Thus fell the young Kentuckian,--a youth endeared to all who knew him, by
his courage and good humour; and whose fall would, at a moment of less
confusion, have created a deep and melancholy sensation. But he fell amid
the roar and tempest of battle, when there was occasion for other
thoughts and other feelings than those of mere individual grief.
The Indians had been driven from their village, as described, aiming not
to fight, but fly; but being intercepted at all points by the assailants,
and met, here by furious volleys poured from the bushy sides of the hill,
there by charges of horsemen galloping through the meadows and
cornfields, they were again driven back into the town, where, in sheer
desperation, they turned upon their foes to sell their lives as dearly
as they might. They were met at the edge of the village by the party of
horse and footmen that had first dislodged them, with whom, being driven
pell-mell among them by the shock of the intercepting bands, they waged a
fierce and bloody, but brief conflict; and still urged onwards by the
assailants behind, fought their way back to the square, which, deserted
almost entirely at the period of young Bruce's fall, was now suddenly
seen, as he drew his last gasp, scattered over with groups of men flying
for their lives, or struggling together in mortal combat; while the
screams of terror-struck women and children gave a double horror to the
din.
The return of the battle to their own immediate vicinity produced its
effects upon the few who had remained by the dying youth. It fired, in
especial, the blood of Captain Ralph, who, snatching up a fallen axe,
rushed towards the nearest combatants, roaring, by way of consolation, or
sympathy, to the bereaved father, "Don't take it hard, Cunnel,--I'll have
a scalp for Tom's sake in no time!" As for Tiger Nathan, he had
disappeared long before, with most of the horsemen, who had galloped up
to the stake with the younger Bruce and his father, being evidently too
fiercely excited to remain idle any longer. The father and brother of the
deceased, the two cousins and Pardon Dodge, who lingered by the latter,
still on his horse, as if old companionship with the soldier and the
service just rendered the maid had attached him to all their interests,
were all that remained on the spot. But all were driven from a
contemplation of the dead, as the surge of battle again tossed its bloody
spray into the square.
"Thar's no time for weeping," muttered Bruce, softly laying the body of
the youth (for Tom had expired in his arms) upon the earth: "he died like
a man, and thar's the end of it,--Up, Dick, and stand by the lady--Thar's
more work for us."
"Everlasting bad work, Cunnel!" cried Dodge; "they're a killing the
squaws! hark, dunt you hear 'em squeaking? Now, Cunnel, I can kill your
tarnal _man_ fellers, for they've riz my ebenezer, and I've kinder got my
hand in; but, I rather calkilate, I han't no disposition to kill
wimming!"
"Close round the lady!" shouted Bruce, as a sudden movement in the mass
of combatants, and the parting from it of a dozen or more wild Indian
figures, flying in their confusion, for they were pursued by thrice their
number of white men, right towards the little party at the stake,
threatened the latter with unexpected danger.
"I'm the feller for 'em, now that my hand's in!" cried Pardon Dodge; and
taking aim with his rifle,--the only one in the group that was charged,
at the foremost of the Indians, he shot him dead on the spot,--a feat
that instantly removed all danger from the party; for the savages,
yelling at the fall of their leader and the discovery of antagonists thus
drawn up in front, darted off to the right hand at the wildest speed, as
wildly pursued by the greater number of Kentuckians.
And now it was, that, as the wretched and defeated barbarians, scattering
at Dodge's fire, fled from the spot, the party at the stake beheld a
sight well fitted to turn the alarm they had for a moment felt on their
own account, into horror and pity. The savage shot down by Dodge was
instantly scalped by one of the pursuers, of whom five or six others
rushed upon another man--for a second of the fugitives had fallen at the
same moment, but only wounded,--attacking him furiously with knives and
hatchets, while the poor wretch was seen with raised arms vainly
beseeching for quarter. As if this spectacle was not in itself
sufficiently pitiable, there was seen a girlish figure at the man's side,
struggling with the assailants, as if to throw herself between them and
their prey, and uttering the most heart-piercing shrieks.
"It is Telie Doe!" shouted Forrester, leaping from his kinswoman's side,
and rushing with the speed of light to her assistance.--He was followed,
at almost as fleet a step, by Colonel Bruce, who recognised the voice at
the same instant, and knew by the ferocious cries of the men,--"Kill the
cursed tory! kill the renegade villain!" that it was the girl's apostate
father, Abel Doe, who was dying under their vengeful weapons.
"Hold, friends, hold!" cried Roland, as he sprang amid the infuriated
Kentuckians. His interposition was for a moment successful: surprise
arrested the impending weapons; and Doe, taking advantage of the pause,
leaped to his feet, ran a few yards, and then fell again to the ground.
"No quarter for turn-coats and traitors! no mercy for white Injuns!"
cried the angry men, running again at their prey. But Roland was before
them; and as he bestrode the wounded man, the gigantic Bruce rushed up,
and, catching the frenzied daughter in his arms, exclaimed, with tones of
thunder, "Off, you perditioned brutes! would you kill the man before the
eyes of his own natteral-born daughter? Kill Injuns, you brutes,--thar's
the meat for you!"
"Hurrah for Cunnel Tom Bruce!" shouted the men in reply; and satisfying
their rage with direful execrations, invoked upon "all white Injuns and
Injun white men," they rushed away in pursuit of more legitimate objects
of hostility, if such were still to be found,--a thing not so certain,
for few Indian whoops were now mingled with the white man's cry of
victory.
In the meanwhile, Roland had endeavoured to raise the bleeding and
mangled renegade to his feet; but in vain, though assisted by the efforts
of the unhappy wretch himself; who, raising his hands, as if still to
avert the blows of an unrelenting enemy, ejaculated wildly,--"It a'n't
nothing,--its only for the gal. Don't murder a father before his own
child!"
"You are safe,--fear nothing," said Roland, and at the same moment, poor
Telie herself rushed into the dying man's arms, crying, with tones that
went to the Virginian's heart,--"They're gone, father, they're gone! Now
get up, father, and they won't hurt you no more; the good captain has
saved you, father; they won't hurt you, they won't hurt you no more!"
"Is it the Captain?" cried Doe, struggling again to rise, while Bruce
drew the girl gently from his arms. "Is it the captain?" he repeated,
bending his eager looks and countenance ghastly with wounds upon the
Virginian. "They han't murdered you then? I'm glad on it, captain;--I'll
die the easier, captain! And the gal, too?" he exclaimed, as his eyes
fell upon Edith, who, scarce knowing in her horror what she did, but
instinctively seeking the protection of her kinsman, had crept up to the
group now around the dying wretch. "It's all right, captain!--But where's
Dick? where's Dick Braxley? You han't killed him among you?"
"Think not of the villain," said Roland; "I know naught of him."
"I'm a dying man, captain," exclaimed Doe; "I know'd this would be the
end of it. If Dick's a prisoner, jist bring him up and let me speak with
him. It will be for your good, captain."
"I know nothing of the scoundrel. Think of yourself," said the Virginian.
"Why, there, don't I see his red han'kercher," cried Doe, pointing to
Dodge, who, from his horse, which he had not yet deserted, perhaps, from
fear of again losing him, sat looking with soldier-like composure on the
expiring renegade, until made conscious that the shawl which he had tied
round his waist somewhat in manner of an officer's sash, had become an
object of interest to Doe and all others present.
"I took it from the Injun feller," said he, with great self-complacency,
"the everlasting big rascal that was a carrying off madam on my own hoss,
and madam was jist as dead as a piece of rock. I know'd the crittur, and
sung out to the feller to stop, and he wouldn't; and so I jist blazed
away at him, right bang at his back,--knocked him over jist like a streak
o' lightning, and had the scalp off his 'tarnal ugly head afore you could
say John Robinson,--and all the while madam was jist as dead as a piece
of rock. Here's the top-knot, and an ugly dirty top-knot it is!" With
which words, the valiant Dodge displayed his trophy, a scalp of black
hair, yet reeking with blood.
A shiver passed through Edith's frame, she grasped her cousin's arm to
avoid falling, and with a countenance as white and ghastly as countenance
could be, exclaimed,--
"It was Braxley!--It was he carried me off;--but I knew nothing. It was
he! Yes, it was _he_!"
"It war'n't a white man?" cried Dodge, dropping his prize in dismay;
while even Roland staggered with horror at the thought of a fate so
sudden and dreadful overtaking his rival and enemy.
"Ha, ha!" cried the renegade, with a hideous attempt at laughter; "I told
Dick the devil would have us; but I had no idea Dick would be the first
afore him! Shot,--scalped,--sarved like a mere dog of an Injun! Well, the
game's up at last, and we've both made our fortun's! Captain, I've been a
rascal all my life, and I die no better. You wouldn't take my offer,
captain;--it's no matter." He fumbled in his breast, and presently drew
to light the will, with which he so vainly strove the preceding night to
effect his object with Roland; it was stained deeply with his blood.
"Take it, captain," he cried, "take it; I give it to you without axing
tarms; I leave it to yourself, captain. But you'll remember her, captain?
The gal, captain! the gal! I leave it to yourself--"
"She shall never want friend or protector," said Roland.
"Captain," murmured the renegade, with his last breath, and grasping the
soldier's hand with his last convulsive effort--"you're an honest feller;
I'll--yes, captain, I'll trust you!"
These were the renegade's last words; and before Bruce, who muttered,
half in reproach, half in kindness, "The gal never wanted friend or
protector, till she fled from me, who was as a father to her," could draw
the sobbing daughter away, the wretched instrument of a still more
wretched principal in villany, had followed his employer to his last
account.
In the meanwhile, the struggle was over, the battle was fought and
won. The army, for such it was, being commanded in person by the hero
of Kaskaskias,[14] the great protector, and almost founder of the
West,--summoned in haste to avenge the slaughter at the Blue Licks,--a
lamentable disaster, to which we have several times alluded, although it
was foreign to our purpose to venture more than an allusion,--and
conducted with unexampled speed against the Indian towns on the Miami,
had struck a blow which was destined long to be remembered by the
Indians, thus for the first time assailed in their own territory.
Consisting of volunteers well acquainted with the woods, all well mounted
and otherwise equipped, all familiar with battle, and all burning for
revenge, it had reached within but ten or twelve miles of Wenonga's town,
and within still fewer of a smaller village, which it was the object of
the troops first to attack, at sunset of the previous day, and encamped
in the woods to allow man and horse, both well nigh exhausted, a few
hours' refreshment, previous to marching upon the neighbouring village;
when Nathan, flying with the scalp and arms of Wenonga in his hand, and
looking more like an infuriated madman than the inoffensive man of peace
he had been so long esteemed, suddenly appeared amidst the vanguard,
commanded by the gallant Bruce, whom he instantly apprised of the
condition of the captives at Wenonga's town, and urged to attempt their
deliverance.
[Footnote 14: General George Rogers Clark.]
This was done, and with an effect which has been already seen. The
impetuosity of Bruce's men, doubly inflamed by the example of the father
and his eldest son, to whom the rescue of their late guests was an object
of scarce inferior magnitude even compared with the vengeance for which
they burned in common with all others, had in some measure defeated the
hopes of the General, who sought, by a proper disposition of his forces,
completely to invest the Indian village, so as to ensure the destruction
or capture of every inhabitant. As it was, however, very few escaped;
many were killed, and more, including all the women and children (who,
honest Dodge's misgivings to the contrary notwithstanding, were in no
instance designedly injured), taken prisoners. And this, too, at an
expense of but very few lives lost on the part of the victors; the
Indians attempting resistance only when the fall of more than half their
numbers, and the presence of foes on every side, convinced them that
flight was wholly impracticable.
The victory was, indeed, so complete, and--as it appeared that several
bands of warriors from more distant villages were in the town at the time
of the attack--the blow inflicted upon the tribe so much severer than was
anticipated even from a series of attacks upon several different towns,
as was at first designed, that the victors, satisfied that they had done
enough to convince the red-man of the irresistible superiority of the
Long-knife, satisfied, too, perhaps, that the cheapness of the victory
rendered it more valuable than a greater triumph achieved at a greater
loss, gave up at once their original design of carrying the war into
other villages, and resolved to retrace their march to the Settlements.
But the triumph was not completed until the village, with its fields of
standing corn, had been entirely destroyed--a work of cruel vengeance,
yet not so much of vengeance as of policy; since the destruction of their
crops, by driving the savages to seek a winter's subsistence for their
families in the forest, necessarily prevented their making warlike
inroads upon their white neighbours during that season. The maize-stalks,
accordingly, soon fell before the knives and hatchets of the Kentuckians;
while the wigwams were given to the flames. When the last of the rude
habitations had fallen, crashing, to the earth, the victors began their
retreat towards the frontier; so that within a very few hours after they
first appeared, as if bursting from the earth, amid the amazed
barbarians, nothing remained upon the place of conflict and site of a
populous village, save scattered ruins and mangled corses.
Their own dead the invaders bore to a distance, and interred in the
deepest dens of the forest; and then, with their prisoners, carried with
them as the surest means of inducing the tribe to beg for peace, in order
to effect their deliverance, they resumed the path, which, in good time,
led them again to the Settlements.