I was in time, but where was she? From my new position I had a still
better view of the camp, its fires, and its denizens. She was nowhere
to be seen!
"In the lodge, then--she must certainly be there--or--"
A new suspicion occurred to me: "She may be kept apart from the other
captives?--in the copse--she may be concealed in the copse until the
sentence be pronounced?"
This last conjecture brought along with it hopes and resolves. I
determined to search the copse. If I should find her there, my emprise
would be easy indeed; at all events, easier than I had anticipated.
Though guarded by the savages, I should rescue her from their grasp.
The lives of six men--perhaps twice that number--were under my belt.
The odds of unarmed numbers would be nothing against the deadly bullets
from my revolvers, and I perceived too that most of the savages had laid
aside their weapons, confident in the security of their camp.
But I might find her alone, or perhaps with but a single jailer. The
meeting of the council favoured the supposition. The men would all be
there--some to take part--others interested in the result, or merely
from curiosity to watch the proceedings. Yes, _all_ of them would have
an interest in the issue--too surely all. The barbarous customs of
these savage brutes at that moment came to my remembrance!
I stayed no longer to reflect; but gliding into the grove, commenced my
search for the captive.
The ground was favourable to my progress: there was not much underwood,
and the trees grew thinly; I could easily pass amongst them without the
necessity of crouching, and without making noise. The silent tread of
the moccasin was in my favour, as also the dark shadowy foliage that
stretched overhead, hiding the sky from my view.
The chief timber of the copse was the pecan hickory--almost an
evergreen--and the trees were still in full leaf; only here and there,
where the trunks stood far apart, did the moonbeams strike through the
thick frondage. The surface of the ground was shrouded from her light;
and the narrow aisles through which I passed were as dark as if no moon
had been shining.
There was still light enough to reveal some horrid scenes. O Heaven! my
heart bleeds at the remembrance.
I was wrong in my conjectures. The men had not _all_ gone to the
council; the captive women were not _all_ by the camp-fires. I beheld
ruffian men beside their helpless victims--women--fair white women--with
drooping heads and listless air--dishevelled weeping! O Heaven! my
heart bleeds at the remembrance!
It recoiled at the sight--it burned with indignation. At every turn did
it prompt me to draw knife or pistol; at every step my fingers itched to
immolate a hideous paint-besmeared brute--to slay a "noble" savage.
I was restrained only by my own desperate situation--by my apprehensions
for the safety of Isolina, now more acute than ever. What horrid
imaginings crowded into my brain, begot by the barbarous scenes that
were being enacted around me!
The monsters, too earnestly occupied with their captives, took no heed
of me; and I passed on without interruption.
I threaded the pathways of the grove one after another, gliding through
as rapidly as the path would permit; I entered every aisle and glade; I
sought everywhere, even to the farthest limits of the wood. I saw more
men--more weeping women--more red ruffianism; I saw nought of her for
whom I searched.
"In the tent then--_she must be there_."
I turned my face towards the lodge; and, moving with stealthy step, soon
arrived among the trees that stood in the rear.
I halted near the edge; and, separating the leaves with my hands, peered
cautiously through. I had no need to search further--Isolina was before
my eyes.