A BRAVE GIRL CAPTIVE
For two weeks after leaving the Niagara river Cuyler's boat brigade
made its way slowly but steadily westward, along the northern,
forest-covered shore of Lake Erie. Except for an occasional day of
rain, when the expedition remained comfortably in camp, the weather was
perfect, and nothing occurred to disturb the peace or enjoyment of the
long voyage. Its only drawback lay in the monotony of water and
forest, unrelieved by a sign of human presence, that constantly
surrounded them.
As one of the last days of May drew toward its perfect close, two of
the occupants of the leading boat reclined beneath a small awning and
watched in silence the western splendor of the waning day,--that
wonderful spectacle which is never twice the same and whose
incomparable glories never grow stale by repetition. The elder of the
two was Madam Rothsay, whose placid face indexed the kindly nature that
could not refuse the pleadings of a loved one, even when they were for
the undertaking of so wild an expedition as the present.
"Is it not exquisite, aunty?" finally exclaimed the younger of the two,
a girl of eighteen, whose blue eyes and fair hair were strikingly
contrasted with the warm tintings of a face on which sun and wind had
plied their magic arts for many days.
"Yes, dear, it is indeed exquisite, and so wonderfully peaceful,"
replied Madam Rothsay.
"That is the one thing I object to," laughed the girl. "It is all so
stupidly peaceful that I am getting tired of it, and long for a bit of
excitement."
"But my dear Edith, if Sir Jeffry had not assured me that every portion
of this journey might be made through a country that was perfectly
peaceful, I should have never consented to undertake it. Besides, I
thought you were quite tired of the excitements and gayety of New York.
You certainly said so."
"Yes, so I was. That is, I was so tired of the stupid men one had so
constantly to meet that I longed to get away to some place where they
would not dare follow."
"I agree with you, my dear, that most of them were very stupid. There
was Ensign Christie, for instance, who--"
"Now, aunty! you know I didn't mean him, or the men like him, who had
done splendid things, and were just aching for a chance to do more.
Besides, I am sure that if Mr. Christie had been possessed of the
slightest desire to follow us, we could not have found any place in all
the world where he would not dare venture. I meant such creatures as
that absurd little paymaster, who talked about a stupid tub he had
invented, until I couldn't help asking him why he didn't follow the
example of the three wise men of Gotham and sail away in it."
"What did he answer?"
"Said he believed his old tub was quite seaworthy, and that he should
be perfectly willing to undertake a voyage in it, provided it would
lead him to me. Oh, he was so silly, and so pompous, and so conceited,
and so spick and span! He is the most immaculate creature you ever
saw, and was great fun for a while. Then he got to be such a desperate
bore that I simply couldn't endure him any longer; and so, here we are."
"But I thought your sole reason for wanting to come out here was to see
your father and Donald, and give them a joyful surprise."
"Of course, you dear goosey, that was the most chiefest of my reasons,
as Willy Shakespeare would say, and I do so long to see them that it
seems as though I couldn't wait until to-morrow evening. You said we
would be there by this time to-morrow, you remember, Mr. Cuyler, and a
promise is a promise, you know."
"I did say so, Miss Edith, and I think I may safely repeat my promise,
provided we make camp a little later than usual this evening, and get
started again by daylight to-morrow morning," answered the middle-aged
lieutenant, who sat just back of the ladies and steered the boat. "Yon
far-reaching land," he continued, "is Point Pelee, and from there the
fort is only about twenty-five miles away."
"Then to-night's camp is to be our last," reflected Edith, soberly.
"Well, I must confess that for some reasons I am sorry. I have so
enjoyed the glorious camp-fires, and the singing, and the stories, and
the stars, and the ripple of the water on the beach, and the
sweet-scented balsam beds, and everything; haven't you, aunty?"
"Yes, dear. I suppose I have," replied Madam Rothsay. "But I am not
sure that I shall not enjoy quite as much a substantial roof over my
head, sitting at a regularly appointed table, and sleeping between
sheets once more; for I take it such things are to be had, even in
Detroit, are they not, Mr. Cuyler?"
"Yes, indeed, madam," replied the lieutenant. "You will find there all
the necessities, as well as many of the luxuries of civilization; for
Detroit is quite a metropolis, I assure you."
"Just fancy!" exclaimed Edith, "a metropolis buried a month deep in the
wilderness. And I suppose the officers get up dances and receptions
and excursions and boating parties, or something of that kind, very
often?"
"All the time; and if they are not enjoying some of those things at
this very minute, it is only because they await your coming to crown
their festivities with completeness."
"Nonsense! They don't know we are coming."
"I beg your pardon, but Major Gladwyn was notified some months ago that
he might expect the arrival of this expedition some time about the
first of June."
"The expedition, yes; but us, no. We are to appear as a delightful
surprise, you know. Oh dear! what fun it will be! By the way, Mr.
Cuyler, are there many pretty girls in this forest metropolis?"
"I believe some of the native young ladies, both French and Indian, are
considered quite attractive," replied the lieutenant, evasively.
"Oh, squaws! But they don't count, you know. I mean English or
American girls."
"Do you make a distinction between the two?"
"Certainly. Aunty, here, is English, and I am American. Don't you
notice a difference between us?" answered Miss Audacity, saucily.
"I can only note that each is more charming in her own way than the
other," replied the lieutenant, gallantly.
Conversation was interrupted at this moment by the appearance of a
beach suitable for a landing, and the heading of the boat toward it. A
minute later it was run ashore, and the ladies were helped carefully
out, while the remaining bateaux were beached on either side in quick
succession.
A scene of orderly confusion immediately followed, as camp equipage of
every description was taken from the boats and carried to the place
where axemen were already at work clearing away underbrush or cutting
wood for the fires. Every one was in the highest of spirits, and the
gloomy forest rang with shouts and laughter; for was not this the last
camp? and would not the morrow witness the completion of their arduous
journey?
While their own little tent was being erected, the ladies, according to
their custom, sought relief from the cramped positions and long
confinement of the boat in a brisk walk up the beach. The darkening
shadows warned them not to go as far as usual, and at the end of a few
hundred yards they turned to retrace their steps.
Suddenly, without the warning of a sound to indicate a human presence,
they were surrounded by half a dozen dusky forms, that seemed to spring
from the very earth, their half-uttered cries were smothered by rude
hands clapped over their mouths, and before they realized what had
happened they were being hurried at a breathless pace through the
blackness of the forest.
They were not taken far, but on the edge of a small glade, or natural
opening, were allowed to sink at the foot of two trees, standing a yard
or so apart. To these they were securely bound, and then, as
mysteriously as they had appeared, their captors left them. So far as
the terrified women could judge from the evidence of their senses, the
forest was unpeopled save by themselves, though from the lake shore
they could still hear the cheerful shouts of those engaged in preparing
Cuyler's camp.
"Oh, my dear child! my poor dear child!" moaned the elder woman; "what
does it all mean? Oh, it is too terrible! Too awful!"
"Hush, aunty," answered the girl. "We are in the hands of the savages,
and God alone knows what our fate is to be. At any rate, we must keep
clear-headed, and not give way to our feelings. I am thinking of those
poor, unsuspecting men. If we could only warn them, they might be able
to defend themselves, and possibly help us afterwards. Don't you think
if we should both scream together that they would hear us?"
"Edith, child! are you crazy? We should be instantly killed. Not a
sound, as you value your life!"
"I must, aunty. I should be ashamed to live if I failed to do the one
thing of which I am capable."
With this the brave girl lifted her voice in a shrill cry for help,
that echoed far and wide through the dim aisles of the forest; but it
was too late, for at the same moment there came a crashing volley,
mingled with savage yells, that announced an attack on the devoted camp.