Day dawned bright and clear over the wild woods, the green savannas,
and 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 bustling with the earliest beam--bustling, but in their quiet
way. Each was active, clearing away every trace of their sojourn from
the face of the savanna as far as possible, and preparing to betake
himself to the shade of the neighboring woods; but Sister Bab was
still sound asleep. Amongst those who have traveled over that part of
the country there may be some who remember a beautiful and rich green
meadow, extending for almost 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 to the northward
of this grassy plot, well covered with wood, and there is on the south
a rocky but still 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 even 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 her
Indian friend had 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 moccasined
foot. She started up and rubbed her eyes, looking round with evident
surprise; 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 speaking a word.
"What can we do, brother, to save them?" asked Sister Bab, at length.
"I don't think there's any danger indeed, to Missy or Massa Woodchuck,
'cause the young man in the blue coat seemed very civil; but den if
Massa Woodchuck not get away, your people will kill Massa Walter, for
six months will be over very soon."
"Five days ago six moons had 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 and walk before
me to where you left them, like a cloud upon the mountain side,
quickly, but without noise."
"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 moccasins," 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 like a toppling stone upon the edge of a precipice--a wind
may blow it down. The French Hurons do not spare women. Come, get 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 six 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 footprints 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 traveled 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 upon 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 broad trail, the
chief taking 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 unpracticed eye
nothing would have been apparent to excite the slightest suspicion of
a neighboring 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 tapering, without showing 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 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 toward 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 toward 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 dusky 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 redmen looked
out from the bushes, and then another, and both gazed round 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 paleface; you followed her when 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 take 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 paleface Prevost. Tell them thou hast
passed the night in the woods, seeking for her, and they will let thee
stay with her. Say to her she shall have deliverance before the sun
has set to-morrow, but tell 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 none
hears; and what I tell her to do, do thou, if thou wouldst save thy
life!"
"But," said 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 Indians 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 backward and forward, and a group of Indians seated
on the ground round a fire, cooking their food. There she halted
suddenly, 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: "What's that? What's that?" in
French, 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 the 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 fine 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 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,
and 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 his charge to the fortress,
expressing gallantly his regret to lose the honor 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 officer 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
objection could not exist, he would receive instructions as to what
was to be done, both with herself and her 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 toward 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 toward him and seated
herself near, saying: "What is the matter, my good friend?" and 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 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!" replied Woodchuck, pressing
his hands tightly 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," replied Woodchuck, bitterly, "and
there's no use of 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 deathly 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 she answered: "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 answered, bitterly. "If I had but thought of what I knew
quite well, I should have gone a fortnight sooner, and the poor boy
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 all attempt to
comfort him was vain, Edith returned to the side of the black woman,
and inquired eagerly if she had heard any tidings of Walter amongst
the Oneidas.
Sister Bab was more cautious than poor Woodchuck had been, however,
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; but 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 sergeant who had brought the
despatch in the morning 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 Comtois 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[4]
Point 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, 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."
"It is for you to say, mademoiselle," said Monsieur Le Comtois,
"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; and 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 bloody scenes which write man's shame in letters of blood
upon the page of history.