less than Black Bear, one of the most bloodthirsty devils I ever knew.
He was in the thick of the last attack they made on us, and I'll
warrant, sir, if I could turn his blanket back from his right shoulder I
would find a hole made by a musket-ball I sent at him. It disabled him,
but I can see the rascal now walking away just as coolly as if I had
tickled him with a feather instead of hitting him with a lead bullet. He
never in the world brought that carcass over the mountains; that is not
in his line. There is more of Black Bear's sort hereabouts; you may
depend on it, sir."
Lord Fairfax shrugged his shoulders.
"We are prepared for defence if they come at us; but I shall have to
depend upon you, Lance, to give us warning." And the Earl went quietly
back to his library.
Not so George. He had a desire to know more of Black Bear, and went with
Lance around to the back of the house.
"You won't find that Injun eating, sir; he don't want anything to eat.
He wants to sneak into the house and see what sort of a place it is,"
said Lance.
Sure enough, when they reached the kitchen there was nothing to be seen
of Black Bear, although the deer's carcass was hung up on a nail high
above the ground, out of reach of the dogs. Cæsar, the cook--a fat,
jolly negro, with a great white apron on--was standing in the kitchen
door, looking around.
"Where is the Injun who brought that deer-meat here?" asked Lance.
"I's lookin' fur him now," responded Cæsar. "I didn' heah no soun', an'
when I tu'n roun' d'yar was de carkiss hangin' 'n de nail. Dem Injuns is
slicker 'n cats when dey move."
Lance, followed by George, passed into the kitchen, and through a short
covered way which led to the lower part of the house. The covered way,
and the kitchen too, were of the same rough stone half-way up. A few
steps at the end of the covered way led down into the cellars where the
arms and provisions were stored. It was quite dark down there, and Lance
struck his flint and made a light. They had not gone far in the
underground passage when George instinctively felt some one stealing by
him. He turned quickly, and in a moment Black Bear was pinioned to the
wall.
"What are you doing here?" asked Lance, gruffly.
The Indian, remaining perfectly still, said: "White man's house like
rabbit-burrow. Injun get lost in it."
George, at a sign from Lance, let the Indian go, and he stalked solemnly
out in front of them. Around outside Lance said,
"What is your name?"
"Squaw-man," was the Indian's laconic answer; and as the squaw-men had
no distinctive names, it was answer enough. But Lance grinned openly at
this.
"You don't look like a squaw-man, but a warrior, and your name, if I
know it, is Black Bear. Now, if you are a squaw-man, show me how that
carcass ought to be cut up; and here is some money for you if you do it
right." Black Bear looked longingly at the money, but he was evidently
not used to cutting up dressed meat, and he made no attempt at it. He
grunted out something, and then strode off in the direction of the path
up the mountain.
"There you go," apostrophized Lance, "and we shall see you before long
with a firelock and a hatchet, and with a lot of other savages of your
own kidney."
At dinner that day George told Lord Fairfax about finding the Indian
prowling about the cellar, and Lance's suspicions.
The morning had been bright, but it grew so cold and snowy towards the
afternoon that Lord Fairfax remained at home, and George took his ride
alone. He had not gone but a few miles along the rugged mountain road,
when a furious snow-storm set in, and he quickly retraced his steps. It
grew suddenly dark, but his horse was sure of foot, and George himself
knew the way home perfectly. He galloped along through the darkness and
the fast-falling snow, which deadened the sound of his horse's hoofs. He
was surprised, though, to see a number of tracks in the snow as he
passed along. He instantly recognized moccasin tracks, and remembered
Lance's prediction that the alleged squaw-man had some companions with
him. At one point on the road George was convinced that he heard a low
whistle. He stopped his horse and turned in his saddle, but there was no
sound except the crackling of the trees as the wind swept through their
bare branches, and the faint sound of falling water in the distance. As
he sat on his horse, a perfect picture of young manhood, two stealthy
eyes were fixed on him, and Black Bear, concealed behind a huge
mountain-ash, noiselessly and rapidly raising a firelock, took direct
aim at him. The horse, which had stood perfectly still, suddenly started
as a shot rang out, and a bullet whizzed past George so close that he
felt the current of air it made.
George was too astounded to move for a moment, but not more astounded
than was Black Bear. Never in his life had the Indian made such a miss.
Half a dozen pairs of beady black eyes had seen it, and the concealed
Indians made a sign to each other in dumb-show signifying that the white
youth had a charmed life.
In another moment the horse, of his own will, as if flying from danger,
started down the rocky road. George let him go on unchecked. He did not
think the bullet came from the piece of a sportsman, and he had not
forgotten Lance's warning.
When he reached the house he looked about for Lance, whom he found in
the armory, carefully examining the muskets on the rack. Lance listened
to George's story of the shot very attentively.
"As sure as you live, Mr. Washington, there were some red devils
skulking about, and when they get a firelock in their hands the first
thing they want to do is to kill a white man. The Frenchmen sell them
muskets, and give them fire-water, and set them against us. I knew the
minute I put my eyes on that copper-colored rascal that he had murder
and arson in his heart; but we'll be able to keep them off, Mr.
Washington."
"Why is it that you think they want to capture this house?" asked
George, thoughtfully.
"Because we have plenty of arms and ammunition here. It is hard to get
either over the mountains, and it would be a small fortune to any Indian
to get a musket and a powder-horn. Then we have dried provisions in
plenty--enough to last us six months if we get nothing from the
outside--and dried provisions are what the Indians fancy. And my lord is
opposed to the French, and no doubt they have set the Indians against
us; and then the Indians like the killing, just for the fun of the
thing. I think I shall sleep with one eye open until I hear that Mr.
Black Bear and his friends are no longer in this neighborhood."
That night, after supper, George and the Earl talked over Lance's
suspicions. Lord Fairfax thought they were not ill founded, but he was
not a man to excite himself over possibilities. The talk drifted towards
marksmanship, and the Earl, who was an excellent shot, brought out a
pair of silver-mounted pistols, small for the time. He had some bullets
made of composition, which flattened out against the rough-cast wall
without making an indentation. George drew a target on the wall, and the
Earl, standing at the end of the great low-ceiled hall, made some
wonderful shots. George then took the pistols, and fairly surpassed him.
The Earl taught him to snuff a candle at twenty paces, and other tricks
of the kind. So absorbed were they in their pastime that it was nearly
midnight before they parted.
When George went to his room Billy was not to be seen; but when he was
called a woolly head was poked out from under the valance of the
high-post bed, and Billy chirped out:
"I's gwi' sleep under de baid ter-night, Marse George. Mr. Lance, he
talk 'bout Injuns, an' ef dey come, I ain't gwi' gin 'em no chance fer
to mek a hole in dis heah nigger's skin. An' I got de dog wid me, an' ef
he start ter bark, I kin choke him, so dey ain't never know dee is a dog
heah."
George laughed and went to bed, but it was not to sleep. He was excited,
and lay awake for what seemed hours to him. At last, about three
o'clock, he noticed by the moon-light that stole in his shutterless
window that the snow-storm had ceased, and the moon was shining
brilliantly. He got up and looked out. The ground was covered with snow,
and the radiance of the great full moon made the whole landscape of a
dazzling white; the tall peaks, which reared their heads into the sky,
shone like burnished silver, and seemed almost touching the vast dome of
heaven. George gazed for a long time, entranced at the scene, until the
moving of a faint shadow under the trees attracted his attention. His
eyes were keen at all times, and particularly so that night. He waited
until he became convinced that there were Indian forms flitting about
under the trees; then, slipping on his clothes and carrying his shoes in
his hand, he noiselessly opened the door and went into the hall. As he
opened the door he met Lance face to face.
"Have you seen them?" asked George, in a whisper.
"No," replied Lance; "but I wakened up just now, and something, I know
not what, told me to go over the house and see if everything was all
right."
George drew him to the outer door, and pointed to one of the little
eye-holes. Lance peered through anxiously.
"I can't see anything, Mr. Washington; but your eyes are better than
mine, and if you say there are Injuns out there I'll take your word for
it."
At that moment George, who was watching at another eye-hole, saw in a
corner near the house a fire smouldering on the ground. A dozen
blanketed figures were crouching around it. Presently they rose, and,
carrying each a long and heavy fence-rail blazing at the end, made a
rush around the back of the house, and, with a thundering crash and a
succession of terrific whoops, pounded the stout oaken door of the
kitchen with the burning rails. It was as if that barbaric yell in one
instant wakened the house and converted it into a fortress. Lights shone
at every window, the negroes appearing as if by magic, and Lord Fairfax
in a dressing-gown, but with a musket in his hand, opening his door.
Lance and George had made a rush for the armory, and each seized an
armful of muskets. The negroes were each given a musket, and stationed
at an eye-hole. Meanwhile the pounding at the kitchen door continued,
and shook the house from end to end. Stout as the oaken planking was, it
seemed impossible that it could long withstand such assaults.
"It is the first time the red rascals have ever had sense enough to try
and batter that door down. Before this they have tried the front door,"
said Lance, as he and George took their station at the end of the short
covered way that led to the kitchen.
The Earl by this time had put on his clothes and had joined Lance and
George.
"I think the door is giving way, sir," said George, quietly, to Lord
Fairfax, as the sound of breaking timbers mingled with the screech of
the savages.
"I know it, sir," added Lance, grimly. "We can keep the scoundrels out
of the front door by stationing men in the half-story above, but there
is no way of defending the kitchen door from the inside."
"How many Indians do you think you saw, George?" asked Lord Fairfax, as
coolly as if he were asking the number of cabbages in a garden.
"At least a dozen, sir."
"Then if you saw a dozen there were certainly fifty,"' was the Earl's
remark. The next moment a louder crash than before showed the door had
given way, and in another instant the narrow passageway swarmed with
Indians. George, mechanically following Lance's movements, raised his
musket and fired straight at the incoming mob--the first hostile shot of
his life. He felt a strange quiver and tremor, and an acute
sensitiveness to everything that was happening around him. He stood
shoulder to shoulder with Lance, and Lord Fairfax quietly moved in front
of him, which he thought strange.
[Illustration: THE FIGHT IN THE KITCHEN PASSAGE.]
"Kneel down," said Lance, in quite his ordinary voice, kneeling himself,
so that the armed negroes behind him could fire over his head. Lord
Fairfax and George did likewise. The perfect coolness and
self-possession of Lance and Lord Fairfax amazed George. He had never
seen old soldiers under fire before. For himself, he felt wildly
excited, and was conscious that his features were working convulsively,
and his heart thumped so loudly against his ribs that he heard it over
the crashing of the musket-balls. It flashed before his mind that any
and every moment might be his last, and he thought of his mother and
Betty; he thought of everything, in fact, except one--that he might run
away. He stood as if nailed to the ground, loading and firing faster
than he ever did in his life, and so accurately that both the Earl and
Lance were astonished.
All at once George's senses seemed to return to him, and he felt as calm
and unshaken as either the Earl or Lance. He turned to the Earl and
said:
"The two swivels are in the cellar directly back of us, and on a level
with us. If we had one we could command this passage."
"Get it," replied the Earl, laconically. "Take Cæsar with you--it is on
wheels, you know."
George darted into the cellar, and directly the rumbling of a small gun
upon a rude carriage, with the wheels cut from solid logs of wood, was
heard. Cæsar was dragging the swivel out, while George followed with the
powder and shot. There was now only one Indian lying stark before them
in the passage. Without a moment's thought, George darted forward to
drag the prostrate form out of the way of the gun, lest, if the Indian
were dead, it might mutilate him, and if only wounded, it might kill
him.
As George stooped forward to lift him, the Indian, who was bleeding
profusely from a wounded leg, suddenly threw his left arm around
George's neck, and with the other hand drew a tomahawk from under him.
But George was too quick for him, and catching his arm, lifted him
bodily, and carried him back into the passageway where they stood.
It was Black Bear.
"_You_ a squaw-man," was Lance's comment.
Black Bear said no word, but raising himself from the ground, produced a
leather thong, which he tied around his bleeding leg, rudely but not
unskilfully checking the flow of blood, after which Lance tied him
securely and put him in a corner.
There was now a brief pause, and the guns were reloaded, and all were
prepared for a second assault, while the swivel commanded the passageway
thoroughly.
"They know what is going on here," said the Earl, "and their next attack
will be by the front entrance."
"True, sir," responded Lance.
"Shall we leave Mr. Washington here while we reconnoitre the front of
the house?" asked Lord Fairfax of Lance, who was the actual commandant
of the garrison.
"I think so, sir--with Cæsar and one or two others. But keep your eye on
Black Bear, Mr. Washington," said Lance, "as well as this passage." Just
then the noise of an assault on the other part of the house was heard,
and the whole force went over on that side, leaving George, Cæsar, and
Jake the scullion to watch the passageway.
Occasionally they could see, by the dim light of a lantern hung to the
wall, a figure passing to and fro in the kitchen.
George remembered to have heard that wounded men suffer fearfully from
thirst. There was a cedar bucket full of water on a shelf in the larger
passage, with a gourd hanging by it. He told Jake to put the bucket by
Black Bear, and although the Indian had sat perfectly still, not
showing, even by a contraction of the brows, the agony he was suffering,
he gulped the water down eagerly.
The crack of musket-shots on the other side of the house could now be
heard, and it was evident that the fight was renewed, but at the same
time dark faces appeared at the opening into the covered way. George,
loading the swivel himself, pointed it, and, by way of a salutary
warning, sent a four-pound shot screaming through the kitchen. Not an
Indian showed himself after that. They had met resistance on the other
side of the house too, and as the moon went slowly down the horizon, in
the pale gray of dawn the watchers from the eye-holes saw them draw off
and take their way rapidly across the white ground into the mountains.
The snow was blood-stained in many places, showing that the musketry
fire had been very effective.
Just as day was breaking. Lord Fairfax came to George. "You have had
your first taste of ball-cartridges," said he, smiling. "What do you
think of it?"
George hesitated and remained silent for a moment. "At first," he said,
"I hardly knew what I was doing. Afterwards, it seemed to me I had never
thought so quickly."
"Witness the dragging out of the swivel," continued Lord Fairfax; "and
let me tell you this--the difference between an ordinary general and a
great general is that the ordinary man cannot think in a hurry and in
the midst of terrible emergencies, but the great man thinks the better
for the very things that disconcert an every-day man. You may some day
prove a great general, George."
The boy blushed, but said nothing.
When he was relieved from his post he went to his room. As soon as he
entered he saw Billy's ashy face, with his eyes nearly popping out of
his head, emerging from under the bed, while Rattler gave a yelp of
delight.
"Lord a'mighty, Marse George, I never tho't to see you ag'in!" exclaimed
Billy, fervently. "All de time dem balls was poppin' me an' Rattler was
thinkin' bout you, an when I hear one big gun a-gwine off I jest holler
out loud, 'Marse George done daid--I know he done daid!'"
"I might have been dead a good many times for any help I had from you,
you lazy scamp," responded George, severely, at which Billy burst into
tears, and wailed until "Marse George" condescended to be mollified.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE AMERICAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
THE PICNIC.--BY EMMA J. GRAY.
Mariette's eyes looked rather red, as though she had been crying, and
then came the words. "A dreadful thing has happened!"
"What?" And the next second her dearest friend, Laura Brainerd, was
standing before her, and putting her hand on each shoulder, scanned
Marietta's face.
Then, with a sob accompanying each word, came the sentence, "My caramel
cake is heavy!"
This answer was so unexpected that, although Laura twisted her lips in
every possible direction, and contorted her pretty mouth until it was
absolutely homely, she had to give way at last, and then followed such a
hearty laugh that her friend Marietta opened her dark blue eyes to their
widest, and simply stared at her.
"Dear little Mariette," she exclaimed, "how absurd of you to care so
much about a cake!" And then, seeing a wounded look steal over her
friend's sensitive mouth, she added, "I know your caramel cake is always
delicious, and I'll trust your hamper any time for holding no end of
good things." And Laura smacked her lips, as if already tasting them.
"But it won't now," was the doleful response.
"Oh, pshaw! don't be such a silly girl. Tell me what you're going to
take."
"Oh, nothing but sardine and chicken salad, pickled beets and walnuts,
roast-ham sandwiches, blackberry and lemon meringue pie, cookies, almond
cake--"
And as she was evidently not yet through, Laura interjected: "Don't tell
me there is any more, or I'll not be able to sleep all night. Oh, how
can I wait for to-morrow to come, anyway?" and impatient Laura paced
hurriedly up and down the room.
"Yes, there is something more. I shall take big juicy plums;" and
Mariette, holding up her hand, made a ring by touching her second finger
and thumb together, and laughingly added, "_So_ big, and with such a
soft bloom on them that you'd like to taste one, I know."
"_One!_ A dozen!"
And then quickly followed, "You just ought to see my peaches, though--so
large and ripe, such beauties!" and Marietta's lips were pressed
together as if already enjoying them.
And so the clouds rolled away, for in counting the many delicacies her
picnic basket would hold, the heavy caramel cake was altogether
forgotten.
"But what are you going to take, Laura?"
"I?" and Laura straightened herself back with a most self-satisfied air
while saying, "Potato and asparagus salad--just made from asparagus
tips, Mariette."
"Yes, I know," and she smiled, while nodding her curly brown head.
"And besides those, chicken pie, hard-boiled eggs, nasturtium seed, and
peach pickles; _pâté de foie gras_ sandwiches, a loaf of fresh home-made
bread, and a roll of unsalted butter; large ripe tomatoes, some pepper
and salt to help them down, and a frosted walnut cake."
"Oh, what a tempting luncheon! I guess no one will starve at our table!"
"I hope not. But, you know, picnics give powerful appetites; that's why
I shall take an extra loaf of bread; besides, it will seem so fresh to
cut it foreign fashion, just as it's needed."
[Illustration]
The girls were talking in the large wainscoted parlor, and, it is
needless to say, made a fascinating picture in their pretty summer
toilettes, Mariette all in white, and Laura all in pink, her pink satin
ribbons the exact match of her pink cheeks, as with mischievous manner
she talked excitedly on. And we made a play of reading; for, instead, we
were idly resting in this temptingly cool airy room, and could not help
but listen to their gay chatter. So it was we learned that the picnic
was to be to-morrow, that the party numbered twenty, an even number of
girls and boys, that they were to be driven to their destination in
large market-wagons made festive with flags; that each girl was to bring
luncheon enough for herself and one of the boys, and that the boys would
bring all the necessary outfit for games, such as ropes, archery,
grace-hoops, tennis-net, and racquet balls.
[Illustration]
The woods were not regular picnic grounds, and therefore the children
knew there would be no tables, and as they wanted to do everything
correctly and comfortably, they would meet the deficiency by taking
their own. Five cutting-tables had been borrowed from their mothers;
these would be folded over and put in the bottom of the wagon, and four
persons could easily sit at each. The boys would arrange the seats,
which, more than likely, would be the wagon seats, built to the
requisite height by supporting each end on a pile of stones, or they
might find convenient rocks, or take the rails from the post-and-rail
fence adjoining. Should they decide on the latter, they would be put in
place again when luncheon was over. Milk, lemonade, ice, and even
ice-cream were to be carried; for some of the girls were excellent
ice-cream-makers, and everybody would get so warm playing games and
rushing around continually that ice-cream would be in demand.
That plated spoons, forks, etc., would be used, "so as to save worry,"
Mariette explained, and that Japanese napkins would do double duty, as
they would also serve as table-cloths; besides they were pretty, and
really dressed a table, and there was no fuss about their laundering
afterwards, and her mother had said, "Maids should be considered as well
as mistresses in such warm sultry weather."
All the sandwiches would be neatly wrapped in white tissue or waxed
paper, and the thin wooden platters would be far more suitable for
picnic purposes than delicate dainty china, as no one would be afraid of
chipping them; and, besides, they were so light, "the horses would be
glad," Mariette was sure.
"What's the harm of burning them when we are through, and the napkins,
for that matter!" was Laura's interjection.
But the more thoughtful Mariette replied, "No harm, if we don't set the
woods on fire."
[Illustration]
It was thought best to put all the lunches, wraps, etc., in one wagon,
and the picnickers would go in the other. Trusty drivers were going with
the wagons, and the men were to keep watch all day, and be ready to help
in whatever capacity necessity would require.
The atmosphere for the picnic proved perfect, and the girls' laughing
sunbrowned faces and tangled curls testified to their having had a jolly
day, while the boys' gay raillery, frequent cheers, and fern-trimmed
hats showed that they were not left rearward when the fun was going
around.
Long before the wagons were in sight the children were heard, for song
followed song all the way back, they explained.
"It seems as if I was a boy again," said an old man, as the words "We'll
not go home till morning" reached us, just before the wagons came in
sight.
And when, with springing feet, the merry girls and boys jumped out, they
were all so earnest to tell the story of the day that everybody talked
at once. However, we learned that games were their chief sport, and that
the rope now taken out of the wagon was first used for the Crown Game:
A girl enters the ring; all the others take firm hold of the rope. No
sooner is she in than they skip about her, keeping the rope in motion.
As they skip they sing, to the tune of "Auld Lang-syne,"
"Who'll crown our queen, our merry queen,
Who'll crown our queen to-day?
Who'll crown our queen, our merry queen,
Who'll crown our queen to-day?"