by the hair of the head, and kicking him to accelerate his
+movements.
+
+The capture of the young Indian had been witnessed by the whole of the
+pursuing party, who yelled with renewed vigor when they saw him borne
+into the house. When they reached the place where the squaw had fallen,
+they paused. The tall form of Lean Bear was seen bending over her, and
+it was plain that there was confusion in the counsels of the savages.
+
+"Hold this boy, Fanny," said Ethan, out of breath with the violence of
+his exertions, as he took from the belt of the little prisoner a small
+scalping-knife, and offered it to Fanny. "Don't let him go, no-how;
+stick him ef he don't keep still."
+
+"I can hold him; I don't want the knife," replied she, as she grasped
+the boy by the arms, bending them back behind him.
+
+Taking her handkerchief, she tied his arms behind him, so that he was
+powerless to do her any mischief. She then cut off a portion of the
+clothes line, which hung up in the kitchen, and tied his feet together.
+In this condition, he was secured to a door. The boy looked cool and
+savage; he did not cry, and ceased to struggle only when the bonds
+prevented him from doing so.
+
+"Now we are ready for sunthin'," said Ethan, as he appeared with two
+guns and a revolver, which he had taken from their place of concealment
+behind the oven.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE CONFERENCE.
+
+
+Mr. Grant, like all settlers and backwoodsmen, had a profound respect
+and veneration for his weapons. They were absolutely necessary for
+purposes of defence in a new country, and upon their skilful use often
+depended the supplies in the family larder. More coveted than any other
+property by the Indians, trappers and strollers of the prairies, he was
+obliged to secure them carefully, so that they should not be stolen;
+and Mr. Grant, in building his house, had provided the place behind the
+oven for their reception.
+
+One of the guns was a fowling-piece, and the other a rifle. The
+appropriate ammunition for each was kept in the secret closet with the
+weapon. For the revolver there was a plentiful supply of patent
+cartridges. Mr. Grant owned two of these arms, but the other he had
+taken with him.
+
+Like all western boys, Ethan French was accustomed to the use of the
+rifle and the fowling-piece, though he had never particularly
+distinguished himself as a marksman. It was a bold idea on his part to
+think of defending Fanny and himself from the attacks of the savages;
+but, desperate as was the thought, it was his only hope, for the
+Indians were murdering all who fell into their hands. There was a
+slight chance for him, which he was disposed to improve.
+
+Ethan evidently had some other purpose in view than that of merely
+defending himself and his companion from the savages--a purpose
+indicated by his capture of the Indian boy, though he had not had time
+to explain it to Fanny. He was firm and resolute, exhibiting a courage
+which no one would have supposed he possessed; indeed, we can hardly
+know what is in any person until he is tried in the fiery furnace.
+
+Fanny, too, had ceased to tremble. The firmness and determination of
+Ethan had inspired her with courage, and without stopping to consider
+the odds against him, she ventured to hope that his efforts would be
+crowned with some measure of success. The occupation of the last few
+moments was calculated to increase her courage, for "something to do"
+is always the best antidote for fear. She had bound the young savage,
+and secured him to the door, when Ethan appeared with the weapons; and
+now she anxiously waited the development of his next movement.
+
+"What are you going to do, Ethan?" she asked, as her companion walked
+to the door.
+
+"I don't know jest exactly what I'm go'n to do; but I'm go'n to do
+sunthin', as sure as you're alive. I reckon I've done sunthin' already,
+for them Injins hes come to a dead halt."
+
+"Can you see them?"
+
+"Yes, I kin. They look kinder anxious."
+
+The group of savages had gathered around the prostrate form of the
+squaw. She could not have been killed, or even very badly injured, by
+the blow she had received. Two of the party appeared to be at work over
+her, while the others, among whom Lean Bear was prominent, were holding
+a consultation near the spot.
+
+"I reckon I got 'em whar the har 's short," added Ethan, with something
+like a chuckle at his own cleverness.
+
+"What do you mean, Ethan?" asked Fanny, not yet able to comprehend the
+situation.
+
+"D'ye see that little Injin?" replied he, pointing at the prisoner.
+
+"Yes; and I wondered what you dragged him into the house for."
+
+"Don't you see his fine fixin's--his necklaces and his moccasons? I
+reckon that boy belongs to the big Injin."
+
+"You mean Lean Bear."
+
+"Yes, if that's his name. He looks enough like him to be his son.
+Gittin' him 's what made 'em stop short jist whar they was. I tell you
+we've got 'em whar the har 's short."
+
+"What are you going to do with him?"
+
+"Don't ye see?" replied Ethan, as he finished loading the last of the
+weapons. "I'm go'n to shoot some of them Injins; and ef they don't keep
+off I'm go'n to shoot the boy."
+
+"You wouldn't do that, Ethan."
+
+"You bet!" replied he, firmly, using more western slang than was
+necessary, though he was dependent upon such expressions for the force
+of his language.
+
+"But it would be wicked to kill the poor boy."
+
+"What's them Injins doin' to all the white folks?"
+
+"That is no reason why you should kill a harmless boy."
+
+"I don't want to kill him; it would make me feel bad to do any sech
+thing. Ef any of them Injins come near us, I'm go'n to show 'em what I
+kin do. Keep still now; one on 'em is comin' up this way."
+
+Ethan placed himself at one of the open windows, and cocked the rifle.
+One of the party was moving towards the house, apparently sent thither
+by Lean Bear, who appeared suddenly to have become very quiet and
+harmless.
+
+"See hyer, Fanny," said Ethan, still keeping his eye fixed on the
+approaching foe.
+
+"What shall I do?" asked Fanny.
+
+"Did you tie that little Injin's hands strong?"
+
+"As well as I could with my handkerchief."
+
+"Better do it better with the clothes line. Then undo his feet, and put
+a rope round his neck."
+
+"Around his neck!" exclaimed Fanny, horrified at the suggestion.
+
+"Jest to lead him by. We may want to quit this house reyther suddin."
+
+Fanny obeyed, satisfied that Ethan did not intend to hang the boy. The
+Indian, approaching the house, moved very slowly and cautiously,
+frequently stopping, and examining the house with great care. Ethan was
+on one of his knees, pointing the rifle at the single Indian, resting
+it on the sill of the window. When Lean Bear's messenger saw him, he
+came to a halt, and began to make earnest gestures, pointing to his
+belt, and throwing out his arms to indicate that he had no weapons.
+
+"What does that creetur want?" mused Ethan.
+
+"He wants to talk with you," replied Fanny, correctly interpreting his
+gestures.
+
+"I can't talk Injin--kin you?"
+
+"No; but some of the Indians talk English."
+
+"What ye want?" shouted Ethan, satisfied that the man's intentions were
+peaceful.
+
+"Talk! talk!" replied the messenger.
+
+"Kim along, then," replied Ethan. "That's jest what I want, too," he
+added, to Fanny. "I want to tell them Injins that this hyer boy will
+ketch fits if they don't let us be."
+
+The Indian, still gesticulating, continued to approach the house with
+cautious step. Ethan put aside the rifle, and took the revolver, which
+he was careful that the messenger should see.
+
+"Stop thyer!" said he, when the Indian had come within twenty feet of
+the house; and, at the same time, he elevated his pistol to enforce
+obedience to his order.
+
+"Me talk," said the messenger.
+
+"Well! what ye got to say?" asked Ethan.
+
+"You got Wahena--little Wahena."
+
+"Yes, sir!" replied Ethan, with emphasis. "I've got him, and I mean to
+keep him."
+
+"No keep! We want Wahena," continued the messenger.
+
+"No git him," added Ethan, who was inclined to be facetious at times,
+especially when the advantage was on his side.
+
+"Lean Bear's son. Big Lean Bear--little Wahena."
+
+"You can't hev him, nohow," said Ethan, decidedly.
+
+"Me get Wahena--you go 'way--no kill, no hurt."
+
+"You can't fool me."
+
+"No kill, no hurt."
+
+"No, yer don't!"
+
+"Give Wahena--no kill, no hurt," repeated the messenger, impressively.
+
+"You git out!"
+
+"No give Wahena, Lean Bear kill!"
+
+"Two kin play at that game," added Ethan, shaking his head. "Ef you
+don't quit, I'll kill the boy."
+
+"No kill Wahena!" cried the savage, evidently horrified at the threat.
+
+"Yes, I will, old boy, ef you don't all go off, and quit right away. I
+know what's what, 'n you can't fool me, nohow."
+
+"Why not give up the boy, if they will let us go?" asked Fanny.
+
+"You can't trust one o' them Injin creeturs no more'n you kin trust a
+rattlesnake, nohow. Jest fetch the boy here, and I'll show 'em what I
+mean."
+
+Fanny had fastened Wahena's hands more securely behind him, and
+attached one end of the line to his neck. She had removed the cord from
+his ankles, so that he could walk, while by the rope at his neck he
+could be kept under perfect control. Ethan took the line, and led the
+boy out at the door, where he was placed in full view of the savages.
+His captor still held the leaded pistol in his hand.
+
+"No kill Wahena!" shouted the messenger, fiercely.
+
+"I won't hurt him ef you all go off--go 'way--clear out--quit the
+ranch."
+
+"No hurt?" asked the Indian.
+
+"All go 'way," answered Ethan, pointing to the west with the revolver.
+
+"Give Wahena--all go."
+
+"No, _sir_!"
+
+"No give Wahena?"
+
+"I'll kill him ef them creeturs come hyer," said Ethan, sternly, as he
+pointed the pistol at the boy's head.
+
+"No kill Wahena!" shouted the messenger.
+
+"Tell 'em to keep back, then."
+
+This demonstration on the part of Ethan had been caused by the sudden
+movement of the savages towards the house. Their spokesman fortunately
+understood his meaning, and turning round, he shouted out a few words
+in the Indian dialect, accompanying them with violent gestures, which
+had the effect to stop the nearer approach of the band. As they moved
+back, Ethan lowered his weapon. Wahena did not flinch, nor exhibit any
+signs of terror while he was menaced with the pistol, though he looked
+stern and resolute, as he had probably been taught to be by his savage
+father.
+
+Ethan, finding that he had the power all in his own hands, walked a few
+paces nearer to the messenger, dragging his prisoner after him. It was
+not an easy matter to carry on a conversation with the savage, whose
+knowledge of the English language was limited to a few words; but after
+a long time, and a great deal of effort, he succeeded in making the
+Indian spokesman understand his intention. He refused to give up
+Wahena, but he promised that the boy should not be injured if the
+Indians would retire, and not attempt to molest Fanny or himself. He
+assured the messenger that he would kill the boy if the savages
+followed, or fired upon himself or his companion.
+
+It was a long and trying conference, and when the parties came to an
+understanding, the Indian withdrew to communicate the result to his
+chief. Ethan returned to the house with his prisoner, and from the
+window watched the movements of the foe, while he related to Fanny what
+had passed between himself and the messenger during the interview.
+
+"I reckon they'll do it, Fanny," said Ethan.
+
+"I hope they will."
+
+"When we are safe, they kin hev the Injin boy; I don't want him. I
+reckon it was a smart idee o' mine, ketchin' the young cub."
+
+"I think it was a very good idea. They would certainly have butchered
+us before this time if it hadn't been for him."
+
+"I reckon they would; but ef I knows myself, some on 'em would hev gone
+down fust."
+
+"I suppose the Indians have murdered a great many people."
+
+"I reckon they hev."
+
+"It's awful!" exclaimed Fanny, shuddering, as she glanced at the place
+where poor Mrs. Grant lay cold and still in death.
+
+"So 'tis, but 'tain't no use to think on't now; it makes a feller feel
+kind o' weak and sickly. We must figur' it out now."
+
+"Thanks to your good management, we may yet escape."
+
+"I reckon we will. Did you ever fire a pistil, Fanny?"
+
+"No, but I'm not afraid to do so."
+
+"Better take this, then, and I'll use the guns. I reckon it may be of
+use to you," added he, handing her the weapon. "Hokee!" suddenly
+exclaimed he, as he glanced out of the window.
+
+"What is it, Ethan?"
+
+"Them Injins is go'n off!"
+
+"So they are."
+
+"Mebbe they're comin' round to try us on t'other side of the house. Ef
+they be, I'm thar. You hold on to the little Injin, and I'll watch
+'em."
+
+Ethan went to a window on the front of the house, and soon returned
+with the gratifying intelligence that the redskins were actually moving
+off in the direction of the burning buildings to the west of them.
+
+"How thankful we ought to be that we have been saved!" said Fanny. "Let
+us thank God with all our hearts, Ethan."
+
+"We can't stop to do no more prayin' now, Fanny. Besides, we ain't out
+o' the woods yet."
+
+"We need not stop to pray," replied Fanny, devoutly. "If the prayer is
+in our hearts, God will understand it."
+
+"I'm thankful, I'm sure, as a body kin be. Now, you git together
+everything you kin find to eat, and I'll git a wheelbarrer to fetch 'em
+down to the lake. Ef we kin only git on the island, I don't keer for
+all the redskins this side o' sundown."
+
+Wahena was tied up in such a way that he could not escape, and Fanny
+hurriedly collected everything in the shape of provisions which had
+escaped the depredations of the Indians. Ethan brought from the
+chambers an armful of blankets and bed-quilts, and the wheelbarrow was
+loaded with all it would contain. A bushel of potatoes, a leg of bacon,
+a bucket of corn-meal, a small supply of groceries, and a few cooking
+utensils, constituted the stock upon which they were mainly to depend
+for sustenance during their banishment from civilized life for they
+knew not how long a time. But both of the exiles were hopeful, though
+very sad, when they thought of the death and desolation they were
+leaving behind them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+THE YOUNG EXILES.
+
+
+Wahena, with his hands still tied behind him, was led by Fanny, while
+Ethan trundled the wheelbarrow, across the handles of which lay the two
+guns, ready for use if occasion should require. The Indians had halted
+on one of the little eminences of the prairie, and appeared to be
+watching the departure of the fugitives from their once happy home.
+Lean Bear was evidently very fond of his little son, who was a boy of
+bright promise, measured by the Indian standard. He had exhibited no
+concern for the mother while she lay senseless upon the ground, but he
+seemed to be willing to make any sacrifice, even to the curbing of his
+ferocious nature, for Wahena's sake.
+
+The party of Indians on the knoll appeared to be impressed with the
+misfortune of their leader in the loss of his favorite son. Though the
+work of rapine and death was still going on in the settlement, they did
+not heed it. The messenger had probably represented to Lean Bear that
+Wahena would certainly be killed if he attempted to molest the little
+party, and the chief had withdrawn far enough to remove all temptation
+on the part of Ethan to execute his threat.
+
+The wheelbarrow was heavily loaded, and it was hard work for the
+prairie boy to move it along over the soft soil. On a hill, just before
+the descent to the lake commenced, he paused to rest for a moment. He
+was in excellent spirits, and was proud of the success which had thus
+far attended his stratagem. He was confident that he should reach the
+island in safety, where, having the only boat on the lake in his
+possession, he was satisfied that he should be able to defend himself
+and his companion, especially with Wahena as a guaranty for the good
+behavior of the Indians.
+
+Ethan was entirely satisfied with himself, and he was about to resume
+the march towards the lake, when his attention was attracted by a noise
+in the direction opposite to that in which Lean Bear and his party had
+retreated.
+
+"Creation hokee!" shouted Ethan.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Fanny.
+
+"Don't you see the Injins comin' out of the woods?" replied he, as he
+grasped the rifle, and raised it to his shoulder.
+
+"Ho, ho, ho! He, he, he!" yelled the band of savages, as they rushed
+out of the covert of the trees, and ran towards the spot where Ethan
+stood.
+
+"We are lost!" gasped Fanny, almost overcome by this new peril.
+
+"No, we ain't lost, Fanny. You keep a stiff upper lip. Lay right down
+on the ground, behind the wheelbarrer, and don't let the varmints see
+you. If they kim hyer, use that ere pistil."
+
+One of the new enemies was considerably in advance of the others, as if
+anxious to drink the first blood of the victims before him. Suddenly he
+came to a halt, raised his rifle, and fired.
+
+"Creation hokee!" exclaimed Ethan, as the ball whistled frightfully
+near his head.
+
+"Hadn't we better run?" asked Fanny, in trembling tones.
+
+"'Tain't no use to run; them redskins kin beat you all to pieces
+runnin'," replied Ethan, as he retreated behind the wheelbarrow, and
+resting the rifle upon it, took careful aim at the savage who was in
+advance of the others.
+
+He fired; the Indian fell, and lay still on the ground.
+
+"That's sunthin' towards it, anyhow," continued Ethan, encouraged by
+the success of his first shot. "Ef I kin fetch down one more on 'em, it
+will make the rest a leetle grain skeery."
+
+"The other Indians are coming too, Ethan," said Fanny.
+
+"Let 'em kim; if they do we are safe."
+
+The immediate followers of Lean Bear were rushing towards the spot with
+all their might. The swiftest runner of the party had far outstripped
+his companions, but it was evident to Ethan and Fanny that he was
+moving towards the other band of savages, rather than towards them. He
+was shouting in his own tongue words which were unintelligible to the
+white boy and girl. But if the words were not understood, their effect
+was, for the hostile band presently halted, and awaited the arrival of
+the messenger.
+
+In the mean time Ethan placed Wahena in a position where he could be
+seen by all the savages, and with the revolver in his hand, stood in
+readiness to make another demonstration at the life of the boy if it
+should be necessary. It was not needed, for all these Indians belonged
+to the tribe of Lean Bear, whose command was law to them.
+
+"We are safe, Ethan," said Fanny.
+
+"So we are; but I've killed one Injin, and I reckon I could kill some
+more."
+
+"Don't you feel sorry you killed him?" asked Fanny.
+
+"Not ef I knows myself, I don't. I'd like to kill the whole boodle on
+'em, after what they've did, consarn thar picters! I reckon we'd better
+be go'n along."
+
+"I think we had. It is really terrible to think of killing a man."
+
+"'Tain't no more terrible 'n killin' all them women 'n childern up to
+the settlement," replied Ethan, as he raised the handles of the barrow
+and moved on. "I hope they'll send the sogers up here, and kill off all
+the Injins this side o' sundown."
+
+"I hope it won't be necessary to do that," added Fanny.
+
+"It ought to be did. What's them Injins good for but to be shot? I
+kinder wish they'd kim, so I could have fetched down some more on 'em,
+consarn 'em!"
+
+"It is lucky the party of Lean Bear was near enough to turn them back.
+We might have been killed before this time."
+
+"I dunno," replied Ethan, shaking his head.
+
+"You have done nobly, Ethan; but Wahena has saved us so far."
+
+"I know that; I ketched him for jest what he has did for us."
+
+The rest of the way to the lake was down a gentle declivity, and the
+wheelbarrow moved more easily than before. In a short time they reached
+their destination, on the shore of the beautiful sheet of water at
+which was moored a boat. It was not such a craft as the Greyhound, in
+which Fanny had been accustomed to sail; it was a bateau, or
+flat-bottomed boat, with very sharp slopes under the bow and stern. It
+had a keel and rudder, and was provided with a sail.
+
+The stores and utensils from the wheelbarrow were quickly transferred
+to the boat, and then the barrow itself was placed on board. The wind
+now blew tolerably fresh, and was fair for reaching the island; but
+Ethan, with all his other accomplishments, knew no more about the
+management of a boat than of a ship, which he had never even seen. This
+boat had been built by Mr. Grant and a carpenter of the settlement
+during the preceding winter, and Ethan had never sailed in it but once.
+
+"I don't know nothin' about this hyer thing," said Ethan. "I kin
+paddle, but I reckon the sail would tip us over."
+
+"I can manage it," replied Fanny, confidently.
+
+"Kin ye? Did ye ever manage a boat with a sail?"
+
+"Yes, once," answered Fanny, and she thought with shame of the cruise
+she had made in the Greyhound. "Let us hoist the sail, and we can run
+over to the island in a few moments."
+
+Fanny, assisted by Ethan, hoisted the sail, and the bateau darted out
+of the little cove where she had been moored. Wahena, who had been as
+stoical in danger as his race, uttered an exclamation of alarm, perhaps
+called forth by the novelty of the situation and of the peril. Ethan
+was not entirely satisfied with the movements of the boat under sail,
+for she careened under the fresh breeze, till her gunwale was within an
+inch of the surface of the lake. Fanny took the helm, and, as she eased
+off the sheet, which her previous experience had taught her to do in
+such an emergency, the boat came up to an even keel, and the confidence
+of the prairie boy was fully restored.
+
+"I don't want to be tipped over and drownded, arter we've got away from
+the Injins," said he, in apology for his timidity.
+
+"I'm sure I don't fear the water, after the terrible scenes we have
+passed through," replied Fanny; "but there is no danger."
+
+"I dunno 's there is; but even the little Injin boy was skeered when
+she tipped so."
+
+"I ought to have unfastened this rope before we hoisted the sail,"
+added Fanny, pointing to the sheet.
+
+"I ain't afeerd, if you ain't, Fanny. I don't reckon we could 'a
+paddled her over to the island in seven year."
+
+"It would have taken a long time," said Fanny, glancing back at the
+smoking buildings of the settlement.
+
+She was sad at heart when she thought of the murder and destruction
+which had occurred that morning. It was pleasant on the lake, but
+neither Fanny nor Ethan was in a condition to enjoy the sail. Each was
+thinking of friends in the settlement who had probably been slain by
+the remorseless savages. Fanny steered the bateau in silence, till she
+reached the shore of the island, which was about two miles from the
+point where the party had embarked. It was very small, containing not
+more than half an acre of land. A single tree grew on the highest part,
+and all of it was covered with grass, like the ground on the western
+shores of the lake.
+
+A landing was effected under the lee of the land, and the cargo of the
+bateau removed to the shore. Wahena was taken to the middle of the
+island, and fastened to the tree. From this point a view of all the
+surrounding country could be obtained, and with ordinary care on the
+part of the exiles, it would be impossible for an enemy to approach
+without their knowledge. The provisions and other articles were
+transported on the wheelbarrow to the tree.
+
+"I should kinder like this, ef the folks hadn't all been killed off,"
+said Ethan, when the work was done, and he had seated himself at
+Fanny's side, in the shade of the tree.
+
+"We were very fortunate to escape with our lives, Ethan, and I feel
+very thankful," replied Fanny.
+
+"So do I; and ef you want to say your prayers now, we hain't got
+nothin' else to do."
+
+"I have said them many times; God can hear us even when we do not speak
+aloud."
+
+"I s'pose so; well, I said mine, too; and that's a thing I don't do
+very often."
+
+"I have no doubt they strengthened your arm, and made you feel brave."
+
+"I dunno but they did; but I feel as though a leetle grain o' breakfast
+would strengthen my arm most jest now."
+
+Fanny was not very well pleased with the manner in which her rude
+companion spoke of serious things, and she improved the opportunity to
+embody the prayer of her heart in words. It was a fervent utterance,
+and Ethan seemed to join her in spirit. Both of them were grateful--not
+abstractly grateful, but grateful to God for his mercy in saving them
+from torture and death at the hands of the savages.
+
+They sat in silence for a moment after the prayer, and then Fanny
+suggested that they should prepare their breakfast. Ethan had brought
+with him a shovel and a sharp axe, and while Fanny was peeling the
+potatoes and cutting the bacon, he dug out a kind of fireplace in the
+side of the hill. Some dead branches from the tree supplied them with
+dry fuel. Fried ham and fried potatoes were soon provided, and they sat
+down to their morning meal.
+
+"I should like this fust rate if we hadn't been druv away from hum jest
+as we was," said Ethan.
+
+"It would be very pleasant if we could forget the poor people who have
+been killed and mangled by the savages," replied Fanny, sadly.
+
+"I reyther like campin' out, and travellin' over the peraries, as we
+did when we kim up hyer."
+
+"What is to become of us, after all, Ethan?"
+
+"I dunno; we must stop hyer, I s'pose."
+
+"We cannot remain here a great while."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Our provisions will not last many days."
+
+"We kin git more."
+
+"I don't think it is safe for us to go over to the settlement again."
+
+"We've got plenty o' powder'n shot, and thyers ducks and birds enough.
+And this lake's full of fish."
+
+"But we must leave some time. We could not stay here through the
+winter."
+
+"We kin git off somewhar bime-by. I dunno what all this business
+means--whether the Injins is killin' off everybody or not. Sunthin' 'll
+happen one o' these days."
+
+It was impossible to plan for the future, for no one could tell what a
+day might bring forth. It was evident to the young exiles that the lake
+settlement had been destroyed, and the greater portion of the people
+killed, though they had no positive knowledge of the extent of the
+horrible massacre. They did not know, what was really true, that the
+onslaught of the savages extended over hundreds of miles of territory,
+and that its victims were numbered by hundreds.
+
+When Ethan and Fanny had finished their breakfast, Wahena was unbound
+and permitted to eat all he wanted. His appetite did not seem to be at
+all impaired by his imprisonment, for he ate with a greediness which
+threatened to make serious inroads upon the scanty stock of provisions.
+While he was thus occupied, Fanny sang one of her Sunday school hymns,
+a sad and plaintive air, which not only moved Ethan to the depths of
+his heart, but visibly affected the little savage. Noticing the effect,
+she followed up the impression until she was surprised to see Wahena
+offer her his hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THE NIGHT ATTACK.
+
+
+Fanny sang "Sweet Home" to the young Indian, with the feeling that
+there was no longer a spot on earth which she could call by that
+endearing name. By this time, Mr. Grant, with Bertha and Fanny, were in
+Europe, and it would be months before she could see them again. Her
+uncle had probably been killed by the war party of Lean Bear, while
+returning to his home, as the possession of his horses by the Indians
+indicated. Her aunt lay mangled and unburied near the house which had
+been her happy home. The settlement was doubtless broken up and
+deserted; for all who had not been killed or captured by the Indians
+must have fled to the woods and the prairies for safety.
+
+The feeling of loneliness in Fanny gave to her song a touching pathos,
+which, with the sad sweetness of the melody itself, made the great
+tears roll down the bronzed checks of Ethan, and touched the heart of
+even the young savage. Wahena looked long and earnestly at Fanny, when
+he had finished his breakfast. The music pleased him, and its charms
+literally soothed his savage breast. She sang other songs, and he began
+to make friendly demonstrations towards her, which ended in the offer
+of his hand. She accepted the proffered token of friendship.
+
+Wahena spoke to her, but of course she could not understand a word of
+his language. He made signs, using the earnest gestures peculiar to the
+Indians. He shook his head, pointed to her, and then to the shore of
+the lake in the direction of the settlement. She thought he meant to
+say that he would not permit his father to injure her; but she was not
+very sure. The young savage was certainly disposed to be her friend,
+and manifested his interest in her by all the means within his power.
+
+"Well, Fanny, it's about time for me to go to work," said Ethan, after
+he had observed the demonstrations between her and Wahena for a time.
+
+"What are you going to do, Ethan? I thought you had no work."
+
+"Plenty of it, I reckon. 'Tain't no use to groan over what can't be
+helped. We may as well make the best on't."
+
+"Of course we will not complain of what we cannot help. Ethan, do you
+know what my motto is?"
+
+"Your what?" asked Ethan, with a vacant stare.
+
+"My motto."
+
+"That's sunthin' in Latin, or some outlandish lingo--ain't it?"
+
+"Mine is in plain English."
+
+"I've hearn tell of some Latin stuff they called a motto out in
+Illinois; I forgit what it was now."
+
+"'_Hope and have_,' is my motto."
+
+"What does that mean? 'Tain't Latin, but it might as well be."
+
+"It means hope for the best, and then you will work the harder to have
+it."
+
+"Thet jest fits my case."
+
+"The motto was given me by a very good girl in New York, who was dying
+of consumption. They were the last words she spoke, and they were
+engraved on her tombstone. I will tell you the whole story about her
+some time."
+
+"I should like to hear it, fust rate; but I reckon we've got sunthin'
+else to do jest now. I hope we shall hev sunthin' like a house for you
+to sleep in to-night."
+
+"Hoping alone will not build the house, Ethan; besides, we don't hope
+much for that which we are not willing to work for."
+
+"I know thet; and I'm go'n to work on the house right away now,"
+replied Ethan, as he rose from the ground, and took his shovel.
+
+"I will help you, for I hope we shall have a house to keep us out of
+the wet if it should happen to rain."
+
+"You are nothin' but a gal," said Ethan, rather contemptuously.
+
+"But I can help you. How shall you build a house?"
+
+"Well, I don't quite know."
+
+"I can help you think, if nothing more, Ethan."
+
+"So you kin, Fanny. You are right down smart. I don't know as we should
+ever hev got over to this island ef't hadn't been for you."
+
+"Do you think we could get the boat out of the water, Ethan?"
+
+"I reckon we could," replied Ethan, rubbing his head to stimulate his
+ideas. "I kin cut some rollers, and kinder pry it along."
+
+Fanny minutely detailed her plan for a house, which, after much
+explanation, was adopted. As soon as Ethan comprehended her idea, he
+became very enthusiastic for its execution.
+
+"I reckon we must tie up the young Injin afore we go to work," said he,
+taking the cord, and moving towards Wahena.
+
+The little savage looked appealingly at Fanny, placed his hand upon his
+breast, shook his head violently, and frequently pointed to the shore
+of the lake. She interpreted his signs to mean that he would not
+attempt to escape, and she so informed Ethan.
+
+"I dassent trust him," said he.
+
+"He can't get away if he tries," replied Fanny.
+
+"But he may take one of the guns and kill one on us."
+
+"Put all the weapons out of the way, then, and I will keep watch of
+him," added Fanny, who wished to conciliate Wahena.
+
+Ethan consented, and climbing the tree with his axe, he commenced
+cutting off the large branches which were to be used in the
+construction of the house.
+
+The plan which Fanny had devised was a very simple one. The slope of
+the land on the island was about four feet to a rod. The bateau was to
+be rolled up the acclivity about thirty feet, and turned bottom upward.
+The lower end was then to be gradually pried up until it was level with
+the upper end, leaving a space of four feet under the higher part.
+Stakes were to be set in the ground under the gunwale to support the
+boat, and form the sides of the house. The smaller branches of the tree
+were to be interlaced in the stakes, beginning at the bottom, and the
+sods and the dirt thrown from the inside against this network, leaving
+the ground level under the roof.
+
+The bateau was sixteen feet long and five feet wide, and the most
+difficult part of the work was getting it out of the water, and moving
+it up the hill. Ethan and Fanny worked as hard as they could till
+sundown with rollers and levers, when they had the boat in position,
+and the end elevated to the required level. Wahena showed his gratitude
+for the freedom granted to him by assisting in the labor, and made
+himself very useful.
+
+After the party had taken their suppers, Ethan made a bed of the
+blankets and quilts for Fanny, under the boat, covering the open sides
+with the sail and a coverlet.
+
+"Where are you going to sleep, Ethan?" she asked.
+
+"I ain't go'n to sleep nowhar," replied he.
+
+"You are not going to stay up all night."
+
+"That's jest what I'm go'n to do."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"S'pose'n them Injins should kim over in the night."
+
+"I thought you said they could not get over here."
+
+"I reckon they can't, ef I keep my eyes open."
+
+"But you must sleep."
+
+"Ef I do, I must do my sleepin' in the daytime. Ef we should all go to
+sleep hyer, we might wake up in the mornin', and find our throats cut.
+'Tain't safe, nohow."
+
+"You have worked hard to-day, Ethan, and you must be very tired."
+
+"I am kinder tired."
+
+"We will take turns keeping watch, as they do on board a ship."
+
+"I don't know nothin' about a ship."
+
+"I will keep watch the first half of the night, and you may the other
+half."
+
+"S'pose'n the Injins should kim; what would you do then?"
+
+"I can call you."
+
+"Well, Fanny, ef you ain't very tired, I agree to it, for I feel jest
+as ef I should go to sleep now."
+
+"I am not so tired as I have been, and not so tired as you are. I will
+take the first watch. But do you really think the Indians will come to
+the island?"
+
+"I hope not, but they might."
+
+"How do you expect them to come?"
+
+"I dunno; but I shouldn't wonder ef Lean Bear sent some of his redskins
+over arter that boy."
+
+Fanny did not see how the savages could reach them at this distance
+from the main land, but she agreed with Ethan that it would be better
+to keep watch, and be on the safe side. Wahena's hands were tied
+together, and he was bound to one of the posts under the boat, in such
+a manner that he could lie down and sleep comfortably. Ethan stretched
+himself on the bed he had prepared for his companion, and was soon
+asleep.
+
+Fanny seated herself under the tree at the top of the hill. It was not
+yet dark, and she had a full view of the water on every side. Until a
+later hour there was no possibility of a hostile approach by the
+Indians, and she gave herself up to the melancholy reflections excited
+by the tragic events of the day. Though a great many thoughts passed
+through her mind, there was only one which it is important to record
+here; and that was, the feeling that she was better prepared for the
+bitter experience upon which she had now entered than she would have
+been a few months before. If her friends knew that she was a changed
+being, the fact was still more evident to her own consciousness.
+
+A religious faith and hope had sustained her in those terrible hours,
+when the shrieks of the mangled and the cries of the dying had pierced
+her heart, and when torture and death stared her full in the face.
+Ethan, in his own quaint terms, had confessed that her prayers and her
+unwavering trust in God had awed him and solemnized his mind, thus
+raising him to a level with the momentous issues he was to meet. She
+felt that her prayers for herself and the brave prairie boy had been
+answered, not only in their effect upon themselves, but more directly
+in the turning aside of the knife which had been pointed at their
+hearts. Renewedly she thanked God for his goodness; and renewedly, as
+she thought of the dying Jenny, she felt that to hope was to have.
+
+Thus thinking of the past, thus hoping and praying for the future, the
+darkness gathered upon her, and with her mind thus illuminated by
+divine wisdom, the words of the Psalmist seemed to be literally
+verified, and even the darkness became light about her. As the shades
+of evening deepened over her, cutting off her view of the distant
+shores of the lake, she felt the necessity of a more vigilant
+watchfulness.
+
+Hour after hour wore heavily away, and still Ethan slept. Fanny had no
+idea of the time of night, and could not tell whether or not it was
+time to call her companion. She knew how hard he had worked during the
+day, and she resolved not to call him as long as she could keep awake
+herself. Her position was by the tree; but in order to rouse her torpid
+faculties, she took a walk around the island. When she reached the side
+of their narrow domain where they had landed in the morning, she was
+startled by what she thought was a slight splashing in the water, at a
+considerable distance from her. After the manner of the Indians, she
+lay down upon the ground, and placed her ear near the surface of the
+lake, listening with trembling interest for any sounds which might be
+borne over the still waters.
+
+This expedient satisfied her that she had not been mistaken in the
+sound. She distinctly heard the light dip of a paddle in the water,
+worked with the utmost caution. She was almost paralyzed with terror at
+the thought of a night visit from the savages, and dreaded the sharp
+crack of the rifle and the flashing of the knife. She strained her eyes
+to discover any object on the water, but she could see nothing. She
+hastened to the house, and roused Ethan.
+
+"I'm comin'," said he, only half awake, and turned over to finish his
+nap.
+
+"Ethan, Ethan!" gasped Fanny, shaking him with all her might, "the
+Indians are almost upon us."
+
+If she had said Indians before, it would have awakened him in a moment.
+He sprang to his feet, and rushed out of the house.
+
+"What's the matter?" he demanded.
+
+"The Indians are coming--at least some one is coming, for I heard a
+paddle on the lake."
+
+[Illustration: THE NIGHT ATTACK. Page 243.]
+
+"The pesky sarpints! I was afeerd they'd kim. Whar be they?"
+
+"They are coming from the settlement."
+
+"Consarn 'em!" added Ethan, as he grasped his two guns, and ran down to
+the shore.
+
+He listened, and soon satisfied himself that Fanny's fears were not
+groundless. He sent his companion for the revolver, and proceeded with
+great coolness and self-possession to make his preparations for
+repelling the assault, for he had no doubt that one was intended. It
+was a full hour--an hour of the most intense anxiety and suspense to
+the young exiles--before they discovered the wily foe stealthily
+approaching their retreat.
+
+A little later they could see enough to determine that the assailants
+consisted of four Indians, on a raft. Two of them, on their knees, were
+paddling the unwieldy craft, and the others appeared to be gazing at
+the island.
+
+Ethan had made a rest for the rifle of a crotched stick, for the piece
+was too heavy for him to hold up to his shoulder. He took careful aim
+at the group of dark forms on the raft, and fired.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+THE VISITOR AT THE ISLAND.
+
+
+"Ho, wo, wo!" yelled the savages on the raft; and their tones sounded
+much like the barking of a large mastiff.
+
+Ethan saw one of their number fall, and the commotion in the group
+indicated that the savages had been thrown into confusion by Ethan's
+well-directed shot. They ceased paddling, and appeared to be consulting
+in regard to their next movement.
+
+"Lay right down flat on the ground, so thet they can't see you, Fanny,"
+said Ethan, as he hastily loaded the rifle, on which he principally
+depended.
+
+"Won't they go away now you have found out they are coming?" asked she,
+as she obeyed the requirement.
+
+"I dunno; we shall see. I don't keer much whether they go or kim. Keep
+still, and don't move. I reckon they can't see us, and don't know jest
+whar to fire."
+
+"They can see you, Ethan."
+
+"No, they can't," replied the resolute boy, as he took careful aim a
+second time with the rifle.
+
+He fired, but apparently without any result, except another yell from
+the savages. Three of them could still be seen standing and kneeling on
+the raft. As soon as the second shot had been fired, they reached their
+conclusion, and commenced paddling with all their might towards the
+island. Ethan now took the fowling-piece, which he had charged with
+duck-shot, and fired again. The Indians yelled as before, and one of
+them seemed to be wounded, for he ceased to paddle, and the third man
+immediately took his place.
+
+Both of Ethan's guns were now empty; but he had the revolver, which was
+good for six shots, though the fire could hardly be effective at the
+present distance of the raft from the island. Keeping this weapon in
+reserve, he loaded the two guns again. It was very strange that the
+Indians did not fire at him, and he could not tell whether it was
+because they had no guns, or because they were afraid of killing
+Wahena. The party had probably been sent by Lean Bear to recover his
+son, and the success of the expedition was to depend upon finding the
+exiles asleep. The good judgment of Ethan had therefore saved them from
+the calamity of a surprise.
+
+When Ethan had completed the loading of the guns, the raft was within
+four or five rods of the shore of the island, and the Indians were
+paddling vigorously, though the unwieldy craft they navigated moved
+very slowly through the water.
+
+"Don't you stop here no longer, Fanny; 'taint no place for you, nohow.
+Jest crawl up to the tree, and keep behind it. Keep both eyes wide open
+tight, but don't let the redskins see you."
+
+"But what will become of you?" asked Fanny, unwilling to leave her bold
+defender even for a moment.
+
+"Never you mind me; go right off quick. Crawl up to the tree, and I'll
+soon fix 'em."
+
+"Ho, wo, wo!" yelled the Indians, apparently satisfied that their work
+was accomplished, for the raft was within two rods of the shore.
+
+Then one of them dropped his paddle, and, with an unearthly scream,
+leaped into the water, which was now so shallow that he could wade
+ashore. Ethan took good aim at this one, and fired. Though not killed,
+the sharp cry the savage uttered convinced Ethan that he was wounded.
+Without waiting to learn the effect of his shot on the rest of the
+party, he fired again at the same man, who was only partially disabled.
+The savage in the water, who had been the most dangerous assailant,
+uttered another yell of pain, and his companions seemed to be paralyzed
+by the continuation of the fire upon them. Probably they supposed the
+boy had but one gun, and, when he fired it, that he would not have time
+to load again before they could reach him. Ethan then discharged one
+ball from the revolver, which added still more to their confusion, for
+they were jabbering like wild turkeys.
+
+"Go 'way!" shouted Ethan. "Go 'way, or I'll kill Wahena."
+
+"No kill," replied one of the Indians, whose voice sounded like that of
+the messenger Ethan had met in the morning.
+
+"Go 'way then!"
+
+"Me go."
+
+"Go then--consarn ye!" muttered Ethan, as, taking advantage of the
+confusion in the ranks of the enemy, he loaded the two guns again.
+
+The two Indians on the raft helped the wounded one in the water to
+mount the platform again. Two of the three were evidently wounded, and
+it was not an easy thing for them to paddle the clumsy craft away from
+the island. One of the savages worked at the paddle for a while; but it
+was not till the more able of the other two assisted him that any
+sensible progress was made.
+
+"Creation hokee!" exclaimed Ethan, when he was fully conscious that he
+had won the victory. "I've done 'em, Fanny!"
+
+"Have they gone?" she asked, when she had joined him.
+
+"They are go'n as fast as they kin; but I reckon they won't git back to
+the settlement till some time into mornin'. We're all right now, Fanny,
+and you kin go to sleep as soon as you've a mind to."
+
+She was too excited to think of sleeping, and she sat with Ethan on the
+shore for an hour, talking about their deliverance from the peril that
+had menaced them. Fanny was devoutly grateful to God, who had again
+preserved them; and when she had uttered the prayer her heart would not
+permit her to keep back, she felt more composed, and retired to the
+cabin, where she soon dropped asleep from sheer exhaustion.
+
+This was the only attempt made by the savages to capture the exiles on
+the island. The next day, they continued to work upon the house,
+interrupted only by a heavy shower in the forenoon; but the boat roof
+afforded them a perfect shelter from the pouring rain. It was three
+days before the house was finished; but when it was completed, the
+wanderers were as proud of it as though it had been a Fifth Avenue
+mansion. At night they took turns in keeping the watch; and when the
+house was done, both of the exiles were nearly worn out by the hard
+work they had done, and the loss of sleep to which they had been
+subjected. They decided that it would be best to rest a few days before
+they commenced upon certain additions which they contemplated.
+
+The stock of provisions was already much reduced, and the question of
+supplies for the future demanded attention. There were plenty of fish
+in the lake, but none could be caught in the shallow water which
+bordered the island. It was necessary to go out a short distance, and
+Ethan found a couple of logs among some drift wood, gathered on the
+beach, with which he constructed a raft, just large enough to
+accommodate himself.
+
+To prevent accidents, he tied together all the lines which had been
+used about the sail, and pushed off the length of his rope. There were
+fish-lines in the boat, and bait was obtained on the island. In an hour
+Ethan returned to the shore with a large muskellunge and half a dozen
+large lake trout. The problem of supplies, therefore, seemed to be
+solved, especially as there were abundant opportunities to shoot the
+wild duck, plover, and grouse, that visited the little domain of the
+exiles.
+
+However pleasant it would be to follow out in detail the daily life of
+the residents of the isle, our space prevents us from doing so. A
+fortnight of severe labor and constant watchfulness was passed by the
+exiles, when a great event occurred to them. Ethan had one day moored
+out his raft the length of the line from the shore, on the side of the
+island where they had first disembarked, when his attention was
+attracted by an object on the water, in the direction of the
+settlement. He watched it with interest and anxiety, and soon
+ascertained that it was a raft, on which stood a single person, who was
+paddling towards the island.
+
+Ethan immediately pulled in his raft, and went for his fire-arms, which
+he carefully loaded, in readiness for a hostile visit from a foe. The
+stranger approached very slowly, and the exiles were at last satisfied
+that he was not an Indian. As he drew nearer to the island, he waved a
+white rag, which was intended and understood as a sign of peace.
+
+"Who can it be?" asked Fanny, greatly excited by the incident.
+
+"I dunno; can't tell yet," replied Ethan.
+
+"Do you think it is an enemy?"
+
+"I don't reckon it is."
+
+Both of them continued to watch the approaching visitor, until he had
+come within twenty rods of the shore. He did not look like any human
+being that Fanny had ever seen before. His clothes were tattered, and
+of all colors. Great patches of tent canvas were sewed over a tunic
+made of red and yellow blankets. He wore Indian leggins, and his head
+was covered with a coon-skin cap. His hair and beard, of grizzly gray,
+were tangled and matted in knots and snarls. Crossed on his breast were
+the straps by which were supported his powder-horn and shot-flask.
+
+"What a strange-looking man!" exclaimed Fanny, when the raft had come
+near enough to enable her to make out the uncouth object upon it.
+
+"I know him now," replied Ethan, "though I hevn't seen him afore for
+more 'n a year."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+"Thet's Rattleshag."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Rattleshag--leastwise that's the only name anybody knows him by. He's
+a hunter 'n trapper that goes roamin' round over the peraries."
+
+"Where does he live?"
+
+"He don't live nowhar; he goes travellin' round, livin' on the white
+folks and Injins. They say he is the best shot west of the Miss'sip."
+
+"He won't shoot us--will he?"
+
+"No; he won't hurt nothin'."
+
+The raft came up to the shore, and the trapper landed.
+
+"How d'ye do, Rattleshag?" said Ethan.
+
+The strange visitor made no reply, but walked deliberately up to the
+young exiles, gave his hand first to Ethan, then to Fanny.
+
+"Toler'ble, considering," said he, at last.
+
+"Whar did you kim from?"
+
+"Over thar," he answered, pointing to the settlement, and shaking his
+head.
+
+"Anybody thar?" asked Ethan, anxiously.
+
+"Injins."
+
+"No white folks?"
+
+"All gone: some on 'em's killed, and some on 'em's kerried off. Awful
+times, everywhar," added the trapper, shaking his head mournfully.
+"Whar's the Injin boy?"
+
+"Up thyer," answered Ethan, pointing to the cabin where Wahena had been
+secured as soon as the raft was discovered, for another attack from the
+Indians had been anticipated. "You may let him loose again, Fanny."
+
+She was always glad to perform this office for her captive friend, and
+she soon returned to the shore with Wahena.
+
+"He's all safe--ain't he?" asked Rattleshag.
+
+"Yes; we hain't hurt him; and he's as fond of Fanny as a pet puppy
+dog."
+
+"Glad on't. I was tooken by the Injins over thar, and got nigh bein'
+skelped. Lean B'ar let me go to kim over here arter the boy," added the
+trapper.
+
+"We can't let him go," said Ethan.
+
+"I reckon you mought."
+
+Ethan explained in what manner the presence of Wahena had saved them
+from the Indians.
+
+"We can't spare him till we get out of the woods ourselves," added
+Ethan.
+
+"Then I must go back and be skelped," replied Rattleshag, solemnly. "I
+promised Lean B'ar thet I'd git the boy, or else I'd kim back myself;
+and old Rattleshag never broke his word to Injin or white man."
+
+"Thet's so," said Ethan, who knew the reputation of the trapper for
+simple honesty and fidelity.
+
+"Hev you got a boat?" asked Rattleshag.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then I reckon we kin go down to Mankato. The sogers is drivin' the
+Injins back. Thyer's ben awful times all through the country; more 'n a
+thousand men, women, and children hes ben killed. I've trevelled all
+through from Big Stone, dodgin' the Injins all the way. They are as
+savage as painters. I kim down hyer to git away from 'em, but I found
+they'd ben hyer too," added the trapper, with another melancholy shake
+of the head. "It's awful."
+
+Rattleshag over-estimated the number of victims to this terrible
+massacre, though it has been stated as high as seven hundred. He
+related to the young exiles his adventures in his long journey through
+the devoted region which had been the scene of so much cruelty and
+bloodshed. He told of the men, women, and children he had seen lying
+dead and mangled in the deserted settlements; of the wounded, starving,
+and dying fugitives he had met in their flight; and of the desolation
+which lay in the track of the merciless savages.
+
+The listeners were appalled and horrified at the sad and bloody tale.
+Fanny wept, and Ethan with difficulty choked down the emotions which
+agitated him.
+
+"What shall be did?" asked the trapper, at last. "Kin you let the boy
+go, or shall I go back and be skelped?"
+
+"You certainly shall not go back!" exclaimed Fanny.
+
+An earnest consultation followed, and a plan was soon agreed upon by
+which Rattleshag could be saved.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+THE INDIAN AMBUSH.
+
+
+Fanny was the originator of the scheme by which it was expected to save
+the party from the ferocity of the Indians, and enable the trapper to
+keep his plighted faith with them. The exiles, accompanied by their
+new-found friend, were to descend the river in the bateau to Mankato.
+Wahena was to be taken with them to some point above their destination,
+where he was to be delivered to his friends, when his presence as a
+hostage was no longer necessary to the safety of his captors.
+
+This was thought to be the only safe plan, for even Rattleshag did not
+pretend to believe that the Indians would not be treacherous when
+Wahena was no longer in peril. It was arranged that the trapper should
+return to Lean Bear, and inform him of the terms on which his son could
+be saved. He was instructed to tell the savage chief that Ethan could
+fire eight shots a minute, and that Wahena would surely atone with his
+life for any treachery on the part of the Indians.
+
+Rattleshag put off on his raft again, and paddled towards the
+settlement. It was late in the evening when he returned with the
+intelligence that Lean Bear had accepted the terms, though very
+reluctantly, for they compelled him to send a party of his braves on a
+journey of seventy miles to receive Wahena when he was delivered up.
+Rattleshag had been obliged to argue the point with him; but the
+assurance that the boy would certainly be shot if he did not yield,
+induced him to comply. Six Indian horsemen were deputed to follow the
+boat on the banks of the river, and insure them against any attack from
+the wandering savages whom the exiles might encounter.
+
+The next morning the bateau was lowered from its position, rolled down
+to the lake, and launched. The muscular arm of the trapper rendered
+this a comparatively easy task, and it was accomplished in a few hours.
+The mast was stepped, the sail bent on, and the rigging adjusted under
+the direction of Fanny, who was more familiar with such matters than
+either of her companions. Such provisions as remained were stowed on
+board, cooked ready for use.
+
+At noon, with a fresh breeze from the westward, the party embarked,
+and, with Fanny at the helm, sailed for the outlet at the north-east
+corner of the lake. The party were very much fatigued after the hard
+work required in making preparations for their departure, and
+independently of the exciting circumstances of leaving the island home,
+and the prospect of soon being in a place of entire safety, they
+enjoyed the rest afforded by the voyage.
+
+"What we go'n to do when we get to Mankato, Fanny?" asked Ethan.
+
+"I'm sure I don't know."
+
+"We hain't got no friends thar."
+
+"Nor anywhere," replied Fanny, sadly. "I have no near relations now
+that my uncle and aunt are gone."
+
+"I never had none; but I s'pose I kin go to work, as I allers did,"
+added Ethan, cheerfully.
+
+"I doubt not we shall find plenty of friends. I am sure that Woodville,
+where I have lived the last two years, will be open to me."
+
+"I reckon we needn't borrow any trouble arter we git out of this
+scrape. Ef we could stand what we've gone through with, we hain't got
+nothin' to fear."
+
+"I have no clothes but those I wear, and not a cent of money," added
+Fanny, rather disturbed by the prospect before her.
+
+"I reckon 'twill be all right," said Ethan.
+
+"I have no doubt it will. I do not mean to complain. We have so much to
+be grateful for, that it would be wicked to repine at our lot."
+
+"Thet's my notion; and we won't think what we're go'n to do till we get
+to Mankato."
+
+This was a wise resolve, though it would be rather difficult to carry
+it out. In a short time the bateau arrived at the outlet of the lake,
+and on the bank of the river the exiles discovered their Indian escort,
+which had been waiting since the middle of the forenoon for them. At
+this point the serenity of the voyage was interrupted, for the river
+was crooked, and the navigation often very difficult. The boat did not
+draw more than a foot of water, but in some places it was not easy to
+find even this depth.
+
+Fanny found that all her slender knowledge of boating was called into
+use, for the bends in the river were so frequent that the boat was
+headed towards nearly every point of the compass within a single hour.
+Her progress was necessarily very slow, and the Indians on the shore
+soon began to manifest their impatience by grunting and growling. As
+the bateau proceeded, Fanny became more skilful in its management. She
+soon learned where the deepest water might be found, and instead of
+attempting to cut across the bends, she followed the current round the
+broadest sweep; but, with the best she could do, it was occasionally
+necessary for Ethan and Rattleshag to resort to the poles to push her
+over the shoal places.
+
+At dark the question came up whether the party should continue the
+voyage during the night, or moor the boat, and sail only by daylight.
+Of course the Indians on the shore could not continue the journey
+without stopping to rest and feed their horses; but a consultation was
+had with them, and it was decided that the escort should divide into
+two parties, one on each side of the river, and ride forward ten or
+fifteen miles, then halt and await the coming of the boat. The river
+had received two or three large tributaries above the point they had
+reached, and the navigation was less difficult as the stream became
+broader and deeper.
+
+"Now, Fanny, I reckon I kin steer this boat," said Ethan, after the
+arrangements had been made, and the escort had gone forward. "I will
+make up a bed for you for'ad, and you shall go to sleep. One on us kin
+sleep jest as well as not, all the time."
+
+"I was thinking of that myself," replied Fanny. "We shall save a great
+deal of time if we can go by night as well as day."
+
+"I reckon we shall; and the sooner we git to Mankato, the better we
+shall like it. The little Injin's gone to sleep now."
+
+"Do you think you can steer the boat, Ethan?"
+
+"I know I kin. I've been kinder watchin' the thing ever sence we
+started, and I reckon I know sunthin' about it," replied Ethan, as he
+went forward to prepare a bed for Fanny.
+
+"Are you not tired, Rattleshag?" asked Fanny of the trapper, who sat
+forward of her, gazing intently down the river, and seldom speaking a
+word.
+
+"No, miss, I'm never tired," he replied.
+
+"Where do you sleep when you are travelling over the broad prairies?"
+
+"Sometimes in an Indian tepee, but generally allers on the ground."
+
+"While the boat goes along so well, two of us might sleep, for it is
+only necessary to have one at the helm."
+
+"I kin stand it without much sleep, miss. I kin ketch a nap while I set
+here. I've often slep standin' up agin a tree when the wolves was thick
+about me. Old Rattleshag is tough and hard."
+
+"Now your bed is ready, Fanny," said Ethan, coming aft.
+
+"Thank you, Ethan; you are very kind, and I am tired enough to sleep
+like a log. Now, if you will take the tiller, I will see what kind of
+work you make of it."
+
+Ethan took the helm, and at first made the usual miscalculations of an
+unexperienced steersman; but Fanny soon instructed him so that he
+steered very well, and she went forward to her couch. In a whisper she
+said the prayer which she never omitted, and covering herself with
+blankets, was soon fast asleep.
+
+After dark, the wind was very light and baffling, but the river was not
+so tortuous in its course, and the progress of the boat was rather more
+satisfactory than it had been during the afternoon. Ethan was very
+considerate of his fair companion, and neglected her injunction to call
+her in a few hours. He had given the helm to Rattleshag in the middle
+of the night, and gone to sleep himself. At daylight the trapper was at
+his post, and both the young exiles were still sleeping away the
+fatigues of the preceding day. The boat had not yet come up with the
+escort, who had probably gone more than the fifteen miles agreed upon.
+
+Rattleshag sat at the helm, gazing fixedly down the river. He looked
+like a statue, and he sat so still that it was hard to believe he ever
+had moved, or ever would do so. His long rifle lay at his side, at rest
+like himself.
+
+The bateau was approaching a clump of trees which grew on the bank of
+the river, when the crack of a rifle was heard, and a bullet whizzed
+over the water. Rattleshag started, sprang to his feet, and grasped the
+tiller with his left hand, while the blood trinkled down the ends of
+his fingers from a wound in his right arm. He glanced hastily around
+him, and then, putting the helm up, ran the boat alongside the shore
+opposite that from which the shot had come. The bateau grounded in the
+shallow water, and her grating upon the gravel roused Ethan from his
+slumber.
+
+"The Injins is firin' on us," said Rattleshag, coolly, as he took up
+his long rifle.
+
+"Whar be they?" demanded Ethan, seizing his weapons.
+
+"Over thar," replied the trapper, pointing to the clump of trees.
+
+The first shot was now followed by a second, which fortunately hit none
+of the party. By this time Fanny was awake; but Ethan peremptorily bade
+her lie still, so that the hostile Indians could not see her. Near the
+point where the boat had grounded there was a group of trees, which
+promised to afford the voyagers a partial shelter from the bullets of
+the enemy, and Rattleshag thought they had better take a position
+there.
+
+"Now run for it," said Ethan to Fanny, as he gave her the revolver.
+
+"I am not afraid," she replied, as she took the pistol and ran to the
+covert of the trees.
+
+Ethan and the trapper followed her; but the moment they showed
+themselves, the report of several rifles was heard, followed by the
+whistling of the bullets through the air, though the distance was so
+great that the shots were harmless.
+
+"Now, we'll give 'em some," said Ethan.
+
+"'Tain't no use," answered Rattleshag, seating himself on the ground
+behind one of the trees. "Don't waste your lead for nothin'. You can't
+hit 'em."
+
+"But they have hit you. Are you hurt much?"
+
+"No; 'tain't wuth mindin'."
+
+"Let me do up your wound, Rattleshag," interposed Fanny, tearing off a
+piece of her calico dress for the purpose.
+
+"The blood kinder bothers me, and you may," said the trapper, as he
+bared his muscular arm.
+
+The ball had ploughed through the fleshy part of the arm, inflicting a
+severe, though not dangerous, wound. Fanny bound it up as well as she
+could, with lint made from her linen collar, and Rattleshag declared
+that it felt "fust rate."
+
+Wahena was still in the boat, where Ethan had taken the precaution to
+tie him to the mast, after first binding his arms behind him. He still
+lay in the bottom of the boat, the consciousness of his own danger
+preventing him from showing himself.
+
+"We mought hev to stop here all day," said the trapper, after they had
+waited some time for a further demonstration on the part of the
+Indians.
+
+"As long as we are safe, we need not mind that," replied Fanny.
+
+"I reckon we ain't safe much," added Ethan.
+
+He had scarcely uttered the words before a savage yell was heard from
+the enemy on the other side of the river.
+
+"They're jumpin' inter the water to kim over here," said Rattleshag. "I
+don't like to shoot 'em, but I s'pose I must."
+
+"I like it," replied Ethan, who had not yet conquered his hatred of the
+redskins.
+
+"Don't be 'n a hurry, boy. Don't waste your lead," interposed the
+trapper, as Ethan was taking aim. "There ain't no more 'n six on 'em in
+the water, and we kin afford to wait till they git a little nearer. We
+kin fire shots enough to kill the whole on 'em without loadin' up."
+
+"Who be they?" asked Ethan, trying to be as cool as the hardy trapper.
+
+"I dunno."
+
+"Be they Lean B'ar's men?"
+
+"I reckon they ain't."
+
+"I was afeerd the redskins that kim down to keep us safe had turned
+agin us."
+
+"I reckon they hain't. They'd be afeerd we'd shoot the boy."
+
+The half dozen savages in the water were wading across the river
+towards the bateau, evidently in the belief that the party had deserted
+her. They continued to hoot and yell, while they advanced, as though
+they intended to storm a garrisoned fortress, instead of capturing a
+deserted bateau.
+
+"I reckon thet'll do now," said Rattleshag, as he raised his long rifle
+to his shoulder, and aimed at one of the savages. "Don't you fire,
+Ethan, till I've done."
+
+He discharged his piece, and fully sustained his reputation as a dead
+shot, for the foremost of the Indians dropped, and was carried down the
+stream by the current.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+CONCLUSION.
+
+
+"Don't you fire, Ethan," repeated the trapper, as the enthusiastic boy
+raised his gun. "No need o' killin' no more on 'em."
+
+The remaining Indians in the water had discovered their mistake, and
+were making towards the opposite shore with all possible haste. They
+had not expected such a reception, and appeared to be glad to escape
+with no greater loss.
+
+"Ho, ho, ho!" shouted other Indians on the shore.
+
+"We are gittin' into a bad scrape," said Ethan, dissatisfied because
+Rattleshag had prevented him from firing at the savages. "There's more
+'n a million on 'em over thar."
+
+"Them's Lean B'ar's Injins that's yellin'. Don't you see 'em? They was
+nigh enough to hear the shootin' and the yellin', and they've kim back
+to keep them redskins from hurtin' on us--don't you see?" added
+Rattleshag, pointing over at the three mounted savages who had just
+dashed up to the bank on the other side of the stream.
+
+"So they be; and hyer kims the rest on 'em."
+
+At this instant the other three of the escort galloped wildly over the
+prairie, and before the voyagers could reach the boat the Indians
+intercepted them. Like those on the other side, they uttered wild
+yells, and seemed to be as much excited as though they had been
+actually engaged in battle.
+
+The exiles had not intended to hold any communication with their
+escort, dreading the treacherous nature of the savages; and when the
+three Indians approached, Ethan promptly placed himself in a defensive
+attitude. Though the escort continued to yell, they did not offer to
+attack the voyagers. They stopped on the bank of the river, where the
+bateau lay. One of them dismounted, and leaped into the boat. With his
+scalping-knife he cut the bonds of Wahena, and taking the boy in his
+arms, bounded to the shore again.
+
+Ethan's heart sank within him, when he saw that the captive, upon whose
+presence he had relied for the safety of the party, was wrested from
+them. Rushing forward with his rifle, he took aim at Wahena,
+disregarding the earnest remonstrances of Rattleshag.
+
+"No shoot! no shoot!" exclaimed one of the savages--the one who had
+before acted as Lean Bear's messenger. "No kill, no hurt."
+
+"Don't fire," pleaded Fanny. "If you should kill Wahena, they would
+butcher us all."
+
+The Indian boy saw her as she stepped forward, and immediately began to
+talk in the most earnest manner to the savage who held him.
+
+"No hurt!" shouted the spokesman of the Indians. "You go--no kill; no
+kill, no hurt."
+
+Wahena, after struggling for some time with the brawny savage who held
+him, escaped from his grasp, and, to the surprise of the voyagers,
+rushed over to the spot where Fanny stood. Seizing her hand, he shook
+it warmly, and then began a series of violent gesticulations, which
+were at first unintelligible. He dropped on his knees, clasped his
+hands, looked up to the sky, and then beat his breast. He pointed to
+the boat, intimating by his signs that she was to go on board. She
+obeyed, and was followed by Ethan and the trapper. The party stepped on
+board, and to the astonishment of all, Wahena followed them, and took
+the seat he had occupied during the voyage.
+
+Ethan and Rattleshag pushed off, and when the bateau began to move down
+the river, Wahena shouted to the Indians, and pointed down the river,
+indicating that they were to follow, as they had done before. The
+Indian boy's signs on shore were now interpreted to be an expression of
+his gratitude to Fanny for her kindness to him, and a prayer to the
+Great Spirit for her safety.
+
+If the party in the boat were surprised at the singular conduct of
+Wahena, the Indians on shore were still more astonished; but he spoke a
+language which they could understand, and they sullenly resumed their
+march down the river.
+
+The captive was now treated as a friend. Though he could not have known
+what the contract between his father and the voyagers had been, except
+so far as he had learned it from the subsequent events, he had
+voluntarily surrendered himself, and insisted upon seeing Fanny
+conveyed to a place of safety. Almost every day while they had been on
+the island, she had sung her sweet songs to Wahena, and he had listened
+to them with rapt attention. As the boat slowly went its way, he begged
+her by signs to sing, and she complied. He expressed his pleasure,
+which was shared by Ethan and Rattleshag, by the most eloquent signs.
+
+During the day, Ethan and Rattleshag slept, while Fanny steered the
+boat. Wahena, no longer in bonds, kept close to her. He intimated in
+his dumb language that he wanted to take the helm, and gently took the
+tiller from her. He was soon proficient in steering, for there was now
+nothing to do but keep the boat in the middle of the river, and
+occasionally to trim the sail.
+
+At night Fanny and Wahena went to sleep again, and the management of
+the boat was divided between Ethan and the trapper. The next morning
+the bateau had entered the Big Woods, and the sail was nearly useless,
+for the forest obstructed the wind, and the voyagers were mainly
+dependent upon the current of the river for the little progress they
+made; but on the afternoon of the third day of the journey, they came
+in sight of a town, which Rattleshag said was not more than twelve
+miles from Mankato. The Indian escort then hailed the boat.
+
+"No go more," said the spokesman.
+
+"I reckon 'twon't be safe for 'em to go any further," added Rattleshag.
+
+Fanny ran the boat up to the shore, and Ethan, always dreading the
+treachery of the savages, kept his gun and revolver in readiness for
+immediate use. The time had come for Wahena to take leave of the party.
+He was profoundly affected at the thought of bidding adieu to Fanny; he
+did not appear to like Ethan or the trapper. He pressed her hand,
+looked very sad, and made his demonstrative gestures. She kissed him on
+the cheek, pointed up to the sky, and laid her hands upon his head. If
+she could have spoken to him, she would have expressed the wish that he
+would abandon the savage life of his people, and become a true man; and
+she would have been glad to teach him the religion of the Saviour, now
+so dear to her, and to show him how to _hope and have_.
+
+Wahena turned slowly and sadly away from her, and walked to the Indians
+who were waiting for him. A stout fellow lifted him on the horse in
+front of him, and dashed away; but Fanny could see him trying to obtain
+a last view of her, as the savages entered the forest. She missed him
+very much as the boat continued on her course. The Indian boy was much
+attached to her, and she found herself much interested in him. She has
+not seen him since they parted, and probably they never will meet again
+in this world; but her blessing will go with him, and perhaps her
+gentle influence will soften his savage nature, and be reflected in his
+kindness to the white people with whom he may come in contact.
+
+At sundown the bateau passed into the Minnesota, and at dark the party
+landed at Mankato, only three miles below the mouth of the Blue Earth,
+on which the last part of the voyage had been made.
+
+We need not say that the party found plenty of warm friends; for when
+it was known that they were fugitives from the Indian massacre, every
+house and every heart was open to them. Troops in large numbers had
+gone forward for the suppression of the insurrection, and confidence
+was in a great measure restored. The place was full of people who had
+escaped, and the savages were being captured and sent hither for trial.
+
+The party were accommodated at the house of a trader, who supplied them
+with all they wanted, both of food and clothing. It was now time to
+think of the future. By the merciful interposition of Providence, the
+exiles had been saved from death and captivity; but they had no home,
+and no relations. Fanny knew what a warm welcome awaited her at
+Woodville, and she was desirous of going there; but she had no money to
+pay for such a long journey. She mentioned her wish to the trader, and
+he promptly offered to advance her a sufficient sum to enable her and
+Ethan to reach their destination.
+
+"Where are you going, Rattleshag?" asked Fanny, when her own and
+Ethan's future movements had been arranged.
+
+"I dunno."
+
+"Why don't you join the sogers, and help put down the Injins?" asked
+Ethan. "You are a dead shot, and they'd like to hev you."
+
+"I can't do thet," replied Rattleshag, shaking his head.
+
+"Why not? They want all the good men they kin git, and you'd be wuth a
+heap to 'em, for you know all about the Injins,--whar to find 'em, and
+how to trap 'em," added Ethan, with considerable warmth; and he was a
+little inclined to offer his own services.
+
+"The Injins hes allers ben my friends, and I don't want to help kill
+'em. They've ben abused, and thet's what made 'em rise up agin the
+whites. They've ben cheated out of their land, and then cheated out of
+the money they ought to hev fur it. I pity 'em, and I shan't help kill
+'em. I shall go back to the woods when the fightin' 's over, and live
+like I allers did."
+
+The next day Ethan and Fanny shook hands with Rattleshag, and bidding
+him a cordial good by, started upon their long journey to the eastward.
+The prairie boy was greatly excited at the prospect of seeing the great
+cities of the country through which he was to pass. On cars and
+steamers where it was known that the boy and girl were refugees from
+the great Indian massacre, they were the lions of the hour. They were
+often called upon to tell their story of peril and death, and every one
+was kind and generous to them. They were frequently invited to private
+houses on the journey; but they declined all invitations, and hurried
+on as fast as steam could convey them to their destination, and arrived
+at Woodville without even stopping to sleep a night on the way.
+
+Mrs. Green gave the exiles a motherly welcome. The fact that the
+massacre had extended to the settlement where Fanny's uncle resided had
+been published in the newspapers, and the housekeeper and servants
+believed that she had been one of its victims. She was welcomed,
+therefore, as one who had come from the grave. Ethan was regarded as a
+hero at the mansion and in its vicinity, and became a person of no
+little distinction.
+
+Ethan French was a young man of no little manliness and independence.
+After he had spent a week in idleness, and had told the story of his
+escape from the Indians till it had become tiresome to him, he began to
+look about him for a situation in which he could earn his own living.
+But Mrs. Green induced him to remain at Woodville until the return of
+Mr. Grant; and he worked in the garden and stable.
+
+Without waiting for instructions from Mr. Grant, the housekeeper
+forwarded to the kind-hearted trader the sum of money which he had
+advanced to pay the expenses of Fanny and Ethan from Mankato to
+Woodville. The money was accompanied by a letter of thanks from Fanny.
+
+In November, the family returned from Europe. Mrs. Green had already
+informed them by letter of the safety, and of the arrival at Woodville,
+of Fanny Jane, as she was called in the house. Mr. Grant and his
+daughters had suffered a great deal of anxiety on her account, after
+they read the intelligence of the massacre, and they were heartily
+rejoiced to meet her again, after believing for months that she was
+dead, or worse than dead--a captive in the hands of the barbarous
+Indians.
+
+Ethan, awkward and unaccustomed to good society, was overwhelmed by the
+kindness of what he called the "grand people." He was invited into the
+drawing-room, and from him and Fanny a very correct account of their
+adventures was obtained.
+
+"Fanny Jane, I can hardly believe you are the same girl I had in my
+charge," exclaimed Miss Fanny, when both stories had been told and
+discussed.
+
+"But I am," said the orphan girl, with a blush.
+
+"I am sure none of us would have behaved so well in the midst of such
+trials," added Mrs. Sherwood. "It is terrible to think of."
+
+"You cannot tell how thankful I am that all this happened after my
+visit to New York," continued the returned wanderer. "I could not, if I
+would, banish from my thoughts the image of Jenny Kent, who led me to
+believe in truth and goodness, and to strive to live for them."
+
+"I should hev been skeered to death ef't hadn't been for Fanny. She was
+so good that she made me feel strong."
+
+"And this is our Fanny Jane!" added Mr. Grant.
+
+"I have tried to be good all the time," replied Fanny, wiping away a
+tear she could not repress.
+
+"And you hev been!" ejaculated Ethan, with emphasis. "Creation hokee!
+nobody couldn't do no better, nohow!"
+
+The family could not help laughing at the earnestness of Ethan.
+
+"She's been the makin' o' me, ef I ever do come out anywhere," he
+continued.
+
+"I have taught him to believe in goodness, to hope for it, and then
+labor to have it," said Fanny Jane.
+
+"Hope and have," added Miss Fanny.
+
+Mr. Grant promptly decided that Ethan's greatest need was a better
+education, and the prairie boy went to school with Fanny during the
+following winter. In the spring he talked like a civilized being; did
+not say "hyer" for _here_, nor "kim" for _come_, and has banished
+"creation hokee" from the list of his pet phrases. In the summer he
+went to learn the trade of a machinist, for which he has decided taste
+and ability, and the prospect is, that he will become a good and useful
+man, if not a brilliant one.
+
+Mrs. Kent's husband returned home during Fanny's absence, having been
+"sick and in prison" in the rebel country. When he had drawn his pay,
+he insisted upon returning to Mr. Grant the sums advanced to his wife
+by her kind friends; but they persistently refused to accept them. He
+wept over his lost child, and thanked God for raising up such friends
+for her while he was absent.
+
+Fanny still resides at Woodville; and having now completed her school
+course, she assists Mrs. Green in the management of the house. She is
+still true to her high resolves; still wears the emblematic anchor, and
+strives to be as pure and good as Jenny was. She occasionally visits
+the grave of her departed young friend, and always gathers new
+inspiration and new strength for the battle of life, as she reads on
+the marble tablet her dying words--HOPE AND HAVE.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hope and Have, by Oliver Optic
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