UNDER COVER OF NIGHT
With a mingled feeling of anxiety and relief Jean watched the Loyalists
and rangers march forth against the rebels. She had no doubt as to the
outcome of the undertaking, but she felt uneasy about her father, and
how he would stand the journey. On the other hand, she cherished the
thought that on the morrow Dane would be with her, and all would be
well.
For a while she stood in the doorway, looking out upon the river over
which the mantle of night had settled. Mammy was crooning to the
Indian baby before the fire. It was an old darky lullaby, and the
faithful servant had sung it to her when she was a child. It brought
back memories of her youthful days, which now seemed so long ago and
like a dream.
"Doan stan' dere, chile," Mammy at length reminded. "Yo'll get yo'
deff a col'."
Jean turned, picked up a shawl and threw it over her head.
"I am going to run over to see Mrs. Watson for a while," she said.
"Danny was not well to-day, so I am anxious to know how he is getting
along. With her husband away, Mrs. Watson must be very lonely tonight."
Mrs. Watson was greatly pleased to see the girl, and offered her a seat
near the fire.
"How is Danny?" Jean asked.
"He is much better, I think, and is sleeping soundly," the mother
replied, as she stole on tip-toe to the side of the rough cradle, and
looked down fondly upon the little white face. "John was so sorry to
go away with the baby sick," she continued, coming back to the fire.
"I do hope there will be no fighting. Suppose some of our men should
be killed!"
"I have great confidence in the rangers, and Mr. Davidson told me that
not likely there would be any fighting," Jean comforted. "I believe he
has some plan to entrap the rebels."
"Let us hope that he is right," and Mrs. Watson sighed as she rose and
placed a big stick upon the fire. "How cold the nights are getting. I
wonder how we shall manage through the winter."
"We have plenty of wood, anyway, Mrs. Watson, and so should keep warm.
And we have enough meat to last us for months. When the _Polly_ brings
our supplies, we shall have an abundance of everything."
"I wonder what can be keeping that boat, Jean. We expected her before
this. I hope Captain Leavitt has not forgotten us."
"He will come in time, never fear. We should have news, too, from our
old home. How strange it is to be shut off for months with no
communication with the great world beyond."
"It is like being buried live, dear. And just think of the long winter
ahead, with snow and ice everywhere."
"But we shall make our little world right here, Mrs. Watson. I am
looking forward to the winter. We are going to have a cosy, happy
time, and lots of fun at Christmas. The children are talking about it
already, and I know that wonderful presents are being made. I have
been working at mine for some time, and I suppose you will have
something for Danny."
Mrs. Watson smiled as she rose and took down a little basket from a
rude shelf on the wall. From this she brought forth several little
home-made articles, and laid them in Jean's lap.
"John is handy with his knife," she explained, "and made this boat,
horse, and cart. He is going to make something else when he gets time.
I made that doll out of some odds and ends, and John carved the head.
We shall also make some molasses candy of funny shapes. Danny will be
delighted. Poor little fellow, he talks so much about Santa Claus, and
the things he is going to get."
"I am sure he will not be disappointed," Jean replied, as she examined
each present. "You and Mr. Watson have done remarkable work."
For some time they sat and talked before the fire, and when Jean at
last rose to go, Mrs. Watson looked at her with admiration.
"This life certainly agrees with you," she said. "I never saw you look
better. And you are the envy of all the girls, too. I do not wonder
at that."
Jean blushed, for she knew very well to what the woman referred.
"If they envy me, they never show it," was the cheery reply. "They are
as kind and sweet to me as can be."
"They couldn't be anything else, dear. They would give worlds to be
engaged to a young man like Dane Norwood, and to wear such a brooch as
the one he gave you. All the girls look upon him as a hero."
In order to hide her embarrassment, Jean kissed Mrs. Watson and left
the house. It was dark outside, but she did not mind this as she had
often come that same way alone at night. In fact, no sense of fear
entered her mind, for she was thinking of the words she had Just heard.
As she raised her right hand and touched the Love-Token at her throat,
a feeling of joy thrilled her heart. She recalled the day it had been
given to her, and Dane's avowal of love. To-morrow he would be with
her again, and her happiness would be complete.
She had gone but half way home when, without the slightest warning, she
was seized by strong arms, a big hand was placed over her mouth, and
she was borne bodily away. Desperately she struggled to free herself,
and made frantic attempts to call for help. But her efforts were all
in vain, for those entwining arms held her fast, and that hand still
pressed firmly her mouth. At length she ceased her struggles, for a
great terror rendered her limp and helpless. She knew that she was
being carried through the bushes toward the river. After that she
remembered no more until she found herself lying in the bottom of a
canoe which was being driven through the water at a great speed. With
a startled cry, she raised her head and looked around. Dark though it
was, she could dimly see the forms of two men swaying strongly at their
paddles.
"Where am I?" she asked in a trembling voice. "What are you going to
do with me?"
For a few seconds there was intense silence. Then the men spoke to
each other, and although Jean could not understand what was said, she
knew from the deep guttural words that her captors were Indians. After
a brief conversation, nothing more was said, and the girl had not the
heart to question further.
Her fears were now greatly increased. She had heard of people being
carried off by Indians, and tales of cruelty and insult worse than
death lingered in her mind. What was the fate in store for her? Why
had the Indians carried her off? She had not harmed them. The more
she thought, the more puzzled she became. She shivered as she sat
crouched there. The night was cold, and the wind piercing as it
whipped across the water. For protection she drew around her shoulders
a blanket which had been placed over her body when she was unconscious.
That the Indians must have done this was a faint ray of light in the
darkness of her despair. There must be some spark of feeling in their
savage hearts, at any rate. She longed to see their faces. Were they
hard and brutal, or did they exhibit some signs of friendliness? She
thought of Dane and Pete. How soon they would hasten to her assistance
if they knew of her trouble. But how would they know where she was?
She pictured the consternation of all, and the grief of her father and
Dane upon their return home. She knew how the latter would spare no
efforts to find her. And her poor father! A moan escaped her lips as
she thought of his agony of soul. She looked wildly around, but only
the blackness of night could she see. Her eyes sought the stars. How
far away and cheerless were those twinkling lights. What did they care
for her troubles?
And as she looked, there came into her mind the opening lines of one of
the psalms, "Unto Thee lift I up mine eyes, O Thou that dwellest in the
heavens." How often she had heard those words at church, but never
until now had they meant comfort and hope. They were a light to her in
her darkness. There was One who could and would help and to Him alone
she must now turn. Bowing her head, she appealed to Him, and asked Him
to watch over her, to keep her from all dangers, and to take her safely
back home.
A sense of security such as she had never before known possessed her.
A great presence seemed near, overshadowing her, and giving her a new
strength and courage. Despair was replaced by hope, and she felt that
she could face the future with confidence. No longer did the stars
seem cheerless. Instead, they were eyes smiling down upon her, telling
her to be brave, that the One who guided them in their course would not
forsake her. She determined not to lament. She would show the Indians
that a white girl could suffer and be strong.
Slowly the dawn of a new day edged into the night, and the stars faded
one by one. Jean could see her captors now quite distinctly. They
were great stalwart natives, whose faces betrayed neither friendliness
nor hostility. They never even glanced at her, but seemed entirely
bent upon their work.
As the sun was about to appear above the tree-tops, the steersman
headed the canoe for the shore. After they had landed, a small fire
was started, and a kettle containing cooked meat was placed over the
flames. Jean watched with interest all that was going on around her.
This seemed to surprise the Indians, and when she pointed to the
kettle, their faces relaxed into the faint semblance of a smile.
Presently one of the men dipped a cup into the kettle and handed it to
the girl. She took it, not without some hesitation, and after it had
cooled a little, placed it to her lips. It tasted good, so she drank
it all. The Indian next thrust a sharpened stick into the kettle, and
brought forth a piece of the partridge which he placed in her cup.
This was tender, and Jean enjoyed it as much as she did the broth. It
brought a renewal of strength to her body, and she felt less weary.
Breakfast ended, the Indians took their few dishes to the water, washed
and scoured them with sand, and left them upon a big stone for the sun
to dry. The cleanliness of these natives was a surprise to Jean, and
this touch of civilisation gave her some encouragement. She had often
heard of the uncouth Indians, but here were men who could put many
white people to shame.
For about two hours they remained there, and while the Indians dozed in
the sun, Jean walked up and down the shore, or sat upon a rock looking
out over the water. It was a beautiful morning, with not a breath of
wind astir, and the mirror-like river reflected the great trees along
its border. Where she was she had no idea. That she was some distance
inland she felt certain. But how far? Whither was she bound? and what
were the Indians going to do with her? Over and over again she vainly
asked herself these questions as she gazed pensively out over the water.
All through the morning they continued on their way, and only stopped
once to rest and to eat a hurried meal. Then on again, hour after
hour, with nothing to break the monotony of vast forests crowding to
the very shores. The river was quite narrow now, and very crooked.
This led Jean to imagine that they were nearing the headwaters of the
St. John, for never once had she suspected that they were ascending one
of its tributaries. She was weary, and her body ached from her cramped
position. It seemed an age since she had last slept in her own little
bed far away. At times during the day her eyes had closed through
drowsiness, but she had always aroused with a start. She felt that she
must keep awake until night, at least--and what then?
At length, rounding a bend, her eyes rested upon two people standing
upon the shore not far ahead. That they were Indians, a man and a
woman, she could easily tell. Her captors saw them, too, so they ran
the canoe close to where they were standing, and began to converse with
them in the native language. That they were talking about her Jean was
fully aware, for at times the woman looked at her in a manner not at
all unfriendly. They seemed to be disputing about something, and their
voices grew quite loud, and their words most emphatic.
Presently the woman stepped up close to the canoe, reached out and
touched the little brooch at the girl's throat. "Su-wan! Su-wan!" she
exclaimed. After examining it most carefully, she turned upon the
captors and addressed them in an angry manner. They merely grunted at
what she said, and pushing the canoe from the shore, once more
continued on their way. Jean longed to know what had been said, and
the meaning of the woman's sudden interest in the little arrow. She
looked back several times and saw the two still standing upon the
shore. When another bend hid them from view, a great loneliness swept
upon her. She felt that those two were friendly, and had rebuked her
captors for what they were doing.
For about another hour they pushed forward, the river becoming narrower
all the time. Suddenly before them appeared several Indian lodges,
entirely covered with great strips of birch bark. The place was
evidently deserted, for no sign of life was to be seen. Here the canoe
was run ashore, and landing made for the night.
Supper over, one of the Indians handed the captive a blanket, and
motioned to the nearest lodge. Jean understood his meaning, took the
blanket, and did as she was bidden. The lodge was empty, so placing
the blanket upon the ground, she sat down and watched the Indians
through the opening which served as a door. A few minutes later her
captors pushed off their canoe, stepped lightly on board and started
down the river. With fast-beating heart the girl watched them until
they had disappeared from view. Then a terrible feeling of desolation
came upon her. She was in the wilderness, alone, with untold dangers
surrounding her. Had they deserted her? Had the Indians brought her
there to perish? The thought was horrible. What had she done to
deserve such a fate? With straining eyes she watched the river, hoping
to see the Indians return. But night again shut down and they did not
come. Certain was she now that they had left her to die. Burying her
face in her hands, she sobbed out her grief, the first time since her
capture. She had tried to be brave, but in all her imaginings she had
never dreamed of such a fate as this.
And as she cowered there in the night, listening fearfully to every
sound around her, the canoe, bearing her two captors stole noiselessly
by, and sped onward through the darkness. The grief and loneliness of
the girl meant little to them. Their work was done, they had received
their reward, and far off around various camp fires they would relate
to their own people the tale of the pale face captive girl.