Ticonderoga: A Story of Early Frontier Life in the Mohawk Valley (2024)

Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source: Web Archive
https://archive.org/details/ticonderogastory00jameuoft
(University of Toronto)

A Story of Early Frontier Life in the Mohawk Valley

By G. P. R. JAMES

Author of "Darnley, A Romance of the times
of Henry VIII."; "Richelieu, A Tale of
France in the Reign of King Louis XIII."

A. L. BURT COMPANY,
PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

TICONDEROGA

CHAPTER I

The house was a neat, though a lowly one. It bore traces of newness,for the bark on the trunks which supported the little veranda had notyet mouldered away. Nevertheless, it was not built by the owner's ownhands; for when he came there he had much to learn in the rougher artsof life; but with a carpenter from a village some nine miles off, hehad aided to raise the building and directed the construction by hisown taste. The result was satisfactory to him; and, what was more, inhis eyes, was satisfactory to the two whom he loved best--at least, itseemed satisfactory to them, although those who knew them, even not sowell as he did, might have doubted, and yet loved them all the better.

The door of the house was open, and custom admitted every visitorfreely, whatever was his errand. It was a strange state of societythat, in which men, though taught by daily experience that precautionwas necessary, took none. They held themselves occasionally ready torepel open assault, which was rare, and neglected every safeguardagainst insidious attack, which was much more common.

It was the custom of the few who visited that secluded spot to enterwithout ceremony, and to search in any or every room in the house forsome one of the inhabitants. But on this occasion the horse that cameup the road stopped at the gate of the little fence, and the traveler,whoever he was, when he reached the door after dismounting, knockedwith his whip before he entered.

The master of the house rose and went to the door. He was somewhatimpatient of ceremony, but the aspect and demeanor of his visitor werenot of a kind to nourish any angry feeling. He was a young and veryhandsome man, probably not more than thirty years of age, sinewy andwell formed in person, with a noble and commanding countenance, abroad, high brow, and a keen but tranquil eye. His manner wascourteous, but grave, and he said, without waiting to have his errandasked: "I know not, sir, whether I shall intrude upon you too far inasking hospitality for the night, but the sun is going down, and I wastold by a lad whom I met in the woods just now that there is no otherhouse for ten miles farther; and, to say the truth, I am very ignorantof the way."

"Come in," said the master of the cottage. "We never refuse to receivea visitor here, and, indeed, have sometimes to accommodate more thanthe house will well hold. We are alone, however, now, and you will nothave to put up with the inconveniences which our guests are sometimesobliged to encounter. Stay! I will order your horse to be taken careof."

Thus saying, he advanced a step or two beyond the door and called in aloud voice for someone whom he named Agrippa. He had to shout morethan once, however, before a negro appeared, blind in one eye, andsomewhat lame withal, but yet, apparently, both active andintelligent. The necessary orders were soon given, and in a momentafter the traveler was seated with his host in the little parlor ofthe cottage. The manner of the latter could not be called cordial,though it was polite and courteous.

The other seemed to feel it in some degree, and a certain statelinessappeared in his demeanor which was not likely to warm his host intogreater familiarity. But suddenly the chilly atmosphere of the roomwas warmed in a moment, and a chain of sympathy established betweenthe two by the presence of youth. A boy of sixteen, and a girl alittle more than a year older, entered with gay and sunshiny looks,and the cloud was dispelled in a moment.

"My daughter Edith--my son Walter," said the master of the house,addressing the stranger, as the two young people bounded in; and thenhe added, with a slight inclination of the head: "It was an ancientand honorable custom in Scotland, when that country was almost asuncivilized as this, and possessed all the uncivilized virtues, neverto inquire the name of a guest; and therefore I cannot introduce youto my children; but doubtless they will soon acknowledge you as theirnameless friend."

"I am a friend of one of them already," answered the stranger, holdingout his hand to the lad. "This is the young gentleman who told me thatI should find the only house within ten miles about this spot, and hisfather willing to receive me, though he did not say that I should finda gem in the wilderness, and a gentleman in these wild woods."

"It has been a foolish fancy, perhaps," said the master of the house,"to carry almost into the midst of savage life some remnants ofcivilization. We keep the portraits of dead friends--a lock of hair--atrinket--a garment of the loved and departed. The habits and theornaments of another state of society are to me like those friends,and I long to have some of their relics near me."

"Oh, my dear father," said Edith, seating herself by him and leaningher head upon his bosom, without timidity or restraint, "you couldnever do without them. I remember when we were coming hither, nowthree years ago, that you talked a great deal of free, unshackledexistence; but I knew quite well, even then, that you could not becontent till you had subdued the rough things around you to a morerefined state."

"What made you think so, Edith?" asked her father, looking down at herwith a smile.

"Because you never could bear the parson of the parish drinking punchand smoking tobacco pipes," answered the beautiful girl, with a laugh;"and I was quite sure that it was not more savage life you sought, butgreater refinement."

"Oh, yes, my father," added the lad; "and you often said, when we werein England, that the red Indian had much more of the real gentleman inhim than many a peer."

"Dreams, dreams," said their father, with a melancholy smile; andthen, turning to the stranger, he added: "You see, sir, how keenly ourweaknesses are read by even children. But come, Edith, our friend mustbe hungry with his long ride; see and hasten the supper. Our habitsare primeval here, sir, like our woods. We follow the sun to bed, andwake with him in the morning."

"They are good habits," answered the stranger, "and such as I amaccustomed to follow much myself. But do not, I pray you, hasten yoursupper for me. I am anything but a slave of times and seasons. I canfast long, and fare scantily, without inconvenience."

"And yet you are an Englishman," answered the master of the house,gravely, "a soldier, or I mistake; a man of station, I am sure; thoughall three would generally infer, as the world goes at this presenttime, a fondness for luxurious ease and an indulgence of all theappetites."

A slight flush came into his young companion's cheek, and the otherhastened to add: "Believe me, I meant nothing discourteous. I spoke ofthe Englishman, the soldier, and the man of rank and stationgenerally, not of yourself. I see it is far otherwise with you."

"You hit hard, my good friend," replied the stranger, "and there issome truth in what you say. But perhaps I have seen as many lands asyou, and I boldly venture to pronounce that the fault is in the age,not in the nation, the profession, or the class."

As he spoke he rose, walked thoughtfully to the window, and gazed outfor a moment or two in silence; and then, turning round, he said,addressing his host's son: "How beautifully the setting sun shinesdown yonder glade in the forest, pouring, as it were, in a golden mistthrough the needle foliage of the pines. Runs there a road downthere?"

The boy answered in the affirmative, and drawing close to thestranger's side pointed out to him, by the undulation of the groundand the gaps in the tree tops, the wavy line that the road followed,down the side of the gentle hill, saying: "By a white oak and a greathemlock tree, there is a footpath to the left; at a clump of largecedars on the edge of the swamp the road forks out to the right andleft, one leading eastward toward the river, and one out westward tothe hunting grounds."

The stranger seemed to listen to him with pleasure, often turning hiseyes to the lad's face as he spoke, rather than to the landscape towhich he pointed; and when he had done he laid his hand on hisshoulder, saying, "I wish I had such a guide as you, Walter, for myonward journey."

"Will it be far?" asked the youth.

"Good faith, I cannot well tell," answered the other. "It may be asfar as Montreal, or even to Quebec, if I get not satisfaction soon."

"I could not guide you as far as that," replied the boy, "but I knowevery step toward the lakes, as well as an Indian."

"With whom he is very fond of consorting," said his father, with asmile.

But before the conversation could proceed farther, an elderly,respectable woman servant entered the room and announced that supperwas on the table. Edith had not returned, but they found her in alarge, oblong chamber to which the master of the house led the way.There was a long table in the midst, and four wooden chairs arrangedround one end, over which a snowy tablecloth was spread. The rest ofthe table was bare, but there were a number of other seats and two orthree benches in the room, while at equal distances on either side,touching the walls, lay a number of bear and buffalo skins, as ifspread out for beds.

The eye of the stranger glanced over them as he entered, but his hostreplied to his thoughts, with a smile: "We will lodge you somewhatbetter than that, sir. We have, just now, more than one room vacant;but you must know there is no such thing as privacy in this land, andwhen we have any invasion of our Indian friends those skins make themsupremely happy. I often smile to think how a redman would feel inHolland sheets. I tried it once, but it did not succeed. He pulled theblankets off the bed and slept upon the floor."

Seated at the table, the conversation turned to many subjects,general, of course, but yet personally interesting to both the eldermembers of the party.

More than an hour was beguiled at the table--a longer period thanordinary--and then the bright purple hues which spread over theeastern wall of the room, opposite the windows, told that the autumnalsun had reached the horizon. The master of the house rose to lead theway into another room again, but ere he moved from the table anotherfigure was added to the group around it, though the foot was sonoiseless that no one heard its entrance into the chamber.

The person who had joined the little party was a man of middle age, ofa tall, commanding figure, upright and dignified carriage, and fine,but somewhat strongly marked features. The expression of hiscountenance was grave and noble, but yet there was a certainstrangeness in it--a touch of wildness, perhaps I might call it--verydifficult to define. It was not in the eyes, for they were good, calm,and steadfast, gazing straight at any object of contemplation, andfixed full upon the face of anyone he addressed. It was not in thelips, for, except when speaking, they were firm and motionless.Perhaps it was in the eyebrow, which, thick and strongly marked, wasoccasionally suddenly raised or depressed, without apparent cause.

His dress was very strange. He was evidently of European blood,although his skin was embrowned by much exposure to sun and weather.But yet he wore not altogether the European costume, the garb of theAmerican backwoodsman, or that of the Indian. There was a mixture ofall, which gave him a wild and fantastic appearance. His coat wasevidently English, and had straps of gold lace upon the shoulders; hisknee breeches and high riding boots would have looked English, also,had not the latter been destitute of soles, properly so called; forthey were made somewhat like a stocking, and the part beneath the footwas of the same leather as the rest. Over his shoulder was a belt ofrattlesnake skin, and round his waist a sort of girdle, formed fromthe claws of the bear, from which depended a string of wampum, whiletwo or three knives and a small tomahawk appeared on either side. Noother weapons had he whatever. But under his left arm hung a commonpowder flask, made of cow's horn, and beside it, a sort of wallet,such as trappers commonly used for carrying their little store ofIndian corn. A round fur cap of bearskin, without any ornamentwhatever, completed his habiliments.

It would seem that in that house he was well known, for its masterinstantly held forth his hand to him, and the young people sprangforward and greeted him warmly. A full minute elapsed before he spoke,but nobody uttered a word till he did so, all seeming to understandhis habits.

"Well, Mr. Prevost," he said, at length, "I have been a stranger toyour wigwam for some time. How art thou, Walter? Not a man yet, inspite of all thou canst do? Edith, my sweet lady, time dealsdifferently with thee from thy brother. He makes thee a woman againstthy will." Then turning suddenly to the stranger, he said: "Sir, I amglad to see you. Were you ever at Kielmansegge?"

"Once," replied the stranger, laconically.

"Then we will confer presently," replied the newcomer. "How have youbeen this many a day, Mr. Prevost? You must give me food, for I haveridden far. I will have that bearskin, too, for my night's lodgingplace, if it be not pre-engaged. No, not that one, the next. I havetold Agrippa to see to my horse, for I ever count upon your courtesy."

There was something extremely stately and dignified in his whole tone,and with frank straightforwardness, but without any indecorous haste,he seated himself at the table, drew toward him a large dish of coldmeat, and while Edith and her brother hastened to supply him witheverything else he needed, proceeded to help himself liberally towhatever was within his reach. Not a word more did he speak forseveral minutes, while Mr. Prevost and his guest stood looking on insilence, and the two young people attended the newcomer at the table.

As soon as he had done he rose abruptly, and then, looking first toMr. Prevost, and next to the stranger, said: "Now, gentlemen, if youplease, we will to council."

The stranger hesitated, and Mr. Prevost answered, with a smile: "I amnot of the initiated, Sir William; but I and the children will leaveyou with my guest, whom you seem to know, but of whose name[1] andstation I am ignorant."

"Stay! stay!" replied the other, to whom he spoke. "We shall need notonly your advice but your concurrence. This gentleman I will answerfor as a faithful and loyal subject of his majesty King George. He hasbeen treated with that hardest of all treatments--neglect. But his isa spirit in which not even neglect can drown out loyalty to his kingand love to his country. Moreover, I may say, that the neglect whichhe has met with has proceeded from a deficiency in his own nature.God, unfortunately, did not make him a grumbler, or he would have beena peer long ago. The Almighty endowed him with all the qualities thatcould benefit his fellow creatures, but denied him those which werenecessary to advance himself. Others have wondered that he never metwith honors, or distinction, or reward. I wonder not at all; for he isneither a charlatan, nor a coxcomb, nor a pertinacious beggar. Hecannot stoop to slabber the hand of power, nor lick the spittle of theman in office. How can such a man have advancement? It is contrary tothe course of the things of this world. But as he has loved his fellowmen, so will he love them. As he has served his country, so will heserve it. As he has sought honor and truth more than promotion, honorand truth will be his reward--alas! that it should be the only one.But when he dies, if he dies unrecompensed, it will not beunregretted, or unvenerated. He must be of our council."

Mr. Prevost had stood by in silence, with his eyes bent upon theground. But Edith sprang forward and caught Sir William Johnson's handas he ended the praises of her father, and bending her head withexquisite grace, pressed her lips upon it. Her brother seemed inclinedto linger for a moment, but saying, "Come, Walter," she glided out ofthe room, and the young lad, following, closed the door behind him.

CHAPTER II

"Who can he be?" said Walter Prevost, when they had reached the littlesitting-room. "Sir William called him 'My Lord.'"

Edith smiled at her brother's curiosity. Oh, how much older womenalways are than men!

"Lords are small things here, Walter," she said.

"I do not think that lords are small things anywhere," answered herbrother, who had not imbibed any of the republican spirit which waseven then silently creeping over the American people. "Lords are madeby kings for great deeds or great virtues."

"Then they are lords of their own making," answered Edith. "Kings onlyseal the patent nature has bestowed. That great red oak, Walter, wasgrowing before the family of any man now living was ennobled by thehand of royalty."

"Pooh, nonsense!" answered her brother. "You are indulging in one ofyour day dreams. What has that oak to do with nobility?"

"I hardly know," replied his sister, "but yet something linked themtogether in my mind. It seemed as if the oak asked me, 'What is theirantiquity to mine?' And yet the antiquity of their families is theirgreatest claim to our reverence."

"No! no!" cried Walter Prevost, eagerly. "Their antiquity is nothing,for we are all of as ancient a family as they are. But it is that theycan show a line from generation to generation, displaying some highqualities, ennobled by some great acts. Granted that here or there asluggard, a coward, or a fool may have intervened, or that the actswhich have won praise in other days may not be reverenced now. Yet Ihave often heard my father say that, in looking back through recordsof noble houses, we shall find a sum of deeds and qualities suited toand honored by succeeding ages, which, tried by the standard of thetimes of the men, shows that hereditary nobility is not merely anhonor won by a worthy father for unworthy children, but a bond togreat endeavors, signed by a noble ancestor on behalf of all hisdescendants. Edith, you are not saying what you think."

"Perhaps not," answered Edith, with a quiet smile; "but let us havesome lights, Walter, for I am well nigh in darkness."

The lights were brought, and Walter and his sister sat down to museover books--I can hardly say to read--till their father reappeared;for the evening prayer and the parting kiss had never been omitted intheir solitude ere they lay down to rest. The conference in the hall,however, was long, and more than an hour elapsed before the threegentlemen entered the room. Then a few minutes were passed in quietconversation, and then, all standing round the table, Mr. Prevostraised his voice, saying: "Protect us, O Father Almighty, in the hoursof darkness and unconsciousness. Give us thy blessing of sleep torefresh our minds and bodies; and if it be thy will, let us wake againto serve and praise thee through another day more perfectly than inthe days past, for Christ's sake."

The Lord's Prayer succeeded, and then they separated to their rest.

Before daylight in the morning Sir William Johnson was on foot and inthe stable. Some three or four negro slaves--for there were slavesthen on all parts of the continent--lay sleeping soundly in a smallsort of barrack hard by; and as soon as one of them could be roused,his horse was saddled, and he rode away without stopping to eat or sayfarewell. He bent his course direct toward the banks of the Mohawk,flowing at some twenty miles distance from the cottage of Mr. Prevost;and before he had been five minutes in the saddle was in the midst ofthe deep woods which surrounded the little well cultivated spot wherethe English wanderer had settled.

About a mile from the house a bright and beautiful stream crossed theroad, flowing onward toward the greater river; but bridge there wasnone, and in the middle of the stream Sir William suffered his horseto stop and bend its head to drink. He gazed to the eastward, but allthere was dark and gloomy under the thick overhanging branches. Heturned his eyes to the westward, and they rested on a figure standingin the midst of the stream, with rod in hand, and his back turnedtoward him. He thought he saw another figure, too, amidst the treesupon the bank; but it was shadowy there, and the form seemed shadowy,too.

After gazing for a moment or two, he raised his voice and exclaimed:"Walter! Walter Prevost!"

The lad heard him, and laying his rod upon the bank, hastened alongover the green turf to join him; but at the same moment the figureamong the trees--if really figure it was--disappeared from sight.

"Thou art out early, Walter," said Sir William. "What do you at thishour?"

"I am catching trout for the stranger's breakfast," said the lad, witha gay laugh. "You should have had your share, had you but waited."

"Who was that speaking to you on the bank above?" asked the other,gravely.

"Merely an Indian girl, watching me fishing," replied Walter Prevost.

"I hope your talk was discreet," rejoined Sir William. "These aredangerous times, when trifles are of import, Walter."

"There was no indiscretion," replied the lad, with the color mountingslightly in his cheek. "She was noticing the feather flies with whichI caught the fish, and blamed me for using them. She said it was ashame to catch anything with false pretences."

"She is wise," answered the other, with a faint smile, "but yet thatis hardly the wisdom of her people. An Indian maiden!" he added,thoughtfully. "Of what tribe is she? One of the Five Nations, Itrust."

"Oh, yes; an Oneida," replied Walter. "One of the daughters of theStone, the child of a sachem who often lodges at our house."

"Well, be she who she may," said Sir William, "be careful of yourspeech, especially regarding your father's guest. I say not, toconceal that there is a stranger with you, for that cannot be; butwhatever you see or guess of his station, or his errand, keep it toyourself, and let not a woman be the sharer of your thoughts till youhave tried her with many a trial."

"She would not betray them, I am sure," answered the lad, warmly, andthen added, with some slight embarrassment, as if he felt that he hadin a degree betrayed himself, "but she has nothing to reveal or toconceal. Our talk was all of the river and the fish. We met byaccident, and she is gone."

"Perhaps you may meet by accident again," said the other, "and then becareful. But now to more serious things. Perchance your father mayhave to send you to Albany--perchance to my castle. You can find yourway speedily to either. Is it not so?"

"Further than either," replied the lad, gayly.

"But you may have a heavy burden to carry," rejoined Sir William. "Doyou think you can bear it--I mean the burden of a secret?"

"I will not drop it by the way," answered Walter, gravely.

"Not if the sachem's daughter offer to divide the load?" asked hiscompanion.

"Doubt me not," said Walter.

"I do not," said Sir William. "I do not; but I would have you warned.And now farewell. You are very young to meet maidens in the wood. Becareful. Farewell."

He rode on, and the boy tarried by the roadside and meditated.

In about two minutes he took his way up the stream again, stillmusing, toward the place where he had laid down his rod.

He sprang up the bank, and in amongst the maples; and some ten minutesafter, the sun rising higher, poured its light through the stems upona boy and girl seated at the foot of an old tree; he with his armsaround her, and his hand resting on the soft, brown, velvety skin, andshe with her head upon his bosom, and her warm lips within the reachof his.

Her skin was brown, I have said, yes, very brown, but still hardlybrowner than his own. Her eyes were dark and bright, of the trueIndian hue, but larger and more open than is at all common in many ofthe tribes of Iroquois. Her lips, too, were rosy, and as pure of alltinge of brown as those of any child of Europe; and her fingers, also,were stained of Aurora's own hue. But her long, silky black hair wouldhave spoken her race at once had not each tress terminated in a wavycurl. The lines of the form and of the face were all wonderfullylovely, too, and yet were hardly those which characterize sopeculiarly the Indian nations. The nose was straighter, the cheekbones less prominent, the head more beautifully set upon theshoulders. The expression, too, as she rested there with her cheekleaning on his breast, was not that of the usual Indian countenance.It was softer, more tender, more impassioned; for though romance andpoetry have done all they could to spiritualize the character ofIndian love, I fear, from what I have seen and heard and known, it israrely what it has been portrayed. Her face, however, was full of loveand tenderness and emotion; and the picture of the two as they satthere told at once of a tale of love just spoken to a willing ear.

CHAPTER III

The hour of breakfast had arrived when Walter Prevost returned withhis river spoil; but the party at the house had not yet sat down totable. The guest who had arrived on the preceding night was standingat the door talking with Edith, while Mr. Prevost himself was withinin conference with some of the slaves. Shaded by the little rusticporch, Edith was leaning against the door post in an attitude ofexquisite grace, and the stranger, with his arms crossed upon hisbroad, manly chest, now raising his eyes to her face, now droppingthem to the ground, seemed to watch with interest the effect his wordsproduced as it was written on that beautiful countenance.

"I know not," said the stranger, speaking as the young man approached,"I know not how I should endure it myself for any length of time. Themere abstract beauty of nature would, soon pall upon my taste, I fear,without occupation."

"But you would make occupation," answered Edith, earnestly; "you wouldfind it. Occupation for the body is never wanting when you have toimprove and cultivate and ornament; and occupation flows in from athousand gushing sources in God's universe--even were one deprived ofbooks and music."

"Aye, but companionships and social converse, and the interchange ofthought with thought," said the stranger; "where could one findthose?" and he raised his eyes to her face.

"Have I not my brother and my father?" she asked.

"True, you have," said the other; "but I should have no suchresource."

He had seen a slight hesitation in her last reply. He thought that hehad touched the point where the yoke of solitude galled the spirit. Hewas not the one to plant or to nourish discontent in anyone, and heturned at once to her brother, saying: "What, at the stream so early,my young friend? Have you had sport?"

"Not very great," answered Walter. "My fish are few, but they arelarge. Look here!"

"I call such sport excellent," said the stranger, looking into thebasket. "I must have you take me with you some fair morning, for I ama great lover of the angle."

The lad hesitated, and turned somewhat redder in the cheek than he hadbeen the moment before; but his sister saved him from reply, saying,in a musing tone: "I cannot imagine what delight men feel in what theycall the sports of the field. To inflict death may be a necessity, butsurely should not be an amusem*nt."

"Man is a born hunter, Miss Prevost," replied the stranger, with asmile. "He must chase something. Oh, my dear young lady! few can tellthe enjoyment, in the midst of busy, active, troublous life, of onecalm day's angling by the side of a fair stream, with quiet beauty allaround us, and no adversary but the speckled trout."

"And why should they be your foes?" asked Edith. "Why should you dragthem from their cool, clear element to pant and die in the dry upperair?"

"'Cause we want to eat? em," said a voice from the door behind her;"they eats everything. Why shou'dn't we eat them? Darn this world; itis but a place for eating and being eaten. The bivers that I trap eatfish, and many a cunning trick the crafty critters use to catch 'em;the minks eat birds and birds' eggs. Men talk about beasts of prey.Why, everything is a beast of prey, eating the oxen and the sheep, andsuch like; and sometimes I have thought it hard to kill them, whonever do harm to no one, and a great deal of good sometimes. But come,Master Walter, don't ye keep them fish in the sun. Give 'em to blackRosie, the cook, and let us have some on 'em for breakfast aforethey're all wilted up."

The man who spoke might have been five feet five or six in height, andwas anything but corpulent. Yet he was in chest and shoulders as broadas a bull; and though the lower limbs were more lightly formed thanthe upper, yet the legs, as well as the arms, displayed strong,rounded muscles, swelling forth at every movement. His hair was asblack as jet, without the slightest mixture of gray, though he couldnot be less than fifty-four or fifty-five years of age; and his face,which was handsome, with features somewhat eagle-like, was browned byexposure to a color nearly resembling that of mahogany. With hisshaggy bearskin cap, well worn, and a frock of deerskin, with the hairon, descending to the knees, he looked more like a bison than anythinghuman; and, half expecting to hear him roar, the stranger wassurprised to trace tones soft and gentle, though somewhat nasal, tosuch a rude and rugged form.

While Walter carried his basket of fish to the kitchen, and Mr.Prevost's guest was gazing at the newcomer, in whom Edith seemed torecognize an acquaintance, the master of the house himself approachedfrom behind the latter, saying as he came. "Let me make you acquaintedwith Mr. Brooks, Major Kielmansegge--Captain Jack Brooks."

"Pooh, pooh, Prevost!" exclaimed the other. "Call me by my right name.I was Captain Brooks long agone. I'm new christened, and calledWoodchuck now. That's because I burrow, Major. Them Ingians arewonderful circumdiferous; but they have found that when they trytricks with me, I can burrow under them; and so they call meWoodchuck, 'cause it's a burrowing sort of a beast."

"I do not exactly understand you," said the gentleman who had beencalled Major Kielmansegge. "What is the exact meaning ofcircumdiferous?"

"It means just circumventing like," answered the Woodchuck. "First andforemost, there's many of the Ingians--the Algonquin, for asample--never tell a word of truth. No, no, not they. One of them toldme so plainly one day. 'Woodchuck,' says he, 'Ingian seldom telltruth. He know better than that. Truth too good a thing to be usedevery day; keep that for time of need.' I believe at that preciousmoment he spoke the truth the first time for forty years."

The announcement that breakfast was ready interrupted the explanationof Captain Brooks, but seemed to afford him great satisfaction, and atthe meal, certainly, he ate more than all the rest of the party puttogether, consuming everything set before him with a voracity trulymarvelous. He seemed to think some apology necessary, indeed, for hisfurious appetite. "You see, Major," he said, as soon as he could bringhimself to a pause sufficiently long to utter a sentence, "I eat wellwhen I do eat; for sometimes I eat nothing for four or five daystogether. When I get to a lodge like this, I take in stores for mynext voyage, as I can't tell what port I shall touch at again."

"Pray, do you anticipate a long cruise just now?" asked the stranger.

"No! no!" said the other, laughing; "but I always prepare against theworst. I am just going up the Mohawk for a step or two to make a tradewith some of my friends of the Five Nations--the Iroquois, as theFrench folks call them. But I shall trot up afterward to Sandy Hilland Fort Lyman to see what is to be done there in the way of business.Fort Lyman I call it still, though it should be Fort Edward, for afterthe brush with Dieskau it has changed its name. Aye, that was a sharpaffair, Major. You'd ha' liked to bin there, I guess."

"Were you there, Captain?" asked Mr. Prevost. "I did not know you hadseen so much service."

"There I was," answered Woodchuck, with a laugh; "though, as toservice, I did more than I was paid for, seeing I had no commission.I'll tell you how it was, Prevost. Just in the beginning ofSeptember--the seventh or eighth, I think--of the year afore last,that is, seventeen fifty-five, I was going up to the head of the laketo see if I could not get some paltry, for I had been unlucky downwestward, and had made a bargain in Albany that I did not like tobreak. Just at the top of the hill, near where the King's road comesdown to the ford, who should I stumble upon amongst the trees but oldHendrick, as they call him--why, I can't tell--the sachem of theTortoise totem of the Mohawks. He was there with three young men athis feet; but we were always good friends, he and I, and over andabove, I carried the calumet, so there was no danger. Well, we satdown, and he told me that the General, that is, Sir William as is now,had dug up the tomahawk, and was encamped near Fort Lyman, to givebattle to You-non-de-yok; that is to say, in their jargon, the Frenchgovernor. He told me, too, that he was on his way to join the General,but that he did not intend to fight, but only to witness the bravedeeds of the Corlear men; that is to say, the English. He was acunning old fox, old Hendrick, and I fancied from that he thought weshould be defeated. But when I asked him, he said, no; that it was allon account of a dream he had had, forbidding him to fight on thepenalty of his scalp. So I told him I was minded to go with him andsee the fun. Well, we mustered before the sun was quite down well nighupon three hundred Mohawks, all beautifully painted and feathered; butthey all told me they had not sung their war song, nor danced theirwar dance before they left their lodges, so I could see well enoughthat they had no intention to fight, and the tarnation devil wouldn'tmake 'em. However, we got to the camp, where they were all busythrowing up breastworks, and we heard that Dieskau was coming downfrom Hunter's in force. The next morning we heard that he had turnedback again from Fort Lyman, and Johnson sent out Williams with sevenor eight hundred men to get hold of his haunches. I tried hard to getold Hendrick to go along, for I stuck fast by my Ingians, knowing thebrutes can be serviceable when you trust them. But the sachem onlygrunted, and did not stir. In an hour and a half we heard a mightylarge rattle of muskets, and the Ingians could not stand the soundquietly, but began looking at their rifle flints and fingering theirtomahawks. However, they did not stir, and old Hendrick sat as graveand as brown as an old hemlock stump. Then we saw another party go outof camp to help the first; but in a very few minutes they came runningback with Dieskau at their heels. In they tumbled over the breastworkshead over heels--anyhow; and a pretty little considerable quantity offright brought they with them. If Dieskau had charged straight on thatminute, we should have all been smashed to everlasting flinders, and Idon't doubt no more than that a bear's a critter that Hendrick and hispainted devils would have had as many English scalps as French ones.But the old coon of a Garman halted up short some two hundred yardsoff, and Johnson did not give him much time to look about him, for hepoured all the cannon shot he had got into him as hard as he couldpelt. Well, the French Ingians, and there was a mighty sight of them,did not like that game of ball, and they squattered off to the rightand left, some into the trees and some into the swamps; and I couldstand it no longer, but up with my rifle and give them all I had togive; and old Hendrick, seeing how things were likely to go, took tothe right end, too, but a little too fast, for the old devil came intohim, and he must needs have scalps. So out he went with the rest, andjust as he had got his forefinger in the hair of a young Frenchman,whiz came a bullet into his dirty red skin, and down he went like anold moose. Some twenty of his Ingians got shot, too; but, in the end,Dieskau had to run. Johnson was wounded, too; and them folks havesince said that he had no right to the honor of the battle, but thatit was Lyman, who took the command when he could fight no longer. Butthat's all trash! Dieskau had missed his chance, and all hisirregulars were sent skimming by the first fire long before Johnsonwas hit. Lyman had nothing to do but hold what Johnson left him, andpursue the enemy. The first he did well enough, but the second heforgot to do, though he was a brave man and a good soldier, for allthat."

This little narrative seemed to give matter for thought both to Mr.Prevost and his English guest, who, after a moment or two of somewhatgloomy consideration, asked the narrator whether the friendly Indianshad on that occasion received any special offence to account for theirunwillingness to give active assistance to their allies, or whethertheir indifference proceeded merely from a fickle or treacherousdisposition.

"Somewhat of both," replied Captain Brooks; and after leaning hisgreat, broad forehead on his hand for a moment or two in deep thought,he proceeded to give his views of the relations of the colonies withthe Iroquois, in a manner and tone totally different from any he hadused before. They were grave and almost stern; and his language hadfew, if any, of the coarse illustrations with which he ordinarilyseasoned his conversation.

"They are a queer people, the Indians," he said, "and not so muchsavages as we are inclined to believe them. Sometimes I am ready tothink that in one or two points they are more civilized thanourselves. They have not got our arts and sciences; and as they havegot no books, one set of them cannot store up the knowledge they gainin their own time to be added to by every generation of them thatcomes after; and we all know that things which are sent down frommouth to mouth are soon lost or corrupted. But yet they are alwaysthinking, and they have a calmness and a coolness in their thoughtsthat we white men very often want. They are quick enough in actionwhen once they have determined upon a thing, and for perverseness theybeat all the world; but they take a long time to consider before theydo act, and it is really wonderful how quietly they do consider, andhow steadily they stick in consideration to all their own old notions.We have not treated them well, sir, and we never did. They have bornea great deal, and they will bear more still; but yet they feel andknow it, and some day they may make us feel it, too. They have not thewit to take advantage at present of our divisions, and by joiningtogether themselves make us feel all their power; for they hate eachother worse than they hate us; but if the same spirit were to take thewhole redmen which got hold of the Five Nations many a long year ago,and they were to band together against the whites as those FiveNations did against the other tribes, they'd give us a great deal oftrouble, and though we might thrash them at first, we might teach themto thrash us in the end. As it is, however, you see there are two setsof Indians and two sets of white men in this country, each asdifferent from the other as anything can be. The Indians don't say, asthey ought: The country is ours, and we will fight against all thewhites till we drive them out; but they say: The whites are wiser andstronger than we are, and we will help those of them who are wisestand strongest. I don't mean to say they have not got their likings anddislikings, and that they are not moved by kindness or by being talkedto; for they are great haters and great likers. But still what I havesaid is at the bottom of all their friendships with the white men. TheDutchmen helped the Five Nations, and taught them to believe they werea strong people. So the Five Nations liked the Dutch, and madealliance with them. Then came the English, and proved stronger thanthe Dutch, and the Five Nations attached themselves to the English.They have stuck fast to us for a long time, and would not go from uswithout cause. If they could help to keep us great and powerful theywould, and I don't think a little adversity would make them turn. Butstill to see us whipped and scalped would make them think a good deal;and they won't stay by a people long they don't respect. They have gottheir own notions, too, about faith and want of faith. If you arequite friendly with them--altogether--out and out, they'll hold fastenough to their word with you; but a very little turning, or shaking,or doubting, will make them think themselves free from allengagements, and then take care of your scalp-lock. If I am quite surewhen I meet an Indian, that, as the good book says, 'My heart is rightwith his heart,' that I have never cheated him, or thought of cheatinghim; that I have not doubted him, nor do I doubt him, I can lie downand sleep in his lodge as safe as if I were in the heart of Albany.But I should not sleep a wink if I knew there was the least little bitof insincerity in my own heart; for they are as cute as serpents, andthey are not a people to wait for explanations. Put your wit againsttheirs at the back of the forest, and you'll get the worst of it."

"But have we cheated or attempted to cheat these poor people?" askedthe stranger.

"Why, the less we say about that the better, Major," repliedWoodchuck, shaking his head. "They have had to bear a great deal; andnow, when the time comes that we look as if we were going to the wall,perhaps they may remember it."

"But I hope and trust we are not exactly going to the wall," said theother, with his color somewhat heightened. "There has been a greatdeal said in England about mismanagement of our affairs on thiscontinent; but I have always thought, being no very violent politicianmyself, that party spirit dictated criticisms which were probablyunjust."

"There has been mismanagement enough, Major," replied Captain Brooks;"hasn't there, Prevost?"

"I fear so, indeed," replied his host, with a sigh; "but quite as muchon the part of the colonial authorities as on that of the governmentat home."

"And whose fault is that?" asked the other, somewhat warmly. "Why,that of the government at home, too. Why do they appoint incompetentmen? Why do they appoint ignorant men? Why do they exclude from everyoffice of honor, profit, trust, or emolument, the good men of theProvinces who know the situation and the wants and the habits of theProvinces, and put over us men who, if they were the best men in theworld, would be inferior, from want of experience, to our own people,but who are nothing more than a set of presuming, ignorant, graspingblood-suckers, who are chosen because they are related to a ministeror a minister's mistress, or perhaps his valet, and whose only objectis to make as much out of us as they can, and then get back again. Ido not say they are all so; but a great many of them are, and that isan insult and an injury to us."

He spoke evidently with a good deal of heat; but his feelings werethose of a vast multitude of the American colonists, and thosefeelings were preparing the way for a great revolution.

"Come, come, Woodchuck!" exclaimed Walter Prevost, with a laugh, "youare growing warm; and when you are angry you bite. The Major wants tohear your notions of the state of the English power here, and not yourcensure of the King's government."

"God bless King George!" cried the other, warmly, "and send him allprosperity. There's not a more loyal man in the land than I am; but itvexes me all the more to see his ministers throwing away his people'shearts and losing his possessions into the bargain. But I'll tell youhow it is, Major--at least how I think it is--and then you'll see. ButI must go back a bit. Here are we, the English, in the middle of thisNorth America; and we have got the French on both sides of us. Well,we have a right to the country all across the continent--and we musthave it, for it is our only safety. But the French don't want us to besafe, and so they are trying to get behind us and push us into thesea. They have been trying it a long time, and we have taken nonotice. They have pushed their posts from Canada right along by theWabash and the Ohio from Lake Erie to the Mississippi, and they havebuilt forts, and won over Ingians, drawing a string round us, whichthey will tighten every day unless we act. And what have the ministersbeen doing all the time? Why, for a long time they did nothing at all.First, the French were suffered boldly to call the country their own,and to carry our traders and trappers and send them into Canada; andnever a word said by our people. Then they built fort after fort, tilltroops can march, and goods can go, with little or no trouble, fromQuebec to New Orleans; and all that this produced was a speech fromGovernor Hamilton and a message from Governor Dinwiddie. The lastindeed sent to England and made representation; but all he got was anorder to repel force by force if he could, but to be quite sure thathe did so on the undoubted territories of King George. Undoubted!Why, the French made the doubt, and then took advantage of it.Dinwiddie, however, had some spirit, and with what help he could get,he began to build a fort himself in the best chosen spot of the wholecountry, just by the meeting of the Ohio and the Monongahela. But hehad only one man to the French ten, and not a regular company amongstthem. So the French marched with a thousand soldiers and plenty ofcannon and stores, turned his people out, took possession of his halffinished fort and completed it themselves. That was not likely to makethe Ingians respect us. Well, then Colonel Washington, the Virginian,and the best man in the land, built Fort Necessity; but they left himwithout forces to defend it, and he was obliged to surrender toVilliers and a force big enough to eat him up. That did not raise uswith our redskins, and a French force never moved without a whole herdof Ingians, supposed to be in friendship with us, but ready to scalpus when we were defeated. Then came Braddock's mad march upon Fort DuQuesne, where he and almost all who were with him were killed by ahandful of Ingians amongst the bushes--fifteen hundred men dispersed,killed and scalped by not four hundred savages--all the artillerytaken and baggage beyond count--think of that! Then Shirley made agreat parade of marching against Fort Niagara, but he turned backalmost as soon as he set out; and had it not been for some good luckon the north side of Massachusetts Bay, and the victory of Johnsonover Dieskau, you would not have had a tribe to hold fast to us. Theywere all wavering as fast as they could. I could see it as plain aspossible from old Hendrick's talk; and the French Jesuits were inamongst them day and night to bring the Five Nations over. This wasthe year afore last. Well, what did they do last year? Nothing at allbut lose Oswego. Lord Loudon and Abercrombie and Webb marched andcountermarched and consulted and played the fool, while Montcalm wasbesieging Mercer, taking Oswego, breaking the terms he had expresslygranted, and suffering his Ingians to scalp and torture his prisonersof war before his eyes. Well, this was just about the middle ofAugust, but it was judged too late to do anything that year, andnothing was done. There was merry work in Albany, and people dancedand sang; but the Ingians got a strange notion that the English lionwas better at roaring than he was at biting. And now, Major, what havewe done this year to make up for the blunders of the last five or six?Why, Lord Loudon stripped the whole of this province of its men andguns to go to Halifax and attack Louisburg. When he got to Halifax heexercised his men for a month, heard a false report that Louisburg wastoo strong and too well prepared to be taken, and sailed back to NewYork. In the meantime, Montcalm took Fort William Henry, on LakeGeorge, and, as usual, let the garrison be butchered by the Ingians.So now the redskins see the English arms contemptible on every part ofthis continent, and the French complete masters of the lakes and thewhole western country. The Five Nations see their Long House open toour enemies on three sides, and not a step taken to give themassistance or protection. We have abandoned them; can you expect themnot to abandon us?"

The young officer, long before this painful question was asked, hadleaned his elbow on the table and covered his eyes and part of hisface with his hand. Walter and Edith both gazed at him earnestly,while their father bent his eyes gloomily down on the table--all threesympathizing with the feelings of a British officer while listening tosuch a detail. The expression they could not see, but the fine-cut earappearing from beneath the curls of his hair glowed like fire beforethe speaker finished.

He did not answer, however, for more than a moment; but then raisinghis head, with a look of stern gravity he replied: "I cannot expectit. I cannot even understand how they have remained attached to us solong and so much."

"The influence of one man has done a great deal," replied Mr. Prevost."Sir William Johnson is what is called the Indian agent, and whatevermay be thought of his military ability, there can be no doubt that theIroquois trust him, and love him more than they have ever trusted orloved a white man before. He is invariably just toward them; he alwayskeeps his word with them; he never yields to importunity, or refusesto listen to reason; and he places that implicit confidence in themwhich enlists everything that is noble in the Indian character in hisfavor. Thus in his presence and in their dealings with him, they arequite a different people from what they are with others--all theirfine qualities are brought into action, and all their wild passionsare stilled."

"I should like to see them as they really are," said the youngofficer, eagerly; and then, turning to Woodchuck, he said: "You tellme you are going amongst them, my friend. Can you not take me withyou?"

"Wait three days, and I will," replied the other. "I am first going upthe Mohawk, as I told you, close by Sir William's castle and hall, ashe calls the places. You'd see little there; but if you will promiseto do just as I tell you, and take advice, I'll take you up to SandyHill and the creek, where you'll see enough of them. That will bearter I come back on Friday about noon."

Mr. Prevost looked at the young officer, and he at his entertainer,and then the former asked: "When will you bring him back, Captain? Hemust be here again by next Tuesday night."

"That he shall be, with or without his scalp," answered Woodchuck,with a laugh. "You get him ready to go; for you know, Prevost, theforest is not the parade ground."

"I will lend him my Gakaah and Giseha and Gostoweh," cried Walter. "Wewill make him quite an Indian."

"No! no!" answered Woodchuck. "That won't do, Walter. The man whotries to please an Ingian by acting like an Ingian, makes nought ofit. They know it's a cheat, and they don't like it. We have our ways,they have theirs; and let each keep his own, like honest men. So Ithink, and so the Ingians think. Putting on a lion's skin will nevermake a man a lion. Get him some good, tough leggings, and a coat thatwon't tear, a rifle, and an axe, and a wood-knife--a bottle of brandyis no bad thing. But don't forget a calumet and a bunch of tobacco,for both may be needful. So now good-bye t'ye all. I must trot."

Thus saying, he rose from the table, and without more ceremoniousadieu, left the room.

CHAPTER IV

When Brooks had left them, half an hour was spent in one of thosepleasant after-breakfast dreams, when the mind seems to take amoment's hesitating pause before grappling with the active business ofthe day. But little was said; each gazed forth from window or fromdoor; each thought perhaps of the other, and each drank in sweetsensations from the scene before the eyes.

Each thought of the other, I have said; and when such is the case, howinfinite are the varieties into which thought moulds itself. Walterpaused and pondered upon the stranger's state and objects--askedhimself who he was, what could be his errand--how--why he camethither? Major Kielmansegge he knew him not to be. A chance word hadshown him not only his rank and station, but shown also that there wasa secret to be kept--a secret to which perhaps his imagination lentmore importance than it deserved. He was an English peer, the youngman knew, one of a rank with which in former years he had beenaccustomed to mingle, and for which, notwithstanding all that hadpassed, and lapse of time and varied circ*mstances, he retained anhabitual veneration. But what could have led a British peer to thatsecluded spot? What could be the circ*mstances which, having led himthither, had suddenly changed his purpose of proceeding onward, andinduced him to remain a guest in his father's cottage in a state ofhalf-concealment? Could it be Lord Loudon, he asked himself, thecommander-in-chief of the royal forces, whose conduct had been soseverely censured in his own ears by the man just gone?

It was not by accident that Lord H---- and Edith Prevost met there. Itwas for the working out of their mutual destiny under the hand of God;for if there be a God, there is a special providence.

"This is very lovely, Miss Prevost," said the young soldier, when thelong meditative lapse was drawing to a close, "but I should think thescene would become somewhat monotonous. Hemmed in by these woods, thecountry round, though beautiful in itself, must pall upon the taste."

"Oh, no!" cried Edith, eagerly. "It is full of variety. Each dayaffords something new, and every morning walk displays a thousandfresh beauties. Let us go and take a ramble, if you have nothingbetter to do; and I will show you there is no monotony. Come, Walter,take your rifle, and go with us. Father, this is not your hour. Canyou never come before the sun has passed his height and see theshadows fall the other way?"

"Mine is the evening hour, my child," answered Mr. Prevost, somewhatsadly, "but go, Edith, and show our noble friend the scenes you somuch delight in. He will need something to make his stay in this dullplace somewhat less heavy."

The stranger made no complimentary reply, for his thoughts were busywith Edith; and he was at that moment comparing her frank,unconscious, undesigning offer to lead him through love-like woods andglades, with the wily hesitation of a court coquette.

"Perhaps you are not disposed to walk," said Edith, marking hisreverie, and startling him from it.

"I shall be delighted," he said, eagerly, and truly, too. "You mustforgive me for being somewhat absent, Miss Prevost. Your father knowsI have much to think of, though indeed thought at present is vain; andyou will confer a boon by banishing that idle but importunatecompanion."

"Oh, then, you shall not think at all when you are with me," saidEdith, smiling, and away she ran to cover her head with one of thoseblack wimples very generally worn by the women of that day.

Beyond the cultivated ground, as you descended the gentle hill, laythe deep forest at the distance of some three hundred yards, and atit* edge Edith paused and made her companion turn to see how beautifulthe cottage looked upon its eminence, shaded by gorgeous maple treesin their gold and crimson garb of autumn, with a tall rock or two ofgray and mossy stone rising up amidst them.

Lord H---- gazed at the house and saw that it was picturesque andbeautiful--very different indeed from any other dwelling he had seenon the western side of the Atlantic; but there was absentthoughtfulness in his eyes, and Edith thought he did not admire ithalf enough.

"How strange are men's prejudices and prepossessions," said LordH----, as they paused to gaze at a spot where a large extent of lowwoodland lay open to the eye below them. "We are incredulous ofeverything we have not seen, or to the conception of which we have notbeen led by very near approaches. Had anyone shown me, ere I reachedthese shores, a picture of an autumn scene in America, though it hadbeen perfect as a portrait, hue for hue, or even inferior, in itsstriking coloring, to the reality, I should have laughed at it as amost extravagant exaggeration. Did not the first autumn you passedhere make you think yourself in fairyland?"

"No; I was prepared for it," replied Edith. "My father had describedthe autumn scenery to me often before we came."

"Then was he ever in America before he came to settle?" asked hercompanion.

"Yes, once," answered Edith. She spoke in a very grave tone, and thenceased suddenly.

But her brother took the subject up with a boy's frankness, saying:"Did you never hear that my grandfather and my father's sister died inVirginia? He was in command there, and my father came over just beforemy birth."

"It is a long story and a sad one, my lord," said Edith, with a sigh;"but look now as we mount the hill, and see how the scene changes.Every step upon the hillside gives us a different sort of tree, andthe brush disappears from amidst the trunks. This grove is my favoriteevening seat, where I can read and think under the broad, shadyboughs, with nothing but beautiful sights around me."

"Truly, this is an enchanting scene. It wants, methinks, but thefigure of an Indian in the foreground; and there comes one, I fancy,to fill up the picture--stay! stay! We shall want no rifles! It is buta woman coming through the trees."

"It is Otaitsa--it is the Blossom!" cried Edith and Walter in abreath, as they looked forward to a spot where across the yellowsunshine as it streamed through the trees, a female figure, clad inthe gaily embroidered and bright-colored gakaah, or petticoat, ofthe Indian women, was seen advancing with a rapid yet somewhatdoubtful step. Edith, without pause or hesitation, sprang forward tomeet the newcomer, and in a moment after the beautiful arms of theIndian girl who had sat with Walter in the morning were round the fairform of his sister, and her lips pressed on hers. There was a warmthand eagerness in their meeting unusual on the part of the red race;but while the young Oneida almost lay upon the bosom of her whitefriend, her beautiful dark eyes were turned toward her lover, as witha mixture of the bashful feelings of youth and the consciousness ofhaving something to conceal, Walter, with a glowing cheek, lingered astep or two behind his sister.

"Art thou coming to our lodge, dear Blossom?" asked Edith; and thenadded, "Where is thy father?"

"We both come," answered the girl, in pure English, with no more ofthe Indian accent than served to give a peculiar softness to hertones. "I wait the Black Eagle here since dawn of day. He has gonetoward the morning with our father the White Heron; for we heard ofHurons by the side of Corlear, and some thought the hatchet would beunburied. So he journeyed to hear more from our friends by Horicon,and bade me stay and tell you and your brother Walter to forbear thatroad if I saw you turn your eyes toward the east wind. He and theWhite Heron will be by your father's council fire with the firststar."

A good deal of this speech was unintelligible to Lord H----, who hadnow approached, and on whom Blossom's eyes were turned with a sort oftimid and inquiring look. But Walter hastened to interpret, saying:"She means that her father and the missionary, Mr. Gore, have heardthat there are hostile Indians on the shores of Lake Champlain, andhave gone down toward Lake George to inquire; for Black Eagle--that isher father--is much our friend, and he always fancies that my fatherhas chosen a dangerous situation here, just at the verge of theterritory of the Five Nations, or their Long House, as they call it."

"Well, come to the lodge with us, dear Blossom," said Edith, while herbrother was giving this explanation. "You know my father loves youwell, and will be glad to have the Blossom with us. Here, too, is anEnglish chief dwelling with us, who knows not what sweet blossoms growon Indian trees."

But the girl shook her head, saying: "Nay; I must do the father'swill. It was with much praying that he let me come hither with him;and he bade me stay here from the white rock to the stream. So must Iobey."

"But it may be dangerous," replied Edith, "if there be Hurons so near;and it is sadly solitary, dear sister."

"Then stay with me for a while," said the girl, who would not affectto deny that her lonely watch was somewhat gloomy.

"I will stay with her and protect her," cried Walter, eagerly; "but,dearest Blossom, if we should see danger, you must fly to the lodge."

"Yes, stay with her, Walter--oh, yes, stay with her," said theunconscious Edith; and so it was settled, for Otaitsa made noopposition, though with a cheek in which something glowed through thebrown, and with a lip that curled gently with a meaning smile, sheasked: "Perhaps my brother Walter would be elsewhere? He may find along watch wearisome on the hill and in the wood."

"Let us stay a while ourselves," said Lord H----, seating himself onthe grass and gazing forth with a look of interest over the prospect."Methinks this is a place where one may well dream away an hourwithout the busiest mind reproaching itself for inactivity."

For two hours the four sat there on the hillside, beneath the tall,shady trees, with the wind breathing softly upon them, the lakeglittering before their eyes, the murmur of the waterfall sendingmusic through the air. But to the young Englishman these were butaccessories. The fair face of Edith was before his eyes, the melody ofher voice in his ears.

At length, however, they rose to go, promising to send one of theslaves from the house with food for Walter and Otaitsa at the hour ofnoon; and Lord H---- and his fair companion took their way back towardthe house. The distance was not very far, but they were somewhat longupon the way. They walked slowly back, and by a different path fromthat by which they went; and often they stopped to admire somepleasant scene; and often Lord H---- had to assist his fair companionover some rock, and her soft hand rested in his. He gathered for herflowers--the fringed gentian and other late blossoms, and they pausedto examine them closely and comment on their loveliness; and once hemade her sit down beside him on a bank and tell him the names of allthe different trees; and from trees his conversation went on intostrange, dreamy, indefinite talk of human beings and human hearts.Thus noon was not far distant when they reached the house, and bothEdith and her companion were very thoughtful.

Edith was meditative through the rest of the day. Was it of herselfshe thought? Was it of him who had been her companion through thegreater part of the morning?

There had been no word spoken; there had been no sign given; there hadbeen no intimation to make the seal tremble on the fountain, but themaster of its destiny was near. She had had a pleasant ramble with onesuch as she seldom saw--and that was all.

There had been something that day in the manner of her brother Walter,a hesitation, and yet an eagerness, a timidity unnatural, with awarmth that spoke of passion, which had not escaped her eye. In thesweet Indian girl, too, she had seen signs not equivocal: thefluttering blush, the look full of soul and feeling; the glancesuddenly raised to the boy's face and suddenly withdrawn; the eyesfull of liquid light, now beaming brightly under sudden emotion, nowshaded beneath the long fringe like the moon beneath a passing cloud.

For the first time it seemed to her that a dark, impenetrable curtainwas falling between herself and all the ancient things of history;that all indeed was to be new, and strange, and different; and yet sheloved Otaitsa well, and had in the last two years seen many a traitwhich had won esteem as well as love. The old Black Eagle, as herfather was called, had ever been a fast and faithful ally of theEnglish; but to Mr. Prevost he had attached himself in a particularmanner. An accidental journey on the part of the old sachem had firstbrought them acquainted, and from that day forward the distance of theOneida settlement was no impediment to their meeting. Whenever theBlack Eagle left his lodge he was sure, in his own figurativelanguage, to wing his flight sooner or later toward the nest of hiswhite brother; and in despite of Indian habits, he almost invariablybrought his daughter with him. When any distance or perilousenterprise was on hand, Otaitsa was left at the lodge of the Englishfamily, and many a week had she passed there at a time, loved by andloving all its inmates. It was not there, however, that she hadacquired her perfect knowledge of the English language, or the othercharacteristics which distinguished her from the ordinary Indianwomen. When she first appeared there she spoke the language of thesettlers as perfectly as they did, and it was soon discovered thatfrom infancy she had been under the care and instruction of one of theEnglish missionaries--at that time, alas! few--who had sacrificed allthat civilized life could bestow for the purpose of bringing theIndian savages into the fold of Christ.

Mr. Prevost judged it quite right that Walter should stay withOtaitsa, and he even sent out the old slave Agrippa, who somehow wasfamous as a marksman, with a rifle on his shoulder, to act as a sortof scout upon the hillside, and watch anything bearing a hostileaspect.

After dinner, too, he walked out himself, and sat for an hour with hisson and the Indian girl, speaking words of affection to her that sunkdeep into her heart, and more than once brought drops into her brighteyes. No father's tenderness could exceed that he showed her, andOtaitsa felt as if he were almost welcoming her as a daughter.

Evening had not lost its light when a shout from Walter's voiceannounced that he was drawing nigh the house, and in a moment after hewas coming across the cleared land with his bright young companion andtwo other persons. One was a tall redman, upward of six feet inheight, dressed completely in the Indian garb, but without paint. Hecould not have been less than sixty years of age, but his strongmuscles seemed to have set at defiance the bending power of time. Hewas as upright as a pine, and he bore his heavy rifle in his righthand as lightly as if it had been a reed. In his left he carried along pipe, showing that his errand was one of peace, though in hisbelt were a tomahawk and a scalping knife; and he wore the sort offeather crown, or gostoweh, distinguishing the chief. The other manmight be of the same age, or a little older. He, too, seemed activeand strong for his years, but he wanted the erect and powerful bearingof the other, and his gait and carriage, as much as his features andcomplexion, distinguished him from the Indian. His dress was a strangemixture of ordinary European costume and that of the half-savagerangers of the forest. He wore a black coat, or one that had once beenblack, but the rest of his garments were composed of skins, sometanned into red leather, after the Indian fashion, some with the hairstill on and turned outward. He bore no arms whatever, unless a verylong, sharp-pointed knife could be considered a weapon, though in hishands it only served the unusual service of dividing his food orcarving willow whistles for the children of the sachem's tribe.

Running with a light foot by the side of the chief, as he strodealong, came Otaitsa; but all the others followed the Indian fashion,coming after him in single file, while old Agrippa, with his rifle onhis arm, brought up the rear, appearing from the wood somewhat behindthe rest.

"It is seldom I have so many parties of guests in two short days,"said Mr. Prevost, moving toward the door. "Generally I have either awhole tribe at once, or none at all. But this is one of my bestfriends, my lord, and I must go to welcome him."

"He is a noble-looking man," said the young officer, following. "Thisis the Black Eagle, I suppose, whom the pretty maiden talked of?"

Mr. Prevost made no reply, for by this time the chief's long strideshad brought him almost to the door, and his hand was already extendedto grasp that of his white friend.

"Welcome, Black Eagle!" said Mr. Prevost.

"Thou art my brother," said the chief in English, but of a much lesspure character than that of his daughter.

"What news from Corlear?" asked Mr. Prevost.

But the Indian answered not; and the man who followed him replied inso peculiar a style that we must give his words, although theyimported very little as far as the events to be related are concerned.

"All is still on the banks of Champlain Lake," he said; "but Hurontracks are still upon the shore. The friendly Mohawks watched themcome and go, and tell us that the Frenchman, too, was there, paintedand feathered like the Indian chiefs; but finding England strongerthan they thought, upon the side of Horicon, they sailed back to FortCarrillon on Monday last."

For an instant Lord H---- was completely puzzled to discover what itwas that gave such peculiarity to the missionary's language; for thewords and accent were those of an ordinary Englishman of no verysuperior education; and it was not until Mr. Gore had uttered one ortwo sentences more that he perceived that what he said often arrangeditself into a sort of blank verse, not very poetical, not verymusical, even, but scanable easily enough.

In the meanwhile the Black Eagle and his host had entered the houseand proceeded straight to the great eating-hall, where the whole partyseated themselves in silence, Otaitsa taking her place close to theside of Edith, while Walter stationed himself where he could watch thebright girl's eyes without being remarked himself.

For a moment or two no one spoke, in deference to the Indian habits,and then Mr. Prevost broke silence, saying: "Well, Black Eagle, howfares it with my brother?"

"As with the tamarac in the autumn," answered the warrior, "the coldwind sighs through the branches and the fine leaves wither and fall,but the branch stands firm, as yet, and decay has not reached theheart."

"This is a chief from the land of my white fathers," said Mr. Prevost,waving his hand gracefully toward Lord H----. "He has but latelycrossed the great water."

"He is welcome to what was once the redman's land," said Black Eagle,and bending his eyes upon the ground, but without any sign of emotionat the thoughts which seemed to be beneath his words, he lapsed intosilence for a minute or two. Then raising his head again, he asked:"Is he a great chief? Is he a warrior, or a man of council, or amedicine man?"

"He is a great chief and a warrior," answered Mr. Prevost. "He is,moreover, skilled in council, and his words are clear as the waters ofHoricon."

"He is welcome," repeated the chief. "He is our brother. He shall becalled the Cataract, because he shall be powerful, and many shallrejoice at the sound of a calm voice. But, my brother----"

"Speak on," said Mr. Prevost, seeing that he paused. "They arefriendly ears that listen."

"Thou art too near the Catarqui, thou art too near to Corlear," saidthe warrior, meaning the river St. Lawrence and Lake Champlain. "Thereis danger for our brother, and the wings of the Black Eagle droop whenhe is in his solitary place afar midst the children of the Stone, tothink that thou art not farther within the walls of the Long House."

"What does he mean by the walls of the Long House?" asked LordH---- in a whisper, addressing Edith.

"Merely the territory of the Five Nations, or Iroquois, as the Frenchcall them," answered his fair companion.

"I fear not, brother," replied Mr. Prevost. "The fire and the ironhave not met to make the tomahawk which shall reach my head."

"But for the maiden's sake," said Black Eagle. "Is she not unto us asa daughter? Is she not the sister of Otaitsa? I pray thee, White PineTree, let her go with the Eagle and the Blossom into the land of thechildren of the Stone but for a few moons, till thy people havetriumphed over their enemies, and till the Five Nations have heweddown the trees of the Huron and the Algonquin; till the war hatchet isburied and the pipe of peace is smoked."

"'Twere better, truly, my good friend Prevost," said Mr. Gore. "Wehave seen sights to-day would make the blood of the most bold andhardy man on earth turn cold and icy, to behold, and know he had adaughter near such scenes of death."

"What were they, my good friend?" asked Mr. Prevost "I have heard ofnothing very new or near. The last was the capture of Fort WilliamHenry, some six weeks since; but as yet we have not heard the wholeparticulars, and surely, if we are far enough away for the tidings notto reach us in six weeks, it is not likely that hostile armies wouldapproach us very soon."

"Thou art deceived, my brother," answered Black Eagle. "One shortday's journey lies betwixt thee and the battlefield. This morning wecrossed when the sun wanted half an hour of noon, and we are herebefore he has gone down behind the forest. What we saw chilled theblood of my brother here, for he has not seen such things before. Thechildren of Stone slay not women and children when the battle isover."

"Speak! speak! my good friend, Mr. Gore!" said the master of thehouse. "You know our habits better, and can tell us more of what hashappened. Things which are common to his eye must be strange toyours."

"We passed the ground between the one fort and the other," answeredthe missionary. "The distance is but seven or eight miles; and in thatshort space lay well nigh a thousand human bodies, slain by every darkand terrible means of death. There were young and old: the gray-headedofficer, the blooming youth, fresh from his mother's side; women andboys and girls, and little infants snatched from the mother's breast,to die by the hatchet or the war club. We heard the tiger Montcalm, inviolation of his given word, in defiance of humanity, Christianity,and the spirit of a gentleman, stood by and saw his own conventionbroken, and gallant enemies massacred by his savage allies. But whatthe chief says is very true, my friend. You are far too near thisscene; and although, perhaps, no regular army could reach this placeere you received timely warning, yet the Indian forerunners may beupon you at any moment, your house in flames, and you and yourchildren massacred ere anyone could come to give you aid. The troopsof our country are far away, and no force is between you and Horiconbut a small body of our Mohawk brethren, who are not as well pleasedwith England as they have been."

Mr. Prevost turned his eyes toward Lord H----, and the youngEnglishman replied to Mr. Gore at once, saying, with a quietinclination of the head: "On one point you are mistaken, sir. LordLondon has returned, and there is now a strong force at Albany. Ipassed through that city lately, and I think that by the facts whichmust have come to his knowledge, General Montcalm will be deterredfrom pushing his brutal incursions further this year, at least. Beforeanother shines upon him he may receive some punishment for hisfaithless cruelty."

"If not here, hereafter," said the missionary. "There is justice inheaven, sir, and often it visits the evil-doer upon earth. That man'send cannot be happy. But I fear you will not give us aid in persuadingour friend here to abandon for a time his very dangerous position."

"I know too little of Mr. Prevost's affairs," replied Lord H----, "toadvise either for or against. I know still less of the state of thecountry between this and the French line. Perhaps in a day or two Imay know more; and then, as a military man myself, I can better tellhim what are the real dangers of his situation. At all events, Ishould like to think over the matter till to-morrow morning before Ioffer an opinion. From what was said just now, I infer that the Huronsand the French having gone back, there can be no immediate peril."

Mr. Gore shook his head, and the Indian chief remained in profound andsomewhat dull silence, seeming not very well pleased with the resultof the discussion. A few minutes after the evening meal was broughtin, and to it, at least, the Black Eagle did ample justice, eatinglike a European, with a knife and fork, and displaying no trace of thesavage in his demeanor at the table. He remained profoundly silent,however, till the party rose, and then, taking Mr. Prevost's hand, hesaid: "Take counsel of thine own heart, my brother. Think of theflower that grows up by thy side; ask if thou wouldst have it troddendown by the redman's moccasin, and listen not to the Cataract, for itis cold."

Thus saying, he unrolled one of the large skins which lay at the sideof the room, and stretched himself upon it to take repose.

Edith took Otaitsa by the hand, saying, "Come, Blossom, you shall bemy companion as before;" and Walter retiring the moment after, leftLord H---- and his host to consult together with Mr. Gore.

CHAPTER V

One hour after the sun had risen again, three travelers took their wayonward from the house of Mr. Prevost, along a path which led to thenortheast.

Two other persons watched them from the door of the house, and twonegro men and a negro woman gazed after them from the corner of thebuilding which joined on to a low fence encircling the stable andpoultry yard, and running on round the well cultivated kitchen garden.

The negro woman shook her head, and looked sorrowful, and sighed, butsaid nothing. The two men talked freely of the imprudence of "Master"in suffering his son to go upon such an expedition.

Mr. Prevost and his daughter gazed in silence till the recedingfigures were hidden by the trees. Then the master of the house ledEdith back, saying: "God will protect him, my child. A parent was notgiven to crush the energies of youth, but to direct them."

In the meanwhile, Lord H---- and his guide, Captain Brooks, accordingto his English name, or Woodchuck, in the Indian parlance, followed byWalter Prevost, made their way rapidly and easily through the wood.The two former were dressed in the somewhat anomalous attire which Ihave described in first introducing the worthy Captain to the reader;but Walter was in the ordinary costume of the people of the provinceof that day, except inasmuch as he had his rifle in his hand and alarge leathern wallet slung over his left shoulder. Each of hiscompanions, too, had a rifle hung across the back by a broad leathernband; and each was furnished with a hatchet at his girdle, and a longpipe, with a curiously carved stem, in his hand.

Although they were not pursuing any of the public provincial roads,and were consequently obliged to walk singly, the one following theother, yet Woodchuck, who led the way, had no difficulty in findingit, or in proceeding steadily.

We are told by an old writer of those days, who, unlike many modernwriters, witnessed all he described with his own eyes, that the Indiantrails, or footpaths, were innumerable over that large tract ofcountry which the Five Nations called their "Long House," crossing andrecrossing each other in every different direction, sometimes almostlost where the ground was hard and dry, sometimes indenting by therepeated pressure of many feet, the natural soil to the depth ofthirty-six or forty inches.

It was along one of these that the travelers were passing, andalthough a stump here and there, or a young tree springing up in themidst of a trail, offered an occasional impediment, it was rarely ofsuch a nature as to retard the travelers in their course, ormaterially add to their fatigue.

With the calm assurance and unhesitating rapidity of a practisedwoodsman, Brooks led his two companions forward without doubt as tohis course. No great light had he, it is true, for though the sun wasactually above the horizon, and now and then his slanting rays foundtheir way through some more open space, and gilded the pathway, ingeneral the thick trees and underwood formed a shade which at thatearly hour the light could hardly penetrate, and the sober morning wasto these travelers still dressed almost in the dark hues of night.

"Set your steps in mine," said Woodchuck, speaking in a whisper overhis shoulder to Lord H----, "then we shall be real Indians. Don't youknow that when they go out on the war path, as they call it, each manputs down his foot just where his leader put down his before? So, comedog, come cat, no one can tell how many went to Jack Pilberry's barn."

"But do you think there is any real danger?" asked Lord H----.

"There is always danger in a dark wood and a dark eye," answeredWoodchuck, with a laugh, "but no more danger here than in Prevost'scottage, from either the one or the other, for you or for Walter. Asfor me, I am safe anywhere."

"But you are taking strange precautions where there is no danger,"replied Lord H----, who could not banish all doubts of his wildcompanion. "You speak in whispers, and advise us to follow all thecunning devices of the Indians in a wood which we passed throughfearlessly yesterday."

"I am just as fearless now as you were then, if you passed throughthis wood," answered Brooks, in a graver tone, "but you are not awoodsman, or you'd understand better. What I mean, sir, is that we areso often in danger, we think it best to act as if we were always init; and never knowing how near it may be, to make as sure as we canthat we keep it at a distance. You cannot tell there is not an Indianin every bush you pass, and yet you'd chatter as loud as if you werein any lady's drawing-room. But I, though I know there is ne'er a one,don't speak louder than a grasshopper's hind legs, for fear I wouldget into the habit of talking loud in the forest."

"There is some truth, my friend, I believe in what you say," repliedLord H----, "but I hear a sound growing louder and louder as weadvance. It is the cataract, I suppose."

"Yes, just the waterfall," answered the other, in an indifferent tone."Down half a mile below it Master Walter will find the boat that willtake him to Albany. Then you and I can snake up by the side of theriver till we have gone as far as we have a mind to. I shouldn'twonder if we got a shot at somewhat on four, a moose or a painter, ora looksevere, or something of that kind. Pity we haven't got a canoeor a batteau, or something to put our game in."

"In heaven's name, what do you call a looksevere?" asked LordH----.

"Why, the French folks call it a loup-cervier," answered Brooks. "Iguess you never saw one. But he is not as pleasant as a pretty maid ina by-place, is he, Walter? He puts himself up into a tree, and therehe watches, looking full asleep; but with the devil that is in himmoving every joint of his tail the moment he hears anything cometrotting along; and when it is just under him down he drops upon itplump, like a rifle shot into a pumpkin."

The conversation then fell off into a word or two spoken now andthen, and the voice of the waters grew loud and more loud until LordH---- could hardly hear his own footfalls. The more practised ear ofBrooks, however, caught every sound, and at length he exclaimed:"What's alive? Why are you co*cking your rifle, Walter?"

"Hush!" said the lad, "there is something stealing on there, justbehind the bushes. It is an Indian, I think, going on all fours. Lookquietly out there."

"More likely a bear," replied Woodchuck, in the same low tone whichthe other had used. "I see--I see. It's not a bear either, but it'snot an Indian. It's gone--no, there it is again. Hold hard--let himclimb. It's a painter. Here, Walter, come up in front--you shall havehim. The cur smells fresh meat. He'll climb in an instant. There hegoes--no, the critter's on again. We shall lose him if we don't mind.Quick, Walter! Spread out there to the right. I will take the left,and we shall drive him to the water, where he must climb. You, Major,keep right on ahead. Mind, take the middle trail all along, and lookup at the branches, or you may have him on your head. There, he'sheading south. Quick, Walter, quick!"

Lord H---- had as yet seen nothing of the object discovered by theeyes of his two companions, but he had sufficient of the sportsman inhis nature to enter into all their eagerness, and unslinging his riflehe followed the path or trail along which they had been proceeding,while Walter Prevost darted away into the tangled bushes on his right,and Woodchuck stole more quietly in amongst the trees on his left. Hecould hear the branches rustle, and for nearly a quarter of a milecould trace their course on either side of him by the various littlesigns--of now a waving branch, now a slight sound. Once, and onlyonce, he thought he saw the panther cross the trail, but it was at aspot peculiarly dark, and he did not feel at all sure that fancy hadnot deceived him.

The roar of the cataract in the meantime increased each moment, and itwas evident to the young nobleman that he and his companions, on theirdifferent courses, were approaching more and more closely to somelarge stream, toward which it was the plan of good Captain Brooks toforce the object of their pursuit. At length, too, the light becamestronger, and he heard the report of a rifle, then a fierce, snarlingsound, and then a shout from Walter Prevost.

Knowing how dangerous the wounded panther is, the young officer,without hesitation, darted away into the brush to aid Edith's brother,for by this time it was in that light that he generally thought ofhim; and the lad soon heard his approach, and guided him by his voice,calling, "Here! here!" There was no alarm or agitation in histones--they were rather those of triumph; and a moment after, as hecaught sight of his friend coming forward, he added: "He's a splendidbeast. I must have the skin off him."

Lord H---- drew nigh, somewhat relaxing his speed when he found therewas no danger, and in another minute he was by the side of the lad,who was quietly recharging his rifle, while at some six or seven yardsdistance lay a large panther of the American species, mortallywounded, and quite powerless of evil, but not yet quite dead.

"Keep away from him--keep away!" cried Walter, as the young noblemanapproached. "They sometimes tear on terribly, even at the last gasp."

"Why, he is nearly as big as a tiger," said Lord H----.

"He is a splendid fellow," answered Walter, joyfully. "One might livea hundred years in England without finding such game."

Lord H---- smiled, and remained for a moment or two, till the youngman's rifle was reloaded, gazing at the beast in silence.

Suddenly, however, they both heard the sound of another rifle on theleft, and Walter exclaimed, "Woodchuck has got one, too!" But thereport was followed by a yell very different from the snarl or growlof a wounded beast. "That's no panther's cry!" exclaimed WalterPrevost, his cheek turning somewhat pale. "What can have happened?"

"It sounded like a human voice," said Lord H----, listening, "likethat of someone in sudden agony. I trust our friend the Woodchuck hasnot shot himself by some accident."

"It was not a white man's voice," said Walter, bending his ear in thedirection from which had come the sounds. But all was still, and theyoung man raised his voice and shouted to his companion.

No answer was returned, however, and Lord H----, exclaiming, "We hadbetter seek him at once--he may need help!" darted away toward thespot whence his ear told him the shot had come.

"A little more to the right, my lord, a little more to the right!"said Walter. "You will hit on a trail in a minute." And raising hisvoice again, he shouted: "Woodchuck! Woodchuck!" with evident alarmand distress.

He was right in the supposition that they should soon find some path.They quickly struck an Indian trail crossing that on which they hadbeen previously proceeding, and leading in the direction in which theywished to go. Both then hurried on with greater rapidity, Walterrather running than walking, and Lord H---- following, with his rifleco*cked in his hand. They had not far to go, however, for the trailsoon opened upon a small piece of grassy savanna, lying close upon theriver's edge, and in the midst of it they beheld a sight which wasterrible enough in itself, but which afforded less apprehension andgrief to the mind of Lord H---- than to that of Walter Prevost, whowas better acquainted with the Indian habits and character.

About ten yards from the mouth of the path appeared the powerful formof Captain Brooks, with his folded arms leaning on the muzzle of hisdischarged rifle. He was as motionless as a statue, his browcontracted, his brown cheek very pale, and his eyes bent forward uponan object lying upon the grass before him. It was the form of a deadIndian, weltering in his blood. The dead man's head was bare of allcovering except the scalp-lock. He was painted with the war colors,and in his hand, as he lay, he grasped the tomahawk, as if it had beenraised in the act to strike the moment before he fell. To the eyes ofLord H---- his tribe or nation was an undiscovered secret, but certainsmall signs and marks in his garb, and even in his features, showedWalter Prevost at once that he was not only one of the Five Nations,but an Oneida. The full and terrible importance of the fact will beseen by what followed.

For some two minutes the three living men stood silent in the presenceof the dead, and Walter exclaimed, in a tone of deep grief: "Alas!Woodchuck, what have you done?"

"Saved my scalp," answered Brooks, sternly, and fell into silenceagain.

There was another long silence, and then Lord H----, mistaking in somedegree the causes of the man's strong emotion, laid his hand upon thehunter's arm, saying: "Come away, my friend. Why should you lingerhere?"

"It's no use," answered Woodchuck, gloomily. "He had a woman with him,and it will soon be known all through the tribe."

"But for your own safety," said Walter, "yon had better fly. It isvery sad indeed--what could make him attack you?"

"An old grudge, Master Walter," answered Brooks, seating himselfdeliberately on the ground and laying his rifle across his knee. "Iknew the critter well, the Striped Snake they called him, and a snakehe was. He tried to cheat and to rob me, and I made it plain to thewhole tribe. Some laughed, and thought it fair, but old Black Eaglescorned and rebuked him, and he has hated me ever since. He has beenlong watching for this, and now he has got it."

"Well, well," said Walter, "what's done cannot be undone, and you hadbetter get away as fast as may be, for Black Eagle told me he had leftthree scouts behind to bring tidings in case of danger, and we cannottell how near the others may be."

"This was one of them," answered Brooks, still keeping his seat andgazing at the Indian. "But what is safety to me, Walter? I can no moreroam the forests. I can no more pursue my way of life. I must go intodull and smoky cities and plod amongst thieving, cheating crowds ofwhite men. The rifle and the hatchet must be laid aside forever; theforest grass must know my foot no more. Flowers and green leaves andrushing streams and the broad lake and the mountain top are lost andgone, the watch under the deep boughs and by the silent waters. Closepressed amidst the toiling herd, I shall become sordid and low andfilthy as they are; my free nature lost and gyves upon my spirit. Alllife's blessings are gone from me; why should I care for life?"

There was something uncommonly plaintive, mournful and earnest in histones, and Lord H---- could not help feeling for him, although he didnot comprehend fully the occasion of his grief. "But, my good friend,"he said, "I cannot perceive how your having slain this Indian in yourown defence can bring such a train of miseries upon you. You would nothave killed him if he had not attacked you."

"Alas for me! alas for me!" was all the answer the poor man made.

"You do not know their habits, sir," said Walter, in a low voice."They must have blood for blood. If he stays here, if he ever returns,go where he will in the Indian territory, they will track him, theywill follow him day and night. He will be amongst them like one of thewild beasts whom we chase so eagerly--pursued from place to place withthe hatchet always hanging over his head. There is no safety for himbut far away in the provinces beyond those towns that Indians evervisit. So persuade him to come away and leave the body. He can go downwith me to Albany, and thence make his way to New York orPhiladelphia."

For some minutes Brooks remained deaf to all arguments. His whole mindand thoughts seemed occupied with the terrible conviction that thewild scenes and the free life which he enjoyed so intensely were lostforever.

Suddenly, however, when Lord H---- was just about to give up indespair the task of persuading him, he started up as if some newthought struck him, and gazing first at Walter and then at the youngofficer, he exclaimed: "But I am keeping you here, and you, too, maybe murdered! The death spot is upon me, and it will spread to allaround. I am ready to go. I will bear my fate as well as I can, but itis very, very hard. Come! Let us begone quick--stay! I will charge myrifle first. Who knows how soon we may need it for such bloody workagain!"

All his energy seemed to have returned in a moment, and it desertedhim not again. He charged his rifle with wonderful rapidity, tossed itunder his arm, and took a step as if to go. Then for a moment hepaused, and advancing close to the dead Indian gazed at him sternly."Oh, my enemy," he cried, "thou saidst thou wouldst have revenge, andthou hast had it--far more bitter than if thy hatchet had entered intomy skull, and I were lying in thy place."

Turning round as soon as he had spoken, he led the way back along thetrail, murmuring rather to himself than to his companions: "Theinstinct of self-preservation is very strong. Better for me had I lethim slay me. I know not how I was fool enough to fire. Come, Walter,we must get round the falls, where we shall find some batteaux thatwill carry us down."

He walked along for some five minutes in silence, and suddenly lookedround to Lord H----, exclaiming: "But what's to become of him? How ishe to find his way back again? Come! I will go back with him--itmatters not if they do catch me and scalp me. I do not like to bedogged and tracked and followed and taken unawares. I can but die atlast. I will go back with him as soon as you are in the boat, Walter."

"No, no, Woodchuck! That will not do!" replied the lad. "You forgetthat if they found you with him they would kill him, too. I will tellyou how we will manage it. Let him come down with us to the point,then there is a straight road up to the house, and we can get one ofthe batteaux men to go up with him and show him the way, unless helikes to go on with me to Albany."

"I cannot do that," replied Lord H----, "for I promised to be back atyour father's house by to-morrow night, and matters of much importancemay have to be decided. But I can easily land at the point, as yousay--whatever point you may mean--and find my way back. As for myself,I have no fears. There seem to be but a few scattered parties ofIndians of different tribes roaming about, and I trust that anythinglike general hostility is at an end for this year at least."

"In Indian warfare the danger is the greatest, I have heard, when itseems the least," replied Walter Prevost; "but from the point to thehouse, some fourteen or sixteen miles, the road is perfectly safe, forit is the only one on which large numbers of persons are passing toand from Albany."

"It will be safe enough," said Woodchuck; "that way is always quiet;and besides, a wise man and a powerful one could travel at any timefrom one end of the Long House to the other without risk--unless therewere special cause. It is bad shooting we have had to-day, Walter, butstill I should have liked to have the skin of that panther. He seemedto me an unextinguishable fine crittur."

"He was a fine creature, and that I know, for I shot him, Woodchuck,"said Walter Prevost, with some pride in the achievement. "I wanted tosend the skin to Otaitsa--but it cannot be helped."

"Let us go and get it now!" cried Woodchuck, with the ruling passionstrong in death. "'Tis but a step back. Darn those Ingians! Why shouldI care?"

But both his companions urged him forward, and they continued theirway through woods skirting the river for somewhat more than two miles,first rising gently to a spot where the roar of the waters was hearddistinctly, and then, after descending, rising again to a rocky pointmidway between the highest ground and the water level, where a smallcongregation of huts had been gathered together, principally inhabitedby boatmen, and surrounded by a stout palisade.

The scene at the hamlet itself had nothing very remarkable in it. Herewere women sitting at the door, knitting and sewing, men loungingabout or mending nets or making lines, children playing in the dirt,as usual, both inside and outside of the palisade. The traces of morethan one nation could be discovered in the features as well as in thetongues of the inhabitants, and it was not difficult to perceive thathere had been congregated, by the force of circ*mstances into which itis not necessary to inquire, sundry fragments of Dutch, English,Indian, and even French--races all bound together by a community ofobject and pursuit.

The approach of the three strangers did not in any degree startle thegood people from their idleness or their occupations. The carryingtrade was then a very good one, especially in remote places wheretraveling was difficult, and these people could always make a verytolerable livelihood without any very great or continuous exertion.The result of such a state of things is always very detrimental toactivity of mind or body, and the boatmen, though they sauntered upround Lord H---- and his companions, divining that some profitablepiece of work was before them, showed amazing indifference as towhether they would undertake it or not. But that which astonished LordH---- the most was to see the deliberate coolness with which Woodchuckset about making his bargain for the conveyance of himself and Walterto Albany. He sat down upon a large stone within the enclosure, took aknife from his pocket and a piece of wood from the ground, and begancutting the latter with the former with as tranquil and careless anair as if there were no heavy thought upon his mind--no dark memorybehind him--no terrible fate dogging him at the heels. But Woodchuckand Walter were both well known to the boatmen, and though they mightprobably have attempted to impose upon the inexperience of the lad,they knew they had met their match in the shrewdness of his companion,and were not aware that any circ*mstance rendered speed more valuableto him than money. The bargaining, then, was soon concluded, butCaptain Brooks was not contented till he had bargained also for theservices of two men in guiding Lord H---- back to the house of Mr.Prevost. This was undertaken for a dollar apiece, however, and thenthe whole party proceeded to the bank of the river, where a boat wassoon unmoored, and Walter and his companion set forth upon theirjourney, not, however, till Lord H---- had shaken the latter warmly bythe hand, and said a few words in the ear of Captain Brooks, adding:"Walter will tell you more, and how to communicate with me."

"Thank you, thank you," replied the hunter, wringing his hand hard. "Afriend in need is a friend indeed. I do not want it, but I thank youas much as if I did; but you shall hear if I do, for somehow I guessyou are not the man to say what you don't mean."

After seeing his two companions row down the stream a few yards, theyoung nobleman turned to the boatmen who accompanied him, saying:"Now, my lads, I want to make a change of our arrangements, and to goback the short way by which we came. I did not interrupt our goodfriend Woodchuck, because he was anxious about my safety. There aresome Indians in the forest, and he feared I might get scalped.However, we shot a panther there which we could not stay to skin, astheir business in Albany was pressing. Now I want the skin, and am notafraid of the Indians--are you?"

The men laughed, and replied in the negative, saying that there werenone of the redmen there but four or five Oneidas and Mohawks, butadding that the way, though shorter, was much more difficult andbushy, and therefore they must have more pay. Lord H----, however, wasless difficult to deal with than Captain Brooks, and yielded readilyto their demands.

Each of the men then armed himself with a rifle and took a bag ofparched corn with him, and the three set out.

Lord H---- undertook to guide them to the spot where the panther lay,and not a little did they wonder at the accuracy and precision withwhich his military habits of observation enabled him to direct themstep by step. He took great care not to let them approach the spotwhere the dead Indian had been slain, but turning about a quarter of amile to the south, led them across the thicket to within a very fewyards of the object of his search. It was soon found, when they camenear the place, and about half an hour was employed in taking off theskin and packing it up for carriage.

"Now," said Lord H----, "will you two undertake to have this skinproperly cured and dispatched by the first trader going west to theOneida village?"

The men readily agreed to do so if well paid for it, but, of course,required further directions, saying there were a dozen or more Oneidavillages.

"It will be sure to reach its destination," said Lord H----, "if youtell the bearer to deliver it to Otaitsa, which, I believe, means theBlossom, the daughter of Black Eagle, the sachem. Say that it comesfrom Walter Prevost."

"Oh, aye," answered the boatmen, "it shall be done; but we shall haveto pay the man who carries it."

The arrangement in regard to payment was soon made, though it wassomewhat exorbitant; but to insure that the commission was faithfullyexecuted, Lord H---- reserved a portion of the money, to be given whenhe heard that the skin had been delivered.

The rest of the journey was passed without interruption or difficulty,and at an early hour of the evening the young nobleman stood once moreat the door of his fellow countryman's house.

CHAPTER VI

The return of Lord H---- without his guide and companion, CaptainBrooks, caused some surprise in Mr. Prevost and his daughter, who hadnot expected to see any of the party before a late hour of thefollowing evening. Not choosing to explain, in the presence of Edith,the cause of his parting so suddenly from the hunter, the youngnobleman merely said that circ*mstances had led him to conclude itwould be advisable to send Woodchuck in the boat with Walter, toAlbany, and his words were uttered in so natural and easy a tone thatEdith, unconscious that her presence put any restraint upon hiscommunication with her father, remained seated in their pleasantlittle parlor till the hour for the evening meal.

"Well, my lord," said Mr. Prevost, after the few first words ofexplanation had passed, "did you meet with any fresh specimens of theIndian in your short expedition?"

The question might have been a somewhat puzzling one for a man who didnot want to enter into any particulars, but Lord H---- replied witheasy readiness:

"Only one. Him we saw only for a moment, and he did not speak withus."

"They are a very curious race," said Mr. Prevost, "and albeit not verymuch given to ethnological studies, I have often puzzled myself as towhence they sprang, and how they made their way over to thiscontinent."

Lord H---- smiled. "I fear I cannot help you," he said. "Mine is acoarse and unstudious profession, you know, my dear sir, and leads onemuch more to look at things as they are than to inquire how they cameabout. It strikes me at once, however, that in mere corporealcharacteristics the Indian is very different from any race I everbeheld, if I may judge by the few individuals I have seen."

"Bating the grace and dignity," said Edith, gayly, "I do think thatwhat my father would call the finest specimens of the human animal areto be found among the Indians. Look at our dear little Otaitsa, forinstance. Can anything be more beautiful, more graceful, more perfectthan her whole face and form?"

Lord H---- smiled and slightly bowed his head, saying: "Now many afair lady, Miss Prevost, would naturally expect a very gallant reply,and I might make one without a compliment, in good cool blood, andupon calm, mature consideration. I am very poorly versed, however, incivil speeches, and therefore I will only say that I think I have seenwhite ladies as beautiful, as graceful, and as perfect as your fairyoung friend, together with the advantage of a better complexion. Butat the same time I will admit that she is exceedingly beautiful, andnot only that but very charming, and very interesting, too. Hers isnot exactly the style of beauty I admire the most, but certainly hersis perfect in its kind, and my young friend Walter seems to think so,too."

A slight flush passed over Edith's cheek, and her eyes instantlyturned toward her father. But Mr. Prevost only laughed, saying: "Ifthey were not so young, I should be afraid that my son would marry thesachem's daughter, and perhaps in the end take to the tomahawk and thescalping knife. But joking apart, Otaitsa is a very singular littlecreature. I never can bring myself to feel that she is an Indian--asavage, in short, when I hear her low, melodious voice, with itspeculiar song-like sort of intonation, and see the grace and dignitywith which she moves, and the ease and propriety with which sheadapts herself to every European custom. I have to look at herbead-embroidered petticoat and her leggings and moccasins before I canbring it home to my mind that she is not some very high-bred lady ofthe court of France or England. Then she is so fair, too; but that isprobably from care, and the lack of that exposure to the sun which mayat first have given and then perpetuated the Indian tint. To use anold homely expression, she is the apple of her father's eye, and he isas careful of her as of a jewel, after his own particular fashion."

"She is a dear creature," said Edith, warmly, "all soul, and heart,and feeling. Thank God, too, she is a Christian, and you cannot fancy,my lord, what marvellous stores of information the little creaturehas. She knows that England is an island in the midst of the salt sea,and she can write and read our tongue nearly as well as she speaks it.She has a holy hatred of the French, however, and would not speak aword of their language for the world, for all her information and agood share of her ideas come from our good friend Mr. Gore, who hascarried John Bull completely into the heart of the wilderness and kepthim there perfect in a sort of crystallized state. Had we but a fewmore men such as himself amongst the Indian tribes, there would be nofear of any wavering in the friendship of the Five Nations. There goesan Indian now past the window. We shall have him in here in a moment,for they stand upon no ceremony--no, he is speaking to Antony, thenegro boy. How curiously he peeps about him--he must be looking forsomebody he does not find."

Lord H---- rose and went to the window, and in a minute or two afterthe Indian stalked quietly away and disappeared in the forest.

"What could he want?" said Edith. "It is strange he did not come in. Iwill ask Antony what he sought here," and going to the door she calledthe gardener boy up and questioned him.

"He want Captain Woodchuck, Missa," replied the lad. "He ask if he notlodge here last night. I tell him yes, but Woodchuck go away earlythis morning, and not come back since. He 'quire very much about him,and who went with him. I tell him Massa Walter and de strangegentleman, but both leave him soon. Massa Walter go straight toAlbany, strange gentleman come back here."

"Did he speak English?" asked Edith.

"Few words," replied the negro. "I speak few words Indian. So patch'em together make many, missy;" and he laughed with that peculiar,unmeaning laugh with which his race are accustomed to distinguishanything they consider witty.

The whole conversation was heard by the two gentlemen within. On Mr.Prevost it had no effect but to call a cynical smile upon his lips,but the case was different with Lord H----. He saw that the deed whichhad been done in the forest was known to the Indians; that its doerhad been recognized, and that the hunt was up; and he rejoiced tothink that poor Woodchuck was already far beyond pursuit. Anxious,however, to gain a fuller insight into the character and habits of apeople of whom, as yet, he had obtained but a glimpse, he continued toconverse with Mr. Prevost in regard to the aboriginal races, andlearned several facts which by no means tended to decrease theuneasiness which the events of the morning had produced.

"The Indians," said his host, in answer to a leading question, "are,as you say, a very revengeful people, but not more so than many otherbarbarous nations. Indeed, in many of their feelings and habits theygreatly resemble a people I have heard of in central Asia, calledAlghanns. Both, in common with almost all barbarians, look uponrevenge as a duty imperative upon every family and every tribe. Theymodify their ideas, indeed, in case of war, although it is verydifficult to bring about peace after war has commenced; but if anyindividual of a tribe is killed by another person in time of peace,nothing but the blood of the murderer can satisfy the family or thetribe, if he can be caught. They will pursue him for weeks and months,and employ every stratagem which their fertile brains can suggest toentrap him, till they feel quite certain that he is beyond theirreach. This perseverance proceeds from a religious feeling, for theybelieve that the spirit of their dead relation can never enter thehappy hunting grounds till his blood has been atoned for by that ofthe slayer."

"But if they cannot catch the slayer," asked Lord H----, "what do theydo then?"

"I used a wrong expression," replied Mr. Prevost. "I should have saidthe blood of some other victim. It is their duty, according to theirideas, to sacrifice the slayer. If satisfied that he is perfectlybeyond their power, they strive to get hold of his nearest relation.If they cannot do that, they take a man of his tribe or nation andsacrifice him. It is all done very formally, and with all sorts ofconsideration and consultation, for in these bloody rites they are themost deliberate people in the world, and the most persevering, also."

A few days before, Lord H---- might have plainly and openly told allthe occurrences of the morning in the ears of Edith Prevost, butsensations had been springing up in his breast which made him moretender of her feelings, more careful of creating alarm and anxiety,and he kept his painful secret well till after the evening meal wasover, and she had retired to her chamber. Then, however, he stoppedMr. Prevost just as that gentleman was raising a light to hand to hisguest, and said: "I am afraid, my good friend, we cannot go to bedjust yet. I have something to tell you which, from all I have heardsince it occurred, appears to me of much greater importance than atfirst. Whether anything can be done to avert the evil consequences, ornot, I cannot tell; but at all events, it is as well that you and Ishould talk the matter over."

He then related to Mr. Prevost all the events of the morning, and wassorry to perceive that gentleman's face assuming a deeper and deepergloom as he proceeded.

"This is most unfortunate, indeed," said Mr. Prevost, at length. "Iquite acquit our poor friend Brooks of any evil intent, but to slay anIndian at all, so near our house, and especially an Oneida, was mostunlucky. That tribe or nation, as they call themselves, from thestrong personal regard, I suppose, which has grown up accidentallybetween their chief and myself, has always shown the greatest kindnessand friendship toward myself and my family. Before this event I shouldhave felt myself in any of their villages as much at home as by my ownfireside, and I am sure that each man felt himself as secure on anypart of the lands granted to me as if he were in his own lodge. Butnow, as they will call it, their blood has stained my very mat, andthe consequences no one can foresee. Woodchuck has himself escaped. Hehas no relations or friends on whom they can wreak their vengeance."

"Surely," exclaimed Lord H----, "they will never visit his offence onyou or yours?"

"I trust not," replied Mr. Prevost, after a moment's thought, "but yetI cannot feel exactly sure. They will take a white man for theirvictim--an Englishman--one of the same nation as the offender.Probably it may not matter much to them who it is, and theaffectionate regard which they entertain toward us may turn the evilaside. But yet these Indians have a sort of fanaticism in theirreligion, as well as we have in ours--the station and the dignity ofthe victim which they offer up enters into their consideration--theylike to make a worthy and an honorable sacrifice, as they consider it;and just as this spirit moves them or not, they may think that anyonewill do for their purpose, or that they are required by their god ofvengeance to immolate someone dear to themselves, in order to dignifythe sacrifice."

"This is indeed a very sad view of the affair which had never struckme," replied Lord H----, "and it may be well to consider, my dear sir,what is the best and the safest course. I must now tell you one of theobjects which made me engage your son to carry my dispatches toAlbany. It seemed to me, from all I have heard during my shortresidence with you, especially during my conference with Sir WilliamJohnson, that the unprotected state of this part of the country leftAlbany itself and the settlements around it unpleasantly exposed. Weknow that on a late occasion it was Dieskau's intention, if he hadsucceeded in defeating Sir William and capturing Fort George, to makea dash at the capital of the province. He was defeated, but there isreason to believe that Montcalm, a man much his superior both inenergy and skill, entertained the same views, although I know not whatinduced him to retreat so hastily after his black and bloody triumphat Fort William Henry. He may seize some other opportunity, and I canperceive nothing whatsoever to impede his progress or delay him for anhour, if he can make himself master of the few scattered forts whichlie between Albany and Carrillon or Ticonderoga. In the circ*mstances,I have strongly urged that a small force should be thrown forward to acommanding point on the river Hudson, not many miles from this place,which I examined as I came hither, with an advanced post or two stillnearer to your house. My own regiment I have pointed out as betterfitted for the service than any other, and I think that if mysuggestions are attended to, as I doubt not they will be, we can giveyou efficient protection. But I think," continued the young nobleman,speaking more slowly and emphatically, "that with two young people sojustly dear to you--with a daughter so beautiful and in every way socharming, and so gallant and noble a lad as Walter, whose high spiritand adventurous character will expose him continually to any snaresthat may be set for him, it will be much better for you to retire withthem both to Albany, at least till such time as you know that thespirit of Indian vengeance has been satisfied, and that the real perilhas passed."

Mr. Prevost mused for several minutes, and then replied: "The motivesyou suggest are certainly very strong, my lord, but I have strangeways of viewing such subjects, and I must have time to considerwhether it is fair and right to my fellow countrymen scattered overthis district to withdraw from my share of the peril which all whor*main would have to encounter. Do not argue with me upon the subjectto-night--I will think over it well, and doubt not that I shall viewthe plan you have suggested with all the favor that paternal love canafford. I will also keep my mind free to receive any further reasonsyou may have to produce. But I must first consider quietly and alone.There is no need of immediate decision, for these people, according totheir own code, are bound to make themselves perfectly sure that theycannot get possession of the actual slayer before they choose anothervictim. It is clear from what the Indian said to the negro boy, thatthey know the hand that did the deed, and they must search for poorBrooks first, and practice every device to allure him back before theyimmolate another. Let us both think over the matter well and conferto-morrow."

Thus saying, he shook hands with Lord H----, and they retired to theirseveral chambers with very gloomy and apprehensive thoughts.

Next morning Mr. Prevost was aroused by a distant knocking at the hutswhere the outdoor servants slept, and then by a repetition of thesound at the door of the house itself. Rising hastily, he got down intime to see the door opened by old Agrippa, and found a man onhorseback bearing a large official-looking letter addressed toMajor-General Lord H----.

It proved to be a dispatch from Sir William Johnson, requesting bothLord H---- and himself to attend a meeting of some of the chiefs ofthe Five Nations, which was to be held at Johnson Castle, on theMohawk, in the course of the following day. The distance was not verygreat, but still the difficulty of traveling required the twogentlemen to set out at once in order to reach the place of rendezvousbefore night, and neither liked to neglect what they considered aduty.

"I will mount my horse as soon as it can be got ready," said LordH----, when he had read the letter and shown it to Mr. Prevost. "Isuppose, in existing circ*mstances, you will not think it advisable toaccompany me?"

"Most certainly I will go with you, my lord," replied his host. "As Isaid last night, the danger, though very certain, is not immediate.Weeks, months may pass before these Indians feel assured that theycannot obtain possession of the actual slayer of their red brother;and as many of the Oneidas will probably be present at this talk, asthey call it, I may perhaps (though it is very doubtful) gain someinsight into their thoughts and intentions. I will take my daughterwith me, however, for I should not like to leave her here altogetheralone. Her preparations may delay us for half an hour, but still wehave ample time, and the horse of the messenger, who will act as ourguide, must have some little time to take rest and food."

A very brief time was spent at breakfast, and then the whole party setout on horseback, followed by a negro leading a pack-horse, andpreceded by the messenger of Sir William Johnson. Mr. Prevost, themessenger, and the negro, were all armed; but Lord H----, who hadhitherto worn nothing but the common riding suit in which he had firstpresented himself, except in his unfortunate expedition with CaptainBrooks, had now donned the splendid uniform of a major-general in theBritish service, and was merely armed with his sword and pistols inthe holsters of his saddle.

The journey passed without incident. Not a human being was seen forseventeen or eighteen miles, though here and there a small log hut,apparently deserted, testified to the efforts of a new race to wresttheir hunting grounds from an earlier people--efforts too soon, toosadly, and too cruelly to be consummated. The softer light of earlymorning died away, and then succeeded a warmer period of the day, whenthe heat became very oppressive; for in the midst of those deepforests, with no wind stirring, the change from summer to winter isnot felt so rapidly as in more open lands. About an hour after noonthey proposed to stop, rest the horses, and take some refreshment, anda spot was selected where some fine oaks spread their large limbs overa beautifully clear little lake or pond, the view across whichpresented peeps of a distant country, with some blue hills of no verygreat elevation appearing above the tops of the trees.

At the end of an hour the party again mounted and pursued their way,still on through forests and valleys, across streams and by the sidesof lakes, till at length, just as the evening sun was reaching thehorizon, a visible change took place in the aspect of the country:spots were seen which had been cultivated, where harvests had grownand been reaped, and then a house gleamed here and there through theforest, and blue wreaths of smoke might be seen rising up. Tracks ofcart wheels channeled the forest path; a cart or wagon was drawn upnear the roadside; high piles of firewood showed preparation againstthe bitter winter; and everything indicated that the travelers wereapproaching some new but prosperous settlement.

Soon all traces of the primeval woods, except those which the littleparty left behind them, disappeared, and a broad tract of wellcultivated country spread out before them, with a fine river boundingit at the distance of more than a mile. The road, too, wascomparatively good and broad, and half way between the forest and theriver that road divided into two, one branch going straight on, andanother leading up the course of the stream.

"Is Sir William at the Hall or at his Castle?" asked Mr. Prevost,raising his voice to reach the ears of his guide, who kept a little infront.

"He said, sir, to take you on to the Hall if you should come on, sir,"replied the messenger. "There is a great number of Indians up at theCastle already, and he thought you might perhaps not like to be withthem altogether."

"Probably not," replied Mr. Prevost, drily; and they rode on upon thedirect road till, passing two or three smaller houses, they came insight of a very large and handsome edifice, built of wood indeed, butsomewhat in the style of a European house of the reign of George theFirst. As they approached the gates, Sir William Johnson himself, nowin the full costume of an officer of the British army, came down thesteps to meet and welcome them; and little less ceremonious politenessdid he display in the midst of the wild woods of America than if hehad been at the moment in the halls of St. James's. With stately gracehe lifted Edith from her horse, greeted Lord H---- with a deferentialbow, shook Mr. Prevost by the hand, and then led them himself to roomswhich seemed to have been prepared for them.

"Where is my friend Walter?" he said, as he was about to leave Mr.Prevost to some short repose. "What has induced him to deny his oldacquaintance the pleasure of his society? Ha, Mr. Prevost, does hethink to find metal more attractive at your lonely dwelling? Perhapshe may be mistaken, for let me tell you the beautiful Otaitsa ishere--here in this very house; for our good friend Gore has socompletely Anglified her, that what between her Christianity, herbeauty, and her delicacy, I believe she is afraid to trust herselfwith four or five hundred red warriors at the Castle."

He spoke in a gay and jesting tone, and everyone knows the blessedfacility which parents have of shutting their eyes to the love affairsof their children. Mr. Prevost did not in the least perceive anythingin the worthy general's speech but a good-humored joke at the boyishfondness of his son for a pretty Indian girl, and he hastened toexcuse Walter's absence by telling Sir William that he had been sentto Albany on business by Lord H----. He then inquired, somewhatanxiously: "Is our friend the Black Eagle here with his daughter?"

"He is here on the ground," replied Sir William, "but not in thehouse. His Indian habits are of too old standing to be rooted out likeOtaitsa's, and he prefers a bearskin and his own blue blanket to thebest bed and quilt in the house. I offered him such accommodation asit afforded, but he declined, with the dignity of a prince refusingthe hospitality of a cottage."

"Does he seem in a good humor to-day?" asked Mr. Prevost, hesitatingwhether he should tell Sir William at a moment when they were likelyto be soon interrupted, the event which had caused so muchapprehension in his own mind. "You know he is somewhat variable in hismood."

"I never remarked it," replied the other. "I think he is the mostcivilized savage I ever saw, far more than King Hendrick, though theone, since his father's death, wears a blue coat and the other doesnot. He did seem a little grave indeed, but the shadows of Indianmirth and gravity are so faint, it is difficult to distinguish them."

While these few words were passing Mr. Prevost had decided upon hiscourse, and he merely replied: "Well, Sir William, pray let Otaitsaknow that Edith is here; they will soon be in each other's arms, forthe two girls love like sisters."

A few words sprung to Sir William Johnson's lips, which, had they beenuttered, might perhaps have opened Mr. Prevost's eyes, at least to thesuspicions of his friend. He was on the eve of answering, "And someday they may be sisters," but he checked himself, and nothing but thesmile which should have accompanied the words made any reply.

When left alone, the thoughts of Mr. Prevost reverted at once to morepressing considerations. "The old chief knows the event," he said tohimself; "he has heard of it--heard the whole, probably--it iswonderful how rapidly intelligence is circulated amongst this peoplefrom mouth to mouth."

He was well nigh led away into speculations regarding the strangecelerity with which news can be carried orally, and was beginning tocalculate how much distance to travel would be saved in a given space,by one man shouting the tidings to another at a distance, when heforced back his mind into the track it had left, and came to the fullconclusion from his knowledge of the character of the parties, andfrom all that he had heard, that certainly the Black Eagle wascognizant of the death of one of his tribe by the hand of CaptainBrooks, and probably--though not certainly--had communicated thefacts, but not his views and purposes, to his daughter, whose keeneyes were likely to discover much of that which he intended toconceal.

CHAPTER VII

There was a curious and motley assembly, that night, in the halls ofSir William Johnson. There were several ladies and gentlemen fromAlbany, several young military men, and two or three persons of aclass now extinct, but who then drove a thriving commerce, and whosepeculiar business it was to trade with the Indians. Some of the latterwere exceedingly well educated men, and one or two of them werepersons not only of enlightened minds, but of enlarged views andheart. The others were mere brutal speculators, whose whole end andobject in life was to wring as much from the savages and give aslittle in return as possible. Besides these, an Indian chief would,from time to time, appear in the rooms, often marching through inperfect silence, observing all that was going on with dignifiedgravity, and then going back to his companions at the Castle. Amongstthe rest was Otaitsa, still in her Indian costume, but evidently ingala dress, of the finest cloth and the most elaborate embroidery. Notonly was she perfectly at her ease, talking to everyone, laughing withmany; but the sort of shrinking, timid tenderness which gave her sogreat a charm in the society of the few whom she loved had given placeto a wild spirit of gaiety but little in accordance with the characterof her nation.

She glided hither and thither through the room; she rested in oneplace hardly for a moment; her jests were as light, and sometimes assharp as those of almost any Parisian dame; and when one of the youngofficers ventured to speak to her somewhat lightly as the mere Indiangirl, she piled upon him a mass of ridicule that wrung tears oflaughter from the eyes of one or two older men standing near.

"I know not what has come to the child to-night," said Mr. Gore, whowas seated near Edith in one of the rooms; "a wild spirit seems tohave seized upon her, which is quite unlike her whole character andnature--unlike the character of her people, too, or I might think thatthe savage had returned notwithstanding all my care."

"Perhaps it is the novelty and excitement of the scene," said Edith.

"Oh no," answered the missionary, "there is nothing new in this sceneto her. She has been at these meetings several times during the lasttwo or three years, but never seemed to yield to their influence asshe has done to-night."

"She has hardly spoken a word to me," said Edith. "I hope she will notforget the friends who love her."

"No fear of that, my dear," replied Mr. Gore, "Otaitsa is all heart,and that heart a gentle one; under its influence is she acting now. Itthrobs with something that we do not know; and those light words thatmake us smile to hear, have sources deep within her--perhaps ofbitterness."

"I think I have heard her say," answered Edith, "that you educated herfrom her childhood."

"When first I joined the people of the Stone," replied the missionary,"I found her there a young child of three years old. Her mother wasjust dead, and although her father bore his grief with the stern,gloomy stoicism of his nation, and neither suffered tear to fall norsigh to escape his lips, I could see plainly enough that he was struckwith grief such as the Indian seldom feels and never shows. Hereceived me most kindly, and made my efforts with his people easy; andthough I know not to this hour whether with himself I have beensuccessful in communicating blessed light, he gave his daughteraltogether up to my charge, and with her I have not failed. I fear inhim the savage is too deeply rooted to be ever wrung forth, but her Ihave made one of Christ's flock indeed."

It seemed as if by a sort of instinct that Otaitsa discovered that shewas the subject of conversation between her two friends. Twice shelooked around at them from the other side of the room, and then sheglided across and seated herself beside Edith. For a moment she sat insilence there, and then leaning her head gracefully on her beautifulcompanion's shoulder, she said in a low whisper: "Do not close thineeyes this night, my sister, till thou seest me;" and then starting up,she mingled with the little crowd again.

It was still early in the night when Edith retired to the chamberassigned for her; for even in the most fashionable society of thosetimes, people had not learned to drive the day into the night, andmake morning and evening meet. Her room was a large and handsome one,and though plainly, it was sufficiently furnished. No forest, as ather dwelling, interrupted the beams of the rising moon, and she satand contemplated the ascent of the queen of night as she soaredgrandly over the distant trees. The conduct of Otaitsa during thatnight had puzzled her, and the few whispered words had excited hercuriosity, for it must not be forgotten that Edith was altogetherunacquainted with the fact of one of the Oneidas having been slain bythe hands of Captain Brooks within little more than two miles of herown abode. She proceeded to make her toilet for the night, however,and was almost undressed when she heard the door of her room openquietly, and Otaitsa stole in and cast her arms around her.

"Ah, my sister," she said, "I have longed to talk with you;" andseating herself by her side, she leaned her head again upon Edith'sshoulder, but remained silent for several minutes. The fair Englishgirl knew that it was better to let her take her own time and her ownway to speak whatever she had to say, but Otaitsa remained so longwithout uttering a word that an undefinable feeling of alarm spreadover her young companion. She felt her bosom heave as if withstruggling sighs, she even felt some warm drops like tears fall uponher shoulder, and yet Otaitsa remained without speaking, till atlength Edith said, in a gentle and encouraging tone: "What is it, mysister? There can surely be nothing you should be afraid to utter tomy ear."

"Not afraid," answered Otaitsa, and then she relapsed into silenceagain.

"But why do you weep, my sweet Blossom?" said Edith, after pausing fora moment or two to give her time to recover her composure.

"Because one of your people has killed one of my people," answered theIndian girl, sorrowfully. "Is not that enough to make me weep?"

"Indeed," exclaimed Edith, "I am much grieved to hear it, Blossom; butwhen did this happen, and how?"

"It happened but yesterday," replied the girl, "and but a littletoward the morning from your own house, my sister. It was a sad day!It was a sad day!"

"But I trust it was none near and dear to the Blossom or to the BlackEagle," said Edith, putting her arms around her and trying to sootheher.

"No, no," answered Otaitsa, "he was a bad man, a treacherous man, onewhom my father loved not. But that matters little. They will haveblood for his blood."

The truth flashed upon Edith's mind at once; for though lessacquainted with the Indian habits than her brother or her father, sheknew enough of their revengeful spirit to feel sure that they wouldseek the death of the murderer with untiring eagerness, and shequestioned her sweet companion earnestly as to all the particulars ofthe sad tale. Otaitsa told her all she knew, which was indeed nearlyall that could be told. The man called the Snake, she said, had beenshot by the white man Woodchuck, in the wood to the northeast of Mr.Prevost's house. Intimation of the fact had spread like fire in drygrass through the whole of the Oneidas, who were flocking to themeeting at Sir William Johnson's Castle, and from them it would runthrough the whole tribe.

"Woodchuck has escaped," she said, "or he would have been slain erenow; but they will have his life yet, my sister;" and then she added,slowly and sorrowfully, "or the life of some other white man, if theycannot catch this one."

The words presented to Edith's mind a sad and terrible idea--one morefearful in its vagueness and uncertainty of outline than in thedarkness of particular points. That out of a narrow and limitedpopulation someone was foredoomed to be slain; that out of a smallbody of men, all feeling almost as brethren, one was to be marked outfor slaughter; that one family was to lose husband or father orbrother, and no one could tell which, made her feel like one out of aherd of wild animals cooped up within the toils of the hunters.

Edith's first object was to learn more from her young companion, butOtaitsa had told almost all she knew.

"What they will do I know not," she said; "they do not tell us women.But I fear, Edith, I fear very much; for they say our brother Walterwas with the Woodchuck when the deed was done."

"Not so! not so!" cried Edith. "Had he been so, I should have heard ofit. He has gone to Albany, and had he been present I am sure he wouldhave stopped it if he could. If your people tell truth they willacknowledge that he was not there."

Otaitsa raised her head suddenly with a look of joy, exclaiming: "Iwill make her tell the truth were she as cunning a snake as hewas--but yet, my sister Edith, someone will have to die if they findnot the man they seek."

The last words were spoken in a melancholy tone again; but then shestarted up, repeating, "I will make her tell the truth."

"Can you do so?" asked Edith. "Snakes are always very crafty."

"I will try at least," answered the girl; "but oh, my sister, it werebetter for you and Walter, and your father, too, to be away. When astorm is coming, we try to save what is most precious. There is yetample time to go, for the red people are not rash, and do not acthastily, as you white people do."

"But is there no means," asked Edith, "of learning what the intentionof the nation really is?"

"I know of none," answered the girl, "that can be depended upon withcertainty. The people of the Stone change no more than the stone fromwhich they sprang. The storm beats upon them, the sun shines uponthem, and there is little difference on the face of the rock. Yet letyour father watch well when he is at the great talk tomorrow. Then ifthe priest is very smooth and soft-spoken, and if the Black Eagle isstern and silent, wraps his blanket over his left breast, be sure thatsomething sad is meditated. That is all that I can tell you--but Iwill make this woman speak the truth if there be truth in her, andthat, too, before the chiefs of the nation. Now, sister, lie down torest. Otaitsa is going at once to her people."

"But are you not afraid?" asked Edith. "It is a dark night, dearBlossom. Lie down with me and wait the morning sunshine."

"I have no fear," answered the Indian girl; "nothing will hurt me.There are times, sister, when a spirit enters into us that defies alland fears nothing. So it has been with me this night. The only thing Idreaded to face was my own thought, and it I would not suffer to restupon anything till I had spoken with you. Now, however, I have betterhopes. I will go forth and I will make her tell the truth."

Thus saying, she left Edith's chamber, and about an hour and a halfafter she might be seen standing beside her father, who was seatednear a fire kindled in one corner of the court attached to a largehouse, or rather fort, built by Sir William Johnson on the banks ofthe Mohawk, and called by him his Castle. Round the sachem, forming acomplete circle, sat a number of the head men of the Oneidas, each inthat peculiar crouching position which has been rendered familiar toour eyes by numerous paintings. The court and the Castle itself werewell nigh filled with Indians of other tribes of the Five Nations, butnone took any part in the proceedings of the Oneidas but themselves,and the only stranger who was present in the circle was Sir WilliamJohnson. He was still fully dressed in his British uniform, and seatedon a chair in an attitude of much dignity, with his left hand restingon the hilt of his sword. With the exception of that weapon he had noarms whatever; and indeed it was his custom to sleep frequently in themidst of his red friends utterly unarmed and defenceless. The occasionseemed a solemn one, for all faces were very grave, and a completesilence prevailed for several minutes.

"Bring in the woman," said Black Eagle, at length; "bring her in, andlet her speak the truth."

"Of what do you accuse her, Otaitsa?" asked Sir William Johnson,fixing his eyes upon his beautiful guest.

"Of lying to the sachem and to her brethren," answered Otaitsa. "Herbreath has been full of the poison of the Snake."

"Thou hearest," said the Black Eagle, turning to a woman of some oneor two and twenty years of age. "What sayest thou?"

"I lie not," answered the woman, in the Indian tongue. "I saw him liftthe rifle and shoot my brother dead."

"Who did it?" asked Black Eagle, gravely and calmly.

"The Woodchuck," answered the woman. "He did it. I know his face toowell."

"Believe her not," answered Otaitsa, "the Woodchuck was ever a friendof our nation. He is our brother. He would not slay an Oneida."

"But he was my brother's enemy," answered the woman. "There wasvengeance between them."

"Vengeance on thy brother's part," answered the old chief. "Morelikely he to slay the Woodchuck than the Woodchuck to slay him."

"If she have a witness, let her bring him forward," said Otaitsa. "Wewill believe her by the tongue of another."

"I have none," cried the woman, vehemently; "none was present butourselves, but I saw him kill my brother with my own eyes, and I cryfor his blood."

"Didst thou not say that there were two white men with him?" askedOtaitsa, raising up her right hand. "Then in this thou hast lied tothe sachem and thy brethren, and who shall say whether thou speakestthe truth now."

A curious sort of drowsy hum ran round the circle of the Indians, andone old man said: "She has spoken well."

The woman, in the meanwhile, stood silent and abashed, with her eyesfixed upon the ground, and Black Eagle said in a grave tone: "Therewas none?"

"No," said the woman, lifting her look firmly, "there was none; but Isaw two others in the wood hard by, and I was sure they were hiscompanions."

"That is guile," said Black Eagle, sternly. "Thou didst say that therewere two men with him, one the young paleface, Walter, and the other atall stranger, and brought a cloud over our eyes, and made us thinkthat they were present at the death."

"Then methinks, Black Eagle," said Sir William Johnson, using theirlanguage nearly as fluently as his own, "there is no faith to be putin the woman's story, and we cannot tell what has happened."

"Not so, my brother," answered Black Eagle. "We know that the Snakewas slain yesterday, before the sun had reached the pine tops. Webelieve, too, that the Woodchuck slew him, for there was an enmitybetween them; and the ball which killed him was a large ball, such aswe have never seen but in that man's pouch."

"That is doubtful evidence," said Sir William, "and I trust my brotherwill let vengeance cease till he have better witnesses."

The Indians remained profoundly silent for more than a minute, andthen the old man who had spoken once before, replied: "If our brotherwill give us up Woodchuck, vengeance shall cease."

"That I cannot do," answered Sir William Johnson. "First, I have nopower; secondly, he may be tried by our laws; but I will not lie toyou. If he can show he did it in self-defence, he will be set free."

Again there was a long silence, and then Black Eagle rose, saying: "Wemust take counsel."

His face was very grave, and as he spoke he drew the large blueblanket which covered his shoulders over his left breast, with thegesture which Otaitsa had described to Edith, as indicating some darkdetermination. Sir William Johnson marked the signs he saw, and wastoo well acquainted with Indian character to believe that their thirstfor blood was at all allayed; but neither by expression ofcountenance, nor by words, did he show any doubt of his red friends,and slept amongst them calmly that night without a fear of the result.

At an early hour on the following morning all the arrangements weremade for the great council, or talk, that was about to be held. Somelarge armchairs were brought forth into the court. A few soldiers wereseen moving about, and some negro servants. A number of the guestsfrom the Hall came up about nine o'clock, most of them on horseback;but when all were assembled, the body of white men present were fewand insignificant when compared with the multitude of Indians whosurrounded them. No one showed or entertained any fear, however, andthe conference commenced and passed off with perfect peace andharmony.

It is true that several of the Indian chiefs, and more especially KingHendrick, as he was called, the son of the chief who had been killednear Fort George a year or two before, had made some complaintsagainst the British government for neglect of the just claims of theirred allies. All angry feeling, however, was removed by a somewhatlarge distribution of presents, and after hearing everything which theIndians had to say, Sir William Johnson rose from the chair in whichhe had been seated, between Lord H---- and Mr. Prevost, and addressedthe assembly in English, according to his invariable custom, whencalled upon to deal publicly with the heads of the Five Nations, thespeech being translated, sentence for sentence, by an interpreter. Thewhole of his address cannot be given here, but it was skillfullyturned to suit the prejudices and conciliate the friendship of thepeople to whom he spoke. He said that their English father, KingGeorge, loved his red children with peculiar affection, but as hislodge was a long way off, he could not always know their wants andwishes. He had very lately, however, shown his great tenderness andconsideration for the Five Nations by appointing him, Sir WilliamJohnson, as Indian agent, to make known as speedily as possible allthat his red children desired. He then drew a glowing picture of thegreatness and majesty of the English monarch, as the Attotarho ofchief leader of a thousand different nations, sitting under a pinetree that reached to the sky, and receiving every minute messages fromhis children in every part of the earth.

A hum of satisfaction from the Indians followed this flight of fancy,and the speaker went on to say that this great chief, their father,had long ago intended to do much for them, and still intended to doso, but that the execution of his benevolent purposes had been delayedand impeded by the machinations of the French, their enemies and his,whom he represented as stealthily lying in wait for all the ships andconvoys of goods and presents which were destined for his Indianchildren, and possessing themselves of them by force or fraud. Rich ashe might be, he asked how was it possible that their white fathercould supply all their wants when he had so many to provide for, andwhen so many of his enemies had dug up the tomahawk at once. If thechiefs of the Five Nations, however, he said, would vigorously aid himin his endeavors, King George would speedily drive the French fromAmerica; and to show his intention of so doing, he had sent over thegreat chief on his left hand, Lord H----, and many other mightywarriors, to fight side by side with their red brethren. More, hesaid, would come on in the ensuing spring, and with the first flowerthat blossomed under the hemlock trees the English warriors would beready for the battle, if the Indian chiefs then present would promisethem cordial support and co-operation.

It must not be supposed that in employing very exaggerated languageSir William had any intention of deceiving. He merely used figuressuited to the comprehension of his auditors, and his speech gave thevery highest satisfaction. The unusually large presents which had beendistributed, the presence and bearing of the young nobleman, and anatural weariness of the state of semi-neutrality between the Frenchand the English, which they had maintained for some time, disposed thechiefs to grant the utmost he could desire, and the conference brokeup with the fullest assurance of support from the heads of theIroquois tribes--assurances which were faithfully made good in thecampaigns which succeeded.

CHAPTER VIII

All was pleasant at the house of Sir William Johnson, from which thestateliness of his manner did not at all detract, for when blendedwith perfect courtesy, as an Irishman can perhaps better than any manblend it, stateliness does not imply restraint. The conference withthe Indians had not ended until too late an hour for Mr. Prevost andhis companions to return to his dwelling on the day when it tookplace, and as Walter was not expected with the answers to Lord H----'sdispatches for at least two days more, the party were not unwilling toprolong their stay till the following morning. Several of the guests,indeed, who were proceeding to Albany direct, set out at once fortheir destination, certain of reaching the well inhabited parts of thecountry before nightfall; and it was at one time proposed to send aletter by them to young Walter Prevost, directing him to join hisfather at the Hall. The inconveniences which so frequently ensue fromderanging plans already fixed, caused this scheme to be rejected, andwhile her father, Lord H----, and their host wandered forth for anhour or two along the banks of the beautiful Mohawk, Edith remained atthe Hall, not without hope of seeing Otaitsa present herself, withsome intelligence. The beautiful Indian girl, however, did not appear,and gloomy thoughts thronged fast upon poor Edith. She strove tobanish them; she schooled herself in regard to anticipating eventsonly possible; but who ever mastered completely those internalwarnings of approaching peril or woe, which as often come to cloud ourbrightest days, as to darken the gloom of an already tempestuous sky?Her chief companion was an old lady nearly related to Sir William, butvery deaf and very silent, and she had but small relief inconversation.

In the meantime the three gentlemen and a young aide-de-camp pursuedtheir way amongst the neat farmhouses and mechanics' shops which hadgathered round the Hall; Mr. Prevost gave way to thoughts apparentlyas gloomy as those which haunted his daughter, but in reality not so,for his was a mind of a discursive character, which was easily led byany collateral idea far away from any course which it was at firstpursuing; and though he had awakened that morning full of theconsiderations which had engaged him during the preceding day, he wasnow busily calculating the results of the meeting which had just beenheld, and arriving at the conclusions, more just than were reached bymany of the great statesmen and politicians of the day.

Lord H----, on his part, paid no little attention to the demeanor andall the proceedings of their host. The character of his mind was theexact reverse of that of Mr. Prevost, attaching itself keenly to anobject, and turned from its contemplation with difficulty. Histhoughts still dwelt upon the consequences which were likely to ensuefrom the death of the Oneida by the hands of Captain Brooks, withoutanything like alarm, indeed, but with careful forethought for thosewho in a few short days had won for themselves a greater share of thewarmer affections which lay hidden in his heart than he often bestowedupon anyone. As they quitted the door of the house a mere triflecalled his attention to something peculiar in the conduct of SirWilliam Johnson, and led him to believe that the mind of that officerwas not altogether at ease, notwithstanding the favorable result ofthe meeting with the Indians. After they had taken a step or two upontheir way, Sir William Johnson paused suddenly, turned back, andordered a servant to run up to the top of the hill and there watchuntil he returned. "Mark well which paths they take," he said, withoutspecifying the persons of whom he spoke, "and let me hear if you seeanything peculiar."

The man seemed to understand him perfectly, and the parties, as I havesaid, walked on, Lord H---- watching everything with the utmostattention. In the course of their ramble not less than some nine orten persons came up at different times, and spoke a word or two to SirWilliam Johnson. First it was a negro, then a soldier, then an Irishservant, then another white man, but with features of a stronglymarked Indian character. Each seemed to give some information in a fewwords uttered in a low tone, and each departed as soon as they werespoken, some with a brief answer, some with none.

The evening which succeeded their walk passed somewhat differentlyfrom the preceding one. There were fewer persons present, theconversation was more general and intimate, and Sir William Johnson,seating Edith at the old-fashioned instrument which in those dayssupplied the lack of pianofortes, asked for a song which it seems hehad heard her sing before. She complied without any hesitation, with asufficient skill and management of her voice to show that she had beenwell taught, but with tones so rich, so pure, and so melodious, thatevery sound in the room was instantly hushed, and Lord H----approached nearer and nearer to listen.

Lord H---- was full not only of the love but of the sense of music,and he drew closer and closer to Edith as she sang, and at length hungover her with his face turned away from the other guests in the room,and bearing written on it feelings which he hardly yet knew were inhis heart. Sir William Johnson was standing on the other side of thebeautiful girl's chair, and as she concluded the stanza before thelast he raised his eyes suddenly to the face of Lord H---- with a lookof great satisfaction. What he saw there made him start and thensmile, for the characters written on the young nobleman's countenancewere too plain to be mistaken; and Sir William Johnson, who was notwithout his share of worldly wisdom, at once divined that EdithPrevost was likely to be a peeress of England.

"What a fine musician she is," said the older general to the youngnobleman, after he had conducted Edith to her former seat, but beforethe enthusiasm had subsided. "One would hardly expect to find suchmusic in the wild woods of America."

"She is all music," said Lord H----, in an absent tone, and thenadded, rousing himself, "but you must not attribute such powers andsuch perfections altogether to your own land of America, Sir William,for I find that Miss Prevost was educated in Europe."

"Only till she was fourteen," replied the other; "but they arealtogether a most remarkable family. If ever girl was perfect, it isherself. Her father, though somewhat too much given to dream, is a manof singular powers of mind; and her brother, Walter, whom I look uponalmost as a son, is full of high and noble qualities and energieswhich, if he lives, will certainly lead him on to greatness."

"I think so," said Lord H----, and there the conversation dropped forthe time. The rest of the evening passed on without any incident ofnote, and by daybreak on the following morning the whole householdwere on foot. An early breakfast was ready for the travelers, andnothing betrayed much anxiety on the part of their host till the verymoment of their departure. As they were about to set forth, however,and just when Edith appeared in her riding habit (or Amazon, as it wasthen called), and the hat, with large, floating ostrich plumes usuallyworn at that time by ladies when on horseback, looking lovely enough,it is true, to justify any compliment, Sir William took her by thehand, saying, with a gay and courteous air: "I am going to give you acommission, my fair Hypolita, which is neither more nor less than thecommand of half a dozen dragoons, whom I wish to go with you for aportion of the way, partly to exercise their horses on a road which ismarvellously cleared of stumps and stones for this part of thecountry, partly to examine what is going on a little to the northeast,and partly to bring me the pleasant intelligence that you have gone atleast half way to your home in safety."

Lord H---- looked in his face in silence, and Edith turned a littlepale, but said nothing. Mr. Prevost, however, went directly to thepoint, saying: "You know of some danger, my good friend. You hadbetter inform us of all the particulars, that we may be upon ourguard."

"None whatever, Prevost," answered Sir William, "except the generalperils of inhabiting an advanced spot on the frontiers of a savagepeople, especially when anything has occurred to offend them. You knowwhat we talked about yesterday morning. The Oneidas do not easilyforgive, and in this case they will not forgive. But I have everyreason to believe that they have taken their way homeward for thepresent. My people traced them a good way to the west, and it is onlyfrom some chance stragglers that there is any danger."

Mr. Prevost mused, without moving to the door, which was open for themto depart, and then said, in a meditating kind of tone: "I do notthink they will attack any large party, Sir William, even whensatisfied that they cannot get hold of the man who has incensed them.These Indians are a very cunning people, and they often satisfy eventheir notions of honor by an artifice, especially when two duties, asthey consider them, are in opposition to one another. Depend upon it,after what passed yesterday, they will commit no act of nationalhostility against England. They are pledged to us, and will not breaktheir pledge. They will attack no large party, nor slay any Englishmanin open strife, though they may kidnap some solitary individual, and,according to their curious notions of atonement, make him a formalsacrifice in expiation of the blood shed by another."

"You know the Indians well, Prevost," said Sir William, gravely,"marvellously well, considering the short time you have been amongstthem."

"I have had little else to do than to study them," said the other,"and the subject is one of great interest. But do you think I am wrongin the view I take, my good friend?"

"Quite on the contrary," replied Sir William, "and that is the reasonI send the soldiers with you. A party of eight or ten will beperfectly secure; and I would certainly advise that for the next twoor three months, or till this unlucky dog Brooks, or Woodchuck, as heis called, has been captured, no one should go any distance from hishome singly. Such a party as yours might be large enough--I am notsure that my lord's red coat, which I am happy to see he has got onto-day, might not be sufficient protection, for they will not riskanything which they themselves deem an act of hostility against theBritish government. But still the soldiers will make the matter moresecure till you have passed the spot where there is any danger oftheir being found. I repeat, I know of no peril, but I would fainguard against all where a fair lady is concerned," and he bowedgracefully to Edith.

Little more was said, and, taking leave of their host, Mr. Prevost'sparty mounted their horses and set out, followed by a corporal's guardof dragoons, a small body of which corps was then stationed in theprovince of New York, although, from the nature of the country inwhich hostilities had hitherto been carried on, small opportunity hadas yet been afforded them of showing their powers against an enemy.Nor would there have been any very favorable opportunity for doing soin the present instance had Mr. Prevost and his companions beenattacked, for though the road they had to travel was broad and open,compared to an ordinary Indian trail, yet, except at one or twopoints, it was hemmed in with impervious forests, where the action ofcavalry would be quite impossible, and under the screen of which askillful marksman might bring down his man himself unperceived. ButSir William Johnson was sincere in saying that he believed the verysight of the English soldiers would be quite sufficient protection.The Indians, he knew right well, would avoid anything like a struggleor a contest, and would more especially take care not to come intocollision of any kind with the troops of their British allies. It waslikely that they would depend upon cunning entirely to obtain a victimwherewith to appease their vengeance, but on this probability he didnot choose altogether to rely. He saw them depart, however, withperfect confidence, as the soldiers were with them; and they proceededwithout seeing a single human being after they quitted his settlement,till they reached the shores of the small lake near which they hadhalted on their previous journey, and where they again dismounted totake refreshment.

It was a very pleasant spot, and well fitted for a resting place; norwas repose altogether needless, though the distance already traveledwas not great either for man or horse. But the day was exceedinglyoppressive, like one of those which come in what is called the Indiansummer, when the weather, after many a frosty day, becomes suddenlysultry, as if in the middle of June, and the air, loaded with thinyellow vapor, well deserves the term of "smoky," usually given to iton the western side of the Atlantic. Yet there was no want of air; thewind blew from the southeast, but there was no freshness on thebreeze. It was like the sirocco, taking away strength and freshnessfrom all it breathed upon; and the horses, after being freed from theburdens they bore, stood for several minutes with bent heads andheaving sides, without attempting to crop the forest grass beneath thetrees.

Thus, repose was sweet, and the look of the little lake was cool andrefreshing. The travelers lingered there somewhat after the hour atwhich they proposed to depart, and it was the negro, who took care ofthe baggage, who first warned them of the waning of the day.

"Massa forget," he said, "sun go early to bed in October. Twelve mileto go yet, and road wuss nor dis."

"True, true," replied Mr. Prevost, rising. "We had better go on, mylord, for it is now past two, and we shall barely reach home bydaylight. I really think, Corporal," he continued, turning to thenon-commissioned officer who had been seated with his men hard by,enjoying some of the good things of life, "that we need not troubleyou to go farther. There is no trace of any Indians, nor, indeed, anyhuman beings in the forest but ourselves. Had there been so, my goodfriend Chaudo, here, would have discovered it, for he knows theirtracks as well as any of their own people."

"Dat I do," replied the negro to whom he pointed. "No Ingin pass disroad since yesterday, I swear."

"My orders were to go to the big blazed basswood tree, four milesfarther," replied the soldier, in a firm but respectful tone, "and Imust obey orders."

"You are right," said Lord H----, pleased with the man's demeanor."What is your name, Corporal?"

"cl*therto, my lord," replied the man, with a military salute;"Corporal cl*therto."

Lord H---- bowed his head, and the party, remounting, pursued theirway. The road, however, as the negro had said, was more difficult inadvance than it had been nearer to Sir William Johnson's settlement,and it took the whole party an hour to reach the great basswood treewhich had been mentioned, and which was marked out from the rest ofthe forest by three large marks upon the bark, hewn by some surveyor'saxe when the road had been laid out. There the party stopped for amoment or two, and with a few words of thanks Mr. Prevost and hiscompanions parted from their escort.

"How dim the air along the path is," said Lord H----, looking on, "andyet the sun, getting to the west, is shining right down it through thevalley. One could almost imagine it was filled with smoke."

"This is what we call a smoky day in America," replied Mr. Prevost,"but I never knew the Indian summer come on us with such a wind."

No more was said on that matter at the time, and as the road grewnarrower, Mr. Prevost and the negro, as best acquainted with the way,rode first, while Lord H---- followed by Edith's side, conversing withher in quiet and easy tones, but with words which sometimes caused thecolor to vary a little in her cheek.

Thus they went on for some four miles farther, and the evening wasevidently closing round them rapidly, though no ray had yet passedfrom the sky. Suddenly Mr. Prevost drew in his rein, saying in a lowbut distinct voice to the negro: "What is that crossing the road?"

"No Ingin!" cried the negro, whose eyes had been constantly bentforward.

"Surely there is smoke drifting across the path," said Mr. Prevost,"and I think I smell it, also."

"I have thought so for some time," said Lord H----, who was now closeto them with Edith. "Are fires common in these woods?"

"Not very," answered Mr. Prevost, "but the season has been unusuallydry. Good heaven, I hope my fears are not prophetic! I have beenthinking all day of what would become of The Lodge if the forest wereto take fire."

"We had better ride on as fast as possible," said the young nobleman,"for then if the worst happens we may be able to save some of yourproperty, Mr. Prevost."

"We must be cautious, we must be cautious," said the other, in athoughtful tone. "Fire is a capricious element, and often runs in adirection the least expected. I have heard of people getting soentangled in a burning wood as not to be able to escape."

"Oh, yes," cried the negro, "when I were little boy, I remember quitewell Massa John Bostock and five other men wid him git in pine woodbehind Albany, and it catch fire. He run here and dere, but it git allround him and roast him up black as I be. I saw dem bring in what deyfancied was he, but it no better dan a great pine stump."

"If I remember," said Lord H----, "we passed a high hill somewherenear this spot, where we had a fine, clear view over the whole of thewoody region round. We had better make for that at once. The firecannot yet have reached it, if my remembrance of the distance iscorrect; for though the wind sets toward us the smoke is, as yet,anything but dense."

"Pray God it be so," said Mr. Prevost, spurring forward, "but I fearit is nearer."

The rest followed as quickly as the stumps and the fallen trees wouldlet them, and at the distance of half a mile began the ascent of thehill to which Lord H---- had alluded. As far as that spot the smokehad been becoming denser and denser every moment, apparently pouringalong the valley formed by that hill and another on the left, throughwhich valley, let it be remarked, the small river in which Walter hadbeen seen fishing by Sir William Johnson, but now a broad and veryshallow stream, took its course onward toward the Mohawk. As theybegan to ascend, however, the smoke decreased, and Edith exclaimedjoyfully: "I hope, dear father, the fire is farther to the north."

"We shall see, we shall see," said Mr. Prevost, still pushing hishorse forward. "The sun is going down fast, and a little haste will bebetter on all accounts."

In about five minutes more the summit of the hill was reached, at aspot where, in laying out two roads which crossed each other there,the surveyors had cleared away a considerable portion of the wood,leaving, as Lord H---- had said, a clear view over the greater part ofthe undulating forest country lying in the angle formed by the upperHudson and the Mohawk. The only sign of man's habitation which couldbe discovered at any time was the roof and chimneys of Mr. Prevost'shouse, which in general could be perceived rising above the trees,upon an eminence a good deal lower than the summit which the travelershad now reached. Now, however, the house could not be seen.

The sight which the country presented was a fine but a terrible one.On the one side the sun, with his lower limb just dipped beneath theforest, was casting up floods of many-colored light, orange andpurple, gold, and even green, upon the light, fantastic cloudsscattered over the western sky; while above, some fleecy vapors,fleeting quickly along, were all rosy with the touch of his beams.Onward to the east and north, filling up the whole valley between thehill on which they stood and the eminence crowned by Mr. Prevost'shouse, and forming an almost semi-circular line of some three or fourmiles in extent, was a dense, reddish-brown cloud of smoke, markingwhere the fire raged, and softening off at each extreme to a bluishgray. No general flame could be perceived through this heavy cloud,but ever and anon a sudden flash would break across it, not bright andvivid, but dull and half obscured, when the fierce elements got holdof some of the drier and more combustible materials of the forest.Once or twice, too, suddenly at one point of the line or another, asingle tree, taller perhaps than the rest, or more inflammable, orgarmented in a thick matting of dry vine, would catch the flame andburst forth from the root to the topmost branch, like a tall column offire; and here and there, too, from what cause I know not--perhapsfrom an accumulation of dry grass and withered leaves, seized upon bythe fire and wind together--a volley of sparks would mingle with thecloud of smoke and float along, for a moment, bright and sparkling, tothe westward.

It was a grand but an awful spectacle, and as Mr. Prevost gazed uponit thoughts and feelings crowded into his bosom which even Edithherself could not estimate.

"Look, look, Prevost!" cried Lord H----, after they had gazed duringone or two minutes in silence. "The wind is drifting away the smoke! Ican see the top of your house--it is safe, as yet--and will be safe,"he added, "for the wind sets somewhat away from it."

"Not enough," said Mr. Prevost, in a dull, gloomy tone. "The slightestchange, and it is gone. The house I care not for; the barns, thecrops, are nothing! They can be replaced, or I could do without them;but there are things within that house, my lord, I cannot do without."

"Do you not think we can reach it?" asked Lord H----. "If we were topush our horses into the stream there, we might follow its courseup--it seems broad and shallow--and the trees recede from thebanks--are there any deep spots in its course?"

"None, massa," replied the negro.

"Let us try, at all events," exclaimed Lord H----, turning his horse'shead. "We can come back again if we find the heat and smoke too muchfor us."

"My daughter!" said Mr. Prevost, in a tone of deep, strong feeling,"my daughter! Lord H----."

The young nobleman was silent. The stories he had heard that day, andmany he had heard before, of persons getting entangled in burningforests, and never being able to escape--which, while in the firstenthusiasm of the moment he thought only of himself and of Mr.Prevost, had seemed to him but visions, wild chimeras--assumed aterrible reality as soon as the name of Edith was mentioned, and hewould have shuddered to see the proposal adopted which he had madeonly the moment before. He was silent then, and Mr. Prevost was thefirst who spoke.

"I must go," he said, with gloomy earnestness, after some briefconsideration. "I must go, let what will betide."

He remained for two or three minutes profoundly silent. Then, turningsuddenly to Lord H----, he said: "My lord, I am going to entrust toyou the dearest thing I have on earth, my daughter--to place her underthe safeguard of your honor--to rely for her protection and defenceupon your chivalry. As an English nobleman of high name and fame, I dotrust you without a doubt. I must make my way through that fire bysome means--I must save some papers--two pictures which I value morethan my own life. I will take my good friend Chaudo here with me. Imust leave you to conduct Edith to a place of safety."

"Oh, my father!" cried Edith, but he went on, without heeding her:

"If you follow that road," he continued, "you will come at thedistance of some seven miles, to a good-sized farmhouse on the left ofthe road. The men are most likely out watching the progress of thefire, but you will find the women within, and good and friendly theyare, though homely and uneducated. I have no time to stop for furtherdirections. Edith, my child, God bless you! Do not cloud our partingwith a doubt of heaven's protection. Should anything occur--and be itas He wills--you and Walter will find with the lawyers at Albany allpapers referring to this small farm, and to the little we have inEngland. God bless you, my child! God bless you!" and thus saying, heturned and rode fast down the hill, beckoning to the negro to followhim.

"Oh, my father! my father!" cried Edith, dropping her rein andclasping her hands together, longing to follow, yet unwilling todisobey. "He will be lost--I fear he will be lost!"

"I trust not," said Lord H----, in a firm, calm tone, well fitted toinspire confidence. "He knows the country well, and can take advantageof every turning to avoid the flame. Besides, if you look along what Iimagine to be the course of the stream, you will see a deepundulation, as it were, in that sea of smoke, and when the wind blowsstrongly it is almost clear. He said, too, that the banks continuedfree from trees."

"As far as the bridge and the rapids near our house," replied Edith;"but after that they are thickly wooded."

"But the fire has evidently not reached that spot," said the youngnobleman. "All the ground within half a mile of the house is free atpresent. I saw it quite distinctly a moment ago, and the wind issetting this way."

"Then can we not follow him?" asked his fair companion, imploringly.

"To what purpose?" asked Lord H----; "and besides," he added, "now letme call to your mind the answer of the good soldier, Corporalcl*therto, just now. He said he must obey orders, and he was right. Asoldier to his commander, a child to a parent, a Christian to his God:have, I think, but one duty--to obey. Come, Edith, let us follow thedirections we have received. The sun is already beneath the forestedge; we can do no good gazing here; and although I do not think thereis any danger, and believe you will be safe under my protection, yet,for many reasons, I could wish to place you beneath the shelter of aroof, and in the society of other women as soon as may be."

"Thank you much," she answered, gazing up into his face, on which thelingering light in the west cast a warm glow. "You remind me of myduty, and strengthen me to follow it. I have no fear of any dangerwith you to protect me, my lord. It was for my father only I feared.But it was wrong to do so, even for him. God will protect, I do hopeand believe. We must take this way, my lord," and with a deep sigh sheturned her horse's head upon the path which her father had pointedout.

No general subject of conversation could, of course, be acceptableat that moment; but one topic they had to discuss. And yet LordH---- made more of that than some men would have made of a thousand.He comforted, he consoled, he raised up hope and expectation. Hiswords were full of promise; and from everything he wrung someillustration to support and cheer.

A few moments after they left the summit of the hill and began themore gentle descent which stretched away to the southeast, the lastrays of the sun were withdrawn and night succeeded; but it was thebright and sparkling night of the American sky. There was no moon,indeed, but the stars burst forth in multitudes over the firmament,larger, more brilliant than they are ever beheld even in the clearestEuropean atmosphere, and they gave light enough to enable the twotravelers to see their path. The wind still blew strongly, and carriedthe smoke away, and the road was wide enough to show the starry canopyoverhanging the trees. Obliged to go very slowly, but little progresshad been made in an hour, and by that time a strong odor of theburning wood and a pungent feeling in the eyes, showed that someportion of the smoke was reaching them.

"I fear the wind has changed," said Edith. "The smoke seems comingthis way."

"The better for your father's house, dear lady," answered LordH----. "It was a change to the westward he had to fear; the more fullyeast the better."

They fell into silence again, but in a minute or two after, looking tothe left of the road, where the trees were very closely set, thoughthere was an immense mass of brushwood underneath, Lord H---- beheld asmall, solitary spot of light, like a lamp burning. It was seen andhidden, seen and hidden again by the trees as they rode on, and musthave been at some three or four hundred yards distance. It seemed tochange its place, too, to shift, to quiver; and then, in a long,winding line, it crept slowly round and round the boll of a tree likea fiery serpent; and a moment after, with flash and crackling flame,and fitful blaze, it spread flickering over the dry branches of apitch pine.

"The fire is coming nearer, dear Miss Prevost," said Lord H----, "andit is necessary we should use some forethought. How far, think you,this farmhouse is now?"

"Nearly four miles," answered Edith.

"Does it lie due south?" asked her companion.

"Very nearly," she replied.

"Is there any road to the westward?" demanded the young nobleman, withhis eyes still fixed upon the distant flame.

"Yes." she answered; "about half a mile on there is a tolerable pathmade along the side of the hill on the west, to avoid the swamp duringwet weather; but it rejoins this road a mile or so farther on."

"Let us make haste," said Lord H----, abruptly; "the road seems fairenough just here, and I fear there is no time to lose."

He put his hand upon Edith's rein as he spoke, to guide the horse on,and rode forward perhaps somewhat less than a quarter of a mile,watching with an eager eye the increasing light to the east, where itwas now seen glimmering through the trees in every direction, looking,through the fretted trellis-work of branches, trunks, and leaves, likea multitude of red lamps hung up in the forest. Suddenly, at a spotwhere there was an open space or streak, as it was called, runningthrough some two or three hundred yards of the wood, covered denselywith brush, but destitute of tall trees, the whole mass of the fireappeared to view, and the travelers seemed gazing into the mouth of afurnace. Just then the wind shifted a little more and blew down thestreak; the cloud of smoke rolled forward; flash after flash burstforth along the line as the flame caught the withered leaves on thetop of the branches; then the bushes themselves were seized upon bythe fire, and sent flaming tongues far up into the air. Onward itrushed, with a roar, and a crackle, and a hiss, caught the tallertrees on either side, and poured across the road right in front.Edith's horse, unaccustomed to such a sight, started, and pulledvehemently back; but Lord H----, snatching her riding whip from herhand, struck him sharply on the flank, and forced him forward by therein. But again the beast resisted; not a moment was to be lost; timewasted in the struggle must have been fatal; and, casting the bridlefree, he threw his right arm round her light form, lifted her from thesaddle, and seated her safely before him. Then, striking his spursinto the sides of his well-trained charger, he dashed at full speedthrough the burning bushes, and in two minutes had gained the groundbeyond the fire.

"You are saved, dear Edith!" he said. "You are saved!"

He could not call her Miss Prevost then; and though she heard the namehe gave her, at that moment of gratitude and thanksgiving it soundedonly sweetly on her ear.

"Thank God! thank God!" said Edith; "and oh, my lord, how can I evershow my gratitude to you?"

Lord H---- was silent for a moment, and then said in a low tone--forit would be spoken: "Dear Edith, I have no claim to gratitude; but ifyou can give me love instead, the gratitude shall be yours for life.But I am wrong, very wrong, for speaking to you thus at this moment,and in these circ*mstances. Yet there are emotions which forcethemselves into words whether we will or not. Forget those I havespoken, and do not tremble so, for they shall be no more repeated tillI find a fitter occasion--then they shall immediately. Now, dearEdith, I will ride slowly on with you to this farmhouse, will leaveyou there with the good people, and, if possible, get somebody toguide me round another way to join your father, and assure him of yoursafety. That he is safe I feel certain, for this very change of windmust have driven the fire away from him. Would you rather walk? For Iam afraid you have an uneasy seat, and we are quite safe now; theflames will go another way."

From many motives Edith preferred to go on foot, and LordH---- suffered her to slip gently to the ground. Then dismountinghimself, he drew her arm within his own, and leading his horse by thebridle, proceeded along the road over the shoulder of the hill,leaving the lower road, which the flame still menaced, on theirleft Edith needed support, and their progress was slow, but LordH---- touched no more upon any subject that could agitate her, and atthe end of about an hour and a half they reached the farmhouse, andknocked for admission.

There was no answer, however. No dogs barked, no sounds were heard,and all was dark within. Lord H---- knocked again. Still all wassilent; and putting his hand upon the latch, he opened the door.

"The house seems deserted," he said; and then, raising his voice, hecalled loudly, to wake any slumbering inhabitant who might be within.Still no answer was returned, and he felt puzzled and more agitatedthan he would have been in the presence of any real danger. There wasno other place of shelter near; he could not leave Edith there, as hehad proposed; and yet the thought of passing a long night with her inthat deserted house produced a feeling of indecision, checkered bymany emotions which were not usual to him.

"This is most unlucky," he said. "What is to be done now?"

"I know not," said Edith, in a low and distressed tone. "I fear,indeed, the good people are gone. If the moon would but rise, we mightsee what is really in the house."

"I can get a light," replied Lord H----. "There is wood enoughscattered about to light a fire. Stay here in the doorway while Ifasten my horse and gather some sticks together. I will not go out ofsight." The sticks were soon gathered and carried to the largekitchen, into which the door opened directly. Lord H----'s pistol,which he took from the holsters, afforded the means of lighting acheerful fire on the hearth, and as soon as it blazed up a number ofobjects were seen in the room which showed that the house had beeninhabited lately, and abandoned suddenly. Little of the furnitureseemed to have been carried away, indeed; and amongst the first thingsthat were perceived, much to Edith's comfort, were candles and a tinlamp of Dutch manufacture, ready trimmed. These were soon lighted, andLord H----, taking his fair companion's hand in his, and gazing fondlyon her pale and weary face, begged her to seek some repose. "I cannot,of course," he said, "leave you here and seek your father, as Iproposed just now; but if you will go upstairs, and seek some roomwhere you can lock yourself in, in case of danger, I will keep guardhere below. Most likely all the people of the house have gone forth towatch the progress of the fire, and may return speedily."

Edith mused, and shook her head, saying: "I think something else musthave frightened them away."

"Would you have courage to fire a pistol in case of need?" asked LordH----, in a low tone. Edith gently inclined her head, and he thenadded: "Stay! I will charge this for you again."

He then reloaded the pistol, the charge of which he had drawn to lightthe fire, and was placing it in Edith's hand, when a tall, dark figureglided into the room with a step perfectly noiseless. Lord H---- drewher suddenly back and placed himself before her, but a second glanceshowed him the dignified form and fine features of Otaitsa's father.

"Peace," said the old chief. "Peace to you, my brother," and he heldout his hand to Lord H----, who took it frankly. Black Eagle thenunfastened the blue blanket from his shoulders and threw it aroundEdith, saying: "Thou art my daughter, and art safe. I have heard thevoice of the Cataract, and its sound was sweet. It is a great water,and a good. The counsel is wise, my daughter. Go thou up and rest inpeace. The Black Eagle will watch by the Cataract till the eyes ofmorning open in the east. The Black Eagle will watch for thee as forhis own young, and thou art safe."

"I know I am, when thou art near me, Father," said Edith, taking hisbrown hand in hers, "but is it so with all mine?"

"If I can make it so," answered Black Eagle. "Go, daughter, and be atpeace. This one at least is safe also, for he is a great chief of ourwhite fathers, and we have a treaty with him. The man of the FiveNations who would lift his hand against him is accursed."

Edith knew that she could extract nothing more from him, and with hermind somewhat lightened, but not wholly relieved, she ascended to theupper story. Lord H---- seated himself on the step at the foot of thestairs, and the Indian chief crouched down beside him. But both kept aprofound silence, and in a few minutes after, the moon, slowly risingover the piece of cleared ground in front, poured in upon their twofigures as they sat there side by side, in strange contrast.

CHAPTER IX

There is the fate of another connected with the events of that nightof whom some notice must be taken, from the influence which hisdestiny exercised over the destinies of all. With greater promptnessand celerity than had been expected from him, even by those who knewhim best, Walter Prevost had executed the business entrusted to him,and was ready to set out from Albany a full day at least before hisreturn had been expected by his family. Fortune had favored him, it istrue. He had found the commander-in-chief in the city, and at leisure.A man of a prompt and active mind, he had readily appreciated thepromptness and activity of the lad, and his business had beendispatched as readily as circ*mstances permitted.

A boat sailing up the Hudson with some stores and goods for traffic,was found, to carry him a considerable way on his journey; and he waslanding at a point on the western bank of the river, some seventeenmiles from his father's house, at the very moment that Mr. Prevost,Lord H----, and Edith were mounting by the side of the little lake topursue their journey. The way before him was rough and uneven, andsomewhat intricate, but he thought he knew it sufficiently to make hisway by it, before sunset, to a better known part of the country; andhe hurried on with youthful confidence and vigor. His rifle in hishand, his knapsack on his shoulder, and a good large hunting knife inhis belt, with great agility of limbs and no small portion of bodilyvigor, he would have proved no contemptible opponent in the presenceof any single enemy. But he never thought of enemies, and all in hisbosom was courage, and joy, and expectation.

Whatever great cities, and camps, and courts might have offered,Albany, at least, a small provincial capital, filled with a staid andsomewhat rigid people, and only enlivened by the presence of aregiment or two of soldiers, had no attraction for him, and he washeartily glad to escape from it again to the free life around hispaternal dwelling, and to the society of his father and Edith--andOtaitsa. Steadily he went along, climbed the hills, strode along theplain, and forded the river. The traces of cultivation soon becamefewer, and then ceased; and following resolutely the path before him,two hours passed before he halted even to look around. Then, however,he paused for a minute or two to consider his onward course. Two orthree Indian trails crossed at the spot where he stood, one of them sodeeply indented in the ground as to show that its frequent use existedfrom a very ancient date. Its course seemed to be in the directionwhich he wanted to go; and he thought he remembered having followed itsome months before. Across it ran the settlers' way, broader andbetter marked out, but not very direct to his father's house; and hewas hesitating which he should take when the sound of creaking wheels,and the cry used by ploughmen and teamsters to their cattle, showedhim that someone was coming who was likely to give him betterinformation. That information seemed the more necessary as the day wasalready far on the decline, and he had not yet reached a spot of whichhe could be certain. A moment or two after, coming up a lane in thewood, as it would be called in England, appeared a heavy ox wagondrawn by four steers, and loaded with three women and a number ofboxes, while by the side of the rude vehicle appeared three men onfoot and one on horseback, each very well armed, together with no lessthan five dogs of different descriptions.

Walter instantly recognized in the horseman the good farmer who livedsome ten miles to the southwest of his father's house. The farmer wasa good-humored, kindly-hearted man, honest enough, but somewhatselfish in his way, always wishing to have the best of a bargain, ifit could be obtained without absolute roguery, yet willing enough toshare the fruits of his labor or his cunning with anyone who might bein need.

On the present occasion, however, he was either sullen or stupid, andit was indeed clear that he and his male companions had been drinkingquite enough to dull the edge of intellect in some degree. Those onfoot went on, without even stopping the oxen to speak with their youngneighbor, and the farmer himself only paused for a moment or two toanswer Walter's questions.

"Why, Mr. Whittier," said the young gentleman, "you seem to be movingwith all your family."

"Ay, ay," answered the farmer, a look of dull cunning coming to hisface, "I don't like the look of things. I had a hint. I guess thereare other places better than the forest just now--though not so warm,mayhap."

"Why, what is the matter?" asked Walter. "Has anything happened?"

"Oh, no," answered the farmer, looking uncomfortable, and giving hisbridle a little sort of jerk, as if he wished to pass on. "Theforest's too full of Ingians for my notion; but as you and your fatherare so fond of them and they of you, there's no harm will come to you,I guess."

His manner was almost uncivil, and Walter moved out of his way withouteven asking the question he had intended. The man passed on, butsuddenly he seemed to think better of the matter, and turning round inthe saddle, called out in a voice much louder than necessary,considering the distance between them: "I say, Master Walter, ifyou're going home, you'd better take that deep trail to the right. Iguess it's shorter and safer, and them red devils, or some othervermin, have set fire to the wood on there. It's not much of a thingjust yet, but there's no knowing how it will spread. However, if youkeep to the west you'll get on. I'm going to more civilized parts fora month or two, seeing I've got all my crops in safe."

As soon as these words were uttered he turned and rode after hiswagon, and Walter at once took the Indian trail which the other hadmentioned. About half a mile further on he for the first timeperceived the smell of smoke, and as soon as he reached the summit ofanother hill beyond, the whole scene of the conflagration was beforehis eyes. Between the spot where he stood and his father's housestretched a broad belt of fire and smoke, extending a full mile to thenorth, farther than he had expected from the vague account of thefarmer; and the cloud of brownish vapor had rolled so far up theopposite slope that the lad could neither see the dwelling itself nordistinguish what spot the fire had actually reached.

Ignorant of the absence of Mr. Prevost and Edith, and well aware howrapidly the flame extended when once kindled in a wood, after a longseason of dry weather, Walter's heart sank as he gazed. But he lost notime in useless hesitation. The sun was already setting; the distancewas still considerable, and he resolved at once to break through thefiery circle if it were possible and reach his home at once. Onward heplunged then, down the side of the hill, and the moment he descendedthe whole scene was shut out from his sight so completely that but forthe strong and increasing smell of burning pine wood, and a feeling ofunnatural warmth, he would have had no intimation that a fire wasraging close at hand. As he came nearer and nearer, however, a certainrushing sound met his ear, something like that of a heavy gale of windsweeping the forest, and the smoke became suffocating, while throughthe branches and stems of the trees a red light shone, especiallytoward the south and west, showing where the fire raged with thegreatest fierceness.

Breathing thick and fast, he hurried on, lighted by the flames alone,for the sun had sunk by this time, and the dense cloud of smoke whichhung over this part of the wood shut out every star, till at length hereached the very verge of the conflagration. Some hundreds of acreslay before him, with trees, some fallen one over the other, some stillstanding, but deprived of foliage, masses of brushwood and longtrailing vines, all glowing with intense heat. He felt that to proceedin that direction was death. He could hardly draw his breath; his facefelt scorched and burning, and yet the drops of perspiration rolledheavily from his forehead.

Retreating a little to escape the heat, he turned his steps northward;but by that time he had lost the trail, and he was forcing his waythrough the brushwood, encumbered by his rifle and knapsack, whensuddenly, by the light of the fire shining through the trees, he saw adark figure, some twenty or thirty yards before him, waving to himeagerly, and apparently calling to him, also. The roar and cracklingof the burning wood was too loud for any other sounds to be heard, butthe gestures of the figure seemed to direct him toward the southagain, and obeying the signs, he soon found himself once more upon anIndian trail. The next instant the figure he had seen was upon thesame path, and a little nearer; but it was that of an Indian, and inthe smoky light Walter Prevost could not distinguish his tribe ornation. He advanced cautiously then, with his thumb upon the co*ck ofthe rifle; but as soon as he was within hearing the man called to himin the Oneida tongue, and in a friendly tone telling him to follow,and warning him that death lay to the westward.

Thrown off his guard by such signs of interest, the lad advanced witha quick step, and was soon close to his guide, though the man walkedfast.

"Is the house burnt, brother?" asked the youth, eagerly.

"What, the lodge of the paleface?" said the Indian. "No; it standsfast."

"Thank God for that!" said Walter Prevost, in English; but the wordshad hardly passed his lips when he suddenly felt his arms seized frombehind, his rifle was wrested from his hands, and he himself castbackward on the ground.

Two savage faces glared above him, and he expected to see the gleam ofthe deadly tomahawk the next instant.

"What now!" he exclaimed in Oneida. "Am I not your brother? Am I notthe son of the Black Eagle, and a friend of the children of theStone?"

There was no answer, but in dead silence the Indians proceeded withrapid hands to bind his arms with thongs of deerskin, and then,raising him on his feet, forced him to retrace his steps along thevery trail which had brought him thither.

CHAPTER X

Day broke slowly and heavily under a gray cloud, and found LordH---- and the Indian chief still seated side by side at the entranceof the farmhouse. A word or two had passed between them in the earlierpart of the night, but for many hours before dawn they had remainedperfectly silent. Only once through the hours of their watch had BlackEagle moved from his seat, and that was nearly at midnight. The earsof Lord H---- had been on the watch as well as his own; but though theyoung English nobleman heard no sound, the chief caught a distantfootfall about a quarter before twelve, and starting up he listenedattentively. Then, moving slowly toward the door, he stood there a fewmoments as still as a statue. Presently Lord H---- caught the soundwhich had moved him, though it was exceedingly light, and the nextinstant another dark figure, not quite so tall as that of the chief,darkened the moonlight, and threw its shadow into the doorway. A fewwords then passed between the two Indians, in their native tongue, atfirst low and musical in tone, but then rising high, in accents whichseemed to the ear of the listener to express grief or anger. Not morethan five sentences were spoken on either part, and then the lastcomer bounded away, with a quick and seemingly reckless step, into theforest, and the old chief returned and seated himself, assumingexactly the same attitude as before.

When day dawned, however, Black Eagle rose and said in English: "It isday, my brother; let the voice of the Cataract awake the maiden, and Iwill lead you on the way. Her horse has not yet come, but if it havenot run with the wind, or fed upon the fire, it will be herespeedily."

"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 yoursfrom the setting sun till you came hither. I was there for yoursafety, my brother, and for the safety of the maiden."

"We should often have been glad of your advice," answered LordH----, "for we were often in sore need of some better information thanour own."

"The man who aids himself needs no aid," answered Black Eagle. "Thouwert sufficient for the need; why should I take from thee thy right toact?"

As they were speaking, the light step of Edith was heard upon thestairs, and the eyes of the Black Eagle fixed upon her as shedescended, with a look which seemed to Lord H---- to have somesignificance, though he could not tell exactly in what the peculiarityconsisted. It was calm and grave, but there was a sort of tendernessin it which, without knowing why, made the young nobleman fear thatthe Indian was aware of some evil having befallen Mr. Prevost.

His mind was soon relieved, however, for when Edith had descended, thechief said at once: "Thy father is safe, my daughter. He passedthrough the fire uninjured, and is in his own lodge."

Edith looked pale and worn, but the words of the chief called a joyfulsmile upon her face, and the color back upon her cheek. In answer tothe inquiries of Lord H---- she admitted that she had slept hardly atall, 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 andnot to wait for the chance of her horse being caught by the Indians,which she readily comprehended as the meaning of the Black Eagle, whenhis somewhat ambiguous words were reported to her.

"They may catch him," she said, "or they may not, and my father willbe 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 turnedafter informing her of her father's safety, and Lord H----, taking herhand, inquired in a low tone if she would be afraid to stay alone withthe Black Eagle for a few moments while he sought for some food forherself and him.

"Not in the least," she answered. "After his words last night, and thethrowing of his blanket upon me, I am as safe with him as Otaitsawould be. From that moment he looked upon me as his daughter, andwould treat me as such in any emergency."

"Well, then, I will not be long," answered Lord H----, and passing theIndian, he said: "I leave her to your care for a few moments, BlackEagle."

The Indian answered only by a sort of guttural sound peculiar to hispeople, and then, turning back into the house, he seated himself onthe ground as before, and seemed inclined to remain in silence, butthere were doubts in Edith's mind which she wished to have solved, andshe said: "Is not my father thy brother, Black Eagle?"

"He is my brother," answered the Indian, laconically, and relapsedinto silence again.

"Will a great chief suffer any harm to happen to his brother?" askedEdith again, after considering for a few moments how to shape herquestion.

"No warrior of the Totem of the Tortoise dares raise a tomahawkagainst the brother of the Black Eagle," answered the chief.

"But is he not the great chief of the Oneidas?" said Edith again. "Donot the people of the Stone hear his voice? Is he not to them as therock on which their house is founded? Whither in the sky could theOneidas soar if the Black Eagle led them not? And shall they disobeyhis voice?"

"The people of the Stone have their laws," replied the chief, "whichare thongs of leather, to bind each sachem, and each totem, and eachwarrior; they were whispered into the rolls of wampum, which is in thehands of the great medicine man, or priest, as you would call him, andthe voice of the Black Eagle, though it be strong in war, is as thesong of the bobolink when compared to the voice of the laws."

Short as this conversation may seem when written down, it had occupiedseveral minutes, for the Indian had made long pauses, and Edith,willing to humor him by adopting the custom of his people, hadfollowed his example. His last reply was hardly given when LordH---- returned, carrying a dry and somewhat hard loaf and a jug ofclear cold water.

"I have not been very successful, for the people have evidentlyabandoned the place, and all their cupboards but one are locked up. Inthat, 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 thebread 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 theroom again; but Edith had little opportunity of questioning her duskycompanion further before the young nobleman returned. He was absenthardly two minutes, and when he came back he led his horse behind him,somewhat differently accoutred from the preceding day. The demi-piquewas now covered with a pillow, firmly strapped on with some leathernthongs, which he had found in the house, thus forming it into a sortof pad; and the two stirrups brought to one side, stretched as farapart as possible, and somewhat shortened, were kept extended by apiece of plank passed through the irons, and firmly attached, thusforming a complete rest for the feet of anyone sitting sidewise on thehorse. Lord H---- had done many a thing in life on which he mightreasonably pride himself. He had resisted temptations to which mostmen would have yielded; he had done many a gallant and noble deed; hehad displayed great powers of mind and high qualities of heart interrible emergencies and moments of great difficulty; but it may bequestioned whether he had looked so complacently on any act of hiswhole life as on the rapid and successful alteration of his owninconvenient saddle into a comfortable lady's pad; and when he broughtout Edith to the door, and she saw how he had been engaged, she couldnot help rewarding him with a beaming smile, in which amusem*nt had aless share than gratitude. Even over the dark countenance of theIndian, trained to stoical apathy, something flitted not unlike asmile, also. The young nobleman, lifting his fair charge in his arms,seated her lightly on the horse's back, adjusted the rest for her feetwith care, and then took the bridle to lead her on the way.

The Indian chief, without a word, walked on before, at a pace withwhich the horse's swiftest walk could scarcely keep up, and crossingthe cleared ground around the house, they were soon once more beneaththe branches of the forest. More than once the Black Eagle had topause and lean upon his rifle, waiting for his two companions; butdoubtless it was the difficulties of the narrow path, never made forhorse's hoofs, and not the desire of prolonging conversation, nor thepleasure of gazing up the while into a pair of as beautiful eyes asever shone upon mortal man, or into a face which might have looked outof heaven and not have shamed the sky, that retarded the youngnobleman on his way.

Two miles were at length accomplished, and then they came into thesolitary high road again, which led within a short distance of Mr.Prevost's cottage. During the whole journey the Indian chief had notuttered a word; but as soon as he had issued forth from the narrowpath into the more open road he paused and waited till Edith came up;then, pointing with his hand, he said: "Thou knowest the way, mydaughter; thou hast no more need of me. The Black Eagle must wing hisway 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 difficultpath. The seal seemed to be taken away from Lord H---'s lips. He feltthat Edith was safe, nearer home, no longer left, completely left, tohis mercy and his delicacy, and his words were tender and full ofstrong affection; but she laid her hand gently on his as it rested onthe peak of the saddle, and with a face glowing as if the leaves ofautumn 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 sawsomething there in the half-veiled, swimming eyes, or in the glowingcheek, or in the agitated quivering of the lip, which was enough tosatisfy him.

"Forgive me," he said, in a deprecatory tone, but then the momentafter he added, with frank, soldierly boldness: "But, dear Edith, Imay thank you now, and thank you with my whole heart, for I am not aconfident fool, and you are no light coquette, and did you refuse, youwould say more."

Edith bent her head almost to the saddlebow, and some bright dropsrolled over her cheek.

They remained silent, both conversing with their own thoughts for ashort time, and then they were roused from somewhat agitated reveriesby a loud and joyous call, and looking up the ascent before them theysaw Mr. Prevost on horseback, and two of the negro slaves on foot,coming down as if to meet them. They hurried on fast; father anddaughter sprang to the ground, and oh, with what joy she felt herselfin his arms.

It is unnecessary to give here the explanations that ensued. Mr.Prevost had little to tell; he had passed safely--though not withoutscorching his clothes and face, and no small danger--along the courseof the stream and through a small part of the thicker wood. He hadfound his house and all the buildings safe, and even the forestimmediately around still free from the fire, and out of danger as longas the wind remained easterly. Satisfied that his daughter would findthe farmer's family, and be kindly entertained, he had no anxiety onher account till about an hour before, when her horse had come back tothe house with the saddle and housings scorched and blackened, and thehoofs nearly burnt off his feet. The poor animal could give nohistory, and Mr. Prevost, in great alarm for Edith, had set out toseek her in haste.

Her tale was soon told, and again and again Mr. Prevost shook herprotector's hand, thanking him earnestly for what he had done for hischild. The distance to the house was now not great, and giving thehorses to the negroes, the little party proceeded on foot, talkingover the events of the last few hours. When they reached the housethere were somewhat obstreperous sounds of joy from the women servantsto see their young mistress return, and Edith was speedily carriedaway to her chamber for rest and refreshment. Breakfast wasimmediately prepared in the hall for Lord H----, who had tasted nofood since the middle of the preceding day; but he ate little evennow, and there was a sort of restlessness about him which Mr. Prevostremarked with some anxiety.

"My lord, you hardly taste your food," he said, "and seem not well ornot at ease. I trust you have no subject of grief or apprehensionpressing upon your mind."

"None whatever," replied Lord H----, with a smile; "but to tell youthe truth, my dear sir, I am impatient for a few moments' conversationwith you alone, and I could well have spared my breakfast till theyare over. Pray let us go into the other room, where we shall not beinterrupted."

Mr. Prevost led the way, and closed the door after them with a graveface, for, as is usual in such cases, he had not the faintest idea ofwhat was coming.

"Our acquaintance has been very short, Mr. Prevost," said LordH----, as soon as they were seated, feeling, indeed, more hesitationand embarrassment than he had imagined he could experience in suchcirc*mstances. "But I trust you have seen enough of me, taken togetherwith general repute, to make what I am going to say not verypresumptuous."

Mr. Prevost gazed at him in perfect astonishment, unable to perceivewhere his speech would end. And as the young nobleman paused heanswered: "Pray speak on, my lord. Believe me, I have the highestesteem and regard for you; your character and conduct through lifehave, I well know, added luster to your rank, and your noble blood hasjustified itself in your noble actions. What on earth can you have tosay which could make me think you presumptuous for a moment?"

"Simply this, and perhaps you may think me presumptuous when I havesaid it," replied Lord H----. "I am going to ask you to give mesomething which I value very much, and which you rightly value as muchat least as anything you possess. I mean your daughter. Nay, do notstart and turn so pale. I know all the importance of what I ask, but Ihave now passed many days entirely in her society; I have gone throughsome difficulties and dangers with her, as you know--scenes andsensations which endear two persons to each other. I have been much inwoman's society. I have known the bright and the beautiful in manylands; perhaps my expectations have been too great, my wishes tooexacting, but I never met woman hitherto who touched my heart. I havenow found the only one whom I can love, and I now ask her of you witha 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 greatstruggle in his heart, as there must be always in a parent's bosom insuch circ*mstances.

"She is very young--so very young!" he murmured, speaking to himselfrather 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 andduties. True, she is no ordinary girl; and perhaps if ever anyone werefit, at so early an age, for the great responsibilities of such astate, it is Edith. Her education has been singular, unlike that ofany other girl----"

He had wandered away, as was his custom, from the immediate questionto collateral issues, and was no longer considering whether he shouldgive his consent to Edith's marriage with Lord H----, but whether shewas fit for the marriage state at all, and what effect the educationshe had received would have on her conduct as a wife.

The lover, in the meantime, habitually attaching himself and everythought to one important object, was impatient for something moredefinite, and he ventured to break across Mr. Prevost's spokenreverie, saying: "Our marriage would be necessarily delayed, Mr.Prevost, for some time, even if I obtained your consent. May I hopethat it will be granted me if no personal objection exists towardmyself?"

"None in the world!" exclaimed Mr. Prevost, eagerly. "You cannotsuppose it for a moment, my dear lord. All I can say is, that I willoppose nothing which Edith calmly and deliberately thinks is for herown happiness. What does she say herself?"

"She says nothing," answered Lord H----, with a smile; "for though shecannot doubt what are my feelings toward her, she has not been put tothe trial of giving any answer without your expressed approbation. MayI believe, then, that I have your permission to offer her my hand?"

"Beyond a doubt," replied Mr. Prevost. "Let me call her; her answerwill 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---- stoppedhim, saying: "Not yet, not yet, my dear sir. She had little, if any,rest last night, and has experienced much fatigue and anxiety duringthe last twenty-four hours; probably she is taking some repose, and Imust not allow even a lover's impatience to deprive her of that."

"I had forgotten," said Mr. Prevost. "It is indeed true; the dearchild must, indeed, need some repose. It is strange, my lord, howsorrows and joys blend themselves together in all events of mortallife. I had thought, when in years long ago I entwined my fingers inthe glossy curls of my Edith's hair, and looking through the liquidcrystal of her eyes, seemed to see into the deep foundations of pureemotions in her young heart--I had thought, I say, that few joys wouldbe equal to that of seeing her, at some future day, bestow her hand onsome man worthy of her, to make and partake the happiness of acheerful home; but now I find the thought has its bitter as well asits sweet; and memories of the chilly grave rise up to call a solemnand sobered shade over the bright picture drawn."

His tone dropped gradually as he spoke, and fixing his eyes upon theground, he again fell into a fit of absent thought, which lasted long.

Lord H---- would not disturb his reverie, and walking quietly out ofthe room, he gave himself also up to meditation. But his reflectivemoods were of a different kind from those of his friend--more eager,more active--and they required some employment for the limbs while themind was so busy. To and fro he walked before the house for nearly anhour, before Mr. Prevost came forth and found him; and then the walkwas still continued. But the father's thoughts, though they hadwandered for a while, had soon returned to his daughter, and theirconversation was of Edith only.

At length, when it was nearly noon, as they turned upon the littleopen space of ground in front of the dwelling, the eyes of the youngnobleman, which had been turned more than once to the door, rested onEdith as she stood in the hall and gazed forth over the prospect.

"The fire seems to be raging there still," she said, pointing with herfair hand over the country toward the southwest, where hung a densecanopy of smoke above the forest. "What a blessing one of our autumnalrains would be!"

Lord H---- made no reply, but suddenly left her father's side, andtaking her extended hand in his, led her into the little sitting-room.They remained long enough together--to Mr. Prevost it seemed verylong--but when the lover led her to the door again there were oncemore happy tears in her eyes, glad blushes on her cheek; and thoughthe strong, manly arm was fondly thrown around her waist, she escapedfrom 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 beautifulface like the gush of morning over a white cloud: "Your child, thoughhis wife."

It cost her an effort to utter the word wife, and yet she was pleasedto speak it; but then the moment after, as if to hide it from memoryagain, she said: "Oh, that dear Walter were here. He would be veryhappy, 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 thingsto detain him; and now, my children, I will go in and make up myjournal till the dinner hour."

Edith leaned fondly on his bosom, and whispered: "And write that thishas been one happy day, my father."

The day went by; night fell, and Walter Prevost did not appear in hisfather's house. No alarm, however, was entertained, for out of thewide range of chances there were many events which might have occurredto detain him. A shade of anxiety, perhaps, came over Edith's mind;but it passed away the next morning, when she heard from the negroChaudo (or Alexander), who, having been brought up among the Indiansfrom his infancy, was better acquainted with their habits than anyperson in the house, that there had not been a single one in theneighborhood since the preceding morning at eight o'clock.

"All gone west, Missy," he said; "the last to go were old Chief BlackEagle. 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 theneighborhood, and with a childlike vanity making somewhat of a secretof the means by which he obtained intelligence; but she argued,reasonably, though wrongly, that as Walter was not to set out fromAlbany till about the same hour the Indians departed, he could nothave fallen in with any of their parties.

Thus passed the morning till about three o'clock; but then, when thelad did not appear, anxiety rose up and became strong, as hour afterhour went by and he came not. Each tried to sustain the hopes of theothers; each argued against the apprehensions he himself entertained.Lord H---- pointed out that the commander-in-chief, to whom Walter hadbeen sent, might be absent from Albany. Mr. Prevost suggested that theyoung man might have found no boat coming up the river; and Edithremembered that very often the boatmen were frightfully exorbitant intheir charge for bringing anyone on the way who seemed eager toproceed. Knowing her brother's character well, she thought it verylikely that he would resist an attempt at imposition, even at the riskof delay. But still she was very, very anxious, and as night againfell, and the hour of repose arrived without his presence, tearsgathered in her beautiful eyes and trembled on the silken lashes.

The following morning dawned in heavy rain. A perfect deluge seemeddescending from the sky, but still Lord H---- ordered his horse at anearly hour, telling Edith and Mr. Prevost in as quiet and easy a toneas he could assume, that he was going to Albany.

"Although I trust and believe," he said, "that my young friend Walterhas been detained by some accidental circ*mstances, yet it will besatisfactory to us all to know what has become of him; and, moreover,it is absolutely necessary that I should have some communication asspeedily as possible with the commander-in-chief. I think it likelythat Walter may have followed him down the river, as he knows myanxiety for an immediate answer. I must do so, too, if I find himstill absent; but you shall hear from me when I reach Albany, and Iwill be back myself as soon as possible."

Edith gazed at him with a melancholy look, for she felt how much sheneeded, and how much more she still might need, the comfort of hispresence; but she would not say a word to prevent his going. Thebreakfast that day was a sad and a gloomy meal. The lowering sky, thepouring rain, the thoughts that were in the hearts of all, banishedeverything like cheerfulness. Various orders were given, for one ofthe servants to be ready to guide Lord H---- on his way, forascertaining whether the little river was in flood, and other matters;and the course which Walter was likely to take on his return wasconsidered and discussed, in order that the young nobleman might takethe same road, and meet him, if possible; but this was the onlyconversation that took place.

Just as they were about to rise from table, however, a bustle washeard 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 fullmilitary 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 upand 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 somethingmore, and then replied, after a moment's pause: "I do not exactlyunderstand you, Captain Hammond; you have arrived where?"

"Why, at the boatmen's village, on the points, my lord," replied theyoung officer, with a look of some surprise; "have you not receivedLord London's dispatch in answer to your lordship's own letters?"

"No, sir," replied Lord H----; "but you had better come and conferwith me in another room."

"Oh, George, let us hear all!" exclaimed Edith, laying her hand uponhis arm, and divining his motives at once. "If there be noprofessional reason for secrecy, let us hear all."

"Well," said Lord H----, gravely, "pray, Captain Hammond, when werehis 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 boatwith him myself."

Edith turned very pale, and Mr. Prevost inquired: "Pray, has anythingbeen heard of the boat since?"

"Yes, sir," answered the young officer, beginning to perceive thestate of the case. "She returned to Albany the same night, and we cameup in her yesterday, as far as we could. I made no inquiries afteryoung Mr. Prevost, for I took it for granted he had arrived with thedispatches."

Lord H---- turned his eyes toward the face of Edith, and saw quitesufficient there to make him instantly draw a chair toward her andseat her in it.

"Do not give way to apprehension," he said, "before we know more. Thecase is strange, undoubtedly, dear Edith, but still the enigma may besolved in a happier way than you think."

Edith shook her head sadly, saying in a low tone: "You do not knowall, dear George--at least I believe not. The Indians have receivedoffence--they never forgive. They were wandering about here on thenight we were caught by the fire, disappearing the next morning; andsome time during that night my poor brother must have been----"

Tears broke off the sentence; but her lover eagerly caught at some ofher words to find some ground of hope for her--whatever he might fearhimself. "He may have been turned from his course by the burningforest," he said, "and have found a difficulty in retracing his way.The woods were still burning yesterday, and we cannot tell how far thefire may have extended. At all events, dearest Edith, we have gainedsome information to guide us. We can now trace poor Walter to theplace where he disembarked, and that will narrow the ground we have tosearch. Take courage, love, and let us all trust in God."

"He says that Walter intended to disembark four miles south of theKing's road," said Mr. Prevost, who had been talking earnestly toCaptain Hammond. "Let us set out at once and examine the groundbetween this place and that."

"I think not," said Lord H----, after a moment's thought. "I will ridedown as fast as possible to the post, and gain what information I canthere. Then, spreading a body of men to the westward, we will sweepall the trails up to this spot. You and as many of your people as canbe spared from the house may come on to meet us, setting out in anhour; but for heaven's sake, do not leave this dear girl alone!"

"I fear not--I fear not for myself!" replied Edith. "Only seek forWalter, obtain some news of him, and let us try to save him, if therebe yet time to do so."

Covering her eyes with her handkerchief, which was sometimes wettedwith her tears, Edith took no more part in what was going on, but gaveherself up to bitter thought, and many and complex were the trainswhich it followed.

While Edith remained plunged in these gloomy reveries, an active, butnot 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----, veryslightly modified by the suggestions of Mr. Prevost. An orderly whomCaptain Hammond had brought with him was left at the house as a sortof guard for Edith, it being believed that the sight of his red coatwould act as a sort of intimation to any Indians who might be in thewoods that the family was under the protection of the Britishgovernment. Lord H---- and the young officer set out together for theboatmen's village--whence Walter had departed for Albany, and where asmall party of English soldiers were now posted--intending to obtainall the aid they could, and sweep along the forest till they came tothe verge of the recent fire, leaving sentinels on the differenttrails, which, the reader must understand, were so numerous throughoutthe whole of what the Iroquois called their Long House, as often to bewithin hail of each other.

Advancing stealthily along these narrow pathways, Lord H----calculated that he could reconnoitre the whole distance between thegreat river and the fire with sufficient closeness to prevent anynumerous party of Indians passing unseen, at least till he met withthe advancing party of Mr. Prevost, who were to search the countrythoroughly for some distance round the house, and then to proceedsteadily forward in a reverse course to that of the young nobleman andhis men.

No time was lost by Lord H---- and Captain Hammond on the road, thepath they took being for a considerable distance the same by whichLord H---- had first arrived at Mr. Prevost's home, and throughout itswhole length the same which the young officer had followed in themorning. It was somewhat longer, it is true, than the Indian trail bywhich Woodchuck had led them on his expedition; but its width andbetter construction more than made up for the difference in distance;and the rain had not been falling long enough to affect its solidityto any great extent. Thus little more than an hour and a half sufficedto bring the two officers to the spot where a company of Lord H----'sregiment was posted; and the first task, that of seeking someintelligence of Walter's movements after landing, was more successfulthan might have been expected.

A settler, who supplied the boatmen with meal and flour, was even thenin the village, and he averred truly that he had seen young Mr.Prevost, and spoken with him, just as he was quitting the cultivatedground on the bank of the river, and entering the forest groundbeyond. Thus his course was traced up to a quarter before threeo'clock on the Thursday preceding, and to the entrance of a governmentroad which all the boatmen knew well. The distance between that spotand Mr. Prevost's house was about fourteen miles, and from theboatmen's village to the mouth of the road, through the forest, somesix or seven. Besides the company of soldiers, numbering someseventy-three or seventy-four men, there were at least forty or fiftystout, able-bodied fellows amongst the boatmen well acquainted withall the intricacies of the roads round about, and fearless and daringfrom the constant perils and exertions of their mode of life.

These were soon gathered round Lord H----, whose rank and militarystation they now learned for the first time; and he found that thetidings of the disappearance of Walter Prevost, whom most of them knewand loved, excited a spirit in them which he had little expected. Headdressed a few words to them at once, offering a considerable rewardto each man who would join in searching thoroughly the whole of thatpart of the forest which lay between the spot where the young man waslast seen and his father's house. But one tall, stout man, of aboutforty, stepped forward and spoke for the rest, saying: "We want noreward for such work as that, my lord. I guess there's not a man of uswho will not turn out to search for young Walter Prevost, if you'llbut leave redcoats enough with the old men to protect our wives andchildren in case of need."

"More than sufficient will remain," replied Lord H----; "I cannotventure for anything not exactly connected with the service, to weakenthe post by more than one-quarter of its number; but still we shallmake up a sufficient party to search the woods sufficiently, if youwill all go with me."

"That we will! that we will!" exclaimed a dozen voices; and everythingwas soon arranged. Signals and modes of communication and co-operationwere speedily agreed upon; and the practical knowledge of the boatmenproved fully as serviceable as the military science of Lord H----. Hewas far too wise not to avail himself of it to the fullest extent; andsoon, with some twenty regular soldiers, and thirty-seven orthirty-eight men from the village, each armed with his invariablerifle and hatchet, and a number of good, big, active boys, whovolunteered to act as a sort of runners and keep up the communicationbetween the different parts of the line, he set out upon his way alongthe 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 theforest was entered at some fourteen different places, wherever an oldor a new trail could be discovered. Whenever an opportunity presenteditself by the absence of brushwood, or the old trees being wide or farapart, the boys ran across from one party to another, carryinginformation or directions; and though each little group was oftenhidden from the other as they advanced steadily onward, still itrarely happened that many minutes elapsed without their catching asight of some friendly party on the right or left; while whoop andhalloo marked their progress to each other. Once or twice the trailscrossing, brought two parties to the same spot; but then, separatingagain, immediately, they sought each a new path, and proceeded asbefore.

Few traces of any kind could be discovered on the ground, for therain, though it had now ceased, had so completely washed the face ofthe earth that every print of shoe or moccasin was obliterated. Thetracks of cart wheels, indeed, seemingly recent, and the foot marks ofa horse and some oxen, were discovered along the government road, butnothing more, till, at a spot where a large and deeply indented trailleft the highway, the ground appeared a good deal trampled by hoofmarks, as if a horse had been standing there some little time; and,under a thick hemlock tree at the corner of the trail, sheltering theground beneath from the rain, the print of a well-made shoe wasvisible. The step had evidently been turned in the direction of Mr.Prevost's house, and up that trail Lord H---- himself proceeded, witha soldier and two boatmen.

No further step could be traced, however; but the boatman who had beenthe spokesman a little while before, insisted upon it that they mustbe 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 hewent. Keep a sharp look under all the thick trees at the side, mylord. You may catch another track. Keep behind, boys--you'll brush 'emout."

Nothing more was found, however, though the man afterward thought hehad discovered the print of a moccasin in the sand, where it had beenpartly protected; but still some rain had reached it, and there was nocertainty.

The trail they were then following was, I have said, large and deeplyworn, so that the little party of Lord H---- soon got somewhat inadvance of all the others, except that which had continued on thegovernment road.

"Stay a bit, my lord," said the good boatman, at length; "we are toofar ahead, and might chance to get a shot, if there be any of them reddevils 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 wasmuch worse when I first came. They'll lie as close to you as thatbush, and the first thing you'll know of it will be a ball whizzinginto you; but if we all go on in time they can't keep back, but willcreep away like mice. But what I can't understand is, why they shouldtry to hurt young Walter, for they were all as fond of him as if hewere one of themselves."

"The fact is, my good friend," replied Lord H----, in a low tone, "theday I came down to your landing last, one of the Oneidas was,unfortunately, killed, and we are told that they will have some whiteman'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 didWalter kill him?"

"No," replied Lord H----; "it was our friend the Woodchuck--but he didit entirely in self-defence."

"What! Brooks?" exclaimed the boatman, in much surprise. "Do let'shear about it, and I guess I can tell you how it will all go, betterthan any other man between this and Boston;" and he seated himself onthe stump of a tree, in an attitude of attention.

Very briefly, but with perfect clearness, Lord H---- related all thathad occurred on the occasion referred to. The boatman listened withevident anxiety, and then sat for a moment in silence, with the air ofa 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 oraculartone; "they've got him, depend on't. They've caught him here in theforest; 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 youngWalter to make sure of someone. But they'll stay to see if they can'tget Brooks into their clutches somehow. They'll go dodgering about allmanner 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 youbelieve it for a good many months to come, for I guess it's likelythey'll set this story afloat just to get Brooks to come back, forthen he'll think that they've had all they wanted, and will know thathe's safe from all but the father, or the brother, or the son of theman he has killed. But they'll wait and see. Oh, they're the mostcunnin'est set of critters that ever lived, and no doubt of it. Butlet's get on, for the others are up--there's a redcoat through thetrees here--and they may, perhaps, have scalped the boy; though Idon't think it's nohow likely."

Thus saying, he rose and led the way again through the dark glades ofthe wood, till the clearer light of day shining amidst the trunks andbranches on before, showed that the party was approaching the spotwhere the late conflagration had laid the shady monarchs of the forestlow. Suddenly, at a spot where another trail crossed, the soldier whowas 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 ascore of dollars! Aye--'Warner, London'--that's the maker. It's hisknife. But that shows nothing. He might have dropped it. But he's comeprecious near the fire. He surely would never try to break through andget himself burnt to death. If the Ingians had got him, I should havethought they'd have caught him farther back. Hallo! What are they alldoing on there? They've found the corpse, I guess."

The eyes of Lord H---- were bent forward in the same direction, andthough his lips uttered no sound, his mind had asked the same questionand come to the same conclusion. Three negroes were standing gatheredtogether 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 theattention of the negroes.

Lord H---- hurried his pace and reached the spot in a few moments. Hewas somewhat relieved by what he saw when he came nearer, for theobject at which Mr. Prevost was gazing at so earnestly was Walter'sknapsack, and not the dead body of his son. The straps which hadfastened it to the lad's shoulders had been cut, not unbuckled, and itwas, therefore, clear that it was not by his own voluntary act that ithad been cast off; but it did not appear to have been opened, and theboatman, looking down at it, muttered: "No, no, they would not stealanything--not they. That was not what they wanted. It's no use lookingany farther. The case is clear enough."

"Too clear!" said Mr. Prevost, in a dull, stern tone. "That man Brookshas saved his own life and sacrificed my poor boy!"

The tears gushed into his eyes as he spoke, and he turned away to hidethem. Lord H---- motioned to the negroes to take up the knapsack andcarry it home, and then, advancing to Mr. Prevost's side, he took hishand, saying in a low tone: "There may yet be hope, my dear sir. Letus not give way to despair, but exert ourselves instantly andstrenuously to trace out the poor lad and save him. Much may yet bedone--the government may interfere--he may be rescued by a suddeneffort."

Mr. Prevost shook his head heavily, and murmuring, "Are all my familydestined to perish by Indians?" took his way slowly back toward hishouse.

Nothing more was said till he was within a quarter of a mile of hisown door, but there, just emerging from the cover of the wood, theunhappy father stopped and took the hand of Lord H----. "Break it toher gently," he said, in a low tone; "I am unfit. Misfortunes,disappointments and sorrows have broken the spirit which was oncestrong, and cast down the energies which used never to fail. It is insuch moments as these that I feel how much I am weakened. Prepare herto leave this place, too. My pleasant solitude has become abhorrent tome, and I cannot live here without a dread and memory always upon me.Go forward, my good lord. I will follow you soon."

CHAPTER XI

With great pain Lord H---- contemplated the task before him; but hiswas a firm and resolute heart, and he strode forward quickly, toaccomplish it as soon as possible. Fancy painted, as he went, all thegrief and anguish he was about to inflict upon Edith; but fancy hardlydid her justice, for it kept out of the picture many of the strongerand finer traits of her character. The beautiful girl was watchingfrom the window, and at once recognized her lover as he issued fromthe wood alone. Her heart sank with apprehension, it is true, butnevertheless she ran out along the little path to meet him, in orderto know the worst at once. Before they met, slowly and heavily herfather came forth from the wood, with a crowd of boatmen and soldiersfollowing, in groups of six or seven at a time; and with wonderfulaccuracy, she divined the greater part of what had occurred. Sheinstantly stopped till Lord H---- came up, and then inquired in a lowand trembling voice: "Have you found him? Is he dead or living?"

"We have not found him, dear Edith," said Lord H----, taking her handand leading her toward the house, "but your father conceives there isgreat cause for apprehension of the very worst kind, from what we havefound. I trust, however, that his fears go beyond the reality, andthat there is still----"

"Oh, dear George, do not keep me in suspense!" said Edith. "Let mehear all at once. My mind is sufficiently prepared by long hours ofpainful thought. I will show none of the weakness I displayed thismorning. What is it you have found?"

"His knife and his knapsack," replied Lord H----.

"He may have cast it off from weariness," said Edith, catching at ahope.

"I fear not," replied her lover, unwilling to encourage expectationsto be disappointed. "The straps of the knapsack were cut, notunbuckled, and your father has given himself up entirely to despair,although we found no traces of strife or bloodshed."

"Poor Waiter!" said Edith, with a deep sigh; but she shed no tears,and walked on in silence till they had reached the little veranda ofthe house. Then suddenly she stopped, roused herself from her fit ofthought, and said, raising her beautiful and tender eyes to herlover's face: "I have now two tasks before me to which I must givemyself up entirely--to console my poor father, and to try to save mybrother's life. Forgive me, George, if in executing these, especiallythe latter, I do not seem to give you as much of my thoughts as youhave a right to. You would not, I know, have me neglect either."

"God forbid!" said Lord H----, warmly; "but let me share in them,Edith. There is nothing within the scope of honor and of right that Iwill not do to save your brother. I sent him on this ill-starrederrand. To gratify me was that unfortunate expedition made through thewood; but it is enough that he is your brother and your father's son,and I will do anything, undertake anything, if there be still a hope.Go to your father first, my love, and then let us consult together. Iwill see these men attended to, for they want rest and food, and Imust take liberties with your father's house to provide for them."

"Do! do!" she answered. "Use it as your own;" and leaving him in theveranda she turned to meet her father.

For the time, Edith well knew Mr. Prevost's mind was not likely toreceive either hope or consolation. All she could give him wastenderness; and Lord H----, who followed her to speak with thesoldiers and boatmen, soon saw her disappear into the house with Mr.Prevost. When he returned to the little sitting-room Edith was notthere, but he heard the murmur of voices from the room above, and inabout half an hour she rejoined him. She was much more agitated thanwhen she left him, and her face showed marks of tears; not that herfears were greater, or that she had heard anything to alarm her more,but her father's deep despair had overpowered her own firmness. Allthe weaker affections of human nature are infectious--fear, despair,dismay and sorrow peculiarly so.

Edith still felt, however, the importance of decision and action, andputting her hand to her head with a look of bewilderment, she stoodfor an instant in silence, with her eyes fixed on the ground,seemingly striving to collect her scattered thoughts in order to judgeand act with precision.

"One of the boatmen, Edith," said Lord H----, leading her to a seat,"has led me to believe that we shall have ample time for any effortsto serve your brother, if he has, as there is too much reason to fear,fallen into the hands of these revengeful Indians. The man seems toknow well what he talks of, and boasts that he has been accustomed tothe ways and manners of the savages since boyhood."

"Is he a tall, handsome man, with two beautiful children?" askedEdith.

"He is a tall, good-looking man," answered Lord H----, "but hischildren I did not see."

"If he be the man I mean, he can be fully depended upon," answeredEdith, "and it may be well to ask his opinion and advice before hegoes; but for the present, George, let us consult alone. Perhaps I canjudge better than you of poor Walter's present situation; that isfirst to be considered, and then what are the chances, what the means,of saving him. He is certainly in the hands of the Indians, of that Ihave no doubt; and I think Black Eagle knew it when he guided usthrough the forest. Yet I do not think that he would willingly liftthe tomahawk against my brother. It will be at the last extremity,when all means have failed of entrapping that unhappy man Brooks. Weshall have time; yes, we certainly have time."

"Then the first step to be taken," said Lord H----, "will be to inducethe government to make a formal and imperative demand for his release.I will undertake that part of the matter; it shall be done at once."

Edith shook her head sadly. "You know them not," she said. "It wouldonly hurry his fate;" and after dropping her voice to a very low tone,she added: "They would negotiate and hold councils, and Walter wouldbe slain while they were treating."

She pressed her hands upon her eyes as she spoke, as if to shut outthe dreadful image her words called up, and then there was a moment ortwo of silence, at the end of which Lord H---- inquired if it wouldnot be better for him to see Sir William Johnson and consult with him.

"That may be done," said Edith. "No man in the province knows them aswell as he does, and his advice may be relied upon; but we must takeother measures, too. Otaitsa must be told, and consulted. Do you know,George," she added, with a melancholy smile, "I have lately beeninclined at times to think that there is no small love between Walterand the Blossom--something more than friendship, at all events."

"But of course she will hear of his capture, and do the best she canto save him," replied the young nobleman.

Edith shook her head, answering: "Save him she will, if any humanpower can do it; but that she knows of his capture I much doubt. TheseIndians are wise, George, as they think, and never trust their acts,their thoughts, or their resolutions to a woman. They will keep thesecret from Otaitsa just as Black Eagle kept it from me; but she mustbe informed, consulted, and perhaps acted with. Then I think, too,that poor man Woodchuck should have tidings of what his act hasbrought upon us."

"I see not well," said Lord H----, "what result that can produce."

"Nor I," answered Edith; "but yet it ought to be done, in justice toourselves and to him. He is bold, skillful, and resolute, and we mustnot judge of any matter in this country as we should judge in Europe.He may undertake and execute something for my brother's rescue whichyou and I would never dream of. He is just the man to do so and tosucceed. He knows every path of the forest, every lodge of theIndians. He is friendly with many of them, has saved the lives of someof them, I have heard him say, and conferred great obligations uponothers; and I believe that he will never rest till he has deliveredWalter."

"Then I will find him out and let him know the facts directly," saidLord H----; "perhaps he and Otaitsa may act together, if we can openany communication with her."

"She will act by herself and for herself, I am sure," replied Edith,"and some communication must be opened at any and all risk. But let ussee this man, George; perhaps he may know someone going into theIndian territory who may carry a letter to her. It is a great blessingshe can read and write, for we must have our secrets, too, if we wouldfrustrate theirs."

Lord H---- rose, and proceeded to the hall, where the men whom he hadbrought with him were busily engaged in dispatching such provisions asMr. Prevost's house could afford on the spur of the moment. The man hesought for was soon found, and when he had eaten the morsel almostbetween his teeth, he followed the young nobleman into the lesserroom, and was soon in full conference with Edith and her lover. Heagain expressed the opinion that no harm would happen to young WalterPrevost for some months, at the least. "They have caught someone," hesaid, "to make sure of their revenge, and that is all they wanted forthe present. Now they will look for the man that did it, and catch himif they can."

"Can you tell where he is to be found?" asked Lord H----, in a quiettone.

"Why, you would not give him up to them?" said the man, sharply.

"Certainly not," replied Lord H----. "He is in safety, and of thatsafety I have no right to deprive him; it would make me an accessoryto their act. But I wish to see him, to tell him what has occurred,and to consult him as to what is to be done."

"That is a very different case," replied the man, gravely, "and ifthat's all you want, I don't mind telling you that he is in Albany, atthe public house of the Three Boatmen. Our people, who rowed him down,said he did not intend to leave Albany for a week or more."

"And now, Robert," said Edith, "can you tell me where I can get amessenger to the Oneidas? I know you loved my brother Walter, and Ithink, if you can get somebody to go for me, we may save him."

"I did indeed love him well, Miss Prevost," replied the stout man,with his hard, firm eye moistening, "and I'd do anything in reason tosave him. It's a sad thing we did not know of this yesterday, forthere was a half-breed Onondaga runner passed by and got some milkfrom us, and I gave him the panther's skin which you told some of ourpeople to send, my lord, in the poor lad's name, to the daughter ofthe old chief Black Eagle."

Edith turned her eyes to her lover's face, and Lord H---- replied totheir inquiring look, saying: "It is true, Edith. Walter shot apanther in the woods, and wished to send the skin to Otaitsa. We hadno time to lose at the moment, but as we came back I induced theguides to skin it, and made them promise to dry and send it forward bythe first occasion."

"I strapped it on his back myself," said the man whom Edith calledRobert, "and gave him the money you sent for him, too, my lord. Hewould have taken my message readily enough, and one could have trustedhim; but it may be months before such another chance offers, I guess.Look here, Miss Edith," he continued, turning toward her with his facefull of earnest expression, "I would go myself, but what would come ofit? They would only kill me instead of your brother, for one man is asgood as another to them in such cases, and perhaps he mightn't getoff, either. But I have a wife and two young children, ma'am, and thatmakes me not quite so ready to risk my life as I was a few years ago."

"It is not to be thought of," said Edith, calmly. "I could ask no oneto go but one at least partly of their own race, for it must be theblood of a white man they spill, I know. All I can desire you to dois, for Master Walter's sake and mine, to seek for one of the Indianrunners who are often about Albany, and about the army, and send himup to me."

"You see, Miss Prevost," replied the man, "there are not so many aboutas there used to be, for it is coming on winter; and as to the army,when Lord Loudon took it to Halifax almost all the runners and scoutswere discharged. Some of them remained with Webb, it is true, but anumber of those were killed and scalped by Montcalm's Hurons. However,I will make it my business to seek one, night and day, and send himup."

"Let it be someone on whom we can depend," said Edith; "someone whomyou have tried and can trust."

"That makes it harder still," said the man; "for though I have triedmany of them, I can trust few of them. However, I will see, and not belong about it, either. But it would be quite nonsense to send you aman who might either never do your message at all, or go and tellthose you don't want to hear it."

"It would, indeed," said Edith, sadly, as all the difficulties andrisks which lay in the way of success were suggested to her by theman's words. "Well, do your best, Robert," she said, at length, aftersome thought, "and as you will have to pay the man, here is the moneyfor----"

"You can pay him yourself, ma'am," replied the boatman, bluntly. "Asfor taking any myself for helping poor Master Walter, that's what Iwon't do. When I've got to take an oar in hand, or anything of thatkind, I make the people pay fast enough what my work is worth, perhapsa little more, sometimes," he added, with a laugh, "but not for suchwork as this--no! no! not for such work as this! So good-bye, MissPrevost; good-bye, my lord. I won't let the grass grow under my feetin looking for some messenger."

Thus saying, he left the room, and Edith and Lord H---- were once moreleft alone together. Sad and gloomy was their conversation,uncheckered by any of those light beams of love and joy which Edithhad fondly fancied were to light her future hours. All was dim andobscure in the future, and the point upon which both their eyes turnedmost intently in the dark, shadowy curtain of coming time was themurkiest and most obscure of all. Still, whatever plan was suggested,whatever course of action was thought of, difficulties rose up tosurround it, and perils presented themselves on all sides.

Nor did the presence of Mr. Prevost, who joined them soon after, tendin any degree to support or to direct. He had lost all hope, at leastfor the time, and the only thing which seemed to afford him a faintgleam of light was the thought of communicating immediately withBrooks.

"I fear Sir William Johnson will do nothing," he said; "he is sodevoted even to the smallest interests of the government, his wholemind is so occupied with this one purpose of cementing the alliancebetween Britain and the Five Nations, that on my life I believe hewould suffer any man's son to be butchered rather than risk offendingan Indian tribe."

"In his position it is very difficult for him to act," said LordH----, "but it might be as well to ascertain his feelings and hisviews by asking his advice as to how you should act yourself. Counselhe will be very willing to give, I am sure, and in the course ofconversation you might discover how much and how little you may expectfrom his assistance."

"But you said, my dear lord, that you were yourself going to Albanyto-morrow to see poor Brooks," said Mr. Prevost. "I cannot leave Edithhere alone."

All three mused for a moment or two, and Edith, perhaps, the deepestof all. At length, however, she said: "I am quite safe, my father; ofthat I am certain; and you will be so, I am sure, when you rememberwhat I told you of Black Eagle's conduct to me on that fatal night. Hethrew his blanket around me and called me his daughter. Depend uponit, long ere this, the news that I am his adopted child has spreadthrough all the tribes, and no one would dare to lift his hand againstme."

"I can easily----" said Lord H----.

But Edith interrupted him gently, saying: "Stay, George--one moment!Let my father answer. Do you not think, my dear father, that I amquite safe? In a word, do you not believe that I could go from lodgeto lodge as the adopted daughter of Black Eagle, throughout the wholelength of the Long House of the Five Nations, without the slightestrisk of danger? And if so, why should you fear?"

"I do indeed believe you could," replied Mr. Prevost. "Oh, that wecould have extracted such an act from him toward poor Walter! WhatEdith says is right, my lord; we must judge these Indians as we knowthem, and my only fear in leaving her here now would arise in therisks of incursion from the other side of the Hudson."

Lord H---- mused a little. It struck him there was something strangein Edith's way of putting the question to her father, something tooprecise, too minute to be called for by any of the words which hadbeen spoken. It excited nothing like suspicion in his mind, for it washardly possible to look into the face or hear the tones of EdithPrevost, and entertain so foul a thing as suspicion. But it made himdoubt whether she had not some object, high and noble, he was sure,beyond the immediate point, which she did not think fit, as yet, toreveal.

"I was about to say," he replied at length, to the last words of Mr.Prevost, "that I can easily move a guard up here sufficient to protectthe house; and I need not tell you, my dear sir," he continued, takingEdith's hand, "as the whole treasure of my happiness is here, that Iwould not advise you to leave her for an hour unless I felt sure shewould be safe. I will send down by some of the men who are still inthe house an order to Captain Hammond to march a guard here as earlyas possible to-morrow morning, under a trustworthy sergeant. As soonas it arrives I will set out for Albany; and I think you can go toJohnson's Castle in perfect security."

So it was arranged, and all parties felt no inconsiderable relief whensome course of action was thus decided. Effort, in this world, iseverything. Even the waters of joy will stagnate; and the greatestrelief to care or sorrow, the strongest in danger or adversity, iseffort.

The morning of the following day broke fresh and beautiful. There wasa bright clearness in the sky, a brisk elasticity in the air, that hadnot been seen or felt for weeks. Everything looked sparkling, andsharp, and distinct. Distances were diminished; woods and hills whichhad looked dim appeared near and definite; and the whole world seemedin harmony with energy and effort. The heavy rains of the precedingmorning had cleared the loaded atmosphere, as tears will sometimesclear the oppressed breast, and when Lord H---- and Mr. Prevostmounted their horses to set out, it seemed as if the invigorating airhad restored to the latter the firmness and courage of which the griefand horror of the preceding day had deprived him.

Edith embraced her father, and gave her cheek to the warm touch of herlover's lips; and then she watched them as they rode away till thewood shut them out from her sight. The soldiers were by this timeinstalled in the part of the house destined for them, and some of thenegroes were busy in preparing for their accommodation; but oldAgrippa and the gardener boy, and a woman servant stood near, watchingtheir master and his guest as they departed. As soon as the littleparty was out of sight, however, Edith turned to Agrippa, saying:"Send Chaudo to me in the parlor; I want to speak with him."

As soon as the man appeared she gazed at him earnestly, saying: "Howfar is it to Oneida Lake, Chaudo--have you ever been there?"

"Oh, yes, Missy, often when I was a little boy. Why, you know, myfadder ran away and live wid Ingins long time, 'cause he had badmaster. But Ingins cuff him, and thump him more nor worst massa in theworld, and so he come back again. How far be it? Oh, long way; twiceso far as Johnson Castle, or more. Oh, yes; three times so far."

Edith knew how vague a negro's ideas of distance are, and she then puther question in a form which would get her a more distinct answer.

"Bethink you, Chaudo," she said, "how long it would take me to reachthe lake--how long it would take anyone. Consider it well, and let meknow."

"You, Missy! You!" cried the negro, in great astonishment. "You neverthink of going there?"

"I don't know, Chaudo," she replied. "It might be needful, and I wishto know how long it would take."

"Dat 'pend upon how you go, Missy," replied the man; "ride so far asJohnson Castle, but can't ride no farder. Den walk as I walk? Younever do dat; and if you do, take you five days, and walk hard, too."

Poor Edith's heart sank. "Otaitsa walks," she said, in a despondingtone; "but it is true she can do much that I cannot do."

"She walk? Oh, dear no, Missy!" replied the negro. "She walk littlebit o' way from what dey call Wood Creek, or from de Mohawk. She walkno farder; all de rest she go in canoe, sometimes on Mohawk, sometimeson lake, sometimes on creek. She came here, once, in t'ree day, I hearold Gray Buzzard, de pipe-bearer, say, that time when de sachem comewid his warriors."

"And can I do the same?" asked Edith, eagerly.

"Sure you can, if you get canoe," answered Chaudo; "but oh, Missy,t'ink ob de Ingins! They kidnap Massa Walter; dey kill you, too!"

"There is no fear, Chaudo," replied Edith. "Even my father owns that Icould safely go from one lodge to another, through the whole land ofthe Five Nations, because Black Eagle has put his blanket round me andmade me his daughter."

"Massa know best," said Chaudo; "but if so, why dey kidnap MassaWalter?"

"Black Eagle refused to make him his son, or my father his brother,"said Edith, with the tears rising in her eyes. "But the truth is,Chaudo, that I go to try if I can save poor Walter's life. I go totell the Blossom that they hold my Walter--her Walter--a prisoner, andsee whether she cannot find means to rescue him."

"I see, I see, Missy!" said the man, gravely. And then, after pausingfor a moment, he asked, abruptly: "I go with you?"

"Someone I must have, to show me the way," replied Edith. "Are youafraid, Chaudo?"

"Afraid!" cried the man, bursting into a fit of joyous laughter. "Oh,no, not afraid! Ingins no hurt nigg*r; kick him, cuff him; no scalphim, 'cause nigg*r got no scalp-lock. Ha! ha! ha! I go help save MassaWalter. He never hab no good thing but he give Chaudo some. Oh, I'llmanage all for you. We find plenty canoe, Mohawk canoe, Oneida canoe,if we say you Black Eagle's daughter, going to see you sister Otaitsa.When you go, Missy?"

"Very soon, Chaudo," replied Edith, and proceeded to explain her planto him still farther. She said that she wished to set out that veryday, and as soon as possible, in order, first, to communicate thetidings of Walter's capture to Otaitsa without delay; and secondly, tosave her father as many hours of anxiety as possible. She did notabsolutely tell the man that she had not informed her father of herintention, but he divined it well. Nevertheless, when he heardsomewhat more at large the conduct of Black Eagle toward her on thenight of poor Walter's capture, he was quite satisfied of her safetyas far as the Indians were concerned. He urged her, however, to go inthe first place to Johnson Castle, where she could procure a canoe, oreven a batteau, he felt certain; and it was long before hecomprehended her objection to that course. At length, however, hisusual "I see, I see!" showed that he had caught a light at last, andthen he was soon ready with his resources.

"Den we walk to the nearest end of little pond; only t'ree mile," hesaid, "fishing canoe all ready; next we go down little pond and decreek into lake, keep by nort' side, and den walk to Mohawk, t'reemile more. I carry canoe 'cross on my back. Den, Ingin or no Ingin, weget along. If Missy like to take oder nigg*r, too, we get on veryfast, and he carry bundle."

"I must have one of the women with me," said Edith, in a thoughtfultone, "but which?"

The negro's countenance fell a little. He was very proud of theconfidence placed in him, and he did not like to share it with a whitewoman. His tone, then, was rather dejected, though submissive, when heasked: "Do Missy take white woman, Sally, wid her? Sally no walk.Sally no run. Sally no paddle when Chaudo is tired."

"No," replied Edith at once. "I can take no white person with me,Chaudo, for it would risk her life; and even to save my poor brother Imust not lure another into sad peril. One of your color, Chaudo, theywill not hurt; for it is a white man's blood they will have for awhite man's act."

"Then take Sister Bab!" cried Chaudo, rubbing his hands, with thepeculiar, low negro chuckle. "Sister Bab walk, run, carry bundle, andtwirl paddle wid anybody."

Now Bab was a stout negro woman of about forty years of age, with apleasant countenance and very fine white teeth, who rejoiced in thecognomen of sister, though, to the best of Edith's knowledge, she wassister to no one--in the house, at least. Her usual occupations werein the farmyard, the dairy, and the pigsty; so that Edith had not seenvery much of her; but all that she had seen was pleasant, for SisterBab seemed continually on the watch to do everything for everybody,receiving every order, even from "Master Walter," who was sometimes alittle inconsiderate, with a broad, good-humored grin; and herconstant activity and indefatigable energy promised well for anundertaking such as that in which Edith was engaged.

"Well, Chaudo," said the young lady, "I do not know that I could makea better choice. Send Sister Bab to me, for where dangers such asthese are to be encountered, I will not take anyone without her ownfree consent."

"Oh, she go, I talk wid her," said Chaudo; "you nebber troubleyourself, Missy. She go to world's end with Miss Edith, and fight likedebbel if dere be need. I nebber saw woman so good at catching fish;she'd hook 'em out like cabbages."

"That may be useful to us, too," said Edith, with a faint smile; "butsend her to me, nevertheless, Chaudo; I want to speak with her beforeI go."

The good woman, when she came, made not the slightest objection; but,on the contrary, looked upon the expedition as something very amusing,which would give a relief to the tedium of her daily labors, and atthe same time afford full occupation for her active spirit. She was asready with suggestions as Chaudo; told Edith everything she had bettertake with her, detailed all her own proposed preparations, and evenbegged for a rifle, declaring that she was as good a shot as "MassaWalter," and had often fired his gun when he had brought it homeundischarged. Edith declined, however, to have a riflewoman in hertrain; and having told her two chosen attendants that she would beready in an hour, retired to make her preparations, and write a fewlines to her father and her lover to account for her absence when theyreturned. Both letters were brief, but we will only look at that whichshe left for Mr. Prevost.

"My dear father," she said, "I am half afraid I am doing wrong intaking the step I am about to take, without your knowledge orapprobation; but I cannot sit still and do nothing while all areexerting themselves to save my poor brother. I feel that it isabsolutely necessary to any hope for his safety that Otaitsa should beinformed immediately of his situation. It may be months before anyIndian runner is found, and my poor brother's fate may be sealed. Wereit to cost my life, I should think myself bound to go. But I am theonly one who can go in perfect safety; for, while promising hisprotection to me, and insuring me against all danger, the Black Eaglerefused to give any assurance in regard to others. You have yourselfacknowledged, my dear father, that I shall be perfectly safe; and Ihave also the advantage of speaking the Indian tongue well. In thesecirc*mstances would it not be wrong, would it not be criminal in me toremain here idle when I have even a chance of saving my poor brother?Forgive me, then, if I do wrong, on account of the motives which leadme.

"My course is straight to the Mohawk, by the little pond and the lake,and then up the Mohawk and Wood Creek as far as they will carry me;for I wish to save myself as much fatigue as possible, and I ventureto take the canoe from the pond. I have asked Chaudo and Sister Bab toaccompany me, as I know you would wish me to have protection andassistance on the way, in case of any difficulty. I hope to be back insix days at the farthest; and, if possible, I will send a runner toinform you of my safe arrival amongst the Oneidas. Once more, my dearfather, think of the great object I have in view, and forgive youraffectionate daughter."

When these letters were written, Edith dressed herself in full Indiancostume, which had been given her by Otaitsa; and a beautiful Indianmaiden she looked, though the skin was somewhat too fair and her hairwanted the jetty black. In the Indian pouch, or wallet, she placedsome articles of European convenience, and a large hunting knife; andthen, making up a small package of clothes for Sister Bab to carry,she descended to the lower story. Here, however, she met with someimpediments which she had not expected. The news of her proposedexpedition had spread through the whole household and caused almost anopen revolt. The white women were in tears; old Agrippa was clamorous;and the fat black cook declared loudly that Miss Edith was mad, andshould not go. So far, indeed, did she carry her opposition, that theyoung lady was obliged to assume a stern and severe tone, which wasseldom heard in Edith's voice, and command her to retire at once fromher presence. The poor woman was at once overawed, for her courage wasnot very permanent, and, bursting into tears, she left the room,declaring she was sure she should never see Miss Edith again.

Edith then gave all the keys of the house to old Agrippa, with the twoletters which she had written; Chaudo took up the bag of provisionswhich he had prepared; Sister Bab charged herself with the package ofclothes; and Edith, walking between them, turned away from herfather's house, amidst the tears of the white women, and a vociferousburst of grief from the negroes.

Her own heart sank for a moment, and she asked herself, "Shall I everpass that threshold again? Shall I ever be pressed hereafter in thearms of those I so much love?"

But she banished such feelings, and drove away such thoughts; andmurmuring, "My brother--my poor brother!" she walked on.

CHAPTER XII

Leaving Edith to pursue her way toward the Oneida territory, and Mr.Prevost, after parting with Lord H---- at the distance of some threemiles from his own house, to ride on to Johnson Castle, let us followthe young nobleman to Albany, where he arrived somewhat afternightfall. His first duty, as he conceived it, led him to the quartersof the commander-in-chief, where he made a brief but clear report ofall that had occurred in his transactions with the Indians.

"I found," he said, "from information communicated by Sir WilliamJohnson, that there was no need of any concealment; but that, on thecontrary, it would be rather advantageous to appear at the meetingwith the Five Nations in my proper character. The results were what Ihave told you. There is one other point, however, which I think itnecessary to mention, and which, if imprudently treated, might lead toserious results."

He then went on to state generally the facts in regard to the death ofthe Indian by the hands of Woodchuck, and the supposed capture ofWalter Prevost by a party of the Oneidas. It would be uninteresting tothe reader to hear the particulars of the conversation which followed.Suffice it to say, that the government of the colony in all itsdepartments was very well disposed to inactivity at that time, and notat all inclined to exert itself for the protection of individuals, oreven of greater interests, unless strongly pressed to do so. This LordH---- was not at all inclined to do, as he was well aware from all hehad heard that no action on the part of the government short of thesudden march of a large body of troops would effect the liberation ofWalter Prevost, and that to expect such a movement, which itself mightbe unsuccessful, was quite out of the question with the officers whowere in command at the time.

His conference with the commander-in-chief ended, he declined aninvitation to supper, and went out on his search for the small innwhere he had been told he would find the man whose act, howeverjustifiable, had brought so much wretchedness upon Mr. Prevost'sfamily.

The city of Albany, in those days, as we have reason to know from verygood authority, though not numbering by many thousands as great apopulation as it contains at present, occupied a space nearly as largeas the present city. One long street ran by the river, to the veryverge of which beautiful and well cultivated gardens extended; andfrom the top of the hill down to this lower street ran another, verynearly, if not exactly, of the same position and extent as the presentState street. On the top of the hill was the fort; and built in thecenter of the large, descending street which swept round them oneither side, were two or three churches, a handsome market place, anda guard-house. A few other streets ran down the hill in a parallelline with this principal one; and other small streets, lanes, andalleys connected them all together. Nevertheless, the population, as Ihave said, was comparatively very small, for between house and house,and street and street, throughout the whole town, were large andbeautiful gardens filling up spaces now occupied by buildings andthronged with human beings. A great part of the population was at thattime Dutch, and all the neatness and cleanliness of true Dutch housesand Dutch streets was to be seen in Albany in those days--would wecould say as much at present. No pigs then ran in the streets, to thehorror of the eye and the annoyance of the passenger; no cabbageleaves or stalks disgraced the gutter; and the only place in whichanything like filth or uncleanliness was to be seen was at theextremity of the littoral street, where, naturally, the houses of theboatmen and others connected with the shipping were placed for thesake of approximating to the water. There, certainly, some degree ofdirt existed, and the air was perfumed with the high savor of tar andtobacco.

It was toward this part of the town that Lord H---- directed hissteps, inquiring for the inn called "The Three Boatmen." Severaltimes, however, was he frustrated in his attempt to obtain informationby the ignorance of a great portion of the inhabitants of the Englishlanguage; and the pipe was removed from the mouth only to reply inDutch, "I do not understand."

At length, however, he was directed aright, and found a small andsomewhat mean-looking house, in which an adventurous Englishman fromthe purlieus of Clare Market had established a tavern for the benefitof boatmen. It had in former times belonged to a Dutch settler, andstill retained many of the characteristic features of its origin,while four trees stood in line before the door, with benchesunderneath them for the convenience of those who chose to sit andpoison the sweet air of the summer evening with the fumes of tobacco.

Entering through a swing door into the narrow, sandy passage, whichdescended one step from the street, Lord H---- encountered a negrotapster with a white apron, of whom he inquired if Captain Brooks wasstill there.

"Oh, yes, Massa Officer," said the man, with a grin. "You mean MassaWoodchuck," he continued, showing that the good man's Indian nicknamewas very extensively known. "You find him in dere, in de coffee room,"and he pointed to a door, once white, now yellow and brown with smoke,age, and dirty fingers.

Lord H---- opened the door and went in amongst as strange andunprepossessing an assemblage of human beings as it had ever been hischance to light upon. The air was rendered obscure by smoke, so thatthe candles looked dim and red; and it was literally difficult todistinguish the objects around. What the odor was it is impossible tosay, for it was as complicated as the antidote of Mithridates; but thepredominant smells were certainly those of beer, rum, and Holland gin.Some ten or twelve little tables of exceedingly highly polishedmahogany, but stained here and there by the contaminating marks of wetglasses, divided the room amongst them, leaving just space betweeneach to place two chairs, back to back; and in this small den not lessthan five or six and twenty people were congregated, almost alldrinking, almost all smoking, some talking very loud, some sitting inprofound silence, as the quantity of liquor imbibed or the nationalcharacteristics of the individual might prompt. Gazing through thehaze upon this scene, which, besides the sturdy and coarse, but activeEnglishman, and the heavy, phlegmatic Dutchman, contained one or twovoluble Frenchmen, deserters from the Canadas, none of them showingthemselves in a very favorable light, Lord H---- could not helpcomparing the people before him with the free, wild Indians he hadlately left, and asking himself: "Which are the savages?"

At length his eye, however, fell upon a man sitting at the table inthe corner of the room next to the window. He was quite alone, withhis back turned to the rest of the people in the place, his headleaning on his hand, and a short pipe laid down upon the table besidehim. He had no light before him, as most of the others had, and hemight have seemed asleep, so still was his whole figure, had it notbeen that the fingers of his right hand, which rested on the table,beat time to an imaginary tune. Approaching close to him, LordH---- drew a seat to the table and laid a hand upon his arm. Woodchucklooked round, and a momentary expression of pleasure, slight, andpassing away rapidly, crossed his rugged features.

The next moment his face was all cold and stern again.

"Very kind of you to come and see me, my lord," he said, in a dull,sad tone. "What do you want with me? Have you got anything for me todo?"

"I am sorry to see you looking so melancholy, Captain," said LordH----, evading his question. "I hope nothing else has gone amiss."

"Haven't I cause enough to be melancholy," said the other, lookinground at the people in the room, "cooped up with a penful of swine?Come out--come out to the door. It's cold enough out, but the coldestwind that ever blew is better than the filthy air of these pigs."

As he spoke he rose, and a little, pert-looking Frenchman, who hadoverheard him, exclaimed in a bantering tone: "Why you call us pigsmore nor yourself de great hog?"

"Get out of my way, for fear I break your back," said Woodchuck, in alow, stern voice. "If your neck had been broken long ago, it wouldhave been better for your country and for mine;" and taking up thelittle Frenchman by the nape of the neck with one arm, he set him uponthe table from which he had just arisen.

A roar of laughter burst from a number of the assembled throats; thelittle Frenchman sputtered with wrath, without daring to carry theexpression of his indignation farther; and Woodchuck strode quietlyout of the room, followed by his military visitor.

"Here--let us sit down here," he said, placing himself on a benchunder a leafless tree, and leaving room for Lord H---- by his side. "Iam gloomy enough, my lord, and haven't I reason to be so? Here I amfor life. This is to be my condition with the swine that gather up inthese sties of cities, suffocating in such dens as these. I guess Ishall drown myself some day, when I am driven quite mad. I know a manhas no right to lay hands upon himself. I larnt my Bible when I wasyoung, and know what's God's will, so I sha'n't do anything desperateso long as I be right here," and he laid his finger on his forehead."No! no! I'll just take as much care of my life," he continued, "asthough it were a baby I was nursing; but unless them Ingians catchsome other white man and kill him--which God forbid--I've got to stayhere for life; and even if they do, it's more nor a chance they'd killme, too, if they got me; and when I think of them beautiful woods andpleasant lakes, with the pictures of everything round painted sobeautiful on them when they are still, and the streams that go dancingand splashing along over the big black stones and the small whitepebbles, seeming for all the world to sing as if for pleasure at theirfreedom, and the open, friendly air of the hillside, and the cloudsskimming along, and the birds glancing through the branches, and thesquirrels skipping and chattering as if they were mocking everythingnot so nimble as themselves, I do often believe I shall go crazed tothink I shall never see those things again."

Lord H---- felt for him much, for he had in his own heart a sufficientportion of love for the wilder things of nature to sympathize in somedegree with one who loved them so earnestly.

"I trust, Woodchuck," he said, "that we shall be able to find someemployment for you with the army--if not with my own corps with someother, which may give you glimpses at least of the scenes you love sowell, and of the unconfined life you have lived so long; but I havecome to consult you upon a subject of much and immediate importance,and we must talk of that the first thing."

"What is that?" asked Brooks, in an indifferent tone, fixing his eyesupon the stones of the street, faintly lighted by the glare fromwithin the house.

Lord H---- began his account of what had happened between the Mohawkand the Hudson with some circumlocution, for he did not feel at allsure of the effect it would produce upon his companion's mind, and theWoodchuck seemed to fall into one of those deep reveries in which onemay be said to hear without hearing. He took not the slightest noticeof what his noble visitor said regarding the burning of the wood, orthe danger of Mr. Prevost and Edith. It seemed to produce no moredistinct effect than would the wind whistling in his ears. He sat calmand silent, without an observation, but he grew more attentive, thoughonly in a slight degree, when the narrator came to mention the anxietyof the family at the protracted absence of Walter; and when at lastLord H---- described the finding of the knife and the knapsack, andtold of the conclusions to which the whole family had come, he startedup, exclaiming: "What's that! What's that!" and then, after a moment'spause, he sank down upon his seat again, saying, with a groan: "Theyhave got him--they have got him, and they will tomahawk him--thebloody, barbarous critters! Couldn't they have chosen some moreworthless thing than that!"

Pressing his hand tight upon his forehead, as if he fancied theturbulent thoughts within would burst it, he remained for a moment ortwo in silence, till Lord H---- asked if he imagined they wouldexecute their bloody purposes speedily.

"No! no!" cried the man. "No fear of that; they'll take time enough;that's the worst of the savages. It's no quick rage, no angry heatwith them--no word and a blow. It's cold, bitter, long-premeditatedhatred. They wouldn't have half the pleasure if they didn't draw outtheir revenge by the week and the month--but what's to be donenow--gracious God! what's to be done now?"

"That is precisely what I came to consult you upon," said LordH----; "but let us talk over the matter calmly, my good friend. Thisis a case where grief, anger, and indignation can do nothing, butwhere deliberate thought, reason, and policy, even cunning, such astheir own--for, if we could arrive at it, we should be quite justifiedin using it--may, perhaps, do something to save this poor boy!"

"How the devil would you have me calm!" exclaimed the man, vehemently;but then, suddenly checking himself, he said: "You're right, you'reright. I am forgetting my old habits in these smoky holes; thought,cunning, those are the only things to do with an Indian. It'starnation hard to outwit them, but it may be done when one knows histracks well. I can't get my brain to hold steady tonight; this storyhas upset all my thoughts, and I've got no consideration in me. Youmust give me a night and a day to think over the matter, and then I'llsee what's to be done. By the Lord, Walter sha'n't die! Poor fellow!What should he die for? However, I guess it's no use talking in thatsort of manner. I must think of what's to be done; that's the businessin hand. I'll think as soon as I can, my lord; only you just now tellme all you have done, if you've done anything. As for Prevost, I don'tsuppose he's had time to do much, for though he's always right in theend, and no man's opinion is worth more, yet if you touch his heartand his feelings, as you call them, his wits get all in a work, justlike mine at this minute. More fool he, and I, too!"

"We have done something," said Lord H---- in reply. "Mr. Prevost setout this morning to see Sir William Johnson----"

"He's no good!" growled Woodchuck, impatiently.

"I came hither to consult with you," continued Lord H----, "and wehave commissioned the boatman, whom they call Robert, a tall, stoutman----"

"I know him! I know him!" said Woodchuck. "Passably honest--the bestof them."

"Well, we have commissioned him," resumed the young nobleman, "to seekfor some Indian runner, or half-breed, to carry news of this event toOtaitsa, whom Edith believes the tribe will keep in the dark in regardto the capture of Walter."

"Likely, likely," said the Woodchuck. "Miss Prevost understands them.They'll not tell the women anything, for fear they should meddle.They've a poor opinion of squaws. But the girl may do a great deal ofgood, too, if you can get the tidings to her. She's not as cunning asthe rest of them, but she has more heart and soul, and resolution,too, than a whole tribe of Indian women--that comes of her motherbeing a white woman."

"Her mother a white woman!" exclaimed Lord H----.

"Aye; didn't you know that?" said Woodchuck. "Just as white as MissPrevost, and quite a lady, too, she was, to look at, or to speakto--though she was not fond of speaking with white men, and would drawback into the lodge whenever she saw one. I did speak to her once,though, when she was in a great fright about Black Eagle, who had goneto battle against the French; and I, happening to come that way, gaveher some news of him. But we are getting astray from what's of morematter than that. The girl will save him, take my word for it, ifthere's strength enough in that little body to do it. But let mesee--you talk of Indian runners; where is one to be found who can betrusted? They're generally a bad set, the scum of the tribes; no realwarrior would take up on such a trade. However, what's to be done? Nowhite person can go; for they'd scalp him to a certainty, and he wouldgive his life for Walter's, that's all. On my life, it would be aswell to give the dangerous errand to some felon, as I have heard saythey do in despotic countries--give criminals some dangerous task toperform; and they, if they succeed and escape, so much the better forthem; if they die, so much the better for the community. But I'mgetting wandering again," he continued, rising. "Now, my lord, this isno use. Give me a few hours to think--tomorrow, at noon, if youwill--and then I'll come and tell you what my opinion is."

As he spoke, he turned abruptly toward the house, without anyceremonious leave-taking, and only looked round to put one morequestion:

"At the fort, I suppose?" he said.

Lord H---- assented, and Brooks entered the house and at once soughthis own chamber.

CHAPTER XIII

In a small room, under a roof which slanted out in a straight line,but made an obtuse angle in the midst of descent, lighted alone by ahorn lantern, such as was used on board the river boats at night, satthe stout man whom we have described under the name of Brooks. Littlefurniture of any kind did the room contain. There was a smallhalf-tester bed with its dull curtains of a broad red and whitecheckered stuff; there was the little table at the side of the room,jammed close against the wall; there was the solitary chair; thewashstand, with its basin and its ewer, both somewhat maimed; therewas the little looking-glass hanging from a nail driven in the wall,with its narrow, badly gilt frame, and its plate so distorted thatwhen one looked in it the reflection seemed to be making faces at theoriginal. Dull with imbibing many a year's loaded atmosphere, werethose faded walls; and many a guest had written upon them, in pencil,his own name or the name of his sweetheart--permanent memorials oftransitory tenants, long-cherished memories of affections gone to thegrave. There were two or three distiches, too, and a quatrain somewhatmore polished.

But the man who sat there noted none of those things. The dim light,the gloomy aspect of the room, might sink in upon his spirit, andrender the darkness within more dark; the strange, ill-looking doublearch of the ceiling, the obtrusive two straight lines instead of one,with the blunt, unmeaning angle between them, giving an aspect ofbrokenness to the roof, as if it were ready to bulge out and thencrash down, might irritate, without his knowing why. But still lienoted them not with anything like observation. His mind was busy withthings of its own--things in which feeling took a share, as well asthought--and he was, if not dead, sleeping to the external world. Evenhis beloved woods and streams, and fresh air, and open skies, wereforgotten for the time.

He argued with himself a case of conscience hard to solve.

He was as brave a man as ever lived; habituated all his life to perilsof many kinds, and had met them all fearlessly. Wake him in the woodsat midnight, you would find him ready. Deafen his ear with the drum orthe war-whoop, you could not make him start. He blinked not at thecannon flash, or the blaze of the lightning; and would have faced thefiery-mouthed platoon without a wavering step.

And yet the love of life was strong in him. He had so many joys inthe bright treasury of nature; to his simple, nay, wild tastes, therewere so many pleasures in the wide world, that to part with them washard--very hard.

He had never known how valuable earthly existence was to him till thathour. He had never felt how different a thing it is to hazard it inbold daring, or to contemplate the throwing of it away in recklesspassion, or disappointment and despair, from calmly and deliberatelylaying it down as a sacrifice, whatever be the end, the inducement, orthe duty.

What was case of conscience he proposed to himself? Simply this:whether he should suffer another to die for his act, or place himselfnot only in the peril from which he had lately escaped, but in theactual grasp of death. Some men of enthusiastic spirit and greatconstitutional fearlessness might have decided the matter at a dash,and, with the first impulse of a generous nature, cast themselvesunder the uplifted tomahawk to save their innocent friend. But he wasnot such, and I do not intend so to represent him. He was not a man todo anything without deliberation, without calculating all things,though he was as generous as most men, as this world goes. All hishabits, the very course of his previous life, disposed him to carefulforethought. Every day had had its watchfulness, every hour itsprecaution. The life of the woods, in those days, was a life of periland preparation, where consideration might be very rapid, but wasalways needful.

And now he debated the question with himself. Could he live on andsuffer Walter Prevost to die in his place? There were strenuousadvocates on both sides, but the love of life was the most subtle, ifgenerosity was the most eloquent.

"Poor boy!" he thought. "Why should he die for what I have done?Why should he be cut off so soon from all life's hopes and blessings?Why should his father's eyes be drowned in tears, and his sister'sheart wrung with grief, when I can save them all? And he so frank andnoble, too! so full of every kindly feeling and generous quality--sobrave--so honest--so true-hearted! Innocent, too! Innocent of everyoffence--quite innocent in this case!"

But then spoke self, and he thought: "Am not I innocent, too? Asinnocent as he is? Did I ever harm the man? Did I provoke the savage?Did I not slay him in pure self-defence? And shall I lay down the lifeI then justly protected at the cost of that of another human being,because a race of fierce Indians, unreasoning, bloodthirsty savages,choose to offer a cruel sacrifice to their god of revenge, and havefound a victim?

"Still," he continued, taking the other side, "it is for my act thesacrifice is offered; and, if there must be a sacrifice, ought not thevictim to be myself? Besides, were it any worthless life that was injeopardy--were it that of some desperate rover--some criminal--someman without ties, or friendships, or affections, one might leave himto his fate, perhaps, without remorse; but this poor lad--how manyhopes are centered in him! What will not his family lose? What willnot the world? And I--what am I, that my life should be weighedagainst his? Is he not my friend, too, and the son of my friend, onewho has always overflowed with kindness and regard toward me?"

His resolution was almost taken; but then the cunning pleader,vanquished in direct argument, suggested a self-deceit.

"It is strange," he thought, "that these Indians, and especiallytheir chief, should fix upon one with whom they have ever been sofriendly--should choose a youth whom they have looked upon as abrother, when they might surely have found some other victim. Can thisbe a piece of their savage cunning? They know how well I love the lad,and how much friendship has been shown me by his father. Can they havetaken him as a bait to their trap, without any real intention ofsacrificing him, and only in the hope of luring me into their power?"

At first sight, the supposition seemed reasonable, and he was inclinedto congratulate himself that he had not precipitately fallen into thesnare. "How they would have yelled with triumph when they found mebringing my head to the hatchet!"

But speedily his knowledge of the Indian character and habitsundeceived him. He knew that in such cases they always made sure ofsome victim, and that the more near and dear he was to the offenderthe better for their purpose--himself first, a relation next, a friendnext; and he cast the self-fraud away from him.

But the love of life had not yet done, though obliged to take anothercourse and suggest modifications. Was there no middle course to betaken? Was it absolutely necessary that he should sacrifice his ownlife to save that of Walter Prevost? Could the object not be effectedwithout his giving himself up to the savages? Might not someone elsefall into their hands? Might not the lad be rescued by some daringeffort? This was the most plausible suggestion of all, but it was theone that troubled him the most. He had detected so many attempts inhis own heart to cheat himself, that he suspected he might bedeceiving himself still; and his mind got puzzled and confused withdoubts.

He went to the bed and lay down in his clothes, but he could not sleepwithout taking some resolution; and rising again, he pressed his handsupon his aching temples, and determined to cast away self from thequestion altogether--to look upon it as if it affected some otherperson and Walter Prevost, and judge accordingly.

His plan succeeded. He separated the truth from the falsehood, andcame to the conclusion that it would be folly to go and give himselfup to certain death as long as there was a chance of saving his youngfriend by other means; but that it was right to do so if other meansfailed; and that neither by delay nor even uncertain efforts, must herisk the chance of saving him by the ultimate sacrifice. He made uphis mind accordingly, to re-enter the Indian territory in spite ofevery peril, to conceal himself as best he could, to watch the Indiansas he would watch a wild beast, and be ready for any opportunity orfor any decision; and when his resolution was finally taken he laydown and slept profoundly.

CHAPTER XIV

And what was Edith's journey? Would the reader have me present it as apicture--as it appeared to her after it was over--massed together inits extraordinary rapidity, and seen but from one point at the end?

Swiftly skimming in a bark canoe upon the glossy bosoms of the lovelylakes, which reflected every hue of herb and tree, and sky andmountain, darting along bright and sparkling streams, sometimesbeneath the overhanging canopy of boughs, sometimes under the pureblue eye of heaven. Often struggling with a rapid, often having topass along the shore to turn a waterfall; at times walking alongthrough the glowing woods, burning with the intense coloring ofautumn; at times surrounded by a number of Indians, each renderingquiet, earnest service to the adopted daughter of the great Oneidachief; at times wandering on in the dim forest, with no one but hertwo dark attendants near; now the fierce howl of the midnight wolfsounding in her ear; now the sharp, garrulous cry of the blue jay; nowthe shrill scream of the woodhaw. Now the Indian lodge or castle, asthe Iroquois sometimes called their dwellings, now the brown canopy ofthe autumn wood covered her; but still, under the skillful guidanceand with the eager help of the two negroes, she went forward withextraordinary rapidity, leaving miles and miles behind her every hour.It seemed almost like a pleasant dream, or at least it would haveseemed so had the sad and fearful motives which led her on been everbanished from her mind. Even as it was, the variety of the objects,the constant succession of new matters of interest, the events, smallin themselves, but important to her, which occurred to facilitate orimpede her progress, were all a relief to her overcharged mind, andshe reached the Oneida territory less depressed than when she set outfrom her home.

One cause, perhaps, of the feeling of renewed strength which sheexperienced was a renewal of hope from the conduct of the Indianstoward her wherever she met them. She found that even amongst theMohawks she was recognized at once as the adopted daughter of thegreat Oneida chief; and it was evident that he had spread far andwide, as he returned to his own abode after the conference at JohnsonCastle, the fact of his having adopted the daughter of the paleface,Prevost. There is always something, too, in the fact of an enterprisebeing actually commenced, which gives spirit to pursue it to the end.While we stand and gaze at it from a distance, hesitating whether weshall undertake it or not, the difficulties are magnified, thefacilities obscured; the rock and precipice rise up threateningly toour imagination, while the small paths by which they may be surmountedare unseen.

Day had yet an hour of life when Edith approached what we find calledin the history of the times, "The Castle of the Oneidas." "Wigwam" itis customary to name all the Indian villages, giving an idea ofinsignificance and meanness, and completely savage state, which theprincipal residences of the Five Nations did not at that time merit.Most of them were very like that which Edith now approached. It wasbuilt upon a slight elevation near the lake, with a large protrudingrock near it; for the Oneidas always affected near their dwelling somesymbol significant of their favorite appellation, "The Children of theStone." Around it were high palisades, enclosing a considerable area,within which the huts of the Indians were constructed. Risingconsiderably above the rest were two wooden buildings, in the erectionof which European workmanship was apparent. The one was a large,oblong building, regularly roofed and shingled, like that of anyEnglish settler. It consisted of two stories, and in the upper oneregular framed windows were to be seen. In the lower story there werenone, light being admitted by the door. That lower story, however, wasfloored by plain pine boards, and divided by a sort of curtain intotwo equal compartments. The other building bore the appearance of achurch in miniature, with a small cottage or hut attached, which wasin reality the residence of the missionary, Mr. Gore.

Even Edith was surprised to see the home of Otaitsa so different fromthe ideas conveyed to her by the wandering traders, who even whilecarrying on commercial intercourse with the tribes, were in a state ofsemi-hostility toward the Indians, representing them as bloodysavages, and cheating them whenever they could.

Slowly walking on between her two negro companions, for she was tiredwith a longer walk than usual, Edith approached the open gates of theCastle and met with no opposition in entering. A tall, handsomewarrior passed out, fully clothed in Indian costume, and only markedout from any civilized man by the shaved head and the painfullysignificant scalp-lock. His step was stately and calm, and his airgrave and reserved. Twice he turned his eyes upon Edith's face, with alook of evident wonder and admiration, but he took no farther notice,and passed on. He was the only man whom she saw on entering thevillage, till after passing through many huts, where women andchildren were to be seen busily employed, she came in sight of thedoor of the chief's house, and beheld there a figure seated on theground, quietly engaged in the art of embroidery, after the fashion inwhich the Indian women so greatly excel.

It was a figure which she knew well; and the tranquil air and easygrace, as well as the quiet, peaceful employment, showed Edith at oncethat she had not been mistaken in supposing that Otaitsa wasaltogether ignorant of the peril of one dear to them both. As she camenear, she heard the Indian girl, in her happy ignorance, singing asweet but somewhat plaintive song; and the next moment, Otaitsa,raising her eyes, beheld the three figures, and at once perceived thatthey were not of her people.

For an instant she did not recognize Edith in her Indian garb; butwhen she did recognize her, the emotion produced was alarm rather thanjoy. She felt at once that some great and important event--someoccurrence full of peril or of sorrow--must have brought Ediththither. The beautiful lips parted with a tremulous motion; the largedark eye, Indian in its color, but European in its form, became fullof anxiety; the rosy color of her cheek, which probably had obtainedfor her the name of the Blossom, faded away, and paleness spread overthe clear brown skin. Starting up, however, she cast the embroideryaway from her, and springing forward, threw her arms around Edith'sneck. Then, as her hand rested on her fair companion's shoulder, sheasked in a whisper: "What is it, my sister? There must be a storm inthe sky--there must be lightning in the cloud! What tempest wind hasswept my sister hither? What flood of sorrow has borne Edith toOtaitsa?"

"Hush!" said Edith, in a low tone, for there were some other Indianwomen near. "I will tell my sister when no ears can hear but her own.There is tempest in the sky. A pine tree has fallen across thethreshold of my father's house, and we are sad for fear the hatchet ofthe woodman should lop all its green branches away. Can I speak withthe Blossom speedily, and in secret?"

"Instantly," answered Otaitsa. "The warriors have all gone forth tohunt for three days the bear and the moose. The Black Eagle is withthem. There are but three men of deeds in the Castle, now, and whythey are women now and go not forth to the hunting with the rest, Icannot tell. But they are little within the palisade--daily they goforth, and remain absent long. Come in hither, my sister, for thoughfew here speak the tongue we speak, it were better not to let the windhear us."

"Can some of the women give food and lodging to these two negroes?"asked Edith, adding: "They have been well warned, and know that a lifedepends upon their silence."

Otaitsa called to an elderly Indian woman who was cooking at the doorof a cabin near, and placed Chaudo and his companion under her charge.She then turned to Edith, saying: "Come, my sister;" but before theyentered the building, Edith inquired if Mr. Gore was there, saying:"Perhaps he might give us counsel."

"My father sent him away some days ago," answered Otaitsa. "He willnot be back for a month, perhaps longer. I think he has sent him tosecure him from danger."

"Alas," said Edith, "that the danger should have fallen upon others!"

"Alas! alas!" said Otaitsa, and Edith felt her hand tremble much asshe led her into the building.

A staircase, rude indeed, but still a staircase, led from the morebarnlike part of the building below to the upper floor, and in thisrespect appeared the first difference between this house--for itdeserved the name--and the lodge, or castle, of King Hendrick theyounger, though both had been built by European workmen, and that ofKing Hendrick at the cost of the British government, which was not thecase with the dwelling of the Oneida chief. As soon, however, as youreached the upper floor, the differences became more frequent and moreremarkable. It was partitioned off into rooms, with regular doorsbetween them; and when Edith entered the chamber of Otaitsa she saw atonce how she acquired European habits. Of rude manufacture, but stillvery correct as imitations, and not without a certain degree ofuncouth ornament, were chairs, tables, and writing materials, abedstead and a bed; and from wooden pegs, driven into the partition,depended some sketches--some colored, some in pencil, but all verydifferent from the gaudy daubs which, at a later period, peddlers wereaccustomed to take into the Indian territory as articles of barter.

As Edith's eye glanced around, it gleaned a general notion of allthese things, but her mind was too full of deeper and sadder thoughtsto suffer even curiosity to turn it from its course for a moment.

"There is no one in any other chamber here," said Otaitsa, "None comesup these stairs but myself and my father. Now, Edith, speak, forOtaitsa's heart is very heavy and her mind misgives her sadly. Is ityour father they have taken?"

"No; oh no!" answered Edith, "but one as dear;" and she went onbriefly to relate all that had occurred, endeavoring to soften andprepare the way for intelligence which she feared would affect theIndian girl much. But Otaitsa darted at her own conclusions, diviningthe whole truth almost as soon as the words were spoken. She was farmore affected than Edith had anticipated. She cast herself upon herfair companion's neck and wept aloud.

"He was mine, Edith," she said, in the full confidence of sorrow."He was mine, my betrothed, my loved; and they have hidden it fromme--hidden it from all the Indian women here, for they knew thateveryone in the tribe loved him, though not so well as I. Where wasthe poor wanderer who passed your house with her infant on her backwho did not receive kindness from Walter Prevost? Where was the Indiangirl who could say he did not treat her with as kindly gentleness asthe highest white woman in the land? He was the tree which had grownup to shelter the hut of the woodman, giving him cool shade andcomfort in the days of summer and of gladness, to be cut down andburnt for fire when the winter winds are singing in the bare branches.Oh, my brother, my brother, bad is the return they make thee, and hardthe measure that they deal. But shall Otaitsa suffer this?" she cried,rising vehemently, and casting her arms abroad. "Shall the Black Eaglelet the ravens pick out the eyes of his young in his own nest? No! mysister, no! They shall take Otaitsa's blood first. They shall shakethe Blossom from the old bough that is no longer able to bear it upagainst the winds of heaven. If the Black Eagle can no longer protecteven his daughter's husband, let him cast away the tomahawk, let himlay down the rifle, and be a woman amongst the chiefs of his people!"

It was impossible for some minutes to stop her vehement burst ofpassionate sorrow; but at length Edith succeeded in somewhat calmingher, beseeching her to still her agitation and her anger, and to bendher whole mind to the consideration of what means could best be usedto discover whither Walter had been taken, and to rescue him from theperil in which he was placed.

As soon as Otaitsa could listen, however, or rather as soon as shecaught the sense of Edith's words, and appreciated their importance,it was wonderful how rapidly she became calm, how soon she stilled allthe strong and struggling emotions in her heart, and directed everyeffort and energy of her spirit to the one great object before her.Enough of the Indian blood flowed along her veins, enough of Indiancharacteristics had been acquired in early youth, to give her aportion of that strong, stoical self-command which characterized theIndian warrior rather than the woman of the race. The first burst ofgrief showed the woman, and, perhaps, in some degree, not the pureIndian; but the moment after, those who knew the character of the FiveNations best, might have supposed her not only a pure Indian, but aman and a chief, so quietly did she reason upon and ponder the meansof accomplishing her purpose. She remained, at first, for two or threeminutes in perfect silence, revolving all the circ*mstances in hermind, and calculating every chance. But then she said: "The firstthing, Edith, is for you to go back to your poor father; not that youare in any danger, but it were well, if possible, that no one knew youhad been with me, at least till I have discovered where they have hidour poor brother. The women here will all aid me, and never part theirlips, if I desire them not; for though the men think they are veryshrewd in hiding the secrets of the nation from their wives anddaughters, the women, when they please, can be as secret and asresolute, too. At all events, whether your coming be known or not, itwould be better you should go back before the chiefs return. They havegone forth to hunt, they say; but whether it be the black bear, or thebrown deer, or the white man, is in great doubt, dear Edith. At allevents, they will not know the object of your coming. They maysuspect, and probably will, that you came to inquire for your brother;but knowing that I was ignorant of his capture, and am still ignorantof where they keep him, they will think you have gone backdisappointed and in sorrow, and leave me unwatched, to act as I will."

"But can I do nothing to aid?" asked Edith. "Remember, dearestBlossom, what it is to remain inactive and ignorant while the fate ofone so near and so dear hangs in the balance."

"You shall not remain in ignorance, dear Edith," replied Otaitsa."With every possible opportunity (and I will find many) my sistershall know what the Blossom does; and if there be any way by which youcould give help, you shall have instant tidings. At present I know notwhat is to be done to save our Walter from the power of the Snake. Iknow not, even, what they have decided themselves, or whether theyhave taken any decision; and I have much to think of, much to do. Imust seek out those in whom I can place confidence; I must employmany, probably, to obtain me information; I must try some, consultwith others, and judge what is to be done. You can rest here, myEdith, for this day, but to-morrow you must speed home again. But besure of one thing--if Walter dies, Otaitsa is dead, too!"

"That is no consolation," said Edith, throwing her arms roundOtaitsa's neck, with tears in her eyes. "Oh, do not do anything rash,dear Blossom! Remember, you are a Christian; and many things areforbidden to Christians as sins which are regarded as virtues by pagannations."

"Nothing can be rash, nothing can be a sin," answered Otaitsa, "whichcan save a life innocent, and good, and noble. I would not willinglyoffend my sister, but my heart is open to God, and He will judge me inmercy, seeing my motives. And now, dear sister, sit you here, and Iwill send you food, such as we poor Indians eat. I myself may be awayfor a time, for there must be no delay; but I will return as soon aspossible, and you shall know all that is done before you go. Do theseblacks who are with you understand the Indian tongue?"

"One of them certainly does," replied Edith; "that is to say, thelanguage of the Mohawks."

"'Tis the same," answered Otaitsa, "or nearly the same. We may havealtered a little, but amongst the Five Nations, he who speaks onetongue understands all. Is it the man or woman--and can we trust?"

"It is the man," answered Edith, "and I do believe he can be trusted."

"Then I go," answered Otaitsa, and leaving Edith, she descended to theroom below, and then issued forth amongst the Indian huts, glidingfrom one to another, and stopping generally for a few moments at thoselodges before which was to be seen a high pole bearing the ghastlytrophies with which the Indians signalized the death of an enemy.

Edith, in the meanwhile, remained for some time in sad meditation,until her eyes turned toward the sketches hanging round the room. Onone in particular the reflected light from the surface of the lakestreamed as it passed from the window, and Edith, going near, examinedit attentively. It represented the head of a young man, apparentlyfrom seven and twenty to thirty years of age, and was done well,though not exactly in a masterly manner. It was merely in pencil, buthighly finished, and there seemed something in it very familiar toEdith's eye. The features were generally like those of her brotherWalter, so like that at first she imagined the drawing must beintended to represent his head; but the nearer view showed that it wasthat of a much older man, and the dress was one long gone out offashion.

She was still gazing, and puzzling herself with the questions ofwhence these drawings could come, and whether they could be Otaitsa'sown productions, when several Indian women entered, with their silentand noiseless tread, and placed some carved bowls, filled withdifferent kinds of food, before her. It was all very simple, but shewas much exhausted, for she had tasted nothing from an early hour ofthe day, and the refreshment was grateful to her. The women spoke toher, too, in the Iroquois tongue, and their sweet, low-toned voices,murmuring in the sort of sing-song of the tribes, was pleasant to herear. It spoke of companionship. Their words, too, were kind andfriendly, and she gathered from them that Otaitsa, in order to veilthe real object of her coming, had been making inquiries as to whetheranyone had seen Walter Prevost. They assured Edith that they had notseen him, that he could not have come into the Oneida country, orsomeone in the Castle must have heard of him. A paleface amongst themwas very rare, they said, but the coming of Walter Prevost, whom somany knew and loved much, must have been noised abroad immediately.They said that his absence from his home was certainly strange, butadded, laughing, that young warriors would wander, as Edith woulddiscover when she was old enough.

Thus they sat and talked with her, lighting a lamp in a bowl, tillOtaitsa returned, and then they left the two friends alone together.

Otaitsa was agitated, evidently, though she tried hard to hide, if notto suppress her emotions under Indian calmness; but her agitation wasevidently joyful. She laid her lovely small hand upon Edith's andpressed it warmly.

"I have found friends," she said, "and those who will work for me andwith me. My father's sister, who knew and loved my mother, and who issupposed by some to have a charm from the Great Spirit, to make menlove and reverence her; the wife of the sachem of the Bear; the youngbride of the Running Deer; and the wife of the Gray Wolf, as well asthe wife of Lynx Foot, and many others; all these have vowed to helpme, whatever it may cost. They all know him, my sister; they all havecalled him brother; and they are all resolute that their brother shallnot die. But I must first work for him myself, dear Edith," shecontinued; and then, clasping her hands together, with a burst of joyat the hope lighted up in her young, warm heart, she exclaimed: "Oh,that I could save him all by myself--that I might buy him from hisbonds by my own acts alone--aye, or even by my own blood! Huah! huah!That were joyful indeed!"

Edith could hardly raise her mind to the same pitch of hope, but stillshe felt more satisfied. Her object was accomplished. Otaitsa wasinformed of Walter's danger, and the bright, enthusiastic girl wasalready actively engaged in the effort to deliver him. There wassomething, too, in the young Indian--an eagerness, an energy unusualin the depressed women of her race, probably encouraged by the fond,unbounded indulgence of the chief, her father--which seemed to breatheof hope and success; and it was impossible to look into the eager andkindling eyes, when the fancy that she could deliver her young loverall alone took possession of her, without believing that if hisdeliverance was within human power, she would accomplish it.

Edith felt that her duty, so far, was done toward him, and that hernext duty was toward her father, who, she well knew, would bepainfully anxious till she returned, however confident he might havefelt of her safety in the hands of the Indians so long as there seemedno immediate chance of her being placed in such a situation. Shewillingly, therefore, agreed to Otaitsa's suggestion to set out withthe first ray of light on the following morning, Otaitsa promisingthat some Indian women should accompany her a day's journey on theway, who by their better knowledge of the country and their skill inthe management of the canoe, would greatly facilitate her progress.About an hour was spent in conversation, all turning upon one subject,and then the two beautiful girls lay down to sleep in each other'sarms.

CHAPTER XV

On the very same night which was passed by Edith Prevost in the lodgeof the Black Eagle, some eight or ten wild-looking savages, if theycould be so called, assembled, apparently to deliberate upon a greatand important question. The place they took for their meeting laynearly twenty miles in a direct line from the Oneida Lake, and was,even in the daylight, a scene of remarkable beauty and grandeur. Atthe hour of their meeting, however, which was about forty minutesafter the sun went down, the surrounding objects were illuminated by adifferent and more appropriate light. Their council fire had beenkindled on the top of a large, flat mass of stone, fallen from thehigh rocks of a very narrow dell or pass separating a rugged andforest-bearing mountain from a spur of the same range, which seemed tohave been riven off from the parent chain by some rude and terribleconvulsion of nature. Forty yards, at the widest part, was the expanseof this fissure, and on either side were huge masses of rock tumbledabout in chaotic confusion, and blocking up the greater part of thebottom of the dell.

About half way through the glen was the large, flat stone, a sort ofnatural altar, on which the Indians had lighted their fire, andstrange and wild was the scene as those swarthy men, armed as if forbattle, but not painted, sat around in the broad glare, each with hisrifle resting on his arm, and each still and motionless as if a statuehewn out from the brown rock. Up went the towering flame from thegreat pile of dry wood, sending a flickering light over tree andprecipice; and yet no one stirred, no one spoke for several minutes.Each eye was fixed upon the fire, not as if watching it as an objectof interest, but with the steady, thoughtful gaze which showed thatthe mind was busy with other things; and there was something veryawful in that stone-cold silence.

At length the Black Eagle began to speak, without moving from hisseat, however, at least at first. His tone, too, was low and sad,though every word, in the sharp guttural language of the Iroquois, wasclear and distinct:

"For more than fifty winters," he said, "I have hovered over the landof the Oneidas, and my wing has not failed in its flight, my eyes havenot been dazzled by the blaze of the sun, nor dimmed by the light ofthe moon. The dew has fallen upon me, and the summer's sun and thewinter's snow, and still are my feathers unruffled, and my flight asstrong as in my youth. I am not a woman, that I should spare, nor achild, that I should weep. Who has seen a tear in my eye, or who hasseen the tomahawk uplifted not to strike? Have I asked anything of mychildren but to be the first in the battle? Have I ever forgiven theenemies of the children of the Stone? But we have made alliance with agreat nation; we have taken presents from them; we have promised themto live with them as brothers in the time of peace, to go to battlewith them as brothers in the time of war. Our children are theirchildren, and their children are ours. Moreover, with some of thisnation our chiefs have entered into more strict bonds of friendship.We have sat by their fires, we have smoked the pipe of peace together;we are their brothers. One family came and built their lodge amongstus, swept down the forest, and planted the cornfield. Their door wasalways open to the redman, their food was always shared with him. Theysaid not, 'This is mine and that is thine,' but they opened theirarms, and they said, 'Thou art my brother.' The children of the Stoneloved them well. They were dear to the Black Eagle as his own eaglets.The mat in the house of Prevost was a pleasant resting place to hisforehead when he was tired. His daughter was as my daughter, and hisson as of my blood and bone. A man came to his hearth whom we allknow, a good man, a friend to the redman. Should my brother Prevostrefuse to the Woodchuck room to burrow for one night? He went away,and far from the house of our brother he met an Oneida of the totem ofthe Tortoise, a man who had robbed him, and who had a lying tongue; asnake, who hated him whom he had stung. The tomahawk was bare, and theOneida was killed; but the man took not his scalp, he sung no song oftriumph over the children of the Stone. He slew him not as an enemy,but in self-defence, otherwise he would have twisted his finger in thescalp-lock, and the Oneidas would have mourned over a disgrace. It isright that there should be blood for blood, that the man who sheds theblood of the redman should die for his act, and that if he or none ofhis relatives could be found, some other man of his nation should bemade the sacrifice. But what have I done that the son of my brothershould be taken? Have I led you so often in the battle, have I coveredmy war post with the scalps of your enemies, that the tree I plantedshould be rooted up when the forest is full of worthless saplings? Wasthere no other white man to be found in the land, that you must takethe child of him who loved and trusted us? Had a moon passed, had aweek, that you might know that there was none but the beloved of theBlack Eagle whom you might use for your sacrifice? Had you made sure,even, that you could not catch the murderer himself, and take hisblood in requital of the blood he shed? Is the wisdom of our peoplegone by is their cunning a thing of other days, that they could notlure the man they sought into their power, that they could not huntany other game, that they not even try to find anyone but the one weloved the best? Remember, my children, that you are not rash andhasty, like the paleface, but that you are the children of the Stone;and though, like it, immovable and strong, you should be calm andstill, likewise. I have said."

There was a pause of several minutes before anyone answered, and thena man of the middle age, not so tall as the Black Eagle by severalinches, but with a particularly cunning and serpent-like look abouthis eyes, rose slowly from his seat, and, standing on the very pointof the rock where he was placed, said in a hard, cold tone:

"The Black Eagle has spoken well. We are allies of the white man. Thepaleface calls us his brother. He takes our hunting grounds. He plantscorn and feeds oxen amongst us. Where our foot was free to go is oursno longer; it is his. He has taken it from us and he is our brother.The Black Eagle loves the paleface. He took a paleface for his wife,and he loves all her race. He loves their religion. His daughter is ofthe religion of the white man. He himself has faith in their God.Their Great Spirit he adores, and he has made their medicine man hisson by adoption. Is the religion of the white man the same as thereligion of the children of the Stone? Is their Great Spirit our GreatSpirit? No; for I have heard His words spoken, and they are not thewords that we are taught. The white man's Spirit tells us that weshall not do that which our Great Spirit tells us to do. It bids mento spare their enemies and to forgive. Ours tells us to slay ourenemies and to avenge. Which is the true Spirit? Ours! For thepaleface does not believe in his own Spirit nor obey His commands. Hedoes not spare his enemies, he does not forgive, but he takesvengeance as fiercely as the redman, and against his own law. Let usthen obey the voice of our own Great Spirit, and do according to ourown customs; for the white man knows his God to be false, or he wouldobey His commandments. Now, what would the Black Eagle have? Would hehave us all turn Christians, or would he have us obey the voice of theManitou, and follow the customs of our fathers? Have we not doneaccording to our own laws? What do our traditions tell us? They saythat them shalt appease the spirit of thy brother who is slain, bypouring out the blood of the slayer, If his blood cannot be had, thenthat of one of his family or of his friends. If his family and hisfriends are not, then that of one of his nation. So now, what is thecase, chiefs and warriors of the Oneidas? You have a brother slain.His soul goes to the land of spirits, but his bow and his arrows hangidle at his back. His heart is sad and desolate. He howls for food,and finds none. He wanders round and round the happy hunting grounds,and looks in in sorrow, for he must not enter till the blood ofatonement has been shed. He cries to you from the other side of thegrave with a great cry, 'Give me rest!' Shall his brothers give himnone? Shall they let him wander, cold and hungry, amidst frost andsnows, within sight of the blessed region, and prevent him fromentering, or shall we take the first man we find of the race of himwho slew him, and by his blood, poured out upon this very stone,appease the spirit of our dead brother, and let him enter the happyhunting grounds, where his soul may find repose? Ye men of the familyof the Snake, ye have done well to seize upon the paleface whom yefirst found, for ye have made sure of an atonement for the blood ofyour brother; and how could ye know that ye could find it if yedelayed your hand, or abandoned your prey? And now, let the chiefs andthe warriors consider whether they will still keep their brother whois dead hungering and thirsting for months in the cold region, orwhether they will make the atonement this very day, and open the wayfor him into the happy hunting grounds? I have said."

Again a quiet silence took possession of the throng, and it lastedlong; but the eyes of the Black Eagle moved hither and thither roundthe circle, watching every face, and when he gathered, by a sort ofkindling look in the eyes of one of the warriors, that he was about tospeak, he himself interposed, rising this time to his full height, andsaying:

"The medicine man has spoken, and he has explained the law; but he hascounseled with words contrary to the law. The medicine man has the lawin his heart, but his words are the words of foxes. He has notunfolded the roll of the law into which the words of the Manitou werewhispered; but he says truly that we are to shed the blood of themurderer of our brother, to appease his spirit. If we cannot find him,we are to shed the blood of some one of his many kindred; if we cannotfind one of them, the blood of one of his nation; but have ye soughtfor the murderer, ye brethren of the Snake? Can ye say that ye havetried to catch him? Have ye had time? Will your brother who is gone becontented with the blood of the first paleface ye can find, when yemight find the real murderer? Will he lap, like the dog, at the firstpool in his way? Will he not rather say, 'Give us the sweet water thatonly can allay our thirst? Would ye sing in our ears, and make usbelieve music? This is not the blood of him who shed our blood. Thisis not the blood of his kindred. The happy hunting grounds will notopen to us for this blood.' Oneidas, it is the medicine man beguilesyou from the customs of your fathers. They say, 'Wait till ye havesearched diligently. Make sure that ye offer the best atonement thatye can. Do not kill the fox because the panther has mangled the game.Do not shoot the oriole for the thing that the hawk has done. The sonof my brother Prevost is no kin of the Yengee who slew the brother ofthe Snake. His blood will not atone if ye can find other blood morefriendly to the murderer. The eyes of the Manitou are over all; hesees that ye have not sought as ye should seek."

Some moments after he had spoken, but with a less interval than hadhitherto occurred between any of the speeches, a fierce-looking youngwarrior arose and exclaimed:

"Let him die! Why should we wait? The Woodchuck is safe in the land ofthe Yengees. He has taken himself far from the arrow of the Oneida.There is a cloud between us and him, and we cannot see through it. TheWoodchuck has no kindred. He has often declared so when he sat by thefire and talked of the deeds he has done. He has boasted that he was aman alone; that his father was hay and his mother grass, and thehemlock and the oak his brothers and his sisters. Neither him can wefind, nor any of his kin; but we have taken what was nearest tohim--his friend, and the son of his friend. This is the blood thatwill appease the spirit of our brother. Let him die, and die quickly.Does the Black Eagle ask if this boy was his friend? The Black Eagleknows he was; but moreover, it may be that he himself was thecompanion of the murderer even when he killed our brother. They wentforth together to seek some prey. Was it not the redman that thewolves hunted? They killed a panther and a man when they went forthtogether. That we know, for there were eyes of redmen near. The bloodof our brother was licked up by the earth. The skin of the panther wassent by this boy (our captive) to Otaitsa, the daughter of the BlackEagle. I took it from the runner this very day. The man who brought itis near at hand. The skin is here. I have said." And he threw thepanther's skin down before him, almost into the flame of the fire.

A buzzing murmur ran round the Indians, and the keen mind of the BlackEagle soon perceived that the danger of poor Walter Prevost wasgreatly heightened.

"Let the law be announced to us," he said. "The roll of the law ishere, but let it not be read by the tongue of a fox. Let the man ofancient times read it. Let the warrior and the priest who kept it forso many years now tell us what it ordains, according to theinterpretation of the old days, and not according to the rashness ofboys, who would be chiefs long before a scalp hangs at the door oftheir lodge. I can see," he cried, in a loud voice, starting up fromhis seat, and waving his arm, as if some strong emotion overpoweredhis habitual calmness, "I can see the time coming when theintemperance of youth and the want of respect for age and for renownwill bring low the power of the Oneidas, will crush the greatness ofthe Five Nations into dust. So long as age and counsel were reverencedthey were a mighty people, and the scalps of their enemies werebrought from every battlefield. They were a wise people, for theylistened to the voice of experience, and they circumvented theirenemies. But now the voices of boys and striplings prevail. They takepresents, and they sell themselves for baubles. They drink thefirewater till they are no more men, till reason has departed, andcourage and strength are not in them. They use the lightning, and theyplay with the thunder; but the tomahawk and the scalping knife aregreen rushes in their hands. Let the law be announced, then; let it beannounced by the voice of age and wisdom; and let us abide by hiswords, for they are good."

Thus saying, he stepped across the little chasm which lay between himand the second speaker on this occasion, and took up a heavy rollwhich lay beside the priest or medicine man. It consisted ofinnumerable strings of shells sawn into long strips, like the pendantsof an earring, and stained of three separate colors--black, red, andwhite. These were disposed in various curious groups, forming noregular pattern, but yet not without order; and so many were there inthis roll that, though each was very small, the weight of the wholecould not have been less than twenty or thirty pounds. Thus loaded,and bearing this burden with the appearance of great reverence, BlackEagle carried the roll half way round the circle and laid it upon theknees of a man evidently far advanced in life, although his shorn headand long white scalp-lock showed to an Indian eye, at least, that hestill judged himself fit to accompany the warriors of the tribe tobattle.

The chief then slowly resumed his seat, and once more profound silencespread over the assembly. The eyes of all were, it is true, directedtoward the old man whose exposition of their laws and customs was tobe final; but not a limb stirred, and even the very eagerness of theirgaze was subdued into a look of tranquil attention, except in the caseof the young man who had spoken so vehemently, and whose relationshipas a brother of the slain Indian excused, in the sight of the tribe, agood deal of unwonted agitation.

For some two minutes after receiving the roll the old priest remainedmotionless, with his eyes raised toward the flame that still toweredup before him, licking and scorching the branches of a hemlock treeabove. But at length his fingers began to move amongst the carvedshells, and, unloosing rapidly some thongs by which the roll wasbound, he spread out the seemingly tangled mass in fair order. Then,bending down his head, he seemed to listen, as if for a voice.

"The law of the Oneidas cannot change," he said, at length. "It is thewill of Hawaneyoh, the Great Spirit. A white man must die for theblood spilt by a white man; but the spiller of the blood must besought for, or our brother will still be shut out from the happyhunting grounds. Listen not to the song of singing birds against theyoung man, thou brother of the Snake. Neither do thou make trouble inthe Five Nations because the blossom of the Black Eagle's tree cannotbe reached by thy hand."

The open allusion to that which he thought was one of the deep secretsof his bosom, was too much for even the Indian stoicism of the brotherof the Snake, and he drew his blanket or mantle over his chest as ifto hide what was within. Black Eagle, however, though probably takenas much by surprise as anyone by the old man's words, remainedperfectly unmoved, not a change of expression even appearing upon hisrigid features, though the speaker paused for a whole minute, as if tolet what he had said produce its full effect.

"Remember," continued the priest, "the prophecy of the child of thesky, Tohganawetah, when our fathers, under his counsels, joinedthemselves together in a perpetual league, a lifetime before apaleface was seen in the land. He said, 'When the white throats shallcome, if ye suffer dissensions among yourselves, ye shall pull downthe Long House of the Five Nations, cut down the tree of peace, andextinguish the council fire forever.' And wilt thou, brother of theSnake, bring this cloud upon thy people? Thou shalt search for him whospilt thy brother's blood till the moon have changed, and waxed andwaned again, and then thou shalt come before the sachems of the eighttotems and make manifest that thou hast not been able to find him orany of his kindred. Then shall the sachems choose a paleface for thesacrifice, and let him die the death of a warrior by the stroke of thetomahawk; but they shall make no delay, for thy brother must not beshut out from the hunters gone before, more than two moons. Hiro! Ihave spoken."

"Houé, houé! It is well!" said all the Indians present but one, and,rising from their seats, they raised the roll of their law reverently,and one by one glided down the path which led to the opening of thedell.

CHAPTER XVI

Slowly up the steep middle street of Albany walked the great, powerfulform of the Woodchuck, about the hour of noon. He was clothed in hisusual shaggy habiliments of the forest, with his rifle on hisshoulder, his hatchet and his knife in his belt. His steps had none ofthe light activity, however, of former times, and his face, whichalways had a grave and sedate air, was now covered with heavy gloom.

Altogether he was a very singular-looking man; but--though situatedinland, and in one of the most central situations of theprovinces--the streets of Albany, from time to time, presented so manystrange figures of different kinds, what between Indians, negroes,half-breeds, scouts, soldiers, sailors, Dutchmen, Englishmen, andhunters, that the wanderer, however odd his appearance, attracted verylittle attention as he went. Slowly he found his way up to the gatesof the fort, and easily obtained admission to the person he sought. Hefound him in a mere barrack-room, with the simplest possiblefurniture, and no ornament whatever to distinguish it as the dwellingof a man of distinction. The little camp bed in one corner of theroom, the plain deal table, not even painted, at which he sat writing,the two or three hard wooden stools, without backs, were all such asmight have been used in a camp or carried with an army without addingmuch to the impedimenta; and yet there was something about the youngnobleman himself which instantly informed a visitor that he was in thepresence of no common man. He turned his head as Woodchuck entered,and as soon as he perceived who it was, he nodded, saying:"Immediately, immediately," and resumed his writing.

Captain Brooks drew a stool to some distance and fixed his eyes firstof all upon the young soldier, seeming to examine his countenance andform with great care. He then turned to another person whom the roomcontained, and scanned him with great accuracy. That person was anIndian, if one might judge by complexion and features, and yet he wasdressed like one of the followers of the British army. The sort ofhunting tunic he wore was not the ordinary ga-ka-ah or Indian shirt,but a mere sort of cloth frock, with sleeves, fastened round his waistby a leathern belt. It was of a peculiar color, then very much wornboth by men and women, of the hue of dead leaves, and called philomot;and on his head he wore a curious sort of cap of untanned leather,much of the same hue. It was certainly a well-devised dress for thepurpose of concealing a wanderer through the woods in the autumnseason; but as I have before said, it was assuredly not Indian, andthe long hair, though black as jet, with a slight shading of moustacheupon the upper lip, showed that in all probability there was somewhite blood in his veins, though not at all apparent on the surface.The man had much of the Indian impassible gravity, however, and thoughhe must have seen that he was undergoing a very severe scrutiny by theeyes of Woodchuck, no movement of any of the muscles of the facebetrayed his consciousness, and he remained still and statue-like,with his gaze turned earnestly forward upon Lord H----.

The young nobleman soon concluded his letter, and beckoning the manup, placed it in his hands with some money. "Take that to Mr.Prevost," he said, "and tell him, moreover, that I shall myself be upto-morrow, before nightfall."

"Stay a moment," said Woodchuck. "I may have something to say, too,that will make changes. I guess the half-breed had better wait outsidea bit."

"Go down to the guard-room," said Lord H----, turning to the man, "andwait there till I send for you." Then giving an inquiring look toWoodchuck, he added: "He tells me he can reach Mr. Prevost's housethis night, if he sets out at once."

"To be sure he can," answered Woodchuck. "If he's the man I believehim to be, he'd go half as fur ag'in."

The runner took not the slightest notice of the conversation regardinghimself and his own powers, nor indeed of the sort of intimation ofrecognition uttered by Captain Brooks.

"Is not your name Proctor?" said Woodchuck, at last. "I guess it be,though your age, since I saw you----"

The other merely nodded his head, and Woodchuck continued, with a sortof grunt of satisfaction, "That'll do; he can speak, my lord, thoughhe never do, except at very rare times. Them Ingian devils are assilent as snakes themselves, but this man beats them all. I traveledsome two hundred miles with him, ten year or more agone, and neverheard the sound of his voice in the whole way but once, and then hesaid three words and a half, and stopped."

"I know he can speak," said Lord H----, "for he told me how long hewould take to go. Go down, Mr. Proctor, as I told you, and wait in theguard-room; you shall hear from me in a minute."

"He runs like a deer," said Woodchuck, as the man left the room, "buthis way is generally to jog on at a darnation swinging sort of rate,which doesn't seem to trouble his shanks at all--a sort of trot,like--carries him through everything and over everything, brambles andbushes, and hills, and stones and rocks, land or water, all the same.I do believe he'd trot across the Hudson without much knowing orcaring what was anything. The Indians call him Munguokah; but as hisfather's father was an Englishman, we call him Proctor."

"But can he be relied upon?" asked Lord H----. "He was recommended tome very strongly by General Webb, who employed him upon some difficultservice."

Woodchuck paused. "Webb's recommendation," he said, at length, "is notworth much, for what would any give for any word out of the mouth of aman who would suffer a gallant comrade to fall, and a noble garrisonto be butchered, without striking one stroke or moving one step totheir assistance? But, if I recollect right, this Proctor is therunner who contrived to get through Montcalm's army and all the savagedevils that were with him, and carried poor Munro's dispatches toWebb. What became of the other one, nobody knows; but I guess we couldfind his scalp if we sought well amongst the Hurons. Yes, this must bethe man, I think; and if it be, you couldn't find a better. At allevents, you can trust him for holding his tongue, and that's somethingin a runner. He wouldn't get up words enough in ten years to tell anysecrets you wanted to keep. And now, General, I've come to talk withyou about what's to be done, and I think we had better settle thatbefore the man goes. He'll get to Prevost tonight if he stays thesetwo hours, and I guess we can settle sooner than that, for I'vethought the matter over and made up my mind."

"And to what conclusion have you come?" asked Lord H----.

Brooks looked down and rubbed his great hands upon his knees for amoment, as if he hesitated to give the resolution he had formed, afterso painful a struggle, the confirmation of uttered words. "Not apleasant one," he said, at length; "not one easily hit upon, my lord,but the only one--after all, the only one. I had a sore tussle withthe devil last night, and he's a strong enemy; but I beat him--manful,hand to hand. He and I together, and no one to help either of us."

The young nobleman thought that his poor friend's wits were beginningto wander a little, and to lead him back from the diabolical encounterhe spoke of, he said, changing the subject abruptly: "I suppose Icould send no one better than this man Proctor?"

"I'll tell you what it is, Lord H----," answered Woodchuck, "I must gomyself. There's no one can save Walter Prevost but Brooks. He's theman who must do it."

"And do you think it possible?" asked Lord H----, seeing the greatprobability of his companion himself being captured by the Indians,and yet hesitating whether he ought to say a word to deter him fromhis purpose.

"I do think it possible," said Woodchuck, with a grim smile, "for yousee if these Indians get the man they want they can't and daren't takeanother."

Lord H---- grasped the rough hand of the hunter, saying in a tone ofmuch feeling: "You are, indeed, a noble-hearted man, Captain Brooks,if I understand you rightly, to go and give yourself up to thesesavages to save your young friend. Nobody could venture to proposesuch a thing to you, because his having fallen into their hands wasnot your fault, and life is dear to everyone; but----"

"Stay! stay! stay!" cried Woodchuck. "Don't get along too fast! You'vesaid two or three things already that want an answer. As to life, itis dear to everyone, and I myself am such a fool that I'd rather by agood bit go lingering on here amongst all this smoke and dirt, anddull houses, and rogues innumerable, than walk up there and betomahawked, which is but the matter of a moment, after all; for themIngians isn't long about their work, and do it completely. Howsoever,one always clings to hope, and so I think that if I can get up thereamongst the woods and trails I know so well, I may, perhaps, find outsome means of saving the poor boy and my own life, too; and if I can,I'll do it; for I'm not going to throw away my life like a badshilling. If I can't do it, why then I'll save his life, cost what itwill. I shall soon know all about it when I get up there, for thesquaws are all good, kind-hearted critters, and if I can get hold ofone of them she'll be my scout soon enough, and fish out the truth forme as to where the boy is, and when they are going to make thesacrifice. Lord bless you, they set about these things, them Ingians,just as orderly as a trial at law. They'll do nothing in a hurry; andso I shall have time to look about and see what's to be done withoutrisking Walter's life in the meanwhile. Then you see, my lord, I'vegot this great advantage: I shall have a walk or two in my old hauntsamong them beautiful woods. The snow will be out by that time; and tomy mind there's no season when the woods look and the air feels sofresh and free as on a wintry day, with the ground all white, andwreaths of snow upon every vine and briar, and them great big hemlocksand pines rising up like black giants all around me. Some folks don'tlike the winter in the woods, but I could walk on or go on in a sleighthrough them forever. Why, that month among the woods, if I'm notcaught sooner, would be worth ever so many weeks in this dull, dirtyplace, or any other city; for Albany, I take it, is as good as most ofthem, and perhaps better."

"But I am afraid in the winter your plan of getting information wouldnot succeed very well," said Lord H----. "In the first place, theIndian women are not likely to go very far from their wigwams, amongstwhich you would hardly venture; and in the next place, your feet wouldbe easily tracked in the snow, for these Indians, I am told, are mostcunning and pertinacious hunters, and will follow any tracks they seefor miles and miles."

"I've dodged an Ingian afore now," said Captain Brooks, with a look ofsome self-importance, "and in the snow, too. I've got the verysnowshoes I did it in. I can walk in my snowshoes either way, one aswell as t'other; and so I made 'em believe that I was going east whenI was going west, and going west when I was going east. Sometimes Ihad the shoes on the right way, and sometimes the wrong, so theycouldn't make nothing of it, and they think still--for, Lord help you,they are sometimes as simple as children--that the devil must havegiven me a lift now and then; for when I got where the trees grewthick together, so that the big branches touched, and I could catch agreat bough over my head by a spring, I would get up and climb alongfrom one to another, like a bear or squirrel, sometimes two or threehundred yards, before I came down again. I saw a set of them once uponthe trail, and when they came to where the tracks stopped they gotgaping up the tree, with their rifles in their hands, as if they werelooking after a painter; but I was a hundred yards off or more, andquite away from the right line. Then, as to the women, I've thoughtabout that, and I've laid a plan in case I can't get hold of any ofthe women. Now, I'm going to tell you something very strange, my lord.You've heard of Free Masons, I dare say?"

Lord H---- nodded his head, with a smile; and Woodchuck continued:"Well, they've got Free Masons among the Ingians; that's to say, notexactly Free Masons, but what comes much to the same thing,[2] peoplewho have got a secret among themselves, and who are bound to help eachother in good or evil, in the devil's work or God's, against their ownnation or their own tribe, or their own family, and who, on account ofsome deviltry or other, dare not for the soul of them refuse what abrother asks them. It's a superstition at the bottom of it, and it'svery strange, but so it is."

While he had been speaking he had unfastened his coat at the collar,drawn his arm out of the sleeve and bared it up above the elbow, wherethere appeared a small blue line tattooed on the brown skin. "There,"he said; "there's the mark."

"You do not mean to say that you are one of this horribleassociation?" asked Lord H----, with a grave look.

"Not exactly that," answered Woodchuck; "and as to its being ahorrible association or not, that's as folks use it. It may be for badand it may be for good, and there are good men amongst them. I am asort of half-and-half member, and I'll tell you how it happened. Iwent once, in the winter, up into the woods to hunt moose, by a placewhere there's a warm spring, which melts the snow and keeps the grassfresh, and the big beasts come down to drink, and mayhap eat, too.Well, as soon as I got there, I saw that someone had been before me,for I saw tracks all about, and a sort of stable in the snow, made forthe moose, such as hunters often make to get a number together and toshoot them down when they herd it. There were moose tracks, too, andsome blood on the snow; so I thought that the Ingians had killed someand scared the rest away. I was going back by another trail when Icame upon an old man, lying partly against a basswood tree, just asquiet as if he was a corpse, and I should have thought he was as deadas a statue if I hadn't seen his shining eyes move as I passed. Nevera word did he say, and he'd have lain there and died outright ratherthan call for help. But I went up to him, and found the old critterhad been poked terribly by a moose, all about his chest and shoulders.So I built up a little hut for him with boughs, and covered it overwith snow, and made it quite snug and warm. I took him in and nursedhim there, and as I was well stocked with provisions, parched corn,and dry meat, and such like, I shared with him. I couldn't leave thepoor old critter there to die, you know, my lord, and so I stayed withhim all the time, and we got a couple of deer, and fine venison steakswe had of them; and at last, at the end of five weeks, he was wellenough to walk. By that time we had got quite friendly together, and Iwent down with him to his lodge, and spent the rest of the winter withhim. I had often enough remarked a blue line tattooed upon his arm,and sometimes he would say one thing about it and sometimes another;for these Ingians be like parrots. But at last he said he would tattooa line on my arm; and when he had done it he told me it was the bestservice he could render me in return for all those I had rendered him.He said that if I ever met any of the Five Nations tattooed like that,and spoke a word which he taught me, they would help me against theirown fathers. He told me something about them and about their set, buthe would not tell me all. I was quite a young lad then, and the oldman died the next year, for I went to see him, and found him just atthe last gasp. I have heard a good deal about those people, however,since, from other Ingians, who all have a dread of them, and call themthe children of the devil; so I take care not to show my devil's markamongst them; and I have never had need to use it till now."

"How will it serve you now?" asked Lord H----, not at all liking orconfiding in the support of such men.

"Well, if I can get speech of one of them, even for an instant,"replied Woodchuck, "I can get together a band of the only men who willgo against the superstitions of their people and help me to set thepoor boy free; and they will do it, whether they be tortoises, orbears, or wolves, or snipes, or stags."

"What! what!" exclaimed Lord H----, in utter amazement. "I do notunderstand what you mean!"

"Only names of their totems, or tribes, my lord," answered Brooks."These Ingians are queer people. You must not judge of them, or dealwith them, as you would other men; and these are the only crittursamongst them I could get to help me, if their habits came in the waythe least bit. Now, you know, though I may do something by myself, Imay not be able to do all. If I am to get the boy out of the holewhere they have doubtless hid him, I have to find it out first, and tomake sure that we are not followed and overtaken afterward. I wouldfain save my life if I can, my lord," he continued, looking up in theface of his noble companion with a sort of appealing look. "I think aman has a right to do that if he can."

"Assuredly," replied Lord H----. "The love of life is implanted in usby God himself; and all which can be expected of us by our country orour fellow man is a readiness to sacrifice it when called on to do so.But now, my good friend, I have another plan to propose. It isprobable that hostilities have ceased for this year, and since I sawyou last night a small party of the scouts which you know we alwayshave in pay, has been put at my disposal for the very purpose we havein view. They are all acquainted with wood warfare, with Indianhabits, and with the art of tracking an enemy or a friend. Would itnot be better for you to have these six men with you, to give youassistance in case of need? Your own life, at all events, would bemore secure."

"I think not," answered Woodchuck, musingly; "they might cumber me.No, my lord, I had better go alone. As for my own life, I may as welltell you at once, I have made up my mind to save the boy or lose it.The devil put it hard to me that it was no fault of mine he wastrapped; that my life was as good to me as his was to him, and a greatdeal more; but, knowing it does not do to stand parleying with thatgentleman, I said: 'Peter Brooks, it is your fault; for if you had notshot the Ingian, Walter would never have been taken. Your life is notas good to you or anybody else as his is to him and all the world.He's quite a lad, and a young lad, too, with many a bright year beforehim. You'll never see forty-eight again; and what's your fa*g-end worthto anyone?' 'Not a stiver,' answered conscience; and so I resolved togo. Now, as to these men, some of them are capital good fellows, andmight help me a good deal when once I'm in the thick of the business;but seven men can't get altogether into the Oneida country withoutbeing found out. But I'll tell you what, my lord, if you'll let meplace them where I want, one by one, in different places, and theyslip into the country quietly, one at a time, they may do goodservice, and not be discovered."

"Will it not be dangerous so to divide your force?" asked Lord H----.

"Ingian ways with Ingian people," answered Woodchuck. "But I don'tthink you understand the thing, my lord. You see, through a great partof this Ingian territory, we English have built a little fort here,and a little fort there, all the way up to the shores of Ontario,where they made sad work of it last year at Oswego. Well, if I stowaway these scouts at different posts, the nearest I can to OneidaCreek, they will be only at arm's length, and can stretch out theirhand to help whenever they're called upon. They'll be able to get inone by one, too, quite easily, for I've a great notion some of theseIngians have got a spite at Walter, and are not very likely to lookfor anyone in his place. If they caught me, they'd be obliged to haveme; and if the scouts went all together, they'd stop them, for theydon't like their number; but one at a time they'll pass well enough,if they understand their business, which is to be supposed."

"I see your plan now," said Lord H----, "and perhaps you are right.You can concentrate them upon any point very rapidly. They shall besent for, and put under your command this very day."

"No need of command," answered Woodchuck; "scouts don't like to becommanded; and if they don't help with a good will, better not help atall. Just tell them what I'm about, let them know that a young man'slife is at stake, and they'll work well for me if they're worth apenny. And now, my lord, you call up that man Proctor and send him offto Prevost's house. Call him up here! call him up here! I've got thislarge powder horn I want to send back, though it's a doubt whether theman can muster words enough to tell who it comes from, and I must gethim to do so, one way or another."

"I can take it to-morrow myself," said Lord H----; but Woodchuck shookhis head.

"That won't do," he said, with a shrewd look. "The runner must takeit. He'll tell Prevost before some of his negroes, and the negroeswill tell any Ingians that are prowling about; and so it will getround that I've left the hunting grounds for good, and I shall slip inthe more easily. Always think of everything you can; and if you can'tdo that, think of as much as possible. A hunter's life makes onemighty cautious. I'm as careful as an old raccoon, who always looksnine ways before he puts his nose out of his hole."

Lord H---- called up the runner; and into his hands was delivered thepowder horn for Mr. Prevost, with Woodchuck's message repeated overand over again, with manifold injunctions not to forget it.

"Tell him I took it that unlucky day I shot the Ingian," saidWoodchuck, "and I don't like to keep what's not my own. It's nearly asgood as stealing, if not quite. There, Mr. Proctor, you can get upwords enough to say that, can't you?"

The man nodded his head and then turned to the door, without anyfurther reply, beginning his peculiar sort of trot before he reachedthe top of the stairs, and never ceasing it till he arrived at thedoor of Mr. Prevost's house.

In the meanwhile, Lord H---- made Captain Brooks stay to partake ofhis own very frugal dinner, while the scouts were being collected andbrought to the fort. They came about two o'clock, ready prepared, atleast in part, for what was to follow; for in the little town ofAlbany, such an adventure as had befallen Walter Prevost was a matterof too much interest not to spread to every house, and to be told atevery fireside. Most of the men, accustomed to continual action andenterprise of various kinds, were very willing to go, with theprospect of a fair reward before them. Life was so often periled withthem, dangers and difficulties so often encountered, that existencewithout activity was rather a burden than otherwise. Each probably hadhis selfishness of some kind; but only one, in whom it took the formof covetousness, thought fit to inquire what was to be his recompensebeyond the mere pay, for this uncovenanted service.

"Your recompense will be nothing at all," answered Woodchuck at once,without waiting for Lord H---- to speak; "I won't have you with me.The man who can try to drive a bargain when a brave boy's life is atstake is not fit to have a share with us. There, go along and knitpetticoats; you may get a dollar apiece for them. That's the sort ofwinter work fit for you."

The man shrunk sullenly out of the room, and all other matters weresoon settled with his companions. The method of their entrance intothe Oneida territory, the different routes they were to take, and thepoints where they were to halt till called upon, were all arranged byWoodchuck, with a sort of natural military skill, which was more thanonce displayed by the American people during after wars. The part ofthe nobleman who was present was merely to listen, and give someletters to officers commanding different posts; but he listened, wellpleased, and attentively; for his was a mind always eager to acquireinformation and direction from the experience of others, and theinsight which he gained into the habits of the new people amongst whomhe was might have been highly serviceable to others as well ashimself, had not a sort of pedantry prevailed amongst the olderofficers in the British army at that time, and for many succeedingyears, which prevented them from adapting their tactics to the newsituations in which they were placed. Wolfe was a splendid exception,but Wolfe was a young man, coming in the dawning of a better day; andeven had he not been so, it is probable that his genius, like that ofWellington, would have shown him that he was now to make rules, ratherthan to observe them.

As soon as the scouts were gone, Woodchuck rose to take his leave; andas Lord H---- shook him very warmly by the hand the good man said, ina tone of strong feeling: "Thank you, my lord, for all your kindness.You'll be glad to know that I feel very happy, and I'll tell you why.I'm doing something, and I'm doing my duty."

CHAPTER XVII

"There is a light, sir, at the Castle," said one of the servants ofSir William Johnson, entering the room where he was seated with Mr.Prevost; "it comes from the great court."

"Then they have arrived," said the officer, turning to his guest. "Letus set out at once. Are the horses saddled?"

"They have been kept ready, sir, ever since the morning," replied theservant to whom the last words were addressed.

"It is strange," said Mr. Prevost, as he followed his host toward thedoor of the room, "that the negro I sent to tell Edith the cause of mydelay has not returned, as I told him. He might have been here fourhours ago. I am growing somewhat anxious."

"Be not so! be not so!" replied Sir William. "Two or three years offorest life, my good friend, are not enough to inure a man to all thelittle accidents and discomforts he must meet with; and the firstserious danger so shakes his nerves that they vibrate at a trifle. Theman's horse may have fallen, or he may have purloined a bottle ofbrandy and got drunk, or he may have missed his way, or set out late.Between this house and yours there is room for chances enough to makea moderate volume. Let us not look out for uncertain evils when thereare real ones enough around us."

"Real ones enough, indeed," said Mr. Prevost, with a deep sigh.

A moment after, they reached the front of the stables, from whichtheir horses were immediately brought forth; and mounting, they setout, followed by a small party, both on horseback and on foot; for SirWilliam, though he affected the simplicity of the Indian, was not atall averse to a little appearance of state and dignity in his dealingswith his red allies. There is a certain sort of pride, which clothesitself in humility, and, without at all meaning to assert that thevery remarkable man in question desired to make the Indian chiefs feelthat his adoption of their manners was a condescension, yet it iscertain that, from time to time, he judged it expedient--perhaps frommotives of good policy--to make a somewhat ostentatious display ofpower and authority.

The night was exceedingly dark. The moon now rose at a very late hour,and dim clouds hid the stars from the dwellers upon earth. In such anight, and in such circ*mstances, the fancy, even of the moststout-hearted, is apt to indulge in deceits; and as the eye of Mr.Prevost wandered round, dim forms, like specters, seemed to be glidingabout the fields of maize, cut, but in many places not gathered.

Not feeling certain whether imagination cheated him or not, he made noobservation; and for some time Sir William Johnson was silent, also;but at length the latter said, in a commonplace tone: "Our goodfriends seem to have come in great force, probably in consequence ofthe urgency of my summons. Now, be patient, Prevost, and bear withtheir cool, phlegmatic ways, for these people often feel the strongestsympathies, and serve their friends the best when they seem the mostcold and indifferent."

Mr. Prevost felt already how difficult it was to maintain thatequanimity which, in theory, he estimated as highly as an Indian, andin practice strove for, but not infrequently lost. He promised,however, to leave entirely to Sir William Johnson the management of aconference with the chiefs of the Mohawk and Onondaga nations, whichhad been proposed by that officer himself, for the purpose of inducingthe two most powerful nations of the Iroquois to interfere in behalfof Walter, and save him from the fate that menaced him. At the gate ofthe Castle, the door of which stood open, as usual (for although itwas filled with large quantities of those stores which the Indiansmost coveted, its safety was left entirely to the guardianship oftheir good faith), the two gentlemen entered the large courtyard,which, on this occasion, was quite deserted, the weather being coldenough now to render some shelter agreeable even to an Indian.

From the open door of the great hall which stretched along the greaterpart of the whole building, came forth a blaze of light on entering.Sir William Johnson and his companion found a number of Mohawk andOnondaga chiefs assembled, sitting gravely ranged in a semi-circleround the fire. Each was fully clothed in his garb of ceremony, andbright and brilliant were the colors displayed in the dresses andornaments of the redmen; but as this was a peaceful occasion, theirfaces were destitute of paint, and the scalp-lock concealed under thebrilliant gostoweh, or cap, in many of which were seen the plume ofthe famous white egret, used to distinguish the chiefs of thedifferent tribes, ever since the feathers of the famous white bird ofheaven had been exhausted.

All rose with quiet native dignity when the Indian agent and hiscompanion entered; and a murmur of gratulation ran round while SirWilliam and Walter's father seated themselves in two large chairs.

"This is our brother," said Sir William Johnson, pointing to Mr.Prevost.

"Hai! hai!" said the Indian chiefs. "Peace! peace! He is our brother."

King Hendrick then approached Mr. Prevost, dressed in his sky-bluecoat of European manufacture, presented to him by the reigning monarchof England, and took his hand, saying in a tone of friendly sympathy,and in the English tongue: "Our brother is sad; be comforted."

He then seated himself, and the attotarho, or grand chief of the wholeconfederacy, an office held in descent by the chief of the Onondagatotem of the Bear, advanced to Walter's father and spoke the samewords in Iroquois, showing clearly that the object of the meeting wasunderstood, by the Indian leaders. When all had arranged themselvesround again, a silence of some minutes succeeded.

At length the attotarho said, rising to his full height, which mightbe termed almost gigantic: "Our father has sent for us, and we areobedient children. We are here to hear his sweet words and understandhis mind."

Sir William Johnson then, in a speech of very great power and beauty,full of the figurative language of the Indians, related the eventswhich had occurred in the family of Mr. Prevost, and made an appeal tohis hearers for counsel and assistance. He represented his friend asan old tree from which a branch had been torn by the lightning, whenhe strove to depict his desolate state; and then he told a story of apanther, one of whose young ones had been carried off by a wolf, butwho, on applying for assistance to a bear and a stag, recovered heryoung by their means. "The panther was strong enough," he said, "withthe aid of the lion, to take back her young ones from the wolf, and totear it to pieces; but the wolf was of kin to the bear and the stag,and therefore she forebore."

"But the bear is slow, and the stag is not strong when he goes againsthis kindred," said the attotarho, significantly, "and the lion willnever take the warpath against his allies."

"Heaven forbid that there should be need," said Sir William, "but thelion must consider his children, and the panther is his son."

Poor Mr. Prevost remained in a state of painful anxiety while thediscussion proceeded in this course, wandering as it seemed to him,round the subject, and affording no indication of any intention on theparts of the chiefs to give him assistance; for figures, though theybe very useful things to express the meaning of a speaker, aresometimes equally useful to conceal it. At length he could bear nolonger, and forgetting his promise to Sir William Johnson, he startedup with all the feelings of a father strong in his heart, and appealeddirectly to the Indians in their own tongue, which he had completelymastered, but in a style of eloquence very different from their own,and perhaps the more striking to them on that account.

"My child!" he exclaimed, earnestly. "Give me back my child! Who isthe man amongst the Five Nations whom he has wronged? Where is the manto whom he has refused kindness or assistance? When has his door beenshut against the wandering redman? When has he denied to him a shareof his food or of his fire? Is he not your brother, and the son ofyour brother? Have we not smoked the pipe of peace together, and hasthat peace ever been violated by us? I came within the walls of yourLong House, trusting to the truth and the hospitality of the FiveNations. I built my lodge amongst you, in full confidence of yourfaith and of your friendship. Is my hearth to be left desolate, is myheart to be torn out, because I trusted to the truth and honor of theMohawks, to the protection and promises of the Onondaga, because Iwould not believe the songs of the singing bird that said, 'They willslay thy children before thy face?' If there be fault or failing in meor mine toward the redman in any of the tribes, if we have taken aughtfrom him, if we have spoken false words in his ear, if we have refusedhim aught that he had a right to ask, if we have shed any man's blood,then slay me! Cut down the old tree at the root, but leave thesapling. If we have been just and righteous toward you, if we havebeen friendly and hospitable, if we have been true and faithful, if wehave shed no man's blood and taken no man's goods, then give me backmy child! To you, chiefs of the Five Nations, I raise my voice; fromyou I demand my son! For a crime committed by one of the league is acrime committed by all. Could ye find none but the son of your brotherto slay? Must ye make the trust he placed in you the means of hisdestruction? Had he doubted your hospitality, had he not confided inyour faith, had he said, 'The lightning of the guns of Albany and thethunder of her cannon are better protection than the faith and truthof the redman,' ye know he would have been safe. But he said, 'I willput my trust in the hospitality of the Five Nations; I will becometheir brother. If there be bad men amongst them, their chiefs willprotect me, their attotarho will do me justice. They are greatwarriors, but they are good men. They smite their enemies, but theylove their friends.' If, then, ye are good men, if ye are greatwarriors, if ye are brothers to your brothers, if ye are true to yourfriends, if ye are fathers yourselves, give me back my son!"

"Koui! koui!" cried the Indians in a sad tone, more profoundlyaffected by the vehement expression of a father's feelings than SirWilliam Johnson had expected; but the moment that the word wasuttered, which, according to the tone and rapidity with which it ispronounced, signifies either approbation and joy, or sympathy andgrief, they relapsed into deep silence again.

Sir William Johnson, though he had been a good deal annoyed andalarmed at Mr. Prevost taking upon himself to speak, and fearful lesthe should injure his own cause, now fully appreciated the effectproduced, and would not add a word to impair it; but at length KingHendrick rose, and said in a grave and melancholy tone: "We arebrothers, but what can we do? The Oneidas are our brethren, also. TheMohawks, the Oneidas, the Onondagas, the Cayugas, and the Senecas areseparate nations, though they are brethren and allies. We are leaguedtogether for common defence, but not that we should rule over eachother. The Oneidas have their laws, and they execute them; but thislaw is common to all the nations, that if a man's blood be shed exceptin battle, the man who shed it must die. If he cannot be found, any ofhis nearest kin must be taken. If he have none, one of his tribe orrace. The same is it with the Mohawk as with the Oneida. But in thisthing have the Oneidas done as the Mohawks would not have done. Theyhave not sought diligently for the slayer; neither have they waitedpatiently to see whether they could find any of his kindred. TheOneidas have been hasty. They have taken the first man they couldfind. They have been fearful like the squirrel, and they keep him lestin time of need they should not find another. This is unjust. Theyshould have first waited and searched diligently, and should not havetaken the son of their brother till they were sure no other man couldbe found. But koui! koui! what is to be done? Shall the Mohawk unburythe hatchet against the Oneida? That cannot be. Shall the Mohawk sayto the Oneida, 'Thou art unjust'? The Oneida will answer, 'We have ourlaws and you have yours; the Mohawk is not the ruler of the Oneida;repose under your own tree; we sit upon a stone.' One thing,perchance, may be done," and a very slight look of cunningintelligence came into his face; "subtlety will sometimes do whatforce cannot. The snake is as powerful as the panther. I speak mythought, and I know not if it be good. Were my brother the attotarhoto choose ten of the subtlest serpents of his nation, and I to chooseten of the subtlest of mine, they might go, un-painted and unarmed,and, creeping through the wood without rattle or hiss, reach the placewhere the young man lies. If there be thongs upon his hands the breathof a Snake can melt them. If there be a door upon his prison, the eyesof a Snake can pierce it. If there be a guard, the coil of the Snakecan twine around him, and many of the Oneida chiefs and warriors willrejoice that they are thus friendly forced to do right, and seekanother. I speak my thought; I know not whether it is good. Let thosespeak who know, for no nation of the five can do aught against anothernation alone; otherwise we break to pieces like a fa*ggot when thethong bursts."

Thus saying, he ended, sat down, and resumed his quiet stillness; andafter a pause, as if for thought, the attotarho rose, addressinghimself direct to Mr. Prevost, and speaking with a great deal of gravedignity.

"We grieve for you, my brother," he said, "and we grieve forourselves. We know that our great English father who sits under themighty pine tree will be wroth with his red children; but let himremember and speak it in his ears, that the Mohawk and the Onondaga,the Seneca and the Cayuga, are not to blame for this act. They say theOneidas have done hastily, and they will consult together around thecouncil fire how thou mayest best be comforted. Haste is only fit forchildren. Grown men are slow and deliberate. Why should we go quicklynow? Thy son is safe; for the Oneidas cannot, according to their law,take any sacrifice except the life of the slayer, till they be wellassured that the slayer cannot be found."

Mr. Prevost's lip quivered with emotion as if about to speak, but SirWilliam Johnson laid his hand upon his arm, saying in a quick whisper,"Leave him to me;" and the Onondaga proceeded. "We will do the bestthat we can for our brother, but the meadow lark has not the strengthof the eagle, nor the fox of the panther, and if we should fail itwould not be the fault of the Mohawk or the Onondaga. I have said."

Sir William Johnson then rose to reply, seeing that the attotarhosought to escape any distinct promise, and judging that with thesupport of King Hendrick a little firmness might wring something morefrom him.

"My brother, the attotarho," he said, "has spoken well. The FiveNations are leagued together in peace and in war. They take the scalpsof their enemies as one man. They live in brotherhood; but my brothersays that if the Oneida commits a crime the Mohawk and the Onondaga,the Seneca and the Cayuga are not guilty of the act, and thereforedeserve no wrath. But he says at the same time that if the man namedWoodchuck slays a redman, Walter Prevost, the brother of the redman,must die for it. How is this? Have the children of the Five Nationsforked tongues? Do they speak double words? If the Onondagas are notguilty of what the Oneidas do, neither is Walter Prevost guilty ofwhat the paleface Woodchuck does. May the Great Spirit forbid thatyour father near the rising of the sun should deal unjustly with hisred children, or be wroth with them for acts done by others; but hedoes expect that his children of the Five Nations will show the samejustice to his paleface children; and unless they are resolved to takeupon themselves the act of the Oneidas, and say their act is our act,they will do something to prevent it. My brother says that haste isfor children, and true are his words. Then why have the Oneidas donethis hasty thing? We cannot trust that they will not be children anymore, or that having done this thing they will not hastily do worse.True, everything should be done deliberately. We should show ourselvesmen, if we want children to follow our example. Let us take counselthen, fully, while we are here together. The council fire burns in themidst of us, and we have time enough to take thought calmly. Here Iwill sit till I know that my brothers will do justice in this matter,and not suffer the son of my brother to remain in the hands of thosewho have wrongfully made him a prisoner. Yes, truly, here I will sitto take counsel with the chiefs till the words of wisdom are spoken,even although the sun should go five times round the earth before ourtalk were ended. Have I spoken well?"

"Koui! koui!" exclaimed a number of voices, and one of the old sachemsrose, saying in slow and deliberate tones: "Our white brother has thewords of truth and resolution. The Oneida has shown the speed of thedeer, but not the wisdom of the tortoise. The law of the Oneida is ourlaw, and he should have waited at least one moon to see if the rightman could be found. The Oneida must be in trouble at his ownhastiness. Let us deliver him from the pit into which he has fallen,but let us do it with the silent wisdom of the snake, which creepsthrough the grass where no one sees him. The rattlesnake is the mostfoolish of reptiles, for he talks of what he is going to dobeforehand. We will be more wise than he is, and as our thoughts aregood, we will keep them for ourselves. Let us only say, 'The boy shallbe delivered, if the Mohawks and the Onondagas can do it;' but let usnot say how; for a man who gives away a secret deprives himself ofwhat he can never recover, and benefits nothing but the wind. I havesaid."

All the assembled chiefs expressed their approbation of the old man'swords, and seemed to consider the discussion concluded. Mr. Prevost,indeed, was anxious to have something more definite, but Sir WilliamJohnson nodded his head significantly, saying in a low tone: "We havedone as much, nay, more than we could expect. It will be necessary toclose our conference with some gifts, which will be, as it were, aseal upon our covenant."

"But have they entered into any covenant?" rejoined Mr. Prevost. "Ihave heard of none made yet on their part."

"As much as Indians ever do," answered Sir William Johnson, "and youcan extract nothing more from them with your utmost skill."

He then called some of his people from without into the hall, orderedthe stores to be opened, and brought forth some pieces of scarletcloth, one of the most honorable presents which could be offered to anIndian chief. A certain portion was cut off for each, and receivedwith grave satisfaction. Mats and skins were then spread upon thefloor in great abundance. Long pipes were brought in and handed round,and after having smoked together in profound silence for nearly halfan hour, the chiefs stretched themselves out upon the ground andcomposed themselves to rest.

Sir William Johnson and his guest, as a mark of confidence andbrotherhood, remained with them throughout the night, but retired tothe farther end of the hall. They did not sleep as soon as their duskycompanions. Their conversation, though carried on in low tones, was,nevertheless, eager and anxious, for the father could not help stillfeeling great apprehensions regarding the fate of his son; and SirWilliam Johnson was not altogether without alarm regarding theconsequences of the very determination to which he had brought thechiefs of the Mohawks and Onondagas. Symptoms of intestine discord hadof late been perceived in the great Indian confederacy. They had notacted on the behalf of England with the unanimity which they haddisplayed in former years, and it was the policy of the Britishgovernment by every means to heal all divisions and consolidate theirunion, as well as to attach them more and more firmly to the Englishcause. Although he doubted not that whatever was done by the chiefswith whom he had just been in conference would be effected with theutmost subtlety and secrecy, yet there was still the danger ofproducing a conflict between them and the Oneidas in the attempt, orcausing angry feeling, even if it were successful; and Sir William,who was not at all insensible to his government's approbation, feltsome alarm at the prospect before him. However, he and Mr. Prevostboth slept, at length, and the following morning saw the chiefsdispersing in the gray dawn of a cold and threatening morning.

CHAPTER XVIII

The snow was falling fast, the early snow of northern America. Otaitsastole forth from the shelter of the great lodge, passed amongst thehuts around, and out into the fields through the opening in thepalisade. She was going where she wished not her steps to be traced,and she knew that the fast falling snow would speedily fill up everyfootprint. Quietly and gracefully she glided on till she reached theedge of the deep wood, and then along a little frequented trail, till,at the distance of about half a mile, her eyes, keenly bent forward,perceived something brown, crouching, still and motionless, undercover of a young hemlock, the branches of which nearly swept theground. As the Blossom approached, a head, covered with glossy blackhair rolled up behind, was raised above a little bush which partly hidthe woman's figure; and, coming nearer, the girl asked, in a lowvoice, "Did he pass?"

"No," answered the young maiden to whom she spoke. "It was Apukwa, themedicine man."

Otaitsa waved her head sadly to and fro, saying, "Now I understand;"and then, speaking to the girl again, she said: "Now back to theCastle, through the bush, then to the other trail, and then home."

Her own walk was to be longer; and on she went, with the same glidingstep, till, about half a mile farther, she turned a little out of thepath to the right, and there, concealed amongst the bushes, she foundan old woman of her tribe, to whom she put the same question, andreceived nearly the same answer.

"Thou art cold, my mother," said Otaitsa, unfastening her mantle, andthrowing it over the old woman. "Get thee back with the step of amole, through the most covered ways thou canst find. How far on is theother?"

"More than an hour," replied the woman, "close at the foot of therocks."

Otaitsa made no reply, but hastened forward to a spot where someabrupt but not very elevated crags rose up out of the midst of thewood. For a moment there seemed no one there; and the trail at thatspot divided into two, one running to the right and the other to theleft, at the very base of the rocks. Otaitsa gazed cautiously around.She did not dare to utter a sound; but at length her eye fell upon alarge mass of stone, tumbled from the bank above, crested andfeathered with some sapling chestnuts. It seemed a place fit forconcealment, and advancing over some broken fragments, she wasapproaching carefully, when again a head was raised and a handstretched out, beckoning to her.

Still she trod her way cautiously, taking care not to set her foot onprominent points, where the trace might remain, and contriving, as faras possible, to make each bush and scattered tree a screen. At lengthshe reached her companion's place of concealment, and crouched downbehind the rock by the side of a beautiful young woman a few yearsolder than herself.

"Has he passed?" asked Otaitsa. "Which way did he take?"

"To the east," replied the other; "to the rising sun; but it was notthe brother of the Snake. It was Apukwa the Bulrush, and he had awallet with him, but no tomahawk."

"How long is it since he passed?" asked the Blossom, in the same lowtone which they had hitherto used.

"While the crow could fly out of sight," answered the young woman."Has my husband yet come back?"

"Not so," replied Otaitsa. "But let us both go, for thou art weary forthy home, my sister, and I am now satisfied. Their secret is mine."

"How so?" inquired the other. "Canst thou see through the rock withthy bright eyes, Blossom?"

"The cunning medicine man goes not to pray to his Manito," answeredOtaitsa, "nor to converse with his Hawenneyo. Neither does he wanderforth to fulfil his fasts in the solitude to the east. Yet he willfind no dry deer's flesh there, my sister, nor any of the firewater heloves so well. But away there, where I have gathered many a strawberrywhen I was young, there is a deep rift in the rock, where you may walka hundred paces on flat ground, with the high cliffs all around you.The wildcat cannot spring up, and the deer winks as he looks down. Ithas but a narrow entrance, for the jaws of the rock are half open; andI know now where they have hid my brother. That is enough, for thisnight, to Otaitsa."

"And what wilt thou do next?" asked her companion.

"Nay, I know not," answered the Blossom. "The sky grows darker; thenight is coming on, and we must follow the setting sun if we would nothave Apukwa see us. We have yet time, for the gloomy place he goes tois two thousand paces farther. Come. Be assured, dear sister, I willcall for thy aid when it is needful, and thou wilt as soon refuse itas the flower refuses honey to the bee. Step carefully in the lowplaces, that they see not the tracks of thy little feet."

Thus saying, Otaitsa led the way from their place of concealment witha freer air, for she knew that Apukwa had far to go, but with ascautious a tread as ever, lest returning before the sun had fullyfallen, he should see the footprints in the snow.

They had been gone some ten minutes when, creeping silently down alongthe trail from the east, the medicine man appeared at the farthestcorner of the rock, within sight; but he was not alone. The Indianwhom they called the brother of the Snake was with him. The latter,however, remained at the point where he could see both ways, whileApukwa came swiftly forward. At the spot where the trail separated hepaused and looked earnestly down upon the ground, bending his headalmost to his knees. Then he seemed to track something along the trailtoward the Indian Castle; and then, turning back, walked slowly up tothe rock, following exactly the path by which the two women hadreturned. At length he seemed satisfied, and quickening his pace herejoined his companion. "Thou art right, brother," he said. "Therewere two. What dimmed thine eyes, that thou canst not tell who theywere?"

"I was far," answered the other, "and there is shadow upon shadow."

"Was not one Otaitsa?" asked the medicine man, slowly. "Could thebrother of the Snake fail to know the Blossom he loves to look at?"

"If my eyes were not hidden, it was not she," replied his companion."Never did I see the great sachem's daughter go out, even when the sunhas most fire, without her mantle round her. This woman had none."

"Which woman?" asked Apukwa. "Thou saidst there were two."

"One came, two went," replied the other Oneida, "but the second couldnot be the Blossom, for she was tall. The other might have been, butshe had no mantle, and seemed less than Black Eagle's daughter--morelike Roya, the daughter of the Bear. What were the prints of themoccasins?"

"The snow falls fast, and covers up men's steps, as time covers thetraditions of our fathers," said the medicine man. "They were notclear, brother. One was bigger than the other, but that was all Icould see. Yet I scent the Blossom in this thing, my brother. Theworshipper of the God of the palefaces would save the life of thepaleface had he made milk of the blood of her brother. She may lovethe boy too well, as her father loved the white woman. She has beenoften there, at the lodge of Prevost, with the paleface priest or herfather--very often--and she has stayed long. That trail she likes tofollow better than any other, and the Black Eagle may think that hisBlossom is a flower fit to grow by the lodge of the Yengees and toobeautiful for the redman. Has not my brother dreamed such dreams? Hasnot his Manito whispered to him such things?"

"He has," answered the brother of the Snake, in a tone of sternmeaning, "and my tomahawk is sharp; but we must take counsel on thiswith our brethren, to make sure that there be no double tonguesamongst us. How else should these women see our tracks, when we havecovered them with leaves?"

It is probable that this last expression was used figuratively, notactually to imply that a precaution very common among Indians had beentaken in this case, but that every care had been used to prevent adiscovery by the women of the nation of any part of the proceedings inregard to Walter Prevost.

"My tongue is single," said the brother of the Snake, "and if Ihad a double tongue, would I use it when my enemy is under myscalping-knife? Besides, am I not more than thy brother?" and, baringhis arm, he pointed with his finger to that small blue stripe whichWoodchuck had exhibited on his own arm to Lord H---- in Albany.

"My brother hears with the ears of the hare," said Apukwa. "TheHonontkoh never betray each other. But there are young men with us whoare not of our order. Some are husbands, some are lovers; and withwomen they are women. Yet we must be watchful not to scatter our ownherd. There must be no word of anger; but our guard must be made moresure. Go thou home to thine own lodge, and to-morrow, while the eastis still white, let us hold council in the wigwam farther down thelake. The home wind is blowing strong, and there will be more snow tocover our trail."

Thus saying, they parted for the night. But the next morning, early,from one of the small fortified villages of the Indians, some milesfrom their great Castle, no less than six young men set out atdifferent times and took their way separately through the woods. Onesaid to his wife, as he left her, "I go to hunt the moose;" and one tohis sister, "I go to kill the deer."

An older man told his squaw the same story, but she laughed, andanswered: "Thou art careful of thy goods, my husband. Truth is toogood a thing to be used an all occasions. Thou keepest it for the timeof need."

The man smiled, and stroked her cheek, saying: "Keep thine owncounsel, wife, and when I lie to thee seem not to know it."

CHAPTER XIX

In the chain of low cliffs which run at the distance of some four orfive miles from the Oneida village, and to which, probably, at onetime, the waters of the lake had extended, was a deep cleft or fissurein the hard rock, some fourteen or fifteen yards in width at itswidest part, and narrower at the mouth than in the interior. One ofthe rocks, at the time I speak of--though large masses have fallensince, and a good deal altered the features of the scene--one of therocks near the entrance at the time I speak of beetled considerablyover its base, and projected so far as almost to touch the oppositecrag, giving the mouth of the fissure somewhat the appearance of acave. On either side the walls of this gloomy dell were perpendicular,in some places even overhanging; and at the end, where it might havebeen expected to slope gradually away to the upland, the generalcharacter of the scene was merely diversified by a break, or step,some fifteen or sixteen feet from the ground, dividing the face of thecrag into two nearly equal parts. Beneath this ledge was a hollow ofsome four or five feet in depth, rendering ascent from that sideimpracticable.

Underneath that ledge, at the time referred to, had been hastilyconstructed a small hut, or Indian lodge, formed of stakes driven intothe ground, and covered over skilfully enough with bark branches andother materials of the forest. A door had apparently been brought forit from some distance, for it was evidently old, and had some strangefigures painted on it in red; and across this door was fixed a greatbar, which would, indeed, have been very useless, had not the stakesforming the walls of the hut been placed close together, rendering itin reality much stronger than an ordinary Indian lodge.

On the day after Otaitsa's expedition, mentioned in the precedingchapter, some sixteen or eighteen Oneidas of different ages, but noneof them far advanced in life, gathered round the mouth of the cliffand conversed together for several minutes in low tones, and withtheir usual slow and deliberate manner. At the end of their conferenceone seated himself on a stone near the entrance, two advanced into thechasm, and the rest dispersed themselves in different directionsthrough the woods. The two who advanced approached the hut, followingeach other so close that the foot of each trod in the step of theother; and when they reached it the foremost took down the bar andopened the door, suffering the light to enter the dark chamber within.The sight which that light displayed was a very painful one.

There, seated on the ground, with his head almost bent down to hisknees, his beautiful brown hair falling wild and shaggy over his face,his dress soiled and in some parts torn, and his hands thin andsallow, sat poor Walter Prevost, the image of despair. All the brightenergies of his eager, impetuous nature seemed quelled; the look ofyouthful, happy enjoyment was altogether gone, and with it the warmhopes and glowing aspirations, the dreams of future happiness orgreatness, of love, and joy, and tenderness. The sunshine haddeparted; the motes of existence no longer danced in the beam.

He lifted not his head when the Indians entered; still and impassiveas themselves, he sat without movement or word; the very senses seemeddead in the living tomb where they had confined him; but the sighttouched them with no pity.

Gazing at him with a curious, cunning, serpent-like look, Apukwaplaced before him the wallet which he carried, containing some drieddeer's flesh and parched Indian corn; and, after having watched himfor a moment without a change of countenance, said in a cold tone:"There is food. Take it and eat."

As if the sound of his hated voice had startled the youth from adeath-like sleep, Walter sprang suddenly on his feet, exclaiming: "Whyshould I eat to prolong my misery? Slay me! Take thy tomahawk and dashmy brains out! Put an end to this torment, the most terrible that thyfiend-like race have ever devised."

The two Indians laughed with a low, quiet, satisfied laugh. "We cannotslay thee," said the brother of the Snake, "till we know that thypaleface brother who killed our brother cannot be found to take thyplace."

"He is far beyond your power," cried Walter, vehemently. "He willnever be within your grasp. I helped him to escape. I delivered himfrom you! Slay me! slay me! Dogs of Indians, your hearts are wolves'hearts! You are not men; you are women, who dare not use a tomahawk!You are the scoff of your enemies! They laugh at the Oneidas, theyspit at them! They say they are children, who dare not kill an enemytill the old men say kill him! They fear the rod of their chief. Theyare like hares and rabbits, that fear the sound of the wind!"

It was in vain that he tried to provoke them. They only seemed toenjoy his agony and the bitter words that it called forth.

"Eat and drink," said Apukwa, coldly, as soon as he became silent,"for we are going to tie thee. We must hunt the deer, we must grindthe corn; we cannot watch thee every day till the time of thesacrifice comes. Eat and drink, then, for here are the thongs."

Walter glared at him for a moment, and then snatched up a gourd filledwith water, which the brother of the Snake had brought, draining itwith a long and eager draught. He then cast it from him, and stoodstill and stern before them, saying: "I will disappoint you.Henceforth I will eat no more. Tie me if you will. I can fast as wellas you Indians."

The two men looked in each other's face, apparently puzzled how toact, for if he kept his resolution their object would indeed befrustrated. The death of their kinsman, according to theirsuperstition, required blood, and by starvation the prisoner wouldescape from their hands. Still they dared not disobey the decision ofthe chiefs. A slight sign seemed to pass between them, and taking holdof the poor lad somewhat roughly, they bound both his hands and feet,twining the strong thongs of deerskin round and round, and through andthrough, in what seemed inextricable knots. He stood quite still andimpassive, and when they had done, cast himself down upon the groundagain, turning his face from them. The two men gazed at him for amoment or two, and then leaving the hut in silence, replaced the bar.

For some time after they had gone, Walter lay just as he had fallen.The dead apathy of despair had taken, possession of him. Life,thought, feeling, was a burden. The many days which had passed in thatdull, dark, silent abode was rapidly producing on his mind that effectwhich solitary confinement is said to occasion but too often.

He lay in that deathlike stillness for several hours; nor came there asound of any kind during all that time to relieve the black monotonyof the day. His ear, by suffering, had been rendered painfully acute,but the snow fell noiselessly, the wild animals were in their covertsor in their dens, the very wind had no breath.

Suddenly there was a sound. What was it? It seemed a cracking branch,far up above his head. Then a stone rolled down and rattled over theroof, making the snow slip before it. Another crashing branch, andthen a silence which seemed to him to last for hours. "Some panther orcatamount," he thought, "in the trees above," and he laid hishalf-raised head down again upon the ground.

No! There were fingers on the bar. He heard it move! Had the Indianscome back to urge the food upon him? The touch upon the bar, however,seemed feeble compared with theirs. It lifted the heavy bar of woodslowly and with difficulty. Walter's heart beat--visions came beforehis mind--hope flickered up, and he raised himself as well as he couldinto a sitting posture. From the ground he could not rise, for hishands were tied.

Slowly and quietly the door opened, the light rushed in, and in themidst of the blaze stood the beautiful figure of the Blossom, with herhead partly turned away, as if in the act of listening. Her curly,long, wavy hair, broken from its band, and spotted with the whitesnow, fell almost to her feet. But little was the clothing that shewore. No mantle, no overdress, nothing but the Indian woman'sembroidered skirt, gathered round her by a belt, and leaving the armsand legs bare. Her hands were torn and bloody, her bright face andbrow scratched by the fangs of the bramble, but still to WalterPrevost, as she stood listening there, it was the loveliest sight hiseyes had ever rested on.

But for a moment she listened, then gazed into the hut, sprangforward, cast her arms around his neck, and wept as she had never weptbefore.

"My brother--my husband," she said, leaning her forehead on hisshoulder, "Otaitsa has found thee at length!"

He would fain have cast his arms around her; he would fain havepressed her to his heart; he would fain have told her that he couldbear death, or even life, or any fate, for such love as hers. But hishands were tied, and his tongue was powerless with emotion.

A few moments passed in silence, and then Otaitsa said: "The cruelwolves have tied thee, but Otaitsa will give thee freedom."

In an instant her small, delicate fingers were busy with the thongs,and with the rapidity of thought they were all untied, and hands andfeet were both loose; but as she worked, the blood dropped from herfingers on to his wrists, and while he held her to his heart he said:"Thou bleedest, my Blossom. Oh, Otaitsa, what hast thou risked, whathast thou encountered for Walter's sake?"

"But little, my beloved," she answered. "Would it were ten times more,to prove my love! What! They have put meat within thy sight, and tiedthy hands to make thee die of famine, with food before thee! Out onthe cruel monsters!"

"No, no, my Otaitsa!" answered Walter. "I would not eat. I wished todie. I knew not that an angel would come to cheer and help me."

"And to deliver thee, too, my Walter," answered Otaitsa, with a brightsmile. "I trust it is certain, my beloved. By the way I came, by thatway you can go."

"How came you?" asked Walter, seating her beside him, and pressing hercloser with his arm to the bosom on which she leaned. "I thought itwas impossible for anyone to reach me, so stern is this place, soclose the watch they kept. It must have been very perilous for thee,my Blossom. Art thou not hurt?"

"Oh, no," she answered, "nor was the peril really great. God gave mewings to fly to thee. Love bore me up; but let me tell thee how Icame. I have a friend, the wife of one of thine enemies, a young brideto whom his heart is open as the lake. From her I heard of all theirplans; how they have filled the woods below the rocks with watchers,how they have set guards on every trail. They never dreamed that fromthe morning side a way could be found down over the rock into thisdell. I pondered over the tidings, and remembered that when I was alittle, happy child I clambered some way down, by the aid of shrubsand crevices, in search of fruit; and I laid my plan against theirs. Itook two ropes which I had woven long ago, of the tough bark of themoose plant, and making a wide circle round, I reached the uplandabove the cliffs. My only trouble was to find the exact spot from thatside; for I knew that there was a cloud between me and your enemies,and that I walked unseen. At length, however, I found the rockoverlooking the chasm. I cast off all burdens, all that the bramblesor branches might snatch at, and with the ropes wound round me, camedown as far as I could find safe footing. There was a tree, a smalltree, on the pinnacle, and I tried it before I trusted it. One branchbroke, but the root and stump stood firm, gripping the rock fast. Tothem I fixed the end of one rope, and easily swung down to a pointbelow, where there was a larger, stronger tree. A stone, however,slipped from under my feet, and fell rattling down. Round the strongtree I twisted the rope again, and thus reached the very ledgeoverhead; but there, as there had been noise and some crashing of thebranches, I stood for a while, hidden behind the bushes, to make surethat I was not discovered. At length, however, I was satisfied, andnow the other rope was a friend to give me help. I fastened it to thefirst, knotted it into tight loops, and thus aiding hands and feet,with sometimes the aid of a projecting stone, and sometimes a smallshrub, came slowly down. By the same way I shall return, my love, andby it, too, my Walter must go back this night to his own people."

"Why not with you now?" asked Walter, eagerly. "Let Otaitsa go withme, and whenever we reach my father's house become my wife indeed. Oh,how gladly will he fold her to his heart, how fondly will Edith callher sister!"

"It cannot be, beloved," she answered. "I came to save him I love, tosave him who is the husband of my heart, but not to abandon my fathertill he gives me to you; and besides, there would be none to help us.This night you must climb by the ropes and boughs up to the top of thecliff, when, as near as you can reckon, there has been six hours ofdarkness. At the top you will find people waiting. They are but women,yet they all love you and me likewise, and they have sworn by theirGreat Spirit that if it costs their lives they will set you free. Eachwill help you in some way. One has a canoe upon the creek, anotherknows the deepest woods on the Mohawk side, and can guide you well.Others will lead you down Ward Creek to Sir William Johnson's Castle,where you are safe. Eat now, my beloved, for you must have strength,and Otaitsa must leave you soon. Before she goes she must tie yourhands again, lest your enemies come ere the night; but she will tiethem in such a sort that with your teeth you can undraw the knot; andshe will loosen the fastening of the bar so that even a weak hand canpush it out."

She had hardly uttered the words, when a low, mocking laugh came upontheir ears, and two or three dark forms shadowed the doorway. Otaitsainstantly started up and drew a knife from the belt around her waist.

"Stand back!" she cried aloud in the Iroquois tongue, as the menglided in. "I am your great chief's daughter, and the blood of theBlack Eagle will not bear a touch."

"We touch thee not, Blossom," answered Apukwa. "Thou shalt go free,for the Black Eagle is a mighty chief, a mighty warrior, reverenced byhis people; but our prisoner we keep, and though thou hast loosenedhis hands we can fasten them again. Put thy tomahawk in thy belt,brother of the Snake; it must taste no blood here, though it ishungry, I know well. He shall die, but not now."

As he spoke he thrust his arm between the younger Indian and Walter,who had cast himself before Otaitsa, as if for one desperate struggleif he saw any violence offered to her. The words of the medicine man,however, quieted him on that score, and it was but too plain that allresistance on his part would be in vain. A few hours before he hadsought death as a boon, but the coming of the Blossom had changed allhis thoughts and feelings, had relighted hope and restored firmnessand constancy. He was willing to live, and for the chances of whatsome other day might bring; for the love and self-devotion of thatbeautiful creature made existence seem too valuable to cast away theslightest chance of its preservation.

He suffered them to bind him then, while Otaitsa turned away her headand struggled against the tears that sought to rise. It cost her agreat effort, but resolution triumphed, and with a lofty air, verydifferent from the tenderness of her demeanor a few moments before,she waved her hand for the Indians to make way, saying: "UnworthyOneidas, I go to carry my own tale to my father's feet, to tell himthat with his own blood warm in my heart I came thither to save mybrother, my lover, my husband, and to warn him that the tomahawk whichfalls on that beloved head severs the chain of Otaitsa's life. Butfear not, Walter," she continued, turning toward him; "fear not, mybeloved. Live, and laugh thine enemies to scorn. Thou shalt bedelivered yet, let these men do what they will. It is written on highthat thou shalt not perish by their hands," and thus saying, she leftthe hut, and followed closely by two of the Oneidas, pursued her wayback toward the Castle.

When she reached the gate of the palisade she at once perceived a gooddeal of commotion and activity within, though none but women, youths,and children were to be seen.

"Where is the Black Eagle?" she asked of the first woman whom she met."Has he returned to the lodge?"

"He returned with forty warriors," replied the other, in a grave tone,"painted himself for battle, and has gone forth upon the warpath,taking with him every warrior he could find."

"Against whom?" asked Otaitsa, in as calm a tone as she could assume,but with her heart beating fast.

"We do not know," replied the woman, sadly; "but a tale spread, comingout of darkness throughout which none could see, that the Black Eaglehad gone against our brethren, the Mohawks and Onondagas. It was saidthey had unburied the hatchet, and cut down the tree of peace beforethe door of the Oneidas."

Otaitsa clasped her hands together, bent her head, and took some stepstoward the door of the lodge, and then, turning to the two men who hadfollowed her, she said, bitterly: "And ye were absent when the BlackEagle called for warriors! Ye were right, for ye are women, and haveonly courage to torment a captive."

Thus saying, she passed on with a quiet step into the lodge, andthere, when no eye could see her, gave way in tears to all the sad andbitter feelings of her heart.

CHAPTER XX

Through the widespread woods which lay between the extensive territoryoccupied by the Mohawks and the beautiful land of the Oneidas, earlyin the morning of the day, some of the events of which have beenalready recorded, a small troop of Indians glided along in their usualstealthy manner. They were in their garments of peace. Each was fullyclothed according to the Indian mode, and the many-colored mat ofceremony hung from their shoulders as they passed along, somewhatencumbering them in their progress. They took the narrow trails; butyet it was not so easy for them to conceal themselves, if such wastheir object, as it might have been in another dress and at anothertime; for, except when passing a still brilliant maple, or a richbrown oak, the gaudy coloring of their clothing showed itself stronglyeither against the dark evergreens or the white snow.

The party had apparently traveled from night into day, for as soon asthe morning dawned the head man of the five stopped, and, withoutchanging his position--and thus avoiding the necessity of making freshprints in the snow-conversed over his shoulder with those behind him.Their conversation was brief, and might be translated into modernEnglish thus:

"Shall we halt here, or go on farther? The day's eyes are open in theeast."

"Stay here till noon," said an elder man behind him. "The Oneidasalways go to their lodge in the middle of the day. They are children.They require sleep when the sun is high."

Another voice repeated the same advice, and springing one by onefrom the trail into the thicket, they gathered together under awide-spreading hemlock, where the ground was free from snow, andseated themselves in a circle beneath the branches. There they passedtheir time nearly in silence. Some food was produced, and also somerum, the fatal gift of the English; but very few words were uttered,and the only sentences worth recording were:

"Art thou quite sure of the spot, brother?"

"Certain," answered the one who had been leading. "The intelligencewas brought by an Albany runner, a man of a true tongue."

From time to time each of the different members of the group looked uptoward the sky, and at length one of them rose, saying: "It is noon;let us onward. We can go forward for an hour, and then we shall benear enough to reach the place and return while the shadows are on theearth."

"We were told to spread out and enter by several trails," said anelder man of the party.

"It is not needful now," said the man who seemed the leader of theparty, "when it can all be done between sun and sun."

His words seemed conclusive, and they resumed the path again, walkingon stealthily in a single file, as before. They had gone about threemiles more, when a wild, fearful yell, such as no European wouldbelieve a human throat could utter, was heard upon their right.Another rose up on their left the instant after, and then another intheir front. Each man stopped in breathless silence, as if suddenlyturned to stone, but each with the first impulse had laid his handupon his tomahawk. All listened for a repetition of the well-knownwar-whoop, and each man asked himself what such a sound could mean ina land where the Indians were all at peace amongst themselves, andwhere no tidings had been received of a foreign foe; but no manuttered a word, even in a whisper, to the man close to him. Suddenly asingle figure appeared upon the trail before them, tall, powerful,commanding, and one well known to all there present. It was that ofthe Black Eagle, now feathered and painted for battle, with his riflein his hand, and his tomahawk ready.

"Are ye Mohawks?" he exclaimed, as he came near. "Are we brethren?"

"We are Mohawks and brethren," replied the leader of the party. "Weare but wandering through the forest, seeking to find something whichhas been lost."

"What is it?" asked the Black Eagle, sternly; "nothing is lost whichcannot be found. Snow may cover it for a time, but when the snowmelts, it will come to light."

"It is a young lad's coat," said the cunning Mohawk; "but why is BlackEagle on the warpath? Who has unburied the hatchet against theOneidas?"

"The Black Eagle dreamed a dream," replied the chief, round whomnumerous Oneidas, equipped for war, had by this time gathered, "and inhis dream he saw ten men come from the midday into the land of theOneida, and ten men from the side of the cold wind. They wore the garbof peace, and called themselves brothers of the children of the Stone.But the eyes of the Black Eagle were strong in his dream, and he sawthrough their bosoms, and their hearts were black, and a voicewhispered to him that they came to steal from the Oneida that whichthey cannot restore, and to put a burden upon the children of theStone that they will not carry."

"Was it not the voice of the singing bird?" asked the young Mohawkchief. "Was the dream sent by the bad spirit?"

"I know not," answered the Black Eagle, "say ye!" But the Black Eaglebelieved the dream, and starting up, he called his warriors round him,and he sent Lynx Eyes, the sachem of the Bear, to the north, and ledhis own warriors to the south, saying: "Let us go and meet these tenmen, and tell them, if they be really brethren of the Oneidas, to comewith us, and smoke the pipe of peace together, and eat and drink inour lodges and return to their own land when they are satisfied; butif their hearts are black and their tongues double, to put on thewarpaint openly, and unbury the long buried hatchet, and take thewarpath like men and warriors, and not creep to mischief like thesilent copperhead!"

These last words were spoken in a voice of thunder, while his keenblack eyes flashed, and his whole form seemed to dilate withindignation.

The Mohawks stood silent before him, and even the young chief who hadshown himself the boldest amongst them bent down his eyes to theground. At length, however, he answered: "The Black Eagle has spokenwell, and he has done well, though he should not put too much faith insuch dreams. The Mohawk is the brother of the Oneida; the children ofthe Stone and the men of blood are one, though the Mohawk judges theOneida hasty, in deeds. He is the panther that springs upon his preyfrom on high, before he sees whether it is not the doe that nourisheshis young. He forgets hospitality----"

The eyes of the Black Eagle flashed fiercely for a moment, but thenthe fire went out in them, and a grave, and even sad look succeeded.The young man went on boldly, however, saying: "He forgetshospitality. He takes to death the son of his brother, and sheds theblood of him who has eaten of the same meat with him. He waits not topunish the guilty, but raises his tomahawk against his friend. TheFive Nations are a united people; that which brings shame upon onebrings it upon all. The Mohawk's eyes are full of fire and his headbends down, when men say 'the Oneida is inhospitable; the Oneida ishasty to slay, and repays faith, and trust, and kindness by death.'What shall we say to our white father beyond the salt waters, when heasks us, 'Where is my son Walter, who loved the Oneidas, who was theirbrother, who sat by their council fire, and smoked the pipe of peacewith them?' Shall we say, 'The Oneidas have slain him because hetrusted to the hospitality of the Five Nations and did not fly?' Whenhe asks us, 'What was his crime?' and 'Did the Oneidas judge him forit like calm and prudent men?' shall we answer, 'He had no crime, andthe Oneidas took him in haste, without judgment. He was full of loveand kindness toward them--a maple tree overrunning with honey for theOneidas, but they seized him in haste, when, in a few moons, theycould have found many others.' If we say that, what will our greatfather think of his red children? Black Eagle, judge thou of this, andwhen thou dreamest another dream, see thou forked-tongued serpentshissing at the Five Nations, and ask, 'Who made them hiss?' I havespoken."

The feeling excited by this speech in all the Oneida warriors whoheard it would be difficult to describe. There was much anger, butthere was more shame. The latter was certainly predominant in thebreast of Black Eagle. He put his hand to his shoulder, as if seekingfor his mantle to draw over his face, and after a long pause he said:"Alas! that I have no answer. Thou art a youth, and my heart is old.My people should not leave me without reply before a boy. Go in peace!I will send my answer to him who sent thee, for our brethren theMohawks have not dealt well with us in using subtlety. There are moreof you, however. Let each of them return to his home, for the childrenof the Stone are masters of themselves."

"Of us there are no more than thou seest," answered the young man.

Black Eagle gazed at him somewhat sternly, and then answered: "Sixmen have entered the Oneida lands from this side since morningyesterday, by separate ways. Let them go back. We give them from sunto sun, and no one shall hurt them; but if they be found here afterthat, their scalps shall hang upon the warpost."

Thus saying, he turned and withdrew with his warriors, the youngMohawk and his companions glided back through the woods toward theirown district, almost as silently as they came.

The returning path of the great Oneida chief was pursued by him andhis companions with a slow and heavy tread. Not a word was spoken byanyone, for there were both deep grief and embarrassment upon each;and all felt that there was much justice in the reproof of the youngMohawk. They had come forth with feelings of indignation and anger atthe intelligence which had been received of the interference of othertribes in the affairs of the Oneida people, and they still felt muchirritation at the course which had been pursued; but still their pridewas humbled, and their native sense of justice touched by the vividpicture which had just been given of the view which might be taken byothers of their conduct toward Walter Prevost.

At this time, while the confederacy of the five powerful nationsremained entire, and a certain apprehensive sense of their danger fromthe encroachments of the Europeans was felt by all the Indian tribes,a degree of power and authority had fallen to the great chiefs whichprobably had not been attributed to them in earlier and more simpletimes. The great chief of the Mohawks called himself king, and in somedegree exercised the authority of a monarch. Black Eagle, indeed,assumed no different title from the ordinary Indian appellation ofsachem, but his great renown and his acknowledged wisdom had, perhaps,rendered his authority more generally reverenced than that of anyother chief in the confederacy. The responsibility, therefore, weighedstrongly upon him, and it was with feelings of deep gloom anddepression that he entered the great Oneida village shortly before thehour of sunset. The women and children were assembled to see thewarriors pass, excepting Otaitsa, who sat before the door of BlackEagle's great lodge, with her head bent down, under an oppressivesense of the difficulties and dangers of her coming task.

Black Eagle saw her well, and saw that she was moved by deep grief;but he gave no sign even of perceiving her, and moving slowly, andwith an unchanged countenance, to the door, he seated himself by herside, while his warriors ranged themselves round, and the women andyoung people formed another circle beyond the first. It was donewithout concert and without intimation, but all knew that the chiefwould speak before they parted. Otaitsa remained silent, in the sameposition, out of reverence for her father, and, after a short pause,the voice of the Black Eagle was heard, saying: "My children, yourfather is grieved. Were he a woman, he would weep. The reproach of hispeople, and the evil conduct of his allies, would bring water into theeyes that never were moist. But there is a storm upon us, the heavieststorm that ever has fallen. The waters of our lake are troubled, andwe have troubled them ourselves. We must have counsel. We must callthe wisdom of many men to avert the storm. Let, then, three of myswiftest warriors speed away to the heads of the eight tribes, tellingthem to come hither before the west is dark to-morrow, bringing withthem their wisest men. Then shall my children know my mind, and theBlack Eagle shall have strength again."

He paused, and Otaitsa sprang upon her feet, believing thatintelligence of what she had done had reached her father's ears. "Erethou sendest for thy chiefs, hear thy daughter!"

Black Eagle was surprised, but no sign of it was apparent on his face.He slowly bowed his head, and the Blossom went on:

"Have I not been an obedient child to thee? Have I not loved thee, andfollowed thy slightest word? I am thy child altogether. Thou hasttaken me often to the dwelling of the white man, because he is of mykindred. Thou hast often left me there whilst thou hast gone upon thewarpath, or hunted in the mountains. Thou hast said, 'They are of ourown blood. My wife, my beloved, was of high race amongst the palefacepeople of the east, the daughter of a great chief. I saved her in theday of battle, and she became mine; and true and faithful, loving andjust, was the child of the white chief to the great sachem of theOneidas. Shall I keep her daughter from all communication with herkindred?' Young was I, a mere child, when first thou tookest me there,and Edith was a sister, Walter a brother to me. They both loved mewell, and I loved them; but my love for the brother grew stronger thanfor the sister, and his for me. We told our love to each other, and hesaid, 'When I am old enough to go upon the warpath I will ask theBlack Eagle to give me Otaitsa, and the red chief and the white chiefshall again be united, and the bonds between the Oneidas and theEnglish people shall be strengthened;' and we dreamed a dream that allthis would be true, and pledged ourselves to each other forever. Now,what have I done, my father? The brethren of the Snake, and the chiefApukwa, contrary to the customs of the Oneidas, seized upon mybetrothed, carried off my husband captive four days after theirbrother was slain by a white man, but not by my Walter. It is not forme to know the laws of the Oneidas, or to speak of the traditions ofour fathers, but in this, at least, I knew that they had done evil;they had taken an innocent man before they had sought for the guilty.I found the place where they had hid him. I climbed to the top of therock above the chasm. I descended the face of the precipice. I tiedtwo ropes to the trees for his escape. I loosened the thongs from hishands, and from his feet, and I said, 'This night thou shalt flee, myhusband, and escape the wrath of thine enemies.' All this I did, andwhat is it? It may be against the law of the Oneidas, but it is thelaw of a woman's own heart, placed there by the Great Spirit. It iswhat my mother would have done for thee, my father, hadst thou been acaptive in the hands of thine enemies. Had I not done it, I should nothave been thy child, I should have been unworthy to call the BlackEagle father. The daughter of a chief must act as the daughter of achief. The child of a great warrior must have no fear. If I am to die,I am ready."

She paused for a moment, and Black Eagle raised his head, which hadbeen slightly bowed, and said, in a loud, clear voice: "Thou hast donewell, my child. So let every Indian woman do for him to whom she isbound. The women of the children of the Stone are not as other women.Like the stone, they are firm; like the rock, they are lofty. Theybear warriors for the nation. They teach them to do great deeds."

"Yet bear with me a little, my father," said Otaitsa, "and let thydaughter's fate be in thy hand before all the eyes here present.Apukwa and the brethren of the Snake had set a watch, and stole uponme and upon my white brother, and mocked thy daughter and her husband,and bound his hands and feet again, and said that he shall die!"

It is rare that an Indian interrupts the speech of anyone, but theheart of the chief had been altogether with Otaitsa's enterprise, andhe now exclaimed, with great anxiety, "Then has he not escaped?"

"He has not," replied Otaitsa. "It went as I have said. Walter Prevostis still in the hands of the brethren of the Snake and of Apukwa, andhe is not safe, my father, even until the nation shall have decidedwhat shall be his fate. When the nation speaks," she continued,emboldened by her father's approbation, "then will Otaitsa live ordie, for I tell thee, and I tell all the warriors here present, thatif my husband is slain for no offence by the hand of an Oneida, thedaughter of the chief dies, too!"

"Koui! koui!" murmured the chiefs, in a low, sad tone, as they gazedupon her, standing in her great beauty by her father's side, while thesetting sun peeped out from beneath the edge of the snow cloud andcast a gleam of rosy light around her.

"He is not safe even till the word is spoken," said Otaitsa, "for theyare bad men that hold him. They took him contrary to our customs. Theydespise our laws. They are Honontkoh, and fear nothing but thetomahawk of the Black Eagle. They drink blood. They slay their mothersand their brethren. They are Honontkoh!"

A murmur of awe and indignation at the hated name of the dark secretorder existing amongst the Indians, but viewed with apprehension andhatred by all the more noble warriors of the tribes, ran round thecircle, and Black Eagle rose, saying: "Let them be examined, and ifthe stripe be found upon them, set honest men to guard the lad.To-morrow, at the great council, we will discuss his fate, and theGreat Spirit send us dreams of what is right. Come with me, my child.The Blossom is ever dear."

Thus saying, he turned and entered the lodge.

CHAPTER XXI

About two o'clock on the following day long lines of Indian chiefs andwarriors might be seen approaching the great Oneida village. Soonafter, a great fire was lighted before the door of the principallodge, and, as on the preceding evening, the warriors were ranged in acircle round, and the women and children in another beyond. The greatchief, dressed in all the glittering finery of the Indian peacecostume, with feathers and red and white head dress, and crimsonmantle, and embroidered shirt and overdress, and medals innumerablehung around his neck, took the seat of honor with a grave dignity,such as few civilized monarchs have, even after the greatest study,been able to attain. He wore no warlike weapons, nothing but a singleknife appeared in his girdle, and in his hand he carried the richlyornamented calumet, or pipe of piece.

Close behind her father sat Otaitsa, with her heart greatly troubled,but less, perhaps, with fear than with expectation. The Black Eaglehad been kind and tender with her when they had been alone together.He had held her to his heart with a display of fondness such as anIndian rarely shows openly to his child. He had listened to the wholetale of her love for Walter Prevost without a word of disapprobationor reproach, and sometimes even a playful smile had come upon hisdark, stern face as her words recalled the memory of feelingsexperienced in youth, like a well-remembered song heard again after along lapse of years. Instead of reprehending her attempt to deliverWalter, he commended it highly. "It was thy part, my child; thoushouldst have been a boy, Otaitsa; the warrior's spirit is in themaiden's bosom."

But when she came to speak of her lover's fate, to plead, to sue, toentreat, the stern, grave coldness of the Indian chief returned; andthough she could see that he was full of fixed resolves, she could inno way discover what they were. The explanation of them she knew wasnow to come, and it may be imagined with what eager and intenseinterest she listened for every word.

There was, of course, some little confusion as the multitude tooktheir places, but it was soon hushed, and then a deep silence spreadaround. The great pipe was lighted, and sent from hand to hand till ithad passed all around the circle, and then, and not till then, BlackEagle rose and spoke.

"Have my words been heard?" he said. "Have my warriors examinedwhether any of the dark and infernal order of the Honontkoh areamongst us?"

He seated himself again as soon as he had made the inquiry, and aftera moment's pause two middle-aged warriors, who had been with him onthe preceding day, rose and took a step forward, while one of themsaid: "We have heard thy words, and examined. The brother of theSnake, Apukwa, the medicine man, and the Flying Squirrel areHonontkoh. The stripe is upon them and upon none else."

"It is well," said the chief, rising again. "Bring forward that manwho was taken at our Castle door, last night."

Half a dozen young men sprang upon their feet and speedily broughtfrom the door of a neighboring lodge the half-breed runner Proctor,whom we have seen with Brooks and Lord H---- at Albany. He had acalumet in his hand, the sign of a peaceful mission, and he showed nofear, for he knew that his life would be respected, although he hadlearned by this time that the Oneidas had been greatly excited by someacts referring to the very object of his mission. Standing in themidst of them, as calm and collected as he had been in the fort atAlbany, he hardly gave a glance round the circle, but looked straight,with a cold and inexpressive countenance, at the chief before whom hewas placed.

"What hast thou to say?" demanded Black Eagle.

The man remained silent, although there was an evident movement of hislips as if to speak.

"Fear not," said Black Eagle, mistaking the ineffectual effort tospeak for a sign of apprehension, although it really proceeded from ahabitual unwillingness to hear the sound of his own voice, "thou shaltgo in safety, whatever be thy message. Art thou dumb, man? Is thytongue a stone?"

"I am not dumb--I am not afraid," said the man, with a great effort,"Great chiefs in Albany send me to say, 'Give us the boy?'"

There he stopped, for it had cost him much to utter so many words.

"Were they war chiefs?" demanded Black Eagle, aloud.

The man nodded his head, and Black Eagle asked: "Did they threaten theOneidas--did they say they would unbury the hatchet?"

The runner shook his head, and the chief asked, "What did they say,then, would befall us if we refused to comply?"

"Shame," replied Proctor, aloud; and Black Eagle suddenly drew hismantle over his face.

A low murmur spread round like the hum of a hive of bees, and when ithad subsided the chief rose, and with an air of grave, sad dignity,looked round upon his people. "Ye have heard, oh children of theStone," he said, in a rich, clear, deep-toned voice, "what the chiefsof the palefaces say of the Oneida nation; and there are warriors herewho were with me yesterday when our brethren the Mohawks reproached mewith treachery and inhospitality toward our paleface brother, Prevost;and the Black Eagle had nothing to answer. Ye know the history. Whyshould I sing again the song of yesterday? A man of our nation wasslain by one of the Yengees, and the brethren of the dead man seizedupon the son of Prevost, who is also our son, without searching forhim who had spilt the blood. This was contrary to the custom of theFive Nations; but they say the man was not to be found, he was alreadybeyond our territory, and we must take the first we can find toappease the spirit of our brother. But Prevost is a good man, loved byall the Five Nations, as a brother to the redman, a friend who trustedus. So hard do the Mohawks and the Onondagas think this deed, thatthey have dealt subtly with the Oneidas, and striven to rescue ourcaptive from our hands by the crooked ways of the serpent. Thepaleface chiefs, too, have sent men into our land, and think darkly ofthe Oneidas; but the Black Eagle saw what they did, and spread hiswings and drove them forth. He had no answer for the reproaches of theMohawks or for the Yengees. He will give them both their answer thisday by the messenger, and the children of the Stone will thereby knowhis mind. Let them say if it be good."

Then turning to Proctor, he stretched out his hand toward the south,saying: "When thou goest hence, two of my warriors shall go with theeto the Castle of the Mohawk, and thou shalt say, 'Why hast thou dealtsubtly with the Oneidas? If thou hast aught against him, why didstthou not send a messenger of peace to tell thy brother thy mind, orwhy didst thou not appeal to the great council of the Five Nations, tojudge between thee and him? If thou wilt unbury the hatchet, and cutdown the tree of peace, and bring trouble into the Five Nations, thatthe paleface may prevail, and our Long House be pulled down to theground, then paint thy face, and dance the war dance, and come uponthe battleway, but follow not the trail of the serpent, to stealunperceived into thy brother's land.'"

A murmur of approbation followed this bold speech, but the next momentthe chief continued, still addressing Proctor, and saying: "When thouhast thus spoken to the Mohawk, thou shalt go on to the palefacechiefs at Albany, and to them thou shalt say: 'The children of theStone have heard your message. They are the children of the greatking. He is their father, and they love him. But the Oneidas havetheir own laws, and are led by their own chiefs. They take the warpathagainst your enemies as against their own, and ye are glad in the dayof battle when they fight the Frenchman by your side. It is sweet tothem that you have used no threats, and they would not have theirwhite brother think darkly of them. They love, too, the chief,Prevost. They love his son as a brother; but one of their own childrenhas been slain by one of yours, and their law must be fulfilled. Hisspirit must not be shut out from the happy hunting grounds. They willmourn as a whole nation for Walter Prevost, but Walter Prevost mustdie unless the wanderer is taken. Thus says the Black Eagle, the greatchief of the Oneida nation; he who has taken a hundred scalps of hisenemies, and fought in fifteen battles with your foes and his. Give usup the murderer if ye would save the boy. He is in your land. You canfind him. Do justly by us in this matter, and walk not in the trail ofthe fox to deceive us and to save from us our captive.'"

Then pausing for an instant, he somewhat lowered his voice, but spokethe succeeding words very slowly and distinctly, in order that everysyllable might not only be impressed upon the mind of the man headdressed, but be clearly heard and comprehended by all the peoplearound: "Thou shalt say, moreover, to our brethren, the palefacechiefs at Albany, that the Black Eagle finds that Walter Prevost hasfallen into the hands of bad men, who cannot be trusted, dealers indark things, vultures whose heads are bare but whose hearts arecovered. The Black Eagle will take the boy from their hands, and willtreat him well and keep him in safety till the hour come. As ye havesaid that the Oneidas are hasty, that they do rashly, that they havenot sought as they ought to seek, for six moons will Black Eagle keepthe lad in peace as his own son, to see if ye will give him up themurderer of an Oneida. But as the chief would slay his own son if thelaws of his own people required it at his hands, so will he and thechiefs of his nation slay Walter Prevost, if in six moons ye do notgive him up the murderer. He shall die the death of a warrior, withhis hands unbound; and as Black Eagle knows the spirit that is in him,he is sure that he will die as a warrior should. This thou shalt sayto the English chiefs; let them look to it; the fate of the boydepends upon their counsel. Give him a roll of wampum for his reward,and let him go in peace."

His commands were immediately obeyed, and the half-breed runnerremoved from the circle. Then, turning to the warriors, withoutreseating himself, the chief demanded, "Have I said well?"

The usual words of approbation followed, repeated by almost everyvoice present, and then Black Eagle resumed in a stern tone, saying:"And now, my children, what shall be done to the Honontkoh? I havealready removed the captive from their hands, for they are a peoplewithout faith. They live in darkness, and they wrap themselves in ashadow. They take their paths in deceit, and we see blood anddissension follow them. Already have they raised against us the wrathof our brethren of the Five Nations. They have brought the yellowcloud of shame upon the Oneida name. They have well nigh severed thethreads which hold the roll of our league together. They have laid thehatchet to the root of the tree which we and our English fatherplanted. I say let them go forth from amongst us. The totem of theTortoise casts them forth. We will not leave our lodges near theirlodges. They shall not dwell within our palisade. Let them betakethemselves to the darkness of the forest and to the secret holes ofthe rock, for darkness and secrecy are the dwelling places of theirhearts; or let them go, if they will, to the deceitful Hurons, to thepeople beyond Horicon, and fight beside the deceitful Frenchman. Withus they shall not dwell; let them be seen no more amongst us. Is myjudgment good?"

A general cry of approbation followed, the council broke up, thewarriors commenced wandering about, those who came from a distanceseeking hospitality in the neighboring lodges, for the great lodgeitself could not afford room for all.

To her own little chamber Otaitsa retired at once, and barringthe door, went down upon her knees to offer up thanksgiving andprayer--thanksgiving, for hope is ever a blessing--prayer, for therewas danger still before her eyes. Safe for the next six months sheknew Walter would be in the careful custody of her father, but shestill prayed, earnestly that her mother's God would find some way ofdeliverance for the sake of Him who died to save mankind.

CHAPTER XXII

More than five months had passed; months of great trouble and anxietyto many. The woods, blazing in their autumnal crimson when last we sawthem, had worn and soiled in a short fortnight the glorious vestmentsof the autumn, and cast them to the earth, and now they had put on thegreen garments of the summer, and robed themselves in the tender huesof youth.

It was under a large tree, on a high bank commanding the wholeprospect round for many and many a mile, and in the eastern part ofthe province of New York, that three redmen were seated in the earlysummer of 1758. A little distance in advance of them, and somewhatlower down the hill, was a small patch of brush, composed offantastic-looking bushes, and one small blasted tree. It formed, as itwere, a sort of screen to the Indians' resting place from all eyesbelow, and yet did not in the least impede their sight as it wanderedover the wide forest world around them. From the elevation on whichthey were placed the eye of the redman, which seems, from constantpractice, to have gained the keenness of the eagle's sight, couldplunge into every part of the woods around, where the trees were notactually contiguous. The trail, wherever it quitted the shelter of thebranches; the savanna, wherever it broke the outline of the forest;the river, where it wound along on its course to the ocean; themilitary road from the banks of the Hudson to the head of LakeHoricon; the smallest pond, the little stream, were all spread out toview as if upon a map.

Over the wide, extensive prospect the eyes of those three Indianswandered incessantly, not as if employed in searching for somedefinite object, the direction of which, if not the precise position,they knew, but rather as if they were looking for anything which mightafford them some object of pursuit or interest. They sat there nearlytwo hours in the same position, and during the whole of that time notmore than four or five words passed between them. But at length theybegan to converse, though at first in a low tone, as if the silencehad its awe, even for them. One of them pointed with his hand toward aspot to the eastward, saying: "There is something doing there."

In the direction to which he called the attention of his companionswas seen spread out in the midst of the forest and hills a small butexquisitely beautiful lake, seemingly joined on to another of muchgreater extent by a narrow channel. Of the former, the whole extentcould not be seen, for every here and there a spur of the mountainscut off the view, and broke in upon the beautiful, waving line of theshore. The latter was more distinctly visible, spread out broad andeven, with every little islet, headland, and promontory marked clearand definite against the bright, glistening surface of the waters.Near the point where the two lakes seemed to meet, the Indians coulddescry walls, and mounds of earth, and various buildings ofconsiderable size--nay, even what was probably the broad banner ofFrance, though it seemed but a mere whitish spot in the distance, wasvisible to their sight.

At the moment when the Indian spoke, coming from a distant point onthe larger lake, the extreme end of which was lost to view in a sortof blue, indistinct haze, a large boat or ship might be seen, withbroad white sails, wafted swiftly onward by a cold northeasterly wind.Some way behind it another moving object appeared, a boat likewise,but much more indistinct, and here and there, nearer inshore, two orthree black specks, probably canoes, were darting along upon the bosomof the lake like waterflies upon the surface of a still stream.

"The palefaces take the warpath against each other," said another ofthe Indians, after gazing for a moment or two.

"May they all perish!" said the third. "Why are our people so mad asto help them? Let them fight, and slay, and scalp one another, andthen the redman tomahawk the rest."

The other two uttered a bitter malediction in concert with this fiercebut not impolitic thought, and then, after one of their long pauses,the first who had spoken resumed the conversation, saying: "Yet Iwould give one of the feathers of the white bird to know what thepalefaces are doing. Their hearts are black against each other. Canyou not tell us, Apukwa? You were on the banks of the Horiconyesterday, and must have heard the news from Corlear."

"The news from Albany matters much more," answered Apukwa. "TheYengees are marching up with a cloud of fighting men, and people knownot where they will fall. Some think Oswego, some think Ticonderoga. Iam sure that it is the place of the singing waters that they goagainst."

"Will they do much in the warpath," asked the brother of the Snake,"or will the Frenchman make himself as red as he did last year at thesouth of Horicon?"

"The place of the singing waters is strong, brother," replied Apukwa,in a musing tone, "and the Frenchmen are great warriors; but theYengees are many in number, and they have called for aid from the FiveNations. I told the Huron who sold me powder, where the eagles wouldcome down, and I think he would not let the tidings slumber beneathhis tongue. The great winged canoes are coming up Corlear very quick,and I think my words must have been whispered in the French chiefs earto cause them to fly so quickly to Ticonderoga."

A faint, nearly suppressed smile came upon the lips of his twocompanions as they heard of this proceeding; but the younger of thethree inquired: "And what will Apukwa do in the battle?"

"Scalp my enemies," replied Apukwa, looking darkly round.

"Which is thine enemy?" asked the brother of the Snake.

"Both," answered the medicine man, bitterly; "and every true Honontkohshould do as I do; follow them closely, and slay every man that flies,be his nation what it may. So long as he be white it is enough for us.He is an enemy. Let us blunt our scalping knives on the skulls of thepalefaces. Then when the battle is over we can take our trophies tothe conqueror and say, 'We have been on thy side!'"

"But will he not know?" suggested the younger man. "Will he listen soeasily to the song?"

"How should he know?" asked Apukwa, coldly. "If we took him redmen'sscalps he might doubt; but all he asks is white men's scalps, and wewill take them. They are all alike, and they will have no faces underthem."

This ghastly jest was highly to the taste of the two hearers, andbending down their heads together, the three continued to converse forseveral minutes in a whisper. At length one of them said: "Could wenot take Prevost's house as we go? How many brothers did you say wouldmuster?"

"Nine," answered Apukwa, "and our three selves make twelve." Then,after pausing for a moment or two in thought, he added: "It would besweet as the strawberry, and as easy to gather; but there may bethorns near it. We may tear ourselves, my brothers."

"I fear not," answered the brother of the Snake. "So that I but set myfoot within that lodge, with my rifle in my hand and my tomahawk in mybelt, I care not what follows."

"The boy is to die," answered Apukwa. "Why seek more in his lodge atthine own risk?"

The other did not answer, but after a moment's pause he asked: "Who isit has built the lodge still farther to the morning?"

"One of the workers of iron," answered Apukwa, meaning the Dutch. "Heis a great chief, they say, and a friend of the Five Nations."

"Then no friend of ours, my brother," answered the other speaker; "forthough it be the children of the Stone who have shut the door of thelodge against us and driven us from the council fire, the Five Nationshave confirmed their saying, and made the Honontkoh a people apart.Why should we not fire that lodge, too, and then steal on to thedwelling of Prevost?"

"Thy lip is thirsty for something," said Apukwa. "Is it the maidenthou wouldst have?"

The other smiled darkly, and, after remaining silent for a shortspace, answered: "They have taken from me my captive, and my hand cannever reach the Blossom I sought to gather. The boy may die, but notby my tomahawk; and when he does die I am no better, for I lose thatwhich I sought to gain by his death. Are Apukwa's eyes misty, that hecannot see? The spirit of the Snake would have been as well satisfiedwith the blood of any other paleface, but that would not havesatisfied me."

"But making Prevost's house red will not gather for thee the Blossom,"answered Apukwa.

The third and younger of the Indians laughed, saying: "The windchanges, Apukwa, and so does the love of our brother. The maiden inthe lodge of Prevost is more beautiful than the Blossom. We have seenher thrice since this moon grew big, and my brother calls her theFawn, because she has become the object of his chase."

"Thou knowest not my thought," said the brother of the Snake, gravely;"the maiden is fair, and she moves round her father's lodge like thesun. She shall be the light of mine, too; but the brother of the Snakeforgets not those who disappoint him; and the boy Prevost would rathersee the tomahawk falling than know that the Fawn is in my lodge."

The other two uttered that peculiar humming sound by which the Indianssometimes intimate that they are satisfied, and the conversation whichwent on between them related chiefly to the chances of making asuccessful attack upon the house of Mr. Prevost. Occasionally, indeed,they turned their eyes toward the boats upon Lake Champlain, andcommented upon the struggle that was about to be renewed betweenFrance and England. That each party had made vast preparations waswell known, and intelligence of the extent and nature of thesepreparations had spread far and wide amongst the tribes, withwonderful accuracy as to many of the details, but without any certainknowledge of where the storm was to break.

All saw, however, and comprehended, that a change had come over theBritish government; that the hesitating and doubtful policy which hadhitherto characterized their military movements in America was at anend, and that the contest was now to be waged for the gain and loss ofall the European possessions on the American continent. Already it wasknown amongst the Five Nations, although the time for the transmissionof the intelligence was incredibly small, that a large fleet andarmament had arrived at Halifax, and that several naval successes overthe French had cleared the way for some great enterprise in the north.At the same time, the neighborhood of Albany was full of the bustle ofmilitary preparation, and a large force was already collected underAbercrombie for some great attempt upon the lakes; and from the west,news had been received that a British army was marching rapidly towardthe French forts upon the Ohio and the Monongahela. The Indian nativesroused themselves at the sound of war, for though some few of themacted regularly in alliance with one or the other of the contendingEuropean powers, a greater number than is generally believed caredlittle whom they attacked, or for whom they fought, or whom they slew,and were, in reality, but as a flock of vultures, spreading theirwings at the scent of battle, and ready to take advantage of thecarnage, whatever was the result of the strife.

CHAPTER XXIII

We must now return to the scene in which this narrative firstcommenced; but, oh! how changed was the aspect of all things from thatwhich the house of Mr. Prevost presented but five short months before!The father and the daughter were there alone. The brother no longergleamed about the house, with his blithesome air and active energies,and the thought of him and of his fate hung continually, like a darkshadow, over those to whom he was so dear. They were not whollywithout comfort; they were not wholly without hope; for, from time totime, renewed assurances came to them from many a quarter that Walterwould still be saved. But still time wore on, and he was notdelivered.

During the winter Lord H---- visited them very frequently, and it isprobable that, had no dark cloud overshadowed the hopes as well as thehappiness of all, he would have pressed for the prize of Edith's handwithout delay; but he loved not the mingling of joy and sorrow. Inthat, at least, his view of the world, and life, and fate, wasdeceitful. He was not yet convinced, although he had some experience,that such a thing as unalloyed happiness, even for a few short days,is not to be found on earth--that the only mine of gold without drosslies beneath the grave.

In the meantime, the gathering together of British soldiers on theHudson and the Mohawk had, like one wave meeting another, somewhatrepelled the Indian tribes. A runner, a half-breed, or one or tworedmen together--more frequently from the nation of the Mohawks thanfrom any other tribe--would be seen occasionally, wandering throughthe woods, or crossing the open ground near the settler's dwelling;but they seldom approached the house, and their appearance caused noapprehension. Relations of the greatest amity had been establishedbetween the British authorities and the chiefs of the Five Nations,and several of the tribes were preparing to take part in the comingstrife upon the side of England.

Three times during the winter the house of Mr. Prevost was visited bya single Indian of the Oneida tribe. On two occasions it was a man whopresented himself, and his stay was very short. On the first occasion,Edith was alone, when, without the sound of footsteps, he glided inlike a dark shadow. His look was friendly, though for a moment he saidnothing, and Edith, well knowing their habits, asked if he would takefood. He answered yes, in his own language; and she called some of theservants to supply him; but before he ate, he looked up in her face,saying: "I am bidden to tell thee that thy brother shall be safe."

"Whose words do you bear?" asked Edith; "is it the Black Eaglespeaks?"

"Nay; Otaitsa," replied the man.

This was all she could learn, for the messenger was either ignorant ofmore or affected to be so; yet still it was a comfort to her. The nextwho came was a woman, somewhat past the middle age, and by no meansbeautiful. She stayed long, and with good-natured volubility relatedall that had happened immediately after Edith's visit to the OneidaCastle. She dwelt upon the attempt of the Blossom to deliver her loveras she would have expatiated upon some daring feat of courage in awarrior; and though in the end she had to tell how the maiden's boldeffort had been frustrated, she added: "Yet he shall be safe; theyshall not slay our brother."

The third time the same man returned, bearing the same assurances;but, as hour after hour went by, and day by day, without the lad'sreturn, or any definite news of him, hope sickened and grew faint. Bythis time it was known that the efforts of the Mohawks and theOnondagas had been frustrated; and, moreover, it was plainly intimatedby the chiefs of those two nations that they would interfere no more.

"The Oneidas have reproved us," they said, "and we had no reply. Wemust not make the children of the Stone hiss at our children; neithermust we break the bonds of our alliance for a single man."

The scouts who had been put under the order of Woodchuck were recalledto the army early in the spring without having effected anything. Allthat had been heard at the forts showed that the young prisoner hadbeen removed to the very farthest part of the Oneida territory, whereit was impossible for any single Englishman to penetrate without beingdiscovered by the Indians.

Of Woodchuck himself nothing was heard till the flowers began tospring up, close upon the footsteps of the snow. It was believed thathe was still in the forest, but even of this no one was assured; andall that, with any accuracy, could be divined, was that he had notfallen into the hands of the Oneidas, inasmuch as there was everyreason to believe that, had such been the case, Walter's liberationwould have immediately followed. Thus matters had gone on in thehousehold of Mr. Prevost, till about a month before the period atwhich I have thought best to present to the reader the three Indiansseated on the hill.

The day had been one of exceeding loveliness, and not without itsactivity, too, for a party of soldiers had been thrown forward forsome object, to a spot within a mile and a half from the house, andLord H---- had been twice there, making Edith's heart thrill, eachtime he appeared, with emotions still so new and strange as set herdreaming for an hour after he was gone. The evening had come, bringingwith it some clouds in the western sky, and Edith, as she sat with herfather, looked out from the window, with her head resting on her hand.

As she gazed, she perceived a figure slowly crossing between thegardener boy and old Agrippa, who were working in the gardens, andapparently taking its course to the door of the house. At first shedid not recognize it, for it was more like an Indian than that of aEuropean, more like that of a bear than either. It had a human face,however, and as it came forward an impression, at first faint, butincreasing with every step it advanced, took possession of her, thatit must be the man whose fatal act had brought so much wretchednessupon her family. He was very much, very sadly changed; and althoughthe bearskins in which he was dressed hid the emaciation of his form,the meagerness of his face was very evident as he came near.

Edith lifted her head from her hand, saying: "I think, my father, hereis Captain Brooks approaching. Poor man! he seems terribly changed!"

Mr. Prevost started up, gazed for a moment from the window, and thenhurried forth to meet him.

Edith had the happiness to see her father take the wanderer kindly bythe hand and lead him toward the door. Whatever had been Mr. Prevost'sfeelings, the sight of Woodchuck's altered face was enough to softenthem entirely. The next moment they entered the room together, andEdith extended her hand kindly to him.

"Ah, Miss Prevost, you are very good," he said; "and so is yourfather, too. I have not been to see you for a long time."

"That was not right of you, Woodchuck," she said; "you should havecome to see us. We know all you have been trying to do for my brother.If you cannot succeed it is not your fault, and we should have beenglad to see you, both for your own sake and for the sake of hearingall your proceedings as they occurred."

"Ah, but I have been far away," he answered. "I first tried to get atthe poor boy from this side, and finding that would not do, I took along round and came upon them from the west; but I got nothing butsome information; and then I made up my mind. Them Ingians are ascunning as Satan. I have circumvented them once, but they won't let aman do it twice."

Mr. Prevost had stood listening, eager to hear anything that relatedto his son. "We will more of this by and by, Brooks. Come into thehall and have some food. You must be hungry and tired, both, I amsure."

"No," replied Woodchuck, "I am not hungry. Tired a little I am, Iguess, though I have not walked more than forty miles. But I met ayoung Ingian, two or three hours ago, who gave me some venison steaksoff his own fire. Some rest will soon set all to rights."

"Take some wine at least," said Mr. Prevost; "that will do you good;you look quite faint."

"Faint in limb, but not in heart," replied Woodchuck, stoutly."However, I won't refuse the wine, for it was given to cheer the heartof man, as the Bible says, and mine wants cheering, though it does notwant strengthening; for I'll do what I say, as I'm a living man."

They took him into the hall, and persuaded him both to eat and drink,evidently to his benefit, for though he did not lose the sad tone inwhich he spoke, his voice was stronger, and his features seemed togrow less sharp.

"And where have you been ever since the snow has been on the ground?"asked Edith, when he seemed a little revived. "You cannot surely havebeen wandering in the woods during the terribly severe weather we hadin January."

"I hutted myself down," he said, "like an Ingian or a beaver, andcovered the lodge all over with snow. I planted it upon a ledge ofrock, with its mouth close behind an old hemlock tree, and made itwhite all over, so they would have been worse than devils to find me;for life is sweet, Miss Prevost, even in winter time, and I did notwish to be tomahawked so long as I could help it."

"You must have had a sad, desolate time, I fear," said Mr. Prevost;"at least till the spring came round."

"I guess it wasn't very cheerful," answered Woodchuck; "but that's thebest way to teach one's self not to care for what's coming. At least Iused to think so once, and to believe that if a man could once makehimself very miserable in this world he would not much care how soonhe went out of it; but I've changed my opinion on that matter alittle, for up there on the side of the hill, after four or fiveweeks, half famished, half frozen, I did not feel a bit more inclinedto die than I did a year ago, when there were few lighter-hearted thanmyself. So I thought, before I did anything of the kind, knowing thatthere was no need of it just yet, I would just go and take a rambleamong the mountains in the fine weather, like Jephtha's daughter."

His words would have been enigmas to Edith, had she not somehowmisunderstood their obvious meaning; for Lord H----, not fully knowingthe character of the man, and unwilling to excite confident hope thatmight ultimately be disappointed by some change of Woodchuck'sfeelings, had foreborne to mention more of his purposes than the merefact of his intention to peril his own life to save that of WalterPrevost. To Edith the words used by Woodchuck seemed but to imply thathe still contemplated some daring attempt to set her brother atliberty; and in the hope, if she could learn the particulars of hisscheme, to be able to procure the co-operation of Otaitsa and othersin the Oneida Castle, she said: "You are indeed a good, kind friend,Woodchuck, and you have, I know, already undergone great risks forpoor Walter's sake. There are others laboring for him, too, andperhaps if we knew what you intended to do next----"

"To do next!" exclaimed the man, interrupting her. "Why, haven't Itold you? I said when I found I could not get in from the west I madeup my mind."

"To do what, my good friend?" said Mr. Prevost. "You certainly impliedyou intended to do something, but what you did not state. Now, Ieasily understand Edith's anxiety to know your intentions, for we haveobtained friends in the Oneida camp who might give great assistance toyour efforts if we knew what they are to be. But I should tell you, mydear daughter here ventured across the Mohawk country to see our dearlittle Otaitsa, who, like you, risked her own life to save my poorboy--God's blessing be upon her!"

The tears rose in his eyes, and he paused for a moment; but Woodchuckwaved his hand, saying: "I know all about it. I were on the bank ofthe creek, Miss Edith, when the Ingian woman paddled you back, and Iguessed how it had all been. I said to myself, when I heard more of ittwo days arter, 'Her father will be mighty angry,' and so he were, Iguess."

"You are mistaken, my friend," said Mr. Prevost, laying his hand onEdith's with a tender pressure. "I was not angry, though I was muchalarmed; but that alarm was not of long endurance, for I was detainedmuch longer than I expected at Sir William Johnson's, and my anxietywas only protracted two days after my return. But still you have nottold us of your plans. If that dear girl, Otaitsa, can help us, shewill do it if it cost her life!"

Woodchuck paused a moment or two, in deep, absent thought, and overhis rough countenance the trace of many a strong emotion flitted; butat length he said, in a low, distinct voice: "She can do nothing.Black Eagle has the boy under his keen eye. He loves him well, Mr.Prevost, and he will treat him kindly; but just as much as he doeslove him he will make it a point to keep him safely, and to kill him,too, if he ha'n't got another victim. That man should ha' been one ofthose old Romans I have heard talk of, who killed their own sons anddaughters rather than not do what they thought right. He'd not sparehis own flesh and blood--not he; and the more he loves him the surerhe'll kill him!"

Edith wept, and Mr. Prevost covered his eyes with his hands; butWoodchuck, who had been gazing down upon the table, and saw not thepowerful emotions his words had produced, proceeded, after a gloomypause: "He'll watch his daughter sharply, too, though they say hepraised her daring; and that I guess he did, for that's just the sortof thing to strike his fancy. He'll take care she sha'n't do it again.No! no! There's but one way with Black Eagle. I know him well, and heknows me, and there is but one way with him."

"What's that?" asked Mr. Prevost, in a tone of deep melancholy.

"Just to do what I intend," replied Woodchuck, with a very calmmanner. "Mr. Prevost, I love my life as much as any man--a little toomuch, mayhap, and I intend to keep it as long as I rightly can; forthere are always things written in that chapter of accidents that noneon us can see. But I don't intend to let your son Walter--he's a goodboy--be put to death for a thing of my doing. You don't suppose it? Atfirst, when the thing came fresh upon me at Albany, I felt mighty likea fool and a coward, and I would ha' skulked away into any hole, justto save myself from myself. But I soon took thought, and made up mymind. Now, here you and Miss Edith have been praising and thanking mefor trying to save poor Walter's life. I didn't deserve no praise, nothanks, either. It was my own life I was trying to save; for if Icould get him out secretly we should both be secure enough; but I'vegiven it up. It can't be done; and Black Eagle knows it. He knows me,too, and he's just as sure at this blessed moment that before the dayhe has appointed for Walter to die, Woodchuck will walk in and say,'Here I am!' as he is that he's in his own lodge. Then he will havegot the right man, and all will be settled. Now, Mr. Prevost, and you,Miss Edith, you know what I intend to do. To-morrow, when I'm a bitrested, I shall set out again and take my ramble in the mountains likeJephtha's daughter, as I said. Then this day month I will be hereagain to bid you all good-bye. Walter will have to tell you the rest.Don't cry so, there's a good girl. You're like to set me a-crying,too. There's one thing more I have to ask you both, and that is: Neverspeak another word to me about this matter--not even when I come backagain. I try not to think of it at all myself, and I don't much now.If I can screw myself up like those Ingians, I shall just walk quietlyin among them as if nothing were going to happen, and say, 'Set theboy free; here's Woodchuck himself,' and then die--not like an Indian,but like a Christian, I trust, and one that knows he's a-doing of hisduty, anyhow. So now not a word more--and let's talk of somethingelse."

Woodchuck steadily and sturdily refused to pursue any further thesubject of his fixed determination, although both Mr. Prevost andEdith, deeply touched, and, to say the truth, much agitated, wouldfain have dwelt upon the topic longer. Edith felt, and Mr. Prevostargued in his own mind, that the poor man was performing a generousand self-devoted act, which no moral obligation forced upon him. Theyfelt, too, that so noble a heart was not one which ought to besacrificed to the vengeful spirit of the Indians; and the naturalfeeling of joy and satisfaction which they experienced at the apparentcertainty of Walter's deliverance from death seemed to them almost acrime, when it was to be purchased at so dear a price.

His obstinacy, however, conquered; the subject was changed; and asthey sat together in the little room to which he had led the way, theycontinued a broken sort of conversation, while the shades of eveninggathered thick round them, upon topics connected with that which theyhad quitted, though avoiding the point which was most painfullyprominent in the mind of each.

"They are a savage set," he would say, "and the devil himself has ashare in them. I have heard people talk much of their generosity, andall that, but I guess I've not seen much of it."

Mr. Prevost was silent, for his feelings had suffered a natural changetoward the Indians; but Edith exclaimed, "We cannot say that of dearOtaitsa, at all events, Woodchuck; for she surely has a heart full ofgenerosity, and everything that is noble."

"That's not raal, that's not raal," answered Woodchuck. "That comes ofthe blood that's in her. For that matter, Black Eagle has some finethings about him. He's the best of them I ever saw. We used to say,'Whole Ingian, half devil.' I think in his case it must have beenquarter devil, and that's saying a good deal for so fierce a man as hein battle. They say he has scalped more enemies than all his tribe puttogether, specially in that war down upon the Pennsylvania side somenineteen years ago, when some of our people foolishly took part withthe Mohagans."

Mr. Prevost started, and Woodchuck went on, saying: "He has goodthings, for he always makes his people spare the women and children;which is what them Ingians seldom think of. A scalp's a scalp to them,whether it has got long hair on it or only a scalp-lock. But, as I wassaying, the Blossom has got all that is good in him, and all that wasgood in her mother, poor thing; and that was a mighty great deal."

"I have often wished," said Mr. Prevost, "that I could hear somethingof Otaitsa's history. Her mother, I believe, was a white woman, and Ihave more than once tried, when I found the Black Eagle in acommunicative mood, to lead him to speak upon the subject; but themoment it was touched upon he would wrap his blanket round him andstalk away."

"Aye! he has never forgotten her," said Woodchuck. "He never tookanother wife, you know; and well he may remember her, for she was hisbetter angel, and ruled him completely, which was what no one elsecould. But I can tell you all about it, if you like to know, for Iheard it all from an old squaw, one time; and I saw the lady once,too, myself, and talked to her."

"I think," said Edith, thoughtfully, "that she must have been a lady;for when I was in their lodge, I saw, in Otaitsa's little chamber, agreat number of things of European manufacture and of high taste."

"May not those have been procured for the dear girl by our good friendGore?" asked Mr. Prevost. "He is a man of much taste himself."

"I think not," answered Edith. "They are evidently old, and seemed tohave belonged to one person; besides, there are a number of drawings,all evidently done by one hand--not what anyone would purchase, andapparently by an amateur rather than an artist."

Mr. Prevost fell into a fit of thought, and leaned his head upon hishand, but Woodchuck replied: "Oh, they are her mother's, beyond doubt;they are her mother's. She was quite a lady, every inch of her; youcould hear it in the tone of her voice, you could see it in her walk.Her words, too, were those of a lady; and her hand, too, was so smalland delicate it could never have seen work. Do you know, Miss Edith,she was wonderfully like you--more like you than Otaitsa. But I'lltell you all about it, just as I heard it from the old squaw. At thetime I talk of--that's a good many years ago--eighteen, or nineteen,maybe--Black Eagle was the handsomest man that had ever been seen inthe tribes, they say, and the fiercest warrior, too. He was alwaysready to take part in any war, and whenever fighting was going on hewas there. Well, the Delawares had not been quite brought under atthat time by the Five Nations, and he went down with his warriors andthe Mohawks, to fight against the Mohagans; they were Delawares, too,you know, somewhere on the Monongahela River, just at the corner ofPennsylvania and Virginny. Our people had given some help to theMohagans, and they were, at that time, just laying the foundations ofa fort, which the French got hold of afterward and called Fort, duQuesne. Well, there was an old general officer who thought he would goup and see how the works were going on, and as things were quietenough just then--though it; was but a calm before a storm--he tookhis daughter with him, and journeyed away pleasantly enough, throughthe woods. I dare say, though, it must have been slow work, for as heintended to stay all the summer, the old man took a world of baggagewith him; but the third or fourth night after leaving the civilizedparts they lodged in an Indian village, when, all in a minute, just asthey were going to bed, down comes Black Eagle upon them with hiswarriors. There was a dreadful fight in the village, nothing butscreams, and war-whoops, and rifle shots; and the Mohagans, poordevils, were almost put out that night; for they were taken unawares,and they do say not a man escaped alive out of the wigwam. At thefirst fire out rushes the old general from the hut, and at the sameminute a rifle ball, perhaps from a friend, perhaps from an enemy--noone can tell--goes right through his heart. Black Eagle was collectingscalps all this time, but when he turned round, or came back, orhowever it might be, there he found the poor young lady, the officer'sdaughter, crying over her father. Well, he wouldn't suffer them tohurt her, but took her away to the Oneida country with him, andgathered up all her goods and chattels, and her father's, and carriedthat off, too; but all for her, for it seems he fell in love with herat first sight. What made her first like him, they say, was that hewouldn't let the savages scalp the old man, telling them that theEnglish were allies, and declaring that the ball that killed him didnot come from an Oneida rifle. However that may be, the poor girl hadno choice but to marry Black Eagle, though the old woman said that,being a great chief's daughter, she made him promise never to haveanother wife, and, if ever a Christian priest came there, to bemarried to her according to her own fashion."

While he spoke Mr. Prevost had remained apparently buried in deep andvery gloomy thought, but he had heard every word, and his mind hadmore than once wandered wide away, as was its wont, to collateralthings, not only in the present but in the past. When Woodchuckstopped he raised his head and gazed at him for a moment in the face,with a look of earnest and melancholy inquiry. "Did you ever hear hername?" he asked. "Can you tell me her father's name?"

"No," replied Woodchuck. "I had the history almost all from the oldsquaw, and if she had tried to give me an English name she would havemanufactured something, such as never found its way into an Englishmouth. All she told me was that the father was a great chief among theEnglish, by which I made out that she meant a general."

"Probably it was her father's portrait I saw at the Indian Castle,"said Edith. "In Otaitsa's room there was a picture that struck me morethan any of the others, except, indeed, the portrait of a lady. It wasthat of a man in a military dress of antique cut. His hand wasstretched out, with his drawn sword in it, and he was looking roundwith a commanding air, as if telling his soldiers to follow. I markedit particularly at first, because the sun was shining on it, andbecause the frame was covered with the most beautiful Indian beadworkI ever saw. That of the lady, too, was similarly ornamented; but therewas another interested me much--a small pencil drawing of a youngman's head, so like Walter that at first I almost fancied dear Otaitsahad been trying to make his portrait from memory."

"Would you remember the old man's face, my child, if you saw itagain?" asked Mr. Prevost, gazing earnestly at his daughter.

"I think so," said Edith, a little confused by her father'searnestness; "I am quite sure I should."

"Wait, then, a moment," said Mr. Prevost, "and call for lights, mychild."

As he spoke he rose and quitted the room; but he was several minutesgone, and lights were burning in the chamber when he returned. He wasburdened with several pictures of small size, which he spread out uponthe table, while Edith and Woodchuck both rose to gaze at them.

"There! there!" cried Edith, putting her finger upon one, "there isthe head of the old officer, though the attitude is different; andthere is the lady, too; but I do not see the portrait of the youngman!"

"Edith," said her father, laying his hand affectionately upon hers,and shaking his head sadly, "he is no longer young, but he standsbeside you, my child. That is the picture of my father; that, of mymother. Otaitsa must be your cousin. Poor Jessie! We have alwaysthought her dead, although her body was not found with that of herfather. Better had she been dead, probably."

"No, no, Prevost!" said Woodchuck. "Not a bit of it! Black Eagle madeher as kind a husband as ever was seen. You might have looked allEurope and America through, and not have found as good a one. Thenthink of all she did, too, in the place where she was. God sent herthere to make better people than she found. From the time she went, tothe time she died, poor thing! there was no more war and bloodshed, orvery little of it. Then she got a Christian minister amongst them--atleast, he never would have been suffered to set his foot there if shehad not been Black Eagle's wife. It is a hard thing to tell what'sreally good, and what's really evil, in this world. For my part, Ithink, if everything is not exactly good--which very few of us wouldlike to say it is--yet good comes out of it; like a flower growing outof a dunghill; and there's no saying what good to the end of time thislady's going there may produce. Bad enough it was for her, I dare say,at first; but she got reconciled to it; so you mustn't say it wouldhave been better if she had died."

"It is strange, indeed," said Mr. Prevost, "what turns human fate willtake. That she, brought up in the midst of luxury, educated with theutmost refinement, sought and admired by all who knew her, shouldreject two of the most distinguished men in Europe to go to this wildland and marry an Indian savage! Men talk of fate and destiny, andthere are certainly strange turns of fortune, so beyond all humancalculation and regulation that the doctrine of the fatalist seemstrue."

"Do you not think, my dear father," said Edith, waking up from aprofound reverie, "that this strange discovery might be turned to somegreat advantage; that Walter, perhaps, might be saved without thenecessity of our poor friend here sacrificing his own life to deliverhim?"

"That's like a dear, good girl," said Woodchuck; "but I can tell you,it's no use."

"But," urged Edith, "Otaitsa ought to know, for Black Eagle certainlywould never slay the nephew of a wife so dear to him."

"It's no use," repeated Woodchuck, almost impatiently. "Don't youknow, Miss Edith, that Walter and the Blossom are in love with eachother, and that's worth all the blood relationship in the world.Sometimes it does not last as long, but while it does it's twice asstrong. Then, as to Black Eagle, he'd kill his own son, if the customsof his people required it. I guess it would only make him tomahawkpoor Walter the sooner, just to show that he would not let any humanfeeling stand in the way of their devilish practice. No! no! Muchbetter keep it quiet. It might do harm, for aught we can tell; it canand will do no good. Let that thing rest, my dear child. It's settledand decreed. I am ready now, and I shall never be so ready again. Letme take one more look at my mountains, and my lakes, and my rivers,and my woods, and I've done with this life. Then God, in His mercy,receive me into another. Amen. Hark! There is someone coming up at agood gallop. That noble young lord, I dare say."

It was as Woodchuck had supposed; and the moment after, LordH---- entered the room with a beaming look of joy and satisfaction inhis countenance. He held a packet of considerable size in his hand,and advanced at once to Mr. Prevost, saying: "My dear sir, I amrejoiced to present to you this letter, not alone because it will giveyou some satisfaction, but because it removes the stain of ingratitudefrom the country. His Majesty's present ministers are sensible thatyou have not received justice; that your long services to the countryin various ways--all that you have done, in short, to benefit andameliorate your race, and to advocate all that is good and noble--havebeen treated with long neglect, which amounts to an offence; and theynow offer, as some atonement, a position which may lead to wealth, anda distinction which, I trust, is but the step to more."

"What is it, George? What is it?" asked Edith, eagerly.

"It is, I am told," replied Lord H----, "in a letter which accompaniesthe packet; a commission as commissary general of the army here, andan offer of the rank of baronet."

"Thank God!" said Edith; and then, seeing a look of surprise at herearnestness come upon her noble lover's face, a bright smile playedround her lips for a moment, and she added: "I say thank God,George--not that I am glad my father should have such things, for Ihope and trust he will decline them both; but the very offer will healan old wound, by showing him that zealous exertions and the exerciseof high and noble qualities are not always to be treated with neglect,forgetfulness, and contempt. He will be glad of it, I am sure,whatever his decision may be."

"Now I understand you, my own love," answered Lord H----. "With regardto the baronetcy, he shall do as he will; but I must press himearnestly to accept the office tendered to him. To decline it mightshow some resentment. By accepting it he incurs no peril, and heserves his country; for from his knowledge of the people here, of thevery physical features of the land and its resources, and of thehabits and feelings of all classes, I believe no man could befound, with one or two exceptions, so well fitted for the task ashimself---- Ah! my good friend Captain Brooks, how do you do? I havemuch wished to see you lately, and to hear of your plans."

"I am as well as may be, my lord," replied Woodchuck, wringing in hisheavy grasp the hand which Lord H---- extended to him. "As for myplans, they are the same as ever; you did not doubt me, I am sure."

"I did not," replied Lord H----, gravely, and looking down, he fellinto a fit of thought. At length, looking up, he added: "And yet, mygood friend, I am glad you have had time for reflection, for since welast met I have somewhat reproached myself for at least tacitencouragement of an act, in the approval of which so many personalmotives mingle that one may well doubt one's self. Forgive me,Edith--forgive me, Mr. Prevost, if I ask our friend here if he haswell considered, and weighed in his own mind, calmly and reasonably,without bias, nay, without enthusiasm, whether there be any moralobligation on him to perform an act which I suppose he has told you hecontemplated."

"There is no forgiveness needed, my lord," said Mr. Prevost. "I wouldhave put the same question to him if he would have let me. Nay, more;I would have told him, whatever I might suffer by the result, that inmy judgment there was no moral obligation. Because he did ajustifiable act these Indians commit one that is unjustifiable, uponan innocent man. That can be no reason why he should sacrifice hislife to save the other. God forbid, that even for the love of my ownchild, I should deal in such a matter unjustly. I am no Romanfather--I pretend not to be such. If my own death will satisfy them,let them take the old tree, withered at the root, and spare thesapling, full of strength and promise; but let me not doom--let me notadvise a noble and an honest man to sacrifice himself from a toogenerous impulse."

"I do not know much of moral obligations," replied Woodchuck, gravely,"but I guess I have thought over the thing as much as e'er one of you.I have made up my mind, and just on one principle, and there let itrest, in God's name! I say to myself, 'Woodchuck, it's not right, isit, that anyone should suffer for what you ha' done?' 'No, it's not.''Well, is there any use talking of whether they've a right to make himsuffer for your act or not? They'll do it.' 'No, there's no usea-talking, because they'll do it. It's only shuffling off theconsequences of what you did upon another man's shoulders. You neverdid that, Woodchuck; don't do it now. Man might say, it's all fair;God might pardon it, but your own heart would never forgive it!'"

Edith sprang forward and took both his hands, with her beautiful eyesfull of tears. "God will prevent it!" she said, earnestly. "I havefaith in Him. He will deliver in our utmost need! He provided thePatriarch with an offering, and spared his son. He will find us ameans of escape if we but trust in Him."

"Miss Edith," replied Woodchuck, gravely, "He may or He may not,according to His own good pleasure; but of this I am sure, that thoughChrist died for our transgressions, we have no right to see anyoneelse suffer for our doings. I have read my Bible a great deal up thereon the hillside lately--more than I ever did before since I was alittle boy--and I am quite certain of what I'm about. It has been acomfort and a strength to me. It's all so clear--so very clear. Otherbooks one may not understand--one can't misunderstand that unless onetries very hard. And now, pray, let's have an end on't here. My mindis quite made up. There's no use of saying a word more."

All the rest were silent, and Edith left the room with the large tearsrolling over her cheeks.

CHAPTER XXIV

When Edith rose on the day following the visit of poor Captain Brooks,somewhat later than was her custom--for the first half of the watchesof the night had known no comfort--Woodchuck was gone. He had waitedfor no leave-taking, and was on his way toward the mountains beforethe dawn of day.

It was better for all, indeed, that he should go, and he felt it. Notthat there was any chance of his resolution being shaken, but as hehad himself said, he wished to forget that resolution--to think nomore of his coming fate than the dark remembrance of it within his ownheart forced him to think; and the presence of Mr. Prevost and hisdaughter--the very absence of Walter from their fireside--would havereminded him constantly of the rock on which his bark was inevitablysteering. With Mr. Prevost and Edith his presence would have had theeffect of keeping up the struggle between affection for Walter and akindly sense of justice toward him. His every look, his every word,would have been a source of painful interest, and the terriblebalancing of very narrowly divided equities, where life was in thescale and affection held the beam, would have gone on, in the mind atleast, continually.

When he was gone the agitating feelings gradually subtransposethemselves, and they almost looked upon him as a thing decided; themind was relieved from a greater apprehension by a lesser, and a quietmelancholy, whenever his coming fate was thought of, took the place ofanxious alarm. In some sort the present and the past seemed totranspose themselves, and they almost looked upon him as already dead.

True, all fear in regard to Walter was not completely banished. Therewas nothing definite, there was no tangible object of apprehension.They felt perfectly sure that Woodchuck would execute his resolution,but yet the heart, like an agitated pendulum, vibrated long after themomentum had ceased. It grew quieter and quieter by degrees, however,on the part of Mr. Prevost; a change of thought and of object didmuch. All his preparations had to be made for the proper execution ofthe office he had undertaken. He had more than once to go to Albany,and on each occasion he took his daughter with him. Each change hadsome effect, and both he and Edith recovered a certain degree ofcheerfulness at last in general society. It was only in the quiet andthe silent hours, when either was left alone, when those intervalstook place during which, sleep refuses to visit the eye, when allexternal sounds are still, when all external sights are absent, andthe mind is left alone with thought, and nothing but thought for itscompanion--it was only then that the fear, and the anxiety, and thegloom returned.

Every moment that could be spared from military duties were passed byLord H---- at Edith's side, whether in her own home or in the city.

Thus passed nearly three weeks, by which time the bustle of activepreparation, the marching of several regiments toward the north, andsigns of activity and haste in every department, gave notice to theinhabitants of Albany that some important military movement was aboutto take place. The fife and drum, the lumbering roll of the cannon,were daily heard in the quiet streets. Boats were seen collecting onthe river, parades and exercises occupied the greater part of everyday; scouts and runners were hurrying about in all directions, andclouds of Indians, painted and feathered for the warpath, hoveredround the city, and often appeared in the streets. Lord H---- hadadvanced with his whole regiment to the neighborhood of Sandy Hill;other bodies of troops were following, and the commissary general,whose active energy and keen intelligence surprised all who had onlyknown him as a somewhat reserved and moody man, had advanced to a spoton the Hudson where a small fort had been built at the commencement ofwhat was called the King's road, to see with his own eyes the safedelivery and proper distribution of the stores he had collected. Longranges of huts had gathered round the fort, which was judged so farwithin the English lines as to be a place of perfect security, andmany a lady from Albany, both young and old, had gathered togetherthere to see the last of husband, brother, or father, before theyplunged into the forest and encountered the enemy.

Here everything was done, as usual, to smooth the front of war andconceal ugly features, and certainly after the arrival of LordH---- with his regiment and the wing of another, the scene wasbrilliant and lively enough. Bright dresses, glittering arms, militarymusic, fluttering flags, and prancing chargers, were beheld on everyside, and gay and lively talk, only interrupted now and then by thesolemn words of adieu, of caution, or direction from anxious heart toanxious heart, hid in a great degree the deeper, stronger, sternerfeelings that were busy underneath.

In all such expeditions, amidst the bustle and excitement, there comelapses of quiet inactivity, especially before the first blow isstruck. Some accident causes a delay; some movements have not beencombined with sufficient accuracy; one party has to wait for another,and is left unoccupied. Thus it was in the present instance. A smallbut important division of the army, to be accompanied by a large bodyof Indians, was retarded by a deficiency of boats, and the newsarrived that two days must elapse before they could reach the fort. Asuperior officer was now present, and both Lord H---- and Mr. Prevostfelt that it would be no dereliction of duty to seek leave of absence,in order to visit once more the house of the latter, and personallyescort Edith to the place where she was to remain till the object ofthe expedition was accomplished. The same day it was first made knownwhat the object of that expedition was. The word Ticonderoga waswhispered through the encampment, running from the general's quartersthrough every rank down to the private soldier, and a strange sort offeeling of joy spread throughout the force; not that many knew eitherthe importance of the object or the state of the place, but simplythat all were relieved from an uncertainty.

The comment of Lord H---- was very brief. He had long known, indeed,the fact now first published, but as he told it to Edith while seatingher on her horse to set out, he said: "The place is, luckily, near,and the business will soon be brought to an end, my love." A somethingindefinable in his heart made him add mentally, "one way or another,"but he gave no utterance to the gloomy doubt, and the little partyrode away.

A calm, quiet evening, with the wind at the south, the sun setting redin clouds, and a gray vapor stealing over the sky, with every prospectof a coming storm, and yet everything still and sober in solemntranquillity, often puts me in mind of those pauses in the busy courseof life which precede some great and decisive event.

Such an evening was that which Lord H---- and Edith and Mr. Prevostspent together at the house where so many of these scenes have beenlaid, after quitting Fort Edward in the morning. Their journey hadpassed quite peaceably. They had encountered no human being but a fewbands of friendly Indians going to join the army, and the ride, aseveryone knows, was, and still is, a very beautiful one. It hadoccupied hardly four hours, and thus the principal part of the day hadbeen spent in calm tranquillity in a scene endeared to all.

Mr. Prevost had retired to his room to write, and Lord H---- and Edithsat together in front of the house, gazing out toward the setting sun.

They talked of many things, some not at all connected with thecirc*mstances of the present or the future; they feared to dwell uponthem too long, and they often sought relief in indifferent topics, butstill the coming hour was vaguely present to the mind of each. It waslike sitting near a waterfall, with the quiet, melancholy murmur ofthe cataract mingling harmoniously but sadly with every other sound.

"I trust, dear Edith, that we shall see them together," said LordH----, speaking of distant lands where they both had birth. "Thereis many a lovely thing to be met with in the old world, both in natureand in art, and though I love these beautiful scenes well, and enjoyas much as anyone the magnificence of unadorned nature, yet methinksthat is no reason why we should not appreciate to the full all thatis fine and lovely, though of a different character. It is thenarrow-minded man alone, the man of an uncapacious soul, who suffersone sort of excellence to take possession of his taste or heart.Beauty and goodness are infinitely varied, and though I may love someaspects best, yet I trust ever to be capable of deriving pleasure fromeach and all."

"But you have seen all these things, George," she answered. "Will itnot weary you to go over them all again with so untutored a companionas myself?"

He gazed at her for a moment with a look of earnest affection, andgently pressed the hand he held in his. "I take a new light with me,Edith," he replied, "a light that will give new loveliness toeverything that is beautiful. I have often thought, my beloved, thatto see our own sensations--I mean happy ones: enjoyment, admiration,satisfaction--reflected from the mind of one so dear as you are to me,must be like beholding a loved scene reflected from the bosom of acalm lake, when every fair feature and bright hue acquires a magicluster and a brightness greater in the borrowed image than even in thetangible reality. These are happy dreams, Edith; let us trust to renewthem some few weeks hence, and then, whenever this campaign is over, Iwill quit this busy, perilous game of war, if Edith will then be mine,and realize the visions we love so well. In the meanwhile, dear one,as everyone who goes into battle encounters certainly some peril, letus speak a word of the future in case the worst should befall. Youwill remember me, Edith, I am sure, if I should not return. I do notthink you will ever love another so well; but remember, I am not soselfish in my love as to wish you to sacrifice the whole comfort andhappiness of a life to the memory of one departed. Be happy when andin what way you can. Consult your own feelings solely, and I dobelieve that if spirits can look down on earth when parted from thisfrail body, your happiness, however it is attained, will add to mine;for I cannot believe that when we quit this earth we carry theselfishness of clay along with us."

The tears swam in Edith's eyes, and gemmed the long, black lashesround them, but they ran not over. "I have but one wish on earth,George," she answered, "when I think of the chances that you mention.It is that I may not survive you, even for an hour. If I had not knownit could not be, I would have asked to go with you, in the hope thatif you are to fall, one hour might take us both."

Lord H---- smiled sadly, and shook his head. "That might entailgreater sorrows still," he answered, "and in no sense could it be, myEdith. No soldier should have his wife with him. While in the field heshould be detached as much as possible from every thought but that ofduty. I doubt, indeed, that he should have any tie to earth whatever,except those which God imposed upon him at birth. This is one reasonwhy I shall quit the army. I am less fit to be a soldier than I was,but I should be utterly unfit if I thought you were in peril. From allapprehension on that score, indeed, I go free. I felt some uneasiness,indeed, while I thought that you were to remain alone here, with nonebut the servants round you. As matters are arranged at present,however, you will be quite safe with Colonel Schneider and his wife.Besides his servants, the host of workmen employed in finishing hishouse and all the other works he has going on, will prove a littlebodyguard in itself."

"I should have felt myself perfectly secure here," replied Edith, "forthe familiar aspect of all things round gives a sort of confidencewhich I could feel nowhere else. These Schneiders I hardly know, butif you and my father are better satisfied, I am content to be withthem. What hour are we to set out to-morrow?"

"Between one and two o'clock," replied Lord H----, "will be quite timeenough. The distance is but six miles, and your father and I can verywell escort you thither and reach Fort Edward before night."

"I am glad of that," answered Edith. "To-morrow is the day that poorCaptain Brooks is to be here. I should much like to see him once more,and I hope that he will arrive before we go. If not, I must tell theservants to provide for him well, and show him every kindness. Oh,George, is it not terrible to think of his encountering such a fate?The very idea of providing his last meals for him when going to avoluntary death makes my heart sink with horror and regret."

"The only chance is between him and poor Walter," answered LordH----; "and we must not forget that this act of Woodchuck's has notbeen pressed or even asked by us. He judges, and judges rightly, Ithink, that it would be ungenerous to allow Walter to suffer for hisacts; and though I would not urge him to adopt the course he haschosen, I certainly would say nothing to dissuade him."

"His self-devotion only makes it more terrible," answered Edith, "atleast in my eyes, and yet I cannot help hoping," she continued,looking up inquiringly in her lover's face, "that something may occur.Why should I not say that something would be provided to rescue themboth without this awful sacrifice?"

Lord H---- would say nothing to quell a hope which he thought wouldgive relief, but yet he did not share it; for his faith was less thanEdith's--man's faith always is less than woman's.

Not many minutes more passed before Mr. Prevost rejoined them,speaking to one of the servants as he entered, in a calm but rapidtone, and giving various orders and directions for the morrow.Although not likely to be exposed so much as if entrusted with amilitary command, some danger, of course, attended the mere fact ofhis accompanying the army, and he had spent the last hour or two inmaking many arrangements, in view of probable death.

All the proceedings of the following day were then definitelyarranged. After a hasty dinner he and Lord H----, with the fourmounted men who accompanied them, and Edith's old traveling companion,Chaudo, were to escort her to the dwelling of Colonel Schneider, thenew house built that spring, even farther in the wild than that of Mr.Prevost, of which the Indians on the hill had spoken. There, leavingher at once, the two gentlemen were to return to the camp, which theycalculated upon reaching before nightfall.

The night passed quietly; day followed, and while Edith was dressingshe saw from her window the expected figure of Woodchuck walkingtoward the door, with a firmer tread and a more resolute and easybearing than he displayed when he had last appeared. On descending,she found him talking with her father and Lord H----, with perfectcalmness and ease. His look was firm and self-possessed, his air wasbold, though tranquil, and he seemed to have gained health since shesaw him last. Edith was almost tempted to believe that some happychange of circ*mstances had taken place, but his first words dispelledher illusion.

"No, I thank you, Mr. Prevost," he said, "I must go on. I'll just takesome breakfast with you, and then begin my march. I have calculatedwell my time, and should like to have a day or two to go and comeupon. It does not do to leave things to the last. I guess I shallleave Johnson Castle to-night. Then, mayhap, I shall get a lift up theriver in a canoe. But, at all events, even if I am obliged to foot itall the way, I shall be in time."

Mr. Prevost looked down, and fell into thought, while Woodchuckadvanced to Edith, shook hands with her, and spoke upon indifferentsubjects. She now remarked that he was dressed in different guise fromthat which he had assumed during the winter. A light brown huntingshirt, loose in the body and the sleeves, seemed to be his principalgarment; and in the belt which bound it round him was stuck thetomahawk and scalping knife of an Indian. His rifle stood in onecorner of the room. On his head he wore a fur cap, as usual, and apouch and powder horn, with moccasins on his feet, completed hisequipment.

"Well, general," he said, turning to Lord H----, "I saw some of yourpeople as I came up the river. There had been a fuss about batteaux,but I showed them how they could find some, for a set of knaves, moreFrench than English at their hearts, had drawn a crowd of them up thecreek. So Abercrombie and the rest are all up at Fort Edward by thistime."

Lord H---- looked toward Mr. Prevost, but he was still in thought, andonly roused himself to lead the way into the hall to breakfast.Woodchuck ate heartily; but to touch a single mouthful was a hardtask for the other three. While still at the table, however, thesound of horses' feet galloping up to the door was heard, and LordH----, starting up, looked out of the window. There were a youngofficer and a trooper of dragoons at the door; and the moment theformer saw Lord H---- he handed him in a letter by the window,dismounting and entering the moment after, himself. By this time thedespatch had been read by the young nobleman and Mr. Prevost, and thelatter exclaimed: "This is most unfortunate! An immediate recall,Edith! We must not delay a moment, for the march commences to-morrowat daybreak! Get ready as fast as possible, my love. We will see yousafely to Colonel Schneider's, and then gallop back to the fort."

"Excuse me for observing," said the young officer, "that the order isperemptory. Of course, his lordship will judge for himself, but I onlyfollow General Abercrombie's commands in saying that he wishes not amoment's delay."

"But my daughter, sir, my daughter!" said Mr. Prevost.

The young gentleman bowed stiffly, but made no answer, and thecountenance of Lord H---- was very grave.

"Surely," said Mr. Prevost, "'twould be no great disobedience oforders to see my daughter safely to the house of my friend, ColonelSchneider, a distance of not more than six miles?"

"Which would take nearly two hours to go and come," said the youngofficer, drily, "at least over roads such as these. But you and hislordship are the best judges. I do not presume to dictate, and onlyconvey to you the commander-in-chief's orders."

"Leave her to my care, Prevost," said Woodchuck, starting up. "I willsee her safe. It's all in my way. Some of the servants can go with us,and there is no danger."

"I am in no fear, indeed, my dear father," said Edith. "Do not risk acensure. I shall be quite safe with our friend here."

"I believe, indeed, you will," said Lord H----; "otherwise I should betempted to disobey, myself. But the terms of this despatch are sopressing that unless there were immediate and positive peril I thinkwe are bound to return to camp at once."

He spoke aloud, and very gravely; but then, advancing to Edith's side,he added a few words in a lower tone. Mr. Prevost walked up and joinedin their conversation, a sufficient indication, it might have seemed,that they wished for a few moments' privacy. Woodchuck understood, andadvanced quietly to the door, for natural delicacy of feeling is butthe reality of that of which politeness is the shadow. But the youngofficer, who was of that coarse, common stuff of which martinets areultimately made, still kept his ground, till Lord H----, somewhatprovoked, turned round and said: "Captain Lumley, you will have thegoodness to return to headquarters, and inform the commander-in-chiefthat his orders shall be peremptorily obeyed."

The young man paused a moment, with a look of surprise and discontent,and a moment or two after, when he passed Woodchuck at the door of thehouse, he was muttering: "Without asking me to take any refreshment."

His murmurs were, perhaps, natural; for those who concede least to thefeelings of others invariably exact most for their own.

It is true that Lord H----, occupied with thoughts that engrossed himaltogether, dismissed the aide-de-camp without remembrance of hisneeds, as well as without any feeling of resentment, and omitted acourtesy which no resentment, assuredly, could have curtailed. But theyoung man, swelling with indignation and offended dignity, mountedsullenly, and proceeded but slowly on his way. He had not goneone-half the distance, however, between Mr. Prevost's house and FortEdward, when Lord H---- and the commissary passed him at great speed;and he did not reach headquarters till half an hour after they hadannounced their own return.

CHAPTER XXV

The storm prognosticated from the red aspect of the setting sun thenight before had not descended when Edith Prevost left the door of herfather's house. No raindrops, fell, no breeze even stirred the trees,and it was only a sort of misty obscurity to the westward which gavetoken, to eyes well acquainted with the forest, that the promise ofthe preceding sunset would yet be fulfilled. Overhead all was clearand blue, and the sun, though there was some haze around the broaddisk, was powerful for the season of the year.

Edith's companions were only Chaudo the negro, the good woman SisterBab (whose kindness, faithfulness and intelligence had all beentried), and Woodchuck, who refused to take a horse from the stable,but set out on foot by the beautiful girl's side.

"You can't canter a step of the way, Miss Edith," he said, "so I cankeep up with you, I guess; for the road, such as it is, is betterfitted for two feet than four."

There were tears in Edith's eyes as she turned from the door, arisingfrom many a mingled source. She had seen her father and him whom sheloved as well, though differently, depart suddenly to danger and tobattle. Her brother was far away; and still she could not helpthinking him in peril. Not only was the future of all uncertain--forthat the future of everyone is--but the uncertainty was dark, and, asit were, more tangible than is generally the case with the dim, mistyvalley of the coming time. There was not only a cloud, but the cloudwas threatening.

The moment of departing from her father's door was one of thosepausing places of the mind for Edith Prevost. She did not cast herthoughts far back; she took in but a little range; six months was thelimit. But she remembered how calmly happy she had been in thatdwelling six months before.

She mused sadly, gazing down upon the horse's neck, and hardly seeingor thinking of the way she took. In the meantime, Woodchuck trudged onby her side, with his head erect, his face lifted toward the sky, hispace steady and assured. Edith suddenly and almost unconsciouslyturned her eyes toward him. There was a tranquil elevation of hiscountenance, a lofty resolution in his look, which gave her thoughts,in a moment, another direction. She was parting from a well loved homeand cherished associations, with some clouds hanging over her, someanxieties dogging her path, but with a probability of soon returning,and with many a sweet promise of future happiness. Yet she was sad anddowncast. He was marching onward, wittingly and voluntarily, to acertain and terrible death; and yet his march was tranquil, firm, andresolute. She felt ashamed of her tears. Nay, more, as thought ran on,she said to herself: "There is something more in life--somethinghigher, nobler, grander, than any human passion, than any mortalenjoyment, than any mere earthly peace can give--something that comesfrom heaven to aid and support us in our struggles here below. Heknows, he feels that he is doing his duty, that he is acting accordingto the commandment of his God, and he is calm and firm in the presenceof death, and in the separation from all earthly things. And I--whathave I to suffer? What have I to fear in comparison with him?"

She made a great effort, she shook off her sadness, she wiped thetears from her eyes, and said a few words to her companion in a quiettone. He answered briefly to her actual words, but then turned at onceto the feelings which he believed to be in her heart.

"Ah, Miss Prevost," he said, "it's a sad thing for a young lady likeyou to part for the first time with those she loves when they aregoing to battle, and I don't know that a woman's heart ever getsrightly accustomed to it; but it don't do to love anything too well inthis world--no, not even one's own life. It's a sad stumbling block,both in the way of our duty and our happiness. Not that I'd havepeople keep from loving anything; that would never do. They wouldn'tbe worth having if they couldn't love their friends, and love themvery well; but I guess the best way is to recollect always when we'vegot a thing, that it is but a loan--life itself all the same aseverything else. It's all lent--all will be recalled. But only yousee, my dear young lady, we've got a promise that if we use what we'velent to us well, it shall be given to us forever hereafter; and thatshould always be a comfort to us--it is to me."

A slight sigh followed his words, and he walked on in silence for aminute or two, probably pursuing the course which he had laid down forhimself in his very excellent philosophy, of marching on straight to ahigh object, and casting from him all thought of the unavoidablesufferings of the way. Soon after, he looked up to the sky and said:"It's getting wonderfully black out there. I shouldn't wonder if wehad a flaw of wind and a good soaking rain. I say, Master Chaudo, putthat bearskin over the young lady's baggage and hold the horse betterin hand, or you'll have him down amongst these stumps. You ride betterthan you lead, my friend."

The negro grinned at him, but did as he was directed, and a fewminutes after they issued out of the wood upon a small open space ofground extending over the side of a slight eminence. The view thencewas prolonged far to the westward in a clear day, showing somebeautiful blue hills at the distance of some eight or nine miles.Those hills, however, had now disappeared, and in their place was seenwhat can only be called a dense black cloud, although those words givea very inadequate idea of the sight which presented itself to Edith'seyes. It was like a gigantic wall of black marble, with a faint,irregular line at the top. But this wall evidently moved, comingforward with vast rapidity, although where the travelers were not abreath of air was felt. On it rushed toward them, swallowing upeverything, as it were, in its own obscurity. Each instant some tree,some undulation of the ground, some marking object in the prospect,disappeared in its deep, gloomy shadow, and for a few moments Edithsat still upon her horse, gazing in awe, and even in terror. Woodchuckhimself seemed for an instant overpowered, but then he caught Edith'srein and turned her horse, exclaiming: "Back, Miss Prevost! Back asfast as possible! That's the blackest cloud I ever see in all my days.There! there! to the eastward! Get under them big old hemlocks! Keepaway from the pines and the small trees! It'll need to have beenfastening to the ground for a hundred years to stand what's coming!"

As he spoke he ran on fast by the side of Edith's horse till theyreached the edge of the wood, and there he checked her. "Not too farin! not too far in! You must be ready to jump out if you find thateven these old fellows commence crashing!"

He then left her bridle and walked carefully round several of thetrees, examining their trunks and roots with a very critical eye, toascertain that they were firmly fixed, and not decayed, and thenapproaching Edith again, he held out his hand, saying: "Jump down!Here's one will do. He must ha' stood many a hard storm and bitterblast, and p'raps will bear this one, too; for he's as sound as whenhe started up, a little twig, before the eyes of any mortal man nowliving winked in the sunshine--aye! or his father's, either. There,Chaudo, take the horses and grip them all tight, for depend upon itthey'll caper when the wind and rain come. Now, my dear, put yourselfon this side of the tree, keep close to it, and listen well. You mayfind him shiver and sway a bit, but don't mind that, for he's not sotall as the rest, and twice as stout; and what makes me trust him isthat in some storm his head has been broken off and his feet havestood stout. He won't catch so much wind as the others, and I thinkhe'd stand it if he did. But if you hear him begin to crack, jumpclear out here to the left, into the open ground. They'll fall t'otherway. If you keep close, the branches won't strike you when they fall,and the rain won't get at you, for it's taking a long sweep."

The next moment it came. The wind, blowing with the force of ahurricane, rushed over the valley below; the leaves were torn off, thesmall twigs, with their umbrageous covering, carried aloft into theair and scattered; a few large drops of rain fell, and then the wholeforce of the tempest struck the hillside and the more open space whereEdith stood. In an instant the scene of confusion and destruction wasindescribable. The gusts seemed to hiss as they passed through thebranches of the trees and between the tall stems. Large branches weretorn off and scattered far; the young pines and birches bent beforethe force of the storm. As in the case of war and pestilence, theweak, and the sickly, and the young, and the decayed, suffered firstand most. Wherever the roots had not got a firm hold of the ground,wherever the frosts of the winter and the thawing of the spring, orthe heavy rains had washed away the earth, or loosened it, the treescame thundering and crashing down, and the din was awful, the howlingwind, the breaking branches, the falling trees, all joining in theroar; and a moment after the pattering rain, rustling and rushingamongst the withered leaves left by the winter, becoming thicker andmore dense every moment, seemed more as if a river was falling downfrom the sky, hardly separated into drops, than a fertilizing showerpassing over the landscape.

Edith gazed round her in affright, for she could, as Woodchuck hadpredicted, feel the enormous but low-stemmed hemlock against which hehad placed her, tremble and quiver with the blast; and a number oftrees hard by were rooted up and cast prostrate, bearing the turf andearth in which they had stood up into the air, while here and theresome more firmly fixed in the ground, but defective higher up, snappedin the middle, and then the whole upper part was carried many yardsaway. But though she gazed, little was the distance she could see, sothick and black was the covering of the sky; while all around, whatbetween the close-falling deluge and a sudden mist rising up from theground, the sort of twilight that the storm cloud left was renderedstill more murky and obscure.

The two negroes, as usual with that race, were clamorous and excited,adding the noise of their tongues to the roar of the tempest; but thehorses, contrary to the expectation of Woodchuck, seemed cowed andparalyzed by fear. Instead of attempting to break loose and rushingaway, they merely turned from the wind and rain, and with hoofs setfirm, and drooping heads, abode the storm, with now and then ashivering thrill, showing the terror that they felt. Woodchuck himselfstood silent, close by Edith, leading his strong shoulder against thetree, and, with his eyes bent down upon the ground, seemed to losehimself in heavy thought. A man who has parted with the world and theworld's hopes is tempest-proof.

After the first rush of the storm there came a lull, and then anotherfierce roar, and more falling trees and crashing branches. The wholeforest swayed and bent like the harvest in a breeze, and down came thetorrent from the sky more furiously than ever. But in the midst of itall Woodchuck started, leaned his head a little to one side, andseemed to listen, with his eye fixed upon vacancy.

"What is the matter?" asked Edith, alarmed by his look.

"I thought I heard a footfall," he answered.

"In the roar of such a storm?" said Edith. "It must have been somefalling branch."

He only smiled for an answer, but still he listened, and she could seehim lift his arm a little from the lock of his rifle, on which it hadbeen tightly pressed, and look down upon it to see that it was dry.

The next moment, however, he resumed his ordinary attitude, and saidin a quiet tone: "It's all nonsense, however. The Ingians are allquiet and friendly on this side of the lake. But you see, MissPrevost, I have been so many months on the watch every minute, notknowing whether I should not feel the scalping knife or the tomahawkthe next, that I've got over-wary. The Mohawks are all on the moveabout here, and no Hurons or any other of the enemies would ventureacross, except in a large body, to fight a regular battle. It musthave been the tread of some friendly Ingian I heard, though they don'tusually leave the trail except they've some object in view."

"But is it possible you could hear anything distinctly amidst thisawful noise?" asked Edith. "Are you sure you are not mistaken?"

"Oh, no, I'm not likely to be mistaken," answered Woodchuck. "One'sears get sharp with continued listening. I'm putty sure it was a footI heard, and a man's foot, too. It seemed to be as if it had slippedoff a loose stone hidden under the leaves, and came down harder,perhaps, than he expected. But that's no proof that he meant mischief,for they've all got those cat-like sort of ways, creeping aboutsilently, whether there's 'casion for it or not; and as I said justnow, they're all friendly here on this side of Horicon."

A few moments' silence succeeded, while the wind again swelled up,raged for a minute or two, and then fell again; and Woodchuck, puttingout his head from beyond the shelter of the great trunk, observed: "Itseems to me to be getting a little clearer there to the westward. Iguess it won't last more nor half an hour longer."

Almost as he spoke, from every side but that which opened upon thehill, came a yell, so loud, so fierce, so fiend-like, that ere sheknew what she was doing, under the sudden impulse of terror, Edithdarted at once away from the tree into the open space, and ran a fewsteps till her long riding dress caught round her small feet, and shefell upon the grass. At the same instant she felt a strong arm seizeher by the shoulder and heard the rattle of a rifle, and turning herhead in mute terror, she beheld the gleaming eyes and dark countenanceof an Indian, rendered more hideous by the half-washed off war paint,bending over her. His tomahawk was in his right hand; her last hourseemed come, but so sudden, so confounding had been the attack thatshe could not collect her ideas. She could not speak, she could notthink, she could not pray. The weapon did not fall, however, and thesavage dragged her up from the ground and gazed upon her, utteringsome of the uncouth exclamations of his people in tones ofsatisfaction and even merriment.

One hurried glance around for help showed Edith that all hope for helpwas vain; and no words can describe her horror at the scene she saw.At the very moment she looked round, a tomahawk in the hands of agigantic Indian was falling on the head of the poor negro Chaudo, andthe next instant a wild, shrieking yell told her his agony was comeand gone. Woodchuck, hatchet in hand, was battling for life againstanother savage, and seemed nearly, if not quite, his match, but eightor ten more Indians were rushing up, yelling like wolves as they came,and in the midst of the struggle, while hatchets were playing andflashing round the heads of the combatants, a young and active Indiansprang upon the poor hunter from behind and threw him backward on theearth. He lay perfectly still and motionless, gazing up at thetomahawk lifted over his head; but at that instant the young Indianput his arm around his companion's naked breast and pushed himviolently back, with a loud exclamation in the Iroquois tongue. Thenseizing the hand of Woodchuck, he pulled up the sleeve of his huntingshirt and pointed to a blue stripe tattooed upon his arm.

The lifted hand and tomahawk of the other sank slowly by his side, andWoodchuck sat up and gazed round him, but without attempting to risealtogether from the ground.

Some five or six of the Indians came quietly up, and some kneeling,some bending down, gazed upon the blue line, while the savage who hadseized upon Edith dragged her forward to the spot, and still holdingher fast, gazed likewise. A few quick and muttered words succeededamongst their captors, some only of which Edith heard and understood.

"It's the sign! it's the sign!" said one. Then came a sentence or twothat escaped her ear, and then another cried, "Ask him! Ask him!"

Then one of the Indians seated himself on the ground before Woodchuck,spread out his hands like a fan, and addressed some words to him,which Edith, notwithstanding her perfect knowledge of the Iroquoislanguage in most of its dialects, did not in the least comprehend. Theanswer of Woodchuck was equally unintelligible to her, and the onlyword or words which she caught was "Honontkoh."

The moment he had spoken, two of the Indians placed their hands underhis arms and raised him from the ground. They took the precaution ofdisarming him entirely, and then, gathering round, they talked quicklyand eagerly in low tones; but now they spoke a language which Edithunderstood, and though she did not catch all that was said she heardenough to show her that they were discussing what was to be done withherself and Woodchuck, whom it seemed to her that from some cause theyrecognized as a brother. Suddenly the savage who held her pressed hisfingers tighter upon her arm, exclaiming aloud in a fierce, angryvoice: "She is mine! I will dispose of her as I please."

"No one will oppose the brother of the Snake," said another elder man."Scalp her, if thou wilt, but where canst thou carry her if thou dostnot slay her?"

"Let us all go to the other side of Corlear, Apukwa," said the man whoheld her. "I will take her with me; she shall cook my venison for me.'Twas for this I brought you hither."

"What! Shall we become women amongst the Hurons?" said Apukwa.

"No," replied the brother of the Snake; "there are many of our tribeand order there, of our own nation, outcasts like ourselves. We willbecome, like them, warriors of the great French king, and fightagainst the accursed Yengees."

"But how shall we cross?" said Apukwa.

"There are canoes in plenty," said the other. "Besides, our Canadabrethren are here, close at hand, at Che-on-de-ro-ga. They will giveus help."

A silent pause succeeded, and then Woodchuck stretched forth his arm,recovered from the confusion which perhaps the suddenness of theattack, perhaps the violence of his fall, had produced, and addressedthem after their own fashion.

"Are we not brothers?" he said. "Are we not all Honontkoh? Are we notall bound by the dreadful name to aid each other, even unto blood anddeath? I demand, therefore--ye who have lifted the hatchet against usunjustly--to set me and this maiden free, to make our feet as the feetof the panther, to go whither we will. I have spoken the terriblewords. I have uttered the dreadful name; the sign of the order is inmy flesh, and ye dare not refuse!"

A look of doubt and hesitation came over the faces of the Indians, andApukwa replied: "Whither wouldst thou go, my brother? We have allsworn the oath in the presence of the dark spirit that we will aid oneanother, and that each of the Honontkoh will defend and protectanother, though he should have eaten fire or shed his brother's blood.Thou hast shed our brother's blood; for we know thee, though we knewnot that thou wert of our order. But we are Honontkoh, and we willkeep the saying. We will defend thee; we will protect thee; butwhither wouldst thou go?"

"I go," answered Woodchuck, with unfortunate frankness and truth, "Igo to lay down my life for your brother's life. I go to the Castle ofthe Oneidas, to say: 'Woodchuck is here. Let the hatchet fall upon theold tree, and let the young sapling grow up till its time be come. Ikilled the Snake. Take the blood of him who slew him, and set the boyWalter free.' As for this maiden, she is mine. I have adopted her. Iclaim her, as brother claims from brother. Ye cannot be Honontkoh andtake her from me. If ye be true to our order, give her into my hand,and let us go."

While he spoke, the countenances of the Indians round betrayed no markof any emotion whatever, though there were many and varying feelings,undoubtedly, busy in their breasts. As he ended, however, a slight andsomewhat scornful smile came upon the cunning face of Apukwa, and hereplied: "We cannot let our brother go on such an errand. It would becontrary to our laws. We are bound to defend and protect him, and mustnot let him make wind of his life. The yellow leaf falls of itselffrom the bough; the green leaf is torn off by the tempest. We mustpreserve our brother's life, though the young man perish."

Edith's eyes wept fast with the bitterest drops of despair, but Apukwawent on: "As for the maiden, we will hear and judge more another day.Thou sayest thou hast adopted her. We will hear how, for we know herto be the daughter of the paleface Prevost. If she be the prize of thebrother of the Snake, the brother of the Snake must have her. But ifshe be thy daughter, she is thine. Let her be with thee till we haveheard all and judged. We have not room now; for time goes fast, and weare near danger. The palefaces are to the rising and setting sun,toward the cold and toward the soft wind. The Honontkoh is the enemyof the paleface, the abandoned of the Mohawk, and the outcast of theOneida. Take the maiden in thy hand, and go on toward the rising sun.We come with thee as thy brethren, and will preserve thy life."

Woodchuck gave an anxious glance to Edith, and said in a low voice andin English: "We can't resist, but we may outwit them. Come on for thepresent, for I guess it may be no better. I will shed my blood foryou, my dear, if I cannot for your brother." And taking her hand, heled her on toward the northeast, preceded by one, and followed by fiveor six Indians, who, on their usual cautious plan, walked singly, oneafter another, well knowing that their prisoners could not escapethem. Several remained upon the spot a few minutes longer, engaged instripping the pack-horse of all that he carried, and taking thesaddles and bridles of the other horses, which they knew would bevaluable in the eyes of the French. All this was done withextraordinary rapidity, and then the last party followed the firstinto the depths of the wood.

By this time the wind had considerably abated, though it still rainedhard. The moment after the Indians had departed, however, the leavesand branches of a large flower-covered bush, of the kalmia, growingunder a low-spreading hemlock, moved gently, and the next instant ablack face protruded. After one hasty glance around, the whole form ofthe negress, Sister Bab, was drawn slowly out from the bush, andrunning from tree to tree with silent speed, she stopped not till shecaught sight again of the retiring Indians, and then followed themquietly and cautiously on their way toward Champlain.

CHAPTER XXVI

The stillness of death pervaded the great lodge of the Oneidas, andyet it was not vacant. But Black Eagle sat in the outer chamber alone.With no eye to see him, with none to mark the traces of those emotionswhich the Indian so carefully conceals from observation, he gave way,in a degree, at least, to feelings which, however sternly hidden fromothers, wrought powerfully in his own heart. His bright blue andscarlet apparel, feathers and belt, medals and armlets, were thrownaside, and with his head bowed, his face full of gloomy sadness, andall the strong muscles of his beautifully proportioned figure relaxed,he sat like an exquisite figure sculptured in porphyry. No tear,indeed, bedewed his eyelids; no sigh escaped his lips; but the veryattitude bespoke sorrow, and there was something awfully sad in theperfect, unvarying stillness of his form.

Oh! what a terrible strife was going on within! Grief is ten timesmore terrible to those who concentrate it in the heart than to thosewho pour it forth upon the wide air.

The door of the lodge opened. He started, and instantly was himselfa*gain; the head upright, the face clear, the aspect calm anddignified.

"Where hast thou been, my child?" asked the chief, gazing on hisdaughter as she entered, with feeling mingled of a thousand strongemotions--parental love, fond admiration, and manifold memories.

"Where thou hast permitted me to go, my father," she answered, with asmile so bland and sweet that a momentary suspicion crossed herfather's mind.

"Thou hast not forgot thy promise, my Blossom?" he said, in a tone asstern as he ever used to her.

"Oh, no, my father," answered Otaitsa; "didst thou ever know me to doso? To see him--to be with him in his long captivity--to move the rockbetween us, and to let some light into his dark lodge. I promised, ifthou wouldst let me stay with him a few short hours each day, I woulddo naught, try naught for his escape. Otaitsa has not a double tonguefor her own father. Is Black Eagle's eye dim, that it cannot see hischild's heart? Her heart is in his hand."

"How fares the boy?" asked her father. "Is there sunshine with him, ora cloud?"

"Sunshine," said Otaitsa, simply. "He sat and talked of death. It mustbe very happy."

The chief gazed at her silently for a few moments, and then asked:"Does he think so, too?"

"He makes me think so," answered the Blossom; "must it not be happywhere there is no weeping, no slaughter, no parting of dear friendsand lovers, where a Saviour and Redeemer is ever ready to mediate evenfor those who do such deeds?"

"The Great Spirit is good," answered Black Eagle, thoughtfully. "Thehappy hunting grounds are ever ready for those who die bravely inbattle."

"For those who do good," said Otaitsa, with a sigh; "for those whospare their enemies, and show mercy--for those who obey even the voiceof God in their own hearts, and are merciful and forgiving to theirfellow men."

Black Eagle smiled. "A woman's religion," he said. "Why should Iforgive my enemies? The voice of God you speak of, in my heart,teaches me to kill them; for if I did not, they would kill me."

"Not if they were Christians, too," said Otaitsa. "The voice of Godtells all men to spare each other, to love each other; and if everyoneobeyed it, there would be no such thing as enemies. All would befriends and brethren."

Black Eagle mused for a moment or two, and then answered: "But thereare enemies, and therefore I must kill them."

"That is because men obey the voice of the evil spirit, and not thatof the good," replied the Blossom. "Will my father do so? Black Eaglehas the voice of the Good Spirit in his heart. He loves children, heloves his friends, he spares women, and has taught the Oneidas tospare them. All this comes from the the voice of the Good Spirit. Willhe not listen to it farther?"

Her father remained lost in thought, and believing that she hadcarried something, Otaitsa went on to the point nearest to her heart."The Black Eagle is just," she said; "he dispenses equity between manand man. Is it either just, or does it come from the voice of the GoodSpirit, that he should slay one who has done good, and not harm; thathe should kill a man for another man's fault? Even if it be permittedto him to slay an enemy, is it permitted to slay a friend? If the lawsof the Oneidas are unjust, if they teach faithlessness to one whotrusted them, if they are contrary to the voice of the Good Spirit, isnot Black Eagle a great chief who can change them, and teach hischildren better things?"

Her father started up, and waved his hand impatiently. "No more!" hesaid; "no more! When I hear the voice of the Good Spirit, and know it,I will obey it; but our laws came from him, and I will abide by thesayings of our fathers."

As he spoke he strode to the door of the lodge and gazed forth, whileOtaitsa wept in silence. She saw that it was in vain to plead farther,and gliding up to her father's side she touched his arm reverentlywith her hand.

"My father," she said, "I give thee back the permission to see him,and I take back my promise. Otaitsa will not deceive her father; butthe appointed hour is drawing on, and she will save her husband if shecan. She has laid no plan with him; she has found no scheme; she hasnot spoken to him of safety or escape. She has deceived Black Eagle innothing, and she now tells him that she will shrink from no way tosave her brother Walter--no, not even from death itself!"

"Koui! koui!" said the chief, in a tone of profound melancholy. "Thoucanst do nothing." Then, raising his head suddenly, he added: "Go, mydaughter; it is well. If thy mother has made thee soft and tender as aflower, thy father has given thee the courage of the eagle. Go inpeace; do what thou canst; but thou wilt fail!"

"Then will I die!" said Otaitsa; and gliding past him, she sought herway through the huts.

The first door she stopped at was partly covered with strangepaintings in red and blue colors, representing, in somewhat grotesqueforms, men and animals, and flowers. She entered at once, withouthesitation, and found, seated in the dim twilight, before a largefire, the old chief who had spoken last at the council of the chiefs,in the glen. His ornaments bespoke a chief of high degree, and severaldeep scars in his long, meager limbs showed that he had been known inthe battlefield. He did not even look round when Blossom entered, butstill sat gazing at the flickering flame, without the movement of alimb or feature. Otaitsa seated herself before him, and gazed at hisface in silence, waiting for him to speak. At the end of not less thanfive minutes he turned his head a little, looked at her, and asked:"What would the Blossom of the old Cedar Tree?"

"I would take counsel with wisdom," said the girl. "I would hear thevoice of the warrior who is just, and the great chief who is merciful.Let him whom my mother reverenced most, after her husband, among thechildren of the Stone, speak words of comfort to Otaitsa."

Then, in language which, in rich imagery, and even in peculiarities ofstyle, had a striking resemblance to the Hebrew writings, she pouredforth to him all the circ*mstances of Walter's capture, and of theirlove and plighted faith; and, with the same arguments which we haveseen already used, she tried to convince him of the wrong andinjustice done to her lover.

The old man listened with the usual appearance of apathy, but thebeautiful girl before him gathered that he was much moved at heart, bythe gradual bending down of his head, till his forehead nearly touchedhis knees.

When she ceased, he remained silent for several moments, according totheir custom, and then raised his head and answered: "How can the oldCedar Tree help thee?" he asked. "His boughs are withered, and thesnows of more than seventy winters have bent them down. His roots areshaken in the ground, and the first blast of the tempest will lay himlow. But the law of the Oneidas is in his heart; he cannot change itor pervert it. By thine own saying, it is clear that the Good Spiritwill do nothing to save this youth. The young warrior is the firstthey lay hands on. No means have been found for his escape. Nopaleface has come into the Oneida land who might be made to take hisplace. All thine efforts to rescue him have been seeds that bore nofruit. Did the Good Spirit wish to save him, he would provide a means.I have no counsel, and my heart is dead, for I loved thy mother as achild. She was to me as the evening star, coming from afar to shineupon the nights of my days. But I have no way to help her child, nowords to give her comfort. Has not the Black Eagle a sister, who lovedthy mother well, who has seen well nigh as many winters as I have, andwho has a charm from the Great Spirit? Her lodge is even now filledwith wise women of the tribe, taking counsel together as to thismatter of the young chief. All love him well, except the dark and evilHonontkoh; all would save him, whether man or woman of the nation,were not the law of the Oneida against him. Go to her lodge, then, andwith her take counsel, for the Cedar Tree is without words."

The lodge of Black Eagle's sister was next in size and importance tothat of the chief himself, and on it, too, some European skill hadbeen expended. Though on a somewhat smaller scale, it was very muchsuch another building as that which has been described by a writer ofthose days as the "Palace of King Hendrick," the celebrated chief ofthe Mohawks. In a word, "It had the appearance of a good barn, dividedacross by a mat hung in the middle." It was of but one story, however;but the workman who had erected it, a good many years before, on thereturn from the completion of Fort Oswego, had added a door ofEuropean form, with a latch and a brass knob, which greatly increasedits dignity in the eyes of the tribe.

The possessor of this mansion, who was held in great reverence allthrough the Oneida nation, and was supposed to hold communication withthe spiritual world, had obtained, I know not how, the name of theGray Dove, although her features by no means displayed thecharacteristic meekness of the bird from which she derived herappellation, but bore a considerable resemblance to those of herbrother, which certainly well accorded with his name.

When Otaitsa approached the door she found it fastened, and sheknocked twice with her hand before it was opened. A young girl thenpeeped out, and seeing the sachem's daughter, gave her admission atonce into the outer apartment. The space on the outer side of thelarge mat which formed the partition was vacant, but there was amurmur of voices coming from the division beyond, and a light shonethrough the crevices between the mat and the wall.

The feelings of Otaitsa's heart were too powerful to leave anytimidity in her bosom, and although she shared in some degree thefeelings of awe with which the other Oneidas regarded the Gray Dove,she advanced at once, drew back the corner of the mat, and entered thechamber beyond. The scene was neither of a very beautiful nor of avery solemn character, but nevertheless there was something verystriking in it. Seated around a large fire in the middle were a numberof the elder women of the tribe, whose faces and forms, once, perhaps,fair and lovely, had lost almost every trace of beauty. But theirfeatures were strongly marked, and had in many instances a stern andalmost fierce expression. Their eyes, jetty black, and in most casesas brilliant as in early youth, shone in the light of the fire likediamonds, and in many an attitude and gesture appeared much of thatgrace which lingers longer with people accustomed to a free andunconfined life than with those of rigid and conventional habits.

Outside of the first and elder circle sat a number of the youngerwomen, from fifteen or sixteen years of age up to five or six andtwenty. Many of them were exceedingly beautiful, but the figures oftheir elder companions shaded them mostly from the glare of the fire,and it was only here and there that one of those countenances could bediscovered which offer in many of the Indian tribes fit models forpainter or sculptor. Seated, not on the ground, like the rest, but ona small settle at the farther side of the inner circle, appeared BlackEagle's sister, gorgeously dressed, almost entirely in crimson, witharmlets and bracelets of gold, and innumerable glittering ornamentsround her neck. She was much older than her brother, and her hair,almost as white as snow, was knotted up behind on the ordinary roller,without any decoration. Her features were aquiline, and much moreprominent than those of Black Eagle, and her eyes were still keen andbright. The moment they lighted upon Otaitsa, the exclamation burstfrom her lips: "She is come! The Great Spirit has sent her! Standthere in the midst, Blossom, and hear what we have resolved."

Otaitsa passed between two of the younger and two of the elder women,taking her place between the inner circle and the fire, andwonderfully bright and beautiful did she look, with the flame flashingupon her exquisite form and delicate features, and lighting up acountenance full of strong enthusiasm and pure emotions.

"Thy child hears thy words," she said, without pause or hesitation;for it must be remarked that the stoical gravity which prevailed atthe conferences of the chiefs and warriors was not thought necessaryamong the women of the tribes. "What has the Gray Dove to say to thedaughter of her brother?"

"The boy must not die," said the old woman, in a firm and decidedtone. "It is not the will of the Great Spirit. Or, if he die, thereshall be wailing in every lodge, and mourning amongst the children ofthe Stone. Art thou willing, Otaitsa, child of the Black Eagle,daughter of the flower of the East, to do as we do, and to obey myvoice?"

Otaitsa gazed round the circle, and saw stern and lofty determinationwritten on every countenance.

After gazing round them for an instant, she answered: "I am. I will dowhat thou sayest to save him, even unto death!"

"She has said!" cried the old woman. "Now, then, Blossom, this is thetask: Thou shalt watch eagerly as a fox upon the hillside, and bringword to me of the exact day and hour when the sacrifice is to beoffered. Everyone must watch!"

"But how shall I discover?" asked Otaitsa. "The warriors tell nottheir secrets to women. The Black Eagle hides his thoughts from hisdaughter; he covers his face with a cloud, and wraps his purposes inshadows from our eyes."

"By little signs shalt thou know," said the Gray Dove, "Small cloudsprognosticate great storms. When thou seest any change, mark it well.If his head droop, and his eye seeks the ground more than common,bring or send the tidings unto me. If he be silent when he shouldspeak, and hears not the words thou utterest; if he gazes up to theheaven as if he were seeking to know the changes of the weather whenall is clear; and if he looks at the tomahawk as it hangs upon thebeam, with a dull and heavy eye, be sure the time is coming."

Otaitsa gave a wild start, and exclaimed: "Then it is this night, forall the signs thou hast mentioned have been present. When I enteredthe lodge his head was bowed down, and his eyes fixed upon the ground.He was very sad. He heard me, but his thoughts seemed to wander. Whenhe stopped my petitions and turned toward the door, his eyes restedgloomily on the hatchet; and when he stood without, they were liftedto the sky, as if looking for stars in the daytime. It is to-night! Itis to-night! Oh, what shall be done?"

"Nay," answered the Gray Dove, with a kindly look, "it is notto-night. Be composed, my child. Not until to-morrow, at the hour oftwilight, will the six moons have passed away, and the Black Eaglespeaks no word in vain. He will not lift the tomahawk a moment beforethe hour; but to-morrow will be the time, after the sun has set. Thepalefaces have taken the warpath against each other, and the allies ofthe Black Eagle have called upon him to take wing and help them. Theyhave bid him paint himself for battle, and come forth with hiswarriors. He has waited but for this, and now we know the day and thehour; for he will not tarry."

Otaitsa still trembled, but her mind was much relieved for thepresent. She knew her father well, and she saw the truth of what theGray Dove said. "How shall we stay him?" she inquired. "The BlackEagle bends not in his way like the serpent; he goes straight upon hispath like a bird in the air. He hears not the voice of entreaty; hisears are stopped against the words of prayer. You may turn the torrentas it rushes down after the melting of the snow, or the rock as itfalls from the precipice, but you cannot arrest the course of theBlack Eagle, or turn him from his way!"

"Be firm and constant," said the Gray Dove. "We are in the hands ofthe Great Spirit. Watch him closely, Otaitsa, all to-morrow, from themidday till the setting sun--from the setting sun till the dawn, if itbe needful. The moment he goes forth, come then to me at the lodge ofthe Lynx, by the western gate of the palisade; there shalt thou findme with others. I know that thy young heart is strong, and that itwill not quail. Watch carefully, but watch secretly. See if he takesthe tomahawk in his belt, and if his face be gay or gloomy. Mark everysign, and bring the news to me."

"They may go off by the other gate, and steal round," said one of thewomen in the inner circle. "I will set my daughter, now waiting, towatch that gate and bring us tidings. She is still and secret as theair of night, and has the foot of the wind."

"It is good," said the Gray Dove, rising. "Let us all be prepared, forthe boy must not die."

No more was said, for the old prophetess fell into one of those deepand solemn reveries from which all present knew she could not easilybe wakened, and which probably had acquired for her the reputation ofconversing with the spirit world which she possessed. One by one,slowly and silently, the women stole out of the lodge, dispersing invarious directions the moment they quitted the door. Otaitsa remainedthe last, in the hope that the Gray Dove would speak again, and affordher some further information of her plans; but she continued silentlygazing on the fire, with her tall figure erect and stiff, and probablyperfectly unconscious of the departure of the others, till at lengththe Blossom followed the rest, and returned quietly to the greatlodge.

The following day broke dark and stormy. About three o'clock in theafternoon a sharp, cold wind succeeded to the mild breath of spring,and the Indians generally remained assembled round their fires,leaving the wide space within the palisade very nearly deserted.Shortly before sunset one Indian woman crept quietly forth, and tookher way toward a hut near the eastern entrance of their village.Another followed very speedily, and when twilight had ended and nightbegun, no less than twelve stood beneath the roof, with the Gray Dovein the midst of them. It was too dark for anyone to see the face ofanother, for the night had fallen heavily and thick, and a blanket wasstretched across the entrance. But the Gray Dove felt them one afteranother with her hands, asking a question of each, to which she seemedto receive a satisfactory answer.

"The thirteenth is not here," she said, "but she will come, and herheart will not fail."

A dead silence fell over them all after these words were spoken; thatsort of stern, heavy, solemn silence which not unfrequently precedesthe execution of some strong and terrible resolution. Yet of thosetwelve there were several gay and lively girls, as well as womenfallen into the decline of life; but nevertheless all were as still asdeath. The volatile lightness of youth, as well as the garrulity ofold age, was hushed.

Suddenly, after they had waited some twenty minutes, the blanket waspushed aside, and another figure was added to the number. The voice ofOtaitsa whispered: "He has gone forth, armed as if for battle; he hashis tomahawk with him; his face is very sad. I saw the Old Cedar Treecross to the west gate, and others whom I knew not in the darkness."

She spoke in eager haste, and gasped for breath; but the old womantook her by the arm, saying: "Be calm! Be still! Now follownoiselessly. Then down as you pass through the maize, though in thisblack night who shall see us?"

She was the first to issue forth; then came Otaitsa, and the othersfollowed, one by one, with quick but silent steps, through the widefield of maize that swept round the palisade, and then into theneighboring forest. Once, when they came near a spot where thepolished mirror of the lake collected and cast back every ray of lightthat remained in the air, they caught sight of a dark file, shadowyand ghostlike as themselves, moving on at a little distance, in thesame direction. But it was soon lost; and the sight only served tohasten their footsteps. Passing along a trail which cut across theneck of a little wooded promontory, they suddenly came in sight of thelake again, and by its side a low Indian hut, marked out plainlyagainst the surface of the water. When within some thirty yards, theGray Dove halted, whispered a word or two to those who followed, andthen, bending down, crept closer to the lodge.

"Oh, let us hasten!" whispered Otaitsa. "They are already there! Ihear my father speaking!"

"Hush! hush! Be still!" said the old woman, in the same tone. "TheBlack Eagle will do nothing hastily; it is for him a solemn rite. Letme first get near; then follow, and do what I do."

CHAPTER XXVII

It was a sad and weary day to poor Walter Prevost, for he was withoutconsolation. The time of his long imprisonment, indeed, had been lessburdensome than might have been supposed, although during the firsttwo or three weeks many a fruitless effort to escape had wearied hisspirit. He learned, however, that it was impossible; he was tooclosely and too continually watched. There was nothing to prevent hisquitting the hut; but the moment he did so, whether by night or day,he was met by two or three armed Indians. They were kind and courteousto him, though they suffered him not to bend his steps in thedirection of their Castle or village, nor to approach the lake, to thebanks of which many a canoe was moored. Sometimes one of them wouldtake him to hunt; but two or three others followed, and neverseparated from his side. They were not fond of speaking of hisprobable fate and situation, and generally avoided the subject withtrue Indian skill. But once a young warrior, less experienced than therest, related to him the messages which the great chief had sent bythe runner Proctor; and Walter learned the decision regarding his ownfate, and the chances on which it hung. But that young Indian wasnever seen near him more, and it was evident that he was looked uponas having betrayed counsel, and had been removed. But about that timethe greatest solace and balm he could receive was afforded him.Otaitsa suddenly appeared in the hut, and told him that by promisingto make no personal effort for his rescue, and to take no advantage ofthe freedom granted her to facilitate his escape by her own efforts,she had obtained permission to visit him two hours each day. She hadexplained to him, however, that others, in whom she trusted, were busyin his cause, and that the Gray Dove herself, on whom all her peoplelooked with the greatest reverence, had positively assured her heshould not die.

At first their interviews were sad enough. Hope and fear kept up theirbattle in the heart; but in time these emotions passed away, and loveand happiness were all that remained; or, if aught of fear mingledwith those blessings, it was but enough, as it were, to sanctify theirintercourse, to purify it of some portion of earthly passion; so that,while they sat twined in each other's arms, their conversation wouldoften be of death, and future life and happiness unmingled. She oftencalled him "husband" to her father, but it was always "brother" whenthey were alone.

Day after day, beneath the sunshine or the cloud, over the snow or thegreen earth, Otaitsa visited the hut; but she had grown anxious as thedays rolled on. She had not calculated the time accurately, but sheknew that the appointed day was near and Walter was not delivered. Sheaccused herself of folly in having trusted to others, though she sawnot how, watched as he was, his deliverance could be effected byherself. But she resolved now to bestir herself, and if she lost herlife in the attempt, to make one last great effort to set him free.

Such was her resolution on the preceding day, when, on parting withhim, she whispered in his ear, lest anyone should be listeningwithout: "I shall not come to you again, my brother, till I come tosave you. I know not how it will be, but if I fail, Walter will not belong in heaven ere Otaitsa seeks him there."

He hardly believed she could keep her resolution of abstaining from atleast one more interview; but the weary day passed by, the Indians whobrought him food and fire appeared and disappeared, the rain fellheavily, the wind shook the hut, and Otaitsa did not come.

At length the night began to fall, stern, gloomy, dark. A raylesssunset, a brief twilight, and then utter darkness. His spirit sank lowindeed; his heart felt heavy and oppressed. He bent him down, stirredup the embers of his fire, piled more wood upon it, and kindled abright, cheerful blaze. But it had no effect in raising his spirits,or warming his heart. All within him was cheerless. He sat and gazedinto the fire, and thought of his absent home, and of the pleasantdays of youth, and of the sweet dreams he had once cherished, thehopes that hung, like faded pictures, upon the wall of memory. Athousand little incidents, a thousand delightful recollections, cameback upon him as he sat and meditated, as if merely to make life moredear, when, suddenly, on the other side of the hut, a dark figurecrossed the firelight, and then another, and another, and another,till they numbered six. They were all chiefs and men of lofty mien,but stern, and grave, and silent. They seated themselves in asemi-circle, at the very farther end of the hut, and for severalminutes remained profoundly still.

He understood at once what it all meant; the last hour of life wascome, and the dead, heavy sinking of the heart which the aspect ofdeath suddenly presented to an unprepared and excited mind, was thefirst sensation. There the door stood, at a little distance on hisright hand, and they were at the other end of the hut, with no onebetween him and the means of egress; but he knew their swiftness offoot and deadly aim too well. It was better to stay and meet the worstthere, than to fall by the tomahawk in inglorious flight. He ralliedhis spirits, he called all his courage to his aid, he bethought him ofhow an Indian would die, and resolved to die boldly, and calmly,likewise.

Sitting still in silence, he gazed over the countenances of thechiefs, scanning their stern, hard features thoughtfully. There werebut two there whom he knew, Black Eagle himself, and an old man with awhite scalp-lock, whom he recollected having comforted and supportedonce, when he found him ill and exhausted near his father's house. Theothers were all strangers to him, and nothing could be read upon theirfaces but cold, rigid determination. There was no passion, no anger,no emotion to be traced in a single line; but there was somethinginexpressibly dreadful in gazing on those still, quiet countenances,with a knowledge of their bloody purpose. To have died in battle wouldhave been nothing--to have struggled with them fiercely for life; butto sit there, coldly awaiting the moment of the ruthless blow, and toknow that they expected it to be borne with the same quiet, stoicalapathy with which it was dealt, was very, very terrible to the youngEuropean. Yet Walter tried to nerve himself to the utmost against anysign of fear, and strove for resolution not to disgrace himself, hisname and family, even in the eyes of these wild Indians. There musthave been apprehension in his eyes--in the straining eagerness withwhich he scanned them, but there was no other mark of alarm; not amuscle moved; the lip did not quiver; the brow was not contracted.

At length, after that long, solemn pause, the voice of Black Eagle washeard, speaking low and softly: "My son, thou must die," he said."Thou art dear to me as a child; thy father is my brother; but thouhast drawn an evil lot, and thou must die. The morning of thy days hasbeen short and bright; the night comes for thee before the day is wellbegun. The blood of our brother who was slain must be atoned by theblood of one of the race that slew him--the white man for the redman.We have sought in vain for the murderer of our brother, or for someonewho might have been a substitute for him whom we love. Each man herewould have periled his own head to find another in thy place; but itcould not be. The palefaces took fright at the news of what has beendone, and none has been found within our territory. We know that theman who did the deed has been here. We fancied that he had comegenerously to pay the penalty of his own deed; but fear was in hisheart, and twice he escaped us. He is as cunning as the fox, and asswift to flee. Now, oh! thou son of my brother, thou must die, for thetime is gone by that was given thee in the hope of some deliverance.The hours have run swiftly and in vain, and the last has come. We knowthat it is the custom of thy people to sing no war song at theirdeath, but to pray to their Good Spirit to receive them speedily intothe happy hunting grounds. We shall not think it want of courage ifthou prayest, for the son of our brother Prevost will not disgrace hisname at his death. Pray, therefore, to thy God; thy prayer shall be,as it were, a war song, and, strengthened by it, thou shalt die as aman and a warrior."

Walter remained silent for a moment, while a terrible struggle went onin his breast; but resolution conquered, and he rose from the ground,on which he was sitting, erect and firm, and stretching forth hishand, he said: "Chiefs of the Oneidas, ye are unjust. At this hour ofmy death I tell you, ye know not equity. Your laws are not of the GoodSpirit, but of the bad; for it is evil to kill an innocent man, blackand dastardly to slay a helpless man, who trusted you and loved you;and if it is by your law you do it, your law is bad, and the GoodSpirit will condemn it. My father came and planted his tree amongstyou. We grew up, my sister and myself, loving and confiding in yourpeople. We made your tongue our tongue, and my heart became one withthe heart of the daughter of your chief. Lo! now, how ye repaykindness, and love, and truth!--with falsehood, cruelty, and death! Yeare great warriors, but ye are not good men. In this last hour Ireproach you, and I tell you with the voice of a dying man, as withthe voice of one from the land of spirits, that, sooner or later, thegreat God of all men will make you feel that you have done an evilthing in my death----"

He paused suddenly, for his eye--turned somewhat in the direction ofthe door--saw a female figure enter, wrapped in the peculiar blanketor mantle of the Indian women. Another and another appeared, and oneby one the shadowy forms ranged themselves in line along the side ofthe hut, their faces but faintly seen by the flickering firelight.They were all as silent as death, and there they stood, as silentwitnesses of the dreadful scene about to be enacted.

The eyes of all the chiefs were turned in the same direction as hisown, and a moment or two of wonder and embarrassment passed; but thenthe voice of Black Eagle was raised, loudly and sternly, saying: "Getye home to the Castle, Oneida women! This is no place for you. Meddlenot with the business of warriors and of men!"

"Who is it that speaks?" said the clear, shrill voice of the GrayDove. "Is it the man of the black heart, who slays the son of hisbrother? Who is it that dares to speak thus to her who sees the GreatSpirit in her visions, and holds communion with the souls of the dead?Is it a man pure in heart and hand, a man whose purposes are good inthe sight of the Great Spirit, who is doing a deed pleasing in hissight? Is he taking the life of an enemy in the battle? Is he scalpinga foe with whom he has fought and conquered? Lo! now, this is a bravedeed, to slay the son of a friend, and a boy who has no power toresist. But the boy shall not die. If a paleface has killed one of thechildren of the Stone, this boy has saved the life of more than one.His hand has been free, and his heart open to the Oneida, and his gooddeeds are more than enough to atone for the evil deeds of another. Theashes of thy pipe, Black Eagle, upon the hearth of Prevost, call outshame upon the murder of his son!"

"Get ye hence, women!" said another chief. "We are not soft as water,to be turned in what course ye will: we are the children of the Stone,and our heart is the rock."

"Be it so, then!" cried Black Eagle's sister. "Look upon us now, ohchiefs! We are here, your mothers, your sisters, your daughters, yourwives; those ye love best, those who best love you. See, now, what weare commanded to do by the voice of the Good Spirit. If ye slay theyouth, ye slay us. Every lodge shall be left desolate; there shall bewailing through the village and through the land. Now, my sisters, iftheir heart be a stone, let our heart be soft, and let the knife findit easily!"

As she spoke, every mantle was thrown back, and every arm was raised,and in every hand was seen the gleam of a knife.

Black Eagle covered his eyes with his mantle, but sat still. Waltersprang across and cast himself at the feet of Otaitsa, exclaiming:"Hold! hold! For God's sake, hold, my Blossom!"

"Back! back!" cried the girl, vehemently. "If thou diest, I die!"

"All! all!" said the women, in the same determined tone.

At the same moment the old priest rose and stretched forth his hands."It is the voice of the Great Spirit!" he exclaimed, in the tone ofone inspired. "He speaks to us by their tongue; he tells us toforbear! The deed is evil in his sight; we must not do it! The bloodof our brother is atoned--it is the voice of the Great Spirit!"

"It is the voice of the Great Spirit--it is the voice of the GreatSpirit!" exclaimed each of the chiefs, and Black Eagle, casting fromhim the tomahawk, took Walter in his arms, saying, in a low voice, "Myson! my son!"

Otaitsa took a step forward toward them, but before she reached herfather her sight grew dim and she fell at his feet.[3]

CHAPTER XXVIII

There was the bustle and the din of preparation in the great Castle ofthe Oneidas. With the first light of the morning, numerous small bandsbegan to pour in, summoned secretly long before, to hold a warcouncil, and to march against the enemy. Before noon larger bandsbegan to appear, led by several of the noted warriors of the nation,and one very numerous body coming across the lake in a little fleet ofcanoes brought with them a great quantity of baggage in the shape ofhuts and provisions, with women and even children.

The scene which took place when all were assembled, in number morethan a thousand, is perfectly indescribable. Nor shall I attempt togive a picture of it. A long period of peace seemed only to have giventhe western warriors a sort of thirst for war; and their joy at theunburying of the hatchet and the march against the enemy broke forthin demonstrations which to any civilized eye would have appearedperfectly frantic. Screaming, shouting, singing, dancing, striking thewar post with their tomahawks, and shaking their rifles in the air,they seemed like beings possessed by some evil spirit--the calm andgrave demeanor was altogether cast aside, and the calmest and mostmoderate boasted outrageously of deeds done in the past or to beperformed in the coming war. About an hour after noon, however, asudden and complete change came over the scene. In an open spacebefore the great lodge, all the chieftains of the different totems ortribes assembled, and the usual circle was formed around the great warpost of the Black Eagle. The younger warriors gathered in other rowswithout the first, and the youths, the women, and the children wereseen beyond these again. One exception to the usual order took place.The great chief had on either side of him one of those, both of whomhe now called his children. Otaitsa, in her most brilliant costume,stood upon his left, and Walter Prevost, armed and dressed like theOneidas, with the sole difference that his head was not shaved, liketheirs, remained standing throughout the ceremony, on his right.

As soon as all was quiet--and the stillness of death very soon fellover the whole multitude--Black Eagle, in a speech of powerfuleloquence, related all that had occurred on the preceding night, andjustified the act of himself and the other chiefs in the eyes of thepeople. He said that he himself and five of his brethren had beenprepared to sacrifice the son of Prevost to atone for the blood of theSnake, and to satisfy the customs of the Oneidas, although they wouldrather have slain their own son; but that the Great Spirit had spokenby the tongue of his sister, and they had forborne. When he had done,the Old Cedar Tree rose, but uttered only a few words. "It was thevoice of the Great Spirit," he said; and immediately a murmur of"Koui! koui!" ran round the assembly, in confirmation of the act.

The chief then explained to his warriors why he had that day calledthem around him; for although the object was already well known toall, and the news had by that time spread that the Englishmen weremarching against the French upon Lake Champlain, the Indians neveracted in masses without solemn deliberation; and a war speech, as theycalled it, was universally expected from their renowned leader. Hedealt at length upon the alliance between the English and the FiveNations, upon the good faith with which the stipulations of theirtreaties had been maintained by the British Provinces; he referred tothe talk held some six months before, at the Castle of Sir WilliamJohnson, skilfully mingling with his discourse the names of severalpersons most popular with the tribes, and he ended by exhorting hishearers to show their truth and friendship toward their Englishbrethren, and to pour down their fiercest wrath upon the French, whomhe spoke of contemptuously as brethren of the Hurons and theAlgonquins.

The same signs of approbation followed; and many another chief addedhis voice, raising the passions of the warriors to the highest pitch.One, especially, urged them to immediate action, telling them that theMohawks had already marched, that they were with the English army, andthat the faces of the children of the Stone would be full of shame ifa Mohawk brought home more scalps than an Oneida.

Some were for setting out on the instant, but this proposal wasoverruled, and the following morning was appointed for the march tobegin, as more parties were expected from the different districts, andsome had not come fully prepared for the long journey and importantenterprise.

The council was succeeded by scenes similar to those with which theday began, and it must not be concealed that in many instances thedreadful firewater was employed, so far as even to produce beastlyintoxication. Small drums and wild instruments of music, songs ofevery different character, from the wailing lament or the religiouschant to the fierce and boastful war song, rose from every part of,the village; and it was not till the sun had completely set thatanything like quiet and order was restored. Paint it in what colors wewill, it was a barbarous and terrible, though exciting scene, andWalter Prevost was well pleased to hear the noise gradually die awayinto low murmurs, and silence again begin to resume her reign.

Then came a very, very happy hour. He sat with Otaitsa alone, in thegreat lodge, while the Black Eagle wandered amongst his peoplewithout; and for the first time since his deliverance from death thetwo had an opportunity of pouring forth to each other the manyfeelings which, had accumulated in the last four and twenty hours.

"At this time last night," said the youth, "I was preparing to die."

"And at this time last night," answered the girl, gazing fondly uponhis face as he sat with his arm clasped fondly round her, and her headleaning on his shoulder, "and at this time last night Otaitsa wasready to die with you. I have since thought it very wrong of me,Walter; and fearing what I did was sinful, I have prayed part of thenight to God for forgiveness, and another part I have spent in praiseand thanksgiving. But I believe I was mad, my beloved, for I hardlyknew what I did, and followed blindly what they told me to do torescue him for whom I would have sacrificed a thousand lives. Besides,I was surrounded by my countrywomen, and you know they do not think aswe have been taught to think."

"If it was an error it was a blessed one, my own Blossom," answeredWalter, "for to it I owe my life; and life, when it is brightened byOtaitsa's love, is but too precious to me. The time will come, dearone, when we shall look back upon these days as but a painful dream,and the only bright reality that will last will be the memory of myBlossom's love, and all that she has done to save and bless me."

She gazed at him believingly; for hers was not a heart to doubt, andhis was not a heart to be doubted; and then she said, with a sigh:"But you are now going to battle, to risk your life and all yourhappiness. Still it is strange, but I would not stay you, though all Ihave heard from good Mr. Gore should make me look upon such thingswith horror, and though I would fain have you keep away from danger. Isuppose it is the habits of my people still clinging about me, evenwith a better faith than theirs."

"Fear not, dearest, fear not," answered Walter, boldly. "No harm willhappen to me, I do trust and believe, and I only leave you for a fewshort weeks."

"You will not leave me at all, Walter," she answered, "no, never more.I will go with you, if not to the battle, as near it as I can be. Ihave my father's leave; the warriors of my race will defend me, and Iwill not part with my recovered treasure any more."

"Go to my father's house," said Walter, joyfully. "It is very near thespot, and Edith will rejoice to have you with her."

Otaitsa fixed her eyes upon vacancy, and fell into a deep reverie; andan expression came into her face which Walter had remarked more thanonce before.

"Do you know, my beloved," he said, "that sometimes you strike me asvery like our dear Edith, especially when you look thoughtful, as youdid just now?"

"It is very natural," said Otaitsa, nestling closer to him; "you donot know that she is my cousin. My mother was your father's sister.Hush! not a word, especially in the ears of any of the tribe. Myfather knows it, but he will not know it, because amongst the elderpeople of the nation it was held contrary to our customs that cousinshould marry cousin. I asked Mr. Gore long ago if it were against yourlaw; but he said no, that it was neither against law nor religion. Heinquired why I asked so earnestly," she added, laughing, "but I wouldnot tell him. Come with me into my chamber, and I will show you manythings belonging to my mother. Stay! I will light my lamp!"

Otaitsa bent down and lighted her lamp, and guided her lover up to herlittle chamber; and there they sat, and turned over many a long-storedtreasure, and she showed him the picture of his own father, and of hermother, and of their mutual kin, and drawings of fair scenes inEurope, some of which he remembered well, with others of the land inwhich they then were, but of spots which he had never seen. There wasone, too, left unfinished, of a young, sweet child; and Walter gazedfirst upon the infant face and then upon the bright, happy countenancebeside him, and clasped his Blossom warmly to his breast. The book,too, with the drop of blood upon it, told its own tale to both theirhearts.

"And where is Mr. Gore?" he asked, at length; "he seems seems to haveleft altogether his little flock, or I am sure I should have seen himduring my captivity."

"He is coming back now," said Otaitsa. "My father would not let himreturn before. He was afraid, I believe, that the breath of the goodman would melt his icy purpose. He had a power over Black Eagle thatnone other had. I prayed and besought in vain. But had Mr. Gore beenhere he would have conquered. Black Eagle knew it and feared, andtherefore he sent him hence, and would not let him return till the daywas past."

"Would that he were here now," said Walter, earnestly.

Otaitsa asked him why, and he answered, with a warm kiss: "That hemight unite us forever."

A flush came upon her cheek, but there was the low sound of a stepbelow, and looking down the stairs, she said: "Is that you, myfather?"

"I come," said the chief; and slowly mounting the stairs, he enteredthe chamber where they were. His eyes roved round the room in a mannerwhich evidently showed that it was strange to him; and then he fixedthem on the pictures which lay upon the table, lighted but faintly bythe lamp. At first he seemed not to distinguish what they were, butthe moment he saw them clearly, he drew his mantle over his face andturned toward the door. He uttered no word, he shed no tear, but hedescended slowly, and Walter and Otaitsa followed.

CHAPTER XXIX

On that part of Lake Champlain, or Corlear, as it was called by theIndians, where, quitting the narrow basin which it occupies from itssouthern extremity to some distance northward of Ticonderoga, it opensout into a broader sheet of water, and sweeps round the smallpeninsula of Crown Point, a large canoe was seen crossing to theCanada side, with some sixteen or seventeen persons on board, amongstwhom were Edith Prevost and her companion, Woodchuck. There was noattempt at concealment, no creeping along under shelter of the banks,but boldly and openly the Indians paddled on, within range of the gunsof the French fort, and then directly across the bows of two large,flat-bottomed boats or batteaux, accompanied by several light canoes,each of the latter containing six or seven men, which were going downthe lake in the direction of Ticonderoga.

From each of the larger boats the flag of France was conspicuouslydisplayed; but as the strange canoe above mentioned seemed bearingstraight for the shore, fully in possession of France, its movements,for a time, appeared to excite no attention. Neither the batteaux northe other canoes altered their course, the men in the formercontinuing a shouted conversation in a mixed jargon, part French, partIndian, with their dusky companions in the lesser craft, who kept asnearly alongside as possible.

At length, however, it would seem some suspicion was excited. Twofigures, male and female, were discerned from the batteaux in thestern of the strange canoe, whose dress at once showed them to belongto none of the Indian tribes, and was also somewhat different fromthat of either the Canadian colonists or the native French. The twoparties were now within less than a hundred yards of each other, andit seemed doubtful whether the large canoe would clear the easternFrench boat without trouble. But suddenly a voice was raised loud inthe foremost batteau and a question was put in French as to whitherthe others were bound, and who they were.

The Indians were silent, for they did not understand the wordsaddressed to them; but Woodchuck whispered eagerly: "Answer! answer!if you can speak their jargon. Rather be in the hands of Frenchofficers than these incarnate devils!"

Edith's eyes had been cast down, and so full of bitter tears that shehad seen nothing since they left the western shore. But now she lookedup, and in an instant her presence of mind returned. It is true shedid not speak at once, for she feared her voice would not reach theboat; but it was nearing the canoe fast, and in a moment after thequestion was repeated in a more peremptory and a more distinct tone.

"Tell them we are allies of the great French chief," said Apukwa, whoseemed to comprehend in some degree the meaning of the call. "Say weare going to join our Canadian father;" and he glared fiercely as hespoke.

"We are English!" exclaimed Edith, in French, exerting her utmostpower of voice. "We are English and Iroquois, going I know notwhither!"

Instantly, at a signal from the batteaux, the light canoes dashed outwith extraordinary rapidity, and before any effectual effort could bemade to escape, the larger canoe was surrounded, while the yells ofthe Hurons announced that they recognized at length a band of ancientenemies. With a fiend-like look at Edith, Apukwa drew his tomahawkfrom his belt; but the brother of the Snake spoke some words to him ina low tone, the weapon was replaced, the men ceased to work thepaddles, and every face assumed the quiet stillness of perfectindifference. The yells and whoops of the Hurons still continued, sothat one danger seemed only to be escaped to encounter a stillgreater. Their fierce faces and dark, half-naked forms, tattooed andpainted, were seen all round, and the tomahawk and the knife werebrandished, as if for immediate action. But one of the large boatsbore right down amongst them, and soon grappled the canoe in whichEdith and her companion were. A handsomely dressed, middle-aged manstood up in the stern, as it came near, and turning to an Indian whoseemed a chief, by his side, said to him in French: "Keep your peoplequiet, Great Elk!"

A few words were then spoken, or rather shouted, by the Indian to theothers in the canoes, in a language which Edith did not at allunderstand, and in an instant every Huron sank down in silence, andthe light skiffs lay quiet upon the water, or only moved slightly withthe momentum they had already received from the paddles. Then raisinghis hat and plume, with an air of much grace, the French officeraddressed Edith, saying: "Will you have the goodness to explain to me,mademoiselle, who and what you are, and how you came to be in theposition in which I find you? I am sorry to be obliged to detain alady, but you have too many men with you to suffer your canoe topass."

"I am the daughter of an English gentleman," replied Edith. "I havebeen attacked and captured with the friend who was escorting me frommy father's house to that of Colonel Schneider; my two servants weremurdered--at least one of them, I am sure, was. The Indians who arewith me are Iroquois, who are taking me forcibly across the lake,toward Canada, and I have little doubt that I shall be put to deathalso, if you do not save me from their hands."

"But this is a strange story, mademoiselle," said the officer. "TheIroquois and your countrymen are in alliance."

"I cannot account for it," said Edith. "They are certainly Iroquois,for they speak no other language, except a few words of English. Youmust ask them what is the meaning of their conduct, if you have any onboard who can speak their tongue."

The officer turned once more to his Indian companion and addressedsome words to him in French; but the chief shook his head, and thendrawing his eyelids together, as if to see more distinctly, gazed intothe canoe, scanning the persons of the Indians closely. "They areIroquois," he said, at length. "Let us scalp them."

This proposal the officer did not think fit to comply with, at leastfor the time, and he replied, with a laugh: "Wait a little, my friend.The Great Elk shall have scalping enough soon. We will take themashore with us, at all events, and perhaps may learn more. Then, ifthey are really enemies, you may exercise your skill upon them to yourheart's content. The lady and her English companion, however, I claimas my prisoners. Permit me, mademoiselle, to assist you into the boat.You will be safer here, and may trust to the honor and courtesy of aFrench gentleman."

"I have no fears on that score, sir," answered Edith, rising; and,with the aid of the officer and Woodchuck, passing into the otherboat, which, flat-bottomed and heavily laden, was not much higherabove the water than the canoe. Woodchuck followed her closely, butnot without exciting the wrath of the Honontkoh. They had sat eversince the canoe had been grappled by the boat with the most tranquilstillness. Not a limb, not a feature had moved; and to the eye of anobserver ignorant of their habits, they would have seemed perfectlyindifferent to all that was taking place. In fact, one of themappeared actually going to sleep; for the sun, which had now brokenout after the storm, shone full on his face, and his eyes were closed,and his head bent. But the moment that Woodchuck put his foot over theside of the batteau a yell of disappointed rage burst from every lip;and, unable to contain himself, Apukwa arose and poured forth a fewwords of Huron, mixed with a good deal of Iroquois.

"Hold your tongues!" exclaimed the French officer, waving his handimperiously. "Tow them along behind us; and you, Great Elk, commandyour people to keep close round them and see they do not cut the ropeand slip away."

The orders were given as he directed, and the arrangements made; butwhen all was completed, and the boat was once more moving along thelake, the Indian by his side pulled the officer's sleeve, thusinterrupting a speech he had just begun, with a gallant air, to Edith,and seemed to explain something to him in a low tone.

"Well, we shall soon find out," said the Frenchman, with a gay laugh."If they are Iroquois who are going to become Hurons, and take serviceunder his majesty, we will make them fight for us where we are going.We shall not have too many hands to help us, Great Elk, and they'llmake a good reinforcement to your party. As for the lady and herattendant, I will take care of them;" and turning to Edith, with acourteous smile, he spread his roquelaure in a more convenient part ofthe boat, and assisted her to seat herself more comfortably, saying:"Mademoiselle is a great deal too charming to travel any more withsuch savages. But may I know the name of this gentleman? Can he notspeak French?"

"Not a word, I believe," replied Edith.

"That is singular," exclaimed the Frenchman, giving expression to thegeneral feeling of his nation, who seem to believe that the Frenchlanguage is one of those blessings of God which it is strange Heshould deny to any of his creatures. "What is his name?"

It instantly passed through the mind of Edith that if she gave hergood companion the name of Captain Brooks she would be certain tocause his detention as a prisoner of war, and she therefore simplyreplied: "He is called Woodchuck."

"Woodchuck!" exclaimed the Frenchman; "quel drol de nom! Is MonsieurWoodchuck in the army?"

To the question, thus put, Edith could fairly answer in the negative,for Brooks, though he had seen no little fighting in his day, wasmerely one of those amateur soldiers, then very common in theprovinces, who rarely missed an opportunity of joining some band ofvolunteers in times of war with France, or fighting upon their ownhand, according to the Dutchman's expression, as one of the extensiveclass called stragglers. They generally bore away from the field,especially if they distinguished themselves, some military title, suchas captain or major, without ever having commanded half a dozen men intheir lives.

After having asked hie questions, and settled his conduct, the Frenchofficer's next business was, of course, politeness, and he would fainhave engaged his lovely companion in gay and lively conversationduring the rest of their little voyage; but Edith, though her mind wasgreatly relieved to find herself freed from the power of theHonontkoh, had many a subject of melancholy contemplation to occupyher thoughts. There was the dark and dreary consideration of herbrother's fate; there was the uncertainty of what might befall herfather and her lover; there was the separation from all most dear toher; there was the doubt, even now, whether she might not herself bedetained a prisoner amongst strangers; for the war in America hadhitherto been conducted by the French upon principles the mostbarbarous and most opposed to the ordinary characteristics of thenation. The scene which succeeded the capture of Fort William Henrywas a dark and damning fact, never to be obliterated from the minds ofmen; and although it has been put forth by an American author as theonly stain upon the character of Montcalm, that author must surelyhave forgotten the violated capitulation of Oswego, the death of thegallant De la Court, and the scalping and massacre of the sick in thehospital. All that we can trust is that these barbarities were onlypermitted, not encouraged. But how can we account for or excuse, howcan we even palliate, the witting and voluntary delivery of twenty ofthe garrison into the hands of the Indians, in direct violation of thearticles of capitulation, to be tortured to death under the very eyesof the French soldiery, as compensation for the loss of twenty of theFrench Indians? It is a fact which has never been denied, or it wouldbe too horrible for belief.

Edith replied briefly, therefore, to the compliments and prettyspeeches of her military companion, and in the meanwhile the boatproceeded rapidly over the surface of the lake, passed Crown Point,and entered the narrow portion of Lake Champlain, which stretches fromthat promontory to the spot where the Sounding Waters, as the Indianscalled the outlet of Lake George, flow into the greater lake, nearTiconderoga.

The French officer, somewhat baffled in his attempts to make herspeak, tried his fortune with Woodchuck, but with still less success;for to everything he said in French he received what can hardly becalled an answer in English; and generally, it must be said, not avery civil one; for Brooks was filled with all the most unreasonableprejudices of his country, and never uttered the word "Frenchman"without coupling it with the epithet "rascally." The voyage wasbrought to a close, however, before night fell, for the boat stoppedshort by a mile or two of Ticonderoga, and considerably to the northof the spot where the ferry now exists.

The scene would have appeared beautiful, had Edith's mind been free toenjoy it, for in front were seen the tops of the several boldeminences round the French fort, On the one side were those richlands, varied at that time with scattered masses of forest, though nowmore highly cultivated, known as the New Hampshire grants, and to thewestward a varied country, rising gradually to the foot of the MoheganMountains. The spot chosen for the landing was a secluded cove in thewoods, where the shelving rocks broke through the soil and dippedgradually into the water. Boats and canoes were all speedily hauledup. The commander of the party, with delicate attention, handed Edithout, and then gave orders to his men to follow him, which was effectedwith rapidity and precision. The savages, under the orders of theirchief, took care of the Iroquois prisoners, and apparently by noslight act of forbearance resisted the great temptation to possessthemselves of their scalps. When all had disembarked the canoes weredrawn safely up under concealment of the bushes on either side, andthe voyageurs in the two larger boats pushed off and took their way upthe lake again.

"I fear, mademoiselle," said the captain of the French soldiers, whomight have amounted to sixty or seventy, "I must trouble you to take asomewhat fatiguing promenade of some four or five miles; at least so Iam told, for I have never been here myself, and do not know thedistance."

"Then are we not going to Fort Ticonderoga?" asked Edith.

"Not so," replied the officer. "We are going a little beyond, and Ishall have no opportunity of detaching any party whom I could trust tosend you into the fort to-night. The Indians, indeed, could bespared--at least a sufficient number to escort you--but I shouldreally be apprehensive from what I know of their habits, that youmight not be quite so safe in their charge as under the protection ofmy musketeers, with your devoted servant at their head. We willendeavor to make you as comfortable as we can for the night, and Idoubt not that early to-morrow I shall be visited by some superiorofficer, who will have the honor of conveying you to the fort."

"Then am I to consider myself as a prisoner?" asked Edith, in a coldtone. "I did not know that it was the habit of French officers to makewomen captives."

"No!" replied the Frenchman, with a graceful bow; "we ourselves aremuch more frequently their captives. But, my dear lady, within thelimits of this garrison I myself have no command--am merely actingunder orders, and feel myself imperatively bound to send you and yourcompanion, Monsieur Woodchuck, to the commandant of the fortress, whowill act, I am sure, as he finds befitting. I only regret that Icannot do so at once; but my orders are strict, my route marked out,and I am told to hasten across this small peninsula, as fast aspossible without approaching the fortress. It is certainly a ratherlong walk, but if you feel fatigued I can easily make my men constructa little litter, and carry you. We shall find some preparation madefor us where we are going, though, I am afraid, not very suitable foryour use."

Edith evidently saw that remonstrance was in vain; and saying that sheshould prefer to walk, she took the arm of Woodchuck, and explained tohim as they went all that had passed between her and the Frenchman.

"I guess he is going to form an ambuscade," said Woodchuck. "If so,Miss Prevost, our army must be near, and we shall be long in theirhands. I wish to heaven I could get away from them, and had but ahorse to carry me," he added, thoughtfully, and with a sigh. "But it'sno use wishing. God knows his own ways best! Them Hurons look verymuch as if they would eat the Oneidas before they've done. Pray Godthey mayn't take such a fancy to us, too!"

Thus saying, he took the place which was assigned to him and Edith inthe march. A number of Indians preceded, several little parties movedupon the flanks, the small body of French infantry moved on twoabreast, for the trail was barely wide enough for that number.Woodchuck and Edith followed them, and the French officer, with theIndian whom he called Great Elk, walked next, succeeded by theIroquois prisoners, a large quantity of baggage, borne on men'sshoulders, and the remainder of the Huron auxiliaries.

It was now twilight in the forest, and for more than an hour afterdarkness had fallen upon the earth the weary and somewhat perilousmarch was continued. Once a small stream was crossed, Woodchuck takingup his fair companion in his sturdy arms and bearing her over like aninfant. Nothing of any note occurred, except a slow and low-tonedconversation in the rear, which led Edith to believe that theIroquois, her late captors, had found some of the other band ofnatives with whom they could converse; but she could not distinguishanything that was said.

Weary and exhausted, the sight of a fire at length glimmering throughthe trees was an exceedingly pleasant sight to her eyes, and a minuteor two after a scene presented itself which might have seemed drearyand comfortless enough under other circ*mstances, but which lookedcheerful and comfortable after that long and miserable march.

The trail which they had followed terminated in a small open space,flanked on three sides by low earthworks of no very regularconstruction, but evidently designed by an experienced military hand.The outer surface of these works was partially concealed by a thicket,and great care had been taken not only to preserve the brambles andthe large-leaved raspberry, but to fill every gap in this shrubberyscreen with branches of pine, and hemlock, and maple. Within theseembankments the ground had, to a certain extent, been cleared, thoughtwo or three of the larger trees had been left standing, to prevent avacancy being apparent from without. About the middle of the openspace a number of rude huts had been erected, of small felled treesand branches; and before one, somewhat larger than the rest, asentinel was seen planted, who, at the moment Edith came in sight,stood motionless, presenting arms, as his comrades filed into thelittle quadrangle. Behind the soldier, and between him and the huts,was a large blazing fire, which threw out his dark figure, sharplyoutlined upon the flame.

"Ah! this will do," said the French commander, in a tone of relief."The commandant has been careful of us. Mademoiselle, I welcome you tomy redoubt, and will do my best to make the evening pass pleasantlyfor you. Now bring in the baggage. Tell the cook to get supper ready;and you, Pierrot, see that hut properly arranged for this young lady'saccommodation. I calculated on sleeping upon a very comfortablebearskin to-night, but I will most willingly resign it to you,mademoiselle, in the hope of your passing a good night's rest."

Edith would fain have declined accepting a sacrifice so enhanced, butthe captain insisted; and his servant, whom he called Pierrot, at onceset about the preparations for her comfort with a degree of skill anddexterity truly French. In the meantime, while Edith, sitting on thetrunk of a fallen tree, waited till all was ready, and while a groupof stragglers unpacked the baggage which had just been deposited fromthe sturdy shoulders of the bearers, the French officer called hisfriend, the Huron chief, to council; and Apukwa and the other Oneidaswere brought before him, accompanied by two young Hurons, whoundertook to act as interpreters. Many were the questions asked, andwhat between the captain's ignorance of Indian manners, and theinterpreters' ignorance both of the French and Iroquois, the worthyofficer seemed completely puzzled.

At length, however, after consulting the Great Elk in a low voice, heexclaimed: "Tell them, if their tale be really true--though I've gotmy doubts, for I never heard of Free Masons amongst Indians before,and that must be what you mean by Honontkoh--but if their tale bereally true, they may stay here with us, and prove their devotion toHis Majesty Louis the Fifteenth, King of France, by fighting theEnglish at our side. They shall be sharply watched, however," headded, in a low voice, as if speaking to himself.

Apukwa heard his words translated, and then, saying something inreply, pointed to Edith and her English companion with a look of toomuch meaning to be misunderstood.

"Nothing of the kind," answered the French officer, without waitingfor the words which seemed about to follow. "Tell him there's but onechoice, either to prove their story and their loyalty by fighting onour side, or to pass under the fire of these gentlemen," and he laidhis hand upon a pile of muskets which stood close beside him.

This intimation was quite sufficient. The Honontkoh agreed to stay andfight without any further conditions, and the Frenchman then gavestrict orders, both to his own soldiers and the Hurons--by whom theywere much more likely to be efficiently obeyed--that their verydoubtful allies should be kept continually in sight. He then seemed tocast all thought of the affair behind him, and turned toward Edith,who was already in the hut, saying: "I hope, mademoiselle, Pierrot hastaken good care of you."

"With all the skill and courtesy of a Frenchman, monsieur," sheanswered, really pleased with the attention and almost fatherlykindness of the soldier who had been arranging the hut.

"Then, now, as you have the means of rest, it only remains to provideyou with meat and drink," said the officer. "I see they have spread mytablecloth on the grass there. Will you and your friend come andpartake of my fare? Pray make my words understood to him."

Woodchuck readily agreed to accept the Frenchman's hospitality, butEdith declined taking anything more than a little bread and some wine,alleging that she needed rest more than anything. The French officer,however, would not be content with this, but with his own handsbrought her some savory messes which would not have disgraced aParisian dinner table, some choice wine, and, what was still morevaluable to her, a small lamp. He then closed the hurdle door of thehut upon her and returned to his meal with Woodchuck, keeping up withhim for half an hour a sort of conversation by words and signs,one-half of which was probably unintelligible to both. The Frenchmanthen took possession of another hut, and invited Woodchuck to share itwith him for the night; but the stout woodsman declined any coveringbut the sky, and stretching himself across Edith's door, was soon inprofound slumber.

CHAPTER XXX

We must go back for a very short time to the spot whence Edith and herOneida captors set out upon what proved to the latter an unfortunatevoyage across Lake Champlain, and to the very moment after their canoehad left the shore. The Long House, as the Five Nations were pleasedto call their territory, extended from the great lakes and a point farwest, to the banks of the Hudson and Lakes Huron and Champlain; but,as is always the case in border countries, the frontier was oftencrossed, both by wandering or predatory bands of Hurons and othernations under the sway of France, and by outlaws from the Iroquoistribes attached to England. The peculiar habits and laws of the Indiantribes rendered the incorporation of fugitives with other nations avery easy matter, although the language of the Five Nations would seemto be radically different from that of the tribes originallyinhabiting the seaboard of America. Indeed, on the western shore ofLake Champlain not a few pure Hurons were to be found; for that tribe,during the successful campaigns of France against England, with whichwhat is called the French and Indian war commenced, had somewhatencroached upon the Iroquois territory, supported in their daring bythe redoubted name of Montcalm.

With some of these, it would seem, Apukwa and his companions hadentered into a sort of tacit alliance, and toward their dwellings theyhad directed their steps after their attack upon Edith and her littleescort, in the expectation of readily finding a canoe to waft themover the lake. At first they had been disappointed, for the barkswhich had been there the day before were gone; and when they did findthe canoe in which they ultimately commenced their voyage, theavaricious old man to whom it belonged would not let them use itwithout a world of bargaining; and it cost them a considerable portionof the little stock of ornaments and trinkets which they had found inEdith's plundered baggage, before the Huron consented to lend themthat which they did not dare take by force.

Thus more than an hour was passed, after they reached the lake shore,before they departed; and their taking their course so boldly acrossthe bows of the French boats was more a matter of necessity thanchoice, although they little doubted a good reception from theinveterate enemies of England. No sooner, however, had the canoe shotout into the water than the figure of a tall, dark woman emerged fromthe bushes of the low point under which the skiff had lain, and shebegan wringing her hands with every appearance of grief and anxiety.

"O, what will poor massa do!" she cried, in a piteous voice. "Whatwill poor massa do! Him son killed, him daughter stolen, and Chaudotomahawked! Ah, me! ah, me! What will we all do?"

Her imprudent burst of grief had nearly proved destructive to poorSister Bab. The old Huron had turned him quietly toward a small birchbark cabin in the forest hard by, and would never have remarked thepoor negress if she had confined the expression of her cares to meregesture; but her moans and exclamations caught the quick ear of thesavage, and he turned and saw her plainly, gazing after the canoe.With no other provocation than a taste for blood, he stole quietlythrough the trees, with the soft, gliding, noiseless motion peculiarto his race, and making a circuit so as to conceal his advance, hecame behind the poor creature just as she beheld the canoe which boreaway her young mistress stopped and surrounded by the little flotillaof the French. Another moment would have been fatal to her, for theIndian was within three yards, when a large rattlesnake suddenlyraised itself in his path and made him recoil a step. Whetherattracted by the small, but never-to-be-forgotten sound of thereptile's warning, or some noise made by the Huron in suddenly drawingback, the poor negress turned her head and saw her danger.

With a wild scream she darted away toward the lake, The savage sprangafter her with a yell, and though old he retained much of the Indianlightness of foot. Onward toward the shore he drove her, meditatingeach moment to throw his hatchet if she turned to the right or left.But Sister Bab was possessed of qualities which would not havedisgraced any of his own tribe, and even while running at her utmostspeed she contrived continually to deprive him of his aim. Not a tree,not a shrub, not a mass of stone that did not afford her a momentaryshelter, and of every inequality of the ground she took advantage. Nowshe whirled sharply round the little shoulder of the hill; now, as thetomahawk was just balanced to be thrown with more fatal certainty, shesprang down a bank which almost made the Indian pause. Then sheplunged head foremost, like a snake, through the thick brushwood, andagain appeared in a different spot from that where he had expected tosee her.

Still, however, he was driving her toward the lake, at a spot wherethe shores were open, and where he felt certain of overtaking her. Onshe went, however, to the very verge of the lake, gazed to the rightand left, and seeing with apparent consternation that the banksrounded themselves on both sides, forming a little bay, near thecenter of which she stood, she paused for a single instant, as if indespair. The Huron sprang after with a wild whoop, clutching thetomahawk firmly to strike the fatal blow.

But Sister Bab was not yet in his grasp, and with a bold leap shesprang from the ledge into the water. Her whole form instantlydisappeared, and for at least a minute her savage pursuer stood gazingat the lake in surprise and disappointment, when suddenly he saw ablack object appear at the distance of twenty or thirty yards, andsuddenly sink again. A few moments after it rose once more, stillfarther out, and then the brave woman was seen striking easily awaytoward the south.

Rendered only more eager by the chase, and more fierce bydisappointment, the Huron ran swiftly along the shore, thinking thathe could easily tire her out or cut her off; but, in sunny waters infar distant lands, she had sported with the waves in infancy, andtaking the chord of the bow where he was compelled to take the arc,she gained in distance what she lost in speed. So calm was she, socool, that turning her eyes from her pursuer, she gazed over the waterin the direction where she had seen her beloved young mistresscarried, and had the satisfaction of beholding the canoe towed alongby one of the French boats. Why she rejoiced she hardly knew, for hernotions on such matters were not very definite; but anything seemedbetter than to remain in the hands of the murderers of poor Chaudo.

Her thoughts were still of Edith, and she asked herself: "Where arethey taking her to, I wonder. Perhaps I may come up with them if thatredskin would but leave off running along by the shore and let me landand cross the narrow point. He may run the devil foot. He can't catchBab. I'll dive again. He think her drowned."

Her resolution was instantly executed; and whether it was that herstratagem was successful, or that the Huron had less than Indianperseverance and gave up the chase, when she rose again she saw himturning toward the woods, as if about to go back to his lodge. But Babhad learned caution, and she pursued her way toward the smallpeninsula where stood the French fort of Crown Point, which at theperiod I speak of had been nearly stripped of its garrison toreinforce Ticonderoga. She chose her spot, however, with great care,for though in her wanderings she had made herself well acquainted withthe country, she was, of course, ignorant of the late movements of thetroops, and fancied that the French posts extended as far beyond thewalls of the fortress as they had formerly done. A little woodyisland, hardly separated from the mainland, covered her approach, andthe moment her feet touched the shore she darted away into the forestand took the trail which led nearly due south. The neck of the pointwas soon passed, and once more she caught sight of the French boatsstill towing the canoe on which her thoughts so particularly rested.

The short detention of the French party, and the advantage she gainedby her direct course across the point, had put her a little inadvance, and she ran rapidly on till she reached the mouth of thesmall river now called Putnam's Creek, which, being flooded by thetorrents of rain that had fallen in the earlier part of the day, madeher pause for a moment, gazing at the rushing and eddying waterscoming down, and doubting whether she had strength left to swim acrossit. The boats, by this time, were somewhat in advance, and when shegazed after them she naturally came to the conclusion that they werebound for what she called, after the Indian fashion, Cheeonderoga.Suddenly, however, as she watched, she saw their course altered, andit soon became evident that they intended to land considerably northof the fort. Running up the creek, then, till she found a place whereshe could pass, she followed an Indian trail through the woods, lyinga little to the west of the present line of road, and at lengthreached an eminence nearly opposite to Shoreham--a spur of Mount Hope,in fact--when she once more caught a view of the lake, just in time tosee the disembarkation of the French troops and the Indians.

Notwithstanding her great strength, the poor negress was by this timeexceedingly tired; but still that persevering love which is one of thebrightest traits of her unfortunate race, carried her on. "If I cancatch sight of them again," she thought, "I can carry ole massatidings of where she is."

Encouraged by this idea, she pushed on without pause; but nightovertook her before she had seen any more of the party, and poor Bab'sspirit began to fail. More slowly she went, somewhat doubtful of herway, and in the solitude, the darkness, and the intricacy of thewoods, fears began to creep over her which were not familiar to herbosom. At length, however, she thought she heard voices at a distance,and a minute or two after she found herself on the bank of a smallbrook. She paused and listened. The voices were now more audible, andwithout hesitation she crossed and crept cautiously along in thedirection from which the sounds came.

A moment or two after, the flickering of a fire through the treesattracted her attention, and more and more carefully she crept on uponher hands and knees, through the low brush, still seeing the blaze ofthe firelight, when she raised her eyes, but unable to perceive thespot whence it proceeded. A small pine, cut down, next met her hand asshe crept along, and then a number of loose branches tossed together;and now Sister Bab began to get an inkling of the truth. "It must bewhat dey call an ambush," she thought, and raising herself gently, shefound that she was close to a bank of earth over which the firelightwas streaming. The sounds of voices were now distinctly heard, but shecould not understand one word, for it seemed to her that they werespeaking in two different languages, if not more, but each of them wasstrange to her.

At one time she fancied she heard Edith's voice, but still thelanguage spoken was a strange one, and although the bank of earth wasnot more than shoulder high, she did not venture at first to rise toher whole height in order to look over it. At length, however, camesome words of English, and the voice, which she judged to be Edith's,was plainly heard, saying: "This gentleman is asking you, my goodfriend, if you will not go and take some supper with him where thepeople have spread a cloth yonder." Bab could resist no more, butraised herself sufficiently to bring her eyes above the top of thebreastwork, and gazed over into the little rude redoubt.

On the right, and at the farther part of the enclosure, were a numberof Indians seated on the ground; and, besides the fire alreadyburning, several others were being piled up amidst the various groupsof natives. Somewhat on the left, and stretching well nigh across thewestern side of the other space, were the French soldiers, in groupsof five or six, with their arms piled near them. Other stragglingparties were scattered over the ground, and two sentinels, with musketon shoulder, appeared on the other side of the redoubt; but the groupwhich attracted the poor woman's chief attention was on her right,near a spot where some small huts had been erected. It consisted ofthree persons, a gaily dressed French officer, a man in the garb of asoldier, but with his arms cast aside, and lastly, a short, powerfulman, in a yellowish-brown hunting shirt, whom Sister Bab at oncerecognized as her old acquaintance the Woodchuck. That sight was quiteenough, and sinking down again amongst the bushes, she crept slowlyaway to a little distance, and there lay down to meditate as to whatwas next to be done.

At one time she was tempted to enter the French redoubt and remainwith her young mistress. Several considerations seemed in favor ofthis course; and let it be no imputation upon poor Bab that hunger andthe savory odors which came wafted over the earthwork were not withouttheir influence. But then she thought: "If I do, how will ole Massaever know where Missy is?" and this remembrance enabled her to resistthe strong temptation. "I will stay here and rest till the moon getup," thought the poor woman. "I know dey must be coming up de lake bydis time, and I can catch dem before to-morrow."

To prevent herself from sleeping too long if slumber should overtakeher, she crept farther out of the thick wood and seated herself in amore open spot, with her clasped hands over her knees, but withnothing else to support her.

Various sorts of fears suggested themselves to her mind as she thussat; but oppressive weariness was more powerful than thought, and in afew moments her head was nodding.

Often she woke up during the first hour, but then she slept moreprofoundly, bending forward till her forehead touched her knees. It isprobable, too, that she dreamed, for in the course of the next twohours several broken sentences issued from her lips in a low murmur.At length, however, she woke with a start, and found the moonsilvering the whole sky to the eastward, where some bold heightstowered up, still obscuring the face of the orb of night. She sat andgazed somewhat bewildered, hardly knowing where she was. But themusical voice of the falling waters, which have gained for the outletof Lake Horicon an ever enduring name, and the grand outline of MountDefiance seen through the trees, soon showed her that she was on thatnarrow point of land lying between Front Brook and the falls.

She waited till the moon had fully risen, and then stole quietly awayagain, keeping a southwestern course nearly up the current of thebrook, and for three hours she pursued her way with a rapid anduntiring foot. She had no idea of the time, and wondered if the daywould never break. But the moonlight was beautifully clear, and thecalm beams, as if they had some affinity with the woodland solitude,seemed to penetrate through the branches and green leaves even moreeasily than can the sunshine. Her fears had now nearly passed away,for she knew that she must be far beyond the French and Huron posts,and could only expect to meet with the scouts and outposts of theEnglish army, or with parties of friendly Indians, and sheconsequently went on without care or precaution. Suddenly she foundherself emerging from the wood into one of those low, open savannas,of which I have already spoken, close to the spot where the embers ofa fire were till glowing. The grass was soft and her tread was light,but the sleep of the Indian is lighter still, and in an instant threeor four warriors started up around her.

"I am a friend! I am a friend!" cried the negress in the Iroquoistongue. "Who be you--Mohawks?"

"Children of the Stone," replied the man nearest to her, gazing at herearnestly by the moonlight. "I have seen the Dark Cloud before, butdoes she not dwell in the house of our brother Prevost?"

"Yes, yes!" cried Sister Bab, eagerly. "I'm his slave girl, Bab, whocame to the Oneida Castle with my own Missy. But now she is theprisoner of bad men, and I have escaped, tired and hungry, and amnearly dead!"

"Come with me," said the Indian. "I will take thee where thou shalthave rest to comfort thee and meat to support thee, till the BlackEagle come. He will not be long, for he will keep the warpath nightand day till he is here, and his wings are swift."

The poor woman shuddered at the name of the terrible chief, for it wasclosely connected in her mind with the circ*mstances of her youngmaster's fate; but wearied and exhausted, the prospect of food andrepose was a blessing, and she followed the Indian in silence to theother side of the savanna.

CHAPTER XXXI

Sixteen thousand gallant men, led by a brave and experienced general,and supported by a fine, though not very large park of artillery,seemed certainly sufficient for the reduction of a small fortress notvery well garrisoned, nor supplied with any great abundance of stores.But it seemed the fate of English officers in North America to adherestrictly to all ancient rules, when ancient rules could be of noservice in face of a new and totally different mode of warfare, and toabandon those rules at times and in circ*mstances when only they couldbe available.

A large fleet of bateaux had been collected at the southern extremityof Lake George, ready to transport the troops to the destined point ofattack; and a council of the most experienced officers was held on theevening of the third of July, to consider the farther proceedings ofthe army.

All had now assembled at what was then commonly called in the province"Fort Lyman," although the name was already formally changed to "FortEdward."

General Abercrombie was there in person, and a number of otherofficers appeared at the council likewise, whose experience in Indianwarfare was superior to his own. There is much reason to believe thathad Abercrombie's own opinion been followed in acting against a Frenchfort, under French command, all the operations would have beenconducted in the same manner, and upon the same system which wouldhave guided a similar enterprise in Europe, and thus much bloodshedand some disgrace would have been spared.

It was represented to the commander-in-chief, however, that numerousbodies of Indians were acting upon the side of France; that alloperations carried on according to European rules had hitherto failedin America, and more than one bloody disaster was held up as a warningto his eyes; which he unhappily suffered to bias his own betterjudgment. In a word, as it was known that every day freshreinforcements were being thrown into Ticonderoga, large bodies ofIndians being collected for its defence, and preparations of everykind in progress, it was determined that a sudden and rapid rushshould be made upon the fort, and that no consideration should be putin competition with celerity of movement and boldness of attack. LordH---- alone represented that, from what he had personally learnedduring the last six months, it was absolutely necessary to employcannon; though, perhaps with a want of proper confidence in his ownreputation, he offered to lead the advanced parties, lest the opinionhe expressed should seem to anyone to savor of timidity.

At as early an hour as possible the march commenced along what wascalled the King's road; and in high spirits, regiment after regimententered the forest, confident in their numbers and their prowess. Theregular troops pursued the well constructed causeway, while clouds ofMohawks were scattered on the flanks, sweeping the forest ground oneither side. The artillery, on the heavy and clumsy carriages of thatday, the tumbrels and the baggage wagons, came lumbering in the rear,and a large troop of stragglers followed, comprising the scouts, whomight have been much more advantageously employed in the front, butwho, for some reason unexplained, had very little service assigned tothem on the expedition. General Abercrombie and his staff, withseveral of the superior officers, followed slowly behind all the rest,well aware that the advance of the forces would meet with noopposition, at least upon the first day's march. To this group, fromevery quarter, came numerous messengers throughout the day, somebringing news of a fresh levy marching up from the eastern States;some, from the front, seeking clearer orders when any littledifficulty or impediment occurred; some from Albany, with intelligencefrom that city or New York: and several Indian runners from the west,bearing more important tidings from the Indian tribes, now all inmovement to support their British allies.

Amongst the rest appeared the silent runner Proctor, with a letter toGeneral Abercrombie, who, as soon as he had read it, turned to LordH----, saying: "This is a communication from your friends the Oneidas,my lord, but written by some Englishman who signs himself 'Gore.' Hestates that a war party of the nation is already on the western bankof the lake, and that the main body, under Black Eagle himself, isexpected in the course of the day. I suppose we may therefore considerourselves secure upon our left flank."

"Undoubtedly," replied Lord H----, with a look of anxiety which almostinduced the Commander-in-chief to believe that he did entertain doubtswhich he did not choose to express.

"You think so, I presume," said Abercrombie, gazing at him.

"Entirely," replied Lord H----; "but I was in hopes of hearing someother intelligence of a private nature, concerning Mr. Prevost's son,whose alarming position amongst the Oneidas I mentioned to you, if yourecollect."

"There is nothing more," said General Abercrombie, handing him theletter; "but there is the messenger. Probably he can give you someinformation."

Lord H---- immediately turned toward Proctor, who was running at asort of trot by the side of the general's horse, and inquired if hehad been at the Castle of the Oneidas. The man shook his head andtrotted on.

"Then where did you last come from?" asked Lord H----; but Proctoronly lifted his hand and pointed toward the northwest.

"How many miles?" demanded the young nobleman, determined to get somespeech out of him. The man lifted up his hands three times with theten fingers spread abroad, without opening his lips.

"Did you hear, amongst those who sent you," asked Lord H----, "anytidings of young Mr. Prevost?"

The man shook his head, but then suddenly stopped in his trot, andsaid, as if upon recollection: "They thought he had been put todeath." He paused, as if what he had said had cost him a great effort,but then added, slowly, when he saw the painful expression of theyoung nobleman's countenance: "They only thought. They did not know.They left before."

"Did you see or hear of a man whom you know as Woodchuck--the man yousaw with me at Albany?" asked Lord H----; but the other shook hishead, and nothing more could be extracted from him. The man was thensent forward to join the rear guard, but his taciturnity gave LordH---- good assurance that Mr. Prevost, who had gone forward, would notbe pained by the terrible rumor which he bore.

The long and fatiguing march to the nearest point of Lake Horicon Ineed not describe. Many of the scenes recorded in the life of thegallant Putnam passed near or on the very route pursued; and the featsof daring and the escapes of that fine soldier are almost as marvelousstill in our eyes as in those of the savage Indians of his own time,who supposed him to bear a charmed life. Suffice it that, afterencountering great difficulty and some fatigue, in dragging the cannonover a road which, in the neighborhood of the settled portion of thecolony was good enough, but which became almost impassable near thelake, in consequence of the heavy rains, the whole army arrived insafety at the newly constructed and yet incomplete works of FortGeorge, lying a little east of the site of the ever memorable FortWilliam Henry. By the care and diligence of the commissary general,everything that could refresh the weary soldiers was found prepared. Afleet of one hundred and thirty-five large boats and nine hundredbateaux were seen lying along the shore of the lake of pure and holywaters; and hardly a head was laid down to slumber in the huts thatnight which did not fondly fancy that Ticonderoga must inevitablyfall.

As usual with him, in camp or on the march, Lord H---- dined with hissoldiers, and shared their simple fare; but he passed the evening withMr. Prevost, who had found quarters in the fort. Both were grave, butthe deeper gravity was with Lord H----; for though, through the mindof the elder man continually flitted painful fancies--thoughts,images, or whatever they may be called--of the fate of Brooks, and hislips murmured twice, almost involuntarily, the words "Poor Woodchuck!"yet the certainty which he felt of the safety of his son, howevergreat the sacrifice which purchased it, was a comfort, a great, amighty consolation, although he almost reproached himself for thesensation of rejoicing which he could not help experiencing.

Lord H----, on the contrary, felt no such certainty. Ever since hisconversation with Proctor, if conversation it can be called, a gloomyfeeling of apprehension had rested on him. He did not doubt poorWoodchuck in the least; he was sure that he would hold fast to hisresolution. Neither had he any fears that the execution of his purposewould be delayed or prevented by any such accident as that which hadin reality occurred. But he asked himself: "Might he not come toolate?" They had been told the time allowed by the Oneida chief toprovide a substitute for Walter, and had taken it at the Europeancalculation of months; but since he heard that a rumor of the youngman's death was prevalent amongst the Indians, he doubted whetherthere had not been a mistake. The very rumor showed that some of thenatives, at least, imagined the time had expired, and implied thattheir calculation was different. The effect upon the mind of Edith, heknew, would be terrible, when she found that her brother might havebeen saved, but that his life had been lost by such a mistake.

From Mr. Prevost he strove to hide his apprehensions as far aspossible, knowing well that previous anxiety never diminishes aninevitable evil; and soon after nightfall he left him to seek thoughtin his own tent.

The sky was clear and cloudless; the stars shining out with alargeness and a luster such as European skies can never give. A lightbreeze stirred the waters of the lake and made them musical along theshore, and one of the voyageurs was singing a tranquil song of home ina clear, mellow voice, as he sat in his bark. The air was mild andgentle as a morning dream, and yet the whole had that solemn calmnesswhich is always allied to melancholy.

He sat there long; no inclination to sleep interrupted his reveries,notwithstanding the fatigue of the day; and at length the moon roseover the high eastern hills, showing an unrivaled scene of solemnbeauty.

The young nobleman rose, and after gazing round him for a few moments,drinking in, as it were, the solemn loveliness, he then walked onslowly toward the blackened remains of Fort William Henry. There waslittle to be seen there. Montcalm had not left his work half done; forall had been destroyed, and little beyond some irregularities in theground, and some large detached fragments of masonry, showed where somany gallant men had fought in their country's cause, only to beslaughtered after surrender by a treacherous enemy. By report he knewthe ground well, and after pausing for a minute or two amongst theruins, he turned down the dark and fearful dell where the horriblemassacre was perpetrated. Every rock around had echoed to the yell ofthe Indians, the groan of the dying soldiers, or the shrieks ofdefenceless women and children. Every tree had seen beneath its boughssome of the deeds of horror and of blood which went to make up thatgreat crime. The bones of hundreds were lying still unburied; and whenthe moonlight fell on the western side of the gorge, some portion of awoman's garment, caught upon a bush, was seen fluttering in thebreeze.

The immediate path along which Lord H---- went was still in profoundshadow; but suddenly, across the moonlit side a little in advance ofhim, he saw gliding along, with noiseless steps, a troop of eight orten shadowy forms, looking like ghosts in the pale moonlight. So muchwas their color the same as the rocks around, that you might almostfancy you saw through them, and that they were but the shadows fromsome other objects, cast upon the broken crags as they passed. LordH---- stood and gazed, when suddenly the band stopped; and,comprehending that he had been perceived, he challenged them inEnglish, judging at once that they must be a troop of friendlyIndians. A deep voice replied in the same language, but with a strongIndian accent: "We are friends, children of the Stone. Can you tell uswhere to find Prevost?"

As he spoke, the leader of the Indians had advanced nearer, down thesloping ground at the foot of the rocks, and there seemed something inhis tall, powerful form, and majesty of carriage, familiar to the eyesof the young nobleman, who exclaimed: "Is that the Black Eagle?"

"It is," answered the other, whose limited knowledge of English didnot suffer him to indulge in his usual figurative language. "Art thouthe Falling Cataract?"

"I am he to whom you gave that name," answered Lord H----; "but whatwant you with Mr. Prevost? Where is his son?"

"On yonder side of Horicon," answered the Indian chief, pointing withhis hand toward the western side of the lake. "The boy is safe; be thymind at rest."

Lord H---- took the hand he proffered, and pressed it in his; but atthe same time he asked: "And poor Woodchuck--what of him?"

"I know not," answered Black Eagle. "We have not beheld him."

"That is strange," answered the young nobleman. "He set out to deliverhimself up to you, to save the young man's life."

"He is brave," answered Black Eagle. "The Good Spirit kept him away."

"Then how was the boy delivered?" asked Lord H----. "We feared yourpeople would be inexorable."

"The Great Spirit spoke by the voices of the women," answered thechief. "She who sees beyond the earth in her visions heard the voiceand told its words. It was decreed that if the boy died, our wives,our daughters, our sisters should all die with him; and we listened tothe voice, and obeyed."

"Come with me quickly," said Lord H----, eagerly. "Let us carry thenews to Mr. Prevost. He is here at the fort now, holding an office inour army."

"I know it," replied Black Eagle. "I have been to his lodge, and foundno one but the slaves, who told me. The boy I sent on with my people,for the children of the Stone have taken the warpath for England, anda thousand warriors are on their way to the place of the soundingwaters. He goes to fight amongst us as our son. But I must speak withPrevost before I go, for the wings of the Black Eagle are spread,perhaps for his last flight; and who knows but he will leave his scalpon the warpost of the Huron?"

Lord H---- led the way with a quick step, and the chief and hiscompanions followed. At the first outpost they were, of course,challenged, and strict orders having been given to admit no troop ofIndians within the limits of the fort, the young nobleman and thechief proceeded alone to the quarters of Mr. Prevost. They found himstill up, and busily writing orders for the following morning. When hebeheld the face of Black Eagle following his noble friend, he startedup, and at first drew back; but then, with a sudden change of feeling,he seized the warrior's hand, exclaiming: "My son lives! My son lives,or you would not be here!"

"He lives," replied the Black Eagle; and he then proceeded to give thesame account to Mr. Prevost which had been heard by Lord H----. Theformer, however, understanding the Indian better, soon drew from him,partly in English, and partly in Iroquois, the whole particulars ofWalter's deliverance.

"And would you really have slain him?" asked Mr. Prevost.

"I would," replied Black Eagle, calmly and firmly. "I would have tornout my own heart had the laws of my people required it!"

The father mused for a few moments, and then said, in a thoughtfultone: "I believe you would. Dear Otaitsa, did she really, then, perilher life to save her young friend?"

"She did more," answered Black Eagle. "She was one of those whoprepared to go to the happy hunting grounds with him; but I tell thee,Prevost, not the sight of my child, with the knife in her hand, readyto plunge it into her own heart, made the Black Eagle pause orhesitate. It was that we heard the voice of the Great Spirit in thewords that were spoken. He only can change the laws of the Oneida, andHe changed them. But now hear me, Prevost, for I must back to mypeople and thy son. I sent them forward toward the Sounding Waters,while I sought thee, first at thy lodge and then here; and I must jointhem, for they must not throw a hatchet or fire a rifle without theBlack Eagle."

He had seated himself when first he entered, but now he rose and stooderect, as if about to make a speech. "There is a blossom on the boughof the Black Eagle's tree," he said, "which is dear to his eyes, andthou hast a bough on thy tree which is dear to thee. Otaitsa is aChristian--believes in your Good Spirit. She is descended from a raceof warriors, every one of whom has left a name in the hearts of theirpeople. She is of the highest race of the highest tribe of thechildren of the Stone. The blood of the redman is as fine as the bloodof the white. Her mother was the daughter of a great chief, and of arace as good as thine own; a race that is renowned."

Mr. Prevost bent down his head, but he knew the Indian customs toowell to interrupt, and the chief went on, saying: "The Blossom lovesthe Bough; the Bough loves the Blossom. She has purchased him, she hasbought him for herself; she has offered her heart's blood for hisprice. Is he not hers? If the Black Eagle should never return from hiswar flight, if the bullet of the French should break his wing, or thearrow of the Huron pierce his heart, will his brother Prevost bind theBlossom and the Bough together as the white men bind them, and as theChristian people unite those who love, together? Will he take theBlossom to his own home, and make her indeed his daughter?"

Mr. Prevost rose and threw his arms round the chief, saying: "Thou artmy brother. I will do as thou hast said, and may the Good Spirit dealwith me as I deal with thee in this matter. Thy daughter is mydaughter, my son is thy son. But thou knowest not, perhaps----"

Black Eagle raised his hand, saying in Iroquois: "Forbear! I know whatI know; thou knowest what thou knowest. We may believe much that it isnot right to prove. Silence is a good thing when secrets aredangerous. Now go I to my people with my heart at rest;" and withoutmore words he glided out of the room.

CHAPTER XXXII

Day dawned bright and clear over the wild woods, the green savannas,and the lakes and mountains that lay between Horicon or Lake Georgeand the small chain of Indian lakes. The advanced party of the Oneidaswere up bustling with the earliest beam--bustling, but in their quietway. Each was active, clearing away every trace of their sojourn fromthe face of the savanna as far as possible, and preparing to betakehimself to the shade of the neighboring woods; but Sister Bab wasstill sound asleep. Amongst those who have traveled over that part ofthe country there may be some who remember a beautiful and rich greenmeadow, extending for almost a third of a mile from its inlandextremity to the shores of Horicon. It has now--and it is not muchaltered since the time I speak of--a sloping ground to the northwardof this grassy plot, well covered with wood, and there is on the southa rocky but still wooded bank, in which several small caves are to beobserved. In one of these caves lay the negress, on the morning I havejust mentioned, and though the Indians moved about in differentdirections, 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 ofwaking.

Few had been the explanations which she had given on the precedingnight. She was too weary to indulge in her usual loquacity, and herIndian friend had sat quietly before her, after having supplied allthat she required, seeing her eat and drink, but putting no questions.

Now, however, he approached the hollow in the rock, and after gazingat her for an instant as she lay, he moved her with his moccasinedfoot. She started up and rubbed her eyes, looking round with evidentsurprise; but the Indian said: "Get up and follow into the woods, ifthou wouldst see the Black Eagle. We must leave the ground that has noshadow, now that the day has come."

"Ah, me!" cried Sister Bab. "What shall I do for my poor Missy? She isa prisoner with the French, not more than a few miles hence, and, whatis worse still, the Woodchuck is with her, and all our people said hewas going to give himself up to save Massa Walter."

Quietly and deliberately the Indian seated himself on the ground, andremained silent for a moment or two. He then asked, without theslightest 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 veryinaccurate notion of the sort of field-work on which she had stumbledthe night before. Still not a muscle of the man's face moved, and hemerely uttered a sort of hum at this intelligence, sitting for fulltwo 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 ifMassa Woodchuck not get away, your people will kill Massa Walter, forsix months will be over very soon."

"Five days ago six moons had grown big and small since the Black Eaglespoke," said the Indian, gravely. "But we will see whether there benot a trail the prisoners can tread. You must get up and walk beforeme 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 andtorn with yesterday's ramble."

"We will give thee moccasins," answered the Indian. "The way is notlong, even to the house of the Sounding Waters, if you keep the trailstraight. 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 windmay 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 upand followed to one of the little groups of Indians, where she seatedherself again, and ate some cakes of maize, and dried deer's flesh,while the chief who had been speaking with her held a consultationwith several of the other warriors. Not much time was allowed her forher meal, for in less than five minutes she was called upon to leadthe way, and, followed by a party of six Indians, she proceeded for amile or two, till they reached a spot where the trail divided intotwo. She was about to take the left-hand path, knowing that it was theone which she had followed on the preceding night, but the chiefcommanded 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 fromthe direct course; and after walking on for some ten minutes they cutinto the former path again, where to Indian eyes the traces of a negrofoot were very apparent.

Twice the same thing occurred, and thus the distance was shortened tonearly one-half of that which she had traveled on the preceding night,between the little masked redoubt of the French and the Indian campingplace.

At length the objects which Sister Bab saw around her gave warningthat she was approaching the spot of which they were in search. Fromtime to time Mount Defiance was seen towering upon the right, and thecharacter of the shrubs and trees was changed. The first hint sufficedto make the Indians adopt much greater precautions than those whichthey had previously used. They spread wide from the broad trail, thechief taking Sister Bab with him, and slowly and noiselessly theypursued their way, taking advantage of every tree and every rock tohide behind and gaze around.

Before five minutes more were over, Sister Bab paused suddenly andpointed forward. The Indian gazed in silence. To an unpracticed eyenothing would have been apparent to excite the slightest suspicion ofa neighboring enemy, but some of the pine branches of what seemed alow copse in front were a shade yellower than the other trees.Besides, they did not take the forms of young saplings. They wererounder, less tapering, without showing shoot or peak.

A grin came upon the Indian's countenance, and pointing with hisfinger to the ground he seemed, without words, to direct the negressto remain on the same spot where she stood, behind a great butternuttree. He then looked round him for his companions, but their movementswere well combined and understood. Though at some distance from eachother, each eye from time to time had been turned toward him as theyadvanced; and the moment it was perceived that he stopped, each of theothers stopped, also. His raised hand brought them all creepingquietly toward him, and then, after a few whispered words, each Indiansank down upon the ground, and creeping along like a snake,disappeared amongst the bushes.

Sister Bab found her situation not altogether pleasant. The slightestpossible rustle in the leaves was heard as her dusky companionsdisappeared, but then all sounds ceased, except from time to time,when the wind, which had risen a little, bore her some murmurs fromthe redoubt, as if of voices speaking. Once she caught a few notes ofa merry air, whistled by lips that were probably soon after doomed toeverlasting silence. But that was all she heard, and the stillnessgrew oppressive to her. After waiting for a moment or two, she soughta deeper shelter than the butternut tree afforded, and crept amongstsome thick shrubs at the foot of a large oak. She thought her Indiancompanions would never return, but at length one of the redmen lookedout from the bushes, and then another, and both gazed round as if insearch of her. Following their example, she crept forth, and thechief, approaching, beckoned her away, without speaking.

When far enough off to be quite certain that no sound of voices couldreach the redoubt, he stopped suddenly and gazed in her face, saying:"You love the daughter of the paleface; you followed her when therewas danger. Will you go where there is no danger, to bear her thewords 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 mecareless 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 oneit crosses--it is a broad trail, thou canst not miss it. It will leadthee straight into the Frenchman's ambush. They will not hurt thee.Ask for the daughter of the paleface Prevost. Tell them thou hastpassed the night in the woods, seeking for her, and they will let theestay with her. Say to her she shall have deliverance before the sunhas set to-morrow, but tell her when she hears the war-whoop and theshot of the rifle to cast herself down flat on the ground beneath theearth 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 bebright upon them. She need not fear them. Tell her secretly, when nonehears; and what I tell her to do, do thou, if thou wouldst save thylife!"

"But," said Bab, with more foresight than the Indian, "perhaps theywill not keep her there till to-morrow. They may send her into thefort--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 theplan proposed, but she obeyed without further remonstrance, andwalking on upon the little narrow path which the Indians pointed out,she reached, in about a quarter of an hour, the broader trail, alongwhich Edith had been taken on the preceding night. Turning to theright, as directed, she followed it with slow and somewhat hesitatingsteps, till suddenly a sharp turn brought her in sight of twosentinels pacing backward and forward, and a group of Indians seatedon the ground round a fire, cooking their food. There she haltedsuddenly, but she was already seen, and receiving no answer to hischallenge, one of the sentinels presented his musket as if to fire. Atthe same moment a voice exclaimed: "What's that? What's that?" inFrench, and a man in the garb of a soldier, but unarmed, came forwardand 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, sayingto the sentinel with a laugh: "It's only a black woman; did you takeher for a bear?"

The next instant poor Bab beheld her young mistress quietly seated onthe ground, with a fine white tablecloth spread before her, and allthe appurtenances of a breakfast table, though not the table itself,while the officer she had seen in the redoubt the night before wasapplying himself assiduously to supply her with all she wanted. In amoment the good woman had shaken her wrist from the man who held it,and darting forward, she caught Edith's hand and smothered it withkisses.

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 howshe came thither. But the object of her coming had nearly beenfrustrated before she had time to explain to her young mistress thepromised rescue; for ere she had been half an hour within the works anon-commissioned officer from Ticonderoga appeared with a despatch forthe commander of the party, who at once proposed to send the younglady and her dark attendant under his charge to the fortress,expressing gallantly his regret to lose the honor and pleasure of hersociety; but adding that it would be for her convenience and safety.

The suggestion was made before he opened the despatch, and Editheagerly caught at a proposal which seemed to offer relief from a veryunpleasant situation; but as soon as the officer had seen the contentsof his letter his views were changed, and he explained to his youngprisoner that for particular reasons the commander-in-chief thought itbest that there should be as little passing to and fro, during theperiod of daylight, between the fortress and the redoubt as possible.He would, therefore, he said, be obliged to inform his superiorofficer, in the first place, of her being there, and of thecirc*mstances in which she had fallen under his protection, as hetermed it, adding that probably after nightfall, when the sameobjection could not exist, he would receive instructions as to whatwas to be done, both with herself and her companions, and with theIndians in whose power he had found her.

He then sat down to write a reply to the despatch he had received, andoccupied fully half an hour in its composition, during which time allthat Sister Bab had to say was spoken. The very name of the Oneidas,however, awakened painful memories in Edith's breast, andnotwithstanding all the assurances she had received from Otaitsa, herheart sank at the thought of poor Walter's probable fate. She turnedher eyes toward Woodchuck, who had refused to take any breakfast, andsat apart under a tree not far from the spot where Apukwa and hiscompanions, kept in sight constantly by a sentinel, were gatheredround their cooking fire. His attitude was the most melancholy thatcan be conceived; his eyes were fixed upon the ground, his headdrooping, his brow heavy and contracted, and his hands claspedtogether on his knee. Edith moved quietly toward him and seatedherself near, saying: "What is the matter, my good friend?" and thenadded, in a low voice: "I have some pleasant news for you."

Woodchuck shook his head sadly, but made no answer; and Edithcontinued, seeking to cheer him: "The poor negro woman who was with mewhen we were attacked escaped the savages, it seems, and has broughtan intimation that before to-morrow's sunset we shall be set free by alarge party of the Oneidas."

"It is too late, my dear! It is too late!" replied Woodchuck, pressinghis hands tightly together. "Too late to do anything for your poorbrother! 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, "andthere's no use of concealing it from you. I have mistaken moons formonths. The man who brought me the news of what that stern old devilBlack Eagle had determined, said the time allowed was six months, andI never thought of the Indians counting their months by moons till Iheard 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, butthen she lifted her eyes to a spot of the blue sky shining through thetrees 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 canprotect and deliver according to His will, without the aid orinstrumentality of man. You have done your best, Woodchuck, and yourconscience should rest satisfied."

"No! no!" he answered, bitterly. "If I had but thought of what I knewquite well, I should have gone a fortnight sooner, and the poor boywould have been saved. It's all the fault of my stupid mistake. A manshould make no mistakes in such emergencies, Miss Edith!"

He fell into a fit of thought again, and seeing that all attempt tocomfort him was vain, Edith returned to the side of the black woman,and inquired eagerly if she had heard any tidings of Walter amongstthe Oneidas.

Sister Bab was more cautious than poor Woodchuck had been, however,and denied stoutly having heard anything; adding that she could notthink they had done any harm to her young "massa," or they would notbe so eager to help her young "missy."

The smallest gleam of hope is always a blessing; but still the daypassed sadly enough to poor Edith. The commandant of the redoubt wasoccupied with military business which she did not comprehend, andwhich afforded no relief to her thoughts even for a moment. She sawthe soldiers parading, the sentinels relieved, the earthworksinspected, and the Indians harangued, without one thought beingwithdrawn from the painful circ*mstances of her own fate.

Shortly after dusk, however, the same sergeant who had brought thedespatch in the morning appeared with another letter, which the Frenchcommandant read, and then carried to Edith in the little hut where shewas seated, with her lamp just trimmed and lighted. "The Marquis ofMontcalm informs Captain Le Comtois that it will be greatlyinconvenient to receive any additional mouths into Fort Carillon.Should he think fit, he can send the lady who has fallen into hishands, with the English gentleman, her companion, back to Crown[4]Point or Fort St. Frederick, as early to-morrow as he thinks fit. Ifthe lady earnestly prefers to retire to Fort Carillon at once, theMarquis 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 theinconveniences of a siege, as he cannot at all tell what course ofoperations the enemy may think fit to pursue. The Indians, if willing,as they say, to serve may be usefully employed within the redoubt, butwith caution, and must not be suffered to operate upon the flanks, asusual."

"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 deMontcalm were quite sufficient to induce her to remain till it wasconvenient to send her elsewhere; and thus ended that eventful week.The following day was Sunday, a day not fit to be desecrated by humanstrife, but one which was destined to behold, on that very spot, oneof those bloody scenes which write man's shame in letters of bloodupon the page of history.

CHAPTER XXXIII

The day was intensely hot, the wind nearly southwest, the sky deepblue toward the horizon, but waning to a hazy gold color in thezenith, when, at an early hour on the Saturday morning, the greatflotilla of General Abercrombie got under way. One large boat, modeledlike a whaleboat, and so designated in contemporary accounts, led theway, with the active and energetic second in command, accompanied by aportion of his own regiment. The rest followed, spreading out in theshape of an irregular wedge over the face of the lake, and the wholesteered at once directly toward the narrows. Fresh, and peaceful, andbeautiful was the scene upon that loveliest of lakes, with the wildmountains and sweeping forests round, and myriads of lovely islandsstudding the golden waters like gems. Lord H---- sat somewhatreclining on his cloak in the stern of the leading boat, with atelescope in his hand, which, however, he did not use. The scenepresented to his eye had sufficient in its general features to affordpleasant occupation to the thoughts, and he strove to turn them, asmuch as possible, toward objects unconnected with his own fate, orwith the fate of the expedition.

Diamond Island was soon passed, Long Island left to the eastward, andthe rich, narrow strip of low land extending far into the lake, andknown as Long Point, rounded by the boat in which he sat. He gazedback to see how near the others were following, and then lookedforward again. French Mountain, Deer Pasture Mountain, Harris' Bay,Dunham's Bay, were left behind, and the Dame Island, rising up in themidst of the waters like the cupola of some large submerged cathedral,was right in front. Many another islet was seen scattered round, whilethe peculiar magical effect of the hazy midsummer light made them lookhardly real. At length the high, precipitous cliffs known as ShelvingRock, on the one hand, and the Tongue Mountain on the other, were seenin front, announcing the approach to the Narrows, while the top of theBlack Mountain appeared dark and grim over the lower land in theforeground.

More caution now became necessary, for hitherto no fear had beenentertained that the movements of the flotilla would be discovered bythe enemy's scouts; but that part of the lake most frequently swept bythe French boats was now at hand, and it became necessary to keep asfar inshore as possible, and take advantage of every headland andisland as a means of concealment, in order to hide the approach andnumber of the armament till the last moment.

Still, the general orders having been given, Lord H---- lay quiet, andmeditated. On an active and energetic spirit the saddest thoughts aremost apt to obtrude in moments of forced tranquillity. He could notcast them off. He tried to think of everything that was happy--ofEdith, of his speedy union with her who had become the brightness ofhis life--of pleasant days beyond the sea, far away in their peacefulnative land. But still, still, through all the visions he conjured upof hope and happiness, and long, cheerful hours, came chiming, likethe tolling of a bell, the sad, prophetic words of the question,"Shall I ever see her more?" and he longed for the moment of landing,to shake off thought in active exertion.

At length it came. The wild, strange scenery of the Buck Mountain andthe Rattlesnake Dens was seen upon the left, and, stretching out infront, the low, fertile sweep of land known from that day forward asSabbath Day Point. There, in the evening, the troops landed forrefreshment, and the boats were drawn up to the southward, under coverof the banks and woods, with but a few miles' farther voyage on thefollowing day ere they reached the point of attack. Happy are thethoughtless; for though, perhaps, they enjoy not so highly, and theirenjoyment is of a lower kind, yet they can enjoy each sunshiny hourthat God grants them in their course through life. The brief repose,the pleasant meal, the fair and the strange things around, affordedmatter for much happiness to many a light heart there, during the haltof the army; but it was not so with Lord H----. He knew that the nextday was to be one of great fatigue, difficulty, and exertion; and inorder that his corporal powers might be in full activity, he lay downand tried to sleep. But sleep would not come, and he had not closed aneye when, toward midnight, the order was given to form upon the beachand re-embark.

Every one, as well as the young nobleman, felt that to be a solemnmoment. The sky was clear and bright, the stars were shining out largeand lustrous; not a breeze moved in the sky; the clear waters of thelake were smooth as a sheet of glass; the only sound that stirred theair was the tramp of the troops toward the boats, the whirring insectsin the trees, and the wailing voice of the whip-poor-will. All wasconducted as silently as possible; the oars of the boats were muffled,and once more Lord H---- led the way with a few bodies of rangers inseveral bateaux. The regular troops followed in the center of theline, and the volunteers of the provinces formed wings on either side.

Stilly and silently the flight of boats skimmed over the waters, till,after a few hours of solemn darkness, day dawned upon them, revealingto the scouts of Montcalm upon the rocky eminences near the shore thefull blaze of the English uniforms in the innumerable boats sweepingdown, as if to certain conquest. Somewhat less than one hour more thefirst boat neared what is called Prisoners' Island, bore away a littleto the westward, where the ground was open, touched the shore, and theyoung nobleman instantly sprang to land. Regiment after regimentfollowed. The debarkation was perfectly orderly and uninterrupted, andit was evident that the French garrison of Ticonderoga, if notactually taken by surprise, were attacked much sooner than they hadexpected.

The number of the Indians with the army was actually small, but it wasknown that large parties of Mohawks, Oneidas, and even Onondagas, werehovering on the flanks, sweeping, in fact, in a crescent, round thatwhich was then considered the key of Lake Champlain. It was nearlynoon before the disembarkation was completed and the army formed intothree columns, ready for advance. The first column then plunged intothe woods, headed by Lord H---- in person, and pushed on for some wayunopposed, except by the difficulties of the road, which at every stepbecame greater and greater, from the number of thick juniper bushesand tangled brushwood which encumbered the ground under the largetrees. The men's strength was spent in contending with these naturalobstructions, and to give them time to breathe, Lord H---- halted hiscorps for a moment, at the first open space in the woods which theyreached. He himself leaned upon the short ranger's musket which hecarried in his hand; his fine, expressive countenance glowing withexercise and eagerness, and beaming encouragement upon the gallant menwho followed him on what they fully believed to be the road tovictory.

At that moment something was heard plunging through the thickbrushwood on the left, and an Indian in his full war costume, paintedand armed, burst out into the open space, holding up a piece of paperin his hand. He darted instantly toward the commander of the column,lifting the paper high, and Lord H----, who was just upon the point ofgiving the order to advance again, paused, and stretched forth hishand. What the man gave him was not a letter, but apparently merely aleaf torn out of a pocketbook; and the moment it was delivered, theIndian, whose eyes had been gleaming with eagerness, dropped his armsby his side, and stood as still as a statue. Lord H---- gazed upon thepaper, and beheld, written in pencil, apparently in great haste, thefollowing words:

"There is a masked redoubt in front, as far as I can discover, alittle to the east of the brook. It is concealed by low bushes, andthe gaps in the underwood are filled up with boughs of pine. Edith iswithin, a prisoner. Beware! We are marching round rapidly to take itin reverse--I mean the Oneidas. Walter Prevost."

Several of the superior officers had gathered round, and amongst therest a man deservedly famous in those and after times, then simplyknown as Major Putnam.

"We have been seen by friends, if not by enemies, Putnam," said LordH----, handing him the paper. "What do you advise to be done? You aremore skilled in wood warfare than I am?"

"Send back the Indian," answered Major Putnam. "Let him tell hisbrethren to advance as speedily as possible and help to clear thewoods. Then give me a hundred rangers and a handful of Indians, and Iwill push on myself and make a way for you."

"Good!" said Lord H----. "Call up your men, Putnam, while I send awaythe Indian."

Beckoning up an interpreter, the young nobleman gave their savageallies directions, telling them particularly to report the exact spotwhich the column had reached; and by the time this was done and theman gone, Major Putnam had placed himself at the head of his littleparty, ready to dash on.

"Stay, Putnam!" said Lord H----. "You command, but I go with you!"

Putnam paused and dropped the point of his sword, looking almostaghast. "My lord," he said, "I beg you would forbear. If I am killed,the loss of my life will be of little consequence to anyone, but thepreservation of your life is of importance to this army!"

Lord H---- laid his hand upon his arm, saying: "Putnam, your life isas dear to you as mine is to me. I am determined to go. Lead on!"

The next moment they dashed on at quick time along a trail whichopened before them. The few Indians who accompanied the partyscattered, as usual, to the right and left, and for some little waythey made good progress through the tangled wood. At length, however,all, even to the natives, became puzzled by the number of trailscrossing each other, and the thick and intricate nature of the wood;but still they forced their way forward, judging the direction theyought to take by the way the shadows of the trees were thrown by thesunshine. Thus for four or five hundred yards they pushed on, withoutseeing an enemy, when Putnam, suddenly pointing with his sword,exclaimed: "There goes a Frenchman's cap--more of them! more of them!Now, gallant rangers, down with your pieces and make your barrelsring!"

In an instant every gun was leveled; but at the same moment a sharpflash ran along the trees and bushes beyond, the loud report offirearms rattled through the forest, and one of the young officers ofthe rangers dropped at once. Several privates fell before they coulddraw the trigger, while the rest were sending a fatal volley into thewood.

"On! on!" cried Putnam. "Clear the copse of them! My lord, what is thematter?"

Lord H---- stood for a moment longer without answering, then waveredfor an instant on his feet, and fell back into the arms of a sergeantof the rangers.

"I knew it!" cried Putnam. "Forward, my men! Forward! and avenge thisnoble fellow!"

CHAPTER XXXIV

Very different from the array of Abercrombie's army was the march ofthe Oneidas through the deep woods on the western side of LakeHoricon. Far spread out and separate from each other, they pursued anumber of different trails in profound silence, and in single files ofnot more than twenty or thirty each; and yet, with what seemed a sortof instinct, each party directed its course unerringly to oneparticular point. They knew the spot they were to strike, they knewthe time they were to be there; and at that spot, and at that time,each little band appeared with its most famous warrior at its head.Thus, in the small savanna where the poor negress, Sister Bab, hadfound the advance guard of the whole nation, nearly six hundredwarriors of the children of the Stone assembled on the night ofSaturday.

Dressed like themselves, with tomahawk and knife in his belt, andmoccasins upon his feet, appeared Walter Prevost, distinguished fromthe rest by his fair skin and flowing hair. The sports of the field,the wild life he had led for several years, and even the hardships hehad lately suffered, had fitted him for all the fatigues of an Indianmarch, and rendered a frame naturally strong, extraordinarily robustand active. Ignorant of any danger to those he best loved, rejoicingin deliverance from captivity and the peril of death, and full ofbright hopes for the future, his heart was light and gay, andhappiness added energy to vigor. The hardy warriors with whom hemarched saw with surprise and admiration the son of the paleface beardifficulties and fatigues as well as themselves, and come in at theclose of the day as fresh and cheerful.

The fires were lighted, the rifles piled near to each separate band,and the food which they brought with them cooked after their fashionand distributed amongst them. But the meal was not over ere anothersmall band joined them; and Black Eagle himself passed round thedifferent fires, till he paused by that at which Walter was seated.None of his own people had taken any notice of his appearance. Once ortwice one of the warriors, indeed, looked up as he went by; but nosign of reverence or recognition was given, till Walter, after theEuropean fashion, rose and extended his hand.

"Thou art before me, my son," said the chief. "The wings of the BlackEagle have had far to fly. I have visited thy father's lodge, and havefollowed him to the new Castle at the midday end of Horicon."

"My father!" said Walter, in great surprise. "Was he not at hishouse?"

"Nay. He is a war chief with the army," said Black Eagle.

"Then where is Edith?" inquired the young man. "Did you leave theBlossom with her?"

"I left Otaitsa at thy father's house," answered the chief, "but thysister was not there."

"Where was she, then?" asked Walter, with some alarm.

"I know not," answered Black Eagle, and was silent.

"Perhaps he has taken her to Albany," rejoined the young man. "But yousaw my father; how did he fare?"

"Well," answered Black Eagle; "quite well; and he gives thee toOtaitsa. The Blossom is thine."

"Then Edith is safe," said Walter, in a tone of relief, "and myfather's mind must have been relieved about me, for he could not bewell or seem well if either of his children were in danger."

"The redman feels as much as the white man," answered Black Eagle,"but he leaves tears and lamentations, sighs, and sad looks to womenand to children. Where is the Night Hawk and the warriors who werewith him?"

"They are on before," replied the youth; "we have not seen them, buttheir fires have been lighted here."

No further questions were asked by the chief, and walking slowly away,he seated himself with those who had accompanied him, to partake ofthe meal they were making ready. Few words were spoken amongst thevarious groups assembled there, and some twenty minutes had elapsedwhen one of the young men seated at the fire with the Black Eaglestarted up and darted away toward the north like a frightened deer. Noone took any notice, and several soon after composed themselves tosleep. The others sat round their fires, with their heads bent downalmost to their knees, and the murmur of a few sentences spoken hereand there was the only sound that broke the silence for nearly anhour. At the end of that time two young warriors on the north side ofthe savanna started up and listened, and shortly after, several of theOneidas who had rested in the neighborhood of the same spot the nightbefore, were seen coming through the long grass and crossing the tinybrook which meandered through the midst.

Led by the young messenger who had lately departed to seek for them,they glided up to the fire of the great chief and seated themselvesbeside him. The conversation then grew earnest, and quick and eagergestures and flashing eyes might be seen.

The great body of the Oneidas took not the slightest notice of whatwas taking place around the council fire of the Black Eagle, butWalter watched every look with an indefinable feeling of interest andcuriosity; and after much discussion, and many a long pause between,the chief beckoned him up and made him sit in the circle.

"Thou art young to talk with warriors," said the Black Eagle, when hewas seated; "thy hand is strong against the panther and the deer, butit has never taken the scalp of an enemy. But the daughter of thewhite man Prevost is my daughter, and she is thy sister. Know, then,my son, that she is in the power of the French. The Honontkoh whom wehave expelled--they are wolves--they have taken her--they have run herdown as a hungry pack runs down a fawn, and have delivered her andthemselves into the hands of the enemy. The muzzles of their rifleshave fire for our bosoms; their knives are thirsty for our scalps. Benot a woman, who cannot hear with a calm eye or limbs that are still;but sit and listen, and then prove thyself a warrior in the fight."

He then went on to repeat all that he had just heard from the chiefwho had succored the poor negress on the preceding night, and all thathad been done since.

"The Night Hawk was right," he said, "to send word that we woulddeliver thy sister, for she is a daughter of the Oneida. The storyalso of the Dark Cloud is true, for the children of the Stone havecaused search to be made, and they have found the horses that werelost and the body of the man they slew. They scalped him not, it istrue, for what is the scalp of a negro worth? but the print of thetomahawk was between his eyes."

"Let me have a horse," cried Walter, "and I will bring her out of themidst of them!"

"The swallow flies faster than the Eagle," said the chief, "but whereis his strength? Listen, boy, to the words that come forth from manyyears. Thy sister must be delivered; but our brethren, the English,must know of this ambush, lest they fall into it. So, too, shall shebe saved more surely. Draw, then, upon paper the history of the thing,and send it to the great chief, thy friend, the Falling Cataract. Iwill find a messenger who knows him. Then will we break in upon thisambush at the same time with the English, and the scalps of theHonontkoh shall hang upon the war post, for they are not the childrenof the Stone; they spat upon their mother. One of the horses, too,shalt thou have to save thy sister out of the fight, if a thing withfour feet can run easily in this forest."

"There is the great trail from the setting sun to the place of theSounding Waters," said the Night Hawk; "a horse can run there as wellas a deer. It passes close by the back of the hiding place of theFrenchman."

"Let me hear," said Walter, mastering his emotion, and striving toimitate the calm manner of the Indians, "let me hear where this hidingplace is, and what it is like. The white man, though he be but young,knows the ways of the white man best, and he may see light where oldereyes fail."

In language obscured by figures, but otherwise clear and definite, theNight Hawk described the masked redoubt of the French and itsposition.

Ignorant of the ground around the fortress, Walter could form but aninsufficient judgment of the spot where it was situated; but the formand nature of the work he comprehended well enough. He mused insilence for a minute or two after the chief had spoken, giving theBlack Eagle good hope of his acquiring, in time, the Indian coolness,and then he said: "It would be better for us, while the army attacksthe redoubt in front, to take it in reverse."

"What meanest thou, my son?" asked Black Eagle, for Walter, still busywith his own thoughts, had spoken in English.

The young man explained his meaning more clearly in the Iroquoistongue, showing that as the enemy's position was, probably from wantof time, only closed on three sides, it would be easy for an Indianparty, by making a circuit, to come upon the rear of the French,unless some considerable body of natives were thrown out upon theirwestern flank. But the Night Hawk nodded his head slowly, with a lookof approbation, saying: "The Hurons are dogs, and creep close to thebowl of their masters. They are all within the stones or the mounds ofearth, except those watching by the side of Horicon. The Night Hawkhas skimmed over the ground toward the setting sun, and there was noprint of a moccasin upon the trail."

"Thou hast the cunning of a warrior, when thou art calm," said BlackEagle, addressing Walter, "and it shall be as thou hast said. We willspring upon the back of the game; but let the Falling Cataract knowquickly. Hast thou the means? He will not understand the belt ofwampum, and knows not the tongue of the Oneida."

"I can find means," said Walter, taking from the pouch he carried apencil and an old pocketbook; "but where will thy messenger find him,my father?"

"He is not far," answered the chief. "He sailed to-day from the middaytoward the cold wind, with the war party of the English. I watchedthem from the black mountains, and they are a mighty people. Theyfloated on Horicon like a string of swans, and their number upon theblue waters was like a flight of passage pigeons upon the sky whenthey travel westward. They landed where the earth becomes a lizard, bythe rattlesnake dens. But how long they may tarry who shall say? Sendquickly, then!"

Walter had been writing on his knee while the chief spoke, and thebrief note, which we have already seen delivered, was speedilyfinished. A messenger was then chosen for his swiftness of foot, anddispatched at once to the point where the English army first landed.When he returned all was still amongst the Oneidas, and the warriors,with but few exceptions, were sleeping in the long grass. The news hebrought, however, soon roused the drowsiest. The English flotilla hadgone on, he said. He had found but a solitary canoe with a fewMohawks, who told him that the battle would be on the followingmorning. Every warrior was on his feet in a moment; their lightbaggage and arms were snatched up in haste. One party was detached tothe east, to watch the movements of the army; another messenger waschosen and sent to bear the letter, and ere half an hour had gone bythe dusky bands were once more moving silently through the dark pathsof the forest, only lighted from time to time by glimpses of the moon,and directed by the well-known stars which had so often guided theirfathers through the boundless wilderness.

CHAPTER XXXV

Calm and bright, and beautiful, the Sabbath morning broke over thewoody world around Edith Prevost. Through the tall pine trees leftstanding within the earthworks the rosy light streamed sweetly; andthough no birds deserving the name of songsters inhabit the forests ofAmerica, yet many a sweet, short note saluted the rising day.

Edith, with her good negro woman lying near, had slept more soundlythan she had hoped for, but she was awake with the first ray, androusing her dark companion, she said: "We must not forget that this isSunday, Bab. Call in our good friend Woodchuck, and we will praybefore all the noise and bustle of the day begins. I am sure he willbe glad to do so."

"But you have no book, Missy," answered the woman.

"That matters not," said the beautiful girl. "I know almost all theprayers by heart, from reading them constantly."

Sister Bab opened the little hurdle door and looked round. She couldnot see the person she sought. Three sentinels were pacing to and froat different points; one man was rousing himself slowly from the sideof an extinguished fire; but all the rest within sight were fastasleep. It was useless for Sister Bab to ask the neighboring sentinelany questions, and she looked round in vain.

"He has most likely gone to sleep in one of the huts," said Edith,when the woman told her Woodchuck was not to be seen. "We will notwait for him;" and closing the door again, she knelt and prayed withthe poor negress by her side.

It was a great comfort to her, for her heart that day was sad, perhapsfrom the memory of many a Sabbath with those she loved, and thecontrast of those days with her situation at the time; perhaps fromthe uncertainty of her brother's fate; and doubtless, too, the thoughtthat every rising sun brought nearer the hour when a parent and alover were to be exposed to danger, perhaps to death, had its weight,likewise. But she was that day very sad, and prayer was a relief--ablessing.

Before she had concluded, a good deal of noise and turmoil was heardwithout; voices speaking sharply, calls such as Edith had not heardbefore, and in a moment after, the door of the hut opened--for it hadno latch--and Monsieur Le Comtois appeared, inquiring if she had seenanything of her English companion.

"No, indeed," replied Edith. "I sent my servant out to seek for himhalf an hour ago, but she could not find him, and I concluded he wasin one of the huts."

The Frenchman stamped his foot upon the ground, and, forgetting hisusual politeness, uttered some hasty and angry words, implying abelief that Edith knew very well where Woodchuck was, and had aidedhis escape. The beautiful girl drew herself up with an air of dignity,and replied: "You make me feel, sir, that I am a prisoner. But youmistake me greatly. I do not permit myself to speak falsely on anyoccasion. If he has escaped you--and I trust he has--I knew nothing ofit."

"I beg your pardon, mademoiselle," replied the officer, "but this tome is a very serious matter. I may be subjected to the severestmilitary punishment for this unfortunate affair. It was of the utmostimportance that the existence of this post should be kept a secret.The utmost precautions have been taken to keep its existenceconcealed, even from the forces in Fort Carillon; and now this man isat large, to bear the intelligence to the enemy. This must excuse alittle heat. How he has escaped, it is impossible to divine, for Iordered him to be kept in sight by the sentinels continually, as wellas the Indians who came with you. He must be worse than an Indian, forthey are all safe and quiet enough, but he has disappeared, though thesentinel swears he passed him sleeping on the ground, under the greatpine tree, not an hour ago."

"Half an hour ago he certainly was gone," replied Edith, "for theservant went to look for him and could not find him."

"He may be still in the bushes," said the French officer. "I will sendout a party to search;" and he turned from the door of the hut.

Edith followed a step or two to see the result; but hardly hadMonsieur Le Comtois given his orders, in obedience to which about adozen men issued forth, some clambering over the breastworks, somerunning round by the flanks, when a French officer, brilliantlydressed, rode into the redoubt, followed by a mounted soldier, andEdith retired into the hut again.

Le Comtois saluted the newcomer reverently, and the other gave a hastyglance around, saying: "Get your men under arms as speedily aspossible. On the maintenance of this post and the two abattis dependsthe safety of the fortress. I trust, then, to the honor of Frenchgentlemen, and the faith of our Indian allies. Neither will tarnishthe glory of France or their own renown by yielding a foot of groundwhile they can maintain it."

He spoke aloud, so as to make his voice heard all over the enclosure;but then, bending down his head till it was close to Le Comtois' ear,he added, in a low tone, almost a whisper: "The English are withinsight. Their first boats are disembarking the troops. Monsieur deLevi, with our reinforcements, has not appeared. All depends uponmaintaining the outposts till he can come up. This, sir, I trust toyou with full confidence, as a brave man and an experienced soldier. Imust now visit the other posts. Farewell! Remember, the glory ofFrance is in your hands!"

Thus saying, he rode away, and the bustle of instant preparationspread through the little fort. The French soldiers were drawn upwithin the breastworks, and the stores and ammunition gatheredtogether near the center of the open space, so as to be readilyavailable whenever they were wanted. Two parties of Hurons were placedupon the flanks, so as to be ready to rush out with the tomahawk themoment opportunity offered. Next came the long lines of Frenchmuskets; and in the center of the longest face of the breastwork wereplaced Apukwa and his companions, with their rifles in their hands,and a small party of French soldiers forming a second line behindthem, thus insuring their faith, and rendering the fire from thecenter more fierce. Their presence, indeed, was needed at the moment,for the men who had been sent out in pursuit of Woodchuck had eithermistaken the order not to go far, or had lost their way, and they hadnot reappeared when the whole preparations were complete.

These had occupied some time, although Monsieur Le Comtois had shownall the activity and precision of a thorough soldier, giving hisorders rapidly, but coolly and clearly, and correcting every error assoon as made. The Indians, indeed, gave him the greatestembarrassment, for they were too eager for the fight, and--neversubjected to military discipline--were running hither and thither tothe points they thought most advantageous, without consideration ofthe general arrangements.

The Frenchman found time, however, for a few courteous words to Edith."I am greatly embarrassed, my dear young lady," he said, "by yourpresence here, as we expect to be attacked every instant. I wish toheaven Monsieur de Montcalm had taken you away with him; but in thehurry of the moment I did not think of it, and I have no means ofsending you away now; and besides, the risk to yourself would be stillgreater than staying here. I believe you are as safely posted in thishut as anywhere. It is near enough to the breastwork to be protectedfrom the fire of the enemy, but you may as well lie down upon thebearskin if you hear musketry."

"Could I not place myself actually under the breast-work?" askedEdith, remembering the instructions sent to her.

"Impossible!" replied the officer. "That space is all occupied by thesoldiers and Indians. You are better here. If we should be drivenback--which God forbid!--you will be safe, as you speak English, andcan say who you are: but remember, address yourself to an officer, forthe canaille get mad in time of battle; and on no account trust anIndian!"

"I speak the Iroquois tongue," answered Edith.

"My dear young lady, there is no trusting them," said the officer."Friends or enemies are the same to them when their blood's hot; allthey want is a scalp, and that they will have. It would be terrible tosee your beautiful tresses hanging at an Indian's belt."

As he spoke, one of the men who had been sent forth after Woodchuck,came running up, exclaiming: "They are coming, mon capitan! They arecoming!"

"Who?" demanded Le Comtois, briefly.

"The redcoats--the English!" said the man. "I saw their advance guardwith my own eyes. They are not two hundred yards distant."

"Where are your companions?" asked Le Comtois. "We want every musket!"

"I don't know," answered the man. "They have lost their way, I fancy,as I did. I saw two amongst the bushes just in front, trying to getback."

"Sacre Di! They will discover us!" said the captain; and, runningforward, he jumped upon the parapet just behind one of the highestbushes, and looked over. The next instant he sprang down again, sayingin a low tone to the corporal near him: "Stand to your arms! Present!Pass the word along not to fire, whatever you see, till I give theorder!"

At the same moment he made a sign with his hand to the renegadeOneidas, but probably they did not see it, for their keen black eyeswere all eagerly bent forward, peeping through the bushes, which nowseemed agitated at some little distance. A moment after a stragglingshot or two was heard, and instantly the Honontkoh fired. The orderwas then given by Le Comtois, and the whole front poured forth avolley, which was returned by a number of irregular shots, blazing outof the bushes in front.

Then succeeded a silence of a few moments, and then a loud cheer, suchas none but Anglo-Saxon lungs have ever given.

Edith sat, deathly pale and trembling, in the hut; but it is not toomuch to say that but a small portion of her terror was for herself.The battle had begun--the battle in which father and lover were torisk life, in which, amidst all the human beings destined to bleed anddie that day, her love singled out two, while her fancy painted themas the aim of every shot. It was of them she thought, much more thanof herself.

The door of the hut was turned, as I have shown, toward the inside ofthe square; and Captain Le Comtois had left it open behind him. Thus,as Edith sat a little toward one side of the entrance, she had a viewof one side of the redoubt, along which were posted a few Frenchsoldiers and a considerable body of Hurons. The firing was soonresumed, but in a somewhat different manner from before. There were nolonger any volleys, but frequent, repeated, almost incessant shots,sometimes two or three together, making almost one sound. Thrice shesaw a French soldier carried across the open space and laid down atthe foot of a tree. One remained quite still where he had beenplaced; one raised himself for a moment upon his arm, and then sankdown again; and Edith understood the signs full well. Clouds ofbluish-white smoke then began to roll over the redoubt and curl alongas the very gentle wind carried it toward the broad trail by which shehad been brought thither. The figures of the Indians becameindistinct, and looked like beings seen in a dream. But still thefiring continued, drawing, apparently, more toward the western side;still the rattle of the musketry was mingled with loud cheers fromwithout. But suddenly those sounds were crossed, as it were, by a wildyell such as Edith had only heard once in her life before, but whichnow seemed to issue from a thousand throats instead of a few. It camefrom the northwest, right in the direction of the broad trail. TheFrench soldiers and the Hurons who had been kneeling to fire over thebreastwork, sprang upon their feet, looked round, and from that side,too, burst forth at once the war-whoop.

"Oh, Missy! Missy! Let us run!" cried Sister Bab, catching Edith'swrist.

"Hush! hush! Be quiet!" said the young lady. "These may be friendscoming!"

As she spoke, pouring on like a dark torrent, was seen a crowd ofdusky forms rushing along the trail, emerging from amongst the trees,spreading rapidly over the ground, and amidst them all a tall youth,equipped like an Indian, and mounted on a gray horse, which Edithrecognized as her own. The sight confused and dazzled her. Feathers,and plumes, and war paints, rifles, and tomahawks, and knives, grimcountenances and brandished arms, swam before her, like the thingsthat fancy sees for a moment in a cloud, while still the awfulwar-whoop rang horribly around, drowning even the rattle of themusketry, and seeming to rend the ear. Two figures only were distinct;the youth upon the horse, and the towering figure of Black Eaglehimself, close to the lad's side.

Attacked in flank, and front, and rear, the French and Hurons werebroken in a moment, driven from the breastworks, beaten back into thecenter of the square, and separated into detached bodies. But stillthey fought with desperation; still the rifles and the muskets pealed;still the cheer, and the shout, and the war-whoop resounded on theair. A large party of the French soldiery were cast between the hutsand the Oneidas, and the young man on the horse strove in vain,tomahawk in hand, to force his way through.

But there are episodes in all combats, and even a pause took placewhen the gigantic Huron chief rushed furiously against the BlackEagle. It may be that they were ancient enemies, but, at all events,each seemed animated with the fury of a fiend. Each cast away hisrifle, and betook himself to the peculiar weapons of his race--theknife and the tomahawk; but it is impossible to describe, it wasalmost impossible to see the two combatants, such was their marvelousrapidity. Now here, now there, they turned, the blows seeming to falllike hail, the limbs writhing and twisting, the weapons whirling andflashing round. Each was the giant of his tribe, each its mostrenowned warrior, and each fought for more than life, the closing actof a great renown. But the sinewy frame of the Black Eagle seemed toprevail over the more bulky strength of his opponent; the Huron lostground, he was driven back to the great pine tree near the center ofthe square; he was forced round and round it; the knife of the BlackEagle drank his blood, but missed his heart, and only wounded him inthe shoulder.

Those nearest the scene had actually paused for a moment in thecontest, to witness the fierce single combat going on; but in otherparts of the square the bloody fight was still continued. For aninstant the French party in the front of the huts, by desperateefforts, seemed likely to overpower the Oneidas before them. A tallFrench grenadier bayoneted the Night Hawk before Edith's eyes, andthen, seeing the great Huron chief staggering under the blows of hisenemy, he dashed forward, and, not daring in the rapid whirls of thetwo combatants, to use his bayonet there, he struck the Black Eagle onthe head with the butt of his musket. The blow fell with tremendousforce, and drove the old chief to his knee, with one hand upon theground. His career seemed over, his fate finished. The Huron raisedhis tomahawk high to strike, the Frenchman shortened his musket to pinthe Black Eagle to the earth. But at that moment a broad, powerfulfigure dropped down at once from the branches of the pine tree above,between the Oneida and the grenadier--bent slightly with his fall, buteven in rising, lifted a rifle to his shoulder, and sent the ball intothe Frenchman's heart. With a yell of triumph, Black Eagle sprang upfrom the ground, and in an instant his tomahawk was buried in theundefended head of his adversary.

Edith beheld not the close of the combat, for in the swaying to andfro of the fierce struggle the French soldiery had by this time beendriven past the huts, and the eye of one who loved her was upon her.

"Edith! Edith!" cried the voice of Walter Prevost, forcing the horseforward through the struggling groups, amid shots, and shouts, andfalling blows. She saw him, she recognized him, she stretched forthher arms toward him; and, dashing between the two parties, Walterforced the horse up to the door of the hut and caught her hand.

"Spring up! Spring up!" he cried, bending down, and casting his armaround her. "This is not half over. I must carry you away!"

Partly lifted, partly leaping from the ground, Edith sprang up beforehim; and, holding her tightly to his heart, Walter turned the rein anddashed away, through friends and enemies, trampling, unconscious ofwhat he did, alike on the dead and the dying. The western side of thesquare was crowded with combatants, and he directed his horse's headtoward the east, reached the angle, and turned sharp round to get inthe rear of the English column, which was seen forcing its way onwardto support the advance party of Major Putnam. He thought only of hissister, and, pressing her closer to his heart, he said: "We are safe,Edith! We are safe!"

Alas! he spoke too soon. There had been one group in the square thatstood almost aloof from the combat. Gathered together in thesoutheastern angle, Apukwa and his companions seemed watching anopportunity for flight. But their fierce eyes had seen Walter, andtwice had a rifle been discharged at him from that spot, but withouteffect. They saw him snatch his sister from the hut, place her on thehorse, and gallop round. Apukwa, the brother of the Snake, and twoothers, jumped upon the parapet, and scarcely had he uttered thewords, "We are safe!" when the fire blazed at once from the muzzles oftheir rifles. One ball whistled by his ear, and another passed throughhis hair. But clasping Edith somewhat closer, he galloped on, and intwo minutes after came to a spot where three or four men werestanding, and one kneeling, with his hand under the head of a Britishofficer, who had fallen. Walter reined up the horse sharply, for hewas almost over them before he saw them; but the sight of the featuresof the dead man drew from his lips the sudden exclamation of "GoodGod!" They were those of Lord H----.

Edith's face, as Walter held her, had been turned toward him, and hefancied that she rested her forehead on his bosom to shut out theterrible sights around. Her forehead was resting there still, but overthe arm that held her so closely to his heart Walter saw welling adark red stream of blood. He trembled like a leaf. "Edith!" he said,"Edith!" There was no answer. He pushed the bright brown curls backfrom her forehead, and as he did so the head fell back, showing theface as pale as marble. She had died without a cry, without a sound.

Walter bent his head, and kissed her cheek, and wept.

"What is the matter, sir?" said the surgeon, rising from beside thebody of Lord H----. "Did you know my lord?"

"Look here!" said Walter.

It was all he said, but in an instant they gathered round him, andlifted Edith from the horse. The surgeon put his hand upon the wrist,then shook his head sadly; and they laid her gently by the side ofLord H----; they knew not with how much propriety--but thus she wouldhave loved to rest.

Thus they met, and thus they parted; thus they loved, and thus theydied. But in one thing they were happy--that neither, at their lasthour, knew the other's peril or the other's fate.

CHAPTER XXXVI

From the bloody field of Ticonderoga Abercrombie retreated, as is wellknown, after having in vain attempted to take the inner abattiswithout cannon, and sacrificed the lives of many hundred gallant mento his own want of self-reliance. I need dwell no more upon thepainful subject, but it was a sad day for the whole army, a sad dayfor the whole province, and a sadder day still for one small domesticcircle, when the bodies of the gallant Lord H---- and his beautifulpromised bride were brought to rest for a night at the house of Mr.Prevost before they were moved down to Albany. A body of the youngnobleman's own regiment carried the coffins by turns; another partyfollowed with arms reversed; but between the biers and the escortwalked four men, with hearts as sad as any upon earth. It may seemstrange, but none of the four shed a tear. The tall Indian warrior,though he grieved as much as if he had lost a child, had no tears forany earthly sorrow. The fountain in the heart of Mr. Prevost had beendried up by the fiery intensity of his grief. Walter had wept long andsecretly, and the pride of manhood would not let him stain his cheeksin the presence of soldiers. Woodchuck's eyes were dry, too, forduring six long months he had disciplined his heart to look upon thethings of the earth so lightly, that although he grieved for Edith'sfate, it was with the sort of sorrow he might have felt to see abeautiful flower trampled down by a rough foot: and there was brighthope, too, mingled with the shadow of his woe, for he said to himselffrequently: "They have but parted for to-day to meet in a happierplace to-morrow."

As the procession approached the house the servants came forth to meetit, with a young and beautiful girl at their head, clad in the Indiangarb. She bore two little wreaths in her hand, one woven of brightspring flowers, the other of dark evergreens; and when the soldiershalted for a moment with their burden, she laid the flowers upon thecoffin of Edith, the evergreen upon the soldier's bier. Then turning,with the tears dropping from her eyes, but with no clamorous grief,she walked before them back into the house.

Some four years after, a less painful scene might be beheld at thehouse of Mr. Prevost. He himself sat in a great chair under theveranda, with his hair become as white as snow, and his head a gooddeal bowed. Seated on the ground near him was a tall Indian chief,very little changed in appearance, grave, calm, and still as ever. Onthe step of the veranda sat two young people, a tall, handsome,powerful man, of about one and twenty, and a beautiful girl, whosebrown cheek betrayed some mixture of the Indian blood. On the greengrass before them, with a black nurse sitting by, was as lovely achild of about two years of age as ever the sun shone upon. They hadgathered a number of beautiful flowers, and she was sporting with themwith the grace and with the happiness that only children can displayor know. The eyes of all were fixed upon her, and they called herEdith.

There was one wanting to that party out of those who had assembled atthe door four years before. Woodchuck was no longer there. He had gonewhere he longed to be. When he felt sickness coming upon him, some twoyears after the death of Lord H----, he had left the house of Mr.Prevost, which he had lately made his home, and gone, as he said, towander in the mountains. There he became worse. An Indian runner camedown to tell his friends that he was dying; and when Mr. Prevost wentup to see him, he found him in a Seneca lodge, with but a few hours oflife before him.

Woodchuck was very glad to see the friendly face near him, and as hisvisitor bent over him, he said: "I am very much obliged to you forcoming, Prevost, for I want to ask you one thing, and that is, to haveme buried in the churchyard at Albany, just beside your dear girl. Iknow it's all nonsense, and that the flesh sees corruption; but stillI've a fancy that I shall rest quieter there than anywhere else. Ifever there was an angel she was one, and I think her dust mustsanctify the ground."

It was his only request, and it was not forgotten.

FOOTNOTES.

Footnote 1: This English officer, whom the author, through the story,thinly disguises under the title "Lord H----," will be readilyrecognized by the reader as that Lord Howe who met his death atTiconderoga.

Footnote 2: This very curious fact is avouched upon authority beyondquestion. The order was called that of the Honontkoh, and wasgenerally regarded with great doubt and suspicion by the Iroquois.

Footnote 3: All the principal incidents in the above remarkable scenewere related to me by Judge Spencer as having occurred within his ownpersonal knowledge.

Footnote 4: I am told that the Fort referred to did not receive thename of Crown Point till after its capture by the English; but I findit so called by contemporary English writers.

THE END