THE YOUNG EXILES.
Wahena, with his hands still tied behind him, was led by Fanny, while
Ethan trundled the wheelbarrow, across the handles of which lay the two
guns, ready for use if occasion should require. The Indians had halted
on one of the little eminences of the prairie, and appeared to be
watching the departure of the fugitives from their once happy home.
Lean Bear was evidently very fond of his little son, who was a boy of
bright promise, measured by the Indian standard. He had exhibited no
concern for the mother while she lay senseless upon the ground, but he
seemed to be willing to make any sacrifice, even to the curbing of his
ferocious nature, for Wahena's sake.
The party of Indians on the knoll appeared to be impressed with the
misfortune of their leader in the loss of his favorite son. Though the
work of rapine and death was still going on in the settlement, they did
not heed it. The messenger had probably represented to Lean Bear that
Wahena would certainly be killed if he attempted to molest the little
party, and the chief had withdrawn far enough to remove all temptation
on the part of Ethan to execute his threat.
The wheelbarrow was heavily loaded, and it was hard work for the
prairie boy to move it along over the soft soil. On a hill, just before
the descent to the lake commenced, he paused to rest for a moment. He
was in excellent spirits, and was proud of the success which had thus
far attended his stratagem. He was confident that he should reach the
island in safety, where, having the only boat on the lake in his
possession, he was satisfied that he should be able to defend himself
and his companion, especially with Wahena as a guaranty for the good
behavior of the Indians.
Ethan was entirely satisfied with himself, and he was about to resume
the march towards the lake, when his attention was attracted by a noise
in the direction opposite to that in which Lean Bear and his party had
retreated.
"Creation hokee!" shouted Ethan.
"What's the matter?" asked Fanny.
"Don't you see the Injins comin' out of the woods?" replied he, as he
grasped the rifle, and raised it to his shoulder.
"Ho, ho, ho! He, he, he!" yelled the band of savages, as they rushed
out of the covert of the trees, and ran towards the spot where Ethan
stood.
"We are lost!" gasped Fanny, almost overcome by this new peril.
"No, we ain't lost, Fanny. You keep a stiff upper lip. Lay right down
on the ground, behind the wheelbarrer, and don't let the varmints see
you. If they kim hyer, use that ere pistil."
One of the new enemies was considerably in advance of the others, as if
anxious to drink the first blood of the victims before him. Suddenly he
came to a halt, raised his rifle, and fired.
"Creation hokee!" exclaimed Ethan, as the ball whistled frightfully
near his head.
"Hadn't we better run?" asked Fanny, in trembling tones.
"'Tain't no use to run; them redskins kin beat you all to pieces
runnin'," replied Ethan, as he retreated behind the wheelbarrow, and
resting the rifle upon it, took careful aim at the savage who was in
advance of the others.
He fired; the Indian fell, and lay still on the ground.
"That's sunthin' towards it, anyhow," continued Ethan, encouraged by
the success of his first shot. "Ef I kin fetch down one more on 'em, it
will make the rest a leetle grain skeery."
"The other Indians are coming too, Ethan," said Fanny.
"Let 'em kim; if they do we are safe."
The immediate followers of Lean Bear were rushing towards the spot with
all their might. The swiftest runner of the party had far outstripped
his companions, but it was evident to Ethan and Fanny that he was
moving towards the other band of savages, rather than towards them. He
was shouting in his own tongue words which were unintelligible to the
white boy and girl. But if the words were not understood, their effect
was, for the hostile band presently halted, and awaited the arrival of
the messenger.
In the mean time Ethan placed Wahena in a position where he could be
seen by all the savages, and with the revolver in his hand, stood in
readiness to make another demonstration at the life of the boy if it
should be necessary. It was not needed, for all these Indians belonged
to the tribe of Lean Bear, whose command was law to them.
"We are safe, Ethan," said Fanny.
"So we are; but I've killed one Injin, and I reckon I could kill some
more."
"Don't you feel sorry you killed him?" asked Fanny.
"Not ef I knows myself, I don't. I'd like to kill the whole boodle on
'em, after what they've did, consarn thar picters! I reckon we'd better
be go'n along."
"I think we had. It is really terrible to think of killing a man."
"'Tain't no more terrible 'n killin' all them women 'n childern up to
the settlement," replied Ethan, as he raised the handles of the barrow
and moved on. "I hope they'll send the sogers up here, and kill off all
the Injins this side o' sundown."
"I hope it won't be necessary to do that," added Fanny.
"It ought to be did. What's them Injins good for but to be shot? I
kinder wish they'd kim, so I could have fetched down some more on 'em,
consarn 'em!"
"It is lucky the party of Lean Bear was near enough to turn them back.
We might have been killed before this time."
"I dunno," replied Ethan, shaking his head.
"You have done nobly, Ethan; but Wahena has saved us so far."
"I know that; I ketched him for jest what he has did for us."
The rest of the way to the lake was down a gentle declivity, and the
wheelbarrow moved more easily than before. In a short time they reached
their destination, on the shore of the beautiful sheet of water at
which was moored a boat. It was not such a craft as the Greyhound, in
which Fanny had been accustomed to sail; it was a bateau, or
flat-bottomed boat, with very sharp slopes under the bow and stern. It
had a keel and rudder, and was provided with a sail.
The stores and utensils from the wheelbarrow were quickly transferred
to the boat, and then the barrow itself was placed on board. The wind
now blew tolerably fresh, and was fair for reaching the island; but
Ethan, with all his other accomplishments, knew no more about the
management of a boat than of a ship, which he had never even seen. This
boat had been built by Mr. Grant and a carpenter of the settlement
during the preceding winter, and Ethan had never sailed in it but once.
"I don't know nothin' about this hyer thing," said Ethan. "I kin
paddle, but I reckon the sail would tip us over."
"I can manage it," replied Fanny, confidently.
"Kin ye? Did ye ever manage a boat with a sail?"
"Yes, once," answered Fanny, and she thought with shame of the cruise
she had made in the Greyhound. "Let us hoist the sail, and we can run
over to the island in a few moments."
Fanny, assisted by Ethan, hoisted the sail, and the bateau darted out
of the little cove where she had been moored. Wahena, who had been as
stoical in danger as his race, uttered an exclamation of alarm, perhaps
called forth by the novelty of the situation and of the peril. Ethan
was not entirely satisfied with the movements of the boat under sail,
for she careened under the fresh breeze, till her gunwale was within an
inch of the surface of the lake. Fanny took the helm, and, as she eased
off the sheet, which her previous experience had taught her to do in
such an emergency, the boat came up to an even keel, and the confidence
of the prairie boy was fully restored.
"I don't want to be tipped over and drownded, arter we've got away from
the Injins," said he, in apology for his timidity.
"I'm sure I don't fear the water, after the terrible scenes we have
passed through," replied Fanny; "but there is no danger."
"I dunno 's there is; but even the little Injin boy was skeered when
she tipped so."
"I ought to have unfastened this rope before we hoisted the sail,"
added Fanny, pointing to the sheet.
"I ain't afeerd, if you ain't, Fanny. I don't reckon we could 'a
paddled her over to the island in seven year."
"It would have taken a long time," said Fanny, glancing back at the
smoking buildings of the settlement.
She was sad at heart when she thought of the murder and destruction
which had occurred that morning. It was pleasant on the lake, but
neither Fanny nor Ethan was in a condition to enjoy the sail. Each was
thinking of friends in the settlement who had probably been slain by
the remorseless savages. Fanny steered the bateau in silence, till she
reached the shore of the island, which was about two miles from the
point where the party had embarked. It was very small, containing not
more than half an acre of land. A single tree grew on the highest part,
and all of it was covered with grass, like the ground on the western
shores of the lake.
A landing was effected under the lee of the land, and the cargo of the
bateau removed to the shore. Wahena was taken to the middle of the
island, and fastened to the tree. From this point a view of all the
surrounding country could be obtained, and with ordinary care on the
part of the exiles, it would be impossible for an enemy to approach
without their knowledge. The provisions and other articles were
transported on the wheelbarrow to the tree.
"I should kinder like this, ef the folks hadn't all been killed off,"
said Ethan, when the work was done, and he had seated himself at
Fanny's side, in the shade of the tree.
"We were very fortunate to escape with our lives, Ethan, and I feel
very thankful," replied Fanny.
"So do I; and ef you want to say your prayers now, we hain't got
nothin' else to do."
"I have said them many times; God can hear us even when we do not speak
aloud."
"I s'pose so; well, I said mine, too; and that's a thing I don't do
very often."
"I have no doubt they strengthened your arm, and made you feel brave."
"I dunno but they did; but I feel as though a leetle grain o' breakfast
would strengthen my arm most jest now."
Fanny was not very well pleased with the manner in which her rude
companion spoke of serious things, and she improved the opportunity to
embody the prayer of her heart in words. It was a fervent utterance,
and Ethan seemed to join her in spirit. Both of them were grateful--not
abstractly grateful, but grateful to God for his mercy in saving them
from torture and death at the hands of the savages.
They sat in silence for a moment after the prayer, and then Fanny
suggested that they should prepare their breakfast. Ethan had brought
with him a shovel and a sharp axe, and while Fanny was peeling the
potatoes and cutting the bacon, he dug out a kind of fireplace in the
side of the hill. Some dead branches from the tree supplied them with
dry fuel. Fried ham and fried potatoes were soon provided, and they sat
down to their morning meal.
"I should like this fust rate if we hadn't been druv away from hum jest
as we was," said Ethan.
"It would be very pleasant if we could forget the poor people who have
been killed and mangled by the savages," replied Fanny, sadly.
"I reyther like campin' out, and travellin' over the peraries, as we
did when we kim up hyer."
"What is to become of us, after all, Ethan?"
"I dunno; we must stop hyer, I s'pose."
"We cannot remain here a great while."
"Why not?"
"Our provisions will not last many days."
"We kin git more."
"I don't think it is safe for us to go over to the settlement again."
"We've got plenty o' powder'n shot, and thyers ducks and birds enough.
And this lake's full of fish."
"But we must leave some time. We could not stay here through the
winter."
"We kin git off somewhar bime-by. I dunno what all this business
means--whether the Injins is killin' off everybody or not. Sunthin' 'll
happen one o' these days."
It was impossible to plan for the future, for no one could tell what a
day might bring forth. It was evident to the young exiles that the lake
settlement had been destroyed, and the greater portion of the people
killed, though they had no positive knowledge of the extent of the
horrible massacre. They did not know, what was really true, that the
onslaught of the savages extended over hundreds of miles of territory,
and that its victims were numbered by hundreds.
When Ethan and Fanny had finished their breakfast, Wahena was unbound
and permitted to eat all he wanted. His appetite did not seem to be at
all impaired by his imprisonment, for he ate with a greediness which
threatened to make serious inroads upon the scanty stock of provisions.
While he was thus occupied, Fanny sang one of her Sunday school hymns,
a sad and plaintive air, which not only moved Ethan to the depths of
his heart, but visibly affected the little savage. Noticing the effect,
she followed up the impression until she was surprised to see Wahena
offer her his hand.