THE CAPTIVE.
Leland and Leslie conversed and recounted to each other their adventures
until those were exhausted, when they endeavored to keep off the chill
by taking turns at the oars. Morning at length began to appear. In a
short time darkness lifted from the water, and the bright rays of the
morning sun pierced the foliage of the forest and rested upon the
stream.
About the middle of the forenoon, Kent ran in under the bank and sprung
ashore. The day was quite warm, and it was a pleasure for the three to
step upon the land and stretch themselves in the genial sunshine. They
had, however, halted for consultation, and to determine upon the plan to
pursue in order to rescue Rosalind.
"One more job finished and we'll rest a while," said Kent.
"And as we have depended upon and been guided and saved by your wisdom,"
said Leslie, "of course, in this most important case your advice must be
followed."
"Let's hear what you chaps have got to say first, 'cause p'raps you
might accidentally say somethin' smart without knowin' it. I'll decide
it after we all get through."
"What seems to me the most feasible is this," commenced Leland. "Let all
three of us follow the savages which have taken my sister, and after
reaching their vicinity, by stratagem recover her. If it be impossible
to do it in this way, make a bold dash and venture among them, and take
her at all events."
"Killin' first 'bout one hundred Injins, just to get 'em out the way,
you know," said Kent, with mock gravity. "Come, Leslie, it's your turn;
and bein' you're so much interested, I 'spects to hear somethin' awful
grand."
Leslie, to save his life, could not prevent a blush at this allusion. As
might be expected, he had thought of more than one plan, long before
asked for it, and replied without hesitation:
"What I say is, _rescue_ her at all events, as George has said. Of
course, it's out of the question to do it by force, and we must outwit
the savages. This I think possible, for the good reason that it has so
often been done. All three of us, or perhaps, what would be better, you
and myself can follow them up and retake her. George, in his present
state, could do but little to aid us, and in all probability, will
endanger the safety of all concerned."
"I agrees with you there; and a little further. Mr. Leslie, 'in his
present state,' _would_ do but little to aid us, and in all probability,
endanger the safety of all concerned."
"There is no need of jesting, Kent. You know that it would be the best
for you to have a companion, and who can you take but me?"
"Don't know but what it would. Now, s'posen an old feller that don't
know nothin' says somethin'?" said Kent, good-humoredly; for he, as is
generally the case with those of his class, had a habit of depreciating
his own sagacity and foresight, when he really knew how much superior it
was to his companion's.
"Don't know but what it would," he repeated. "S'pose if I's in your
case, I'd feel the same; but you see, there's somethin' else to think
of. S'posen we gets her, we hain't got any place to stick our heads in,
and may be hunted forever after by the skunks. Now as soon as
convenient, we'll paddle down to the place where Leland's house was
burned, and drop him there; fur it won't do to take _you_ 'long, George.
Leslie understands the Injins better than you, and it would just git us
all into a muss, and like enough, make 'em knock her on the head, to
save trouble. We'll take you up to your farm 'cause that'll be a place
we can't miss very well; and if there's a shed or anything left, you can
stow yourself away till we gets back. Keep a good lookout, and don't get
into any trouble. I'll take Leslie along, for I s'pose he won't stay,
and I've thought of a plan that'll take him to work with. There, you
have my plan."
"Which you must admit, is the one that must be followed," said Leslie,
turning toward Leland.
"I suppose," he returned, "that your advice should be taken, although I
confess that I had hoped to accompany you; but as I said, Kent knows
best, and the only proper course is to obey him."
"Well, let us not wait, now that we have decided what to do," said
Leslie, rising to his feet.
"No; we ought to be movin', fur I opine we've a good tramp afore us."
Again the boat was shoved out, and shot onward. Nothing worthy of
mention occurred on the way. The next day, at noon, they reached their
destination. Leland's heart sunk within him, as he gazed up from the
river and saw, where once his home had been, nothing but black and
charred ruins. A portion of what had once been used as the barn remained
entire, having escaped the flames.
"This is just the thing," said Kent, approaching it. "We'll fix it up
a little and I'd advise you to go to sleep, and stay so until we get
back."
The three set vigorously to work, and in a short time they had made it
quite comfortable. It consisted of logs placed firmly and compactly
together, and secured so that a single person well armed could offer
effectual resistance to a formidable enemy. Being in a sort of clearing,
it had the additional advantage of affording its inhabitant such a view
that he could not be approached by any person without their being
observed and thus giving him time to prepare for them.
"There!" said the hunter, retreating a short distance and gazing at it.
"I wouldn't ax a better place. You might bring down a hundred Injins,
and give me plenty powder and ball, I'd have the best fun in creation."
"Suppose they come upon all sides?" suggested Leland.
"All you got to do is to take the stock off your gun and shoot out of
both ends of the barrel."
"You can go now as soon as you please; but first tell me what time to
expect you back."
Kent folded both arms over the muzzle of his gun, and shutting one eye,
remained for a few moments buried in earnest thought. Then he replied:
"Between five and eight days; probably on the sixth."
"All ready?" queried Leslie.
"All ready," returned Kent.
Both bade Leland good-by, and after a few unimportant words, started
upon their journey. Leslie felt a wild, joyous thrill as he realized
that he was really nearing Rosalind; that in a short time, as he firmly
believed, he should see and be able to assist her to procure her
liberty. He could hardly restrain his impatience, but vainly urged Kent
to quicken his thoughtful, lagging steps. The sun had set, and darkness
was slowly spreading over the great forest, when the two plunged into
its depths and ventured upon their perilous, doubtful undertaking.
For a considerable time we have left Rosalind to herself, and with the
reader's permission we will now return to her.
The Indians which held her, as was stated, journeyed far into the
interior of Kentucky before making a final halt. Here they reached the
village or headquarters of their tribe, and gave her to understand that
her journey was at an end.
The village numbered several hundred, and considering her defenseless
position, the savages allowed her considerable liberty. From the first,
however, she was made a slave and a drudge, and compelled to toil with
the hardy squaws of their tribe, bearing their insults and sometimes
even their blows. The hope and prospect of a speedy relief and
deliverance enabled her to bear this without murmuring. She had not much
fear of death, as she judged by their actions that their intention was
to make her a prisoner for life.
There is nothing in the animal creation but which is affected by
kindness and obedience, and there is no race upon which it makes a more
ready impression than the American. Rosalind's continual gentleness and
pleasing manner melted the hearts of many of the warriors, and more than
one rude epithet was restrained by the meek loveliness of her face.
Yet she was sometimes in greater danger than she ever dreamed. All did
not act and feel thus toward her; more than one voice demanded her
blood, and while she lay quietly dreaming of some loved one, there was
many an angry discussion over her life. Deadly, baleful glances were
given her, when in her musings she was unconscious of the notice of any
one; and among the entire female portion there was not a squaw but what
regarded her with feelings of jealousy and hatred. Had she remained a
month, at the end of that time her life would no doubt have been
sacrificed. To quiet the continual broiling and angry feelings, the
Indians would have acted as they did in nearly a similar case some years
before; she would have been tomahawked, as was the young Miss McCrea.
Rosalind often wondered who the person could be that had interrupted her
conversation with Zeb upon the first night of her captivity. One day she
was gratified with the knowledge. A savage approached her and commenced
a conversation:
"How is the pale-faced maiden?"
She started at hearing her tongue spoken so well, and looking up
recognized a middle-aged Indian, that had frequently visited her house
during her father's life. She replied:
"Very well."
The savage was uneasy, and waited a few moments for her to speak
further, but as she evinced no disposition to do so, he at length added:
"Does the maiden remember Pequanon?"
[Illustration: "Does the maiden remember Pequanon?"]
"She does," she returned, looking him steadily in the face. "She
remembers him as one who received kindness both from her father's hand
and her own, and as one who shows his gratitude by treacherously burning
her home, and carrying her into captivity. Yes, Pequanon," she
continued, bursting into tears at the remembrance of the event, "she
remembers you and can never forget your conduct."
"Pequanon saved your life," he returned, feelingly.
"And gave me a fate that is worse."
"He went with his brothers when they burned your home, but he did not
help. He went to save your life, and did do it. When the tomahawk was
lifted over your head, he caught the arm and turned it aside. When your
blood was called for, Pequanon swore that it should not be had, and he
has kept his word. Pequanon never forgets kindness, and will die for the
maiden that clothed and fed him."
Rosalind felt her heart moved with pity toward the poor, untutored
savage who had thus really been grateful, and no doubt had done all in
his power for her good. She recalled many instances where she believed
that he was the cause of the lenity upon the part of the captors, and
where it seemed that some one had shown an interest in her welfare. She
informed him that she believed he had done her all the good that was in
his power, and expressed her heartfelt thanks for it. The Indian seemed
gratified beyond measure, and after further conversation took his
departure, promising eternal fidelity to her.
This circumstance, though trivial in itself, had a great influence upon
Rosalind. It gave her a knowledge of the true position in which she
stood. Although she doubted not but that she had friends among the
savage beings around her, yet she well knew that there were many deadly
enemies, who, when an opportunity offered, would not hesitate to take
her life. Every night when she lay down, it was with the prayer that her
life might be preserved until morning, and that, were it in the power of
her friends to rescue her, they would do it speedily.
The lodge in which she slept was that of the chief. Besides his own
wife, several squaws remained in it during the night. A young woman, her
most bitter and hateful enemy, slept beside Rosalind most of the time,
and the slightest movement on the part of the latter was sure to
occasion some insulting word or command from her. She bore this without
a word, hoping each night that it was the last she was to spend in this
manner.
One night she suddenly awoke to a full state of consciousness--so
suddenly that it startled and alarmed her. It seemed as though something
had awakened her, and yet she could recall nothing. She turned her head
and gazed at her companion, but she, to all appearances, was sound
asleep, and could not have been the cause. She experienced no more of
drowsiness or inclination to sleep, but concluded to feign it in the
hope of satisfying herself of any danger that might be lurking near her.
She half closed her eyes, yet kept a close watch of everything around
her. In a moment there was a rustling upon the outside; the next instant
the point of a knife protruded through a gap in the skin of the lodge,
and two eyes were seen gleaming like a tiger's; then the hand that held
the knife was thrust forward, and it was held over her.
Rosalind tried to scream, but could not utter a sound. She seemed frozen
with terror, and only made a spasmodic movement that awoke her
companion. As soon as the latter moved, the hand was withdrawn and the
rent closed of its own accord.
"Oh!" she murmured, "did you see it?"
Her companion, more angered on account of being awakened from her sleep,
struck her a blow and commanded silence; but Rosalind could not remain
in her position, and arising and stepping softly over the sleeping form
beside her, seated herself in the center of the lodge. Here she remained
until morning, when she made the inmates understand the nature of her
nocturnal fright. All treated it lightly, and she began to entertain a
suspicion that they knew more of it than she did herself.
In the course of the day she narrated the circumstance to Pequanon,
showing him also the aperture that had been made in the lodge. He
examined it carefully, and appeared troubled about it. The marks of a
person's knee and moccasin could be seen upon the soft earth, and there
was no doubt that her life had been sought. Pequanon informed her of
something that surprised and alarmed her as much as this. Several of the
warriors, since her first appearance among them, had shown a desire to
obtain Rosalind for a wife; and although it may seem strange that she
herself was not aware of the fact, Pequanon had noticed it from the
commencement, and now for the first time warned her of it. One who
suspected that he should be disappointed, had taken the means to procure
the revenge that we have mentioned. Ever after this Pequanon remained in
the lodge during the night, and Rosalind was careful to keep at a safe
distance from the sides of it.
She saw in the fact that he had given her, the cause of the hatred upon
the part of the females toward her. They had seen the favor with which
she was regarded by numbers of the warriors, and were filled with
jealousy at it. From them she had as much to fear as from the Indians
who wished to obtain her.