The Frontiersmen Part 7

It was now nearly day-light; and the first silvery rays of the morning were beginning to dispel the darkness. The moon had set sometime before, and as in the midst of the forest, it was almost impossible to discern his path, it was necessary that he should proceed with extreme caution.

Following noiselessly the rough path over which Ralph and Miss Barton had journeyed the day before, he hoped to reach the shanty by day-light.

A walk through the forest in a new country by night, to one unaccustomed to it, would not be likely to excite the most agreeable reflections. But Ichabod had in other times been used to all the dangers of the wilderness, and this morning walk had to him sufficient excitement to make it decidedly a pleasure. As he journeyed on, the silence by which he was surrounded was occasionally broken by the distant howl of a wolf.

Scarcely had the melancholy sound died in the echoes of the forest, ere an owlet's shriek would be heard, sharp and piercing, by his side--and in the next moment it would be answered by a cry that came mellowed from the distance. Then, perhaps, the rustling of dry leaves, or the cracking of a dry bough, indicated that some small animal was flying from his presence. Occasionally stopping for a moment, to listen if he could not catch sounds which would indicate the presence of something against which it would be necessary to guard himself he continued to advance in the direction of the hut, where on the evening before he had encountered the Tuscarora.

This hut or shanty, the precise location of which, with reference to the surrounding country, we have not described, was situated about a mile below the residence of Barton, at the foot of a hill which gradually rose on the western side to the height of one hundred and fifty or two hundred feet. On the east, at the distance of about thirty rods, was the river. Beyond the river were flats extending nearly half a mile in width; while nearly opposite the hut, a small stream came from the north-east, down a narrow valley, which gave to the valley just opposite the hut the appearance of a much greater width than it really possessed.

Ichabod arrived at the shanty at just about the hour he had calculated upon. The light of the morning had begun to creep through the woods, giving to objects an uncertain appearance. He approached it cautiously, listening if he might not hear some sound that would indicate the presence of the Tuscarora. Not receiving any such indication, he touched the door, which noiselessly opened, when he entered the hut. It was entirely deserted, and every trace of its recent occupation had been removed.

This caution on the part of the Tuscarora was strong evidence to Ichabod that enemies were near, and he at once saw the object of it. In case the hut should be visited, the Indian wished it to appear as if it had not been disturbed, so that no clue could be obtained to his motions.

Ichabod, who was an adept in the Indian mode of warfare, endeavored to discover in which direction the Tuscarora had departed. But this was no easy undertaking. He looked cautiously about for a trail, but the ground had been so much trodden the night before, it was a long time ere he could discover the print of the occasional foot of the Indian, and then only by the side of the hut where he had conversed with him. At length, moving off to the distance of six or eight rods from the shanty, he commenced walking about it in a circle with his eyes fastened upon the ground. He had proceeded but a few rods in this round before he discovered the footprint for which he was searching. The Indian, on leaving the hut, had evidently gone in a south-easterly direction towards the river.

The point, proceeding in the line taken by the Tuscarora, as which he would reach the river, would be at just about a hundred rods from the shanty. Ichabod followed, at once, in this direction; but advancing with extreme caution. His progress was necessarily slow, as he was obliged not only to examine the ground with great care to discover the footprints which the light step of the Indian had made, but also to observe if there were any signs of other Indians in the vicinity. At length, he approached the river, the margin of which, here, was covered with a thick growth of willows of about eight or ten feet in height, which rendered it almost impossible to get a glimpse of the water.

He had arrived within two rods of the sh.o.r.e, when, at once, he lost all traces of the Tuscarora. He was searching the ground intently to regain the trail he had lost, when he heard a slight sound in the direction of the river, like that made by a paddle slightly rubbing the side of a canoe. Stooping so as to be more thoroughly hidden by the willows, which were much thicker towards the ground, he advanced close to them, and endeavored to get sight of the object which had attracted his attention.

It will be necessary to explain, a little more fully, the precise situation of Ichabod with reference to the river. The line of willows we have mentioned, was about six or eight feet in width, and run in a north and south line, parallel with the course of the river; but immediately below where he stood, there was a thick clump of them, which extended some twenty feet from the apparent course of the river, directly towards the forest; so that Ichabod was not only protected by those in front, but he occupied a sort of cover formed by them in the sudden turn which they took towards the west.

Carefully pulling back a few of the twigs of the willows which skirted the river, and which impeded his observation, he now distinctly heard the sound of a canoe approaching from below. The river was here about six rods in width, and was of considerable depth, although the current was strong; which latter fact accounted for the sound he had heard--some effort being required to urge the canoe against the force of the water.

Shortly the canoe came in sight. Ichabod started as he beheld three Indians in it, whom he at once knew to be Senecas. His first impulse was to raise his rifle; but a moment's reflection taught him that such a course would be unwise. In the first place, although the new government had concluded as yet no formal treaty of peace with the hostile tribes of the Six Nations, yet as it was tacitly understood that such a treaty would soon be made, and all encounters had therefore been mutually suspended it would be criminal and improper to attack them except in self-defence, or the defence of his friends. Another reason, also came to his aid--although it is proper to mention that it was the last one that occurred to him--and that was, that if he succeeded in killing or disabling one of the Indians, he would still have the remaining two upon his hands, without possessing any adequate means of defending himself; while it was more than probable that there were other Senecas in the vicinity.

The Indians were moving very slowly against the current, and were evidently in search of some object which they expected to discover along the sh.o.r.e. Ichabod recognized one of these Indians as a subordinate chief of the Seneca Nation, whom he had encountered in some of the conflicts of the war; but who possessed a high reputation among his people, for boldness and cunning. The name of this chief was Panther, which he had received from the characteristics we have mentioned. As they came in sight, the canoe was not more than twenty feet from the position occupied by Ichabod, and he could distinctly hear the conversation between the chief and his companions, although they conversed in a low tone. Ichabod had learned enough of the dialect which was common to the Six Nations, to understand at once, the purport of the conversation. We will endeavor to translate, for the benefit of the reader, the language of the Senecas:

"Me no understand," said Panther; "saw canoe here, somewhere. No get out of water without seeing it."

"Canoe light; gone up river p'raps," said one of his companions.

"Canendesha got quick eye," said the other Seneca; "he cunning Injin. He won't let scalp go, if he can help it."

A gleam of ferocity pa.s.sed across the swarthy face of Panther.

"Canendesha _is_ cunning and brave. His enemies will say that; but he has got the scalp of a Seneca, and I shall be ashamed to go back to the wigwams of my nation, if I do not take his. The Senecas are not squaws, to let a Tuscarora run off with their scalps."

Slowly moving against the current, the three Indians had got both out of sight and hearing of Ichabod. Immediately behind him was a small knoll four or five feet in height. He had commenced moving towards it with the intention of getting a further view of the Senecas, whose business he now understood, when his attention was attracted by a slight waving of the willows in the centre of the clump which we have mentioned. Glancing sharply in that direction, with his rifle raised in a position to fire should it be necessary, he saw an Indian emerging from the willows, whom he knew at once to be the Tuscarora.

"No get _my_ scalp this time;" said Eagle's-Wing. "I get another scalp first;" and he pointed to a bleeding trophy of a recent encounter, with all the pride with which a victorious general would have pointed to the capture of the standards and munitions of war of a vanquished enemy.

"What's the meaning of all this, Eagle's-Wing?" asked Ichabod, with evident disgust at beholding the bleeding trophy. "Why has Canendesha dug up the hatchet, when the pale-faces and their Indian allies have buried it?"

"I no dig it up," answered the Tuscarora, with energy; "Seneca dig it up. I must have Panther's scalp too," and he was about following the canoe up the river.

"Stop a moment, Eagle's-Wing," exclaimed Ichabod, who laid his strong hand on the shoulder of his friend. "I want to know the meaning of all this; you must not go after them Injins now. I hate a Seneca, on general principles, as much as you do; but it won't do to go scalping round in these days, without good reason for it. Let me know what's the matter, and if it's anything where a friend can help with an easy conscience, I'll rush into the speculation."

Thus urged, the Indian, after a sufficient time had elapsed to satisfy the dignity of a chief, proceeded to relate one of those romances of the forest, which, in general feature, may not be very dissimilar to those of civilized life--the only difference consisting in the darker and wilder coloring which belongs to pictures of savage life. We will not attempt to give it in the precise words and with the manner of the Tuscarora, although we hope to exhibit in some degree the energy with which some portions of it were related.

It seemed that a short time before, a band of Senecas, for some purpose, had been hanging about the villages of the Oneidas and Tuscaroras, situated some fifty miles north of that portion of the valley about which we are now writing. Their business did not seem to be of a warlike nature, and frequent visits of ceremony had been exchanged between the chiefs of the once hostile tribes: and professions were made by the Senecas of a desire to unite once more the severed bond of union between the different nations of the confederacy. This condition of things existed for a few days, when it was announced by the Senecas that they were about to depart towards their own villages. The Tuscarora, the day before that announced for the departure of the Senecas, made them a visit of ceremony, accompanied by his young wife, whose Indian name, translated into English, was Singing-Bird. The visitors were treated with the utmost distinction, although Eagle's-Wing fancied that on one or two occasions he observed symptoms of a revival of the old feeling of hostility towards him, which the late conflicts had engendered. The band of Senecas consisted of about thirty-five warriors, under the command of Panther, whose treacherous and perfidious nature Eagle's-Wing was well acquainted with.

But the Tuscarora was brave, and if he felt, did not exhibit any symptoms of the suspicions which occupied his mind. At length on the approach of evening, the Tuscarora announced his departure. Panther courteously accompanied him a short distance from the lodge, when suddenly a number of Indians who had been secreted in ambush, sprang upon the Tuscarora and the young squaw, and they were at once bound and brought back to the lodge. The Indians made immediate preparations for departure--as would be necessary, indeed, after such an act of perfidy--for the Tuscaroras and Oneidas, whose villages were situated but a few miles distant, would shortly suspect the treachery, and come in search of the prisoners. Panther's motive in this double act of treachery and inhospitality, was supposed to be a feeling of revenge towards the Tuscarora--who had signalized himself during the war, by his friendship for the cause of the Colonies--and also a desire to obtain the beautiful Singing-Bird for his own wigwam.

The Senecas, with their prisoners, had marched all that night in a southerly direction, making use of all the devices of which an Indian is capable, to conceal the direction of their march. Near morning, the Tuscarora, although closely guarded, had found means to escape; but instead of retracing his steps to get a.s.sistance from his own people or from the Oneidas, he followed on the trail of the Senecas, hoping that he should find some means to release Singing-Bird from her captivity. He also hoped that his brethren, discovering, as they certainly would, the treachery that had been used towards him, would send out a party of warriors to rescue him.

The Senecas had pa.s.sed along the valley on the day when we first introduced the Tuscarora to the reader. They had encamped on the flats, about two miles below the shanty we have mentioned, but in a direction much nearer the river than that taken by Ralph and Miss Barton, in their journey of the day before.

The Tuscarora, after the party, on the night before, had left the shanty, carefully obliterated all traces of the recent occupancy of the hut, and proceeded towards the encampment of the Senecas. He had nearly accomplished his purpose of delivering Singing-Bird, who was confined in a temporary wigwam which had been erected for her, when he was discovered by a young warrior of the Senecas. A conflict, brief but terrible, had ensued, which resulted in the death of the Seneca; and although this conflict had prevented the execution of his purpose, he succeeded in bearing away the usual Indian trophy of victory.

A sufficient party had been left to guard the wigwam in which Singing-Bird was confined, and the remainder of the Indians, almost twenty-five in number, had set off in immediate pursuit of Eagle's-Wing.

The latter discovered, in his flight, which was along the course of the river, a light bark canoe, which had been constructed by Guthrie; and at once entering it, rapidly urged it up the stream. By so doing, although the Senecas who were pursuing him by land, might pa.s.s him, yet he could be able to secrete himself until day-light, certainly, and leave no trail which could be followed. On the day before, in noting the course of the river, and the means of shelter, should he find it necessary to take to a hiding place, he had marked the clump of willows we have mentioned, which to all appearance was merely a thicker and more extensive growth than was elsewhere observed. But, as he now showed Ichabod, in the centre of this clump was a small body of water connected with the river--a sort of cove--the mouth of which was completely guarded by a thick undergrowth of willows. To a person in a canoe on the river, there was nothing to indicate, except with the very closest attention, but that the line of the willows was the sh.o.r.e of the river.

Thus, by separating the willows, he had forced the canoe into this small cove, where he was completely hidden from all observation, as well from the land, as from the water.

Ichabod, who was much excited by this forest romance, at once entered into the feelings of the Tuscarora.

"I don't blame you any, Eagle's-Wing," said he: "I don't like this scalping business, but I s'pose you've got to fight according to your natur'; but I'll tell you this, Eagle's-Wing,--here's my hand on a bargain,--and I'll stick to it, whether the speculation's good or bad--we'll rescue Singing-Bird, any way; but don't let us have any more scalping, just now. We must deceive them rascals. I never knew a scoundrel of a Seneca yet, but could be cheated some way or other."

Notwithstanding the interest which this conversation had excited, the Tuscarora and Ichabod had both been intent in watching the course of the canoe. It had now advanced some twenty-five or thirty rods up the river, when Panther, evidently believing he had pa.s.sed the spot where the Tuscarora had been observed, now headed the canoe downstream, with the intention of making a more diligent search.

Ichabod was about to propose a retreat towards the forest, when he suddenly beheld in that direction a small party of Indians advancing towards them. The intelligence was silently communicated to the Tuscarora, when they both rapidly entered the clump of willows, and seated themselves in the canoe. Their rifles were examined, and they both adjusted their knives so that they would be in readiness, if it should be necessary to use them.

The Indians who were approaching from the forest perceived Panther and his companions in the canoe, and signs were at once made to attract their attention. Panther observed them, and the canoe was immediately brought to the sh.o.r.e, where the other Indians had now arrived. The Senecas who had come from the woods occupied the precise spot where Ichabod had first observed the canoe of Panther. The latter had brought his canoe to the edge of the willows, and putting them aside, sprung lightly through them to the land.

The Senecas were now not more than ten or fifteen feet from the hiding place of the Tuscarora, so that their conversation could be easily overheard.

Panther, speaking to Deersfoot, who was the leader of the small party which had been sent to scour the forest, asked if any trace had been found of the fugitive. Deersfoot replied that he had not been able to find any trail.

Luckily for both Eagle's-Wing and Ichabod, the Indians who had visited the shanty, since the latter left it in the morning, had not taken the pains to discover the trail of the Tuscarora which Ichabod had done; and they had also followed the same direction in approaching the river, but without examining the ground with sufficient care, to discover the footmarks of either Eagle's-Wing or Ichabod. The consequence was, that now, so far as any clue could be obtained to their position from that source, they were perfectly safe, as the Senecas, in traveling in the same direction, had completely obscured the signs which, with a little more care, they might have discovered.

Panther and Deersfoot now held a whispered consultation, which Ichabod, although he reached forward as far as his safety would permit, could not distinctly overhear. But he was quite sure that he heard something said about the pale-faces at the cottage. He was certain from this that the Indians would visit the house of Barton; and he was extremely anxious to return there, so that he might communicate the intelligence as soon as possible.

If such was the intention of the Senecas, it appeared that they did not intend to put it in execution immediately; for after this consultation was finished, Panther directed the Indians to follow along down the sh.o.r.e, while he examined it from the canoe.

Panther returned to his canoe; while Deersfoot with his party, pa.s.sing around the cove, proceeded diligently to search for the enemy whom they were leaving in security, at least for the present, behind them.

As soon as they had pa.s.sed out of sight, Ichabod insisted that Eagle's-Wing should accompany him to the cottage. The Indian at first refused, from the idea that his presence there would bring danger upon the family of Barton; but as Ichabod a.s.sured him of the certainty of holding out the cottage against any attack which the Senecas might make upon it, and also of the joy with which Barton and his daughter would welcome him, he finally yielded; and leaving the canoe in its shelter, they rapidly proceeded thitherward through the forest.

CHAPTER VIII.

"But what talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries are to be smiled at, their offences being so capital?"

WINTER'S TALE.

When Ichabod and the Tuscarora reached the cottage, they found the inmates much alarmed, owing to the long absence of the former; and Ralph was just about setting out in pursuit of him. Ichabod had perfectly succeeded, without any effort on his part, in ingratiating himself into the favor of all. There was something in his frank, hearty manner, that at once gave him a place in the affections of those who were capable of being moved by such qualities. The simplicity and earnestness with which he pursued his schemes of pecuniary speculation, if they excited the smiles or ridicule of those who saw their groundlessness, did not detract from his reputation as a man of excellent judgment, on all matters out of the range of that one idea.

In a life such as we are now depicting, which was essentially new--where men were not living on the labors of others, or eating up the substance which others had gained, but where each relied upon his own effort to procure the necessaries of life--there was a general simplicity of manners, which is seldom to be found in these latter days. Although, as in comparison with the history of population in Europe, we are immediately connected in point of age, with the times of which we are writing, yet in the rapidity of our own history, the seventy years which have intervened have a much greater signification, and seem to extend over a length of time sufficient to give the broadest play to the imagination. We, who are now in the prime of life, and witness a broad, fine country, thoroughly subdued to the uses of the farmer--cities and villages connected by the ties of commerce--splendid mansions, which already begin to wear the venerable appearance of age, can scarcely realize that our fathers and grandfathers were the pioneers before whose vigorous efforts the forests disappeared, and the wilderness gave place to s.p.a.cious fields, teeming with harvests, and homes where happiness asked no aid from wealth, and virtuous simplicity paid no tribute to overreaching avarice.

Ichabod, there, was welcomed with a degree of warmth which he had no reason to expect; but the excited state of mind which had been produced by the events of the day before, and the probability of future troubles, served to magnify the dangers which it was supposed he was likely to encounter in his morning adventure.