Gustave Aimard
The Frontiersmen
Ichabod groaned in his helplessness and anger. The agony of that moment far exceeded any physical torture that the whole nation of Senecas could have inflicted upon him. He wept in his misery, and a sob that seemed to rend his frame, almost deprived him of consciousness for a moment. The fearful spasm that convulsed his limbs, did what no ordinary exercise of strength could have done, – the thongs that bound his hands snapped like threads; and in a moment, with a convulsive rapidity against which Guthrie could not guard, he seized the Tory by the throat – he shook him like a leaf, until the villain fell, breathless and struggling, to the ground. At the same moment, overpowered by this spasmodic exertion of strength, Ichabod fell, fainting suspended by the withes which bound his waist.
CHAPTER XV
Bos. – "He is fled – he is fled, and dare not sit it out.
Bir. – What! has he made an escape! which way? Follow, neighbor Haggise."
JONSON.
When Ichabod recovered from his swoon, he found himself in the presence of three Senecas, who had been attracted by the struggle between him and Guthrie. It was their presence that saved him from immediate death; for as Guthrie arose panting and struggling for breath, his first impulse was to present his rifle at the motionless form of Ichabod: but it was instantly pushed aside by one of the Senecas, who had reached the spot before his companions, and the charge passed behind the tree to which Ichabod was confined. When the latter regained his consciousness, Guthrie was nowhere to be seen. The hands of Ichabod were again secured, and a thong was now passed around his shoulders, so that he was bound in an upright and a much easier position, to the tree.
The night was rapidly approaching, and by the time Ichabod had been completely secured, it was almost impossible to discover surrounding objects in the darkness. A fire was kindled near the centre of the space around which the lodges had been erected, and it was consequently much closer to the lodge occupied by Ruth and Singing-Bird, than either of the others. An Indian had taken his position, as guard, within a few feet of Ichabod, and between him and the fire; and this Indian, as Ichabod discovered, was armed, besides his knife and tomahawk, with his own old familiar rifle. How earnestly he gazed upon it, as if almost expecting and hoping to see it recognize its old master and owner!
It was at this time, and when silence throughout the Indian encampment was so well preserved that Ichabod could plainly hear the crackling of the boughs which were placed upon the fire, although he was at a distance of eight or ten rods from it, that a wild yell, but one which denoted exultation upon the part of the Seneca from whom it proceeded, was heard to arise from the direction of the lodge in which Bagsley and his companion were confined. He heard some words in the Seneca language, pronounced, at which his guard arose erect, with an appearance of excitement. In a few moments he discovered the cause of the exclamation of the Seneca, and of the excitement under which his sentinel evidently labored. An Indian came rapidly towards the fire, around which his companions were gathered, with a bottle in his hand, of which he smelt and tasted with gestures of extravagant joy.
It seemed that the lucky Seneca, while in the lodge occupied by Bagsley and the bailiff, had been attracted by a peculiar odor which came from the breath of the latter, and which his olfactories at once pronounced "fire-water." Convinced that this odor must be caused by the presence of the article itself, in some quantity, he commenced a search of the unfortunate dignitary; and, hidden in a capacious pocket, wrapped in old writs and executions, but which were unintelligible to the Indian, he found the bottle which we have seen him carry towards his companions at the fire. It was at the moment of finding it, that he had uttered the loud exclamation of joy, which had fallen upon the ears of Ichabod.
Loud and frequent were the exclamations of "Ugh!" "ugh!" among the Indians, when it was discovered that such a prize had been found. Panther, who was attracted from his lodge by the noise, endeavored to induce the Indians to surrender the pleasure of drinking the "fire-water" on this occasion, for one more appropriate, and when less watchfulness was necessary. But all his endeavors were vain; for the authority of a chief, always precarious, cannot be enforced against the wishes and demands of the tribe. Theirs was an arbitrary government, and power was held only upon a feeble tenure, viz: the pleasure of the people. When Panther found that he could not prevent the larger portion of the Indians from indulging in the pleasant intoxication which would result from imbibing the "fire-water," he took such means – with the assistance of Deersfoot and a few others, who were determined to remain sober – as would be most likely to promote their safety, should the larger portion of the Senecas become unfit to discharge their duties.
The Indians who were about the fire, and among whom the whiskey bottle circulated freely, soon began to give evidence of unwonted excitement. Dancing, singing, shrieking, they appeared, to one at the distance from them at which Ichabod was placed, more like fiends in Pandemonium, than human beings, as the red light of the fire fell upon their distorted figures. The rays of the fire, when burning brightest, fell distinctly upon the form of Ichabod; but as the drunkenness increased, and the light diminished, he was thrown into a shadow. His guard labored under a strong desire to get a taste of the whiskey; for he would occasionally walk at a distance of three or four rods from him, where he would stand, looking towards the fire, until a fear for the security of his prisoner would steal across his mind, when he would rapidly return; and, perceiving by a glance that all was right, would, after a few moments, again move slowly in the direction of the fire. His guard had thus left him, for the second time, when, as he fancied, he heard his name faintly whispered behind him. In a moment afterwards, the thongs that bound his feet, hands and shoulders, were cut, leaving fastened, only that which bound him by the waist. The friend, whoever it was, that had performed this kindly act, doubtless knew that it would not do to unbind him completely, at once, as the tightness of the ligatures, and the length of the confinement, would be apt to deprive the prisoner, for a few moments, of the free use of his limbs. The thongs that had been cut, were so disposed that the guard, on his return, without a very close observation, would not be able to discover the deception. The unknown friend had evidently planted himself behind the tree to which Ichabod was fastened, waiting for the proper moment to sever the remaining thong.
"Know friend?" asked a voice, in a whisper, which Ichabod immediately recognized.
"Ah! is it you, Eagle's-Wing? I might have known that, though. No one else would have dared to do such a thing."
"This nothing, when Injins drunk. Poor Injin that get drunk. Say, when ready to have other thong cut."
"Don't be in a hurry, Eagle's-Wing. You see that red devil, yonder, that's been set here to guard me? He's got my rifle, and I want it. Wait till he comes up here again, and when he has fairly got his back turned, then cut the thong: or, if you've got a spare knife, just give me that, and I'll cut it myself, while you get the rifle. Hush! he's coming."
The Seneca advanced rapidly, evidently fearful that some accident might have happened during his long absence. At this moment, a large quantity of brush was thrown upon the fire, which almost wholly – for a few moments – obscured the light, and left them buried in thick darkness. This might be a circumstance either favorable or unfavorable, depending, however, upon the suspicious nature of the Indian. As it seemed, he was more than usually suspicious; and Ichabod breathed shorter, and the Tuscarora prepared for a sudden spring upon him, as the Seneca advanced close to Ichabod; and, with the intention of ascertaining that his prisoner was safe, he reached out his hand to feel of the thongs. Fortunately, his hand fell upon that which remained uncut, about the waist of Ichabod, which he slightly jerked; and feeling it secure, did not examine any further, but turned as if to walk back towards the fire. At this moment, a knife was passed to Ichabod by the Tuscarora, and at the same instant, the latter darted upon the Seneca, and struck him through the back with his knife. There was no struggle – no shriek, no sound that could have been heard four rods distant, even; for the blade had, doubtless, pierced the heart of the Seneca, and he fell with a slight shudder, forwards, on his face. The Tuscarora seized the rifle of Ichabod, and before the latter had fairly unfastened himself from the tree, he had secured beneath his belt the scalp of the unfortunate Seneca.
"Three scalp on war-path," said Eagle's-Wing. "That not bad."
"I am sorry that you should stick to that heathenish custom, Eagle's-Wing," said Ichabod; "but there's no use talking about it. An Injin's an Injin, and I suppose he must fight like an Injin."
Guided by the Tuscarora, Ichabod proceeded to the border of the clearing – but beyond the circle of light thrown by the fire – to the distance of eight or ten rods, where they found Ralph, anxiously waiting the result of Eagle's-Wing's enterprise. From his position, while the fire was burning, he was able to see both Ichabod and the Tuscarora, until the moment when the guard had returned to the tree, when the obscurity had withdrawn them from his sight. The sudden renewal of the light, as the fire leaped and crackled among the dry branches, showed him that they had escaped; and it was with no little pleasure that he again grasped the honest hand of Ichabod.
But there was yet another undertaking to be performed – and that was, the release of both Ruth and Singing-Bird. Ralph and Eagle's-Wing had hit upon a plan by which they hoped to accomplish their purpose; and it was rapidly communicated to Ichabod, who approved of it; when they immediately set about putting it into execution.
The lodge occupied by the two prisoners whom they now sought to release, was, as we have already mentioned, situated in the centre of a circle of lodges. The fire which the savages had kindled, was near the centre of the circle, and was in close proximity, therefore, to the lodge occupied by Ruth and Singing-Bird: but the fire was on the south of it, so that the north side of the lodge, as well as the lodges immediately in the rear, were thrown into the shade. When the hurried communication was made to Ichabod, of the plan proposed, they were standing directly in the rear of the lodge, and at a distance of only ten or fifteen rods from the outer lodges. It was necessary that their plan should be put in execution at once, as at any moment the discovery of Ichabod's escape might be made, when the Indians would set off in pursuit; and without their present plan could, therefore, be executed before that event should happen, it would be likely to fail altogether.
They advanced cautiously towards the lodges; and when they arrived at a point where they had them in full view, as well as the Senecas, who were yet dancing and screaming about the fire, they congratulated themselves on the fact, that no Indian was to be discovered in the direction in which they wished to proceed. They had reached within six rods of the outer lodges, and Eagle's-Wing had already thrown himself upon the ground, with the intention of creeping forward in the position, when Guthrie was seen, accompanied by Panther, approaching the lodge occupied by the two female prisoners. They came within a few feet of it, when they sat down upon a log, engaged, apparently, in earnest conversation. Their voices could be heard occasionally; and although their precise conversation could not be ascertained, it was obvious that Guthrie was warmly insisting upon some measure that was opposed to Panther. Once or twice Ralph thought he detected the name of Ruth Barton, as Guthrie was expostulating in a somewhat louder tone of voice than usual. Knowing the unscrupulous nature of the villain, he felt, by a sort of instinct, that Panther, in that conversation, for some reason of his own, was occupying a position in accordance with his own sentiments and feelings.
The presence of these two individuals disconcerted the whole plan of operations. It was a difficulty which had not been anticipated. After waiting for a short time, and seeing that neither Guthrie nor Panther showed any immediate intention of removing, they anxiously sought for some other plan, by which to accomplish their purpose. But ere that was done, Panther, to their great joy, arose and departed in the direction of the fire. Guthrie now remained alone. The Tuscarora significantly drew his knife, and pointed towards him; but Ichabod, at once, expressed his dissent.
"That will never do, Eagle's-Wing. You can't do that twice in one hour, and have it succeed; for if he makes the slightest noise, we shall be obliged to take to our heels. No – that won't do. I have it," said he, with a sudden idea, "and I'll do a little business of my own, at the same time;" and, after whispering a few words to his companions, he cautiously crept backwards into the wood, and then proceeded as cautiously in a westward direction, until he had reached a point sufficiently out of the course that it would be necessary for Ralph and Eagle's-Wing to pursue in making their escape.
Guthrie, in the meantime, remained seated in the same position which he had occupied during the conversation with Panther. He was evidently in a better mood; for, with his cap slouched over his eyes, and his head leaning upon his hand, he seemed to be muttering his grievances to himself. All at once, his ears were saluted with the peculiar grunt or growl of a bear. He raised his head, turned slowly round, and looked backwards toward the forest; then, examining his rifle, raised himself upon his feet. Now, a bear, in the days of which we are writing, was not, by any means, a very uncommon object with the hunter in this portion of the State; but those animals were sufficiently scarce, so that the capture of one, while it added largely to one's stock of provisions, also added very much to the reputation of the hunter. Guthrie, notwithstanding the mood which seemed to be upon him, did not choose to neglect so favorable an opportunity of, at the same time, ministering to the appetites of his companions, and to his own reputation as a skilful hunter. He again heard the growl of the bear, and, looking cautiously about to see that no one else had noticed the proximity of the favorite game, he moved slowly forward towards the forest.
When he had advanced to a point where his back was turned towards the position occupied by Ralph and Eagle's-Wing, the latter crept quickly forward in the direction of the lodge; he passed the outer lodge, and halting for a moment to see that he was not observed, moved again rapidly towards the lodge where he expected to find Ruth and her companion.
As Guthrie advanced into the forest, Ichabod, from whom the sounds had proceeded that attracted his attention, moved as cautiously before him, occasionally, however, imitating the growl of the animal he was personating, so as to keep Guthrie from straying from the right direction. In this manner, he had succeeded in leading Guthrie nearly half a mile from the lodges of the Senecas, when, as he believed that before that time, Ralph and Eagle's-Wing must have succeeded in their efforts, as a failure on their part would have been signalled by the cries of the enemy, he determined to end the hunt upon which Guthrie was engaged, by letting him know the precise game of which he had been in pursuit. Secreting himself behind a tree, that he might not be too early discovered by Guthrie, as it was not so dark but that objects at two or three rods' distance might be discerned with tolerable accuracy, he waited the coming of his enemy. As Guthrie was about passing him, slightly bent forward, as in the attempt to pierce into the obscurity of the forest, he leaped upon him and pinioned him in his muscular arms. In a moment more, Guthrie was disarmed, and was lying helplessly upon the ground, his hands being securely fastened by a cord which Ichabod had drawn from his pocket. Guthrie, in his astonishment and fear, had not yet recognized the person of his captor.
"Get up here, you infarnal villain!" cried Ichabod; "what's the use of lying upon the ground, when you can just as well stand on your feet?" and he caught hold of him to assist him in rising. Guthrie now saw that he was in the power of Ichabod – and at once, with the characteristic meanness and cowardice of a rascal, began to beg for life.
"You judge of me, I reckon," said Ichabod, with contempt, "by what you'd do yourself, were you in my place, you white-livered Tory. Stop your howling. I don't intend to kill you. I never do that kind of thing in cold blood; and yet I don't know why a man's conscience should be burdened any by smothering the venom of such a reptile as this, anywhere he can catch him."
Ichabod surveyed the miserable wretch for a few moments, with a mixture of disgust, contempt, and pity. Fear seemed to deprive him of all rational power of speech, and he testified his agony by sobs and shrieks. Ichabod drew from his pocket another cord.
"I'll tell you what, you infarnal traitor, you shall have a touch of the same fare you sarved up for me; only you won't have anybody to guard you from the bears and wolves. You'll be tied up to this tree to-night; and if your friends find you scattered round in pieces in the morning, it will be the fault of the bears and wolves, and not mine."
With this, he fastened him securely to the tree. Then shouldering his rifle, he exclaimed, amidst the shrieks of the miserable wretch for help —
"You're a Tory, a traitor, and a liar; and there's no use in asking God to have marcy on your soul, under any circumstances. All I've got to say is, before bidding you good-night, that if you escape from here, and your miserable carcass ever crosses my path, I'll shoot you as I would a wolf."
So saying, he departed in a north-easterly direction, towards the clump of willows where the canoe of Eagle's-Wing was concealed. This spot had been agreed upon as the rendezvous; and Ichabod walked rapidly, spurred on by the excitements of the day through which he had already passed, and by the hope of meeting all his friends once more in safety. For nearly a quarter of a mile, the shrieks of Guthrie could be heard, mingled with oaths and cries for help; but soon these sounds failed to reach his ears, and he was alone amidst the silence of the forest.
CHAPTER XVI
"The bow has lost its wonted spring,
The arrow falters on the wing,
Nor carries ruin from the string,
To end their being and our woes."
FRENEAU.
The Tuscarora, after the departure of Ichabod, followed by Guthrie, cautiously crept towards the lodge in which he expected to find Ruth and Singing-Bird. This he was enabled to do in comparative safety, as he moved in a deep shadow; and his only danger consisted in the chance of meeting some straggling Seneca, or someone who might have been selected as a guard for this particular quarter. But, without interruption, he gained the side of the lodge, the entrance to which was upon the west; but he could not reach it without a momentary exposure of his person to the eyes of anyone who might chance to be looking in that direction. Arriving at this point, he paused, and began imitating the shrill whistle or screech of the tree-toad, which, it seems, had been agreed upon between him and Singing-Bird, as a signal of his presence, in any emergency like the present. To his surprise, he received no answer. Again he gave the signal, but no answer was returned. A cold shudder ran through that frame of the Tuscarora, as he feared that the prisoners had been removed, and that their enterprise must fail. But he was determined to realize his worst fears by an examination of the interior of this lodge. With this view, he advanced to the extreme point where his person could be obscured in the shadow – a distance of six or eight feet from the entrance. He darted forward, with an agility quickened by the mixture of hope and fear, and found himself within the lodge. It was empty. For a moment, the impassable nature of the savage was overpowered, and he gazed around him with a look of despair; and a shudder passed over him, that shook his strong frame as a leaf is shaken by the wind. But despair could not bring relief, and activity and courage only could retrieve the time that had been lost. Again he passed the entrance, and with the same caution retreated to the place where he had left his companion.
"They are gone!" he said.
"Gone?" exclaimed Ralph.
But at the same moment a yell was heard; and they beheld the Indians darting from the fire towards the spot where Ichabod had been confined. It was now too late; their only hope was in flight. A few moments was left them, ere the Senecas would be upon their track; for the savages would readily comprehend that the escaped prisoner would fly in the direction of the cottage. Ralph and Eagle's-Wing hesitated for a moment; the last hope of relief to the unfortunate prisoners seemed extinguished by this premature discovery of the flight of Ichabod. They darted into the forest, and rapidly ran in the direction of the rendezvous which had been agreed upon with their friend. Some little time elapsed, ere they discovered that they were pursued; but another, and wilder and fiercer yell from the Indians, denoted that some new discovery had taken place, which had excited them still more. Had Ichabod been again captured? That could not well be; as he had but a short time before left them; and they knew that he did not intend to return again to the lodges of the Senecas. A hope sprang to the heart of Ralph, that perhaps Ruth and Singing-Bird had also escaped; and that the Senecas had but just ascertained that these, the most prized of their prisoners, had fled. But the hope was too faint, too weak, to revive his drooping spirits.
They were now conscious that they were pursued, and that their pursuers could not be, at the most, more than a hundred rods behind them. It was yet half a mile to the rendezvous; but they were both inured to exercise; and they ran with an ease and freedom, that promised to keep at least that distance between them and their pursuers. After the cries of the Senecas which had first fallen upon their ears, had died in the silence, occasionally was heard a wild shriek behind them; but at length these entirely ceased. It was a chase of life and death – the silence of the forest was unbroken by any sound save that of its own music, answering to the gentle pressure of the wind; but they knew well that this silence was owing to the caution of their unrelenting enemies.
They arrived, panting at the rendezvous. Eagle's-Wing darted into the clump of willows, with the expectation of beholding Ichabod; but he was not there. What was now to be done? Should they remain here, or continue their flight towards the cottage? It was fully a mile distant; and yet, were they to be absent, should the Senecas again attack it, as they would be likely to do, in their present excitement, Barton and the negro would, perhaps, be unable to defend it; and they, too, would fall into the hands of the Senecas, from whom no mercy could now be expected. They must continue their flight; it was the only course. A few moments had been lost in this brief consultation; but the time lost had served to give them new energy for flight.
They proceeded onward with the same rapidity; the shanty was passed; and they reached the path leading from the cottage into the valley. They had arrived within a quarter of a mile of the cottage, when they discovered persons moving before them, in the same path in which they were traveling. They relaxed their speed, and advanced with more caution than they had yet observed. But, cautious as they were, their approach was detected by the persons they had observed.
"Speak, or I fire!" shouted the stentorian voice of Ichabod.
"Ichabod!" exclaimed Ralph, who with Eagle's-Wing now rapidly approached; and what was their surprise and joy, as they beheld with their friend, both Ruth and Singing-Bird.
Hearty were the salutations, and joyful the greetings between the re-united friends; but Ralph quickly explained the situation of matters; and the fact that the Senecas must be within a hundred rods of them, at least.
They had yet time to reach the cottage. Their flight was necessarily slow; but the Indians must run at least two rods to their one, to overtake them. This was great odds, under ordinary circumstances; but, although Singing-Bird was more used to this species of exercise than Ruth, yet even she was fatigued already; but the energy that fear will give, even when the physical powers are over-taxed, supported Ruth for a while. They were in sight of the cottage – it was not more than a furlong distant, when Ruth, who had been partially supported by Ralph, to this point, fell fainting into his arms. Yet sustaining her insensible form, he still advanced rapidly towards the cottage. It was now evident that some of their pursuers were close behind them; a fierce yell communicated to them the fact, that they had been discovered; and a wild scream from twenty throats a few rods more distant denoted that their pursuers was rapidly overtaking them.
"I'll have a crack at that Injin any way," exclaimed Ichabod; as the foremost Seneca came leaping towards them. Excited by the chase, he did not stop to count the odds; but with upraised tomahawk, the Indian rushed towards the flying group. Ichabod fired; and the scream of the Indian denoted that the ball had taken effect. It had, at least, learned him moderation; and he stopped leaning against a tree, awaiting the approach of his companions.
They passed the grove – the cottage door was opened, and Barton advanced to meet them. A moment more, and they had passed the threshold, and the door was barred. At this instant, the pursuers came rushing into the grove; and fierce and wild were the shrieks of anger, as they saw their escaped prisoners shut from their view.
We will take this opportunity, while the reunited friends are exchanging their congratulations at once more beholding each other in safety, to narrate briefly the history of the escape of Ruth and Singing-Bird.
It has been said that Singing-Bird, by the use of a little duplicity, had been able partially to deceive the Senecas. She had been able to make Panther believe that when they had once reached the country of the Senecas, beyond the lakes, she would yield to his wishes, and become his wife. From the time that Panther had formed this belief, she was much less carefully watched; and had such opportunities to escape, that nothing but her ignorance of the place where Eagle's-Wing was to be found, had prevented her from improving them. When Ruth was brought in as a captive, and she had ascertained the precise condition of matters, she at once resolved to fly, on the first opportunity. The same incident which had formed the escape of Ichabod – the debauch of the Indians – presented the opportunity she wished; and taking a favorable moment, when the larger portion of the Senecas were gathered about the fire, and the few who remained sober, were distributed as guards over a much larger space than usual, she and Ruth issued from the lodge. They passed the precise spot, which, but a few moments later, was occupied by Ralph and the Tuscarora – and entered the forest. At first, excited by the hope of liberty, and the fear of detection, they fled with a speed which their strength and power of endurance would not allow them long to continue; but as they began to feel the fatigue incident upon their efforts, and as they were not able to ascertain that the Senecas had learned their flight, they slackened their speed, and walked with as much rapidity as the nature of the ground would allow. They endeavored to keep a straight north-westerly course; and by doing so; they would naturally reach that point on the river, which had been selected, although unknown to them, by Ichabod and his friends, for a rendezvous.
They did, in fact, reach that particular spot; and were passing by it, when Ichabod, who had just before reached it, to his exceeding surprise beheld them, and at once presented himself, calling them by name, to prevent the fear which they would naturally feel, had he suddenly shown himself, when in the darkness, perhaps, they would not have been able to recognize him.
He informed them of the fact that Ralph and Eagle's-Wing were then engaged in efforts for their escape; and he debated for a few moments with himself, whether they should remain at the rendezvous, and wait the coming of their friends, or proceed towards the cottage. But the consideration, that should Ralph and Eagle's-Wing be discovered, or should the Indians ascertain the flight of himself and his companions, their position at the rendezvous would be much less safe, encumbered as they would be with companions whom it would be necessary to protect, and who could not add to the means of defence, determined him to proceed; and they set off immediately, in the direction of the cottage. The rest of the story has been already told.
When the family and friends found themselves once more united in the cottage, after the first hearty congratulations, they proceeded to observe the dispositions made by the Indians; and to discover, if possible, what might be their plan of operations. The grove by this time was filled with enemies; and a few, even, had advanced upon the lawn between the grove and the cottage; but they were soon recalled to their ideas of safety and self-protection, by the discharge of the rifles of Ichabod and the Tuscarora, not without effect. These more adventurous Senecas, immediately retired.
