Day dawned brightly and clearly over the wild woods, the green
savannahs, the streams, the lakes, and mountains that lay between
Horicon, or Lake George, and the small chain of Indian lakes. The
advanced party of the Oneidas were up, and bustling with the earliest
beam--bustling, but in their quiet manner. All were actively clearing
away every trace of their sojourn from the face of the savannah as far
as possible, and preparing to betake themselves to the shade of the
neighbouring woods; but Sister Bab was still sound asleep.
Amongst those who have travelled much over that part of the country,
there may be some who remember a beautiful and rich green meadow,
extending for about a third of a mile from its inland extremity to the
shores of Horicon. It has now--and it is not much altered since the
time I speak of--a sloping ground, well covered with wood, to the
northward of this grassy plot; and on the south is, a rocky but still
well-wooded bank, in which several small caves are to be observed.
In one of these caves lay the negress, on the morning I have just
mentioned; and though the Indians moved about in different directions,
and removed a large iron pot of European workmanship which had been
placed near the entrance of the cavern, the good woman, in the sleep
of fatigue and exhaustion, showed no sign whatever of waking.
Few had been the explanations which she had given on the preceding
night. She was too weary to indulge in her usual loquacity; and the
Indian sat quietly before her, after having supplied all that she
required, seeing her eat and drink, but putting no questions.
Now, however, he approached the hollow in the rock; and, after gazing
at her for an instant as she lay, he moved her with his moccassined
foot. She started up and rubbed her eyes, looking round with evident
wonder; but the Indian said,--
"Get up, and follow into the woods, if thou wouldst see the Black
Eagle. We must leave the ground that has no shadow, now that the day
has come."
"Ah me!" cried Sister Bab, "what shall I do for my poor Missy? She is
a prisoner with the French, not more than a few miles hence; and, what
is worse still, the Woodchuck is with her, and all our people said he
was going to give himself up to save Massa Walter."
Quietly and deliberately, the Indian seated himself on the ground, and
remained silent for a moment or two. He then asked, without the
slightest appearance of interest,--
"Where is the daughter of Prevost? Is she at the castle of the
Sounding Waters?"
Sister Bab replied, "No;" and, as far as she could describe it,
explained to her companion where Edith was, and gave him no very
inaccurate notion of the sort of field-work on which she had stumbled
the night before. Still not a muscle of the man's face moved; and he
merely uttered a sort of hum at this intelligence, sitting for full
two minutes without uttering a word.
"What can we do, brother, to save them?" asked Sister Bab at length,
"I don't think there's any danger either to Missy or Massa Woodchuck,
because the young man in the blue coat seemed very civil; but then, if
Massa Woodchuck not get away, your people will kill Massa Walter. For
six months will be over very soon."
"Six moons have grown big and small since the Black Eagle spoke," said
the Indian gravely; "but we will see whether there be not a trail the
prisoners can tread. You must get up quickly, and walk before me,
but without noise, to where you left them like a cloud upon the
mountain-side."
"It's a long way," said the poor woman; "and my feet are all cut and
torn with yesterday's ramble."
"We will give thee moccassins," answered the Indian. "The way is not
long, even to the house of the Sounding Waters, if you keep the trail
straight. Thou must show me, if thou wouldst save Prevost's daughter.
Her fate is a toppling stone upon the edge of a precipice. A wind will
blow it down. The French Hurons do not spare women. Come, get thee up;
eat, and talk not. I must know this place, and that quickly."
The last words were spoken somewhat sternly; and Sister Bab rose up,
and followed to one of the little groups of Indians, where she seated
herself again, and ate some cakes of maize and dried deer's-flesh,
while the chief who had been speaking with her held a consultation
with several of the other warriors. Not much time was allowed her for
her meal, for in less than five minutes she was called upon to lead
the way; and, followed by a party of five Indians, she proceeded for a
mile or two, till they reached a spot where the trail divided into
two. She was about to take the left-hand path, knowing that it was the
one which she had followed on the preceding night; but the chief
commanded her in a low voice to turn her steps upon the other, adding,
"We shall come upon thy foot-prints again speedily."
So indeed it proved, for she had wandered during the night far from
the direct course; and after walking on for some ten minutes, they cut
into the former path again, where, to Indian eyes, the traces of a
negro foot were very apparent.
Twice the same thing occurred; and thus the distance was shortened to
nearly one-half of that which she had travelled on the preceding night
between the little masked redoubt of the French and the Indian
camping-place.
At length, the objects which Sister Bab saw around her gave warning
that she was approaching the spot of which they were in search. From
time to time Mount Defiance was seen towering up on the right, and the
character of the shrubs and trees was changed. The first hint sufficed
to make the Indians adopt much greater precautions than those which
they had previously used. They spread wide from the trail, the chief
leading Sister Bab with him; and slowly and noiselessly they pursued
their way, taking advantage of every tree and every rock to hide
behind and gaze around.
Before five minutes more were over, Sister Bab paused suddenly, and
pointed forward. The Indian gazed in silence. To an unpractised eye,
nothing would have been apparent to excite the slightest suspicion of
a neighbouring enemy; but some of the pine branches of what seemed a
low copse in front, were a shade yellower than the other trees.
Besides, they did not take the forms of young saplings. They were
rounder, less taper, without leaving shoot or peak.
A grin came upon the Indian's countenance; and pointing with his
finger to the ground, he seemed, without words, to direct the negress
to remain exactly on the same spot where she stood behind a great
butternut-tree. He then looked round him for his companions; but their
movements were well combined and understood. Though at some distance
from each other, each eye from time to time had been turned towards
him as they advanced; and the moment it was perceived that he stopped,
each of the others stopped also. His raised hand brought them all
creeping quietly towards him; and then, after a few whispered words,
each Indian sank down upon the ground, and, creeping along like a
snake, disappeared amongst the bushes.
Sister Bab found her situation not altogether pleasant. The slightest
possible rustle in the leaves was heard as her red companions
disappeared; but then all sounds ceased, except from time to time when
the wind, which had risen a little, bore her some murmurs from the
redoubt, as if of voices speaking. Once she caught a few notes of a
merry air, whistled by lips that were probably soon after doomed to
everlasting silence. But that was all she heard, and the stillness
grew oppressive to her.
After waiting for a moment or two, she sought a deeper shelter than
the butternut-tree afforded, and crept amongst some thick shrubs at
the foot of a large oak. She thought her Indian companions would never
return; but at length one of the red men looked out from the bushes,
and then another; and both gazed around as if in search of her.
Following their example, she crept forth; and the chief, approaching,
beckoned her away without speaking.
When far enough off to be quite certain that no sound of voices
could reach the redoubt, he stopped suddenly and gazed in her face,
saying,--
"You love the daughter of the pale-face; you followed her where there
was danger; will you go where there is no danger, to bear her the
words of warning?"
"I will go anywhere to do her any good," answered the woman warmly. "I
am not afraid of danger. I had enough of it yesterday to make me
careless of it, to-day."
"Well, then," said the chief, "thou seest this trail to the left;
follow it till it crosses another. Then turn to the right on the one
it crosses--it is a broad trail, thou canst not miss it. It will lead
thee straight into the Frenchman's ambush. They will not hurt thee.
Ask for the daughter of the pale-face Prevost. Tell them thou hast
passed the night in the woods seeking for her, and they will let thee
stay with her. Tell her she shall have deliverance before the sun has
set to-morrow; but bid her, when she hears the war-whoop and the shot
of the rifle, to cast herself down flat on the ground beneath the
earth-heap, if she be near at the time. She knows the Oneida people;
she can tell their faces from the Hurons, though the war-paint be
bright upon them. She need not fear them. Tell her secretly when no
one hears; and what I tell her to do, do thou, if thou wouldst save
thy life."
"But," suggested Bab, with more foresight than the Indian, "perhaps
they will not keep her there till to-morrow. They may send her into the
fort--most likely will."
"Bid her stay, bid her stay," said the chief; "if they force her away,
I have no arm to hold her. Go on. I have said."
The negress shook her head, as if much doubting the expediency of the
plan proposed; but she obeyed without further remonstrance; and
walking on upon the little narrow path which the Indian had pointed
out, she reached, in about a quarter of an hour, the broader trail,
along which Edith had been taken on the preceding night. Turning to
the right, as directed, she followed it with slow and somewhat
hesitating steps, till suddenly a sharp turn brought her in sight of
two sentinels, pacing backwards and forwards, and a group of Indians
seated on the ground round a fire, cooking their food. Then she halted
abruptly, but she was already seen: and, receiving no answer to his
challenge, one of the sentinels presented his musket, as if to fire.
At the same moment a voice exclaimed in French, "What's that--what's
that?" and a man in the garb of a soldier, but unarmed, came forward
and spoke to her.
She could make no reply, for she did not understand a word he said;
and, taking her by the wrist, the man led her into the redoubt, saying
to a sentinel, with a laugh,--
"It's only a black woman; did you take her for a bear?"
The next instant poor Bab beheld her young mistress quietly seated on
the ground, with a pure white tablecloth spread before her, and all
the appurtenances of a breakfast-table, though not the table itself;
while the officer she had seen in the redoubt the night before was
applying himself assiduously to supply her with all she wanted. In a
moment the good woman had shaken her wrist free from the man who held
it; and, darting forward, she caught Edith's hand, and smothered it
with kisses.
Great was Edith's joy and satisfaction to see poor Bab still in life.
It was soon explained to the French officer who she was, and how she
came thither. But the object of her coming had nearly been frustrated
before she had time to explain to her young mistress the promised
rescue; for, ere she had been half an hour within the works, a
non-commissioned officer from Ticonderoga appeared with a despatch for
the commander of the party, who at once proposed to send the young
lady and her dark attendant, under the officer's charge, to the
fortress, expressing gallantly his regret to lose the honour and
pleasure of her society, but adding that it would be for her
convenience and safety.
The suggestion was made before he opened the despatch, and Edith
eagerly caught at a proposal which seemed to offer relief from a very
unpleasant situation. But as soon as the captain had seen the contents
of his letter, his views were changed, and he explained to his young
prisoner that, for particular reasons, the commander-in-chief thought
it best that there should be as little passing to and fro, during the
period of daylight, between the fortress and the redoubt, as possible.
He would therefore, he said, be obliged to inform his superior
officer, in the first place, of her being there, and of the
circumstances in which she had fallen under his protection, as he
termed it; adding that probably after nightfall, when the same
objections would not exist, he would receive instructions as to what
was to be done both with herself and companions, and with the Indians
in whose power he had found her.
He then sat down to write a reply to the despatch he had received, and
occupied fully half an hour in its composition, during which time all
that sister Bab had to say was spoken. The very name of the Oneidas,
however, awakened painful memories in Edith's breast; and,
notwithstanding all the assurances she had received from Otaitsa, her
heart sank at the thought of poor Walter's probable fate. She turned
her eyes towards Woodchuck, who had refused to take any breakfast, and
sat apart under a tree, not far from the spot where Apukwa and his
companions, kept in sight constantly by a sentinel, were gathered
round their cooking-fire. His attitude was the most melancholy that
can be conceived; his eyes were fixed upon the ground, his head
drooping, his brow heavy and contracted, and his hands clasped
together on his knee. Edith moved quietly towards him, and seated
herself near, saying,--
"What is the matter, my good friend?" She then added, in a low voice,
"I have some pleasant news for you."
Woodchuck shook his head sadly, but made no answer; and Edith
continued seeking to cheer him.
"The poor negro woman," added she, "who was with me when we were
attacked, escaped the savages, it seems, and has brought an intimation
that, before to-morrow's sunset, we shall be set free by a large party
of the Oneidas."
"It is too late, my dear, it is too late!" ejaculated Woodchuck,
pressing his hands tight together; "too late to do anything for your
poor brother; it was him I was thinking of."
"But there are still four or five days of the time," said Edith,
"and----"
"I've been a fool, Miss Prevost," interrupted Woodchuck bitterly; "and
there's no use concealing it from you. I have mistaken moons for
months. The man who brought me the news of what that stern old devil,
Black Eagle, had determined, said the time allowed was six months, and
I never thought of the Indians counting their months by moons, till I
heard those Honontkoh saying something about it this morning. No, no!
it's all useless now, it's all useless!"
Edith turned deadly pale, and remained so for a moment or two; but
then she lifted her eyes to a spot of the blue sky shining through the
trees above, and, with a deep sigh, ejaculated,--
"We must trust in God, then, and hope He has provided other and less
terrible means. He can protect and deliver according to His will,
without the aid or instrumentality of man. You have done your best,
Woodchuck, and your conscience should rest satisfied."
"No, no!" he exclaimed bitterly; "if I had but thought of what I knew
quite well, I should have gone a fortnight sooner, and the poor lad
would have been saved. It's all the fault of my stupid mistake. A man
should make no mistakes in such emergencies, Miss Edith."
He fell into a fit of thought again; and, seeing that, the attempt to
comfort him was vain, Edith returned to the side of the black woman,
and inquired eagerly if she had found any tidings of Walter amongst
the Oneidas. Sister Bab, however, was more cautious than poor
Woodchuck had been, and denied stoutly having heard anything, adding
that she could not think they had done any harm to her young "massa,"
or they would not be so eager to help her young "missy."
The smallest gleam of hope is always a blessing; still, the day passed
sadly enough to poor Edith. The commandant of the redoubt was occupied
with military business which she did not comprehend, and which
afforded no relief to her thoughts, even for a moment. She saw the
soldiers parading, the sentinels relieved, the earthworks inspected,
and the Indians harangued, without one thought being withdrawn from
the painful circumstances of her own fate.
Shortly after dusk, however, the same servant who had brought the
despatch in the morning, re-appeared with another letter, which the
French commandant read, and then carried to Edith in the little hut
where she was seated, with her lamp just trimmed and lighted.
"The Marquis of Montcalm informs Captain le Courtois that it will be
greatly inconvenient to receive any additional mouths into Fort
Carillon. Should he think fit, he can send the lady who has fallen
into his hands, with the English gentleman, her companion, back to
Crown Point[4] or Fort St. Frederick, as early to-morrow as he thinks
fit. If the lady earnestly prefers to retire to Fort Carillon at once,
the Marquis of Montcalm will not be so wanting in courtesy as to
refuse; but he begs to warn her that she may be subjected to all the
inconveniences of a siege, as he cannot at all tell what course of
operations the enemy may think fit to pursue. The Indians taken, if
willing, as they say, to serve, may be usefully employed within the
redoubt, but with caution, and must not be suffered to operate upon
the flanks as usual."
--------------------
[Footnote 4: I find it stated, that the fort referred to did not
receive the name of Crown Point till after its capture by the English;
but it is so called by contemporary English writers.]
--------------------
"It is for you to say, mademoiselle," observed Monsieur le Courtois,
"whether you will now go to the fort or not."
Edith, however, declined, saying that the reasons given by Monsieur de
Montcalm were quite sufficient to induce her to remain till it was
convenient to send her elsewhere.
Thus ended that eventful week. The following day was Sunday--a day not
fit to be desecrated by human strife, but one which was destined to
behold on that very spot one of those scenes which write man's shame
in letters of blood upon the page of history.