FOUND.
Mr. Taylor and Julius had reached home about twenty minutes after Mrs.
Taylor’s discovery of the disappearance of her little girl. The former
was not a little startled, when his wife, pale and with disheveled hair,
ran out to meet them.
“What is the matter, Emma?” he asked hastily.
“Oh, Ephraim, our poor child!”--and the poor mother burst into tears.
“What has happened to her? Is she sick?” he asked, anxiously.
“She’s gone.”
“Gone! What do you mean?” he asked, utterly at a loss to understand his
wife’s meaning.
“An Indian has carried her off. I shall never see her again;” and Mrs.
Taylor burst into a fresh flood of tears.
“Tell me how it all happened, as quickly as possible,” said the father.
“I don’t understand.”
After a time he succeeded in obtaining from his wife an account of the
Indian’s application, and the revenge which followed her refusal to
supply him with money.
“Oh, I wish I had given him what he asked! I would rather give all I
had, than lose my little darling. But I knew you did not want me to give
money to strangers,” sobbed Mrs. Taylor.
“You did right, Emma. Whatever the consequences, you did right. But that
is not the question now. We must immediately go in search of our lost
child. Julius, call Abner.”
Abner was at the barn, having just returned from the fields. He came
back with Julius.
“Abner,” said Mr. Taylor, after briefly explaining the case, “we will
divide. You go in one direction, and I in another. Have you got a gun?”
“Yes, Mr. Taylor.”
“Take it; you may need it. I have another.”
“Have you got one for me?” asked Julius.
“Do you know how to fire a gun?”
“Yes, sir; Abner showed me last week.”
“I am afraid even with one you would be no match for an Indian. I cannot
give you a gun, but I have a pistol in the house. You shall have that.”
“I’ll take it,” said Julius. “Perhaps I shall be the one to find
Carrie.”
“Take it, and God bless you!” said the father, as he brought out a small
pistol, and placed it in the hands of Julius. “Be prudent, and run no
unnecessary risk.”
The three started in different directions, but it chanced that Julius
had selected the right path, and, though he knew it not, was on the
track of the Indian and the lost child, while Abner and Mr. Taylor
started wrong.
There had been some delay in getting ready, and altogether the Indian
had a start of nearly an hour. On the other hand, he was incumbered with
the weight of the child, which had a tendency to diminish his speed.
Again, Julius ran a part of the way. He knew little of the Indians from
personal observation, but he had read stories of Indian adventure, and
he concluded that the captor of little Carrie would take to the woods.
He therefore struck across the fields for the very woods in which the
little girl was concealed.
He wandered about at random till chance brought him to the very tree
from behind which he caught sight of the object of his search, under the
guardianship of the sleeping Indian. His heart gave a bound of
exultation, for he saw that circumstances were favorable to her rescue.
His great fear was that when she saw him she would utter a cry of joy,
which would arouse the sleeping savage. Just at this moment, as
described in the last chapter, Carrie espied him. Fortunately she caught
his signal, and checked the rising cry of joy. She looked eagerly toward
Julius, to learn what she must do. He beckoned her to come to him. She
arose from her leafy seat cautiously, and moved, with a caution which
danger taught her, toward our hero. He had the satisfaction of taking
her hand in his, and of observing that her movements had not been heard
by her savage companion, who was so tired that he still slept.
“Come with me, Carrie,” he whispered, “and make as little noise as
possible.”
“Yes, Julius,” said the little girl, whispering in reply. “Where is
papa?”
“He came after you, too; but he did not take the right road.”
“How did you know where I was?”
“I guessed at it, and I guessed right. Don’t make any noise.”
“Yes, Julius.”
So they walked hand in hand. Julius hurried his little companion, for he
feared that the Indian would awake and pursue them. If he did so, he was
by no means sure that he could defend her. His pistol was loaded, but it
had but one barrel, and when it was discharged, he would be completely
defenseless.
“Has the Indian got a gun?” he asked, in a whisper.
“I didn’t see any,” said Carrie.
Then he felt more easy in mind. If hard pressed, he would at least be
able to fire one shot.
But there was another difficulty. He had not come directly to the place
where he had found Carrie, but had wandered about in different
directions. The result was that he didn’t know his way out of the
woods.
“Do you know which way you came, Carrie?” he asked, in some perplexity.
“No, Julius. I didn’t wake up till I was in the woods.”
“I don’t know my way. I wish I could fall in with your father or Abner.”
“What would you do if you met a lion?” asked Carrie, anxiously.
“There are no lions here.”
“The Indian said so. He said they would eat me if I ran away.”
“That was only to frighten you, and prevent your escaping.”
“Then are there no lions?”
“No, Carrie. The Indian is the worst lion there is in the woods.”
“Let us go home quick, Julius,” said Carrie, clasping his hand tighter
in her fear.
“Yes, Carrie; we will keep on as fast as we can. We will go straight. If
we keep on far enough, I am sure we must get out of the woods. But I am
afraid you will get tired.”
“No, Julius. I want to go home.”
So they kept on, Julius looking anxiously about him and behind him,
fearing that the Indian might have waked up, and even now be in pursuit
of his little captive.
He had reason for his fear. The slumbers of the savage were light, and,
though they had not been interrupted by the flight of Carrie, he roused
himself about ten minutes later. He turned slowly around, expecting to
see her sitting on the pile of leaves. Discovering that she was gone, he
sprang to his feet with a cry of rage and disappointment. He was
surprised, for he had supposed that she would be afraid to leave him.
He instantly formed the determination to get her back. Without her his
revenge would be incomplete. Besides, it would be mortifying to his
pride as a warrior that a little child should escape from him, thus
getting the better of him.
He was broad awake now, and his senses were on the alert. With Indian
quickness he tracked the footsteps of the little girl to the tree. Thus
far it seemed that she had run away without assistance. But at this
point he found another trail. He stooped over, and carefully scrutinized
the track made by our young hero, and it helped him to a conclusion.
“Boy,” he muttered. “Small foot. Come when Indian sleep. No matter. Me
catch him.”
A white man would have obtained no clew to guide him in the pursuit of
the fugitives; but the Indian’s practiced skill served him. With his
eyes upon the ground, marking here a print, and there a slight pressure
on the scattered leaves, he kept on his way, sure of success.