Day broke slowly and heavily under a gray cloud, and found Lord
H---- and the Indian chief still seated side by side at the entrance
of the farmhouse. A word or two had passed between them in the earlier
part of the night, but for many hours before dawn they had remained
perfectly silent. Only once through the hours of their watch had Black
Eagle moved from his seat, and that was nearly at midnight. The ears
of Lord H---- had been on the watch as well as his own; but though the
young English nobleman heard no sound, the chief caught a distant
footfall about a quarter before twelve, and starting up he listened
attentively. Then, moving slowly toward the door, he stood there a few
moments as still as a statue. Presently Lord H---- caught the sound
which had moved him, though it was exceedingly light, and the next
instant another dark figure, not quite so tall as that of the chief,
darkened the moonlight, and threw its shadow into the doorway. A few
words then passed between the two Indians, in their native tongue, at
first low and musical in tone, but then rising high, in accents which
seemed to the ear of the listener to express grief or anger. Not more
than five sentences were spoken on either part, and then the last
comer bounded away, with a quick and seemingly reckless step, into the
forest, and the old chief returned and seated himself, assuming
exactly the same attitude as before.
When day dawned, however, Black Eagle rose and said in English: "It is
day, my brother; let the voice of the Cataract awake the maiden, and I
will lead you on the way. Her horse has not yet come, but if it have
not run with the wind, or fed upon the fire, it will be here
speedily."
"Do you know, then, what became of it after it broke away from us?"
asked Lord H----.
"Nay," answered the Indian, "I know not; but my steps were in yours
from the setting sun till you came hither. I was there for your
safety, my brother, and for the safety of the maiden."
"We should often have been glad of your advice," answered Lord
H----, "for we were often in sore need of some better information than
our own."
"The man who aids himself needs no aid," answered Black Eagle. "Thou
wert sufficient for the need; why should I take from thee thy right to
act?"
As they were speaking, the light step of Edith was heard upon the
stairs, and the eyes of the Black Eagle fixed upon her as she
descended, with a look which seemed to Lord H---- to have some
significance, though he could not tell exactly in what the peculiarity
consisted. It was calm and grave, but there was a sort of tenderness
in it which, without knowing why, made the young nobleman fear that
the Indian was aware of some evil having befallen Mr. Prevost.
His mind was soon relieved, however, for when Edith had descended, the
chief said at once: "Thy father is safe, my daughter. He passed
through the fire uninjured, and is in his own lodge."
Edith looked pale and worn, but the words of the chief called a joyful
smile upon her face, and the color back upon her cheek. In answer to
the inquiries of Lord H---- she admitted that she had slept hardly at
all, and added, with a returning look of anxiety: "How could I sleep,
so uncertain as I was of my father's safety?"
She expressed an anxious desire to go forward as soon as possible and
not to wait for the chance of her horse being caught by the Indians,
which she readily comprehended as the meaning of the Black Eagle, when
his somewhat ambiguous words were reported to her.
"They may catch him," she said, "or they may not, and my father will
be very anxious, I know, till he sees me. I can walk quite well."
The Indian was standing silently at the door, to which he had turned
after informing her of her father's safety, and Lord H----, taking her
hand, inquired in a low tone if she would be afraid to stay alone with
the Black Eagle for a few moments while he sought for some food for
herself and him.
"Not in the least," she answered. "After his words last night, and the
throwing of his blanket upon me, I am as safe with him as Otaitsa
would be. From that moment he looked upon me as his daughter, and
would treat me as such in any emergency."
"Well, then, I will not be long," answered Lord H----, and passing the
Indian, he said: "I leave her to your care for a few moments, Black
Eagle."
The Indian answered only by a sort of guttural sound peculiar to his
people, and then, turning back into the house, he seated himself on
the ground as before, and seemed inclined to remain in silence, but
there were doubts in Edith's mind which she wished to have solved, and
she said: "Is not my father thy brother, Black Eagle?"
"He is my brother," answered the Indian, laconically, and relapsed
into silence again.
"Will a great chief suffer any harm to happen to his brother?" asked
Edith again, after considering for a few moments how to shape her
question.
"No warrior of the Totem of the Tortoise dares raise a tomahawk
against the brother of the Black Eagle," answered the chief.
"But is he not the great chief of the Oneidas?" said Edith again. "Do
not the people of the Stone hear his voice? Is he not to them as the
rock on which their house is founded? Whither in the sky could the
Oneidas soar if the Black Eagle led them not? And shall they disobey
his voice?"
"The people of the Stone have their laws," replied the chief, "which
are thongs of leather, to bind each sachem, and each totem, and each
warrior; they were whispered into the rolls of wampum, which is in the
hands of the great medicine man, or priest, as you would call him, and
the voice of the Black Eagle, though it be strong in war, is as the
song of the bobolink when compared to the voice of the laws."
Short as this conversation may seem when written down, it had occupied
several minutes, for the Indian had made long pauses, and Edith,
willing to humor him by adopting the custom of his people, had
followed his example. His last reply was hardly given when Lord
H---- returned, carrying a dry and somewhat hard loaf and a jug of
clear cold water.
"I have not been very successful, for the people have evidently
abandoned the place, and all their cupboards but one are locked up. In
that, however, I found this loaf."
"They are squirrels, who fly along the boughs at the sound of danger,
and leave their stores hidden," said the Black Eagle; "but dip the
bread in water, my daughter; it will give you strength by the way."
Lord H---- laid the loaf down upon the table and hurried out of the
room again; but Edith had little opportunity of questioning her dusky
companion further before the young nobleman returned. He was absent
hardly two minutes, and when he came back he led his horse behind him,
somewhat differently accoutred from the preceding day. The demi-pique
was now covered with a pillow, firmly strapped on with some leathern
thongs, which he had found in the house, thus forming it into a sort
of pad; and the two stirrups brought to one side, stretched as far
apart as possible, and somewhat shortened, were kept extended by a
piece of plank passed through the irons, and firmly attached, thus
forming a complete rest for the feet of anyone sitting sidewise on the
horse. Lord H---- had done many a thing in life on which he might
reasonably pride himself. He had resisted temptations to which most
men would have yielded; he had done many a gallant and noble deed; he
had displayed great powers of mind and high qualities of heart in
terrible emergencies and moments of great difficulty; but it may be
questioned whether he had looked so complacently on any act of his
whole life as on the rapid and successful alteration of his own
inconvenient saddle into a comfortable lady's pad; and when he brought
out Edith to the door, and she saw how he had been engaged, she could
not help rewarding him with a beaming smile, in which amusement had a
less share than gratitude. Even over the dark countenance of the
Indian, trained to stoical apathy, something flitted not unlike a
smile, also. The young nobleman, lifting his fair charge in his arms,
seated her lightly on the horse's back, adjusted the rest for her feet
with care, and then took the bridle to lead her on the way.
The Indian chief, without a word, walked on before, at a pace with
which the horse's swiftest walk could scarcely keep up, and crossing
the cleared ground around the house, they were soon once more beneath
the branches of the forest. More than once the Black Eagle had to
pause and lean upon his rifle, waiting for his two companions; but
doubtless it was the difficulties of the narrow path, never made for
horse's hoofs, and not the desire of prolonging conversation, nor the
pleasure of gazing up the while into a pair of as beautiful eyes as
ever shone upon mortal man, or into a face which might have looked out
of heaven and not have shamed the sky, that retarded the young
nobleman on his way.
Two miles were at length accomplished, and then they came into the
solitary high road again, which led within a short distance of Mr.
Prevost's cottage. During the whole journey the Indian chief had not
uttered a word; but as soon as he had issued forth from the narrow
path into the more open road he paused and waited till Edith came up;
then, pointing with his hand, he said: "Thou knowest the way, my
daughter; thou hast no more need of me. The Black Eagle must wing his
way back to his own rock."
"But shall we be safe?" asked Edith.
"As in the happy hunting grounds," replied the chief; and then,
turning away, he retraced the trail by which they had come.
Their pace was not much quicker than it had been in the more difficult
path. The seal seemed to be taken away from Lord H---'s lips. He felt
that Edith was safe, nearer home, no longer left, completely left, to
his mercy and his delicacy, and his words were tender and full of
strong affection; but she laid her hand gently on his as it rested on
the peak of the saddle, and with a face glowing as if the leaves of
autumn maples had cast a reflection from their crimson hues upon it,
she said: "Oh, not now--not now--spare me a little still."
He gazed up in her face with a look of earnest inquiry, but he saw
something there in the half-veiled, swimming eyes, or in the glowing
cheek, or in the agitated quivering of the lip, which was enough to
satisfy him.
"Forgive me," he said, in a deprecatory tone, but then the moment
after he added, with frank, soldierly boldness: "But, dear Edith, I
may thank you now, and thank you with my whole heart, for I am not a
confident fool, and you are no light coquette, and did you refuse, you
would say more."
Edith bent her head almost to the saddlebow, and some bright drops
rolled over her cheek.
They remained silent, both conversing with their own thoughts for a
short time, and then they were roused from somewhat agitated reveries
by a loud and joyous call, and looking up the ascent before them they
saw Mr. Prevost on horseback, and two of the negro slaves on foot,
coming down as if to meet them. They hurried on fast; father and
daughter sprang to the ground, and oh, with what joy she felt herself
in his arms.
It is unnecessary to give here the explanations that ensued. Mr.
Prevost had little to tell; he had passed safely--though not without
scorching his clothes and face, and no small danger--along the course
of the stream and through a small part of the thicker wood. He had
found his house and all the buildings safe, and even the forest
immediately around still free from the fire, and out of danger as long
as the wind remained easterly. Satisfied that his daughter would find
the farmer's family, and be kindly entertained, he had no anxiety on
her account till about an hour before, when her horse had come back to
the house with the saddle and housings scorched and blackened, and the
hoofs nearly burnt off his feet. The poor animal could give no
history, and Mr. Prevost, in great alarm for Edith, had set out to
seek her in haste.
Her tale was soon told, and again and again Mr. Prevost shook her
protector's hand, thanking him earnestly for what he had done for his
child. The distance to the house was now not great, and giving the
horses to the negroes, the little party proceeded on foot, talking
over the events of the last few hours. When they reached the house
there were somewhat obstreperous sounds of joy from the women servants
to see their young mistress return, and Edith was speedily carried
away to her chamber for rest and refreshment. Breakfast was
immediately prepared in the hall for Lord H----, who had tasted no
food since the middle of the preceding day; but he ate little even
now, and there was a sort of restlessness about him which Mr. Prevost
remarked with some anxiety.
"My lord, you hardly taste your food," he said, "and seem not well or
not at ease. I trust you have no subject of grief or apprehension
pressing upon your mind."
"None whatever," replied Lord H----, with a smile; "but to tell you
the truth, my dear sir, I am impatient for a few moments' conversation
with you alone, and I could well have spared my breakfast till they
are over. Pray let us go into the other room, where we shall not be
interrupted."
Mr. Prevost led the way, and closed the door after them with a grave
face, for, as is usual in such cases, he had not the faintest idea of
what was coming.
"Our acquaintance has been very short, Mr. Prevost," said Lord
H----, as soon as they were seated, feeling, indeed, more hesitation
and embarrassment than he had imagined he could experience in such
circumstances. "But I trust you have seen enough of me, taken together
with general repute, to make what I am going to say not very
presumptuous."
Mr. Prevost gazed at him in perfect astonishment, unable to perceive
where his speech would end. And as the young nobleman paused he
answered: "Pray speak on, my lord. Believe me, I have the highest
esteem and regard for you; your character and conduct through life
have, I well know, added luster to your rank, and your noble blood has
justified itself in your noble actions. What on earth can you have to
say which could make me think you presumptuous for a moment?"
"Simply this, and perhaps you _may_ think me presumptuous when I have
said it," replied Lord H----. "I am going to ask you to give me
something which I value very much, and which you rightly value as much
at least as anything you possess. I mean your daughter. Nay, do not
start and turn so pale. I know all the importance of what I ask, but I
have now passed many days entirely in her society; I have gone through
some difficulties and dangers with her, as you know--scenes and
sensations which endear two persons to each other. I have been much in
woman's society. I have known the bright and the beautiful in many
lands; perhaps my expectations have been too great, my wishes too
exacting, but I never met woman hitherto who touched my heart. I have
now found the only one whom I can love, and I now ask her of you with
a full consciousness of what it is I ask."
Mr. Prevost had remained profoundly silent, with his eyes bent down,
and his cheeks, as Lord H---- had said, very pale. There was a great
struggle in his heart, as there must be always in a parent's bosom in
such circumstances.
"She is very young--so very young!" he murmured, speaking to himself
rather than to his companion.
"I may, indeed, be somewhat too old for her," said Lord H----,
thoughtfully, "but yet I trust, in heart and spirit at least, Mr.
Prevost, I have still all the freshness of youth about me."
"Oh, it is not that--it is not that at all," answered Edith's father;
"it is that she is so very young to take upon herself both cares and
duties. True, she is no ordinary girl; and perhaps if ever anyone were
fit, at so early an age, for the great responsibilities of such a
state, it is Edith. Her education has been singular, unlike that of
any other girl----"
He had wandered away, as was his custom, from the immediate question
to collateral issues, and was no longer considering whether he should
give his consent to Edith's marriage with Lord H----, but whether she
was fit for the marriage state at all, and what effect the education
she had received would have on her conduct as a wife.
The lover, in the meantime, habitually attaching himself and every
thought to one important object, was impatient for something more
definite, and he ventured to break across Mr. Prevost's spoken
reverie, saying: "Our marriage would be necessarily delayed, Mr.
Prevost, for some time, even if I obtained your consent. May I hope
that it will be granted me if no personal objection exists toward
myself?"
"None in the world!" exclaimed Mr. Prevost, eagerly. "You cannot
suppose it for a moment, my dear lord. All I can say is, that I will
oppose nothing which Edith calmly and deliberately thinks is for her
own happiness. What does she say herself?"
"She says nothing," answered Lord H----, with a smile; "for though she
cannot doubt what are my feelings toward her, she has not been put to
the trial of giving any answer without your expressed approbation. May
I believe, then, that I have your permission to offer her my hand?"
"Beyond a doubt," replied Mr. Prevost. "Let me call her; her answer
will soon be given, for she is not one to trifle with anybody."
He rose as he spoke, as if to quit the room, but Lord H---- stopped
him, saying: "Not yet, not yet, my dear sir. She had little, if any,
rest last night, and has experienced much fatigue and anxiety during
the last twenty-four hours; probably she is taking some repose, and I
must not allow even a lover's impatience to deprive her of that."
"I had forgotten," said Mr. Prevost. "It is indeed true; the dear
child must, indeed, need some repose. It is strange, my lord, how
sorrows and joys blend themselves together in all events of mortal
life. I had thought, when in years long ago I entwined my fingers in
the glossy curls of my Edith's hair, and looking through the liquid
crystal of her eyes, seemed to see into the deep foundations of pure
emotions in her young heart--I had thought, I say, that few joys would
be equal to that of seeing her, at some future day, bestow her hand on
some man worthy of her, to make and partake the happiness of a
cheerful home; but now I find the thought has its bitter as well as
its sweet; and memories of the chilly grave rise up to call a solemn
and sobered shade over the bright picture drawn."
His tone dropped gradually as he spoke, and fixing his eyes upon the
ground, he again fell into a fit of absent thought, which lasted long.
Lord H---- would not disturb his reverie, and walking quietly out of
the room, he gave himself also up to meditation. But his reflective
moods were of a different kind from those of his friend--more eager,
more active--and they required some employment for the limbs while the
mind was so busy. To and fro he walked before the house for nearly an
hour, before Mr. Prevost came forth and found him; and then the walk
was still continued. But the father's thoughts, though they had
wandered for a while, had soon returned to his daughter, and their
conversation was of Edith only.
At length, when it was nearly noon, as they turned upon the little
open space of ground in front of the dwelling, the eyes of the young
nobleman, which had been turned more than once to the door, rested on
Edith as she stood in the hall and gazed forth over the prospect.
"The fire seems to be raging there still," she said, pointing with her
fair hand over the country toward the southwest, where hung a dense
canopy of smoke above the forest. "What a blessing one of our autumnal
rains would be!"
Lord H---- made no reply, but suddenly left her father's side, and
taking her extended hand in his, led her into the little sitting-room.
They remained long enough together--to Mr. Prevost it seemed very
long--but when the lover led her to the door again there were once
more happy tears in her eyes, glad blushes on her cheek; and though
the strong, manly arm was fondly thrown around her waist, she escaped
from its warm clasp and cast herself upon the bosom of her father.
"She is mine!" said Lord H----. "She is mine!"
"But none the less mine," answered Mr. Prevost, kissing her cheek.
"Ah, no," said Edith. "No! always yours, my dear father--your child;"
and then she added, while the glowing blood rushed over her beautiful
face like the gush of morning over a white cloud: "Your child, though
his wife."
It cost her an effort to utter the word wife, and yet she was pleased
to speak it; but then the moment after, as if to hide it from memory
again, she said: "Oh, that dear Walter were here. He would be very
happy, I know, and say I had come to the end of my day-dreaming."
"He will be here probably to-night," said her lover.
"We must not count upon it," said her father; "he may meet many things
to detain him; and now, my children, I will go in and make up my
journal till the dinner hour."
Edith leaned fondly on his bosom, and whispered: "And write that this
has been one happy day, my father."
The day went by; night fell, and Walter Prevost did not appear in his
father's house. No alarm, however, was entertained, for out of the
wide range of chances there were many events which might have occurred
to detain him. A shade of anxiety, perhaps, came over Edith's mind;
but it passed away the next morning, when she heard from the negro
Chaudo (or Alexander), who, having been brought up among the Indians
from his infancy, was better acquainted with their habits than any
person in the house, that there had not been a single one in the
neighborhood since the preceding morning at eight o'clock.
"All gone west, Missy," he said; "the last to go were old Chief Black
Eagle. I hear ob him coming to help you, and I go out to see."
Edith asked no questions in regard to the sources of his information,
for he was famous for finding out all that was going on in the
neighborhood, and with a childlike vanity making somewhat of a secret
of the means by which he obtained intelligence; but she argued,
reasonably, though wrongly, that as Walter was not to set out from
Albany till about the same hour the Indians departed, he could not
have fallen in with any of their parties.
Thus passed the morning till about three o'clock; but then, when the
lad did not appear, anxiety rose up and became strong, as hour after
hour went by and he came not. Each tried to sustain the hopes of the
others; each argued against the apprehensions he himself entertained.
Lord H---- pointed out that the commander-in-chief, to whom Walter had
been sent, might be absent from Albany. Mr. Prevost suggested that the
young man might have found no boat coming up the river; and Edith
remembered that very often the boatmen were frightfully exorbitant in
their charge for bringing anyone on the way who seemed eager to
proceed. Knowing her brother's character well, she thought it very
likely that he would resist an attempt at imposition, even at the risk
of delay. But still she was very, very anxious, and as night again
fell, and the hour of repose arrived without his presence, tears
gathered in her beautiful eyes and trembled on the silken lashes.
The following morning dawned in heavy rain. A perfect deluge seemed
descending from the sky, but still Lord H---- ordered his horse at an
early hour, telling Edith and Mr. Prevost in as quiet and easy a tone
as he could assume, that he was going to Albany.
"Although I trust and believe," he said, "that my young friend Walter
has been detained by some accidental circumstances, yet it will be
satisfactory to us all to know what has become of him; and, moreover,
it is absolutely necessary that I should have some communication as
speedily as possible with the commander-in-chief. I think it likely
that Walter may have followed him down the river, as he knows my
anxiety for an immediate answer. I must do so, too, if I find him
still absent; but you shall hear from me when I reach Albany, and I
will be back myself as soon as possible."
Edith gazed at him with a melancholy look, for she felt how much she
needed, and how much more she still might need, the comfort of his
presence; but she would not say a word to prevent his going. The
breakfast that day was a sad and a gloomy meal. The lowering sky, the
pouring rain, the thoughts that were in the hearts of all, banished
everything like cheerfulness. Various orders were given, for one of
the servants to be ready to guide Lord H---- on his way, for
ascertaining whether the little river was in flood, and other matters;
and the course which Walter was likely to take on his return was
considered and discussed, in order that the young nobleman might take
the same road, and meet him, if possible; but this was the only
conversation that took place.
Just as they were about to rise from table, however, a bustle was
heard without, amongst the servants, and Mr. Prevost started up,
exclaiming: "Here he is, I do believe!"
But the hope was dispelled the next instant, for a young man in full
military costume, but drenched with rain, was ushered into the room,
and advanced toward Lord H----, saying in a quiet, commonplace tone:
"We arrived last night, my lord, and I thought it better to come up
and report myself immediately, as the quarters are very insufficient,
and we may expect a great deal of stormy weather, I am told."
Lord H---- looked at him gravely, as if he expected to hear something
more, and then replied, after a moment's pause: "I do not exactly
understand you, Captain Hammond; you have arrived where?"
"Why, at the boatmen's village, on the points, my lord," replied the
young officer, with a look of some surprise; "have you not received
Lord London's dispatch in answer to your lordship's own letters?"
"No, sir," replied Lord H----; "but you had better come and confer
with me in another room."
"Oh, George, let us hear all!" exclaimed Edith, laying her hand upon
his arm, and divining his motives at once. "If there be no
professional reason for secrecy, let us hear all."
"Well," said Lord H----, gravely, "pray, Captain Hammond, when were
his lordship's letters dispatched, and by whom?"
"By the young gentleman you sent, my lord," replied Captain Hammond;
"and he left Albany two days ago, early in the morning. He was a fine,
gentlemanly young fellow, who won us all; and I went down to the boat
with him myself."
Edith turned very pale, and Mr. Prevost inquired: "Pray, has anything
been heard of the boat since?"
"Yes, sir," answered the young officer, beginning to perceive the
state of the case. "She returned to Albany the same night, and we came
up in her yesterday, as far as we could. I made no inquiries after
young Mr. Prevost, for I took it for granted he had arrived with the
dispatches."
Lord H---- turned his eyes toward the face of Edith, and saw quite
sufficient there to make him instantly draw a chair toward her and
seat her in it.
"Do not give way to apprehension," he said, "before we know more. The
case is strange, undoubtedly, dear Edith, but still the enigma may be
solved in a happier way than you think."
Edith shook her head sadly, saying in a low tone: "You do not know
all, dear George--at least I believe not. The Indians have received
offence--they never forgive. They were wandering about here on the
night we were caught by the fire, disappearing the next morning; and
some time during that night my poor brother must have been----"
Tears broke off the sentence; but her lover eagerly caught at some of
her words to find some ground of hope for her--whatever he might fear
himself. "He may have been turned from his course by the burning
forest," he said, "and have found a difficulty in retracing his way.
The woods were still burning yesterday, and we cannot tell how far the
fire may have extended. At all events, dearest Edith, we have gained
some information to guide us. We can now trace poor Walter to the
place where he disembarked, and that will narrow the ground we have to
search. Take courage, love, and let us all trust in God."
"He says that Walter intended to disembark four miles south of the
King's road," said Mr. Prevost, who had been talking earnestly to
Captain Hammond. "Let us set out at once and examine the ground
between this place and that."
"I think not," said Lord H----, after a moment's thought. "I will ride
down as fast as possible to the post, and gain what information I can
there. Then, spreading a body of men to the westward, we will sweep
all the trails up to this spot. You and as many of your people as can
be spared from the house may come on to meet us, setting out in an
hour; but for heaven's sake, do not leave this dear girl alone!"
"I fear not--I fear not for myself!" replied Edith. "Only seek for
Walter, obtain some news of him, and let us try to save him, if there
be yet time to do so."
Covering her eyes with her handkerchief, which was sometimes wetted
with her tears, Edith took no more part in what was going on, but gave
herself up to bitter thought, and many and complex were the trains
which it followed.
While Edith remained plunged in these gloomy reveries, an active, but
not less sad, consultation was going on at the other side of the room,
which ended in the adoption of the plan proposed by Lord H----, very
slightly modified by the suggestions of Mr. Prevost. An orderly whom
Captain Hammond had brought with him was left at the house as a sort
of guard for Edith, it being believed that the sight of his red coat
would act as a sort of intimation to any Indians who might be in the
woods that the family was under the protection of the British
government. Lord H---- and the young officer set out together for the
boatmen's village--whence Walter had departed for Albany, and where a
small party of English soldiers were now posted--intending to obtain
all the aid they could, and sweep along the forest till they came to
the verge of the recent fire, leaving sentinels on the different
trails, which, the reader must understand, were so numerous throughout
the whole of what the Iroquois called their Long House, as often to be
within hail of each other.
Advancing stealthily along these narrow pathways, Lord H----
calculated that he could reconnoitre the whole distance between the
great river and the fire with sufficient closeness to prevent any
numerous party of Indians passing unseen, at least till he met with
the advancing party of Mr. Prevost, who were to search the country
thoroughly for some distance round the house, and then to proceed
steadily forward in a reverse course to that of the young nobleman and
his men.
No time was lost by Lord H---- and Captain Hammond on the road, the
path they took being for a considerable distance the same by which
Lord H---- had first arrived at Mr. Prevost's home, and throughout its
whole length the same which the young officer had followed in the
morning. It was somewhat longer, it is true, than the Indian trail by
which Woodchuck had led them on his expedition; but its width and
better construction more than made up for the difference in distance;
and the rain had not been falling long enough to affect its solidity
to any great extent. Thus little more than an hour and a half sufficed
to bring the two officers to the spot where a company of Lord H----'s
regiment was posted; and the first task, that of seeking some
intelligence of Walter's movements after landing, was more successful
than might have been expected.
A settler, who supplied the boatmen with meal and flour, was even then
in the village, and he averred truly that he had seen young Mr.
Prevost, and spoken with him, just as he was quitting the cultivated
ground on the bank of the river, and entering the forest ground
beyond. Thus his course was traced up to a quarter before three
o'clock on the Thursday preceding, and to the entrance of a government
road which all the boatmen knew well. The distance between that spot
and Mr. Prevost's house was about fourteen miles, and from the
boatmen's village to the mouth of the road, through the forest, some
six or seven. Besides the company of soldiers, numbering some
seventy-three or seventy-four men, there were at least forty or fifty
stout, able-bodied fellows amongst the boatmen well acquainted with
all the intricacies of the roads round about, and fearless and daring
from the constant perils and exertions of their mode of life.
These were soon gathered round Lord H----, whose rank and military
station they now learned for the first time; and he found that the
tidings of the disappearance of Walter Prevost, whom most of them knew
and loved, excited a spirit in them which he had little expected. He
addressed a few words to them at once, offering a considerable reward
to each man who would join in searching thoroughly the whole of that
part of the forest which lay between the spot where the young man was
last seen and his father's house. But one tall, stout man, of about
forty, stepped forward and spoke for the rest, saying: "We want no
reward for such work as that, my lord. I guess there's not a man of us
who will not turn out to search for young Walter Prevost, if you'll
but leave redcoats enough with the old men to protect our wives and
children in case of need."
"More than sufficient will remain," replied Lord H----; "I cannot
venture for anything not exactly connected with the service, to weaken
the post by more than one-quarter of its number; but still we shall
make up a sufficient party to search the woods sufficiently, if you
will all go with me."
"That we will! that we will!" exclaimed a dozen voices; and everything
was soon arranged. Signals and modes of communication and co-operation
were speedily agreed upon; and the practical knowledge of the boatmen
proved fully as serviceable as the military science of Lord H----. He
was far too wise not to avail himself of it to the fullest extent; and
soon, with some twenty regular soldiers, and thirty-seven or
thirty-eight men from the village, each armed with his invariable
rifle and hatchet, and a number of good, big, active boys, who
volunteered to act as a sort of runners and keep up the communication
between the different parts of the line, he set out upon his way along
the edge of the forest, and reached the end of the government road,
near which Walter had been last seen, about one o'clock in the day.
Here the men dispersed, the soldiers guided by the boatmen; and the
forest was entered at some fourteen different places, wherever an old
or a new trail could be discovered. Whenever an opportunity presented
itself by the absence of brushwood, or the old trees being wide or far
apart, the boys ran across from one party to another, carrying
information or directions; and though each little group was often
hidden from the other as they advanced steadily onward, still it
rarely happened that many minutes elapsed without their catching a
sight of some friendly party on the right or left; while whoop and
halloo marked their progress to each other. Once or twice the trails
crossing, brought two parties to the same spot; but then, separating
again, immediately, they sought each a new path, and proceeded as
before.
Few traces of any kind could be discovered on the ground, for the
rain, though it had now ceased, had so completely washed the face of
the earth that every print of shoe or moccasin was obliterated. The
tracks of cart wheels, indeed, seemingly recent, and the foot marks of
a horse and some oxen, were discovered along the government road, but
nothing more, till, at a spot where a large and deeply indented trail
left the highway, the ground appeared a good deal trampled by hoof
marks, as if a horse had been standing there some little time; and,
under a thick hemlock tree at the corner of the trail, sheltering the
ground beneath from the rain, the print of a well-made shoe was
visible. The step had evidently been turned in the direction of Mr.
Prevost's house, and up that trail Lord H---- himself proceeded, with
a soldier and two boatmen.
No further step could be traced, however; but the boatman who had been
the spokesman a little while before, insisted upon it that they must
be on young Master Walter's track. "That's a New York shoe," he said,
"made that print, I am sure; and depend upon it, we are right where he
went. Keep a sharp look under all the thick trees at the side, my
lord. You may catch another track. Keep behind, boys--you'll brush 'em
out."
Nothing more was found, however, though the man afterward thought he
had discovered the print of a moccasin in the sand, where it had been
partly protected; but still some rain had reached it, and there was no
certainty.
The trail they were then following was, I have said, large and deeply
worn, so that the little party of Lord H---- soon got somewhat in
advance of all the others, except that which had continued on the
government road.
"Stay a bit, my lord," said the good boatman, at length; "we are too
far ahead, and might chance to get a shot, if there be any of them red
devils in the wood. I know them well, and all their ways, I guess,
having been among them, man and boy, these thirty years; and it was
much worse when I first came. They'll lie as close to you as that
bush, and the first thing you'll know of it will be a ball whizzing
into you; but if we all go on in time they can't keep back, but will
creep away like mice. But what I can't understand is, why they should
try to hurt young Walter, for they were all as fond of him as if he
were one of themselves."
"The fact is, my good friend," replied Lord H----, in a low tone, "the
day I came down to your landing last, one of the Oneidas was,
unfortunately, killed, and we are told that they will have some white
man's blood in retaliation."
"To be sure they will!" said the man, with a look of consternation.
"They'll have blood for blood, if all of 'em die for it. But did
Walter kill him?"
"No," replied Lord H----; "it was our friend the Woodchuck--but he did
it entirely in self-defence."
"What! Brooks?" exclaimed the boatman, in much surprise. "Do let's
hear about it, and I guess I can tell you how it will all go, better
than any other man between this and Boston;" and he seated himself on
the stump of a tree, in an attitude of attention.
Very briefly, but with perfect clearness, Lord H---- related all that
had occurred on the occasion referred to. The boatman listened with
evident anxiety, and then sat for a moment in silence, with the air of
a judge pondering over the merits of a case just pleaded before him.
"I'll tell you how it is, my lord," he said, at length, in an oracular
tone; "they've got him, depend on't. They've caught him here in the
forest; but you see, they'll not kill him yet--no, no, they won't.
They've heard that Woodchuck has got away, and they've kidnapped young
Walter to make sure of someone. But they'll stay to see if they can't
get Brooks into their clutches somehow. They'll go dodgering about all
manner of ways, and try every trick you can think of to have him back.
Very like you may hear that they've killed the lad, but don't you
believe it for a good many months to come, for I guess it's likely
they'll set this story afloat just to get Brooks to come back, for
then he'll think that they've had all they wanted, and will know that
he's safe from all but the father, or the brother, or the son of the
man he has killed. But they'll wait and see. Oh, they're the most
cunnin'est set of critters that ever lived, and no doubt of it. But
let's get on, for the others are up--there's a redcoat through the
trees here--and they may, perhaps, have scalped the boy; though I
don't think it's nohow likely."
Thus saying, he rose and led the way again through the dark glades of
the wood, till the clearer light of day shining amidst the trunks and
branches on before, showed that the party was approaching the spot
where the late conflagration had laid the shady monarchs of the forest
low. Suddenly, at a spot where another trail crossed, the soldier who
was with them stooped down and picked something up off the ground,
saying: "Here's a good large knife, anyhow."
"Let me see--let me see!" cried the boatman. "That's his knife, for a
score of dollars! Aye--'Warner, London'--that's the maker. It's his
knife. But that shows nothing. He might have dropped it. But he's come
precious near the fire. He surely would never try to break through and
get himself burnt to death. If the Ingians had got him, I should have
thought they'd have caught him farther back. Hallo! What are they all
doing on there? They've found the corpse, I guess."
The eyes of Lord H---- were bent forward in the same direction, and
though his lips uttered no sound, his mind had asked the same question
and come to the same conclusion. Three negroes were standing gathered
together round some object lying on the ground, and the figure of Mr.
Prevost himself, partly seen, partly hidden by the slaves, appeared,
sitting on a fallen tree, with his head resting on his hand,
contemplating fixedly the same object which seemed to engage all the
attention of the negroes.
Lord H---- hurried his pace and reached the spot in a few moments. He
was somewhat relieved by what he saw when he came nearer, for the
object at which Mr. Prevost was gazing at so earnestly was Walter's
knapsack, and not the dead body of his son. The straps which had
fastened it to the lad's shoulders had been cut, not unbuckled, and it
was, therefore, clear that it was not by his own voluntary act that it
had been cast off; but it did not appear to have been opened, and the
boatman, looking down at it, muttered: "No, no, they would not steal
anything--not they. That was not what they wanted. It's no use looking
any farther. The case is clear enough."
"Too clear!" said Mr. Prevost, in a dull, stern tone. "That man Brooks
has saved his own life and sacrificed my poor boy!"
The tears gushed into his eyes as he spoke, and he turned away to hide
them. Lord H---- motioned to the negroes to take up the knapsack and
carry it home, and then, advancing to Mr. Prevost's side, he took his
hand, saying in a low tone: "There may yet be hope, my dear sir. Let
us not give way to despair, but exert ourselves instantly and
strenuously to trace out the poor lad and save him. Much may yet be
done--the government may interfere--he may be rescued by a sudden
effort."
Mr. Prevost shook his head heavily, and murmuring, "Are all my family
destined to perish by Indians?" took his way slowly back toward his
house.
Nothing more was said till he was within a quarter of a mile of his
own door, but there, just emerging from the cover of the wood, the
unhappy father stopped and took the hand of Lord H----. "Break it to
her gently," he said, in a low tone; "I am unfit. Misfortunes,
disappointments and sorrows have broken the spirit which was once
strong, and cast down the energies which used never to fail. It is in
such moments as these that I feel how much I am weakened. Prepare her
to leave this place, too. My pleasant solitude has become abhorrent to
me, and I cannot live here without a dread and memory always upon me.
Go forward, my good lord. I will follow you soon."