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Title: Mad Anthony's scouts; or, The rangers of Kentucky

Author: Edward Sylvester Ellis

Release date: July 9, 2022 [eBook #68482]

Language: English

Original publication: United States: Beadle and Adams, 1872

Credits: David Edwards, Graeme Mackreth and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Northern Illinois University Digital Library)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAD ANTHONY'S SCOUTS; OR, THE RANGERS OF KENTUCKY ***




 MAD ANTHONY'S SCOUTS;

 OR,

 THE RANGERS OF KENTUCKY.

 BY EMERSON RODMAN.

 NEW YORK:
 BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
 98 WILLIAM STREET.




 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by
 FRANK STARR & CO.,
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.




MAD ANTHONY'S SCOUTS;

OR,

THE RANGERS OF KENTUCKY.




CHAPTER I.

COMRADES OF THE FOREST.


"Haow dew yeou dew, cap.?"

"Fine, yer honor; and how is yerself?"

A tall, spare specimen of the backwoodsman, who was sitting by
a smouldering camp-fire, had arisen and grasped the hand of a
genial-faced Irishman, who was also clad in the habiliments of the
forest.

"My name is Smith, Hezekiah Smith," said the former, "What is yours?"

"Pat Mulroony, lately from Tipperary, Ireland, may it plase yer honor."

"Haow did you--how was it you came to find me, if I may be allowed to
inquire?" asked Smith, peering round in his face.

"I was jist thraveling through the forest, when I spied the shmoke
of fire, and says I to meself, says I, 'There's ayther some graan
youngster, or a band of haythen, as doesn't care who saas their
camp-fire,' and with that, I pokes around in the wood till I spies you
cookin' your legs over the blaze, when I knows by the swate expression
of yer countenance, that ye was a gintleman, and, bedad, I finds I was
right."

"What might you be doing? What's your business?" pursued Smith,
laboring under a great curiosity.

"Faith, I'm an _adventoorer_, as the convict said. I've been wanderin'
in these parts for siveral wakes, without catchin' glimpse of a white
skin, till I came upon you."

"That ain't what I mean. What brought you out here in the first place?"

"Me legs," replied the Irishman, decidedly.

"Just so, just so; if you've no objection, I'd like to know your
_motive_, not meaning any offence at all."

"Begorrah, but ye're axin' too much," replied Pat, with a shake of his
head. "Niver ye mind the _indoocement_ that I has for taking to the
woods. If I may be so bold, what was the same motive that brought
yerself here?"

"Nothing in particular--nothing in particular," replied Smith, as if
the subject was distasteful to him.

It was plain that both of these characters had a secret history--a
history which each was determined should remain a secret with himself.
The short conversation recorded above had been sufficient for this
fact to become evident to both, and as if by mutual consent, neither
made any further reference to it. It sufficed that they were white,
civilized beings, wanderers in a dangerous territory, where neither,
for an hour, could be assured of his own safety, and where both lacked
the great safeguard of experience. This was enough to make them firm
and fast friends at once.

"Are you baound up or down the river," queried Hezekiah Smith, refering
to the Ohio, which was but a few hundred yards distant.

"Faith, it's little difference where I'm bound, as the man said when
then the haythen Injuns bound him to the stake. How is it wid yerself?"

"I'm goin' daown."

"So is meself, if ye's willin' to accept of me company."

"I'm right glad to have you, for I care mighty little abaout goin'
much further in this all-fired country, without some one to keep me
company. It's the _ornerest_ piece of country I ever seed in all my
born days."

"As we agraas so well on the principles, be the same token, we'll agraa
on the partic'lars. I'm thinkin' I've seen more of this country pra'ps,
than ye has yerself, but it's a mighty little I've seen, after all.
But, be the howly powers, it's meself knows enough not to kindle a fire
in broad daylight, in these parts."

"But, Pat, s'pose you fall in the creek, and get wet, as I did--how in
the name of human nature are you to dry yourself?"

"Dry yourself, is it?" repeated the Irishman, surveying his friend from
head to foot; "and what is it ye wishes to dry yerself fur? Bedad,
you'll find, if you're long in these parts, you'll have to go wet and
hungry more than once."

"About what time do you suppose it might be?" asked Hezekiah Smith,
after a moment's pause.

Pat Mulroony squinted one eye up to the sky, as if he was looking at
the face of a clock, and answered:

"It lacks an hour or so yet of noon. Are ye cravin' something to ate?"

"O ginger, no! S'pose we set out upon our journey, as I don't exactly
see how we're goin' to gain anything by standing here."

"Who laids the way?"

"I'll follow you, as you know more of the woods than I do."

Pat Mulroony struck out toward the Ohio River, closely followed by
Hezekiah Smith. Each took long, regular strides, frequently snapping
the twigs beneath their feet in spite of the care and caution exercised
by each. They were two noticeable personages as they thus pressed
forward, each with a long, beautiful rifle slung over his shoulder, and
each attired in a demi-savage dress. The New Englander being some five
or six inches the taller, was constantly peering over the shoulders of
his leader, his curiosity being almost sufficient several times to make
him take the lead himself.

They had walked some distance, when Hezekiah caught the shimmer of
water through the trees, and knew they were approaching the Ohio.
Moving several yards further, they were almost upon the bank, when Pat
Mulroony fell flat upon his face as suddenly as if his feet had been
tripped from beneath, and Smith, perfectly dum-founded at this curious
movement, gazed bewildered at him for a second. Then thinking he had
fallen and injured himself, he stooped to assist him to his feet.
Motioning him off, Pat spoke rapidly in a ghostly whisper:

"Drop down on yer face! hide quick! down wid ye! quick! quick! the
devil himself is coming down the river."

This overwhelming intelligence caused Hezekiah also to "come down,"
as suddenly as the Irishman, and for a moment nothing but the deep
breathing of each could have been heard. But at the end of that time,
the curiosity of Smith began to show itself.

"What does he look like, Pat?"

"Did you ever set eyes on a tappin-snarkle?"

"Yes; one of them once bit half of my big toe off, when I was wadin' in
a mill-pond."

"Well, bedad, when I cotched the glimpse of him, he looked like a
tappin-snarkle, as big as a house."

The curiosity of Hezekiah Smith was roused to its highest pitch. Such a
dreadful monster as had been seen by the Irishman, if coming down the
river, must soon pass before his view also; and he accordingly lifted
his head slowly, until he had raised it and his shoulders perhaps a
couple of feet, when he suddenly dropped it again, as if a thousand
pound weight had fallen upon his head.

"Did ye see it?" inquired Pat, not daring to lift his own head.

"No; but I was afraid it might see me," replied Hezekiah, slowly
raising his head again.

Taking courage from his immunity, Pat Mulroony gradually straightened
his arm until he had brought his head nearly on a level with his
companion's, when they both looked long and searchingly through the
trees, but without discovering the Satanic personage that had been
announced.

While gazing thus, a sudden rushing sound was heard, and the heads
of our two friends dropped so suddenly that Hezekiah bit his tongue
sorely, and the chin of the Irishman dented far into the earth.

"Jerusalem! he hadn't wings, had he?" asked Hezekiah, turning his face
around so as to speak to the Irishman.

"He was paddlin' when I saw him, and was too big to flit among the
trees here--howly mother! there he comes agin!"

As he spoke, several quails sped overhead with that whirring noise
peculiar to the bird. This explained the cause of their fright.

Familiarity with danger breeds contempt, and our two friends, gathering
courage every moment, again raised their heads, and looked steadily
and unflinchingly out among the trees upon the river. And while thus
engaged, they saw what at first appeared to be a small house floating
down the river. As it drifted slowly past, the two rose to their feet,
and ventured nearer the shore.

"O thunder!" exclaimed Hezekiah Smith, with a sigh of relief, "that's
what they call a flat-boat."

"How do you know?" asked Pat; "ye says ye have never been in these
parts, and how do you know what one is?"

"When I was at Pittsburgh, I seen two set out down the river, and they
looked just like that."

"Be jabers! if it's a flat-boat there must be some one aboard of it,"
added Pat, his countenance lighting up; "and if there's some one aboard
of it, be the same token, there's a chance of our getting down the
river."

Hopeful and joyous, both scrambled headlong down the bank with the
brilliant idea in their heads. The flat-boat was in the centre of the
current, and, had the appearance of a square box; or, perhaps, a better
idea of it could be given by comparing it to a cabin resting upon a
scow, whose gunwales run higher than usual on every side. A long,
sweeping oar was hung at either end, for the purpose of keeping the
vessel in the channel, and guiding it through eddies and dangerous
passages in the river. Not a living soul upon it was visible.

"Drat the luck!" exclaimed Hezekiah Smith, after stumbling along the
shore for several minutes.

"Be the powers, but we'll _boord_ the craft, and take possession!"

Hezekiah caught at the idea, and had already stepped into the water to
carry it into execution, when Pat, with an exclamation of astonishment
and alarm, caught him by the shoulder and drew him back.




CHAPTER II.

BOARDING THE FLAT-BOAT.


The cause of Pat's alarm was immediately manifest to Hezekiah. The head
and shoulders of a man were visible on the flat-boat, as was also the
muzzle of a rifle he held in his hand. Thinking he was about to speak
or fire, our two friends drew back and waited for his words. To their
surprise, however, his head almost immediately disappeared, and their
most urgent calls and entreaties could not induce him to show himself
again.

By this time, the flat-boat had drifted some distance below them, and
they ran down the bank so as to recover their lost ground.

"We've got to _boord_ it," said Pat, as they took their station.

"How is it to be done?"

"Why, you jist wade out and climb up the side."

"And what are you going to do?"

"I'll stay on the bank to cover your retrate if you gits licked."

"Cover my retreat," repeated Hezekiah, as if he found it difficult to
understand the exact meaning of his friend.

"Suppose that man fires at me and kills me?"

"Be that token, Pat Mulroony will consider that it's dangerous for him
to follow yees, and will retrate, like a wise gineral, into the woods."

Hezekiah still debated whether it was his duty to run such a risk for
the benefit of his companion or not, but finally compromised the matter
by offering to carry him upon his back.

"The water ain't very deep," said he, "and as my legs are a yard or two
the longest, I'll keep you dry, and you'll run the same chance of being
struck that I will."

"It's a bargain," said Pat, immediately mounting the back of Hezekiah.

For the convenience of the latter, the Irishman took the guns of
both, and with his heavy load upon his back, Hezekiah Smith stepped
cautiously into the river. He had entered it some distance below the
flat-boat, so that he would have no trouble in intercepting it, and he
now strided as rapidly as possible through the water.

He had gone, perhaps, two-thirds of the distance, and the water reached
almost to his waist, when the head of the man on the flat-boat again
appeared, and pointing his rifle over it, he called out:

"You infernal decoys, what do you mean by coming out here? I'll give
you just two seconds to reach the shore again, and if you come a foot
nearer, I'll blow daylight through you."

Instead of turning round and retreating, Hezekiah ducked his head at
this sudden command, so as to bring the Irishman as a sort of shield
before him. Throwing him too far forward, the consequence was, that
Pat went completely over his head into the water. At sight of this
discomfiture of both, the man in the flat-boat evidently concluded
their presence could be of little danger to him, and accordingly called
out.

"Come out to the boat, and I'll help you on board."

"Murther! Can't ye pick us up?" cried Pat, floundering through
the water. It being very manifest that such a feat, under the
circumstances, was impossible, our two friends made the best of their
way forward, and upon reaching the side of the boat were assisted on
board by the man who, a few minutes before, had ordered them away so
peremptorily.

"Who are you?" he demanded, as soon as they had recovered breath.

"Patrick Mulroony, from Tipperary, Ireland, at your service, sir."

"Hezekiah Smith, also."

"Isn't there any one else ashore?"

"Not that we knows of. Are you the only one on these premises?"

"No, sir, you will see my companions shortly."

The speaker was a young man of rather prepossessing address, one who,
to judge from appearances, was as much a stranger in these wilds, as
our two friends, who have been already introduced to the reader.

He was attired in a plain, homespun dress, such as, at the period of
which we write, were more often seen in civilized communities, than as
far west as this portion of the Ohio. He had a keen, black eye, dark,
flowing hair, a pleasant face, considerably embrowned, and bearing
the unmistakeable impress of a firm will, and iron determination. He
scanned his visitors as they came aboard, and seemed to gather from a
glance their character.

"If you've no objection, what might be your name?" asked Hezekiah, in
his gentle, insinuating voice.

"Luther Waring."

"Eh, yes, just so; glad to hear. Ain't married, now, I dare say?"

"No, sir."

"Might be engaged, perhaps?"

"Yes; to tell the truth, I am," replied Waring, "and, if I ever get
safely through this infernal Indian country, down to the settlements,
I'll be married."

"Where might the--where might the lady be now?" pursued Hezekiah,
evidently determined to get all he could out of Waring.

"She and her father are in the cabin, and, I suppose, will soon show
themselves."

"What might be her name, now--that is, if you have no objection to
telling me."

"Certainly not," laughed Waring. "She is from the same village that I
have left; and her name is Virginia: daughter of Mr. George Lander.
Anything else that I can impart?"

"You are bound to the settlement, down the river, I suppose?"

"I have hinted as much; yes, that is our destination."

Hezekiah paused at this point, as he seemed to have run out of
questions, seeing which, Pat Mulroony whispered--

"Begorrah, ye isn't going to sthop in this place, be yees?"

The querulous New Englander placed the stock of his rifle a few inches
from his feet, and holding his arms over the muzzle, seemed to be
engaged in a deep study for a few moments. Suddenly, slinging his right
leg around the other, so that it rested upon the tip of the foot, he
turned his beaming face toward Waring, and continued--

"Is the gal good-looking, now?"

Waring laughed outright.

"You shall be the judge, if you only wait a few minutes."

"Of course--of course--I only asked to--that is, I just asked----"

"To find out," put in Pat, with a comical expression, as he looked down
and surveyed his clinging garments.

"Do you wish to change your clothes?" asked Waring, who had noticed the
furtive glance of the Irishman.

"There bein' ladies in the neighborhood, p'rhaps they might 'bjact, as,
be the token that we have no clouthes to put on, our costume would be
rather picturesque, as the man said when he came out from the river,
and found a cow had ate up his garments."

"We can furnish you with something I think."

"It's entirely unnecessary, entirely unnecessary," said Hezekiah, with
a graceful wave of his hand. "The water is not cold at all, and the
bathing was quite pleasant. But, I was going to ask whether the Indians
had troubled you yet?"

"If you had examined the side of the boat as you came up, you would
have seen several bullets imbedded in it. They were fired by Indians."

"Deu tell!" gasped Hezekiah.

"We paid no heed to them at first, in the hopes that they would leave
us, when they found we were aware of their motives; but, as they kept
following us, Mr. Lander and myself sent several shots among them, that
made them howl, and send volley after volley after us in return."

"They didn't kill yer?"

"They did no damage, as our boats were constructed with a knowledge of
all the exigencies that might arise. How is it with yourselves?"

"I haven't seen an Indian in a long time," replied Hezekiah; "but I
have smelt their camp-fires several times."

"I've saan plenty of the haythen," added Pat, "but have given them a
wide barth, and so I'm plased to state, I've suffered no harm up to
this point in the prosadings."

"I have never been in this part of the country before," said Waring,
speaking in a more serious tone than he had used thus far; "but I
am aware of the perils and dangers that encompass us. Our immunity
from danger thus far, leads me to hope for the best, as, from the
knowledge that I gained before starting, the settlement, which is our
destination, cannot be more than twenty miles distant, near enough
for us to reach it to-morrow, if nothing unexpected occurs. I must
say, however, I am filled with considerable misgivings. We are in the
most dangerous point of the river; and I cannot help thinking that the
crisis will come to-night. I am indeed glad that you two have come on
board."

"Thunder! so am I," said Hezekiah, "for I was lost in the woods, and
was beginning to get scart. We are bound with you for the settlement.
Hello!"

At this juncture the cabin-door opened, and a man, some sixty years of
age, made his appearance. He was very grey, with a feeble, attenuated
frame, and the air of one who, for years, had not seen a day of perfect
health.

Waring immediately introduced him to the Irishman and New Englander,
the former grasping him heartily by the hands, and the latter scraping
his feet very elaborately, as he returned his pressure.

The face of the elderly personage was careworn, and he spoke but a few
words, merely expressing his pleasure at meeting his two friends, when
he returned to the cabin.

Hezekiah Smith was just on the point of asking a question concerning
him, when the cabin-door again opened, and Virginia Lander made her
appearance. She had the same black eyes and hair as her lover--a
bright, hopeful expression of countenance, singularly in contrast
with that of her parent, and a nervous restlessness of manner, such
as is often seen in the mere child. She was not beautiful, but she
was handsome, and inspired every one in her favor. Waring immediately
introduced her, as he had her father. Hezekiah retreated a step or two,
lifted his hat from his head, and was just in the act of making another
sweeping scrape with his foot, when she brought these preparations to
an end by taking his hand, speaking her pleasure, and turning to the
Irishman, and doing the same.

"Extremely happy to meet you," said Hezekiah. "If you've no objection,
I would like to know----"

"Be the powers! but look yonder jist!" interrupted Pat, pointing down
the river. "What does that mane?"

Waring had already caught sight of the suspicious object, and turned to
Hezekiah.

"What do you make of it?"

"A lot of Indians, as sure as thunder."




CHAPTER III.

THE SHADOW OF DANGER.


"It's a canoe--one of them infernal Indian ones," added Hezekiah. "I
know enough of 'em to be sure of it."

The object in question was close under the Ohio shore, and at the
distance when first seen, might have been mistaken for a common log;
but Waring, who had learned to regard every such manifestation with
suspicion in the Indian country, was convinced that it was something
more the instant he caught a glimpse of it. Besides, Hezekiah was
positive, and if any individual was competent to judge in regard to
the identity of such a vessel, his experience, as related at the
commencement of this tale, should certainly have pointed him out as
that man.

If there were any lingering doubts in the minds of the whites, they
were instantly set at rest by seeing the canoe put out from the
shore, and head across toward the Kentucky bank. The tufted heads of
three Indians were visible, and their paddles flashed brightly in the
sunlight, as the frail vessel shot swiftly over the surface of the
water.

"I didn't mane to alarm yees, but maning no offince to the iligant lady
present, might I vinture to suggest in the mildest terms possible,
there'd bist be none but _men_ on deck jist now."

"He is right," said Waring, in a lower tone to our heroine, "it is best
that you go below."

"I will do so, if you think I should," she replied, suiting her action
to her word. "Do you wish father to come up?"

"There is no need of it."

The girl closed the door, and Waring turned toward his friends.

By this time the canoe had nearly crossed the stream. A few moments
later, it glided under the Kentucky banks, and three Indians sprang out.

It was with peculiar emotions that the inmates of the flat-boat
gradually came opposite this canoe. They had just seen three of their
deadly enemies withdraw under the protection of the shrubbery and
undergrowth of the shore, and they had every reason to believe that
there were others in the vicinity.

"It can't be that they are friendly," suggested Waring, who was all but
certain that such could not be the case.

"Friendly divils!" repeated Pat Mulroony. "Every mother's son of 'em
is in the war paint, and they'd sooner scalp all of us, not barring
the lady--God bless her. Talk of friendly Injins in this part of the
wurruld!"

By this time, the flat-boat was opposite the canoe, whose stern could
be distinctly seen underneath the dense shrubbery that lined the bank.
The conversation ceased of its own accord, and the three men carefully
lowered their heads, so that no stray shot could reach them. In the
sides of the boat were one or two small orifices, which Waring had had
perforated for the purpose of gazing out, just at such times as these,
and our friends used them on this occasion.

Looking out, Hezekiah discerned through the interstices of the
undergrowth the forms of two crouching Indians, their eyes glowing,
their faces all agleam with ferocity, and their bedaubed visages ten
times more horrid in appearance than he could have dreamed it possible
for a human being to be.

When just fairly abreast of them, a jet of fire was seen to flash among
the shrubbery, and as the sharp report of a rifle broke the stillness
of the woods, a bullet grated over the top of the flat-boat, and was
plainly heard by all, as it plainly cut its way through the leaves on
the opposite side of the river, with that peculiar _zip-zip_ made by
the rapid passage of a stone or other object through the trees of a
forest.

"By the Howly Virgin! take that!" exclaimed Pat, springing up and
discharging his rifle at the spot where he saw the faint wreath of
smoke curling upward. "How does that faal?"

"They haven't felt it at all," whispered Waring. "Be careful and keep
your head out of sight, or you'll be struck."

"How do you know he wasn't struck?" demanded Pat in high dudgeon. "Did
you see the passage of the bullet?"

"A wild Indian always yells when a bullet hits him, and they haven't
made the least noise."

"Begorrah! but you're right. I've struck a redskin afore to-day, and
he always screamed like a painter. It was an uncomfortably close rub,
faith, for all that."

Both shores were closely scanned, but nothing more of the savages was
seen; and after drifting half a mile or so down stream, our three
friends ventured occasionally to show their heads to any who might be
lingering along the banks. This, however, was a dangerous proceeding
almost at any time, and as there was no necessity for it, it was not
often done by any of the three. The reason why Waring was not visible
when Hezekiah and Pat first hailed the flat-boat, was not because he
did not see or hear them, but because he had prudence enough to keep
himself out of sight.

By this time the afternoon was considerably advanced, and Waring
invited his two friends to descend into the cabin and partake of the
dinner, which Virginia Lander had just announced.

"And who stays above, if I may be allowed to ask?" inquired Hezekiah,
with an anxious expression of countenance.

"I do myself; have no apprehension upon that score."

His alarm thus quieted, Hezekiah hesitated no longer.

In the cabin he found a plain, substantial meal prepared, to which
he, Pat, Mr. Lander, and our heroine seated themselves. The elderly
personage besought the blessing of God upon the food spread before
them, and spoke not a another word during the meal.

Great as was Hezekiah's hunger, his curiosity was equally great,
and, accordingly, as he masticated the food, he kept his eyes rolling
continually about him in search of knowledge. He noticed that the cabin
was divided into two compartments, one of which he naturally concluded
was devoted to the exclusive use of the young lady who presided at the
table. Several times he was on the point of asking permission to take
a look into this. But his sense of propriety prevented him, and he
devoured his victuals in silence.

As for Pat, he was hungry--that was sufficient. Excepting the food
itself, nothing presented the least attraction to him, and he devoured
this with a gusto that put to shame the achievements of the others.

The meal finished, the two returned to the deck, and took the place
of Waring, while he partook of his dinner. As our two friends looked
out upon the still, solemn forest, and the placid, unruffled river,
down which they were so noiselessly gliding, they could hardly realize
that the profound silence that then held reign was as treacherous as
the calm which precedes the marshaling of the storm king's forces
upon the ocean. And yet they well knew that within the depths of this
wilderness lurked the Indian, whose life was devoted to the one object
of exterminating the white race: that he was as cunning and crafty as
years of war and bloodshed could make him, and that no means would be
left untried to encompass the death of themselves and those with them.

"Hezekiah," said Pat, upon whom this impressive scene had not been
entirely lost, "have you ever been in these parts before?"

"Never in all my born days, and I wish to Heaven I wasn't here now."

"What's the trouble now? Begorrah, ye isn't scart, be yees?"

"Yes, Pat, I ain't ashamed to own it--I am scart. I tell you, 'twixt
you and me, there's danger hangin' over this craft. I can smell it
in the air, I can feel it in my bones. If we don't see trouble afore
to-morrow morning, then I'm most mightily mistaken."

"I incline to the same opinion, though I wouldn't be saying it afore
the lady down there, and frightenin' the wits out of her. I'd like to
know, be the same token, what that old curmudgeon is doin' on this
boat?"

"You mean the old man? I should think it would be the last place for
him. Never mind, Pat, let come what will, you and I stick together,
don't we?"

"Of course we do."

There is nothing that will make friends as soon as a sense of impending
danger hanging over both. Let two entire strangers meet under
circumstances like these, and in ten minutes they will be on as good
terms, and devoted to each other, as though they had been bosom friends
for a dozen years. The cause of this is very plain--it is the interest
of both to be so.

Hezekiah thought he had never met so fine a fellow as Pat Mulroony;
one, whose kindness of heart was so great, and whose friendship was as
disinterested; and as for the Celt, although he did not express himself
thus, his opinion of the New Englander was very nearly the same.

"You asked awhile ago," said Hezekiah, after a moment's pause, "whether
I had ever been in these parts. If you have no objection, I should like
to know whether _you_ have been here?"

"Yes, I was about this place last summer with a party, but we didn't go
any farther down the river."

"I understood that you were further west than you had ever been before;
but then I might have been mistaken. If you have no objection, I should
like to hear the particulars of your visit."

"Can't tell it now," replied the Irishman, as though the subject were
distasteful to him.

At this moment Waring made his appearance, and was shortly followed
by Mr. Lander, who, taking a seat near the cabin, maintained a strict
silence during the conversation of the others.

Hezekiah merely glanced at the young man, and saw, as if by instinct,
that the same sense of impending danger that so troubled himself,
was shared by him also. There was an anxious expression upon his
countenance that he had not seen there before; a certain restless
nervousness in his manner, which he sought in vain to conceal.

"We are going to have a dark night of it," said he, looking up to the
sky.

"As dark as Egypt," added Hezekiah. "I recollect that I nearly battered
my brains out, last night, in trying to walk through the woods."

"The moon will not be up till three o'clock in the morning, and, I
might as well be plain with you, friends, it will be life and death
with us before that time."

"Just what we're thinkin'. Drat the Indians," exclaimed Hezekiah. "I
can feel it in my bones that I am going to get into a scrape to-night."




CHAPTER IV.

THE NIGHT ATTACK.


The night gradually closed down upon the flat-boat. Upon inquiry,
Hezekiah found that their elderly companion, Mr. Lander, instead of
being an assistant to them, was an encumbrance. A confirmed invalid,
he was barely able to remain on his feet for more than a few moments,
and had expressed the wish only that he might be allowed to reach the
settlement and die.

He was totally unfit to handle a rifle, and had not attempted it for
years, so that, although Waring had another weapon beside his own, it
may be stated that he started upon this expedition entirely alone--a
proceeding, that in its foolhardiness, was unaccountable.

As Waring had predicted, the night proved of intense darkness.

In a few hours, both shores became entirely invisible, and shortly
after, it was almost impossible to see the length of the boat. Under
these circumstances, it was proposed to work the flat-boat into
shore, and tie up for the night. All were totally unacquainted with
the windings of the river, and they were fearful that they might run
aground in the darkness, and be unable to get the craft afloat again.
They were pretty certain, too, that they had been constantly watched
from the banks, and that it would not be long before the Indian canoes
would be ranging up and down the river in search of them.

If this were the case, their only plans of escaping them would be by
sweeping into shore, and remaining there until the moon arose. On the
other hand, it was hardly probable that the flat-boat could approach
nigh enough to the shore, to gain any protection from it.

The water was so shallow, that it was likely to ground when several
rods distant, in which case, the situation of the fugitives would be
far worse than if attacked while in the midst of the channel. And
beside this, they also ran the chance of being discovered, even if they
should reach the bank without grounding.

The savages would be passing up and down the shore; and as it would
require considerable effort and some noise to work the lumbering
concern out of the course it was pursuing, the trained ears of the
redskins could hardly fail to detect it.

All these considerations being taken into account, it was decided that,
for an hour or two at least, they would keep their position in the
midst of the channel.

The greatest cause for alarm, as we have before hinted, lay in the fact
that not one of the whites in the flat-boat was acquainted with the
river.

They were drifting aimlessly downward, only conscious of their general
direction. The Ohio River abounds, as all our readers are aware, with
numerous islands, and many of these lying directly in the middle of the
stream--our friends had good cause to apprehend running upon one of
them.

The flat-boat had a long oar swung at either end, by which its motions
were controlled, much in the same manner that the rafts which descend
our rivers at this day are managed.

To guard as much as possible against the calamity mentioned, Hezekiah
Smith and Pat Mulroony passed to the forward part of the boat, so as
to be ready, not only to sheer the boat off, when "breakers" were
discovered, but to be prepared for any venturesome Shawanoes that might
choose this as their point of attack.

Mr. Lander and his daughter remained below, as both well knew their
presence would be of no assistance to those above; and the whites were
thus disposed when the incident we are about to describe took place.

Hezekiah stood leaning over the prow, listening intently for the least
evidence of the approach of their enemies. The only sound as yet
heard, was what might be characterized as the _audible silence_ of the
forest--that deep, solemn roar, like the distant voice of the ocean,
that is as eternal as the great sea itself.

Now and then, the melancholy night wind moaned through the tree tops,
with a dismal and lonely voice, in consonance with the feelings of the
three listeners; and once or twice the far off scream of some denizen
of the forest was borne faintly forward to their ear.

Then, again, the silence became so profound, that the soft ripple of
the current could be heard against some projecting root, or dipping
branch. But these sounds were all natural to the wilderness, and
excited no emotions, except to add to the dreary loneliness of the
scene.

The New Englander had stood in the attitude of attention for more than
an hour, when he detected the cautious dip of a paddle. He instantly
raised his head and peered out in the direction from which it came,
but in the Stygian darkness could detect nothing at all. He maintained
the same attitude for full an hour, during which he heard the sound
repeated twice. Fully satisfied that strangers were in the vicinity, he
gave utterance to a suppressed whistle, to place Waring on the guard,
and leaning toward Pat, he asked in a whisper whether, if he had no
objection to tell, he had detected any suspicious sound.

"There's a haythen canoe that has been following us for the last hour
or more, or my name isn't Pat Mulroony."

"Hist! there it is again!" admonished Hezekiah, arching his neck, and
gazing out in the darkness. Both listened, but Pat failed to hear that
which had startled his companion.

"They're mighty oncareful is them same Injins," added the Irishman.
"Whisht! but look! there's the divils this minute!"

As he spoke, Pat sprang up in great excitement, and pointed out on the
river. Looking in the same direction Hezekiah caught the outlines of a
long Indian canoe, filled with shadowy figures, which glided under the
prow of the flat-boat, and came to rest as noiselessly as a phantom.
Almost at the same instant a tufted head appeared above the gunwale,
but it was crushed like an eggshell by a tremendous blow from the
clubbed rifle of the Irishman. This was scarce done when the head and
shoulders of another rose within a foot of where Hezekiah stood.

"Take that, you thundering redskin!" he exclaimed, striking him a
terrible blow square in the face, that sent the dusky savage spinning
out in mid-air, with the blood spouting from his nostrils. "Dern your
picter! what business you got poking your head up here? I say, Waring,
the Indians have come--look out for them."

In his excitement, Hezekiah Smith dropped his rifle, and springing up
and down, as though the deck had suddenly become red hot, he delivered
his fearful blows indiscriminately, while Pat kept his rifle swinging
like the arms of a windmill.

"Begorrah! but the shillaleh comes natural to the Tipperary boys!" he
exclaimed, between his set teeth, "and Pat Mulroony was born with one
in his hand, and has been trained up to the illigant profession of
breaking heads. Some of ye will go home to-night with bootiful faces,
barrin' yer won't have any faces at all to go home with."

The Indians had evidently counted upon a surprise, and were not
prepared for the furious courage with which they were received.
They had followed the flat-boat until they judged the inmates were
either asleep or off their guard, when they had come upon them in the
stealthy manner narrated. The consequence was that in less than five
minutes after the attack, the canoe had disappeared with the surviving
Shawanoes, and nothing was heard save the slapping of Hezekiah's feet
as he still sprang up and down the deck, and swung his arms around him
ready for the next bronzed head that might offer. It required Pat some
time to convince him that the danger for the present had passed, and
there were no more enemies to contend against. By degrees he became
quieted, and was able to converse rationally when Waring made his
appearance among them.

During all this tumult, Lander had not shown himself, nor even so much
as given evidence that he felt the least concern at the conflict going
on. His daughter, when the firing had subsided, cautiously opened
the door, and called the name of her lover. He instantly assured her
that the savages had fled, and besought her to return to her room.
First receiving a hurried but fervent kiss upon her blanched cheek,
she complied, imploring him to be careful and not expose himself
unnecessarily to danger.

A silence as profound as that of the tomb, succeeded the onslaught of
the savages. Some minutes later, the noise of paddles was again heard;
but, as Hezekiah had, by this time, gained his equilibrium of mind, and
convinced that the Shawanoes could not immediately attempt the same
stratagem in which they had so signally failed, he returned to his
place beside Waring, leaving the Irishman alone at the bow of the boat.

"If you have no objection to tell me," said Hezekiah in his usual
insinuating voice, "what do you propose to do, now that we are in the
midst of danger? How, in thunder, are we to get out?"

"I am afraid," replied Waring, "that the Indians are constantly ranging
up and down the river, and so long as we remain in the channel we are
not safe."

"How do you propose to get out of the channel?"

"Let us work the craft into shore, and wait till the moon rises before
starting. Thinking that we are in the middle of the current, they will
not look along the bank for us, and we shall thus be safe until we can
see where we are."

It was Waring who first proposed to run in under the protection of
the bank, and he had never once doubted its expediency. He advocated
it now so earnestly that neither Hezekiah nor Pat made any objection.
Accordingly, the long, sweeping oars were dipped deeply and silently
into the water, and under the powerful impulse of the sturdy-armed men
it began gradually veering off toward the Ohio shore. The greatest
caution was exercised, as the creaking of one of the sweeps might tell
any savages in the vicinity what the whites were doing. This was a
delicate task, but our friends believed they were succeeding as well
they could wish. All at once, the dark line of trees were discovered
through the darkness, and ceasing their efforts, the boat continued
approaching, until the branches brushed over their heads, and the
bottom, striking the mud of the stream, the forward motion of the craft
was checked.

The whites had every reason to be pleased with their situation had
not a slight accident caused them a little anxiety. As Pat Mulroony
attempted to shove a limb from before him, it broke with a cracking
noise that could have been heard across the river. This caused so much
apprehension, that for a time, Waring was on the point of working the
boat out into the current again; but, finally, his fears subsided,
and he concluded to remain in his present position until the rising
of the moon. The flat-boat lay about ten feet from the mainland, and
had grounded so slightly that had it not been secured by tying it to
one of the branches ahead, it would have floated off again. This was
the precise situation in which Waring had been anxious to get it; and,
excepting the slight accident alluded to above, he had every reason to
be satisfied with the state of affairs. The darkness was so great, and
the peculiar position in which the craft lay so favorable, that no
Shawanoe would have discovered it in passing within a dozen feet of it
had not his suspicion been first attracted to it.

The three whites remained on deck, now and then whispering to each
other, and passing on tiptoe from one portion to another, but nothing
more of their enemies was seen or heard for a long time.

Pat Mulroony was leaning over the prow, as he had been leaning for the
last hour, and was looking down in the water, when he discerned a dark,
ball-like object moving along on the surface. At first, he took it to
be a piece of floating wood; but, as it passed around the prow, in a
manner that the motion of the current could not have caused, he was not
long in identifying it. It was the head of an Indian.

Communicating this fact to Waring and Hezekiah, the hold upon the
branch was loosened, and under the additional impulse of the oars, the
flat bottom was once more floating down the Ohio.




CHAPTER V.

GROUND.


The whites on the flat-boat had committed a mistake natural to persons
in their situation.

As they waited along shore, in the most painful suspense, the hours
wore slowly away, and seemed double their usual length. Thus it
happened that at the moment of sweeping out into the current, each
believed it to be about three o'clock in the morning, and were looking
for the appearance of the moon, when, in reality, it was barely
midnight.

Waring and Pat experienced some peculiar sensations, as they toiled
at the oar. Knowing that one Indian, at least, had discovered their
hiding-place, they had every reason to believe that a whole war-party
were aware of it, and so long as the shadowy outline of the shore was
discernible, they were in constant expectation of receiving a volley
from their invisible foes.

But, as the dark mass of trees blended with the night, and at length
faded from their view altogether, they ceased their efforts, and
breathed freer.

"Now," said Waring, "I don't care how soon the moon shows itself. With
all the windings and islands, we need light to see the way."

"If you have no objection, I should like to inquire how soon do you
expect the moon to rise?"

"Why, right away--that is, within a few minutes."

"So it seems it ought to do: but, Waring, don't you know how much
longer time seems to persons in our circumstances, than it does as
other times. I know when I used to court Jemima Hopkins, after ten
o'clock, the hour didn't seem more than ten minutes long; and then
again, when I had to sit up in the winter, and keep the wolves out of
the sheep-pen, every hour seemed a month long. Now, Waring, I don't
want to hurt your feelings--it may be three o'clock in the morning, but
I don't believe it."

"I know how apt we are to miscalculate time on such occasions, and I
have tried to make allowance for it. With all that allowance made, it
strikes me that the moon must be in the horizon by this time."

"I hope it is so; but the best thing we can do, is to calk'late as
how it ain't agwine to be there for some hours yet and making our
arrangements accordingly. Eh, Waring?"

"You are right, I admit. In fact, we can do nothing else. We are going
it blind now--knowing only that we are going down the Ohio."

"Do you think, that is, if you have no objection to tell, do you think
that these Indians will try the same method of attacking us?"

"It is not to be supposed they will, unless their party is large enough
to insure them victory. Nevertheless, we must be on the lookout for
their devilments. I say, Pat, ahead there, don't forget to keep a
sharp lookout for mischief."

"Aye, aye, that I will, barring it isn't possible to look out at all.
Be the Hooly Virgin! I see something now, sure."

Hezekiah was at his side in an instant. Looking ahead, he saw a dark
mass looming up in the darkness directly before them, as if it was
approaching.

"It's one of them islands," he exclaimed. "The all-fired thing is
afloat, and is running into us. Quick, Waring, the oar."

As he spoke, he and Pat seized the sweep of the oar, and commenced
using it with all their energy. Close as they were upon the land, they
would have cleared it, had they not, in their hurry and excitement,
committed the blunder of working against each other; that is, while Pat
and Hezekiah did their utmost to veer the boat toward the Ohio shore,
Waring struggled to clear the island by going on the Kentucky side.
The consequence of these efforts was, that ere they had taken a dozen
strokes, the flat-boat grated upon the gravelly bottom, and went broad
side upon the island.

As the current was quite rapid at this portion of the river the raft
was driven with such force upon the beach that Waring saw at once that
it would be impossible to get it off again, unless it was lighted of
its entire load. Springing down upon the island, he took a hasty survey
of its situation, so far as the darkness would permit, and as Hezekiah
and Pat joined him, mentioning the plan that we have stated, he said--

"There is no other help for it, and we must make quick work of it. The
moon at the very farthest will be up in twenty minutes, and it won't
do for any of the savages to discover us, but, to get off, it will be
necessary for your father to come ashore. Is he awake?"

"Yes," said Virginia, who arose upon hearing the bottom of the boat
grating upon the gravel, "and will be here in a moment."

Virginia was assisted to descend by her lover, and a moment later her
father followed her. The other three men instantly set to work, and in
ten minutes the boat was sufficiently lightened to make the attempt to
get it afloat again. By the united efforts of the three it was shoved
out into deep water, where, to their dismay, they saw it commence
settling down, as though it were sinking.

"Begorrah! but what does that mane?" cried Pat, in astonishment.

"Hark! if I ain't mistaken, I hear the water rushing in its bottom."

With one bound, Waring sprang upon the gunwale, and descended into the
cabin. One glance was sufficient. An immense hole had been stove in
by the concussion, and a foot of water was already in the cabin. The
flat-boat was now going down, and there was no hope of saving it.

With rare presence of mind, Waring leaped back into the water, and
attempted to shove the boat far enough away to make it sink out of
sight when it did go down, it being his wish that the Indians should
discover nothing of their mishap when the moon arose, or in the
morning. But in this he did not succeed. He had hardly touched his
shoulder to it when he felt that it had already touched bottom, the
water being scarcely eighteen inches deep--so low, in fact, that no one
viewing it from the shore, would suspect its true condition.

"This is a little more than I suspected," said Waring, gloomily, as he
stepped ashore. "That rotten old flat-boat will never do us one bit of
good, with such a hole smashed in it."

"Can it not be repaired in the morning?" asked Mr. Lander, who seemed
affected as little by adverse as by favorable circumstances.

"Repaired? no, we should never have ventured out on the river, in such
an old hulk as that. But it can't be helped now; we must make the
best of a bad bargain. When the moon rises, we'll get an idea of our
situation."

"It _may_ be," said Hezekiah, hoping to encourage Virginia, "that this
island is near enough for us to wade to the main land."

"Suppose it is, what good will it do us?" asked Waring.

"Why, as the settlement can't be more than a dozen miles distant, if
you have no objection, we might walk the rest of the way through the
woods."

"If we could only get the boat afloat again, or make it sink out of
sight; but there's the trouble. However, there's no use of crying for
spilt milk. Can you propose nothing for us to do, Pat?"

"I propowses to wait till we get some more light, and then we'll take a
luk at things."

"And in the meantime let us make ourselves as comfortable as the
circumstances will permit," added Mr. Lander, philosophically.

It being a warm summer night, the whites suffered little or no personal
inconvenience from their exposed situation. It was found that this
portion of the island, at least, was covered with trees and rank
undergrowth, which protected them from the night wind, slight as it
was. To make matters in that respect sure, however, Mr. Lander proposed
that a fire should be started, but when he found what a storm of
objection he had raised, he said no more upon that subject.

There being nothing else for them to do, then, the whites withdrew
within the trees, and seating themselves upon the ground, waited the
advent of the moon, which from some unaccountable cause to them, was so
long delayed.




CHAPTER VI.

RECONNOITERING THE ISLAND--A STARTLING OCCURRENCE.


As the moon rose above the forest, and shone down upon the river, the
whites began to gather some idea of their situation. They found that
the island upon which they had been stranded was about in the centre of
the stream, and that, as a consequence, it would require considerable
wading to reach the mainland on either side.

The wooded bank of the Kentucky shore being thrown into deep shadow by
overhanging branches, it was impossible for them to discern whether any
canoes were lying under it or not. The hearts of all beat painfully as
they looked upon the flat-boat, now of no further earthly use to them,
standing out like a beacon to inform all where the whites had taken
refuge. It seemed to them impossible that the Shawanoes could fail to
see it.

The island was found to be more considerable in extent than had been
first supposed. It was over an eighth of a mile from one extremity
to another, thickly wooded, and covered with rank grass and a dense
undergrowth. It was oval-shaped, and remarkably regular in its contour,
being somewhat over two hundred feet broad in its widest portion.

"What a splendid summer sate this would make fur a gintleman like
meself," said Pat, as the two stood under the shadow of a tree, on the
lowermost portion of the island.

"It really would," replied Hezekiah. "Now I shouldn't wonder if it
should be used for that very purpose in a few years."

The speaker was right in his prophecy. These very lines are being
written upon that very island--one of the most beautiful of all the
isles of the beautiful river.

"Be the same token, it's the summer sate of a party of travelers at
this minute, and it's likely that we'll make quite a stay upon it."

"I hope there ain't any Indians watching us," said Hezekiah, as he
shiveringly looked toward the shore of the dark and bloody ground.

"So does Pat Mulroony, but"----

"Jerusalem! jest look there!" exclaimed Hezekiah, springing clean off
his feet.

"Whisht! where? I see nothing."

"Here! here! this way!" whispered Hezekiah, pulling his shoulder
around. "It ain't there--_it's on the island_, right above us!
Look--don't you see it?"

"I see the traas, and the darkness, and that's all."

"It was gone the minute you looked. There it is again! There, it's
gone! What makes it act that way?"

"What is it, man, you're making such a hullabaloo about?"

"Why, sir," said Smith, solemnly, "as sure as you and I are living, I
seen a light moving around on the island!"

"It's Pat Mulroony that"----

Smith suddenly caught the Irishman's shoulder as with a grip of iron,
and without whispering a word pointed meaningly toward the trees where
he had first seen the alarming manifestation. There was no mistaking
this time. Pat Mulroony saw a bright light shining steadily through the
trees, so brightly and steadily that he knew it could not be many rods
from them. Withdrawing more closely under the dark shadow of their own
tree, Pat whispered:

"We must craap up and see what the haythens are doing."

"I say, Pat, I say--that is--you've no objection to go alone, have you?"

"Why can't yees go with me?"

"I can, of course I can, but then what's the use? I'll stay here, and
keep watch."

"And what's the naad of your kaaping watch at this poortion?"

"You know some of the Indians might slip onto the island while we are
gone, or," added Hezekiah, catching at the thought, "these same Indians
might try to slip off. Jerusalem! that wouldn't do, you know."

"Doesn't yees wish to go with me?" persisted Pat.

"I would _prefer_ remaining here, my dear Patrick."

"Well, then, kaap quiet and sthill like, and I'll soon be back wid
yees. Don't stir if you hear a noise."

"I say, Patrick"----

But the Irishman was gone.

"I hope he doesn't think I'm afraid," soliloquized Hezekiah when he
found he was alone. "I think I have proved by this time that I am not.
If I was scairt any I would never have come out into this outlandish
country. I don't know about that though," he added, after a moment's
thought; "I did hate to come into this wilderness most terribly, but I
had to do it, and I might as well own up, when there's no one to hear
me, that I was most thunderingly scairt, and am this minute. What do I
want to go crawling around this cussed island for? I wish I had never
seen it. I've a great notion to wade over to the Kentucky shore, and go
home."

We must do Smith the credit, however, of stating that he did not even
attempt to act upon this thought. When a moment's reflection showed
him how contemptible and cowardly such a course would be, he felt like
butting his head against a tree, that he should have allowed himself to
entertain such an idea for a moment.

"I hope the Irishman knows enough to keep his eyes about him," he
continued. "That young Waring was right in saying the crisis of the
danger would be reached to-night. We're in the crisis now, and a derned
ticklish affair it is, too."

Hezekiah was standing in the attitude of acute attention, every faculty
absorbed in the one of listening, when his whole being was thrilled by
the explosion of two rifles, followed by a series of horrid yells that
made his blood curdle. It needed no thought to tell him that these came
from the throats of the Shawanoes, and that the most that he had feared
had taken place.

His first impression was that Pat Mulroony had been discovered, and
fired upon, and that his own safety was in imminent danger; but, when
he came to reflect more quietly, he knew by the distance of the sounds,
that they came from the upper portion of the island, and that it was
the friends who had been left behind that were attacked. Believing,
then, that Pat was safe for the present, he decided to remain in his
present position until he was rejoined by him.

Hezekiah had hardly come to this conclusion when a slight grating noise
upon the shingle of the beach caught his ear, and turning his head he
saw that a canoe had just landed within twenty feet of him, and, at
that very moment, two painted Indians were in the act of stepping
ashore. With his heart in his throat, he shivered around to the
opposite side of the tree, and tremblingly watched the actions of these
savages.

They were very deliberate in their movements, seeming to take notice of
the tumult which, a moment before, had broken the profound stillness of
stream and wood.

First pulling the canoe high upon the land, each took a rifle from it,
and then strode directly toward the tree which concealed the frightened
man. As they passed so near, that he could have touched him with his
own rifle, he absolutely believed they would hear his heart beat. But
such a thing has never taken place, no matter how wildly that organ has
throbbed, and then the Indians, who would have detected the faintest
sound, passed on, and disappeared in the wood of the island, without
once suspecting how nigh they had been to one of the very beings for
whom they were searching.

They had hardly gone, when Pat Mulroony stole cautiously forth into
view, and looking carefully about him to satisfy himself that he had
not lost his reckoning, ran on tiptoe to where Hezekiah stood.

"What did you see?" breathlessly inquired the latter.

"May our howly mother presarve us, but the island is full of the
haythen!"

"What was that light we seen?"

"It was the camp-fire of a whole pack of the divils! But we're in a bad
fix."

"Didn't you hear them rifles? They're in a worse fix," said Hezekiah,
in an undertone. "What's to be done?"

"That's what puzzles me. We must get back if we can, and see what the
outlandish divils have been at."

The two started toward the upper end of the island, the Irishman not
disdaining to use the utmost caution. Every dozen yards or so, he
paused and listened for the slightest warning of danger; and, as for
Hezekiah, he expected each moment to see a whole horde of screeching
Shawanoes rush out from the trees and annihilate them.

Some two-thirds of the distance was thus accomplished without any
further evidence of the presence of their foes, when the Irishman,
who was only a few feet in advance, again halted with a whispered
exclamation.

Following the direction of his finger, Hezekiah saw several dark
objects moving away from the island, which he made out to be canoes.

Fearful of being seen, the two whites withdrew further from the shore.

They had gone but a few feet, when they found themselves in a sort of
natural clearing, some twenty yards in diameter, seemingly made by some
terrific whirlwind. And here, in the centre of this clearing they saw a
sight that made their blood run cold with horror!

The moon by this time was high in the heavens, and the centre of the
clearing was lit up as if at noon day; and directly under the full
tide of light, was stretched the lifeless form of Mr. Lander. He lay
on his back, all his limbs outstretched, with his skull cloven by a
tomahawk! He seemed to have made no resistance when the awful blow was
given, but had fallen back, and instantly expired. His features were so
disfigured that, had it not been for his clothes, our friends could not
have recognized him. Spell-bound, and horror-struck, they gazed at the
heart-sickening sight for a long time!




CHAPTER VII.

ADVENTURE ON THE ISLAND.


For some time after the departure of Hezekiah and Pat Mulroony, Waring
and Virginia Lander stood silent and thoughtful. Several feet away,
they could see the form of her father, seated upon the ground, his head
bowed forward, and his whole soul seemingly stricken with despair.

"He appears to feel our sorrow more than we do," whispered Waring,
whose heart bled for the suffering man.

"It is not that," replied Virginia; "it is his bodily sufferings that
trouble him. Poor father! how I wish to brush the hair from his clammy
brow. I will go to him in a minute--he is praying now."

A soft, murmuring monotone was audible, and young Waring knew that
he was engaged with his Maker. The scene was too impressive, their
surroundings too solemn, for them to indulge in conversation, and they
preserved a respectful silence; the maiden leaning upon her betrothed,
and waiting until her parent was through before she should go to him.

After the lapse of several more minutes, she saw him raise his head,
and walking hastily toward him, threw her arms around his neck, and
gave way to her tears of sorrow. Her whole soul was in agony, and
her grief could not be restrained. Waring, who was accustomed to the
suffering of the father, witnessed the emotion of the loving daughter,
and was so overcome that he suddenly turned his head, and moved away.
It was too much for him.

Hardly conscious of what he was doing, he walked slowly out from the
protection of the trees, and stood on the moonlit beach. He placed the
stock of his rifle on the hard shingle, and leaning upon it, gave way
to the most gloomy meditations.

Directly before him, as motionless as a rock, rested the hulk of the
sunken flat-boat. The soft ripple of the Ohio against the sand at his
feet, that deep, hollow murmur of the great wilderness, were the only
sounds that reached him; and these, from their monotonous continuity,
seemed silence itself. The moon was nearly overhead, shining in that
peculiar manner, that the river seemed to reflect more light than it
received. A few straggling clouds, as white as snow-drifts, now and
then floated before the moon, and huge, grotesque shadows glided over
the island, across the stream, and into the wood, like phantoms. On
either side, the frowning forest rose like a wall of blackness and
seemed to close the whites in an impregnable prison.

It was no wonder that the young adventurer felt gloomy and despairing.
It could not be otherwise than thus, while within a dozen miles of the
settlement, and in the most dangerous portion of the river, an accident
should place him and his friends in the most imminent peril, and make
the escape of all of them, as it seemed to him, an utter impossibility.

Waring was in the midst of these gloomy forebodings, when the noise of
a light footstep startled him, and looking around, he turned to greet
his friends:

"Well, what have you discovered?" he added. "Are we alone on the
island?"

To his surprise he received no reply.

"What are the prospects of our getting over the mainland"----

As quick as lightning Waring's rifle was at his shoulder, and one of
the approaching Shawanoes was shot through the breast. With a wild
yell, he sprang high in the air, and fell dead upon the sand. At the
same moment the white man saw something cleave the air, and heard a
rushing sound close to his face, followed by the splash of the tomahawk
in the water behind him. Clubbing his rifle, he stood on the defensive,
when he noted that neither of the savages had possessed a rifle, and
conscious that he was more than a match for the surviving one, he made
a rush at him.

The Indian turned to flee, and Waring had hardly started in pursuit,
when the report of a second rifle was heard among the trees, followed
by a series of whoops and yells, as if a legion of demons had suddenly
been loosed. With that presence of mind which ever characterized the
young man, he comprehended his critical peril in an instant. The trees
were swarming with Shawanoes. If he went a rod further, his destruction
would be inevitable.

Wheeling around with such celerity, that his momentum carried him
nearly off his feet, he flung his gun from him, and ran for life to
the flat-boat. Stepping one foot into the water, he made a tremendous
bound, and alighted upon the gunwale, the same as a bird would have
done; and then tearing his hat from his head, he concentrated all his
energies in the one effort, and sprang full fifteen feet out into the
river.

The instant he came to the surface, he gasped for breath and dove
again, swimming while beneath the surface, as far out toward the
Kentucky shore as it was possible, repeating the manœuver several
times, until believing he was at a safe distance from the island, he
swam sideways, and anxiously surveyed the island.

So prompt and rapid had been his movements, that he had not been seen,
and his own escape, if he chose to improve the opportunity given him,
was at least insured; but Luther Waring would have rather been smitten
by instant annihilation, rather than desert the two beings that he had
left behind him. The thought had never once entered his head.

He continued off the island until the current had nearly carried him
half way to the water's edge, so that he believed he had run little
risk of discovery. As he walked in under the shadows, several forms
followed him like phantoms, while as many more closed around him from
the wood. Waring had taken but a few steps, when he was startled by
hearing a deep groan. His apprehension told him at once that it was the
voice of Lander, and he was moving toward the point from which it came,
when he caught a glimpse of the shadow-like figures around him, and saw
that the most dangerous crisis of his life was upon him.

The Shawanoes had not yet surrounded him, and conscious that all
depended upon a quick and energetic decision, Waring made a dash to
regain the river. The dense undergrowth at this portion of the island
impeded the movements of both pursuer and pursued; but the activity of
the white man was superior, and he was the foremost at the beach, when,
making another terrific leap, he bounded out into deep water, and dove
beneath the surface.

While submerged, Waring heard distinctly the dull report of the
rifles, and the skipping of the bullets, as they glanced over the
water. Being a skilful swimmer, he turned upon his back, and as he was
borne slowly upward, he allowed only his mouth and nose to be exposed,
when, inhaling a sufficient quantity of air, he again dove, and
repeated precisely the same manœuver that we have described before.

Finally, believing he was again safe, he allowed his head and shoulders
to come to view, and looked back toward the island. To his dismay, an
Indian canoe was within a dozen feet of him. Its occupants descried him
at the same moment that he discovered them, and now commenced a most
exciting race of life and death.

One minute would have decided the contest in the middle of the river,
but fortunately, indeed, Waring's efforts had brought him within
a few rods of the shore. Fearful of being fired upon, he repeated
his stratagem of diving, and when he came to the surface, struggled
frantically to gain the shore, with the canoe darting forward like
a shadow. As soon as he could gain a foothold, he tore through the
foaming water, and dashed into the woods, while the canoe was scarcely
twice its length behind him.

It was only by the most skilful running, dodging, and doubling, that
Waring succeeded in freeing himself from his agile pursuers. He had
gone fully half a mile in the forest before this was accomplished, but
he found himself, at length, entirely alone, and panting and exhausted,
he seated himself upon the ground, to decide upon the next course to
pursue.

He could not think of leaving the island, when he had every reason to
believe that all he held dear on earth was upon it. Virginia was a
captive in the hands of the merciless Shawanoes, and even if he could
afford her no assistance, he could certainly learn something of her
fate, and form some plan for her rescue.

With this determination he arose, and retraced his steps. It is hardly
necessary to say that he made his way as silently, stealthily and
cautiously as it was his ability to do; starting at every rustling
wind, or falling leaf. Upon reaching the shore of the river, he found
that he was above the island, and again wading it, swam out toward it.

Waring wished, if possible, to recover his rifle, and gain a glimpse
of the band of Indians who had slain Lander, and who held his daughter
captive. Steadying himself, he allowed the current to carry him
downward, and when several rods distant, checked his motion, and took a
survey of the flat-boat and the surroundings.

He saw his rifle lying on the beach, its ornamented stock and barrel
shining in the moonlight. After carefully surveying every portion of
the island, that came under his observation, he detected no sign of
danger, and was about to let himself float forward again, when the
lifted head of the Shawanoe rose above the gunwale, and remained in
view for fully a minute.

As the moon shone fully upon the savage, Waring distinguished the
features plainly. He concluded at once that there was several others
upon the flat-boat, and all waiting for his return. The savage gazed
carefully about him, and descrying nothing, his head disappeared from
view.

"Ah, my fine fellow," thought Waring, as he noiselessly swam toward the
Ohio shore, "you may watch there quite a while, before you catch me in
any of your traps. You have had enough blood for to-night."

He now floated slowly down the river, keeping about midway between
the island and the Ohio bank, and, so far as possible, examined the
former, as he passed the bank. Reaching its extremity, he passed around
it, and commenced ascending the opposite side, so as to complete his
reconnoisance.

This was an extremely difficult task, and none but the most powerful
swimmer could have accomplished it. But Waring succeeded, and finally
"anchored" for a few moments abreast of the flat-boat, while he took
another observation of it. He saw nothing more of the Indians, although
he firmly believed they were still upon it.

He was convinced that the major portion of the Shawanoes were still
upon the island, and after floating somewhat lower, he landed at
precisely the same spot where he came so nigh being captured before.
Feeling confident that he had not been seen, he unhesitatingly came
ashore, and passed beneath the shadow of the trees.

Upon coming from the water, his limbs were so heavy, and he felt so
exhausted, that he threw himself down upon the ground, to gain a few
moments rest. Despite the exciting scenes through which he had just
participated, and the terrible ordeal through which he had just passed,
he fell asleep almost immediately.

It was in the midst of a fearful dream of tomahawks, scalping-knives,
Indians and murders, that he was awakened by a grasp upon his arm.
Believing resistance to be useless, he lay motionless, waiting for the
command of his captors.

"If you've no objection, I should like to inquire whether you are not
about through with your nap?" inquired the well-known voice of Hezekiah
Smith.




CHAPTER VIII.

STILL ON THE ISLAND.


The dull, grey light that now began to overspread the sky, gave token
of the coming day, and the three whites withdrew further into the grove
for consultation.

"This is a bad business," remarked Waring, after he had exchanged
experiences with his friends. "The infernal devils have outwitted us
at last. God knows what will become of Virginia. Her poor father is
already dead!"

"Yes, we have seen him," said Hezekiah, with a shudder at the
remembrance of the awful scene. "He isn't a dozen rods away from us."

"Let us give him a decent burial," added Waring. "We can find some
means to scoop out a grave for him."

The three moved away to the clearing, but, upon reaching it, nothing of
the body was to be seen. The Shawanoes had carried it from the island.

"Perhaps it is as well," said Waring. "He is beyond all pain and
suffering, and the disposal of his body can make no difference to him,
although I would that we could have performed the last sad rites for
him."

"Wall," said Hezekiah, clamping his rifle down upon the ground, as
he came to a halt, and folding his arm over it, "here we is, and the
question afore this assembly is how we're going to get away. What do
you propose to do, my dear Patrick?"

"I advise that we ate breakfast."

"The only objection to that," replied Waring, "is that we have none to
eat; but, badinage aside, we must first go over this island again, and
learn whether there are any of the demons left. If not, we must get on
their track, for, as true as the heaven is above me, I never go to that
settlement without Virginia."

"I am certain--that is, as certain as I can be--that the last of the
Indians left the island a half hour ago. We seen their canoes going
off."

At the extremity of the island the three separated, as had been
proposed, and commenced making their way back again.

In doing this, it was necessary to avoid exposing themselves to any who
might be on either shore of the mainland, and, from the great caution
that was necessary, the work was an extremely difficult and tedious one.

It was not until full two hours had elapsed that the three whites met
on the spot where Virginia Lander had been taken prisoner.

Their search, or examination, as it might be termed, proved that the
savages had, indeed, left the island, not a sign of one having been
discovered. They had probably done this under the belief that the
whites had succeeded in reaching the mainland, so that the latter were
convinced that, if they kept themselves concealed through the day they
would not be disturbed, and could easily get away when night came
again. The ashes of their camp-fire had been discovered, and blood upon
the leaves, and other evidences of their recent visit.

"But, if you have no objection to tell, where's your rifle?" asked
Hezekiah, who had noticed that Waring was unprovided with that weapon.

The latter looked through the trees.

"Yonder it lies this very minute. Strange, that they did not steal that
also. I will go and recover it."

He paused, ere he had passed out from among the trees, for the very
fact that the rifle lay there undisturbed, sent a suspicious pang
through him. It seemed improbable that such an occurrence could be mere
accident. A true Indian rarely, if ever, committed such an oversight.
The rifle was magnificently mounted, and would have been a prize to any
one.

There was another matter which, in Waring's state of mind, excited
suspicion and apprehension. He believed the gun did not lie on the
precise spot where he had thrown it. He recollected that he had flung
it with such force that it must have gone very nearly to the edge of
the beach, whereas it now lay either on the very spot that he had
passed over, or a few feet upon the opposite side.

This circumstance, which, at any other time, would have attracted no
attention at all, caused Waring great uneasiness. He felt that it was
by no means certain that everything was right upon the island, even
though it had been proven that their enemies had just left it. It
looked to him as though a trap had been laid to ensnare him, and this
rifle of his, lying but a few yards distant, was the bait.

Feeling pretty well convinced that there was some design in the
presence of this rifle, he set himself to work to discover the precise
means by which it was intended to entrap him. There being no Indians on
the island, of course he ran no risk of being taken prisoner, in case
he ventured out to recover the weapon. The distance from this point to
either shore was so slight that it would have been the easiest matter
in the world for a concealed savage to pick him off. The gun could not
be recovered without exposing himself to this peril.

Ah! the flat-boat! Waring's heart leapt at the thought. Strange that
it had not occurred to him before. There it lay, just as it had during
the night, save, perhaps, that it had sunk a few inches lower. It was
upon that he had seen the heads of several Indians, and there, in all
probability they still lay in wait, watching for his reappearance.

What reason had these Shawanoes to suppose that Waring could again
return to the island. The best of reasons. He had shown to them a
desire to do so, and as long as he believed that Virginia Lander was
there, the savages well knew he would linger in the vicinity. Once upon
the island, he would not fail to recover his gun, provided he believed
he incurred no additional danger in doing so.

That, then, he concluded, was the solution of the question. Taking
other matters into consideration, Waring came to the conclusion that it
was their desire to take him prisoner instead of shooting him, deeming,
most probably, the latter death far too comfortable a mode for him to
use in getting out of the world. He knew enough of the blood-thirsty
savages to understand what a terrible fate would be his, in case he
fell into their hands. They would take a fearful vengeance for the
Shawanoe he had killed in self-defence. Well, indeed, had it been for
the feeble Mr. Lander that he was so enfeebled and weakened. It brought
him a speedy death, instead of a lingering torture.

These reflections, which we have recorded at some length, occupied
Waring but a few seconds. He saw everything with a hunter's eye, and,
with a shake of his head, stepped back a pace or two, and resumed his
position beside the Irishman and Hezekiah.

"What's the matter?" asked the latter.

"It won't do--it won't do."

"What won't do? Do you mean to go out there and pick your rifle?"

"Yes, that is what I mean."

"What is to hinder?"

"I don't like the looks of that flat-boat."

"Whew!" blew Hezekiah, surveying the object in question as though he
had never seen it. "If you've no objection, might I inquire why you
don't like it?"

"I am afraid there are Indians concealed upon it. I saw them there last
night."

And now arose a dispute in which all three of the whites engaged.
Waring, who most certainly was the best qualified to judge, expressed
it as his firm conviction that a half dozen Shawanoes, at least, were
at that moment glaring out from the flat-boat, and waiting for their
reappearance. Hezekiah dissented, and persistently maintained that
there was but one savage upon the craft, and that he lay in the cabin
sound asleep! He could give no satisfactory reason to the others for
this belief, but he appeared sincerely to believe it himself. Pat
Mulroony, on the contrary, was ready to swear that there wasn't a
redskin on the island, flat-boat, either bank, or within five miles of
them!

"Be jabers! I'll soon find out."

"How?"

"I am going on the owld flat-boat itself."

Pat's companions begged, entreated, and implored, but all to no
purpose. He had resolved to prove what he had argued, and he now
prepared to do it.




CHAPTER IX.

A FEARFUL ADVENTURE.


It is not to be supposed that Pat Mulroony was entirely free from
fear, when he resolved upon the venture of which we have spoken.
The strenuous assertions of Waring, the equally positive belief of
Hezekiah, and their united protestations convinced him that they were
at least sincere and honest in their efforts to preserve him from
harm. Nevertheless, like a genuine Irishman, he sturdily combated
them, determined to demonstrate his sincerity by actual experiment.

It is a fact that a man may commence with the assertion of an absolute
falsehood, and conscious, at the beginning, that he is defending such,
argues himself in time into the belief that it is genuine truth.

Pat Mulroony had walked two-thirds of the distance to the hulk, and was
within a few feet of the water, when he paused. He had discovered a
fearful and startling thing!

That which arrested the brave-hearted Irishman, was the sight of a
human eye. At a small augur-like orifice at the mouth of the boat he
suddenly distinguished the glowing eye-ball of a Shawanoe Indian! It
was glaring like a demon's, and a cannon-ball would not have stopped
him sooner.

Waring and Hezekiah, noticing his hesitation, called out in a whisper
for him to return. This very call was the means of sending him forward
again. He was resolved that they should never laugh at this adventure,
and with rather a quickened step, he strode forward, and catching the
gunwale by one hand, he carried himself with one bound over upon the
deck.

He had left his rifle behind, and was armed only with his knife. His
two friends breathlessly watched him and listened. They saw his head
and broad shoulders gradually lower as he walked undauntedly toward the
stern of the boat, until the bow hid them from sight, and then all was
still.

The silence lasted for perhaps a full minute, and then was broken by a
yell as startling and terrific as an explosion of thunder in the clear
summer sky. Instantly a half dozen tufted heads was seen dodging hither
and thither over the deck, all centering around one burly, bare-headed
figure that was struggling like a lion amid a score of enemies which
had dogged him nigh to death.

While Waring and Hezekiah gazed transfixed with horror, a
powerful-limbed Indian shot up like a rocket in mid-air, and came
down in the river. Ere he had struck, another went spinning after him,
falling flat on his face in the water, with a concussion that cracked
like a pistol. While they were swimming with all speed back to the
boat, a heavy fall was heard, a faint shuffling noise, and then all was
still.

As the foremost Indian was in the act of pulling himself over the
gunwale of the flat-boat he let go with a horrid whoop, and fell back
dead, killed by the bullet from Waring's rifle. The other attempted to
swim behind the stern, but Hezekiah shot him through the brain ere it
could be accomplished.

There could be but one cause for the sudden cessation of the tumult
upon the flat-boat. Pat had either been overcome or slain. The silence
that succeeded the fearful yell and the struggle was equally painful
and impressive to his two friends. They waited long and impatiently for
it to be broken.

"It's all up with him!" whispered Waring, as he primed his rifle. "I
pity him, but our hands are clear of his blood."

"Too bad, too bad," muttered Hezekiah, who had just loaded his rifle,
"he was a good fellow, my dear Patrick was indeed. I am sorry that he
has come to this bad end!"

"We must look out for ourselves now. The best thing we can do is to get
off this infernal island, which has been the scene of such misfortune
to us. I am afraid that if we remain much longer, you will take it into
your head to perform some such a feat, and I shall be left alone."

"No, indeed, I won't, there's no danger of that," added Hezekiah, so
eagerly and earnestly that it brought a smile to the face of Waring.

"It is yet early in the forenoon, and I suppose we shall be compelled
to remain here until night."

"Of course we shall! It won't do to start out in the river in open
daylight. We'd be killed before we had gone a dozen inches."

"Hello! did you hear that?" exclaimed Waring.

Several whoops were heard upon the Kentucky shore, apparently in answer
to these which had been uttered some minutes before by the captors of
Pat Mulroony. Peering through the trees, Waring added:

"There is a party of the thieves, coming off from the mainland in a
canoe. Get ready for hot work."

"Drat the things--can't we hide?" anxiously asked Hezekiah, looking
around him for any place that might offer.

"No; we must stand our ground; they have just started."

The canoe which was approaching was a large Indian one, in which were
seated three or four Shawanoes, all busily plying their paddles. They
headed straight for the upper end of the island, while the whites
stood each behind a tree, with cocked rifles, waiting until they were
compelled to fire.

Just as the canoe seemed about to touch, it sheered off, and ran
alongside of the flat-boat, where it lay against and parallel to it.
The heads of four savages immediately appeared above, as though they
were staggering under the weight of some heavy load. The next second,
Pat Mulroony, bound hand and foot, was handed over, and deposited in
the bottom of the canoe. His friends could hear him muttering dire
threats of vengeance, and daring his captors to loose him for a moment,
all of which it is needless to say attracted no notice whatever.

The captive disposed of, the Shawanoes followed, sinking the canoe to
its very gunwales. They paddled away toward the shore, and in a few
moments disappeared from view.

"Now, at least," said Waring, "the island and boat are free of the
imps, and we can have a breathing spell. Let us go upon the old hulk."

"What in the world do you want to do that for?"

"It is the safest place."

"If you've no objection, I should like to inquire how it can be the
safest place?"

"In the first place there is no one upon it, and in the second place,
as its sides are bullet-proof, we can use it as a fort, and keep off
any number of foes until dark, when we can get off ourselves."

"Let's go upon it, then, before they come back."

It was with some misgiving, slight enough, but still sufficient to
occasion uneasiness, that Waring once more approached the flat-boat.
When he reached the deck, he experienced an irresistible desire to
explore every portion of it, not that he suspected the presence of any
Indian, but that he could not feel positively assured until he had
done so. The result was that it was found to be entirely empty of any
persons except themselves. The cabin was half full of water, and it
was here that the Shawanoes must have concealed themselves while their
victim was approaching.




CHAPTER X.

COMPANIONS IN CAPTIVITY.


With his usual recklessness, Pat Mulroony, after arriving upon the hulk
of the flat-boat, descended into the cabin. He had just reached the
base, when he espied several Indians, and he immediately retreated to
the deck again.

Knowing that he was "in for it," he turned, and catching the foremost
Indian in his arms, threw him bodily into the water. The second he
served in the same manner, when he found the redskins were coming
up rather too fast for convenience. However, he gave the third a
tremendous blow in the face, and commenced laying about him in regular
Donnybrook style, when his foot slipped, and ere he could rise he was
seized and bound.

"Trate me gintlemanly," said he, "for yese can't deny but what I sarved
yese in the same manner."

The Indians could but respect the bravery he had shown, and they
offered him no violence. He was then passed over the side into the
canoe, and transported to the shore. Shortly after, his captors joined
the main body, where he met Virginia Lander, in the same helpless
situation as himself.

The Shawanoes were gathered in an irregular circle around the fire,
some smoking, others chatting, and others apparently asleep.

The savages had thrown a brilliant crimson shawl over her shoulders,
and her hair being as jetty black as theirs, and her head bowed, he
had taken her for one of their number when he first looked upon them.
Virginia sat with her head bowed, for her heart was stricken with
grief. The picture of her cherished father springing up with his wild
look, and running through the trees, pursued by his merciless enemies,
was ever before her. She could not drive it from her, and shudder after
shudder ran through her frame, and the tears trickled thick and fast
between her fingers.

How changed since yesterday! Suffering, misfortune, and death, had
come upon them--had swept her only relative upon earth from her, and
separated her from him who was dearer than any relative could be! All
alone--alone!

No, she was not all alone! There was One who was ever nigh her--who
never lost sight of his stricken ones, and who only could comfort her
in this dark hour which had come upon her. To Him she turned, as the
human heart will turn, when bleeding and lacerated, and refusing to be
comforted by any sympathy the world can give.

But it was hard to be separated from all kindred. The thought was
loathsome and full of abhorrence that she, an unprotected woman, was
alone among a party of blood-thirsty savages. She hardly dare look upon
them, and yet looking through her tears she ventured to steal a glance
at them. How her heart leaped, as her gaze rested upon the broad,
jovial face of Pat Mulroony, his pitying blue eyes fixed upon herself.
Removing her hands, she looked up, and with a mournful smile returned
his nod of recognition. Comprehending the question her very looks
formed, the quick-witted Irishman replied:

"Yes, I'm the only one beside yerself that the haythen have, and they
wouldn't have got me if I hadn't struck at 'em too hard, and missed
'em. Ye jist keep quiet, my jewel, and ye'll hear of Pat Mulroony agin."

A sort of consultation was now held among the Shawanoes, relating not
to the prisoners, but to those who were not, the debate being as to
what means should be employed to capture them also. After a protracted
discussion it was decided that the whole party, with the exception of
enough to guard the prisoners, should cross over to the island and
boldly attack them.

This decided upon, the preparations were instantly completed, and
the warriors moved down to the bank, leaving Virginia and Pat to the
guardianship of two of their number. At the very moment of reaching the
river they descried the two whites as they climbed upon the flat-boat.

This caused a halt and a further debate. Large as was the Indian party,
a majority were opposed to assaulting the whites in their stronghold.
They had already learned enough of their mettle to understand that this
would be a most dangerous undertaking upon their part, and many more
were convinced that there was no hope at all of success, even with the
loss of two-thirds of their number.

It was actually decided to give up the hope of securing the two
remaining whites by this means. The sagacious Indians suspecting the
relation which existed between one of them and one of the captives
already in their possession, believed a much better opportunity would
be offered. Love will play the _wild_ with any man, and lead him to
attempt deeds which in his cooler moments he would pronounce madness.
So they were content to bide their time.




CHAPTER XI.


As the Shawanoes had invariably come from and returned to the Kentucky
side of the river, Waring concluded that the entire war party was upon
that shore, and it was therefore determined in leaving the island that
they should cross over to the same bank.

"It will bother us somewhat to manage our rifles," said he, "and as
we may need them the instant we touch land, we must keep them and our
ammunition out of the water."

"Rip off a piece of this old hulk, and float them over on that."

"A good idea."

The suggestion of Hezekiah was adopted at once. A portion of the cabin
was loosened and placed in the water, and upon it was laid their two
rifles and powder horns. The raft thus formed was so buoyant as to
afford them material assistance in swimming.

The night was of inky darkness; the most favorable that the two
adventurers could have wished. Yet, fearing that the savages might
suspect some such stratagem as this, they allowed themselves to drift
downward with the raft until they had passed the lowermost portion of
the island, when they shoved out into deep water, and commenced working
their way cautiously over toward the Dark and Bloody Ground.

"Be careful and keep your limbs under water," admonished Waring; "a
single splash may betray us."

"Yes, I understand," whispered Hezekiah, kicking around like a frantic
frog. "It appears to me that we're going down stream faster than across
it."

Such was the case, as Waring found that his efforts alone tended
to carry them across, Hezekiah's being as much in one direction as
another, amounted to nothing.

"Drat it," muttered the latter, "it's something like that canoe I got
into the other night. Never mind, we'll come out somewhere."

A few minutes later the two touched bottom, and pushing their craft
carefully before them, came out in the woods, where the blackness was
of Egyptian intensity. Hezekiah bumped his head several limes before
he dare rise to a perfectly upright position, and then he could only
discern the shadowy form of his companion beside him.

"Whatever happens, or whatever you see," whispered Waring, "don't speak
or start."

"I know better than to do that--drat that limb! it has nearly sawed my
neck off!"

Knowing that the current must have carried them a considerable distance
down the river, Waring used the bank as his guide, and ascended a
considerable distance before he began to look about him for the
savages. After having progressed somewhat over a quarter of a mile, he
caught the glimmer of a light through the trees, and touched Hezekiah
upon the arm, as a caution for him to be on his guard.

Making their way carefully through the tangled undergrowth, through
hollows and over fallen trees, across brooks and miry patches of earth,
they at length stood within a hundred yards of the Shawanoe camp-fire.

Waring's heart sank within him, for he understood at once that the
Shawanoe war party had divided, and that neither of the captives was
before him. When had the separation taken place? What direction had the
other taken? How could its trail be gained?

These were questions which instantly presented themselves to the young
adventurer's mind, and which for a long time he was unable to answer.
Amid the profound darkness which held reign, it was very obvious
that nothing could be done. Even the full, bright moon was unable to
penetrate with its light the solemn labyrinths of the Dark and Bloody
Ground. Nothing could be done until morning.

As neither Waring nor Hezekiah had enjoyed any sleep for many hours
they both felt fatigued, despite the exciting situation in which they
were placed. Withdrawing a considerable distance further into the
forest, they both lay down beside an uprooted tree, and were almost
immediately locked in slumber.

The sleep of Waring was deep and dreamless. It was not until the sun
had been up several hours that he opened his eyes. As soon as he
recovered from his temporary bewilderment he arose, chagrined that he
had lost so much valuable time. To his surprise, upon looking around,
nothing was seen of Hezekiah Smith. Thinking, however, he could not be
far away, Waring seated himself upon the tree and waited for his return.

An hour passed away, and still no sign of his missing companion. The
young man had whistled, and gave utterance to all the signals at his
command, but had elicited no response. He was now alarmed, and greatly
vexed; alarmed at the singular disappearance of his friend, and vexed
that now, when every minute was of the utmost value to him, he was thus
compelled to remain, and accomplish nothing. At length his patience
became insupportable.

"There is no use of remaining behind," he muttered. "The Shawanoes have
gone, and every minute places them further from me. I will follow them
alone, relying upon my own arm and the kindness of Heaven for success."

Throwing his rifle over his shoulder, he moved resolutely off, resolved
never to turn his back upon his enemies until he had learned something
of the fair captive they held. It was a desperate proceeding, indeed,
for a single man thus to pit himself against a whole party of redskins,
but our hero felt no hesitation in doing it.

It was now, too, that Waring began to experience the pangs of hunger.
He had fasted a long time, and was so famished that he determined to
secure some food at all hazards. At the period of which we write,
game was very abundant in this portion of the West, and the decision
had scarcely entered his mind when several wild turkeys, their wings
outspread and their feet scarcely touching the earth, sped along within
a stone's throw of him. As quick as thought the foremost was shot and
in his hands.

The instant that Waring had secured his game, he regretted having
discharged his piece, for he felt certain he had exposed himself to
danger. Some of the Indians must certainly be within hearing, and would
be attracted thither by a suspicion of the true state of the case.

To guard against capture Waring made all haste through the woods in
the direction of the camp-fire which had been deserted by the savages,
in the belief that this would be the last place where his enemies
would seek for him. Upon reaching it he was gratified to find a large
quantity of live coals, and, without hesitation, he plucked and dressed
the turkey, and proceeded to cook it.

The bird afforded him a most needed and nourishing meal, besides
furnishing enough for future use; and now that his immediate wants
were attended to, Waring set to work in earnest upon the all important
object that had brought him thither.

In the first place, it was necessary to discover the trails of the two
war parties, and in trying this he failed completely. Although gifted
with more than ordinary intelligence, shrewdness, and cunning, he had
not yet learned enough of the woods to follow the faint footsteps of
the wild Indians through its labyrinths, when the traces left were so
faint that the human eye, unless trained by an experience of years,
could not detect the least signs of the passage of any one.

Had the Shawanoes proceeded with their usual caution, it would have
been absolutely impossible for Waring to have followed them a hundred
yards through the wilderness. But, fully conscious that no enemy that
need cause them the least uneasiness, was in their vicinity, they
straggled forward as carelessly as a party of schoolboys. This only was
the reason why our hero was enabled to follow them.

Waring, under the belief that they had penetrated further into
Kentucky, for a long time examined the ground only upon that side of
the fire. His efforts meeting with no success, he resorted to the
opposite side, where the trail was discovered at once.

It being impossible to find any further signs of the passage of the
Shawanoes in any other direction, he concluded that both parties must
have gone this way, which, somewhat to his surprise, led toward the
river. Keeping along on the trail, he found, as he had feared, that
they had embarked in their canoes, and gone either up, down, or across
the stream.

"And how am I to tell which way?" he muttered. "I must run the risk of
getting the wrong choice out of these three." Waring, under ordinary
circumstances, would have been discouraged at the formidable obstacles
which now rose before him; but one of his temperament could never
rest while the object of his choice was a captive in the hands of the
savages, and he, therefore, did not once think of turning back.

"They cannot have gone _up_ the river," he reflected, "because they
have come from that direction. And yet what reason is that why they
should not have done so? Yet it strikes me that they have not taken
that course. They could have gone much more rapidly overland. If their
destination is in Kentucky, it surely is not on the banks of the Ohio;
it must be a good distance back from the river, so that they would
only have lengthened their journey by taking to the water. From all
that I have ever heard or read of the Shawanoes Indians--to whom this
war party surely belongs--I have been led to suppose that although
they range at will on both sides of the river, still their towns and
villages, and their home, in fact, is in southern Ohio. And what more
natural, now that they have secured their prisoner, than that they
should return to their home as rapidly as possible? Such, it seems
reasonable to believe, is the true state of the case, and I must cross
the river again."

Waring was on the point of venturing into the river, when his attention
was arrested by a loud splash in the direction of the flat-boat, and to
his surprise he descried several Indians upon it. Finding that he was
not observed, he drew back and watched their actions.

A glance convinced him that they belonged to the same war party of
Shawanoes, and were searching the craft for plunder. They had thrown
over a sort of bench, which was fastened, bottom upward, to the stern
of a canoe. They were some half dozen savages, who, a moment later,
shoved off and paddled down stream.

Their light craft shot rapidly forward, inclining neither to one shore
nor the other. From this, Waring's belief that the main body had
crossed the river was changed into the conviction that they had all
gone down the stream in their canoes; and that all that remained for
him to do was to keep these redskins in sight.

This was a difficult task, indeed. Under the skilful guidance of the
sinewy Indian, their canoe skimmed like a swallow over the water, and
it required the most strenuous efforts of Waring to keep it in sight.
Fortunately, indeed, the wood, a few yards from the shore, was open,
and his footsteps were not much impeded.

Hurrying thus forward, now and then darting to the river bank, he kept
up the pursuit for five or six miles, the canoe all the time gaining
upon him, until finally he lost sight of it behind a bend in the river.

Waring was panting and perspiring, and in no pleasant mood, that, after
all his efforts, he was compelled to fall behind, and he relaxed into a
sullen walk.

"It seems as though everything is conspiring against me," he muttered.
"I have done everything in my power, and here I am at last, left
entirely alone, without knowing whither a single one of my friends has
gone. It matters little what becomes of me. A curse upon the infernal
Indians that have persecuted me thus!"

He walked moodily forward for an hour or so, by which time he had
passed the bend in the river, around which the canoe had disappeared.
The river at this point took a due southwest direction, running so
nearly straight that a view of several miles was afforded. Nothing of
the canoe, however, had been seen. It had gone, Waring knew not where.

Wearied and dispirited, he threw himself upon the ground, and
endeavored to sleep. But he was too excited and nervous to rest; and
devouring what he could of the remaining portion of the turkey, he
threw the rest from him, and leaned his head on his hand to reflect
upon the best course for him to pursue.

He had lost all traces of the Indians and their captives. How he
should ever meet Virginia again it was impossible for him to imagine.
In the impenetrable depths of the great wilderness which surrounded
him, where the merciless red men wandered for miles, how could he, a
single, unaided white man, follow them? How----?

The explosion of a rifle broke the stillness of the woods, and
springing to his feet, Waring hurried madly forward, scarcely conscious
of what he was doing. After running a short distance he paused, and
parting the bushes, gazed upon a scene that thrilled his very being
with the wildest of thoughts.




CHAPTER XII.

AN EXPLOIT OF HEZEKIAH SMITH'S.


Hezekiah Smith awoke two full hours before Waring. Looking toward him,
and noticing that he was still slumbering, he concluded not to disturb
him, as he well knew how exhausted his frame must be. Feeling perfectly
wakeful himself, he arose to his feet and looked around him. The first
sensation experienced by the New Englander was that of hunger--a
craving for food immediately. The sun had just risen, and although he
was well aware of the abundance of game in the wood, he dare not fire
his gun on account of the proximity of his enemies.

"I guess I'll take a tramp down the river," he concluded, "and when I
get out of their hearing I'll knock something over, and eat enough to
last me a week."

He looked down upon the tranquil face of Waring.

"He appears to sleep very sound, and I guess it's hardly worth while to
disturb him. He'll be there when I come back, and all the better for
the extra rest he has received."

With this philosophical conclusion, Hezekiah wandered off in the woods.
It was his intention to take a southerly direction, penetrating further
into Kentucky, and such was his course at first. But, unconsciously to
himself, he deviated to the right, parallel with the Ohio.

With no sensation, but that of hunger, with the resolve to attend
to that immediately, and at all hazards, Hezekiah hurried forward
without once noticing the course he was pursuing, or reflecting that
it was more than probable he would be entirely lost in the trackless
wilderness.

While still hurrying forward, his excited ear detected a faint gobble
in the woods, as if a lost turkey were calling its companions; and
proceeding stealthily onward, he suddenly came upon a gobbler, that was
wandering about disconsolately, as if indeed lost. Before it could get
out of his reach, Hezekiah discharged his piece, but only wounded it.

It started off on a rapid run, and, fearful that it would escape him
if he paused to load his rifle, he dashed after it at the top of his
speed, and now commenced a most interesting race.

All things considered, perhaps, in the condition of the gobbler,
Hezekiah could outrun it, that is, where both were given the same
chance; but the bird had a way of slipping through the undergrowth,
jumping under the bushes, and trotting over fallen trees, as though
they were not there, that gave him an immense advantage over his
pursuer.

The latter tore headlong through the bushes, sometimes a rod or two
in the rear, sometimes almost upon it, his hope constantly kept up to
a most exciting point, by the hairbreadth escapes it made from him.
More than once, he made a frenzied leap forward, and, as he fell on
his face, caught perhaps the tail feather of the bird, while the bird
itself glided through his grasp, leaving a most vivid impression of
its tapering form upon his hands, which had slipped over it so neatly.
Then, again, he would strike at it with his rifle, and perhaps pin
another feather to the ground.

"Drat it," exclaimed Hezekiah, after one of those fruitless attempts.
"It's enough to make me swear. I'll chase him as long as I can stand,
but what I shall get him."

It is a fact, to which all hunters will testify, that, in the exciting
pursuit of their game, they can travel mile after mile, with hardly
any sensible fatigue. It is not until they come to retrace their
steps, that they realize how great a distance they have passed over.
The attendant, perhaps, whose mind does not participate in the same
excitement, is exhausted even in following the hunter.

Thus it happened that Hezekiah Smith, who would not have believed he
had gone more than half a mile, chased the gobbler for fully ten times
that distance, at the end of which it did not seem fatigued in the
least, the wild turkey, as our readers are aware, being a noted runner.
With no thought of giving it up, Hezekiah still pursued it at the top
of his speed, occasionally making a leap forward at it, and the bird as
often eluding him, as cleverly as ever.

Suddenly he caught the glimmer of something through the trees, and
to his joy, saw that they were approaching the banks of a river. He
was now sure of the bird; he had fairly earned it; and his tormenting
hunger was about to be satisfied.

Gracefully, and majestically, as the bird reached the edge of the
river, it spread out its wings, and, sailing through the air, landed
upon the Ohio side, and disappeared in the woods.

"That is unpleasant. If my rifle had only been loaded, I would have
finished him."

In chasing the gobbler, with all his turnings and doublings, Hezekiah
had become "turned around," himself, so that it seemed to him the
Ohio River was running in the wrong direction, and that he was on the
other side of it. Concluding however, that such a phenomena would be
a miracle, he kept on down the river, having decided that it would be
useless to retrace his steps, in the hope of finding Waring.

He was walking slowly forward, panting and fatigued, when it struck
him that there was a peculiar smell in the air. It seemed as though
something were burning, and, knowing that he was in the midst of an
Indian country, he guarded his steps, and kept a more watchful eye
upon his surroundings.

It turned out as he had expected. He was close upon an Indian
encampment. He caught a glimpse of the gaudy, fantastic costumes of
the savages through the trees, and approaching as nigh as he could, he
concealed himself, as well as his position would admit.

It was with singular emotions, that Hezekiah recognized this party as
the identical Shawanoes who had attacked his party, and who held Pat
Mulroony and Virginia Lander as captives. The fact that they must have
been here some time, proved that they had broken their last night's
encampment at an early hour, and departed even before he himself had
awakened.

The party seemed to have lost several of their number--some four or
five--but there was no mistaking the others. Hezekiah recognized them
at once. What surprised him still more, was that none of the captives
were visible. What had become of them? Had they been sent in advance,
in chance of a smaller party? What possible cause could the Shawanoes
possess for taking such a step?

These questions ran rapidly through the mind of the New Englander, but
there was another which constantly presented itself, and that was the
one in regard to obtaining food, for satisfying his hunger, which was
constantly growing greater. There seemed but one course left for him,
and that was to take to the woods again. He was on the point of doing
so, when his heart leaped at what appeared a most fortunate occurrence
to him.

Several times he thought he had detected the smell of burning meat, and
the cause of it was now explained. Some twenty rods to the right of the
encampment of the savages, was a smaller fire, at which a single squaw
was cooking. At the moment that Hezekiah caught sight of it, this squaw
had left it, and the meat was entirely unguarded.

The temptation was too great; Hezekiah was only sensible of his
intolerable hunger. Running back into the woods a few rods, he came
in the rear of the fire, and totally unmindful of his imminent danger,
snatched the meat, and seating himself upon the ground, commenced
devouring it like a wolf.

The first mouthful was dropped suddenly upon the lawn, being so hot
that his tongue was blistered. But he soon became used to it, and in a
few moments had swallowed the entire piece of meat, and was wiping his
fingers upon his hair.

"Just as much as I could possibly get down me," he muttered. "I
couldn't possibly swallow another mouthful, and--"

A shrill whoop suddenly broke the stillness of the woods, and turning
his alarmed gaze behind him, he saw the squaw, standing within a dozen
feet of him. She was fairly blue with fury, and was screaming as if to
split her lungs.

"Heavens!" exclaimed Hezekiah, who now saw how foolhardy he had been,
"the old woman is riled considerably, and if I ain't mistaken them
Indians are likewise."

The outcries of the infuriated squaw had attracted the instant
attention of the Shawanoes, who had caught a sight of the white man as
he was rising to his feet, and three of their fleetest runners started
in pursuit.

Hezekiah Smith's frame was gaunt and attenuated, and he was sinewy and
muscular. He was not only very fleet, but possessed bottom, and was
capable of holding his own against any one, and he now darted into the
woods at a rate that excited the admiration of his pursuers. The three
separated, so as to make sure of the fugitive, and called all their
energies into play to overtake him.

The forest for a considerable distance was open, and afforded a good
field for the runners. The distance between Hezekiah and the Shawanoe
remained about the same for five or ten minutes, when one of the latter
discharged his rifle, and the white sprang high in the air with a loud
yell.

But he hadn't been struck. It was only fright. The report of the gun
gave an impetus to his flight, and soon carried him far ahead of
the redskins. Dodging hither and thither, flitting in and out among
the trees, it was impossible for the latter to gain anything like an
accurate aim, and they did not repeat the attempt to bring him down.

All was now going well for the fugitive, and he would have escaped had
he understood the woods. But his ignorance was fatal. Directly ahead of
him was a deep gorge, or ravine, toward which the Shawanoes had managed
to turn his face without much difficulty, and unconsciously to himself
he was running directly into a trap.

It was not until he was on the very brink that Hezekiah realized his
peril. His hair fairly rose on his head, then, as he glanced about him.
To the right and left, stretched the deed yawning gorge, too broad
to be leaped over, and offering no means of access except a sheer
precipice, down which it would have been certain death for him to have
gone. Escape was cut off! There was no help for him! He was fairly at
bay!

"It's no use of talking," he exclaimed, wheeling round, and placing his
back toward the gorge. "I'm cornered this time, and there's going to be
a row!"

So saying, he clubbed his rifle, and awaited the onset of the Shawanoes!




CHAPTER XIII.

A STRUGGLE OF LIFE AND DEATH.


The Shawanoes, as we have before stated, had separated during the
pursuit, and were now some distance apart. The center one being
directly in the rear, was the closest to the fugitive, and came up to
him considerably in advance of the others. This was fortunate, in one
sense, for Hezekiah Smith, as he then had but a single opponent with
which to contend.

The lithe, agile Indian was all eagerness to secure the white as his
captive and forgetful of the axiom, "a stag at bay is a dangerous foe,"
he halted not in the least, but came at full speed toward him. When
within a rod or so, he whirled his tomahawk in a circle over his head,
and hurled it with tremendous force full at the breast of his dauntless
adversary. The latter, from the motion of his arm, comprehended what
was coming, and dodging his head with lightning quickness, the weapon
flashed over him, and went spinning end over end down the steep ravine.

Both of the combatants had dropped their rifles and drawn their knives.
With a demoniac yell of triumph the painted Indian leaped high in air,
and swinging his knife, sprang upon his foe. In a twinkling both were
disarmed in a singular manner.

It so happened that the two struck at each other at precisely the same
moment, the knives encountered with such force that the Shawanoe's
shot out of his hand and followed the tomahawk down the ravine, while
Hezekiah's was turned so suddenly that it fell to the ground several
yards distant. Both were now entirely unarmed, and glaring at each
other for a second, like baffled tigers, they closed in the struggle of
life and death.

In point of strength the two were very nearly equally matched. In
activity the redskin had decidedly the advantage, but the white man
being an expert wrestler, and the savage a perfect novice, the former
was in a fair way to end the contest in his own favor. The instant he
grappled with his dusky adversary, he felt that he was at his power.

By a trick, or rather art, well known to wrestlers, Hezekiah twisted
the savage off his feet, and threw him with stunning violence upon the
ground, falling heavily upon him. Allowing him to rise, he repeated the
performance several times, the redskin becoming more and more exhausted
each moment, until it was manifest to himself that he had not the
shadow of a chance in such warfare as this.

The cunning Shawanoe had noticed where the knife of his adversary fell,
and each time that he went down he managed to work himself nearer to
it. Hezekiah did not comprehend what he was at, until the savage
clutched it with the quickness of thought, and rising again to his
feet, confronted him with the weapon.

Not the least daunted, for he was now terribly excited--he closed again
with the Indian, receiving an ugly cut in his arm as he did so. At this
moment he heard the yells of the other two Shawanoes, and driven to
fury by his imminent peril, he concentrated all his strength in the one
mighty effort, and grasping his adversary around the waist, he lifted
him clear off his feet, and flung him like an infant over the precipice.

Down, like a meteor, through the dizzy air, shot the Shawanoe, with his
arms clutching wildly at space, spinning from crag to crag, with his
awful cry coming up like the wail of some spirit!

The struggle occupied scarcely a fifth of the time taken in describing
it. Impelled by the most implacable hate on each side, the blows were
quick and fierce, and the termination speedy and tragic. A shock when
the two encountered, a few blows and strivings, another struggle, more
determined than the others, and it was ended.

Hezekiah had secured his knife before throwing the savage into the
ravine, and with this single weapon he confronted his two foes. They
were both about the same distance from him, and he was in doubt whether
to expect their united onset at the same moment, or whether they were
going to attack him singly. The latter proved to be the case. One of
the Indians seemed to be a sort of chief, or, at least, higher in
authority than the other; for waving his hand for him to keep his
distance, he advanced upon the white man, with the determination of
disposing of him without assistance from any one else.

This savage was a much more formidable foe than the other, and Hezekiah
being considerably exhausted from his recent efforts, he was in a poor
condition to receive him. Nevertheless, there was no help for him,
and he showed an undaunted front. The Shawanoe halted a moment, as if
to decide upon the best method of attack, and then, with a yell as
demoniac as the other, sprang forward.

He had passed over half the space intervening between him and his
adversary, when he uttered another yell--a short, frenzied, agonized
one, and throwing his arms aloft, fell dead!

Hezekiah had caught the report of a rifle, and saw a red spot suddenly
appear on the forehead of the Shawanoe, so that he understood at once
that he had been shot. But who had come up and fired his piece so
opportunely? What friend had he in the Dark and Bloody Ground? Why did
his friend remain concealed?

The remaining redskin had halted upon seeing his companion fall by
the mysterious shot, but he evinced no disposition to flee. On the
contrary, he continued to approach, fully resolved that the foe should
not escape him.

"By thunder! you're the only one left, and I reckon as how I can
dispose of you," exclaimed Hezekiah, preparing to receive him. "Though
if there should happen to be another rifle around, it would be mighty
welcome just now."

The Shawanoe had learned caution from what he had witnessed, and
although as brave as a mortal could possibly be, he deemed it best to
use prudence in the case. His mode of attack was peculiar. He commenced
slowly circling around his adversary, his black, snake-like eye fixed
upon him while the latter kept turning, as if on a pivot, so as to
confront him.

In going in this circular manner, the Indian came to the very brink
of the precipice, so that his form stood out in relief upon it. More
than once when he was in this position, Hezekiah was upon the point of
springing forward and shoving him over. His heart throbbed painfully,
as he balanced himself for the leap, lest the risk was too great
for him to attempt it. He more than half suspected the Indian was
manœuvering for that purpose, and would succeed in throwing him over
instead.

All at once, with the inevitable whoop, the redskin bounded forward,
and struck at Hezekiah with his drawn knife. Singular as it may seem,
the two weapons encountered in precisely the same manner as did those
of the first two combatants, and both were as suddenly deprived of all
arms, except such as nature gave them.

As the two closed in with each other, it seemed to Hezekiah that this
Indian was much more powerful and difficult to manage than the other,
or possibly his own strength was failing. Remembering, however, that
he was the only foe which it was necessary to overcome, and that a
prolonged contest might bring some of his companions to the scene, he
summoned all his strength to this last conflict.

He succeeded in throwing the Shawanoe, and falling heavily upon him,
but it required such an expenditure of strength that he doubted
whether this means of exhausting him would not first "use up" himself.
Furthermore, he found it impossible to hold his foe. Whether his body
was greased or not, he could not tell, but the redskin kept up such a
twisting and squirming that he glided from his grasp as easily as an
eel could have escaped him.

Concluding that it was vain to hope for any success by means of
wrestling, Hezekiah now bent his efforts toward drawing him to the edge
of the cliff with the determination of throwing him over. The savage
comprehended his intention, and probably believing he could do the same
thing with the white man, favored his efforts, and in a few seconds
both were upon the very brink of the precipice.

And now commenced the awful struggle. With sinews strained to their
utmost tension, with limbs braced and pressed against each other, their
chests heaving, with teeth set, and their eyes gleaming with the most
implacable hate, the combatants strove together!

In reaching the edge of the ravine, the Shawanoe was on the
inside--that is, he was the nearest to it--and Hezekiah succeeded in
keeping him there. Gradually working him nigher and nigher to the dread
chasm, until he felt his strength going, the New Englander gathered his
knee to his breast, and summoning all his power, with one mighty effort
he kicked the savage from him and over the cliff!

But horror of horrors! in going over, the Shawanoe caught him with both
hands by the ankle, and Hezekiah felt himself following! He clutched
with the twigs and stones within his grasp, but they all yielded and
came with him, and he could not shake off the dreadful incubus that was
drawing him on to death. He screamed and shouted, and blistered his
hands in his efforts to stay himself, but it was all useless.

Further, further, further--the Shawanoe's weight seems to increase
each second--the white man's outspread hands slide over the earth and
rock!--he is going, going, going!--his head slips over! and now down
like a meteor, through the dizzying air, with wild, ecstatic thrills
shooting through his brain--a second's delirium--an awful, stunning
shock--and all was dark! The lifeless forms of Hezekiah Smith and the
Shawanoe Indian lay side by side at the bottom of the gorge!

The reader will recollect that Luther Waring, in wandering through the
woods, suddenly came upon an unexpected scene, and rushed forward in
a state of great excitement. The sight that met his gaze was Hezekiah
Smith and the second Indian struggling together. Without a moment's
reflection he discharged his piece, killing the savage as before
related. He was about to rush forward to the rescue of his friend, when
he caught sight of the third Indian; and believing that a party had
just arrived, and that he could afford him no assistance, and that he
was in imminent danger of his own capture, he turned and fled.

Running some distance, he was considerably surprised to find that he
was not pursued, and suspecting that, after all, he might have been
mistaken, he cautiously retraced his steps. He arrived at the spot of
the tragic scene we have just described, and looking over the brink,
descried the two inanimate forms lying below.

With a painfully throbbing heart he hurried through the forest, and by
a circuitous route entered the gorge. In a short time he came upon the
two Indians and his friend. All three were bruised and bleeding, and
as Waring looked above him at the height of the precipice, he took a
melancholy consolation in the thought that the death of Hezekiah Smith
had been speedy and almost painless.

"Would that I could give him a decent burial," he murmured; "but I
cannot. He shall not remain here, however, to rot beside those fiendish
savages. I will do what I can for him."

Taking him in his arms he carried him some distance to where there was
a mass of debris and stones at the side of the ravine. Here depositing
him carefully upon the ground, he first covered him over with brush,
and then stones, until his body was entirely hidden from sight. The
principal object in doing this was to secure his remains against
outrage from the savages.

"Farewell," said Waring, as he turned away. "I have known you but a
short time, and have learned but little of you, but I have learned
enough to know that you were a FRIEND; and now, a last adieu to you, my
FRIEND!"

With a saddened, mournful heart he turned away and walked slowly
through the ravine.




CHAPTER XIV.

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.


Waring's meditations, as he walked through the gorge, were gloomy
and melancholy enough. Now, indeed, he felt he was alone. Two of his
companions had been slain, and the other two captured; and what could
he, single and unaided, accomplish against these inhuman denizens of
the wilderness? Absolutely nothing.

And yet he could not persuade himself to give up the hope of a final
rescue of Virginia Lander. That hope gone, life looked dark and
gloomy to him. Rather than never see her again, he felt that he could
willingly share captivity and death with her.

The plan which Waring at length decided upon, was to make his way to
the settlement, and seek the aid of the settlers. He could be no great
distance from it; and, as the Shawanoes seemed to linger in the forest,
there could be little difficulty in finding and following their trail.

With his head bent, and with feelings saddened and thoughtful, from the
frightful scenes he had just witnessed, Waring walked slowly forward
until he had emerged from the gorge, and was again threading the
shadowy woods. At length he entered a portion where the undergrowth
became more tangled and dense, and where from necessity he was
compelled to recall his mind from its reverie, and occupy it with his
immediate duties.

He had penetrated, perhaps, a third of a mile into this undergrowth,
when, becoming exhausted, he threw himself upon the ground for a few
minutes' rest. He had scarcely seated himself when he was fairly
startled out of his senses by hearing the hum of voices! Listening
carefully, he soon distinguished the words:

"Begorrah, it's meself that's thinking this is the most delightful
retrate of my life, barring that it was a retrate from necessity. What
do you think of it, my leddy?"

"Oh! I am so thankful to be free from those loathsome Indians that have
persecuted us so long!"

"If we only had that long-legged Hezekiah Smith, and the handsome young
felly that ye calls Waring, how much more pleasant the retrate would
seem! Eh, wouldn't it now?"

"I do indeed pray that they may rejoin us. Since my poor father has
fallen, I am lonely enough with him also gone. Who knows but that he,
too, is in their hands?"

"It's meself that understands yer feelings. I mind the time that I lost
Molly McMooney at the Tipperary fair, me heart was broken intirely till
I found her agin."

Could Waring believe his ears! Those surely were the voices of Pat
Mulroony and Virginia Lander, and, from their words they were alone.
Could it be they had escaped? Have the Shawanoes voluntarily freed
them? What could it all mean?

He arose and looked around him. Yes; but a few rods away he saw the
two seated by a small fire, as comfortably as if on some pleasure
excursion. The genial face of the Irishman was wreathed in smiles,
as he blinked through the smoke at the girl upon the opposite side.
The face of the latter was pale, and she wore a saddened, thoughtful
expression, for it was hard for her to smile at the witticisms of her
good-natured companion, when her terrible bereavement was so recent.

Hardly able to restrain his emotions, Waring approached the two. As he
did so, the back of Virginia was turned toward him, while the Irishman
faced him. The latter immediately caught sight of him, and signalling
him to stop, said to Virginia:

"Did you ever hear, my leddy, that Pat Mulroony was a magician?"

She looked up as if she did not comprehend his question.

"A magician? What do you mean?" returned Virginia.

"A man who on account of his superior vartues is gifted with more than
mortal powers. One who can do anything."

Thinking the words of the Irishman to be nothing more than some jest,
intended to divert her attention from her grief, Virginia made no reply.

"Whisht now! ye doesn't belave me, I see. S'pose I should call up that
young Waring that belongs to yees out of the ground, would you then
belave it?"

"I am in no mood for such trifling," said she, with a reproving look.
"I would prefer you not to disturb me."

"Whisht now, jist look."

Pat Mulroony's incantations to convince his fair companion of his
supernatural powers were as singular as they were characteristic.
Pitching forward, he came down upon his hands so as to invert himself,
where balancing himself for a moment, he kicked his feet in the air
several times with such vigor that one of his shoes flew off. This
accomplished, he came down again, replaced his shoe, and danced what
he termed the "Tipperary Reel," after which he suddenly became rigid,
and exclaimed:

"Look behind yees! Mr. Waring, appair!"

Virginia would not have obeyed him, had she not detected the laugh of
her lover as the Irishman spoke. Starting up and turning around, she
was the next instant clasped in his arms.

"Thank God! thank God!" exclaimed the young adventurer, fervently.
"Found at last! Oh! how rejoiced I am!"

Virginia could not speak; her joy was too great for words.

During this affecting scene, the Irishman pretended to be busily
occupied with the fire. He did not replenish it, but kept displacing
the embers, as if to make them burn better. The air being quite warm
and genial, it seemed strange that he should have kindled it; but the
cause was his excessive politeness and consideration for the fair
charge in his hands. Noticing that Waring's actions seemed somewhat
restrained, he said, encouragingly:

"Don't be scart, don't be scart. I isn't watching yees. It's point
of honor with Pat Mulroony niver to disturb a couple when engaged in
courting. Plase proceed."

"We have no disposition to do anything of the kind at present," replied
Waring. "I am surprised, Pat, that you should have escaped from the
Indians with Virginia here, when, a short time since, you were both
prisoners in their hands. Pray, how came it to happen?"

"It didn't happen at all jist. Pat Mulroony is the boy that is up
to them same tricks. He is the one that understands the blackguard
haythen--he is."

"I do not doubt that; but let me hear the account of this exploit of
yours."

"Begorrah! where is the long-legged chap, Hizikiah, that ye had with
yees?"

Waring, in a few words, related what is already known to the reader;
and then repeated his request to the Irishman for an account of his
escape from the Shawanoes.

"Wal, ye saas, the way that it happened was this. I s'pose you know
how I was took on that ould flat-boat?"

"Yes; your own foolishness was the cause of it. You need not relate
that. Give us what happened subsequently."

"Wal, ye saas, the haythen had us pretty fast, and it was mighty
onsartain the way things looked. Whisht! what is that?"

The near report of a rifle suddenly broke the stillness of the woods,
and the two speakers instantly sat down where they were better
protected by the undergrowth from observation. All interest was
immediately centred upon the one thought of safety.

"I am afraid that we are still in imminent peril," whispered Waring.
"Those Shawanoes, without doubt, are upon your trail."

"No, be the powers! they ain't."

"Don't be too sure, my friend. Those lynx-eyed savages will follow the
lightest footsteps."

"Not if they're made in the water--eh, boy?"

Waring began to comprehend matters. Still he replied:

"You are some distance from the river, remember, and neither you nor
Virginia could get to this spot without leaving a trail which these
Indians could follow without the least difficulty."

"S'powse they didn't know where to look for the same."

"That may all be," replied Waring, somewhat petulantly, "and yet what I
say is true. They are constantly ranging through the wood, and it is by
no means improbable that the traces of your passage is discovered. But
let us cease talking for the present."

The two listened for several moments, when hearing nothing further, the
Irishman cautiously arose, and commenced peering around him. Ere he had
half turned his head, he suddenly dropped to the ground again, with a
suppressed exclamation:

"He's right out there!" he whispered.

"Where? Who is there? What do you mean?"

"A bloody big Shawanoe, in his war paint, leaning against a tree out
there."

Imitating the motion of Pat Mulroony, Waring descried the savage in
question, standing as he had remarked. His back was turned toward the
whites, so that it was impossible to discern his features. He was
rather tall in stature, and appeared to have his arms folded, as if he
were exhausted.

"Wait till I show yees a specimen of Pat Mulroony's shooting," said the
Irishman, reaching out for the gun of Waring. But the latter refused it.

"It looks too much like murder."

"It's mighty little like murder their dailings with us luks, be the
same token."

"His death can do us no good," added Waring. "The report of our rifle
would attract the attention of the savages in the vicinity, and we
could not again escape their clutches."

"Ye talks now like a raisonable person," said the Irishman, somewhat
mollified at the explanation. "Hist a moment till I takes another look
at the gintleman."

Pat Mulroony's head commenced slowly rising, while, as his knees
gradually straightened, his arms were elbowed, and his hands kept
flapping like the flippers of a turtle--the instinctive admonition to
the lookers on to maintain a profound silence.

As his head rose to its full height, Waring saw, from the sudden light
that filled his eyes, that he had discovered something further. Without
removing his gaze, he motioned for his companion to look. The latter
did so, and descried the Shawanoe walking away in the woods. In a few
moments he had disappeared, and the three were left alone.

Waring turned to Virginia, and assured her that the danger had passed,
and that she need feel no further alarm. They would not move from their
present position until nightfall, when the chance of escape would
amount almost to a certainty. After this, the young adventurer again
demanded of the Irishman an account of his flight from the Shawanoes,
and he, nothing loth, proceeded to give it.

We choose to relate it in our own words.




CHAPTER XV.

AN EXPLOIT OF PAT MULROONY'S.


During the captivity of Pat Mulroony and Virginia Lander, the Shawanoes
kept them sedulously apart. Although Pat ventured to address her
several times, he was compelled to do it in tones loud enough for all
to hear him, though whether they understood him or not was altogether a
different matter.

The Indians remained at their camp, where Waring had seen them through
the night. As he had supposed, the party had divided, one division
taking both the captives with them. The cause of this was, the
Shawanoes were upon the war-path, and the whole company, numbering
over twenty warriors, had set out to attack a small village belonging
to a hostile tribe. Having inflicted about all the injury that it was
possible for them to inflict against the whites, they were now anxious
to proceed with their expedition. As their prisoners could be nothing
more than an incumbrance to them, eight of their number were detailed
to conduct them to one of the Shawanoe towns in southern Ohio.

The separation of the Shawanoes was made early in the evening, and
before it was fairly light, the two parties were proceeding in the
direction of their respective destinations. The main party proceeded
down the river on the Kentucky side, while the eight Indians embarked
in separate canoes with their captives.

Six Indians were in one of the boats, and two in the other, excluding
the captives. It was intended that the two parties should keep company
to prevent any chance of escape by the burly Irishman, although in his
present helpless condition, bound and secured as he was, a boy could
have taken care of him without assistance.

The grey morning mist was just lifting from the Ohio, as the two canoes
shot out from the Kentucky shore, and sped swiftly down the river. The
point at which they intended to land upon the other side, was several
miles further down, bringing them considerably nearer their town than
a direct passage across the stream would have done. The Irishman, who
understood a few words of the Shawanoe tongue, had gathered this much
from the conversation of the savages before starting.

The two Indians who used the paddles were seated in the stern of the
canoe, scarcely a foot apart, while Virginia was near the centre, and
Pat Mulroony in the bow, his back being turned down stream, and his
face toward his captors. In this position, the captives were constantly
under the gaze of the lynx-eyed Shawanoes, and could not converse, even
in whispers, without being seen. Nevertheless, the Irishman had no
hesitation in attempting it.

"Miss Virginny, how is it ye faals jist now?"

"Sadly enough," she replied. "Our only hope is in Providence."

"If I only had my hands loose," whispered Pat, "I would smash them two
copper skins there in the stern, and run into shore, in spite of the
haythen in the other vissel."

"Perhaps they would loosen your hands if you requested them to do so."

"Begorrah! but they won't though."

"You might try it, Pat; make believe your bonds hurt you, and I have no
doubt they will loosen them."

After a moment's thought, Pat determined to try the artifice which
his fair companion had recommended. Accordingly he began groaning and
twisting his face into all manner of contortions, in order to enlist
their sympathy for his suffering. It was little sympathy the savages
felt for him, but his moans and struggles were so persistent and
annoying that the foremost Indian, with one blow of his knife, freed
his arms, refusing, however, all his entreaties to do the same thing
for his feet.

"Ugh! keep still--kill with knife--don't," said he, threateningly.

Pat Mulroony had succeeded far better than he had dared to hope. He
felt considerably elated thereby, and, rising up in his seat, commenced
"joking" with his grim captors.

"Ye handles them paddles as if yees was used to 'em. Be the same token,
maybe ye is. How is it?"

But the stoical Shawanoes deigned not to notice him, and Pat continued:

"Begorrah, but yer mothers must be proud of sich boys as yees, that is
if ye has ary mothers. Do you mind that haythen there in the starn,
Virginny? Wal, now, ef I had to make a guess about him, I should say he
was a cross between an Irish chimney swaap and a monkey from the South
Saas. It must be swate for a gal to be hugged by yees."

The canoes were now rather close to the Kentucky shore, and constantly
approaching nigher, although Pat Mulroony, who had his eyes about him,
was at a loss to conjecture the cause of this movement. The other canoe
was considerably in advance--its inmates finding it difficult to time
their velocity to the tardy movements of their two companions.

Of course the remarks of the Irishman were not comprehended by either
of the Shawanoes, although they now and then caught a word. But it was
easy to see from his pleasant eye, his broad grin, and the rollicking
expression of his face, that he was in the best of spirits. Despite
the stern, gloomy exterior of the foremost savage, there was a spice
of waggery in his composition, and his black, snake-like eyes softened
somewhat in expression as he looked upon the jovial Irishman.

"Paddle 'um canoe!" suddenly remarked this Indian, handing his paddle
to him.

"Of course I will," replied Pat, eagerly taking the proffered paddle.

He dipped it deep into the water, and attempted to make a powerful
sweep with it; but it turned in his hand, cutting through the water
like a knife, and with such velocity as nearly to throw him overboard.
Both savages laughed at his awkward movements, while the Irishman
worked all the harder.

"Get in the bow of the boat," he whispered to Virginia, as he kept hard
at work. The girl arose and exchanged places with him, the savages
looking upon her movement as a voluntary one upon her part, to be safe
from the erratic blows of the toiling captive. By and by these became
so amusing, that the remaining Shawanoe ceased working in order to
watch him.

There were three noticeable facts which entirely escaped the
observation of the savages. The first was that the other canoe was
a considerable distance in advance of them--much further than they
would have been willing to allow, had their attention been called
to it. The second was that a few hundred yards down stream, a large
creek put in from the Kentucky shore; and the last, and certainly most
important one, was that in spite of the awkward, vimless efforts of
the Irishman, the canoe was approaching slowly but surely the mouth of
this creek. The latter fact might possibly have been merely accidental,
but a suspicious observer would not have believed thus. Virginia, too,
noticed an expression in the eyes of Pat Mulroony, that made her heart
beat faster.

Nearer and nearer approached the canoe to the eddying mouth of the
creek. The Indians, grinning and unsuspicious, did not notice it until
they were fairly within it. Then one of them reached forward to take
the oar.

"Ugh! turn back!"

The Shawanoe suddenly dropped back, having received a stunning blow
upon the head from the heaviest end of the oar. So violent was it,
that, striking the edge of the canoe, he rolled over as helplessly as a
log.

"Begorrah, but I axes yer pardon!" exclaimed Pat, to the struggling
savage. "But I handles the paddle so awkwardly, that--holy virgin! if
I haven't hit the other haythen a crack, too, and he's gone overboard!
What's got into me paws?"

The second savage had sprang up, as his companion went into the water,
but, as quick as lightning, he dropped back in his seat, catching
the sides of the canoe so firmly, that he did not go out of it. The
Irishman's blows being "sidewinders,"--that is, on the side of the
head, their natural result was to send the recipients overboard, and
the Shawanoe in question saved himself so narrowly, that Pat was
mistaken in supposing that he was following his comrade.

"That was another awkward piece of business. Let me tip ye another
iligant whack with me shillaleh, in the true style of Pat Mulroony,
from Tipperary."

Ere the second blow caught the savage, he gave vent to a screeching
yell, loud enough to wake the dead. But it did not save him from
whisking over the canoe like a frog, and going down out of sight.

The first Indian had by this time arisen, and was endeavoring to climb
into the canoe. His hideous face, painted and agleam with the most
deadly ferocity, had appeared over the gunwale, and the frail vessel
was in momentary danger of coming apart or sinking.

"Go round to the starn, if ye wants to come in!" exclaimed Pat,
striking him a tremendous blow in the face with his fist, that quickly
loosened his hold. Dipping the paddle into the water, the Irishman now
plied it with a skill fully equal to that of the Shawanoes themselves,
sending it with a wonderful velocity directly up the creek.

But the second canoe had seen that something was wrong before the yell
of their unfortunate comrade had reached their ears, and they were
now fairly flying over the water, toward the captives. The Irishman,
with a coolness, and presence of mind that was remarkable under the
circumstances, seated himself in the stern, and keeping a sharp eye
upon either bank, sent his canoe swiftly up the creek, approaching
closely to neither shore.

He had calculated to a second almost, the instant when the pursuing
Indians would arrive at the mouth of the creek, and consequently, how
long he might ascend it without danger of discovery. Virginia, who kept
her gaze fixed toward the river, announced that the two Indians had
swam to the mainland, and were evidently awaiting the approach of their
companions.

It was the intention of the Irishman, when he had ascended as far as he
durst, to sheer the canoe under the right bank, which, fortunately for
him, was protected by dense, overhanging undergrowth, and concealing
his vessel as well as circumstances would permit, to hurry into the
woods; but at the moment he dipped his paddle for the purpose of doing
so, he made a discovery which induced him to change his mind.

But a comparatively short distance from the Ohio, the creek divided
into four narrow branches, scarcely more than three or four yards in
width. Believing that the Indians would have no means of learning the
course he had followed, he shot the canoe into the lower one of these,
and the next minute had disappeared from view.

The fugitives ascended this branch of the creek for a furlong, when it
became so narrow and rapid, that the expenditure of labor was too great
to pay them for going further by this means of locomotion. Touching the
shore, Virginia sprang out, the Irishman followed, pulling the canoe
after him, and rearranging the bushes behind, so as to disarm their
pursuers of any suspicion, should they follow as high up the branch as
this point.

Determined that the canoe, if discovered, should afford them no good,
Pat Mulroony turned it over, and springing upon the bottom, inflicted
an irreparable injury, by staving it in.

"Come on, me leddy," said he to Virginia, "and when ye mates Mister
Waring, ye can tell him that Pat Mulroony hails from Tipperary, and can
taach him how to use the shillaleh."

An hour or so later, they reached a spot in the forest, which, pleasing
the fancy of the Irishman, he ordered a halt, for the purpose of
resting themselves. Declaring that Virginia must be cold, in spite
of her protestations to the contrary, he persisted in kindling a
fire, which had been burning but a short time, when Waring made his
appearance, as we have already related.

"And now, about how far off is that settlement?" asked Pat Mulroony, at
the conclusion of his narration.

"It cannot certainly be over eight or ten miles, at the most, as we
have been proceeding toward it all the while. We surely ought to be
able to reach it in a few hours."

"And what is there to hinder us from starting this minute? The owld man
is dead--hoping the leddy will excuse me--and that long-legged Hezekiah
has give up the ghost, and we're all that is left of the party which
was on the flat-boat a few days since. Bein' we're all here, I makes
the move that we starts at once, and have this blatherin' matter done
wid at once."

"There is only one thing that troubles me," said Waring. "I am afraid
that a number of those Shawanoes are in the vicinity, and if we venture
out, we run too great a risk of being seen."

"Begorrah, but how are we going to manage it after all?" queried the
Irishman, with great surprise.

"Wait until darkness, when we will run little chance of being seen by
those who are evidently watching for us."

"And how will we find the way to the village, if you've no objection
to tell, as that long-legged Hezekiah used to say, when he asked a
question of us."

"Easily enough by following the river. As the settlement is upon the
banks of the Ohio, we surely shall discover it if we do not stray off
into the woods."

"Begorrah, but that's the plan fur yees."

It was decided that the best course was for them to be on the move
at once, provided they could do so without incurring any additional
danger. The way to the river appeared to be the least frequented by
their foes and his plan was to approach this as near as convenient,
and follow closely its bank, keeping carefully under the cover of the
shrubbery and dense undergrowth.

The river could be reached in half an hour at least, provided no
unexpected obstacle should present itself, and, with Waring taking the
lead, the three set out.

The gallant guide could not restrain his misgivings, as he cautiously
stole through the woods, and, more than once, he debated with himself
whether it was not best to turn back, and wait for the cover of
darkness before attempting to reach the settlement.

They had gone scarcely half the distance, when a paint-bedaubed
Shawanoe was discerned coming toward them. Signalling to those behind
him, Waring sank down to the ground, and, clutching the handle of his
knife, breathlessly awaited his approach.

The head of the savage was bent, as though he was searching the ground
for something, and he was walking slowly, little dreaming that the very
ones he was so anxious to discover, were so nigh him. As fortunately,
indeed for himself, as for the whites, he changed his direction, and,
in a few moments, was out of sight.

The fugitives resumed their painfully laborious flight, and finally
reached the river bank, rejoiced enough that, as yet, their enemies
had learned nothing of their whereabouts. Here, underneath the almost
impervious undergrowth, they felt more at ease than they had since they
had been joined by Waring.

"What time might it be?" asked the Irishman.

"Near the middle of the afternoon--if not later."

"We'll stay here then until night. What say ye?"

The proposal of Pat Mulroony coincided with what Waring deemed best
for the party, and accordingly, it was determined to remain in their
present position until night closed around them.

The few hours that yet remained ere the protecting darkness could come,
were hours of the most painful suspense to the fugitives. Neither
of them hardly dared to stir from his hiding-place, and when they
conversed, it was only in the whispered words of fear.

It may well be a question, whether the Shawanoes were really searching
for the whites, for it seemed barely possible that if such were the
case, they could have helped finding the trail. It was more probable
that the Indians had moved to this portion of the wood, and, those of
their number who had been seen, were only wandering hither and thither,
without any ostensible object.

Be that as it may, the sun was still in the heavens, when the sharp
ears of Virginia Lander caught the sound of a footstep near them.
Touching Waring on the shoulder, she communicated the startling fact to
him, and he admonished the Irishman to maintain a strict silence.

It was soon evident that an Indian was close at hand, and that he was
between the fugitives and the river--a position in which it was barely
possible for him to pass them, without both parties discovering each
other. It was manifest too, from the carelessness with which he was
proceeding, that he had no suspicion of the proximity of the whites.

Soon, the form of the Shawanoe was discerned through the intricacies
of the bushes, and the fugitives, sinking down to the earth, kept
their eyes intently fixed upon him. From his manner, it was plain he
was searching for something, although whether that something was our
friends or some other object, they had no means of determining. He kept
his head down most of the time, occasionally looking up with a puzzled,
curious expression, at which time, so close was he, that the black
pupils of his basilisk eyes were plainly visible to the whites.

A remarkable fact in regard to this Indian was, that he had no rifle
with him, and nothing except a knife carried in his girdle. This,
however, did not make him a less dangerous personage to the fugitives,
should they be discovered. A single yell from him would bring a horde
of the redskins upon them before even they could extricate themselves
from the bushes which sheltered them.

What pen shall describe the emotions of the fugitives as they saw the
Shawanoe lower his eyes, and gaze straight through the bushes at
them--so straight, in fact, that Waring, who was nearest the river,
felt confident that he was looking directly at him.

Still, he uttered no sound, and gave no evidence that he had discovered
anything unusual in the undergrowth before him, although Waring could
not comprehend how such could be the case, for the gaze of the Indian
was fixed steady and penetrating.

Suddenly, the young man heard a movement behind him. He dared not turn
his head, but he suspected the meaning of it. It was soon explained by
the barrel of the Irishman's rifle appearing beside him. "Whist, till I
blow the haythen to the divil!" he whispered, as he cocked it. Waring
would not run the risk of reply; his words might be heard by other ears
than those for which they were intended. He placed the muzzle of the
gun against his side, and held it there firmly, so that it could not
be discharged without killing him. Pat Mulroony understood this mute
appeal, and relinquished his intention of shooting the savage.

All at once, the Shawanoe gave forth a guttural "Ugh!" and approached
the fugitives. Pat tugged at the rifle, but Waring would not loosen
his grasp. Just as he was about to do so, under the belief that the
critical moment had arrived, the Indian stopped and drew something from
the bushes. Relief unspeakable! it was a canoe, and the whites still
remained undiscovered.

Picking the frail vessel bodily from the ground, the Shawanoe carried
it to the water's edge, when, depositing it in the water, he seated
himself in it, and paddled away.

"That Indian had the narrowest escape of his life!" remarked Waring,
when he had gone.

"Ye spake the truth there," added Pat Mulroony, "and be the same token,
ye had the same narry 'scape yerself. I was on the p'int of aiming at
the haythen several times _through you_, and letting daylight through
ye both."

Virginia looked horror-struck at the words of the Irishman, noticing
which, he whispered to her, (so loud, however, that Waring also caught
the words:)

"It's only a joke, me leddy; I wouldn't hit the spalpeen, to save his
neck."

In the course of an hour or so, it began to grow dark, and the
fugitives impatiently awaited the time when they could move from their
hiding-place. With the exception of the Indian mentioned, they saw
nothing of their enemies, although they occasionally heard a whoop or
halloo in the woods from them.

The sky, which, up to noon had been clear and propitious, had become,
since then, darkened and overcast, and gave every sign of a coming
storm. Black, threatening clouds were sweeping tumultuously across the
heavens, and piling up in huge masses in the far-off horizon, where
they towered like the walls of some old unbattled castle, around whose
ramparts the serpentine lightning quivered like streams of blood. Faint
murmurings of thunder were constantly borne upon the air, and the
roaring of the wind in the forest sounded like the distant ocean.

The darkness came on earlier than usual, thus hastened by the
marshaling of the storm-king's forces, and the three fugitives stole
from the bushes, and commenced their journey toward the settlement.

The progress of the whites was necessarily slow, from the caution
exercised. For a considerable distance Waring led the way, when he
yielded to the earnest solicitation of Pat Mulroony, and allowed him to
take the advance, while he fell behind, and joined Virginia.

"Keep up courage," he whispered to her. "We will soon be where we shall
have fewer obstacles to oppose us."

"I am not tired," she replied. "Do not feel any anxiety upon my
account."

The darkness had increased rapidly, and the whites began to take less
care as they moved along. Quite a strong wind came up the river, and
now and then, the flashes of lightning were vivid enough to reveal the
shore and stream to them, so that they were guided in a great measure
by this means.

Waring was moving along, holding the hand of Virginia in his own, when
he suddenly encountered the Irishman, who had stopped walking. He was
about to demand the meaning of his acting thus, when he turned his
head, and whispered--

"Whist! I saan something then."

"In what form did it appear?"

"Look straight over me shoulder, and when the lightning shows itself
agin, tell me what ye saas."

Waring did as requested. The lightning was incessant, but not sharp
enough to reveal the object that had attracted the notice of his
companion. All at once, however, a bright flame blazed out, and he saw,
but a rod or two away, an Indian seated in a canoe. The canoe lay close
under the bank, and the savage was seated in the stern, with his back
toward the whites, and, from his appearance, was evidently waiting for
some one.

Waring felt sure that he was the Shawanoe that had caused them so much
alarm, and that, from his presence in this quarter, it was pretty
certain his companions were not far distant. While debating with
himself upon the best course for him safely to pass him, he felt the
Irishman moving away from him.

"What do you intend to do?" he asked, as he arrested him.

"Get that same canoe."

"Get that canoe? What do you mean? How are you going to do it?"

"Let me alone for that. I'll upset the haythen."

"His friends may be closer at hand than you think."

"Divil a bit does I care how close they be. I'll settle this matter
with him."

"Well, go on, but be careful."

The great convenience and advantage the canoe would be to the whites,
decided Waring to let the Irishman make an effort to gain possession of
it.

Having warned him of the danger he ran, he trusted he had sense enough
to use all caution possible in the case. Nevertheless, it was with some
misgivings that he saw him glide away and disappear in the darkness.

The flash of lightning which had revealed the solitary Indian to the
Irishman, had brought his appearance and situation so vividly to his
sight, that he could constantly see him, and felt as much assurance in
moving toward him as if it were broad daylight.

Step by step he approached, literally feeling every inch of the way,
for a single misstep would prove fatal. The snapping of a twig, a slip
of his foot in the water, and the vigilant Indian would be on his guard.

Closer and closer approached the Irishman, until he had gained the
proper point. Then straightening himself up, he drew back his ponderous
fist, and concentrating all his strength, gave him a blow that sent him
heels over head out into the water.

"That's what I call a gentle hint fur yees to l'ave."

A few moments later, the party were in the boat, and gliding rapidly
with the current.

After floating a few moments in silence, Waring said--

"You and Hezekiah never knew each other until a few days since, I
believe."

"No; nor we don't know each other yit."

"He was a singular character, too--odd and eccentric; but as true and
faithful as steel. He made a terrible fight before he gave up to those
savages. It seems as though I am partly responsible for his death."

"Hallo!" exclaimed the Irishman. "Look yonder jist!"

As he spoke, he pointed down stream. The canoe had just rounded a bend
in the river, and a large camp-fire was visible upon the Kentucky side.
It was so large and vigorous, that its light was thrown clear across
upon the other bank, the surface of the water glistening like silver.
Through this broad band of light, it was necessary, of course, that the
fugitives pass, and run a second risk of discovery.

The lightning had almost ceased, but a strong wind was blowing, and
the huge flame of the camp-fire could be seen surging to and fro, like
the waves of a tempest-tossed sea. Dark figures now and then passed
between it and the river, and their huge, grotesque shadows quivered on
the surface, like monstrous phantoms.

Slowly and noiselessly, the canoe drifted into the broad belt of light,
and the fugitives almost held their breath.

The eyes of Waring and Pat Mulroony were naturally fixed upon the
camp-fire and its surroundings, but, from some cause which she could
never explain, Virginia felt an apprehension, which amounted to a
certainty, that all was not right upon the bank which was so near to
them, and she kept her gaze fixed in that direction.

And while thus looking, she discovered, plainly and distinctly, the
form of a tall Indian, standing upon the very edge of the river,
seemingly intent upon watching the canoe. He did not move, or make any
demonstration toward its occupants, and remained perfectly motionless
until he had faded out of sight in the darkness.

As the fugitives reached the protecting darkness again, confident that
they had not been discovered, Waring drew a sigh of relief, and said:

"We need have no fear now. That fire has never been started by the
Shawanoes with the intention of receiving any assistance from it in
recapturing us. I think I may safely say we are out of all danger."

"I feel so relieved," said Virginia. "It seems as though I had suffered
a hundred deaths since that dreadful night. How soon may we expect to
reach the settlement, Luther?"

"I cannot tell you precisely, but in three hours, I should say, at the
furthest. What do you think, Pat?"

"Never having been in this region, I find it rather difficult to answer
your question, as the minister said, when the old woman axed him how
Jonah felt in the whale's belly."

"I forgot; you told me that before. However, I cannot be far out of the
way in my guess."

"Is it not singular, Luther, that, if we are so close to the village,
these Indians also should be?"

"Not at all. I have no doubt that there are hundreds within half a mile
of it. On an exposed frontier it is always thus. Without good defences,
brave hearts, and trusty rifles, such a place would not be safe from
destruction for a single hour."

"Whisht!" interrupted the Irishman. "If I didn't hear the tramp of one
of the haythens on shore, I'll never tip another shillaleh!"

"I heard it, too--the snapping of a twig," added Virginia.

"The same, jist--one of the dogs is follying us."

"That is not probable. What could he gain by such a course?"

"Larn the way to that sittlement of which yees were spaking."

"I should not wonder if Pat were right," said Virginia. "I have heard
evidence of his presence several times."

"Let us listen. The wind may have made all the sounds you have heard."

For the space of fifteen or twenty minutes, the whites maintained
silence, but there was nothing heard farther, and they fell to
conversing again.

The situation of our friends, although not without the grand comforter,
hope, was still gloomy and impressive. On either hand, the dark,
frowning forests loomed up and the wind sighing through them, made
wildly-mournful music--now roaring like a hurricane, and then dying
away in a hollow, desolate moaning. Occasionally the sharp scream of
some wild animal was borne forward upon the night wind, and once or
twice the reports of rifles showed that the Indian, the far wilder
animal of the two, was "abroad upon the night."

The wind raised small waves upon the surface of the river, and they
rippled along the shore, and around the projecting roots of the trees
that grew upon the banks. Even their own voices sounded differently
upon this wild night. But they were sustained by the prospect of
speedy deliverance and shelter, and were more hopeful than they had
been since their first memorable disaster.

In the course of half an hour the river made another bend, and the wind
now blew directly up stream. The onward motion of the canoe grew less
and less, and finally it stopped altogether.

"This will never do," said Waring, when he had satisfied himself how
matters stood. "It will be a long while before we reach the settlement
at this rate."

"Let's put into shore, and scare up some kind of paddle for each of us
to go to work with."

"I am afraid that we could not accomplish much, Pat; the only course is
for us to land, and make the rest of the journey on foot? Do you feel
able to walk a mile or two, Virginia?"

"Walk a mile or two?" she repeated, "if necessary, a dozen of them,
when cheered by the hope that animates us!"

"A noble girl! Help me in with the canoe, then, Pat."

Using their hands vigorously, as they had done once or twice before,
the boat gradually approached the shore, until it had run in under the
limb of a tree, which was seized by Pat, and held while the other two
disembarked. Then kicking the canoe from beneath him, the Irishman also
sprang to land, and stood among his friends.

"Shall we kape close in the wather, or off from it always?" he asked.

"The undergrowth seems to be the densest by the river, and as I see no
need of remaining by it, we will go further into the woods, where it
will be less difficult to walk."

Accordingly the three moved further away, where the wood was more
open, and for some time they encountered little obstruction in their
journeying. The Irishman, as usual, brought up the rear, now and then
giving vent to some original remark, and occasionally indulging in
snatches of song.

Waring was about to speak to his companion, when he felt her grasp his
arm with incredible power, and startled nearly out of his senses, he
turned toward her:

"What's the matter, Virginia?" he asked.

"Oh!" she gasped in a tremor "I saw that Indian just now."

"Where?"

"Here, right beside me."

"Did you see him, Pat?" asked Waring, grasping his rifle, and peering
round in the darkness.

"No, but I heard the hay----"

"There! there he is again!" she interrupted, pointing in front of them.

Waring caught a glimpse of a dark form, and ere he could precisely
locate it, he saw Pal Mulroony bound forward like a ball, and the next
instant the two were grappled together in a hand-to-hand struggle.

The impetuous onslaught of the Irishman was irresistible, and he bore
his opponent to the ground, and seated himself astride of him. Whipping
out his knife, he fairly shrieked:

"Say yer prayers quick, for you've got only a second and a half to say
'em in!"

"If you've no objection, I should like to know why ye can't give a
little longer time?" asked the familiar, whining voice of Hezekiah
Smith!




CHAPTER XVI.

CONCLUSION.


There was no mistaking the voice. It was Hezekiah Smith himself, beyond
a doubt. Stooping down so as to obtain a glimpse of his features, the
Irishman peered into his face for a moment, and then releasing him,
said:

"It's that long-legged chap as was killed, or else I ain't Pat
Mulroony!"

"Is it possible that that is you?" asked Waring, placing his hand upon
his shoulder, and feeling of his face and arms.

"I've a strong suspicion now that I'm the identical, and precisely the
same personage that you took so much pain to kiver up in that same
gorge," replied Hezekiah.

"Let us strike a fire, and sit down and have a talk," said Waring.
"This is too good fortune, indeed."

Branches and twigs were soon collected, and a fire started. Seating
themselves by it, the reunited friends gazed into each other's faces.
To the surprise of all, Hezekiah Smith was attired in the dress of a
Shawanoe Indian.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Waring, pointing at his costume.

"A stroke of my genius," replied the New Englander; "considered as an
idea original with myself, I think it reflects credit upon me."

"But let us hear the particulars of your escape."

"They don't amount to much," said Hezekiah. "The p'int is just here.
You know I had an all-fired row on that precipice. Drat me, if that
wan't the greatest scrape I ever got into in all my life. I dug, and
kicked, and pulled, and twisted, and gouged, and bit, and rolled with
that last Injun, but it wan't no use. When he went over, I had to go
over, too. Well, there! it was _sublime_, spinning down through the
dizzy air with that Shawanoe fast to me! I had more ecstacy in them one
or two seconds, then I've had in all the rest of my life.

"As it happened, the Injin fell under me, and was knocked into a jelly,
though, for that matter, I had settled his hash for him before he went
over. I'd advise you to believe now that I was bruised slightly, and
for a few minutes I seen nothing but stars, and heard nothing but the
queerest kind of music in my head.

"When I came to myself somebody was drawing me along the ground.
Thinking as how it must be one of the dratted imps, I just kept my eyes
shet, and let him pull away. Bimeby he let me drap, and piled me over
with dirt and stones. I heard him mutter something, but I kept my eyes
closed up all the time; he never thought I was playing possum.

"Arter he'd been gone some time, it struck me all at once that that
had been you who had taken sich pains with me. You'd better believe I
opened my eyes then, and crawled out of that place in a hurry. The way
the stones and dirt flew, you'd have thought a barrel of powder had
been tetched off.

"But you'd been gone too long fur me to find you, though I tried hard
enough to do it. I follered you a good ways into the woods, and had to
give it up at last. I leaned up agin a tree, and was thinking about
it----"

"That was you, then, Pat and I saw, and he wanted to shoot so bad. You
had a narrow escape."

"I s'pose it was me. I soon found the redskins was too thick in them
parts, so I crept down by the river, and waited fur night. Some time
after dark, I heerd one of the scamps screech, followed by the crack of
their rifles. I knowed you must be in some scrape, so I hurried down
the river, but couldn't see anything of you. Walking down the bank some
minutes arter, I thought I heard somebody speak on the river, so I kept
going down the shore, and listenin' like.

"Opposite where that big fire was, I seen the canoe, but there was
three persons in it. I couldn't understand how that could be, and was
afraid to show myself."

"I saw you," said Virginia, smiling, "but I told no one of it."

"I kept along by you, howsumever, and at last seen you land."

"You must have known us, then, surely."

"Yes, I did; but just for a little fun, I thought I'd scare you a bit,
and, by thunder, I reckon it was me that got the most scart, when Pat
pounced upon me out there."

"But you have not told us about this Indian dress."

"I forgot that. It struck me that, being there was so many Injins
about, it would be a good idea to put on one of their dresses. It
might come handy, you know. One of the dead redskins was just my size,
and I changed costumes with him, leaving him, of course, to put the
clothes on for himself, as I did with them I got. I believe they have
kept me out of danger several times since I put them on. But how about
this fire burning here? Ain't there some danger of its being seen?"

"I took pains to screen it from observation, and I have no fears,"
replied Waring. "I tell you what I propose," he added. "The woods
are so dark, and as none of us know the way, it is more likely that
we shall be entirely lost if we keep on in this manner. Suppose,
therefore, we spend the night here?"

This proposal being agreed to by all, the preparations were made for
carrying it out. A couch of boughs and leaves were made near the fire
for Virginia, upon which a blanket or two were spread, and upon which,
a few minutes later, the wearied and exhausted girl was sound asleep.
The others seated themselves around the fire, to spend several hours in
chatting and conversation.

"A few hours ago," said Waring, addressing Pat Mulroony, "you were upon
the point of explaining something in regard to yourself, when you were
interrupted by the discovery of a new danger. Perhaps, while we are
seated here, you'll give us the reason that induced you to come into
this wild country."

The Irishman smiled:

"It's little I have to tell, as the deaf and dumb man said. It's thrue
I niver have been out in these parts before; but I've thraveled over
considerable of the wilderness in the last few years. You know there be
signs of another Injin war, and I've been sint here as a private agent
of Mad Anthony, to larn what is to be larned."

"_That's what I am!_" exclaimed Hezekiah Smith.

Seeing that his hearers appealed incredulous, Smith added:

"Such is the fact. I had a love adventure at home, which sent me out
here, and that's why I'm rather green. I was sent in these parts at my
special request."

"Begorrah, but we goes togither after this," said Pat Mulroony.

The two grasped hands.

"It strikes me," said Hezekiah Smith, "that while we've larned
considerable of these redskins, it ain't quite enough to suit the
General. I propose, therefore, we start out agin."

Despite Waring's protestations, these two eccentric individuals
insisted upon departing at once. Although much bruised, Hezekiah would
not consent to go to the settlement, until he could fully recover, nor
would he allow Virginia Lander to be awakened, in order to bid him
good-by. Assuring him whom they left behind, that he should hear from
them again, the two worthies arose, and passed out in the darkness
together.

At the earliest sign of day, our hero and heroine were again _en
route_, and in the course of an hour, came in sight of the settlement.
Their destination--the long wished and prayed for goal--was reached.
Painful and terrible had been their sufferings on the way, but they
had been rewarded at last. Arm-and-arm the two entered this village of
the wilderness, as hand-in-hand they entered upon the great journey of
life, and went up the hill-side, and, finally, down through the Dark
Valley into the eternal life beyond.


THE END.




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