^ fi An-7 ,^'^i/t/i'<^yVUy9J THE FRONTIERSMEN A NAEEATIVE OF 1783, / « Henceforth, to speculations high or deep I turned my thoughts."' NEW YOKK: STRINGER & TOWN SEND, 222 BROADWAY T/N'DER THB MUSEUM. ^ /i 1 n/^ y Entered according to Act of Congress, ua the year 1854, by STEINGKR k '10WN8ENP, In theCJerk^'B Office of the TJnilei States Disirict Court for the Southera Dhrtrict of N^ew Tom. ■ ^»ff* THE FEO^^^TIEPiSMEI. CHAPTER I. IXTRODUCTORY. In the year 1783. "Western New York — or at least "vrhat wag then deemed Western New York — was an almost unbroken wilderness, scarcely known to the inhabitants of the eastern and south-eastern portions of the State ; although the greater part of that large tract of territory then known as Tryon County, was especially an unexplored country. It is true that occasion- ally some adventurous pioneer had penetrated the wilderness, and endeavored to form for himself and family a home, where, if he could not enjoy the luxuries and comforts to be found in more populous sections, he could at least be freed from many of the evils incident to the growing settlements and cities. Some there were, who had not these inducements, but, moved by a spirit of hardy enterprise, and with a love for the excitements and dangers of a pioneer life, penetrated the wilderness alone, with no companion but the rifle — a sure and steadfast friend amidst the dangers which were certain to beset him. Thus, an adventurous traveler, who perhaps fancied himself the first white man who had ever toiled through the forests of this portion of the State, would be surprised as he came upon the traces of civilization, in a log hut. situated, perhaps, in the midst of a few acres of partially cleared wilderness. When such happened to be the case, it would be no occasion for won- der that the traveler and the settler became at once acquaintances and friends. The news from the settlements — inquiries for friends, and political information, would gladly be exchanged for the homely but welcome entertainment, which was at once provided. At the period which we have chosen for our narrative, the County of Tryon was inhabited by roving bands of Indians, mostly belonging to the Six Xations. Some favorite localities were selected, which might be deemed peculiarly the homes of these bands ; although their roving dispositions, the pursuit of game, or hostile encounters, would prevent the permanent occu- pation of any one locality. rr^ ^r^Ot!^ Ml,.«i.-?D 'lO * THE F B N T I E R S M E N' . That portion of Tryon County with which the reader will be- come somewhat acquainted in due course of this narrative, was more especially inhabited by that division of the Iroquois, known as the Oneidas. But it was not infrequent that bands belonging to other tribes of the confederacy made incursions into this ter- ritory, in pursuit of game, and occasionally on less peaceable missions. It is well known that during the TTar of the Revolution, the diiferent tribes composing the confederacy of the Six Nations. were divided in their choice between England and the rebellious Colonies. The Oneidas, and a part of the Tuscaroras and Mo- hawks, adhered to the Colonies, while the other three nations of the confederacy were leagued with England, under Col. Butler, and the notorious Johnson. It was under the former ofiBcer that the Senecas, principally, aided by Tories, perpetrated the Massacre of Wyoming. The Onondagas. at first, professed neu- trality between the belligerent parties; but as it was believed that they aided in the more hostile operations of the Senecas, a detachment was sent from Fort Stanwix, which destroyed their yillages. This attack was revenged by assaults upon the settle- ments of Schoharie and the western borders of Ulster. During the war, Tryon County contained a large number of Tories, who were constantly inciting the Indians to acts of hos- tility against the Colonies. But while they were successful with a large portion of the Iroquois, they signally failed in all their attempts to abate the fidelity of the Oneidas and Tuscaroras. This division in the councils of the Six Xations. disturbed the amity which had previously existed between the confederated tribes; and the bond which had so long united them, was sever- ed forever. More than once, were the Oneidas driven from their villages, and compelled to seek protection from the whites; and parties of the latter tribe, with a part of the Tuscaroras, actual- ly took up arms against their ancient brethren. It is said that the notorious Col. Walter Butler was killed by an Oneida Chief, during his flight after the battle of Johnstown. At the time embraced by our narrative, it was not infrequent that difficulties occurred between the -'-^ -^ T'ei parties of the confederacy, and hostile encounters t<: . which ended in bloodshed. Indeed, the successful Coiunies nad not concluded any treaty of peace with the Mohawks. Onondagas, Cayugas, and Senecas, until October, 1784. By that treaty, those tribes consented to a release of prisoners, and also to a cession of all their territory west of Pennsylvania. The Six Nations, at the time of the Revolution, were cODsider- ed the most formidable of the Indian warriors to be found on the Xorth American Continent ; and overtures were made to them, as well by the Congress of the confederated Colonies, as by the English Government. The overtures of the latter were THE FRONTIERSMEN. 11 made through Col. Guv Johnson — successor to Sir William — and through the great influence he possessed over them, he vras able to induce them to take up arras against the peaceable and scattered inhabitants of the frontier. The number of Indians of the Six Xations who actually took up arms in favor of Great Britain, is estimated at about 1200. The whole number of In- dians, of all tribes, who were employed by the British against the Colonies, was estimated bv Captain Dalton. (Superintendent of Indian Affairs in 1783.) at' 12.690. The hl-tories of the time, relate the terrible sufferings endured by the inhabitants of Tryon County. The valleys of the Scho- harie, the Mohawk and the Susquehanna, were swept, year after year, by the Indians ; villages were burnt — and, without dis- crimination of age or sex. the whites who were supposed to be favorable to the Colonial cause, were massacred. These events gave rise to the expedition of Gen. Sullivan into the Onondaga, Cayuga and Seneca country, which was overrun and laid waste; and it was hoped that the Indians, having lost their provisions and stores, would cease their incursions upon the border settle- ments. But all such hopes were vain; the depredations were renewed, and continued until the end of the war. It is said by the author of the Life of Brant, that •• two years before the close of the war. one-third of the population had gone over to the enemy — one-third had been driven from the country, or were slain in battle, and by private assassination. And yet among the inhabitants of the other remaining third, in June. 1783. it was stated at a public meeting held at Fort Plain, that there were three hundred widovrs and two thousand orphan children." The country which is the immediate scene of the following narrative, was little known in the time of the Revolution. The maps of the period designated it as Indian country, and as an unexplored region. The Tienaderack. or Unadilla River — one of the tributaries of the Susquehanna — is given as the western boundary of the whites, beyond which are the villages and hunting-grounds of the Oneidas and Tuscaroras. It is into this unexplored region that we propose to conduct the reader. "We cannot promise a strict fidelity to truth, in the precise incidents related in bur narrative, but they have kindred features in nar- ratives related by the ancient settlers of this valley. There are traditions, well authenticated, which might give rise to many of the incidents. "With this general view of the condition of Tryon County, at the time of the Revolution, we will conduct the reader to that portion of it in which we are more immediately interested. 12 THE FRONTIERSMEN. CHAPTER II. ' Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp 7 Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court 7 Here feel we but the penalty of Adam — The season's difference." As You Like it. It was, then, in the early part of the month of October, 1783, that two travelers might have been seen, leisurely wending their way, on foot, southwardly, along a somewhat narrow val- ley, through which flowed a rapid but attractive river. That part of the valley which was now in their view, was not more than half a mile in breadth. On the west, the hills were low, and presented no peculiar attraction to the eye. On the east, however, they attained a loftier height, and, in the golden sun- shine which fell from the autumn sky, excited the surprise and admiration of our travelers. From the position they occupied, they could trace the course of the valley for some six or seven miles, among the hills, which became bolder and loftier, until it was lost in a sudden turn to the westward. The river, along whose banks they had traveled for some ten or twelve miles, was here from four to six rods in width ; and, as we have before observed, was attractive by the rapidity of its current and the frequent but graceful curves in which it pursued its course. The Indian name, which this river now bears, implies "the Pleasant River." The forest about them exhibited much variety of vegetation ; and among the trees which they observed, they saw fine specimens of the pine, which towered above the surrounding for- est, in the graceful superiority of foliage and beauty. The maple, hemlock, beech, birch, walnut, and chestnut, were abun- dant. It was at just the season of the j'^ear when the leaf of the maple wears its choicest hue of red ; and the beech and chestnut assume their " sere and yellow." Blending with these varieties, the unfading richness of the evergreen, it would excite no wonder, that the younger of our travelers, at least, beheld with admiration the gorgeous drapery which, in this climate, the forest assumes, preparatory to the desolation of winter. The younger of the two persons to whom we have called the at- tention of the reader, might have been twenty-six or twenty-seven years of age. Of middle stature, he exhibited a frame of much symmetry and power; and it was apparent that he had been THE FRONTIERSMEN. 1'3 inured to labors which had fully developed health and strength. His face was somewhat embrowned by exposure to the weather; but his active and intelligent eyes, the firm compression of his lips, and the ready play of his countenance, as he listened to or answered some remark of his companion, made it apparent that he had at least bestowed some labor upon the cultivation of his mind ; for inward discipline and culture always have their ef- f^t upon the outward bearing. Besides this, there was in his countenance an evidence of sincerity of purpose, which if it pur- sues but one path to attain its end, and that frequently an un- comfortable one, always triumphs over temporary difficulties. Ralph Weston — -for that is the name of the yoimg traveler — was ever honorable and upright, even where worldly " prudence^' would have admitted of a slight departure from the rigid rules of propriety. He was not of that modern school, which makes expediency the touchstone of morality of conduct; but he always disclaimed the a^-tifices to which men too frequently resort to hide the practices which are well enoiigli in themselves, but which happen to contravene popular opinions or customs. But, with this serious turn of mind, he possessed a romantic disposi- tion, which frequently Led him into acts that excited the surprise cf more sedate or less romantic acquaintances ; but with no art, save a frank disposition, and a heart of sympathy and fi'iendship, Ralph Weston alwaj^s found " troops of friends" to whom he was little less than what we propose to make of him — a hero. Ralph Weston, then, as might be readily supposed, in tlie dark bours when the Colonics were struggling for life, embarked his hopes and fortunes in the cause of his country^ At the age of •eighteen, he volunteered as a private soldier, and after serving a fihort time in this humble capacity, he had risen in rank, uatil at the close of the war, he held the commission of .a captain. His maternal aunt (for he had neither father nor mother, both having died in his infancy) always insisted that he should have been a general, at least; and perhaps, if merit wer-e always the true test of advancement, he would have attained a much higher rank. But while he was always foremost ia danger, he w&S€ver a lag- gard in the ranks of those who press eagerly forward for the spoils of victory, or the honors which are more often worn than deserved. But we will suffer the reader to become more inti- mately acquainted with him as we proceed in our history. His traveling companion, however, cannot be dismissed with- out notice; for I^habod Jenkins (familiarly called "Ike," by his too-presuming acquaintances) had no small idea of his own im- portance. At the time when he appears before us, he cannot be less than forty-seven or eight years of age; when standing erect, he is full six feet two in stockings; but as he generally appears in locomotion, you would make his height at about five feet ten. His frame was not, apparently, robust, and a stranger 14 THE FRONTIERSMEN. would have been surprised at any great indication of strength on bis part ; yet few in the neighborhood of his residence, on any public occasion, when feats of agility or strength were undertaken, would have dared to match him in an}'" game where these qualities were necessary. Yet this was the least of Icha- bod's merits, if his own judgment could be trusted. In his earlier days, a long struggle had taken place in his mind between the love of wealth and literary pursuits. He recognized the distinctive antipathy between these two misresses; yet neither of them had ever acquired a complete victory over the other ; so he had compromised between them by uniting a course of such reading as could then be attained in general literature, with a strong speculative disposition, which desired to leap at once, and by one bound, from rags into purple. Now, it must be confessed, that Ichabod had succeeded about as well in one pursuit as in the other— and to which of his mistresses to attri- bute his ill success, he did not know. He had read Mrs. Brad- street's poems, who, in her day, was styled " the mirror of her age and the glory of her sex" — he had much admired the poetry of George Wolcott, but he was completely intoxicated with the " Simple Cobbler of Agawam," by Nathaniai Ward, although he did not adopt its fanatical sentiments j the Revolutionary poets he had by heart, and for the reputation of Freneau, he would liave abandoned the fame of Shakespeare, had he possessed the power of choice. He had at one time secluded himself from all of his acquaintances for a month or two ; and at last, when he emerged from his solitude, he was seen with a quantity of manu- script, which he read to his most intimate friends with exceed- ingly rhapsodical gestures. It was even thought that this manu- script had been offered to some publisher, but as its contents, whatever they were, never appeared in print, it was well under- stood that it had been rejected. It is certain, that from this time he abandoned ail ideas of winning a literary reputation, and set earnestly to work to win the fortune of which he had so long been dreaming. But Ichabod, with an innate love for the jingle of rhyme, could, even at this day, repeat enough of the Ij^rical poetry of the country to endanger the patience and temper of his warmest friend. After attempting, at Boston, many schemes for the sudden acquisition of wealth, which had all resulted in failure, he had, some time previous to the war, shaken off the dust of the (to him) unprosperous city, and traveled westward in search of a more congenial spot, where the resources of his mind could be de- veloped. He had finally located at one of the frontier settlements in the State of New York — a small, but growing place — and unen- cumbered by wife or famil}'", he fancied himself certain of success at last. He had at one time taken a trip to the shores of Long THE FRONTIERSMEN. 15 Island Sound, for the purpose of making inquiry as to the pros- pect of realizing anything from the buried money of Capt. Kidd; but he returned somewhat ^worer than he left. One time, while wandering on the shore of a small creek, in his own neighbor- hood, devising means for the expenditure of his wealth when it should be obrained. he was suddenly arrested by the glitter of some fine, shining particles, in the sand. Certain that he had at length discovered a gold mine, the land was purchased by him on contract, at an extravagant price, by turning out what little money and few valuables he possessed. His mysterious appear- ance and conduct, attracted towards him the attention of the whole settlement ; it was whispered that he was always out of his boarding-house at night, and that he invariably slept a por- tion of the day. He had been heard, too. to hint, in a solemn manner, of his taking up his residence at Boston or ^ew York, and of building half a dozen blocks of brick buildings, and living in a style of splendor that should astonish his early acquaint- ances, who had always enviously predicted that he would never amount to anything. The consequence was. that after much managing and pr3'ing. Ichabod's mine was discovered, and the whole' settlement Vu.slied — men, women and children— to share his good fortune. Trespas^s suits followed thick and fast, and at length it was discovered that the glittering particles which had been gathered so eagerl}', were worth just as much as the sand in which they were imbedded, and no more. The result of this speculation was. that Ichabod lost both his gold and his land, and the little money he had previously possessed. But nothing disheartened, other schemes filled his mind ; and he was always the surest of success, just as he was the most certain to be unsuccessful. Ichabod was altogether too busy in his financial operations to volunteer as a soldier during the Revolutionary War, although he had cast around earnestly to ascertain if there was any way by which he could make his business and patriotism harmonize together. But while he had refused to sacrifice his chances of a fortune by taking up arms as a soldier, to his cr-edit be it said, that in the frequent Indian in- cursions which had been made on the frontier settlements of New York, he had zealously engaged in the plans of defense, and had won an enviable notoriety as an Indian fighter. Always cool and calculating, he never suffered himself to be surprised ; and he came at last to be dreaded by the Indians, as bearing a charmed life, which could not be taken. More than one Seneca, who had escaped from his rifle, bore the marks of his bullets ; and his name was never mentioned by them but with a look of hatred. This feeling was cordially reciprocated ; and even a lucky chance at a fortune could scarcely have deterred him from an attack, even in a time of peace, upon au Onondaga, Cayuga, or Seneca. 1* 16 THE FRONTIERSMEN. But with the return of peace, all ideas of war had vanished, and he now felt that it was necessary to make a desperate effort for the fortune which had been so long delayed. But it was necessary to possess some little capital ; and with the view of laying the foundation for the capital desired, he had embraced the opportunity of guiding Ralph Weston on his journey, which was now nearly completed. He also had an idea about a specu- lation which he wished to look after ; but of that hereafter. Armed with a rifle, which had been his constant companion in his encounters with the Indians, and with a hunting-knife, which he wore in a leathern belt, it would have been difficult for a stranger to have pronounced his vocation. There was little in his figure or appearance which would have indicated the habits of a borderer of the period, yet one would scarcely have ventured to guess at any other calling or profession. His hair, which was long and straight, and originally of a brownish color, had become grizzly, and flowed from under his cap without order or regularity. His face was embrowned by long exposure to the extremes of weather, while its expression had a rigidity that was scarcely ever discomposed. His eyes were of a grayish cast, and seemed alwaj^s to be on the alert, to detect dangers that might threaten either his person, or the men- tal treasures which were just ready to be coined. The travelers journeyed in a sort of path, which had evidently been made some time before, but which had been little used. Occasionally, a tree that could not be avoided had been felled, and the stump wholly or partially removed ; and often the path was obstructed b}^ the trunk of a decayed tree, which had fallen from old age, or had been overthrown by the violence of the winds. " Well, Ichabod," said Ralph, after the travelers had paused a while to survey the valley which now opened upon their view, " we must be near our journey's end. From the indications you gave me, we cannot be more than a mile distant, at farthest." " I should say not, Captain," replied Ichabod ; " I was never hereabouts but once before, and then I reckon we made some- thing of a spec in the way of Injius. The varmints ! but they are a long way ofl:' now, I reckon." " I have never heard," said Ralph, " that any battles of con- sequence were fought in this section of the State. This region is too distant from the settlements, and too much of a wilderness, to have been the scene of any important conflict." " I can't say. Captain, how important it may or mayn't have been to the country at large ; but this I do calculate, that it was mighty important to them that had the fighting on't. Three Injins to one man, sartin ; and they fought like devils, as they were, confound 'em ! Why, Captain, if you'll believe it, one of them red rascals and I ra'ally had a pitched battle for the ownership of this T n F. FRO N T I K R S M }■: X . 11 here ronipanioii of mine.'' pointing to his rifle ; '• but we taught tho cussed red-skins better manners. "We don't part company so easy ;" and Ichabod grasped his ritie with a still firmer hand ; and then half said and half sung, from the old ballad of " Lovo- well's fight. '^ '* ' For, as vre are informed, So thwk and fast they fell, Scarce twenty of their number At nigtit did get home well.' " ^'I supposed," said Ralph, "'that this country, through which we are now traveling, was in the posession of the friendly Onei- das and Tuscaroras ?" '"Yes. it was in their possession." answered Ichabod. '' except when it was overrun by those devils of Seneca-s or Onondagas, and that was pretty tolerably often. They got lots of scalps^ sometimes, and sometimes they lost their own. The Tryon Coun- ty boys, when they had a fair clrancc al 'em, always paid 'em oC with interest As the poet said: *' ' Come all you Tryon County znett. And nearer be dismayed ; But trust sincerely in the Lord, And He will be your aid.' But, as I giueraHy found, they had to trust a good deal to their rifles." *' I had heard of the sufferings of the people at the settlements," said Ralph, " and knew the fact that many shaip ttattles, which are little known in the general history of the war. occurred ; but I supposed they wove conficied to the immediate neighborhood of the settlements." " Why, you see. Captain, if we get the start of 'em at the set- tlements, we weren't such fools as to let 'em go without a taste of our pluck ; and it was on one of them occa.^ions that I was down here. But I .say. Captain," exclaimed he. as he approached a sudden bend in the river, where there was a much more than, •usual current, " what d'ye think of the chance of setting up 3, woolen factory do^vn here, on this creek ?" Amused with the turn Ichabod had given to the conversation, Ralph suggested that it might possibly be a profitable investment, provided he could induce the Indians to become customers to his establishment, and provided the requisite staples for the manu- facture could be obtained. Nothing daunted by the suggestion of obstacles, Ichabod proceeded to explaiPx to Ralph how a rapid fortune, in that line, could be accumulated. " Xow s'pose. Captain, that we buy of these Oneidas and Tuscaroras a water-privilege. Well, that's done. Then we'll put up a building. Plenty of materials, you see, all around 18 THE FRONTIERSMEN. here ; and we can get the machinery at New York, or send for a good hand, and make it ourselves. Then, as you say, we shall have to get the wool ; and after it's manufactured, we shall have to sell it. But why can't we raise sheep here ? We can get a small stock at the settlement, and what with them and the increase, we shan't have any lack of wool : and for a market, haven't we got the whole country? But you'll say. Captain, that the foreign importations will ruins us ? Well, that is a diffi- culty ; but it can't last. Captain ; it won't last. We'll conquer them foreign fellows in that business, jet, as we did in the other. But I think we can, any way, get up a good-enough home mar- ket among these Injins. I'll have a talk with 'em about it." And we shall see that he did, on a subsequent occasion, faithfully perform his promise. But we will not follow the worthy Ichabod in his calculations upon the profits of his speculation. He had scarcely reached the middle of his ligurings upon the profits to be realized from a thousand sheep, when Ralph, who was wearied, yet amused, by the earnestness of his companion, exclaimed : " Arrived at last !" They had now approached near the northeastern shore of a small lake or pond, which lay buried in the valley, completely surrounded by the forest. Its eastern shore was about fifty rods from the river ; and so far as they could observe, it had neither inlet nor outlet. It was of an almost perfect oval form, having on the eastern and a portion of the southern shore a bluff of fif- teen or twenty feet in height ; but on the southwest, the land gradually receded in an upward slope, into a hill of fifty or sixty feet in height, while, towards the northwest, the land rose sharply from the water's edge to an elevation of eighty or a hundred feet. The northern shore seemed to be flat and marshy, and had the appearance of having, at one time, been covered with the waters of the pond. As we have said, it was of nearly an oval form, and was about one hundred rods across, from east to west, while from north to south the distance was still greater. The water was calm and cleai-, and reflected, with the brightness and ^truthfulness of a mirror, the forms of the trees which stood upon its western shore. Even Ichabod awoke from his specula- tive dreams, and admired, with Ealph, the still and quiet beauty of the scene. Upon the brow of the hill which we have described on the .southwestern shore of the pond, in a clearing of few acres in extent, stood a cottage, not much difierent from the general style of cottages, as they were then built by the pioneers of the wilderness. Yet, in the distance which intervened between it and our travelers, and in the calmness and clearness of the day, which had now nearly reached its close, the cottage possessed charm&, in their eyes, which its intrinsic beauties, either in situa- THE FRONTIERSMEN. 19 tion or construction, did not perhaps merit. So far as Ralph was concerned, perhaps, there were other reasons to lend it a charm, beyond the beauty of the landscape or the golden rays thrown upon it by the setting sun. While they were yet observing it, with very different emotions, it was apparent from an unwonted excitement among its inhabi- tants, that their arrival had been observed, and the figure of a stout-looking elderly man, followed by a negro, could be seen ad- vancing towards them. But we must leave the meeting to be recorded in the next chapter. 20 THE FRONTIERSMEN. CHAPTER III. *« 'Tis pleasant, through the loop-holes of retreat, To peep at such a world ; to see the stir Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd ; To hear the roar she sends, through all her gates, At a safe distance, where the dying sound Falls, a soft murmur, on the uninjured ear." The individual we have mentioned, who now came rapidly towards Ralph, was somewhat advanced in 3^ears— not less, per- haps, than sixty. Yet, in his whole bearing and appearance, could be seen the iron frame and hardihood, which in these days have given place to a certain effeminacy of manners. The hardy, robust race of men who cleared our forests, and encountered cheerfully the sufferings and privations, and endured the toil incident "to a pioneer life, are passing away ; and however much our vanity may suffer in making the confession, their sons and successors are apt to lack in those iron qualities which succeeded against obstacles, the magnitude of which most of us do not appreciate. The countenance of this individual exhibited tokens of the energy of this now nearly departed class of men ; yet upon it, at the same time, glowed an expression of honesty and intelli- gence, which at once win the heart and command confidence and respect. The frosts of time had but lightly touched his hair, and at the first glance, one would have guessed him at least ten years younger than he actually was. Matthew Barton, for such was his name, about two years before the period we have assigned for our narrative, had left one of the settlements at the eastward, and removed with his family to this remote region. He had been unfortunate in his pecuniary affairs, and his confidence had been betrayed by a friend for whom he had incurred obligations nearly to the amount of his small for- tune. With the remains of his little property he had removed to the west, advancing beyond the remotest dwelling in this section of the State. He was satisfied that he had years of labor left in him yet ; and with a prudent foresight, he saw that a few years, at most, would surround him with neighbors, who would be likely to follow him to the fertile and beautiful valley he had selected. Suddenly, perhaps, for one advanced to his age, and yielding partially to the feelings of mortification he endured at the idea of struggling with poverty among those who had seen him in a more prosperous condition, he resolved upon this courBe, and it was at once adopted. THE FRONTIERSMEN. 21 His wife had died a number of j'ears before, leaving him but one child, a daughter, who at this time had arrived at about twentv years of age. He had purchased, with the remains of his property, a negro, to assist him in his farming operations ; and thus provided, we behold him in the new house of his old age. Ralph advanced rapidly forward to meet him, and hearty were the greetings between them. " Right glad am I to see you here, Ralph," said Barton ; ^' yours is the first friendly face I have seen from the settle- ments in many a day ; and I can say, too, that there is no other I would more gladly see. Oneidas and Tuscaroras are well enough in their place, but it does one good to see a little of the old eastern blood, once in a while.'' The first greetings over, Ralph, with a blush — very faint indeed, but still a blush — of which the old gentleman was entirely unconscious, inquired about his old playmate. Ruth. '• Well and happy, Ralph — at least, as happy as one can be. so far from friends ; but she will be right glad to see you, I doubt not." Ralph introduced Ichabod to Mr. Barton, as a worthy gentle- man from the settlements, who had been induced to accompany him through the wilderness ; and the party then proceeded towards the cottage, which, on a nearer approach, if it lost some of the enchantments which distance had lent it. gained on the score of adaptation to the purposes for which it had been erected. It was situated in the midst of a few acres of land which had been almost entirely cleared, and which showed abundant signs of having already repaid, for the season, the labor which had been bestowed upon it. A log barn had been erected, a short dis- tance from the house, and about the premises were seen the usual fixtures of a pioneer habitation. The house itself was built of logs, but they had been hewn and squared with some care ; and, altogether, it had the appearance of a neat and comfortable resi- dence. It had, also, with a foresight against contingencies which might occur, been adapted as a place of defense against any attacks which might be made upon it by Indians. " Stir your shanks. Sambo !" said Barton to the negro, " and inform your mistress that she has visitors coming." The negro hurried away on his errand, while the party pro- ceeded more leisurely towards the dwelling. Ralph was welcomed by Miss Barton with all the warmth and pleasure that might have been expected from their early friendship. Years had elapsed since they had been separated, and, in the look of mutual jo}'- and pleased surprise at the changes which time had wrought in each other, might be traced, perhaps, in both, the existence of a tenderer feeling than belongs to mere friendsliip. 22 . THE FRONTIERSMEN. Huth Barton, as we have alread}' said, was about twenty years of age. In figure, she was of the medium female height, but with a form fully developed by healthful exercise ; her countenance pos- sessed a gentle quietness, which was peculiarl}' feminine ; but withal it gave evidence of a confidence and self-reliance necessary to the women as well as to the men of the frontier settlements of that period. She was, as her appearance would indicate, the life of the family — ahvays busy in the labors and duties of the household ; and, under her superintendence, there were a regu- larity and neatness which, to the m.ost fastidious of housekeepers, might perhaps have been a little surprising. But these were not the only qualifications which Ruth Barton possessed. She was not satisfied with the mere routine of ordinary duties, but she had found time to adorn her mind with many of the accomplish- ments of education — far beyond most of those even, who were elevated above her by the means and opportunity of acquiring a thorough education. Her mind was of a somewhat imaginative cast, and she possessed a deep and quiet love for the beauties of Nature, She loved her new home in the wilderness — the beauti- ful vallej^ which her father had seclected. possessed charms which she admired ; and she had never wished to exchange it, though solitary and neighborless, for the more populous countr}^ in which she had once resided. There was also present in the room an ill-clad, stout-looking man, by the name of Guthrie, apparently about forty-five 3'ears of age. His countenance had a vulgar cast ; and it wore, besides, an ill-natured expression, that repelled any attempt at an inti- mate acquamtance. This Guthrie had, during the war of the Revolution, been a Tory 5 and it had been suspected that he was one of the most active agents in inciting the Indians of this local- ity to revolt. He resided at some distance below, on the river, in a log shanty erected by him. He was a sort of squatter, and tilled a few acres which had been partially cleared by the Indians years before ; but relied principally upon his gun and fish-pole for a livelihood. Occasionally he went to the settlements with such skins or other articles as he could exchange. He was merely tolerated in the family of Mr. Barton, whenever he made his appearance ; and knowing the ill favor with which he was re- ceived, it was seldom that he intruded himself upon them. As the party entered the door, Guthrie, who had been sit- ting listlessly by the fireside, arose with a sort of dogged air j but as the tali figure of Ichabod met his eye, he shrank quiet!}'- back again, and endeavored, as much as possible. to»^ithdraw himself from observation. Ichabod did not observe him, or, at least, exhibited no signs of recognition. " We have been expecting you. Captain Weston, for some days," said Ruth ; " we learned by Guthrie, who came about a week ago from the settleraeuts, that you had returned from the THE FRONTIERSMEN. 23 army ; and we have been awaiting the fulfilment of an old pro- mise to yisit US." '•I left Philadelphia bnt a few weeks since," replied Ralph : " I was mindful of my promise, and set out on my visit here as soon as my business arrangements would allow ; but I hardly think I should have found my way here at all. had it not been for my friend, Mr. Jenkins. He picked his way through your wilderness like an old acquaintance." Ichabod acknowledged the attention which this remark at- tracted towards him, by gradually elevating his form and reply- ing : " Well, these woods are something like an old acquainance to me, seeing as how I have been through here on some sharp war paths, afore now. It was down yonder in them Hats, we had a terrible skrimmage with them red sarpints the Senecas and On- ondagas ; but we gave 'em a touch of Independence, co>«-found 'em !" " How long ago, Mr. Jenkins," asked Barton, " did the fight which you mention occur ?" " Well, as near as I can calculate, I should think it was in the fall of 79." " That must have been the same affair which I have heard you mention, Guthrie," said Barton, addressing that individual, who sat in the corner of the large fireplace, with his hat drawn over his eyes. " Yes," growled Guthrie, without moving. " What ! old veteran, was you there, too ?" asked Ichabod, approaching him. '• No, I wan't there," replied Guthrie ferociously, partly turn- ing his face towards Ichabod. ''Well, you needn't be so savage about it, friend," said Icha- bod, slowly. " Them that font there, so far as I know, hadn't nothing to be ashamed on." Then turning away, he muttered to himself, " I've seen them features afore, somewhere — down in the settlements, perhaps. But I say. Squire," turning towards Barton, '-you've done a mighty smart business, clearing up here, lately." "Yes, something of a business. We have not been idle. Sambo and I have got ten or fifteen acres pretty well cleared." In the meantime,"Ruth was busy making preparations for the family supper, and providing otherwise for the comfort of their guests. Guthrie took the opportunity quietly to leave the room, and with his rifle on his shoulder, proceeded rapidly in a south- erly direction. The conversation then turned upon the political condition of the country, the depreciated state of the currency, and the anti- cipated proceedings of Congress. " The greatest difficulty that lies in the way of a proper man- 24 THE FRONTIERSMEN. agement and settlement of our affairs," said Ralph, in reply to some remark of Barton, " it seems to me, is in the limited pow- ers of Congress, Impotent for any purpose, it has a herculean task before it. I think it will be found necessary to adopt a stronger government." " No, no," replied Barton, who seemed to be tenacious of State rights, and to labor under a great fear of the evil conse- quences of a centralization of power. " Congress has power enough. The disorders under which the country labors, would have been no less under any form of government. AYithout resources, in a long and harassing war, the burden of indebted- ness and the depreciated condition of the currency, were una- voidable ; but all that will be necessary to restore us, will be a few years of peace. Things will come round of themselves." "But," said Ralph, ''how is our indebtedness to be paid? The country is already exhausted by taxation. The States themselves are overburdened with their own debts: when to these are added those contracted by Congress, it is very difficult, under the present order of things, to see our way clearly out of our embarrassments. No credit in Europe — na money at home — no confidence anywhere. With a few years of peace, had Con- gress the power to levy impost duties, much might be done. Even the late measure of a proposed impost duty of five per cent, has been lost by the obstinacy of Rhode Island, which would not concur in the measure." "Say, the patriotism of Rhode Island, rather," answered Bar- Jon, '■ if that term may be applied to a State. I look upon that system of impost duties as a direct robber}'" of the people. Give Congress that power, and you give away the whole property of the nation. Duties would be laid that would deprive the poorer classes of all the comforts — ay, of many of the necessaries of life. That won't do." " How, then," asked Ralph, " would you pay off our indebted- ness, and support the burthens of government ?" " By direct taxation !" " But that system, you would find, I think," said Ralph, " would not answer the purpose. It would only reach a certain class, and would be very strongly resisted. But, by the other system, the trifling addition to the cost of articles of general consumption would be little felt, and after a time, would be generally acquiesced in. Besides, all classes of persons would be reached^ and almost universally in proportion to their means." " It is only a.return to the principle of the stamp act," said Barton, who was a little excited; "and our seven years of war- fare and suft'ering will have been useless, if, after all, we are to permit any authority, in its discretion, to impose burdens upon us." " I don't know about that. Squire," interrupted Ichabod, who THE FRONTIERSMEN. 25 had listened to this discussion with much interest, and to whose mind the factory speculation proposed to Ralph, recurred, " AYouldn't such a system a little better allow us to take care of ourselves? Couldn't we a little easier build up manufactories of our own ? Just add that five or ten per cent, to the profits of our own manufacturers, and pretty soon we'd hold them furrin manufacturers off at arm's length. You'd see factories of all sorts starting up all over the countr}^, and there would be a pleasure in that, to a man who loved his own country — to wear cloth and drive nails made at home. Now, couldn't you^ Squire if a duty of ten or fifteen per cent, was laid on woollen fixins', afford to go into the factory business, on your own hook, on this river of your'n, here?'^ "Fiddlesticks!" ejaculated Barton^ '"what could /do in the factory business?" "Well, perhaps you mightn't do anything at it, Squire," replied Ichabod; "but somebody else might. Now, suppose somebody should locate a business of that kind down here, I'll tell you how you could make a nice spec out of it, without la3nng out any capital at all — although it would be kind'er fair to lend a helping hand, jist to start, perhaps, seeing you could make so well out of it." Barton looked at Ichabod, as if he began to doubt his sanity; but to Ralph, the earnestness of the one and the surprise of the other, was a matter of great amusement. Ichabod continued, pleased at the surprised attention which Barton was giving to him : " You see, Squire, s'pose that business should be started down here, jist opposite them fiats, it would be necessary to bring in lots of people, and you could lay out them Hats into building- lots, and realize something handsome out of it." "Pshaw!" said Barton, " a city down here! Well, I'll tell you what I'll do, Mr. Jenkins. I'll give you the land for your factory, together with your water-privilege, and we'll divide the profits on the cit}'- lots;" and the old gentleman laughed heartily at the suggestion. " That's what I call fair," said Ichabod, slowly ; " but couldnH you. Squire, do a little something towards furnishing the capi- tal?" " Furnishing the capital ! " ejaculated Barton ; " why, as to that, I haven't capital enough to furnish my own farm, small as it is. No: I think, Mr. Jenkins, I have made you a very fair offer." Just at this moment, Sambo announced their supper to be ready, and Ichabod was obliged to desist from the fui-ther prose- cution of his project. But, extremely well satisfied with the progress already made, he began seriously to dream of the manufacturing firm of " Barton, Weston, Jenkins & Co." 26 THE FRONTIERSMEN. CHAPTER lY 2d Fisherman. — "Master, I marvel how the fishes live in the sea." 1st Fisherman. — " Why, as men do on land — the great ones eat up the little ones." Pericles. Ealph vras now fairly installed as a member of the family of Mr. Barton. He had found an opportunity, in the course of the evening of his arrival, to exchange a few words of conversation with Ruth ; and he was now satisfied that the partiality with which, m former days, she had regarded him. had not given place to indifference. The consciousness of this fact amply repaid him for long )^ears of absence, and led him to look forward to such a future as onl}^ appears to the vision of those who reason from the heart. The future, cold, impassable, dark, and tilled with mysterious dread, to hira who has outlived the power of youthful passion — to the young and the hopeful, is the unattained but attainable region, where exist all the charms and raptures which can be bodied forth by an ardent imagination. So dif- ferent are the views of life which can be made by a few active, busy 3'ears. On the mornmg of the day after their arrival, Ralph and Icha- bod, accompanied by Barton, examined the farm and the improvements which had been made by the energy of the lat- ter. Some lifteen acres of forest had already been cleared, and Sambo, on this morning, was engaged in still farther invading the domains of the wilderness ; and with his bare and muscular arms was wielding the axe like a redoubtable soldier among a multitude of enemies. __ There is something pleasant to the eye in beholding the strug- gle of man with the wilderness; to see old, mossy trees, that had stood for ages, faithful guardians of the soil, whose long, leafy boughs and bushj'' crowns, seemed to belong as much to the sky in which they waved and nodded, as to the earth which sustained them, bow down their heavy heads with a crash, that to the imaginative mind, seems, with its echoes, like a mournful wail issuing from the surviving forest. As the tiee falls, the golden sunlight darts into a new and unexplored region, and the melancholy forest abode recedes, as if pursued by an implacable enemy. But it is a rescue of the earth from the long slumber of past time, and an offering to the comforts and necessities of the future. It is scarcely to be wondered at, that in earlier times, when the imaginations of men overruled their powers of reason, the THE FRONTIERSMEN. 2t sombre, melancholy forest abode ^ras peopled with fanciful beings —children of the shado^v and of the forest— Fairies. Dryads, and Satyrs, with Arcadian landscapes, and the good god Pan to pre- side over svlvan sports ! But in these days of utiHty, the reed of the shepherd and the music of the sylvan gods are drowned in the clatter of saw-mills, and the hoarse song of the wood- chopper. Ichabod, who had not forgotten the conversation of the pre- vious evening, endeavored, two or three times, to revive the pro- ject which on that occasion he had proposed to Barton ; but he was unsuccessful in his attempts to renew the discussion. After a few hours thus spent, the party returned to the cottage. Bar- ton proposed, for the afternoon, a fishing excursion upon the pond. " It is filled," said he, '• with pickerel and perch— both very deli- cious fish, and they are taken with the utmost ease. This is just the season for them." Ralph inquired if the streams contained any specimens of trout; and Barton answered, "that the river contained some very fine specimens, although they were not so numerous as in the smaller streams. Occasionally we take pike, but they do not come so far up the river in very large quantities. But," he continued, with a zeal that showed he was not a stranger to the gentle art, '' our brooks are filled— absolutely filled— with trout. There is a stream, about a mile and a half west of us, which comes from the northwest, through a wilderness, with which I am almost wholly unacquainted, where they can be taken in great numbers. In an hour, we can catch as many as it will be convenient to carry. If you like, we will go over there to-mor- row, or next day ; but for to-day, I am anxious to show you sport nearer bv." It was arranged, that in the afternoon the suggestion of Bar- ton should be followed ; and hearing the latter giving some direc- tions to Sambo, which it will be unnecessary here repeat, Ralph and Ichabod proceeded leisurely towards the cottage. ■• There is a charm, for me, about a life in the woods," said Ralph, '• which I cannot explain. Mingled with the idea of a nearer approach to the Court of Nature, is that of separation from the passions and vices of men in the world. One feels to exclaim with the Bard of Avon, " ' Is not this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp 1 Are nut these woods More free from peril than the envious court]' " " I don't dispute the general idea," said Ichabod, '•' about the sweetness of a life in the woods. I have never tried it very much, but I alwavs have a different sort of feeling from usTial, when' I find myself in the forest ; but I reckon that rt can't be considered very patriotic for a Captain in the Revolutionary 28 THE FRONTIERSMEN. Army to be quoting Shakspeare, or any other British poet. What did he know about our woods? All the woods he ever saw were but a child's play-ground compared with the eternal, never-ending forests of America. As for me, if I've got any poetry to quote, I can find enough of our own manufacture. I believe in the home manufacture of that article, just as much as I do in that of the other kind we were talking about last night." Ralph smiled at Ichabod's literary bigotry. He answered: "I do not know any reasonable objection to our admiring the men of genius of a foreign or hostile nation, or their writings. Men of genius are the property of the world. Whatever they may think or say that may delight and instruct one people, may equally delight and instruct all others. We are yet in the infancy of the poetic art, and have produced no poets capable of winning a world-wide reputation." " That's precisely what the British say, Captain ; and if I didn't know that your heart was true as steel to the American cause, I should be'^a little jealous of you. No poets of reputation ! Did you ever read Freneau, Captain ? To my mind, he's got more poetry in his little finger than Shakspeare had in his whole body. Now, did Shakspeare ever write anything equal to Freneau's " Antiquity of America ?" And Ichabod began reciting, in a loud voice — " ' America, to every climate known, Spreads her broad bosom to the burning zone ; To either pole extends her vast domain, Where varying suns in diiferent summers reign.' " That's the way the poem begins, and it fully keeps up its pitch all the way through." Ralph had some knowledge of the poetical compositions of Franeau, who had really produced some poems, full of a fine, poetic feeling, and who was much beyond the mass of his poeti- cal contemporaries in this country ; yet, although he entertained a feeling of respect for the ability and services of the revolution- ary poet, he could not share the high degree of admiration which Ichabod entertained for him. " I'll grant," said Ralph, scarcely knowing how to reply to the irritated Ichabod, '' that Shakespeare never did write precisely such a poem ; and I will admit that I do not believe he ever could have written such an one." " I knew you were right at heart. Captain," exclaimed Ichabod, highly elated over his equivocal victory. '• Some of his verses have done as much towards bringing down the British, as whole regi- ments of Continentals could have done. But then, Freneau is onl^^ one of a whole circle of poets The British boast about their old ballads; now, I'll take an even bet, that I can show 'em ballads, written here at home, that will make 'em ashamed. Why, THE FRONTIERSMEN. 29 we've had a woman that would eclipse 'em all, to my mind— - Mrs. Bradstreet, of whom another poet said : " ' Her breast was a brave palace, a broad street, Where all heroic, ample thoughts did meet." ' " Mrs. Broadsteet did possess a sweetness of expression," said Ralph;" and, with a higher cultivation, she might have written some fine poetr}^" '• Might. Captain ! Lord bless you, she did ! Speaking of the Squire's fishing expedition, what other poet ever said as fine things about ^^5 for instance, as she did 1 " ' Ye fish, Tvhich in this liquid region 'bide, That for each season have your habitation, Kow salt, now fresh, where you think best to glide, To unknown coasts to give a visitation. In lakes and ponds you leave your numerous fry : So Nature taught, and yet you know not why, You wat'ry folk that know not your felicity.' " Ralph was much amused at the earnestness of Ichabod, and he did not wi.sh to irritate him by any depreciating criticism upon verses which he considered so extraordinary ; but re- marked : " An admiration of poetic productions depends very much upon the quality of our taste. I presume that I have very little taste for such things ; but I do think that our ballad poetry has done us good service. Written in a popular style, and sung or recited by men who felt the particular sentiments usually con- tained in them, these ballads have frequently proved effective in inspiring a proper, natural feeling." " Them's my sentiments, Captain." said Ichabod ; " and I'm glad to see that you're right on that p'int. We've got ballads on all sorts of subjects, from the time of King Philip's war down to these days. Did you ever read the ballad of ' Love- well's Fight,' Captain ? I call it a great poem. After speaking of the valiant Captain Lovewell, it goes on to say : " ' He and his valiant soldiers Did range the woods full wide, And hardships they endured. To quell the Indian's pride. " ' 'Twas nigh unto Pigwaot a time for idle gri&f, Nor a time for tears to flow ; The horror that freezes his limbs is brief- He grasps bis war-a;3e and bow, and a sheaf Of darta made sharp for tae foer^*' Bryant, As MIGHT be inferred from tlie Kcerres and excitements of the? preeeding day^ the inmates of the cottage did not seek the sight's repose with the accustomed feelings of tranquility and safety, Ruth went over ag-ain in memory the erents 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 knowrs him in youth, she had always esteemed the leading traits of his character J and she now felt that esteem ripening into a. passion which bears a m.uch more tender name. As for Ralph, he had not needed to pass thrc/ugh any sucb excitements or dangers, as Kuth and he had that day encounter- ed, to adjust any wavering balance of affection. He had seen enough to perfectly satisfy him that Kuth 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 oif into the region of fairy dreams. Ichabod had no such patent specific with which to drown care and reflection. The Tuscarora, and his probable object in visit- ing the valley — his mysterious manner during their brief conver- sation — 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 prepa- rations were made in silence, and without disturbmg an}^ of the inmates of the house. Throwing his rifle across his arm, and fastening into a belt which he buckled around him a large hun- ting-knife, he noiselessly descended into the lower part of the building. In the gloom which pervaded the room into w^hich 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 befoj-ej p.nd lie was THE F R X T I E R S M E N" . 51 willing to give him a sufficient fright to punish him a little. Advancing noiselessly towards hira, he placed one hand on the top of his wooll}^ head, and with a rapid motion of the other imi- • tated the circular cutting used in the process of scalping, im- printing his thumb-nail with sufficient force into the skin, to give the sleeping negro a distinct impression of that disagreeable operation. As the whole f^imily 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-mass}^ — massa Injin ! I'm scalped. Lor' ! 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 recov- ered from his fright. •' gor-a-massy. 'twas you. was it, ]^Iassa Jenkins ? Know'd it was you. all the while ! Needn't think you could come pos- sum over this nigger, any how; I jist set dovrn 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 Ihe door, and bidding the negro to fasten it after him. and to inform the Squire and Cap- tain 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 theday 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 agree- able 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. '^f. 52 THE FRONTIERSMEN. As he journeyed on, the silence b}'" which he was snrrounrled was occassional ly 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 ni the next moment it would be answered by a cry that came mellowed fi-om the distance. Then, perhaps, the rustling of dry leaves, or tlie cracking of a dry bough, indicated that some small animal was fiyine: from his presence. Occassional ly 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 hehad encountered the Tuscarora. This hut or shant3\ the precise location of which, with refer- ence 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. . B^^ond the river were flats extending nearly half a mile in width ; while Hearly opposite the hut, a small stream came from the north- east, down a narrow valley, which gave to the valley just oppo- site 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 appeaiance. He approached it cautiousl3^ 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 noise- lessly^ opened, when he entered the hut. It was entirel}- desert- ed, and every trace of its recent occupation had been lemoved. 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 de- parted. But this was no easy undertaking. He looked cau- tiously about for a trail, but the ground had been so much trod- den 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 oif 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, belore he discovered the footprint for which he was searching. THE FRONTIERSMEN", 63 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 Tnscarora. at which he would resch the river, would be at just about a hun- dred rods from the shanty. Tchabod followed, at once, in this direction ; but advancing with extreme caution. His protrress was necessarily slow, as he was obliged not only to examine the ground with o-reat care to discovor the footprints which the light step of the Indian had made, but also to observe if there were an)' signs of other Indian.s in the vicinit}-. At length, he ap- proached 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 glimp.se 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 slioht sound in the direction of the river, like that made b}' 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 en- deavored 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 wil- lows 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 occu- pied 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 lat- ter 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, altliough the new government had concluded as yet no formal treaty of peace with the ho.stile tribes of the Six Nations, yet as it was tacitl}' understood that such a treaty would soon be made, and all encounters had therefore been mutually suspend- 54 THE FRONTIERSMEN. ed 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 suc- ceeded in killing or disabling one of the Indians, he woud 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 In- dians as a subordinate chief of the Seneca Nation, whom he had encountered in some of the contlicts of the war ; but who pos- sessed 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 Sene- cas: '• jNIe no understand," said Panther ; •' saw canoe here, some- where. No get out of water without seeing it." '• Canoe hght ; gone up river p'raps," said one of his com- panions, " Canendesha got quick eye," said the other Seneca ; " he cun- ning Injin. He won't let scalp go, if he can help it." A gleam of ferocity passed 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 com- menced moving towards.it with the intention of getting a further view of the Senecas, whose business he now understood, when his,attention wa.s 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 wil- lows, whom he knew at once to be the Tuscarora. " .No get my scalp this tune ;" said Eagle's-Wing. '•' I get another scalp first ;" and he pointed to a bleeding trophy of a THE FRONTIERSMEN. 55 recent encounter, with all the p.ride with which a victorious gen- eral would have pointed to the capture of the standards and .munitions of war of a vanquisheil enoiny. '• "What's the meaning of all this. Eade's-Wing?" asked Tcha- bod. with evident disgust at he-holding the bleeding trophy. '• Why has Canendcsha dug up the hatchet, when th.« pale-faces and their Tndian allies have burie^l it 1" " T no dig it up,'^ answered t;he Tuscarora. with energy ; '• Sene- ca 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." exclain'.ed Tchabod. who laid his strong hand on the shoulder of his friend. "I want to know the meaning of all this 3 you must not go after them In- jins 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 rea»>n for it Let me know what's the matter, and if it's anything where a friend can help with s.n eas^' conscience. I'll rush into the speculation." Thus urged, the Indian, after a sufficiCTit ti-me "had elapsed to satisfy the "dignity of a chie£ j^-oceeded 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 con- sisting in the darker and wilder coloring which belongs to pic- tures of savage life. We will not attempt to give it in the pre- cise words and with the naanner cf 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 Onei- das and Tuscaroras. situated some fifty nules north of that por- tion of the valley about v.-hich we 'are n ture. Panther coarteo-uslj aecor/^panied hini a short distance from the lodge, whsn suddenly a number of Indians who ha^ been secreted in ambash, spi^ng upon the Tuscai-ora and the 3'oung squaw, and they were at once boun^d and brought back to the lodge. The I>"Kiiaias made inimediate preparations for departure — as would be necessaiy, iadeed, after such an act of perfidy — for the Ttjscaroyas^ and Oneida^s, v/hose villages were situated but a few miles distant, wo«ld shortly suspect the treachery, and come in search of the prisoners. Panther's motive in- this elouble act of treachery and inhospitality, was supposed to be a feeling of revenge .towards the Tuscarora — who had signalized hiniself duriag the war, by his friendship for tlie cause of the Colonies — and also a desire to obtain the beautiful Singiug-Bijd ib-r his o-vm v/igwam. The Senecas, with their prisoners, had marched all that night in a southerly direetioM, making use of all the devices of which an Indian is capable, to conceal the direction of their march. Near morning, the Tijscsirora, although closely guarded, had found means to- escape ; but instead of retraging his steps to get assist- ance 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 the}^ certainly would, the treachery that had been used towards hini, would send out a part}^ of warriors to reseue bin?- Tlie Senecas had' passed along the valley on the day when w© first introdueed the Tuscarora to the reader. They had encamped on the tlats. about two m^iles below the shanty we have mentioned^ but in a direction nnich nearer ths river than that taken hy Ralph and Miss Barton^ in their journey of the day before. The Tuscarora. after th-e pib.rty. on the night before, had leffe. theshant3^ csrefuli}- obliterated all traces of th^* recent occupancy of the hut, and proeeeded towards the encampment of the Senecas. lie had nearly accomplished his purpose of delivering Singing- Bird, who was confined in a temporary wigwam which had been erected fo? hs-r, when ho was discovered by a young warrior of the Senecas. A coi^^fiiet. brief b^it terribfe, lij\d ensued, which resulted in the death of tli-e Ssafl[icient care, to discover the footmarks of either Eagle's-Wing or Tchabod. 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 quit^ sure that he heard something said about the pale-faces at th<} cottage. He was certain fiom this that the Indians would visit tlie 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 shore, while he examined it fiom the canoe. Pantlier returned to his canoe ; while Deersfoot with his party, passing around the cove, proce-eded diligently to search for the enemy whom they were leaving in security, at least for the pres- ent. ))ehind them. As soon as they had passed out of sight, Ichabod insisted that Eagle's-Wing should accompany him to the cottage. The Indian at first refused, fiom the idea that his presence there would bring danger upon the family of Barton ; but as Ichabod assured 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 pro- ceeded thitherward through the forest. THE FRONTIERSMEN*. 59 CHAPTER YIII. '*^But wbat talk we of tb«i5s traitorly rascals, wHose miseries are to bo smiled at, their offences beirrg so capital 1" WiNTKn's Tale, When Ichabod and tTie Tupcarora readied 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 ingi'atiating himself into the favor of all- There was som-ething in his frank, hearty manner, tliat at <3nce gave hira 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 speculatiou, if they excited the smiles or ridicule of those who saw their groundless- ness, did not detract from his reput&tion as a maa of excellent judgment, on all matters out «f the range of that one idea. In a life such as we are now depicting, which was essentially new — where nien 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 piK)c«re the necessaries of iife— 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 suflBcient to give the broadest play to the imagination. ^Ve, who are now in the prime of life, and witness a broad, fine country, thoroughly sub- dued 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 wilder- ness gave place to spacious 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 pro- bability of future troubles, served to magnify the dangers which it was supposed he was likely to encounter in his morning adven- ture. 60 T n E F R O N T I S R S if E"N , The Tuscarora, too. wa!^ heartily welcomed ; and the morning meal, which had been left waitinj^ for Ichabod, was at once served. The Tuscarora ate but little ; for, however so much dis- posed an Indian may be to give way to a gluttonous disposition in '' piping times of peace." when on the war-path, he is always abstemious to a degree : and he holds in great contempt the mars who sulfers his appetite to overcome his necessary care and watchfiUnes-s, Ichabod. however, had no such scruples ; and he did as ample justice to the •• good things" which were set before hira. as^ if such an animal as a Seneca bad never existed. Having finished their breakfast, Ichabod proceeded to cora- municate to Ralph and Barton what he had witnessed, together with a brief account of the treachery of Panther towards Eagle's- Wing. It was at once resolved that the Tuscarora should be protected. " For," said B;irton, *" if the Senectis should dare to attack the cotiage, they will find that we have ample mean of defence. But I do DOt think they will do so ; they will not dare so openly to violate the neutrality which now exists." •' That tribe is proverbially treacherous," said Ralph, " and from Eagle's-Wing's story, the chief of this party is es}>ecially so. I think they will attack us, if they learn that the Tuscarora is sheltered here : but I agree with you that we are bound to pro- tect him. The cottage is in a good 8-tate of defence, and we can defend it again'^t twice the number of this party. '' Yes, and were they ten times as strong," answei^d Barton, '' the Tuscarora should not be surrendered. Ilis services in our behalf are too recent to- be so soon forgotten : and besides, I would protect any individual of the Oneida or Tuscarora natioiij against those perfidious rascals." The old man said thi.s with an anim.ation and energy that set- tled the question. The Tuscarora. however, did not seeem to assent, willingly, to the arrangement. With a sen'sitiveness and courtesy which are almost peculiar to the Indian wamoi-. l>e endeavored to decline a shelter which would be likely to bring Barton and his family into some peril on his behalf. •• No," he said, " let Canendesha go. He knows the woods, and the wamor likes the woods. There is plenty ch?mce to fight — plenty good place to hide. Warrior can't fight here — can't take any scalp here."' Sambo put his hand to his head, with a vivid remembrance of the joke of the night before j and even Barton and Ralph were a good deal shocked at the cool-blooded way in which the Tusca- rora spoke of this peculiar mode of Indian warfare. Barton felt called to enter his protest, at once. "Tuscarora," he said, "it isn't Christian to scalp. I supposed that the Tuscaroras and Oneidas had better notions than to do so.'' THE FROXTIERSilEX. 61 ''What Christian do, eh ?" asked Eagle's- Wing, quietly. " A Christian never mutilates his enemy, after he has con- quered him." replied Barton. '• What that ?" inquired the Tuscarora, with a look of incom- prehension. " A Christian warrior," said Barton, who found himself some- what puzzled to explain clearly, to the comprehension of the Indian, the idea he had in his mind ; " A Christian warrior kills his enemy : he don't " "Christian kill enemy, ehT' said Eagle's-Wing, quickly. '• What scalp good for to enemy, after he killed ? Good to war- rior to show squaw — good to show chiefs — good many scalps make great chief." " Yes, but why not hear off some other trophy ? why not take a portion of the enemy's dress, or something of that sort V " AYarrior can't carry away all: — some other Tnjin get some, —make him great warrior too. Xo— no— Injin got but 0716 scalp : he 'spect to have it taken ; and if he killed, must lose it." Eagle's-Wing evidently thought he had exhausted the argu- mentl and, in truth, he had. It would have been utterly impos- sible to have held any such controversy with him, with any prospect of success, and have admitted the right to slay an ene- my at all. Ichabod chuckled over the victory which had been gained by his friend ; not that he justified the practice, but that he thought it would be utterly useless to endeavor to improve an Indian, in that respect. It was a practice which had been taught in infancy, and become an instinct ; for the warrior having slain the enemy, secures the scalp, or his victory is but half won. Just at this point in the conversation. Sambo, who had left the house a few moments before, came running in. saying that Guth- rie had just come in sight, and was approaching the cottage. By a sort of instinctive feeling, the whole party, except the Tus- carora. who did not seem to'be familiar with the name, looked as if they expected some new scene in this forest drama was about to be enacted. But with an appearance of unconcern, they prepared to receive him ; and in a moment more, the door opened, and the heavy, coarse figure of Guthrie was in the room. As he opened the "^door. the Tuscarora made a sudden move- ment of surprise, wdiich Ichabod saw, although it was unnoticed by either Ralph or Barton. The Indian immediately resumed his appearance of composure, and looked at the visitor with an air of inditference ; but Ichabod saw that Eagle's-Wing had made some discovery which might be of extreme importance in the events which were likely to occur. As has been before re- marked, Ichabod had a distinct impression that he had before seen Guthrie's face— but ichere. he could not recollect. With a feeling of distrust, which the sudden gesture of the Tuscarora had 62 THE FRONTIERSMEN. served to enliven, he now waited to learn the object of the visit. • "Good day, Guthrie," said Barton, '' what news do you bring from below." " 0, nothing in particular. Squire ; but I thought I'd come up -and tell you that there's a lai-ge lot of Injins round." " I suppose there is nothing very singular in that," answered Barton, '• so long as this may be considered Indian territory, as yet-" Now, Barton had always looked upon Guthrie with a feeling of distrust ; and for this' reason he thought it best to appear ignorant of facts he well knew, as by so doing, he might better ascertain the true object of his visit. He therefore continued : " I am a kind of tenant at sufferance of the Oneidas here, myself; and I certainly cannot object to their visiting their own territory.'" " But these Injins arn't Oneidas, Squire. If I know one Maqua from another, they're Senecas," said Guthrie, " Senecas!" exclaimed Barton, with the appearance of surprise, " what business have the Senecas here, I should like to know ?" " I ra'ally can't tell. Squire, what kind of business they did come on out here ; but they've got into a raging passion since they've been here, and I am ra'ally afeard of trouble." " They have had no occasion, certainly, for anger with me or mine, and I cannot suppose that the}'^ intend me au}^ injur\\" "Well, the truth is. Squire, they say that this Injin you've got here," pointing to the Tuscarora, " has got the scalp of one of their young men ; and they declare they'll take him, any way ; if they can't by fair means, they will b}' foul." " You do not think they would dare to attack the cottage for the purpose of capturing him?" said Barton. " Tliere'sno telling what them Senecas W07i't do, Squire, when they're angry ; but 1 rather reckon they will, if they know you've got him here." " Wiiat would you advise me to do, Guthrie? you understand the ways of this nation prett}^ well." " As for understanding the ways of the Senecas, in particular, Squire." answered Guthrie somewhat hastily, " I can't say that I do ; but a man can't live in the woods as long as I have, with- out knowing something about the Injins in general : but as for what you'd better do, I ra'ally can't say. But the way it looks to me is, that if you want your buildings burnt down, and may be yourself and family taken prisoners, you'll keep him ; but if you don't, you'll send him away. But it arn't for me to say." " Now, Guthrie," said Barton, with the appearance of doubt, "I'll put it to you as a question of honor, under all the difficul- ties you mention: tiiis Tuscarora saved my daughter's life, yes- terday ; now, can I, as an honorable man, surrender him to his enemies ?" THE FRONTIERSMEN. 63 * Well Squire, that is a pretty tight ppot. that's martin," said Guthrie. "But you see. if he did save Miss Bai-ton's life yester- day, it is no reason why he should put it in danger to-da}' ; and your's and your guests besides." "Why. Guthrie, you talk as- if I couldn't defend myself here, if I really tried. You seem to take it for granted, that if we are attacked, they must conquer. I am not so certain of that." " I know." said Guthrie. " you've got a pretty tolerably sti'ong fix of a place here ; but I do reckon you couldn't hold out much of a siege. I've seen stronger places taken by fewer Indians, in my dp,v," '• ^Vhy, how many Senecas do you think there are. Guthrie ?" asked Barton. '• Well. I ra'ally don't know ; but I should think I'd seen pretty nigh a hundred on 'em." Barton smiled. The object of Guthrie was now perfectly evident. For .some reason, he had endeavored to induce Barton to surrender the Tuscarora, and had thus magnified the force of the enemy, and cast doubt upon the ability of Barton to main- tain the defence of his dwelling. Ralph, although very indignant at this dishonest intention of Guthrie, maintained the appearance of comp' sure. The Tusca- rora one would have judged to have been totally devoid of the sense of hearins; ; for no motion or gesture betrayed that he supposed himself the subject of this back-woods diplomacy. As for Ichabod, he had with difficult}' restrained himself, so far, from breaking into the conversation. Xow, however, he suddenly broke in by advancing towards Guthrie, and exclaiming — '"I say. stranger, you can't be very good at reckoning, for a man who has lived all his life in the woods, and ought to know the number of his enemies at first sight. Only thirty-five, count- ing that red reptile that lost his scalp. And as for them thirty- five, if they want Eagle's-Wing, all they've got to do, you see. is to come and take him." Guthrie, who saw at once that his plan had failed, and that Barton knew accurately the number of the Senecas \^ ith whom, at the worst, he would have to contend, now chanoed his tactics. " Well, friend," said he to Ichabod, '• you might have been a little more civil, even if you are right, and I'm wrong. I didn't count 'em — I only saw 'em a long ways off, through the woods, and might be mistaken, you know. But," said he. with a man- ner of perfect frankness, turning to Barton. '' whether there's thirt3'-five or a hundred. I don't know nor don't care, so f?r as I'm concerned ; if you say fight, here I am. Squire, and I'll help you out with it. any way." Barton .«;uffered his feelings of distrust to be overcome at once. Grasping Guthrie's hand, he exclaimed — '• That's right, friend. You and I are neighbors here, and there's no reason why we 64 THE FRONTIERSMEN. stiouldn't be friends, at snch a time as this. The Tuscarora has been deeply wronged b}^ these Senecas, and if he has revenged himself, it's Indian law, and we can't blame him for it. No — I can't surrender him ; and if they want to fight about it, wh\', we'll get out of it the best we can." Bai'ton, who was extremely gratified at this addition to the force of the cottage, at once led Guthrie about the building and grounds, to show him his preparations for defence. Kalph was not at all pleased with the manner of Guthrie ; but as he knew that Barton was much better acquainted with him than he pre- tended to be, he could not object to receiving the aid which was so frankl}^ offered, and which might "" be needed. After the departure of Barton and his new ally, Ichabod and the Tusca- ror-a fell into' an earnest but whispered conversation, and Ralph left the apartment in search of ^liss Barton, whom he had not seen since the events of the dav before. "I say. Eagle's-Wing.," said Ichabod, "I don't half like this business. That stranger seems to be a kind of white Seneca. I never knew an honest man who was afraid to look another honest man in the eye. I don't like him." '■ You guess right : I know him. He King George's man," said the Tuscarora. quietl}\ •'What! a Torv !" exclaimed Ichabod. •' How do yon know that. Eagle's-Wing '?" " Know ? Know it sartin Saw him down here on war-path. He fought with Senecas. No recollect ?" '•That's it. Heavens and airth ! wh}^ didn't I think of that? Here Fve been trying for two days to remendier where I've seen that hang-dog face. He was one of the leaders of them venom- ous reptiles. Nothing can beat an Indian for recollecting things." " Indian got long memory. Know enem}^ always. Don't forget him." '• I say, Eagle's-Wing. do j'ou tliink the sarpent recollects us ?" " Yes — sartin. He recollect you — saw that. Ilecollect 7ne, too. Most got his scalp : he recollect that, well, I know." '' How's that, Eagle's-Wing ?" "When Seneca run, he run too. I shoot, and he fell. I run to get scalp — but Seneca waniors turn — too many of 'em — and the}^ take him off. He 'members that, sartin." " Now Eagle's-Wing. that sarpent has come here to practise some deviltry on us. He's fairly cheated the old Squire, and I s'pose he thinks he has cheated us, too. What shall we do with him ?" " I know what /do," and he significantly pointed to his knife. " No — that won't do at all. You see. if he is in league with them Senecas, there's only one way that he can help them and injure us. Being hiside here, he reckons he can open the door to 'em." THE FRONTIERSMEN. 65 '• Yes, that's the wav— no other Tray." '• Well, you see. Eagle's-Wing. we'll let him play his game out, but we'll try and be there to see it done. Now, mind. Eagle's- Wing. until that does happen, we mustn't seem to know him at all."*^ '• Yes. yes ; make b'liere friend— that the war." " I reckon we'll hear from them reptiles to-night ; and if we do Eacrle's-Wine, we'll thin out their numbers a little, and thea t^-morrow for the Singing-Bird. You'll see her again tomorrow, and no mistake." A melancholy smile passed over the countenance ot the lus- carora. It was immediately followed by such a gleam of deadly ferocitv. that even Ichabod started. •• Panther got lying tonoue— I tear it out. Panther got bad heart— I tear^it out. He take my squaw— he never see his owd squaw again." '• I don't blame you. Eagle's-Wing. for your feelmgs towards that reptile; but I do wish you Injins could learn a civilized mode of warfare. I shan't argue with you : I know better than that; but I ra'ally don't see how any Injin of your qualities can have such a strong desire for tearing scalps off from all his enemies. But it's Injin natur' I s'pose. AVhen white people offer bounties for such things. I don't much blame mjms for speculating in that kind of article : but to do it when nothing s to be made out of it. beats my comprehension." But we must leave Ichabod and the Tuscarora to their con- versation, while we follow Ralph to the interview which he soug-ht with Miss Barton. Proceedin*^ directly towards the front portion of the house, and entcring°a room which was fitted up tastefully, and adapted to '-state occasions." if we may be permitted to apply that term to an apartment designed as well for a family room as a parlor, he found Ruth, who ^seemed to be yet suffering from the agita- tion and excitement of the day before. . , -^^ , , .. «- ■•' I am happv to see vou. Miss Barton." said Ralph, ' suffer- ing no more from your perilous night-ride. That was an adven- ture which, t think, we shall remember." 'I shall not forget it very soon, at least." she replied. - I think you must confess that I showed you more of the peculiari- ties of forest life, than was arranged beforehand." " Had YOU advertised me of precisely what we saw. we might have been a little better prepared," said Ralph: "but that adventure would make an excellent theme for a ballad, m the German style. It possessed sufficient of the mysterious and terrible for that purpose, certainly." . , ^ , .., .'• You have visited us. Captain Weston.- said Ruth, with seri- ousness. '■ in an unfortunate time for yourself. I hear that we are threatened with an attack from Indians." y 66 THE FRONTIERSMEN. "Do not say unfortunate. Miss Barton: rather, I deem myself most fortunate, in happening to be here at this time, should the attack which is threatened be made." " I hope it may not be. ! it is horrible to think that this home I love so much should be the scene of such a conflict." " I think that in no event can our safely be endangered," replied Ralph; "and that we have nothing to fear from the attack, should it be made. We have abundant means of defence, and the enem.y is not strong enough, with the stout hearts we shall have within these walls, to force the> cottage.. But I can sympathize with your sorrow, Miss Barton. God has made this country too beautiful to be. marred by the strife of men." ^'It is a terrible blot on human nature," said Ruth, "that men dwelling so far from society, in the midst of the forest, where every object should excite sacred emotions, can engage in these unholy conflicts with each other. It is a proof — a strong proof, of the wretched condition of poor human nature, unassist- ed by the light that shines from above." " Such is the nature of men " replied Ralph, " and surely per- haps, it will always be. The first men were warriors, and if jgnorance and brutality always exist, the last men will be war- riors, also. The whole history of the world has been written with the sword — places most sacred have been profaned by the bloody stains of human passion, and themes the most holy have given rise to the deadliest hatred and contention. We cannot expect that men educated in the ways of the forest, shall be wiser than those who boast of their civilization." " But is there no way," asked Ruth, " in which this conflict can be avoided ?" *• None, perhaps, that would be honorable." Ralph then gave an account of the wrongs which the Tuscarora had received from the Senecas, together with the capture of his squaw. Ruth ac- knowledged the impossibility of complying with the demand.s of the Senecas. Her heart at once sj^mpathised with the wrongs of the Tuscarora ; and the picture which her imagination drew of Singing-Bird in captivity in the hands of those unrelenting and unmerciful enemies, brought tears to her eyes. " No, no," said she ; " the Tuscarora has been our friend, and we cannot deliver him to his enemies. In such a cause. I could be a soldier myself." Although Ruth had been educated to a far different manner of life, and in former times had enjoyed many of the luxeries which could then be afforded by persons in •' comfortable" circumstan- ces, yet she possessed sufficient of that heroism of character which the times had engendered, to enable her to throw off the habits of early education, and adopt the character of fortitude and patience in the midst of suffering, peculiar to the class of women in the station in which she then moved. Thus, although THE FRONTIERSMEN. 67 she viewed with dread the prospect of a strife with the savar^e and unmerciful enemies by whom they were then about to be attacked, she did not suffer herself to yield to the teirors which such an idea would be likely to inspire. The women of the times of the Revolution lost none of their feminine graces, by bearing with fortitude the perils and dangers by which they were encom- passed. Ralph, gazed with admiration on that beautiful countenance, thus excited by a tender s\-mpathy for the sufferings which she felt must be endured by the Tuscarora and Smging-Bird. '• With such soldiers." said he. •' we could not but sncceed ; but we shall scarcel}^ call upon Miss Barton to fall into the ranks, at present. We shall onl}^ do that as a la'st resort. At this moment, their conversation was interrupted bv the appearance of Sambo, who informed Ralph that Mr. Barton desired his presence immediately. Ralph at onc'e obeyed the summons-; but its object we shall leave to the next chapter to imiold. 68 THE FRONTIERSMEN. CHAPTER IX. " Here, Persian, tell thy embassy ! Repeat That, to obtiiin my friendship, Asia's ))rince To me hath proffered sovereignty of Greece." Leonidas. Ralph found ]Mr. Barton and his companions in consultation upon some subject of apparent importance, from the anxieby wliich was manifested in their countenances. Two Indians of the Seneca Nation were seen approaching the cottage ; and although as the}' were unarmed, no immediate hostility could be expected, yet it was evident they were coming upon some errand relative to" the shelter of the Tuscarora. If such were the case, this departure from the ordinary caution of the Indian, might be evidence either of the desire not to come in conliict with the whites, or of a confidence, on their part, in their ability to succeed in any attack they might make upon the dwelling. It was decided that Ralph, the Tuscarora and Gauthrie should remain in the cottage, while Barton and Ichabod should meet the approaching Indians, and ascertain the nature of their errand. With this view the two latter proceeded to a small grove which had been left nnck'ai-ed, except of the underbush, a short distance south of the dwelling. The two Indians approached with an apparent feeling of security. They were to all appearance unarmed ; and they exhibited a manner of confidence and amity intended to convince the persons with whom they were to deal, that their mission was a friendly one. One of these Indians was Deersfoot, whom we have already mentioned ; the other was of a much less warlike appeai-ance. He was small of statute, with a quick, cunning glance, and was celebrated among his people for oratory. His name was Snake-tongue. — given to him evidently, by reason of greater powers with his eloquence than with his rifle. When they had approached within fifteen or twenty feet of the position occupied b}^ Barton and Ichabod, the former advanced towards them with a smile, and welcomed them to his cottage. '•It is not often," said he, ''that [ have an opportunity to honor the young warriors of the Senecas. It is seldom that they visit the country of the Oneidas, in time of peace." " The Oneidas and Senecas are brothers," said Deersfoot. " A cloud sometimes has passed between them ; but there is no cloud now. They are brothers still. The- young men of the Seuecas came to look ou the hunting-grounds of their brothers." THE FRONTIERSMEN'. 69 '*' The country of the Senecas is not a good country, then ?" asked Barton, '• I had heard that the Senecas dwelt in a* garden — that they owned large lakes that are tilled with fi^h. an^d forests that are filled with deer." "My father." said Deersfoot. in deference to the grey hairs of Barton, ••my father tells the truth; such is the country of the Senecas. The Great Spirit has given us a good land to dwell in. He has given us lakes that are full of fishf and forests that are full of deer The Senecas and Oneidas belong to the same nation ; — together they conquej-ed the Sennape : and the Senecas are proud when the\- hear of the fame of the Oneidas, Why should we not love to look upon the country of our brothers ?*' '• I am glad that you like to look upon this valley, Deersfoot. I am glad to hear that there is no cloud between the Senecas and the Oneidas, It would not be well if there were." Barton had carefully abstained from touching the point which ■was likely to be that of controversy. It never comports with the dignity of an Indian to show haste or curiosity ; and he knew that he could maintain a better position on the question which would probably arise, if he suffered them, without any manifesta- tion of curiosity on his part, to unfold the nature of their errand. •• The Five Nations were once a great nation" said Deersfoot. '•'they could travel a great many day's journey and not leave their country : the wolf that howled amidst the snows north of the great lakes, they had a right to hunt ; and to gather fruits from under the warm sun of the south. But it is not so now. We are now weak ; and the pale-faces are strong. The Great Spirit has willed it, and we cannot help it : we would help it if we could. But it does no gpod to talk, We grow weaker every da}*," •• The Great Spirit." said Barton. ■• has not been so unkind to the Five Xations. The warriors of the Five Nations have not always been wise. If they had listened to the words of the Christian teachers who have talked to them, they would have been a stronger nation. But they dug up the hatchet against their brothers of the Colonies, and they lost a great many waniors.'* A gleam of deadly ferocity passed over the face of Deersfoot for a moment, and his wild, dark eyes shot forth glance* of hatred — but in an instant he recovered his composure. '• It may be that my father speaks wise. The Indians know but a little, and may be they were wrong. They lost a great many warriors, it is true. But they pleased the" eyes of their old men and squaws with many scalps of their enemies, A white man followed every warrior of the Senecas. in the path that leads to the happy hunting-grounds of the Great Spirit." The tone in which this reply of the Seneca was uttered was sufficiently startling, Ichabod stretched his tall form as if he was about to intrude upon the conversation, but at a gesture from Barton, he remained silent. 10 THE FRO N TIERS ME17. Deersfoot, after a moment's silence, continued : " We hare come to have a talk with the pale-faces of the cottage. The Senecas have not got forked tongues. They have buried the hatched with the Yengeese. and with the Colony pale-faces. They would not dig it up again. Let my brothers hear and be wise. Snake-tongue will speak." With these words, he stepped back, with dignity, while Snake- tongue, after a few moment's hesitation, advanced towards Bar- ton. In a low but musical voice, he commenced his harangue : " My name is Snake-tongue. It is a good name for friends to bear — it is a bad name for enemies. The warrior is known by his na,me. Deersfoot has said that the Five Nations are weak, and that the pale-faces are strong. It may be so: I cannot dispute it. T have seen the Yankee pale-faces fight the Great King over the water for seven winters and summers — they must be strong. Deersfoot has spoken the truth. Deersfoot has said that the Five Nations grow weaker every day. We are now SLv Nations, and we are weaker than when we were Five Nations. Why is it so ? The pale-faces have slain a great many of our warriors-; but that has not made us weak. It is because the Great Spirit has turned the hearts of his red children against each other. If a pale-face slays an Indian, it is wrong ; but it is not so wrong as it is for one Indian to slay another. The sad spirit of the dead warrior goes on its path, and complains to the Great Spirit, that its enemy does not follow him, and the Great Spirit is angry. We must shed the blood of the murderer. It is the law of the Great Spirit, and it is a good law. " The Yankee pale-faces are strong, when they come together in armies ; but are they strong here ? My father is away from his friends in the settlements; he has but two or three pale-paces with him. Are two or three pale-faces a match for the young warriors of the Senecas ? Let my father pause and think." '• There are five of us, Snake-tongue, with plenty of rifles and powder ; and good walls behind which we can stand and pick out our enemies," said Barton, who saw the tendency of this harangue, and who was disposed to meet the issue half way. Snake-tongue continued, cold and impassive. " My father speaks the truth. There are Jive warriors to defend the cottage of the pale-faces. There are four pale-faces, and a red man. But we have buried the hatchet with the pale-faces ; — we are no longer enemies, but friends. We do not care whether there are five warriors or twenty in the cottage. We are at peace with the pale-faces. It makes no difference to us. . We are friends. " Why then, does Snake-tongue make us this long war-speech ? It is true that we are friends ; let us continue so." " My father speaks wise. Let us remain friends. There is no cloud between us and the pale-faces, that the pale-faces cannot THE. FRO X TIERS MEN. 71 put away. A young warrior of the Senecas has been killed, and his enemy has got his scalp. Did the pale-faces do that 1 No, — the pale-faces do not take scalps ; but an Indian always does ; a scalp looks good in "his eyes. We would find the scalp of our young warrior ! where is it ?" "I am sorry." answered Barton, "if any of 3'Our young men have been kiiled ; but Snake-tongue speaks true ; he was not killed by the pale-faces. I do not know where his scalp is." " But we know where it is," continued Snake-tongue. " It is hid beneath the belt .of Canendesha. He has hid it from his friends ; but he cannot hide it from the Sanecas. Their eyes are sharp ; they can see an enemy a great way oflP, — and they can find his trail if he hides. Canendesha is in the cottage of the pale-faces. We are at peace with the pale-faces ; but we want the Tuscarora. He has killed a warrior of the Senecas. The Tuscarora must die. It is Indian law. It was taught us by the Great Spirit that we must punish our enemies. We want the Tuscarora. The Indian paused, as if waiting for a reply. Barton answered — '• My brother has a bad tradition ; it is not true ; the Great Spirit does not teach the red men to punish their enemies. The red men have not heard right; their ears have been shut. The ' Great Spirit has said that the red men must love their enemies." '• I have heard," answered Snake-tongne, " of such a tradition among the pale-faces. It must be a false tradition, for the pale- faces do not believe it ; they punish their enemies. We believe in mcr tradition. It is a good one." " I do not deny," said Barton, who saw that the conversation must be terminated, "but that the Tuscarora may have killed one of your young men ; but did not the young Seneca try to prevent him from getting his squaw? We have heard that Panther has stolen the squaw of the Tuscarora. and will not give her up. Is that right ? Do red men treat their brothers so, and expect that their hearts will be filled with peace ?" " ''The young squaw," answered Snake-tongue, quietly, '"'is in the wigwam of Panther; she can go if she doesnotwish to stay there; but her eyes like to look on Panther. He is a great warrior." "Ichabod could be restrained no longer. This slander on Singing-Bird was more than his friendship for Eagle's-Wing, would allow him to bear. " See here. Snake-tongue," said he, " you're a sort of ambas- bassador here, and its again all laAv to make war on that sort of people ; but I don't know of any law to prevent my telling you that you lie like a rascalh' Seneca." Both Deersfoot and Snake-tongue started at this defiant speech of Ichabod ; and at the first impulse put their hands to their belts as if to grasp thair knives i but in a moment they resumed tS THE FRONTIERSMEN. their composure, and seemed to await the reply of Barton^ who said, at length : '' We have heard your demard. Snake-tongue. The Tuscarora is our friend. He has been wronged by the Senecas. We do not believe that Singing-Bird wishes to remain in the wigwam of Panther. It cannot be true, although Panther is a great war- rior. We cannot give up the Tuscarora. He is our friend." " And furthermore," said Ichabod, " we demand that you should release Singing-Bird ; and tell your lying chief, that if she isn't sent along instanter, we'll come after her. I've fou't Sene- cas before. " My brothers have spoken," said Snake-tongue, quietly; "I will give their words to the warriors of the Senecas. Perhaps they haA^e spoken wise. It is not for me to say." Thus saying, the two Indians withdrew from the grove, as quietly as thej^ had entered it. '' The lying reptile !" exclaimed Ichabod. " To insinuate that Singing-Bird has a liking for that rascally red-skin. If he hadn't been an ambassador, I would have made him swallow his words on the spot." '• The Seneca lied, undoubtedly," said Barton ; " but we have now got to defend ourselves. The language and tone of Snake- tongue implied nothing less. I am getting very much interested in the histor}' of Singing-Bird, myself; and we will find some means, in case we succeed in repelling the Senecas from the cot- tage, to aid the Tuscarora in rescuing her. " That's right. Squire," said Ichabod. Eagle's-Wing and I have sworn to do that ; and Providence permitting, I'll have a chance at that foul-mouthed rascal yet." Barton and Ichabod now entered the house, where they found Guthrie and the Tusca)-ora engaged, apparently, in a friendly conversation. The result of the '' talk" was communicated ; and although it was agreed that the Senecas would make an attack upon the cottage, yet no one seemed to think that they would immediately do so. The ari-angements for defence were now, however, all made, and the duty of each individual assigned, so far as it could now be done. When this was accomplished, the party separated ; each, however, taking it upon liimself to watch warily for the first signs of the attack. Ralph walked out into the grove, where the recent conversa- tion with the Senecas had taken place. He felt much anxiety for the result of the coming conflict ; not that he really feared that tlie Indians would succeed ; but he well knew that the is- sues of such encounters are never certain. Perhaps his warm attachment towards Ruth had much to do with this feeling ; for in the event of failure in defending the cottage, were the Indians disposed to reap all the advantages of their success, as would probably be the case in the heat of their excitement and passion, THE FRONTIERSMEN. *IZ the situation of Ruth would be extremely dangerous, lie would have been much better satisfied at that moment, were Ruth at the settlements, or in some place of safety, where she would not be exposed to the accidents of the impending encounter. But it was now too late to allow of her flight, even if it had been deem- ed advisable. While eng-aged in these thoughts, Ruth, who had observed him from the cottage, aijproached him, and laid her light hand on his shoulder, "Ralph started, but smiled as he recognized Miss Barton. "ilow now, Sir Knight?" said Ruth, "you do not seem to be occupied with very pleasant thoughts." " They ought to be of a pleasant nature, certainly," said Ralph, ^' for I was thinking of no one else than Miss Barton, " I am sorry," said Ruth, " if so unworthy a person as I, can give Captain Weston such a serious countenance," '•' Miss Barton, I do not wish to say anything to alarm you, but all our exertions will be required to defend pur lives to-night," " Is it certain we are to be attacked so soon ?" inquired Ruth, with a slight look of alarm. " I think there can be no doubt of it ; and at such a time, with so few defenders, and so unmerciful and vigilant an enemy, although we have not much cause to fear defeat, yet that result is possible." •• I did not think our situation was so serious," said Ruth, now evidently alarmed. '• What can we do ?" '• Nothing, but use such means as we possess for defending ourselves; and I think we shall succeed in doing so. But," said Ralph, with a slight embarrassment, " at such a time as this — when we are threatened with such a danger, it is not surprising that you should have found me thinking earnestly upon the situa- tion of one so dear to me as yourself. Let me, Ruth," he continued, taking her hand, which reposed not unwillingly in his own, "tell you how much I esteem and love you, and that my whole happi- ness depends upon you." He paused, and whatever might have been the answei of Ruth, he saw that in her countenance which informed him that his wishes were well understood and answered. In that fond dream of happiness in which all present danger was forgotten, they wandered through the grove, filled with those delightful thoughts and fancies, which are only born in the sweet hopes of requited affection. The shades of approaching evening were creeping slowly over the valley. The long shadows of the trees fell upon the cleared meadow-land, the perfect picture of repose. Never sank a brighter sun among more lovely clouds— crimsoned m deep cur- tained folds, with golden edges, giving full promise of a fau- to- moiTow. ' It is a beautiful evenmg," said Ralph ; " one of those hours 1i THE FRONTIERS ME!T. when fair hopes are fairer ; and the natural world seems to reflect the happiness of our souls. May this not be a promise for the future V " May it be so," answered Ruthj "but what events may take place, before that sun rises again !" " Let us not fear too much/' said Ralph. " "We must meet the danger bravely, and when it is over, dear lluth, we shall be none the less happy that it is past." "Hush!" whispered Euth suddenl}'', " look there!" pointing to a grove of small trees but eight or ten rods distant. Ralph looked in the direction indicated by her, and he beheld three Indians who were slowly creeping towards them. The Indians, who had no cover behind which to advance, had necessarily exposed their persons, and in this manner had progressed unob- served for a number of rods. They now saw that they were discovered, and rising with a wild whoop, rushed towards them. Ralph and Miss Barton were just about equil-distant from the Indians and the cottage. Impulsively, Ralph, who was entirely without means of defence, caught R,uth in his arms and ran towards the building. The Indians pursued, and rapidly gained upon the fugitives. One of the pursuers far outsped the othere, and had already reached within twent}^ feet of Ralph, when the discharge of a rifle was heard, and he leaped with a yell into the air and fell struggling upon the ground. In another moment Ralph and his precious burden were inside the door ; but as it closed, the tomahawk of another pursuer quivered in the post beside it. Instantly the grove was filled with eneraieig. THE FRONTIERSMEN. T5 CHAPTER X. " That wicked band of villeins fresh begon, That castle to assaile on every side, And lay strong siege about it far and wyde." Chaucer — Faerie Queene. This sudden appearance of the Indians indicated that they could not have been far distant at the time of the interview between Deersfoot and Snake-tongue on the one side, and Barton and Ichabod on the other ; and that upon the refusal of the latter to surrender the Tuscarora. they had at once resolved upon an attack upon the cottage. On the entrance of Ralph and Miss Barton, they, together with Barton and the negro, who had remained below, at once pro- ceeded to the upper apartment, where they found the remainder of the party stationed at the loop-holes on the south side of the house. Ichabod was loading his rifle. '• I have no particular reason to boast of uncommon accuracy with the rifle," said the latter as Ralph entered the room, '' but I'm most always good for a Seneca. That rascal almost had his hand in your hair, Captin." " It was a good service, Ichabod. and I hope to live to thank you for it," said Ralph, grasping his hand. Don't say anything about it. Captin : Eagle's- Wing would have done it in the hundreth part of a second more. It's only one reptile the less." The cottage, the precise situation of which, with reference to surrounding objects, we have not yet described, was situated upon a slight eminence, which rose gradually westward from the small lake or pond, which we have before mentioned. Behind the cot- tage, on the west, the land gradually rose, spreading out into a wide plain with a rolling surface. On the north, however, at the distance of only three or four rods, there was a steep descent into a ravine some forty feet in depth, in the bottom of which flowed a small brook. This ravine had not yet been cleared, and the forest approached, consequently, to within four rods of the cottage. On the south, the land gradually sloped downwards for four or five rods, while at about twice that distance was left standing a grove of small trees of two or three acres in extent. It was in this gi^ove that the Senecas were first discovered. It was obvious that the most dangerous point of attack was from the north ; as in that direction, the forest approached so near t6 THE FHONTIERSMEN. the cottage, that the Senecas might obtain a cover behind the trees, and should such be their object, find some means to set the buildings on fire. The Senecas, however, still remained in the grove, and did not show any immediate intention of proceedmg to the attack They were gathered together, while Panther, who was easily rocognized by Ichabod, was haranguing them ; but although his words could not be heard, there was no difficulty in understanding from his manner and gestures that he was explaining the mode in which the attack should be made. " I reckon," said Ichabod, " that I might easily pick off that varmint, even at this distance." " No," said Ralph, '• we are on the defensive, and we will not commence the fight. If they make an attack upon us, then we will all try to do our duty." " I fancy it was something pretty nigh an attack," said Ichabod, "that them rascals just made on you and Miss Ruth. But, per- haps, it's ail right, Captin. That account was settled on the spot ; and may be it won't be agin law for us to wait until the scoun- drels open another." A small room had been constructed near the centre of the main apartment, supposed to be entirely secure from any stray bullet that might chance to enter the loop-holes. Into this small apartment, Ruth had entered, on reaching the upper part of the house : but now she made her appearance among the little garrison, with a great confidence, and a determination to make herself of service if possible. " Do not remain here, Ruth," said Barton : you may be ex- posed to danger from some stray shot. It would be much bet- ter that you should be entirely out of danger." " This request was seconded by Ralph, with a look of earnest entreaty, " I do not fear any danger," answered Ruth. " T can certainly be of no service shut up in that narrow cell ; while I may pos- sibly be of some little service to you here. I can act as a look- out, you know," advancing quietly to one of the loop-holes. " No good for squaw to be in fight," said the Tuscarora, quietly ; " squaw hide when warriors fight, that best for squaw." " I am not going to shoulder a rifle, Eagle's-Wing, without it is absolutely necessary ; but I want to look on, and see how warriors can fight." It was evident that Ruth was not to be dissuaded from sharing the danger, if danger there was, to w^hich the defenders of the cottage were exposed. Ichabod, who during this brief conversa' tion had remained watching intently the motions of the enemy, now exclaimed : " There are twenty of the red varmints, sartin, but they don't THE FRONTIERSMEN. 77 seem very anxious to begin the fight. What d'ye think they mean to do. Eagle's-AYing ?" '• Mean to 'tack cottage ; that what they mean: wait till dark, then see what they do." '• There's some motion among 'em now," said Ichabod. '• there go the reptiles, creeping off through the wood. They're diving now, but they'll come up again somewhere, I reckon." " I rather calculate" said Guthrie, who had thus far remained silent, that they're going to give up the business as a bad job. That's the best thing they can do, any way." " Warriors mean to surround cottage. That what it means," said the Tuscarora. Pretty soon hear 'em over there, — hear 'em all round — see 'em, may be, if watch." Night was now rapidly approaching, and surrounding objects had already become indistinct. One b}' one. the stars made their appearance, glaring with the peculiar brightness of an autumn evening. Yet the darkness would soon be suflBcient to prevent any observation of the motions of the enemy, unless they .should make their appearance within the little clearing that surrounded the cottage. There would yet be three hours before the moon would rise ; and during that time the very closest observation would be necessary to detect the whereabouts of the savages, e.xcept as their position should be manifested by an open attack. Ichabod and the Tuscarora now took a position upon the north side of the apartment, while Ralph and Barton remained at the south side. Sambo was stationed on the west, towards the cat- tle enclosure, while Guthrie was directed to keep a look-out on the east or front of the house. This was apparently the least danger- ous point, as the land on this side was partially cleared quite to the shore of the pond. But a few minutes had elapsed after this disposition of the forces of the little garrison, before it was evident to the Tusca- lora and Ichabod, that a portion of the enemy had taken a posi- tion in the ravine. The night was so still, that the slightest sound could be heard from that distance, and the Tuscarora qui- etly called the attention of his companion to a slight snapping of dry underbrush which had been trodden upon by the foot of some careless Seneca ; but. as if to deceive the defenders of the cottage as to the point from which the main attack would be made, suddenly, and as if b}^ one impulse, the silence was broken by the yells of the enemy from all directions, and a general dis- charge of their guns at the building. '• Yell and tire, you infernal reptiles," said tchabod. '• They must have plenty of ammunition, to waste it in that style." '• That done to cheat." said Eagle's-Wing. '• Well, they've commenced the skrimmage, any way," said Ichabod, "• and now. let one of them miserable creturs get before this riiie of mine and I'll settle an account with him." 78 THE FRONTIERSMEN. ''' We shall be over nice in our scruples " said Ralph. '• if we hesitate any longer to treat them as enemies. They have cer- tainly committed an overt act of war ; and duty to ourselves will no longer allow us to remain inactive." Since the first demonstration on the part of the Senecas, no other had been made ; and the silence without was as perfect and uninterrupted as though no enemy surrounded them. It was obvious that the two most serious dangers to be encoun- tered, were past — an attempt on the part of the enemy to get under cover of the walls of the cottage, where they would be in a great measure protected from the rifles inside, and where they might find means to force the doors ; and, secondly, an attempt to set fire to the buildings. Any object of the size of a man could readily, notwithstanding the darkness, be seen at the distance of four or five rods ; and the garrison were certain, thus far, that no enemy had approached within that distance. Ichabod and the Tuscarora, as has been observed, were stationed upon the north side of the apartment. The position which had been chosen by the former, was near to the north-eastern angle, whence, with a little trouble, he might also keep a look-out on the east. This position had been chosen b}^ him, owing to the distrust he entertained of the fidelity of Guthrie ; for there was nothing in the conduct of the latter, since his return to the cottage, that had been calculated to dispel any suspicions which Ichabod had entertained of his real charac- ter. He had taken little or no part in the plans of defence, and had maintained a moody silence that had rarely been broken, except b}'^ brief answers to such questions as were put to him. " I say. friend." said Ichabod, addressing Guthrie, '" you keep a sharp look-out over there, don't you ?" '■ I've been a woodsman all my life. T reckon." answered the latter, " and I don't need any instructions on that point." " I don't suppose you do, friend," said Ichabod, " and least of all from me. I can't say as / have been a regular Avoodsman, although I've had a little experience in the way of savages. A man who has spent a few years fighting for his life, learns, after a while, to know when its in danger ; but can you guess what that black lump may be, out yonder — right ahead of your eyes ?" " Well, if I can see straight, its a stump, and nothing more." " I ain't much acquainted in these parts, friend, and it may be you've got stumps here that wander round the lots at pleasure ; but /calculate that object ain't nothing but a venomous reptile." said Ichabod, taking sight over his rifle upon the object which attracted his attention. " Now, you see, if that's a stump, this bullet won't hurt it much; but if its an Injin, he'll signify it Game way." The rifle of Ichabod was discharged ; and the Seneca — for an THE FRONTIERSMEN, 79 Indian it was — who, creeping to reach a cover under the walls — rose to his feet with a leap, and then staggered and fell. Again was that wild yell renewed, but in a moment all was silent. Outhrie ashamed, became angrj, and turned with a fierce scowl on Ichabod. '• You havn't a very civil way to strangers^ friend," said he, ''and we may find time to settle this business. You may bully Injins, but you won't me." ■• I've just did my duty on that red varmint there," answered Ichabod coolly ; ^- and all I've got to say, friend, is, that we've got enemies enough out-doors to attend to, without any civil-war inside ; but I ain't particular." •• Ichabod ! Guthrie !'' exclaimed Barton, " let there be no ill- blood between you now ; the mistake of Guthrie might easily have been made by any one, however experienced." Outhrie turned again towards the loop-hole, riiuttering indis- tinctly. As for Ichabod, he quietly reloaded his rifle saying : ''That's right. Squire, I'm a man of peace, any way — except with them infarnai Senecas. If I have any particular gift of which I can boast, it is in another sort of speculation. Give it to 'em Eagle's-'W'ing P said he, as at this moment, be saw the Tuscarora about discharging his rifle. At the discharge, the whole ravine seemed to pour out a tempest of shrieks. " That Injin," said Eagle's-Wing, " won't fight any more — great pity lose his scalp though." "Xever mind the scalp, Eagle's-Wing," replied Ichabod, "if YOU fix the owner, so that he won't have any more use for it ; that's my doctrine.'" " That bad doctrine lor Injin — good doctrine for pale-face, p'raps." Notwithstanding the utmost watchfulness, on the part of the besieged, no further demonstration was made by the Senecas, for nearly an hour ; until, at length, they began to hope that the contest might already be terminated, and that the loss of three of their warriors, without having been able to inflict any injury upon the garrison, had discouraged the Indians. As time passed by. no further attack being made, even Ichabod and the Tusca- rora began to yield to the belief which Barton had expressed ; but they did not for a moment relax their watchfulness. Barton. Ralph and Ruth, had finally withdrawn from the loop- holes, while Guthrie lounged moodily about. " I think," said Barton. " we shall have nothing more to apprehend to-night. The savages have doubtless repented of their temerity in attacking a place so well defended as this." " Heaven grant it may be so," replied Ruth. " We have had but little experience, thus far, in the terrors of Indian warfare ; but as it is, it is horrible." *'I hope, with you, Miss Barton," said Ralphs ''that the Indians 4 §0 THE FRONTIERSMEN. hare a1>andono(3 the attack ^ and yet I know so well their treacherous mode of warfare, that it would not be surprising to me, were the severest part of our labor yet to come. lehabod seems, by his actions, to have the same opinion." " YeSj'Captin," answered Ichabod, I do mistrust these infarnal villians ; and I shall Kiistrust ^em till day-light, sartin. Youl find that they^re plotting sc for although he knew their crafty and murderous natures, he did not think they would dare, in the present condition of the Colo- nies, to violate a peace, which would be likel}^ to draw upon them the vengeance of the whites. Uneasy at the conjecture that Eagle's-AVing might be the new captive, and pained by the tight- ness of the withes which had been bound about his feet and hands, he made a desperate effort to free himself from them. While engaged in this effort, a shadow darkened the doorwav of the hut, and Panther and Snake-tongue stood before him. They had evidently detected the effort of Ichabod ; but no expression upon their countenances denoted the fact. The two chiefs appi'oached the bed occupied by Ichabod. and surveyed their captive silentl}^ for a few moments ; when Pan- ther, directing his conversation to Snake-tongue, exclaimed : *• This is the warrior of whom we have heard. He is a great warrior ; he has killed many Senecas ; his eye is sharp oji the war-path ; his rifle is sure. Our old men and squaws have heard of him beyond the lakes. It is pleasant to have him in our hands." " His arm is strong ; Snake-tongue knows it," said Snake- tongue, who still retained a vivid impression of the blow which he had received from Ichabod in the recent encounter at the cot- tage. '• The young men of the Senecas are no match for him ; if the Great Spirit had given him a red skin, we should have been proud of him. But he is a pale-face, and it is good to have him bound in our huts. He cannot hurt the young warriors of the Senecas an}' more." Ichabod had remained perfectly quiet during this by-conversa- tio]i. although a smile for a moment lit up his countenance, at the complnnents which the chiefs had bestowed upon his prowess. When they had concluded he exclaimed : '• I give you all the thanks for them compliments that you de- sarve. But you c^re right about it. I have killed some of your warriors in my day, you may depend on it : and I reckon that this is the first timV that any of your breed was quite so familiar with me. But I want to know, if it's considered gentlemanly, among the Senecas, to tie a fellow's legs so cussed tight ?" '• The pale-face is a great warrior," said Panther : '" he is cun- ning as a fox. The Senecas are poor and ignorant ; they do not know as much as the pale-faces 5 but they know how to tie a warrior's feet so that he cannot run. They would be ashamed if they did not know how ; and my brother would be ashamed of us too." " I don't ask any kind of marcy of you. Panther," said Ichabod, '' I know better than that. You've got me here, and I s'pose you'll do pretty much as you've a mind to; and when you want to begin with your deviltries, just speak, and I'm ready." 4* 88 THE FRONTIERSMEN. " My brother is not a squaw," said Pantlier, " if he was a squaw, and not a great warrior, we should unbind him, and let him wander round our tents ; but the Senecas know how to honor their enemies, who are brave. But the Senecas do not hate the pale-faces ; they have buried the hatchet with tliem, and we will not dig it up. AVe will let our brother go back to the pale-faces, if he wishes." " Well, now, I call that pretty clever, considerin'; I shall begin to think you are gentlemen, after all," answered Ichabod, Mdio saw the drift of the discourse. I'm ready to start any time you'll take these things off m}^ haiids and feet." " My brother is ready to go," said Panther. It is good. He does not like the lodges of the Senecas ; he likes his own people better. It is not well for a pale-face to dwell in the lodges of the red men; and it is not good for red men to dwell in the lodges of the pale-faces. They are different : the Great Spirit has made them different — and it is well. The pale-faces have killed five of our young men ; but we will not do them any harm. AVe will not dig up the hatchet against them. Our young men are not painted for the war-path ; they have not struck the war-post of their nation." '' For a civil people, who havn't dug up the hatchet, and who don't intend to, against the pale-faces, you made a suspicious demonstration on the cottage last night. I don't know but that is the genuine Seneca way of being civil and peaceable." " The pale-faces killed five of our young men ; but they did it m defense," said Panther. " They did not want to do it ; but Canendesha has killed two of our young men ; he did it because he hated them. He is a great warrior, too, and we want him in your place." '• Providing I go back to the cottage," replied Ichabod, "I'll tell him what you w^ant ; but I won't promise that he'll be here at any jwecise time. I couldn't do that," " My brother has not got a forked tongue ; he will do what he says ; but that is not enough. Four of my young men will go with my brother, and he will deliver Canendesha to them." " You mean, I reckon, that I shall take Eagle's-Wing and put these thongs round his limbs, and pass him over to you as a prisoner ?" asked Ichabod, quietly. " My brother is wise. He knows what I mean : he can do it and be free." Ichabod was about to give way to a burst of indignation at this treacherous proposal ; but he saw that by so doing he should defeat his own ends. He had also learned, to his great satisfac- faction, that the Tuscarora had not been captured. It was with great difficulty that he could conceal his joy from the inquisito- rial eyes of the Senecas ; but at length, with an appearance of hesitancy, he answered. THE FRONTIERSMEN. 89 I can't say. now, whether I will do as tou wish or not. I want a little time to think about it. Speculating in tiesh and blood, in that way. and with a friend, too. is a kind of business I never yet undertook ; but I suppose one may get used to it. A little practice will blunt the feelings, until one can come to bartering off friends — aye. one's own flesh and blood, too." Then, as if suddenly remembering the declaration of Snake-tongue, that Sing- ing-i3ird was reconciled to her captivity, he added, " you see. if the Tuscarora knew that Singing-Bird had forgot him. and had chosen the young chief of the Senecas for her husband. I calculate he would'nt care much whether he was here or there. Now if that's true, 1 rather reckon, I'll do as you want me to, though I look upon it as a rascally mean trick towards a friend." '■ It is true, what my brother has heard," said Panther: " Sing- ing-Bird will sing in the wigwam of Panther." '' Now, I don't mean any disparagement to the Senecas. and you in particular," said Ichabod ; ''I am beginning to think that you may be gentlemen, after all ; but that is a matter I can't take an}' body's word for. I want to know that it is true." " My brother shall hear with his own ears," said Panther. '• He shall knoio that the words of Panther are true j he shall see Singing-Bird, and ask her if Panther has lied." This was just what Ichabod had desired. If he had made the proposition himself, it was doubtful whether some ulterior pur- pose would not have been suspected ; but his seeming willingness to comply with the wishes of Panther, had led the Seneca to sug- gest this as the surest mode of dispelling his doubts " My brother shall see Singing-Bird alone," said Panther, '• we have not got forked tongues, or we would not let him do'so." The two Indians departed. Their willingness to allow this interview was, for a moment, almost sufficient to induce Ichabod to believe that Singing-Bird had become faithless to the Tusca- rora. But he knew enough of Indian character to know that Singing-Bird might have adopted this line of conduct as the best mode of effecting her escape. "With this belief, he silently awaited the interview, determined not to believe otherwise unless he received positive proof from Singing-Bird herself. Scarcely five minutes had elapsed after the departure of the Seneca, before a shadow again darkened the door-way of the hut, and the young squau' stood before him. Singing-Bird — for she it was — was apparently not more than two-and-twent}' years of age. She was of small, light stature, yet with a full and health)^ development of body. Her features, although the}' possessed the distinctive Indian cast, were mould- ed into a beauty admirable to behold. Her complexion was a softening of the tawny -red of the \s"ari'iors into a delicate tint, while her large, dark eyes were full of a geiitle expression, that might, if need be, be exchanged for a wild and passionate fire. 90 THE FRONTIERSMEN. Her long, dark, glossy hair flowed in graceful waves down her neck, and were gathered in rich folds over her brow. Her cos- tume was that of a young Indian female of the period, beauti- fully and tastefully decorated with ornaments of beads and flowers. As Ichabod flrst beheld her, the prevailing expression of her countenance was that of a gentle sorrow. Ichabod was surprised. He had never beheld the wife of Eagle's-Wing, and never before had he beheld a female figure the beauty of wliich so much surprised and delighted him. He gazed at her with a pleasui^e he could not conceal, and then, while a melancholy smile passed over her countenance, he said — " You have heard of me from Eagle's-Wiug, perhaps, as an old friend ? He and I have known each other as tried friends, in times gone by." " I have heard of a pale-faee," replied Singing-Bird, in a low, silvery voice, " who, on the war-path, saved the life of Eagle's- Wing, when he was in the hands of his enemies. I have heard it from Eagle's-Wing." '' That's a circumstance not worth mentioning ; but Eagle's- Wing and I are friends. He knows he can always rely on me, in any sort of a speculation. But I'm in rather a bad fix here ; yet we can alwaj's find some way of doing our duty by a friend, if we try. But Eagle's- Wing is free, and isn't far from here — you may depend on that" Perhaps the slightest trace of an expression of joy passed over her countenance for a moment j but it was instantly sub- dued. With her eyes fixed upon the ground, she slowly said — " I loved once to look upon Canendesha — but he has passed from riiy eyes." " What !" exclaimed Ichabod with a start that fairly made the withes snap that were fastened upon his limbs. A momentary look of agony clouded the face of Singing-Bird. She seemed endeavoring to speak, yet'had not the power to com- mand her organs of speech. '' Shall I tell Eagle's-Wing this?" exclaimed Ichabod, with indignation. '• Shall I tell him to go back to the villages of his nation, and forget his squaw ? Or shall I tell him to come and deliver himself up to his enemies V With an effort that seemed almost to destroy her, but which was lost upon Ishabod, as he had given himself up to the mastery of his indignation — she softly answered — '' I have said. Let the pale-face speak m3^ words to his friend." It was not merel}'^ astonishment — it was shame, uncontrolable disgust, towards the fair being who stood before him, that, for a aaioment, kept Ichabod silent. When at last he found words to communicate his thoughts^ he exclaimed — '■ I wouldn't have believed it, if ail the Senecas this side of the infkrnal regions had told me! Such a beauty! such a heart! THE FRONTIERSMEN. 91 I'll abandon the settlements : I'll thank God, night and day, that I've no wife 1 Poor Eagle's-Wing ! go and die. No ; I know the heart of Eagle's-Wing. He won't die for a squaw. He'll wince a little, at first : but he'll have the scalps off the heads of the whole tribe of Senecas." Then, as if concentrating all his indignation into one breath,^ he glanced at Singing-Bird with a look of abhorrence, and exclaimed — '• Go, you painted lie !" and threw himself over on his bed, so as to avert his gaze from her. Meanwhile, Singing-Bird stood with her eyes riveted upon the ground, and her countenance as calm and impassable as chiseled stone. A look of agony had impressed it for a moment, but that had fled. Not a gesture — not a breath, denoted that she felt the indignant speech of Ichabod. At its close, however, her ear detected a slight rustling among the leaves, near the door ' of the hut, and Panther glided from among the boughs, and crept towards an adjoining lodge. Scarcely had she seen the retreat of the Seneca chief, than the whole expression of her countenance changed — her figure became erect — a fire gleamed in her eyes — a look of intense hatred clouded her countenance. Then, springing towards the bed of Ichabod, she exclaimed — '• It is a lie. Look at me, friend of Eagle's-TTing. It is a lie : the heart of Singing-Bird is with her husband. She thinks only of him. Tell Eagle's-Wing so. Tell him I shall soon fiy from the Senecas." Ichabod gazed on her now with admiration. Such consum- mate acting, though he thought himself skilled in Indian ways, he had never seen before. He had seen warriors die bravely, and, unmoved in the hour of peril, exasperate, their enemies by words of reproach and shame : he had seen the Indian smile as the scalping-knife tore from his brow the lock of honor ; but never did he imagine that one so young, so beautiful, so loving, could give to her countenance a look so false, with a heart so true. " God bless thee, girl !" exclaimed he. " Give me a woman, after all. for stratagem. I don't know when I shall see Eagle's- Wing, but when I do. I'll tell him if he don't snatch you from these red devils, he ought to be scalped by Panther himself. "Who would have believed it ?" '• Eagle's-Wing's friend don't hate Singing-Bird now ?" "Hate you? Lord love 3'ou, girl ! Give me your hand Pshaw ! I haven't got a hand to give 3'ou : but after this, girl, I'll always believe you, and will find some means to get you out of this scrape. \Vhen are these Indians going to leave here ?" ■• Don't know," said Singing-Bird. " They want to get Eagle's- AYing, first." '• ft will be a long while, I reckon, before that happens. But I say," asked he, just thinking of the other captive who had 92 THE FRONTIERSMEN. been brought in that morning, " what other prisoner have they got here ?" '• They brought in a pale-f\ice girh King George's man got her from cottage. She stays in hut with me." " Ruth Barton, by all the devils !" exclaimed Ichabod. "Who do you say captured her ?" " King George's man : Guthrie, they call him." Here was a new cause of wonderment. Guthrie was believed by Ichabod to have been killed b}^ the Tuscarora. " But I see into it. the white-livered villain. He'll get his pay for this. I say, Singing-Bird. I shall refuse to go on that rascal- ly business for these Senecas. I suppose they'll be terribly mad about it, but I can't help it. Now, you see, you keep up this sham affair between you and Panther, and you can find some means to give me a hint of what's going on : and, I say, if }' ou can, just bring me a knife. It gives a man a world of confi- dence, sometimes, to have a friend of that sort. Eagle's-Wing and the Captin won't be idle, and we shall hear something from 'em before long ; and, till then He was interrupted by a gesture from Singing-Bird, who immediately assumed the appearance she had worn while Panther had been in hearing of the conversation. At almost the same moment. Panther and Snake-tongue entered the hut; and, at a gesture from the former, she silently departed. Ichabod had endeavored to assume the appearance of indigna- tion which his countenance had worn during the early part of his conversation with Singing-Bird, and with some degree of success. '' My brother has heard the Singing-Bird of the Tuscaroras," said Panther ; '' he has learnt that the Senecas have not got forked tongues." '•I must confess," answered Ichabod, "that I'm ashamed of that girl. I wouldn't have believed it from anybody else, al- though I'm beginning to have great respect for the word of a Seneca. I wouldn't have believed it, if she hadn't told me so." " My brother has heard the song he wished to hear," said Panther, allowing a look of triumph to pass over his counte- nance. " It is pleasing to my brother. He will now go with my young men, and be free." " I've no kind of objection to being free, in an honest sort of way," answered Ichabod; "but about that business you men- tioned, I've been thinking that I've lived pretty nigh fifty years, and I never j^et deceived a friend — nor an enemy either, except in a lawful manner — and I guess I won't begin now." "What does my brother mean?" asked Panther, giving way to anger. " Does he mean to eat his own words ? Does my brother mean to lie ?" " Lie !" exclaimed Ichabod. " You can use that word in per- THE FRONTIERSMEN. 93 feet safety, while you are there and I am here : but you give me a fair chance, and I'd endeavor to teach you better manners. But the plain English of the thing is — I shan't go on that ras- cally errand, any way." " My brother is a great warrior," said Panther. " He is cun- ning as a fox. He knows it well ; but if my brother refuses to go. we will try and see how brave he is." "If that means tortur' or anything of that sort." said Icha- bod, quietly, " all I've got to say is. bring it on. I don't know whether I can stand all of your villainous inventions or not, and I ra'ally don't want to know ; but if that is your mind, I'll acquiesce, of course, seeing I can't help it." '' We leave our brother to his thoughts," said Panther. " He is brave, and will think if over, and be braver by-and-bye. "We will let our brother know when we are ready." So saying, the two Indians left the hutj and Ichabod. with a mind somewhat ill at ease, at the prospect before him, endeavor- ed to follow the advice of the Senecas — although given by them for a contrary object — and gain strength of purpose by reflec- tion. 94 THE FRONTIERSMEN. CHAPTER XII. " No tear relieved the burden of her heart ; Stunned with the heavy woe, she felt like one Half-wakened from a midnight dream of blood." SOUTHEY. We shall be compelled to return upon the course of our narrative, for the purpose of giving a relation of the manner in which Ruth had fallen into the hands of the savages. Guthrie, who was supposed by Eagle's-AYing to have been slain, was really but little injured. The Tuscarora had followed him down the stairway unnoticed, and guided more by sound than by sight, in the darkness of the room below, he glided after the Tor}^, until the latter had reached the door. He heard the attempt to remove the bar which secured it, when, with a silent but rapid blow of his tomahawk, he had, as he supposed, cloven the head of Guthrie to the brain ; but owing to the darkness, in which the form of the latter could with difficulty be distinguished, the blow fell upon his left shoulder. The pain as well as the surprise of Guthrie, had caused him to give the shriek which attracted the attention of those above, and which was followed by his fall upon the floor. As no further attack was made upon him by the Tuscarora, he rightly concluded that Eagle's- AVing thought the blow already given to have been fatal. With this impression he remained motionless, until the ill-advised sortie of the defenders of the cottage offered him the opportunit}' to escape, when he sprung to his feet, and although suffering severely from his wound, rushed up the stairway with the intention of leaping from'the window — a distance of ten or twelve feet, to the ground. But as he reached the upper floor, ne saw Ruth, who had fallen upon her knees in the act of prayer for the assistance of Heaven towards the brave but few defenders of the cottage. Instantly, Guthrie planned a scheme of vengeance, which was at once carried into effect. Advancing rapidly towards Ruth he said : " Come, Miss Ruth ; the Indians will take the cottage ; and your father has directed me to take charge of you and lead you to a place selected by him and his companions for a rendezvous. There is no time for thought : come instantly." . Ruth arose, astonished by this sudden intelligence. " My father," she exclaimed, " is he safe ?" " Yes," replied Guthrie, " they are all safe ; but they have been compelled to retreat towards the forest. Come instantly, or you are lost." deceived by the earnestness of Guthrie, Ruth immediately followed him to the window. In a moment a small ladder THE FROXTIERSMEN. '95 which had been constrncted for exit by the windows, in any emergency similar to the present, was let down upon the ground, and Ruth descended, followed by Guthrie. Taking her by the hand, and partly leading and partly carrying her, they proceeded rapidly towards the south-east into the forest. When they arrived at the base of the hill, near the shore of the pond, instead of meeting her father and his companioDS. she found herself in the midst of a small party of Senecas. She saw at once that she was betrayed, and shrieked for help. -'- None of that, Miss Ruth," cried Guthrie, roughly ; " it won't do you any good.' Them Colony men at the cottage, have got as much as they can do. just now. to save their own scalps." " Wretch— villian !" cried Ruth, and she fell fainting upon the ground. By this time, it was apparent that the contest at the cottage had terminated ; and a rough frame-work of light saplings and boughs was constructed, upon which Ruth was placed, and con- veyed in the direction of the temporary lodges of the Senecas. Before arriving there, she had recovered from her swoon, when she realized the dangerous situation in which she was placed. Arming herself with the. fortitude which was not uncommon among^the women of the 'period, she commended herself to the protection of that Divine Being,* upon whom she was wont to rely for aid and consolation. When they reached the huts of the Senecas, and the Indians ascertained who was their prisoner, their exultation was announced in the shouts of triumph which Ichabod had heard. Ruth, however, without suffering any rudeness or ill-usage such as might have been expected, perhaps, in the present excited state of mind of the savages, was conveyed, by the direction of Panther, to the lodge occupied by Singing-Bird. She was not bound or confined in any manner, the savages relying upon their watchfulness to prevent^her escape ; and also upon the apparent fidelity of Singing-Bird. When Ruth saw the entire absence of restraint in which Singing-Bird lived, and her apparent friendliness towards the savages, her mind recurred to the imaginative picture she had formerly drawn of the young squaw, separated by force from a husband she loved, and restrained by captivity, among enemies who were thirsting for his blood, she could not reconcile the present conduct of Singing-Bird with her own ideas of what should have been her conduct ; and she felt a degree of disgust towards the young Indian beauty, who could so soon forget a husband so worthy of her affection as the Tuscarora. " Can this be Singing-Bird, of whom I have heard so much '?" asked Ruth. " Who heard it from ?" inquired Singing-Bird. " I heard it at the cottage, of a Tuscarora chief who had 86 THE FRONTIERSMEN. lost his squaw by the treachery of the Senecas, and who were now seeking his hfe." '' Yes, Eagle's-Wing kill Seneca — and Panther must have E agle's- Wing's scalp. Bad for Eagle's-Wing to kill Seneca." '• Can it be possible V' asked Ruth — no, it cannot be — that you are the Singing-Bird of whom I have heard." The 3^oung Indian placed her hands upon her breast, as strug- gling with a violent emotion, and then looked at Ruth with an expression of entreaty which was not lost upon her. •' Hush !" faintly whispered Singing-Bird, " Seneca comes." Ruth saw at once that Singing-Bird was acting a part, and appreciated that she did so from a feeling of necessity for the safety of herself, and perhaps of her husband. Scarcely had Ruth caught the whisper, ere the Indians who had stood by the door of the lodge departed, when Singing-Bird advanced towards Ruth, and said — '• Pale-face girl does not know Singing-Bird. She loves Eagle's- Wing. Hates Panther ever so much. Do tell me 'bout Eagle's- Wing." Ruth related what she knew of the Tuscarora, and of the attack upon the cottage. Singing-Bird listened intently ; and when Ruth had concluded, she placed her arm gentl}'- about her neck, and said — " We sisters now ; but look out for Seneca. They think me friend ; but I want Eagle's-Wing to get all their scalp." She then informed Ruth that another party of the Senecas had also brought in a prisoner, and from the description which she gave of the appearance of the captive, Ruth concluded that the unfortunate prisoner could be none other than Ichabod. She conjectured, also, that the Senecas had made no other prisioners, and that her father, together with Ralph and the Tuscarora, still remained in posession of the cottage. This fact at once gave relief to her mind ; and she regained a serenity and composure which she had not before been able to feel since her capture. "What are these Indians going to do with us?" asked she of Singing-Bird. '• Don't know what thej do want with pale-face girl. P'raps want to trade for Eagle's-Wing. But Panther wants me for his squaw — wants me to go beyond the lakes, in the Seneca country, to live in his wigwam. Won't do it, though ; I kill myself first." " I never shall consent to be exchanged for Eagle's-Wing," said Ruth. " I shall rely upon some other means of deliverance." Singing-Bird "thanked her by a grateful smile. " 0, I do want to get away," replied she. " Oneida and Tuscarora warriors come pretty soon, I hope. When they come, then I get away ; p'raps before, if Eagle's-Wing know how. He great warrior." " I have friends, too, who will assist ; and I hope they will find means to deliver us," said Ruth. THE FRONTIERSMEN 97 ^' What friend ?" asked Singiug-Bird, suddenly, ^' Ilayc you got husband, too V Ruth smiled and shoolv lier head, " Got friend; then.'' asked Singing-Bird, " who like to look afc you — who give you his heart 1^ Ruth blushed, and this time she did not sraile. Singing-Bird continued, " If you got lover, then. Mhj don't marry i- '■ Perhaps I may, sometime/^ answered Ruth, still blushing; ^* but I cannot, you know, until these troubles are all over.'' '• It^s pleasant to live in wigwana with husband. When he gone on war-path, or gone hunting, then you vrork in field — that good way to live.'' *• We pale-fac€ women do not work in the field. We make the men do that.'' " That squaw's business ■; men hunt deer, catch fish, take scalp — that warriors business, I don't want to stay ia wigwam and do not'ing, Eagk's-Wing wouldn't like that." " You do not mean to sa}- that Eagle' s-Wing would mzkeyoti do labor in the field?" asked Ruth, in astonishinen t. " No — Eagle's-Wing wouldn't make me do that; but if I didn't, he t'ink me lazy, good for not'ing &quaw — then he get another squaw, p'raps. / shouldn't like that." Ruth was not acquainted with this custom of the Indians; and her astonishment was unfeigned. She could scarcely believe that one so seemingi}' delicate as Singing-Bird, could accustom herself to a species of labor, that was severe enough for the stronger muscles of the manly }X)rtion of creation. Yet, it is trae, that while the Indian warrior undergcK3s the fatigues of war, or of the chase, with uncomplaining fortitude, when idle he never com- promises his dignity by any servile emplo3^ment. The cultiva- tion of the field, and all of the severer domestic duties, are per- formed by the squaws, with as much patience and fortitude as the warrior displays on the war-path, '• But," asked Singing-Bird, '* v.'hat pale-face women do 1 sit still and do notMng ?" " 0, no ; we have plenty of employment in attending to house- hold matters. Y>'e shouldn't think ourselves able to do labor out-of-doors, in tilling land." It was now Singing-Bird's turn to be surprised 5 and while she was expressing her wonderment at this want of love for their husbands on the part of the women of the pale-faces. Panther was seen approaching the lodge. At the suggestion of Singing- Bird, Ruth immediately assumed an appearance of extreme sor- row, while the former took that of the careless indifference which she had first exhibited to Ruth, Panther entered the lodge, and without seeming to notice the presence of Ruth, approached ginging-Bird and said : ^8 THE FRONTIERSMEN". " The pale-face prisoner does not believe that Singing-Bfrcl lores to live in the lodges of the Senecas. Will my sister go and tell him whether she does or not ?" Singing-Bi-yd obeyed without reply ; and followed by Panther, she proceeded to the interTicw we have already described be- tween her and Ichabod. Psuth had been left alone but for a few moments, when she heard a slow but heavy step approaching the lodge. With a look of imeasiness. she gazed in the direction of the sound, and beheld Guthrie about entering the door-way. " Good morning. Miss," said he with a rude and familiar voice, that grated harshly on her ears. " I thought I'd just see how 3^ou get along. How do yon like living with the Senecas?"" " GuthriCj" answered Ruth, " in what manner has my father or have I, injured 3'ou, that you should commit the act you have, to-day?" The villain chuckled for a niOraent. '• That's neither here nor there, Miss. There never Avas an}'- great love atween us, any way ; and, you see, a wound like this, ain^t apt to increase it,^ pointing to his shoulder, which had been bandaged. It^s enough for me to know that Squire Barton has given shelter up at the cottage to them as has injured me ; and no man ever offends Ben Guthrie without getting his pay for't. '■ There has been no time. Guthrie." said Ruth "wnth a shudder, " since we have lived in this valley, but 3'ou have been welcomed at the cottage as a friend." " Yes, yes ', 1 know \vhat kind of a welcome Vve generally had : — such as you Colony folks give a Tory, as you call me — » scornful eye — a curling lip — and a hand that is never offered in friendship. But I'll let these interlopers into this territory know that if King George'^s men have all died in the settlements, there are some of 'em alive round here. But iliaCs neither here nor there. I've done yon a kindness, after ail ; for that cottage will yet be taken — burnt down, p'raps — and then j^ou'd better be here than there." ''" Guthrie, you have been guilty of a great wrong, in placing me in the hands of these Senecas ; and you may yet live to suffer for it. I never knev/ a wicked act, that was not followed by its punishment." " Not so fast, Miss Ruth — not so fast," said Guthrie, " I want you to understand that j^ou're my prisoner ; and that these Senecas only hold you for me ; and that they are answerable to me for your safety." " If you have the power, 0, take me back to my father ! Guthrie," said she imploringly, '' and this act of your's to-day shall be forgotten and forgiven ; and you will find in me a friend ever more. You know the agony my fathey myst suffer. O, take pity on his gray hairs." THE FRONTIERSMEN, 99 Gnttirie gave a peculiar chuckle. " Can't do that, any way," said he, " or not if You see, Miss, the matter's here. Now your father and I can be friends. There's one way we can make this matter up. Let him give up that Tuscarora to these Indians, and take me for a son-in-law, and the thing's done at once." Ruth, for a moment, was astounded at this infamous proposal. She looked at him, as if doubting the evidence of her senses •, but disdained to reply. " You see, Miss," continued Guthrie, '• it wouldn't be so bad an affair, after all. I ain't much of a woman's man, it's true ; but I've got a snug piece of land down here ; and then, in these times, it isn't a bad thing to have a friend among these wild savages ; and, you see, I could protect all of you." Ruth answered indignantly, " I did not think, Guthrie, you could do me a worse wrong, than you committed in treacher- ously making me a prisoner ; but you have committed a worse one. Leave this hut. or I will appeal to these savages to pro- tect me ; not one of them but has more courtesy, and a better heart than you." Guthrie looked fiercely angry at this reply ; but walked deliberately towards Ruth, and seated himself upon a bench near her. '• We'll see about that. Miss. I ain't accustomed to child's play. Now I've made up my mind that I want you for a wife, and my wife you shall be. any way. Now, there ain't no use in screaming, or them sort of things ; but you might just as well make up 3^our mind to it, first as last." Ruth, shuddening with horror, rushed from the hut : Guthrie sprang after her, and caught her by the arm. '" That won't do, Miss, any way. Them tantrums will answer in the settlements ; but out here in the woods, we do things on squares. You can say, whether you will or you won't, and make and end of it, just to show your freedom in the matter; but whichever way you fix it, it don't make any difference to me ; the thing has got to be done." During this speech of Guthrie's, Ruth had been dragged back into the hut. She shrieked with fear and disgust, and cried aloud for help. Guthrie rudely endeavored to place his hand over her mouth, when Singing-Bird came running into the lodge, followed by two or three Indians. Guthrie, ashamed of his violence, retreated towards the door. '• I've had my say, Miss, and you can make up your mind to it, and save the folks at the cottage ; or you can go into these tantrums, and let the other thing happen, just as you've a mind." With this threat, he slowly departed, followed by the savages, while Ruth threw herself into the arms of Singing-Bird, weeping bitterly at this new addition to her misery. 100 THE FRONTIERSMEN. CHAPTER XIII. " There was such lawing and vexation in the towns, one dailie suing and troubling another, that the veteran was more troubled with lawing within the towne, than hewas in peril at large with the eneniie." HOLINSHED — C0NQ.UEST OF IRELAND. As WE have said. Ralph and the Tuscarora, after the discov- ery of the capture of Ruth, anxiously sought the means of re- leasing her and Singing-Bird, as well as Ichabod, from the hands of the Senecas. They at length hit upon a plan, which they proposed to put in execution on the following night. They deemed it unsafe to attempt it in the daytime, as they would be much more likely to be discovered by the Indians, than when under the shelter of darkness. Barton had recovered somewhat from his first paroxysm of grief, and was at length able to take part in the preparations which were making. But it was insisted upon by both Ralph and Eagle's-Wing, that he and the negro should remain at the cottage, as well for the purpose of defence should another attack be made during their absence, as for that of having an asylum in readiness, should they succeed in their enterprise. The cottage contained five or six rifles, in addition to those which had already- been in use, and was well furnished with ammunition ; and it was believed that, should another attack be made, Barton and the negro might defend it. until assistance could be rendered by the return of Ralph and the Tuscarora. Some time had elapsed in these preparations, and it was already noon, before everything was completed in readiness for the enterprise. A few hours more were to elapse before it would be proper for them to set forth. They had no fear that any im- mediate injury could be contemplated by the Senecas to Ichabod or Ruth. They supposed that the Indians would not resort to any means of vengeance, until the}^ had completely failed in their attempt to get possession of the Tuscarora. Therefore, it was with no fear, although with much anxiety, that they waited for the hour fixed upon by them for their hazardous enterprise. It was just about noon that Sambo, who had been into the cattle-yard to look after the cattle, came running into the cot- tage, and announced the approach of two white strangers from the northward, who were coming on foot in the direction of the cottage. This intelligence was received with pleasure ; for at any time, in the midst of the forest, when visitors are few and rare, there is no little excitement on the arrival of strangers, THE FRONTIERSMEN". 101 from whom welcome information of friends or of occurrences at the settlement may be obtained ; but at this time; when sur- rounded by so many dangers, a white face was almost certain to be that of a friend. The announcement had scarcely been made, when the stran- gers approached the door, and were invited cordially by Barton to enter. The first of the strangers who attracted their attention, was a man of slight stature, not more than five feet six inches in height, with a sh^, cunning expression of countenance. His flesh was shrivelled and thin, and his complexion was of a yellowish' white, resembling somewhat the color of parchment. He ap- peared to be about thirty-five years of age. He had a fu«sy, uneasy air. never seeming to rest, but constantly twitching and yerking about — a peculiarity that passes with most men as the result of great mental activity, but which is more often the evi- dence of a disarranged, unmethodized mind. The other personage was of a large and bulky frame, with a dull, stolid expression of countenance ; besides, his face wore unmista'Kable marks of his being addicted to the use of ardent spirits — blossoms indicating that fact being scattered in consid- erable profusion over it. He carried in his hand a rifle, which, either from want of use or because just at this precise time he was suftering from too familiar an acquaintance with his favor- ite pocket companion, he seemed to have no appropriate place for. and was unable to get into any convenient position. The strangers entered the cottage, and the flrst individual we have described, with a nervous, twitchy manner, said, with an attempt at a graceful salutation — '• Good day, gentlemen. You do not know me. perhaps ; mj name is Bagsley — attorney-at-law — reside in Johnstown, the shire of Tryon County ; and I am now out on a tour of profes- sional business, gentlemen. This person, who accompanies me, is Mr. Xathan Rogers, one of a tributary profession. He is a bailiff, gentleman — deputy sheriff' of the count}" of Tryon — a worthy, time-honored profession ; but one, which, unfortunately, in this count}', seems not to be properly appreciated, and is not in great demand." •• Ugh !" exclaimed the Tuscarora, and turned leisurely towards the window. '• You are welcome, gentlemen." said Barton. " but I am sorry that I cannot offer you a better hospitality ; but such as I am able to give, you are welcome to." The strangers seated themselves with an easy familiarity. " Quite a beautiful country through here." said Bagsley. I am always delighted when I can escape from the drudgeiy of the profession, and hold communion with the beauties of nature. But I must confess, you have rather too much of nature around 102' THE FRONTIERSMEN. here, gentlemen. Your roads are not remarkably well worn or broken ; and we have had quite a fatiguing journey ; have we not, Rogers V Rogers assented, with a sort of affirmative grunt. " Belong in these parts V asked Bagsley, turning towards Ralph. " I am only on a visit here," was the answer. " I am quite as much a stranger as yourself." " Will 5^ou allow me to ask." continued Bagsley, addressing Barton, " how long 5^ou have resided in this section ?" " But two years," Barton replied. '" I declare ! jou must have been active to have accomplished so much. But, I believe," said Bagsley, with a professional gravity, '• j^ou cannot have the fee of the property here." " I am a sort of tenant at sufferance of the Oneidas ; but should the State purchase these lands — as I believe they will, soon — I may hope to obtain a title to what 1 already occupy." " Perhaps — perhaps," answered Bagsley. " But you must be aware, as a gentleman of experience, that, by an act of the Honorable, the Legislature of the State of New York, passed July 25, 1782, this section is particularly and definitely reserved to the Indians of the Six Nations. Now, it may be questiona- ble — 1 never speak with certainty out of my office — but it may be questionable — whether the State will ever purchase these lands. Should they not — you see the point — you lose, as a mat- ter of course, all of jonr improvements, and may be ejected at any time." " Of that fact I am well aware," answered Barton, " and I run my risk, of course. But will you allow me to ask, sir — if my question is not too impertinent — what business gentlemen of your profession can find in these forests'? " " I might, sir, according to the doctrine of the common law — the leges non scripta. — of England, which is yet the law of this State, so far as it has n»t been modified by statute, and according to well settled rules of the courts, decline answering that ques- tion, as it relates to business intrusted to one in a professional capacity, as well as upon other grounds ; but. sir, to a gentle- man of your apparent prudence and experience, and particularly so long as I may wish to obtain important information from you, I cannot refuse so reasonable a request." " I did not ask the question," replied Barton, " from any desire to intrude upon your privacy, but only as a matter of surprise that a legal gentleman could find any business in this remote wilderness that would compensate him for the trouble of com- ing here." '' It i7iay surprise you, sir — it would be likely to occasion sur- prise, sir — and I noticed that our red friend, here, expressed his astonishment on learning our profession ; but the truth is, we THE FRONTIERSMEN. 103 are in pursuit of a notorious debtor, with a capias ad respon- dendum. I will describe the person, and you may be able to give me useful information as to his whereabouts. He is said to be about forty-live years of age, with grizzly hair, a tall, thin form, stoops much in walking, thin, dried-up face, but intelligent countenance, and is said to converse a great deal upon projects of speculation in property.^' ^•Ichabod. for all the world!" exclaimed Ptalph. ■*' JNIr. Jeu"kins \ " exclaimed Barton. ^' Ugh ! " broke in the Tuscarora, " I am happy, gentlemen, that I have been able to give a dea- cription so brief, but comprehensive, that 5'ou are enabled at once to name the person of whom we are in pursuit. You see, Rogers, that we are on the right track after all." " Yes," grunted that functionary. " We've got the track, but we haven't got the game."'' " 0, that will follow, as a matter of course," chuckled the attorney. "This Ichabod Jenkins probably resides in these parts ?" '• I believe he is now in the neighborhood.^' answ>3red Ralph, with a gravity that he could scarcely' maintain. " It is important that he should be arrested on this capias^ said Bagsley. " The debt is for a large sum. In wit : the sum of £25, 7^. X)d., which he owes and unjustly detains from one Samuel Parsons, plaintiff, and he has not paid the same, or any part thereof, although often requested so to do. wherefore the said Samuel Parsons claims damages, &c. And any information of a precise nature, that can be given, will be freely reciprocated on occasion. Perhaps we can get along withovit troubling Mr, Jen- kins very much. You seem to be his friends ; and as this is a bailable process, you can give bail for him." '• I doubt.''"' answered Ralph, '" whether it will be at all neces- sary. I am sorry to inform 3^ou, that ^Ir, Jenkins is now a prisoner among a party of Seneeas ia this immediate neighbor • hood." '• What !" exclaimed Bagsley, have they also lodged a capias against bim !" " I am more fearful that they have taken him in execution." said Ralph, with an attempt at a pun, whicb we are happy to say. he at one rejected. "The truth is. that this cottage has been attacked by a party of hostile Seneeas, and not only Jenkins, but Miss Barton have been made prisoners." Bagsley put on a look of incredulity, " You do not mean to say, that in these times of peace, war has been levied in this ter- ritory against the peace of our Lord the rather, against tiie State of New York, ex gratia Dei, free and independent V "Fiddlesticks !" ejaculated Rogers. " It is doubtless a mere assemblage of persons unlawfully to- 5 HE FRONTIERSMEN, getber, for tho purpose of committing riot or some otlier disor- derly act J and probably a simple declaration that gentlemen of our profession are in the neighborhood, will be sufScient to quell the disturbance. Did I understand you to say, that this gentle- man^s daughter has been taken prisoner ?" pointing to Barton. " So I informed you, sir," answered Ralph. " I am happy to offer you my services." addressing Barton - " you can undoubtedly sustain an actioii of trespass on the case^ for the injury in detaining your daughter from your service. This action, sir — and you vriU notice the beauty and appropriate- ness of the law — is brought tccliuically for the loss of service — but you recover sm.art money, by way of damages for harrowed feeling's, &c. Miss Barton can also have her action for assault and battery. Then there's Jenkins, -why here's a way pro- vided, througli the benignity and ubiquity of the law — for at once satisf^-mg this debt. He also has his action for dairsages.. Beally^ Rogers, we have done just the thing by coming here." '"' Mal^ie cut the papers," said Rogers, " and we'll serve 'em to- night." '' It is a m.ost singular thing,'* said Bagsley, addressing the company indiscriminately, " the antipathy entertained generally, against gentlemen of our profession. Without us, I may venture to say, the world would be helpless— without us, what power would sustain the weak ? Without us, there would be an entire ignorance of that beautiful system which has been adorned by at Holt, a Hale and a Mansfield. But once let us enter an igno- rant village cf this description, and intelligence upon this subject spreads with wonderful rapidity — men rush forward to try by experience the fruits of that system which has been adorned by the labors of genius^ and perfected by the wisdom of ages. In- deed, gentlemen, we may be called the vanguard of civilization." This eloquent tribute to the legal profession, seemed to pro- voke a variety of opinion. Barton and Ralph merely smiled. The Tuscarora ejaculated " ugh !" with considerable more force than usual ^ Sam la\vyers?" '• Can you give me the direction towards the riotous assem- blas^e you have mentioned V inquired Bagsle}''. "You certainly do not think of going thither ?" exclaimed Ralph, in surprise. " Of course, sir— of course ; answered Bagsley j "were there any certainty that Mr. Jenkins would immediately return, we would postpone the matter for the day ; but upon your intima- tion that he is detained nolens volens, I thiuk we shall be obliged to go in pursuit of himJ' THE FRONTIERSMEN. 105 '■You will encounter a great danger," said Ralph. "These Indians are highly excited and angry, and they may not discri ni- nate between you and us at the cottage." " Xo fear of that, sir," replied Bagsley with an air of dignity and complacency. '" I think they cannot but apprehend the dis- tinction. What do you think of that, Rogers." '■ Right again," said the functionary. '•! don't think anybody could mistake us. There's something in the eye and manner of a bailiff that make a rogue crest-fallen, at once. I'm ready." '■' I beg you. gentlemen, as you value your lives," said Barton, " to give up this foolish (as I must term it) errand — for the pres^ ent. at least. You will certainly regret it when too late." " We know our duty." said Bagsley, with dignity. •• and we shall make an overt of Mr. Jenkins, whether he be defended by his friends on the one hand, or the Indians on the other." " I am sorry that yon cannot take good advice." said Ralph ; '■' but we, at least, shall be conscious that we have warned you of your danger." '■ Well, gentlemen," said Rogers, rising and shouldering his rifle, '• I've only got this to say — I never saw a rascal, yet. that dare look Nathan Rogers boldly in the face ; and if these Injins have got more nerve than other rascals, I want to know it. If there't o.nybody in my bailiwick that will refuse to acknowledge my authority. I want to know it, and I will know it — that's all." '' I am very much obliged to you, gentlemen, for your advice and good wishes for our welfare." said Bagsley, rising ; ■• but when duty calls, we must obey. If you will point us the direc- tion, we will be doubly obliged." Their direction was pointed out by Ralph, who again made an ineffectual effort to induce them to desist from their dangerous expedition. " Good day. gentlemen," said Bagsley. as he was about leaving. '•' Our intention is to return here this afternoon, and should you have no objection, we will admit Mr. Jenkins to bail on your becoming bound in double the sum I mentioned to you. Good day. gentlemen." And the attorney departed, followed by the bailiff". The first impulse of Ralph was to laugh at this little interlude in the tragedy that was being enacted around them : but the matter was too serious, after all, to be treated so lightly. " They are gone to a long imprisonment — perhaps to death," said Barton. '• No get Jenkins, this time," said the Tuscarora. " Lose their scalps — that all they make." The hour now approached for the departure of Ralph and Eagle's- Wing. The sun was just sinking behind the western hills, when, taking their rifles, they left the cottage, proceeding in a southeily du-ectiou. 06 THE FRONTIERSMEN. CHAPTER Xiy. " An host of furies, Could not have baited me more torturingly, More rudely, or more most unnaturally." Beaumont and Fletcher. TcHABOD, whom we have so long neglected, after the departure of Panther and Snake-tongue, remained in as eas)^ a position as the nature of his confinement would permit, and gave himself up to reflection upon his unpleasant situation. It was evident that it was the intention of the Senecas to subject him to torture; but whether they would proceed to the last extremity, he could not conjecture. But the possibility that such might be their intention, could not but present itself to his mind. He had often been in positions where death was impending ; but those were times when, amidst the excitement of conflict," the mind does not dwell with any fixed tenacity upon that event ; or, if it does, contemplates it under the colors of excitement with which it is clothed. But now. bound hand and foot, he was about to be led unresistinglj'^, and in cool blood, to that fate, about which all men think, and but few appreciate, until the mortal hour. Ichabod had a sort of creed, upon which he had heretofore relied with confidence. Now, however, for the first time, he began to doubt whether there was not a possibilit}^ of erior in it, and whether he had sufficiently examined points of faith which he had heretofore rejected. But whichever way his mind wan- dered, he ever recurred, in his ignorance, to the simple articles of faith in which he had so long entertained confidence. Such were the nature of his thoughts, when Deersfoot entered the hut, to announce to him that the Senecas and their chief were waiting for him. Now, Ichabod had, until this moment, been wholly engaged in the train of thought which we have mentioned ; but when it was broken hy this announcement, a new idea seemed suddenly pre- sented to his mind. '• Yes, I know what that means, Deersfoot. It means that you are going to tortur' me, according to Indian law. I never did ra'all}'^ think that I should live to be game for Senecas ; but you do 3'our duty according to 5^our natur', and I'll do mine, according to such light as I've got. But, see here. Deersfoot, now, understand, that I don't ask for marcy, or anything of that sort ; but if this business can be compromised to the benefit of us all then it's for your interest as well as mine to settle it. ^ THE F RO XTl ER5 M E y . 107 Now. Tve [rot a proposition to make to Panther and the rest of you ; and if you've a mind to hear it, well and good^ and if you havn't. why. then you needn^t.'' Deersfbot listened, under the impression that Ichabod had, at last, repented of his resolution, and that he was willino: to accept freedom upon the terms which had been proposed to him. After Ichabod had concluded, he replied: '• My brother is wise. I will say to the chief whs.t my brother wishes. It is good for us to be at peace.'' "With this he departed. But a few moments elapsed, before he returned with the information that the Senecas and their chief would meet their prisoner in council. The withes that were bound about the ankles of Ichabod, were unfastened, yet it was some time before he was able to stand without assistance. When he had sufSciently recovered the use of his feet, he was conducted by Deersfoot to a lodge on the opposite side of the circle, where he found Panther and Snakes-tongue, together with the larger portion of the Senecas, who were seated in a circle about the lodge, to listen to his proposal. Ichabod was placed in the cenfre of the circle. Conforming to Indian custom, he preserved a perfect composure and silence, until, at length, he was addressed by Panther: " My brother." said he. "had a cloud before his eyes, when he refused to listen to my counsel The. cloud has now passed away; he now sees clear; he sees that it will be wise to do as we wish. We have come together to listen: my brother can speak." ••I'm afraid we are laboring under some mistake here," replied Ichabod : '• as for that business you proposed to me. there'^s no use in talking about that. It's all well enough for a Seneca to propose it ; but it would rather go agin my natur' to accept it I came here to speak to you about a matter of a great deal more importance than that."' There was a loud murmur of dissatisfaction among the Senecas ; and many of them sprang to their feet with the intention of tak- ing vengeance, at once, for this seemingly public insult. Panther, however, immediately restored silence. '• My brother," said he, •^ is a great warrior ; he is cunning as a fox ; but he is surrounded by wai-riors as brave and cunning as himself. We will hear what he has got to say." " Now, I want to say to you. Panther, and to the rest of you," continued Ichabod, unmoved. '•' what I said to Deersfoot before I was brought in here, that if you want to put me to tortur'. and think that's the best use you can make of me. I've nothing to say agin it, for that's good Injin law ; but if you ra'ally want to make the most out of me that you can, then you'll listen to what I've got to sav." He p&used'for a few moments; but as the Indians remained I08- THE FRONTIERSMEN. silent, he took it as a manifestation of their dispo&itioa to give him their attention. '• You see," continued he, '• that ever since the white men came over the ocean to this countr3^ they've been increasing and grow- ing more powerful, and you've been growing weaker. The peo- ple who came over, in the first place, established colonies—they ft the French — they fJ the Injins, and finally they had a fight with England for independence ; sind notwithstanding all their Cornvvallis's and Burgoyne'a, and the Injins to boot, they got what tbey fout for. Now, you can see, that there's no use in your keeping up these old-fashioned customs of tomahawking and scalping, and living in the woods, and acting like Injins, more than like Vvhile people. If you do, it won't be long before there won't be a ref wool, and that we trnght not to do it. I have thought so myself. But to wear pantaloons, jacket and coat ! My brother might as well say that the Senecas should learn to read in books, and hoe corn and potatoes in the fields. We will not talk about it ; my brother does not know the Senecas. We are Injins. and we will live like Injins." '• M}- brother has spoken ; we have heard him, and we do not like his words. He is a brave warrior ; we know it ; but we are going to try and see how brave he is. Our j'^oung men will bind him to a tree, and will throw their tomahawks to see how near they can come to his head and not hit it. We will then try something else. We like to know a brave warrior. It does us good to see a brave warrior laugh at his enemies; and my brother must be glad to know that we are going to treat him like a brave. We shall hurt him all we can. We do not wear pantaloons, jackets and coats; if we did, we should not know how to honor him: we should be like the pale-faces. My brother must be glad that we do not dress like the pale-faces. Our j-^oung men are ready." This speech was received with '• rounds of applause ;" in othvr THE FRONTIERSMEN. Ill words, "it brought down the house;" and Snake-tono;ue sat down with a much greater reputation for oratory than he pos- sessed when he arose. When the assembly once more became silent, and as three or four of the Senecas advanced towards Ichabod for the purpose of conducting him to the place selected for the torture, he said with a look of contempt : '• I might have known better than to cast pearls afore swme. They are^'nothina: but venomous, thick-skulled Senecas ; and they may go without "clothes all their life-times, before I'll ever give 'em a piece of decent advice agin." Ichabod was now led a short distance from the lodges, in the direction of the river, to the border of the cleared land. He was there fastened to a tree, with thongs around his feet and waist. The upper part of his bodv was left free, that he might display his fear bv attempting to dodge the hatchets as they were thrown at him. It was now about four o'clock in the afternoon ; and the bricrht autumn sun shone directly in his face, so that it was with extreme difficulty, after a little while, that he could even raise his eyes sufficient! v to observe his enemies. Yet he did so ; for he knew that any shrinking in that respect, would be deemed a mark of cowardice on his part. The Indians had now gathered in front of him. at the distance of fifteen or twenty feet, and were preparing for the commence- ment of the ceremony. ' Resting against a stump, at a ;^hort dis- tance on one side, was Guthrie, who was surveying the prisoner with a look of malicious pleasure, which he did not attempt to conceal. Deersfoot was the first who advanced from the crowd ot Sene- cas with his tomahawk in his hand. As he stepped forward, he said to Ichaljod : " I shall now throw my hatchet. I shall come as close as 1 can, I shall try not to hit my brother. If I do, he will be ashamed of me," He threw his tomahawk with a force that drove the blade into the tree within an inch of Ichabod's head, almost to the handle. Ichabod. during the whole process, surveyed Deersfoot with a smile. As the hatchet struck the tree, he exclaimed : " Well done. Deersfoot. That's almost as good as^ a bullet from a rifle in d. practised hand, could have done it. You've got an expert hand, any way. for that kind of we'pon." A murmur of admiration broke from the Indians at this speci- men of Ichabod's coolness. Another Seneca stepped forward, and had just raised his hatchet in the act to throw, when a loud yell in the opposite direction attracted the attention of the Senecas. In a moment, two of their number, who had been stationed as lookouts in that direction, were seen advancing towards the crowd, accompanied by two whites. The reader will at once recognize iu these strangers, tlie attorney and his worthy com- 5* 112 THE FRONTIERSMEN. panioii, the bailiff. The latter, however, had been disarmed ; and although they were not bound, their faces showed signs of indig- nation at what they, no doubt, supposed to be uncivil treatment. As they approached the crowd of Fndians, Bagsley cried out, " Will any body be civil enough to show me the ringleader of this disorderly assembly ?" Panther stepped forward. '• If the pale-faces wish to see the chief of the Senecas. he is here." " I am happy to make your acquaintance, sir," said Bagsley. "I have the honor to be. a member of the legal profession — an attorney-at-law, sir; and this gentleman who accompanies me is a deputy sheriff sir — one who, at this moment, bears in his own person, all the dignit}^ and authorit}' of sherilf of the countj of Trvon. in whose bailiwick a'ou now are." •'Ugh!"' ejaculated Panther; and the emphatic exclamation was answered by the whole crowd of Senecas. " Our business here, sir, is to arrest one Ichabod Jenkins, upon a capias ad respondendum, at the suit of Sanuicl Parsons, for X25. 7^. CkI. I have been given to understand that he is in your custody, or that you know his whereabouts." Panther made a gesture towards the tree where Ichabod was confined. Bagsley, whose view in that direction had been inter- rupted b}'' the body of Indians who stood between him and the tree, now discovered the unfortunate debtor. "I am much obliged to you. gentlemen." said he, "for having detained him until our arrival. I presume it was done as a mat- ter of accommodation to us, as you probably had heard of our coming. Although 3'ou have made the arrest without color of law, and e.v colore officii, and also without process, 5'et T will undertake to defend you, should he be malicious enough to bring his suit for assault and battery and false imprisonment. And, further, as you have behaved so properly in this matter, I shall feel disposed to compromise amicabl}^ with you a cause of action for the same offence, in which I have been retained by Mr. Barton. Mr. PtOgers, you will do 3'our duty." That worthy was about moving towards Ichabod, when his course was at once arrested. The Indians, evidently, did not understand the value of the proceeding, except that the}'- were in danger of losing their victim if this movement was not pre- vented. At a gesture from Panther, the intruders were surrounded. " The pale-face is our prisoner," said he. '• We do not under- stand what you wish. Our 3'oung men are trying to see how brave he is, and we cannot let him go." " You don't mean to sa3^" exclaimed Rogers, " that 3-ou are going to prevent this arrest ! I'd like to see 3'ou do that ! Stand back there." shouted he, waving his arm towards the Senecas jn his front. But this gesture had only the effect of narrovviug the cii'cle within which he stood. THE FRONTIERSMEN. HS "Gentlemen." said Bagslej, -'jou are probably entirely unac- nuainted with that beautifnl system of jurisprudence which has been embellished by the writings of Coke, and adorned by the lives of Hale. Holt and MansfieTd. You are probably, also, un- acquainted with a statute recently enacted by the Honorable, the Legislature of the State of New York. You cannot be aware that, by interfering with our proceedings, which are perfectly regular — I give you my word and honor, as an attorney — you are subjecting yourselves to fine and imprisonment." '• We know no law. except Ingin law," said Panther, ''• and we are trying to do our duty, as we understand it. ^ We do not kno\y pale-face law. and we do not want to know it." ''• I must confess," answered Bagsley, •• that I am not very well acquainted with the Indian system of jurisprudence. It is. I presume, an unwritten system — leges non scriptcB—and. as such, I have great respect for it; it is undoubtedly an admirable sys- tem ; but it is not the system to which I allude. You are. gen- tlemen, in the county of Tryon. under the jurisdiction of the State of New York, and amenable to its laws. I really hope, gentlemen, that you perceive the point in the case, and will retire, and leave us to the discharge of our duty. It will be extremely unpleasant for us to be called upon to exercise the authority with which we are clothed, and I really hope their will be no occasion for it." And he and Rogers again attempted to move forward; but the Senecas pressed still closer ; and they now found themselves completely hemmed in. and unable to move in either direction. Ichabod, who had seen and understood the whole proceeding, now exclaimed — '•If I've got any friend among you Senecas. here. I hope youll finish this busines's as soon as practicable. A blow of a toma- hawk will be thankfully received ; or if you've got up this mat- ter to try a new system of tortur' on me, I'll acknowledge myself a squaw' at once, if that'll be any pleasure to you. I can't stand out agin this kind of horrors, any way." Rogers, who now found he would not be suffered to proceed in the making of the arrest, by the actual touching of the person of Ichabod, cried out — '• Ichabod Jenkins, I arrest you by virtue of " but his Toice was drowned in the yells of the Senecas ; and the two in- truders were immediately seized and bound. '• Gentlemen." said Bagsley, "bound or unbound, I will do my duty towards you. at least. I shall certify to the court, according to the statute, in such case made and provided, the names of the resisters. aiders, consenters, commanders and favorers, who have interfered with this arrest, and by a writ judicial, your bodies wiU be attached to appear in the same court." 114 THE FRONTIERSMEN. The voice of the attorney was drowned in the yells of the now angry Senecas ; and he, together with the bailiff, were at once led to one of the lodges, where they were left, bound hand and foot. Ichabod laughed with great glee over the discomfiture of this new enemy, whom he looked upon as more formidable than the other. " I thank you, red-skins, for this act of friendship ; its ra'ally kind in you ; and I shan't have nigh so bad an opinion of your nation, hereafter, as I have had. You do hate a lawj^er ; and there we agree. It's a pity that we can't be friends, under the circumstances ; but I reckon that's impossible. So, proceed to business again, and get through with this part of your tortur' as fast as possible." Order having been again restored, the Indian who had been interrupted b}'' the arrival of Bagsley and his companion, again stepped forward. " My brother," said he, addressing Ichabod, " is brave when be faces an Injin ; but he does not like the men with long, forked tongues. We do not like them either. We think too much of our brother to give him up. He is a great warrior ; and we want to do him honor according to Injin law. I may hit my. brother, but I shall try not to." He threw his tomahawk as he spoke, and the blade grazed Ichabod's head so closely that it severed a lock of hair from his brows. This was considered a great exploit ; and the Senecas testified their admiration by loud yells. One after one, the tomahawks of the Senecas were thrown, with divers success. Those who did not possess full confidence in their ability to perform the ceremony with credit to themselves, threw more at random ; and many of the weapons did not even hit the tree. The perfect composure with which Ichabod endured this species of torture, which, to one at all fearful or timid, would be exquisitely painful, excited the admiration of the Indians to the highest degree. At last. Panther, who had stood calmly by, watching the ceremony, approached Ichabod, and said — " It is now my turn to do honor to the pale-face. I must say that he is brave. We are glad that he is so brave. I shall now throw my hatchet, and I hope I shall not hurt my brother very much. I expect to hurt him a little. Should I hurt him very bad it will be a mistake, and I shall be very sorry ; for we mean to try something else. We mean to know how brave our brother is. He threw his tomahawk with fearful rapidity and seeming carelessness. It passed the side of Ichabod's head, opposite that from which the hair had been partially shorn ; but it grazed so closely that the hair was shorn to the skin, almost as smoothly as it could liave been done with a razor. It must have been THE FRONTIERSMEN". 115 exceedingly painful ; but the smile which rested upon the face of Ichabod. as the hatchet left the hand of Panther, remained, as the Senecas. with admiration divided between the victim and their chief, crowded around Ichabod to examine the effects of the blow, '• "Well done ! Well done !" exclaimed Ichabod. •• I doubt whether I could beat that with my ritie. I must say that j'ou are about as expert a set of fellows with them kind of we'pons as I ever come acfoss." Panther now. approached Ichabod. and said. •• we have tried our brother as well as we could with our tomahawks. He is ver}' brave : and it does us good to do him honor. If we had our squaws here to .scold at him. or our papooses to shoot arrows at him, we might plea.se him better ; but we have not. and we please him as well as we can. To-morrow we will try and do better. But to-night, we will leave him here tied to the tree ; but he shall have an Indian by him to keep away the wolves. AVe expect, in the morning, our brother will be weaker, and he will not then be so brave. It is not natural that he should be. "We will then tell him what we mean to do. But let not my brother be troubled; it shall be something that will honor him much." This was a species of torture which Ichabod had not expected. He had been bound to the tree in such a manner that he was entirely sustained by the thongs which confined him. and his position was becoming, momentarily, more painful. It must be confessed, that his spirit quailed at the idea of remaining so long a time in this painful situation ; but he knew of only one way by which he could be relieved — and that was. by the be- trayal of his friend. This lie would not do ; and he could only hope that he might find some means so to provoke his guard that in his anger the latter might, by some hasty blow, dispatch him. It was with much impatience, then, that he waited for the approach of darkness — until which time he would probably be left alone. He closed his eyes, into which the sun had shone until the brilliant glare had nearly deprived him of the power of vision, and endeavored to draw strength and fortitude from within. But a short time elapsed, however, before he heard a step, as of some one approaching him from behind. It was Guthrie, who had .separated himself from the Indians, and who now came up immediately in front of him, with an ironical smile upon his countenance. Ichabod surveyed him with a look of calmness and composure. '"I suppose." said he. "' that you've come here for the purpose of having your chance at me. Xow, all I've got to say to you, is. that I've a sort of respect for them red devils, for they do according to their natur' and color : but as for 3'ou, you're a white-livered traitor and Tory ; and if anybody knows any other 116 THE FRONTIERSMEN. words in the English language that have got a more contemptible meaning, they know more than I do — that's all:" and Ichabod closed his eyes again, as with the effort to shut out of his view so disgusting a sight. " Pluck to the last I" exclaimed Guthrie. " I must sa}^, that you've got more nerve than I reckoned on ; but I rather expect that you'll give in before to-morrow's over. Do you want to know what's coming next ?" asked be, with a sneer. " Well, stranger, I don't suppose I shoulot know any more about it after you have told me, than I do now," answered Icha- bod ; '' for I've set you down for an infarnal liar. I ain't at all particular as to what yon say; but this I do know, if them Senecas — who are are gentlemen born, compared to what you are — would give me that rifle of mine again, and set me loose for a few moments, I'd agree, that after I'd given you a proper sort of chastising, I'd come back here again and stand all they might choose to do to me. It rather provokes one with Natur' and Providence, to see such an infarnal villain as you are, live and breathe." Guthrie chuckled, in his peculiar manner. " I've waited many a day to get a chance at you. You didn't know me, when I saw you up at the cottage yonder ; but I knowed you. I've got a scar over here," pointing towards his back, '• that will remember you as long as it burns. You give it to me in that skriinmage we had down here, in '79 ; and I thought I'd just let you know that you may thank me for what 3'ou're getting now. As for that lighting you propose, I don't think that it's any object, for you're receiving, now, pretty much what you de- sarve." Then, approaching close ,to Ichabod, and laying his hand upon the spot shaven by the tomahawk of Panther, he continued — '' That was a pretty close shave, any way. I was rather afeard he would make a bad job of it, and kill you. I knowed him do that once:" and the villain laughed. 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 depriv- ed 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. THE FRONTIERSMEN. lit CHAPTER XY. Bos. — " He is fled — he is fled, and dares not sit it ou.. Bir. — What ! has he made an escape 1 which way 7 Follow, neighbor Haggise." Johnson. When Tchabod recovered from his svvoon. 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 b}^ 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 con- scioiLsness, Guthrie was nowhere to be seen. The hands of Icha- bod 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 Tchabod 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 Iluth and Singing-Bird, than either of the others. Xn Indian had taken his position, as guard, within a few feet of Ichabod, and between him and the fire ; and this Indian, as Ichabod discov- ered, was armed, besides his knife and tomahawk, with his own old familiar rifle. IIow 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, pro- nounced, at which his guard aro.se 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 bot- tle in his hand, of which he smelt and tasted with gestures of ex- travagant joy. Il8 THE FRONTIERSMEN. It seemed that the hicky 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 olfacto- ries at once pronounced " fire-water." Convinced that this odor must be caused by the presence of the article itself, in some quantity, he counnenced a search of the unfortunate dignitary ; and, hidden in a capacious pocket, wrapped in old writs and exe- cutions, but which were uninteligible 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 exclaimations 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 ap- propriate, 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 por- tion 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 likel}'- to pro- mote their safety, should the larger portion of the Senecas be- come 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 ap- peared, 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 fij-e, 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, TUE FRONTIERSMEN. 119 leaving fastened, only that which bound him by the waist. The friend, whoever it was. that bad 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 ver}' close observation, would not be able to discover the de- ception. 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 acci- dent 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 cir- cumstance 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 examme any further, but turned, as if to walk back towards the fire. At this mo- ment, 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 fairl}^ 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." 120 THE FRONTIERSMEN. " 1 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 be3^ond 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 dr}^ branches, showed him that they had escaped ; and it was with no little plea^sure that he again grasped the honest hand of Ichabod. But there was 5^et 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 kiiKiled, 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 j^t dancing and screaming about the fire, the}'^ 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 Eagles- Wing had already thrown himself upon the ground, wnth the intention of creeping forward in that 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, appa- THE FRO NT I EKSME N, 121 reiitly, in eaniest conTexsation. 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 rea- son 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 difficult}^ which had not been an- ticipated. After waiting for a short time, and seeing that neither Guthrie nor Panther showed any immediate intention of remov- ing, they anxiously souglit 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 Tuscaroi'a significantly drew his knife, and pointed towards hiin ; but Ichabod, at once, ex- pressed his dissent " That will never do. Eagle's- Wing, Y