THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE CAPTURE OF THE IXDIAK BOY.
 
 OR, 
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 
 
 ^turg far goraig 
 
 BY 
 
 OLIVER OPTIC, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "RICH AND HDMBLE," "IN SCHOOt, AXD OUT," "WATCH AND 
 
 WAIT," "WORK AND WIN," "THE RIVERDALE STORY BOOKS," 
 
 "THE ARMY AND NAVY STORIES," "THE BOAT CLUB," 
 
 "ALL ABOARD," "NOW OK NEVER," ETC. 
 
 " For we are saved by hope." ST. PAUL. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 LEE .A. UST ID SHEPv 
 
 (SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO.) 
 
 1868.
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1806, by 
 
 WILLIAM T. ADAMS, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts 
 
 ELECTROTYPE!) AT THE 
 
 BOSTON STERKOTYl'E FOUNDRY, 
 4 Spring Lane.
 
 ps 
 \t> o 
 
 TO 
 
 MY YOUNG FRIEND, 
 
 RACHEL E. BAKER, 
 
 Kjjis gook 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 
 
 (3) 
 
 724433
 
 THE WOODVILLE STORIES. 
 
 IN SIX VOLUMES. 
 
 A LIBRARY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS, 
 
 BY OLIVER OPTIC. 
 
 1. E.ICH .A-ISTID 
 
 2. IKT SCHOOL -A.OSTI3 OtJT. 
 Q. 
 
 (4)
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE fifth volume of the Woodville stories contains the 
 experience of Fanny Grant, who from a very naughty girl 
 became a very good one, by the influence of a pure and 
 beautiful example, exhibited to the erring child in the hour 
 of her greatest wandering from the path of rectitude. The 
 story is not an illustration of the "pleasures of hope;" 
 but an attempt to show the young reader that what we most 
 desire, in moral and spiritual, as well as worldly things, we 
 labor the hardest to obtain a truism adopted by the 
 heroine in the form of the principal title of the volume, 
 Hope and Have. 
 
 The terrible Indian massacre which occurred in Min 
 nesota, in 1802, is the foundation of. the latter half of the 
 story ; and the incidents, so far as they have been used, 
 were drawn from authentic sources. Fanny Grant's ex 
 perience is tame compared with that of hundreds who 
 suffered by this deplorable event; and her adventures, in 
 company with Ethan French, are far less romantic than 
 1* (5>
 
 6 PREFACE. 
 
 many which are sufficiently attested by the principal actors 
 in them. 
 
 Once more, and with increased pleasure, the author ten 
 ders to his juvenile friends his thanks for their continued 
 kindness to him and his books ; and he hopes his present 
 offering will both please and benefit them. 
 
 WILLIAM T. ADAMS. 
 
 HARRISON SQUARE, MASS., 
 July VG, 1866.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAOB 
 CHAP. I. The Naughty Girl 11 
 
 CHAP. II. Thou shall not steal. 25 
 
 CHAP. III. Letting the Cat out. ..... 39 
 
 CHAP. IV. Fanny the Skipper 52 
 
 CHAP. V. Down the River .66 
 
 CHAP. VI. Kate's Defection 79 
 
 CHAP. VII. The Soldier's Family. . . . .93 
 
 CHAP. VIII. The Sick Girl 107 
 
 CHAP. IX. Hope and Have. . . . . . .120 
 
 CHAP. X. Good out of Evil 135 
 
 CHAP. XI. Penitence and Pardon 148 
 
 CHAP. XII. The New Home 162 
 
 CHAP. XIII. The Indian Massacre 170 
 
 CHAP. XIV. The Indian Boy 190 
 
 CHAP. XV. The Conference 204 
 
 (7)
 
 O CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. XVI. The Young Exiles 218 
 
 CHAP. XVII. The Night Attack 231 
 
 CHAP. XVIII. The Visitor at the Island. . . .241 
 
 CHAP. XIX. The Indian Ambush 2;37 
 
 CHAP. XX. Conclusion. . 270
 
 HOPE AND HATE
 
 OR, 
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 
 
 CHAPTER I . 
 
 THE NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 " Now you will be a good girl, Fanny Jane, 
 while I am gone won't you ? " said Fanny Grant, 
 who has several times before appeared in these 
 stories, to Fanny Jane Grant, her namesake, who 
 has not before been presented to our readers. 
 
 " O, yes, Miss Fanny ; I will be ever so good ; 
 I won't even look wrong," replied Fanny Jane, 
 whose snapping black eyes even then beamed with 
 mischief. 
 
 " I am afraid you don't mean what you say," 
 added Miss Fanny, suspiciously.
 
 12 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 " Yes, I do ; I mean every word of it, and more 
 too." 
 
 " You make large promises ; and I find when 
 you promise most, you perform least." 
 
 " But, certain true as I live, I won't do a single 
 thing this time," protested Fanny Jane. " Won't 
 you believe me ? " 
 
 " You have deceived me so often that I do not 
 know when to trust you." 
 
 " I have turned over a new leaf, and I mean 
 to be just as good as ever I can be." 
 
 " If you are not good, Fanny Jane, I shall feel 
 very bad when I return. I have done a great 
 deal for you, and I hope you Avill think of it if 
 you are tempted to do wrong during my absence. 
 This time, in particular, I wish you to behave very 
 well, and not do any mischief. You know what 
 father says about you ? " 
 
 " He don't like me," pouted Fanny Jane. 
 
 " When you are good he likes you." 
 
 " He scolds me all the time." 
 
 " He never scolds you ; he reproves you when 
 you do wrong, and I am sorry to say that is very
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 13 
 
 often indeed. He says, if you do not behave bet 
 ter, he shall send you back to your uncle at the 
 west." 
 
 " I don't want to go there." 
 
 " But you must, if you do not do better. He 
 would have sent you before if I had not interceded 
 for you." 
 
 "Hadn't what?" 
 
 " If I hadn't begged him not to do so." 
 
 " I Avon't be sent back to my uncle's, any how," 
 replied Fanny Jane, sharply ; for the intimations of 
 what might be, roused a spirit of resentment, rather 
 than of penitence, in her mind. 
 
 " We will not talk about that now, Fanny Jane. 
 We are going to Hudson to spend a week. The 
 strongest objection to our visit was, that you would 
 not behave well while we were gone." 
 
 "O, I will behave well!" 
 
 "We intend to trust you once more. If you 
 disappoint me this time, I shall not be able to say 
 another word in your favor ; and I am quite sure 
 father will send you off to Minnesota just as soon 
 as we get back." 
 2
 
 14 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 The carriage was waiting at the door; Bertha 
 was already seated, and Fanny, having done all 
 she could to insure the good behavior of the troub 
 lesome young miss who had become her peculiar 
 charge, hastened to join her sister, and they were 
 driven away towards the railroad station. 
 
 In the two tall and elegant ladies, seated in the 
 "Woodville family carriage, our readers would hardly 
 recognize Bertha and Fanny Grant, for eight years 
 have elapsed since they were introduced, as chil 
 dren, to our young friends. Bertha maintains her 
 pure and beautiful character, and is still a blessing 
 to the family, and to the neighborhood in which 
 she resides. Fanny is taller and prettier than her 
 sister ; and, having put away her childish follies, 
 she is quite a dignified personage. 
 
 Mighty events had transpired since they were 
 children, and the country was entering upon the 
 second year of the great civil war, which desolated 
 the sunny South, and carried mourning to almost 
 every household of the free North. Richard Grant 
 had already distinguished himself as a captain in a
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 15 
 
 popular New York regiment, of which, the Ilev. Ogden 
 Newman, whilom Noddy, was the chaplain. 
 
 Mr. Grant had retired from active business, and 
 had been succeeded by Mr. Sherwood, his clerk, 
 who, having a high appreciation of the excellent 
 character of Bertha, Avas about to enter into more 
 intimate relations with his employer and predecessor 
 in business. Bertha was to become Mrs. Sherwood 
 in June, and, as Mr. Grant had reluctantly accepted 
 a financial mission from the government, which 
 compelled him to visit Europe, it had been arranged 
 that the bridal tour should be a trip across the 
 Atlantic, in which Fanny was to accompany them. 
 If the general conduct of Miss Fanny Jane Grant 
 had been sufficiently meritorious to warrant the ex 
 tending of the privilege to her, doubtless she also 
 would have been one of the party, for she had been 
 for two years a member of the family. 
 
 Fanny Jane was a distant relative of the Grants 
 of Woodville. Mr. Grant had two cousins, John 
 and Edward, the latter of whom the father of 
 the wayward girl had died three years previous 
 to her introduction to the reader. At the time of
 
 16 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 his decease, he was in the employ of the wealthy 
 broker, as a travelling agent. Just before his death, 
 which occurred, in a western city, while conscious 
 that his end was near, he had written a letter to 
 Mr. Grant, begging him to see that his only child 
 was properly cared for when he could no longer 
 watch over her. 
 
 Edward Grant's wife had been dead several years. 
 At her decease Fanny Jane had been committed to 
 the care of her father's brother, then residing in 
 Illinois. Mr. Grant, impressed by the solemn duty 
 intrusted to him by his deceased cousin, promptly 
 wrote to the child's uncle, who was dependent upon 
 his own exertions for his daily bread, offering any 
 assistance which the orphan might need; but no 
 demand was made upon him. 
 
 A year after the father's death, Mr. Grant's busi 
 ness . affairs required him to visit the west, and 
 he improved the opportunity to satisfy himself that 
 the charge committed to him by the dying father 
 was well cared for. On his arrival he was not 
 pleased with the relations subsisting between Fanny 
 Jane and her aunt. Mrs. Grant declared that the
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 17 
 
 child was stubborn, wilful, and disobedient, need 
 ing frequent and severe punishment. On the other 
 hand, Fanny said that her aunt abused her ; worked 
 her " almost to death ; " did not give her good 
 things to eat, and whipped her when she " did not 
 do anything." 
 
 Mr. Grant was a prudent and judicious man. 
 He conversed with each party alone, and, being 
 then in doubt, he consulted the uncle, John Grant's 
 testimony, in the main, confirmed that of his wife, 
 though he was willing to confess that the aunt 
 " might have been a little hard on the child." 
 Mr. Grant was far from satisfied ; he thought it 
 more than probable that Fanny was wilful, but he 
 could not endure to think of her being abused. 
 
 The sacred duty imposed upon him could not be 
 
 t 
 trifled with, and, as the only method by which he 
 
 could meet the demands of his conscience, he de 
 cided to take the orphan to Woodville with him. 
 
 The uncle and the aunt, who had no children 
 of their own,, objected to this procedure, both be 
 cause they did not wish to part with the child, and 
 because her withdrawal from, their case implied a
 
 18 HOPE AND H.VVE, OR 
 
 condemnation of their former treatment of the 
 orphan. Mr. Grant, however, succeeded in over 
 coming both of these objections, and they consented 
 that Fanny should remain at Woodville for two 
 years ; Mrs. Grant assuring the benevolent broker 
 that he would be glad to get 'rid of her in less 
 than six months. 
 
 Fanny had behaved so well during the stay of 
 Mr. Grant at her uncle's house, that he was com 
 pletely deceived in regard to her real character. 
 The presence of so important a person as the 
 wealthy broker, who had been represented to her 
 as a person hardly less dignified than the President 
 of the United States, had overawed her, and put 
 her on her best behavior. Her kind friend, there 
 fore, was unable to realize that the orphan girl 
 was half so bad as she was described to be by 
 her aunt. 
 
 Edward Grant, while in the employ of t.ie broker, 
 had often visited Woodville, and being especially 
 pleased with the person and the manners of Miss 
 Fanny, had named his own daughter after her. On 
 the arrival of the orphan at her new home, it was
 
 FANXY GRANT AMOXG THE INDIANS. 19 
 
 deemed fitting that Miss Fanny should have the 
 especial care of her namesake, then only ten years 
 of age. Fanny Jane, amid the novelties of the 
 great house, and the beautiful grounds, was so 
 much occupied for a few weeks that she behaved 
 very well ; but when she grew weary of horses and 
 boats, house and grounds, she astonished her young 
 mistress by conduct so outrageous that Miss Fanny 
 wept in despair over the miserable failure she made 
 in governing her charge. 
 
 Miss Bertha was called in to assist in taming 
 the refractory subject ; but it was soon found that 
 Fanny Jane had none of the chivalrous reverence 
 which had rendered the wild Noddy Newman tol 
 erably tractable, and her failure was as complete 
 and ignominious as that of her sister. Mr. Grant 
 was finally appealed to ; and the sternness and 
 severity to which he was compelled to resort were, 
 for a time, effectual. But even these measures 
 began ^to be impotent, and the broker realized 
 that the uncle and aunt had understood the case 
 better than himself. 
 
 As a last resort, he threatened to send the way-
 
 20 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 Ward girl back to her uncle, who had now removed 
 to Minnesota ; for it would be better for such a 
 child to put her down to hard work, and to keep 
 her constantly under the eye of her guardians. 
 This threat was more efficient than all the other 
 means which had been used to keep the child 
 within the bounds of common decency ; but even 
 this had grown stale upon her. 
 
 Miss Fanny, finding that her failure involved no 
 disgrace, renewed her exertions to reform her pupil 
 and charge. With the utmost diligence she in 
 structed her in her moral and religious duties, and 
 endeavored by love and gentleness to win her from 
 the error of her ways. Sometimes she felt that 
 there was much to encourage her, at other times she 
 despaired of ever making any impression upon her 
 pupil. Her father induced her to persevere, 
 for he had hope. He remembered what Edward 
 Grant, her father, had been when a child ; that he 
 was accounted the worst and most hopeless boy in 
 the town where he resided ; but in spite of this 
 unpromising beginning, he had become a very 
 worthy and respectable man. Such a change might
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 21 
 
 in due time come over the daughter, and Mr. Grant 
 frequently impressed upon Fanny the necessity of 
 perseverance, and of remitting no effort to reach 
 her pupil's moral and spiritual nature. 
 
 If Miss Fanny did not improve her pupil, she 
 did improve herself, for the more of love and truth 
 we impart to others, the more we have for our 
 selves; making the very pretty moral paradox, that 
 the more of love and truth we subtract from our 
 store, the more we have left in our own heart. 
 
 Fanny Jane was undoubtedly a very naughty 
 girl. We do not mean to say that she was merely 
 rude and unlady-like in her manners ; that she was 
 occasionally angry without a just cause ; that she 
 had a few bad habits, and a few venial faults : she 
 was impudent to her benefactors ; she was untruth 
 ful, and even dishonest. Not only to Fanny and 
 Bertha, but also to Mr. Grant, she was openly 
 defiant. She used bad language, told falsehoods 
 by wholesale, and had several times been detected 
 in stealing valuable articles from the house. 
 
 Yet with all her faults and failings, there were 
 some good traits in Fanny Jane, though they seemed
 
 22 HOPE AXD- HAVE, OE 
 
 like the two grains of wheat in the bushel of chaff. 
 What these redeeming features of her character 
 were, we shall let our story disclose. One meet 
 ing the wayward girl on the lawn for a moment, 
 or spending a few hours in the house with her, 
 would have been deceived, as Mr. Grant had been, 
 for her black eyes were full of animation ; her 
 manner was spirited, and her answers were quick 
 and sharp. She was light and rather graceful in 
 form ; she did not appear to walk ; she flashed 
 about like a meteor. She was bold and daring in 
 her flights, and as strong as most boys of her years. 
 She would not run away from a rude boy ; she 
 laughed in the thunder storm, and did not fear to 
 go through the glen at midnight. 
 
 Bertha and Fanny had gone up to Hudson to 
 spend a few days with the family of Mr. Sherwood's 
 father, previous to their departure for Europe. This 
 visit had been talked about for a fortnight, and the 
 wayward girl knew that it was to take place. Con 
 trary to her usual custom, she made the ^fairest of 
 promises to her kind mistress, who, from this very 
 readiness, suspected her sincerity ; and her fears 
 wore more than realized.
 
 JTAXXY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 23 
 
 Fanny Jane stood at the open door gazing at 
 the carriage until it disappeared beyond the hill. 
 Her black eyes snapped under the stimulus of cer 
 tain exciting thoughts which agitated her mind. 
 When the carriage could no longer be seen, she 
 slammed the front door, and bounded like a gazelle 
 across the entry to the library of Mr. Grant, which 
 she entered, closing the door behind her. 
 
 " O, yes ! I'll be good ! " laughed she ; " I'm al 
 ways good ! Send me to my uncle's ? I should 
 like to see them do it ! I won't go ! There are 
 not men and women enough at Woodville to make 
 me go ! " 
 
 Then she bounded to the windows in the library, 
 one after another, and looked out at each. She 
 closed the inner blinds of one, before which the 
 gardener was at work on the lawn. 
 
 " I can do as Miss Berty did, if worse comes to 
 worst," said she, throwing herself into a great arm 
 chair. " She went to live out, and had her own 
 way, and I can do the same ; but I won't be as 
 poor as she was. Ha, ha, ha ! I know their se 
 crets," she continued, as she crawled under the
 
 24 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 desk, in the middle of the room, and pushing the 
 middle drawer out, took from a nail behind it a 
 key. " They needn't think to cheat me." 
 
 She sprang to her feet again with the key in 
 her hand, laughing with dcliglit at her own cunning.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 25 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THOU SHALT NOT STEAL. 
 
 FANNY as we shall call her when she is not 
 in the company of her namesake revelled in the 
 possession of the key, and congratulated herself on 
 her own shrewdness in obtaining it. She applied 
 it to one of the drawers of the desk. Though her 
 devoted young mistress had been faithful to the 
 last degree in her efforts to instil good principles 
 in the mind of her pupil, Fanny appeared to have 
 no scruples of conscience. She did not hesitate, 
 did not pause to consider the wickedness of her 
 acts. 
 
 The drawer was unlocked and opened with an 
 
 eager rather than a trembling hand. She seemed 
 
 to fear nothing, and to be intent only on obtaining 
 
 possession of some coveted treasure. As she pulled 
 
 3
 
 26 HOPE AM) HAVE, OR 
 
 out the drawer, she was startled by a very unex 
 pected incident. A great black cat, suddenly re 
 leased from imprisonment, sprang out of the drawer, 
 and, terrified by the appearance of the naughty 
 girl, ran around the room several times, and then 
 disappeared through an open window. The cat 
 was a stranger to her ; it was not a Woodville 
 cat ; and, though Fanny was not frightened, the 
 presence of the animal in the drawer was suggestive. 
 
 " I am not so sharp as I thought I was," said 
 she to herself, quite soberly. u The housekeeper 
 must have seen me when I was looking for that 
 key; but she needn't think I am afraid of a cat!" 
 
 Fanny sneered at the thought, and after glancing 
 at the window through which the cat had made her 
 escape, she turned to the drawer again, but it was 
 empty; or it contained only a great card, such as 
 those used in the Sunday school, on which was 
 painted, in large black letters, 
 
 THOU SHALT NOT STEAL! 
 
 This card, which must have been placed there 
 for her especial benefit by some member of the
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 27 
 
 family, rendered it certain that her intentions were 
 suspected, if not known. 
 
 " That's a gentle hint not to take anything from 
 that drawer," said Fanny to herself. " There is noth 
 ing there, and of course I must take the hint ; but 
 they can't cheat me. There is money somewhere 
 in this desk, and I must have it." 
 
 Perhaps, under ordinary circumstances, she would 
 have been moved by the expedient which had been 
 used to deter her from stealing. The commandment 
 of God, staring her in the face at the very moment 
 when she expected to place her hand upon the for 
 bidden treasure, might have reached her conscience 
 if she had not been engaged in a deeply-laid plan 
 for revelling in stolen joys. As it was, she was 
 only disappointed at not finding the money which 
 the drawer had been supposed to contain. 
 
 " Fanny Jane ! " called Mrs. Green, the house 
 keeper, from the entry. 
 
 It was not prudent to be seen in the library, 
 and, hastily closing the drawer, and restoring the 
 key to the nail under the desk, she stepped out at 
 one of the long windows upon the piazza.
 
 28 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 " Fanny Jane ! " repeated the housekeeper. 
 
 " Here I am," said the guilty girl, entering the 
 front door. 
 
 "It is time for you to get ready for school," 
 added Mrs. Green. 
 
 " I'm not going to school to-day." 
 
 "Not going to school? Why not, miss?" 
 
 " Because I don't want to go." 
 
 " I think you are going," said the housekeeper, 
 firmly. 
 
 " And I think I am not going ! " 
 
 " Very well ; then I will send for Mr. Long," 
 added Mrs. Green, with a coolness and decision 
 which were not without their effect upon the stub 
 born girl. 
 
 Mr. Long was a constable, and outside of his 
 official duties, he was often employed in various 
 miscellaneous offices by Mr. Grant. He lived in a 
 small cottage adjoining the Woodville estate. This 
 man was a great bugbear to Fanny, who had a 
 very proper and wholesome regard for the strong 
 arm of the law. 
 
 " I don't care for Mr. Long," said Fanny, shak-
 
 FANNY GEANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 29 
 
 ing her shoulders in defiance ; but this was only a 
 vain boast. 
 
 Mrs. Green rang a bell for the man-servant who 
 was employed in the house. This was more than 
 the naughty girl could endure, for she knew that 
 Mrs. Green would do all she promised. 
 
 " You needn't send for Mr. Long," interposed 
 Fanny, doggedly. " I'll go to school." 
 
 " I thought you would ; but you may do as you 
 please." 
 
 " I'll go, but I want fifteen cents to buy a new 
 copy-book." 
 
 As Mrs. Green knew that Fanny needed a new 
 copy-book, she did not object to this request, and 
 went into the library to procure the money. In 
 stead of going up stairs to prepare herself for 
 school, as the housekeeper had told her to do, 
 Fanny went out upon the piazza again, and looking 
 through the window, saw Mrs. Green open a closet 
 in the library, and, from a drawer there, take out 
 the money she had asked for. The housekeeper 
 locked the drawer and the closet door, placing the 
 key of the latter in a vase on the mantel-piece, 
 3*
 
 30 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 and the key of the drawer under one of a row of 
 volumes on a book shelf. All these precautions 
 had been rendered necessary by the presence of 
 the dishonest girl in the house. 
 
 Fanny, having carefully observed where the keys 
 were placed, ran up stairs, and presently appeared, 
 dressed for school. Mrs. Green gave her the money 
 for which she had asked, and having satisfied her 
 self that the refractory girl had actually departed 
 for school, she went up stairs to attend to her 
 usual duties. Fanny went as far as the road, and 
 then, instead of turning to. the left, she went to 
 the right, and keeping in the shadow of the trees, 
 reached the rear of the mansion. From this point 
 she crept round to the piaz/a, from which she 
 passed into the library. 
 
 " She can't cheat me ! " said Fanny, again con 
 gratulating herself upon her own cunning. " She'll 
 find, before night, that I'm too much for her." 
 
 The wicked girl then went to the vase, and 
 taking from it the key, opened the closet. From 
 the place where she had stood, she could not de 
 termine exactly under which book the key of the
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 31 
 
 drawer had been placed ; but after raising half a 
 dozen of them, she found the object of her search. 
 The drawer was opened, and on the top of several 
 bundles of papers lay a pocket-book. Her eyes 
 snapped with unwonted fire as she discovered the 
 prize. 
 
 She opened it, and found a great roll of bills ; 
 in one of the pockets there was a mass of cur 
 rency. There was no great staring placard, with 
 "Thou shalt not steal" printed upon it, but the 
 words seemed to be spoken from her own breast 
 seemed to be thundering in her soul. But Fanny 
 was excited by the prospect of the stolen joys, in 
 which she had been revelling in anticipation for a 
 fortnight, and she heeded not the voice from her 
 breast, and silenced the thunder-tones that rolled 
 through her soul. 
 
 " Shall I take it all ? " whispered she, as she 
 gazed on the great pile of " greenbacks and cur 
 rency." " I may as well be hung for an old sheep 
 as a lamb," she added, as she gathered up the 
 money, and thrust it into her pocket. 
 
 A noise in the entry startled her. She closed
 
 32 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 the drawer, locked it, and restored the key to the 
 place where she had found it. The closet door 
 was secured in like manner, and the key returned 
 to the vase. Passing out of the library as she had 
 entered, she made her way back to the road, and 
 walked towards the school-house. Before she reached 
 it, however, she turned down a lane leading to the 
 river. It was a lonely avenue, completely shaded by 
 trees, which concealed her from the view of the 
 people in the adjoining houses. Increasing her pace 
 to a bounding run, she soon reached the Hudson. 
 
 Seated on a stone, near the river, was a girl of 
 fourteen, who had evidently been waiting for Fanny. 
 In her hand she held a couple of books, which 
 indicated that she also had be^n s^nt to school. 
 
 " Where have you been ? Why didn't you come 
 before ? " asked the girl, as she rose at Fanny's 
 approach. 
 
 " I couldn't come before," replied Fanny. 
 
 " Why not ? " demanded the other, whose name 
 was Kate Magner. 
 
 " No matter why not," answered Fanny, rather 
 testily, for she was not yet quite willing to confess
 
 FANNY GKANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 33 
 
 what she had done in the library of the mansion- 
 house. 
 
 " Haven't the folks gone away ? " 
 
 " Yes ; they all went off in the morning train. 
 Where is Tom ? " 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 " But we want him ; we can't get along with 
 out him." 
 
 " He said he would come." 
 
 i 
 
 " But he is late." 
 
 " So are you." 
 
 "I couldn't help it." 
 
 " I suppose he can't, either. But what are we 
 going to do, Fan ? " asked Kate, who did not seem 
 to be satisfied with the present prospect of the 
 enterprise, whatever it was. 
 
 " We are going to have a good time." 
 
 " You said that before ; but I want to know 
 what we are going to do. You asked me to 
 meet you here at half past eight. You come at 
 nine, and I don't see that anything is to be done. 
 I shall catch it for playing truant from school, and 
 all for nothing."
 
 34 HOPt; AND HAVE, OR 
 
 " You shall have the best time you have had in 
 your life." 
 
 " I don't know about that. Why don't you tell 
 me what you mean to do ? " 
 
 " I am almost afraid to tell you, Kate." 
 
 " Afraid, of what ? " 
 
 " I'm afraid you won't dare to go with me." 
 
 " Did you ever do anything I was afraid to 
 do ? " said Kate, with a sneer. 
 
 " But this is a greater thing than we ever did 
 before. We may be gone a long time, and we are 
 certain to be found out." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " demanded Kate, appar 
 ently appalled by this frank statement of the dif 
 ficulties of the enterprise. 
 
 " I thought it would scare you," laughed Fanny. 
 
 " But it don't scare me." 
 
 " Yes, it does." 
 
 " I will do anything that you dare to do," re 
 plied Kate, stung by the flings of her companion. 
 
 " You shall have the greatest time that ever 
 was, but you must take the consequences after it 
 is all over."
 
 FAXXY GKAXT AMOXG THE IXDIAXS. 35 
 
 " If you can, I can." 
 
 " Come with me, then," continued Fanny, as. she 
 moved along the bank of the river towards the 
 Woodville landing pier. 
 
 " I won't go a step till I know what you are 
 going to do." 
 
 " I'm afraid you will back out." 
 
 " No, I won't ; I solemnly promise you that I will 
 go with you anywhere you please." 
 
 " I have got some money," added Fanny, in a 
 very mysterious manner. 
 
 " How much ? " 
 
 "Two dollars." 
 
 " Pooh ! that ain't much ! " sneered Kate. 
 
 " Well, I've got five dollars." 
 
 " Have you? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Where did you get it?" 
 
 " I found it." 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " On the floor." 
 
 Kate probably had her doubts in regard to the 
 finding of the money, but she did not ask any
 
 
 36 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 troublesome questions, and repressed whatever ot 
 righteous indignation might have risen in her soul. 
 
 " What are you going to do with it ? " she asked. 
 
 " We will have a good time with it." 
 
 " But where are you going ? " 
 
 Fanny glanced at her companion, and hesitated 
 to reveal the brilliant project, fearful that it might 
 be disapproved. 
 
 " We will go over to Whitestone, or down to 
 Pennville, and buy something. But where is Tom ? 
 We must have him." 
 
 " What do you want of him ? " asked Kate, rather 
 petulantly. 
 
 " We must go over in a boat, and we want him 
 to manage it for us." 
 
 *' Perhaps he will come ; he promised to do so." 
 
 " W T e will go up to the landing-place ; perhaps 
 he is up there." 
 
 The two girls walked up to the Woodville pier ; 
 but Tom Magner was not there. He seemed to have 
 no relish for the society of the interesting young 
 ladies engaged in a brilliant enterprise; and if he 
 had made any appointment to meet them, he
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 37 
 
 neglected to keep it. Fanny was very much dis 
 appointed at his non-appearance, much more so 
 than the young gentleman's sister, who, not know 
 ing the extent of the enterprise, was in blissful 
 ignorance of its perils and difficulties. Tom Magner 
 was an almost indispensable part of the plan ; but 
 the young knight did not cbme, and the project 
 must be abandoned or carried out without him. 
 
 " I am afraid he won't come," said Fanny, after 
 impatiently waiting for half an hour. 
 
 " I know he won't now. I don't believe he in 
 tended to come at all," replied Kate. 
 
 " He is a mean fellow, then." 
 
 " We can get along without him. We shall 
 have more money to spend ourselves." 
 
 " But how shall we get over to Whitestone ? " 
 
 " We can go up the river and take the ferry." 
 
 " Yes ; and the first person we meet may be 
 your father, or some of the Woodville folks. Xo, 
 Kate, we must not be seen ; if we arc, all our fun 
 will be spoiled." 
 
 " For my part I don't want Tom, or any other 
 boy with us. I think boys are hateful ! " 
 4
 
 38 HOPE AND HATE, OH 
 
 " So do I ; but I only want him to manage the 
 boat. Don't you think you could go up and find 
 Tom ? " 
 
 ' I don't think I could," said Kate, indignantly. 
 
 " Where is he ? " 
 
 " At school, I suppose." 
 
 " Couldn't you tell the teacher that your father 
 wants him ? " suggested "Fanny. 
 
 " No, I could not ! I should be caught myself. 
 I believe you want to get me into trouble." 
 
 " I'm sure I don't, Kate, for that would get me 
 into trouble. What shall we do ? " 
 
 " We will go up to the ferry. We can see who 
 is in the boat before we go on board." 
 
 " I won't do that if we don't go at all." 
 
 And so the brilliant scheme seemed to be de 
 feated for the want of a boatman ; but Fanny was 
 too bold and enterprising in mischief to give up 
 without a struggle.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 39 
 
 C H AP T E R III. 
 
 LETTING THE CAT OUT. 
 
 " POOH ! I shall not give it up so ! " exclaimed 
 Fanny, when it was certain that Tom Magner did 
 not intend to join the party. 
 
 " What will you do ? " asked Kate. 
 
 " Go to Pennville, of course." 
 
 " How will you get there ? ' 
 
 " In the boat ; we will take the Greyhound." 
 
 "You know we can't do anything of the ( kind, 
 Fanny Grant." 
 
 " I know we can," replied the resolute girl. 
 
 " B it who will manage her?" 
 
 " I will manage her myself." 
 
 ' You ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I know how to manage a boat as well as 
 any of them. I have sailed enough to understand
 
 40 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 the whole thing," added Fanny, as she led the way 
 to the pier, off which the sail-boat was moored. 
 
 " Do you think I will risk my life in a boat 
 with no one but you to manage it ? " 
 
 " But I know how to handle the boat as well 
 as any one," persisted Fanny. " There isn't much 
 wind, and I'm sure there is no danger." 
 
 Kate Magncr had a great many doubts, but the 
 vision of cakes and candy, lemonade and ice-cream, 
 which her companion's money would purchase, 
 tempted her to yield. The breeze was apparently 
 very light, and it seemed hardly possible that the 
 boat could be upset. She wavered, and Fanny saw 
 the advantage she had gained. 
 
 " If we don't get along very well, we can hire 
 some boy or man to manage the boat for us," con 
 tinued the resolute girl, pressing the point upon 
 her yielding companion. " There are some men 
 and boys fishing over there, and they will be very 
 glad to make some money." 
 
 " That will be the best way. If you will get 
 one of those men to manage the boat, I will go
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 41 
 
 with you ; for there isn't any fun in being 
 drowned, or in being run over by a steamboat." 
 
 " Very well, I will do that," replied Fanny, her 
 black eyes snapping with renewed vigor. 
 
 Ben, the boatman, who usually haunted the pier 
 and the boat-house like a familiar spirit, had added 
 many infirmities to his burden of cares during the 
 eight years which have intervened since we first 
 knew him, and he was now confined to his house 
 by an attack of rheumatism. There was no one 
 near, therefore, to interfere with the execution of 
 Fanny's plan. The Greyhound was moored a short 
 distance from the pier, at which the small skiff, 
 which served as her tender, was fastened. The 
 two girls were about to embark in the little boat, 
 when footsteps were heard at the upper end of the 
 pier. 
 
 Fanny started, released her hold of the painter 
 of the skiff, and at once realized that her brilliant 
 project was in imminent danger of being defeated. 
 She turned to observe who the intruder was, and 
 to her horror and consternation, discovered that it 
 was Mr. Long, the constable, the greatest bugbear 
 4*
 
 42 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 in the world to her on ordinary occasions, and 
 especially so in the present instance, when her 
 conscience accused her of a very wicked deed. 
 
 There was no opportunity to retreat, for the 
 enemy was between her and the main land. She 
 had been so intent upon the argument with her 
 more cautious companion, that she had not noticed 
 the approach of the constable until his feet struck 
 upon the planking of the pier. The money she 
 had stolen was in her pocket, and it felt just like 
 a coal of fire, which was soon to create a conflagra 
 tion that might burn her up. She very much de 
 sired, just then, to get rid of this evidence of her 
 crime, and she would have dropped the roll of 
 bills into the water if it would have sunk to the 
 bottom, and disappeared from the sight of the 
 terrible man who was approaching. 
 
 Fanny did not doubt that the loss of the money 
 had been discovered by Mrs. Green, and that she 
 had sent for the constable to arrest her and put 
 her in prison a threat which the housekeeper had 
 injudiciously made on a former occasion, when the 
 naughty girl had been guilty of a similar fault,
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 43 
 
 but a threat which Mr. Grant would not have per 
 mitted to be carried out. This terrible punishment 
 appalled Fanny, but she did not entirely lose her 
 self-possession. She had done a very great wrong ; 
 she had staked everything upon the success of the 
 present venture. She was entirely satisfied that Mr. 
 Grant, on his return, would send her to her uncle 
 in Minnesota, and she had prepared herself for the 
 worst. Her object, therefore, was to escape present 
 defeat, and she hoped, cornered as she was by the 
 constable, that some means of getting out of the 
 dilemma might bo presented to her. 
 
 " We are caught," said Kate, as Mr. Long moved 
 down the pier. 
 
 " Not yet," replied Fanny, with more confidence 
 than she actually felt. 
 
 The consciousness of being the leader in the 
 enterprise led her to put on a bold face in order 
 tj inspire her friend with confidence, if for no other 
 purpose. 
 
 *' What shall we do ? " demanded Kate, nervously. 
 
 "Keep still; don't you say a word.'' 
 
 " What are you doing here, Fanny, at this time
 
 44 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 of day ? " asked Mr. Long, as he approached the 
 girls. 
 
 " I'm not doing anything," replied Fanny, boldly. 
 
 " Why are you not at school ? " 
 
 " The teacher sent us down to get some green 
 branches to put over the clock. We are going to 
 have some visitors in school this afternoon," replied 
 Fanny, promptly. 
 
 "Did she send the other girl, too ? " 
 
 " Yes ; she sent both of. us." 
 
 " I want to see you, Fanny ; come with me," 
 continued the terrible constable, beckoning her to 
 follow him up the pier. 
 
 " What do you want of me ? " 
 
 " I wish to speak with you a moment." 
 
 " I can't stop long, for we must hurry back with 
 the boughs," added Fanny, who had no relish for 
 a confidential conversation with such a man, for 
 she at once surmised its topic. 
 
 " Are you looking for green boughs out on the 
 end of that pier ? " said he. 
 
 " We only went out there for a moment," pleaded 
 Fanny, as she followed Mr. Long, but it was with
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 45 
 
 the intention of darting away from him at a favor 
 able moment. 
 
 But the constable stopped before he reached the 
 head of the pier, which effectually prevented her 
 retreat unless she jumped into the water. 
 
 "What do you want of me, Mr. Long?" she 
 asked, with increasing boldness. 
 
 " Fanny, you have been very bad again," began 
 
 t 
 
 the tormentor. 
 
 "No, I haven't." 
 
 " Yes, you have ; and you needn't attempt to de 
 ny it." 
 
 " What have J done ? " 
 
 " You know what you have done." 
 
 " I haven't done anything," protested she, speak 
 ing for the sake of speaking, rather than because 
 she had any confidence in the impression her 
 words would produce upon the mind of her tor 
 mentor, and all the while thinking how she could 
 break away from the constable. 
 
 " ' Thou shalt not steal,' " said Mr. Long, impres 
 sively. 
 
 " What do you mean by that r " demanded Fanny.
 
 46 HOPE A XI) HATE, OK 
 
 "Do you mean to say that I steal? If you ck\ 
 you are very much mistaken." 
 
 " Fanny, if you didn't steal anything, it was 
 only because you did not find anything to steal." 
 
 What could he mean by that ? She was per 
 plexed, but she began to hope that he did not 
 know what she had done. 
 
 " I do not want to steal," said she ; and now 
 she spoke for the purpose of drawing out her ac 
 cuser, to ascertain how much he did know. 
 
 " You have been guilty of stealing several times," 
 continued the constable, assuming a very stern and 
 virtuous aspect. 
 
 " I never meant to steal anything." 
 
 " But you meant to steal this time : the cat is 
 out of the bag." 
 
 The constable's stern features relaxed a little, 
 and there was something like a smile playing 
 upon his face, as if in faint appreciation of a joke. 
 
 " The cat is out of the drawer, if that is what 
 you mean," said Fanny, laughing, and now greatly 
 encouraged by the new aspect of the case. 
 
 " That is what I mean."
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 47 
 
 " But I didn't let the cat out," protested Fanny. 
 
 "Who did?" 
 
 " Mrs. Green." 
 
 " Fanny, you are lying to me, and you know you 
 are," added Mr. Long, sternly. 
 
 " I hope to die if it isn't just as I say ! " per 
 sisted the wicked girl, earnestly. " Mrs. Green let 
 the cat out of the drawer, and I had a good laugh 
 over it." 
 
 Fanny began to laugh very heartily. The con 
 stable was staggered, and it was evident that he 
 was not smart enough to deal with one so shrewd 
 and clever as the wayward girl. 
 
 " What are you laughing at ? " asked Mr. Long. 
 
 " I was laughing to think of the poor cat as she 
 jumped out of the drawer and ran away. What 
 did you put her in there for ? Were you afraid 
 she would steal the meat or the milk? Could that 
 cat read, Mr. Long ? Were you trying to teach 
 her one of the ten commandments ? " 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me, Fanny, that Mrs 
 Green let the cat out of the drawer ? " 
 
 *' Yes, she did. Poor pussy mewed awfully in
 
 48 HOPE ANP HAVE, OR 
 
 the drawer, where you put her. Perhaps she was 
 saying over the commandment you gave her to 
 learn ; but Mrs. Green didn't understand her lingo, 
 and let her out." 
 
 " Fanny, I am going up to see Mrs. Green, and 
 if you have told me a lie, it will be all the worse 
 for you," said Mr. Long. 
 
 " You can ask Mrs. Green herself." 
 
 " I will ask her. You meant to steal : you were 
 seen watching Mr. Grant when he had the key of 
 the drawer." 
 
 " And you set a trap to catch me ; but you 
 caught Mrs. Green ! " laughed Fanny. 
 
 " I don't believe a word of your story ; but I 
 am willing to be sure before I do anything." 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " 
 
 " I shall take care of you ; you will know what 
 I mean when I have proved the case." 
 
 " You ought to have told Mrs. Green where you 
 put the cat, for the poor creature would have 
 starved to death before I let her out." 
 
 " We shall see. Mr. Grant told me to take cave 
 of you if you did not behave yourself while the
 
 FANNT* GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 49 
 
 family were away. I will go up and ask Mrs. 
 Green about this matter, and if I find you have 
 not told me the truth, and I don't believe you 
 have, I shall take care of you." 
 
 "When shall I see you again?" asked Fanny, 
 with the most brazen impudence. 
 
 " You will see me sooner than you will want to 
 see me, if you have been doing wrong." 
 
 " But I shall not be here when you come back. 
 We are going right up to school now." 
 
 " I can find you, wherever you are," replied the 
 constable, confidently, as he walked away towards 
 the mansion. 
 
 Fanny was entirely relieved of all her fears ; she 
 was even jubilant over her success in cheating her 
 persecutor. Her conscience did not trouble her 
 now. She readily comprehended the details of the 
 plan by which she was to be detected, if she at 
 tempted to steal from the library. Of course, the 
 constable would soon find out that she had not told 
 the truth, and that Mrs. Green knew nothing about 
 Jhe cat in the drawer. 
 
 After the announcement that the family were to
 
 50 Hon: AND HATE, OR 
 
 be absent a week, had been made, it was observed 
 that Fanny was in unusually good spirits. Miss 
 Fanny had detected her in the act of looking 
 through one of the library windows, while her 
 father was paying a bill in the room. Mr. Grant, 
 wealthy as he was, had always been very methodi 
 cal in his business affairs. He kept a sum of 
 money in a drawer for household expenses, to which 
 Mrs. Green and his daughters had access. When 
 anything was paid out by any member of the fam 
 ily, the amount was put down on a paper in the 
 drawer. After the advent of Fanny Jane, and after 
 she had been detected in some small pilfering, the 
 key of this drawer was concealed as we have de 
 scribed. 
 
 Miss Fanny at once suspected the motive of her 
 wayward charge, and told her father of the fact, 
 on the day before the departure of the family for 
 Hudson. Mr. Grant, more desirous of reforming 
 the wicked girl than of anything else, consulted 
 Mr. Long. Mrs. Green was told where she might 
 find money for the payment of the household bills, 
 and admonished to be very careful in concealing
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 51 
 
 the keys ; but nothing was said to her about the 
 cat and the commandment. If Fanny did attempt 
 to steal, the case was to be managed by the con 
 stable, who had been instructed to take her to his 
 own house, and keep her in close subjection until 
 the return of the family. 
 
 The cat belonged to Mr. Long, who was confi 
 dent that the animal, when released by the act of 
 the thief, would run home, when her presence would 
 inform him of the culprit's deed. The cat true 
 to her domestic instinct had run home ; but the 
 constable had not immediately seen her. As soon 
 as he discovered the tell-tale pussy, he hastened 
 over to Woodville, expecting to find Fanny peni 
 tently studying the commandment, which was the 
 moral of Mr. Grant's stratagem ; but before he 
 reached the house he saw two girls on the pier % 
 and recognized Fanny as one of them. 
 
 Willing to be entirely fair, and deeming it pos 
 sible that Mr. Grant's plan had failed, he went up 
 to the house to consult Mrs. Green, while Fanny 
 rushed down the pier to join her companion in. 
 mischief.
 
 52 HOPE AND HAVE, OB 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 FANXY THE SKIPPER. 
 
 "WHAT did he want of you, Fan ? " asked Kate 
 Magner, with a curiosity not unmixed with anxiety, 
 as 'her leader in mischief joined her at the foot of 
 the pier. 
 
 " O, never mind that," exclaimed Fanny, in reply. 
 " We have no time to talk about it now." 
 
 " But what did he say ? " demanded Kate, who 
 thought her present action ought to be governed 
 Jn some measure by the words of the constable. 
 
 " He didn't say much ; it is all right now. Come, 
 jump into the boat. We . haven't a moment to 
 lose." 
 
 " I want to know what he said before I get any 
 deeper into the mud," persisted Kate ; but we are 
 compelled to acknowledge that her scruples were
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 53 
 
 mere worldly prudence, and were not called forth 
 by the upbraidings of an awakened conscience. 
 
 " You can't back out now, Kate. I made it all 
 right with Mr. Long," replied Fanny, with energy, 
 as she drew the skiff up to the steps, ready for 
 her more timid companion to embark. "Now, get 
 in, and don't waste another instant in talking 
 about nothing." 
 
 " You are keeping everything to yourself. If 
 you don't tell me what Mr. Long wanted of you, 
 I won't get into the boat. Was it about the money 
 you found ? " asked Kate. 
 
 " No ; he didn't say a word about that. He only 
 asked me why I was not at school." 
 
 " What did you tell him ? " 
 
 " I told him the teacher sent us down to get 
 some green branches to put over the clock, for we 
 were to have visitors at school this afternoon." 
 
 " Did he believe you ? " 
 
 Kate laughed ; she appreciated what she re 
 garded as the joke of a clever deception ; the wick 
 edness of the act did not disturb her. 
 
 " Of course he believed me why shouldn't he ? 
 5*
 
 54 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 lie has gone up to ask Mrs. Green if I went to 
 school." 
 
 " But he will find out all about it." 
 
 " Xo, he won't ; besides, if he does, we shall be 
 a mile off when he gets back here again." 
 
 " Didn't he s;iy a word about the money you 
 found ? " 
 
 " Not a word, Kate. Now, jump in, or we shall 
 certainly get caught. We shall have time enough 
 to talk about these things when we get away from 
 the pier." 
 
 Kate was satisfied, and stepped into the skiff. 
 All her fears related to the money in the posses 
 sion of her friend, which, she was almost certain, 
 had been stolen. She was moralist enough to 
 understand that even if the money had been found 
 on the floor, as Fanny represented, it was just as 
 much stolen as though it had been taken from Mr. 
 Grant's pocket-book. Kate had not engaged in 
 this theft, and she was not willing to bear any cf 
 the blame on account of it. If the crime had 
 already been discovered, she did not wish to ex 
 pose herself to the peril of helping to spend the
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 55 
 
 money. According to Fanny's statement, nothing 
 had been found out, and she got into the skiff. 
 
 Fanny had been among the boats a great deal 
 during her residence at Woodville, and rowing and 
 sailing were suited to her masculine taste. She 
 was a girl of quick parts ; her faculty of imitation 
 was highly developed, and generally what she had 
 seen done she could do herself. She could row 
 cross-handed very well, and she had no difficulty 
 in pulling the skiff out to the Greyhound's moor 
 ings. Kate stepped on board of the sail-boat, and 
 Fanny, fastening the painter of the skiff at the 
 stern, began to bustle around with as much con 
 fidence as though she had been a skipper ever since 
 she left her cradle. 
 
 She had often sailed in the Greyhound with Ben 
 and others, and she knew precisely what was to 
 be done in order to get the boat under way. She 
 understood how to move the tiller in order to make 
 the craft go in a given direction, and had an indis 
 tinct idea of beating and tacking ; but she was 
 very far from being competent to manage a sail 
 boat.
 
 56 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 The stops were removed from the sails, under 
 the direction of the adventurous Fanny, and the 
 foresail hoisted. It was a more difficult matter to 
 cast off the moorings, but their united strength 
 accomplished the feat, and the Greyhound, released 
 from the bonds which held her, immediately drifted 
 to the shore, for her unskilful skipper had not 
 trimmed the foresail so that it would draw. 
 
 I thought you knew how to manage a boat," 
 said Kate, contemptuously. 
 
 " So I do," replied Fanny, as she gathered up 
 the fore-sheet, and trimmed the sail. 
 
 "What are you doing in here, then,?" 
 
 " I only came in here to get a fair start,'' added 
 the skipper, not at all disconcerted by the mishap. 
 
 " Folks don't generally run the boat ashore be 
 fore they start," sneered Kate, who certainly had 
 no confidence in the seamanship of the feminine 
 skipper. 
 
 " That's the way they do it ! " exclaimed Fanny, 
 triumphantly, as the sail began to draw, and the 
 boat moved off from the shore. " Now, we are all 
 right. That's just the way I meant to make her go."
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 57 
 
 The wind came from the Woodville side of the 
 river, but it was very light, and the Greyhound 
 moved bu slowly. Fanny was entirely satisfied 
 with herself now, and was confident that she could 
 manage any boat that ever floated. It was a very 
 easy thing, she thought, and she did not see why 
 folks made such a " fuss " about sailing a boat ; 
 anybody could do it, if they only thought they 
 could. But the Greyhound did not move fast 
 enough for her impatient temperament, and, against 
 the remonstrances of her more prudent companion, 
 she insisted upon setting the mainsail. 
 
 " Mr. Long may be after us soon, and we must 
 get along as fast as we can," said she, as she took 
 the throat halliard, and gave the peak to Kate. 
 " Now, hoist away. We are as good sailors as 
 any one need be." 
 
 The mainsail was set, and the Greyhound began 
 to travel through the water pretty rapidly, much to 
 the delight of Fanny. She had been deceived in 
 regard to the force of the wind ; under the lee of 
 the shore, where it was obstructed by the bank, 
 by the trees, and by the buildings, the breeze was
 
 58 HOPE AND HAVE, OB 
 
 very light : out in the middle of the river the wind 
 was quite strong ; but the boat had not yet begun 
 to feel its full force. 
 
 " Now she goes beautifully ! " exclaimed Fanny, 
 as she observed the effect by the added sail. 
 
 " She goes very well ; but dcfn't you see how 
 rough the water is out in the middle of the river ? " 
 replied Kate, rather anxiously, though she was not 
 willing to acknowledge the full extent of her fears. 
 
 "That's nothing." 
 
 " But why don't you go down the river more, 
 and keep out of that rough place ? " 
 
 " I like the waves ! It's splendid to hear them 
 beating against the boat." 
 
 " It may be when you have a man in the boat 
 with you," answered Kate, sceptically. 
 
 " What are you afraid of ? " 
 
 "I'm not afraid ; but I think folks ought to be 
 very careful when they don't know anything about 
 boats." 
 
 " But I know all about boats. Don't you see 
 how beautifully she goes ? I wish she would go a 
 little faster."
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 59 
 
 " She goes fast enough," said Kate, as she lis 
 tened to the ripple of the waves against the bow. 
 
 " She might go a little faster ; besides, we are in 
 a hurry." 
 
 " We are going fast enough, Fan." 
 
 " The faster the better ! I suppose, when Mr. 
 Long goes over to the school and finds we are not 
 there, he will come down to the pier after us. 
 We want to be out of sight when he gets 
 there." 
 
 " Why should he come after iis ? I thought you 
 said it was all right," demanded Kate, nervously. 
 
 " He will go over to the school to find out 
 whether the teacher sent us after the boughs." . 
 
 " / wish I had not come," continued Kate, 
 gloomily. 
 
 If she had known the whole truth, and under 
 stood the full extent of her bold companion's plans, 
 she would have been still more dissatisfied with 
 the situation. 
 
 " Here, Kate, you take the tilbr a moment," 
 said Fanny, as she rose .from her seat in the stern- 
 sheets.
 
 60 HOPE AND HAVE, CK 
 
 ** What are you going to do now ? " asked Kate, 
 nervously. 
 
 " I'm going to hoist the other sail." 
 
 " We don't want it hoisted. We arc going fast 
 enough." 
 
 " We can just as well go faster ; and I want to 
 get out of sight before Mr. Long sees us," replied 
 Fanny, persuasively, though her bright eyes snapped 
 with increasing lustre under the excitement of the 
 moment. 
 
 " I won't touch the tiller ; I say we go fast 
 enough. You want to drown me don't you ? " 
 
 " If I drown you, I must drown myself 
 mustn't I?" 
 
 " I won't touch the tiller ; I don't wan't the other 
 sail hoisted," persisted Kate. 
 
 " What are you afraid of ? I didn't think you 
 were a coward. If I had, I shouldn't have asked 
 you to come with me.'' 
 
 " I'm not a coward, any more than you are. I 
 don't see what you want to hoist the other sail 
 for : we are going like fury through the water
 
 FANNY GKANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 61 
 
 " We need more head sail," answered Fanny, 
 using an expression she had borrowed from the 
 nautical speeches of Ben, the boatman. 
 
 " No, we don't need more head sail," replied 
 Kate, who, however, had not the most remote idea 
 of the meaning of her friend's language. 
 
 " Take the tiller, Kate, and don't bother me." 
 
 "I will not." 
 
 " Then I will hoist the sail, and let the boat 
 take care of herself while I do it. If she is upset, 
 it will be your fault, not mine." 
 
 Fanny was resolute ; she had a will, as well as 
 a way, of her own. She did not want any advice, 
 and she was not willing to take any. She looked 
 upon her companion as a weak-minded, poor-spirited 
 girl, and she treated her opinions and her wishes 
 with the utmost contempt, now that she had her 
 completely in her power. It was useless for Kate 
 to attempt to oppose her. 
 
 " I don't know anything about the tiller, as you 
 call it. I don't even know what it is, and I'm 
 sure I couldn't tell what to do with it," continued 
 Kate. 
 
 6
 
 62 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 " That's a good girl ! " replied Fanny, in patron 
 izing tones, when she saw that her companion was 
 disposed to yield. 
 
 " I don't want to touch it." 
 
 " But you must." 
 
 "Must! Who says I must?" 
 
 " I say so ; if you don't, we may be upset." 
 
 " I have gone far enough, Fan Grant ; I don't 
 want to go any farther : I want to go on shore 
 again ! " exclaimed Kate, now completely disgusted 
 with the venture, for in addition to the perils of 
 wrong doing, she found she must submit to the 
 impudence and the arrogance of her friend. 
 
 "Well, why don't you go on shore?" replied 
 Fanny, with the utmost coolness and self-posses 
 sion. 
 
 " You know I can't. Turn the boat round, and 
 let me go back to the land." , 
 
 " I think not." 
 
 " I have had enough of this thing." 
 
 " Will you take the tiller, or will you let the 
 boat upset ? " added Fanny, with firmness and de 
 cision. " You can't go on shore again till I get
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 63 
 
 ready to let you. I command this vessel, and if 
 you ever want to put your foot on the dry land 
 again, you must mind what I say." 
 
 " Please to let me go back," pleaded Kate. 
 
 " I won't please to do anything of the kind. 
 Take the tiller, I say." 
 
 " What shall I do with it ? " asked the poor girl, 
 cowed down and subdued by the force and decis 
 ion of her companion. 
 
 " Sit here," replied Fanny, pointing to the cor 
 ner of the stern-sheets, where the helmsman usually 
 sits. " This is the tiller," she added, indicating 
 the serpent-shaped stick attached to the rudder, by 
 which the boat is steered. " Keep it just as it 
 is, until I tell you to move it." 
 
 " I don t know how to move it." 
 
 "When I say right, move it this way;" and 
 Fanny pointed to the starboard side. " When I 
 say left, move it the other way." 
 
 Fanny watched her a moment to see that her 
 instructions were obeyed. 
 
 " We don't want this any longer," said she, un 
 fastening the painter of the skiff and throwing it
 
 64 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 into the water, thus permitting the boat to go 
 adrift. 
 
 " What did you do that for : " demanded Kate, 
 as the Greyhound jdashed on, leaving the skiff be 
 hind to be borne down the river by the tide. 
 
 " We don't want the skiff, and dragging it be 
 hind keeps us back some." 
 
 " What did you bring it for, then ? " 
 
 " To keep Mr. Long from chasing us in it. All 
 the rest of the boats are hauled up, and he will 
 have to find one before he can come after us." 
 
 Fanny went forward, and having fearlessly re 
 moved the stops from the jib, which required her 
 to crawl out a little way on the bowsprit, she 
 hoisted the sail, and carried the sheet aft to the 
 standing-room, as she had often seen the boatmen 
 do. The effect of this additional canvas was im 
 mediately seen, for the Greyhound had now reached 
 the middle of the river, where she felt the full 
 force of the wind, which was fresh from the north 
 west, and came in puffs and flaws. 
 
 When the Greyhound went out from the shore, 
 her sails were over on the right hand side ; that is,
 
 FANNY GHANT AMONG THE IXDIANS. Go 
 
 she took the wind abaft the port beam. The boat 
 was now careened over nearly to her rail, and was 
 darting through the water like a rocket. Kate 
 trembled, but Fanny \vus delighted. 
 
 "Now we will go down the river," said Fanny, 
 as she took the tiller. 
 
 Suiting the action to the word, she put the helm 
 up just as a flaw of wind came sweeping over the 
 waves. The boat came round ; the three sails, 
 caught by the flaw, suddenly flew over, filled on 
 the other side, and the Greyhound careened till she 
 was half full of water. 
 6*
 
 66 HOPE AND H.VVK, OB 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DOWN' THE RIVER. 
 
 PUTTIXG a boat about, as Fanny had turned 
 the Greyhound, is nautically termed gybing her. 
 It is a dangerous manoeuvre when the wind is 
 fresh, and should never be attempted by young or 
 inexperienced boatmen. By putting the boat about 
 in the opposite direction, hauling in the sheet as 
 the sail flutters, the danger may be wholly avoided. 
 The boat's head should always be turned in the 
 direction from which the wind comes. But a per 
 son who does not understand the management of 
 a boat should no more attempt to handle one than 
 an unskilful person sho.;l 1 attempt to run a steam 
 engine. 
 
 Fanny Grant knew but little about a boat, and 
 it was fortunate for her and her companion in mis 
 chief that the wind was not strong enough to carry
 
 FAXXV GBAXT AMJXG THE INDIAN-;. G7 
 
 the Greyhound wholly over. If she had careened 
 only a little more, she would have filled with water 
 and sunk, for she was heavily ballasted. As it was, 
 she was half full of water, and the situation of the 
 young ladies, if not perilous, was very uncomfort 
 able. 
 
 " O, Fanny ! '' screamed Kate, in mortal terror, 
 as the Greyhound heeled over, and the water rushed 
 in over the washboard. 
 
 " Don't be scared," replied Fanny, with wonderful 
 self-possession. " It's all right, and there is no harm 
 done." 
 
 " We shall be drowned ! " gasped Kate. 
 
 " Xo, we shall not be drowned. Don't you see 
 the boat stands up like a major ? Don't be fright 
 ened. I understand it all." 
 
 " Xo ; you don't know anything about it. The 
 boat is almost full of water, and we shall sink to 
 the bottom." 
 
 " I tell you she is doing very well. Pooh ! that 
 wasn't anything ! She often takes in the water 
 like that.'' 
 
 " What shall we do ? " moaned Kate.
 
 68 HOPE AXD HAVE, OR 
 
 This was a question which appealed even to 
 Fanny's prudence. Without answering in words, 
 she let go the halliards, and hauled down the 
 foresail. After the boat came about, ,she had not 
 righted the helm, and the Greyhound had been 
 thrown up into the wind as she heeled over and 
 took in the flood of water. She now lay with her 
 sails flapping, and Fanny cast off the main-sheet, 
 rather to stop the fluttering than to avoid further 
 peril. Fortunately, this was the proper course to 
 pursue. 
 
 "What shall we do?" repeated Kate, expecting 
 every .moment that the treacherous sails would carry 
 them over again, and that they would soon find 
 their way to the bottom of the river. 
 
 " Bale out the water," replied Fanny, taking a 
 pail and a dipper from the cuddy forward. " Now 
 go to work, and we shall soon be ready to sail 
 again." 
 
 " I don't want to sail any more," whined Kate. 
 
 " Dip away as fast as ever you can. Don't stop 
 to talk about it now." 
 
 Fanny took the pail herself, and gave the dipper
 
 FAXJS'Y GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 69 
 
 to Kate, and both of them went to work with a 
 zeal which promised soon to free the Greyhound 
 from the burden under which she was laboring. 
 There was a large quantity of water in the boat, 
 and the process of dipping it out was very slow. 
 Fanny was afraid that this accident would throw 
 her into the power of her great enemy, the con 
 stable ; and this was the only fear which troubled 
 her. The perils of the mighty river had no terrors 
 to her while she had a plank under her feet. 
 
 Kate was utterly disconsolate and hopeless, and 
 Fanny was obliged to use all her ingenuity to keep 
 her in working condition. To show her confidence, 
 she sang like a nightingale, as she dipped out the 
 water ; and Fanny was an excellent singer. She 
 labored hard to prove to her desponding companion 
 that there was no danger, and at last she succeedc-il 
 in restoring Kate to a tolerable degree of self- 
 possession. 
 
 When about half the water had been dipped out, 
 Fanny trimmed the sails, and headed the bo-it 
 clown the river, to the utter consternation of her 
 timid associate, who was heartily sick of the adven-
 
 70 HOPE AXD HVVE, OR 
 
 turc, and longed to put her feet on the dry land 
 again. 
 
 " Xo\v, Kate, you take the pail, and I will use 
 the dipper : I can work and steer the boat at the 
 same time," said Fanny, when the Greyhound was 
 under headway again. 
 
 " The boat is going down the river, Fanny ! " 
 exclaimed Kate, as she took the pail. 
 
 " Of course she is," replied the bold skipper. 
 " AVI i ere did you expect her to go?" 
 
 " But you are not going any farther arc you : " 
 
 "To be sure I am. Do you think I am going 
 to back out now : " 
 
 " We shall certainly be drowned ! '' 
 
 " Nonsense ! " 
 
 " I don't want to go any farther,'' moaned Kate, 
 who felt like one going to execution. 
 
 " I can't help it if yo-i don't. I'm going down 
 to Pennvillc," answered Fanny, still dipping up the 
 v ;itcr from the bottom of the boat. 
 
 " I won't bale out any more then," ejaculated 
 Kate, as she dropped the pail, and looked as though 
 she actually meant what she said.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 71 
 
 " Very well ; then I won't," added Fanny, throw 
 ing down the dipper. 
 
 " If you will go back, I will bale out the water 
 as hard as ever I can." 
 
 " But I will not go back," replied Fanny, firmly. 
 " Do you think I am going home to be shut up 
 for a week, or sent back to my uncle, without 
 having any fun at all ? If you won't bale, I won't. 
 I guess I can stand it as long as you can." 
 
 " Do go back, Fanny," begged Kate. 
 
 " I tell you I will not. You don't know what 
 I am going to do yet." 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " I can't stop to talk about it now. If you 
 don't take the pail and bale out the boat, I will 
 hoist the other sail." 
 
 " Don't, Fanny ! " 
 
 " If you will keep still, and mind what I say, 
 I won't hoist the sail. We go along with only 
 these two sails just as easy as anything can be, 
 and there isn't a bit of danger." 
 
 Kate, to avoid the greater evil, submitted to the 
 less; and, as the Greyhound, now going very stead-
 
 72 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 ily under her jib and mainsail, continued on her 
 course, she was soon freed from the water within 
 her. The boat went along so well that Kate gath 
 ered a little courage, and ventured to hope that they 
 might not be drowned, after all. 
 
 " You mustn't turn her round again, Fan," said 
 she. 
 
 " What shall we do ? We shall run ashore if 
 I don't turn her." 
 
 " Can't we lower the sails when you turn her ? " 
 
 " There is no need of that," replied Fanny, 
 cheerfully. " I made a little mistake before, but I 
 understand all about it now." 
 
 "What was the mistake, Fan?" 
 
 " I didn't turn her the right way," replied the 
 confident skipper, who had been studying up the 
 cause of the mishap and had reasoned out the 
 correct solution. " I shall know just how to do it 
 next time, Kate, and you needn't be the least 
 grain scared. See here," said she, putting the 
 helm down, and bringing the boat round till her 
 head was thrown up into the wind. 
 
 " Don't, Fanny ! "
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 73 
 
 " That's the way it is done," continued Fanny, 
 proudly. Don't you see how easily she does it ? 
 There isn't a bit of danger now ; " and she brought 
 the boat round to her course again. 
 
 Kate was terrified at the very mention of turn 
 ing the boat ; but when she saw that the feat was 
 accomplished without upsetting or even taking in 
 any more water, her confidence was in a great 
 measure restored. Fanny's exhibition of her skill 
 produced the intended effect upon her companion, 
 and the feminine skipper's easy and self-reliant way 
 confirmed the impression. Fanny had learned more 
 about the management of a boat in that brief half 
 hour than she had ever known before, for the con 
 sciousness that her own life and that of her pas 
 senger depended upon her skill, sharpened her per 
 ceptions and quickened her judgment to such an 
 extent that those moments of thrilling experience 
 became equivalent to months of plodding study 
 when the mind is comparatively dull and heavy. 
 
 Mr. Long, the constable, evidently did not hurry 
 himself in the investigation of Fanny's case ; for 
 when he had satisfied himself that the wicked girl 
 7
 
 74 HOPE AXD HAVE, OR 
 
 had deceived him, and had reached the Woodville 
 pier, having first visited the school, as the shrewd 
 girl had intended he should, the boat was not in 
 sight ; or, at least, nothing could be seen of her 
 but the white sails, which he could not identify, 
 and the fugitives were in no present danger on ac 
 count of his movements. He did not know whether 
 the Greyhound had gone up or down the river ; 
 and he had no boat in which to follow her. 
 
 Fanny felt that she had won a victory, for she 
 did not reali/e that success in a wicked cause is 
 failure and defeat. She congratulated herself on 
 the feat she had accomplished, and she was vain 
 enough to boast to her associate of what she had 
 done ; of her skill in managing the boat, and her 
 shrewdness in planning the enterprise ; and it is 
 quite certain that if she had been less resolute and 
 courageous, the expedition would have ended in 
 failure almost at the beginning. 
 
 " But you haven't told me what you are going 
 to do yet," said Kate, when she had sponged out 
 the bottom of the well, dried the seats in the 
 standing-room, and taken her place by the side of 
 Fanny.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 75 
 
 " I will tell you now," replied Fanny. " What 
 do you suppose your father will do to you when 
 he finds out that you played truant, and went 01* 
 the river with me ? " she added, apparently, but not 
 really, avoiding the subject. 
 
 " He'll kill me ! " answered Kate, with emphasis. 
 " No, he won't." 
 
 " I don't know what he Avill do, then." 
 "He will punish you in some way won't he?" 
 " Yes. I don't know what he will do." 
 " Well, Kate, we must bring him to terms," 
 added Fanny, with the most impudent assurance. 
 " If you will mind what I say, he will not punish 
 yo'i at all. Will you do it ? " 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " You don't know ! Do you want to go back 
 and be whipped like a baby, be shut up for a 
 week, or something of that kind ? " 
 " Cf course I don't." 
 
 " And I will tell you how to get rid of all these 
 thing >, and make your father as glad to see you 
 as though you had been a good little girl all your 
 I'.fc, and had been away on a long journey."
 
 76 HOPE AND HATE, OR 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 " That's telling ! " 
 
 " You said you would tell me." 
 
 " And so I will, if you are strong enough to 
 bear it." 
 
 "Well, I am." 
 
 " Don't go home for a week or ten days. Your 
 folks won't know where you are. When tliey find 
 out you went with me in a boat, they will think 
 you are drowned ; and when you go back, they will 
 be so glad to see you that they won't 'say a word." 
 
 It would have been impossible for a girl who 
 had been brought up by a. loving mother to con 
 ceive of such a cold-blooded and diabolical propo 
 sition. Fanny had no mother, no father. Even 
 the remembrance of the former had passed from her 
 mind ; and her father, while he was living, had 
 been away from her so much that she hardly knew 
 him as a parent. Her antecedents, therefore, did 
 not qualify her to comprehend the loathsome enor 
 mity of the course she proposed to her companion. 
 
 " I can't stay away from home a week, let alone 
 ten days," replied Kate, who, bad as she was, was 
 shocked at the proposition.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 77 
 
 " Yes, you can." 
 
 " Where shall I stay ? " 
 
 " Stay with me." 
 
 " Where will you stay ? " 
 
 " We will go down to Xew York city." 
 
 " To New York city ! " 
 
 " That's where I intend to go," replied Fanny, 
 coolly. 
 
 "You don't mean so, Fan?" 
 
 " Yes, I do ; and I have meant it all the time." 
 
 " But you said we were going to Pennville." 
 
 " We are ; and when we get there we will take 
 the cars for New York city. We shall be there 
 before twelve o'clock." 
 
 " But what shall we do when we get there ? " 
 demanded Kate, who was absolutely appalled at 
 the magnitude of Fanny's scheme. 
 
 " We will have a good time, in the first place. 
 There are plenty of shops where we can get cakes, 
 and candy, and ice-cream ; we can go to the mu 
 seum, the .theatre, and the circus ; we can go to 
 Central Park, and all the fine places in the city." 
 
 " But where should we live ? " 
 7*
 
 78 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 " There arc hotels enough." 
 
 " What should we do at a hotel ? Besiden it 
 would take lots of money." 
 
 " I've got money enough." 
 
 " Five dollars wouldn't pay for our living a 
 week. They ask three or four dollars a day fi.r 
 living at a hotel." 
 
 " I've got more than five dollars," answered 
 Fanny, rather cautiously. 
 
 " Have you ? How much have you got ? " 
 
 " I don't know exactly." 
 
 " You don't know ! " repeated Kate, very confi 
 dent now in regard to the means by which the 
 money had been obtained, which, with this added 
 revelation regarding the amount, she did not believe 
 had been found on the floor. " You don't know ! " 
 
 " I haven't counted it." 
 
 " Fan, you didn't find t!iat money on the floor ! '' 
 exclaimed she. 
 
 " I found it, anyhow," said Fanny, turning her 
 head away from her companion. 
 
 " Where did you find it ? " 
 
 " In the drawer, if you must know," replied 
 Fanny, desperately.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 79 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 KATE'S DEFECTION. 
 
 " FANNY GRANT, you stole that money ! " said 
 Kate, as though she had made a great discovery. 
 
 It was no discovery at all. She had been reason 
 ably confident that the five dollars, which Fanny 
 acknowledged to be in her possession, had been 
 stolen, or, if not actually stolen, that it had been 
 obtained in a manner entirely at variance even with 
 a very low ideal of common honesty. She was 
 willing to enjoy the good things which might be 
 bought with the five dollars, but she was not dis 
 posed to bear the responsibility of the theft, either 
 as principal or accessory. If, when the day of 
 reckoning came, she could make it appear that she 
 did not know the money had been stolen, she 
 would escape the penalty and the odium of being 
 a thief, or a receiver of stolen goods.
 
 80 HOPE AN'X) HAVE, OR 
 
 Like many others, she could hold up her hands 
 in holy horror at the crime made public, while she 
 was willing to wiuk at or compromise the crims 
 for her own benefit in the secret chambers of her 
 own heart. If she had been taught in ancient 
 Lacedaemonia that it is not a crime to steal, but a 
 crime to be found out, she could not have been 
 more faithful to its base policy. 
 
 Fanny heard the charge, but made no reply, 
 pretending to be occupied in watching the course 
 of the boat. 
 
 " You stole that money, Fanny Grant ! " repeated 
 Kate, with even more emphasis, and more holy 
 horror than before. 
 
 " Well, what if I did ? " answered Fanny, who was 
 disposed to have her associate as deep in the mud 
 as she herself was in the mire ; and she knew that 
 it would be impossible to deny the fact when she 
 exhibited the great roll of bills in her pocket. 
 
 " I didn't think you would steal money, Fanny." 
 
 " You would yourself, if you got a chance." 
 
 " Xo, I wouldn't ; I'm bad enough, I know, but 
 I wouldn't steal."
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 81 
 
 " Yes, you would ! You needn't pretend to be 
 so good. You will never be hung for your honesty. 
 I know you." 
 
 " Do you mean to say I would steal ? " demanded 
 Kate, not a little mortified to be thought so mean 
 ly of. 
 
 " I know you would. Who stole the strawberries 
 the other day ? " 
 
 " That wasn't money," pleaded Kate. 
 
 " It was all the same." 
 
 " I wouldn't take money. I'm not a thief." 
 ,"You flatter yourself." 
 
 " I wouMn't. But, Fanny," she added, willing 
 to change the subject, " I shouldn't dare to go to 
 New York city." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Something might happen to us." 
 
 " What can happen to us ? " 
 
 "I don't know; but I'm afraid to go. What 
 should we do with ourselves for a whole week ? " 
 
 " Have a good time ; that's what we are going 
 for ? " 
 
 " I can't go, Fan."
 
 82 IIOl'E AND HAVE, OR 
 
 ' Yes, you can ; and you must. You have got 
 into the scrape so far, and you are not going to 
 leave me alone now. You promised to go with me." 
 
 " But you did not tell me what you were going 
 to do." 
 
 " I have told you now ; and if you attempt to 
 back out, you shall bear half the blame." 
 
 " I didn't steal." 
 
 " I don't care if you didn't ; you shall bear your 
 share of the blume. Y'ou shall go with me." 
 
 "What will my mother say?" 
 
 " She will say you are a naughty girl, and punish 
 you fcr what you have done. If you go with me, 
 she will be so glad to see you when you get back, 
 that she won't say a word. She will find out 
 what you arc made of then ; if you go back now, 
 she will see that you are nothing but a chicken 
 at heart, and she will punish you, as you deserve 
 to be for deserting your friend." 
 
 " My mother would feel awfully if I did not 
 come back to-night," continued Kate, thoughtfully, 
 even sadly ; and she was sincere now. 
 
 " She will get over it."
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 83 
 
 " She would foel dreadfully." 
 
 " So much the better ; the worse she feels the 
 more glad she will be to see you when you do go 
 back." 
 
 Kate saw that it was useless to reason with her 
 companion on this point ; besides, there was a cer 
 tain sacred feeling in her heart which Fanny could 
 neither understand nor appreciate, -and she was un 
 willing to expose it to the rude reproaches of one 
 who seemed to have no heart. She was too timid, 
 rather than too conscientious, to engage in such 
 a gigantic scheme of wickedness as that which 
 Fanny had indicated ; and we must do her the jus 
 tice to add, that the blessed influence of a moth 
 er's love, stronger and deeper in her heart than 
 principle, asserted its sway, and to give her mother 
 a week of pain and anxiety was revolting to her. 
 
 She was fully determined not to go to Xew York 
 city, and to get home as soon as she could. But 
 Fanny had so much to say about " backing out," 
 and " deserting her friend," that she deemed it 
 prudent not to mention anything about her reso 
 lution. She knew her companion well enough to
 
 64 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 believe that it would be useless to attempt to 
 persuade her to abandon her brilliant scheme ; 
 and Fanny was so resolute and self-willed that 
 she might find a way to compel her to go with 
 her, whether she was willing or not. 
 
 " Do you want to know how much money I 
 have got ? " asked Fanny, after a silence of some 
 minutes, during which Kate h;id been thinking 
 what she should do. 
 
 ' I should like to know," replied Kate, who, 
 however, was really indifferent after she had de 
 cided not to partake of the good things which 
 the stolen money could purchase. 
 
 " You take the tiller then, and I will count 
 it. Keep it just as it is," said Fanny, resigning 
 her place to her fellow-voyager. 
 
 The boat was going along very easily with the 
 wind on the starboard quarter, and did not need 
 much attention. She was approaching Pennville, 
 and the cruise was nearly finished. Fanny took 
 the roll of bills from her pocket, and proceeded 
 to count it. The notes were nearly all " greenbacks," 
 with a few small bills on the state banks. There
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 85 
 
 were twenties, tens, and fives, and the thief Avas 
 almost frightened herself when she ascertained the 
 amount she had obtained. 
 
 " One hundred, one hundred five, one hundred 
 and ten," said Fanny, as she counted the money ; 
 " one hundred and ten " 
 
 " Why, Fanny Grant ! " cried Kate, horrified at 
 the greatness of the sum. 
 
 " Fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty " 
 
 " They will send you to the state prison for 
 stealing so much money ! " added Kate, trembling 
 as the large numbers were mentioned. 
 
 " The more the better," replied Fanny, trying to 
 keep cool, though she was much agitated herself, 
 as, measuring the crime by the amount of the 
 money, she realized how guilty she had been. 
 
 She finished the counting ; and the whole sum 
 was one hundred and seventy-three dollars and 
 eighty-five cents. 
 
 " There is a great deal more than I thought 
 there was," said she. 
 
 " Why did you take so much r " asked the terri 
 fied Kate. 
 
 8
 
 86 HOPU AND HAVE, OK 
 
 " I didn't know how much there was." 
 
 " You will have all the constables in the county 
 after you before night." 
 
 " And after you, too." 
 
 " I didn't steal it." 
 
 " Well, you were with me, and I will give you 
 some of it." 
 
 " I don't want any of it." 
 
 " Don't you ? " 
 
 " No, I don't ; 1 don't think it is fair for you 
 to try to make it out that I helped you steal the 
 money, when I didn't, and when I didn't know 
 anything about it." 
 
 " You knew I had some money before you got 
 into the boat. You are scared that s all." 
 
 " I am scared, and I wish I hadn't come." 
 
 " I wish you hadn't, because you are so fright 
 ened ; but now you have gone so far, you can't 
 back out. You want to return to Woodville, and 
 tell them I stole the moYiey." 
 
 "No, I don't." 
 
 " I'm never going back to Woodville again. 
 They have been talking about sending me to ir.y
 
 GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 87 
 
 uncle's, in ^Minnesota, and I'm not going to be sent 
 there." 
 
 "What shall I do, then?" demanded Kate, 
 awed and astonished at the desperate purpose of 
 her friend. 
 
 " I will see that you get back home all right. 
 Here is some money to pay your passage," added 
 Fanny, counting out a portion of the bills. 
 
 " I don't want that/' 
 
 " Very well," answered Fanny, putting the bills 
 in her pocket ; and she looked so firm and so 
 " ugly " that Kate was actually afraid of her. 
 
 The Greyhound had nearly reached the pier at 
 Pennville ; but Fanny did not intend to land at 
 any public place, and she ran the boat up to the 
 bank of the river, a short distance above the vil 
 lage, grounding it lightly on a kind of beach she 
 had chosen as a landing-place. Fanny took the 
 boat-hook in her hand, and jumped ashore. 
 
 " Now, Kate Magner, before we go any farther, 
 we must come to an understanding. If you think 
 you are going to leave me to bear all the blame, 
 you are mistaken."'
 
 88 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 " I don't mean any such thing," replied Kate. 
 
 " Yes, you do ; you mean to betray me." 
 
 "No, I don't." 
 
 "Why didn't you take the money I offered you, 
 then ? " 
 
 " I don't want it." 
 
 " You are in the boat, and I am on the land. 
 If you don't take the money, I will push the boat 
 off, and she will carry you away I don't know 
 where." 
 
 " Don't do that." 
 
 " Will you take the money ? " 
 
 " Yes, I will," answered Kate, who was more 
 afraid of the boat than she would have been of a 
 demon. 
 
 " Take it, then," said Fanny, handing her the 
 little roll of bills she had taken from the package 
 for this purpose. " There is twenty-one dollars." 
 
 Kate took the money, and thrust it into her 
 pocket. 
 
 " Now we are both just the same. You have 
 taken some of the money, and you are just as bad 
 as I am. You can't back out now, if you want to 
 do so."
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 89 
 
 This was only an expedient on the part of the 
 resolute mistress of the expedition to prevent her 
 companion from deserting her, rather than to insure 
 an equal division of the punishment for stealing. 
 
 " What shall we do now ? " asked Kate, as she 
 landed from the boat, which Fanny held with the 
 boat-hook. 
 
 " We will go up to the railroad station, and 
 take the train for New York city." 
 
 "But what are you going to do with the boat?" 
 
 " I don't care anything about the boat. I have 
 had all I want of her. But I think I will let the 
 sails down, and fasten her to the bank. If they 
 should find her, she might betray us." 
 
 Fanny lowered the sails, and fastened the painter 
 to a stake on the bank. The two girls then started 
 for the village, which was about a quarter of a 
 mile below the place where they had landed. 
 When they had gone a short distance, they saw a 
 man mending a boat on the bank of the river. 
 Kate took particular notice of him, for she was 
 already planning the means of her deliverance 
 from the arbitrary sway of her companion. 
 8*
 
 90 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 The two girls ^yere very well dressed, and it 
 was not an uncommon thing for young ladies to 
 manage their own boats on the Hudson ; so, if they 
 had been seen to land from the Greyhound, no 
 notice was taken of the circumstance. They were 
 not likely to be molested, except by their own 
 guilty consciences. They walked directly to the 
 railroad station, and ascertained that the train 
 would leave in half an hour. Fanny, anxious to 
 conciliate her associate, and accustom her to her 
 new situation, invited her to a saloon, wheie they 
 partook of ice-creams ; but partial as Kate was to 
 this luxury, it did not taste good, and seemed to 
 be entirely different from any ice-cream she had 
 ever eaten before. 
 
 When it was nearly time for the train to arrive, 
 Fanny bought two tickets, and they joined the 
 crowd that was waiting f-T the cars. Kate seemed 
 to be so fully reconciled to the enterprise, that her 
 friend did not doubt her any longer ; she had no 
 suspicion of her intended defection. 
 
 " I am almost choked," said Kate, when the 
 whistle of thp locomotive was heard in the dis 
 tance. " I must have a drink of water."
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 91 
 
 " You have no time." 
 
 " I won't be gone but a second," replied Kate. 
 
 " I will wait here but be quick." 
 
 Kate went into the station-house, and passing 
 out at the door on the other side, ran off towards 
 the river as fast as her legs would carry her. She 
 reached the outskirts of the village before she 
 slackened her pace, and then, exhausted and out 
 of breath with running, she paused to ascertain if 
 Fanny was in pursuit of her. No one was to be 
 seen in the direction from which she had come, 
 and taking courage from her success, she walked 
 leisurely towards the place where the Greyhound 
 had been left. 
 
 The man she had passed on her way down was 
 still at work on his boat, and Kate, telling him 
 such a story as suited her purpose, engaged him 
 to sail the Greyhound up to Woodville. They em 
 barked without any interruption from Fanny, and 
 in a couple of hours she was landed at the pier 
 from which she had started. Kate paid her boat 
 man three dollars from the money which Fanny 
 had given her, and then walked up to the man 
 sion.
 
 92 HOPE AND HAVE, OK 
 
 She -told Mrs. Green the whole truth, and gave 
 her the eighteen dollars remaining in her posses 
 sion. She then went home to make peace with 
 her mother, to whom also she told the whole story, 
 blaming Fanny for everything except her own tru 
 ancy, and pleading that she had been led away in 
 this respect. 
 
 Mr. Long was still engaged in the search for 
 Fanny, though the loss of the money in the closet 
 had not been discovered till Kate appeared.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 93 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 THE SOLDIEK'S FAMILY. 
 
 FANNY stood on the platform in front of the 
 station-house, waiting for the return of Kate. She 
 had no suspicion that her friend had deserted her, 
 and was at that moment running away as fast as 
 she could. The train was approaching, and with 
 the nervousness of one not accustomed to travelling, 
 she feared they might he left. The cars stopped, 
 and Kate did not return. Fanny rushed into the 
 station-house in search of her. She was not there ! 
 she was not in the building ; she was not to be 
 seen from the open door. 
 
 Then Fanny realized that her companion's courage 
 had failed, and that she had deserted her. The 
 bell on the locomotive was ringing, and the train 
 was in the act of starting. Fanny was quick and 
 decisive in her movements, and she bounded out of
 
 94 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 the building, and stepped upon the train after it 
 was in motion. She was angry and indignant at 
 the defection of Kate, and, taking a seat in the 
 car, she nursed her bitter feelings until her wrath 
 had expended itself. 
 
 Kate's desertion affected the plans of the runaway, 
 for in a few hours, at most, what she had don 11 , 
 and what she intended to do, would be known at 
 Woodville. Mr. Long would take one of the after 
 noon trains for the city, and the whole polic? force 
 of the great metropolis would be on the lookout 
 for her before dark. Constables and policemen 
 were now more than ever Fanny's especial horror, 
 and she trembled at the very thought of bei"g 
 arrested for the crime she had committed. 
 
 Fanny was a girl of quick, bright parts. She 
 had read the newspapers, and listened to the con 
 versation . of her elders. She was better informed 
 in regard to the ways of the world than most 
 young persons of her age with no more experience. 
 She knew all about the telegraph, and the uses to 
 which it was put in the detection and arrest of 
 rogues. Though it was hardly possible for KatP
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 95 
 
 to reach "\Voodvitle, and inform the people there 
 where she had gone, yet circumstances might con 
 spire against her so as to rende^ 1 the telegraph 
 available. Mr. Long might have discovered in what 
 direction the fugitives had gone, and followed them 
 down to Pennville. He might have met Kate 
 there, and learned her destination. It was possi 
 ble, therefore, that a despatch might reach the city 
 before she did, and an officer be waiting for her 
 at the railroad station. 
 
 She was too cunning to be entrapped by any 
 such expedients ; and when the train stopped at 
 Harlem, she got out, with the intention of walk 
 ing into the city. Deeming it imprudent to follow 
 the principal street, in which some of the terrible 
 policemen might be lying in wait for her, she made 
 her way to one of the less travelled thoroughfares, 
 in which she pursued her way towards the city. The 
 street she had chosen led her through the localities 
 inhabited by the poorer portions of the population. 
 The territory through which she was passing was 
 in a transition state : broad streets and large squares 
 had been laid out, in anticipation of vast improve-
 
 06 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 ments, but only a little had been accomplished in 
 carrying them out. There were many tasty little 
 houses, and m#ny long blocks of buildings occu 
 pied by mechanics and laborers, and occasionally a 
 more pretentious mansion. 
 
 In some of the most ineligible places for building, 
 there were houses, or rather hovels, constructed in 
 the roughest and rudest manner, apparently for 
 temporary use until the march of improvement should 
 drive their tenants into still more obscure locations. 
 Fanny passed near one of these rude abodes, which 
 was situated on a cross street, a short distance 
 from the avenue on which she was journeying to 
 the city. In front of this house was a scene which 
 attracted the attention of the wanderer, and caused 
 her to forget, for the time, the great wrong she 
 had committed, and the consequences which would 
 follow in its train. 
 
 In front of the house lay several articles of the 
 coarsest furniture, and a man was engaged in re 
 moving more of the same kind from the hovel. 
 He had paused for a moment in his occupation, 
 and before him stood a woman who was wringing
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 97 
 
 her hands in the agonies of despair. Fanny could 
 hear the profane and abusive language the man 
 used, and she could hear the piteous pleadings of 
 the woman, at whose side stood a little boy, half 
 clothed in tattered garments, weeping as though his 
 heart would break. 
 
 Fanny was interested in the scene. The woman's 
 woe and despair touched her feelings, and perhaps 
 more from curiosity than any other motive, she 
 walked down the cross-street towards the cottage. 
 Being resolute and courageous by nature, she had 
 no fear of personal consequences. She did not 
 comprehend the nature of the difficulty, having 
 never seen a tenant forcibly ejected from a house 
 for the non-payment of rent. 
 
 "You'll kill my child! You'll kill my child!" 
 cried the poor woman, in such an agony of bitter 
 ness that Fanny was thrilled by her tones. 
 
 " Isn't it a whole year I've been waiting for my 
 rint ? " replied the man, coarsely. " Didn't yo 
 keep promisin' to pay me for a twelvemonth, and 
 niver a cint I got yet ? " 
 
 " I would pay you if I could, Mr. O'Shane." 
 9
 
 98 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 "If ye could! What call have I to wait any 
 longer for me money ? " 
 
 "My husband has gone to the war, and I haven't 
 heard a word from him for a year ; but I'm sure 
 he will send me some money soon I know he 
 will." 
 
 " What call had he to go to the war ? Why 
 didn't he stay at home and take care of his chil- 
 der ? Go 'way wid ye ! Give me up me house ! " 
 
 Mr. O' Shane broke away from her, and, rush 
 ing into the house, presently returned bearing a 
 dilapidated table in his hands. 
 
 " Have mercy, Mr. O'Shane. Pity me ! " pleaded 
 the woman, when he appeared. 
 
 " I do pity ye ; 'pon me sowl, I do, thin ; but 
 what can a poor man like me do ? " replied the 
 landlord. " I live in a worse house nor this, and 
 work like a mule, and I can't make enough, for 
 the high prices, to take care of me family. Didn't 
 I wait month after month for me rint, and sorra 
 a cint I iver got ? Sure it isn't Mike O'Shane 
 that would do the likes of this if he could help it." 
 
 " But I will pay you all I ewe, Mr. O'Shane."
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 99 
 
 "That's what ye been savin' this twelvemonth; 
 and I can't wait any longer. Why don't ye stir 
 yoursilf, and go among the rich folks ? " 
 
 " I can't beg, Mr. O'Shane." 
 
 " But ye better beg than chate me out of me 
 honest dues. Go 'way wid ye ! Pay me the rint, 
 or give me the house ; and sorra one of me cares 
 which you do." 
 
 " I would move if I could. You know that my 
 poor child is very sick. For her sake don't turn 
 me out of the house to-day," added the woman, in 
 the most beseeching tones. 
 
 " Didn't I wait six months for the child to die, 
 and she didn't die ? She won't die. Sure, don't 
 she sit in the chair all day ? and what harm would 
 it do to move her ? " 
 
 " I have no place to move her to." 
 
 " That's what's the matter ! Now go 'way wid 
 your blarney, and don't be talking to me. It's 
 Mike O'Shane that has a soft spot in his heart, 
 but he can't do no more for ye. That's the truth, 
 and ye must move to-day." 
 
 The landlord went into .the house again, for more
 
 100 HOPE AXD HAVE, OR 
 
 of the furniture. As he had represented, it was, 
 doubtless, a hard case for him ; but it was infi 
 nitely harder for the poor woman, and Fanny was 
 too deeply interested now to leave the spot. What 
 she had known of human misery was as nothing 
 compared with the suffering of this poor mother. 
 
 " What's the matter, ma'am ? " asked Fanny of 
 her, when the harsh landlord had gone into the 
 house. 
 
 " This man is my landlord, and he is turning 
 me out of the house because I cannot pay him 
 the rent," sobbed the woman. " I wouldn't care, 
 if it wasn't for poor Jenny." 
 
 " Who is Jenny ? " 
 
 " She is my daughter. She has been sick, very 
 sick, for nearly a year, and she cannot live much 
 longer. The doctor gave her up six months ago." 
 
 " How old is Jenny ? " 
 
 " She is fourteen ; and she is such a patient 
 child ! She never complains of anything, though I 
 am not able to do much for her," replied the af 
 flicted mother, as her tears broke forth afresh at 
 the thought of the sufferer.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIAN'S. 101 
 
 " Haven't you any place to go if this man turns 
 you out of the house ? " asked Fanny. 
 
 " No, no ! " groaned the woman, bursting out 
 into a terrible paroxysm of grief. 
 
 " I know it's hard for you, Mrs. Kent, but it's 
 harder for me to do it than it is for you to have 
 it done," continued Mr. O'Shanc, as he came out 
 of the house with a rocking chair in lus hands. 
 
 " O mercy ! that is poor Jenny's chair ! " almost 
 screamed Mrs. Kent. " What have you done with 
 her ? " 
 
 The mother, in her agony, rushed into the house 
 to ascertain if any harm had come to her suffer 
 ing daughter, who had been deprived of the easy 
 chair in which she was accustomed to sit. Fanny 
 was moved to the depths of her nature moved 
 as she had never been moved before. She couldn't 
 have believed that such scenes were real. She had 
 read of them in romances, and even in the news 
 papers ; but she had never realized that a man 
 could be so hard as Mr. O'Shane, or that a woman 
 could suffer so much as Mrs. Kent. Between her 
 grief and indignation she was almost overwhelmed. 
 9*
 
 102 HOPE AND HAVK, OR 
 
 " You arc a cruel man," said she, with some 
 thing like fierceness in her tones. 
 
 " That's very foine for the likes of you to say 
 to the likes of me ; but it don't pay me rint," 
 replied Mr. O'Shane, not as angry as might have 
 been expected at this interference. 
 
 " You ought to be ashamed of yourself to do 
 such a mean thing ! " added Fanny, her black eyes 
 snapping with the living fire of her indignation. 
 
 " Shall I let me own childer starve for another 
 man's childer r " answered the landlord, who, we 
 must do him the justice to say, was ashamed of 
 himself. 
 
 " How much does the woman owe you : " de 
 manded Fanny. 
 
 " A matther of a hundred dollars for a whole 
 year's rint. Sure, miss, it isn't many min that 
 Avould wait a twelvemonth for the rint, and not 
 get it thin." 
 
 " And her daughter is sick ? " 
 
 " Troth she is ; there's no lie in that ; she's got 
 the consoomption, and she's not long for this world," 
 replied the landlord, moving towards the door of
 
 THE CKUEL LAXDLOKD. 
 
 Papc 103.
 
 FAX XT GXAXT AMOXG THE IXDTAXS. 103 
 
 the house, again to complete the work of desola 
 tion he had begun. 
 
 " Stop, sir ! "' said Fanny, in tones so imperative 
 that the man could not help obeying her. 
 
 "What would I stop for?" asked Mr. O'Shane, 
 rather vacantly. 
 
 " You shall not do this cruel thing.'' 
 
 " The saints know how it breaks me heart to 
 do it, but I can't help it." 
 
 " Xow you put all these things back into the 
 house just as you found them.'' 
 
 " Faix, I'd like to do it, miss," said the man, 
 taking off his hat and rubbing his tangled hair. 
 
 " You must do it." 
 
 " And not git me rint ? " 
 
 "You shall have your money every cent of it. 
 Put the furniture back, and you shall have your 
 due just as soon as you have done it," said Fanny, 
 as haughtily as though she had been a million 
 aire. 
 
 Mr. O'Shane looked at her, and seemed to be 
 petrified with astonishment. The deed he was 
 doing, harsh and cruel as it was, he regarded as a
 
 104 HOPE AXD HATE, OR 
 
 work of necessity. Though he owned the house 
 occupied by Mrs. Kent, and another in which he 
 lived himself with two other families, both of them 
 were mortgaged for .half their value, and he was 
 obliged to pay interest on the money he owed for 
 them. He certainly could not aiford to lose his 
 rent, to which he was justly entitled. He had in 
 dulged his tenant for a year, and nothing but the 
 apparent hopelessness of obtaining what was due 
 had tempted him to this cruel proceeding. Noth 
 ing but starvation in his own family could justify 
 a landlord in turning a mother with a dying child 
 out of the house. He looked at Fanny with aston 
 ishment when she promised to pay him, but he 
 was sceptical. 
 
 " Why don't you put back the furniture ? " de 
 manded Fanny, impatiently. 
 
 " It's meself that would be glad to do that 
 same," replied he. " Would you let me see the 
 color of your money, miss r " 
 
 " Put the things back, and you shall have your 
 money as soon as you have done it,"' added Fanny, 
 moving down the street. " I will be back in a 
 few moments."
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 105 
 
 The landlord looked at her, as she walked away. 
 He was in doubt, but there was something about 
 the girl so di.Terent from what he had been accus-, 
 tomed to see in young ladies of her age, that he 
 was strongly impressed by her words. Fanny sat 
 do'.vn on a rock in the shade of a lone tree. Mr. 
 O'Shane looked at her for a moment, and then 
 decided to obey the haughty command he had re 
 ceived. Ho wont to work with more energy than 
 he had before displayed, and begun to* move the 
 furniture back into the house, greatly to the sur 
 prise and delight, no doubt, of the grief-stricken 
 mother. 
 
 Fanny counted out a hundred dollars from the 
 stolen bills in her pocket, and returned to the 
 house. Mr. O'Shane had by this time completed 
 his work, and was awaiting the result. 
 
 " They be all put back, miss," said he, doubt 
 fully. 
 
 " There is your money," replied Fanny, proudly. 
 
 Mr. O'Shane's eyes opened, and he fixed them 
 with a gloating stare upon the bills. lie counted 
 them ; there was a hundred dollars.
 
 106 HOPE AND HAVK, OR 
 
 " God bless you, miss, for a saint as ye arc ! '' 
 ejaculated he, as he put the money in his pocket. 
 " Ye saved me from doing the worst thing I ever 
 did in me life. I'll send the receipt to Mrs. Kent 
 to-day ; " and he walked away towards his own 
 house.
 
 fANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 107 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE SICK GIRL. 
 
 THE last part of the interview between Fanny 
 and Mr. O' Shane had been witnessed by Mrs. Kent, 
 who came out of the house when she had at 
 tended to the wants of her sick child. The dark 
 'cloud which menaced her a few moments before 
 had rolled away, and, if the sunshine did not beam 
 upon her, she was comparatively happy in having 
 one trouble \c*,j to weigh her down. She was calm 
 now, but the ttars they were tears of relief 
 still rolled down l.cr wan und furrowed cheek. 
 
 " I have prayed for help, and help has come," 
 said she to her deliverer, as the harsh landlord 
 walked away. 
 
 Fanny could not make any reply to a statement 
 of this kind. She was* a fugitive and a wanderer ; 
 she was a thief, shun/iing tL_: gaze of men, and
 
 108 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 she could not conceive of such a thing as that she 
 had been sent as an angel of relief to the poor 
 woman in answer to her prayers. As she thought 
 what she was and what she had been doing, a 
 blush of shame suffused her cheek. She was silent ; 
 there was nothing which she could say at such a 
 moment. 
 
 ' Heaven will bless you for your good, kind 
 heart. You are an .angel," continued Mrs. Kent. 
 
 Fanny knew how far she was from being an 
 angel, and she had no heart for deceiving the poor 
 woman. It might be fun and excitement to de 
 ceive the people at AVoodville, but Mrs. Kent seemed 
 to be sanctified by her sorrows. 
 
 " I hope you haven't robbed yourself by your 
 good deed, miss,'' added the poor woman, wonder 
 ing why Fanny did not speak. 
 
 " O, no ! I have some more money." 
 
 Perhaps Mrs. Kent thought it singular that a 
 young girl, like Fanny, should happen to have so 
 much money about her, but she did not ask any 
 questions; and perhaps she did not think that one 
 who hucl been so kind to her could do anything wrong.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 109 
 
 " Now, you will come into the house and see 
 poor Jenny. She will want to thank you for what 
 you have done," said Mrs. Kent, leading the way 
 to the door. 
 
 Fanny could not refuse this reasonable request, 
 but she felt very strangely. She found herself 
 commended and reverenced for what she had done, 
 and she could not help feeling how unworthy she 
 was. Conscious that she had performed a really 
 good deed, she could not reconcile it with her past 
 conduct. It was utterly inconsistent with the base 
 act she had done in the morning ; and in the light 
 of one deed the other seemed so monstrous that 
 she almost loathed herself. 
 
 She followed Mrs. Kent into the room where the 
 sick girl was reclining upon the bed. There was 
 no carpet on the floor, and the apartment was very 
 meagerly furnished with the rudest and coarsest 
 articles. Jenny was pale and emaciated ; the hand 
 of death seemed to be already upon her ; but in 
 spite of her paleness and her emaciation, there was 
 something beautiful in her face ; something in the 
 expression of her languid eyes which riveted 
 10
 
 110 IIOrE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 the attention and challenged the interest of thtf 
 visitor. 
 
 " Jenny, this is the young lady whom God ha? 
 sent to be our friend," said Mrs. Kent, as they 
 approached the bedside. 
 
 Fanny shuddered. " Whom God had sent " 
 she, a thief ! She wanted to cry ; she wanted to 
 shrink back into herself. 
 
 " May I take your hand ? " asked Jenny, in feeble 
 tones. 
 
 Fanny complied with the request in silence, and 
 with her eyes fixed on the floor. The sick girl 
 took the offered hand in her own, which was almost 
 as cold as marble. 
 
 " Mother has prayed to Our Good Father, and I 
 have prayed to Him all the time for help," said 
 Jenny, whose accents were hardly above a whisper. 
 " He has sent you to us, and you have saved us. 
 "Will you tell me your name ? " 
 
 " Fanny Grant." 
 
 " Fanny, I am going to heaven soon, and I will 
 bear your name in my heart when I go. I will 
 bless you for your good deed while I have breath,
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. Ill 
 
 and I will bless you when I get to heaven. You 
 are a good girl, and I know that God will bless 
 you too." 
 
 Poor Fanny ! How mean she felt ! As she stood 
 in the presence of that pure-minded child, already 
 an angel in simple trust and confiding hope, she 
 realized her own wickedness. The burden of her 
 sins seemed to be settling down upon her with a 
 weight that would crush her. 
 
 " I love you, Fanny," continued the invalid, " and 
 I will pray for you to the last moment of my life. 
 Won't you speak to me ? " 
 
 " I was very glad to do what I did," stammered 
 Fanny, almost suffocated by the weight which 
 pressed down upon her. 
 
 " I know you are ; for it is more blessed to give 
 than to receive." 
 
 " I am very sorry you are so sick. Can I do 
 anything to help you ? " 
 
 "You have done all that could be done, Fanny. 
 I like to speak your name. It sounds like music 
 to me. After what you have done, Fanny will
 
 /12 HOPE AXD HAVE, OR 
 
 always mean goodness to me. You cannot do any 
 thing more ; you have already done enough." 
 
 " Don't you want anything ? " 
 
 " No ; I am happy now. I shall soon pass away, 
 and go to my Saviour." 
 
 Mrs. Kent sobbed. 
 
 " Don't cry, mother," continued Jenny. " God 
 will take care of you, and we shall meet again." 
 
 " Can't I get anything for you, Jenny ? Isn't 
 there anything you want ? " asked Fanny, who felt 
 that she must do something, or she would soon be 
 overwhelmed by the emotions which agitated her 
 soul. 
 
 " Nothing, Fanny. I don't think much of the 
 things around me now. I feel just as though I 
 didn't belong here. This is not my home. Can 
 you sing, Fanny ? " 
 
 " I do sing, sometimes," replied" she. 
 
 " Will you sing to me ? " 
 
 " I will ; what shall I sing ? " 
 
 " Something about heaven ? " answered Jenny, as 
 she sank back upon the pillow, and fixed her gaze 
 upon the ceiling, as though beyond it she could
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 113 
 
 see the happy home which was ever ia her 
 thoughts. 
 
 Fanny, as we have said before, was a remarkable 
 singer, not in the artistic sense, though, with proper 
 cultivation of her talent, she might have been all 
 this also. She had a fine voice, and sang as natural 
 ly as the birds sing. But this was not an occasion 
 for artistic effects. Never before had the soul of the 
 wayward girl been so stirred. She was a Sunday- 
 school scholar, and familiar with most of the beau 
 tiful and touching melodies contained in children's 
 song-books. 
 
 She was asked to sing " something about heaven ; " 
 and she began at once, as though it had been selected 
 by some invisible agency and impressed upon her 
 mind, with the beautiful hymn : 
 
 "There's a home for the poor on that beautiful shore 
 
 When life and its sorrows are ended ; 
 And sweetly they'll rest in that home of the blest, 
 
 By the presence of angels attended. 
 There's a home for the sad, and their hearts will be glad 
 
 When they've crossed over Jordan so dreary ; 
 For bright is the dome of that radiant home 
 
 Where so softly repose all the weary." 
 
 10*
 
 114 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 The " home for the poor on that beautiful 
 shore " seemed to be almost in sight of the singer, 
 for the pale, dying girl spread heaven around her ; 
 and Fanny sang as she had never sung before. 
 She could hardly keep down the tears which strug 
 gled for birth in her dim eyes, and her sweet 
 voice was attuned to the sentiment of the words 
 she sang, which were wedded to a melody so touch 
 ing as to suggest the heaven it spoke of. 
 
 There was a seraphic smile on the wan face of 
 Jenny as the singer finished the first verse, and she 
 clasped her thin white hands above her breast in 
 the ecstasy of her bliss. Fanny sang the four verses 
 of the hymn, and every moment of the time seemed 
 to be a moment of rapture to the dying girl. 
 
 " How beautiful ! " cried Jenny, after a period of 
 silence at the conclusion of the hymn. " I have 
 never been so happy, Fanny. Let me take your 
 hand in mine again." 
 
 " Can I do anything more for you?" asked Fanny, 
 as she gave her hand to the invalid. 
 
 " No, nothing. It will make you tired to sing 
 any more now."
 
 FANNY GT5ANT AMON3 THE INDIANS. 115 
 
 " O, no ! I could sing all day." 
 
 " But the sweet strains you h we just sung still 
 linger in my soul. Let me hold your hand a mo 
 ment, and then I will go to sleep if I can. I like 
 to hold your hand you are so good." 
 
 Fanny despised herself. She wanted to tell Jenny 
 what a monster of wickedness she felt herself to be, 
 and she would have done so if it had not been for 
 giving pain to the gentle sufferer. 
 
 " I would like to go to heaven now, holding your 
 hand, and mother's, and Eddy's ; for it seems to me 
 I could carry you up to the Saviour with me then, 
 and give you all to him ; and he would love you 
 f r my sake, and because you are so good. Eut 
 I shall never forget you ; I shall bear your name 
 to heaven with me, Fanny." 
 
 The wicked girl shuddered. " Depart from me," 
 seemed to be the only message the Saviour had for 
 her. 
 
 " Let me do something more for you," said Fanny, 
 who could not endure to be called good by one who 
 was so near heaven that there could be no hypocrisy 
 or shadow of deceit in her heart.
 
 116 HOPE ANI> HAVE, OR 
 
 " You may sing me one more hymn, if you are 
 not too tired," replied Jenny. 
 
 " O, no ! I am never tired of singing ; " and she 
 sang the song containing the refrain, " There is 
 sweet rest in heaven," with exquisite taste and 
 feeling. 
 
 Mrs. Kent whispered that Jenny must be weary 
 now, -and Fanny took the hand of the sick girl, to 
 bid her good by. 
 
 " Good by, Fanny. I shall never see you again ; 
 but we shall meet in heaven," said Jenny, with her 
 sweetest smile. 
 
 " I will come and see you again, if I can." 
 
 " How happy it would make me ! " 
 
 " Perhaps I will come again to-day." 
 
 " I'm afraid if you don't, I shall never see you 
 in this world again." 
 
 " I will come to-day." 
 
 " Good by," added Jenny, languidly, as Fanny 
 followed Mrs. Kent out of the room. 
 
 "Isn't there anything I can bring to her?" asked 
 Fanny, when they had passed into the other room. 
 
 " I don't know. Poor child ! she knows how little
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 117 
 
 I can do for her, and she never says she wants 
 anything. She is very fond of flowers, and Eddy 
 used to bring her dandelion blossoms, but these are 
 all gone now." 
 
 " I will bring her some flowers," replied Fanny, 
 who could not help wishing for some of the beau 
 tiful flowers which grew in such profusion at Wood- 
 ville. 
 
 But to her "Woodville now seemed as far off as 
 the heaven of which she had been singing to the 
 dying girl ; but she thought she could obtain some 
 flowers in the city ; and she felt as though she 
 would give all the rest of her ill-gotten treasure 
 for a single bouquet. 
 
 Fanny begged Mrs. Kent to tell her if there was 
 anything she could do for the sick daughter, or for 
 the family ; and the poor woman confessed that she 
 had nothing in the house to eat except half a loaf 
 of bread, which was to be their dinner. Lest her 
 visitor should think her destitution was caused by 
 her own fault, she related the story of hardships 
 she had undergone since her husband departed with 
 his regiment.
 
 118 HOPE AXD 1IAVK, Oil 
 
 Mr. Kent was a mechanic, and having been 
 thrown out of employment by the dull times at 
 the commencement of the Avar, he had enlisted in 
 one of the regiments that departed earliest for the 
 scene of hostilities. He had left his family with 
 only a small sum of money, and had promised to 
 send all his pay to his wife, as soon as it was 
 received. Mr. Kent's regiment had been engaged 
 in the disastrous battle of Bull Run, since which 
 he had not been heard from. It was known that 
 he had been taken prisoner, but when exchanges 
 were made he did not appear. His wife was un 
 willing to believe that he was dead, and still hoped 
 for tidings of him. 
 
 Jenny was sick when her father departed, but it 
 was not supposed to be a dangerous illness ; perhaps 
 it would not have been if she had been supplied 
 with the comforts of lifp. The family had been 
 driven from the more comfortable abode, in which 
 Mr. Kent had left them, to Mr. O'Shane's miserable 
 hovel. The poor woman had gone out to work 
 until Jenny's condition demanded her constant at 
 tention. She had then obtained what sewing she
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE IXIHANS. 119 
 
 could ; but with all her exertions she was hardly 
 able to obtain food for her family, to say nothing 
 of procuring clothes, and paying the rent. 
 
 Mrs. Kent lived by herself, having little or no 
 communication with the world around her. She 
 had heard of the provision for soldiers' families, 
 and had made an effort to obtain this aid ; but 
 she was unable to prove that she was a soldier's 
 wife, and being delicate and sensitive, she had not 
 the courage to face the rebuffs of the officials a 
 second time. 
 
 Fanny listened to this story with but little inter 
 est. She was thinking of Jenny, whose sweet smile 
 of holy rapture still lingered in her mind. Promising 
 to do something for the family, she took leave of 
 Mrs. Kent, who had no words to express the grati 
 tude she felt towards her benefactor. Fanny went 
 to the nearest store, and purchased a liberal supply 
 of provisions and groceries, which she sent back to 
 the house. She felt better then, and walked down 
 the street till she came to a horse car, in which she 
 rode down to the Park.
 
 120 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 HOPE AND HAVE. 
 
 \ 
 
 FANNY got out of the horse car at the Park. 
 She was in the midst of the great city, but she 
 felt no interest in the moving, driving scene around 
 her, for the thought of poor Jenny still engrossed 
 her. She had even forgotten Mr. Long, and the 
 dreaded policemen who might be on the watch for 
 her. This was the good time for which she had 
 stolen the money and run away from her happy 
 home at Woodville. It was a mockery, and she 
 even wished she had been caught before she left 
 Pennville. 
 
 It was now two o'clock in the afternoon, though 
 hours enough seemed to have elapsed since she 
 left Woodville to make a week. She had eaten 
 nothing but an ice-cream since breakfast, and she 
 was faint from the excitement and the exertion of
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 121 
 
 the day. She found a saloon for ladies, and en 
 tered ; but the nice things of which she had 
 dreamed in the morning no longer existed for her. 
 She ate a simple dinner, and walked down Broad 
 way till she came to the Museum, which she had 
 regarded as an important element in the enjoyment 
 of her week in the city. 
 
 She paid the admission fee, and went in. She 
 wandered from room to room among the curiosi 
 ties, hardly caring for anything she saw, .till she 
 came to the exhibition-room, where plays were 
 acted. She had never seen a play performed, and 
 she had looked forward with brilliant anticipations 
 to the pleasure of seeing one. She was disap 
 pointed, for it had not entered into her calcula 
 tion that a 'clean conscience is necessary for the 
 full enjoyment of anything. The actors and the 
 actresses strutted their brief hour before her ; but 
 to her the play was incomprehensible and silly. It 
 had no meaning, and even the funny things which 
 the low comedian said and did could not make her 
 laugh. Before the performance was half finished, she 
 had enough of it, and left the place in disgust. 
 11
 
 122 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 Jenny Kent was rapturously happy, dying in a 
 hovel, in the midst of poverty and want, while she 
 was miserable with health and strength, with plenty 
 to eat, drink, and wear. Fanny tried to shake off 
 the strange depression which had so suddenly come 
 over her. She had never been troubled with any 
 such thoughts and feelings before. If she had occa 
 sionally been sorry for her wrong acts, it was only 
 a momentary twinge, which hardly damped her 
 spirits. She was weighed down to the earth, and 
 she could not rid herself of the burden that op 
 pressed her. She wanted to go into some dark 
 corner and cry. She felt that it would do her good 
 to weep, and to suffer even more than she had yet 
 been called upon to endure. 
 
 " I'll bear your name to heaven with me," had 
 been the words of the dying girl to Fanny ; but 
 what a reproach her name would be to the pure 
 and good of the happy land ! In some manner, 
 not evident to our human sight, or understood by 
 our human minds, the words of Jenny Sad given 
 the wayward girl a full view of herself had 
 turned her thoughts in upon the barrenness of her
 
 FAXNY GRANT AMON'G THE INDIANS. 123 
 
 own heart. Her wrong acts, so trivial to her be 
 fore, were now magnified into mountains, and the 
 crime she had committed that morning was so 
 monstrous and abominable that she abhorred her 
 self for it. 
 
 In spite of the reproaches which every loving 
 word of the dying girl hurled into the conscience 
 of Fanny, there was a strange and unaccountable 
 fascination in the languid look of the sweet suf 
 ferer. Wherever she turned, Jenny seemed to be 
 looking at her with a glance full of heaven, while 
 the black waters of her own soul rose up to choke 
 her. 
 
 Fanny struggled to get rid of these strange 
 thoughts, but she could not ; and she was com 
 pelled to give herself wholly up to them. Some 
 thing, she knew not what, drew her irresistibly 
 towards the dying girl, and she started up Broad 
 way to find the flowers she had promised to carry 
 to her. In a shop window she saw what she 
 wanted. The flowers were of the rarest and most 
 costly kinds ; but nothing was too good for Jenny, 
 and she paid four dollars for a bouquet. In
 
 124 HOPE AND HAVE, OK 
 
 another store she purchased some jelly and other 
 delicacies such as she had seen the ladies at 
 Woodville send to sick people. Thus prepared to 
 meet the dying girl, she took a, horse car, and by 
 six o'clock reached the humble abode of Mrs. Kent. 
 
 " How is Jenny ? " asked she, as she entered 
 the house, without the ceremony of knocking. 
 
 " She don't seem so well this afternoon," replied 
 Mrs. Kent. 
 
 " Does she have a doctor ? " 
 
 " Not now ; we had one a while ago, but he 
 said he could do nothing for her.'' 
 
 "Don't you think we had better have one?" 
 
 " He might do something to make her easy, but 
 Jenny don't complain. She never speaks of her 
 pains." 
 
 " I have come to stay all night with Jenny, if 
 you are willing I should," continued Fanny, doubt 
 fully. 
 
 " You are very kind." 
 
 " I will only sit by her ; I won't talk to her." 
 
 " I should be very glad to have you stay ; and 
 Jenny thinks ever so much of you."
 
 FAXNY GKAXT AMONG THE IXDIANS. 125 
 
 " If you please, I will go after a doctor." 
 Mrs. Kent consented, and Fanny, after sending 
 in her bouquet, went for a physician whose name 
 she had seen on a fine house near Central Park, 
 judging from the style in which he lived that he 
 must be a great man. She found him at home, 
 and he consented to return with her to Mrs. Kent's 
 house, lie examined Jenny very carefully, and 
 prescribed some medicine which might make her 
 more comfortable. He did not pretend that he 
 could do anything more for her, and he told Fanny 
 that the sufferer could not live many days, and 
 might pass away in a few hours. Fanny offered 
 him his fee ; he blushed, and peremptorily refused 
 it. Physicians who live in fine houses are often 
 kinder to the poor than the charlatans who prey 
 upon the lowest strata of society. 
 
 Fanny procured the medicine which the kind- 
 hearted doctor had prescribed, and administered 
 it with her own hands. Jenny gave her such a 
 sweet smile of grateful encouragement, that she 
 was sorry there was nothing else to be done for 
 her. 
 
 11 *
 
 126 HOPE AXD HATE, OR 
 
 " Xow sit down, Fanny, and let me take your 
 hand. I feel better to-night than I have felt for a 
 long time." 
 
 " I am glad you do," replied Fanny. 
 
 " You have made me so happy ! " 
 
 " I wish I was as good as you are, Jenny," said 
 Fanny, struggling with the emotions which surged 
 through her soul. 
 
 " You are better than I am." 
 
 " 0, no!" 
 
 " You are an angel ! You have been as good 
 as you could be. Fanny, we shall meet in heaven, 
 for I feel just as though I could not live many 
 days. We shall be friends there, if we cannot 
 long be here." 
 
 " I hope you will get better," added Fanny, 
 because she could think of nothing else to say. 
 
 " Xo, I may die before morning, Fanny ; but I 
 am ready. You are so good " 
 
 " O, Jenny ! I am not good ! I cannot deceive 
 you any longer ! " exclaimed Fanny, bursting into 
 tears. 
 
 " Xow I know that you are good. The blessed
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 127 
 
 Bible says, ' He that humbleth himself shall be 
 exalted.' I'm glad you don't think you are good." 
 
 " But I am not good, indeed I am not," sobbed 
 Fanny. 
 
 " Don't weep, dear Fanny. I know how you 
 feel ; I have felt just so myself, when it seemed 
 to me I was so wicked I couldn't live." 
 
 " You don't know how wicked I have been ; 
 what monstrous things I have done," added Fanny, 
 covering her face with her hands. " If you knew, 
 you would despise me." 
 
 " You wrong yourself, Fanny. Such a good, 
 kind heart as you have would not let you do 
 anything very bad." 
 
 " I have done what was vry bad, Jenny ; I 
 have been the worst girl in the whole world; but 
 I am so sorry ! " 
 
 " I know you are. If you have done anything 
 Avrong, we all do wrong sometimes, you could 
 not help being sorry. Your heart is good." 
 
 " Shall I tell you what I did ? " aske<\ Fanny, 
 in a low and doubtful tone. 
 
 "O, no! Don't tell me; tell it to God He
 
 128 HOPE / AND HAVE, OR 
 
 will pity and forgive you because you are really 
 sorry." 
 
 " You would despise me if you knew how 
 wicked I have been. It was seeing you, and 
 thinking how good you are, which made me feel 
 chat I had done wrong." 
 
 " I'm sure, after all you have done for mother 
 and for me, I can't help believing that you are an 
 angel. I love you, and I know that you are 
 good." 
 
 " I mean to be good, Jenny. From this time I 
 shall try to do better than I ever did before," 
 
 " Then you will be, Fanny." 
 
 " I don't think I ever tried to be good, but I 
 shall now," replied the penitent girl, as she wiped 
 away her tears. 
 
 Jenny seemed to be weary, and Fanny sat by 
 the bedside gazing in silence at her beautiful and 
 tranquil expression. The sufferer was looking at 
 the rich flowers of the bouquet, which had been 
 placed on a stand at the side of the bed. They 
 were a joy to her, a connecting link between the 
 beautiful of heaven and the beautiful of earth.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG TIIK INDIAN -i. 129 
 
 " Will you sing me a hymn, Fanny r " asked 
 the sick girl, without removing her gaze from the 
 flowers. 
 
 Without any other reply to the question, Fanny 
 immediately sang this verse : 
 
 " If God hath made this \vorM so fair, 
 
 Where sin and death abound, 
 How beautiful, beyond compare, 
 "Will Paradise, be found ! " 
 
 " How beautiful ! " murmured Jenny, her eyes 
 still fixed upon the flowers. " Will you take out 
 that moss-rose, Fanny, and let me hold it in my 
 hand ? " 
 
 Fanny gave her the flower, and then sang an 
 other hymn. For an hour she continued to sing, 
 and Jenny listened to the sweet melodies, entranced 
 and enraptured by the visions of heaven which 
 filled her soul. Then she asked Fanny to read to 
 her from the Bible, indicating the book and chap 
 ter, which was the eighth chapter of Romans. 
 
 " ' For we are saved by hope,' " Fanny read. 
 
 " Now, stop a moment : ' For we are saved by 
 hope,' " said the sufferer. " Do you know what 
 the emblem of Hope is, Fanny ? "
 
 139 IIOl'E AND HAVE, OR 
 
 " An anchor." 
 
 " Will you hand me that little box on the 
 table ? " 
 
 Fanny passed the box to her, and she took 
 from it a little gold breastpin, in the form of an 
 anchor. 
 
 " This was given to me by my father when I 
 was a little girl. My Sunday-school teacher told 
 me years ago what an anchor was the emblem of", 
 and told me at the same time to remember the 
 verse you have just read ' For we are saved by 
 hope.' That anchor has often reminded me what 
 was to save me from sin. Fanny, I will give you 
 this breastpin to remember me by." 
 
 " I shall never forget you, Jenny, as long as I 
 live ! " said Fanny, earnestly. 
 
 " But when you remember me, I want you to 
 think what the anchor means. You say you are 
 not good, but I know you are. You mean to be 
 good, you hope to be good ; and that will make 
 you good. Do you know we can always have what 
 we hope for, if it is right that we should have it ? 
 What we desire most we labor the hardest for. If
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG T?HE INDIANS. 131 
 
 you really and truly wish to be good, you will be 
 good." 
 
 Fanny took the breastpin. If it had been worth 
 thousands of dollars, it would not have been more 
 precious to her. Ic was the gift of the loving and 
 gentle being who was soon to be transplanted, 
 from earth to heaven ; of the beautiful girl who 
 had influenced her as she had never been influenced 
 before ; who had lifted her soul into a new atmos 
 phere. She placed it upon her bosom, and re 
 solved never to part with it as long as she lived. 
 
 " Hope and have, Fanny,"' said Jenny, when she 
 had rested for a time. " Hope for what is good 
 and true, and you sho.ll have it ; for if you really 
 desire it, you will be sure to labor and to struggle 
 for it." 
 
 " Hope and have," repeated Fanny. " Your 
 anchor shall mean this to me. Jenny, I feel hap 
 pier already, for I really and truly mean to be 
 good. But I think I ought to tell you how wicked 
 I am." 
 
 " Xo, don't tell me ; tell your mother." 
 
 " I have no mother."
 
 132 HPK AND HAVK, OR 
 
 " Then you are poorer than I am." 
 
 " And no father." 
 
 " Poor Fanny ! Then you have had no one to 
 tell you how to be good." 
 
 " Yes, I have the kindest and best of friends ; 
 but I have been very ungrateful." 
 
 " They will forgive you, for you are truly sorry." 
 
 " Perhaps they will." 
 
 " I know they will." 
 
 Jenny was weary again, and Fanny sang in her 
 softest and sweetest tones once more. It was now 
 the twilight of a long summer day, and Mrs. Kent, 
 having finished her household duties, came into the 
 room. Soon after, the sufferer was seized with a 
 violent fit of coughing, which seemed to weaken 
 and reduce her beyond the possibility of recovery. 
 When it left her, she could not speak aloud. 
 
 " I am going, mother," said she, a little later. 
 " Fanny ! " 
 
 "I am here," replied Fanny, almost choked with 
 emotion. 
 
 " We shall meet in heaven," said the dying one. 
 " Have you been very naughty ? "
 
 FANNY G3ANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 133 
 
 " I have," sobbed Fanny. 
 
 Jenny asked for paper and pencil, and when her 
 mother had raised her on the bed, she wrote, with 
 trembling hand, these words : 
 
 " Phase to forgive Fanny, for the sake of her 
 dying friend, Jenny Kent." 
 
 " Take this, Fanny : God will forgive you." 
 
 It was evident to the experienced eye of Mrs. 
 Kent that Jenny was going from earth. The suf 
 ferer lay with her gaze fixed upon the ceiling, and 
 her hands clasped, as in silent prayer. She seemed 
 to be communing with the angels. She struggled 
 for breath, and her mother watched her in the 
 most painful anxiety. 
 
 " Good by, mother," said she, at last. " Good 
 by, Eddy : I'm going home." 
 
 Mrs. Kent took her offered hand, and kisse< 
 her, struggling all the time to be calm. LittL : 
 Eddy was raised up to the bed, and kissed his 
 departing sister. 
 
 " Fanny," gasped she, extending her trembling 
 hand. 
 
 12
 
 134 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 Fanny took the hand. 
 
 "Good by." 
 
 " Good by, Jenny," she answered, awed and 
 trembling with agitation at the impressive scene. 
 
 The dying girl closed her eyes. But a moment 
 after she pressed the hand of Fanny, and mur 
 mured, 
 
 " HorE AND HAVE." 
 
 She was silent then ; her bosom soon ceased 
 to heave ; the ransomed spirit rose from the pain- 
 encumbered body, and soared away to its angel- 
 home !
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 135 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 GOOD OUT OF EVIL. 
 
 PEACEFULLY, on what had been her couch of 
 pain, lay the silent form of Jenny. The room 
 resounded with the sobs of the mother and the 
 brother, and hardly less with the wailings of the 
 stranger, who, in a few brief hour's had found and 
 lost the truest and best of earthly friends. The 
 darkness gathered, and still they wept the dark 
 ness from which Jenny had fled to the brightness 
 of the eternal world, where there is no night or 
 sorrow. There was woe in that humble abode, 
 while heaven's high arches rang with paeans of 
 rejoicing that a ransomed soul had joined the happy 
 bands above. 
 
 There were no kind and sympathizing friends to 
 go into that hovel and deck the marble form in 
 the vestments of the grave. Fanny was the first
 
 136 II 01' 10 AND 1IA\ !:, OR 
 
 to rcali/c that there was something to be done : 
 si ic was a stranger to such a scene ; she knew not 
 what to do ; but she told Mrs. Kent that she would 
 i:;o out and obtain assistance. With hurried step 
 .^lie walked down to the residence of the physician 
 who had so gently and feelingly ministered to the 
 sufferer. She found the doctor at home, and in 
 formed him of the sad event. Since his return he 
 ha 1 told his wife and daughter of the beautiful 
 girl who was dying in the cottage up the street. 
 He called them into his library, and Fanny, with 
 tearful eyes and broken voice, repeated her narrative 
 of the passing away of poor Jenny. 
 
 The ladies promptly expressed their intention to 
 visit the bereaved mother, and discharge the duties 
 the occasion required. A carriage was called, in 
 which the benevolent physician, his wife and 
 daughter, and Fanny, proceeded to the house of 
 Mrs. Kent. They were the kindest and tenderest 
 of friends, and the sorrowing mother, grateful to 
 them for their good offices, and grateful to God for 
 sending thorn to hrr, was relieved of a great load 
 of p.iin air.l anxiety. At a late hour they departed,
 
 PANNY GRANT AilONG THE INDIANS. 137 
 
 with, the promise to come again on the following 
 day. 
 
 Hour after hour Mrs. Kent and Fanny sat in the 
 chamber of death, talking about the gentle one who 
 hud passed away, and was at rest. It was nearly 
 morning before Fanny, worn out by excitement and 
 fatigv.e, could be prevailed upon to take the rest she 
 needed. Mrs. Kent made a bed for her on the 
 kitchen floor, and she slept for a few hours. When 
 she awoke, her first thought was of Jenny ; and all 
 the events of the previous day and evening passed 
 in review before her. Her soul had been sanctified 
 by communion with the sainted spirit of her de 
 parted friend. On the day before, her current of 
 being seemed suddenly to have stopped in its course, 
 and then to have taken a new direction. Her 
 thoughts, her hopes, her aspirations had all been, 
 changed. She had resolved to be good so solemnly 
 and truly resolved to be good, that she felt like a 
 new creature. 
 
 She prayed to the good Father, who had been 
 revealed to her by the dying girl ; and from her 
 prayers came a strength which was a new life to
 
 138 HOPE AXD HAVE, OH 
 
 her soul. From her strong desire to be good to be 
 what Jenny had been had grown up a new faith. 
 
 In the forenoon came the wife and daughter of 
 the good physician again upon the mission of mercy. 
 They had requested the attendance of an undertaker, 
 and assumed the whole charge of the funeral of 
 Jenny, which was to take place on the third day 
 after her death. 
 
 Fanny had hardly thought of herself since the 
 angel of death entered the house, though she had 
 been weighed down by a burden of guilt that did 
 not embody itself in particular thoughts. In her 
 sincere penitence, and in her firm and sacred resolve 
 to be good and true, she had found only a partial 
 peace of mind. She had not a doubt in regard to 
 her future course : she must return to Woodvillc, 
 and submit to any punishment which her kind friends 
 might impose upon her. She was willing to suffer 
 for what she had done ; she was even willing to be 
 sent to her uncle's in Minnesota ; and this feeling 
 of submission was the best evidence to herself of 
 the reality of her repentance. 
 
 She was not willing to return to Woodville till
 
 FAXXY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 139 
 
 she had seen the mortal part of Jenny laid away 
 in its final resting-place. But Mr. Grant, who was 
 at Hudson with his daughters, might already have 
 been informed of her wicked conduct ; and Mr. 
 Long was probably still engaged in the search for 
 her. There was a duty she owed to her friends 
 which her awakened conscience would not permit 
 her to neglect. The family would be very anxious 
 about her, for wayward and wilful as she had been, 
 she felt that they still loved her. Procuring pen 
 and paper, she wrote a letter to Mrs. Green, inform 
 ing her that she should return home on Friday ; that 
 she would submit to any punishment, and endeavor 
 to be good in the future. She sealed the note, 
 and put it in the post-office, with a feeling that it 
 was all she could do at present as an atonement 
 for her faults. If it was not all she could do, it 
 was an error of judgment, not of the heart. 
 
 On Thursday the form of Jenny was placed in 
 the coffin. It was not a pauper's coffin; it Avas a 
 black-walnut casket plain, but rich selected by 
 Mrs. Porter, the physician's lady, who could not 
 permit the form of one so beautiful to be enclosed
 
 140 HOPE AXD HAVE, OK 
 
 in a less appropriate receptacle. The choicest 
 flowers lay upon her breast, and a beautiful wreath 
 and cross were placed upon the casket before the 
 funeral services commenced. 
 
 The clergyman was a friend of Dr. Porter, and 
 he was worthy to be the friend of so true a man. 
 The service was solemn and touching ; no word of 
 hope and consolation was omitted because they stood 
 in the humble abode of poverty and want. He 
 spoke of the beautiful life and the happy death of 
 Jenny, and prayed that her parents might be com 
 forted ; that the little brother might be blessed 1-y 
 her short life, and that " the devoted young friend, 
 who had so tenderly watched over the last hours 
 of the departed," might be sanctified by her holy 
 ministrations. The father, living or dead, wherever 
 suffering, or wherever battling against the foes of his 
 country, was remembered. 
 
 Fanny wept, as all in the house wept, when the 
 good man feelingly delineated the lovely character 
 of her who. was still so beautiful in her marble 
 silence ; when he recalled those tender scenes on 
 the evening of her death, which had been faithfully
 
 1'ANNY CHANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 141 
 
 described to him by Fanny. The casket was placed 
 in the funeral car, and followed by two carriages, 
 one of which contained Mrs. Kent, Eddy, and Fanny, 
 and the other the family of Dr. Porter, to Green 
 wood Cemetery. Sadly the poor mother turned away 
 from the resting-place of her earthly treasure, and the 
 little cortege returned to the house from which the 
 light had gone out. The last solemn, sacred duty 
 had been performed ; Jenny had gone, but her pure 
 influence was still to live on, and bless those who 
 had never even known her. 
 
 When the little party reached the house, Dr. 
 Porter, after some remarks about the solemn scenes 
 through which they had just passe'd, inquired more 
 particularly than he had been permitted to do before 
 into the circumstances of the family. lie promised 
 to procure for her the money due to her as a soldier's 
 wife, and to obtain some light employment for her. 
 Mrs. Kent was very grateful to him for his kind in 
 terest in herself, and in her lost one, assuring him 
 that she did not ask for charity, and was willing to 
 work hard for a support. 
 
 " You have been a blessing to me, Fanny,'' said
 
 142 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 Mrs. Kent, when the physician and his family had 
 departed. " I am sure that God sent you here to 
 save me from misery and despair. What should 1 
 have done if you had not come ? " 
 
 " I think I Avas sent for my own sake, rather 
 than for yours, for I know that it has been a 
 greater blessing to me than to you," replied Fanny. 
 
 "That can't be." 
 
 " It is so. When I told Jenny that I had been 
 a very wicked girl, I meant so." 
 
 "I'm sure that one who has been so kind can't 
 be very bad," added Mrs. Kent, rather bewildered 
 by the confession of her benefactor. "Where did 
 you say you lived, Fanny ? " 
 
 The wanderer had been obliged to invent a story 
 in the beginning to account for her absence from 
 home, and the poor woman's heart had been too 
 full of gratitude to permit any doubt to enter 
 there. 
 
 " I have deceived you, Mrs. Kent," replied Fanny, 
 bursting into tears. " I do not live in the city ; my 
 home is twenty-five miles up the river. But I did 
 not mean to deceive poor Jenny. I wanted to tell
 
 FANNY GKANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 143 
 
 her what a wicked deed I had done, but she 
 would not let me." 
 
 " She was too good to think evil of any one, 
 and especially of you, who have been so generous 
 to us." 
 
 " You know the paper she wrote and gave to me ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I know from that she believed I had done 
 something very bad." 
 
 " Perhaps she did." 
 
 " She told me how to be good. The very sight 
 of her made me feel how wicked I was. I mean 
 to be good." 
 
 " Then I am sure you will be." 
 
 " I shall always think of Jenny, and the anchor 
 she gave me, when I am tempted to do wrong. 
 I feel that Jenny has saved me, and made me a 
 new being." 
 
 " I'm sure I hope so ; and I am glad you came 
 here for your own sake, as well as for mine. But 
 I can't believe that one who has been good to my 
 dear lost one can be very bad," replied Mrs. Kent, 
 gloomily.
 
 144 HOPr, AND HAVE, OR 
 
 k -Iam at least, I was; for I know I am ever 
 so much better than I was when I came here. I 
 ran away from home ! " 
 
 " Ran away ! " exclaimed Mrs. Kent, appalled at 
 the words. 
 
 " Yes ; and I did even worse than that." 
 
 " Dear me ! I hope not. I thought it was strange 
 .hat a young lady like you should have so much 
 money ; but my heart was so full that I didn't 
 think much about it.'' 
 
 " Mrs. Kent, I stole that money ! " added Fanny, 
 her face crimson with the blush of shame. 
 
 "Mercy on me! I can't believe it." 
 
 " It is true." 
 
 ' It was wrong of me to take the mcney," added 
 Mrs. Kent, actually trembling with apprcl.ension 
 at the thought. " I will pay it all back some time, 
 Fanny. I can work now. I'm sure I wouldn't 
 have taken the money if I had thought you cUd 
 not come rightly by it." 
 
 Fanny then told the whole story, and described 
 her feelings from the time she had first seen Mrs. 
 Kent in front of the house.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 145 
 
 " I am so sorry ! " said the poor woman, wringing 
 her hands as she thought of her own participation 
 in the use of the stolen property. " I would rather 
 have been turned out of the house than be saved 
 by such money." 
 
 " Don't cry, Mrs. Kent. I am almost sorry I told 
 you anything about it." 
 
 " I'm glad poor Jenny didn't know it." 
 
 " So am I ; but I am sure she knew how guilty 
 I had been, though she didn't know exactly what I 
 had done." 
 
 " I think there is hope for you, Fanny. You 
 must have a kind heart, or you couldn't have done 
 what you did for Jenny. I'm sure I feel very 
 grateful to you." 
 
 " Now you know me as I am, Mrs. Kent ; but 
 I tell you most solemnly, that I mean to be good 
 always after this. I am sorry for my wicked deeds, 
 and I am willing to b3 punished for what I have 
 done. I shall always bless poor Jenny for saving 
 me from error and sin if I am saved." 
 
 "What are you going to do, Fanny?" 
 
 " I am going back to Woodville to-morrow morn- 
 13
 
 146 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 ing. I will give up all the money I have, confess 
 my fault, and let them do with me as they think 
 best." 
 
 " You can tell them I will pay back all the money 
 you spent for me, just as soon as I can." 
 
 " Mr. Grant is very rich, and he will not ask 
 you to do that. He is very kind, too." 
 
 " But I must do it, and I shall have no peace 
 till it is done," protested the poor woman. " I'll 
 tell you what I will do. I will give you a note 
 for the money." 
 
 Mrs. Kent was in earnest. She was sorely troubled 
 by the fact that she had even innocently received 
 any of the stolen money. In the evening she wrote 
 the note, which was made payable to Mr. Grant, and 
 insisted that Fanny should take it. They talked of 
 nothing but the guilt of the runaway, though rather 
 of the means of making reparation for the wrong, 
 than of the consequences of the wrong acts. Mrs. 
 Kent was fully convinced that Fanny was sincerely 
 penitent ; that her intercourse with Jenny had ushered 
 her into a new life. She Avas even willing to believe, 
 before they retired that night, that it was all for the
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 147 
 
 best ; that He who brings good out of evil, would 
 bring a blessing out of the wrong which Fanny had 
 done. 
 
 The next morning the wanderer bade farewell to 
 Mrs. Kent, and took the train for Woodville.
 
 148 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PENITEXCE AND PARDON. 
 
 FANNY arrived at the station near Woodville by 
 the early train from the city. On the way, she 
 had been thinking of her own guilt, and consider 
 ing what she should do and say when she stood 
 in the presence of her injured friends. She was 
 not studying how to conceal or palliate her offence, 
 but how she could best tell the whole truth. She 
 gave herself no credit for any good deed she had 
 done during her absence ; she did not natter her 
 self that she had been benevolent and kind in 
 using the stolen money as she had used it ; she 
 did not believe that her tender vigil at the bed 
 side of the dying girl made her less guilty. 
 
 She felt that she deserved a severe punishment, 
 and that it would do her good to suffer for what 
 she had done. She was even willing to be sent
 
 FANXY GRAXT AMONG THE INDIANS. 149 
 
 to prison, to be disgraced, and banished from the 
 happy home at Woodville, whose hospitality she 
 had abused. She felt that the penalty of her er 
 rors, whatever it might be, would do her good. 
 She was filled with contrition and shame as she 
 left the station ; she hung her head, and did not 
 dare to look the people she met in the face. The 
 Fanny who went from Woodville a few days be 
 fore had returned an entirely different being. 
 
 Slowly and gloomily she walked down the road 
 that led to the residence of Mr. Grant. It seemed 
 as though she had been absent a year, and every 
 thing looked strange to her, though the change 
 was all in herself. All the currents of her former 
 life had ceased to flow ; the movements of the 
 wheel of events had been abruptly suspended. 
 What gladdened her before did not gladden her 
 now, and what had once been a joy was now a 
 sorrow. She felt as though she had been trans 
 ferred from the old world, in which she had re 
 joiced in mischief and wrong, to a new world, 
 whose hopes and joys had not yet been revealed 
 to her. 
 
 13*
 
 150 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 She approached the cottage of Mr. Long, the 
 constable, who had probably been engaged in the 
 search for her since her departure. She went up 
 to the door and knocked. Mr. Long had just fin 
 ished his breakfast, and she was shown into the 
 little parlor. 
 
 "So you have got back, Fanny Grant," said he, 
 very coldly and sternly, as he entered the room 
 where she stood waiting for him. 
 
 " I have," she replied, just raising her eyes 
 from the floor. 
 
 " Where have you been ? " 
 
 " In New York city." 
 
 " Where did you stay ? " 
 
 " At the house of a poor woman in the upper 
 part of the city." 
 
 " I thought so ; or I should have found you. 
 You have been a very bad girl, Fanny." 
 
 " I know it, sir. You may send me to prison 
 now, for I deserve the worst you can do to me," 
 replied Fanny, choking with her emotions. 
 
 " You ought to be sent there. What did you 
 come here for ? "
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 151 
 
 " I stole the money, and I suppose you were 
 sent to catch me. I am willing to be sent to 
 prison." 
 
 " You are very obliging," sneered the constable. 
 " We don't generally ask people whether they are 
 willing or not when we send them to prison." 
 
 " I give myself up to you ; and you can do with 
 me what you think best." 
 
 " I know I can." 
 
 "You didn't catch me. I come here of myself; 
 that is what I meant by saying that I was willing 
 to be sent to prison." 
 
 " What have you done with the money you 
 stole ? " asked the constable, who was very much 
 astonished at the singular conduct of Fanny. 
 
 " I have spent most of it." 
 
 " I suppose so," replied Mr. Long, who deemed 
 it his duty to be stern and unsympathizing. 
 " How did you spend it ? " 
 
 " I will tell Mr. Grant all about it," answered 
 Fanny, who did not care to repeat her story to 
 such a person as the constable ; and she felt that 
 he would be fully justified in disbelieving her 
 statements.
 
 152 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 " Perhaps you will tell me, if I wish you to do 
 so." 
 
 u I will, but I would rather tell Mr. Grant first, 
 for it is a long story, and you will think it is a 
 very strange one." 
 
 " Xo doubt it is," said the constable, perplexed 
 by the replies of the culprit, and doubtful what 
 course he should pursue. 
 
 " I suppose Mr. Grant has not got home yet," 
 added Fanny. " You can put me in prison till he 
 gets back ; or I will solemnly promise you I will 
 not run away." 
 
 " Your promises are not worth much. Mr. Grant 
 has got home. He came home just as soon as he 
 heard that you had gone off. You have given him 
 a heap cf trouble, and you must settle the case 
 with him. I will take you over to the house, and 
 I promise you I won't lose sight of you again." 
 
 " I will not attempt to get away," replied Fanny, 
 meekly. 
 
 " I won't trust you," said Mr. Long, putting on 
 his hat. 
 
 "I don't ask you to trust me."
 
 FANNY GUAXT AMONG THE INDIANS. 153 
 
 " Come with me," he added, taking her by the arm. 
 
 " You need not hold me ; I will not run away," 
 said Fanny, as she left the house with the con 
 stable, who seemed determined to hold on to her 
 as though she were some desperate ruffian, instead 
 of a weak and self-convicted girl. 
 
 " You won't get away from me, you may depend 
 upon it," continued Mr. Long, as they walked 
 towards the mansion of Mr. Grant. 
 
 The constable seemed to be actuated by the 
 vanity to make people believe that he had made 
 a capture, and he did not release his grasp upon 
 his prisoner till they reached their destination. 
 They met several people, who stopped and stared 
 at them, and evidently thought the constable had 
 done a great thing. Mr. Long rang the bell at 
 the front door. The man-servant, who admitted 
 them, started with astonishment when he saw 
 Fanny, They were shown to the library, and 
 informed that Mr. Grant Avas at breakfast. 
 
 " You can sit down in that chair," said the 
 constable, pointing to a scat. " If you attempt 
 to get away, I shall put the handcuffs on you."
 
 154 HOPE AXD TIAVE, OR 
 
 " I don't want to get away. I came back of my 
 own accord," replied Fanny, astonished rather than 
 indignant at the absurd behavior of the constable. 
 
 " You are bad enough to do almost anything." 
 
 " I hope I am not so bad as I was." 
 
 " Perhaps you do hope so ; but we shall see." 
 
 " Can you tell me where Kate Magncr is now ? " 
 asked Fanny, as Mr. Long relapsed into silence 
 and pompous dignity. 
 
 " She is at home, I suppose. She wasn't quite 
 bad enough for you, it seems." 
 
 " I hope she was not punished for what she did, 
 for it was all my fault." 
 
 " That's a fact. You have told the truth for 
 once." 
 
 " I mean always to tell the truth now, Mr- 
 Jl/ong," said Fanny. 
 
 " "When you have done it a while, perhaps we 
 can believe you. The Magner girl told the whole 
 story, and delivered up the money you gave her ; 
 that saved her." 
 
 " I am glad she was not punished." 
 
 " She was punished."
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 155 
 
 " Then I am sorry, for it was I who led her 
 away." 
 
 " We all know that. Now, be still ; Mr. Grant 
 is coming," said the constable. 
 
 Mr. Grant entered the library, and walked to 
 wards the chair where Fanny sat, taking no notice 
 of the constable. He paused before her, looking 
 very sad, but very stern. Fanny's bosom was 
 bounding with emotion. She trembled ; her heart 
 was rising up jnto her throat, and choking her. 
 She raised her eyes from the floor and glanced at 
 him, only one glance at that sad, stern face, 
 and then burst into tears. She did not mean to 
 weep ; did not mean to do anything which could 
 appeal to the sympathy of her kind friend and 
 benefactor, but she could not help it. 
 
 " I have brought her up to you, Mr. Grant," 
 said the constable. 
 
 "Where did you find her?" 
 
 Mr. Long would have preferred to let Mr. 
 Grant believe that he had caught her himself; but 
 the question was so direct that he could only give 
 a direct answer.
 
 156 IIOPK AXD H.VVE, OR 
 
 " She came to my house this morning." 
 
 " Very well, Mr. Long ; I will not trouble you 
 to remain any longer," added Mr. Grant. 
 
 " I hope you will not let her get away from you, 
 sir," said the constable, who thought his official 
 position was slighted by this intimation ; and he 
 was curious to hear what the culprit had to say 
 for herself. 
 
 " I will not try to get away, Mr. Grant," inter 
 posed Fanny. . 
 
 " There is no fear of her getting away, even if 
 she is disposed to do so." 
 
 Mr. Long found himself obliged to leave, his 
 office ignored, and his curiosity ungratified. 
 
 " Where have you been, Fanny Jane ? " asked 
 Mr. Grant, when the constable had gone, his tones 
 being the counterpart of his stern, sad face. 
 
 " In New York," replied Fanny, still sobbing. 
 
 " What have you done with the money you took 
 from the drawer in the closet ? " 
 
 " I spent most of it." 
 
 " For what did you spend it ? " 
 
 ' I have come back to tell the whole truth, Mr.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 157 
 
 Grant. I have been . very wicked and ungrateful 
 to you. I am very sorry for what I have done ; 
 I don't ask you to forgive me, for I know you 
 can't. I am willing to be punished as you think 
 best, for I deserve the worst you can do to me." 
 
 Mr. Grant was a tender-hearted man. Perhaps 
 his own children had suffered from the gentleness 
 of his nature; if they had, .the injury had been 
 more than compensated for in the blessings im 
 parted by his tenderness. He was more than 
 astonished at the attitude of the returned wanderer. 
 Fanny had never before been known to be in such 
 a frame of mind. The sternness of his expression 
 passed away ; there was nothing but the sadness 
 left. Probably he doubted the sincerity of the cul 
 prit's contrition ; at least he did not realize the 
 
 | 
 
 depth and earnestness of it. 
 
 " I will hear whatever you wish to say," replied 
 he, seating himself in his easy chair. 
 
 " I have been so wicked that I know you will 
 find it hard to believe me ; but I mean to tell the 
 whole truth," sobbed Fanny. 
 
 " I hope you do. You may wait till you are 
 14
 
 158 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 better able to speak. The letter you sent to Mrs. 
 Green informed us where you were, but we were 
 unable to find you." 
 
 " I came home as soon as I could ; and I did 
 not wish you to find me till I had done what I 
 had to do," answered Fanny, drying her tears. 
 
 She then commenced the narrative of her adven 
 tures from the time she had parted with Miss 
 Fanny. She told ho\v she had let the cat out of 
 the drawer, and how she had found where the 
 money was actually concealed ; she related very 
 minutely every incident that had occurred up to 
 the time she had seen Mr. O'Shane and Mrs. 
 Kent in front of the house in New York. At this 
 point Mr. Grant became intensely interested in the 
 story, and when Fanny said that she had paid the 
 poor woman's rent with one hundred dollars of the 
 stolen money, a slight smile gathered upon his sad 
 face. 
 
 Then she related the particulars of her interview 
 with the sick girl, mentioning even the hymns she 
 had sung to her. She described as well as she 
 could the impression made upon her by the beau-
 
 FANNY GKANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 159 
 
 tiful and patient sufferer ; the sense of her own 
 guilt and wickedness, which had then and there 
 dawned upon her ; and the oppressive burden she 
 had borne in her soul when she went down into 
 the city, which did not permit her to enjoy the 
 pleasures of the great metropolis for which she had 
 stolen the money, and run away from her home. 
 Fanny was eloquent, but the simple truth was her 
 only inspiration. 
 
 Mr. Grant evidently understood the frame of 
 mind which she described, and when she came to 
 her final interview with the dying girl, he could 
 hardly repress a tear in his own eyes. Fanny 
 omitted nothing, but told every incident, and 
 repeated all she could remember of the conversa 
 tion of poor Jenny, and hardly a word of it was 
 forgotten, confirming her statement by exhibit 
 ing the anchor on her bosom, and the paper given 
 her by the dying saint. 
 
 Mr. Grant read the paper, and the tears came 
 to his eyes in spite of his efforts to suppress them. 
 
 " For her sake, Fanny, I forgive you," said he. 
 
 "I do not deserve to be forgiven, sir," sobbed 
 Fanny.
 
 160 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 " I could not resist such an appeal as this," 
 answered Mr. Grant, glancing at the paper again. 
 
 " I would have come home then, when poor 
 Jenny Avas gone, but I thought I ought to stay 
 and do what I could for the poor woman ; " and 
 Fanny continued her narrative, describing every 
 thing that took place at Mrs. Kent's till her 
 departure, including her visit to Dr. Porter's, the 
 funeral, and her confession to the bereaved mother. 
 
 " Mrs. Kent felt very bad when I told her that 
 I had stolen the money ; and she promised to pay 
 you all I had spent for her. She gave me this 
 note for you," continued Fanny, handing him the 
 paper. 
 
 Mr. Grant glanced at it, and put it in his 
 pocket. 
 
 " Fanny, if your penitence is sincere, as I hope 
 and believe it is, I shall be thankful that this 
 event has happened,'' said he. " I should have 
 been glad of an opportunity to do what you have 
 done with my money. It would have been wrong , 
 for you to steal it, even to relieve the distress of 
 so needy and deserving a person as the soldier's
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 161 
 
 wife ; but you have put it to a good use. It is 
 impossible for me to doubt your story, but I wish 
 to confirm it. When you have had your breakfast, 
 you may go to the city with me, and we will visit 
 Mrs. Kent." 
 
 " I have told the whole truth, Mr. Grant ; and 
 I am willing to do anything you say. I did not 
 ask or expect to be forgiven." 
 
 " I could have forgiven you, even without the 
 request of the dying girl." 
 
 " I do not deserve it. I expected to be sent to 
 prison," sobbed the penitent. 
 
 " I never thought of sending you to prison, or 
 to any such place. I say I forgive you, but I 
 shall be compelled to send you to your uncle's in 
 Minnesota." 
 
 " I am willing to go," replied Fanny, who, a 
 week before, would have deemed this a greater 
 hardship than being sent to prison. 
 
 Fanny went to her breakfast. Mrs. Green and 
 the servants were surprised, not to say disgusted, 
 to see Mr. Grant treat her with so much tender 
 ness. 
 
 14*
 
 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE NEW HOME. 
 
 Fanny had finished her breakfast, she put 
 on her best clothes, and started for Xew York with 
 Mr. Grant, who, perhaps, was more desirous of 
 assisting the mother of Jenny than of confirming 
 the story to which he had just listened with so 
 much interest and sympathy. We need not say 
 that the narrative of the returned wanderer was 
 found to be true in every respect, or that Mr. Grant 
 destroyed the poor woman's note of hand, by which 
 she promised to pay the sums Fanny had expended 
 in her behalf. 
 
 Mrs. Kent, while she condemned and regretted 
 the misdeeds of Fanny, was enthusiastic in the 
 praise she bestowed upon her kindness to the dying 
 girl, and of her tenderness and devotion in those 
 last trying Wirs. Mr. Grant could not doubt that
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 163 
 
 a great change had come over Fanny ; that she 
 earnestly intended to lead a true and good life. 
 Whether she would persevere, and in any degree 
 realize her present high aspirations, remained yet 
 to be demonstrated ; but he was hopeful. The 
 solemn and impressive scene through which she 
 had passed had left deep impressions upon her 
 mind and heart, which he hoped would prove as 
 lasting as they were strong. 
 
 Mr. Grant called with Fanny to see Dr. Porter ; 
 ami the benevolent physician gladdened his heart 
 by the warm commendations he lavished upon 
 Fanny ; and, without knowing of her misdeeds, he 
 declared she was a treasure in whom her friends 
 ought continually to rejoice. It was not necessary 
 that he should know what evil she had done, for 
 he might never see her again, and Mr. Grant's 
 business with him related solely to the future com 
 fort of the soldier's family. The doctor had done 
 everything that could be done for Mrs. Kent, and his 
 family were so deeply interested in the poor woman 
 that she was not likely to suffer in the future. 
 Mr. Grant promised to see him again, and cooperate
 
 164 HOPE A>'1) HAVE, OR 
 
 with him in doing what might be needed for 
 her comfort and happiness. 
 
 Mr. Grant and Fanny returned to Woodville hy 
 the noon train. The penitent girl felt that she 
 had heen forgiven, and the kindness of her friend 
 made her all the more determined to he faithful 
 to the resolutions she had made. She had not 
 hoped to escape the punishment she merited, and 
 had not been prepared for the tender words which 
 had been addressed to her when it was evident that 
 her penitence was real. 
 
 " Fanny," said Mr. Grant, as they entered the 
 library, on her return, " I shall, as I said before, 
 be obliged to send you to your uncle in Minne 
 sota." 
 
 " I am walling to go, sir," replied she, humbly. 
 
 " I understand you have frequently declared that 
 you would not go." 
 
 " I have, but I am sorry I said anything of the 
 kind." 
 
 " But I do not intend to send you there as a 
 punishment for what you have done. I freely for 
 give you."
 
 FANNY GKANT AMONG TIIK INDIANS. 165 
 
 " You are very kind to me, Mr. Grant, and I will 
 do anything you wish without complaining." 
 
 -' I am glad to see so excellent a spirit in you, 
 which makes me sorry to send you away at this 
 time. If your conduct had warranted it before, I 
 might have made different arrangements ; but it is 
 too late now. I have written to your uncle, inform 
 ing him that you would be with him next week. 
 I promised him and your aunt, when I brought 
 you here, that you should be returned to them in 
 two years ; and that time has now expired. We 
 shall be absent in Europe about six months ; when 
 we return, if your uncle is willing, I should be very 
 glad to have you come back to Woodville. I hope 
 you will like your aunt better than you used to like 
 her." 
 
 "I shall, sir." 
 
 Mr. Grant did not think it necessary to indulge 
 in any long lectures. He had forgiven Fanny, and 
 he hoped her future conduct would justify his 
 clemency. Mrs. Green and the servants saw that 
 she was a different being. She was no longer rough, 
 disobedient, and impertinent, for she entered at once
 
 166 KOPK AND IIAVI,, OR 
 
 upon her effort to be kind and obliging to all in 
 the house. In the afternoon Mr. Grant went up to 
 Hudson, where he had left Bertha and Fanny. When 
 he had gone, the reformed girl paid a visit to Ben 
 the boatman, still confined to his bed with the rheu 
 matism. She surprised him by offering to read to 
 him from the Bible an offer which he gladly ac 
 cepted. 
 
 The next day she went to school, carrying a note 
 to the teacher, which Mr. Grant hud written for her. 
 She expected to be reproached and reproved here, 
 but the teacher did not allude to her past conduct, 
 prompted in this course by the note ; her companions 
 were astonished and awed by her quiet dignity, and 
 even Kate Magner said less than might have been 
 expected. Fanny told her what had happened after 
 the separation at Pennville, and solemnly assured 
 her that she intended always to be a good girl in 
 the future. 
 
 Fanny spent Saturday afternoon with Ben, seated 
 by his bedside till dark, reading and singing to him, 
 giving him his medicine, and supplying all his wants. 
 She told him the story of her wanderings in IS'ew
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 167 
 
 York, of the death and the funeral of Jenny, all of 
 which the kindness and tenderness of Fanny to 
 himself made real. He commended her good reso 
 lutions, and hoped that, in her new home in the 
 West, she would be able to carry them out. 
 
 On Monday the family returned from Hudson, 
 and Fanny repeated her story to Bertha and her 
 sister. They were moved to tears by her narrative. 
 It had seemed to them that nothing short of a 
 miracle could reform the wayward girl ; but the 
 miracle had been wrought, as was fully proved 
 during the remainder of Fanny's stay at "Woodville. 
 It did not seem possible that the gentle and obli 
 ging girl, who was a blessing to all in the house, had 
 ever been the grief and the sorrow of her friends, 
 a thorn and a torment to all who came in contact 
 with her. 
 
 When the time for Fanny to leave for Minnesota 
 arrived, it was hard for the family to part with her. 
 Miss Fanny begged that the arrangements might be 
 altered ; that she might be permitted to remain at 
 Woodville, or even to go to Europe with them ; but 
 her father thought \t best that the original plan
 
 168 HOTE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 should be carried out ; he believed that it would 
 be better for Fanny herself. There were many tears 
 shed when they parted. Miss Fanny was sorry to 
 lose her protegee just as her teachings, quicker.!. d 
 into life by her visit to the city, were beginning 
 to bear their fruits. 
 
 Mr. Grant had decided to attend the young travel 
 ler to her new home, for he was unwilling to trust 
 her to the care of any chance friend who might 
 undertake the charge of her, fearful lest the good 
 impressions which were beginning to take root in 
 her soul might be weakened during the long journey. 
 They travelled leisurely, and at the end of a week 
 reached Mankato, at the great bend of the Min 
 nesota River, in the southern part of the state. 
 
 John Grant, Fanny's uncle, lived at a settlement 
 near the southern line of the state, about seventy 
 miles from Mankato ; and thither Mr. Grant and 
 Fanny proceeded in a wagon, hired for the purpose. 
 They were warmly welcomed by the settlers, who 
 seldom saw any one from the busy wall-is of civili 
 zation. Tlr. Grant remained but one c.:y, v 
 he used mainly in informing the future guardians
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 1 09 
 
 of Fanny in regard to her moral, mental, and spirit 
 ual needs. He told them of the change which had 
 come over her, and hoped they would do all they 
 ccuLl to foster and encourage the growth of her 
 good principles. When he had faithfully discharged 
 his duty to his late charge, he took an affectionate 
 leave of her, and departed for his home, returning 
 to Mankato in the wagon by which he had come. 
 
 Fanny now entered upon her new life, and had 
 an opportunity to take a survey of her future home. 
 The settlement consisted of about fifty persons, most 
 of whom had emigrated from states cast of the 
 Mississippi. Among them were a few Germans, 
 Swedes, and Norwegians. The country was a perfect 
 garden by nature, and the rich, deep soil produced 
 the most abundant crops. The settlement was lo 
 cated on one of those beautiful lakes for which 
 Minnesota is distinguished, whose bright, clear waters 
 abound in fish. The lake was eight miles in. 
 length, with an average width of about three miles. 
 From it flowed a small stream, and after receiving 
 other tributaries, discharged its waters into the 
 Watonwan, which in its turn entered the Minnesota. 
 15
 
 170 HOPE AND HAVK, OR 
 
 John Grant was one of the most important per 
 sons at the settlement. He had cleared up a large 
 farm on the border of the lake, and, with more 
 means at the beginning than most of his neighbors, 
 had realixcd a high degree of prosperity. As he 
 had no children of his own, he was glad to have 
 Fanny as a member of his family, especially since 
 he had learned of the improvement in her conduct. 
 
 About one third of the population of the settle 
 ment were children, and a school had been estab 
 lished for their benefit. The instructor, Mr. Osborne, 
 a young man, brother of one of the settlers, had lost 
 his right .leg and his left arm by a terrible railroad 
 accident. He was a graduate of an Ohio college, 
 and had been engaged in preparing himself for the 
 ministry when the calamity occurred which rendered 
 him unfit for the active duties of life. From choice 
 rather than from necessity, he remained with his 
 brother at the settlement, being both teacher and 
 preacher. 
 
 Fanny immediately entered his school, and de 
 voted herself with great earnestness to her studies. 
 She soon became a favorite of Mr. Osborne, who
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 171 
 
 had learned a portion of her history, and felt a 
 strong interest in her welfare. She was a good 
 scholar, and her progress was entirely satisfactory 
 to her teacher. 
 
 In the home of her uncle, Fanny found, on her 
 arrival, a boy of her own age. His name was 
 Ethan French ; and he had come from Illinois with 
 Mr. Grant to work on the farm. He had no parents 
 living, and was expected to remain with his employer 
 till he was twenty-one. He was an uncouth fellow, 
 and though he coidd read, write, and cipher, he 
 seemed to be as uncultivated and bearish as the wild 
 Indians that roamed through the country. Fanny 
 tried to be his friend, and never neglected an oppor 
 tunity to do him a kindness ; but the more she tried 
 to serve him, the more the distance between them 
 seemed to be increased. 
 
 " I don't want nothin' to do with gals," was a 
 
 favorite maxim with Ethan ; and Fanny found it 
 
 impossible to be very sociable with him. He did 
 
 , not repel or resent her well-meant advances ; but ha 
 
 edged off, and got out of the way as fast as he could. 
 
 Fanny had made up her mind, before she came
 
 172 HOPE AXD HAVE, OR 
 
 to her uncle's home, to be contented and happy 
 there ; and she was surprised to find that she liked 
 her new residence very much. Her aunt was by no 
 laeans the person her former experience had taught 
 her to believe she was. Fanny was docile and 
 obedient, and Mrs. Grant was no longer unjust 
 and tyrannical. They agreed together remarkably 
 well, and during the short period they were per 
 mitted to be together, no hard thoughts existed, 
 and no harsh words passed between them. 
 
 Though Fanny had not been accustomed to work 
 at Woodville, she readily adapted herself to her 
 new station. There were no servants at the set 
 tlement ; people did then* own work ; and Fanny, 
 true to the good principles she had chosen^ did all 
 she could to assist her aunt. 
 
 Let it not be supposed that Fanny had no tempta 
 tions ; that the new life upon which she had entered 
 was free from peril and struggles. She was tempted 
 from within and without ; tempted to be unjust, 
 unkind, wilful, and disobedient. We cannot even 
 say that she did not sometimes yield to those 
 temptations; but she prayed for strength to resist
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THK INDIANS. 173 
 
 them. She labored to be true to her high purpose. 
 The anchor which she always wore on her breast 
 frequently reminded her of her short-comings fre 
 quently recalled the memories of the dying angel 
 who had spoken peace to her troubled soul. 
 
 " HOPE AND HAVE," she often said to herself; 
 and the words were a talisman to keep her in the 
 path of duty. Continually she kept before her what 
 she hoped to be, and continually she labored tt 
 attain the high and beautiful ideal of a true life. ; 
 
 She was happy in her new home, and her friends 
 were happy in her presence there ; but not long 
 was this happiness to continue, for even then was 
 gathering in the distance the storm which was to 
 overwhelm them with woe and desolation. An ex 
 perience of the most awful and trying character 
 was in store for Fanny, for which her growth in 
 grace and goodness was the best, and indeed the 
 only preparation. 
 
 By treaty and purchase the United States govern 
 ment had obtained vast tracts of the lands of the 
 various sub-tribes of the Sioux and Dakotah Indians. 
 15*
 
 * 
 
 174 HOPE AXD HATE, OR 
 
 By the original treaty the native s had referred for 
 their own use the country on both sides of the 
 Minnesota lliver, including a tract one hundred 
 and fifty miles in length by twenty in breadth. 
 When the Senate of the United States came to 
 act upon the treaty, it was made a condition of 
 the approval that this reservation should also be 
 ceded to the whites. The Indians assented to the 
 condition, but no lands being appropriated for their 
 use, as agreed, they had moved upon the reserva 
 tion, and their right to it was recognixed. 
 
 A portion of this reservation was subsequently 
 acquired by purchase, but the Indians continued 
 to occupy the rest of it. By the various treaties, 
 the Indians were paid certain sums of money every 
 year, and supplied with quantities of goods, such 
 as blankets, clothing, tools, and arms. But the 
 money was not paid, nor the goods delivered, when 
 due. The Indians were cheated by traders, and 
 the debts due the latter were taken from the 
 money to be paid the former. The neglect of the 
 government, fully occupied in suppressing the re-
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 1 75 
 
 bellion at the South, and the immense frauds 
 practised upon the simple natives, roused their 
 indignation, and stirred up a hatred which culmi 
 nated in the most terrible Indian massacre recorded 
 in the annals of our country.
 
 176 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE INDIAN MASSACKE. 
 
 THOUGH there were no Indians residing very 
 near the Lake Settlement, they frequently visited the 
 place, and the settlers were on familiar terms with 
 them. At the house of John Grant they were 
 always treated with kindness and a generous hos 
 pitality. Among those who sometimes came was 
 a chief called Lean Bear. Fanny was much inter 
 ested in these dcni/ens of the forest, and she 
 exerted herself to please them, and particularly the 
 chief of the Red Irons, as his tribe was called. 
 She sang to him, brought him milk and bread, 
 and treated him like a great man. lie was a 
 brawny fellow, mbrose and savage, and though he 
 smiled slightly, he did not seem to appreciate her 
 kindness. 
 
 About the 15th of August, when Fanny had
 
 FANNY GKANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 177 
 
 been at the settlement less than two months, Mr. 
 Grant started for one of the Indian Agencies, on 
 the Minnesota Iliver, for the purpose of procuring 
 supplies of the traders in that vicinity. lie went 
 with a wagon and a. span of horses, intending to 
 be absent ten days. 
 
 One morning, when he had been gone a week, 
 Mrs. Grant was milking the cows, of which they 
 kept twenty. Ethan was helping her, and Fanny, 
 not yet a proficient in the art, was doing what 
 she could to assist. Doubtless she was rather 
 bungling in the operation, for the cow was not as 
 patient as usual. 
 
 " Seems like you gals from the east don't know 
 much," laughed Ethan. " You are on the wrong 
 side of the creetur." 
 
 " So I am ! I thought there was something 
 wrong, for the cow don't stand quiet," replied 
 Fanny. 
 
 " No wonder ; cows allers wants things did ac- 
 cordin' to rule," added Ethan. 
 
 " I didn't mind that I was on the wrong side." 
 
 " What do the gals do out east that they don't 
 know how to milk ? "
 
 178 HOPE AND HAVE, OH 
 
 " They don't milk there." 
 
 " They don't do nothin' do they ? " 
 
 " Xot much ; at least, they didn't at Woodville." 
 
 " Well, gals isn't good for much, nohow," said 
 Ethan, .philosophically, as he commenced milking 
 another cow. 
 
 "They can do some things as well as boys." 
 
 " Perhaps they kin ; but you couldn't milk a 
 cow till you kirn out hyer." 
 
 " I could not." 
 
 " Hokee ! " suddenly exclaimed Ethan. " What's 
 all that mean ? " 
 
 "What, Ethan?" 
 
 " Don't you sec all them hosses up to the house ? 
 Hokee! Them's Injins, as sure's yuu live!" 
 
 Fanny looked, and saw about twenty Indians 
 ride up to the house and dismount. The sight 
 did not alarm her, though it was rather early in 
 the morning for such a visit. 
 
 " D'ye see all them Injins, Miss Grant ? " said 
 Ethan to his mistress. 
 
 " Dear me ! What can they want at this time 
 in the morning : I must go into the house, and 
 see to them, for they'll steal like all possessed."
 
 TANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 179 
 
 Mrs. Grant put her milk-pail in a safe place, 
 and hastened to the house, which she reached 
 before any of the savages had secured their horses. 
 Five or six of the visitors entered by the front 
 door, and the rest assembled in a group, a short 
 distance from the dwelling. 
 
 " I wonder what them redskins wants here 
 so airly in the mornin'," mused Ethan, when 
 Mrs. Grant had gone. " I wonder ef they know 
 there ain't no one to home but women folks and 
 boys." 
 
 " Suppose they do know, what then ? " asked 
 Fanny. 
 
 " Xothin' ; only I reckon they kim to steal sun- 
 thin'." 
 
 " They wouldn't steal from aunt Grant." 
 
 " Wouldn't they, though ! " exclaimed Ethan, in 
 credulously. 
 
 " She has been very kind to them." 
 
 " They'd steal from their own mothers," added 
 Ethan, as he finished milking another cow, and 
 moved towards a third. 
 
 As he crossed the yard he stopped to look at
 
 180 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 the horses, and to see what had become of the 
 riders. 
 
 " Hokee ! " cried he, using his favorite expres 
 sion when excited. 
 
 " What's the matter, Ethan ? " asked Fanny. 
 
 " As true as you live, one of them bosses is 
 ' Whiteskin,' " replied he, alluding to one of Mr. 
 Grant's animals. 
 
 "One of the Indian horses?" 
 
 " Yes ; as true as you live ! I kin see the old 
 scar on his flank." 
 
 " Where could the Indians get him ? " 
 
 " That's what I want to know," continued Ethan, 
 now so much excited that he could not think of 
 his milking. "Creation hokee ! " he added his 
 usual expression when extraordinarily excited. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Creation hokee ! " repeated Ethan. 
 
 " What do you see, Ethan ? " demanded Fanny, 
 who was now so much interested that she aban 
 doned her occupation. 
 
 " There's the t'other hoss ! " replied Ethan. 
 " They've got both on 'em."
 
 FAXXY GRANT AMONG TIIK IXDIAXS. 181 
 
 " Where could they get 'them ? " said Fanny, 
 who regarded the fact indicated by her companion 
 as sufficiently ominous to excite her alarm. 
 
 " That's what I'd like to hev some 'un tell me. 
 Fanny, I tell you sunthin' hes happened." 
 
 At this moment a shrill and terrible scream was 
 heard in the direction of the house, followed by 
 the sharp crack of a rifle. Ethan, and Fanny, 
 appalled by the sounds, looked towards the house. 
 They saw Mrs. Grant rush from the back door, and 
 then fall upon the ground. Two or three Indians 
 followed her, in one of whom Fanny recognized 
 Lean Bear, the stalwart chief she had endeavore.l 
 to conciliate. He bent over the prostrate form of 
 the woman, was seen to strike several blows with 
 his tomahawk, and then to use his terrible scalping- 
 knife. 
 
 At the sound of the rifle, which seemed to be 
 a signal for the purpose, the savages who had 
 grouped together outside of the house rushed in, 
 yelling and hooting like demons. 
 
 " Creation hokee ! " gasped Ethan, his face as 
 nearly white as its sun-browned hue would permit. 
 15
 
 182 HOPE A\D IIAVK, OR 
 
 Fanny's blood was chilled in her veins ; she 
 could not speak, and her limbs seemed to be par 
 alyzed. And now in the distance harsh and dis 
 cordant sounds rose on the still morning air. They 
 came from the direction of the other portions cf 
 the settlement. The shrill screams of women, the 
 hoarse cries of men, and the unearthly yells of the 
 savages, mingled in horrible confusion. It was 
 evident to the appalled listeners that a fearful 
 Indian massacre hud commenced. They had seen 
 Mrs. Grant fall ; had seen the fierce Lean Bear 
 tomahawk and scalp her. 
 
 It was madness to stand still in the midst of so 
 much peril, but both Kthan and Fanny seemed to 
 be chained to the spot where they stood, fasci 
 nated, as it were, by the anguished cries of agony 
 and death that were borne to their revolting senses 
 by the airs cf that summer morning. The savages 
 were at that moment busy in ransacking and plun 
 dering the house, but Fanny realized that she 
 might be the next victim ; that the tomahawk of 
 the terrible Lean Bear might be glaring above her 
 head in a few moments more. She trembljd like
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 183 
 
 an aspen leaf in the extremity of her terror, as she 
 heard the terrific cries uttered by the mangled, mu 
 tilated, dying men, women, and children, far enough 
 off to be but faintly heard, yet near enough to be 
 horribly distinct. 
 
 " It's time sunthin' was did," said Ethan, with 
 quivering lips. 
 
 " What can we do ? " asked Fanny, in a husky 
 whisper. 
 
 " We must git out of sight fust. Come along 
 with me, Fanny," added Ethan, as he led the way 
 into the barn. 
 
 " They will find us here," said Fanny. 
 
 " P'rhaps they will ; but there ain't nowhere else 
 to go to.'' 
 
 " Why not run away as fast as we can ? " 
 
 "We kin run, but I reckon bullets will travel 
 faster 'n we kin." 
 
 Ethan went up a ladder to the top of the hay 
 mow, and Fanny followed him. He carried up 
 with him a small hay-fork, with which he went 
 vigorously to work in burrowing out a hole in the 
 hay. Fanny assisted him with her hands, and in a
 
 184 HOPE AXD HAVE, OK 
 
 few moments they had made an aperture deep 
 enough to accommodate them. This hiding-place 
 had been made in the back part of the mow, next 
 to the side of the barn, where there were wide 
 cracks between the boards, through which they 
 could receive air enough to prevent them from 
 being stifled. 
 
 " Xow, you get in, Fanny, and I'll fix the hay 
 so I kin tumble it all down on top on us, and bury 
 us up." 
 
 " Suppose they should set the barn afire," sug 
 gested Fanny. 
 
 " Then they' will ; we must take our chances, 
 such as they be. We hain't got much chance 
 nohow." 
 
 Fanny stepped down into the hole ; Ethan fol 
 lowed her, and pulled the mass of hay over so 
 that it fell upon them. They were four or five 
 feet below the surface of the hay. 
 
 " I would rather be killed by a bullet than burned 
 to death in the fire," said Fanny, with a shudder, 
 when her companion had adjusted the hay so as to 
 afford them the best possible means of concealment.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 185 
 
 " P'rhaps they wouldn't kill you with a bullet. 
 Them redskins is awful creeturs. They might hack 
 you all to pieces with their knives and tomahawks," 
 Avhispered Ethan. 
 
 " It's horrible ! " added Fanny, quivering with 
 emotion. 
 
 " I've hearn tell that there was some trouble with 
 the redskins up on to the reserves ; and I knowed 
 sunthin' had happened when I see them two hosses. 
 I was kind o' skeery when the varmints rid up to 
 the house." 
 
 " Do you suppose they have killed my uncle ? " 
 asked Fanny, sick at heart. 
 
 " I s'pose they hev," answered Ethan, gloomily. 
 " I reckon we'd better keep still, and not say nothin'. 
 Some o' the redskins may be lookin' for us. They're 
 pesky cunnin'." 
 
 This was good advice, and Fanny needed no per 
 suasion to induce her to follow it. Through the 
 cracks in the side of the barn she could see a few 
 houses of the settlement ; and through these apertures 
 came also the hideous sounds which denoted the 
 progress of the massacre. Great piles of curling 
 16*
 
 186 HOPE AND HAVE, OK 
 
 fimoke were rising from the burning buildings of the 
 devoted settlers, and the work of murder and pillage 
 still continued, as the relentless savages passed from 
 place to place in the execution of their diabolical 
 mission. 
 
 The greater part of the detachment which had 
 halted at the house of Mr. Grant had now departed, 
 though the sounds which came from the dwelling 
 indicated that the rest were still there. Lean Bear 
 knew the members of Mr. Grant's household. With 
 his own hand he had slain the woman who had 
 so often fed him, and ministered to his necessities, 
 thus belying the traditional character of his race ; 
 and it was not probable that he would abandon his 
 object without a diligent search for the missing 
 members of the family. 
 
 Fanny was safe for the present moment, but the 
 next instant might doom her to a violent death, to 
 cruel torture, or to a captivity more to be dreaded 
 than either death or torture. She trembled wi:h 
 mortal fear, and dreaded the revelations of each 
 new second of time with an intensity of horror which 
 cannot be understood or described.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 187 
 
 " They are comin' out of the house," said Ethan, 
 in a tremulous whisper. " There's seven, on 'em." 
 
 " Are they coming this way ? " 
 
 " No ; they are lookin' round arter us. They are 
 going down to the lake." 
 
 " I hope they won't come here." 
 
 " But they will kim here, as sure as you live." 
 
 " Do you ever pray, Ethan : " asked Fanny, im 
 pressively. 
 
 " Not much," replied he, evasively. 
 
 " Let us pray to God. He can help us, and He 
 will, if we ask Him in the right spirit." 
 
 " I dunno how," added Ethan. 
 
 " I will pray for both of us. The Indians can't 
 hear us now, hut God can." 
 
 Fanny, in a whisper, uttered a hrief and heart 
 felt prayer for protection and safety from the savage 
 monsters who were thirsting for their blood. She 
 prayed earnestly, and never before had her suppli 
 cations come so directly from her heart. She 
 plead, d for herself and for her companion, and the 
 good Father seemed to be very near to her as she 
 poured forth her simple petition.
 
 188 HOPE AXD HAVE, OR 
 
 " Thy will, not ours, be done," she murmured, as 
 she thought that it might not be the purpose of 
 " Him who doeth all things well" to save them from 
 the tomahawk of the Indians. If it was not His 
 will that they should pass in safety through this 
 ordeal of blood, she asked that they might be happy 
 in death, or submissive to whatever fate was in 
 store for them. 
 
 Ethan listened to the prayer, and seemed to join 
 earnestly in the petitions it contained. With his 
 more devout companion, he felt that God was able 
 to save them, to blunt the edges of the weapons 
 raised to destroy them, or to transform their savage 
 and bitter foes into the warmest and truest of 
 friends. 
 
 " I feel better," said Fanny, after a moment of 
 silence at the conclusion of the prayer. 
 
 " So do I," replied Ethan, whose altered look 
 and more resolute tones confirmed his words. " I 
 feel like I couU fiyht some o' them Injins." 
 
 " We can do nothing by resistance." 
 
 " I dunno ; if they don't burn the house, I reckon 
 I know v.har to find some shootin' fixin's.''
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 189 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " Mr. Grant sort o' hid his rifle and things, for 
 fear some un might steal 'em, I s'pose. I know 
 where they be ; and I reckon them redskins won't 
 find 'em." 
 
 " Let us not think of resistance. There must be 
 hundreds of Indians at the settlement." 
 
 " 'Sh ! " said Ethan, impressively. " They're 
 comin'." 
 
 The light step of the moccasoned feet of the 
 savages was now distinctly heard in the barn. 
 Their guttural jargon grated harshly on the ears of 
 the fugitives in their concealment, as they trem 
 blingly waited the issue.
 
 190 HOPE AND HAVE, OK 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE INDIAN BOY. 
 
 ABOVE the voices of the other savages, the harsh 
 and heavy tones of Lean Bear were prominent. 
 He spoke in the Indian dialect, and of course the 
 anxious fugitives could not understand what he 
 said ; but he seemed to be angry and impatient, 
 disappointed and chagrined ; and Ethan and Fanny 
 readily inferred that, as he was searching for them, 
 he was the more ferocious because he could not 
 find them. They lay silent and motionless in their 
 hiding-place, hardly daring to breathe, lest a sound 
 should reach the quick ears of their relentless foes. 
 
 The Indians searched in every nook and cranny 
 of the barn where a human being could possibly 
 be concealed. They climbed to the top of the 
 mow, pulled over the hay, jumped upon it, and 
 thrust their knives deep down. The fugitives felt
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 191 
 
 the weight of the pursuers pressing heavily down 
 upon them ; they realized that the points of the 
 bloody knives were within a short distance of their 
 vital organs ; but, breathless and silent, they lay in 
 the most agonizing suspense, expecting to be dragged 
 from their retreat, and subjected to atrocities which 
 it froze their blood to think of. 
 
 The remorseless miscreants howled with disap 
 pointed rage as the search was abandoned. Fanny 
 and Ethan drew a long sigh of relief when they 
 heard their foes on the floor beneath them. The 
 good Father to whom, they prayed so earnestly had 
 dimmed the eyes of the savages so that they could 
 not see, and the danger of that terrible moment 
 passed by them. Fanny breathed her thanks to 
 God for her safety she did not dare to speak 
 them. 
 
 The savages consulted together, using brief, sharp, 
 and exciting sentences. Their words were not un 
 derstood, and no clew to their future purposes could 
 be obtained. Lean Bear spoke in tones even more 
 savage than he had used before, and the steps of 
 the Indians were heard as they left the barn.
 
 192 HOPE AXD HAVE, OH 
 
 " Hev they gone ? " asked Ethan, in a convul 
 sive whisper. 
 
 " Yes, I think they have," replied Fanny, in a 
 tone not less agitated. " Let us thank God that 
 we are still safe." 
 
 " Don't whistle till you get out o' the woods," 
 added Ethan, who referred, not to the thanks, but 
 to the exultation which his companion appeared to 
 feel at their apparent safety. 
 
 " We must be thankful and submissive, Ethan. 
 We have been saved this time, whatever may hap 
 pen next." 
 
 " I am thankful." 
 
 " I know you are. We must trust in our Father 
 in heaven if we expect him to hear our prayer." 
 
 "'Sh!" interposed Ethan, as he became silent 
 and motionless a~ain. 
 
 The voices of the Indians were heard near the 
 barn again, and other moments of agonizing sus 
 pense were in store for the fugitives. The gruff 
 tones of Lean Bear rose above those of his com 
 panions, and it was evident that they had not yet 
 given up the search.
 
 FANXY GRANT AJIONG THE INDIANS. 193 
 
 " Ho, ho, ho ! He, he, lie ! " yelled Ihe mon 
 sters, which cries were to them expressions of sat 
 isfaction. 
 
 It was painfully clear to Ethan and Fanny that 
 the Indians had made some important discovery, or 
 done some act which would accomplish their pur 
 pose. More agonizing than the thought came the 
 reality, a few moments afterwards, while the wretches 
 outside of the barn were still shouting their hid 
 eous yells. A smell of smoke, accompanied by a 
 sharp, crackling sound, assured the waiting, trem 
 bling couple in the hay-mow that their worst fears 
 were realized. The Indians had set fire to the 
 barn. 
 
 " We are lost ! " exclaimed Fanny. " They have 
 set fire to the barn ! " 
 
 " 'Sh ! Don't say a word," interposed Ethan. 
 
 " We shall be burned to death ! " 
 
 " Don't give up ; keep still." 
 
 " Keep still ? " repeated Fanny, amazed at the 
 self-possession of her companion. " We shall be 
 burned to death in a few minutes." 
 
 " Don't say nothin', Fanny." 
 17
 
 194 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 It was not easy to keep still in that terrible 
 moment of peril, but Ethan seemed to know what 
 he was about, and his coolness and courage acted 
 as inspiration upon his terrified companion. Fanny 
 prayed again, in a hardly audible whisper ; but 
 this time, Ethan, though perhaps his heart was with 
 her, was thinking of something else. She felt more 
 calm after her prayer, though the dense smoke and 
 the snapping flames admonished her that death was 
 close at hand. The rough prairie boy looked reso 
 lute, and seemed to have conquered his fears. She 
 wondered whether he had discovered any possible 
 avenue of escape, for nothing but the promptings of 
 a strong hope, whether real or delusive, could have 
 produced such a change in his bearing. 
 
 " Better be burned up, than butchered by the 
 redskins," said he, at last. 
 
 Was this the explanation of his new-born cour 
 age ? It was a terrible alternative, but Fanny was 
 forced to believe that what he said was true. 
 
 "Is there no escape fjr us?" 
 
 " Don'no ; whar's the Injins now ? " 
 " I don't hear them," replied Fanny..
 
 FANNY GTCANT AMOXO THE INDIANS. 195 
 
 " Nuther do I. We must stay here jest as long 
 as we kin." 
 
 " But the barn is on fire ! If we are going tr> 
 get out at all, we must do so at once." 
 
 " Don't hurry. The fire's all out to t'other eend 
 o' the barn. It won't hurt us jest yit," said Ethan, 
 with wonderful coolness. " I s'pose the Injins is 
 in a hurry, and they won't stop no longer 'n they 
 want to. Jest as soon as they move off we'll git 
 out." 
 
 " How shall we get out after the barn is all in 
 a blaze ? " 
 
 " That's easy enough. I ain't a bit afeered of 
 the fire, but I am pesky skeered of the Injins." 
 
 The confidence of Ethan increased the courage 
 of Fanny. She had more to dread from the In 
 dians than he had, and if he preferred to die by 
 the flames, she ought to be willing to share his 
 fate. She commended her soul and that of her 
 companion to God, and tried to be calm and reso 
 lute, and she succeeded to an extent which aston 
 ished herself. 
 
 The fire was rapidly leaping upward, and the
 
 196 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 barn was soon enveloped in flames. The Indians 
 could not now be seen through the cracks, nor 
 could their voices be heard, and the fire-besieged 
 fugitives supposed they had gone to new fields of 
 blood and rapine. 
 
 " We can't stand it much longer kin we : " 
 said Ethan, as they heard the crash of some falling 
 timbers at the other end of the building. 
 
 " \\"e are not burned yet, but I am nearly suffo 
 cated by the smoke," replied Fanny. " Do you 
 suppose the Indians are gone ? " 
 
 " I reckon they be ; but they hain't gone fur 
 yit," added Ethan, as he applied his shoulder to 
 one of the boards on the side of the barn. 
 
 " Let me help you," said Fanny. 
 
 " You ain't nothin' but a gal, and you can't do 
 much," replied Ethan. 
 
 He was a stout boy, and the board, only slightly 
 nailed, gave way before the pressure he applied to 
 it ; but it required a great deal of labor to detach 
 it from the timbers above and below. He had 
 not begun this work a moment too soon, for the 
 flames were sweeping over the surface of the mow,
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 197 
 
 and the roof was falling in upon them. The barn 
 was stored full of new hay, which, being partially 
 green, did not burn very readily, especially the solid 
 masses of it. The heat was intense, and nothing 
 but a greater peril without could have forced them 
 to remain so long in the building. 
 
 The first board was removed, and then a second, 
 leaving an opening wide enough for them to get 
 out. They were about fifteen feet above the level 
 of the ground, but there was no difficulty, even to 
 Fanny, in the descent, though some young lacies 
 might have regarded this minor obstacle as one of 
 some importance. Ethan thrust his head out at 
 the aperture, and looked in every direction his 
 position commanded a viow of, in search of the 
 Indians, but none of them were in sight. 
 
 " Be quick, Ethan, or the fire will be upon us," 
 said Fanny, who began to feel the near approach 
 of the flames above her. 
 
 ''Where shall we go when we get out? Wo 
 must understand matters a leetle grain aforehand."' 
 
 " I think we had better go down to the lake. 
 We can take the boat and go over to the island."
 
 198 HOPE AND HAVE, OK 
 
 " That's fust rate," replied Ethan, with enthu 
 siasm. " The Injins hain't got no boats, and can't 
 follcr us. Xow we'll go down ; but be keerful. 
 It would be miserable to break your neck here, artcr 
 gittin' clear of the fire and the Injins both." 
 
 Ethan descended, holding on at each side of the 
 aperture with his hands, and thrusting his feet into 
 the solid mass of hay in the mow. Fanny, adopt 
 ing the same method, also readied the ground in 
 safety. 
 
 " 'Sh ! " said Ethan, as lie took her arm. " Run 
 for them bushes ! " and he pointed to a little thicket 
 near the barn. 
 
 Fanny ran with all her speed to the bushes, and 
 concealed herself behind them, She was immedi 
 ately followed by Ethan. The barn was now nearly 
 consumed ; the portion of the roof which had not 
 before fallen in, now sunk down with a crash upon 
 the masses of burning hay. The lake was beyond 
 the house, which they were obliged to pass in order 
 to reach their destination. 
 
 " I s'pose the sooner we start, the sooner we 11 
 git there,'' said Ethan, after he had carefully sur-
 
 FANXY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 199 
 
 veyed the ground to ascertain if any savages were 
 near. 
 
 " I am ready, Ethan. I will do whatever you 
 say." 
 
 " We'll go now, then. Foller me, Fanny." 
 
 Ethan led the way, but they had hardly emerged 
 from the bushes before they were appalled to find 
 that they were discovered by their savage foes. 
 
 " Ho, ho, ho ! " yelled the Indians from behind 
 them. 
 
 It appeared that Lean Bear and his companions 
 had waited in the vicinity until the burning barn 
 was so far consumed that it was not deemed possible 
 for a human being to remain concealed in it, and 
 then moved off towards another part of the settle 
 ment. With watchful eyes behind as well as before 
 them, they had discovered the young fugitives when 
 they left the clump of bushes. 
 
 " Ho, ho, ho ! " shouted the painted wretches, as 
 they gave chase to Fanny and Ethan. 
 
 " Run for the house ! " cried Ethan. 
 
 " Why not for the lake : " asked Fanny, in an 
 agony of despair.
 
 200 HOPE AND HAVE, OU 
 
 " They'll ketch you afore you git half way there. 
 llun for the house ! " 
 
 They were both running with all their might ; 
 and Fanny, though against her judgment, directed 
 her steps to the house. As they approached the 
 back door, an Indian boy and a squaw came out 
 of the building, where they had probably been 
 searching for such valuables as might have escaped 
 the hasty observation of the party who had sacked 
 the premises. The boy was apparently about ten 
 years old, and the woman appeared to be his 
 mother. 
 
 Fanny, not suspecting any harm from a woman 
 and so young a boy, still ran towards the door, 
 being in advance of Ethan, who was chivalrous 
 enough to place himself in position to cover the 
 retreat of his companion in case of need. To the 
 surprise of Fanny, the squaw placed herself in her 
 path, and attempted to seize her, uttering yells 
 hardly less savage than those of her male com 
 panions, The terrified girl paused in her rapid 
 flight till Lthan came up. The resolute fellow had 
 already picked up a heavy cart stake, and when he
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 201 
 
 saw the new and unexpected peril which menaced 
 Fanny, he rushed forward, and though the squaw 
 drew a long knife and stood her ground, he dealt 
 her a heavy blow on the head, which felled her to 
 the ground. 
 
 " Run into the house as fast as you kin, Fanny," 
 said Ethan. 
 
 She obeyed, and, in doing so, passed the scalped 
 and mutilated form of her aunt, which lay near the 
 door. The sight made her sick at heart, and she 
 had almost fainted under the horror induced by a 
 single glance at the ghastly spectacle. Such might, 
 and probably would be her own fate, for it was 
 hoping against hope to expect any other issue. 
 
 She reached the door, and clung to the post for 
 support. Then she saw that Ethan, instead of fol 
 lowing her, was pursuing the Indian boy. It was 
 but a' short chase, for he immediately overtook the 
 youth, and in spite of his yells, dragged him into 
 the house with him. Ethan seemed then to have 
 a savage spirit, for he handled the boy without 
 mercy, dragging him by the hair of the head, and 
 kicking him to accelerate his movements.
 
 202 HOPE ANI) HAVE, OR 
 
 The capture of the young Indian had been wit 
 nessed by the whole of the pursuing party, who 
 yelled with renewed vigor when they saw him borne 
 into the house. When they reached the place where 
 the squaw had fallen, they paused. The tall form 
 of Lean Bear was seen bending over her, and it 
 Avas plain that there was confusion in the counsels 
 of the savages. 
 
 " Hold this boy, Fanny," said Ethan, out of breath 
 with the violence of his exertions, as he took from 
 the belt of the little prisoner a small scalping-knife, 
 and offered it to Fanny. " Don't let him go, no 
 how ; stick him ef he don't keep still.'' 
 
 " I can hold him ; I don't wan't the knife," re 
 plied she, as she grasped the boy by the arms, 
 bending them back behind him. 
 
 Taking her handkerchief, she tied his arms behind 
 him, so that he was powerless to do her any mischief. 
 She then cut off a portion of the clothes line, which 
 hung up in the kitchen, and tied his feet together. 
 In this condition, he was secured to a door. The 
 boy looked cool and savage ; he did not cry, and
 
 FANNY GKANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 203 
 
 ceased to struggle only when the bonds prevented 
 him from doing so. 
 
 " Now we are ready for sunthin'," said Ethan, 
 as he appeared with two guns and a revolver, which 
 he had taken from their place of concealment behind 
 the oven.
 
 204 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE CONFERENCE. 
 
 MR. GRANT, like all settlers and backwoodsmen, 
 had a profound respect and veneration for his weap 
 ons. They were absolutely necessary for purposes 
 of defence in a new country, and upon their skilful 
 use often depended the supplies in the family larder. 
 More coveted than any other property by the Indians, 
 trappers and strollers of the prairies, he was obliged 
 to secure them carefully, so that they should not be 
 stolen; and Mr. Grant, in building his house, had 
 provided the place behind the oven for their re 
 ception. 
 
 One of the guns was a fowling-piece, and the 
 other a rifle. The appropriate ammunition for each 
 was kept in the secret closet with the weapon. 
 For the revolver there was a plentiful supply of 
 patent cartridges. Mr. Grant owned two of these 
 arms, but the other he had taken with him.
 
 FANNY GEANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 205 
 
 Like all western boys, Ethan French was accus 
 tomed to the use of the rifle and the fowling-piece, 
 though he had never particularly distinguished him 
 self as a marksman. It was a bold idea on his part 
 to think of defending Fanny and himself from the 
 attacks of the savages ; but, desperate as was the 
 thought, it was his only hope, for the Indians were 
 murdering all who fell into their hands. There was 
 a slight chance for him, which he was disposed to 
 improve. 
 
 Ethan evidently had some other purpose in view 
 than that of merely defending himself and his com 
 panion from the savages a purpose indicated by his 
 capture of the Indian boy, though he had not had 
 time to explain it to Fanny. He was firm and 
 resolute, exhibiting a courage which no one would 
 have supposed he possessed ; indeed, we can hardly 
 know what is in any person until he is tried in the 
 fiery furnace. 
 
 Fanny, too, had ceased to tremble. The firmness 
 
 and determination of Ethan had inspired her with 
 
 courage, and without stopping to consider the odds 
 
 against him, she ventured to hope that his efforts 
 
 18
 
 206 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 would be crowned with some measure of success. 
 The occupation of the last few moments was cal 
 culated to increase her courage, for " something to 
 do " is always the best antidote for fear. She had 
 bound the young savage, and secured him to the 
 door, when Ethan appeared with the weapons ; and 
 now she anxiously waited the development of his 
 next movement. 
 
 " What are you going to do, Ethan ? " she asked, 
 as her companion walked to the door. 
 
 "I don't know jest exactly what I'm go'ri to do; 
 but I'm go'n to do sunthin', as sure as you're alive. 
 I reckon I've done sunthin' already, for them Injins 
 hes come to a dead halt." 
 
 " Can you see them ? " 
 
 " Yes, I kin. They look kinder anxious." 
 
 The group of savages had gathered around the 
 prostrate form of the squaw. She could not have 
 been killed, or even very badly injured, by the blow 
 she had received. Two of the party appeared to be 
 at work over her, while the others, among whom 
 Lean Bear was prominent, were holding a consulta 
 tion near the spot.
 
 FANNY GKANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 207 
 
 " I reckon I got 'em whar the har 's short," added 
 Ethan, with something like a chuckle at his own 
 cleverness. 
 
 " What do you mean, Ethan ? " asked Fanny, not 
 yet able to comprehend the situation. 
 
 " D'ye see that little Injin ? " replied he, pointing 
 at the prisoner. 
 
 " Yes ; and I wondered what you dragged him 
 into the house for." 
 
 "Don't you see his fine fixin's his necklaces 
 and his moccasons ? I reckon that boy belongs to 
 the big Injin." 
 
 " You mean Lean Bear." 
 
 "Yes, if that's his name. He looks enough 
 like him to be his son. Gittin' him 's what made 
 'em stop short jist whar they was. I tell you we've 
 got 'em whar the har 's short." 
 
 "What are you going to do with him?" 
 
 "Don't ye see?" replied Ethan, as he finished 
 loading the last of the weapons. " I'm go'n to 
 shoot some of them Injins ; and ef they don't keep 
 off I'm go'n to shoot the boy." 
 
 " You wouldn't do that, Ethan."
 
 208 HOPE AND HAVE, OB 
 
 " You bet ! " replied he, firmly, using more west 
 ern slang than was necessary, though he was de 
 pendent upon such expressions for the force of his 
 language. 
 
 " But it would be wicked to kill the poor boy." 
 
 " What's them Injins doin' to all the white folks r" 
 
 " That is no reason why you should kill a harm 
 less boy." 
 
 " I don't want to kill him ; it would make me 
 feel bad to do any sech thing. Ef any of them 
 Injins come near us, I'm go'n to show 'em what 
 I kin do. Keep still now ; one on 'em is comin* 
 up this way." 
 
 Ethan placed himself at one of the open windows, 
 and cocked the rifle. One of the party M-as mov 
 ing towards the house, apparently sent thither by 
 Lean Bear, who appeared suddenly to have become 
 very quiet and harmless. 
 
 " See hyer, Fanny," said Ethan, still keeping his 
 eye fixed on the approaching foe. 
 
 " What shall I do ? " asked Fanny. 
 
 " Did you tie that little Injin's hands strong ? '' 
 
 " As well as I could with my handkerchief."
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 209 
 
 " Letter do it better with the clothes line. Then 
 undo his feet, and put a rope round his neck." 
 
 "Around his neck!" exclaimed Fanny, horrified 
 at the suggestion. 
 
 " Jest to lead him by. We may want to quit 
 this house reyther suddin." 
 
 Fanny obeyed, satisfied that Ethan did not intend 
 to hang the boy. The Indian, approaching the house, 
 moved very slowly and cautiously, frequently stop 
 ping, and examining the house with great care. 
 Ethan was on one of his knees, pointing the rifle 
 at the single Indian, resting it on the sill of the 
 window. When Lean Bear's messenger saw him, 
 he came to a halt, and began to make earnest 
 gestures, pointing to his belt, and throwing out 
 his arms to indicate that he had no weapons. 
 
 " What does that crcetur want ? " mused Ethan. 
 
 " He wants to talk with you," replied Fanny, 
 correctly interpreting his gestures. 
 
 " I can't talk Injin kin you ? " 
 
 " No ; but some of the Indians talk English." 
 
 " What ye want ? " shouted Ethan, satisfied that 
 the man's intentions were peaceful. 
 18*
 
 210 IIOI'E AND HAVE, OR 
 
 " Talk ! talk ! " replied the messenger. 
 
 *' Kim along, then," replied Ethan. " That's jest 
 what I want, too,'' he added, to Fanny. " I want 
 to tell them Injins that this hyer boy will ketch 
 fits if they don't let us be." 
 
 The Indian, still gesticulating, continued to ap 
 proach the house with cautious step. Ethan put 
 aside the rifle, and took the revolver, which he was 
 careful that the messenger should see. 
 
 " Stop thyer ! " said he, when the Indian had come 
 within twenty feet of the house ; and, at the same 
 time, he elevated his pistol to enforce obedience to 
 his order. 
 
 " Me talk," said the messenger. 
 
 " Well ! what ye got to say ? " asked Ethan. 
 
 "You got Wahena little Wahena." 
 
 " Yes, sir ! " replied Ethan, with emphasis. " I've 
 got him, and I mean to keep him." 
 
 " Xo keep ! We want Wahena," continued the 
 messenger. 
 
 " Xo git him," added Ethan, who was inclined to 
 be facetious at times, especially when the advantage 
 was on his side.
 
 FANNY GKANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 211 
 
 " Lean Bear's son. Big Lean Bear little Wa- 
 hena." 
 
 " You can't hev him, nohow," said Ethan, de 
 cidedly. 
 
 "Me get Wahena you go 'way no kill, no 
 hurt." 
 
 " You can't fool me." 
 
 "No kill, no hurt." 
 
 " No, yer don't ! " 
 
 "Give Wahena no kill, no hurt," repeated the 
 messenger, impressively. 
 
 " You git out ! " 
 
 "No give Wahena, Lean Bear kill!" 
 
 " Two kin play at that game," added Ethan, 
 shaking his head. " Ef you don't quit, I'll kill the 
 boy." 
 
 " No kill Wahena ! " cried the savage, evidently 
 horrified at the threat. 
 
 " Yes, I will, old boy, ef you don't all go off, 
 and quit right away. I know what's what, 'n you 
 can't fool me, nohow." 
 
 " Why not give up the boy, if they will let us 
 go ? '' asked Fanny.
 
 212 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 "You can't trust one o' them Injin creel urs no 
 more'n you kin trust a rattlesnake, nohow. Jest 
 fetch the boy here, and I'll show 'em what I mean." 
 
 Fanny had fastened Wahena's hands more se 
 curely behind him, and attached one end of the 
 line to his neck. She had removed the cord from 
 his ankles, so that he could walk, while by the 
 rope at his neck he could be kept under perfect 
 control. Ethan took the line, and led the boy out 
 at the door, where he was placed in full view of 
 the savages. His captor still held the loaded pistol 
 in his hand. 
 
 " No kill Wahena ! " shouted the messenger, 
 fiercely. 
 
 "I won't hurt him cf you all go off go 'way 
 clear out quit the ranch." 
 
 " Xo hurt ? " asked the Indian. 
 
 " All go 'way," answered Ethan, pointing to the 
 west with the revolver. 
 
 "Give Wahena all go." 
 
 " Xo, sir I " 
 
 "*1N"o give Wahena ? " 
 
 " I'll kill him ef them crccturs come hyer," said
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 21 & 
 
 Ethan, sternly, as he pointed the pistol at the boy's 
 head. 
 
 " No kill Wahena ! " shouted the messenger. 
 
 " Tell 'em to keep back, then." 
 
 This demonstration on the part of Ethan had 
 been caused by the sudden movement of the sav 
 ages towards the house. Their spokesman fortu 
 nately understood his meaning, and turning round, 
 he shouted out a few words in the Indian dialect, 
 accompanying them with violent gestures, which 
 had the effect to stop the nearer approach of the 
 band. As they moved back, Ethan lowered his 
 weapon. Wahena did not flinch, nor exhibit any 
 signs of terror while he was menaced with the pistol, 
 though he looked stern and resolute, as he had 
 probably been taught to be by his savage father. 
 
 Ethan, finding that he had the power all in 
 his own hands, walked a few paces nearer to the 
 messenger, dragging his prisoner after him. It was 
 not an easy matter to carry on a conversation with 
 the savage, whose knowledge of the English lan 
 guage was limited to a few words ; but after a long 
 time, and a great deal of effort, he succeeded in
 
 214 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 making the Indian spokesman understand his inten 
 tion. He refused to give up Wahena, but he 
 promised that the boy should not be injured if 
 the Indians would retire, and not attempt to molest 
 Fanny or himself. He assured the messenger that 
 he would kill the boy if the savages followed, cr 
 fired upon himself or his companion. 
 
 It was a long and trying conference, and when 
 the parties came to an understanding, the Indian 
 withdrew to communicate the result to his chief. 
 Ethan returned to the house with his prisoner, and 
 from the window watched the movements of the 
 foe, while he related to Fanny what had passed 
 between himself and the messenger during the in 
 terview. 
 
 " I reckon they'll do it, Fanny," said Ethan. 
 
 " I hope they will." 
 
 " When we are safe, they kin hev the Injin boy ; 
 I don't want him. I reckon it was a smart idee 
 o' mine, ketchin' the young cub " 
 
 " I think it was a very good idea. They would 
 certainly have butchered us before this time if it 
 hadn't been for him."
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG TIIK INDIANS. 215 
 
 " I reckon they would ; but of I knows myself, 
 some on 'em would hev gone down fust." 
 
 " I suppose the Indians have murdered a great 
 many people." 
 
 "I reckon they hev." 
 
 " It's awful ! " exclaimed Fanny, shuddering, as 
 she glanced at the place where poor Mrs. Grant 
 lay cold and still in death. 
 
 "So 'tis, but 'tain't no use to think on't now; 
 it makes a feller feel kind o' weak and sickly. 
 We must figur' it out now." 
 
 " Thanks to your good management, we may yet 
 escape." 
 
 " I reckon we will. Did you ever fire a pistil, 
 Fanny ? " 
 
 " Xo, but I'm not afraid to do so." 
 
 " Better take this, then, and I'll use the guns. 
 I reckon it may be of use to you," added he, 
 handing her the weapon. " Hokee ! " suddenly 
 exclaimed he, as he glanced out of the window. 
 
 " What is it, Ethan ? " 
 
 " Them Injins is go'n off ! " 
 
 " So they are."
 
 216 HOPE AXD HAVE, OR 
 
 ' Mebbe they're comin' round to try us on t'other 
 side of the house. Ef they be, I'm thar. You hold 
 on to the little Injin, and I'll watch 'em." 
 
 Ethan went to a window on the front of the 
 house, and soon returned with the gratifying intel 
 ligence that the redskins were actually moving off 
 in the direction of the burning buildings to the 
 west of them. 
 
 " How thankful we ought to be that we have 
 been saved ! " said Fanny. " Let us thank .God 
 with all our hearts, Ethan." . 
 
 " We can't stop to do no more prayin' now, 
 Fanny. Besides, we ain't out o' the woods yet." 
 
 " We need not stop to pray," replied Fanny, 
 devoutly. " If the prayer is in our hearts, God 
 will understand it." 
 
 " I'm thankful, I'm sure; as a body kin be. 
 Xow, you git together everything you kin find to 
 eat, and I'll git a wheelbarrer to fetch 'em down 
 to the lake. Ef we kin only git on the island, I 
 don't kccr for all the redskins this side o' sun 
 down." 
 
 Wahena was tied up in such a way that he
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 217 
 
 could not escape, and Fanny hurriedly collected 
 everything in the shape of provisions which had 
 escaped the depredations of the Indians. Ethan 
 brought from the chambers an armful of blankets 
 and bed-quilts, and the wheelbarrow was loaded 
 with all it would contain. A bushel of potatoes, 
 a leg of bacon, a bucket of corn-meal, a small 
 supply of groceries, and a few cooking utensils, 
 constituted the stock upon which they were mainly 
 to depend for sustenance during their banishment 
 from civilized life for they knew not how long a 
 time. But both of the exiles were hopeful, though 
 very sad, when they thought of the death and 
 desolation they were leaving behind them. 
 19
 
 218 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE YOUNG EXILES. 
 
 WAHENA, with his hands still tied behind him, 
 was led by Fanny, while Ethan trundled the wheel 
 barrow, across the handles of which lay the two 
 
 
 
 guns, ready for use if occasion should require. The 
 Indians had halted on one of the little eminences 
 of the prairie, and appeared to be watching the de 
 parture of the fugitives from their once happy home. 
 Lean Bear was evidently very fond of his little son, 
 who was a boy of bright promise, measured by the 
 Indian standard. He had exhibited no concern for 
 the mother while she lay senseless upon the ground, 
 but he seemed to be willing to make any sacrifice, 
 even to the curbing of his ferocious nature, for 
 Wahena's sake. 
 
 The party of Indians on the knoll appeared to 
 be impressed with the misfort me of their leader in
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 219 
 
 the loss of his favorite son. Though the work of 
 rapine and death was still going on in the settle 
 ment, they did not heed it. The messenger had 
 probably represented to Lean Bear that "Wahena 
 would certainly be killed if he attempted to molest 
 the little party, and the chief had withdrawn far 
 enough to remove all temptation on the part of 
 Ethan to execute his threat. 
 
 The wheelbarrow was heavily loaded, and it was 
 hard work for the prairie boy to move it along over 
 the soft soil. On a hill, just before the descent to 
 the lake commenced, he paused to rest for a moment. 
 He was in excellent spirits, and was proud of the 
 success which had thus far attended his stratagem. 
 He was confident that he should reach the island 
 in safety, where, having the only boat on the lake 
 in his possession, he was satisfied that he should be 
 able to defend himself and his companion, especially 
 with Wahena as a guaranty for the good behavior 
 of the Indians. 
 
 Ethan was entirely satisfied with himself, and he 
 was about to resume the march towards the lake, 
 when his attention was attracted by a noise in the
 
 220 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 direction opposite to that in which Lean Bear and 
 his party had retreated. 
 
 " Creation hokee ! " shouted Ethan. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " asked Fanny. 
 
 " Don't you see the Injins comin' out of the 
 woods ? " replied he, as he grasped the rifle, and 
 raised it to his shoulder. 
 
 " Ho, ho, ho ! He, he, he ! " yelled the band of 
 savages, as they rushed out of the covert of the 
 trees, and ran towards the spot where Ethan stood. 
 
 " We are lost ! " gasped Fanny, almost overcome 
 by this new peril. 
 
 " No, we ain't lost, Fanny. You keep a stiff upper 
 lip. Lay right down on the ground, behind the 
 wheelbarrer, and don't let the varmints see you. 
 If they kim hyer, use that ere pistil." 
 
 One of the new enemies was considerably in ad 
 vance of the others, as if anxions to drink the first 
 blood of the victims before him. Suddenly he came 
 to a halt, raised his rifle, and fired. 
 
 " Creation hokee ! " exclaimed Ethan, as the ball 
 whistled frightfully near his head. 
 
 " Hadn't we better run ? " asked Fanny, in trem 
 bling tones.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 221 
 
 " 'Tain't no use to run ; them redskins kin beat 
 you all to pieces runnin'," replied Ethan, as he re 
 treated behind the wheelbarrow, and resting the 
 rifle upon it, took careful aim at the savage who 
 was in advance of the others. 
 
 He fired ; the Indian fell, and lay still on the 
 ground. 
 
 " That's sunthin' towards it, anyhow," continued 
 Ethan, encouraged by the success of his first shot. 
 " Ef I kin fetcli down one more on 'em, it will make 
 the rest a leetle grain skeery." 
 
 " The other Indians are coming too, Ethan," said 
 Fanny. 
 
 " Let 'em kim ; if they do we are safe." 
 
 The immediate followers of Lean Bear were rush 
 ing towards the spot with all their might. The 
 swiftest runner of the party had far outstripped his 
 companions, but it was evident to Ethan and Fanny 
 that he was moving towards the other band of 
 savages, rather than towards them. He was shout 
 ing in his own tongue words which were unintelli 
 gible to the white boy and girl. But if the words 
 were not understood, their effect was, for the hostile 
 19*
 
 222 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 band presently halted, and awaited the arrival of the 
 messenger. 
 
 In the mean time Ethan placed Wahcna in a 
 position where he could be seen by all the savages, 
 and with the revolver in his hand, stood in readi 
 ness to make another demonstration at the life of 
 the boy if it should be necessary. It was not 
 needed, for all these Indians belonged to the tribe 
 of Lean Bear, whose command was law to them. 
 
 " We are safe, Ethan," said Fanny. 
 
 " So we are ; but I've killed one Injin, and I 
 reckon I could kill some more." 
 
 " Don't you feel sorry you killed him ? " asked 
 Fanny. 
 
 " Not ef I knows myself, I don't. I'd like to kill 
 the whole boodle on 'cm, after what they've dul, 
 consarn thar picters ! I reckon we'd better be 
 go'n along." 
 
 " I think we had. It is really terrible to think 
 of killing a man." 
 
 " 'Tain't no more terrible 'n killin' all them women 
 'n childern up to the settlement," replied Ethan, as 
 he raised the handles of the barrow and moved on.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 223 
 
 " I hope they'll send the sogers up here, and kill 
 off all the Injins this side o' sundown." 
 
 " I hope it won't be necessary to do that," added 
 Fanny. 
 
 " It ought to be did. What's them Injins good 
 for but to be shot ? I kinder wish they'd kim, so I 
 could have fetched down some more on 'em, consarn 
 'em ! " 
 
 " It is lucky the party of Lean Bear was near 
 enough to turn them back. We might have been 
 killed before this time." 
 
 " I dunno," replied Ethan, shaking his head. 
 
 " You have done nobly, Ethan ; but Wahena has 
 saved us so far." 
 
 " I know that ; I ketched him for jest what he 
 has did for us." 
 
 The rest of the way to the lake -\vas down a 
 gentle declivity, and the wheelbarrow moved more 
 easily than before. In a short time they reached 
 their destination, on the shore of the beautiful sheet 
 of water at which was moored a boat. It was not 
 such a craft as the Greyhound, in. which Fanny had 
 been accustomed to sail ; it was a bateau, or flat-
 
 224 HOPE AND HAVE, OK 
 
 bottomed boat, with very sharp slopes under the 
 bow and stern. It had a keel and rudder, and was 
 provided with a sail. 
 
 The stores and utensils from the wheelbarrow 
 were quickly transferred to the boat, and then the 
 barrow itself was placed on board. The wind now 
 blew tolerably fresh, and was fair for reaching the 
 island ; but Ethan, with all his other accomplish 
 ments, knew no more about the management of a 
 boat than of a ship, which he had never even seen. 
 This boat had been built by Mr. Grant and a car 
 penter of the settlement during the preceding win 
 ter, and Ethan had never sailed in it but once. 
 
 " I don't know nothin' about this hyer thing," 
 said Ethan. " I kin paddle, but I reckon the sail 
 would tip us over." 
 
 " I can manage it," replied Fanny, confidently. 
 
 " Kin ye ? Did ye ever manage a boat with a 
 sail ? " 
 
 " Yes, once," answered Fanny, and she thought 
 with shame of the cruise she had made in the Grey 
 hound. " Let us hoist the sail, and we can run 
 ever to the island in a few moments."
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 225 
 
 Fanny, assisted by Ethan, hoisted the sail, and 
 the bateau darted out of the little cove where she 
 had been moored. Wahena, who had been as stoical 
 in danger as his race, uttered an exclamation of 
 alarm, perhaps called forth by the novelty of the 
 situation and of the peril. Ethan was not entirely 
 satisfied with the movements of the boat under sail, 
 for she careened under the fresh breeze, till her 
 gunwale was within an inch of the surface of the 
 lake. Fanny took the helm, and, as she eased off 
 the sheet, which her previous experience had taught 
 her to do in such an emergency, the boat came up 
 to an even keel, and the confidence of the prairie 
 boy was fully restored. 
 
 " I don't want to be tipped over and drownded, 
 arter we've got away from the Injins," said he, in 
 apology for his timidity. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't fear the water, after the ter 
 rible scenes we have passed through," replied Fanny ; 
 " but there is no danger." 
 
 " I dunno 's there is ; but even the little Injin 
 boy was skeered when she tipped so." 
 
 " I ought to have unfastened this rope before
 
 226 HOrE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 we hoisted the sail," added Fanny, pointing to the 
 sheet. 
 
 " I ain't afeerd, if you ain't, Fanny. I don't 
 reckon we could 'a paddled her over to the island 
 in seven year." 
 
 " It would have taken a long time," said Fanny, 
 glancing back at the smoking buildings of the 
 settlement. 
 
 She was sad at heart when she thought of the 
 murder and destruction which had occurred that 
 morning. It was pleasant on the lake, but neither 
 Fanny nor Ethan was in a condition to enjoy the 
 sail. Each was thinking of friends in the settle 
 ment who had probably been slain by the remorse 
 less savages. Fanny steered the bateau in silence, 
 till she reached the shore of the island, which was 
 about two miles from the point where the party had 
 embarked. It was very small, containing not more 
 than half an acre of land. A single tree grew on 
 the highest part, and all of it was covered with 
 grass, like the ground on the western shores of the 
 lake. 
 
 A landing was effected under the lee of the land,
 
 FAXN'Y G HAN'T AMONG THE INDIAXS. 227 
 
 and the cargo of the bateau removed to the shore. 
 Wahena was taken to the middle of the island, and 
 fastened' to the tree. From this point a view of 
 all the surrounding country could be obtained, and 
 with ordinary care on the part of the exiles, it 
 would be impossible for an enemy to approach 
 without their knowledge. The provisions and other 
 articles were transported on the wheelbarrow to the 
 tree. 
 
 " I should kinder like this, ef the folks hadn't 
 all been killed off," said Ethan, when the work was 
 done, and he had seated himself at Fanny's side, 
 in the shade of the tree. 
 
 " We were very fortunate to escape with our lives, 
 Ethan, and I feel very thankful,'' replied Fanny. 
 
 " So do I ; and ef you want to say your prayers 
 now, we hain't got nothin' else to do." 
 
 " I have said them many times ; God can hear 
 us even when we do not speak aloud." 
 
 " I s'pose so ; well, I said mine, too ; and that's 
 a thing I don't do very often." 
 
 " I have no doubt they strengthened your arm, 
 and made you feel brave."
 
 228 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 " I dunno but they did ; but I feel as though a 
 leetle grain o' breakfast would strengthen my arm 
 most jest now." 
 
 Fanny was not very well pleased with the manner 
 in which her rude companion spoke of serious things, 
 and she improved the opportunity to embody the 
 prayer of her heart in words. It was a fervent 
 utterance, and Ethan seemed to join her in spirit. 
 Both of them were grateful not abstractly grateful, 
 but grateful to God for his mercy in saving them 
 from torture and death at the hands of the savages. 
 
 They sat in silence for a moment after the prayer, 
 and then Fanny suggested that they should prepare 
 their breakfust. Ethan had brought with him a 
 shovel and a sharp axe, and while Fanny was peeling 
 the potatoes and cutting the bacon, he dug out a 
 kind of fireplace in the side of the hill. Some dead 
 branches from the tree supplied them with dry fuel. 
 Fried ham and fried potatoes were soon provided, 
 and they sat down to their morning meal. 
 
 " I should like this fust rate if we hadn't been 
 druv away from hum jest as we was," said Ethan. 
 
 " It would be very pleasant if we could forget the
 
 FANNY GBAXT AMONG THE INDIANS. 229 
 
 poor people who have been killed and mangled bj' 
 the savages," replied Fanny, sadly. 
 
 " I reyther like campin' out, and travellin' ove/ 
 the peraries, as we did when we kim up hyer." 
 
 " What is to become of us, after all, Ethan ? " 
 
 "I dunno ; we must stop hyer, I s'pose." 
 
 " We cannot remain here a great while." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Our provisions will not last many days." 
 
 " We kin git more." 
 
 " I don't think it is safe for us to go over to 
 the settlement again." 
 
 " We've got plenty o' powder ? n shot, and thyers 
 ducks and birds enough. And this lake 's full of 
 fish." 
 
 " But we must leave some time. We could not 
 stay here through the winter." 
 
 " We kin git off somewhar bime-by. I dunno 
 what all this business means whether the Injins 
 is killin' off everybody or not. Sunthin' '11 happen 
 one o' these days." 
 
 It was impossible to plan for the future, for no 
 one could tell what a day might bring forth. It 
 20
 
 230 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 was evident to the young exiles that the lake set 
 tlement had been destroyed, and the greater portion 
 of the people killed, though they had no positive 
 knowledge of the extent of the horrible massacre. 
 They did not know, what was really true, that the 
 onslaught of the savages extended over hundreds 
 of miles of territory, and that its victims were num 
 bered by hundreds. 
 
 When Ethan and Fanny had finished their break 
 fast, Wahena was unbound and permitted to eat 
 all he wanted. His appetite did not seem to be at 
 all impaired by his imprisonment, for he ate with a 
 greediness which threatened to make serious inroads 
 upon the scanty stock of provisions. While he 
 was thus occupied, Fanny sang one of her Sunday 
 school hymns, a sad and plaintive air, which not 
 only moved Ethan to the depths of his heart, but 
 visibly affected the little savage. Noticing the effect, 
 she followed up the impression until she was sur 
 prised to see Wahena offer her his hand.
 
 FANXY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 231 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE NIGHT ATTACK. 
 
 FANNY sang "Sweet Home" to the young In 
 dian, with the feeling that there was no longer a 
 spot on earth which she could call by that endear 
 ing name. By this time, Mr. Grant, with Bertha 
 and Fanny, were in Europe, and it would he months 
 before she could see them again. Pier uncle had 
 probably been killed by the war party of Lean 
 Bear, while returning to his home, as the pos 
 session of his horses by the Indians indicated. Her 
 aunt lay mangled and unburied near the house 
 which had been her happy home. The settlement 
 was doubtless broken up and deserted ; for all who 
 had not been killed or captured by the Indians 
 must have fled to the woods and the prairies for 
 safety. 
 
 The feeling of loneliness in Fanny gave to her
 
 232 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 song a touching pathos, which, with the sad sweet 
 ness of the melody itself, made the great tears 
 roll down the bronzed checks of Ethan, and touched 
 the heart of even the young savage. Wahena 
 looked long and earnestly at Fanny, when he had 
 finished his breakfast. The music pleased him, 
 and its charms literally soothed his savage breast. 
 She sang other songs, and he began to make 
 friendly demonstrations towards her, which ended 
 in the offer of his hand. She accepted the prof 
 fered token of friendship. 
 
 Wahena spoke to her, but of course she could 
 not understand a word of his language. He made 
 signs, using the earnest gestures peculiar to the 
 Indians. He shook his head, pointed to her, and 
 then to the shore of the lake in the direction of 
 the settlement. She thought he meant to say that 
 he would not permit his father to injure her ; but 
 she was not very sure. The young savage was 
 certainly disposed to be her friend, and manifested 
 his interest in her by all the means within his 
 power. 
 
 " Well, Fanny, it's about time for me to go to
 
 FANNY GKANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 233 
 
 work," said Ethan, after he had observed the 
 demonstrations between her and Wahena for a 
 time. 
 
 " What are you going to do, Ethan ? I thought 
 you had no work." 
 
 " Plenty of it, I reckon. 'Tain't no use to 
 groan over what can't be helped. We may as well 
 make the best on't." 
 
 " Of course we will not complain of what we 
 cannot help. Ethan, do you know what my motto 
 is?" 
 
 " Your what ? " asked Ethan, with a vacant stare. 
 
 "My motto." 
 
 " That's sunthin' in Latin, or some outlandish 
 lingo ain't it ? " 
 
 " Mine is in plain English." 
 
 " I've hearn tell of some Latin stuff they called 
 a motto out in Illinois ; I forgit what it was now." 
 
 " ' Hope and have,'' is my motto." 
 
 " What does that mean ? 'Tain't Latin, but it 
 might as well be." 
 
 " It means hope for the best, and then you will 
 work the harder to have it." 
 20*
 
 234 HOPE AMJ HAVE, OK 
 
 " Thet jest fits my case." 
 
 " The motto was given me by a very good girl 
 in New York, who was dying of consumption. 
 They were the last words she spoke, and they were 
 engraved on her tombstone. I will tell you the 
 whole story about her some time." 
 
 " I should like to hear it, fust rate ; but I reckon 
 we've got sunthin' else to do jest now. I hope we 
 shall hev sunthin' like a house for you to sleep in 
 to-night." 
 
 " Hoping alone will not build the house, Ethan ; 
 besides, we don't hope much for that which we are 
 not willing to work for." 
 
 " I know thet ; and I'm go'n to work on the 
 house right away now," replied Ethan, as he rose 
 from the ground, and took his shovel. 
 
 " I will help you, for I hope we shall have a 
 house to keep us out of the wet if it should hap 
 pen to rain." 
 
 "You are nothin' but a gal," said Ethan, rather 
 contemptuously. 
 
 " But I can help you. How shall you build a 
 house ? "
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 235 
 
 "Well, I don't quite know." 
 
 " I can help you think, if nothing more, Ethan." 
 
 " So you kin, Fanny. You are right down smart. 
 I don't know as .we should ever hev got over to 
 this island ef 't hadn't been for you."* 
 
 " Do you think we could get the boat out of 
 the water, Ethan ? " 
 
 " I reckon we could," replied Ethan, rubbing his 
 head to stimulate his ideas. " I kin cut some roll 
 ers, and kinder pry it along." 
 
 Fanny minutely detailed her plan for a house, 
 which, after much explanation, was adopted. As 
 soon as Ethan comprehended her idea, he became 
 very enthusiastic for its execution. 
 
 " I reckon we must tie up the young Injin afore 
 we go to work," said he, taking the cord, and 
 moving towards Wahena. 
 
 The little savage looked appealingly at Fanny, 
 placed his hand upon his breast, shook his head 
 violently, and frequently pointed to the shore of 
 the lake. She interpreted his signs to mean that 
 he would not attempt to escape, and she so in 
 formed Ethan.
 
 236 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 " I dassent trust him," said he. 
 
 " He can't get away if he tries," replied Fanny. 
 
 " But he may take one of the guns and kill one 
 on us." 
 
 " Put all the weapons out of the way, then, and 
 I will keep watch of him," added Fanny, who 
 wished to conciliate Wahena. 
 
 Ethan consented, and climbing the tree with his 
 axe, he commenced cutting off the large branches 
 which were to be used in the construction of the 
 house. 
 
 The plan which Fanny had devised was a very 
 simple one. The slope of the land on the island 
 was about four feet to a rod. The bateau was to 
 be rolled up the acclivity about thirty feet, and 
 turned bottom upward. The lower end was then 
 to be gradually pried up until it was level with 
 the upper end, leaving a space of four feet under 
 the higher part. Stakes were to be set in the 
 ground under the gunwale to support the boat, 
 and form the sides of the house. The smaller 
 branches of the tree were to be interlaced in the 
 stakes, beginning at the bottom, and the sods and
 
 FANNY GKANT AMONG THE INDIANS. Zo7 
 
 the dirt thrown from the inside against this net 
 work, leaving the ground level under the roof. 
 
 The bateau was sixteen feet long and five feet 
 wide, and the most difficult part of the work was 
 getting it out of the water, and moving it up the 
 hill. Ethan and Fanny worked as hard as they 
 could till sundown with rollers and levers, Avhcn 
 they had the boat in position, and the end elevated 
 to the required level. Wahena showed his grati 
 tude for the freedom granted to him by assisting 
 in the labor, and made himself very useful. 
 
 After the party had taken their suppers, Ethan 
 made a bed of the blankets and quilts for Fanny, 
 under the boat, covering the open sides with the sail 
 and a coverlet. 
 
 " Where are you going to sleep, Ethan ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " I ain't go'n to sleep nowhar," replied he. 
 
 " You are not going to stay up all night." 
 
 " That's jest what I'm go'n to do." 
 
 " What for ? " 
 
 " S'pose'n them Injins should kim over in the 
 night."
 
 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 " I thought you said they could not get over 
 here." 
 
 " I reckon they can't, ef I keep my eyes open." 
 
 " But you must sleep." 
 
 " Ef I do, I must do my sleepin' in the day 
 time. Ef we should all go to sleep hyer, we might 
 wake up in th3 mornin', and find our throats cut. 
 'Tain't safe, nohow." 
 
 " You have worked hard to-day, Ethan, and you 
 must be very tired." 
 
 " I am kinder tired." 
 
 " We will take turns keeping watch, as they do 
 on board a ship." 
 
 " I don't know nothin' about a ship." 
 
 " I will keep watch the first half of the night, 
 and you may the other half." 
 
 " S'pose'n the Injins should kim ; what would 
 you do then ? " 
 
 " I can call you." 
 
 " Well, Fanny, ef you ain't very tired, I agree 
 to it, for I feel jest as ef I should go to sleep 
 now." 
 
 " I am not so tired as I have been, and not so
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 239 
 
 tired as you are. I will take the first watch. But 
 do you really think the Indians will come to the 
 island ? " 
 
 " I hope not, but they might." 
 "How do you expect them to come?" 
 " I dunno ; but I shouldn't wonder ef Lean Bear 
 sent some of his redskins over arter that boy." 
 
 Fanny did not see how the savages could reach 
 them at this distance from the main land, but she 
 agreed with Ethan that it would be better to keep 
 watch, and be on the safe side. Wahena's hands 
 were tied together, and he was bound to one of 
 the posts under the boat, in such a manner that 
 he could lie down and sleep comfortably. Ethan 
 stretched himself on the bed he had prepared for 
 his companion, and was soon asleep. 
 
 Fanny seated herself under the tree at the top 
 of the hill. It was not yet dark, and she had a 
 full view of the water on every side. Until a later 
 hour there was no possibility of a hostile approach 
 by the Indians, and she gave herself up to the 
 melancholy reflections excited by the tragic events 
 of the day. Though a great many thoughts passed
 
 240 HOPE AXD HAVE, OR 
 
 through her mind, there was only one which it is 
 important to record here ; and that was, the feel 
 ing that she was better prepared for the bitter 
 experience upon which she had now entered than 
 she would have been a few months before. If her 
 friends knew that she Avas a changed being, the 
 fact was still more evident to her own consciousness. 
 A religious faith and hope had sustained her in 
 those terrible hours, when the shrieks of the man 
 gled and the cries of the dying had pierced her 
 heart, and when torture and death stared her full 
 in the face. Ethan, in his own quaint terms, had 
 confessed that her prayers and her unwavering trust 
 in God had awed him and solemnized his mind, 
 thus raising him to a level with the momentous 
 issues he was to meet. She felt that her prayers 
 for herself and the brave prairie boy had been 
 answered, not only in their effect upon themselves, 
 but more directly in the turning aside of the knife 
 which had been pointed at their hearts, llenewedly 
 she thanked God for his goodness ; and renewedly, 
 as she thought of the dying Jenny, she felt that to 
 hope was to have.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 241 
 
 Thus thinking of the past, thus hoping and pray 
 ing for the future, the darkness gathered upon her, 
 and with her mind thus illuminated by divine wis 
 dom, the words of the Psalmist seemed to be lit 
 erally verified, and even the darkness became light 
 about her. As the shades of evening deepened over 
 her, cutting off her view of the distant shores of 
 the lake, she felt the necessity of a more vigilant 
 watchfulness. 
 
 Hour after hour wore heavily away, and still 
 Ethan slept. Fanny had no idea of the time of 
 night, and could not tell whether or not it was 
 time to call her companion. She knew how hard 
 he had worked during the day, and she resolved 
 not to call him as long as she could keep awake 
 herself. Her position was by the tree ; but in order 
 to rouse her torpid faculties, she took a walk around 
 the island. When she reached the side of thcir 
 narrow domain where they had landed in the mor i- 
 ing, she was startled by what she thought was a 
 slight splashing in the water, at a considerable dis 
 tance from her. After the manner of the Indians, 
 she lay down upon the ground, and placed her ear 
 21
 
 242 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 near t'.ie surface of the lake, listening with trembling 
 interest for any sounds which might be borne over 
 the still waters. 
 
 This expedient satisfied her that she had not 
 been mistaken in the sound. She distinctly heard 
 the light dip of a paddle in the water, worked with 
 the utmost caution. She was almost paralyzed with 
 terror at the thought of a night visit from the 
 savages, and dreaded the sharp crack of the rifle 
 and the flashing of the knife. She strained her 
 eyes to discover any object on the water, but she 
 could see nothing. She hastened to the house, 
 and roused Ethan. 
 
 " I'm comin','' said he, only half awake, and 
 turned over to finish his nap. 
 
 " Ethan, Ethan ! " gasped Fanny, shaking him with 
 all her might, " the Indians are almost upon us." 
 
 If she had said Indians before, it would have 
 awakened him in a moment. He sprang to his 
 feet, and rushed out of the house. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " he demanded. 
 
 "The Indians are coming at least some one is 
 coming, for I heard a paddle on the lake."
 
 THE NIGHT ATTACK. 
 
 1'age 243.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 243 
 
 " The pesky sarpints ! I was afeard they'd kim. 
 Whar be they ? * 
 
 " They are coming from the settlement." 
 
 " Consarn 'em. ! " added Ethan, as he grasped 
 his two guns, and ran down to the shore. 
 
 He listened, and soon satisfied himself that 
 Fanny's fears were not groundless. He sent his 
 companion for the revolver, and proceeded with 
 great coolness and self-possession to make his prep 
 arations for repelling the assault, for he had no 
 doubt that one was intended. It was a full hour 
 an hour of the most intense anxiety and sus 
 pense to the young exiles before they discovered 
 the wily foe stealthily approaching their retreat. 
 
 A little later they could see enough to determine 
 that the assailants consisted of four Indians, on a 
 raft. Two of them, on their knees, were paddling 
 the unwieldy craft, and the others appeared to be 
 gazing at the island. 
 
 Ethan had made a rest for the rifle of a crotched 
 stick, for the piece was too heavy for him to hold 
 up to his shoulder. He took careful aim at the 
 group of dark forms on the raft, and fired.
 
 244 HOPE AND HATE, OR 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE VISITOR AT THE ISLAND. 
 
 "Ho, wo, wo!" yelled the savages on the raft; 
 and their tones sounded much like the barking of 
 a large mastiff. 
 
 Ethan saw one of their number fall, and the com 
 motion in the group indicated that the savages had 
 been thrown into confusion by Ethan's well-directed 
 shot. They ceased paddling, and appeared to be 
 consulting in regard to their next movement. 
 
 " Lay right down flat on the ground, so thet they 
 can't see you, Fanny," said Ethan, as he hastily 
 loaded the rifle, on which he principally depended. 
 
 "Won't they go away now you have found out 
 they are coming ? " asked she, as she obeyed the 
 requirement. 
 
 " I dunno ; we shall see. J don't keer much 
 whether they go or kim. Keep still, and don't
 
 FAXNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 245 
 
 move. I reckon they can't see us, and don't know 
 jest whar to fire." 
 
 " They can see you, Ethan." 
 
 " No, they can't," replied the resolute boy, as he 
 took careful aim a second time with the rifle. 
 
 He fired, but apparently without any result, ex 
 cept another yell from the savages. Three of them 
 couid still be seen standing and kneeling on the raft. 
 As soon as the second shot had been fired, they 
 reached their conclusion, and commenced paddling 
 with all their might towards the island. Ethan 
 now took the fowling-piece, which he had charged 
 with duck-shot, and fired again. The Indians yelled 
 as before, and one of them seemed to be wounded, 
 for he ceased to paddle, and the third man imme 
 diately took his place. 
 
 Both of Ethan's guns were now empty ; but he 
 had the revolver, Avhich was good for six shots, 
 though the fire could hardly be effective at the 
 present distance of the raft from the island. Keep 
 ing this weapon in reserve, he loaded the two guns 
 again. It was very strange that the Indians did not 
 fire at him, and he could not tell whether it was 
 21*
 
 246 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 because they had no guns, or because they were 
 afraid of killing Wahena. The party had probably 
 been sent by Lean Bear to recover his son, and 
 the success of the expedition was to depend upon 
 finding the exiles asleep. The good judgment of 
 Ethan had therefore saved them from the calamity 
 of a surprise. 
 
 When Ethan had completed the loading of the 
 guns, the raft was within four or five rods of the 
 shore of the island, and the Indians were paddling 
 vigorously, though the unwieldy craft they navigated 
 moved very slowly through the water. 
 
 "Don't you stop here no longer, Fanny; 'taint 
 no place for you, nohow. Jest crawl up to the 
 tree, and keep behind it. Keep both eyes wide 
 open tight, but don't let the redskins see you." 
 
 " But what will become of you ? " asked Fanny, un 
 willing to leave her bold defender even for a moment. 
 
 " Never you mind me ; go right off quick. Crawl 
 up to the tree, and I'll soon fix 'em." 
 
 " Ho, wo, wo ! " yelled the Indians, apparently 
 satisfied that their work was accomplished, for the 
 raft was within two rods of the shore.
 
 .FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 247 
 
 Then one of them dropped his paddle, and, with 
 an unearthly scream, leaped into the water, which 
 was now so shallow that he could wade ashore. 
 Ethan took good aim at this one, and fired. Though 
 not killed, the sharp cry the savage uttered con 
 vinced Ethan that he was wounded. Without 
 waiting to learn the effect of his shot on the rest 
 of the party, he fired again at the same man, who 
 was only partially disabled. The savage in the 
 water, who had been the most dangerous assailant, 
 uttered another yell of pain, and his companions 
 seemed to be paralyzed by the continuation of the 
 - fire upon them. Probably they supposed the boy 
 had but one gun, and, when he fired it, that he 
 would not have time to load again before they could 
 reach him. Ethan then discharged one ball from 
 the revolver, which added still more to their con 
 fusion, for they were jabbering like wild turkeys. 
 
 "Go 'way!" shouted Ethan. "Go 'way, or I'll 
 kill Wahena." 
 
 " Xo kill," replied one of the Indians, whose voice 
 sounded like that of the messenger Ethan had met 
 in the morning.
 
 248 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 " Go 'way then ! " 
 
 "Me go." 
 
 "Go then consarn ye!" muttered Ethan, as, 
 taking advantage of the confusion in the ranks of 
 the enemy, he loaded the two guns again. 
 
 The two Indians on the raft helped the wounded 
 one in the water to mount the platform again. Two 
 of the three were evidently wounded, and it was not 
 an easy thing for them to paddle the clumsy craft 
 away from the island. One of the savages worked 
 at the paddle for a while ; but it was not till the 
 more able of the other two assisted him that any 
 sensible progress was made. 
 
 " Creation hokee ! " exclaimed Ethan, when he 
 was fully conscious that he had won the victory. 
 " I've done 'em, Fanny ! " 
 
 " Have they gone ? " she asked, when she had 
 joined him. 
 
 " They are go'n as fast as they kin ; but I reckon 
 they won't git back to the settlement till some time 
 into mornin'. We're all right now, Fanny, and you 
 kin go to sleep as soon as you've a mind to." 
 
 She w r as too excited to think of sleeping, and she
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 249 
 
 sat with Ethan on the shore for an hour, talking 
 about their deliverance from the peril that had 
 menaced them. Fanny was devoutly grateful to 
 God, who had again preserved them ; and when she 
 had uttered the prayer her heart would not permit 
 her to keep back, she felt more composed, and re 
 tired to the cabin, where she soon dropped asleep 
 from sheer exhaustion. 
 
 This was the only attempt made by the savages 
 to capture the exiles on the island. The next day, 
 they continued to work upon the house, inter- 
 rupted only by a heavy shower in the forenoon ; but 
 the boat roof afforded them a perfect shelter from 
 the pouring rain. It was three days before the 
 house was finished ; but when it was completed, the 
 wanderers were as proud of it as though it had been 
 a Fifth Avenue mansion. At night they took turns 
 in keeping the watch ; and when the house was done, 
 both of the exiles were nearly worn out by the hard 
 work they had done, and the loss of sleep to which 
 they had been subjected. They decided that it would 
 be best to rest a few days before they commenced 
 upon certain additions which they contemplated.
 
 2.50 HOPE AND HAVE, OE 
 
 The stock of provisions was already mucli reduced, 
 and the question of supplies for the future demanded 
 attention. There were plenty of fish in the lake, 
 but none could be caught in the shallow water 
 which bordered the island. It was necessary to go 
 out a short distance, and Ethan found a couple of 
 logs among some drift wood, gathered on the beach, 
 with which he constructed a raft, just large enough 
 to accommodate himself. 
 
 To prevent accidents, he tied together all the 
 lines which had been used about the sail, and pushed 
 off the length of his rope. There were fish-lines in 
 the boat, and bait was obtained on the island. In 
 an hour Ethan returned to the shore with a large 
 muskelonge and half a dozen large lake trout. The 
 problem of supplies, therefore, seemed to be solved, 
 especially as there were abundant opportunities to 
 shoot the wild duck, plover, and grouse, that visited 
 the little domain of the exiles. 
 
 However pleasant it would be to follow out in 
 detail the daily life of the residents of the isle, 
 our space prevents us from doing so. A fortnight 
 of severe labor and constant watchfulness was passed
 
 FANNT GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 251 
 
 by the exiles, when a great event occurred to them. 
 Ethan had one day moored out his raft the length 
 of the line from the shore, on the side of the island 
 where they had first disembarked, when his attention 
 was attracted by an object on the water, in the 
 direction of the settlement. He watched it with 
 interest and anxiety, and soon ascertained that it 
 Avas a raft, on which stood a single person, who was 
 paddling towards the island. 
 
 Ethan immediately pulled in his raft, and went 
 for his fire-arms, which he carefully loaded, in readi 
 ness for a hostile visit from a foe. The stranger 
 approached very slowly, and the exiles were at last 
 satisfied that he was not an Indian. As he drew 
 nearer to the island, he waved a white rag, which was 
 intended and understood as a sign of peace. 
 
 " Who can it be ? " asked Fanny, greatly excited 
 by the incident. 
 
 " I dunno ; can't tell yet," replied Ethan. 
 
 " Do you think it is an enemy ? " 
 
 " I don't reckon it is." 
 
 Both of them continued to watch the approaching 
 visitor, until he had come within twenty rods of the
 
 252 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 shore. He did not look like any human being that 
 Fanny had ever seen before. His clothes were 
 tattered, and of all colors. Great patches of tent 
 canvas were sewed over a tunic made of red and 
 yellow blankets. He wore Indian leggins, and his 
 head was covered with a coon-skin cap. His hair 
 and beard, of grizzly gray, were tangled and matted 
 in knots and snarls. Crossed on his breast were 
 the straps by which were supported his powder-horn 
 and shot-flask. 
 
 " What a strange-looking man ! " exclaimed Fanny, 
 when the raft had come near enough to enable her 
 to make out the uncouth object upon it. 
 
 " I know him now," replied Ethan, " though I 
 hcvn't seen him afore for more 'n a year." 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 "Thet's Rattlcshag." 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 " Ilattleshag leastwise that's the only name any 
 body knows him by. He's a hunter 'n trapper that 
 goes roamin' round over the pararies." 
 
 " Where does he live ? " 
 
 "lie don't live nowhar ; he goes travcliin' round,
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 253 
 
 livin' on the white folks and Injins. They say he 
 is the best shot west of the Miss' sip." 
 
 "He won't shoot us will he?" 
 
 "No; he won't hurt nothiri'." 
 
 The raft came up to the shore, and the trapper 
 landed. 
 
 "How d'ye do, Rattlcshag ? " said Ethan. 
 
 The strange visitor made no reply, but walked 
 deliberately up to the young exiles, gave his hand 
 first to Ethan, then to Fanny. 
 
 " Toler'ble, consider-in', " said he, at last. 
 
 " Whar did you kirn, from ? " 
 
 " Over thar," he answered, pointing to the set 
 tlement, and shaking his head. 
 
 " Anybody thar ? " asked Ethan, anxiously. 
 
 " Injins." 
 
 "No white folks?" 
 
 " All gone : some on 'em's killed, and some on 
 'em's kerried off. Awful times, everywhar," added 
 the trapper, shaking his head mournfully. " Whar's 
 the Injin boy ? " 
 
 " Up thyer," answered Ethan, pointing to the 
 cabin where Wahena had been secured as soon as 
 22
 
 254 HOPE A>*D HATE, OR 
 
 the raft was discovered, for another attack from the 
 Indians had been anticipated. " You may let him 
 loose again, Fanny." 
 
 She was always glad to perform this office for 
 her captive friend, and she soon returned to the 
 shore with Wahena. 
 
 " He's all safe ain't he ? " asked Rattleshag. 
 
 " Yes ; we hain't hurt him ; and he's as fond of 
 Fanny as a pet puppy dog." 
 
 " Glad on't. I was tooken by the Injins over thar, 
 and got nigh bein' skelped. Lean B'ar let me go 
 to kim over here arter the boy," added the trapper. 
 
 " We can't let him go," said Ethan. 
 
 " I reckon you mought." 
 
 Ethan explained in what manner the presence of 
 Wahena had saved them from the Indians. 
 
 "We can't spare him till we get out of the 
 woods ourselves," added Ethan. 
 
 " Then I must go back and be skelped," replied 
 Rattleshag, solemnly. " I promised Lean B'ar thet 
 I'd git the boy, or else I'd kim back myself; and 
 old Rattleshag never broke his word to Injin or 
 white man."
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 255 
 
 " Thet's so," said Ethan, who knew the reputa 
 tion of the trapper for simple honesty and fidelity. 
 
 " Hev you got a boat ? " asked Rattleshng. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then I reckon we kin go down to Mankato. 
 The sogers is drivin' the Injins back. Thyer's ben 
 awful times all through the country ; more 'n a thou 
 sand men, women, and children hes ben killed. 
 I've trevelled all through from Big Stone, dodgin' 
 the Injins all the way. They are as savage as 
 painters. I kim down hyer to git away from 'em, 
 but I found they'd ben hyer too/' added the trap 
 per, with another melancholy shake of the head. 
 " It's awful." 
 
 Rattleshag over-estimated the number of victims 
 to this terrible massacre, though i>. has been stated 
 as high as seven hundred. He relied to the young 
 exiles his adventures in his long journey through 
 the devoted region which had been the scene of so 
 much cruelty and bloodshed.- He told of the men, 
 women, and children he had seen lying dead and 
 mangled in the deserted settlements ; of the wounded, 
 starving, and dying fugitives he had met- itr their
 
 256 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 flight ; and of the desolation which lay in the track 
 of the merciless savages. 
 
 The listeners were appalled and horrified at the 
 sad and bloody tale. Fanny wept, and Ethan with 
 difficulty choked down the emotions which agitated 
 him. 
 
 " What shall be did ? " asked the trapper, at last. 
 " Kin you let the boy go, or shall I go back and 
 be skelped ? " 
 
 " You certainly shall not go back ! " exclaimed 
 Fanny. 
 
 An earnest consultation followed, and a plan was 
 soon agreed upon by which Rattleshag could be 
 saved.
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 257 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE INDIAN AMBUSH. 
 
 FANNY was the originator of the scheme by 
 which it was expected to save the party from the 
 ferocity of the Indians, and enable the trapper to 
 keep his plighted faith with them. The exiles, 
 accompanied by their new-found friend, were to 
 descend the river in the bateau to Mankato. Wa- 
 hena was to be taken with them to some point 
 above their destination, where he was to be deliv 
 ered to his friends, when his presence as a hostage 
 was no longer necessary to the safety of his captors. 
 
 This was thought to be the only safe plan, for 
 even Rattleshag did not pretend to believe that the 
 Indians would not be treacherous when Wahena 
 was no longer in peril. It was arranged that the 
 trapper should return to Lean Bear, and inform him 
 of the terms on which his son could be saved. 
 22*
 
 258 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 He was instructed to tell the savage chief that 
 Ethan could fire eight shots a minute, and that 
 Wahcna would surely atone with his life for any 
 treachery on the part of the Indians. 
 
 Rattleshag put off on his raft again, and paddled 
 towards the settlement. It was late in the evening 
 when he returned with the intelligence that Lean 
 Bear had accepted the terms, though very reluc 
 tantly, for they compelled him to send a party of 
 his braves on a journey of seventy miles to receive 
 Wah en a when he was delivered up. Rattleshag 
 had been obliged to argue the point with him ; but 
 the assurance that the boy would certainly be shot 
 if he did not yield, induced him to comply. Six 
 Indian horsemen were deputed to follow the boat 
 on the banks of the river, and insure them against 
 any attack from the wandering savages whom the 
 exiles might encounter. 
 
 The next morning the bateau was lowered from 
 its position, rolled down to the lake, and launched. 
 The muscular arm of the trapper rendered this a 
 comparatively easy task, and it was accomplished 
 in a few hours. The mast was stepped, the sail
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 259 
 
 bent on, and the rigging adjusted under the direc 
 tion of Fanny, who was more familiar with such 
 matters than either of her companions. Such pro 
 visions as remained were stowed on board, cooked 
 ready for use. 
 
 At noon, with a fresh breeze from the westward, 
 the party embarked, and, with Fanny at the helm, 
 sailed for the outlet at the north-east corner of the 
 lake. The party were very much fatigued after the 
 hard work required in making preparations for their 
 departure, and independently of the exciting cir 
 cumstances of leaving the island home, and the 
 prospect of soon being in a place of entire safety, 
 they enjoyed the rest afforded by the voyage. 
 
 " What we go'n to do when we get to Mankato, 
 Fanny ? " asked Ethan. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know." 
 
 " Yv'e hain't got no friends thar." 
 
 " Nor anywhere," replied Fanny, sadly. " I have 
 no near relations now that my uncle and aunt are 
 gone." 
 
 " I never had none ; but I s'pose I kin go to 
 work, as I allers did," added Ethan, cheerfully.
 
 260 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 " I doubt not we shall find plenty of friends. I 
 am sure that Woodville, where I have lived the last 
 two years, will be open to me." 
 
 " I reckon we needn't borrow any trouble arter 
 we git out of this scrape. Ef we could stand 
 what we've gone through with, we hain't got noth- 
 in' to fear." 
 
 " I have no clothes but those I wear, and not a 
 cent of money," added Fanny, rather disturbed by 
 the prospect before her. 
 
 "I reckon 'twill be all right," said Ethan. 
 
 " I have no doubt it will. I do not mean to 
 complain. We have so much to be grateful for, 
 that it would be wicked to repine at our lot." 
 
 " Thet's my notion ; and we won't think what 
 we're go'n to do till we get to Mankato." 
 
 This was a wise resolve, though it would be 
 rather difficult to carry it out. In a short time the 
 bateau arrived at the outlet of the lake, and on 
 the bank of the river the exiles discovered their 
 Indian escort, which had been waiting since the 
 middle of the forenoon for them. At this point 
 the serenity of the voyage was interrupted, for the
 
 FANNY GKANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 261 
 
 river was crooked, and the navigation often very 
 difficult. The boat did not draw more than a foot 
 of water, but in some places it was not easy to 
 find even this depth. 
 
 Fanny found that all her slender knowledge of 
 boating was called into use, for the bends in the 
 river were so frequent that the boat was headed 
 towards nearly every point of the compass within 
 a single hour. Her progress was necessarily very 
 slow, and the Indians on the shore soon began to 
 manifest their impatience by grunting and growling. 
 As the bateau proceeded, Fanny became more skil 
 ful in its management. She soon learned where 
 the deepest water might be found, and instead of 
 attempting to cut across the bends, she followed 
 the current round the broadest sweep ; but, with 
 the best she could do, it was occasionally necessary 
 for Ethan and Rattleshag to resort to the poles to 
 push her over the shoal places. 
 
 At dark the question came up whether the party 
 should continue the voyage during the night, or 
 moor the boat, and sail only by daylight. Of course 
 the Indians on the shore could not continue the
 
 262 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 journey without stopping to rest and feed their 
 horses ; but a consultation was had with them, and 
 it was decided that the escort should divide into 
 two parties, one on each side of the river, and 
 ride forward ten or fifteen miles, then halt and 
 await the coming of the boat. The river had 
 received two or three large tributaries above the 
 point they had reached, and the navigation was 
 less difficult as the stream became broader and 
 deeper. 
 
 " Now, Fanny, I reckon I kin steer this boat,'' 
 said Ethan, after the arrangements had been made, 
 and the escort had gone forward. " I will make 
 up a bed for you for' ad, and you shall go to sleep. 
 One on us kin sleep jest as well as not, all the 
 time." 
 
 " I was thinking of that myself," replied Fanny. 
 " We shall save a great deal of time if we can go 
 by night as well as day." 
 
 " I reckon we shall ; and the sooner we git to 
 Mankato, the better we shall like it. The little 
 Injin's gone to sleep now." 
 
 " Do you think you can steer the boat, Ethan ? "
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 263 
 
 " I know I kin. I've been kinder watchin' the 
 thing ever sence we started, and I reckon I know 
 sunthin' about it," replied Ethan, as he went for 
 ward to prepare a bed for Fanny. 
 
 " Are you not tired, Rattleshag ? " asked Fanny 
 of the trapper, who sat forward of her, gazing in 
 tently down the river, and seldom speaking a word. 
 
 " No, miss, I'm never tired," he replied. 
 
 " Where do you sleep when you are travelling 
 over the broad prairies ? " 
 
 " Sometimes in an Indian tepee, but generally 
 allers on the ground." 
 
 " While the boat goes along so well, two of us 
 might sleep, for it is only necessary to have one 
 at the helm." 
 
 "I kin stand it without much sleep, 'miss. I 
 kin ketch a nap while I set here. I've often slep 
 $tandin' up agin a tree when the wolves was thick 
 about me. Old Rattleshag is tough and hard." 
 
 " Now your bed is ready, Fanny," said Ethan, 
 coming aft. 
 
 " Thank you, Ethan ; you are very kind, and I 
 am tired enough to sleep like a log. Now, if you
 
 264 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 will take the tiller, I will see what kind of work 
 you make of it." 
 
 Ethan took the helm, and at first made the 
 usual miscalculations of an unexperienced steers 
 man ; but Fanny soon instructed him so that he 
 steered very well, and she went forward to her 
 couch. In a whisper she said the prayer which 
 she never omitted, and covering herself with blan 
 kets, Avas soon fast asleep. 
 
 After dark, the wind was very light and baffling, 
 but the river was not so tortuous in its course, and 
 the progress of the boat was rather more satisfac 
 tory than it had been during the afternoon. Ethan 
 was very considerate of his fair companion, and 
 neglected her injunction to call her in a few hours. 
 He had given the helm to Rattleshag in the mid 
 dle of the night, and gone to sleep himself. At 
 daylight the trapper was at his post, and both the 
 young exiles were still sleeping away the fatigues 
 of the preceding day. The boat had not fet come 
 up with the escort, who had probably gone more 
 than the fifteen miles agreed upon. 
 
 Rattleshag sat at the helm, gazing fixedly down
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 265 
 
 the river. He looked like a statue, and he sat so 
 still that it was hard to believe he ever had moved, 
 or ever would do so. His long rifle lay at his side, 
 at rest like himself. 
 
 The bateau was approaching a clump of trees 
 which grew on the bank of the river, when the 
 crack of a rifle was heard, and a bullet whizzed 
 over the water. Rattleshag started, sprang to his 
 feet, and grasped the tiller with his left hand, 
 while the blood trinkled down the ends of his 
 fingers from a wound in his right arm. He glanced 
 hastily around him, and then, putting the helm up, 
 ran the boat alongside the shore opposite that from 
 which the shot had come. The bateau grounded in 
 the shallow water, and her grating upon the gravel 
 roused Ethan from his slumber. 
 
 " The Injins is firm' on us," said Rattleshag, 
 coolly, as he took up his long rifle. 
 
 " Whar be they?" demanded Ethan, seizing his 
 weapons. 
 
 " Over thar," replied the trapper, pointing to the 
 clump of trees. 
 
 The first shot was now followed by a second, 
 23
 
 266 HOPE AND HAVE, OE 
 
 which fortunately hit none of the party. By this 
 time Fanny was awake ; but Ethan peremptorily 
 bade her lie still, so that the hostile Indians could 
 not see her. Near the point where the boat had 
 grounded there was a group of trees, which prom 
 ised to afford the voyagers a partial shelter from 
 the bullets of the enemy, and Rattleshag thought 
 they had better take a position there. 
 
 " Now run for it,'' said Ethan to Fanny, as he 
 gave her the revolver. 
 
 " I am not afraid," she replied, as she took the 
 pistol and ran to the covert of the trees. 
 
 Ethan and the trapper followed her ; but the 
 moment they showed themselves, the report of sev 
 eral rifles was heard, followed by the whistling of 
 the bullets through the air, though the distance 
 was so great that the shots were harmless. 
 
 " Now, we'll give 'em some," said Ethan. 
 
 " 'Tain't no use," answered Rattleshag, seating 
 himself on the ground behind one of the trees. 
 " Don't waste your lead for nothin'. You can't 
 hit 'em." 
 
 "But they have hit you. Are you hurt much?"
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 267 
 
 "No; 'tain't wuth mindin'." 
 
 " Let me do up your wound, Rattleshag," inter 
 posed Fanny, tearing off a piece of her calico 
 dress for the purpose. 
 
 " The blood kinder bothers me, and you may," 
 said the trapper, as he bared his muscular arm. 
 
 The ball had ploughed through the fleshy part 
 of the arm, inflicting a severe, though not danger 
 ous, wound. Fanny bound it up as well as she 
 could, with lint made from her linen collar, and 
 Rattleshag declared that it felt " fust rate." 
 
 Wahena was still in the boat, where Ethan had 
 taken the precaution to tie him to the mast, after 
 first binding his arms behind him. lie still lay in 
 the bottom of the boat,' the consciousness of his 
 own danger preventing him from showing himself. 
 
 " We mought hev to stop here all day," said 
 the trapper, after they had waited some time for a 
 further demonstration on the part of the Indians. 
 
 " As long' as we are safe, we need not mind 
 that," replied Fanny. 
 
 " I reckon we ain't safe much," added Ethan. 
 
 He had scarcely uttered the words before a sav-
 
 268 HOPE AND HAVE!, OK 
 
 age yell was heard from the enemy on the other 
 side of the river. 
 
 " They're jumpin' inter the water to kim over 
 here," said llattleshag. " I don't like to shoot 'em, 
 but I s'pose I must." 
 
 " I like it," replied Ethan, who had not yet 
 conquered his hatred of the redskins. 
 
 " Don't be 'n a hurry, boy. Don't waste your 
 lead," interposed the trapper, as Ethan was taking 
 aim. " There ain't no more 'n six on 'em in the 
 water, and we kin afford to wait till they git a 
 little nearer. "\Ve kin fire shots enough to kill the 
 whole on 'em without loadin' up." 
 
 " Who be they ? " asked Ethan, trying to be as 
 cool as the hardy trapper. 
 
 " I dunno." 
 
 " Be they Lean B'ar's men ? " 
 
 " I reckon they ain't." 
 
 " I was afeerd the redskins that kim down to 
 keep us safe had turned agin us." 
 
 " I reckon they hain't. They'd be afeerd we'd 
 shoot the boy." 
 
 The half dozen savages in the water were wading
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 269 
 
 across the river towards the bateau, evidently in 
 the belief that the party had deserted her. They 
 continued to hoot and yell, while they advanced, 
 as though they intended to storm a garrisoned for 
 tress, instead of capturing a deserted bateau. 
 
 " I reckon thet'll do now," said Rattleshag, as 
 he raised his long rifle to his shoulder, and aimed 
 at one of the savages. " Don't you fire, Ethan, 
 till I've done." 
 
 He discharged his piece, and fully sustained his 
 reputation as a dead shot, for the foremost of the 
 Indians dropped, and was carried down the stream 
 by the current. 
 
 23*
 
 270 HOPE AND HATE, OK 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 " DON'T you fire, Ethan," repeated the trapper, as 
 the enthusiastic boy raised his gun. " Xo need o' 
 killin' no more on 'em." 
 
 The remaining Indians in the water had discovered 
 their mistake, and were making towards the opposite 
 shore with all possible haste. They had not ex 
 pected such a reception, and appeared to be glad to 
 escape with no greater loss. 
 
 " Ho, ho, ho ! " shouted other Indians on the shore. 
 
 " We are gittin' into a bad scrape," said Ethan, 
 dissatisfied because Rattleshag had prevented him 
 from firing at the savages. " There's more 'n a mil 
 lion on 'em over thar." 
 
 "Them's Lean B'ar's Injins that's yellin'. Don't 
 you see 'em ? They was nigh enough to hear the 
 shootin' and the yellin', and they've kim back to
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 271 
 
 keep them redskins from hurtin' on us don't you 
 see ? " added Rattleshag, pointing over at the three 
 mounted savages who had just dashed up to the bank 
 on the other side of the stream. 
 
 " So they be ; and hyer kirns the rest on 'em." 
 
 At this instant the other three of the escort 
 galloped wildly over the prairie, and before the 
 voyagers could reach the boat the Indians intercepted 
 them. Like those on the other side, they uttered 
 Avild yells, and seemed to be as much excited as 
 though they had been actually engaged in battle. 
 
 The exiles had not intended to hold any commu 
 nication with their escort, dreading the treacherous 
 nature of the savages ; and when the three Indians 
 approached, Ethan promptly placed himself in a de 
 fensive attitude. Though the escort continued to 
 yell, they did not offer to attack the voyagers. 
 They stopped on the bank of the river, where the 
 bateau lay. One of them dismounted, and leaped 
 into the boat. \Vith his scalping-knife he cut the 
 bonds of Wahena, and taking the boy in his arms, 
 bounded to the shore again. 
 
 Ethan's heart sank within him, when he saw that
 
 272 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 the captive, upon whose presence he had relied for 
 the safety of the party, was wrested from them. 
 Rushing forward with his rifle, he took aim at 
 "Wahena, disregarding the earnest remonstrances of 
 Rattleshag. 
 
 " No shoot ! no shoot ! " exclaimed one of the 
 savages the one who had before acted as Lean 
 Bear's messenger. " No kill, no hurt." 
 
 " Don't fire," pleaded Fanny. " If you should kill 
 Wahena, they would butcher us all." 
 
 The Indian boy saw her as she stepped forward, 
 and immediately began to talk in the most earnest 
 manner to the savage who held him. 
 
 " No hurt ! " shouted the spokesman of the In 
 dians. " You go no kill ; no kill, no hurt." 
 
 Wahena, after struggling for some time with the 
 brawny savage who held him, escaped from his 
 grasp, and, to the surprise of the voyagers, rushed 
 over to the spot where Fanny stood. Seizing her 
 hand, he shook it warmly, and then began a series 
 of violent gesticulations, which were at first unin 
 telligible. He dropped on his knees, clasped his 
 hands, looked up to the sky, and then beat his
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 273 
 
 breast. He pointed to the boat, intimating by his 
 signs that she was to go on board. She obeyed, 
 and was followed by Ethan and the trapper. The 
 party stepped on board, and to the astonishment 
 of all, "Wahena followed them, and took the seat 
 he had occupied during the voyage. 
 
 Ethan and Rattleshag pushed off, and when the 
 bateau began to move down the river, Wahena 
 shouted to the Indians, and pointed down the river, 
 indicating that they were to follow, as they had 
 done before. The Indian boy's signs on shore were 
 now interpreted to be an expression of his gratitude 
 to Fanny for her kindness to him, and a prayer to 
 the Great Spirit for her safety. 
 
 If the party in the boat were surprised at' the 
 singular conduct of Wahena, the Indians on shore 
 were still more astonished ; but he spoke a language 
 which they could understand, and they sullenly re 
 sumed their march down the river. 
 
 The captive was now treated as a friend. Though 
 he could not have known what the contract between 
 his father and the voyagers had been, except so far 
 as he had learned it from the subsequent events,
 
 274 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 he had voluntarily surrendered himself, and insisted 
 upon seeing Fanny conveyed to a place of safety. 
 Almost every day while they had been on the is 
 land, she had sung her sweet songs to Wahena, 
 and he had listened to them with rapt attention. 
 As the boat slowly went its way, he begged her by 
 signs to sing, and she complied. He expressed his 
 pleasure, which was shared by Ethan and Rattleshag, 
 by the most eloquent signs. 
 
 During the day, Ethan and Rattleshag slept, while 
 Fanny steered the boat. Wahena, no longer in 
 bonds, kept close to her. He intimated in his 
 dumb language that he wanted to take the helm, 
 and gently ^took the tiller from her. He was soon 
 proficient in steering, for there was now nothing to 
 do but keep the boat in the middle of the river, and 
 occasionally to trim the sail. 
 
 At night Fanny'and Wahena went to sleep again, 
 and the management of the boat was divided be 
 tween Ethan and the trapper. The next morning 
 i 
 
 the bateau had entered the Big Woods, and the 
 sail was nearly useless, for the forest obstructed the 
 wind, and the voyagers were mainly dependent upon
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 275 
 
 the current of the river for the little progress they 
 made ; but on the afternoon of the third day of the 
 journey, they came in sight of a town, which Rattle- 
 shag said was not more than twelve miles from 
 Mankato. The Indian escort then hailed the boat. 
 
 " No go more," said the spokesman. 
 
 " I reckon 'twon't be safe for 'em to go any fur 
 ther," added Rattleshag. 
 
 Fanny ran the boat up to the shore, and Ethan, 
 always dreading the treachery of the savages, kept 
 his gun and revolver in readiness for immediate use. 
 The time had come for Wahena to take leave of the 
 party. He was profoundly affected at the thought 
 of bidding adieu to Fanny ; he did not appear to 
 like Ethan or the trapper. He pressed her hand, 
 looked very sad, and made his demonstrative ges 
 tures. She kissed him on the cheek, pointed up to 
 the sky, and laid her hands upon his head. If she 
 could have spoken to him, she would have expressed 
 the wish that he would abandon the savage life of 
 his people, and become a true man ; and she would 
 have been glad to teach him the religion of the 
 Saviour, now so dear to her, and to show him how 
 to hope and have.
 
 276 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 Wahena turned slowly and sadly away from her, 
 and walked to the Indians who were waiting for 
 him. A stout fello.w lifted him on the horse in 
 front of him, and dashed away ; but Fanny could see 
 him trying to obtain a last view of her, as the 
 savages entered the forest. She missed him very 
 much as the boat continued on her course. The 
 Indian boy was much attached to her, and she found 
 herself much interested in him. She has not seen 
 him since they parted, and probably they never will 
 meet again in this world ; but her blessing will go 
 with him, and perhaps her gentle influence will 
 soften his savage nature, and be reflected in his 
 kindness to the w r hite people with whom he may 
 come in contact. 
 
 At sundown the bateau passed into the Minnesota, 
 and at dark the party landed at Mankato, only three 
 miles below the mouth of the Blue Earth, on which 
 the last part of the voyage had been made. 
 
 We need not say that the party found plenty of 
 warm friends ; for when it was known that they 
 were fugitives from the Indian massacre, every house 
 and every heart was open to them. Troops in large
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 277 
 
 numbers had gone forward for the suppression of 
 the insurrection, and confidence was in a great 
 measure restored. The place was full of people 
 who had escaped, and the savages were being cap 
 tured and sent hither for trial. 
 
 The party were accommodated at the house of a 
 trader, who supplied them with all they wanted, 
 both of food and clothing. It was now time to 
 think of the future. By the merciful interposition 
 of Providence, the exiles had been saved from death 
 and captivity ; but they had no home, and no rela 
 tions. Fanny knew what a warm welcome awaited 
 her at Woodville, and she was desirous of going 
 there ; but she had no money to pay for such a 
 long journey. She mentioned her wish to the 
 trader, and he promptly offered to advance her a 
 sufficient sum to enable her and Ethan to reach 
 their destination. 
 
 " Where are you going, Rattleshag ? " asked 
 Fanny, when her own and Ethan's future move 
 ments had been arranged. 
 
 " I dunno." 
 
 " Why don't you join the sogers, and help put 
 24
 
 278 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 down the Injins ? " asked Ethan. " You are a 
 dead shot, and they'd like to hev you." 
 
 " I can't do thet," replied Ixattleshag, shaking 
 his head. 
 
 " Why not ? They want all the good men they 
 kin git, and you'd be. wuth a heap to 'em, for you 
 know all about the Injins, whar to find 'em, 
 and how to trap 'em," added Ethan, with consid 
 erable warmth ; and he was a little inclined to 
 offer his own services. 
 
 " The Injins hes allers ben my friends, and I 
 don't want to help kill 'em. They've ben abused, 
 and thet's what made 'em rise up agin the whites. 
 They've ben cheated out of their land, and then 
 cheated out of the money they ought to hev fur 
 it. I pity 'em, and I shan't help kill 'em. I shall 
 go back to the woods when the fightin' 's over, and 
 live like I allers did." 
 
 The next day Ethan and Fanny shook hands 
 with Rattleshag, and bidding him a cordial good 
 by, started upon their long journey to the east 
 ward. The prairie boy was greatly excited at the 
 prospect of seeing the great cities of the country
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 279 
 
 through which he was to pass. On cars and 
 steamers where it was known that the boy and 
 girl were refugees from the great Indian massacre, 
 they were the lions of the hour. They were often 
 called upon to tell their story of peril and death, 
 and every one was kind and generous to them. 
 They were frequently invited to private houses on 
 the journey ; but they declined all invitations, and 
 hurried on as fast as steam could convey them to 
 their destination, and arrived at "Woodville without 
 even stopping to sleep a night on the way. 
 
 Mrs. Green gave the exiles a motherly welcome. 
 The fact that the massacre had extended to the 
 settlement where Fanny's uncle resided had been 
 published in the newspapers, and the housekeeper 
 and servants believed that she had been one of its 
 victims. She was welcomed, therefore, as one who 
 had come from the grave. Ethan was regarded as a 
 hero at the mansion and in its vicinity, and became 
 a person of no little distinction. 
 
 Ethan French was a young man of no little man 
 liness and independence). After he had spent a 
 week in idleness, and had told the story of his
 
 280 HOPE AND HAVE, OR 
 
 escape from the Indians till it had become tiresome 
 to him, he began to look about him for a situation 
 in \vhich he could earn his own living. But Mrs. 
 Green induced him to remain at Woodville until 
 the return of Mr. Grant ; and he worked in the 
 garden and stable. 
 
 Without waiting for instructions from Mr. Grant, 
 the housekeeper forwarded to the kind-hearted 
 trader the sum of money which he had advanced 
 to pay the expenses of Fanny and Ethan from 
 Mankato to Woodville. The money was accom 
 panied by a letter of thanks from Fanny. 
 
 In November, the family returned from Europe. 
 Mrs. Green had already informed them by letter 
 of the safety, and of the arrival at Woodville, of 
 Fanny Jane, as she was called in the house. Mr. 
 Grant and his daughters had suffered a great deal 
 of anxiety on her account, after they read the 
 intelligence of the massacre, and they were heartily 
 rejoiced to meet her again, after believing for 
 months that she was dead, or worse than dead 
 a captive in the hands of the barbarous Indians. 
 
 Ethan, awkward and unaccustomed to good so-
 
 FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 281 
 
 ciety, was overwhelmed by the kindness of what 
 he called the " grand people." He was invited 
 into the drawing-room, and from him and Fanny 
 a very correct account of their adventures Avas 
 obtained. 
 
 " Fanny Jane, I can hardly believe you are the 
 same girl I had in my charge," exclaimed Miss 
 Fanny, when both stories had been told and dis 
 cussed. 
 
 " But I am," said the orphan girl, with a blush. 
 
 " I am sure none of us would have behaved so 
 well in the midst of such trials," added Mrs. Sher 
 wood. "It is terrible to think of." 
 
 " You cannot tell how thankful I am that all 
 this happened after my visit to New York," con 
 tinued the returned wanderer. " I could not, if I 
 would, banish from my thoughts the image of Jenny 
 Kent, who led me to believe in truth and goodness, 
 and to strive to live for them." 
 
 " I should hev been skeered to death eft hadn't 
 been for Fanny. She was so good that she made 
 me feel strong." 
 
 " And this is our Fanny Jane ! " added Mr. Grant. 
 24*
 
 282 HOPE AND HATE, OR 
 
 " I have tried to be good all the time," replied 
 Fanny, wiping away a tear she could not repress. 
 
 " And you hev been ! '' ejaculated Ethan, with 
 emphasis. " Creation hokee ! nobody couldn't do 
 no better, nohow ! " 
 
 The family could not help laughing at the ear 
 nestness of Ethan. 
 
 " She's been the makia' o' me, ef I ever do come 
 out anywhere," he continued. 
 
 " I have taught him to believe in goodness, to 
 hope for it, and then labor to have it," said Fanny 
 Tane. 
 
 " Hope and have," added Miss Fanny. 
 
 Mr. Grant promptly decided that Ethan's great 
 est need was a better education, and the prairie 
 boy went to school with Fanny during the following 
 winter. In the spring he talked like a civilized 
 being ; did not say " hyer " for here, nor " kirn " 
 for come, and has banished " creation hokee " from 
 the list of his pet phrases. In the summer he 
 went to learn the trade of a machinist, for which 
 he has decided taste and ability, and the prospect 
 is, that he will become a good and useful man, if 
 not a brilliant one.
 
 FAXNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS. 283 
 
 Mrs. Kent's husband returned home during Fan 
 ny's absence, having been " sick and in prison " in 
 the rebel country. When he had drawn his pay, 
 he insisted upon returning to Mr. Grant the sums 
 advanced to his wife by her kind friends ; but they 
 persistently refused to accept them. He wept over 
 his lost child, and thanked God for raising up such 
 friends for her while he was absent. 
 
 Fanny still resides at Woodville ; and having now 
 completed her school course, she assists Mrs. Green 
 in the management of the house. She is still true 
 to her high resolves ; still wears the emblematic 
 anchor, and strives to be as pure and good as 
 Jenny was. She occasionally visits the grave of 
 her departed young friend, and always gathers new 
 inspiration and new strength for the battle of life, 
 as she reads on the marble tablet her dying words 
 HOPE AND HAVE.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 RH?D 
 
 
 AUG2 
 
 1979 
 
 Form L9-100m-9,'52(A3105)444
 
 
 3 1158 00489 8044 
 
 PS 
 
 1006 
 
 A55ho 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 I I I I | || 
 
 A 001372195 6