Three Young Pioneers Part 8

"Ah," exclaimed Fred; "brave and good guide! I understand it all now.

First the enemy shot the arrow and missed you, and then when you moved he fell on you from behind, and struck you with the knife. You, as a hero, without saying a word, rose and seized him by the throat, until he was dead. Brave Mohican!"

Tears gathered in the eyes of Agnes. "Oh, Fred," she whispered; "this is terrible. Let's go away."

"Sister," the boy said, "you must not talk that way; we will go away as soon as we can. But you have fear in your heart, and that is bad. Only courage and boldness will now by the grace of G.o.d save us. Be brave."

"Pardon me," Agnes stammered; "it was wrong of me to show fright. I will never do it again. G.o.d is with us, all is well."

"Thank you, dear sister," Fred said; "that makes it easier for me. And now let us bury our good guide."

Softly he touched the body, when suddenly the Indian moved. The wound in the back was serious, but the knife had not struck a vital organ.

Only the loss of blood had been severe, as without flinching he held his foe in the death grip.

"The Mohican is alive!" Agnes exclaimed; "perhaps we can save his life."

Tenderly they lifted his body and laid it on the gra.s.s. The Mohican opened his eyes, but there was in them a gla.s.sy stare. Agnes rubbed his arms and patted his hair.

After a few moments a smile stole over the guide's face. He had recognized the girl.

"My good friend and brother," Fred spoke to him in the Mohican language; "I am so sorry. We thank you---we thank you---as the rain falls from the sky in summer. The pale face children are safe because of your valor. The Mohican fought like the brave warrior he always was. The men will sing of his bravery in the wigwam, and the women will tell his tale when the dusk falls. Never will be forgotten the brave Mohican guide who fought and conquered his foe in battle."

The Mohican tried to speak, but his tongue would not move. He grasped the lad's hand firmly.

Agnes bent over him. She remembered that he was a Christian. Her missionary heart overflowed with love for the guide's soul.

"Samowat," she tenderly p.r.o.nounced his Indian name. "Samowat, friend of the white men, protector of the weak, brave and n.o.ble warrior that knows no fear, hear the voice of the little 'bird in the woods' that sings of Jesus. Samowat dies for his little friends that they might be safe. Jesus died for Samowat that he may be saved. Samowat, the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses you from all sin. Samowat, Jesus will come right away and take Samowat home to where happiness is. Samowat, hear my voice."

The Indian breathed heavily and he fought hard to speak. His native Mohican, p.r.o.nounced with infinite tenderness by Agnes, had made a deep impression on him.

"Samowat," he stammered weakly, "has saved his little 'bird of the woods.' Samowat loves Jesus, and is not afraid to die."

For a moment he struggled in silence to gain strength for speech.

Fred poured some cold tea into his mouth which he sipped eagerly.

"It is well," he said after a few moments. "Samowat is going home to Jesus. But---but little white warrior---must go---go---north. Pequots on war path---they south. Hurry, little paleface warrior. Kill horses---go Indian fashion---walk."

Fred bent over him for his voice was weak. Yet the Indian struggled bravely to finish his speech.

"He---scout---kill me. Pequots come soon. Flee."

These were his last words. Exhausted by the terrific loss of blood, his heart failed, and he died peacefully without even a trace of agony.

Agnes wept bitterly, as she pressed the guide's hand. Also Fred was overcome with emotion, and he bit his lips until the blood flowed.

"Sister," he said, "call Matthew and the Indian servant; we must bury the brave guide."

The task was a.s.signed to the Indian servant, who alone knew how to bury him in a manner that would hide him from the curious and keen eyes of the Indians. The servant covered the graves with leaves and so skillfully did he conceal the resting place that not even Fred could see where it was.

"We must now kill the horses," the boy said when all was finished.

"But why kill the horses?" Agnes asked. "Why, we can cover more ground on horseback than on foot."

"We must leave the trail," Fred answered, "and in the woods they will betray us. Also on horseback the Indians can see us the better and shoot us before we know they are near."

"Let's not kill them now," Agnes pleaded. "Jenny is so true an animal.

I can never see her die here."

"All right, sister," Fred a.s.sented; "we shall try to preserve their lives. Only I don't know how to get through the woods with them."

CHAPTER IX

THE REMAINS OF THE LOG HOUSE

In obedience to the instructions of the dying Indian guide, Fred left the trail and pursued a northern route.

Traveling along the trail was bad, but finding away through the woods was impossible.

Fred realized this when the party had traveled for several hours through the dense forest. From the position of the sun he could tell what time of the day it was, yet he knew, too, that they had not covered more than a mile. There were creeks to cross, swamps to circ.u.mvent, fallen trees to avoid, and difficulties of all kinds.

At noon the three held a council and considered what to do.

"The guide was right in saying that we cannot travel through the woods on horseback," Fred began; "I fear we must get rid of the steeds."

"But how are we to walk through this ma.s.s of entanglement," Agnes asked.

"We certainly won't make headway without the horses."

"Agnes is right," Matthew ventured to say. "I don't know where we are going, but I do know that on foot we will not get anywhere. So let's keep the horses."

"I fear you are right," Fred meditated, "but I am sure the horses won't benefit us."

Suddenly Agnes exclaimed: "I know what we are going to do! We'll get back to the trail, and follow that to the next settlement. Samowat said that the Indians are south of us. Very well by this time they may be west of us, and we might escape them since we go east. Let's try it; at least then we know where we are going."

"I am in favor of it," Matthew replied; "if we are attacked, we can fight; but who is going to fight with conditions as we find them in this dense underbrush."

After some delay Fred gave in, and so the three adventurers turned the heads of their horses south, and after a few hours found the trail which they had left in the morning.

Quickly they pushed east, spurring on their horses who by this time were quite exhausted.

They traveled until dusk, and they were about to leave the trail and hide in the woods when suddenly Fred's steed neighed.

"What's the matter with you?" the boy reproved his horse. "You will never get any oats if you make such a noise like that."

To his great horror, however, the neighing was answered by another horse at some distance.