NEW PERIL.
With the hostile Iroquois on both sides the Susquehanna, and the awkward
scow near the shore, it will be seen that the situation of the
fugitives, striving to reach the protection of Wilkesbarre, was not of
an encouraging nature. The Mohawk was confident that he had read the
meaning of the waving torch aright, and that if he expected to reach the
shore immediately behind him, it must be done at once.
The signal light was scarcely extinguished when he rose to a stooping
position, and applied the pole with all the vigor at his command. It was
astonishing to see the speed he was able to force out of the unwieldy
structure. The foam actually curled away from the bow, and in a few
seconds it ran plump against the bank and stuck fast.
"Now is our time," said Ned, as he caught the hand of Rosa, who sprang
up at the same instant with her brother.
"Yes; it won't do to wait a second," added Jo.
"'Sh! move fast--don't make noise," put in the Mohawk.
In a twinkling the entire party had landed, and hurried away from the
spot, expecting some of the Iroquois would be there within a very short
time. They were right in this supposition, and were none too soon in
getting away from the place. The Mohawk led the way directly up stream,
keeping close to the shore, but still leaving enough space between them
and the water for the passage of a number of their enemies.
It was certainly less than three minutes after the landing of the whites
that sounds around them were detected, proving that the redmen were
hastening to the spot. Their failure to be there when the landing took
place seemed to point to the conclusion that they must have failed to
keep track of the craft after receiving the notification from the allies
across the river. The faintest possible "'Sh!" from the Mohawk apprised
his companions that danger was close, and all came to an instant halt.
The sounds of the Iroquois moving near them were slight, but they told
the story as plainly as if the sunlight revealed every form.
As might be expected, the Indians did not take long to find the scow
that had been abandoned by the fugitives. And when the craft was
discovered it told its own story. The nest was warm, but the bird had
flown. When the Iroquois realized this fact, they exchanged a few words,
which the Mohawk heard and understood, for they were in his own tongue.
"We have come too late to find the pale faces," said one.
"They have gone," replied another. "They are hiding in the woods, and we
shall not find them till to-morrow."
"They cannot cross the big brook," continued one who seemed to be the
first speaker. "When the sun comes to light up the forest, then we will
take their trail and hunt them to their holes, and before the sun goes
down there shall not be a scalp left but on the head of the Flower of
the Woods."
"And the traitor Lena-Wingo, what shall be done with him?"
"His scalp shall be torn from his head and flung in his face. Then he
shall be taken to the towns of the Iroquois and tied to a tree, and left
till the birds pick out his eyes. The Iroquois women and children shall
dance around him, and laugh till his eyes are gone."
This was interesting information to the individual referred to, but it
affected him little. He had heard too many such threats before.
"Lena-Wingo is cunning as the serpent that crawls in the grass,"
continued the Iroquois, who were dissecting him in his own hearing.
"You do not hear him move when he comes for his prey, or steals away
from the warriors that are hunting him."
"But Brandt, the great chieftain, has sworn to take the scalp of
Lena-Wingo, and he will do it, unless the traitor runs away from so
great a warrior, as Brandt says he has run when he heard that he was
hunting for him."
If ever there was an angry Indian, that one was Lena-Wingo, when he
heard these words. The thought of his running away from any one through
fear was a little more than he could stand with composure; and those who
were crouching around him in breathless stillness were surprised to hear
him shift his position and breathe hard, as though struggling to
suppress his emotions. Could they have seen his face at that moment,
distorted as it was by passion, they would have been frightened at his
appearance. His hand clutched his knife and he was on the point of
stealing toward the warrior who had uttered the irritating untruth, when
he seemed to gain the mastery of himself--aided no doubt by the fact
that at the same instant his quick ear caught the sound of a paddle, so
faint that no one else heard it. He was on the alert in a second, for a
scheme flashed through his mind with the quickness of lightning.
The faint noise showed that several new-comers had arrived on the scene,
and naturally a change in the current of conversation followed. The wish
of Lena-Wingo was to learn where these later arrivals came from--whether
from the other shore or whether they were prowling up and down the bank,
where they were now grouped. To the whites, who could hear every word
uttered, the talk of course was incomprehensible; but the loudness of
the tones, as well as the rapidity and general jangle, led them to
believe they were angry about something that had taken or had failed to
take place, and that had produced a quarrel between them. Such was the
fact, and Lena-Wingo listened to the high words with the hope that they
would lead to blows, in which there would be a good chance of the one
who had slurred his courage receiving his deserts.
Those in the canoe, it seemed, had been stealing up and down the shore,
on the alert to detect the departure of the fugitives, but, from some
cause or other, failed to do their duty, and they must have been quite
a way off at the time the Mohawk put out his awkward scow. The party on
shore were angry because of the failure, which was certainly a
discreditable one, and they were very ready to accuse their comrades of
being "squaws" on the war-path. The accused were equally ready to charge
the others with being "old women" for permitting the whites to land
under their noses, and to reach cover again. It would be hard to say
which of the companies was most to blame, and, as is the rule at such
times, each berated the other all the more on that account. The prospect
was promising for a deadly quarrel; but one or two in the party appeared
to be cool-headed, and they managed to quiet the rising storm, much to
the regret of the listening Mohawk.
It being clear to all the Iroquois that Lena-Wingo was too cunning for
them, although he had failed in carrying his charge across the
Susquehanna, it was plain that all his enemies could do was to fix upon
a plan to retrieve their own slip. And so, in full hearing of the leader
of the fugitives, they discussed their different schemes. Lena-Wingo was
not long in learning that there were plenty of his enemies watching both
sides of the river, and that it was to be an undertaking of extreme
difficulty for him to cross with his friends. This did not lessen his
determination, but rather strengthened it, and he inwardly resolved that
he himself would place his three companions on the southeastern shore,
if Colonel Butler had his whole force of Indians and Tories arranged
along the bank to prevent it!
The consultation between the Iroquois lasted all of half an hour, by
which time they had decided what to do. They would all land and scatter
up and down the river's margin, thus covering as much ground as
possible, and watch for the moment when the whites would come out of
their cover again. In other words, they meant to patrol the beach so
vigilantly that it would be out of the power of the fugitives to leave
their hiding-place without detection and capture.