"And then to mark the lord of all,
The forest hero, trained to wars,
Quivered and plumed, and lithe and tall,
And seamed with glorious scars."
BRYANT.
Ralph, as we have said, bore his fainting burden into the hut and the
Tuscarora, having secured the frightened horses, at once hastened to his
assistance. Ruth, in a few moments, became partially restored; and a
blush lit up the pallor of her countenance, as she found herself
sustained in the arms of Ralph. Partially withdrawing from his support,
she said:
"You must be astonished, Captain Weston, that a woodman's daughter had
so little fortitude as to be unable to withstand the ordinary perils of
her condition. I almost feel that I owe you an apology."
"You have no reason to be ashamed of your want of fortitude, Miss
Barton," answered Ralph. "The courage with which you endured that
terrible ride was amazing. You have more, much more, than sustained your
reputation as a woodman's daughter."
Ralph now, for the first time, observed the Tuscarora, who was standing
silently before him leaning upon his rifle. The Indian was of little
more than medium height, and straight as an arrow. His form was rather
slight than otherwise, but was fully developed, and gave evidence of
great agility and strength. His countenance was open and frank; and in
his present attitude of repose, one would not have thought that he
possessed those peculiar qualities of the Indian, which we are apt to
associate with our recollections of that rapidly wasting race. He looked
like a true lord of the forest,--cold and impassive in demeanor,--but
concealing beneath that grave exterior a fountain of terrible passions.
He had not yet passed the age of "youth," for not more than thirty
times, to him, had the leaves of autumn fallen; yet his youth seemed
extinguished in the gravity of the warrior.
Ralph could not resist a feeling of admiration at the well-built frame
and noble countenance of the Tuscarora; and advancing towards him, he
grasped him by the hand.
"Tuscarora," said he, "you have this night rendered this young lady and
myself a service, for which we shall ever be grateful; you have
preserved our lives."
The Indian, with a modest gesture, seemed to disclaim the gratitude
which Ralph so freely expressed--then quietly said:
"Tuscarora friend to the colony pale-face--me no Kings Injin--me do my
duty to friend. Young people careless--all heart--no eyes--no mind
wolves;--me know--me waited for 'em."
"I did not know," said Ralph, "that the wolves of this section ever
attacked men."
"No often; but get hungry sometimes--then ugly--then must look out. Hear
that?"
Since our travelers had entered their place of safety, the forest seemed
to be alive with the unearthly howls of the beasts, whose din increased
at the loss of their prey. They had rushed up to the sides of the hut;
and, as the Tuscarora answered Ralph, a number of them had evidently
leaped against the door and the sides of the building with a savage
ferocity.
"Me have fun, now," said the Tuscarora, advancing towards one of the
numerous loop-holes of the hut, which had been made by its builder for
its defence. "Me shoot--give 'em something to howl for."
His rifle was discharged, and for a moment, the din outside completely
ceased; but as the pack saw one of their number fall, their cries
increased in ferocity, until they became almost deafening. Ralph
advanced to one of the loop-holes, and looked out upon the savage crowd
of beasts, which seemed determined to besiege them into a surrender. As
well as he could observe in the moonlight, there appeared to be forty or
fifty of them, standing before and prowling about the hut, with their
faces upturned--and their eyes gleaming like balls of fire.
The North American wolf is naturally a cowardly animal; and never, when
alone, dares to attack a man. The animal has become, in the section of
country of which we are now writing, entirely extinct. Mean, thievish,
cowardly in disposition, they always fled from an encounter with a human
creature, except when frenzied with hunger, and gathered in large packs.
At such times, they become extremely dangerous; yet, even then, any
resistance which seemed able to withstand their attack, at once
disconcerted them.
The Indian again loaded his rifle, and again it was discharged. Another
wolf was killed; and although they still kept up their clamor, they
began to retreat to a distance from an enemy who had so much advantage
of them.
"Wolf run," said the Tuscarora; "wolf no like rifle--they got no
heart--cowards!" and, as if he disdained the firing upon so mean a foe,
after reloading his rifle, he came towards Ralph, and quietly sat down
on a rough bench by the side of the hut.
"Wolf run away," said he--"they gone soon--then you go home."
"We have our lives to thank you for, Tuscarora," said Ruth, with a look
of gratitude, "and my father will always be glad to welcome you to the
cottage. Will you not return with us?"
"Not now--may be by-'m-by."
"Is your nation in this territory now?" asked Ralph.
"Me got no nation," said the Indian, sorrowfully. "Tuscaroras once
great--away south. Then had great many warriors--then they great
nation--but most all gone, now."
"Are not your people and the Oneidas brethren?"
"Oneidas are brothers--love Oneidas."
"Why are you here in this section alone, Tuscarora, with none of your
brethren near you?" abruptly asked Ralph.
The Indian looked at him steadily for a moment, and then replied:
"My young friend is wise. The white men all ask questions--no good for
Injin to answer questions;" and he fell into a gloomy and listless
posture, and refused, for the time, to hold any further conversation.
The silence of the Tuscarora was somewhat embarrassing to Ralph; and he
again went towards the loop-holes to reconnoitre the present position of
the enemy. The howls had almost entirely ceased; and what few were
heard, seemed to be twenty-five or thirty rods distant. Just as he
reached the loop-hole, he heard a rifle discharged on the outside, and a
voice which he recognized as that of Ichabod, which made the woods ring
again with a loud halloo.
The Indian started abruptly from his seat, and both he and Ralph
advanced towards the door. On opening it, they discovered at the
distance of ten rods three men who were rapidly approaching the hut. As
they came from among the shadows of the trees into the bright moonlight,
which lay in the small opening in front of the hut, Ralph recognized
Barton and Ichabod accompanied by the negro.
The moment they were discovered by the party, Barton ran towards Ralph,
exclaiming, "Is she safe, Ralph--is she safe?"
Scarcely was the question asked, before Ruth was in her father's arms.
"God bless thee, girl," said he; "I hardly dared hope ever to see thee
again," and the tears rolled down his manly face.
"For this joy, my father, we have to thank this good Indian here. He it
was who saved us."
The Indian, during this scene, had silently withdrawn into a deep shadow
which fell by the side of the hut. There he stood, leaning upon his
rifle, seemingly as passionless and unconcerned as the shadow within
which he stood.
Barton went up to him, and grasped him by the hand. "You have this day,"
said he, "in rescuing my daughter, saved both her life and my own. How
can I thank you?"
The Tuscarora remained unmoved. "No thanks," said he. "The Great Spirit
smiles when his children do their duty. Tuscarora likes colony
pale-face. The Great Spirit sent me here--thank him, not poor
Tuscarora."
"You say right, Tuscarora. God hath preserved my child this day. To Him
be thanks, who taketh and giveth."
Scarcely had the first sound issued from the mouth of the Tuscarora,
when Ichabod rapidly approached him. The Indian gave him a glance of
recognition, and silently took his hand.
"Eagle's Wing, as I live!" exclaimed he. "Glad to see you again, old
friend. I haven't seen you since we were down here on that last
war-path."
Canendesha, as the Tuscarora was named by his own people, bore also the
name of Eagle's Wing, which had been bestowed upon him not only for his
boldness in fight, but for the keenness and rapidity with which he
followed the trail of an enemy. When he heard himself thus called by his
name of honor, he drew himself up with pride as he replied:
"Three summers and winters have destroyed the marks of the war-path. I
have dwelt in the wigwams of my people, and near by the fires of the
Oneidas."
In the meantime Barton had approached Ralph, and testified scarcely less
joy at his deliverance than he had at that of Ruth. Ichabod and Eagle's
Wing had withdrawn still further from observation into the shadow.
"Eagle's Wing," said Ichabod, imitating the language of the Tuscarora,
"is wise. He dwells in peace in the wigwams of his people. But why is he
here--two days' march from his friends?"
The Indian remained silent for a few moments. At length he replied:
"I am in the hunting grounds of my people. The heart of Eagle's Wing is
filled with peace."
"Yes, yes, old friend," said Ichabod, resuming his usual manner of
expression. "You and I have been on a good many warpaths together. I
know a Tuscarora and Oneida just as well as I know a Seneca or Mohawk. I
know your people are gentlemen born, and I know them others are
reptiles. You can't deceive _me_, Eagle's Wing--you are on a trail?"
"The eyes of my brother are keen--he has followed the war-path. Has he
crossed the trail of an enemy?"
The Indian uttered this with a countenance so unmoved, and with such an
expression of sincerity, that Ichabod began to think the Tuscarora had
nothing to conceal from him. He said, however, in reply:
"I know your heart is true, Eagle's Wing; but I rather thought, at
first, you might be following up some devil of a Seneca. But them
varmints have left these parts, I s'pose."
"My brother is wise," softly replied the Tuscarora, but at the same time
with a quiet expression of victory in the glance which he cast towards
Ichabod. The glance was not unnoticed, and the latter at once saw that
his original suspicions were correct. But he knew it would be useless to
press the Tuscarora with questions. He said to him, however, in a tone
that convinced the Indian that Ichabod was not deceived:
"Well, old friend, you and I have been brothers in harder times than
these; and if you need the help of this rifle here, which is an old
acquaintance of your'n, I shall take it in dudgeon if you don't call on
me."
The Indian still remained unmoved; but Ichabod could see that the offer
was kindly received.
At this moment, Barton approached, and invited the Tuscarora to
accompany him to his dwelling. "You will always be welcome there, and I
hope I may have many opportunities to testify to you my gratitude."
The Tuscarora courteously declined the invitation for the present, and
the party prepared to depart. The horses were led out, and the party
proceeded towards the cottage, while Eagle's Wing, remained as long as
he could be observed, still leaning upon his rifle in front of the hut.
The party journeyed for some distance without conversation, until Ralph
at length asked Ichabod, who seemed to be much less talkative than
usual, how they who were at the cottage had so soon learned the danger
which Ruth and he were in, from the pursuit of the wolves.
"Learn!" answered Ichabod. "Why, you see the old Squire, 'long towards
dusk, began to get considerable uneasy, from some cause or other--either
because he had heard more about them infarnal varmints, lately, than he
chose to tell, or else because Sambo teazed him until he ra'ally thought
you was in some danger; and so he proposed to me to walk with him along
down the road, until we met you. We'd got in just about a mile of that
shanty, when we heard the yells of them pestiferous cre'turs. I tell
you, Captain, them would have been tough customers to have come to a
close fight with."
"I was entirely unarmed," said Ralph, "but I had no reason to expect
meeting an enemy of any kind; and least of all did I suppose we should
run any danger from such an enemy."
"Them varmints," replied Ichabod, "when they've once had a taste of
human blood, are as hungry for it as Senecas are for scalps--_con_-found
'em."
"I know the prevalent opinion in some portions of Europe--in Germany,
for instance, of the ferocity of wolves. There is an old superstition of
Weird-wolves, of which I have heard."
Ralph explained, by giving an account of this peculiar superstition. In
Germany, and in the Netherlands, and in some other portions of Europe,
the opinion had been prevalent among the people, that there were certain
sorcerers, who, having anointed their bodies with ointment, the
preparation of which, they had learned from the devil, and having put on
an enchanted girdle, so long as they wore it, appeared, to the eyes of
others, like wolves; and who possessed the same ferocity and appetite
for human blood, as the animals they were believed to resemble. A large
number of persons in these countries had been executed, who were
supposed to be guilty of that offence. They were generally known as
Weird-wolves.
This popular superstition, indeed, has survived in some portions of
Europe, until this day. In the "Arabian Night's Entertainments," the
unhappy subjects of this superstition were denominated "ghouls," but in
the west they were known by the name we have already mentioned. A
circumstance occurred in Paris, in 1849, which seemed to throw more
light upon the nature of this superstition, and to prove indeed, that
there was a pretty good foundation for the popular belief. Like the
delusion under which many of those unhappy persons labored in the days
of the "Salem witchcraft," who really believed themselves to be what
their judges pronounced them, so these Weird-wolves were undoubtedly
insane persons, who fancied themselves possessed of the wolfish form and
nature.
"I have heard," said Barton, who now joined in the conversation, "of
many instances in our northern settlements, where people have been
attacked by these animals; but, although it is a frequent occurrence for
them to disturb the whole country about here with their howls by night,
I had never apprehended any such danger from them. But we ought to be
thankful that there is no worse enemy about here."
Ichabod, whose mind, ever since his conversation with the Tuscarora, had
been occupied with thoughts that did not seem very agreeable to him,
started at this remark, and said, slowly--
"Well, squire, I hope you mayn't be able to change that last remark of
your'n by to-morrow this time."
Ralph, who knew Ichabod well enough to know that however unsafe his
opinion might be upon subjects relating to moneymaking, yet that, upon
all the perils and dangers incident to a forest life, he possessed an
excellent judgment, with some anxiety asked him for an explanation.
The whole party had caught the alarm; and Ichabod, with a mixture of
pride at finding himself in such an important position, and of sorrow at
the information he felt bound to communicate, answered--
"You see, Eagle's-Wing and I are old friends. We've _fout_ many a battle
agin them cussed Senecas and Onondagas; and I reckon I know an Injin,
and can read him through pretty tolerably easy. Now Eagle's-Wing isn't
down here for nothing; and though his Injin blood wouldn't let him tell
me what kind of speculation he _is_ on, yet I know he's on a trail of
some sort. You can always tell an Injin when he's after an enemy."
"But _what_ enemy," asked Barton, "can he be pursuing in this direction?
There can be no large body of hostile Indians in these forests; for
Guthrie, who is a woodsman, and who would at once have discovered the
fact, would have communicated the intelligence to us. I think there can
be no ground for apprehension."
"I don't know about that, Squire," replied Ichabod, "but I'm sure
something's in the wind; and if you take my advice, you'll prepare for
defence. As for Guthrie, as you call him, _you_ know best about _him_;
he's got a miserable, hang-dog face, any way."
Although there was much plausibility in the opinion of Barton and
Ichabod's apprehensions did not seem to be well-grounded, yet Ralph, who
knew that Ichabod had not given this advice without reflection, also
advised Barton at once to take means of defense against any attack which
might be made upon the cottage.
Barton yielded to the solicitations of Ralph and Ichabod; and the party
having arrived at the cottage, Sambo was at once despatched to drive in
the cattle into an enclosure which had been constructed upon the west
side of the house. This yard was guarded upon all sides by an enclosure
of logs some ten or twelve feet in height, and had been prepared
expressly for the purpose for which it was now used. Its construction
had been deemed necessary by Barton for the purpose of protecting his
cattle in case of an attack by Indians, as well as to protect them from
wolves or bears, which were occasionally seen prowling around the
premises.
The house itself, as we have before remarked, was adapted for defence
against any outward attack from such means of warfare as Indians would
be likely to attempt. The outside doors were heavy, and were secured by
strong bars, which would resist any ordinary force that might be applied
to them. The windows in the lower story were fitted with strong blinds,
which it would be impossible to remove from the outside. In the second
story, the windows were guarded by long hickory bars which had been
morticed into the logs, while loop-holes had been provided, through
which an attack might be repelled.
The house was put into a complete state of defense. The rifles were all
loaded, and placed in a position where they could be readily obtained,
in case they should be needed. Thus prepared, the family at length
retired to rest, the negro having been ordered to keep watch during the
night.