Gustave Aimard
The Frontiersmen

CHAPTER VI

 
"And then to mark the lord of all,
The forest hero, trained to wars,
Quivered and plumed, and lithe and tall,
And seamed with glorious scars."
 

BRYANT.

Ralph, as we have said, bore his fainting burden into the hut and the Tuscarora, having secured the frightened horses, at once hastened to his assistance. Ruth, in a few moments, became partially restored; and a blush lit up the pallor of her countenance, as she found herself sustained in the arms of Ralph. Partially withdrawing from his support, she said:

"You must be astonished, Captain Weston, that a woodman's daughter had so little fortitude as to be unable to withstand the ordinary perils of her condition. I almost feel that I owe you an apology."

"You have no reason to be ashamed of your want of fortitude, Miss Barton," answered Ralph. "The courage with which you endured that terrible ride was amazing. You have more, much more, than sustained your reputation as a woodman's daughter."

Ralph now, for the first time, observed the Tuscarora, who was standing silently before him leaning upon his rifle. The Indian was of little more than medium height, and straight as an arrow. His form was rather slight than otherwise, but was fully developed, and gave evidence of great agility and strength. His countenance was open and frank; and in his present attitude of repose, one would not have thought that he possessed those peculiar qualities of the Indian, which we are apt to associate with our recollections of that rapidly wasting race. He looked like a true lord of the forest, – cold and impassive in demeanor, – but concealing beneath that grave exterior a fountain of terrible passions. He had not yet passed the age of "youth," for not more than thirty times, to him, had the leaves of autumn fallen; yet his youth seemed extinguished in the gravity of the warrior.

Ralph could not resist a feeling of admiration at the well-built frame and noble countenance of the Tuscarora; and advancing towards him, he grasped him by the hand.

"Tuscarora," said he, "you have this night rendered this young lady and myself a service, for which we shall ever be grateful; you have preserved our lives."

The Indian, with a modest gesture, seemed to disclaim the gratitude which Ralph so freely expressed – then quietly said:

"Tuscarora friend to the colony pale-face – me no Kings Injin – me do my duty to friend. Young people careless – all heart – no eyes – no mind wolves; – me know – me waited for 'em."

"I did not know," said Ralph, "that the wolves of this section ever attacked men."

"No often; but get hungry sometimes – then ugly – then must look out. Hear that?"

Since our travelers had entered their place of safety, the forest seemed to be alive with the unearthly howls of the beasts, whose din increased at the loss of their prey. They had rushed up to the sides of the hut; and, as the Tuscarora answered Ralph, a number of them had evidently leaped against the door and the sides of the building with a savage ferocity.

"Me have fun, now," said the Tuscarora, advancing towards one of the numerous loop-holes of the hut, which had been made by its builder for its defence. "Me shoot – give 'em something to howl for."

His rifle was discharged, and for a moment, the din outside completely ceased; but as the pack saw one of their number fall, their cries increased in ferocity, until they became almost deafening. Ralph advanced to one of the loop-holes, and looked out upon the savage crowd of beasts, which seemed determined to besiege them into a surrender. As well as he could observe in the moonlight, there appeared to be forty or fifty of them, standing before and prowling about the hut, with their faces upturned – and their eyes gleaming like balls of fire.

The North American wolf is naturally a cowardly animal; and never, when alone, dares to attack a man. The animal has become, in the section of country of which we are now writing, entirely extinct. Mean, thievish, cowardly in disposition, they always fled from an encounter with a human creature, except when frenzied with hunger, and gathered in large packs. At such times, they become extremely dangerous; yet, even then, any resistance which seemed able to withstand their attack, at once disconcerted them.

The Indian again loaded his rifle, and again it was discharged. Another wolf was killed; and although they still kept up their clamor, they began to retreat to a distance from an enemy who had so much advantage of them.

"Wolf run," said the Tuscarora; "wolf no like rifle – they got no heart – cowards!" and, as if he disdained the firing upon so mean a foe, after reloading his rifle, he came towards Ralph, and quietly sat down on a rough bench by the side of the hut.

"Wolf run away," said he – "they gone soon – then you go home."

"We have our lives to thank you for, Tuscarora," said Ruth, with a look of gratitude, "and my father will always be glad to welcome you to the cottage. Will you not return with us?"

"Not now – may be by-'m-by."

"Is your nation in this territory now?" asked Ralph.

"Me got no nation," said the Indian, sorrowfully. "Tuscaroras once great – away south. Then had great many warriors – then they great nation – but most all gone, now."

"Are not your people and the Oneidas brethren?"

"Oneidas are brothers – love Oneidas."

"Why are you here in this section alone, Tuscarora, with none of your brethren near you?" abruptly asked Ralph.

The Indian looked at him steadily for a moment, and then replied:

"My young friend is wise. The white men all ask questions – no good for Injin to answer questions;" and he fell into a gloomy and listless posture, and refused, for the time, to hold any further conversation.

The silence of the Tuscarora was somewhat embarrassing to Ralph; and he again went towards the loop-holes to reconnoitre the present position of the enemy. The howls had almost entirely ceased; and what few were heard, seemed to be twenty-five or thirty rods distant. Just as he reached the loop-hole, he heard a rifle discharged on the outside, and a voice which he recognized as that of Ichabod, which made the woods ring again with a loud halloo.

The Indian started abruptly from his seat, and both he and Ralph advanced towards the door. On opening it, they discovered at the distance of ten rods three men who were rapidly approaching the hut. As they came from among the shadows of the trees into the bright moonlight, which lay in the small opening in front of the hut, Ralph recognized Barton and Ichabod accompanied by the negro.

The moment they were discovered by the party, Barton ran towards Ralph, exclaiming, "Is she safe, Ralph – is she safe?"

Scarcely was the question asked, before Ruth was in her father's arms. "God bless thee, girl," said he; "I hardly dared hope ever to see thee again," and the tears rolled down his manly face.

"For this joy, my father, we have to thank this good Indian here. He it was who saved us."

The Indian, during this scene, had silently withdrawn into a deep shadow which fell by the side of the hut. There he stood, leaning upon his rifle, seemingly as passionless and unconcerned as the shadow within which he stood.

Barton went up to him, and grasped him by the hand. "You have this day," said he, "in rescuing my daughter, saved both her life and my own. How can I thank you?"

The Tuscarora remained unmoved. "No thanks," said he. "The Great Spirit smiles when his children do their duty. Tuscarora likes colony pale-face. The Great Spirit sent me here – thank him, not poor Tuscarora."

"You say right, Tuscarora. God hath preserved my child this day. To Him be thanks, who taketh and giveth."

Scarcely had the first sound issued from the mouth of the Tuscarora, when Ichabod rapidly approached him. The Indian gave him a glance of recognition, and silently took his hand.

"Eagle's Wing, as I live!" exclaimed he. "Glad to see you again, old friend. I haven't seen you since we were down here on that last war-path."

Canendesha, as the Tuscarora was named by his own people, bore also the name of Eagle's Wing, which had been bestowed upon him not only for his boldness in fight, but for the keenness and rapidity with which he followed the trail of an enemy. When he heard himself thus called by his name of honor, he drew himself up with pride as he replied:

"Three summers and winters have destroyed the marks of the war-path. I have dwelt in the wigwams of my people, and near by the fires of the Oneidas."

In the meantime Barton had approached Ralph, and testified scarcely less joy at his deliverance than he had at that of Ruth. Ichabod and Eagle's Wing had withdrawn still further from observation into the shadow.

"Eagle's Wing," said Ichabod, imitating the language of the Tuscarora, "is wise. He dwells in peace in the wigwams of his people. But why is he here – two days' march from his friends?"

The Indian remained silent for a few moments. At length he replied:

"I am in the hunting grounds of my people. The heart of Eagle's Wing is filled with peace."

"Yes, yes, old friend," said Ichabod, resuming his usual manner of expression. "You and I have been on a good many warpaths together. I know a Tuscarora and Oneida just as well as I know a Seneca or Mohawk. I know your people are gentlemen born, and I know them others are reptiles. You can't deceive me, Eagle's Wing – you are on a trail?"

"The eyes of my brother are keen – he has followed the war-path. Has he crossed the trail of an enemy?"

The Indian uttered this with a countenance so unmoved, and with such an expression of sincerity, that Ichabod began to think the Tuscarora had nothing to conceal from him. He said, however, in reply:

"I know your heart is true, Eagle's Wing; but I rather thought, at first, you might be following up some devil of a Seneca. But them varmints have left these parts, I s'pose."

"My brother is wise," softly replied the Tuscarora, but at the same time with a quiet expression of victory in the glance which he cast towards Ichabod. The glance was not unnoticed, and the latter at once saw that his original suspicions were correct. But he knew it would be useless to press the Tuscarora with questions. He said to him, however, in a tone that convinced the Indian that Ichabod was not deceived:

"Well, old friend, you and I have been brothers in harder times than these; and if you need the help of this rifle here, which is an old acquaintance of your'n, I shall take it in dudgeon if you don't call on me."

The Indian still remained unmoved; but Ichabod could see that the offer was kindly received.

At this moment, Barton approached, and invited the Tuscarora to accompany him to his dwelling. "You will always be welcome there, and I hope I may have many opportunities to testify to you my gratitude."

The Tuscarora courteously declined the invitation for the present, and the party prepared to depart. The horses were led out, and the party proceeded towards the cottage, while Eagle's Wing, remained as long as he could be observed, still leaning upon his rifle in front of the hut.

The party journeyed for some distance without conversation, until Ralph at length asked Ichabod, who seemed to be much less talkative than usual, how they who were at the cottage had so soon learned the danger which Ruth and he were in, from the pursuit of the wolves.

"Learn!" answered Ichabod. "Why, you see the old Squire, 'long towards dusk, began to get considerable uneasy, from some cause or other – either because he had heard more about them infarnal varmints, lately, than he chose to tell, or else because Sambo teazed him until he ra'ally thought you was in some danger; and so he proposed to me to walk with him along down the road, until we met you. We'd got in just about a mile of that shanty, when we heard the yells of them pestiferous cre'turs. I tell you, Captain, them would have been tough customers to have come to a close fight with."

"I was entirely unarmed," said Ralph, "but I had no reason to expect meeting an enemy of any kind; and least of all did I suppose we should run any danger from such an enemy."

"Them varmints," replied Ichabod, "when they've once had a taste of human blood, are as hungry for it as Senecas are for scalps —con-found 'em."

"I know the prevalent opinion in some portions of Europe – in Germany, for instance, of the ferocity of wolves. There is an old superstition of Weird-wolves, of which I have heard."

Ralph explained, by giving an account of this peculiar superstition. In Germany, and in the Netherlands, and in some other portions of Europe, the opinion had been prevalent among the people, that there were certain sorcerers, who, having anointed their bodies with ointment, the preparation of which, they had learned from the devil, and having put on an enchanted girdle, so long as they wore it, appeared, to the eyes of others, like wolves; and who possessed the same ferocity and appetite for human blood, as the animals they were believed to resemble. A large number of persons in these countries had been executed, who were supposed to be guilty of that offence. They were generally known as Weird-wolves.

This popular superstition, indeed, has survived in some portions of Europe, until this day. In the "Arabian Night's Entertainments," the unhappy subjects of this superstition were denominated "ghouls," but in the west they were known by the name we have already mentioned. A circumstance occurred in Paris, in 1849, which seemed to throw more light upon the nature of this superstition, and to prove indeed, that there was a pretty good foundation for the popular belief. Like the delusion under which many of those unhappy persons labored in the days of the "Salem witchcraft," who really believed themselves to be what their judges pronounced them, so these Weird-wolves were undoubtedly insane persons, who fancied themselves possessed of the wolfish form and nature.

"I have heard," said Barton, who now joined in the conversation, "of many instances in our northern settlements, where people have been attacked by these animals; but, although it is a frequent occurrence for them to disturb the whole country about here with their howls by night, I had never apprehended any such danger from them. But we ought to be thankful that there is no worse enemy about here."

Ichabod, whose mind, ever since his conversation with the Tuscarora, had been occupied with thoughts that did not seem very agreeable to him, started at this remark, and said, slowly —

"Well, squire, I hope you mayn't be able to change that last remark of your'n by to-morrow this time."

Ralph, who knew Ichabod well enough to know that however unsafe his opinion might be upon subjects relating to moneymaking, yet that, upon all the perils and dangers incident to a forest life, he possessed an excellent judgment, with some anxiety asked him for an explanation.

The whole party had caught the alarm; and Ichabod, with a mixture of pride at finding himself in such an important position, and of sorrow at the information he felt bound to communicate, answered —

"You see, Eagle's-Wing and I are old friends. We've fout many a battle agin them cussed Senecas and Onondagas; and I reckon I know an Injin, and can read him through pretty tolerably easy. Now Eagle's-Wing isn't down here for nothing; and though his Injin blood wouldn't let him tell me what kind of speculation he is on, yet I know he's on a trail of some sort. You can always tell an Injin when he's after an enemy."

"But what enemy," asked Barton, "can he be pursuing in this direction? There can be no large body of hostile Indians in these forests; for Guthrie, who is a woodsman, and who would at once have discovered the fact, would have communicated the intelligence to us. I think there can be no ground for apprehension."

"I don't know about that, Squire," replied Ichabod, "but I'm sure something's in the wind; and if you take my advice, you'll prepare for defence. As for Guthrie, as you call him, you know best about him; he's got a miserable, hang-dog face, any way."

Although there was much plausibility in the opinion of Barton and Ichabod's apprehensions did not seem to be well-grounded, yet Ralph, who knew that Ichabod had not given this advice without reflection, also advised Barton at once to take means of defense against any attack which might be made upon the cottage.

Barton yielded to the solicitations of Ralph and Ichabod; and the party having arrived at the cottage, Sambo was at once despatched to drive in the cattle into an enclosure which had been constructed upon the west side of the house. This yard was guarded upon all sides by an enclosure of logs some ten or twelve feet in height, and had been prepared expressly for the purpose for which it was now used. Its construction had been deemed necessary by Barton for the purpose of protecting his cattle in case of an attack by Indians, as well as to protect them from wolves or bears, which were occasionally seen prowling around the premises.

The house itself, as we have before remarked, was adapted for defence against any outward attack from such means of warfare as Indians would be likely to attempt. The outside doors were heavy, and were secured by strong bars, which would resist any ordinary force that might be applied to them. The windows in the lower story were fitted with strong blinds, which it would be impossible to remove from the outside. In the second story, the windows were guarded by long hickory bars which had been morticed into the logs, while loop-holes had been provided, through which an attack might be repelled.

The house was put into a complete state of defense. The rifles were all loaded, and placed in a position where they could be readily obtained, in case they should be needed. Thus prepared, the family at length retired to rest, the negro having been ordered to keep watch during the night.

CHAPTER VII

 
"It is not a time for idle grief,
Nor a time for tears to flow;
The horror that freezes his limbs is brief —
He grasps his war-axe and bow, and a sheaf
Of darts made sharp for the foe."
 

BRYANT.

As might be inferred from the scenes and excitements of the preceding day, the inmates of the cottage did not seek the night's repose with the accustomed feelings of tranquility and safety. Ruth went over again in memory the events of the day, and she could not conceal from her own mind the fact that Ralph Weston was much more to her than an ordinary stranger. Having known him in youth, she had always esteemed the leading traits of his character; and she now felt that esteem ripening into a passion which bears a much more tender name.

As for Ralph, he had not needed to pass through any such excitements or dangers, as Ruth and he had that day encountered, to adjust any wavering balance of affection. He had seen enough to perfectly satisfy him that Ruth looked upon him with no indifference; and notwithstanding the preparations for defense and the unpleasant ideas which the prospect of an Indian attack would be likely to excite, he sank into a pleasant slumber, and was willingly borne off into the region of fairy dreams.

Ichabod had no such potent specific with which to drown care and reflection. The Tuscarora, and his probable object in visiting the valley – his mysterious manner during their brief conversation – were ever present to his mind; and after tossing about restlessly on his bed until nearly daylight, he arose with the resolution of seeking an explanation of the mystery. His preparations were made in silence, and without disturbing any of the inmates of the house. Throwing his rifle across his arm, and fastening into a belt which he buckled around him a large hunting-knife, he noiselessly descended into the lower part of the building.

In the gloom which pervaded the room into which Ichabod entered, it was some time before he discovered Sambo, who had been stationed there to keep watch during the night. He at length espied him, sitting in a chair before the huge fire-place, with his head bent upon his breast, in a most unmistakable attitude of slumber. Ichabod had not forgotten the grinning of the negro, at his exploits in fishing the day before, and he was willing to give him a sufficient fright to punish him a little. Advancing noiselessly towards him, he placed one hand on the top of his woolly head, and with a rapid motion of the other imitated the circular cutting used in the process of scalping, imprinting his thumb-nail with sufficient force into the skin, to give the sleeping negro a distinct impression of that disagreeable operation.

As the whole family for that night had retired to the upper part of the house, Ichabod knew that he should be able to stifle the cries of the negro, so that no one in the building would be alarmed.

The moment Sambo felt the impression of the thumb-nail on his skin, he awoke with a scream of fear; but Ichabod rapidly closed his mouth with one of his heavy hands.

"Oh gor-a-massy – massa Injin! I'm scalped. O Lor'! O Lor'!" exclaimed the negro; and in his distress he tumbled down upon the floor under the impression that he was about to give up the ghost.

Ichabod, who saw that he had carried the joke as far as safety to the negro would allow, lifted him up into the chair.

"There, you black devil! go to sleep will you, when you're on duty? You do that again, and we'll have you hung by the articles of war."

The negro, who was perfectly willing to escape a scalping for the present, by a prospect of hanging in the future, speedily recovered from his fright.

"O gor-a-massy, 'twas you, was it, Massa Jenkins? Know'd it was you, all the while! Needn't think you could come possum over this nigger, any how; I jist set down in the chair to listen a little."

Ichabod, who was amused at the assurance of the negro, advised him not to listen in that manner any more, or he would get scalped in earnest. Then unbarring the door, and bidding the negro to fasten it after him, and to inform the Squire and Captain when they got up, that he should be back in an hour or two, departed, in the direction of the shanty.

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 shore, 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 shore. 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."