I 
 
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 ekly. By Subscription, per Year, Thirty Dollars. 
 
 Entered at the New York Post-Office as second-class matter. 
 
 No. 46. 
 
 May 80, 1892. 
 
 UC-NRLF 
 
 ^B 317 bSl 
 
 \i " 
 
 THE FRONTIERSMEN, 
 
 BT 
 
 GUSTAVE AIMARD. 
 
 -V. 
 
 lit 
 
 •^^-^^ 
 
 !■ fl 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 THE F. M. LUPTON PUBLISHING COMPANY, 
 Nos. 72-76 Walker Street. 
 
THE FRONTIERSMAN. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 iY GUSTAVE AIMARD 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 THE F. M. LUPTON PUBLISHING COMPANY, 
 
 Nos. 72-TG Walker Street. 
 
. • • • ,• 
 
 • , • • "•• * 
 
 ftitered according to Act of Coagress, !■ the year 1854, bif 
 STRINGER & TOWNSEND, 
 I te Clerk's Office of the United States District Court for the 
 DUtrict of New York. 
 
THE FRONTIERSMEN. 
 
 CHAPTER, I: 
 
 INTRODUCTORY.' " ' ''-•-•'* ^ ^ '•''*..* '*. 
 
 Im the year 1783, Western New York — or at least what wis 
 then deemed Western New York — was an almost unbroken 
 wilderness, scarcely known to the inhabitants of the eastern and 
 south-eastern portions of the State ; although the greater part 
 of that large tract of territory then known as Tryon County, 
 was especially an unexplored country. It is true that occasion- 
 ally some adventurous pioneer had penetrated the wilderness, 
 and endeavored to form for himself and family a home, where, 
 if he could not enjoy the luxuries and comforts to be found in 
 more populous sections, he could at least be freed from many of 
 the evils incident to the growing settlements and cities. Some 
 there were, who had not these inducements, but, moved by a 
 spirit of hardy enterprise, and with a love for the excitements 
 and dangers of a pioneer life, penetrated the wilderness alone, 
 with no companion but the rifle — a sure and steadfast friend 
 amidst the dangers which were certain to beset him. 
 
 Thus, an adventurous traveler, whb perhaps fancied himself 
 the first white man who had ever toiled through the forests of 
 this portion of the State, would be surprised as he came upon 
 the traces of civilization, in a log hut, situated, perhaps, in the 
 midst of a few acres of partially cleared wilderness. When 
 such happened to be the case, it would be no occasion for won- 
 der that the traveler and the settler became at once acquaintances 
 and friends. The news from the settlements — inquiries for 
 friends, and political information, would gladly be exchanged 
 for the homely but welcome entertainment, which was at once 
 provided. 
 
 At the period which we have chosen for our narrative, the 
 County of Tryon was inhabited by roving bands of Indians, 
 mostly belonging to the Six Nations. Some favorite localities 
 were selected, which might be deemed peculiarly the homes of 
 these bands; although their roving dispositions, the pursuit of 
 game, or hostile encounters, would prevent the permanent occu- 
 pation of any ons locality. 
 
 970320 
 
10 TES FR0KTIERSUBI7. 
 
 That portion of Tryon County with which the reader will W 
 oome somewhat acquainted in due course of this narrative, waa 
 more especially inhabited by that division of the Iroquois, known 
 as the Oneidas. But it was not infrequent that bands belonging 
 to other tribes of the confederacy made incursions into this ter- 
 ritory, in pursuit of game, and occasionally on less peaceable 
 missions. 
 
 < It is wqII l^Tiown "that during the "War of the Revolution, the 
 '(Afferent t'rib?^ ;(Kraippsing the confederacy of the Six Nations, 
 'were divided in th'eir 'choice between England and the rebellious 
 '.0<)l«hile6'. • * l^hre Oiiej^aS* ijnd a part of the Tuscaroras and Mo- 
 'iidw^S,-Ji®her^d. t^ t'ht?, CpJonies, while the other three nations of 
 the confederacy were leagued with England, under Col. Butler, 
 and the notorious Johnson. It was under the former officer 
 that the Senecas, principally, aided by Tories, perpetrated the 
 Massacre of Wyoming. The Onondagas, at first, professed neu- 
 trality between the belligerent parties; but as it was believed 
 that they aided in the more hostile operations of the Senecas, a 
 detachment was sent from Fort Stanwix, which destroyed their 
 Tillages. This attack was revenged by assaults upon the settle- 
 ments of Schoharie and the western borders of Ulster. 
 
 During the war, Tryon County contained a large number of 
 Tories, who were constantly inciting the Indians to acts of hos- 
 tility against the Colonies. But while they were successful with 
 a large portion of the Iroquois, they signally failed in all their 
 attempts to abate the fidelity of the Oneidas and Tuscaroras. 
 This division in the councils of the Six Nations, disturbed the 
 amity which had previously existed between the confederated 
 tribes; and the bond which had so long united them, was sever- 
 ed forever. More than o-qpe, were the Oneidas driven from their 
 Tillages, and compelled to seek protection from the whites ; and 
 parties of the latter tribe, with a part of the Tuscaroras, actual- 
 ly took up arras against their ancient brethren. It is said that 
 the notorious Col. Walter Butler was killed by an Oneida Chief, 
 during his flight after the battle of Johnstown. 
 
 At the time embraced by our narrative, it was not infrequent 
 that diflBculties occurred between the separated parties of the 
 •onfederacy, and hostile encounters took place, which ended in 
 bloodshed. Indeed, the successful Colonies had not concluded 
 any treaty of peace with the Mohawks, Onondagas, Cayugas, 
 and Senecas, until October, 1784. By that treaty, those tribes 
 consented to a release of prisoners, and also to a cession of all 
 their territory west of Pennsylvania. 
 
 The Six Nations, at the time of the Revolution, were consider- 
 ed the most formidable of the Indian warriors to be found on 
 the North American Continent ; and overtures were made to 
 them, as well by the Congress of the confederated Colonies, as 
 Ij the English Qovemment The overtures of the latter were 
 
tBB FRO NTIER8UE IT. II 
 
 made through Col. Guy Johnson — successor to Sir William^— 
 and through the great influence he possessed over them, he was 
 able to induce them to take up arms against the peaceable and 
 scattered inhabitants of the frontier. The number of Indians 
 of the Six Nations who actually took up arms in favor of Great 
 Britain, is estimated at about 1200. The whole number of In- 
 dians, of all tribes, who were employed by the British against 
 the Colonies, was estimated by Captain Dalton, (Superintendent 
 of Indian Affairs in 1783.) at 12,G90. 
 
 The histories of the time, relate the terrible sufferings endured 
 by the inhabitants of Tryon County. The valleys of the Scho- 
 harie, the Mohawk and the Susquehanna, were swept, year after 
 year, by the Indians; villages were burnt — and, without dis- 
 crimination of age or sex, the whites who were supposed to be 
 favorable to the Colonial cause, were massacred. These events 
 gave rise to the expedition of iGen. Sullivan into the Onondaga, 
 Cayuga and Seneca country, which was overrun and laid waste; 
 and it was hoped that the Indians, having lost their provisions 
 and stores, would cease their incursions upon the border settle- 
 ments. But all such hopes were vain; the depredations were 
 renewed, and continued until the end of the war. It is said by 
 the author of the Life of Brant, that '• two years before the close 
 of the war, one-third of the population had gone over to the 
 enemy — one-third had been driven from the country, or were 
 slain in battle, and by private assassination. And yet among the 
 inhabitants of the other remaining third, in June, 1783, it was 
 stated at a public meeting held at Fort Plain, that there were 
 three hundred widows and two thousand orphan children." 
 
 The country which is the immediate scene of the following 
 narrative, was little known in the time of the Revolution. The 
 maps of the period designated it as Indian country, and as an 
 unexplored region. The Tienaderack, or Unadilla River — one of 
 the tributaries of the Susquehanna — is given as the western 
 boundary of the whites, beyond which are the villages and 
 hunting-grounds of the Oneidas and Tuscaroras. It is into this 
 unexplored region that we propose to conduct the reader. We 
 cannot promise a strict fidelity to truth, in the precise incidents 
 related in our narrative, but they have kindred features in nar- 
 ratives related by the ancient settlers of this valley. There are 
 traditions, well authenticated, which might give rise to many of 
 the incidents. With this general view of the condition of Tryon 
 County, at the time of the Revolution, we will conduct the 
 reader to that portion of it in which we are more immediatelj 
 is teres ted. 
 
19 TIC FB0NTIIR8MIV. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 * Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 
 Than that of painted pomp 1 Are not these wood* 
 More free from peril than the envious court 1 
 Here feel we but the penalty of Adam — 
 The season's difference." 
 
 As You LiKB IT. 
 
 It was, then, in the early part of the month of October, 1783., 
 that two travelers might have been seen, leisurely wending 
 their way, on foot, southwardly, along a somewhat narrow val- 
 ley, through which flowed a rapid but attractive river. That 
 part of the valley which was now in their view, was not more 
 than half a mile in breadth. On the west, the hills were low, 
 and presented no peculiar attraction to the eye. On the east, 
 however, they attained a loftier height, and, in the golden sun- 
 shine which fell from the autumn sky, excited the surprise and 
 admiration of our travelers. From the position they occupied, 
 they could trace the course of the valley for some six or seven 
 miles, among the hills, which became bolder and loftier, until it 
 was lost in a sudden turn to the westward. The river, along 
 whose banks they had traveled for some ten or twelve miles, was 
 here from four to six rods in width; and, as we have before 
 observed, was attractive by the rapidity of its current and the 
 frequent but graceful curves in which it pursued its course. 
 The Indian name, which this river now bears, implies "the 
 Pleasant P^iver." 
 
 The forest about them exhibited much variety of vegetation ; 
 and among the trees which they observed, they saw fine 
 specimens of the pine, which towered above the surrounding for- 
 est, in the graceful superiority of foliage and beauty. The 
 maple, hemlock, beech, birch, walnut, and chestnut, were abun- 
 dant. It was at just the season of the year when the leaf of 
 the maple wears its^choicest hue of red; and the beech and 
 chestnut assume their " sere and j^ellow." Blending with these 
 varieties, the unfading richness of the evergreen, it would excite 
 no wonder, that the younger of our travelers, at least, beheld 
 with admiration the gorgeous drapery which, in this climate, 
 th^ forest assumes, preparatory to the desolation of winter. 
 
 The younger of the two persons to whom we have called the at- 
 tention of the reader, might have been twenty-six or twenty-seven 
 years of age. Of middle stature, he exhibited a frame of much 
 Sjmmetrj and power; and it was apparent that he had b««n 
 
THE FRONTIERSMBir. ISJT 
 
 Inured to labors which had fully developed health and strength. 
 His face was some what embrowned by exposure to the weather; 
 out his active and intelligent eyes, the firm compression of his 
 lips, and the ready play of his countenance, as he listened to or 
 answered some remark of his companion, made it apparent that 
 he had at least bestowed some labor upon the cultivation of his 
 mind ; for inward discipline and culture always have their ef- 
 fect upon the outward bearing. Besides this, there was in his 
 countenance an evidence of sincerity of purpose, which if it pur- 
 sues but one path to attain its end, and that frequently an U7i- 
 comfortable one, always triumphs over temporary difiBculties. 
 Ralph Weston — for that is the name of the young traveler — was 
 ever honorable and upright, even where worldly '• prudence" 
 would have admitted of a slight departure from the rigid rules 
 of propriety. He was not of that modern school, which makes 
 exjyediency the touchstone of morality of conduct; but he always 
 disclaimed the artifices to which men too frequently resort to 
 hide the practices which are well enough in themselves, but 
 which happen to contravene popular opinions or customs. But, 
 with this serious turn of mind, he possessed a romantic disposi- 
 tion, which frequently led him into acts that excited the surprise 
 of more sedate or less romantic acquaintances ; but with no art, 
 save a frank disposition, and a heart of sympathy and fiiendship, 
 Ralph Weston always found '• troops of friends" to whom he 
 was little less than what we propose to make of him — a hero. 
 
 Ralph Weston, then, as might be readily supposed, in the dark 
 hours when the Colonies were struggling for life, embarked his 
 hopes and fortunes in the cause of his country. At the age of 
 eighteen, he volunteered as a private soldier, and after serving a 
 short time in this humble capacity, he had risen in rank, until at 
 the close of the war, he held the commission of a captain. His 
 maternal aunt (for he had neither father nor mother, both having 
 died in his infancy) always insisted that he should have been a 
 general, at least; and perhaps, if merit were always the true 
 test of advancement, he would have attained a much higher rank. 
 But while he was always foremost in danger, he was ever a lag- 
 gard in the ranks of those who press eagerly forward for the 
 spoils of victory, or the honors which are more often worn than 
 deserved. But we will suffer the reader to become more inti- 
 mately acquainted with him as we proceed in our history. 
 
 His traveling companion, however, cannot be dismissed with- 
 out notice ; for Ichabod Jenkins (familiarly called " Ike," by his 
 too-presuming acquaintances) had no small idea of his own im- 
 portance. At the time when he appears before us, he cannot 
 be less than forty-seven or eight years of age; when standing 
 erect, he is full six feet two in stockings ; but as he generally 
 appears in locomotion, you would make his height at about five 
 feet ten. His frame was not, apparently, robust, and a strang«r 
 
24 THE FRO NTIEBSHSir. 
 
 would have been surprised at any great indication of strength 
 on his part ; yet few in the neighborhood of his residence, on 
 any public occasion, when feats of agility or strength wer« 
 undertaken, would have dared to match him in ary game where 
 these qualities were necessary. Yet this was the least of Icha- 
 bod's merits, if his own judgment could be trusted. 
 
 In his earlier days, a long struggle had taken place in his mind 
 between the love of wealth and literary pursuits. He recognized 
 the distinctive antipathy between these two misresses ; yet 
 neither of them had ever acquired a complete victory over the 
 other J so he had compromised between them by uniting a course 
 of such reading as could then be attained in general literature, 
 with a strong speculative disposition, which desired to leap at 
 once, and by one bound, from rags into purple. Now, it must 
 be confessed, that Ichabod had succeeded about as well in one 
 pursuit as in the other — and to which of his mistresses to attri- 
 bute his ill success, he did not know. He had read Mrs. Brad- 
 street's poems, who, in her day, was styled " the mirror of her 
 age and the glory of her sex" — he had much admired the poetry 
 of George Wolcott, but he was completely intoxicated with the 
 " Simple Cobbler of Agawam," by Nathanial Ward, although 
 he did not adopt its fanatical se-atiments ; the Revolutionary poets 
 he had by heart, and for the reputation of Freneau, he would 
 have abandoned the fame of iJhakespeare, had he possessed the 
 power of choice. He had at one time secluded himself from all 
 of his acquaintances for a month or two ; and at last, when he 
 emerged from his solitude, he was seen with a quantity of manu- 
 script, which he read to his most intimate friends with exceed- 
 ingly rhapsodical gestures. It was even thought that this manu- 
 script had been offered to some publisher, but as its contents 
 whatever they were, never appeared in print, it was well under- 
 stood that it had been rejected. It is certain, that from this 
 time he abandoned all ideas of winning a literary reputation, and 
 set earnestly to work to win the fortune of which he had so long 
 been dreaming. But Ichabod, with an innate love for the jingle 
 of rhyme, could, even at this day, repeat enough of the lyrical 
 poetry of the country to endanger the patience and temper of his 
 warmest friend. 
 
 After attempting, at Boston, many schemes for the sudden 
 acquisition of wealth, which had all resulted in failure, he had, 
 some time previous to the war, shaken off the dust of the (to him) 
 unprosperous city, and traveled westward in search of a more 
 congenial spot, where the resources of his mind could be de- 
 veloped. 
 
 He had JinaCty located at one of the frontier settlements in 
 the State of New Yprk — a small, but growing place — and unen- 
 cumbered by wife or family, he fancied himself certain of succesi 
 •t last He h&d at one time taken a trip to the shores of Long 
 
Tils ^.RONTIEBSMBir. 15 
 
 Island Sound, for the puqwso of making inquiry as to the pros- 
 pect of realizing anything from the buried money of Capt. Kidd ; 
 but he returned somewhat poorer than he left. One time, while 
 wandering on the shore of a small creek, in his own neighbor- 
 hood, devising means for the expenditure of his wealth when it 
 should be obtained, he was suddenly arrested by the glitter of 
 some fine, shining particles, in the sand. Certain that he had at 
 length discovered a gold mine, the land was purchased by him 
 on contract, at an extravagant price, by turning out what little 
 money and few valuables he possessed. His mysterious appear- 
 ance and conduct, attracted towards him the attention of the 
 whole settlement ; it was whispered that he was always ^ut of 
 his boarding-house at night, and that he invariably slept a por- 
 tion of the day. He had been heard, too, to hint, in a solemn 
 manner, of his taking up his residence at Boston or New York, 
 and of building half a dozen blocks of brick buildings, and living 
 in a style of splendor that should astonish his early acquaint- 
 ances, who had always enviously predicted that he would never 
 amount to anything. The consequence was, that after much 
 managing and prying, Ichabod's mine was discovered, and the 
 whole settlement rushed — men, women and children — to share 
 his good fortune. Trespass suits followed thick and fast, and at 
 length it was discovered that the glittering particles which had 
 been gathered so eagerly, were worth just as much as the sand 
 in which they were imbedded, and no more. The result of this 
 speculation was. that Ichabod lost both his gold and his land, 
 and the little money he had previously possessed. 
 
 But nothing disheartened, other schemes filled his mind ; and 
 he was always the surest of success, just as he was the most 
 certain to be unsuccessful. Ichabod was altogether too busy in 
 his financial operations to volunteer as a soldier during the 
 Revolutionary War, although he had cast around earnestly to 
 ascertain if there was any way by which he could make his 
 business and patriotism harmonize together. But while he had 
 refused to sacrifice his chances of a fortune by taking up arms as 
 a soldier, to his credit be it said, that in the frequent Indian in- 
 cursions which had been made on the frontier settlements of 
 New York, he had zealously engaged in the plans of defense, and 
 had won an enviable notoriety as an Indian fighter. Always 
 cool and calculating, he never suSered himself to be surprised ; 
 and he came at last to be dreaded by the Indians, as bearing a 
 charmed life, which could not be taken. More than one Seneca, 
 who had escaped from his rifle, bore the marks of his bullets ; 
 and his name was never mentioned by them but with a look of 
 hatred. This feeling was cordially reciprocated ; and even a 
 lucky chance at a fortune could scarcely have deterred him firom 
 an attack, even in a time of peace, upon an Onondaga, Oayugii 
 or Seneca. 
 
16 THE PEONTIER^ka H. 
 
 But with the return of peace, all ideas or war had vanished, 
 and he now felt that it was necessary to make a desperate effort 
 for the fortune which had been so long delayed. But it was 
 necessary to possess some little capital ; and with the view of 
 laying the foundation for the capital desired, he had embraced 
 the opportunity of guiding Ralph Weston on his journey, which 
 was now nearly completed. He also had an idea about a specu- 
 lation which he wished to look after ; bat of that hereafter. 
 
 Armed with a rifle, which had been his constant companion 
 in his encounters with the Indians, and with a hunting-knifp 
 which he wore in a leathern belt, it would have been diflBcult 
 for a stranger to have pronounced his vocation. There was little 
 in his figure or appearance which would have indicated the habits 
 of a borderer of the period, yet one would scarcely have ventured 
 to guess at any other calling or profession. 
 
 His hair, which was long and straight, and originally of a 
 brownish color, had become grizzly, and flowed from under his 
 cap without order or regularity. His face was embrowned by 
 long exposure to the extremes of weather, while its expression 
 had a rigidity that was scarcely ever discomposed. His eyes 
 were of a grayish cast, and seemed always to be on the alert, to 
 detect dangers that might threaten either his person, or the men- 
 tal treasures which were just ready to be coined. 
 
 The travelers journeyed in a sort of path, which had evidently 
 been made some time before, but which had been little used. 
 Occasionally, a tree that could not be avoided had been felled, 
 and the stump wholly or partially removed ; and often the path 
 was obstructed by the trunk of a decayed tree, which had fallen 
 from old age, or had been overthrown by the violence of the 
 winds. 
 
 " Well, Ichabod," said Balph, after the travelers had paused 
 a while to survey the valley which now opened upon their view, 
 " we must be near our journey's end. From the indications you 
 gave me, we cannot be more than a mile distant, at farthest." 
 
 " I should say not, Captain," replied Ichabod ; " I was never 
 hereabouts but once before, and then I reckon we made some- 
 thing of a spec in the way of Injins. The varmints ! but they 
 are a long way off now, I reckon." 
 
 " I have never heard," said Ralph, " that any battles of con- 
 sequence were fought in this section of the State. This region 
 is too distant from the settlements, and too much of a wilderness, 
 to have been the scene of any important conflict." 
 
 " I can't say. Captain, how important it may or mayn't have 
 been to the country at large ; but this I do calculate, that it was 
 mighty important to them that had the fighting on't. Three 
 Injrns to one man, sarfln ; and they fought like devils, as thej were, 
 confound 'em ! Why, Captain, if you'll believe it, one of them red 
 rascals and I ra'allj had a pitched battle for the ownership of thii 
 
TEE FRONTIERSMBM. IT 
 
 here companion of mine," pointing to his rifle ; " but we taught the 
 cussed red-skins better manners. We don't part company so 
 easy ;" and Ichabod grasped his rifle with a still firmer hand ; 
 and then half said and half sung, from the old ballad of " Lot6« 
 weU's fight," 
 
 " * For, as we are informed, 
 
 So thick and fast they fell, 
 Scarce twenty of their number 
 At night did got home well.' " 
 
 '• I supposed," said Ralph, " that this country, through which 
 we are now traveling, was in the posession of the friendly Onei- 
 das and Tuscaroras ?" 
 
 " Yes, it was in their possession," answered Ichabod, " except 
 when it was overrun by those devils of Senecas or Onondagas 
 and that was pretty tole»"ably often. They got lots of scalps, 
 sometimes, and sometimes they lost their own. The Tryon Coun- 
 ty boys, when they had a fair chance at 'em, always paid 'em oflf. 
 with interesL As the poet said : 
 
 " ' Come all you Tryon County men, 
 And never be dismayed ; 
 But trust sincerely in the Lord, 
 And He ¥rill be your aid.' 
 
 But, as I ginerally found, they had to trust a good deal to their 
 
 rifles." 
 
 " I had heard of the sufferings of the people at the settlements,** 
 said Ralph, " and knew the fact that many sharp battles, which 
 are little known in the general history of the war, occurred ; but 
 I supposed they were confined to the immediate neighborhood of 
 the settlements." 
 
 " Why, 3'^ou see, Captain, if we got the start of 'em at the set- 
 tlemeu'ts, we weren't such fools as to let 'em go without a taste 
 of our pluck ; and it was on one of them occasions that I was 
 down here. But I say, Captain," exclaimed he, as he approached 
 a sudden bend in the river, where there was a much more than 
 usual current, " what d'ye tliink of the chance of setting up a 
 woolen factory down here, on this creek ?" 
 
 Amused with the turn Ichabod had given to the conversation, 
 Ralph suggested that it might possibly be a profitable investment, 
 provided he could induce the Indians to become customers to his 
 establishment, and provided the requisite staples for the manu- 
 facture could be obtained. Nothing daunted by the suggestion 
 of obstacles, Ichabod proceeded to explain to Ralph how a rapid 
 fortune, in that line, could be accumulated. 
 
 "Now s'pose. Captain, that we buy of these Oneidas and 
 Tuscaroras a water-privilege. Well, that's done. Then we'll 
 put up a building. Plenty of materials, you see, all aroond 
 
18 TBE FRONTIERSMBir. 
 
 here ; and we can get the maclimery at New York, or send for 
 a good hand, and make it ourselves. Then, as you say, we shall 
 have to get the wool ; and after it's manufactured, we shall have 
 to sell it. But why can't we raise sheep here ? "We can get a 
 small stock at the settlement, and what with thera and the 
 increase, we shan't have any lack of wool : and for a market, 
 haven't we got the whole country? But you'll say. Captain, 
 that the foreign importations will ruins us ? Well, that is a diffi- 
 culty ; but it can't last, Captain ; it won't last. We'll conquer 
 them foreign fellows in that business, yet, as we did in the other. 
 But I think we can, any way, get up a good-enough home mar- 
 ket among these Injins. I'll have a talk with 'em about it." 
 And we shall see that he did, on a subsequent occasion, faithfully 
 perform his promise. 
 
 But we will not follow the worthy Ichabod in his calculations 
 upon the profits of his speculation. He had scarcely reached the 
 middle of his figurings upon the profits to be realized from a 
 thousand sheep, when Ralph, who was wearied, yet amused, by 
 the earnestness of his companion, exclaimed : 
 
 " Arrived at last !" 
 
 They had now approached near the northeastern shore of a 
 small lake or pond, which lay buried in the valley, fcompletely 
 surrounded by the forest. Its eastern shore was about fifty rods 
 from the river ; and so far as they could observe, it had neither 
 inlet nor outlet. It was of an almost perfect oval form, having 
 on the eastern and a portion of the southern shore a bluff of fif- 
 teen or twenty feet in height ; but on the southwest, the land 
 gradually receded in an upward slope, into a hill of fifty or sixty 
 feet in height, while, towards the northwest, the land rose 
 sharply from the water's edge to an elevation of eighty or a 
 hundred feet. The northern shore seemed to be flat and marshy, 
 and had the appearance of having, at one time, been covered with 
 the waters of the pond. As we have said, it was of nearly an 
 oval form, and was about one hundred rods across, from east to 
 west, while from north to south the distance was still greater. 
 The water was calm and clear, and reflected, with the brightness 
 and truthfulness of a mirror, the forms of the trees which stood 
 upon its western shore. Even Ichabod awoke from his specula- 
 tive dreams, and admired, with Ralph, the still and quiet beauty 
 of the scene. 
 
 Upon the brow of "the hill which we have described on the 
 southwestern shore of the pond, in a clearing of few acres in 
 extent, stood a cottage, not much different from the general 
 style of cottages, as they were then built by the pioneers of the 
 wilderness. Yet, in the distance which intervened between it 
 and our travelers, and in the calmness and clearness of the day, 
 which had now nearly reached its close, the cottage possessed 
 charms, in their eyes, which its intrinsic beauties, either in sitiuk 
 
THE FRONTIERSMEN. 19 
 
 kion or construction, did not perhaps merit. So far as Ralpb 
 
 was concerned, perhaps, there were other reasons to lend it % 
 charm, beyond the beauty of the landscape or the golden rays 
 thrown upon it by the setting sun. 
 
 While they were yet observing it, with very different emotions, 
 it was apparent from an unwonted excitement among its inhabi- 
 tants, that their arrival had been observed, and the figure of a 
 stout-looking elderly man, followed by a negro, could be seen ad- 
 vancing towards them. But we must leave the meeting to be 
 recorded in the next chapter. 
 
 .>^' 
 
 :^^^'^-' 
 
i^O fSl rBOVTIBBIMIV 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ^ 'Tis pleasant, through the loop-hQles of retrM^ 
 To peep at such a world ; to see the stir 
 Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd; 
 To hear the roar she sends, through all her gatM^ 
 At a safe distance, where the dying sound 
 Falls, a soft murmur, on the uninjured ear." 
 
 Thi individual we have mentioned, who now came rapidlj 
 towards Ralph, was somewhat advanced in years — not less, per- 
 haps, than sixty. Yet, in his whole bearing and appearance 
 could be seen the iron frame and hardihood, which in these days 
 have given place to a certain effeminacy of manners. The hardy, 
 robust race of men who cleared our forests, and encountered 
 cheerfully the sufferings and privations, and endured the toil 
 incident to a pioneer life, are passing away ; and however much 
 our vanity may suffer in making the confession, their sons and 
 successors are apt to lack in those iron qualities which succeeded 
 against obstacles, the magnitude of which most of us do not 
 appreciate. 
 
 The countenance of this individual exhibited tokens of the 
 energy of this now nearly departed class of men ; yet upon it, 
 at the same time, glowed an expression of honesty and intelli- 
 gence, which at once win the heart and command confidence and 
 respect. The frosts of time had but lightly touched his hair, and 
 at the first glance, one would have guessed him at least ten years 
 younger than he actually was. 
 
 Matthew Barton, for such was his name, about two years before 
 the period we have assigned for our narrative, had left one of the 
 settlements at the eastward, and removed with his family to this 
 remote region. He had been unfortunate in his pecuniary affairs, 
 and his confidence had been betrayed by a friend for whom he 
 had incurred obligations nearly to the amount of his small for- 
 tune. With the remains of his little property he had removed 
 to the west, advancing beyond the remotest dwelling in this 
 section of the State. He^was satisfied that he had years of labor 
 left in him yet ; and with a prudent foresight, he saw that a few 
 years, at most, would surround him with neighbors, who would 
 be likely to follow him to the fertile and beautiful valley he had 
 selected. Suddenly, perhaps, for one advanced to his age, and 
 yielding partially to the feelings of mortification he endured at 
 the idea of struggling with poverty among those who had seen 
 him in a more prosperous condition, he resolved upon this oourse, 
 likd it was at once adopted. 
 
Til 7K01f TIIKBM I V. SI 
 
 ffifl wife had died a number of years before, leaving hira but 
 one child, a daughter, who at this time had arrived at about 
 twenty years of age. He had purchased, with the remains of 
 his property, a negro, to assist him in his farming operations , 
 and thus provided, we behold him in the new house of his old 
 age. 
 
 Ralph advanced rapidly forward to meet him, and hearty 
 were the greetings between them. 
 
 "Right glad am I to see you here, Ralph," said Barton, 
 "yours is the first friendly face I have seen from the settle- 
 ments in many a day ; and I can say, too, that there is no other 
 I would more gladly see. Oneidas and Tuscaroras are well 
 enough in their place, but it does one good to see a little of the 
 old eastern blood, once in a while." 
 
 The first greetings over, Ralph, with a blush — very faint indeed, 
 but still a blush — of which the old gentleman was entirely 
 unconscious, inquired about his old playmate, Ruth. 
 
 " Well and happy, Ralph — at least, as happy as one can be, so 
 far from friends ; but she will be right glad to see you, I doubt 
 not." 
 
 Ralph introduced Ichabod to Mr. Barton, as a worthy gentle- 
 man from the settlements, who had been induced to accompany 
 him through the wilderness ; and the party then proceeded 
 towards the cottage, which, on a nearer approach, if it lost some 
 of the enchantments which distance had lent it, gained on the 
 score of adaptation to the purposes for which it had been erected. 
 It was situated in the midst of a few acres of land which had 
 been almost entirely cleared, and which showed abundant signs 
 of having already repaid, for the season, the labor which had 
 been bestowed upon it. A log barn had been erected, a short dis- 
 tance from the house, and about the premises were seen the usual 
 fixtures of a pioneer habitation. The house itself was built of 
 logs, but they had been hewn and squared with some care ; and, 
 altogether, it had the appearance of a neat and comfortable resi- 
 dence. It had, also, with a foresight against contingencies which 
 might occur, been adapted as a place of defense against any 
 attacks which might be made upon it by Indians. 
 
 " Stir your shanks, Sambo !" said Barton to the ne^ro, " and 
 inform your mistress that she has visitors coming." 
 
 The negro hurried away on his errand, while the party pro- 
 ceeded more leisurely towards the dwelling. 
 
 Ralph was welcomed by Miss Barton with all the warmth 
 and pleasure that might have been expected from their ^'*^y 
 friendship. Years had elapsed since they had been separated, 
 and, in the look of mutual joy and pleased surprise at the changes 
 which time had wrought in each other, might be traced, perhaps, 
 in both, the existence of a tenderer feeling than belongs to mer* 
 friendship. 
 
^2 TBE FBONTIEBSHKir 
 
 Bath Barton, as we have already said, was about twenty yeftrf 
 of age. In figure, she was of the medium female height, but with 
 a form fully developed by healthful exercise ; her countenance pos- 
 sessed a gentle quietness, which was peculiarly feminine ; but 
 withal it gave evidence of a confidence and self-reliance necessary 
 to the women as well as to the men of the frontier settlements 
 of that period. She was, as her appearance would isdicate, the 
 life of the family =— always busy in the labors and duties of the 
 household ; and, under her superintendence, there were a regu- 
 larity and neatness which, to the most fastidious of housekeepers, 
 might perhaps have been a little surprising. But these were not 
 the only qualifications which Ruth Barton possessed. She was 
 not satisfied with the mere routine of ordinary duties, but she 
 had found time to adorn her mind with many of the accomplish- 
 ments Of education — far beyond most of those even, who were 
 elevated above her by the means and opportunity of acquiring 
 a thorough education. Her mind was of a somewhat imaginative 
 cast, and she possessed a deep and quiet love for the beauties of 
 Nature. She loved her new home in the wilderness — the beauti- 
 ful valley which her father had seclected, possessed charms which 
 she admired ; and she had never wished to exchange it, though 
 solitary and neighborless, for the more populous country in which 
 she had once resided. 
 
 There was also present in the room an ill-clad, stout-looking 
 man, by the name of Guthrie, apparently about forty-five years 
 of age. His countenance had a vulgar cast ; and it wore, besides, 
 in ill-natured expression, that repelled any attempt at an inti- 
 mate acquaintance. This Guthrie had, during the war of the 
 Revolution, been a Tory ; and it had been suspected that he was 
 sne of the most active agents in inciting the Indians of this local- 
 ity to revolt. He resided at some distance below, on the river, 
 in a log shanty erected by him. He was a sort of squatter, and 
 tilled a few acres which had been partially cleared by the Indians 
 years before ; but relied principally upon his gun and fish-pole for 
 a livelihood. Occasionally he went to the settlements with such 
 skins or other articles as he could exchange. He was merely 
 tolerated in the family of Mr. Barton, whenever he made his 
 appearance j and knowing the ill favor with which he was re- 
 ceived, it was seldom that he intruded himself upon them. 
 
 As the party entered the door, Guthrie, who had been sit- 
 ting listlessly by the fireside, arose with a sort of dogged air ; 
 but as the tall figure of Ichabod met his eye, he shrank quietly 
 back again, and endeavored, as much as possible, to withdraw 
 himself from observation. Ichabod did not observe him, or, at 
 least, exhibited no signs of recognition. 
 
 "We have been expecting you. Captain Weston, for some 
 days," said Ruth ; " we learned by Guthrie, who came about a 
 w«ek 1^ from the settlements, that you had returned from tho 
 
THK FR0NTIEB3HSN. 33 
 
 army ; and we have been awaiting the fulfilment of an old pro- 
 mise to visit us." 
 
 •'I left Philadelphia but a few weeks since," replied Ralph; 
 " I was mindful of my promise, and set out on my visit here aa 
 soon as my business arrangements would allow ; but I hardly 
 think I should have found my way here at all, had it not been 
 for my friend, Mr. Jenkins. He picked his way through your 
 wilderness like an old acquaintance." 
 
 Ichabod acknowledged the attention which this remark at- 
 tracted towards him, by gradually elevating his form and reply- 
 ing: 
 
 " "Well, these woods are something like an old acquainance to 
 me, seeing as how I have been through here on some sharp war 
 paths, afore now. It was down yonder in them flats, we had a 
 terrible skrimmage with them red sarpints the Senecas and On- 
 ondagas ; but we gave 'em a touch of Independence, con-found 
 
 em 
 
 p» 
 
 " How long ago, Mr. Jenkins," asked Barton, " did the fight 
 which you mention occur ?" 
 
 " Well, as near as I can calculate, I should think it was in the 
 fall of 79." 
 
 " That must have been the same affair which I have heard you 
 mention, Guthrie," said Barton, addressing that individual, who 
 sat in the corner of the large fireplace, with his hat drawn over 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Yes," growled Guthrie^ without moving. 
 
 " What ! old veteran, was you there, too ?" asked Ichabod, 
 approaching him. 
 
 " No, I wan't there," replied Guthrie ferociously, partly turn- 
 ing his face towards Ichabod. 
 
 "Well, you needn't be so savage about it, friend," said Icha- 
 bod, slowly. '' Them that font there, so far as I know, hadn't 
 nothing to be ashamed on." Then turning away, he muttered 
 to himself, " I've seen them features afore, somewhere — down in 
 the settlements, perhaps. But I say. Squire," turning towards 
 Barton, " you've done a mighty smart business, clearing up 
 here, lately." 
 
 "Yes, something of a business. We have not been idle. 
 Sambo and I have got ten or fifteen acres pretty well cleared." 
 
 la the meantime, Euth was busy making preparations for the 
 family supper, and providing otherwise for the comfort of their 
 guests. Guthrie took the opportunity quietly to leave the room, 
 and with his rifle on his shoulder, proceeded rapidly in a south- 
 erly direction. 
 
 The conversation then turned upon the political condition 0/ 
 the country, the depreciated state of the currency, and the anti- 
 cipated proceedings of Congress. 
 
 " The greatest difficulty that lies in the way of a proper ma» 
 
24 TBI FBONTIEBSlfElf. 
 
 i^emeiit and settlement of our affairs," said Ralph, in reply tc 
 Bome remark of Barton, " it seems to me, is in the limited pow- 
 ers of Congress. Impotent for any purpose, it has a herculean 
 task before it. I think it wU^ be found necessary to adopt a 
 stronger government." 
 
 "No, no," replied Barton, who seemed to be tenacious of 
 State rights, and to labor under a great fear of the evil cons» 
 quences of a centralization of power. " Congress has powe; 
 enough. The disorders under which the country labors, woui 
 have been no less under any form of government. Withou 
 resources, in a long and harassing war, the burden of indebted 
 ness and the depreciated condition of the currency, were una 
 voidable ; but all that will be necessary to restore us, will be a 
 few years of peace. Things will come round of themselves." 
 
 " But," said Ralph, " how is our indebtedness to be paid ? 
 The country is already exhausted by taxation. The States 
 themselves are overburdened with their own debts: when to 
 these are added those contracted by Congress, it is very difficult, 
 under the present order of things, to see our way clearly out of 
 our embarrassments. No credit in Europe — no money at home — 
 no confidence anywhere. With a few years of peace, had Con- 
 gress the power to levy impost duties, much might be done. 
 Even the late measure of a proposed impost duty of five per cent, 
 has been lost by the obstinacy of Rhode Island, which would 
 not concur in the measure." 
 
 " Say, the patriotism of Rhode Island, rather," answered Bar- 
 Jon, '' if that term may be applied to a State. I look upon that 
 system of impost duties as a direct robbery of the people. Give 
 Congress that power, and you give away the whole property of 
 the nation. Duties would be laid that would deprive the poorer 
 classes of all the comforts — ay, of many of the necessaries of 
 life. That won't do." 
 
 " How, then," asked Ralph, " would you pay off our indebted- 
 ness, and support the burthens of government ?" 
 
 " By direct taxation ! " 
 
 "But that system, you would find, I think," said Ralph, 
 " would not answer the purpose. It would only reach a certain 
 class, and would be very strongly resisted. But, by the other 
 system, the trifling addition to the cost of articles of general 
 consumption would be little felt, and after a time, would be 
 generally acquiesced in. Besides, all classes of persons would ba 
 reached, and almost universally in proportion to their means." 
 
 " It is only a return to the principle of the stamp act," said 
 Barton, who was a little excited ; " and our seven years of war< 
 fare and suffering will have been useless, if, after all, we are 
 to permit any authority, in its discretion, to impose burdens 
 apon us." 
 
 ^ I don't know about that, Squire," interrupted Ichabod, whs 
 
THE r SONTIERSM E N. 25 
 
 had liatened to this discussion with much interest, and to whose 
 mind the factory speculation proposed to Ralph, recurred. 
 " Wouldn't such a system a little better allow us to take care of 
 ourselves? Couldn't we a little easier build up manufactories of 
 our own ? Just add that five or ten per cent, to the profits of 
 our own manufacturers, and pretty soon we'd hold them furrin 
 manufacturers off at arm's length. You'd see factories of all 
 sorts starting up all over the country, and there would be a 
 pleasure in that, to a man who loved his own country — to wear 
 cloth and drive nails made at home. Now, couldn't you, Squire 
 if a duty of ten or fifteen per cent, was laid on woollen fixins', 
 afford to go into the fact )ry business, on your own hook, on this 
 river of your'n, here ? " 
 
 "Fiddlesticks!" ejaculated Barton, "what could /do in the 
 factory business?" 
 
 " Well, perhaps you mightn't do anything at it, Squire," replied 
 Ichabod ; " but somebody else might. Now. suppose somebody 
 should locate a business of that kind down here, I'll tell you 
 how you could make a nice spec out of it, without laying out 
 any capital at all — although it would be kind'er fair to lend a 
 helping hand, jist to start, perhaps, seeing you could make so 
 well out of it." 
 
 Barton looked at Ichabod, as if he began to doubt his sanity ; 
 but to Ralph, the earnestness of the one and the surprise of the 
 other, was a matter of great amusement. 
 
 Ichabod continued, pleased at the surprised attention which 
 Barton was giving to him : 
 
 " You see, Squire, s'pose that business should be started down 
 here, jist opposite them flats, it would be necessary to bring in 
 lots of people, and you could lay out them flats into building- 
 lots, and realize something handsome out of it." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " said Barton, " a city down here ! Well, I'll tell 
 you what I'll do, Mr. Jenkins. I'll give you the land for your 
 factory, together with your water-privilege, and we'll divide the 
 profits on the city lots j " and the old gentleman laughed heartily 
 at the suggestion. 
 
 " That's what I call fair," said Ichabod, slowly ; " but couldn^ 
 you, Squire, do a little something towards furnishing the capi 
 tal?" 
 
 '• Furnishing the capital ! " ejaculated Barton ; " why, as to 
 that, I haven't capital enough to furnish my own farm, small as 
 it is. No : I think, Mr. Jenkins, I have made you a very fair 
 offer." 
 
 Just at this moment, Sambo announced their supper to be 
 ready, and Ichabod was obliged to desist from the fuither prose- 
 cution of his project. But, extremely well satisfied with the 
 progress already made, he began seriously to dream of tbt 
 manufacturing firm of " Barton, Weston, Jenkins & Co." 
 
26 TH3 f A0NTIBR8aiB9. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 2d Pialurman. — " Master, I marvel hojf the fishes live in the 8«ft.** 
 lit Fisherman. — "Why, as men do on land — the great ones eat up tht 
 little ones." Pkbiclib. 
 
 Ralph was now fairly installed as a member of the family of 
 Mr. Barton. He had found an opportunity, in the course of the 
 evening of his arrival, to ex3hange a few words of conversation 
 with Ruth ; and he was now satisfied that the partiality with 
 which, in former days, she had regarded him, had not given place 
 to indifierence. The consciousness of this fact amply repaid 
 him for long years of absence, and led him to look forward to 
 such a future as only appears to the vision of those who reason 
 from the heart. The future, cold, impassable, dark, and filled 
 with mysterious dread, to him who has outlived the power of 
 youthful passion — to the young and the hopeful, is the unattained 
 but attainable region, where exist all the charms and raptures 
 which can be bodied forth by an ardent imagination. So dif- 
 ferent are the views of life which can be made by a few active, 
 busy years. 
 
 On the morning of the day after their arrival, Ralph and Icha- 
 bod, accompanied by Barton, examined the farm and the 
 improvements which had been made by the energy of the lat- 
 ter. Some fifteen acres of forest had already been cleared, and 
 Sambo, on this morning, was engaged in still farther invading the 
 domains of the wilderness ; and with his bare and muscular 
 arms was wielding the axe like a redoubtable soldier among a 
 multitude of enemies. 
 
 There is something pleasant to the eye in beholding the strug- 
 gle of man with the wilderness; to see old, mossy trees, that 
 had stood for ages, faithful guardians of the soil, whose long, 
 leafy boughs and bushy crowns, seemed to belong as much to 
 the sky in which they waved and nodded, as to the earth which 
 sustained them, bow down their heavy heads with a crash, that 
 to the imaginative Blind, seems, with its echoes, like a mournful 
 wail issuing from the surviving forest. As the tree falls, the 
 golden sunlight darts into a new and unexplored region, and the 
 melancholy forest abode recedes, as if pursued by an nnplacable 
 enemy. But it is a rescue of the earth from the long slumber 
 of past time, aj.i an ofiering to the comforts and necessities of 
 the future. 
 
 It is scarcely to be wondered at, that in earlier times, when 
 the imaginations of men overruled their powers of reason, iht 
 
TBS FRONTIERSllIir. 2T 
 
 sombre, melancholy forest abode was peopled with fanciful beings 
 ►—children of the shadow and of the forest — Fairies. Dryads, and 
 Satyrs, with Arcadian landscapes, and the good god Pan to pre- 
 side over sylvan sports ! But in these days of utility, the reed 
 of the shepherd and the music of the sylvan gods are drowned 
 in the clatter of saw-millS; and the hoarse song of the wood- 
 chopper. 
 
 Ichabod, who had not forgotten the conversation of the pre- 
 vious evening, endeavored, two or three times, to revive the pro- 
 ject which on that occasion he had proposed to Barton ; but he 
 was unsuccessful in his attempts to renew the discussion. After 
 a few hours thus spent, the party returned to the cottage. Bar- 
 ton proposed, for the afternoon, a fishing excursion upon the pond. 
 " It is filled," said he, '• with pickerel and perch — both very deli- 
 cious fish, and they are taken with the utmost ease. This is 
 just Che season for them." 
 
 Ralph inquired if the streams contained any specimens of 
 trout ; and Barton answered, " that the river contained some 
 very fine specimens, although they were not so numerous as in 
 the smaller streams. Occasionally we take pike, but they do 
 not come so far up the river in very large quantities. But," he 
 continued, with a zeal that showed he was not a stranger to the 
 gentle art, '• our brooks are filled — absolutely filled — with trout. 
 There is a stream, about a mile and a half west of us, which 
 comes from the northwest, through a wilderness, with which I 
 am almost wholly unacquainted, where they can be taken in 
 great numbers. In an hour, we can catch as many as it will be 
 convenient to carry. If you like, we will go over there to-mor- 
 row, or next day ; but for to-day, I am anxious to show you 
 sport nearer by." 
 
 It was arranged, that in the afternoon the suggestion of Bar- 
 ton should be followed ; and hearing the latter giving some direc- 
 tions to Sambo, which it will be unnecessary here repeat, Ralph 
 and Ichabod proceeded leisurely towards the cottage. 
 
 " There is a charm, for me, about a life in the woods," said 
 Ralph, " which I cannot explain. Mingled with the idea of a 
 nearer approach to the Court of Nature, is that of separation from 
 the passions and vices of men in the world. One feels to eiclaiin 
 with the Bard of Avon, 
 
 " ' Is not this life more sweet 
 Than that of painted pomp 1 Are not these woodd 
 More free from peril than the envious oourtl' " 
 
 " I don't dispute the general idea," said Ichabod, " about the 
 sweetness of a life in the woods. I have never tried it very 
 much, bat I always have a different sort of feeling from usual 
 when I find myself in the forest ; but I reckon that it can't b« 
 eoosiderod very patriotie for a Cftptaia m the RevolutiouMy 
 
2S T H K f • K O N T 1 E R S M E K . 
 
 Army to be quoting Shakspeare, or any other British poet 
 What did he know about our woods 1 All the woods he erer 
 saw were but a child's play-ground compared with the eternal, 
 never-ending forests of America. As for me, if I've got any 
 poetry to quote, I can find enough of our own manufacture. I 
 believe in the home manufacture of that article, just as much as 
 I do in that of the other kind we were talking about last night." 
 
 Kalph smiled at Ichabod's literar;f bigotry. He answered: 
 
 "I do not know any reasonable objection to our admiring the 
 men of genius of a foreign or hostile nation, or their writings. 
 Men of genius are the property of the world. Whatever they 
 may think or say that may delight and instruct one people, may 
 equally delight and instruct all others. We are yet in the 
 infancy of the poetic art, and have produced no poets capable 
 of winning a world-wide reputation." 
 
 " That's precisely what the British say, Captain ; and if I 
 didn't know that your heart was true as steel to the American 
 cause, I should be a little ^eoZow^ of you. No poets of reputation ! 
 Did you ever read Freneau, Captain ? To my mind, he's got 
 more poetry in his little finger than Shakspeare had in bis 
 whole body. Now, did Shakspeare ever write anything equal 
 to Freneau's " Antiquity of America ?" 
 
 And Ichabod began reciting, in a loud voice— 
 
 " ' America, to every climate known, 
 Spreads her broad bosom to the burning zone ; 
 To either pole extends her vast domain, 
 Where varying suns in different summers reiga.' " 
 
 That's the way the poem begins, and it fully keeps up its pitch 
 Wft the way through." 
 
 Ralph had some knowledge of the poetical compositions of 
 Franeau, who had really produced some poems, full of a fine, 
 poetic feeling, and who was much beyond the mass of his poeti- 
 cal contemporaries in this country ; yet, although he entertained 
 a feeling of respect for the ability and services of the revolution- 
 ary poet, he coJild not share the high degree of admiration which 
 Ichabod entertained for him. 
 
 " I'll grant," said Ralph, scarcely knowing how to reply to the 
 irritated Ichabod, " that Shakespeare never did write precisely 
 such a poem ; and Lwill admit that I do not believe he ever 
 could have written such an one." 
 
 " I knew you were right at heart. Captain," exclaimed Ichabod, 
 highly elated over his equivocal victory. '' Some of his verses have 
 done as much towards bringing down the British, as whole regi- 
 ments of Continentals could have done. But then, Freneau is 
 only one of a whole circle of poets The British boast about 
 their old ballads; now, I'll take an even bet, that I can show 'em 
 ballad^ written here at home, that will make 'em ashamed. Wkf 
 
¥ H E F R X T I E R S M I N . 29 
 
 we've bad a woman that would eclipse 'em all, to my mind- 
 Mrs. Bradstreet, of whom another poet said : 
 
 " ' Her breast was a brave palace, a broad street, 
 Where all heroic, ample thoughts did meet." ' 
 
 '• Mrs. Broadsteet did possess a sweetness of expression," said 
 Ralph;" and, with a higher cultivation, she might have written 
 some fine poetry." 
 
 " Might. Captain ! Lord bless you, she did ! Speaking of the 
 Squire's fishing expedition, what other poet ever said as fint 
 things Bhoxxtjish, for instance, as she did ? 
 
 •' • Ye fish, which in this liquid region 'bide, 
 That for each season have your habitation, 
 Now salt, now fresh, where you think best to glido, 
 ' To unknown coasts to give a visitation. 
 
 In lakes and ponds you leave your numerous fry : 
 So Nature taught, and yet you know not why, 
 You wat'ry folk that know not your felicity.' " 
 
 Rarph was much amused at the earnestness of Ichabod, and 
 he did not wish to irritate him by any depreciating criticism 
 upon verses which he considered so extraordinary ; but re- 
 marked : 
 
 " An admiration of poetic productions depends very much 
 upon the quality of our taste. I presume that I have very little 
 taste for such things ; but I do think that our ballad poetry has 
 done us good service. Written in a popular style, and sung or 
 recited by men who felt the particular sentiments usually con- 
 tained in them, these ballads have frequently proved effective in 
 inspiring a proper, natural feeling." 
 
 " Them's my sentiments. Captain," said Ichabod ; " and I'm 
 glad to see that you're right on that p'int. We've got ballads 
 on all sorts of subjects, from the time of King Philip's war 
 down to these days. Did you ever read the ballad of ' Love- 
 well's Fight,' Captain ? I call it a great poem. After speaking 
 of the Vj^dant Captain Lovewell, it goes on to say : 
 
 •* * He and his valiant soldiers 
 
 Did range the woods full widey 
 And hardships they endured. 
 To quell the Indian's prid*. 
 
 * * 'TwM nigh unto Pigwacket, 
 
 Upon the eighth of May, 
 They spied a rebel Indian 
 
 Soon after break of day. 
 He on a bank was walking, 
 
 Upon a neck of land 
 Whioh leads into a pond, M 
 
 Wt'r« made to undersUad.' 
 
30 THE FRONTIERSMKIf. 
 
 " It then goes on to describe the fight between the company 
 and the Injins that laid in ambush, and winds ap with telling 
 who and how many were killed. 
 
 " ' Our worthy Captain Lovewell 
 Among them there did die ; 
 They killed Lieutenant Robbing, 
 And wounded good yeung Frye,* 
 
 while th« rest of the company started for homo ; 
 
 'And braving many dangers 
 And hardship in the way, 
 They safe arrived at Dunstable, 
 The thirteenth day of May.' " 
 
 *• Very good, Ichabod — very good ! It is really quite Ameri* 
 can in style, as well as theme." 
 
 " But good as it is, Captain, it isn't a circumstance to some 
 of 'em. There's ' Brave Pawling and the Spy,' and ' Bold 
 Hawthorne,' and ' American Taxation.' That last poem. Cap- 
 tain, has got the true essence of poetry in it. If I was the 
 author of that, I'd die content. The poem goes on to say . 
 
 *' ' The cruel lords of Britain, 
 
 Who glory in their shame, 
 The project thoy have hit on 
 
 They joyfully proclaim ; 
 'Tis what they're striving after, 
 
 Our rights to take away, 
 And rob us of our chartor, 
 
 In North America.' 
 
 " Then * two mighty speakers, who rule in Piedmont,' pro- 
 pose to Ring George a plan for taxation of the colonies, to whioli 
 the king accedes, and says : 
 
 " * My subjects shall be taxed 
 In North America. 
 
 Invested with a warrant 
 
 My publicans shall go, 
 The tenth of all their current 
 
 They surely shall bestow : 
 If they indulge rebellion. 
 
 Or from my precepts stray, 
 ru Bend my war battalion 
 
 To North America.' 
 
 " Then the people of the colonies address King George, and 
 implore him not to tax 'em; and finally say that if he doea 
 they'll fight about it, and that 
 
 " ' We never will knock nnder, 
 George, we do not fear 
 The rattling of your thunder, 
 Kor lightning of yoor ipM* | 
 
THE FB0NTIER8MEH. 81 
 
 rhongh rebels 70a declare tu, 
 
 We're strangers to dismay ; 
 Therefore you cannot scare xia 
 
 In North America.' 
 
 "It*s a great poem, Captain ; it was written by a schoolmaf- 
 tcr in Connecticut." 
 
 " It is patriotic in tone," replied Ralph ; " it has that merit, 
 at least. Are you much acquainted with the old poets of the 
 country ?" 
 
 " A little, Captain ; I've read them all. Besides Mrs. Brad 
 steet, there's Roger Wolcott, Nathaniel Ward, Mather Byles, 
 Joseph Green, Peter Foulger, old Michael Wiggles worth, and 
 hosts of others. A splendid galaxy. Captain ! There's ' The 
 Day of Doom ; or, a Poetical Description of the Great and Last 
 Judgment,' by Wigglesworth. It is rather strong on the old 
 New England religion, but as a piece of poetical work, it's really 
 great. Was anything ever more terrible than the description 
 of the final judgment ? After the sentence is pronounced, be- 
 fore the condemned, 
 
 " ♦ They wring their hands, their caitiff handi, 
 
 And gnash their teeth in terror ; 
 They cry, they war, for anguish soro, 
 
 And gnaw their tongues for horror ; 
 But get away, without delay, 
 
 Christ pities not your cry : 
 Depart to hell— there ye may yell, 
 
 And war eternally.' 
 
 " We can admire poetry, sometimes, when we don't precisely 
 approve of the sentiments. Did you ever see a more terrific 
 piece of writing than that, Captain '?" 
 
 " It is full of horrors, I must confess," said Ralph, who was 
 beginning to get weary at the extent of Ichabod's poetical recol- 
 lections ; " but we are near the cottage, and we must now make 
 our preparations for the fishing expedition. Are you anything 
 of a fisherman, Ichabod?" 
 
 "I can't say that I am, Captain. With all respect for the 
 taste of other people, it always looked to me like rather poor 
 sport. A man may do that, as he does anything else, for a 
 livelihood ; but, for sport, give me a rifle, a sharp eye, and a 
 practised hand. Howsomever, I am with you." 
 
 The afternoon seemed to prepare itself expressly for the accom- 
 modation of the fishing party. Light clouds covered the sky 
 and a gentle south wind just stirred the face of the water 
 Sambo had been to the river and caught for bait a quantity of 
 small white fish ; and, equipped with hooks and line. Barton, 
 with Ralph and Ichabod, proceeded to the pond, where they 
 entered a boat that had been made by hollowing out two halvei 
 of a large log, some three feet in diameter and attaching thas 
 
32 THE FRONTIERSMEN. 
 
 together. Barton paddled towards the north-west side, an^ 
 advanced some fifteen or twenty rods from the shore. 
 
 " In this portion of the pond," said he, " the pickeral are most 
 abundant. Perch are found in large quantities near the south- 
 east shore." 
 
 They then fastened the bait, which had been kept alive, to the 
 hooks, and threw them overboard. .Ichabod was a stranger to 
 this manner of fishing, and he watched the proceedings with an 
 evident degree of interest. Ralph had been accustomed to it in 
 his boyhood and thefore needed no instructions. 
 
 Seeing that Ichabod did not understand the course of oper- 
 ations, Barton said to him, " It is necessary, usually, for the pur- 
 pose of securing the fish, whenever it strikes the bait, to allow 
 it to run with the line for a short distance, when it stops and 
 endeavors to swallow its prey. If it succeeds in doing so, or if 
 it finds itself hooked, it then runs. Then is the time to pull; 
 pull slowly, but steadily, and you have him." 
 
 " Hallo ! ive got one !" shouted Ichabod ; and, mindful of the 
 dirtctions he had just received, he commenced jerking and pull- 
 ing violently on his line. The fish, which was of good size, 
 and would weigh from two to three pounds, came struggling 
 towards the boat, as if not anxious to make a more familiar 
 acquaintance with the party. " Ah you varmint, — you Seneca !" 
 shouted Ichabod. Pull will you ! I'll show you a trick worth 
 two of that 1" He had just got the fish close to the side of the 
 boat, and was eagerly bent over to grasp him, if necessary, when 
 the pickeral, with a desperate struggle, that splashed the water 
 in all directions, broke loose, and darted with the rapidity of 
 light, as it seemed to the eyes of Ichabod, back into the pond. 
 The excitement, and the sudden release of the prisoner, nearly 
 capsized Ichabod. He fell towards the other side of the boat, and 
 and had it not been for Ralph, would have tumbled overboard. 
 
 '' Hallo, there !" said Barton, laughing, '' its no use going into 
 the water after him ; you cannot catch him that way." 
 
 Ralph also laughed heartily at the accident; and Ichabod, 
 much disconcerted, quietly fastened another bait, determined to 
 succeed better on the next trial. 
 
 Just then, a pickeral of large size darted at Barton's bait, and 
 Barton eased off his line, while the fish ran with it some eight 
 or ten feet, and thSh commenced its efforts to swallow the cap- 
 tive it had seized. It would have been amusing to one who had 
 no experience in the excitements of that species of fishing, to 
 have Seen the evident anxiety of Barton. To the sportsman, the 
 ■excitement is of such a degree as almost to obtain the mastery 
 of his calmness, when, with a dart like a flash of sunlight, the 
 pickeral seizes the bait, and flies so suddenly that one can scarcely 
 say he saw it ; then comes the violent twitching and jerking of 
 the line, as the monster endeavors in its eagerness to devour iti 
 
TSE FRONTIERSMIN. 88 
 
 % eej. Barton waited patiently, until by the rapid motion of his 
 Uiie through the water, it was apparent that the pickeral was 
 disposed to make ofi' either entirely satisfied or very much dis- 
 satisfied, — when, with a steady pull, he assisted the captive in 
 its escape, aud brought it slowly, but struggling violently, back 
 to the boat. In a moment it was lifted in, and the capture was 
 completed. One would have supposed from the appearance of 
 Barton, that he had triumphed in some great encounter in 
 Another and more important field of action. But it is true, 
 although perhaps not strange, that we enjoy with as keen a rel- 
 ish, a triumph, when we contend only with trifles, if our success 
 is owing to our own skill or wisdom, as we do, where we tri- 
 umph over greater cbstacles with less skill, but with the assist- 
 ance of accident. 
 
 Barton and Ralph both had extensivly " good luck," and the 
 boat began to be loaded with the fish they had taken. Ichabod, 
 who for some time had watched their operations with much inter- 
 est, had, of late, become silent, and seemed to pay little or no 
 attention to the sport. His first failure, and the success of the 
 others, had disconcerted hiui somewhat ; and his want of luck 
 began to make him think he was engaged in rather dull business. 
 
 At an interval of cessation in their sport, which had now become 
 a little like labor, Ralph turned to Ichabod, and said, 
 
 '' How now, Ichabod — did that pickerel run away with your 
 spirits ? Wake up, man ; what are you dreaming about ?" 
 
 '• Confound the varmints !" exclaimed Ichabod. '* The pervarse 
 cree'turs ain't worth talking about, to say nothing about skirmish- 
 ing here half a day after 'em. Give me a chance at them deer 
 yonder in the woods, or the wolves I've heered of round here, 
 and we'd have something to talk about, I tell you" 
 
 "Well we'll give 3^ou a chance." said Barton laughing; "you 
 shall have an opportunity to triumph in your own field. You 
 don't like pickerel-fishing, then ?" 
 
 '• Pickerel-fishing" replied Ichabod gravely ; " may be good 
 sport for them as likes it, and have a cunning that way ; but 
 you see, I don't look upon it as a reg'lar large business any way. 
 Give me the sports one can unite with business. Now you see, 
 the man that's a good shot on a deer, may be jist as good a shot, 
 providing he has steady nerves, on an Injin ; but you can't catch 
 Senecas or Onondagas with this kind of bait. No, I don't like 
 it. Squire." and Ichabod dr^w back into his former position of 
 listlessness. 
 
 " I say, Squire" said he, in a moment, with a twinkle of his 
 eyes, as if he had hit upon a happy idea. " I say. Squire, there's 
 one way you might make this pond profitable. This wasn't put 
 here merely to grow these cussed varmints in. Things has their 
 uses ; and the uses of this body of water isn't to cover fish spawDi 
 as any man can see with half an eye. 
 
34 THE FRONTIERSMEN. 
 
 "Well, Ichabod, any more factory projects?'* asked Bftrton 
 with an attempt at composure. 
 
 " There isn't anything to laugh at in that idea," said Ichabod. 
 " Yon haven't thought of it as much as I have. But I tell you. 
 Squire, you might jist as well build up this country here, and 
 make your own spec, out of it, as to allow some body else to come 
 in here, and do it ; for 'twill be dcfne, I tell you. A country 
 like this can't be kept out of all its advantages a great while, any 
 way. Now, you see, this pond, Squire, providing — I say, provi- 
 ding — you can get a proper fall of water from it, as I reckon 
 you can, would make a great chance for a mill privilege, or some- 
 thing of that sort ; and you see. Squire, if that could be done, 
 
 you'd have a supply of water here, that Creation, what have I 
 
 got hold on ?" and Ichabod commenced tugging violently at his 
 fine ; for he evidently had caught something that offered much 
 more than ordinary resistance to his efforts. His struggles at- 
 tracted the attention of both Barton and Ralph, who came to 
 offer him any assistance that might be neccessary. 
 
 " Slow 1 steady !" said Barton. 
 
 " Yes, yes," shouted Ichabod : " I'll have him now. Ah ! here 
 
 he comes — ugh ! what in creation " and in his astonishment 
 
 he dropped his line, which began to make off rapidly from the 
 boat. 
 
 " A turtle !" exclaimed Barton, " a mud-turtle !" seizing the 
 line, and pulling in the turtle, which would weigh eight or ten 
 pounds. " You have triumphed at last. Jenkins. Nobody else 
 has caught a turtle to-day — and so large a one, too. It is a real 
 victory — another Saratoga," and he laughed so heartily that 
 Ichabod showed some symptoms of getting angry. 
 
 " Con-found the victory, Squire," said he, " 111 tell you what, 
 Squire, I don't handle them traps any more. If you want to 
 see slaughter among your bears and wolves, bring 'em on : but 
 I've got through with this cussed business, any how." 
 
 " But, without jesting, Jenkins" said Barton, " that turtle is 
 worth more for eating than all the fish we've got here — their 
 meat is delicious ; and I prize them highly." 
 
 " If that's so. Squire," said Ichabod, '• you're entirely welcome 
 to it. The varmint ! I've seen 'em down in the settlements ; 
 but I never heerd of eating 'em, before ; Pd feed 'em to Senecas." 
 
 " They would be very thankful for them" said Barton. " It 
 isn't every day they get a turtle like this." 
 
 The lines were all taken in, and as they were now suflBciently 
 wearied, the boat was paddled towards the shore, where. Sambo 
 was waiting to receive the fish. 
 
 " Golly !" said the negro, grinning " who caught dia ere fellar ? 
 he! he! he!" pointing towards the turtle. 
 
 " / caught that varmint !" replied Ichabod, ^vely. 
 
 ** Gums mMsa Jenkins let he bait die," fiaid S*mbo. '"DiM 
 
TBS FRONTIERSMEN. 35 
 
 fellara don't bite Hke pickerel, no how. How niMsa Jenkins 
 manage ?" 
 
 " Manage ! you black devil," said Ichabod, angrily, I'll feed 
 you to him, if you ask any more questions." 
 
 Ralph and Barton were very much amused at Ichabod's dis- 
 comfiture, which did not at all pacify him ; but the party pro- 
 ceeded towards the cottage, Sambo being careful to keep out of 
 Ichabod's way ; but many were the grins which he made at his 
 expense, behind his back. Ichabod gave up the idea of evei 
 being a fisherman ; but, as he seemed to be extremely sensitive 
 on that subject, neither Ralph nor Barton saw fit to make anj 
 particular allusion to it 
 
 I 
 
86 fll PSOMTIIKBMia 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 « We rustled through the leaves like wind, 
 Left shrubs, and trees, and wolves behind ; 
 By night I heard them on the track. 
 Their whoop came hard upon our back, 
 With their long gallop, which can tire 
 The hound's deep hate and hunter's fire.' 
 
 Maisvpa 
 
 It was about three o'clock in the afternoon, when they 
 returned to the cottage; and as the sun had again made its 
 appearance, and thore were no indications of unpleasant weather. 
 Ralph proposed to Miss Barton that they should put in execution 
 a project which she had mentioned, of taking a ride on horseback 
 down the valley. 
 
 The horses were at once brought out, by the negro. They 
 were kept for working horses by Barton ; but they had sufficient 
 life and activity to make an excursion in that mode pleasant and 
 agreeable. 
 
 Sambo, who was very much attached to his mistress, took the 
 liberty of cautioning her to be home again by nightfall, and mut- 
 tered something about "strange Injins" and wolves. Barton 
 smiled at the fears of the negro ; but at the same time intimated 
 that any possible danger might be avoided by an early return. 
 
 " As for Indians," said he, " I haven't known many around 
 here lately, and they are all of the friendly sort. The King's 
 Indians, as they are called, have not been here, as I have known, 
 ^nce I have resided here. As for wolves, they are sometimes 
 dangerous, in winter ; I have heard of them pursuing people, at 
 that season of the year, when they are particularly voracious ; 
 but I never heard of such an instance so early in the season — 
 although it is possible that it might occur. But Ruth knows 
 the country," continued he, " and will know how to avoid any 
 dangers that are incident to it." 
 
 '' I shall place myself wholly under the control of Miss Bar- 
 ton," said Ralph ; '' she shall be both guide and guard." 
 
 " I can answer for the guide," replied Ruth, " if not for the 
 guard. But I have often taken the short excursion I proposed 
 for to-day ; and I will promise to bring home Captain Weston 
 safe and sound." 
 
 They mounted their horses, and proceeded slowly down the 
 valley, along a narrow path or road, but of sufficient width to 
 allow two horses to travel abreast. They had proceeded in this 
 
TMB FB0NTIIB8MWK. ST 
 
 maimer about a mile, in a southerly direction, with little conver- 
 sation, except such as was suggusted by their ride, when after 
 rounding a hill which ran down nearly to the river, they came 
 in full view of the valley, which here widened out into broaa 
 flats, and certainly ofiered to their observation a high degree of 
 beauty and attraction. 
 
 " Beyond the hill which you see yonder," said Ruth, " the val- 
 ley attains a much greater width. The river, on one side, flows 
 at the base of the eastern hills ; and a pleasant stream, which, to 
 translate the Indian appellation, means a " swiftly running creek," 
 flows at the base of the hills on the west. At about a mile and 
 a half below, they unite, and finally empty into the Susquehanna. 
 The excursion I proposed for to-day was only to the spot where 
 the junction of the two streams is formed. I have been there a 
 few times, and I have always been charmed with the beauty of 
 the place." 
 
 " The whole valley is beautiful," said Ralph, " beyond any 
 ideas I entertained before visiting it. Such a place will soon be 
 populated. I do not blame Ichabod for his schemes at specula- 
 tion here ; for with the impulse which the country must now 
 receive in population and wealth, so beautiful and advantageous 
 a region as this, will not long be neglected." 
 
 They passed around the hill which Ruth had mentioned, where 
 the valley, as she had observed, became of a much greater width, 
 wider than Ralph had yet seen it. It was almost entirely cov- 
 ered with forest ; although here and there were places which had 
 been partially cleared by the savages, in former days. The forest 
 in which they were encompassed shut out my very extensive 
 observation of the valley itself, except when they were upon 
 some of the high ground ; but enough could be seen to give one 
 a good general idea of its shape and condition. The path had 
 become somewhat more narrow, and they were surrounded by a 
 wilderness of vegetation, which was peculiarly attractive to the 
 eyes of Ralph and his companion. 
 
 After about half an hour's further progress, they arrived at 
 the place which had been mentioned by Ruth. The river, just 
 before it reaches the spot where it receives the waters of the 
 creek, makes a sudden turn to the east, for about thirty rods, 
 and then returns to nearly the same point, in a north and south 
 line, at a distance of only fifteen or twenty rods, where the junc- 
 tion is formed. A portion of the waters of the river, however 
 escape from the main channel and flow directly towards the 
 south, making an island two or three acres in extent. 
 
 Having arrived at this spot, Ralph and his companion dis- 
 mounted from their horses, and fastening them to some small 
 trees near by, they gave themselves up to the contemplation of 
 the fine scenery around them. The sun was then about an hour 
 high, and the golden sunlight flashing upon the variegated foliage 
 
38 THE rBONTIIBSMEV. 
 
 of the forest — the calmness which reigned undisturbed around 
 them, the solitude of the wilderness in which they were encom- 
 passed, all conspired to give a hue to feelings which both po»> 
 sesed, but which they scarcely dared to breathe to each other. 
 
 " I have often dreamed," said Ralph, of just such a spot as thia. 
 I am something of a recluse by nature ; but after all, I have 
 some choice as to the place of my isolation." 
 
 " I shall expect, then," answered Ruth, smiling, " to hear of 
 Ralph Weston, the hermit, occasionally, from those who may 
 pass by here. Where do you propose to establish your hermit 
 age?" 
 
 " In truth, I cannot say," replied Ralph j " but I suppose it 
 will be when I, like the hermits of old, have become sufficiently 
 disgusted with the world, to make me fly from it with hatred j 
 I will not fix the precise time, just now — I will leave it to circum- 
 stances. But familiarity with Nature — converse with the soli- 
 tude of the forest, is the best antidote to the disgust which 
 many persons conceive of society. The man cannot be all bad, 
 who has any relish left in him for the beauties which Nature 
 can unfold to him." 
 
 " You are becoming very much of a philosopher, Captain Wes- 
 ton. You shall have another title added to that of hermit. You 
 shall be a philosophical hermit." 
 
 •* Ruth ! you laugh at me ! But you must pardon my caprice at 
 the idea of a forest life j for I am not much of a woodsman, you 
 know. But I'll venture to say, after all, that you agree witir 
 me." 
 
 " Yes," answered Ruth, earnestly, " I do like our new mode 
 of life. We are nearly shut out from the world, — but we have 
 still a thousand pleasures, perhaps the sweeter from our solita^ 
 ry position. We do not merely Jind a home, we create one. 
 We see broad meadows starting out from the forest, and know 
 that they are our's by the best of titles — a reclamation from the 
 waste of Nature. I have often asked myself whether I would be 
 willing to abandon our present home for the old home in the 
 settlements, and I never yet could answer that I would." 
 
 " To a light, vain head," answered Ralph, *' such a life would 
 be tiresome ; but it seems to me, although how long the feeling 
 would endure, I cannot say — yet it seems to me, that the con- 
 stant idea of dependahce upon a Power beyond and over men, 
 which must be ever present to the minds of those who dwell 
 in the wilderness, would give life a higher and truer aim, than 
 can be attained in society. But familiarity with scenes like these, 
 blunts the mind, perhaps, and the idea is soon lost." 
 
 *' I b tlieve the remark is true," replied Ruth. " We cannot 
 eotirelj forego society, without injury to ourselves." 
 
 " Ye' perhaps it is so," said Ralph ; " we can attain no such 
 laarveJ us degree of sentiment or independence as wholly to 
 
THE FRONTIERSMEN. 39 
 
 destroy our taste for crowds and social intercourse. T think^ *^er 
 all, that if I were to become a hermit, I should like a few familiar 
 friends to share my hermitage." 
 
 Ruth smiled as she replied, "your hermitage, then, Captain 
 "Weston, would be a very different affair from the 'cave, rock and 
 desert ' of an old-fashioned recluse, who 
 
 " ' Had nought to do but feed on roota, 
 And gaze upon the stars !' '' 
 
 " Were I ever to choose the ' rock, cave and desert,' " said Ralph, 
 " I believe I should wish my solitary life, after all, to be termi- 
 nated, as was the Solitude of Edwin, in the ballad of Goldsmith ; 
 that is, if I could ever hope that any Angelina would seek the 
 solitude I sought. But I suppose that " Angelinas" are the crea- 
 tures of poetry. 
 
 " And why not Edwins, too ?" inquh-ed Ruth, with an arch 
 smile. 
 
 " And why, since we are asking questions," asked Ralph, with 
 a look that brought a blush to the cheek of his companion, " may 
 I not ask Miss Barton " 
 
 But the question, however important to the happiness of either, 
 or both of them, was interrupted by a sudden rustling of dry 
 underbrush in their immediate vicinity, as if trodden upon by a 
 hasty foot. Ralph turned suddenly round, and beheld the ill- 
 natured countenance of Guthrie before him. The squatter stop- 
 ped short, leaning upon his rifle, and said, with an attempt at 
 civility, but in a gruff tone : 
 
 " You're a stranger in these parts, friend, and don't know 
 that you may find it a little dangerous traveling through this 
 forest by night." 
 
 " Datigerous, Guthrie ! how so ?" inquired Ruth. 
 
 " You, who live up at the cottage, ^Iiss Ruth, mayn't know it, 
 but the wolves have been prowling around here in reg'lar troops, 
 for a few days past ; and it will be dark now, afore you can get 
 back to the cottage. I had a set-to with a rascally troop of 
 them, last night." 
 
 Ralph thanked Guthrie for his caution, although ho was half 
 angry at the interruption, at that particular moment of time, and 
 intimated to Ruth that perhaps they had better return. Ruth 
 assented, the horses were unfastened, and they proceeded at 
 a leisurely pace towards home, although more rapidly than they 
 had come. 
 
 The labor and perplexity of making their way along the rough 
 path and among the underbrush were such as to prevent any 
 continued conversation. By the time they had traveled half a 
 mile, the sun, with a broad, ruddy glow, had sunk behind the 
 frestem hills. The twilight in the midst of the forest soon gftT« 
 
40 THK FR0NTIER8HB9. 
 
 way to a deep shade, which rendere-d their path still mort dilH* 
 cult. 
 
 Ralph, who had at first inwardly cursed the interruption made 
 by Guthrie, in a conversation which had reached a point most 
 deeply interesting to him, now almost wished that it had occur- 
 red a little earlier. Ruth evidently entertained the same thought, 
 for her countenance exhibited much anxiety. 
 
 " Guthrie's advice was reasonable, most certainly," she said, 
 " although it was not given in the most civil manner." 
 
 *' It was somewhat later than I thought," answered Ralph, 
 '' but we shall reach home in an hour more, at least. But who 
 is this Guthrie ? I believe I saw him at your father's on the 
 night of my arrival." 
 
 "Nothing is known of him, with certainty," replied Ruth. 
 " He has a shanty somewhere below here, where he lives alone. 
 subsisting upon such game as he finds, and upon the trade he 
 drives at the settlements. He is supposed to have been a Tory, 
 and to have been leagued with the Indians of this region ; 
 although we merely suspect it — we do not know it." 
 
 " He has an ill-favored countenance. He wears one of those 
 peculiar faces, that we always distrust. Is he often at your 
 father's ?" 
 
 " Not very frequently ; we entertained the same distrust of 
 him you have expressed, on first seeing him, and that feeling has 
 rather increased than diminished, with only a very short aC' 
 quaintance." 
 
 " He has certainly rendered us a favor on this occasion," said 
 Ralph, who found their progress was momently becoming more 
 diflBcult, as the darkness increased. 
 
 It was just at this instant, that a long howl was heard at 
 some distance behind them, but apparently from the westward. 
 In the stillness and darkness which encompassed them, it had a 
 melancholy and threatening sound, which was far from agreeable. 
 Scarcely a moment had elapsed ere the howl which they had 
 heard was answered from the opposite direction ; and almost 
 simultaneously it seemed to be echoed by a hundred discordant 
 throats. 
 
 " The wolves !" exclaimed Ralph and Ruth, together. " But,' 
 said Ralph, " perhaps they have not scented us, and we may have 
 nothing to fear from them." 
 
 " Hsaven grant that it may be so," earnestly replied Ruth ; 
 but as if at once to end their hopes, the cries were again heard, 
 sharper and wilder. Just at this moment the moon arose, and 
 began to throw a misty and uncertain light through the forest. 
 Ralph seized the horse upon which Ruth was mounted by the 
 bits, and the animals were at once urged to the greatest speed 
 which the difficulties of their path would allow. The horsea 
 
TBK FRONTIERSMEN. 41 
 
 themselves felt the alarm, and readily yielded to the impulse of 
 their riders. 
 
 The cries seemed now to be nearly half a mile behind them ; 
 and Ralph hoped, at the least, to be able to arrive so near the 
 house of Mr. Barton, that assistance could be immediately afford- 
 ed. But in spite of all their exertions, the path was so intricate, 
 owing to the thick underbrush and the overhanging branches of 
 trees, together with the rough and uneven surface of the ground, 
 that the utmost care was necessary to prevent the falling of the 
 horses, on the one hand, and to guard against being thrown 
 from them by the branches which were constantly projecting 
 before them, on the other. 
 
 On they rode, with as much rapidity as the utmost limit of 
 safety would allow. They well knew that their only hope of 
 safety depended upon their being able to keep mounted and in 
 flight ; for were any accident to happen to their horses, they 
 would be left, in the midst of the wilderness, at the mercy of 
 the ferocious beasts that were on their track. But their pur- 
 suers gained upon them ; the howls which but a few moments 
 since seemed fully half a mile behind, were now evidently 
 within a much less distance. The woods appeared to be alive 
 with their enemies. The discordant cries filled every avenue of 
 sound. Faster, faster ran the horses — but still nearer approached 
 the sound of the cowardly pack — cowardly when few in numbers, 
 but savage in multitude. 
 
 The moonlight lay in scattered patches in the forest, but every 
 shadow seemed occupied by an enemy. The pursuers had now 
 approached so near, that Ralph could hear the crackling of the 
 dry underbrush and branches, over and through which they ran, 
 amidst the noise of their cries. Looking behind him, he saw the 
 leaders of the pack leaping upon their track, and in the moon- 
 light saw, with terrible distinctness, their glaring eyes and pro- 
 truded tongues. The horses strained every muscle, quivering 
 with affright, but the wolves were approaching — were almost 
 upon them ! Snatching, with a hurried hand, a shawl from the 
 shoulders of Ruth, he threw it behind them. For a moment the 
 chase ceased ; and with wild, ferocious cries, the pack gathered 
 around the object which had been so opportunely offered to 
 them. At that instant, when the last hope had nearly vanished, 
 the eyes of the travelers encountered in the path before them the 
 form of an Indian, who, with outstretched arms, requested them 
 to stop. In a moment they approached him, when with a rapid 
 utterance, he exclaimed : 
 
 " Me friend ; me Tuscarora — come !" and suddenly seizing the 
 horses by the bits, he led them three or four rods from the path, 
 where they saw before them, in the midst of the forest, 4 
 smaU log hut} although m an extremely ruinoua conditioii, H 
 
4^ THE FRONTIERSMi&A 
 
 afforded the protection which, but a few minutes before, seemed 
 utterly withheld from them. 
 
 Again were heard the cries of the wolves, and the noise of 
 their approach ! Ralph leaped from his horse, and at once 
 lifted Ruth from the saddle, who, until that moment, had pre- 
 served her courage and fortitude, but now fell fainting into 
 his arms. He bore her instantly into the hut, where the Tusca- 
 rora rapidly brought in the horses after them ; and the door waa 
 closed, just as the ferocious pack came rushing into the opea 
 «p&ce before the but. 
 
fBK rBOMTIEBSMIV. 4S 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " And then to mark the lord of all, 
 The forest hero, trained to wars, 
 Quivered and plumed, and lithe and tall, 
 And seamed with glorious scars." 
 
 Bryant. 
 
 Ralph, as we have said, bore his fainting burden into the hut 
 and the Tuscarora, having secured the frightened horses, at one* 
 hastend to his assistance. Ruth, in a few moments, became par- 
 tially restored ; and a blush lit up the pallor of her countenance, 
 as she found herself sustained in the arms of Ralph Partially 
 withdrawing from his support, she said: 
 
 '• You must be astonished, Captain Weston, that a woodman's 
 daughter had so litle fortitude as to be unable to withstand the 
 ordinary perils of her condition. I almost feel that I owe you 
 an apology." 
 
 " You have no reason to be ashamed of your want of fortitude, 
 Miss Barton," answered Ralph. " The courage with which you 
 endured that terrible ride was amazing. You have more, much 
 more, than sustained your reputation as a woodman's daughter." 
 
 Ralph now, for the first time, observed the Tuscarora, who 
 was standing silently before him leaning upon his rifle. The 
 Indian was of little more than medium height, and straight as 
 an arrow. His form was rather slight than otherwise, but was 
 fully developed, and gave evidence of great agility and strength. 
 His countanance was open and frank ; and in his present attitude 
 of repose, one would not have thought that he possessed those 
 peculiar qualities of the Indian, which we are apt to associate 
 with our recollections of that rapidly wasting race. He looked 
 like a true lord of the forest, — cold and impassive in demeanor, 
 —but concealing beneath that grave exterior a fountain of terri- 
 ble passions. He had not yet passed the age of " youth," for not 
 more than thirty times, to him, had the leaves of autumn fallen ; 
 yet his youth seemed extinguished in the gravity of the war- 
 rior. 
 
 Ralph could not resist a feeling of admiration at the well-built 
 frame and noble countenance of the Tuscarora ; and advancing 
 towards him, he grasped him by the hand. 
 
 " Tuscarora," said he, " you have this night rendered this 
 young lady and myself a service, for which we shall ever be grate- 
 ful ; you have preserved our lives." 
 
 The Indian, with a modest gesture, seemed to disclaini th« 
 gratitude which Ralph so freely expressed — then quietly said : 
 
 •'Tuscarora friend to the colonv oale-face — me no Kings Iiyitt— 
 
44 fHK FSONTIERSHEN. 
 
 me do my duty to friend. Young people careless — all hetrt— 
 no eyes — no mind wolves ; — me know — me waited for 'em.' 
 
 " I did not know." said Ralph, " that the wolves of this sectionr 
 ever attacked men." 
 
 "No often; but get hungry sometimes — then ugly — then 
 must look out. Hear that ?" 
 
 Since our travelers had entered their place of safety, the forest 
 seemed to be alive with the unearthly howls of the beasts, whose 
 din increased at the loss of their prey. They had rushed up to 
 the sides of the hut ; and, as the Tuscarora answered Ralph, a 
 number of them had evidently leaped against the door and the 
 sides of the building with a savage ferocity. 
 
 " Me have fun, now," said the Tuscarora, advancing towards 
 one of the numerous loop-holes of the hut, which had been made 
 by its builder for its defence. " Me shoot — give 'em something 
 to howl for." 
 
 His rifle was discharged, and for a moment, the din outside 
 completely ceased ; but as the pack saw one of their number fall, 
 their cries increased in ferocity, until they became almost deafen- 
 ing. Ralph advanced to one of the loop-holes, and looked out upon 
 the savage crowd of beasts, which seemed determined to besiege 
 them into a surrender. As well as he could observe in the 
 moonlight, there appeared to be forty or fifty of them, standmg 
 before and prowling about the hut, with their faces upturned — 
 and their eyes gleaming like balls of fire. 
 
 The North American wolf is naturally a cowardly animal ; and 
 never, when alone, dares to attack a man. The animal has become, 
 in the section of country of which we are now writing, entirely 
 extinct. Mean, thievish, cowardly in disposition, they always 
 fled from an encounter with a human creature, except when 
 frenzied with hunger, and gathered in large packs. At such 
 times, they become extremely dangerous ; yet, even then, any 
 resistance which seemed able to withstand their attack, at once 
 disconcerted them. 
 
 The Indian again loaded his rifle, and again it was discharged- 
 Another wolf was kUled ; and although they still kept up their 
 clamor, they began to retreat to a distance from an enemy who 
 had so much advantage of them. 
 
 " Wolf run," said the Tuscarora ; " wolf no like rifle — they got 
 no heart — cowards !" and, as if he disdained the firing upon so 
 mean a foe, after reloading his rifle, he came towards Ralph, and 
 quietly sat down on a rough bench by the side of the hut. 
 
 " Wolf run away," said he — " they gone soon — then you go 
 home. 
 
 " We have our lives to thank you for, Tuscarora," said Ruth, 
 with a look of gratitude, " and my father will always be glad 
 to welcome you to the cottage. Will you not return with us?" 
 
 *^ Not now— m»y be by-'m-by." 
 
THE rBONTIERSMIir. 4& 
 
 " Is your nation in this territory now ?" asked Ralph. 
 
 " Me got no nation," said the Indian, sorrowfully. " Tuscaronui 
 once great — away south. Then had great many warriors — then 
 they great nation — but most all gone, now." 
 
 " Are not your people and the Oneidas brethren ?" 
 
 " Oneidas are brothers — love Oneidas." 
 
 " Why are you here in this section alone, Tuscarora, with noiM 
 of your brethren near you ?" abruptly asked Ralph. 
 
 The Indian looked at him steadily for a moment, and then 
 replied : 
 
 " My young friend is wise. The white men all ask questions- 
 no good for Injin to answer questions ;" and he fell into a gloomy 
 and listless posture, and refused, for the time, to hold any fur- 
 ther conversation. 
 
 The silence of the Tusc«,rora was somewhat embarrassing to 
 Ralph ; and he again went towards the loop-holes to reconnoitre 
 the present position of the enemy. The howls had almost entirely 
 ceased ; and what few were heard, seemed to be twenty-five or 
 thirty rods distant. Just as he reached the loop-hole, he heard 
 a rifle discharged on the outside, and a voice which he recognized 
 as th^t of Ichabod, which made the woods ring again with 
 a loud halloo. 
 
 The Indian started abruptly from his seat, and both he and 
 Ralph advanced towards the door. On opening it, they discov- 
 ered at the distance of ten rodo three men who were rapidly 
 approaching the hut. As they came from among the shadows 
 of the trees into the bright moonlight, which lay in the small 
 opening in front of the hut, Ralph recognized Barton and Icha- 
 bod accompanied by the negro. 
 
 The moment they were discovered by the party. Barton ran 
 towards Ralph, exclaiming, " Is she safe, Ralph — is she safe ?" 
 
 Scarcely was the question asked, before Ruth was in her 
 father's arms. "jQod bless thee, girl," said he; "I hardly dared 
 hope ever to see thee again," and the tears rolled down his manly 
 face. 
 
 " For this joy, my father, we have to thank this good Indian 
 here. He it was who saved us." 
 
 The Indian, during this scene, had silently withdrawn into a 
 deep shadow which fell by the side of the hut. There he stood, 
 leaning upon his rifle, seemingly as passionless and unconcerned 
 AS the shadow within which he stood. 
 
 Barton went up to him, and grasped him by the hand. '^You 
 have this day." said he, " in rescuing my daughter, saved both 
 her life and my own. How can I thank you ?" 
 
 The Tuscarora remained unmoved. " No thanks," said he. 
 ' The Great Spirit smiles when his children do their duty. Tu»» 
 carora likes colony pale-face. The Gre^t Spirit sent me her© « 
 thank him, not poor Tuscarora." 
 
46 \jAE frontiersmen. 
 
 "You say right, Tuscarora. God hath preserved my child 
 this day. To Him be thanks, who taketh and giveth." 
 
 Scarcely had the first sound issued from the mouth of the 
 Tuscarora, when Ichabod rapidly approached him. The Indian 
 gave him a glance of recognition, and silently took his hand. 
 
 " Eagle's VVing, as I live !" exclaimed he. " Glad to see you 
 again, old friend. I haven't seen you since we were down here 
 on that last war-path." 
 
 Canendesha, as the Tuscarora was named by his own people, 
 bore also the name of Eagle's Wing, which had been bestowed 
 upon him not only fDr his boldness in fight, but for the keenness 
 and rapidity with which he followed the trail of an enemy. 
 When he heard himself thus called by his name of honor, he 
 drew himself up with pride as he replied : 
 
 " Three summers and winters have destroyed the marks of 
 the war-path. I have dwelt in the wigwams of my people, and 
 near by the fires of the Oneidas." 
 
 In the meantime Barton had approached Ralph, and testified 
 scarcely less joy at his deliverance than he had at that of Ruth. 
 Ichabod and Eagle's Wing had withdrawn still further from 
 observation into the shadow. 
 
 " Eagle's Wing," said Ichabod, imitating the language of the 
 Tuscarora, "is wise. He dwells in peace in the wigwams of his 
 people. But why is he here — two days' march from his friends ?'^ 
 
 The Indian remained silent for a few moments. At length h© 
 replied : 
 
 " I am in the hunting-grounds of my people. The heart of 
 Eagle's Wing is filled with peace." 
 
 " Yes, yes, old friend," said Ichabod, resuming his usual man- 
 ner of expression. " You and I have been on a good many war- 
 paths together. I know a Tuscarora and Oneida just as well as 
 I know a Seneca or Mohawk. I know your people are gentle- 
 men born, and I know them others are reptiles. You can't 
 deceive we. Eagle's Wing — you are on a trail ?" 
 
 " The eyes of my brother are keen — he has followed the war- 
 path. Has he crossed the trail of an enemy ?" 
 
 The Indian uttered this with a countenance so unmoved, and 
 with such an expression of sincerity, that Ichabod began to 
 think the Tuscarora had nothing to conceal from him. He said, 
 however, in reply : "" 
 
 " I know your heart is true, Eagle's Wing ; but I rather 
 thought, at first, you might be following up some devil of a 
 Seneca. But them varmints have left these parts, I s'pose." 
 
 " My brother is wise," softly replied the Tuscarora, but at the 
 same time with a quiet expression of victory in the glance which 
 he cast towards Ichabod. The glance was not unnoticed, and 
 the latter at once saw that his original suspicions were correct. 
 But he knew it would be useless to press the Tuscarora with 
 
THE FRONTIERSMEN. 41 
 
 questions. He said to him, however, in a tone that convinced 
 the Indian that Ichabod was not deceived : 
 
 " Well, old friend, you and I have been brothers in harder 
 times than these ; and if j'ou need the help of this rifle here, 
 which is an old acquaintance of your'n, I shall take it in dudgeon 
 if you don't call on me." 
 
 The Indian still remained unmoved ; but Ichabod could see 
 that the offer was kindly received. 
 
 At this moment, Barton approached, and invited the Tuscarora 
 to accompany him to his dwelling. " You will always be wel- 
 come there, and I hope I may have many opportunities to testify 
 to you my gratitude." 
 
 The Tuscarora courteously declined the invitation for the pre- 
 sent, and the party prepared to depart. The horses were led 
 out, and the party proceeded to'^/'ards the cottage, while Eagle's 
 Wing, remained as long as he could be observed, still leaning 
 upon his rifle in front of the hut. 
 
 The party journeyed for some distance without conversation, 
 until Ralph at length asked Ichabod, who seemed to be much 
 less talkative than usual, how they who were at the cottage had 
 so soon learned the danger which Ruth and he were in, from 
 the pursuit of the wolves. 
 
 " Learn !" answered Ichabod. " Why, you see the old Squire, 
 'long towards dusk, began to get considerable uneasy, from some 
 cause or other — either because he had heard more about them 
 infarnal varmints, lately, than he chose to tell, or else because 
 Sambo teazed him until he ra'ally thought you was in some 
 danger ; and so he proposed to me to walk with him along down 
 the road, until we met you. We'd got in just about a mile of 
 that shanty, when we heard the yells of them pestiferous cre'turs 
 I tell you. Captain, them would have been tough customers to 
 have come to a close fight with." 
 
 " I was entirely unarmed," said Ralph, " but I had no reason 
 to expect meeting an enemy of any kind ; and least of all did I 
 suppose we should run any danger from such an enemy." 
 
 " Them varmints," replied Ichabod, " when they've once had 
 a taste of human blood, are as hungry for it as Senecas are for 
 scalps — coTz-found 'em." 
 
 " I know the prevalent opinion in some portions of Europe — 
 in Germany, for instance, of the ferocity of wolves. There is an 
 old superstition of Weird-wolves, of which I have heard." 
 
 Ralph explained, by giving an account of this peculiar super- 
 stition. In Germany, and in the Netherlands, and in some other 
 portions of Europe, the opinion had been prevalent among the 
 people, that there were certain sorcerers, who, having anointed 
 their bodi^ with ointment, the preparation of which, they Lad 
 learned from the devil, and having put on an enchanted girdla 
 so long as they wore it, appeared, to the eyes of others, iikt 
 
48 THS FBONTIERSMSir. 
 
 woives ; and who possessed the same ferocity and appetite tot 
 human blood, as the animals they were believed to resemble. 
 A large number of persons in these countries had been executed, 
 who were supposed to be guilty of that offence. They were gene- 
 rally known as Weird- wolves. 
 
 This popular superstition, indeed, has survived in some portions 
 of Europe, until this day. In the " Arabian Night's Entertain- 
 ments," the unhappy subjects of this superstition were denomi- 
 nated " ghouls,'* but in the west they were known by the name 
 we have already mentioned. A circumstance occurred in Paris, 
 in 1849, which seemed to throw more light upon the nature of 
 this superstition, and to prove indeed, that there was a pretty 
 good foundation for the popular belief. Like the delusion under 
 which many of those unhappy persons labored in the days of 
 the " Salem witchcraft," who really believed themselves to be 
 what their judges pronounced them, so these Weird-wolves were 
 undoubtedly insane persons, who fancied themselves possessed of 
 the wolfish form and nature. 
 
 " I have heard," said Barton, who now joined in the conversa- 
 tion, "of many instances in our northern settlements, where 
 people have been attacked by these animals ; but, although it is 
 a frequent occurence for them to disturb the whole country about 
 here with their howls by night, I had never apprehended any 
 such danger from them. But we ought to be thankful that there 
 is no worse enemy about here." 
 
 Ichabod, whose mind, ever since his conversation with the 
 Tuscarora, had been occupied with thoughts that did not seem 
 very agreeable to him, started at this remark, and said, slowly — 
 
 " Well, squire, I hope you mayn't be able to change that last 
 remark of your'n by to-morrow this time." 
 
 Ralph, who knew Ichabod well enough to know that however 
 unsafe his opinion might be upon subjects relating to money- 
 making, yet that, upon all the perils and dangers incident to a 
 forest life, he possessed an excellent judgment, with some anxi- 
 ety asked him for an explanation. 
 
 The whole party had caught the alarm ; and Ichabod, with a 
 mixture of pride at finding himself in such an important position, 
 and of sorrow at the information he felt bound to communicate, 
 answered — 
 
 "You see. Eagle's-^ing and I are old friends. We\e foiU 
 many a battle agin them cussed Senecas and Onondagas ; and I 
 reckon I know an Injin, and can read him through pretty tolera- 
 bly easy. Now Eagle's- Wing isn't down here for nothing ; and 
 though his Injin blood wouldn't let him tell me what kind of 
 speculation he is on, yet I know he's on a trail of some sort. 
 You can always tell an Injin when he's after an enemy.'' 
 
 " But what enemy," asked Barton, " can he be pursuing in 
 this direction 1 There can be no large bodj of hostile Indians 
 
THE FR0NT1EBSME9. 49 
 
 in these forests; for Guthrie, who is a woodsman, and wYio 
 would at once have discovered the fact, would have communi- 
 cated the intelligence to us. I think there can be no ground for 
 apprehension." 
 
 " I don't know about that, Squire," replied Ichabod, " but Vtl 
 sure something's in the wind ; and if you take my advice, you'll 
 prepare for defence. As for Guthrie, as you call him, you know 
 best about him ; he's got a miserable, hang-dog face, any way.' 
 
 Although thefe was much plausibility in the opinion of Barton 
 and Ichabod's apprehensions did not seem to be well-grounded, 
 yet Ralph, who knew that Ichabod had not given this advice 
 without reflection, also advised Barton at once to take means of 
 defense against any attack which might be made upon the cot- 
 tage. 
 
 Barton yielded to the solicitations of Ralph and Ichabod; 
 and the party having arrived at the cottage. Sambo was at once 
 despatched to drive in the cattle into an enclosure which had 
 been constructed upon the west side of the house. This yard 
 was guarded upon all sides by an enclosure of logs some ten or 
 twelve feet in height, and had been prepared expressly for the 
 purpose for which it was now used. Its construction had been 
 deemed necessary by Barton for the purpose of protecting his 
 cattle in case of an attack by Indians, as well as to protect them 
 from wolves or bears, which were occasionally seen prowling 
 around the premises. 
 
 The house itself, as we have before remarked, was adapted 
 for defence against any outward attack from such means of war- 
 fare as Indians would be likely to attempt. The outside doors 
 were heavy, and were secured by strong bars, which would 
 resist any ordinary force that might be applied to them. The 
 windows in the lower story were fitted with strong blinds, which 
 it would be impossible to remove from the outside. In the sec- 
 ond story, the windows were guarded by long hickory bars 
 which haid been morticed into the logs, while loop-holes had been 
 provided, through which an attack might be repelled. 
 
 The house was put into a complete state of defense. The 
 rifles were all loaded, and placed in a position where they could 
 be readily obtained, in case they should be needed. Thus pre- 
 pared, the family at length retired to rest, the negro having been 
 ordered to keep watch during the night. 
 
10 THE FRONTIEBSMSV 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 • I; la not a time for idle grief, 
 Nor a time for tears to flow ; 
 The horror that freezes his limbs ia brief- 
 He grasps his war-axe and bow, and a sheaf 
 Of darts made sharp for the foe." 
 
 Bbtavt. 
 
 As BfOHT be inferred from the scenes and excitements of the 
 preeeding day, the inmates of the cottage did not seek the night's 
 repose with the accustomed feelings of tranquility and safety, 
 Ruth went over again in memory the events of the day. and she 
 could not conceal from her own mind the fact that Ralph Weston 
 was much more to her than an ordinary stranger. Having known 
 him in youth, she had always esteemed the leading traits of his 
 character ; and she now felt that esteem ripening into a passion 
 which bears a much more tender name. 
 
 As for Ralph, he had not needed to pass through any such 
 excitements or dangers, as Ruth and he had that day encounter- 
 ed, to adjust any wavering balance of affection. He had seen 
 Miough to perfectly satisfy him that Ruth looked upon him with 
 no indifference ; and notwithstanding the preparations for defense 
 and the unpleasant ideas which the prospect of an Indian attack 
 would be likely to excite, he sank into a pleasant slumber, and 
 was willingly borne off into the region of fairy dreams. 
 
 Ichabod had no such potent specific with which to drown care 
 and reflection. The Tuscarora, and his probable object in visit- 
 ing the valley — his mysterious manner during their brief conver- 
 sation — were ever present to his mind ; and after tossing about 
 restlessly on his bed until nearly daylight, he arose with the 
 resolution of seeking an explanation of the mystery His prepa- 
 rations were made in silence, and without disturbing any of the 
 inmates of the house. Throwing his rifle across his arm, and 
 fastening into a belt which he buckled around him a large hun- 
 ting-knife, he noiselessly descended into the lower part of the 
 building. 
 
 In the gloom which pervaded the room into which Ichabod 
 entered, it was some time before be discovered Sambo, who had 
 been stationed there to keep watc\ during the night. He at 
 length espied him, sitting in a chair before the huge fire-place, 
 with his head bent upon his breanf;, in a most unmistakable 
 attitude of slumber. Ichabod had noit f7rf(>tten the grinning of 
 the negro, at his exploits in fishing th^ (Kf^ b*>^re, and he wa» 
 
THK FRONTIERSUKH. 61 
 
 irilling to giye him a sufficient fright to punish Ziim a little. 
 Advancing noiselessly towards him, he placed one hand on the 
 top of his woolly head, and with a rapid motion of the other imi- 
 tated the circular cutting used in the process of scalping, im- 
 printing his thumb-nail with suflBcient force into the skin, to give 
 the sleeping negro a distinct impression of that disagreeable 
 operation. 
 
 As the whole family for that night had retired to the upper 
 part of the house, Ichabod knew that he should be able to stifle 
 the cries of the negro, so that no one in the building would be 
 alarmed. 
 
 The moment Sambo felt the impression of the thumb-nail on 
 his skin, he awoke with a scream of fear ; but Ichabod rapidly 
 closed his mouth with one of his heavy hands. 
 
 '• Oh gor-a-massy — massa Injin ! I'm scalped. Lor' ! O 
 Lor' ! exclaimed the negro ; and in his distress he tumbled down 
 upon the floor under the impression that he was about to give 
 up the ghost. 
 
 Ichabod, who saw that he had carried the joke as far as safety 
 to the negro would allow, lifted him up into the chair. 
 
 " There, you black devil ! go to sleep will you, when you're 
 on duty 7 You (L/ that again, and we'll have you hung by the 
 articles of war." 
 
 The negro, who was perfectly willing to escape a scalping for 
 the present, by a prospect of hanging in the future, speedily recov- 
 ered from his fright. 
 
 " gor-a-massy, 'twas you, was it, Massa Jenkins ? Know'd 
 it was you, all the while ! Needn't think you could come pos- 
 sum over this nigger, any how; I jist set down in the chair to 
 listen a little." 
 
 Ichabod, who was amused at the assurance of the negro, advised 
 him not to listen in that manner any more, or he would get 
 scalped in earnest. Then unbarring the door, and bidding the 
 negro to fasten it after him, and to inform the Squire and Cap- 
 tain when they got up, that he should be back in an hour or two, 
 departed, in the direction of the shanty. 
 
 It was now nearly day-light ; and the first silvery rays of the 
 morning were beginning to dispel the darkness. The moon had 
 set sometime before, and as in the midst of the forest, it was 
 almost impossible to discern his path, it was necessary that he 
 should proceed with extreme caution. Following noiselessly the 
 rough path over which Ralph and Miss Barton had journeyed 
 the day before^ he hoped to reach the shanty by day-light. 
 
 A walk through the forest in a new country by night, to one 
 unaccustomed to it, would not be likely to excite the most agree- 
 able reflections. But Ichabod had in other times been used to 
 all the dangers of the wilderness, and this morning walk had tt 
 him suflB*»«»*it excitement to make it decidedly a pleasure. 
 
52 THE FRONTIIBSMKir. 
 
 As he journeyed on, the silence by which he was surrotmde4 
 was occassional ly broken by the distant howl of a wolf. Scarcely 
 had the melancholy sound died in the echoes of the forest, ere an 
 owlet's shriek would be heard, sharp and piercing, by his side — 
 and in the next moment it would be answered by a cry that 
 came mellowed from the distance. Then, perhaps, the rustling 
 of dry leaves, or the cracking of a dry bough, indicated that 
 some small animal was flying from his* presence. Occassionally 
 stopping for a moment, to listen if he could not catch sounds 
 which would indicate the prjc>enue o' something against which 
 it would be necessary to guard himselJ he continued to advance 
 in the direction of the hut, whwie on the evening before he had 
 encountered the Tuscarora. 
 
 This hut or shanty, the prticise location of which, with refer- 
 ence to the surrounding country, we have not described, was 
 situated about a mile below the residence of Barton, at the foot 
 of a hill which gradually rose on the western side to the height 
 of one hundred and fifty or two hundred feet. On the east, at 
 the distance of about thirty rods, was the river. Beyond the 
 river were flats extending nearly half a mile in width ; while 
 nearly opposite the hut, a small stream came from the north- 
 east, down a narrow valley, which gave to the valley just oppo- 
 site the hut the appearance of a much greater width than it 
 really possessed. 
 
 Ichabod arrived at the shanty at just about the hour he had 
 calculated upon. The light of the morning had begun to creep 
 through the woods, giving to objects an uncertain appearance. 
 He approached it cautiously, listening if he might not hear some 
 sound that would indicate the presence of the Tuscarora. Not 
 receiving any such indication, he touched the door, which noise- 
 lessly opened, when he entered the hut. It was entirely desert- 
 ed, and every trace of its recent occupation had been removed. 
 
 This caution on the part of the Tuscarora was strong evidence 
 to Ichabod that enemies were near, and he at once sa\f the object 
 of it. In case the hut should be visited, the Indian wished it to 
 appear as if it had not been disturbed, so that no clue could be 
 obtained to his motions. 
 
 Ichabod, who was an adept in the Indian mode of warfare, 
 endeavored to discover in which direction the Tuscarora had de- 
 parted. But this was no easy undertaking. He looked cau- 
 tiously about for a trail, but the ground had been so much trod- 
 den the night before, it was a long time ere he could discover the 
 print of the occasional foot of the Indian, and then only by the 
 side of the hut where he had conversed with him. At length, 
 moving off to the distance of six or eight rods from the shanty, 
 he commenced walking about it in a circle with his eyes fastened 
 upon the ground. He had proceeded but a few rods in this round 
 beifore he disooyered the footprint for which he was searching 
 
THK FRONTIERSMlir. 53 
 
 Th© Tnfl'.an. on leaving the hut, had evidently gone in a south- 
 easterly direction towards the river. 
 
 The point, proceeding in the line taken by the Tuscarora. as 
 which he would reach the river, would be at just about a hun- 
 dred rods from the shanty. Ichabod followed, at once, in this 
 direction ; but advancing with extreme caution. His progress 
 was necessarily slow, as he was obliged not only to examine the 
 ground with great care to discovor the footprints which the light 
 step of the Indian had made, but also to observe if there were 
 any signs of other Indians in the vicinity. At length, he ap- 
 proached the river, the margin of which, here, was covered with 
 a thick growth of willows of about eight or ten feet in height, 
 which rendered it almost imnossible to get a glimpse of tb# 
 water. 
 
 He had arrived within two rods of the shore, when. i»v once, 
 he lost all traces of the Tuscarora. He was searching the 
 ground intently to regain the trail he had lost, when he heard 
 a slight sound in the direction of the river, like that made by a 
 paddle slightly rubbing the side of a canoe. Stooping so as to 
 be more thoroughly hidden by the willows, which were much 
 thicker towards the ground, he advanced close to them, and en- 
 ieavored to get sight of the object which had attracted hi« 
 attention. 
 
 It will be necessary to explain, a little more fully, the precise 
 situation of Ichabod with reference to the river. The line of wil- 
 lows we have mentioned, was about six or eight feet in width, 
 and run in a north and south line, parallel with the course of 
 the river; but immediately below where he stood, there was a 
 thick clump of them, which extended some twenty feet from thf 
 apparent course of the river, directly towards the forest ; so that 
 Ichabod was not only protected by those in front, but he occu- 
 pied a sort of cover formed by them xn the sudden turn which 
 they took towards the west. 
 
 Carefully pulling back a few of the twigs of the willows 
 which skirted the river, and which impeded his observation, he 
 now distinctly heard the sound of a canoe approaching from 
 below. The river was here about six rods in width, and was of 
 considerable depth, although the current was strong ; which lat- 
 ter fact accounted for the sound he had heard — some effort being 
 required to urge the canoe against the force of the water. 
 
 Shortly the canoe came in sight. Ichabod started as he beberd 
 three Indians in it, whom he at once knew to be Senecas. His 
 tirst impulse was to raise his rifle ; but a moment's reflection 
 taught him that such a course would be unwise. In the first 
 place, although the new government had concluded as yet no 
 formal treaty of peace with the hostile tribes of the Six Nations, 
 v^t as it was tacitly understood that such a treaty would soon 
 be made, and all encounters had therefore been mutually suspend 
 
54 THE FRONTIERSUSir. 
 
 ed it would be criminal and improper to attack them except in 
 self-defence, or the defence of his friends. Another reason, also 
 <came to his aid — although it is proper to mention that it was tne 
 last one that occurred to him — and that was, that if he suc- 
 ceeded in killing or disabling one of the Indians, he woud still 
 have the remaining two upon his hands, without possessing any 
 adequate means of defending himself; while it was more than 
 probable that there were other Senecas in the vicinity. 
 
 The Indians were moving very slowly against the current, and 
 were evidently in search of some object which they expected to 
 discover along the shore. Ichabod recognized one of these In- 
 dians as a subordinate chief of the Seneca Nation, whom he had 
 encountered in some of the conflicts of the war ; but who pos- 
 sessed a high reputation among his people, for boldness and 
 cunning. The name of this chief was Panther, which he had 
 received from the characteristics we have mentioned. As they 
 came in sight, the canoe was not more than twenty feet from the 
 position occupied by Ichabod, and he could distinctly hear the 
 conversation between the chief and his companions, although they 
 conversed in a low tone. Ichabod had learned enough of the 
 dialect which was common to the Six Nations, to understand at 
 once, the purport of the conversation. We will endeavor to 
 translate, for the benefit of the reader, the language of the Sene- 
 cas: 
 
 " Me no understand," said Panther ; " saw canoe here, some- 
 where. No get out of water without seeing it." 
 
 " Canoe light ; gone up river p'raps," said one of his com- 
 panions. 
 
 "* Canendesha got quick eye," said the other Seneca j ^ he cun- 
 ning Injin. He won't let scalp go, if he can help it." 
 
 A gleam of ferocity passed across the swai;thy face of Panther. 
 " Canendesha is cunning and brave. His enemies will say that j 
 but he has got the scalp of a Seneca, and I shall be ashamed to 
 go back to the wigwams of my nation, if I do not take his. The 
 Senecas are not squaws, to let a Tuscarora run off with their 
 scalps." 
 
 Slowly moving against the current, the three Indians had got 
 both out of sight and hearing of Ichabod. Immediately behind 
 him was a small knoll four or five feet in height. He had com- 
 menced moving towards it with the intention of getting a further 
 view of the Senecas, whose business he now understood, when 
 his attention was attracted by a slight waving of the willows in 
 the centre of the clump which we have mentioned. Glancing 
 sharply in that direction, with his rifle raised in a position to fire 
 should it be necessary, he saw an Indian emerging from the wil- 
 lows, whom he knew at once to be the Tuscarora. 
 
 "No get my scalp this time;" said Eagle's-Wing. *'I get 
 another scalp first ;" and he pointed to a bleeding trophy of • 
 
THE FRONTIERSMEN 65 
 
 recent encounter, with all the pride with which a victorious gen- 
 era] would have pointed to the capture of the standards and 
 munitions of war of a vanquished enemy. 
 
 " What's the meaning of all this, Eagle's-Wing ?" asked Icha- 
 bod. with evident disgust at beholding the bleeding trophy. 
 " Why has Canendesha dug up the hatchet, when the pale-faces 
 and their Indian allies have buried it ?" 
 
 '* I no dig it up," answered the Tuscarora, with energy ; " Sene- 
 ca dig it up. I must have Panther's scalp too," and he was 
 ibout following the canoe up the river. 
 
 '' Stop a moment, Eagle's-Wing," exclaimed Ichabod, who 
 laid his strong hand on the shoulder of his friend. " I want to 
 know the meaning of all this ; you must not go after them In- 
 iins now. I hate a Seneca, on general principles, as much as you 
 do ; but it won't do to go scalping round in these days, without 
 good reason for it. Let me know what's the matter, and if it's 
 anything where a friend can help with an easy conscience, I'll 
 rush into the speculation." 
 
 Thus urged, the Indian, after a suflScient time had elapsed to 
 satisfy the dignity of a chief proceeded to relate one of those 
 romances of the forest, which, in general feature, may not be 
 very dissimilar to those of civilized life — the only difference con- 
 sisting in the darker and wilder coloring which belongs to pic- 
 tures of savage life. We will not attempt to give it in the pre- 
 cise words and with the manner of the Tuscarora, although we 
 hope to exhibit in some degree the energy with which some 
 portions of it were related. 
 
 It seemed that a short time before, a band of Senecas, for 
 some purpose, had been hanging about the villages of the Onei- 
 das and Tuscaroras, situated some fifty miles north of that por- 
 tion of the valley about which we are now writing. Their 
 business did not seem to be of a warlike nature, and frequent 
 visits of ceremony had been exchanged between the chiefs of 
 the once hostile tribes : and professions were made by the Sene- 
 cas of a desire to unite once more the severed bond of union 
 between the different nations of the confederacy. This condition 
 of things existed for a few days, when it was announced by the 
 Senecas that they were about to depart towards their own vil- 
 lages. The Tuscarora, the day before that announced for the 
 departure of theSenecas, made them a visit of ceremony, accom- 
 panied by his young wife, whose Indian name, translated into 
 English, was Singing-Bird. The visitors were treated with the 
 utmost distinction, although Eagle's-Wing fancied that on one 
 or two occasions he observed symptoms of a revival of the old 
 feeling of hostility towards him, which the late conflicts had 
 engendered. The band of Senecas consisted of about thirty- 
 five warriors, under the command of Panther, whose treacheroui 
 tnd perfidious nature Eagle's-Wing was well acquainted witKr 
 
£6 fHI FB0NTIJBB8MIH. 
 
 But the Tuscarora was brave, and if he felt, did not exhibit ai 
 Bymptoms of the suspicions which occupied his mind. At lengt , 
 on the approach of evening, the Tuscarora announced his dep»^ 
 ture. Panther courteously accompanied him a short distan*« 
 from the lodge, when suddenly a number of Indians who hwi 
 been secreted in ambush, sprang upon the Tuscarora and tie 
 young squaw, and they were at once bound and brought b><;k 
 to the lodge. The Indians made immediate preparations for 
 departure — as would be necessary, indeed, after such an act of 
 perfidy — for the Tuscaroras and Oneidas, whose villages >rere 
 situated but a few miles distant, would shortly suspect the 
 treachery, and come in search of the prisoners. Panther's 
 motive in this double act of treachery and inhospitality, was 
 supposed to be a feeling of revenge towards the Tuscarora — who 
 had signalized himself during the war, by his friendship for the 
 cause of the Colonies — and also a desire to obtain the beautiful 
 Singing-Bird for his own wigwam. 
 
 The Senecas, with their prisoners, had marched all that night 
 in a southerly direction, making use of all the devices of which an 
 Indian is capable, to conceal the direction of their march. Neai 
 morning, the Tuscarora, although closely guarded, had found 
 means to escape ; but instead of retracing his steps to get assist- 
 ance from his own people or from the Oneidas. he followed on the 
 trail of the Senecas, hoping that he should find some means to 
 release Singing-Bird from her captivity. He also hoped that his 
 brethren, discovering, as they certainly would, the treachery that 
 had been used towards him, would send out a party of warriors 
 to rescue him. 
 
 The Senecas had passed along the valley on the day when we 
 first introduced the Tuscarora to the reader. They had encamped 
 on the flats, about two miles below the shanty we have mentioned, 
 but in a direction much nearer the river than that taken by Ealph 
 and Miss Barton, in their journey of the day before. 
 
 The Tuscarora, after the party, on the night before, had left 
 the shanty, carefully obliterated all traces of the recent occupancy 
 of the hut, and proceeded towards the encampment of the Senecas. 
 He had nearly accomplished his purpose of delivering Singing- 
 Bird, who was confined in a temporary wigwam which had been 
 erected for her, when he was discovered by a young warrior of 
 the Senecas. A conflict, brief but terrible, had ensued, which 
 resulted in the death of the Seneca ; and although this conflict 
 had prevented the execution of his purpose, he succeeded in bear- 
 ing away the usual Indian trophy of victory. 
 
 A sufficient party had been left to guard the wigwam in which 
 Singing-Bird was confined, and the remainder of the Indians, 
 almost twenty-five in number, had set ofi" in immediate pursuit 
 of Eagle's-Wing. The latter discovered, in his flight, which was 
 along the course of the river, a light bark canoe, which had been 
 
THX FRONTIERSHEir. 5t 
 
 constrncted by Guthrie ; and at once entering it, rapidly urged 
 !t up the stream. By so doing, although the Senecas who were 
 pursuing him by land, might pass him, yet he could be able to 
 secrete himself until day-light, certainly, and leave no trail which 
 could be followed. On the day before, in noting the course of 
 the river, and the means of shelter, should he find it necessary 
 to take to a hiding-place, he had marked the clump of willows 
 we have mentioned, which to all appearance was merely a thicker 
 and more extensive growth than was elsewhere observed. But, 
 as he now showed Ichabod, in the centre of this clump was a 
 small body of water connected with the river — a sort of cove — 
 the mouth of which was completely guarded by a thick under- 
 growth of willows. To a person in a canoe on the river, there 
 was nothing to indicate, except with the very closest attention, 
 but that the line of the willows was the shore of the river. Thus, 
 by separating the willows, he had forced the canoe into this small 
 cove, where he was completely hidden from all observation, as 
 well from the lard, as from the water. 
 
 Ichabod, who was much excited by this forest romance, at 
 once entered into the feelings of the Tuscarora. 
 
 " I don't blamo you any, Eagle's- Wing," said he: "I don't like 
 this scalping business, but I s'pose you've got to fight according 
 to your natur' ; but I'll tell you this, Eagle's-Wing, — here's my 
 hand on a barga'n, — and I'll stick to it. whether the speculation's 
 good or bad — Tve'll rescue Singing-Bird, any way; but don't 
 let us have any more scalping, just now. We must deceive them 
 rascals. I never knew a scoundral of a Seneca yet, but could 
 be cheated som') way or other." 
 
 Notwithstanding the interest which this conversation had 
 excited, the Tiiscarora and Ichabod had both been intent in 
 watching the course of the canoe. It had now advanced some 
 twenty-five or thirty rods up the river, when Panther, evidently 
 believing he h id passed the spot where the Tuscarora had been 
 observed, now headed the canoe down stream, with the inten- 
 tion of making a more diligent search. 
 
 Ichabod was about to propose a retreat towards the forest, 
 when he suddenly beheld in that direction a small party of 
 Indians advancing towards them. The intelligence was silently 
 communicated to the Tuscarora, when they both rapidly entered 
 the clump of willows, and seated themselves in the canoe. Their 
 rifles were examined, and they both adjusted their knives so that 
 they would be in readines, if it should be necessary to use them. 
 
 The Indians who were approaching from the forest perceived 
 Panther and his companions in the canoe, and signs were at once 
 made to attract their attention. Panther observed them, and 
 the canoe was immediately brought to the shore, where the other 
 Indiap-i had now arrived. The Senecas who had come from the 
 woods, occupied the precise spot where Ichabod had first observe 
 
58 THE FRONTIERSMEN. 
 
 thecanoi of Panther. The latter had brought his canoe to the 
 edge of the willows, and putting them aside, sprung lightly 
 through them to the land. 
 
 The Senecas were now not more than ten or fifteen feet from 
 the hiding-place of the Tuscarora, so that their conversation 
 could be easily overheard. 
 
 Panther, speaking to Deersfoot, who was the leader of the 
 small party which had been sent to scour the forest, asked if 
 any trace had been found of the fugitive. Deersfoot replied 
 that he had not been able to find any trail. 
 
 Luckily for both Eagle's- V: ing and Ichabod, the Indians who 
 had visited the shanty since ^he latter left it in the morning, had 
 not taken the pains to discover the trail of the Tuscorora which 
 Ichabod had done ; and they had also followed the same direction 
 in approaching the river, but without examining the ground with 
 sufficient care, to discover the footmarks of either Eagle's- Wing 
 or Ichabod. The consequence was, that now, so far as any clue 
 could be obtained to their position from that source, they were 
 perfectly safe, a.", the Senecas, in traveling in the same direction, 
 had completely obscured the signs which, with a little more care, 
 they might have discovered. 
 
 Panther and Deersfoot now held a whispered consultation, 
 which Ichabod, although he reached forward as far as his safety 
 would permit, could not distinctly overhear. But he was quit« 
 sure that he heard something said about the pale-faces at the 
 cottage. He was certain from this that the Indians would visit 
 the house of Barton ; and he was extremely anxious to return 
 there, so that he might communicate the intelligence as soon as 
 possible. 
 
 If such was the intention of the Senecas, it appeared that they 
 did not intend to put it in execution immediately ; for after this 
 consultation was finished, Panther directed the Indians to follow 
 along down the shore, while he examined it from the canoe. 
 
 Panther returned to his canoe ; while Deersfoot with his party, 
 passing around the cove, proceeded diligently to search for the 
 enemy whom they were leaving in security, at least for the pres- 
 ent, behind them. 
 
 As soon as they had passed out of sight, Ichabod insisted that 
 Eagle's- Wing should accompany him to the cottage. The Indian 
 at first refused, fjom the idea that his presence there would bring 
 danger upon the family of Barton ; but as Ichabod assured him 
 of the certainty of holding out the cottage against any attack 
 which the Senecas might make upon it, and also of the joy with 
 which Barton and his daughter would welcome him, he finally 
 yielded ; and leaving the canoe in its shelter, they rapidly pro- 
 ceeded tliitherward through the forest. 
 
fHI FSONTIXKSMIV. H 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 *' Bat Trh&t talk we of these traitorly raaoala, whose muenes are to be 
 emiled at, their offences being so capital V* 
 
 Wintm'b Talb. 
 
 When Ichabod and the Tuscarora reached the cottage, they 
 found the inmates much alarmed, owing to the long absence of 
 the former ; and Ralph was just about setting out in pursuit of 
 him. Ichabod had perfectly succeeded, without any effort on 
 his part, in ingratiating himself into the favor of all. There 
 was something in his frank, hearty manner, that at once gave 
 him a place in the affections of those who were capable of being 
 moved by such qualities. The simplicity and earnestness with 
 which he pursued his schemes of pecuniary speculation, if they 
 excited the smiles or ridicule of those who saw their groundless- 
 ness, did not detract from his reputation as a man of excellent 
 judgment, on all matters out of the range of that one idea. 
 
 In a life such as we are now depicting, which was essentially 
 new — where men were not living on the labors of others, or 
 eating up the substance which others had gained, but where 
 each relied upon his own effort t© procure the necessaries of 
 life — there was a general simplicity of manners, which is seldom 
 to be found in these latter days. Although, as in comparison 
 with the history of population in Europe, we are immediately 
 connected in point of age, with the times of which we are 
 writing, yet in the rapidity of our own history, the seventy 
 years which have intervened have a much greater signification, 
 and seem to extend over a length of time sufficient to give the 
 broadest play to the imagination. We, who are now in the 
 prime of life, and witness a broad, fine country, thoroughly sub- 
 dued to the uses of the farmer — cities and villages connected by 
 the ties of commerce — splendid mansions, which already begin 
 to wear the venerable appearance of age, can scarcely realize 
 that our fathers and grandfathers were the pioneers before 
 whose vigorous efforts the forests disappeared, and the wilder- 
 ness gave place to spacious fields, teeming with harvests, and 
 homes where happiness asked no aid from wealth, and virtuous 
 simplicity paid no tribute to overreaching avarice. 
 
 Ichabod, there, was welcomed with a degree of warmth which 
 he had no reason to expect ; but the excited state of mind whica 
 had been produced by the events of the day before, and the pro- 
 bability of future troubles, served to magnify the dangers which 
 it was supposed he was likely to encounter in his morning advex> 
 tore. 
 
60 THB FBONTIEBSMIV. 
 
 The Tuscarora, too, was heartily welcomed ; and the morning 
 meal, which had been left waiting for Ichabod, was at once 
 served. The Tuscarora ate but little ; for, however so much dis- 
 posed an Indian may be to give way to a gluttonous disposition 
 in " piping times of peace," when on the war-path, he is always 
 abstemious to a degree ; and he holds in great contempt the man 
 who suffers his appetite to overcome his necessary care and 
 watchfulness. Ichabod. however, had no such scruples ; and he 
 did as ample justice to the '•' good things" which were set before 
 him, as if such an animal as a Seneca had never existed. 
 
 Having finished their breakfast, Ichabod proceeded to com- 
 municate to Ralph and Barton what he had witnessed, together 
 with a brief account of the treachery of Panther towards Eagle's- 
 Wing. It was at once resolved that the Tuscarora should be 
 protected. 
 
 " For," said Barton, " if the Senecas should dare to attack the ^ 
 cottage, they will find that we have ample mean of defence. But 
 I do not think they will do so ; they will not dare so openly to 
 violate the neutrality which now exists." 
 
 " That tribe is proverbially treacherous," said Ralph, " and from 
 Eagle's- Wing's story, the chief of this party is especially so. I 
 think they will attack us, if they learn that the Tuscarora is 
 sheltered here . but I agree with you that we are bound to pro- 
 tect him. The cottage is in a good state of defence, and we can 
 defend it against twice the number of this party. 
 
 '• Yes, and were they ten times as strong," answered Barton, 
 •' the Tuscarora should not be surrendered. His services in our 
 behalf are too recent to be so soon forgotten ; and besides, I 
 would protect any individual of the Oneida or Tuscarora nation, 
 against those perfidious rascals." 
 
 The old man said this with an animation and energy that set- 
 tled the question. 
 
 The Tuscarora, however, did not seeem to assent, willingly, to 
 the arrangement. "With a sensitiveness and courtesy which 
 are almost peculiar to the Indian warrior, he endeavored to 
 decline a shelter which would be likely to bring Barton and his 
 family into some peril on his behalf. 
 
 " No," he said, •' let Canendesha go. He knows the woods, 
 and the warrior likes the woods. There is plenty chance to 
 fight — plenty good place to hide. Warrior can't fight here— 
 can't take any scalp here." 
 
 Sambo put his hand to his head, with a vivid remembrance of 
 the joke of the night before ; and even Barton and Ralph were 
 a good deal shocked at the cool-blooded way in which the Tusca- 
 rora spoke of this peculiar mode of Indian warfare. Barton felt 
 called to enter his protest, at once. 
 
 " Tuscarora," he said, " it isn't Christian to scalp. I supposed 
 that theTuscaroras and Oneidas had better notions than to do 80.'' 
 
THE rSONTIEBSMIN. 61 
 
 ** What Christian do, eh ?" asked Eagle's-Wing, quietly. 
 
 " A Christian never mutilates his enemy, after he has con- 
 quered him." replied Barton. 
 
 " What that ?" inquired the Tuscarora, with a look of incom- 
 prehension. 
 
 '• A Christian warrior," said Barton, who found himself some- 
 what puzzled to explain clearly, to the comprehension of th* 
 Indian, the idea he had in his mind ; " A Christian warrior killB 
 his enemy ; he don't " 
 
 '"Christian kill enemy, eh?" said Eaglc's-TVing, quickly 
 *•' What scalp good for to enemy, after he killed ? Good to war- 
 rior to show squaw — good to show chiefs — good many scalps 
 niake great chief." 
 
 '• Yes, but why not bear off some other trophy ? why not take 
 a portion of the enemy's dress, or something of that sort ?" 
 
 *' Warrior can't carry away all: — some other Injin get some, 
 — make him great warrior too. No-— no — Injin got but one 
 scalp : he 'spect to have it taken ; and if he killed, must lose it'* 
 
 Eagle's-Wing evidently thought he had exhausted the argu- 
 ment ; and, in truth, he had. It would have been utterly impos- 
 sible to have held any such controversy with him, with any 
 prospect of success, and have admitted the right to slay an ene- 
 my at all. 
 
 Ichabod chuckled over the victory which had been gained by 
 his friend ; not that he justified the practice, but that he thought 
 it would be utterly useless to endeavor to improve an Indian, in 
 that respect. It was a practice which had been taught in infancy, 
 and become an instinct ; for the warrior having slaia the enemy, 
 secures the scalp, or his victory is but half won. 
 
 Just at this point in the conversation, Sambo, who had left the 
 house a few moments before, came running in. saying that Guth» 
 rie had just come in sight, and was approaching the cottage. 
 By a sort of instinctive feeling, the whole party, except the Tus- 
 carora, who did not seem to be familiar with the name, looked 
 as if they expected some new scene in this forest drama was 
 aoout to be enacted. But with an appearance of unconcern, they 
 prepared to receive him ; and in a moment more, the door 
 opened, and the heavy, coarse figure of Guthrie was in the room. 
 
 As he opened the door, the Tuscarora made a sudden more- 
 ment of surprise, which Ichabod saw. although it was unnoticed 
 by either Ralph or Barton. The Indian immediately resumed 
 his appeararce of composure, and looked at the visitor with an 
 air of iuditference ; but Ithabod saw that Eagle's-Wing had 
 made some discovery which might be of extreme importance in 
 the events which were likely to occur. As has been before re- 
 marked, Ichabod , had a distinct impression that he had before 
 3een Guthrie's face — but where, he could not recollect. With ft 
 feeling of distrust, which the sudden gesture of the Tusctfon ha 
 
62 THE FRONTIERSMEN. 
 
 gerved to enliven, he now waited to .earn the object of the yitSL 
 
 " Good day, Guthrie," said Barton, " what news do you bring 
 from below." 
 
 " O nothing in particular. Squire ; but I thought I'd come up 
 «nd tell you that there's a large lot of Injins round." 
 
 "I suppose thsre is nothing very singular in that," answered 
 Barton, '• so long as this may be considered Indian territory, as 
 yet." 
 
 Now, Barton had always looked upon Guthrie with a feeling 
 of distrust ; and for this reason he thought it best to appear 
 ignorant of facts he well knew, as by so doing, he might better 
 ascertain the true object of his visit. 
 
 He therefore continued : " I am a kind of tenant at sufierance 
 of the Oneidas here, myself; and I certainly cannot object to 
 their visiting their own territory." 
 
 " But these Injins arn't Oneidas, Squire. If I know one Maqua 
 from another, they're Senecas," said Guthrie. 
 
 " Senecas !" exclaimed Barton, with the appearance of surprise. 
 ** what business have the Senecas here, I should like to know ?'* 
 
 " I ra'ally can't tell. Squire, what kind of business they did 
 come on out here ; but they've got into a raging passion since 
 they've been here, and I am ra'ally afeard of trouble." 
 
 " They have had no occasion, certainly, for anger with me or 
 mine, and I cannot suppose that they intend me any injury." 
 
 "Well, the truth is. Squire, they say that this Inj in you've got 
 here," pointing to the Tuscarora, " has got the scalp of one of 
 their young men ; and they declare they'll take him, any way j 
 if they can't by fair means, they will by foul." 
 
 " You do not think they would dare to attack the cottage for 
 the purpose of capturing him?" said Barton. 
 
 " There's no telling what them Senecas wonH do, Squire, when 
 ttey're angry ; but I rather reckon they will, if they know you've 
 gtit him here." 
 
 " What would you advise me to do, Guthrie ? you understand 
 the ways of this nation pretty well." 
 
 " As for understanding the ways of the Senecas, in particular 
 Squire," answered Guthrie somewhat hastily, " I can't say that 
 I do ; but a man can't live in the woods as long as I have, with- 
 out knowing something about the Injins in general : but as for 
 what you'd better do, I ra'ally can't say. But the way it looks 
 to me is, that if you want your buildings burnt down, and may 
 he yourself and family taken prisoners, you'll keep him ; but if 
 you don't, you'll send him away. But it arn't for me to say." 
 
 " Now, Guthrie," said Barton, with the appearance of doubt. 
 ''' I'll put it to you as a question of honor, under all the diflScul- 
 ties you mention : this Tuscarora saved my daughter's life, yea- 
 it«rday ; now, can I, as an honorable man, surrender him to hii 
 eaemiesi" 
 
 %i. 
 
THE FBO.NTIESSMEN. 63 
 
 ' Well Squire, that is a pretty tight spot, that's sartin," said 
 Gnthrie. " But you see. if he did save Miss Barton's life yester- 
 day, it is no reason why he should put it in danger to-day ; and 
 your's and your guests besides." 
 
 " Why, Guthrie, you talk as if I couldn't defend myself here, 
 if I really tried. You seem to take it for granted, that if we 
 are attacked, they must conquer, I am not so certain of that." 
 
 " I know," said Guthrie, " you've got a pretty tolerably strong 
 fix of a place here ; but I do reckon you couldn't hold out mucb 
 of a siege. I've seen stronger places taken by fewer Indians, ii> 
 my day." 
 
 "Why, how many Senecas do you think there are, Guthrie?* 
 asked Barton. 
 
 "Well, I ra'ally don't know; but I should think I'd see* 
 pretty nigh a hundred on 'em." 
 
 Barton smiled. The object of Guthrie was now perfectly 
 evident. For some reason, he had endeavored to induce Barton 
 to surrender the Tuscarora, and had thus magnified the force of 
 the enemy, and cast doubt upon the ability of Barton to main- 
 tain the defence of his dwelling. 
 
 Ralph, although very indignant at this dishonest intention of 
 Guthrie, maintained the appearance of composure. The Tusca- 
 rora one would have judged to have been totally devoid of the 
 sense of hearing ; for no motion or gesture betrayed that h© 
 supposed himself the subject of this back- woods diplomacy. As 
 for Ichabod, he had with diflBculty restrained himself, so far, from 
 breaking into the conversation. Now, however, he suddenly 
 broke in by advancing towards Guthrie, and exclaiming — 
 
 *' I say, stranger, you can't be very good at reckoning, for a 
 man who has lived all his life in the woods, and ought to know 
 the number of his enemies at first sight. Only thirty-five, count- 
 ing that red reptile that lost his scalp. And as for them thirty- 
 five, if they want Eagle's- Wing, all they've got to do, you see, is 
 to come and take him." 
 
 Guthrie, who saw at once that his plan had failed, and that 
 Barton knew accurately the number of the Senecas with whom, 
 at the worst, he would have to contend, now changed his tactics. 
 
 " Well, friend," said he to Ichabod, " you might have been a 
 little more civil, even if you are right, and I'm wrong. I didn't 
 count 'em — I only saw 'em a long ways off, through the woods, 
 and might be mistaken, you know. But." said he. with a man- 
 ner of perfect frankness, turning to Barton, " whether there's 
 thirty-five or a hundred, I don't know nor don't care, so far as 
 I'm concerned ; if you say fight, here I am. Squire, and I'll help 
 you out with it, any way." 
 
 Barton sufiered his feelings of distrust to be overcome at once 
 Grasping Guthrie's hand, he exclaimed — " That's right, friend. 
 You and I are neighbors here, and there's no reason whj wt 
 
64 THE FRONTIEBSMKN. 
 
 shouldn't be friends, at such a time as this. The Tuscarora has 
 been deeply wronged by these Senecas, and if he has revenged 
 himself, it's Indian law, and we can't blame him for it. No^I 
 can't surrender him ; and if they want to fight about it, why 
 we'll get out of it the best we can," 
 
 Barton, who was extremely gratified at this addition to the 
 force of the cottage, at once led Guthrie about the building and 
 grounds, to show him his preparations for defence. Kalph was 
 not at all pleased with the manner of Guthrie ; but as he knew 
 that Barton was much better acquainted with him than he pre- 
 tended to be, he could not object to receiving the aid which was 
 so frankly ofiered, and which might be needed. After the 
 departure of Barton and his new ally, Ichabod and the Tusca- 
 rora fell into an earnest but whispered conversation, and Ralph 
 left the apartment in search of Miss Barton, whom he had not 
 seen since the events of the day before. 
 
 " I say, Eagle's-Wing,," said Ichabod, " I don't half like this 
 business. That stranger seems to be a kind of white Seneca. 
 I never knew an honest man who was afraid to look another 
 honest man in the eye. I don't like him." 
 
 " You guess right : I know him. He King George's man," 
 said the Tuscarora, quietly. 
 
 " What ! a Tory !" exclaimed Ichabod. " How do you know 
 that, Eagle's-Wing?" 
 
 " Know ? Know it sartin Saw him down here on war-path. 
 He fought with Senecas. No recollect ?" 
 
 " That's it. Heavens and airth ! why didn't I think of that ? 
 Here I've been trying for two days to remember where I've seen 
 that hang-dog face. He was one of the leaders of them venom- 
 ous reptiles. Nothing can beat an Indian for recollecting things." 
 "Indian got long memory Know enemy always. Don't 
 forget him." 
 
 " I say, Eagle's-Wing, do you think the sarpent recollects us ?" 
 " Yes — sartin. He recollect you — saw that. Recollect me, 
 too. Most got his scalp : he recollect that, well, I know." 
 " How's that, Eagle's-Wing ?" 
 
 " When Seneca run, he run too. I shoot, and he felL I run 
 to get scalp — but Seneca warriors turn — too many of 'em— and 
 they take him ofi". He 'members that, sartin." 
 
 " Now Eagle's-Wing, that sarpent has come here to practise 
 some deviltry on us. He's fairly cheated the old Squire, and I 
 s'pose he thinks he has cheated us, too. What shall we do with 
 him ?" 
 
 " I know what /do," and he significantly pointed to his knife. 
 
 " No — that won't do at all. You see, if he is in league with 
 
 them Senecas, there's only one way that he can help them and 
 
 injure us. Being inside here, he reckons he can open the doov 
 
 to 'em " 
 
THE rRONTIERSMEBT. 65 
 
 ** Yes, that's the way — no other way." 
 
 " Well, you see, Eagle's-Wing, we'll let him play his game oat, 
 but we'll try and be there to see it done. Now, mind, Eagle's- 
 Wing, until that does happen, \ a mustn't seem to know him at 
 all." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; make b'lieve friend — that the way." 
 
 " I reckon we'll hear from them reptiles to-night ; and if we 
 do, Eagle's-Winq;. we'll thin out their numbers a little, and then 
 to-morrow for the Singing-Bird. You'll see her again to-morrow, 
 and no mistake." 
 
 A melancholy smile passed over the countenance of the Tus- 
 carora. It was immediately followed by such a gleam of deadly 
 ferooity. that even Ichabod started. 
 
 " Panther got lying tongue — I tear it out. Panther got bad 
 heart — I tear it out. He take my squaw — he never see his own 
 squaw again." 
 
 " I don't blame you, Eagle's-Wing, for your feelings towards 
 that reptile ; but I do wish you Injins could learn a civilized 
 mode of warfare. I shan't argue with you : I know better than 
 that; but I ra'ally don't see how any Injin of your qualities can 
 have such a strong desire for tearing scalps off from all his 
 enemies. But it's Injin natur' I s'pose. When white people 
 offer bounties for such things, I don't much blame Injins for 
 speculating in that kind of article : but to do it when nothing's 
 to be made out of it, beats my comprehension." 
 
 But we must leave Ichabod and the Tuscarora to their con- 
 versation, while we follow Ptalph to the interview which he 
 sought with Miss Barton. 
 
 Proceeding directh' towards the front portion of the house, 
 and entering a room which was fitted up tastefully, and adapted 
 to '• state occasions," if we may be permitted to apply that term 
 to an apartment designed as well for a family room as a parlor, 
 he found Ruth, who seemed to be yet suffering from the agita- 
 tion and excitement of the day before. 
 
 *' I am happy to see you, Miss Barton," said Ralph. " suffer- 
 ing no more from your perilous night-ride. That was an adven- 
 ture which, I think, we shall remember.'' 
 
 " 1 shall not forget it very soon, at least," she replied. " I 
 think you must confess that I showed you more of the peculiari- 
 ties of forest life, than \\ -s arranged beforehand." 
 
 '' Had you advertised me of precisely what we saw, we might 
 have been a little better prepared," said Ralph: "but that 
 adventure ^ould make an excellent theme for a ballad, in the 
 German style. It possessed sufficient of the mysterious and 
 terrible for that purpose, certainly." 
 
 " You have visited us, Captain Weston," said Ruth, with seri- 
 Dusness, " in an unfortunate time for yourself. I hear that w» 
 ire threatened with aa attack ^om Ii^diaiis." 
 
^6 THE FRONTIERSMEN. 
 
 "Do not say unfortunate, Miss Barton: rather, I deem mjgftlf 
 most fortunate, in happening to be here at this time, shoulvl th* 
 attack which is threatened be made." 
 
 •' I hope it may not be. ! it is horrible to think that this 
 home I love so much should be the scene of such a conflict." 
 
 '' T think that in no event can our safely be endangered," 
 replied Ralph; "and that we have nothing to fear from the 
 attack, should it be made. We. have abundant means of defence, 
 and the enemy is not strong enough, with the stout hearts we 
 shall have within these walls, to force the cottage. But I can 
 sympathize with your sorrow, Miss Barton. God has made this 
 country too beautiful to be marred by the strife of men." 
 
 "It is a terrible blot on human nature," said Ruth, "that 
 men dwelling so far from society, in the midst of the forest, 
 where every object should excite sacred emotions, can engage in 
 these unholy conflicts with each other. It is a proof— a strong 
 proof, of the wretched condition of poor human nature, unassist- 
 ed by the light that shines from above." 
 
 '• Such is the nature of men," replied Ralph, " and surely per- 
 haps, it will always be. The first men were warriors, and if 
 ignorance and brutality always exist, the last men will be war- 
 riors, also. The whole history of the world has been written 
 with the sword — places most sacred have been profaned by the 
 bloody stains of human passion, and themes the most holy have 
 given rise to the deadliest hatred and contention. We cannot 
 expect that men educated in the ways of the forest, shall be wiser 
 than those who boast of their civilization." 
 
 " But is there no way," asked Ruth, " in which this conflict 
 -can be avoided ?" 
 
 *' None, perhaps, that would be honorable." Ralph then gave 
 an account of the wrongs which the Tuscarora had received from 
 the Senecas, together with the capture of his squaw. Ruth ac- 
 knowledged the impossibility of complying with the demands of 
 the Senecas. Her heart at once sympathised with the wrongs of 
 the Tuscarora ; and the picture which her imagination drew of 
 Singing-Bird in captivity in the hands of those unrelenting and 
 unmerciful enemies, brought tears to her eyes. 
 
 " No, no," said she ; " the Tuscarora has been our friend, and 
 we cannot deliver him to his enemies. In such a cause, I could 
 •be a soldier myself" 
 
 Although Rutff had been educated to a far different manner of 
 life, and in former times had enjoyed many of the luxeries which 
 <50uld then be afibrded by persons in " comfortable" circumstan- 
 ces, yet she possessed sufiicient of that heroism of character 
 which the times had engendered, to enable her to throw ofi" the 
 habits of early education, and adopt the character of fortitude 
 and patience in the midst of suSering, peculiar to the class of 
 women in the station in which she then moved. Thus, although 
 
THE FRONTIEPSMEN. 67 
 
 eh© viewed with dread the prospect of a strife with the savage 
 and unmerciful enemies by whom they were then about to be 
 attacked, she did not suffer herself to yield to the terrors which 
 such an idea would be likely to inspire. The women of the times 
 of the Revolution lost none of their feminine graces, by bearing 
 with fortitude the perils and dangers by which they were encom- 
 passed. 
 
 Ralph gazed with admiration on that beautiful countenance, 
 thas excited by a tender sympathy for the sufferings which sha 
 felt must be endured by the Tuscarora and Singing-Bird. 
 
 " With such soldiers," said he, " we could not but sncceed ; 
 but we shall scarcely call upon Miss Barton to fall into the ranks, 
 At present. We shall only do that as a last resort. 
 
 At this moment, their conversation was interrupted by the 
 appearance of Sambo, who informed Ralph that Mr. Barton 
 desired his presence immediately. Ralph at once obeyed the 
 lummons ; but its object we shall leave to the next chapter to 
 infold. 
 
68 THI FBOMTIEBSMIV* 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ** Here, Persian, tell thy embassy ! Repeat 
 That, to obtain my friendship, Asia's prince 
 To me hath proffered sovereignty of Greece." 
 
 Lbonidas. 
 
 Ralph found Mr. Barton and his companions in consultation 
 apon some subject of apparent importance, from the anxiety 
 which was manifested in their countenances. Two Indians of 
 the Seneca Nation were seen approaching the cottage ; and 
 although as they were unarmed, no immediate hostility could be 
 expected, yet it was evident they were coming upon some errand 
 relative to the shelter of the Tuscarora. If such were the case, 
 this departure from the ordinary caution of the Indian, might be 
 evidence either of the desire not to come in conflict with the 
 whites, or of a confidence, on their part, in their ability to 
 succeed in any attack they might make upon the dwelling. 
 
 It was decided that Ralph, the Tuscarora and Gauthrie should 
 remain in the cottage, while Barton and Ichabod should meet 
 the approaching Indians, and ascertain the nature of their errand. 
 With this view the two latter proceeded to a small grove which 
 had been left uncleared, except of the underbush, a short distance 
 south of the dwelling. 
 
 The two Indians approached with an apparent feeling of 
 security. They were to all appearance unarmed ; and they 
 exhibited a manner of confidence and amity intended to convince 
 the persons with whom they were to deal, that their mission was 
 a friendly one. One of these Indians was Deersfoot, whom we 
 have already mentioned ; the other was of a much less warlike 
 appearance. He was small of statute, with a quick, cunning 
 glance, and was celebrated among his people for oratory. His 
 name was Snake-tongue, — given to him evidently, by reason of 
 greater powers with his eloquence than with his rifle. 
 
 When they had approached within fifteen or twenty feet of the 
 position occupied hy Barton and Ichabod, the former advanced 
 towards them with a smile, and welcomed them to his cottage. 
 
 " It is not often," said he, " that I have an opportunity to 
 honor the young warriors of the Senecas. It is seldom that they 
 visit the country of the Oneidas, in time of peace." 
 
 " The Oneidas and Senecas are brothers." said Deersfoot. " A 
 cloud sometimes has passed between them ; but there is n<* cloud 
 wow. They are brothers still. The young men of the {^ue^aa 
 ouue to look OQ the hunting-grounds of their brothers." 
 
THK rEONTIEBSMK V. 69 
 
 " The country of the Senecas is not a good country, then T" 
 ftsked Barton. " I had heard that the Senecas dwelt in a garden — 
 that they owned large lakes that are filled with fish, and foresti 
 that are filled with deer." 
 
 "My father," said Deersfoot, in deference to the grey hairs of 
 Barton, '* my father tells the truth ; such is the country of the 
 Senecas. The Great Spirit has given us a good land to dwell in. 
 He has given us lakes that are full of fish, and forests that are 
 full of deer The Senecas and Oneidas belong to the same 
 nation ; — together they conquered the Sennape ; and the Senecas 
 are proud when they hear of the fame of the Oneidas. Why 
 should we not love to look upon the country of our brothers ?" 
 
 '• I am glad that you like to look upon this valley, Deersfoot. 
 I am glad to hear that there is no cloud between the Senecas 
 and the Oneidas. It would not be well if there were." 
 
 Barton had carefully abstained from touching the point which 
 was likely to be that of controversy. It never comports with the 
 dignity of an Indian to show haste or curiosity ; and he knew 
 that he could maintain a better position on the question which 
 would probably arise, if he sufiered them, without any manifesta- 
 tion of curiosity on his part, to unfold the nature of their errand 
 
 " The Five Nations were once a great nation" said Deersfoot 
 " they could travel a great many day's journey and not leav 
 their country : the wolf that howled amidst the snows north oi 
 the great lakes, they had a right to hunt ; and to gather fruiU 
 from under the warm sun of the south. But it is not so now. We 
 are now weak ; and the pale-faces are strong. The Great Spirit 
 has willed it, and we cannot help it : we wouid help it if we could. 
 But it does no good to talk. We grow weaker every day." 
 
 '• The Great Spirit," said Barton, " has not been so unkind to 
 the Five Nations. The warriors of the Five Nations have not 
 always been wise. If they had listened to the words of the 
 Christian teachers who have talked to them, they would have 
 been a stronger nation. But they dug up the hatchet against their 
 brothers of the Colonies, and they lost a great many warriors." 
 
 A gleam of deadly ferocity passed over the face of Deersfoot 
 for a moment, and his wild, dark eyes shot forth glances of hatred 
 — but in an instant he recovered his composure. 
 
 " It may be that my father speaks wise. The Indians know 
 but a little, and may be they were wrong. They lost a great 
 many warriors, it is true. But they pleased the eyes of their 
 old men and squaws with many scalps of their enemies. A white 
 man followed every warrior of the Senecas, in the path that leads 
 to the happy hunting-grounds of the Great Spirit." 
 
 The tone in which this reply of the Seneca was uttered was 
 sufficiently startling. Ichabod stretched his tall form as if he was 
 about to intrude upon the conversation, but at a gesture from 
 BartoDj he remained silent 
 
.•^^ B0HTISR8MIN. 
 
 Deersfoot,. after a moment's silence, continued : *' We have 
 »me to have a talk with the pale-faces of the cottage. The 
 Senecas have not got forked tongues. They have buried the 
 natched with the Yengeese. and with the Colony pale-faces. They 
 would not dig it up again. Let my brothers hear and be wise. 
 Snake-tongue will speak." 
 
 With these words, he stepped back, with dignity, while Snake- 
 tongue, after a few moment's hesitation, advanced towards Bar- 
 ton. In a low but musical voice, he commenced his harangue : 
 
 " My name is Snake-tongue. It is a good name for friends to 
 bear — it is a bad name for enemies. The warrior is known by 
 his name. 
 
 Deersfoot has said that the Five Nations are weak, and that 
 the pale-faces are strong. It may be so ; I cannot dispute it. I 
 have seen the Yankee pale-faces fight the Great King over the 
 water for seven winters and summers — they must be strong. 
 Deersfoot has spoken the truth. 
 
 Deersfoot has said that the Five Nations grow weaker every 
 day. We are now Six Nations, and we are weaker than when 
 we were Five Nations. Why is it so? The pale-faces have 
 slain a great many of our warriors ; but that has not made us 
 weak. It is because the Great Spirit has turned the hearts of 
 his red children against each other. If a pale-face slays an Indian, 
 it is wrong ; but it is not so wrong as it is for one Indian to slay 
 another. The sad spirit of the dead warrior goes on its path, and 
 complains to the Great Spirit, that its enemy does not follow him, 
 and the Great Spirit is angry. We must shed the blood of the 
 murderer. It is the law of the Great Spirit, and it is a good law. 
 
 •' The Yankee pale-faces are strong, when they come together 
 in armies ; but are they strong here ? My father is away from 
 his friends in the settlements ; he has but two or three pale-paces 
 with him. Are two or three pale-faces a match for the young 
 warriors of the Senecas ? Let my father pause and think." 
 
 " There are five of us. Snake-tongue, with plenty of rifles and 
 powder ; and good walls behind which we can stand and pick 
 out our enemies," said Barton, who saw the tendency of this 
 harangue, and who was disposed to meet the issue half way. 
 
 Snake-tongue continued, cold and impassive. " My father 
 speaks the truth. There are Jive warriors to defend the cottage 
 of the pale- faces, r^ There are four pale-faces, and a red man. 
 But we have buried the hatchet with the pale-faces : — we are no 
 longer enemies, but friends. We do not care whether there are 
 five warriors or twenty in the cottage. We are at peace with 
 the pale-faces. It makes no difierence to us. We are friends. 
 
 " Why then, does Snake-tongue make us this long war-speech ? 
 It is true that we are friends ; let us continue so." 
 
 " My father speaks wise. Let us remain friends. There is no 
 llgod between us and the pale- faces, that the p&le-faces cannol 
 
THB FBOKTIESSMSS?. tl 
 
 pnt away. A young warrior of the Senecas has been kflltd, 
 and his enemy has got his. SC'V ^ Did the pale-faces do that ? 
 No, — the pale-faces do not t&&i scalps ; but an Indian alwaya 
 does ; a scalp looks good in hl:i eyoa. "We would find the scalp 
 of our young warrior ! where is it V" 
 
 " I am sorry," answered Barton, " if any of your young meo 
 have been killed ; but Snake-tongue speaks true ; he was not 
 killed by the pale-faces. I do not know where his scalp is." 
 
 " But we know where it is," continued Snake-tongue. " It ia 
 hid beneath the belt of Canendesha. He has hid it from his 
 friends ; but he cannot hide it from the Sanecas. Their eyes 
 are sharp ; they can see an enemy a great way off, — and they 
 can find his trail if he hides. Canendesha is in the cottage of 
 the pale-faces. We are at peace with the pale-faces ; but we 
 want the Tuscarora. He has killed a warrior of the Senecas. 
 The Tuscarora must die. It is Indian law. It was taught us 
 by the Great Spirit that we must punish our enemies. We want 
 the Tuscarora. ^^^ 
 
 The Indian paused, as if waiting ibr a reply. Barton answered — - 
 
 " My brother has a bad tradition ; it is not true ; the Great 
 Spirit does not teach the red men to punish their enemies. The; 
 red men have not heard right ; their ears have been shut. Th©^ 
 Great Spirit has said that the red men must love their enemies." 
 
 '• I have heard," answered Snake-tongne, " of such a tradition 
 among the pale-faces. It must be a false tradition, for the pale- 
 faces do not believe it ; they punish their enemies. We beliere 
 m our tradition. It is a good one." 
 
 *' I do not deny," said Barton, who saw that the conversation 
 must be terminated, •' but that the Tuscarora may have killed 
 one of your young men; but did not the young Seneca try 
 to prevent him from getting his squaw? We have heard that 
 Panther has stolen the squaw of the Tuscarora. and will not give 
 her up. Is that right? Do red men treat their brothers so^ 
 and expect that their hearts will be filled with peace ?" 
 
 '' The young squaw," answered Snake-tongue, quietly, " is ut 
 the wigwam of Panther ; she can go if she does not wish to stay 
 there; but her eyes like to look on Panther. He is a great 
 warrior." 
 
 '•Ichabod could be restrained no longer. This slander or 
 Singing-Bird was more than his friendship for Eagle's- Wing, 
 would allow him to bear. 
 
 " See here. Snake-tongue,'^ said he, " you're a sort of amba»- 
 bassador here, and its again ali law to make war on that sort of 
 people ; but I don't know of any law to prevent my telling yoa 
 that you lie like S. rascally Seneca," 
 
 Both Deersfoot and Snake-tong-ie started at this defiant speech 
 of Ichabod ; and at the first impuise put their hands to their 
 belts as if to grasp ihmr knives ; bmt in a moment they resumed 
 
12 fHK FBONTIERSMBir. 
 
 their composure, and seemed to await the reply of Barton, wiio 
 ■aid, at length : • 
 
 " We have heard your demar.a, Snake-tongue. The Tuscaron 
 is our friend. He has been wronged by the Senecas. We do 
 not believe that Singing-Bird wishes to remain in the wigwam 
 jof Panther. It cannot be true, although Panther is a great war- 
 rior. We cannot give up the Tuscarora. He is our friend." 
 
 " And furthermore," said Ichabod, " we demand that you 
 should release Singing-Bird ; and tell j'^our lying chief, that if she 
 isn't sent along instanter, we'll come after her. I've fou't Sene- 
 cas before. 
 
 " My brothers have spoken," said Snake-tongue, quietly ; " 1 
 will give their words to the warriors of the Senecas. Perhaps 
 they have spoken wise. It is not for me to say." 
 
 Thus saying, the two Indians withdrew from the grove, as 
 quietly as they had entered it. 
 
 " The lying reptile !" exclaimed Ichabod. " To insinuate that 
 Singing-Bird has a liking for that rascally red-skin. If he hadn't 
 been an ambassador, I would have made him swallow his words 
 on the spot." 
 
 " The Seneca lied, undoubtedly," said Barton ; " but we have 
 now got to defend ourselves. The language and tone of Snake- 
 tongue implied nothing less. I am getting very much interested 
 in the history of Singing-Bird, myself; and we will find some 
 means, in case we succeed in repelling the Senecas from the cot- 
 tage, to aid the Tuscarora in rescuing her. 
 
 " That's right. Squire," said Ichabod. Eagle's- Wing and 
 I have sworn to do that ; and Providence permitting, I'll have a 
 chance at that foul-mouthed rascal yet." 
 
 Barton and Ichabod now entered the house, where they found 
 Guthrie and the Tuscarora engaged, apparently, in a friendly 
 conversation. The result of the '' talk" was communicated ; and 
 although it was agreed that the Senecas would make an attack 
 upon the cottage, yet no one seemed to think that they would 
 immediately do so. The arrangements for defence were now, 
 however, all made, and the duty of each individual assigned, so 
 far as it could now be done. When this was accomplished, the 
 party separated ; each, however, taking it upon himself to watch 
 warDy for the first signs of the attack. 
 
 Ralph walked «ut into the grove, where the recent conversa- 
 tion with the Senecas had taken place. He felt much anxiety 
 for the result of the coming conflict ; not that he really feared 
 that the Indians would succeed ; but he well knew that the is- 
 sues of such encounters are never certain. Perhaps his warm 
 ^attachment towards Ruth had much to do with this feeling ; for 
 in the event of failure in defending the cottage, were the Indiana 
 disposed to reap all the advantages of then* success, as would 
 ^^bftbly b« the case, in the heat oi their QXcitomeBt and passioOf 
 
TSE FSONTIERSMStr T3 
 
 ihe situation of Ruth would be extremely dangerous. He would 
 have been much better satisfied at that moment, were Ruth at 
 the settlements, or in some place of safety, where she would not 
 be exposed to the accidents of the impending encounter. But it 
 was now too late to allow of her flight, even if it had been deem- 
 ed advisable. While engaged in these thoughts, Ruth, who had 
 observed him from the cottage, approached him, and laid her 
 light hand on his shoulder. Ralph started, but smiled as he 
 recognized Miss Barton. 
 
 "How now, Sir Knight?" said Ruth, "you do not seem to be 
 occupied with very pleasant thoughts." 
 
 " They ought to be of a pleasant nature, certainly," said Ralph^ 
 " for I was thinking of no one else than Miss Barton. 
 
 " I am sorry," said Ruth, " if so unworthy a person as I, can 
 give Captain Weston such a serious countenance." 
 
 " Miss Barton, T do not wish to say anything to alarm you, 
 but all our exertions will be required to defend our lives to-night." 
 
 " Is it certain we are to be attacked so soon ?" inquired Ruth, 
 with a slight look of alarm. 
 
 " I think there can be no doubt of it ; and at such a time, with 
 so few defenders, and so unmerciful and vigilant an enemy, 
 although we have not much cause to fear defeat, yet that result 
 is possible." 
 
 '' I did not think our situation was so serious," said Ruth, 
 now evidently alarmed. " What can we do ?" 
 
 " Nothing, but use such means as we possess for defending 
 onrselves ; and I think we shall succeed in doing so. But." said 
 Ralph, with a slight embarrassment, " at such a time as this — 
 when we are threatened with such a danger, it is not surprising 
 that you should have found me thinking earnestly upon the situa- 
 tion of one so dear to me as yourself. Let me, Ruth," he continued, 
 taking her hand, which reposed not unwillingl}^ in his own, '• tell 
 you how much I esteem and love you, and that my whole happi- 
 ness depends upon you." 
 
 He paused, and whatever might have been the answei of Ruth, 
 he saw that in her countenance which informed him that hifl 
 wishes were well understood and answered. 
 
 In that fond dream of happiness in which all present danger 
 was forgotten, they wandered through the grove, filled with those 
 delightful thoughts and fancies, which are only born in the sweet 
 hopes of requited aflection. 
 
 The shades of approaching evening were creeping slowly over 
 the valley. The long shadows of the trees fell upon the cleared 
 meadow-land, the perfect picture of repose. Never sank a 
 brighter sun among more lovely clouds — crimsoned in deep cur- 
 tained folds, with golden edges, giving full promise of a fair to- 
 morrow. 
 
 ^ It ifi ft beautiful evening," said Ralph ? " one of those houifl 
 
%i THI FBONTIERSMEir 
 
 when fair hopes are fairer ; and the natural world seems to refleei 
 the happiness of our souls. May this not be a promise for the 
 future 1" 
 
 " May it be so," answered Ruth ; " but what events may take 
 place, before that sun rises again !" 
 
 " Let us not fear too much," said Ralph. " We must meet the 
 danger bravely, and when it is over, dear Ruth, we shall be none 
 the less happy that it is past." 
 
 *' Hush !" whispered Ruth suddenly, " look there !" pointing 
 to a grove of small trees but eight or ten rods distant. Ralph 
 looked in the direction indicated by her, and he beheld three 
 Indians who were slowly creeping towards them. The Indians, 
 who had no cover behind which to advance, had necessarily 
 exposed their persons, and in this manner had progressed unob- 
 served for a number of rods. They now saw that they were 
 discovered, and rising with a wild whoop, rushed towards them. 
 
 Ralph and Miss Barton were just about equil-distant from the 
 Indians and the cottage. Impulsively, Ralph, who was entirely 
 without means of defence, caught Ruth in his arms and ran 
 towards the building. The Indians pursued, and rapidly gained 
 upon the fugitives. One of the pursuers far outsped the others, 
 and had already reached within twenty feet of Ralph, when tht 
 discharge of a rifle was heard, and he leaped with a yel 1 into the 
 air and fell struggling upon the ground. In anothei moment 
 Ralph and his precious burden were inside the door ; but as it 
 closed, the tomahawk of another pursuer quivered in the post 
 btfiide it Instantly the grove was filled with enemies. 
 
ffBI FBO VTIKB8MIS. 7S 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 •* That wicked band of villeins fresh begon, 
 That castle to assaile on every side, 
 And lay strong siege about it far and wyde." 
 
 Chauceb — Faebic QCKKIVB. 
 
 This sudden appearance of the Indians indicated that they could 
 not have been far distant at the time of the interview between 
 Deersfoot and Snake-tongue on the one side, and Barton and 
 Ichabod on the other ; and that upon the refusal of the latter to 
 surrender the Tuscarora, they had at once resoived upon an attack 
 upon the cottage. 
 
 On the entrance of Ralph and Miss Barton, they, together with 
 Barton and the negro, who had remained below, at once pro- 
 ceeded to the upper apartment, where they found the remainder 
 of the party stationed at the loop-holes on the south side of the 
 house. Ichabod was loading his rifle. 
 
 " I have no particular reason to boast of uncommon accuracy 
 with the rifle," said the latter as Ralph entered the room, " but 
 I'm most always good for a Seneca. That rascal almost had his 
 hand in your hair, Captin." 
 
 " It was a good service, Ichabod, and I hope to live to thank 
 you for it," said Ralph, grasping his hand. 
 
 Don't say anything about it, Captin : Eagle's- Wing would have 
 done it in the hundreth part of a second more. It's only one 
 reptile the less." 
 
 The cottage, the precise situation of which, with reference to 
 surrounding objects, we have not yet described, was situated upon 
 a slight eminence, which rose gradually westward from the small 
 lake or pond, which we have before mentioned. Behind the cot- 
 tage, on the west, the land gradually rose, spreading out into a 
 wide plain with a rolling surface. On the north, however,, at the 
 distance of only three or four rods, there was a steep descent 
 into a ravine some forty feet in depth, in the bottom of which 
 flowed a small brook. This ravine had not yet been cleared, and 
 the forest approached, consequently, to within four rods of the 
 cottage. On the south, the land gradually sloped downwards for 
 four or five rods, while at about twice that distance was left 
 standing a grove of small trees of two or three acres in extent. 
 It was in this grove that the Senecas were first discovered. 
 
 It was obvious that the most dangerous point of attack wm 
 from the north } as in that direction, the forest approached so ami 
 
t6 THE FSONTIEBSMIV. 
 
 the cottage, that the Senecas might obtain a cover behind ih« 
 trees, and should such be their object, find some means to set 
 the buildings on fire. 
 
 The Senecas, however, still remained in the grove, and did not 
 show any immediate intention of proceeding to the attack They 
 were gathered together, while Panther, who was easily recognized 
 by Ichabod, was haranguing them ; but although his words could 
 not be heard, there was no diflBculty iii understanding from his 
 manner and gestures that he was explaining the mode in which 
 the attack should be made. 
 
 " I reckon," said Ichabod, " that I might easily pick off that 
 varmint, even at this distance." 
 
 " No," said Ralph, " we are on the defensive, and we will not 
 commence the fight. If they make an attack upon us, then we 
 will all try to do our duty." 
 
 " I fancy it was something pretty nigh an attack," said Ichabod, 
 " that them rascals just made on you and Miss Ruth. But, per- 
 haps, it's all right, Captin. That account was settled on the spot ; 
 and may be it won't be agin law for us to wait until the scoun- 
 drels open another." 
 
 A small room had been constructed near the centre of the main 
 apartment, supposed to be entirely secure from any stray bullet 
 that might chance to enter the loop-holes. 
 
 Into this small apartment, Ruth had entered, on reaching the 
 upper part of the house : but now she made her appearance among 
 the little garrison, with a great confidence, and a determination 
 to make herself of service if possible. 
 
 " Do not remain here, Ruth," said Barton : you may be ex- 
 posed to danger from some stray shot. It would be much bet- 
 ter that you should be entirely out of danger." 
 
 " This request was seconded by Ralph, with a look of earnest 
 entreaty. 
 
 '^ I do not fear any danger," answered Ruth. " I can certainly 
 be of no service shut up in that narrow cell ; while I may pos- 
 sibly be of some little service to you here. I can act as a look- 
 out, you know," advancing quietly to one of the loop-holes. 
 
 " No good for squaw to be in fight," said the Tuscarora, quietly j 
 " squaw hide when warriors fight, that best for squaw." 
 
 " I am not going to shoulder a rifle, Eagle's-Wing, without it 
 is absolutely necessary j but I want to look on, and see how 
 warriors can fight." 
 
 It was evident that Ruth was not to be dissuaded from sharing 
 the danger, if danger there was, to which the defenders of the 
 cottage were exposed. Ichabod, who during this brief conversa- 
 tion had remained watching intently the motions of the enemy, 
 now exclaimed : 
 
 ^ There are twenty of the red varmints, sartin, bat ihsf donk^t 
 
fB8 rftONTIERSMEK. tt 
 
 »eem very anxious to begin the fight. What d'ye think they 
 mean to do, Eagle's-Wing ?" 
 
 " Mean to 'tack cottage ; that what they mean: wait till dark, 
 then see what they do." 
 
 " There's some motion among 'em now," said Ichabod, " there 
 go the reptiles, creeping off through the wood. They're diving 
 now, but they'll come up again somewhere, I reckon." 
 
 " I rather calculate" said Guthrie, who had thus far remained 
 silent, that they're going to give up the business as a bad job. 
 That's the b^t thing they can do, any way." 
 
 " Warriors mean to surround cottage. That what it means," 
 said the Tuscarora. Pretty soon hear 'em over there, — hear 'em 
 all round— see 'em, may be, if watch." 
 
 Night was now rapidly approaching, and surrounding objects 
 had already become indistinct. One by one, the stars made their 
 appearance, glaring with the peculiar brightness of an autumn 
 evening. Yet the darkness would soon be sufficient to prevent 
 any observation of the motions of the enemy, unless they should 
 make their appearance within the little clearing that surrounded 
 the cottage. There would yet be three hours before the moon 
 would rise ; and during that time the very closest observation 
 would be necessary to detect the whereabouts of the savages, 
 except as their position should be manifested by an open attack. 
 
 Ichabod and the Tuscarora now took a position upon the north 
 side of the apartment, while Ralph and Barton remained at the 
 south side. Sambo was stationed on the west, towards the cat- 
 tle enclosure, while Guthrie was directed to keep a look-out on the 
 east or front of the house. This was apparently the least danger- 
 ous point, as the land on this side was partially cleared quite to 
 the shore of the pond. 
 
 But a few minutes had elapsed after this disposition of the 
 forces of the little garrison, before it was evident to the Tusca- 
 rora and Ichabod, that a portion of the enemy had taken a posi- 
 tion in the ravine. The night was so still, that the slightest 
 sound could be heard from that distance, and the Tuscarora qui- 
 etly called the attention of his companion to a slight snapping of 
 dry underbrush which had been trodden upon by the foot of 
 some careless Seneca ; but, as if to deceive the defenders of the 
 cottage as to the point from which the main attack would be 
 made, suddenly, and as if by one impulse, the silence was broken 
 by the yells of the enemy from all directions, and a general dis- 
 charge of their guns at the building. 
 
 " Yell and fire, you infernal reptiles." said Rhabod. " They 
 must have plenty of ammunition, to waste it in that style." 
 
 " That done to cheat," said Eagle's-Wing. 
 
 " Well, they've commenced the skrimmage, any way," said 
 Ichabod, " and now, let one of them miserable creturs get before 
 this rifle of mine and I'll settle an account with him." 
 
t8 THE FRONTIERSUBV. 
 
 " We shall be over nice in our scruples " said Ralph, " if wi 
 hesitate any longer to treat them as enemies. They have cer- 
 tainly committed an overt act of war ; and duty to ourselves 
 will no longer allow us to remain inactive." 
 
 Since the first demonstration on the part of the Senecas, no 
 other had been made ; and the silence without was as perfect 
 and uninterrupted as though no enemy- surrounded them. 
 
 It was obvious that the two most serious dangers to be encoun- 
 tered, were past — an attempt on the part of the enemy to get 
 under cover of the walls of the cottage, wh^re they would be in 
 a great measure protected from the rifles inside, and where they 
 might find means to force the doors ; and, secondly, an attempt 
 to set fire to the buildings. 
 
 Any object of the size of a man could readily, notwithstanding 
 the darkness, be seen at the distance of four or five rods ; and 
 ihe garrison were certain, thus far, that no enemy had approached 
 within that distance. Ichabod and the Tuscarora, as has been 
 observed, were stationed upon the north side of the apartment. 
 The position which had been chosen by the former, was near to 
 the north-eastern angle, whence, with a little trouble, he might 
 also keep a look-out on the east. This position had been chosen 
 by him, owing to the distrust he entertained of the fidelity of 
 Guthrie ; for there was nothing in the conduct of the latter 
 since his return to the cottage, that had been calculated to dispel 
 any suspicions which Ichabod had entertained of his real charao- 
 ter. He had taken little or no part in the plans of defence, and 
 had maintained a moody silence that had rarely been broken* 
 except by brief answers to such questions as were put to him. 
 
 " I say, fricDd," said Ichabod, addressing Guthrie, " you keep 
 a sharp look-out over there, don't you ?" 
 
 " I've been a woodsman all my life, I reckon," answered the 
 latter, " and I don't need any instructions on that point." 
 
 " I don't suppose you do, friend," said Ichabod, " and least of 
 all from me. I can't say as / have been a regular woodsman, 
 although I've had a little experience in the way of savages. A 
 man who has spent a few years fighting for his life, learns, 
 after a while, to know when its in danger ; but can you guess 
 what that black lump may be, out yonder — right ahead of your 
 eyes ?" 
 
 " W3II, if I can seB straight, its a stump, and nothing more." 
 
 " I ain't much acquainted in these parts, friend, and it may be 
 you've got stumps here that wander round the lots at pleasure , 
 but / calculate that object ain't nothing but a venomous reptile." 
 said Ichabod, taking sight over his rifle upon the object which 
 attracted his attention. " Now, you see, if that's a stump, this 
 bullet won't hurt it much ; but if its an Injin, he'll signify it 
 •ome way." 
 
 rho rifle of Ichabod was discharged ; ittid the Seneca — for an 
 
TflK FKONTIERSMEjr. T9 
 
 fndian it was — who, creeping to reach a cover under the wall 
 rose to his feet with a leap, and then staggered and fell. 
 
 Again was that wild yell renewed, but in a moment all was 
 silent. Guthrie ashamed, became angry, and turned with a fierce 
 Bcowl on Ichabod. 
 
 " You havn't a very civil way to strangers, friend," said he. 
 " and we may find time to settle this business. You may bully 
 Injins, but you won't me." 
 
 " I've just did my duty on that red varmint there," answered 
 Ichabod coolly ; *• and all I've got to say, friend, is, that we've got 
 enemies enough out-doors to attend to, without any civil-war 
 inside ; but I ain't particular." 
 
 " Ichabod ! Guthrie !" exclaimed Barton, " let there be no ill- 
 blood between you now ; the mistake of Guthrie might easily 
 have been made by any one, however experienced." 
 
 Guthrie turned again towards the loop-hole, muttering indis- 
 tinctly. As for Ichabod, he quietly reloaded his rifle saying : 
 
 " That's right, Squire, I'm a man of peace, any way — except 
 with them infarnal Senecas. If I have any particular gift of 
 which I can boast, it is in another sort of speculation. Give it 
 to 'em Eagle's-Wing !" said he, as at this moment, he saw the 
 Tuscarora about discharging his rifle. At the discharge, the 
 whole ravine seemed to pour out a tempest of shrieks. 
 
 " That Injin," said Eagle's-Wing, " won't fight any more — 
 great pity lose his scalp though." 
 
 "Never mind the scalp, Eagle's-Wing," replied Ichabod, '• if 
 you fix the owner, so that he won't have any more use for it ; 
 that's my doctrine." 
 
 " That bad doctrine for Injin — good doctrine for pale-face 
 p'raps." 
 
 Notwithstanding the utmost watchfulness, on the part of the 
 besieged, no further demonstration was made by the Senecas, for 
 nearly an hour ; until, at length, they began to hope that the 
 contest might already be terminated, and that the loss of three 
 of their warriors, without having been able to inflict any injury 
 upon the garrison, had discouraged the Indians. As time passed 
 by, no further attack being made, even Ichabod and the Tusca- 
 rora began to yield to the belief which Barton had expressed , 
 but they did not for a moment relax their watchfulness. 
 
 Barton, Ralph and Ruth, had finally withdrawn from the loop- 
 holes, while Guthrie lounged moodily about. 
 
 " I think," said Barton, " we shall have nothing more to 
 apprehend to-night. The savages have doubtless repented of 
 their temerity in attacking a place so well defended as this." 
 
 " Heaven grant it may be so," replied Ruth. " We have had 
 but little experience, thus far, in the terrors of Indian warfare 
 but as it is, it is horrible." 
 
 " I hope, with you, Miss Barton," said Ralph, '' that the Indiani 
 
 4 -^_ 
 
80 THB FB0NTIEBSMB9. 
 
 have abandoned the attack ; and yet I know so well thdf 
 treacherous mode of warfare, that it would not be surprising to 
 me, were the severest part of our labor yet to come. Ichabod 
 seems, by his actions, to have the same opinion." 
 
 " Yes, Captin," answered Ichabod, I do mistrust these infarnal 
 villians ; and I shall mistrust 'em till day-light, sartin. You'l 
 find that they're plotting some deviltry which we shall know 
 about before we are many hours older." 
 
 "■ It is strange," said Ruth, " that these savages should so resist 
 all attempts for their improvement ; and that they should per- 
 sist in their cruel mode of warfare, after having received so much 
 mstruction from Christian teachers." 
 
 " I do not think it so very strange, perhaps," answered Ralph. 
 "Their habits — their modes of life, are the result of ages of 
 barbarity, and traditions communicated from father to son. No 
 continuous effort has ever beeu made to Christianize them ; and 
 it would be a miracle, were we to find them now with Christian 
 sentiments — adopting an entirely new mode of life." 
 
 " That's my opinion, Captin." said Ichabod. " That specula- 
 tion has been a failure, and it always will be a failure. You 
 might as well talk of civilizing wolves. Why, there's the Oneida 
 nation, who have pretty much all been to school, and sat under 
 sermons month after month, — let them hear the war-hoop, and 
 they're as crazy as devils, and dont think of anything but scalps. 
 Here's Eagle's- Wing, being just as good a gentleman, for an 
 Injin, as ever wore moccasins — I'll warrant you some foolish 
 missionary reckons hiin for a convarted Injin ; and yet," said he, 
 with a whisper, " you'll find that infernal Seneca's scalp some- 
 where about him now. Don't talk to me of convarting Injins. 
 I don't think they were ever intended to be convarted." 
 
 " You remember the divine injunction to the apostles, Ichabod ?" 
 asked Ruth ; " that they were to go into all the world, and preach 
 the gospel to every creature ?" 
 
 " Lord love you, girl !" answered Ichabod, " you don't suppose 
 that meant to come over to America among these tomahawking 
 savages ! You see, in the first place, it would have been something 
 of a job for one of them apostles to have got here ; and in the 
 second place, he'd wished himself away again, in a hurry." 
 
 " I agree with Miss Barton," said Ralph, " that there is no 
 reason why these savages might not learn to cherish Christian 
 principles. The efforts of the Jesuits show that something can 
 be done to civilize them ; and the labors of Elliot among the 
 New England Indians prove that they can be Christianized." 
 
 " I reckon there's two sides to that question," answered 
 Ichabod, " I've heard that those Injins were more troublesome 
 „han them that did'nt have any preaching. Their religion all 
 stopped with drinking Christianized rum. No, Captin, yoa 
 can't give me any faith in that expectation, any way." 
 
THE FRONTIERSMEN. 81 
 
 * Vm afraid Mr. Jenkins," said Ruth, " that the same reasons 
 jrou urge against the conversion and improvement of the Indians, 
 would apply as well to all mankind generally as to them. There 
 are but few, of all who listen to the Scriptures, who act upon 
 their precepts. They hear, as you say the Indians do, and at 
 once forget, in their worldly intercourse, that there is such a book 
 as the Bible." 
 
 " Well. I can't dispute that p'int," replied Tchabod. " In these 
 new settlements, where men have so much to do, they ar'nt so 
 much to blame, if they can't understand what the preachers in 
 the city are quarreling about. I've lived a long while in the 
 woods, and about the new settlement, Miss Ruth, and havn't had 
 much time to settle doctrinal controvarsies ; but I've got a faith 
 of my own, which wouldn't, perhaps, answer for you ; and yet 
 I'm willing to live by it, and die by it." 
 
 " Of how many articles does your faith consist ?" asked Ralph, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Well, Captin. that may be as you've a mind to classify the 
 different p'ints. I don't coincide quite, in my views of future 
 life, with old Michael Wigglesworth, who had no marcy for any- 
 body but his own sect — not for infants even. You recollect the 
 varses on infants, Captin, where he says that although in bliss — 
 
 " They may not hope to dwell, 
 Still unto them he will allow 
 The easiest room in hell." 
 
 No, Captin. a man cannot live in the forests, and look continually 
 at the works of God, and forget that He exists ; and I reckon that 
 a man who always bears Him in mind, whether he be felling the 
 trees, planting the ground, turning his hand in an honest specu- 
 lation, or shooting a Seneca, will have marcy shown to him 
 eventually. That's my doctrine." 
 
 " It is a creed that has the merit of being short, if not ortho- 
 dox," said Ralph. " But I must acknowledge, that while I have 
 not paid the attention to religious matters that I ought to have 
 done, and have been too forgetful of claims that have been im- 
 posed upon all men, yet, from all my doubts, I have ever returned 
 to the Bible as the only sure anchor of faith. Its opening reve- 
 lations are corroborated in the history or tradition of all nations ; 
 its divine teachings, interpreted according to the simple under- 
 standing of one's own heart, accord with our reason — satisfy our 
 Dopts — alleviate our sorrows — cheer us in death. The unin- 
 structed feelings of the heart, in this matter, are a purer, more 
 excellent wisdom, than all the pride of intellect." 
 
 " Well, Captin," said Ichabod, '' I never dispute on creeds — 
 60 you are welcome to 5'^our's ; but on facts, I've got a right to 
 express my opinion. Now, as for them opening chapters being 
 oorroborated by the history of all nations— that's a question os 
 
82 THE FF3NTIERSHBir 
 
 feet, which I'm willing to leave to Eagle's-Wing, whose nation^ 
 according to their traditions, is older than I'd like to vouch foF, 
 Now, he'll tell you that the first thing that was made was a 
 tortoise and that the earth was then made and placed upon its 
 back. I say, Eagle's-Wing Thunder and lightning !'* ex- 
 claimed he, springing towards the stairway. 
 
 The fact was, that Ichabod had been so much engaged in this 
 conversation, relying upon the prudence and watchfulness of the 
 Tuscarora, that he had given up all his attention to it. But upon 
 making his appeal to the Tuscarora, he had turned towards the 
 position lately occupied by him. when he discovered that both 
 he and Guthrie were missing. 
 
 Scarcely had he sprung towards the stairway, ere there rang 
 through the cottage a shriek of agony, immediately followed by 
 the sound of a heavy body falling upon the floor, in the room 
 below. This was succeeded by a tempest of shrieks, which 
 apparently came from the whole body of the enemy, who were 
 now close under the cover of the building, in front of the south 
 door. 
 
 Ichabod was followed by Barton and Ralph, down the stair- 
 way. As they came towards the door, they beheld the Tusca- 
 rora standing silently beside it, while at his feet lay a black 
 mass, indistinct in the darkness, which they took to be the body 
 of Guthrie. 
 
 "What is the meaning of this, Eagle's-Wing?" demanded 
 Barton. 
 
 The Tuscarora quietly pointed towards the door, the bar of 
 which was partially raised. " He traitor ; got bad heart ; meant 
 to open door and let Seneca come in. Can't do it now, if he try 
 ever so much." 
 
 " Eagle's-Wing," said Barton, ^^ith emotion, " you have saved 
 our lives to-night. We owe you a double debt of gratitude." 
 
 " I suspected that fellow from the beginning," said Ichabod, 
 " and Eagle's-Wing and I agreed to watch him ; but you're a 
 better warrior than I, old friend ; you don't sufier yourself to be 
 divarted by doctrinal p'ints." 
 
 It was now evident that some important movement was taking 
 place out of doors. Scarcely had Ichabod ceased speaking, ere 
 the door received a violent blow, as from a log thrown against 
 it with great force. ^ 
 
 " We can't stand that thumping," said Ichabod. " We've been 
 on the defence agin them red devils long enough. Let's open the 
 door and give 'em fight." 
 
 After some deliberation, this course was resolved upon. The 
 party within doors were to range themselves in front of the door, 
 where they would not at once be discovered in the darkness, by 
 those outside ; and as the log wae next thrown, and while the 
 Indians would probably be unprepared for this sudden attaok; 
 
TITS FRONTIERSMZir 88 
 
 the door was to be suddenly thrown open, when the whole party 
 would deliver their fire. In the surprise, they might as sud- 
 denly close it, should it be deemed necessary. This attack, from 
 its very boldness and seeming temerity, would be likely to suc- 
 ceed. 
 
 Scarcely was the resolution formed and the party arranged 
 ere the door received another shock, and was immediately thrown 
 wide open by Barton. There were gathered before it ten or 
 twelve Indians, four of whom held in their hands a log of five or 
 six inches in thickness and about twelve feet in length, with 
 which they were endeavoring to force the door. Immediately 
 the five rifles inside were discharged, and two of the Indians fell. 
 The remainder, surprised at this sudden attack, for a moment 
 seemed paralysed. The Tuscarora, no longer to be restrained, 
 but impelled not only by his Indian instincts, but by his hatred 
 of the Senecas, leaped from the door, with his knife in his hand, 
 upon one of the prostrate Indians. 
 
 At this sudden appearance of the Tuscarora, the Senecas filled 
 the air with shrieks, and rushed towards him. But ere they had 
 reached him, he rose erect with the scalp of the Seneca in his 
 hand, and waving it over his head, uttered his defiance with a 
 ferocious scream. Ichabod and Ralph, in a moment, were by his 
 side ; and now commenced a hand-to-hand combat, most despe- 
 rate, indeed, on the part of the besieged. Barton and the negro, 
 who had again loaded their rifles, once more discharged them 
 upon the Senecas, and then sprang to the assistance of their 
 friends. Another Indian had fallen, so that now there was no 
 such fearful disparity of odds as when the strife commenced. 
 Had it not been for the impulse of the Tuecarora, the ruse of 
 Ichabod would have been completely successful ; but Ralph, 
 although engaged warmly in the melee, saw the unfortunate 
 position in which they were now placed. There were at least a 
 dozen more of the Senecas about the cottage, who would be im- 
 mediately attracted hither by the noise of the conflict, while the 
 cottage was now entirely undefended, and Ruth exposed to the 
 hostility of any savage who might take advantage of the conflict 
 to force his way into the building. 
 
 " To the door !" cried he ; " retreat towards the door at once.'' 
 
 The darkness added to the terror and difficulty of the conflict. 
 Ichabod found himself, at first, engaged with Snake-tongue; but 
 a blow from the butt-end of his rifle ended the unequal conflict, 
 and the Seneca lay disabled. " Take that, you infarnal slan- 
 derer," he cried, as he dealt the blow. " Learn to use your 
 cussed snake's tongue with more moderation, when speaking •£ 
 respectable females." But Deersfoot now rushed upon him, aad 
 % strife commenced, more equal ; both strong and powerful 
 in frame, they were well matched. Ichabod caught the first 
 blow of the tomahawk upon his rifle, and then, ere the Indiaa 
 
84 THX FSONTIERSMBir. 
 
 oould use his knife, his long, muscular arms were about him. 
 For a moment they wavered, as in an equal struggle, when both 
 fell to the ground. At the same moment, a number more of the 
 enemy came leaping to join the conflict. 
 
 • To the door, for your lives !" shouted Ralph. The contest was 
 now desperate ; and slowly retreating, they reached the door, 
 the Tuscarora, being last to cross the treshhold. The Indians 
 followed, leaping into the door-way ;' but the Tuscarora, with the 
 sweep of his rifle, for a moment drove them backwards, then 
 springing within, the door was closed. 
 
 None of the party had escaped without injury ; and it was not 
 until the door was closed, and the air rang with triumphant yells 
 from the Senecas, that it was discovered that Ichabod was missing. 
 The first impulse was again to open the door, and rescue him, at 
 any odds ; but a moment's reflection taught Ralph, that such a 
 course, now that the Senecas were reinforced, would only put 
 their own lives in the utmost jeopardy, without their being able 
 to assist their friend. 
 
 " No good for you to open door," said Eagle's-Wing, " I go and 
 save friend." 
 
 *' No, no, Eagle's-Wing," exclaimed Barton. " you cannot save 
 him now ; and you will only lose your own life, and peril our's. 
 They will not take his scalp, but they will yours. 
 
 " That true — won't kill him to-night, any way. He great war- 
 rior — they like to torture great warriors. We save him to-mor- 
 row, some way." 
 
 It was with a feeling of sorrow that Ralph acknowledged their 
 inability to do anything for the rescue of Ichabod. Willingly 
 would he have risked his own life j but there was Ruth — who 
 together with the others, might be sacrificed by the imprudent 
 attempt. With a feeling of deep grief, he was obliged to leave 
 him to his fate. 
 
 It was now disjcovered, too, that Guthrie was gone. Could it 
 be that his body had been removed by a Seneca during the con- 
 flict ? It was not possible ; and it was evident, that while in the 
 darkness, he was supposed to have been slain by the Tuscarora^ 
 he had counterfeited death, hoping to find some means of escape. 
 With beating hearts, Ralph and Barton, proceeded up the stair- 
 way. They reached the apartment which they had so recently 
 left : but it was empty. From the window, near which Guthrie 
 had stood, the fastening had been removed from the frame work 
 of bars, and it was certain that through this window Guthrie had 
 wcaped, aiv! had carried with him the unfoitunate Ruth. 
 
THI rBONTIBBSMIir. 86 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 " 'Tifl Tain to sigh \ the wheel must on ; 
 And straws are to the whirlpool drawn 
 With ships of gallant mien." 
 
 Fbknkav 
 
 No SOONER had Barton realized his loss, than he gave him- 
 self up to the bitterest feelings of despair. This interim warf 
 succeeded by a burning thirst for revenge. " Come, Ralph ! — 
 Come, Eagle's-Wing ! let us pursue them — let us destroy them ! 
 Oh, my God ! thus in my old age to suffer this heavy blow !" 
 and, excited to madness, he fled down the stairway, followed by 
 Ralph and the Tuscarora. Before they could overtake him, he 
 had unbarred the door, and crossed the threshhold: but no 
 enemy was there. 
 
 Ralph, himself overwhelmed with grief, endeavored to console 
 the old man ; but there was no balm for such a wound, and he 
 fell fainting into the arms of Ralph. 
 
 Ralph, although overborne by grief, possessed a firmness of 
 mind that sought a rememy for affliction, where a remedy waa 
 attainable, instead of tamely yielding. Anxiously he and the 
 Tuscarora counseled together upon the course to be pursued. 
 Whether Ruth had been taken prisoner either by Guthrie or the 
 Indians, the result would be the same — she would be a captive 
 among the Senecas. They did not believe any attempt would 
 be made upon her life 5 but they did fear that the Indians, who 
 had, for the present at least, abandoned their attack upon the 
 cottage, satisfied with the prisoners they had taken, might at 
 once attempt a march to the country of the Senecas, and thus 
 hold their prisoners in a long and tedious captivity. It was, 
 then, with much anxiety that they consulted together upon the 
 course now to be adopted. But we will leave them for the 
 present, to follow the fortunes of Ichabod. 
 
 After he had b€€n deserted, unintentionally, by his companions, 
 the strife between him and Deersfoot was no longer equaL 
 Scarcely had the Senecas been foiled in their attempt to follow 
 their intended victims into the cottage, ere Ichabod was seized, 
 and his arms securely pinioned. The Senecas manifested their 
 joy by the most ferocious yells, when they discovered that they 
 had in their possession an enemy so formidable. 
 
 " Yell, you red devils !" exclaimed Ichabod : " Ten to one ain't 
 worth crowing about. But I'll tell you what — give me that rifle 
 of mire, and I'll tackle any five of you, any way. But I nerer 
 did know a Seaeca that bad a particle of Uie gentleman about 
 him." 
 
S€ THE FR0NTI8RSMIV. 
 
 The Indians did not deign any reply to this proposition, but 
 at once made preparations to remove their prisoner. Four of the 
 Senecaa were placed as a guard about him, and the march was 
 begun towards their encampment. The remainder of the party 
 bore the dead bodies of their companions, who had been killed 
 in the affray : but Ichabod noticed that there were only fifteen 
 in this party, and consequently there must be eight or ten more 
 either about the cottage, or else already on the march toward* 
 their camp. 
 
 The route pursued by the Senecas, was that which we have 
 already described as the one traveled by Ralph and Miss Barton 
 on a former occasion, until they passed the shanty, when they 
 struck ofF towards the left, in the direction of the river. 
 
 The encampment, or temporary village of the Senecas, was 
 located in the widest portion of the flats we have before noticed, 
 xad at a distance of about ten or fifteen rods from the river, 
 which at this point flowed for nearly a hundred rods in a north 
 and south line. But before reaching this point, the course of 
 the stream was extremely serpentine, making several long wind- 
 ings through the valley. 
 
 The encampment was in a clearing of an acre or two in extent; 
 wkich had evidently been cleared many years before; for the 
 ^ r — Ji d was covered with a rich green-sward, while three or four old 
 steiape, scattered about the field, denoted that years had elapsed 
 aoce it had been rescued from the dominion of the forest. It 
 was in an oral form, and entirely surrounded by wilderness. In 
 the midist of this field or clearing, there had been erected five or 
 aix temporary huts, by the use of some small saplings and boughs, 
 sufficient to answer for a protection from the sun, as well as from 
 '^k» rains. These huts were arranged in a circle, and in the cen- 
 tre was one smaller than the others ; and from the fact, that it 
 was more neatly as well as securely constructed, Ichabod guessed 
 that it must be occupied by Singing-Bird. 
 
 The party accompanying Ichabod, had reached the clearing 
 soon after sunrise, when he was led to one of the outer huts. 
 where, after his captors had securely fastened his feet, he was left 
 iiipon a bed of leaves and boughs to digest his thoughts as he was 
 best able under the circumstances. He had not remained a long 
 time in this condition, before he heard the noise of the arrival of 
 another party ; and he readily imagined, from the joy with which 
 they were received, that they, also, had brought with them a cap- 
 tive from the cottage. Who this could be, he could not conjec- 
 ture ; and this fact rendered his position still more uneasy. He 
 bad already devised half-a-dozen plans, through some of which, ho 
 calculated upon his escape, together with the rescue of Singing- 
 Bird. But if the new captive should happen to be the Tuscarora, 
 then the desire for vengeance, on the part of the Senecas, might 
 iSBvestaU his pkuis, before they oonld be put in operation. UM 
 
fll FRONTIBBSMIV. 8t 
 
 did not believe that the Indians intended him any bodily injnry 5 
 for although he knew their crafty and murderoas natures, he did 
 not think they would dare, in the present condition of the Colo- 
 nies, to violate a peace, which would be likely U, draw upon them 
 the vengeance of the whites. Uneasy at the conjecture that 
 Eagle's-Wing might be the new captive, and pained by the tight- 
 ness of the withes which had been bound about his feet and 
 hands, he made a desperate eflfort to free himself from them. 
 While engaged in this effort, a shadow darkened the doorway of 
 the hut, and Panther and Snake- tongue stood before him. They 
 had evidently detected the effort of Ichabod j but no expression 
 upon their countenances denoted the fact. 
 
 The two chiefs approached the bed occupied by Ichabod, and 
 surveyed their captive silently for a few moments ; when Pan- 
 ther, directing his conversation to Snake-tongue, exclaimed : 
 
 " This is the warrior of whom we have heard. lie is a great 
 warrior ; he has killed many Senecas ; his eye is sharp on the 
 war-path ; his rifle is sure. Our old men and squaws have heard 
 of him beyond t.he lakes. It is pleasant to have him in our 
 hands." 
 
 " His arm is strong ; Snake-tongue knows it," said Snake- 
 tongue, who still retained a vivid impression of the blow which 
 he had received from Ichabod in the recent encounter at the cot- 
 tage. " The young men of the Senecas are no match for him ; 
 if the Great Spirit had given him a red skin, we should have been 
 proud of him. But he is a pale-face, and it is good to have him 
 bound in our huts. He cannot hurt the young warriors of the 
 Senecas any more." 
 
 Ichabod had remained perfectly quiet during this by-conversa- 
 tion, although a smile for a moment lit up his countenance, at the 
 compliments which the chiefs had bestowed upon his prowess. 
 When they had concluded he exclaimed : 
 
 " I give you all the thanks for them compliments that you de- 
 sarve. But you are right about it. I have killed some of your 
 warriors in my day, you may depend on it : and I reckon that 
 this is the first time that any of your breed was quite so familiar 
 with me. But I want to know, if it's considered gentlemanly, 
 among the Senecas, to tie a fellow's legs so cussed tight ?" 
 
 " The pale-face is a great warrior," said Panther : " he is cun- 
 ning as a fox. The Senecas are poor and ignorant ; they do not 
 know as much as the pale-faces ; but they know how to tie a 
 warrior's feet so that he cannot run. They would be ashamed 
 if they did not know how ; and my brother would be ashamed 
 of us too." 
 
 " I don't ask any kind of marcy of you, Panther," said Ichabod, 
 ''I know better than that. You've got me here, and I s'poaa 
 you'll do pretty much as you've a mind to ; and when you wool 
 (0 b^;in with your deviltries, just speak, and I'm ready." 
 
 4* 
 
88 THS FSONTIERSMIir. 
 
 " My brother is not a squaw," said Panther, " if he was a 
 squaw, and not a great warrior, we should unbind him, and let 
 him wander round our tents j but the Senecas know how to honor 
 their enemies, who are brave. But the Senecas do not hate the 
 pale-faces ; they have buried the hatchet with them, and we will 
 not dig it up. Wt will let our brother go back to the pale-faces, 
 if he wishes." 
 
 " Well, now, I call that pretty clever, considerin' ; I shall begin 
 to think you are gentlemen, after all," answered Ichabod, who 
 saw the drift of the discourse. I'm ready to start any time you'll 
 take these things off my hands and feet." 
 
 " My brother is ready to go," said Panther. It is good. He 
 does not like the lodges of the Senecas ; he likes his own people 
 better. It is not well for a pale-face to dwell in the lodges of the 
 red men; and it is not good for red men to dwell in the lodges of 
 the pale-faces. They are different : the Great Spirit has made 
 them different — and it is well. The pale-faces have killed five of 
 our young men ; but we will not do them any harm. We will 
 not dig up the hatchet against them. Our young men are not 
 painted for the war-path ; they have not struck the war -post of 
 their nation." 
 
 " For a civil people, who havn't dug up the hatchet and who 
 don't intend to, against the pale-faces, you made a suspicious 
 demonstration on the cottage last night. I don't know but that 
 is the genuine Seneca way of being civil and peaceable." 
 
 "The pale-faces killed five of our young men; but they did it 
 in defense," said Panther. " They did not want to do it ; but 
 Canendesha has killed two of our young men ; he did it oecause 
 he hated them. He is a great warrior, too, and we want him in 
 your place." 
 
 " Providing I go back to the cottage," replied Ichabod, " I'll 
 tell him what you want ; but I won't promise that he'll be here 
 at any precise time. I couldn't do that." 
 
 " My brother has not got a forked tongue ; be will do what ho 
 says; but that is not enough. Four of my young men will go 
 wfth my brother, and he will deliver Canendesha to them." 
 
 " You mean, I reckon^ that I shall take Eagle's- Wing and put 
 these thongs round his limbs, and pass him over to you as 
 % prisoner ?" asked Ichabod, quietly. 
 
 " My brother i$ wise. He knows what I mean : he can do it 
 and be free." 
 
 Ichabod was about to give way to a burst of indignation at 
 this treacherous proposal ; but he saw that by so doing he should 
 defeat his own ends. He had also learned, to his great satisfac- 
 faction, that the Tuscarora had not been captured. It was with 
 great difficulty that he could conceal his joy from the inquisito* 
 rial eyes of the Senecas ; but at length, with an appearance of 
 hesitancy, he answered. 
 
fBl rSONTIEBSMIN. 69 
 
 I can*t say, now, whether I will do as you wish or not. T want 
 
 little time to think about it. Speculating in flesh and blood, 
 ji that way, and with a friend, too, is a kind of business I never 
 yet undertook ; but I suppose one may get used to it. A little 
 practice will blunt the feelings, until one can come to bartering 
 oflf friends — aye, one's own flesh and blood, too." Then, as if 
 suddenly remembering the declaration of Snake-tongue, that Sing- 
 ing-Bird was reconciled to her captivity, he added, " you see, if 
 the Tuscarora knew that Singing-Bird had forgot him, and had 
 chosen the young chief of the Senecas for her husband, I calculate 
 he would'nt care much whether he was here or there. Now if 
 that's true, I rather reckon, I'll do as you want me to, though I 
 look upon it as a rascally mean trick towards a friend." 
 
 " It is true, what my brother has heard," said Panther: " Sing- 
 ing-Bird will sing in the wigwam of Panther." 
 
 '' Now, I don't mean any disparagement to the Senecas, and you 
 in particular," said Ichabod ; *' I am beginning to think that you 
 may be gentlemen, after all ; but that is a matter I can't take 
 any body's word for. I want to know that it is true." 
 
 " My brother shall hear with his own ears," said Panther. 
 " He shall know that the words of Panther are true ; he shall see 
 Singing-Bird, and ask her if Panther has lied." 
 
 This was just what Ichabod had desired. If he had made the 
 proposition himself, it was doubtful whether some ulterior pur- 
 pose would not have been suspected ; but his seeming willingness 
 to comply with the wishes of Panther, had led the Seneca to sug- 
 gest this as the surest mode of dispelling his doubts 
 
 " My brother shall see Singing-Bird alone," said Panther, " we 
 have not got forked tongues, or we would not let him do so." 
 
 The two Indians departed. Their willingness to allow this 
 interview was, for a moment, almost suflScient to induce Ichabod 
 to believe that Singing-Bird had become faithless to the Tusca- 
 rora. But he knew enough of Indian character to know that 
 Singing-Bird might have adopted this line of conduct as the best 
 mode of effecting her escape. With this belief, he silently 
 awaited the interview, determined not to believe otherwise unless 
 he received positive proof from Singing-Bird herself. Scarcely 
 five minutes had elapsed after the departure of the Seneca, 
 before a shadow again darkened the door-way of the hut. and 
 the young squaw stood before him. 
 
 Singing-Bird — for she it was — was apparently not more than 
 two-and-twenty years of age. She was of small, light stature, 
 yet with a full and healthy development of body. Her features, 
 although they possessed the distinctive Indian cast, were mould- 
 gd into a beauty admirable to behold. Her complexion was a 
 softenmg of the tawny-red of the warriors into a delicate tint, 
 w^hile her large, dark eyes were full of a gentle expression, that 
 Blight, if need be, be exchanged for a wild and passionate firsb 
 
90 THK FROKTIBRSHIV. 
 
 Her long, d&rk, glossy hair flowed in graceful wares down hov 
 neck, and were gathei'ed in rich folds over her brow. Her cos- 
 tume was that of a young Indian female of the period, beauti- 
 fully and tastefully decorated with ornaments of beads and 
 flowers. As Ichabod first beheld her, the prevailing expression 
 of her countenance was that of a gentle sorrow. 
 
 Ich,abod w^ surprised. He had never beheld the wife of 
 Eagle's-Wing, and never before had h6 beheld a female figure the 
 beauty of which so much surprised and delighted him. He 
 gazed at her with a pleasure he could not conceal, and then, 
 while a melancholy smile passed over her countenance, he said — 
 
 " You have heard of me from Eagle's-Wing, perhaps, as an 
 old friend ? He and I have known each other as tried friends, in 
 times gone by." 
 
 '* I have heard of a pale-face," replied Singing-Bird, in a low, 
 silvery voice, " who, on the war-path, saved the life of Eagle's- 
 Wing. when he was in the hands of his enemies. I have heard 
 it from Eagle's-Wing." 
 
 "That's a circumstance not worth mentioning; but Eagle's- 
 Wing and I are friends. He knows he can always rely on me, 
 in any sort of a speculation. But I'm in rather a bad fix here j 
 yet we Can always find some way of doing our duty by a friend, 
 if we try. But Eagle's-Wing is free, and isn't far from here — 
 you may depend on that." 
 
 Perhaps the slightest trace of an expression of joy passed 
 over her countenance for a moment ; but it was instantly sub- 
 dued. With her eyes fixed upon the ground, she slowly said — 
 
 " I loved once to look upon Canendesha — but he has passed 
 from my eyes." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Ichabod with a start that fairly made 
 the withes snap that were fastened upon his limbs. 
 
 A momentary look of agony clouded the face of Singing-Bird. 
 She seemed endeavoring to speak, yet had not the power to com- 
 mand her organs of speech. 
 
 "Shall I tell Eagle's-Wing this?" exclaimed Ichabod, with 
 indignation. ''Shall I teil him to go back to the villages of his 
 nation, and forget his squaw ? Or shall I tell him to come and 
 deliver himself up to his enemies ?" 
 
 With an effort that seemed almost to destroy her, but which 
 was lost upon Ishabod, as he had given himself up to the mastery 
 of his indignation — she softly answered — 
 
 " I have said. Let the pale-face speak my words to his friend." 
 
 It was not merely astonishment — it was shame, uncontrolable 
 disgust, towards the fair being who stood before him, that, for • 
 moment, ke^t Ichabod silent. When at last he found words to 
 communicate his thoughts^ he exclaimed— 
 
 " I wouldn't have believed it, if all the Senecas this side of thff 
 iofaraal regions had told me 1 Such a beauty i such a heart 
 
THE FRONTIERSMEN. 9| 
 
 m abandon the settlements: I'll thank God, night and day, that 
 IVe no wife I Poor Eagle's-Wing ! go and die. No ; I know 
 the heart of Eagle's- Wing. He won't die for a squaw. He'll 
 wince a little, at first : but he'll have the scalps off the heads of 
 the whole tribe of Senecas." Then, as if concentrating all his 
 indignation into one breath, he glanced at Singing-Bird with a 
 look of abhorrence, and exclaimed — '• Go, you painted lie !" and 
 threw himself over on his bed, so as to avert his gaze from her. 
 
 Meanwhile, Singing-Bird stood with her eyes riveted upon the 
 ground, and her countenance as calm and impassable as chiseled 
 stone. A look of agony had impressed it for a moment, but 
 that had fled. Not a gesture — not a breath, denoted that she 
 felt the indignant speech of Ichabod. At its close, however, her 
 ear detected a slight rustling among the leaves, near the door 
 of the hut, and Panther glided from among the boughs, and 
 crept towards an adjoining lodge. 
 
 Scarcely had she seen the retreat of the Seneca chief, than the 
 whole expression of her countenance changed — her figure became 
 erect — a fire gleamed in her eyes — a look of intense hatred 
 clouded her countenance. Then, springing towards the bed of 
 Ichabod, she exclaimed — 
 
 " It is a lie. Look at me, friend of Eagle's-Wing. It is a lie : 
 the heart of Singing-Bird is with her husband. She thinks 
 only of him. Tell Eagle's-Wing so. Tell him I shall soon fiy 
 from the Senecas." 
 
 Ichabod gazed on her now with admiration. Such consum- 
 mate acting, though he thought himself skilled in Indian ways, 
 he had never seen before. He had seen warriors die bravely, 
 and, unmoved in the hour of peril, exasperate their enemies by 
 words of reproach and shame : he had seen the Indian smile as 
 the scalping-knife tore from his brow the lock of honor; but 
 never did he imagine that one so young, so beautiful, so loving, 
 could give to her countenance a look so false, with a heart so 
 true. 
 
 " God bless thee, girl !" exclaimed he. " Give me a woman, 
 after all, for stratagem. I don't know when I shall see Eagle's- 
 Wing, but when I do, I'll tell him if he don't snatch you from 
 these red devils, he ought to be scalped by Panther himself. 
 Who would have believed it ?" 
 
 " Eagle's- Wing's friend don't hate Singing-Bird now ?" 
 
 " Hate you ? Lord love you, girl 1 Give me your hand 
 Pshaw ! i haven't got a hand to give you : but after this, girl, 
 I'll always believe you, and will find some means to get you out 
 of this scrape. When are these Indians going to leave here ?" 
 
 " Don't know," said Singing-Bird. " They want to get Eagle'fl- 
 Wing, first." 
 
 " It will be a long while, I reckon, before that happens. But 
 I 9Ry," asked he, just tlunking of the other captive who had 
 
92 '' "the FB0NTIER8M1W. 
 
 been brought in that morning, " what other prisoner hare they 
 got nere ?" 
 
 " They brought in a pale-face girl. King George's man got 
 her from cottage. She stays in hut with me." 
 
 " Ruth Barton, by all the devils !" exclaimed Ichabod. Who 
 do you say captured her 1" 
 
 " King George's man : Guthrie, they call him."^ 
 
 Here was a new cause of wonderment. Guthrie was believed 
 by Ichabod to have been killed by the Tuscarora. 
 
 " But I see into it. the white-livered villain. He'll get his pay 
 for this. I say, Singing-Bird, I shall refuse to go on that rascal- 
 ly business for these Senecas. I suppose they'll be terribly mad 
 about it, but I can't help it. Now, you see, you keep up this 
 Bham affair between you and Panther, and you can find some 
 means to give me a hint of what's going on : and, I say, if you 
 can, just bring me a knife. It gives a man a world of confi- 
 dence, sometimes, to have a friend of that sort. Eagle s- Wing 
 and the Captin won't be idle, and we shall hear something from 
 'em before long ; and, till then 
 
 He was interrupted by a gesture from Singing Bird, who 
 immediately assumed the appearance she had worn while Panther 
 had been in hearing of the conversation. At almost the same 
 moment, Panther and Snake-tongue entered the hut j and. at a 
 gesture from the former, she silently departed. 
 
 Ichabod had endeavored to assume the appearance of indigna- 
 tion which his countenance had worn during the early part of 
 his conversation with Singing-Bird, and with some degree of 
 success. 
 
 " My brother has heard the Singing-Bird of the Tuscaroras," 
 said Panther ; '' he has learnt that the Senecas have not got 
 forked tongues." 
 
 "I must confess," answered Ichabod, "that I'm ashamed of 
 that girl. I wouldn't have believed it from anybody else, al- 
 though I'm beginning to have great respect for the word of a 
 Seneca, I wouldn't have believed it, if she hadn't told me so." 
 
 " My brother has heard the song he wished to hear," said 
 Panther, allowing a look of triumph to pass over his counte- 
 nance, " It is pleasing to my brother. He will now go with 
 my young men, and be free." 
 
 " I've no kind of objection to being free, in an honest sort of 
 way," answered Ichabod; "but about that business you men- 
 tioned, I've been thinking that I've lived pretty nigh fifty yews, 
 and I never yet deceived a friend — nor an enemy either, except 
 in a lawful manner — and I guess 1 won't begin now." 
 
 " What does my brother mean ?" asked Panther, giving way 
 to anger. "Does he mean to eat his own words? Does my 
 brother mean to he ?" 
 
 ^ Lie I" exclaimed Ichabod. ^^ Yon can use that word in per 
 
THE FSONTIEBSMEK. 98 
 
 feet safety, while you are there and T am here : but you give m« 
 a fair chance, and I'd endeavor to teach you better manners. 
 But the plain English of the thing is — 1 shan't go on that ras- 
 cally errand, any way." 
 
 *' My brother is a great warrior," said Panther. " He is cun 
 ning as a fox. He knows it well ; but if my brother refuses to 
 go, we will try and see how brave he is." 
 
 "If that means tortur' or anything of that sort," said Icha- 
 bod, quietly, " all I've got to say is, bring it on. I don't know 
 whether I can stand all of your villainous inventions or not, and 
 1 ra'ally don't want to know ; but if that is your mind, I'll 
 acquiesce, of course, seeing I can't help it." 
 
 " We leave our brother to his thoughts.'' said Panther. " He 
 is brave, and will think if over, and be braver by-and-bye. We 
 will let our brother know when we are ready." 
 
 So saying, the two Indians left the hut ; and Ichabod. with a 
 mind somewhat ill at ease, at the prospect before him, endeavor- 
 ed to follow the advice of the Senecas — although given by them 
 for a contrary ol)ject — and gain strength of purpose by redee- 
 
94 fSI FB0NTI1R8MBS. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 *• No tear relieved the burden of her heart ; 
 
 8tnnned with the heavy woe, she felt like on* 
 Balf- wakened from a midnight dream of blood." 
 
 SorTfctT. 
 
 We shall be compelled to return upon the course of ouf 
 narrative, for the purpose of giving a relation of the manner in 
 which Ruth had fallen into the hands of the savages. Guthrie, 
 who was supposed by Eagle's-Wing to have been slain, was 
 really but little injured. The Tuscarora had followed him down 
 the stairway unnoticed, and guided more by sound than by sight, 
 in the darkness of the room below, he glided after the Tory 
 until the latter had reached the door. He heard the attempt to 
 remove the bar which secured it, when, with a silent but rapid 
 blow of his tomahawk, he had, as he supposed, cloven the head 
 of Guthrie to the brain ; but owing to the darkness, in which 
 the form of the latter could with difficulty be distinguished, the 
 blow fell upon his left shoulder. The pain as well as the 
 surprise oj Guthrie, had cauBed him to give the shriek which 
 attracted the attention of those above, and which was followed 
 by his fall upon the floor. As no further attack was made upon 
 him by the Tuscarora, he rightly concluded that Eagle's-Wing 
 thought the blow already given to have been fatal. With this 
 impression he remained motionless, until the ill-advised sortie of 
 the defenders of the cottage offered him the opportunity to escape, 
 when he sprung to his feet, and although suffering severely from 
 his wound, rushed up the stairway with the intention of leaping 
 from the window — a distance of ten or twelve feet, to the ground. 
 But as he reached the upper floor, he saw Ruth, who had fallen 
 upon her knees in the act of pra^^er for the assistance of Heaven 
 towards the brave but few defenders of the cottage. Instantly, 
 Guthrie planned a scheme of vengeance, which was at once 
 arried into effect. Advancing rapidly towards Ruth he said : 
 
 " Come, Miss Ruth ; the Indians will take the cottage ; and 
 your father has directed me to take charge of you and lead you 
 to a place selected by^him and his companions for a rendezvaut. 
 There is no time for thought : come instantly." 
 
 Ruth arose, astonished by this sudden intelligence. 
 
 " My father," she exclaimed, " is he safe ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Guthrie, " they are all safe ; but they have 
 been compelled to retreat towards the forest. Come instantly, 
 or you are lost." 
 
 Deceived by the earnestness of Guthrie, Ruth immediately 
 fbUowed him to the window. In % moment % small ladder 
 
THE FRONTIERSMKir. 95 
 
 which had heen constructed for exit by the windows, in any 
 emergency similar to the present, was let down upon the ground, 
 and Ruth descended, followed by Guthrie. Taking her by the 
 hand, and partly leading and partly carrying her, they proceeded 
 rapidly towards the south-east into the forest. When they arrived 
 at the base of the hill, near the shore of the pond, instead of 
 meeting her father and his companions, she found herself in the 
 midst of a small party of Senecas. She saw at once that sh» 
 was betrayed, and shrieked for help. 
 
 " None of that, Miss Ruth," cried Guthrie, roughly ; " it won't 
 do you any good. Them Colony men at the cottage, have got as 
 much as they can do, just now, to save their own scalps." 
 
 " Wretch — villian !" cried Ruth, and she fell fainting upon the 
 ground. 
 
 By this time, it was apparent that the contest at the cottage 
 had terminated ; and a rough frame-work of light saplings and 
 boughs was constructed, upon which Ruth was placed, and con- 
 veyed in the direction of the temporary lodges of the Senecas. 
 Before arriving there, she had recovered from her swoon, when 
 she realized the" dangerous situation in which she was placed. 
 Arming herself with the fortitude which was not uncommon 
 among the women of the period, she commended herself to the 
 protection of that Divine Being, upon whom she was wont to 
 rely for aid and consolation. 
 
 When they reached the huts of the Senecas, and the Indians 
 ascertained who was their prisoner, their exultation was 
 announced in the shouts of triumph which Ichabod had heard. 
 Ruth, however, without suffering any rudeness or ill-usage such 
 as might have been expected, perhaps, in the present excited state 
 of mind of the savages, was conveyed, by the direction of 
 Panther, to the lodge occupied by Singing-Bird. She was not 
 bound or confined in any manner, the savages relying upon their 
 watchfulness to prevent her escape ; and also upon the apparent 
 fidelity of Singing-Bird. 
 
 When Ruth saw the entire absence of restraint in which 
 Singing-Bird lived, and her apparent friendliness towards the 
 savages, her mind recurred to the imaginative picture she had 
 formerly drawn of the young squaw, separated by force from a 
 husband she loved, and restrained by captivity, among enemies 
 who were thirsting foi his blood, she could not reconcile the 
 present conduct of Singing-Bird with her own ideas of what 
 should have been her conduct ; and she felt a degree of disgust 
 towards the young Indian beauty, who could so soon forget a 
 husband so worthy of her affection as the Tuscarora. 
 
 " Can this be Singing-Bird, of whom I have heard so much 7*^ 
 Asked Ruth. 
 
 " Who heard it from ^" inquired Singing-Bird. 
 
 ^ I haard it at the cottage, of a Tuscarora ehiaf who had 
 
96 THE FBONTIEBSMVir 
 
 lost his squaw by the treachery of the Senecas, and who 
 
 now seeking his life." 
 
 "Yes, Eagle's-Wing kill Seneca — and Panther must have 
 Eagle's- AVing's scalp. Bad for Eagle's-Wing to kill Seneca." 
 
 " Can it be possible ?" asked Ruth — no, it cannot be — that 
 you are the Singing-Bird of whom I have heard." 
 
 The young Indian placed her hands upon her breast, as strug- 
 gling with a violent emotion, and then looked at Ruth with an 
 expression of entreaty which was not lost upon her. 
 
 '• Hush !" faintly whispered Singing-Bird, " Seneca comes." 
 
 Ruth saw at once that Singing-Bird was acting a part, and 
 appreciated that she did so from a feeling of necessity for the safety 
 of herself, and perhaps of her husband. Scarcely had Ruth caught 
 the whisper, ere the Indians who had stood by the door of the 
 lodge departed, when Singing-Bird advanced towards Ruth, and 
 said — 
 
 '• Pale-face girl does not know Singing-Bird. She loves Eagle's- 
 Wing. Hates Panther ever so much. Do tell me 'bout Eagle's- 
 Wing." 
 
 Ruth related what she knew of the Tuscarora, and of the attack 
 upon the cottage. Singing-Bird listened intently ; and when Ruth 
 had concluded, she placed her arm gently about her neck, and 
 said — 
 
 " We sisters now ; but look out for Seneca. They think me 
 friend ; but I want Eagle's-Wing to get all their scalp." 
 
 She then informed Ruth that another party of the Senecas had 
 also brought in a prisoner, and from the description which she 
 gave of the appearance of the captive, Ruth concluded that the 
 unfortunate prisoner could be none other than Ichabod. She 
 conjectured, also, that the Senecas had made no other prisioners, 
 and that her father, together with Ralph and the Tuscarora, still 
 remained in posession of the cottage. This fact at once gave 
 relief to her mind ; and she regained a serenity and composure 
 which she had not before been able to feel since her capture. 
 
 "What are these Indians going to do with us?" asked she of 
 Singing-Bird. 
 
 " Don't know what they do want with pale-face girl. P'raps 
 want to trade for Eagle's-Wing. But Panther wants me for his 
 squaw — wants me to go beyond the lakes, in the Seneca country, 
 to live in his wig\^am. Won't do it, though j I kill myself first.'* 
 
 " I never shall consent to be exchanged for Eagle's-Wing," 
 said Ruth. " I shall rely upon some other means of deliverance." 
 
 Singing-Bird thanked her by a grateful smile. " 0, 1 rfo want 
 to get away," replied she. " Oneida and Tuscarora warriors 
 come pretty soon, I hope. When they come, then I get away ; 
 p'raps before, if Eagle's-Wing know how. He great warrior." 
 
 " I have friends, too, who will assist ; and I hope thqr vrill 
 find meana (o daUyer us," said Buth. 
 
THV FRONTIERSMEH 9V 
 
 *' Wfiat friend ?" asked Singing-Birdj suddenly. ** Haro yon 
 got husband, too ?" 
 
 Ruth smiled and shook her head. 
 
 " Got friend, then," asked Singing-Bird, " who like to look at 
 yon — who give you his heart ?" 
 
 Ruth blushed, and this time she did not smile. 
 
 Singing-Bird continued, " If you got lover, then, why don't 
 marry ?" 
 
 " Perhaps I may, sometime," answered Ruth, still blushing ; 
 *' but I cannot, you know, until these troubles are all over." 
 
 " It's pleasant to live in wigwam with husband. When he gone 
 on war-path, or gone hunting, then you work in field — that good 
 way to live." 
 
 " We pale-face women do not work in the field. We make 
 the men do that." 
 
 " That squaw's business ; men hunt deer, catch fish, take 
 scalp — that warrior's business. I don't want to stay in wigwam 
 and do not'ing, Eagle's-Wing wouldn't like that." 
 
 " You do not mean to say that Eagle's-Wing would make you do 
 labor in the field ?" asked Ruth, in astonishment. 
 
 " No — Eagle's-Wing wouldn't make me do that ; but if I 
 didn't, he t'ink me lazy, good for not'ing squaw — then he get 
 another squaw, p'raps. / shouldn't like that." 
 
 Ruth was not acquainted with this custom of the inuians ; and 
 her astonishment was unfeigned. She could scarcely believe that 
 one so seemingly delicate as Singing-Bird, could accustom herself 
 to a species of labor, that was severe enough for the stronger 
 muscles of the manly portion of creation. Yet, it is true, that 
 while the Indian warrior undergoes the fatigues of war, or of the 
 chase, with uncomplaining fortitude, when idle he never com- 
 promis/is his dignity by any servile employment. The cultiva- 
 tion of the field, and all of the severer domestic duties, are per- 
 fbrmed by the squaws, with as much patience and fortitude as 
 the warrior displays on the war-path. 
 
 " But," asked Singing-Bird, " what pale-face women do ? sit 
 still and do not'ing ?" 
 
 " 0, no ; we have plenty of employment in attending to house- 
 hold matters. We shouldn't think ourselves able to do labor 
 out-of-doors, in tilling land." 
 
 It was now Singing-Bird's turn to be surprised ; and while she 
 was expressing her wonderment at this want of love for their 
 husbands on the part of the women of the pale-faces, Panther 
 was seen approaching the lodge. At the suggestion of Singing- 
 Bird, Ruth immediately assumed an appearance of extreme sor- 
 row, while the former took that of the careless indifierence which 
 Bhe had first exhibited to Ruth. 
 
 Panther entered the lodge, and without seeming to notice tbs 
 ireaence of Ruth, approached Singing-Bird and said : 
 
98 THE FRONTIERSMEN. 
 
 "The pale-face prisoner does not believe that Singing-Bini 
 lores to live in the lodges of the Senecas. Will my sister go and 
 tell him whether she does or not ?" 
 
 Singing-Bird obeyed without reply ; and followed by Panther, 
 she proceeded to the interview we have already described be- 
 tween her and Ichabod. 
 
 Ruth had been left alone but for a few moments, when she 
 heard a slow but heavy step approaching the lodge. With a 
 look of uneasiness, she gazed in the direction of the sound, and 
 beheld Guthrie about entering the door-way. 
 
 " Good morning, Miss," said he with a rude and familiar voice, 
 that grated harshly on her ears. " I thought I'd just see how 
 you get along. How do you like living with the Senecas ?" 
 
 " Guthrie," answered Ruth, " in what manner has my father or 
 have I, injured you, that you should commit the act you have, 
 to-day ?" 
 
 The villain chuckled for a moment. " That's neither here nor 
 there, Miss. There never was any great love atween us, any 
 way ; and, you see, a wound like this, ain't apt to increase it," 
 pointing to his shoulder, which had been bandaged. It's enough 
 for me to know that Squire Barton has given shelter up at th« 
 cottage to them as has injured me ; and no man ever offends Ben 
 Guthrie without getting his pay for't. 
 
 " There has been no time, Guthrie," said Ruth with a shudder, 
 " since we have lived in this valley, but you have been welcomed 
 at the cottage as a friend." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I know what kind of a welcome I've generally 
 had : — such as you Colony folks give a Tory, as you call me — a 
 scornful eye — a curling lip — and a hand that is never offered in 
 friendship. But I'll let these interlopers into this territory know 
 that if King George's men have all died in the settlements, there 
 are some of 'em alive round here. But thafs neither here noi 
 there. I've done you a kindness, after all ; for that cottage will 
 yet be taken — burnt down, p'raps — and then you'd better be 
 here than there." 
 
 " Guthrie^ you have been guilty of a great wrong, in placing me 
 in the hands of these Senecas ; and you may yet live to suffer 
 for it. I never knew a wicked act, that was not followed by its 
 punishment." 
 
 "Not so fast. Miss Ruth— not so fast," said Guthrie, "I want 
 you to understand that you're my prisoner ; and that these 
 Senecas only hold you for me ; and that they are answerable to 
 me for your safety." 
 
 "If you have the power, 0, take me back to my father 1 
 Guthrie," said she imploringly, " and this act of yours to-day 
 Bhall be forgotten and forgiven ; and you will find in me a friend 
 ever more. You know the agony my father must suffer* Of 
 take pity en his gray hairs." 
 
 ^. M.lk 
 
THI FBONTIIRSMIir. 99 
 
 Gathrie gave a peculiar chuckle. " Can't do that, any way," 
 
 ttid he, " or not if You see. Miss, the matter's here. Now 
 
 your father and I can be friends. There's one way we can make 
 this matter up. Let him give up that Tuscarora to these Indians. 
 and take me for a son-in-law, and the thing's done at once." 
 
 Ruth, for a moment, was astounded at this infamous proposal. 
 She looked at him, as if doubting the evidence of her senses *, 
 but disdained to re])ly. 
 
 " You see. Miss," continued Guthrie, " it wouldn't be so bad 
 an affair, after all. I ain't much of a woman's man, it's true ; 
 but I've got a snug piece of land down here ; and then, in these 
 times, it isn't a bad thing to have a friend among these wild 
 savages ; and, you see, I could protect all of you." 
 
 Ruth answered indignantly, "I did not thiak, Guthrie, you 
 could do me a worse wrong, than you committed in treacher- 
 ously making me a prisoner ; but you have committed a worse 
 one. Leave this hut, or I will appeal to these savages to pro- 
 tect me ; not one of them but has more courtesy, and a better 
 heart than you." 
 
 Guthrie looked fiercely angry at this reply ; but walked 
 deliberately towards Ruth, and seated himself upon a bench near 
 her. " We'll see about that, Miss. I ain't accustomed to child's 
 play. Now I've made up my mind that I want you for a wife, 
 and my wife you shall be, any way. Now, there ain't no use in 
 screaming, or them sort of things ; but you might just as well 
 make up your mind to it, first as last." 
 
 Ruth, shuddening with horror, rushed from the hut : Guthrie 
 sprang after her, and caught her by the arm. " That won't do. 
 Miss, any way. Them tantrums will answer in the settlements ; 
 but out here in the woods, we do things on squares. You can 
 say, whether you will or you won't, and make and end of it, 
 just to show your freedom in the matter ; but whichever way 
 you fix it, it don't make any difference to me ; the thing has 
 got to be done." 
 
 During this speech of Guthrie's, Ruth had been dragged back 
 into the hut. She shrieked with fear and disgust, and cried 
 aloud for help. Guthrie rudely endeavored to place his hand 
 over her mouth, when Singing-Bird came running into the lodge, 
 followed by two or three Indians. Guthrie, ashamed, of his 
 violence, retreated towards the door. 
 
 " I've had my say. Miss, and you can make up your mind to it, 
 and save the folks at the cottage ; or you can go into these 
 tantrums, and let the other thing happen, just as you've a mind." 
 
 With this threat, he slowly departed, followed by the savages, 
 while Ruth threw herself into the arms of Singing-Bird, weeping 
 bitterly at this new addition to her misery. 
 
 1^ M> ,w^ 
 
IOC THl FRONTIERSMIV. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ** There was ettob lawing and vexation in the towns, one dailie nding an^ 
 troubling another, that the veteran was more troubled with lawing withii 
 the towne, than hewas in peril at large with the eneniie." 
 
 HoLiNSHED — Conquest or Ibklaitd. 
 
 As WE have said, Ralph and the Tuscarora, after the discov- 
 ery of the capture of Ruth, anxiously sought the means of re- 
 leasing her and Singing-Bird, as well as Ichabod. from the hands 
 of the Senecas. They at length hit upon a plan, which they 
 proposed to put in execution on the following night. They 
 deemed it unsafe to attempt it in the daytime, as they would be 
 much more likely to be discovered by the Indians, than when 
 under the shelter of darkness. 
 
 Barton had recovered somewhat from his first paroxysm of 
 grief, and was at length able to take part in the preparations 
 which were making. But it was insisted upon by both Ralph 
 and Eagle's-Wing, that he and the negro should remain at the 
 cottage, as well for the purpose of defence should another attack 
 be made during their absence, as for that of having an asylum in 
 readiness, should they succeed in their enterprise. The cottage 
 contained five or six rifles, in addition to those which had already 
 been in use, and was well furnished with ammunition ; and it 
 was believed that, should another attack be made, Barton and 
 the negro might defend it, until assistance could be rendered by 
 the return of Ralph and the Tuscarora. 
 
 Some time had elapsed in these preparations, and it was 
 already noon, before everything was completed in readiness for 
 the enterprise. A few hours more were to elapse before it would 
 be proper for them to set forth. They had no fear that any im- 
 mediate injury could be contemplated by the Senecas to Ichabod 
 or Ruth. They supposed that the Indians would not resort to 
 any means of vengeance, until they had completely failed in their 
 attempt to get possession of the Tuscarora. Therefore, it was 
 with no fear, although with much anxiety, that they waited for 
 the hour fixed upon by them for their hazardous enterprise. 
 
 It was just about noon that Sambo, who had been into the 
 cattle-yard to look after the cattle, came running into the cot- 
 tage, and announced the approach of two white strangers from 
 the northward, who were coming on foot in the direction of the 
 cottage. This intelligence was received with pleasure; for at 
 any time, in the midst of the forest, when visitors are few and 
 ffftre, there is no little excitement on the arrival of strangers, 
 
TAX FB0NTIEBSMK9. 101 
 
 from whom welcome information of friends or of occurrences at 
 the settlement may be obtained ; but at this time, when sur- 
 rounded by so many dangers, a white face was almost certain to 
 be that of a friend. , \ . ^ ■,. , . , , ■ • 
 
 The announcement had scarcely beeji ii^ade, 'when the ^ti an- 
 gers approached the door, and wej;o ^invited cordially by Barton 
 to enter. ; ^''>^ > '. j ^ ';'•,' '; ,> ,' ; ;, 
 
 The first of the strangers who ifttVActod' thgir'aitciitim)", Vra^.a- ; 
 man of slight stature, not more than five feet six inches in 
 height, with a sly, cunning expression of countenance. His flesh 
 was shrivelled and thin, and his complexion was of a yellowish 
 white, resembling somewhat the color of parchment. He ap- 
 peared to be about thirty-five years of age. He had a fussy, 
 uneasy air, never seeming to rest, but constantly twitching and 
 yerking about — a peculiarity that passes with most men as the 
 result of great mental activity, but which is more often the evi- 
 dence of a disarranged, unmethodized mind. 
 
 The other personage was of a large and bulky frame, with a 
 dull, stolid expression of countenance ; besides, his face wore 
 unmistalcable marks of his being addicted to the use of ardent 
 Ipirits — blossoms indicating that fact being scattered in consid- 
 erable profusion over it. He carried in his hand a rifle, which, 
 either from want of use or because just at this precise time he 
 was suffering from too familiar an acquaintance with his favor- 
 ite pocket companion, he seemed to have no appropriate place 
 for, and was unable to get into any convenient position. 
 
 The strangers entered the cottage, and the first individual we 
 have described, with a nervous, twitchy manner, said, with an 
 attempt at a graceful salutation — 
 
 " Good day, gentlemen. You do not know me, perhaps ; my 
 name is Bagsley — attomey-at-law — reside in Johnstown, tho 
 shire of Try on County ; and I am now out on a tour of profes- 
 sional business, gentlemen. This person, who accompanies me, 
 is Mr. Nathan Rogers, one of a tributary profession. He is a 
 bailiff, gentleman—deputy sheriff of the county of Tryon — a 
 worthy, time-honored profession ; but one, which, unfortunately, 
 in this county, seems not to be properly appreciated, and is not 
 in great demand." 
 
 " Ugh !" exclaimed the Tuscarora, and turned leisurely towards 
 the window. 
 
 " You are welcome, gentlemen," said Barton. " but I am sorry 
 chat I cannot offer you a better hospitality ; but such as I am 
 able to give, you are welcome to." 
 
 The strangers seated themselves with an easy familiarity. 
 
 " Quite a beautiful country through here," said Bagsley. I 
 un always delighted when I can escape from the drudgery of 
 the profession, and hold communion with the beauties of nacure. 
 But I must confess, you have rather too much of nature around 
 
 ^m.f 
 
lOS TBI FBONTIERSMEN. 
 
 here, gentlemen. Your roads are not remarkably well worn or 
 broken ; and we have had quite a fatiguing journey j haye we 
 not, Rogers ?" 
 
 EogGTS assented, with a stirt of affirmative grunt. 
 
 " Bebng in, these 'paints T'' asked Bagsley, turning towards 
 Ralph. 
 
 ." I dTo oqly. on a; visit <h«]^e," was the. answer. " I am quite as 
 inuo^ a sti'aiiger as ydurself 
 
 " Will you allow me to ask," continued Bagsley, addressing 
 Barton, " how long you have resided in this section ?" 
 
 " But two years," Barton replied. 
 I declare ! you must have been active to have accomplished 
 go much. But, I believe," said Bagsley, with a professional 
 erravity, '• you cannot have the fee of the property here." 
 
 "I am a sort of tenant at sufferance of the Oneidas; but 
 should the State purchase these lands — as I believe they will, 
 soon — I may hope to obtain a title to what I already occupy." 
 
 " Perhaps — perhaps," answered Bagsley. " But you must 
 be aware, as a gentleman of experience, that, by an act of the 
 Honorable, the Legislature of the State of New York, passed 
 July 25, 1782, this section is particularly and definitely reserved 
 to tne Indians of the Six Nations. Now, it may be questiona- 
 ble — T never speak with certainty out of my office — but it may 
 be questionable — whether the State will ever purchase these 
 lands. Should they not — you see the point — you lose, as a mat- 
 ter of course, all of your improvements, and may be ejected at 
 any time." 
 
 " Of that fact I am well aware," answered Barton, " and I run 
 my risk, of course. But will you allow me to ask, sir — if my 
 question is not too impertinent — what business gentlemen of 
 your profession can find in these forests ? " 
 
 " I might, sir, according to the doctrine of the common law — 
 the leges non scripta — of England, which is yet the law of this 
 State, so far as it has n»t been modified by statute, and according 
 to well settled rules of the courts, decline answering that ques- 
 tion, as it relates to business intrusted to one in a professional 
 capacity, as well as upon other grounds j but, sir, to a gentle- 
 man of your apparent prudence and experience, an^d particularly 
 sc long as I may wish to obtain important information from you, 
 I cannot refuse so reB,sonable a request." 
 
 " I did not ask the question," replied Barton, " from any desire 
 10 intrude upon your privacy, but only as a matter of surprise 
 that a legal gentleman could find any business in this remote 
 wilderness that would compensate him for the trouble of com- 
 ing here." 
 
 " It may surprise you, sir — it would be likely to occasion sur- 
 prise, sir — and I noticed that our red friend, here, expressed his 
 astonishment on learning our profession ; but the truth is. w« 
 
THE FRONTIERSMEN. 103 
 
 are in pursuit of a notorious debtor, with a capias ad respon- 
 dendum. I will descri'De the person, and you may be able to 
 give me useful information as to his wliereabouts. He is said 
 to be about forty-five years of age, with grizzly hair, a tall, 
 thin form, stoops much in walking, ihin, dried-up face, but 
 intelligt-'Ut countenance, and is said to converse a great deal 
 upon projects of speculation in property." 
 
 " Ichabod, for all the world ! " exclaimed Ralph. 
 
 " Mr. Jenkins ! " exclaimed Barton. 
 
 " Ugh ! " broke in the Tuscarora. 
 
 " I am happy, gentlemen, that I have been able to give a des- 
 cription so brief, but comprehensive, that you are enabled at 
 once to name the person of whom we are in pursuit. You see, 
 Rogers, that we are on the right track after all." 
 
 " Yes," grunted that functionary. " We've got the track, but 
 we haven't got the game." 
 
 " 0, that will follow, as a matter of course," chuckled the 
 attorney. "This Ichabod Jenkins probably resides in these 
 parts ?» 
 
 " 1 believe he is now in the neighborhood," answered Ralph, 
 with a gravity that he could scarcely maintain. 
 
 " It is important that he should be arrested on this capias,^* 
 jsaid Bagsley. " The debt is for a large sum, to wit : the sum 
 of £25, 7s. 6d., which he owes and unjustly detains from one 
 Samuel Parsons, plaintiff, and he has not paid the same, or any 
 part thereof, although often requested so to do, wherefore the said 
 Samuel Parsons claims damages, &c. And any information of a 
 precise nature, that can be given, will be freely reciprocated on 
 occasion. Perhaps we can get along without troubling Mr. Jen- 
 kins very much. You seem to be his friends ; and as this is a 
 bailable process, you can give bail for him." 
 
 " I doubt," answered Ralph, " whether it will be at all neces- 
 sary. I am sorry to inform you, that Mr. Jenkins is now a 
 prisoner among a party of Senecas in this immediate neighbor- 
 hood." 
 
 " What !" exclaimed Bagsley, have they also lodged a capias 
 against him !" 
 
 " I am more fearful that they have taken him in execution,* 
 said Ralph, with an attempt at a pun, which we are happy to 
 say, he at one rejected. " The truth is, that this cottage has been 
 attacked by a party of hostile Senecas, and not only Jenkins, but 
 Miss Barton have been made prisoners." 
 
 Bagsley put on a look of incredulity. " You do not mean to 
 say, that in these times of peace, war has been levied in this ter- 
 ritory against the peace of our Lord the rather, against the 
 
 State of New York, e,v gratia Dei, free and independent t" 
 
 " Fiddlesticks !" ejaculated Rogers. 
 
 ^ It is doubtless a mere assemblage of persons onlawfoUy lO 
 
104 THE FBONTIERSMKlf. 
 
 gether, for the purpose of committing riot or some other disor- 
 derly act ; and probably a simple declaration that gentlemen of 
 our profession are in the neighborhood, will be sufficient to quell 
 the disturbance. Did I understand you to say, that this gentle- 
 man's daughter has been taken prisoner ?" pointing to Barton. 
 
 " So I informed you, sir," answered Ralph. 
 
 " I am happy to offer you my services," addressing Barton : 
 *' you can undoubtedly sustain an action of trespass on the case, 
 for the injury in detaining your daughter from your service. 
 This action, sir — and you will notice the beauty and appropriate- 
 ness of the law — is brought technically for the loss of service — 
 but you recover smart money, by way of damages for harrowed 
 feelings, &c. Miss Barton can also have her action for assault 
 and battery. Then there's Jenkins, why here's a way pro- 
 vided, through the benignity and ubiquity of the law — for at once 
 satisfying this debt. He also has his action for damages. Really, 
 Rogers, we have done just the thing by coming here." 
 
 " Make out the papers," said Rogers, " and we'll serve 'em to- 
 night." 
 
 "It is a most singular thing," said Bagsley, addressing the 
 company indiscriminately, " the antipathy entertained generally, 
 against gentlemen of our profession. Without us, I may venture 
 to say, the world would be helpless — without us, what power 
 would sustain the weak ? Without us, there would be an entire 
 ignorance of that beautiful system which has been adorned by a 
 Holt, a Hale and a Mansfield. But once let us enter an igno- 
 rant village of this description, and intelligence upon this sul^ect 
 spreads with wonderful rapidity — men rush forward to try by 
 experience the fruits of that system which has been adorned by 
 the labors of genius, and perfected by the wisdom of ages. In- 
 deed, gentlemen, we may be called the vanguard of civilization." 
 
 This eloquent tribute to the legal profession, seemed to pro- 
 voke a variety of opinion. Barton and Ralph merely smiled. 
 The Tuscarora ejaculated " ugh !" with considerable more force 
 than usual; Sambo seemed to be perfectly enchanted — while 
 Rogers, crossing his legs, and ejecting a quantity of tobacco-juice 
 upon the floor, exclaimed, " rigbl"— Bagsley — right — and yon 
 might have added, what would have become of the bailiffs, if 
 there were no lawyers ?" 
 
 '' Can you give me the direction towards the riotous assen*- 
 blage you have mentioned ?" inquired Bagsley. 
 
 " You certainly do not think of going thither ?" exclaimed 
 Ralph, in surprise. 
 
 " Of course, sir — of course ; answered Bagsley ; " were there 
 any certainty that Mr. Jenkins would immediately return, we 
 would postpone the matter for the day ; but upon your intima- 
 tion that he is detained nolens volenSj I think we shall be obliged 
 to go in pursuit of him." 
 
THE FRONTIERSMKlf. 105 
 
 • Too will encounter a great danger," said Ralph. " These 
 Indians are highly excited and angry, and they may not discrimi- 
 nate between you and us at the cottage." 
 
 " No fear of that, sir," replied Bagsley with an air of dignity 
 and complacency, " I think they cannot but apprehend the dis- 
 tinction. What do you tnink of that, Rogers." 
 
 " Right again," said the functionary. "I don't think anybody 
 could mistake us. There's something in the eye and manner of 
 ft bailiff that make a rogue crest-fallen, at onee. I'm ready." 
 
 **I beg you, gentlemen, as you value your'lives," said Barton, 
 " to give up this foolish (as I must term it) errand — for the pres- 
 ent, at least. You will certainly regret it when too late." 
 
 " We know our duty." said Bagsley, with dignity, " and we 
 shall make an overt of Mr. Jenkins, whether he be defended by 
 his friends on the one hand, or the Indians on the other." 
 
 " I am sorry that yon cannot take good advice," said Ralph ; 
 *•' but we, at least, shall be conscious that we have warned you 
 of your danger." 
 
 ''Well, gentlemen," said Rogers, rising and shouldering his 
 rifle, '• I've only got this to say — I never saw a rascal, yet, that 
 dare look Nathan Rogers boldly in the face ; and if these Injins 
 have got more nerve than other rascals, I want to know it. If 
 there't anybody in my bailiwick that will refuse to acknowledge 
 my authority, I want to know it. and I will know it — that's all." 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you, gentlemen, for your advice 
 and good wishes for our welfare." said Bagsley, rising; ''but 
 when duty calls, we must obey. If you will point us the direc- 
 tion, we will be doubly obliged." 
 
 Their direction was pointed out by Ralph, who again made an 
 ineffectual effort to induce them to desist from their dangerous 
 expedition. 
 
 " Good day, gentlemen," said Bagsley, as he was about leaving. 
 " Our intention is to return here this afternoon, and should you 
 have no objection, we will admit Mr. Jenkins to bail on your 
 becoming bound in double the sum I mentioned to you. Good 
 day, gentlemen." And the attorney departed, followed by the 
 bailiff. 
 
 The first impulse of Ralph was to laugh at this little interlude 
 in the tragedy that was being enacted around them : but tht 
 matter was too serious, after all, to be treated so lightly. . 
 
 " They are gone to a long imprisonment — perhaps to death,^ 
 said Barton. 
 
 " No get Jenkins, this time," said the Tuscarora. " Lose their 
 scalps — that all they make." 
 
 The hour now approached for the departure of Ralph and 
 Eagle's- Wing. The sun was just sinking behind the westero 
 hills, when, taking their rifles, they left the cottage, proceeding 
 is a Bdutherly direction. 
 
106 THK 7S0NTIIB8M JE» 
 
 CHAPTER XIT. 
 
 " An host of furies, 
 Could not have baited me more torturingly, 
 More rudely, or more most unnaturally." 
 
 Beaumoivt akd Flktchbb. 
 
 TcHABOD, whom we have so long neglected, after the departure 
 of Panther and Snake-tongue, remained in as easy a position as 
 the nature of his confinement would permit, and gave himself 
 up to reflection upon his unpleasant situation. It was evident 
 that it was the intention of the Senecas to subject him to torture; 
 but whether they would proceed to the last extremity, he could 
 not conjecture. But the possibility that such might be their 
 intention, could not but present itself to his mind. He had 
 often been in positions where death was impending ; but those 
 were times when, amidst the excitement of conflict,* the mind 
 does not dwell with any fixed tenacity upon that event ; or, if it 
 does, contemplates it under the colors of excitement with which 
 it is clothed. But now, bound hand and foot, he was about to 
 be led unresistingly, and in cool blood, to that fate, about which 
 all men think, and but few appreciate, until the mortal hour. 
 
 Ichabod had a sort of creed, upon which he had heretofore 
 relied with confidence. Now, however, for the first time, he 
 began to doubt whether there was not a possibility of error in it, 
 and whether he had sufficiently examined points of faith which 
 he had heretofore rejected. But whichever way his mind wan- 
 dered, he ever recurred, in his ignorance, to the simple articles 
 of faith in which he had so long entertained confidence. Such 
 were the nature of his thoughts, when Deersfoot entered the 
 hut, to announce to him that the Senecas and their chief were 
 waiting for him. 
 
 Now, Ichabod had, until this moment, been wholly engaged in 
 the train of thought which we have mentioned ; but when it was 
 broken by this announcement, a new idea seemed suddenly pre- 
 sented to his mind. 
 
 '' Yes, I know what that means, Deersfoot. It means that 
 you are going to tofiur' me, according to Indian law. I never 
 did ra'ally think that I should live to be game for Senecas ; but 
 you do your duty according to your natur', and I'll do mine, 
 according to such light as I've got. But, see here, Deersfoot. 
 now, understand, that I don't ask for marcy, or anything of that 
 sort ; but if this business can be compromised to the benefit of 
 «ut ftU then it's for jour interest as well as mine to settle it 
 
THE FRONTIERSMEN 101 
 
 Now, Fve got a proposition to make to Panther and the rest of 
 you ; and if you've a mind to hear it, well and good ; and if yoq 
 bavn't, why, then you needn't." 
 
 Deersfoot listened, under the impression that Ichabod had, at 
 last, repented of his resolution, and that he was willing to accept 
 freedom upon the terms which had been proposed to him. After 
 Ichabod had concluded, he replied : 
 
 " My brother is wise. I will say to the chief what my brother 
 wishes. It is good for us to be at peace." 
 
 With this he departed. But a few moments elapsed, before 
 he returned with the information that the Senecas and their 
 <;hief would meet their prisoner in council. The withes that 
 were bound about the ankles of Ichabod, were unfastened, yet 
 it was some time before he was able to stand without assistance. 
 When he had suflBciently recovered the use of his feet, he was 
 conducted by Deersfoot to a lodge on the opposite side of the 
 circle, where he found Panther and Snakes-tongue, together with 
 the larger portion of the Senecas, who were seated in a circle 
 about the lodge, to listen to his proposal. 
 
 Ichabod was placed in the centre of the circle. Conforming 
 to Indian custom, he preserved a perfect composure and silence, 
 until, at length, he was addressed by Panther : 
 
 " My brother," said he, " had a cloud before his eyes, when he 
 refused to listen to my counsel. The cloud has now passed 
 away ; he now sees clear ; he sees that it will be wise to do as 
 we wish. We have come together to listen: my brother can 
 speak." 
 
 ''I'm afraid we are laboring under some mistake here," replied 
 Ichabod : " as for that business you proposed to me, there's no 
 tise in talking about that. It's all well enough for a Seneca to 
 propose it ; but it would rather go agin my natur' to accept it. I 
 came here to speak to you about a matter of a great deal more 
 importance than that." 
 
 There was a loud murmur of dissatisfaction among the Senecas ; 
 and many of them sprang to their feet with the intention of tak- 
 ing vengeance, at once, for this seemingly public insult. Panther, 
 however, immediately restored silence. 
 
 " My brother," said he. " is a great warrior ; he is cunning as 
 a fox ; but he is surrounded by warriors as brave and cunning 
 as himself. We will hear what he has got to say." 
 
 " Now, I want to say to j'ou, Panther, and to the rest of you," 
 continued Ichabod, unmoved, " what I said to Deersfoot before I 
 was brought in here, that if you want to put me to tortur', and 
 think that's the best use you can make of me, I've nothing to 
 say agin it, for that's good Injin law ; but if you ra'ally want to 
 make the most out of me that you can, then you'll listen to hat 
 I've got to say." 
 
 He paused for a few moments ; but as the Indians remained 
 
108 TH8 FRONTIERSMEN. 
 
 silent, he took it as a manifestation of their dispositiom to give 
 him their attention. 
 
 " You see," continued he, " that ever since the white men cams 
 over the ocean to this country, they've been increasing and grow- 
 ing more powerful, and you've been growing weaker. The peo- 
 ple who came over, in the first place, established colonies — they 
 Jit the French — they fit the Injins, and finally they had a fight 
 with England for independence ; and notwithstanding all their 
 Cornwallis's and Burgoyne's, and the 'Injins to boot, they got 
 what they font for. Now, you can see, that there's no use in 
 your keeping up these old-fashioned customs of tomahawking and 
 scalping, and living in the woods, and acting like Injins, more 
 than like white people. If you do, it won't be long before there 
 won't be a red man left in the country. It's rather hard to tell 
 you these things to your faces ; but they're facts, as you can see 
 with half an eye. Now there is a way, in which you can not 
 only keep your own, but get the start of the white people, in this 
 territory, to boot. It may be going agin flesh and blood and 
 color to tell such a secret to you, but still, I'm willing to do it." 
 
 His auditory, at the first glance, would have seemed to be 
 wholly unmoved at this long introduction ; but on a closer view, 
 it would have been seen, that while many of the Senecas shot 
 forth wilder and fiercer glances from behind passionless faces, 
 others seemed moved by a feeling of curiosity to hear the end of 
 this strange exordium. Panther, after a short silence, replied : 
 
 " My brother is brave ; he is not afraid to speak in the mids»t 
 of his enemies. It is true that the Injins are weak and the pale- 
 faces are strong. We are dropping like the leaves ; and the 
 hunter comes home to his wigwam at night, tired and hungry, 
 and brings but little game. The pale-faces are growing stronger. 
 I have thought of it much. There is a way to make them grow 
 weaker ; but that is not the way which appears to the eyes of 
 my brother. His way, I am afraid, is not a good way. He would 
 have us forget that we are Injins. T%at we cannot do. The 
 Great Spirit made us red men ; he made us Injins. He placed 
 us in the forests ; he gave us tomahawks and knives with which 
 to fight our enemies ; and bows and arrows to shoot the bear 
 and deer. We cannot be anything but Injins. Our fathers and 
 grandfathers were Injins ; and the little pappoose is an Injin. 
 As soon as he is grown, he takes to the path of his nation. I 
 may speak foolish ; but this is what I know. If the white men 
 destroy us, we will die like Injins ; if they drive us from our 
 hunting-grounds, we will not go without scalps. We will do aa 
 the Great Spirit tells us." 
 
 There was a loud expression of satisfaction at this speech of 
 Panther ; and he sat down under a deluge of applause, that a 
 little alarmed Snake-tongue for his laurels. He waited with 
 impatience untU lohabod should give him an oportunity to assert 
 
TSe FRONTIERSMEN. 109 
 
 hii superiority in the way of speech-making. Silence hAving 
 been again restored, Ichabod continued : 
 
 " To the threats you made, Panther, in your speech, I shall not 
 reply. My business, just now, is peaceable ; and I'm addressing 
 you for your profit ; and I shall not be diverted by angry insinu- 
 ations. I've said that the Injins are growing weaker, and the 
 white men are growing stronger. Now I want to give you a lesson, 
 in the first place, in political economy. A nation never become 
 great and prosperous, that relied wholly on fighting. There is no 
 surer and better way for that, than for a nation to be industrious, 
 and keep a sharp eye out for the chances. It may be, that you 
 can't understand that idea, precisely ; for I never knew an Injin 
 that cmdd understand how anything could be made by honest 
 labor : but I'll try and make the thing plain to you. Now, you 
 see, as these Colonies are free and independent, this country that 
 has been growing so fast, is going to grow a great deal faster. 
 You'll see, in a few years, at most, that a valley like this will be 
 occupied by white men, and villages will start up, and water- 
 powers will be selected on all such streams as this. Now, why 
 can't you get the start of the white men ? I've been talking with 
 Squire Barton about setting up a factory down here ; and having 
 all this land about here laid out into building lots. Now, you 
 see, if you'll just look at the thing in a reasonable point of view, 
 you'll see the advantages of going into this business with a jump. 
 I'm given you a hint of the thing. Panther, and you might make 
 a sly bargain with the Oneidas, and buy up a large quantity of 
 these lots. They'll be valuable, some day, sartain. That's one 
 way in which you could make money out of it. Then there's 
 another way in which it would be a decided advantage to all 
 your nation, male and female, old and young, under the present 
 order of things. A man with half an eye can see that there's a 
 a great lack of clothing among you ; and some of you would'nt 
 hardly answer to be presented into fashionable company. You 
 bavn't but mighty little of it ; and what you do wear, is of a 
 kind of heathenish, Injin sort. Now, you see, at a small profit, 
 we could supply you with cloth, so that you could wear panta- 
 loons, jackets and coats, and look like gentlemen ; and then ali 
 you'd have to do, would be to behave yourselves, to be a respect- 
 able sort of people. Now, if you can't see the advantages of this 
 speculation, all that I've got to say is, that I pity you ; and you 
 may work your tortur' on me just as soon as you please. I've 
 the satisfaction of knowing that I've done my duty by you like 
 a Christian." 
 
 The Senecas seemed completely astounded by this long speech, 
 and its conclusion. The most of them looked at each other with 
 a vacant stare, as though they could not comprehend its meaning ; 
 while others regarded it as a public insult, and intended as such \ 
 which, while it exasperated their feelings, gave them a much 
 
110 THE FRONTIERSMEir. 
 
 greater regard for the bravery of their prisoner. At length Snak*' 
 tongue slowly arose, and glancing with a mien of dignity upon th© 
 assembly, proceeded to reply : 
 
 " My brother has spoken," said he ; " he speaks with the tongue 
 of a pale-face, and we poor Injins cannot understand. But we 
 nave heard enough ; we can guess what our brother means. He 
 means to put up a house on the river and drive away the fish. 
 He means to cut down the trees, and make them into houses, and 
 drive away the deer. He wants us to wear clothes like the pale- 
 faces. It is a strange speech. My brother does not smile ; he 
 looks as if he talked from his heart. If he means us well, then 
 we thank him, although we cannot see it as he does. We do not 
 want the land of the Oneidas. The Oneidas are squaws ; they 
 staid in their wigwams when their brothers went on the war- 
 path. We do not want the land of the squaws ; let them keep 
 it ; we will not steal it or buy it. But my brother wants us to 
 wear the clothes of the pale-faces. It is strange that my brother 
 should speak such a thing. How would an Injin look in the 
 pantaloons and coat of a pale-face ? His brethren could not 
 know him ; they would look him in the face and laugh. The 
 little pappooses would laugh at him. It cannot be ; my brother 
 does not know the Senecas ; they live after the traditions of their 
 fathers — and their fathers never wore the clothes of the pale- 
 faces. The Great Spirit gave them bows and arrows, and told 
 them to shoot bears and deer, and make clothes from their skins. 
 That is what we have done ; that is what we mean to do. We 
 have bought blankets from the pale-faces : some of our wise men 
 have said that it was wrong to do so — that our fathers did not 
 wear blankets of wool, and that we ought not to do it. I have 
 thought so myself. But to wear pantaloons, jacket and coat \ 
 My brother might as well say that the Senecas should learn to 
 read in books, and hoe corn and potatoes in the fields. We will 
 not talk about it ; my brother does not know the Senecas. We 
 are Injins, and we will live like Injins." 
 
 " My brother has spoken ; we have heard him, and we do not 
 libe his words. He is a brave warrior ; we know it ; but we are 
 going to try and see how brave he is. Our young men will 
 bind him to a tree, and will throw their tomahawks to see how 
 near they can come to his head and not hit it. We will then try 
 something else. We like to know a brave warrior. It does us 
 good to see a brave warrior laugh at his enemies ; and my 
 brother must be glad to know that we are going to treat him 
 like a brave. We shall hurt him all we can. We do not wear 
 
 Eantaloons, jackets and coats; if we did, we should not know 
 ow to honor him : we should be like the pale-faces. My 
 brother must be glad that we do not dress like the pale-£aces. 
 Our young men are ready." 
 Tius speech was received with " rounds of applause *'' in othot 
 
THE PRO NTIERSMEK. Ill 
 
 words, "it brought down the house;" and Snake-tongue sat 
 down with a much greater reputation for oratory than he pos- 
 sessed when he arose. When the assembly once more became 
 silent, and as three or four of the Senecas advanced towards 
 ichabod for the purpose of conducting hira to the place selected 
 for the torture, he said with a look of contempt : 
 
 " I might have known better than to cast pearls afore swine. 
 They are nothing but venomous, thick-skulled Senecas ; and they 
 may go without clothes all their life-times, before I'll ever give 
 'em a piece of decent advice agin." 
 
 Ichabod was now led a short distance from the lodges, in the 
 direction of the river, to the border of the cleared land. He was 
 there fastened to a tree, with thongs around his feet and waist. 
 The upper part of his body was left free, that he might display 
 his fear by attempting to dodge the hatchets as they were thrown 
 at him. It was now about four o'clock in the afternoon ; and 
 the bright autumn sun shone directly in his face, so that it was 
 with extreme difficulty, after a little while, that he could even 
 raise his eyes sufficiently to observe his enemies. Yet he did so ; 
 for he knew that any shrinking in that respect, would be deemed 
 a mark of cowardice on his part. 
 
 The Indians had now gathered in front of him, at the distance 
 of fifteen or twenty feet, and were preparing for the commence- 
 ment of the ceremony. Resting against a stump, at a short dis- 
 tance on one side, was Guthrie, who was surveying the prisoner 
 with a look of malicious pleasure, which he did not attempt to 
 conceal. 
 
 Deersfoot was the first who advanced from the crowd of Sene- 
 cas with his tomahawk in his hand. As he stepped forward, he 
 said to Ichabod : 
 
 " I shall now throw my hatchet. I shall come as close as I 
 can. I shall try not to hit my brother. If I do, he will be 
 ashamed of me." 
 
 He threw his tomahawk with a force that drove the blade 
 into the tree within an inch of Ichabod's head, almost to the 
 handle. Ichabod, during the whole process, surveyed Deersfoot 
 with a smile. As the hatchet struck the tree, he exclaimed : 
 
 " Well done, Deersfoot. That's almost as good as a bullet 
 from a rifle in 3^ practised hand, could have done it. You've got 
 an expert hand, any way, for that kind of we'pon." 
 
 A murmyr of admiration broke from the Indians at this speci- 
 men of Ichabod's coolness. Another Seneca stepped forward, and 
 had just raised his hatchet in the act to throw, when a loud yell 
 in the opposite direction attracted the attention of the Senecas. 
 In a moment, two of their number, who had been stationed as 
 lookouts in that direction, were seen advancing towards the 
 crowd, accompanied by two whites. The reader will at once 
 recognize in these strangers, the attorney and bis worthy oom- 
 
 6* 
 
119 TKE FRONTIERSHESr. 
 
 panion, the bailiff. The latter, however, had been disarmed ; and 
 although they were not bound, their faces showed signs of indig- 
 nation at what they, no doubt, supposed to be uncivil treatment. 
 As they approached the crowd of Indians, Bagsley cried out, 
 
 " Will any body be civil enough to show me the ringleader of 
 this disorderly assembly ?" 
 
 Panther stepped forward. "If the, pale-faces wish to see the 
 chief of the Senecas, he is here." 
 
 " I am happy to make your acquaintance, sir," said Bagsley, 
 " I have the honor to be a member of the legal profession — an 
 attorney -at-law, sir, and this gentleman who accompanies mc 
 is a deputy sheriff, sir — one who, at this moment, bears in hia 
 own person, all the dignity and authority of sheriff of the countj 
 of Tryon, in whose bailiwick you now are." 
 
 " Ugh ! " ejaculated Panther ; and the emphatic exclamation 
 was answered by the whole crowd of Senecas. 
 
 " Our business here, sir, is to arrest one Ichabod Jenkins, upoa 
 a capias ad respondendum^ at the suit of Samuel Parsons, for 
 £25, 7s. &d. I have been given to understand that he is in your 
 custody, or that you know his whereabouts." 
 
 Panther made a gesture towards the tree where Ichabod wai 
 confined. Bagsley, whose view in that direction had been inter- 
 rupted by the body of Indians who stood between him and the 
 tree, now discovered the unfortunate debtor. 
 
 "I am much obliged to you, gfentlemen," said he, "for having 
 detained him until our arrival. I presume it was done as a mat- 
 ter of accommodation to us, as you probably had heard of our 
 coming. Although you have made the arrest without color of 
 law, and ex colore officii, and also without process, yet I will 
 undertake to defend you, should he be malicious enough to bring 
 his suit for assault and battery and false imprisonment. And, 
 further, as you have behaved so properly in this matter, I shall 
 feel disposed to compromise amicably with you a cause of action 
 for the same offence, in which I have been retained by Mr, 
 Barton. Mr. Rogers, you will do your duty." 
 
 That worthy was about moving towards Ichabod, when his 
 course was at once arrested. The Indians, evidently, did not 
 understand the value of the proceeding, except that they were 
 in danger of losing their victim if this moTement was not pre- 
 vented. At a gesture'Trom Panther, the intruders were surrounded. 
 
 " The pale-face is our prisoner," said he. " We do not under- 
 stand what you wish. Our young men are trying to see how 
 brave he is, and we cannot let him go." 
 
 " You don't mean to say," exclaimed Rogers, " that you are 
 going to prevent this arrest ! I'd like to see you do that ! Stand 
 back there," shouted he, waving his arm towards the Senecas in 
 his front But this gesture bad only the ef^t of narrowing thft 
 oircle within which hi stood. 
 
THE rRONTIERSMEW. 113 
 
 * Gentlemen" said Bagsley, "you are probably entirely unao- 
 «juainted with that beautifnl system of jurisprudence which has 
 %een embellished by the writings of Coke, and adorned by the 
 lives of Hale, Holt and Mansfield. You arc probably, also, un- 
 acquainted W'ith a statute recently enacted by the Honorable, the 
 Legislature of the State, of New York. You cannot be aware 
 that, by interfering with our proceedings, which are perfectly 
 regular — I give you my word and honor, as an attorney — you 
 are subjecting yourselves to fine and imprisonment."' 
 
 " We know no law, except Ingin law," said Panther, '' and we 
 are trying to do our duty, as we understand it. We do not know 
 pale-face law, and we do not want to know it." 
 
 " I must confess," answered Bagsley, " that I am not very well 
 acquainted with the Indian system of jurisprudence. It. is, I 
 presume, an unwritten system — leges non scriptce — and, as such, 
 I have great respect for it; it is undoubtedly an admirable sys- 
 tem ; but it is not the system to which I allude. You are, gen- 
 tlemen, in the county of Tryon, under the jurisdiction of the 
 State of New York, and amenable to its laws. I really hope, 
 gentlemen, that you perceive the point in the case, and will 
 retire, and leave us to the discharge of our duty. It will be 
 extremely unpleasant for us to be called upon to exercise the 
 authority with which we are clothed, and I really hope their will 
 be no occasion for it." 
 
 And he and Rogers again attempted to move forward; but 
 the Senecas pressed still closer ; and they now found themselves 
 completely hemmed in, and unable to move in either direction. 
 Ichabod, who had seen and understood the whole proceeding 
 now exclaimed — 
 
 '' If I've got any friend among you Senecas, here, I hope you'll 
 finish this business as soon as practicable. A blow of a toma- 
 hawk will be thankfully received ; or if you've got up this mat- 
 ter to try a new system of tortur' on me, I'll acknowledge myself 
 a squaw at once, if that'll be any pleasure to you. I can't stand 
 out agin this kind of horrors, any way." 
 
 Rogers, who now found he would not be sufiered to proceed 
 in the making of the arrest, by the actual touching of the person 
 of Ichabod, cried out — 
 
 " Ichabod Jenkins, I arrest you by virtue of " but his 
 
 voice was drowned in the yells of the Senecas ; and the two in- 
 truders were immediately seized and bound. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Bagsley, "bound or unbound, I will do 
 my duty towards you, at least. I shall certify to the court, 
 according to the statute, in such case made and provided, the 
 names of the resisters, aiders, consenters, commanders and 
 favorers, who have interfered with this arrest, and by a writ 
 judicial, your bodies will be attached to appear in the same 
 oourt" 
 
114 THE FRONTIE.'tSMEN. 
 
 The voice of the attorney was di'owned in the yells of th© 
 now angry Senecas; and he, together with the bailiff, were at 
 once led ta one of the lodges, where they were left, bound hand 
 and foot. 
 
 Ichabod laughed with great glee over the discomfiture of this 
 new enemy, whom he looked upon as moj-e formidable than the 
 other. 
 
 " I thank you, red-skins, for this act of friendship ; its ra'ally 
 kind in you ; and I shan't have nigh so bad an opinion of your 
 nation, hereafter, as I have had. You O.o hate a lawyer ; and 
 there we agree. It's a pity that we can't be friends, under the 
 circumstances ; but I reckon that's impossible. So, proceed to 
 business again, and get through with this part of your tortur' 
 as fast as possible." 
 
 Order havmg been again restored, the Indian who had been 
 interrupted by the arrival of Bagsley and his corapailion, again 
 stepped forward. 
 
 " My brother," said he, addressing Ichabod, " is brave when 
 he faces an Tryin ; but he does not like the men with long, forked 
 tongues. We do not like them either. We think too much of 
 our brother to give him up. He is a great warrior ; and we 
 want to do him honor according to Injin law. I may hit my 
 brother, but I shall try not to." 
 
 He threw his tomahawk as he spoke, and the blade grazed 
 Ichabod's head so closely that it severed a lock of hair from his 
 brows. This was considered a great exploit j and the Senecas 
 testified their admiration by loud yells. 
 
 One after one, the tomahawks of the Senecas were thrown, 
 with divers success. Those who did not possess full confidence 
 in their ability to perform the ceremony with credit to themselves, 
 threw more at random ; and many of the weapons did not even hit 
 the tree. The perfect composure with which Ichabod endured 
 this species of torture, which, to one at all fearful or timid, would 
 be exquisitely painful, excited the admiration of the Indians to 
 the highest degree. At last. Panther, who had stood calmly by, 
 watching the ceremony, approached Ichabod, and said — 
 
 " It is now my turn to do honor to the pale-face. I must say 
 that he is brave. We are glad that he is so brave. I shall now 
 throw my hatchet, and i hope I shall not hurt my brother very 
 much. I expect to hurt him a little. Should I hurt him very bad 
 it will be a mistake, and I shall be very sorry ; for we mean to 
 try something else. We mean to know how brave our brother 
 is. 
 
 He threw his tomahawk with fearful rapidity and seeming 
 carelessness. It passed the side of Ichabod's head, opposite that 
 from which the hair had been partially shorn ; but it grazed so 
 closely that the hair was shorn to the skin, almost as smoothly 
 as it could have been done with a razor. It m ast have b«eii 
 
THE FRONTIERSUEK. 115 
 
 exceedingly painful j but the smile which rested upon the face of 
 Ichabod, as the hatchet left the hand of Panther, remained, as 
 the Senecas, with admiration divided between the victim and their 
 chief, crowded around Ichabod to examine the effects of the 
 blow. 
 
 "Well done! "Well done!" exclaimed Tchabod. "I doubt 
 whether I could beat that with my rifle. I must say that you 
 are about as expert a set of fellows with them kind of we'pons 
 as I- ever come across." 
 
 Panther now approached Ichabod, and said, " we have tried 
 our brother as well as we could with our tomahawks. He is 
 very brave ; and it does us good to do him honor. If we had 
 our squaws here to scold at him, or our papooses to shoot arrows 
 at him. we might please him better ; but we have not, and we 
 please him as well as we can. To-morrow we will try and do 
 better. But to-night, we will leave him here tied to the tree ; but 
 he shall have an Indian by him to keep away the wolves. We 
 expect, in the morning, our brother will be weaker, and he will 
 not then be so brave. It is not natural that he should be. We 
 will then tell him what we mean to do. But let not my brother 
 be troubled ; it shall be something that will honor him much." 
 
 This was a species of torture which Tchabod had not expected. 
 He had been bound to the tree in such a manner that he was 
 entirely sustained by the thongs which confined him, and his 
 position was becoming, momentarily, more painful. It must be 
 confessed, that his spirit quailed at the idea of remaining so 
 long a time in this painful situation ; but he knew of only one 
 way by which he could be relieved — and that was, by the be- 
 trayal of his friend. This he would not do ; and he could only 
 hope that he might find some means so to provoke his guard that 
 in his anger the latter might, by some hasty blow, dispatch him. 
 It was with much impatience, then, that he waited for the 
 approach of darkness — until which time he would probably be 
 left alone. 
 
 He closed his eyes, into which the sun had* shone until the 
 brilliant glare had nearly deprived him of the power of vision, 
 and endeavored to draw strength and fortitude from within. 
 But a short time elapsed, however, before he heard a step, as 
 of some one approaching him from behind. It was Guthrie, 
 who had separated himself from the Indians, and who now came 
 up immediately in front of him, with an ironical smile upon his 
 countenance. Ichabod surveyed him with a look of calmnesaf 
 and composure. 
 
 '• I suppose," said he, " that you've come here for the purpose 
 of having your chance at me. Now, all I've got to say to you, 
 is, that I've a sort of respect for them red devils, for they do 
 according to their natur' and color: but as for you, you're « 
 white-livered traitor and Tory ; and if anybody knows any oth« 
 
116 THl FRCNTIERSMKK. 
 
 words in the English language that have got a more contemptibl* 
 meaning, they know more than I do — that's all :" and Ichabod 
 closed his eyes again, as with the effort to shut out of his view- 
 so disgusting a sight. 
 
 " Pluck to the last !" exclaimed Guthrie. " I must say, that 
 you've got more nerve than I reckoned on ; but I rather expect 
 that you'll give in before to-morrow's over. Do you want to 
 know what's coming next ?" asked he, with a sneer. 
 
 " Well, stranger, I don't suppose I should know any more 
 about it after you have told me, than I do now," answered Icha- 
 bod ; •' for I've set you down for an infarnal liar. I ain't at all 
 particular as to what you say; but this I do know, if them 
 Senecas — who are are gentlemen born, compared to what you 
 are — would give me that rifle of mine again, and set me loose for 
 & few moments, I'd agree, that after I'd given you a proper sort 
 of chastising, I'd come back here again and stand all they might 
 choose to do to me. It rather provokes one with Natur' and 
 Providence, to see such an infarnal villain as you are, live and 
 breathe." 
 
 Guthrie chuckled, in his peculiar manner. " I've waited 
 many a day to get a chance at you. You didn't know me, when 
 I saw you up at the cottage yonder ; but I knowed you. I've 
 got a scar over here," pointing towards his back, " that will 
 remember you as long as it burns. You give it to me in that 
 skrimmage we had down here, in '79 ; and I thought I'd just let 
 you know that you may thank me for what you're getting now. 
 As for that fighting you propose, I don't think that it's any 
 object, for you're receiving, now, pretty much what you de- 
 sarve." Then, approaching close to Ichabod, and laying his 
 hand upon the spot shaven by the tomahawk of Panther, he 
 continued — " That was a pretty close shave, any way. I was 
 rather afeard he would make a bad job of it, and kill you. I 
 knowed him do that once :" and the villain laughed. 
 
 Ichabod groaned in his helplessness and anger. The agony 
 of that moment far exceeded any physical torture that the whole 
 nation of Senecas could have inflicted upon him. He wept in his 
 misery, and a sob that seemed to rend his frame, almost depriv- 
 ed him of consciousness for a moment. The fearful spasm that 
 convulsed his limbs,^did what no ordinary exercise of strength 
 could have done, — the thongs that bound his hands snapped lik« 
 threads; and in a moment, with a convulsive rapidity against 
 which Guthrie could not guard, he seized the Tory by the throat 
 — he shook him like a leaf, until the villain fell, breathless and 
 struggling, to the ground. At the same moment, overpowered 
 by this spasmodic exertion of strength, Ichabod fell, iaintin|^ 
 Buspended by the withes which bot nd his waist. 
 
ffll FBONTIERSMI V. lit 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Bob. — '* He is fled — he is fled, and dares not sit it oui. 
 Bir. — What ! has he made an escape 7 which way 7 Follow, neighbor 
 Haggise." Johnson. 
 
 When Ichabod recovered from his swoon, he found himself in 
 the presence of three Senecas. who had been attracted by the 
 struggle between him and Guthrie. It was their presence that 
 saved him from immediate death ; for as Guthrie arose panting 
 and struggling for breath, his first impulse was to present his 
 ritle at the motionless form of Ichabod : but it was instantly 
 pushed aside by one of the Senecas. who had reached the spot 
 before his companions, and the charge passed behind the tree to 
 which Ichabod was confined. When the latter regained his con- 
 sciousness, Guthrie was nowhere to be seen. The hands of Icha- 
 bod were again secured, and a thong was now passed around his 
 shoulders, so that he was bound in an upright and a much easier 
 position, to the tree. 
 
 The night was rapidly approaching, and by the time Ichabod 
 had been completely secured, it was almost impossible to discover 
 surrounding objects in the darkness. A fire was kindled near 
 the centre of the space around which the lodges had been erected, 
 and it was consequently much closer to the lodge occupied by 
 Ruth and Singing-Bird, than either of the others. An Indian had 
 taken his position, as guard, within a few feet of Ichabod, and 
 between him and the fire ; and this Indian, as Ichabod discov- 
 ered, was armed, besides his knife and tomahawk, with his own 
 old familiar rifle. How earnestly he gazed upon it, as if almost 
 expecting and hoping to see it recognize its old master and owner! 
 
 It was at this time, and when silence throughout the Indian 
 encampment was so well preserved that Ichabod could plainly 
 hear the crackling of the boughs which were placed upon the fire, 
 although he was at a distance of eight or ten rods from it, that a 
 wild yell, but one which denoted exultation upon the part of the 
 Seneca from whom it proceeded, was heard to arise from the 
 direction of the lodge in which Bagsley and his companion wer« 
 confined. He heard some words in the Seneca language, pro- 
 nounced, at which his guard arose erect, with an appearance of 
 excitement. In a few moments he discovered the cause of the 
 exclamation of the Seneca, and of the excitement under which 
 his sentinel evidently labored. An Indian came rapidly towards 
 the tire, around which his companions were gathered, with a bot- 
 tle in his hand, of which he smelt and tasted with gestures of ex* 
 travagant joj. 
 
118 THI FROKTIERSMBir. 
 
 It seemed that the lucky Seneca, while in the lodge ocrapieA 
 by Bagsley and the bailiff, had been attracted by a peculiar odor 
 which came from the breath of the latter, and which his olfacto- 
 ries at once pronounced " fire-water." Convinced that this odor 
 must be caused by the presence of the article itself, in some 
 quantity, he commenced a search of the unfortunate dignitary ; 
 and, hidden in a capacious pocket, wrapped in old writs and exe- 
 cutions, but which were uninteligible j;o the Indian, he found the 
 bottle which we have seen him carry towards his companions at 
 the fire. It was at the moment of finding it, that he had uttered 
 the loud exclamation of joy, which had fallen upon the ears of 
 Ichabod. 
 
 Loud and frequent were the exclaimations of " Ugh !" " ugh !** 
 among the Indians, when it was discovered that such a prize had 
 been found. Panther, who was attracted from his lodge by the 
 noise, endeavored to induce the Indians to surrender the pleasure 
 of drinking the " fire-water" on this occasion, for one more ap- 
 propriate, and when less watchfulness was necessary. But all 
 his endeavors were vain ; for the authority of a chief, always 
 precarious, cannot be enforced against the wishes and demands of 
 the tribe. Theirs was an arbitrary government, and power was 
 held only upon a feeble tenure, viz : the pleasure of the people. 
 When Panther found that he could not prevent the larger por- 
 tion of the Indians from indulging in the pleasant intoxication 
 which would result from imbibing the " fire-water," he took, such 
 means — with the assistance of Deersfoot and a few others, who 
 were determined to remain sober — as would be most likely to pro- 
 mote their safety, should the larger portion of the Senecas be- 
 come unfit to discharge their duties. 
 
 The Indians who were about the fire, and among whom the 
 whiskey bottle circulated freely, soon began to give evidence of 
 unwonted excitement. Dancing, singing, shrieking, they ap- 
 peared, to one at the distance from them at which Ichabod was 
 placed, more like fiends in Pandemonium, than human beings, as 
 the red light of the fire fell upon their distorted figures. The 
 rays of the fire, when burning brightest, fell distinctly upon the 
 form of Ichabod; but as the drunkenness increased, and the 
 light diminished, he was thrown into a shadow. His guard 
 labored under a strong desire to get a taste of the whiskey ; for 
 he would occasionally walk at a distance of three or four rods 
 from him, where he would stand, looking towards the fire, until 
 a fear for the security of his prisoner would steal across his 
 mind, when he would rapidly return; and, perceiving by a 
 glance that all was right, would, after a few moments, again 
 move slowly in the direction of the fire. His guard had thua 
 Mt him, for the second time, when, as he fancied, he heard his 
 name faintly whispered behind him. In a moment afterwards, 
 the thongs that bound his feet, hands and ghoulders, were oul^ 
 
THE FRONTIERSMEN. 119 
 
 leaving fastened, only that which bound him by the waist. 
 The friend, whoever it was, that had performed this kindly act, 
 doubtless knew that it would not do to unbind him completely, 
 at once, as the tightness of the ligatures, and the length of tht 
 confinement, would be apt to deprive the prisoner, for a few 
 moments, of the free use of his limbs. The thongs that had 
 been cut, were so disposed that the guard, on his return, without 
 i very close observation, would not be able to discover the de- 
 <6ption. The unknown friend had evidently planted himself 
 behind the tree to which Ichabod was fastened, waiting for the 
 proper moment to sever the remaining thong. 
 
 " Know friend ?" asked a voice, in a whisper, which Ichabod 
 iflmediately recognized. 
 
 ^'Ah! is it you. Eagle's- Wing ? I might have known that, 
 thiugh. No one else would have dared to do such a thing," 
 
 'This nothing, when Injins drunk. Poor Injin that get drunk. 
 SaJ, when ready to have other thong cut." 
 
 "JDon't be in a hurry. Eagle's- Wing. You see that red devil, 
 yoriBer, that's been set here to guard me? He's got my rifle, 
 andl want it. Wait till he comes up here again, and when he 
 has Wrly got his back turned, then cut the thong : or, if you've 
 got aspare knife, just give me that, and I'll cut it myself, while 
 you fet the rifle. Hush ! he's coming." 
 
 Th\ Seneca advanced rapidly, evidently fearful that some acci- 
 dent light have happened during his long absence. At thir 
 momeit, a large quantity of brush was thrown upon the firOj 
 which llmost wholly — for a few moments — obscured the light, 
 and le^ them buried in thick darkness. This might be a cir- 
 cumstance either favorable or unfavorable, depending, however, 
 upon tU suspicious nature of the Indian. As it seemed, he was 
 more thn usually suspicious; and Ichabod breathed shorter, 
 and the 'uscarora prepared for a sudden spring upon him, as the 
 Seneca £(vanced close to Ichabod; and, with the intention of 
 ascertainig that his prisoner was safe, he reached out his hand 
 to feel ofthe thongs. Fortunately, his hand fell upon that 
 which renjtined uncut, about the waist of Ichabod, which he 
 slightly je^^ed ; and feeling it secure, did not examine any further, 
 but turnedlas if to walk back towards the fire. At this mo- 
 ment, a knfc was passed to Ichabod by the Tuscarora, and at 
 the same iniant, the latter darted upon the Seneca, and struck 
 him througlihe back with his knife. There was no struggle — • 
 no shriek, no;ound that could have been heard four rods distant, 
 even ; for tb blade had, doubtless, pierced the heart of the 
 Seneca, and h\f^lj with a slight shudder, forwards, on his face. 
 The Tuscarorifeeized the rifle of Ichabod, and before the latter 
 had fairly unlgtened himself from the tree, he had secured 
 beneath his belthe scalp of the unfortunate Seneca. 
 « Three scalp Awar-path," said Eagle's-Wing. *' That uot btd," 
 
ISO THE FBONTIISSICIK. 
 
 * I am sorry that you should stick to that heathenish custom, 
 Eagle's-Wing," said Ichabod; "but there's no use talking abouk 
 it. An Injin's an Injin, and I suppose he must fight like an 
 Injin." 
 
 Guided by the Tuscarora, Ichabod proceeded to the border of 
 the clearing — but beyond the circle of light thrown by the fire — 
 to the distance of eight or ten rods, where they found Raph, 
 anxiously waiting the result of Eagle's- Wing's enterprise. F-'om 
 his position, while the fire was burning, he was able to see !>oth 
 Ichabod and the Tuscarora, until the moment when the giard 
 had returned to the tree, when the obscurity had withdiawn 
 them from his sight. The sudden renewal of the light, a? the 
 fire leaped and crackled among the dry branches, showed him 
 that they had escaped ; and it was with no little pleasure that 
 be again grasped the honest hand of Ichabod. 
 
 But there was yet another undertaking to be performed— and 
 that was, the release of both Ruth and Singing-Bird. Ralph 
 and Eagle's-Wing had hit upon a plan by which they hped to 
 accomplish their purpose ; and it was rapidly communicted to 
 Ichabod, who approved of it ; when they immediately se about 
 putting it into execution. 
 
 The lodge occupied by the two prisoners whom tby now 
 sought to release, was, as we have already mentioned, sitiated in 
 the centre of a circle of lodges. The fire which the savges had 
 kindled, was near the centre of the circle, and was in close 
 proximity, therefore, to the lodge occupied by Ruth andSinging- 
 Bird : but the fire was on the south of it, so that the ?orth side 
 of the lodge, as well as the lodges immediately in the ear, were 
 thrown into the shade. When the hurried communiation was 
 made to Ichabod, of the plan proposed, they wer standing 
 directly in the rear of the lodge, and at a distance f only ten 
 or fifteen rods from the outer lodges. It was neossary that 
 their plan should be put in execution at once, as at ay moment 
 the discovery of Ichabod's escape might be mad, when the 
 Indians would set off in pursuit ; and without theirpresent plan 
 could, therefore, be executed before that event shuld happen, 
 it would be likely to fail altogether. 
 
 They advanced cautiously towards the lodges ; ad when thej 
 arrived at a point where they had them in full rw, as well as 
 the Senecas, who were yet dancing and screaring about the 
 fire, they congratcjlated themselves on the fact, hat no Indian 
 was to be discovered in the direction in whicbthey wished to 
 proceed. They had reached within six rods of te outer lodges, 
 and Eagles- Wing had already thrown himself von the ground, 
 with the intention of creeping forward in thf position, when 
 Guthrie was seen, accompanied by Pantherapproaching the 
 lodge occupied by the two female prisoners, bey came within 
 a few feet of it, when they sat down upon a & engaged, app»* 
 
VBI rRONTISRSMCir. 121 
 
 fwitl7, in earnest conversation. Their voices could be heard 
 occasionally ; and although their precise conversation could not 
 be ascertained, it was obvious that Guthrie was warmly insisting 
 upon some measure that was opposed to Panther. Once or twice 
 Ralph thought he detected the name of Ruth Barton, as Guthrie 
 was expostulating in a somewhat louder tone of voice than usual. 
 Knowing the unscrupulous nature of the villain, he felt, by a 
 sort of instinct, that Panther, in that conversation, for some rea* 
 son of his own, was occupying a position in accordance with his 
 own sentiments and feelings. 
 
 The presence of these two individuals disconcerted the whole 
 plan of operations. It was a difficulty which had not been an- 
 ticipated. After waiting for a short time, and seeing that neither 
 Guthrie nor Panther showed any immediate intention of remov- 
 ing, they anxiously sought for some other plan, by which to 
 accomplish their purpose. But ere that was done, Panther, to 
 their great joy, arose and departed in the direction of the fire. 
 Guthrie now remained alone. The Tuscarora significantly drevr 
 his knife, and pointed towards him ; but Ichabod, at once, ex- 
 pressed his dissent. 
 
 '• That will never do, Eagle's-Wing. You can't do that twice 
 in one hour, and have it succeed ; for if he makes the slightest 
 noise, we shall be obliged to take to our heels. No — that won't 
 do. I have it," said he, with a sudden idea, " and I'll do a little 
 business of my own, at the same time ;" and, after whispering a 
 few words to his companions, he cautiously crept backwards into 
 the wood, and then proceeded as cautiously in a westward direc- 
 tion, until he had reached a point sufficiently out of the course 
 that it would be necessary for Ralph and Eagle's-Wing to pur- 
 sue in making their escape. 
 
 Guthrie, in the meantime, remained seated in the same position 
 which he had occupied during the conversation with Panther. 
 He was evidently in a better mood ; for, with his cap slouched 
 over his eyes, and his head leaning upon his hand, he seemed to 
 be muttering his grievances to himself. All at once, his ears 
 were saluted with the peculiar grunt or growl of a bear. He 
 raised his head, turned slowly round, and looked backwards 
 toward the forest ; then, examining his rifle, raised himself upon 
 his feet. Now, a bear, in the days of which we are writing, was 
 not, by any means, a very uncommon object with the hunter in 
 this porMon of the State ; but those animals were sufficiently 
 scarce, so that the capture of one, while it added largely to one's 
 stock of provisions, also added very much to the reputation of 
 the hunter. Guthrie,- notwithstanding the mood which seemed 
 to be upon him, did not choose to neglect so favorable an oppor 
 tunity of, at the same time, ministering to the appetites of hii 
 companions, and to his own reputation as a skilful hunter. He 
 again heard the growl of the bear, and, looking cautiously about 
 
122 THE FBONTIERSMEK. 
 
 to see that no one else had noticed the proximity of the fayonte 
 game, he moved slowly forward towards the forest. 
 
 When he had advanced to a point where his back was turned 
 towards the position occupied by Ralph and Eagle's-Wing, the 
 latter crept quickly forward in the direction of the lodge; he 
 passed the outer lodge, and halting for a moment to see that 
 he was not observed, moved again rapidly towards the lodge 
 where he expected to find Ruth and her companion. 
 
 As Guthrie advanced into the forest, Ichabod, from whom the 
 sounds had proceeded that attracted his attention, moved as cau- 
 tiously before him, occasionally, however, imitating the growl of 
 the animal he was personating, so as to keep Guthrie from stray- 
 ing from the right direction. In this manner, he had succeeded 
 in leading Guthrie nearly half a mile from the lodges of the 
 Senecas, when, as he believed that before that time, Ralph and 
 Eagle's-Wing must have succeeded in their efforts, as a failure on 
 their part would have been signalled by the cries of the enemy, 
 he determined to end the hunt upon which Guthrie was engaged, 
 by letting him know the precise game of which he had been in 
 pursuit. Secreting himself behind a tree, that he might not be 
 too early discovered by Guthrie, as it was not so dark but that 
 objects at two or three rods' distance might be discerned with 
 tolerable accuracy, he waited the coming of his enemy. As 
 Guthrie was about passing him, slightly bent forward, as in the 
 attempt to pierce into the obscurity of the forest, he leaped upon 
 him and pinioned him in his muscular arms. In a moment more, 
 Guthrie was disarmed, and was lying helplessly upon the ground, 
 his hands being securely fastened by a cord which Ichabod had 
 drawn from his pocket. Guthrie, in his astonishment and fear, 
 had not yet recognized the person of his captor. 
 
 " Get up here, you infarnal villain !" cried Ichabod ; " what's 
 the use of lying upon the ground, when you can just as well 
 stand on your feet ?" and he caught hold of him to assist him 
 in rising. Guthrie now saw that he was in the power of Icha- 
 bod — and at once, with the characteristic meanness and cow* 
 ardice of a rascal, began to beg for life. 
 
 " You judge of me, I reckon," said Ichabod, with contempt, "by 
 vhat you'd do yourself, were you in my place, you white-livered 
 Tory. Stop your howling. I don't intend to kill you. I never 
 do that kind of thing in cold blood ; and yet I don't know why 
 a man's conscience should be burdened any by smothering the 
 venom of such a reptile as this, any where he can catch him." 
 
 Ichabod surveyed the miserable wretch for a few moments, 
 with a mixture of disgust, contempt, and pity. Fear seemed to 
 deprive him of all rational power of speech, and he testififid his 
 agony by sobs and shrieks. Ichabod drew from his pocket an- 
 other cord. 
 
 "I'll tell you what, you infarnal traitor, you shall have % 
 
THE FRONTIEBSMEN. 128 
 
 iouch of the same fare you sarved up for mo ; only you won't 
 lave anybody to guard you from the bears and wolves. You'll 
 je tied up to this tree to-night ; and if your friends find you 
 scattered round in pieces in the morning, it will be the fault of 
 ;he bears and wolves, and not mine." 
 
 With this, he fastened him securely to the tree. Then shoul- 
 lering his rifle, he exclaimed, amidst the shrieks of the miserable 
 RTctch for help — 
 
 " You're a Tory, a traitor, and a liar ; and there's no use in 
 isking God to have marcy on your soul, under any circum- 
 itances. All I've got to say is, before bidding you good-nigkt, 
 ;hat if you escape from here, and your miserable carcass ever 
 jTOsses my path, I'll shoot you as I would a wolf." 
 
 So saying, he departed in a north-easterly direction, towards 
 he clump of willows where the canoe of Eagle's-Wing was con- 
 jealed. This spot had been agreed upon as the rendezvous ; and 
 [chabod walked rapidly, spurred on by the excitements of the 
 lay through which he had already passed, and by the hope of 
 neeting all his friends once more in safety. For nearly a quar- 
 «r of a mile, the shrieks of Guthrie could be heard, mingled with 
 )aths and cries for help ; but soon these sounds failed to reach 
 lis ears, and he was alone amidst the silence of the forest. 
 
 ^♦» 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 ** The bow has lost its wonted spring, 
 The arrow falters on the wing, 
 Nor carries ruin from the string, 
 To end their being and our woes." 
 
 Fbbkeait. 
 
 The Tuscarora, after the departure of Ichabod, followed by" 
 Buthrie, cautiously crept towards the lodge in which he expected 
 X) find Ruth and Singing-Bird. This he was enabled to do in 
 jomparative safety, as he moved in a deep shadow ; and his only 
 ianger consisted in the chance of meeting some straggling Sen- 
 jca, or some one who might have been selected as a guard for 
 this particular quarter. But, without interruption, he gained 
 the side of tne lodge, the entrance to which was upon the west ; 
 aut he could not reach it without a momentary exposure of his 
 person to the eyes of any one who might chance to be looking in 
 ihat direction. Arriving at this point, he paused, and began imi- 
 tating the shrill whistle or screech of the tree-toad, which, it 
 jeems. had been agreed upon between him and Singing-Bird, as 
 I signal of his presence, in any emergency like the present. To 
 liis surprise, he received no answer. Again he gave the signalf 
 
124 THE FRONTIERSMEN. 
 
 but DO answer was returned. A cold shudder ran through thi 
 frame of the Tuscarora, as he feared that the prisoners had been 
 removed, and that their enterprise must fail. But he was de- 
 termined to realize his worst fears by an examination of the 
 interior of this lodge. With this view, he advanced to the ex- 
 treme point where his person could be obscured in the shadow— 
 a distance of six or eight feet from the entrance. He darted 
 forward, with an agility quickened by the mixture of hope and 
 fear, and found himself within the lodge. It was empty. For a 
 moment, the impassable nature of the savage was overpowered, 
 and he gazed around him with a look of despair ; and a shudder 
 passed over him, that shook his strong frame as a leaf is shaken 
 by the wind. But despair could not bring relief, and activity 
 and courage only could retrieve the time that had been lost. 
 Again he passed the entrance, and with the same caution retreated 
 to the place where he had left his companion. 
 
 " They are gone !" he said. ,«, 
 
 " Gone ?" exclaimed Ralph. 1 ' 
 
 But at the same moment a yell was heard ; and they beheld 
 the Indians darting from the fire towards the spot where Ichabod 
 had been confined. It was now too late ; their only hope was 
 in flight. A few moments was left them, ere the Senecas would 
 be upon their track ; for the savages would readily comprehend 
 that the escaped prisoner would fly in the direction of the cot- 
 tage. Ralph and Eagle's-Wing hesitated for a moment ; the last 
 hope of relief to the unfortunate prisoners seemed extinguished 
 by this premature discovery of the flight of Ichabod. They 
 darted into the forest, and rapidly ran in the direction of the 
 rendezvous which had been agreed upon with their friend. Some ; 
 little time elapsed, ere they discovered that they were pursued ; 
 but another, and wilder and fiercer yell from the Indians, deno- 
 ted that some new discovery had taken place, which had excited ' 
 them still more. Had Ichabod been again captured ? That 
 could not well be ; as he had but a short time before left them ; 
 and they knew that he did not intend to return again to the 
 lodges of tiie Senecas. A hope sprang to the heart of Ralph, that 
 perhaps Ruth and Singing-Bird had also escaped ; and that the 
 Senecas had but just ascertained that these, the most prized of 
 their prisoners, had fled. But the hope was too faint, too weak, I 
 to revive his drooping spirits. 
 
 They were now conscious that they were pursued, and that] 
 their pursuers could not be. at the most, more than a hundred 
 rods behind them. It was yet half a mile to the rendezvous j but' 
 they were both inured to exercise ; and they ran with an eise 
 and freedom, that promised to keep at least that distance betweea 
 them and their pursuers. After the cries of the Senecas which 
 iiad first fallen upon their ears, had died in the silence, occa* 
 jionally was heard a wild shriek behind them ; but at length 
 
 
THE FRONTIERSMEN. 125 
 
 fheso entirely ceased. It was a chase of life and death — the 
 silence of the forest was unbroken by any sound save that 
 of its own music, answering to the gentle pressure of the wind ; 
 but they knew well that this silence was owing to the caution of 
 their unrelenting enemies. 
 
 They arrived, panting at the rendezvous. Eagle's- Wing 
 darted into the clump of willows, with the expectation of behold- 
 ing Ichabod ; but he was not there. What was now to be done ? 
 Should they remain here, or continue their flight towards the 
 cottage ? It was fully a mile distant ; and yet, were they to bo 
 absent, should the Senecas again attack it, as they would be 
 likely to do, in their present excitement. Barton and the negro 
 would, perhaps, be unable to defend it ; and they, too, would fall 
 into the hands of the Senecas, from whom no mercy could now 
 be expected They must continue their flight ; it was the only 
 course. A few moments had been lost in this brief consultation ; 
 but the time lost had served to give them new energy for flight. 
 
 They proceeded onward with the same rapidity ; the shanty 
 was passed ; and they reached the path leading from the cottaga 
 into the valley. They had arrived within a quarter of a mile of 
 the cottage, when they discovered persons moving before them, 
 in the same path in which they were traveling. They relaxed 
 their speed, and advanced with more caution than they had yet 
 observed. But, cautious as they were, their approach was 
 detected by the persons they had observed. 
 
 " Speak, or I fire !" shouted the stentorian voice of Ichabod. 
 
 " Ichabod !" exclaimed Ralph, who with Eagle's- Wing now 
 rapidly approached; and what was their surprise and joy, as 
 they beheld with their friend, both Ruth and Singing-Bird. 
 
 Hearty were the salutations, and joyful the greetings between 
 the re-united friends ; but Ralph quickly explained the situation 
 of matters ; and the fact that the Senecas must be within a hun- 
 dred rods of them, at least. 
 
 They had yet time to reach the cottage. Their flight was neces- 
 sarily slow ; but the Indians must run at least two rods to their 
 one, to overtake them. This was great odds, under ordinary cir- 
 cumstances ; but, although Singing-Bird was more used to thia 
 species of exercise than Ruth, yet even she was fatigued already ; 
 but the energy that fear will give, even when the physical powers 
 are over-taxed, supported Ruth for a while. They were in sight 
 of the cottage — it was not more than a furlong distant, when 
 Ruth, who had been partially supported by Ralph, to this pointy 
 fell faintiug into his arms. Yet sustaining her insensible form^ 
 he still advanced rapidly towards the cottage. It was now evi- 
 dent that some of their pursuers were close behind them ; a fierce 
 yell communicated to them the fact, that they had been discov- 
 ered; and a wild scream from twenty throats a few rods.moMi 
 distant denoted that their pursuers was rapidly overtaking thMHk 
 
126 THE FRONTIERSMEN, 
 
 *PI1 have a crack at that Tnjin. any way," exclaimed Tchabod ; 
 as the foremost Seneca came leaping towards them. Excited by 
 the chase, he did not stop to count the odds ; but with upraised 
 tomahawk, the Indian rushed towards the flying group. Ichabod 
 fired ; and the scream of the Indian denoted that the ball had 
 taken effect. It had, at least, learned him moderation ; and he 
 stopped leaning against a tree, awaiting the approach of his com- 
 panions. 
 
 They passed the grove — the cottage door was opened, and Bar- 
 ion advanced to meet them. A moment more, and they had 
 passed the treshhold, and the <2oor was barred. At this instant, 
 the pursuers came rushing into the grove ; and fierce and wild 
 were the shrieks of anger, bs they saw their escaped prisoners 
 shut from their view. 
 
 We will take this opport»inity, while the reunited friends are 
 exchanging their congratulations at once more beholding each 
 Dther in safety, to narrate briefly the history of the escape of 
 Ruth and Singing-Bird. 
 
 It has been said that Singmg-Bird, by the use of a little dupli 
 city, had been able partially to deceive the Senecas. She had 
 been able to make Panther believe that when they had once 
 reached the country of the Senecas, beyond the lakes, she would 
 yield to his wishes, and become his wife. From the time that 
 Panther had formed this belief, she was much less carefully 
 watched ; and had such opportunities to escape, that nothing but 
 her ignorance of the place where Eagle's-Wing was to be found, 
 had prevented her from improving them. When Ruth was 
 brought in as a captive, and she had ascertained the precise 
 condition of matters, she at once resolved to fly, on the first 
 opportunity. The same incident which had formed the escape of 
 Ichabod— the debauch of the Indians — presented the opportunity 
 she wished ; and taking a favorable moment, when the larger 
 portion of the Senecas were gathered about the fire, and the few 
 who remained sober, were distributed as guards over a much 
 larger space than usual, she and Ruth issued from the lodge. 
 They passed the precise spot, which, but a few moments later, 
 was occupied by Ralph and the Tuscarora — and entered the 
 forest. At first, excited by the hope of liberty, and the fear of 
 detection, they fled with a speed which their strength and power 
 of endurance would not allow them long to continue ; but as 
 they began to feel the fatigue incident upon their efforts, and as 
 they were not able to ascertain that the Senecas had learned 
 their flight, they slackened their speed, and walked with as much 
 rapidity as the nature of the ground would allow. They endea- 
 vored to keep a straight north-westerly course ; and by doing sOj 
 they would naturally reach that point on the river, which had 
 been selected, although unknown to them, by Ichabod and his 
 firiendfi^ for a rendezvous, 
 
h 
 
 THE FRONTIERSMEN. 127 
 
 They did, in fact, reach that particular spot ; and were passirig 
 by it, when Ichabod, who had just before reached it. to hi» 
 exceeding surprise beheld them, and at once presented himself, 
 calling them by name, to prevent the fear which they would 
 naturally feel, had he suddenly shown himself, when in the 
 darkness, perhaps, they would not have been able to recognize 
 him. 
 
 He informed them of the fact that Ralph and Eagle s-Wing 
 were then engaged in efforts for their escape ; and he debated 
 for a few moments with himself, whether they should remain at 
 the rendezvous, and wait the coming of their friends, or proceed 
 towards the cottage. But the consideration, that should Ralph 
 and Eagle's-Wing be discovered^ oi should the Indians ascertain 
 the flight of himself and his companions, their positio« at the 
 rendezvous would be much less safe, encumbered as they would be 
 with companions whom it would be necessary to protect, and 
 who could not add to the means of defence, determined him to 
 proceed ; and they set off immediately, in the direction of the 
 cottage. The rest of the story has been already told. 
 
 When the family and friends found themselves once more 
 united in the cottage, after the first hearty congratulations, they 
 proceeded to observe the dispositions made by the Indians ; and 
 to discover, if possible, what might be their plan of operations^ 
 The grove by this time was filled with enemies ; and a few, even, 
 had advanced upon the lawn between the grove and the cottage ^ 
 but they were soon recalled to their ideas of safety and self-pro- 
 tection, by the discharge of the rifles of Ichabod and the Tusca- 
 rora, not without effect. These more adventurous Senecas, imme- 
 diately retired. 
 
 All necessary and proper precautions were at once taken ; but 
 the Indians made no movement that indicated an immediate 
 attack. It was probable, even, that the result of their former 
 attack, might altogether discourage them from a new attempt ; 
 but whatever was their intention, they were careful not to give 
 any intimation of it. Within the grove, they were not, in the 
 darkness, visible from the cottage, and it was only after a 
 number of hours had passed, without any indications of an 
 attack, that it was thought they would be left in peace for the 
 night. 
 
 The proper precautions for safety were taken ; and the over 
 vrorn and over-tasked defenders of the cottage sought a brokeB 
 repo89 
 
128 TBK rBOKTIEBSMIV. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " The miserable have no other medicine. 
 But only hope ; 
 I have hope to live." 
 
 Measubb for Miasvbi. 
 
 The mttPtiing sun arose bright and cheerful, with promise of 
 ■©ne of thoae fair autumnal days which has crowned this pecu- 
 liar season, as the '• sweetest, saddest of the year." The inmates 
 of the cottage, too, arose refreshed by a few hours of repose, and 
 with energies strengthened for the labors or dangers of the day. 
 They were once more united. The malice of their enemies had 
 been defeated, and the courage and inspiration which are derived 
 from success, gave promise of ultimate triumph over all their 
 diflBculties. 
 
 The morning meal passed off happily and cheerfully ; and Ruth 
 notwithstanding the excitement and fatigue of the preceding 
 evening, possessed all that sweetness and calmness of spirit which 
 had so much charmed Ralph, on the evening of his arrival. 
 
 " Really, Captain Weston," she said, "you must have a strange 
 idea of this valley. You have been with us but four days, and 
 we have had in that brief time, an Indian war — sieges and bat- 
 ties — captivities and escapes." 
 
 " I must say, Miss Barton, that you have provided me with 
 one entertainment to which I was not invited ; but we may hope 
 now, that the '' piping days of peace" are come. Your father has 
 some fine trout-fishing yet in reserve for me, and Jenkins wishes 
 to survey his location for a factory and city lots." 
 
 This rally at Ichabod was received with considerable merri- 
 ment, but he was not at all disconcerted. 
 
 " You may laugh at that idea, Captin," said he, " but it isn't 
 laughing at a sensible thing that makes it ridiculous. But I was 
 rather provoked, when I proposed that idea to them Senecas in 
 full council, and offered to provide 'em with cloth for pantaloons, 
 coats and jackets, to see the pervarse creturs insist upon sticking 
 to their Tnjin, heathenish sort of garments. But, after all, it is 
 an innovation on their old habits, and I shall have to begin by fit- 
 ting up Eagle's-Wing with Christian clothes, and send him out as 
 a missionary on that business. 
 
 " No good for Injin to wear pale-face clothes," said the Tusca- 
 rora, with contempt. "How Injin look dressed like white 
 man?" 
 
 " There you go !" exclaimed Ichabod. " Seneca or Tuscarora, 
 it don't make any difference. If I was going to convart the In- 
 jins, the first step I should take, would be to send out a cargo q$ 
 
THE FRONTIERSMEN 121> 
 
 tailors; for I do believe that if you could only get them to put 
 on decent clothes, they'd be willing to take up a decent religion." 
 
 " That's a new idea, certainly," said Ruth ; " but I should pity 
 the unfortunate workmen. They would scarcely make a living 
 at the business." 
 
 "The idea is not unphilosophical," said Ralph, laughing. 
 " Ideas are very much like clothes. They are just as easily put 
 off or on ; and to conquer the prejudices of the Indians in one 
 respect, would be to conquer them in another. It is a pity, Icha- 
 bod, that you had not lived to be a coadjutor with Elliot. The 
 result of his labors might have been vastly different." 
 
 " Well," replied Ichabod, '* I never did know a new idea that 
 wasn't laughed at. I suppose you want to have your fun at me, 
 but I'll live to have mine at you, yet." 
 
 While the family were at breakfast, Sambo had been sent out 
 to overlook the surrounding country for any signs of Indians. 
 He now came running in to say tha*; a " whole army of Injins was 
 coming, and no mistake." 
 
 At this alarm, the par*"y at once betook themselves to their 
 defences ; and from the lookouts they endeavored to get a sight 
 of the approaching enemy. 
 
 " The lying nigger ! " exclaimed Ichabod. " Only one Injiiit 
 and without we'pons at that." 
 
 " He is evidently coming with a message of some sort or other,'' 
 said Barton. " Suppose you go, Ralph, and hear what he has to 
 say." 
 
 Ralph went out towards the grove where the Indian was wait- 
 ing for him. As he approached the Seneca, the latter took from 
 his belt a letter and delivered it to him. 
 
 " Pale-face prisoners send letter to talk," said the Seneca, as he 
 surveved the document with a sort of superstitious fear. " Hear 
 him talk, eh ? " 
 
 " Perhaps so." answered Ralph. " I will give you an answer 
 soon, if it should need one," and he again entered the cottage, 
 while the Indian threw himself lazily upon the ground. 
 
 When Ralph reached the room where the inmates were assem- 
 bled, much speculation was going on as to the probable contents 
 of the letter ; for its delivery to Ralph had been observed. It 
 was evident that it must have been written by the attorney ; and 
 it was immediately opened, and the contents read aloud by Ralph. 
 The letter ran thus : 
 
 " To Esquire Barton, or to whomsoever these presents shall 
 come, Greeting: 
 
 " Sir — I am requested by that excellent but somewhat irasci- 
 ble chief. Panther, to address you a few lines — although I can 
 scarcely say that they are written in a professional capacity. He 
 has just advised me that he holds the Deputy Sheriff and myself 
 ID hi9 hands, as a sort of equivalent for a certain Tuscarora Indian 
 
130 THE FRONTIERSMEN. ^ 
 
 And his squaw, supposed and believed to be now at the cottage : 
 and he has even gone so far, though in a very civil manner, as ti 
 inform me, that without the said Indian and his squaw are dft^ 
 livered to him, he will be under the necessity of executing upoii 
 us some horrid species of capital punishment, for which I knov^ 
 no technical name ; and for which, I think, none is to be found idi 
 the most approved authorities. He has requested me, as he him- 
 self is not skilled in clerical matters, to write this, and to sayj 
 that he proposes a consultation, at which said matter shall be con^J 
 sidered, and at which shall be present, besides myself and thd 
 said Deputy Sheriff, Rogers, two of each party, unarmed ; th^ 
 meeting to take place in the grove south of the cottage. Thii 
 line is forwarded by the bearer, who is to precede us by half 
 hour. 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 
 John Baqsley.*' 
 P. S. Should Mr. Ichabod Jenkins be present at the cottage,! 
 I hope that he will consider himself under arrest, although a 
 manual touching was not actually made upon his person, unfor-j 
 tunate circumstances preventing. Should he decline to consid 
 er himself under arrest, I hope that he may be detained until, 
 our arrival, and the making of the proposed exchange." 
 
 Ralph could not restrain his laughter as he read this curious! 
 epistle. The quiet confidence with which the attorney assumed ' 
 that the exchange would at once be made, and the business-like I 
 appeal to Ichabod, were sufficiently provocative of a smile from] 
 all, except Ichabod, who did not seem to relish this public 
 reminder of the unfortunate result of some of his previous specu- 
 lations. But it was deemed advisable to consent to the meet- 
 ing, as it was possible that some result might be arrived at, which 
 would terminate the present difficulties. 
 
 Ralph therefore informed the Seneca that they would con- 
 sent to treat with Panther on the terms proposed, at the time 
 appointed ; and the Indian at once departed to convey the 
 answer. 
 
 "' This attorney is a strange man," said Barton : " and he has 
 probably involved himself and his companion in a difficulty from 
 which they will not be able to escape." 
 
 "Who wants him to escape ?" growled Ichabod, "A Seneca 
 even, is a gentleman, compared with one of those sneaking attor- 
 neys; and yet, perhaps, it wouldn't be right not to try to save 
 the creturs ; seeing as how they're human flesh and blood ; 
 but if we do save 'em, I suppose I must bid you good-bye, and 
 start for the settlements." 
 
 " Don't be discouraged, Ichabod," said Ralph ; " we shall 
 probably find some means to relieve you, should you be actuftliy 
 arrested. But the first thing is, to get these imfortuziate meo 
 
THE FRONTIERSMIV. 181 
 
 from the hands of the Senecas. They would seem to iuaist, from 
 the letter, that Eagle's- Wing and Singing- Bird should be delir- 
 ered up to them. If no other terms than these are proposed. Bags- 
 ley and his companion will have to sulfcr the penalty of their 
 temerity. They were well advised beforehand." 
 
 '' Dey lose scalp : don't know enough to keep 'em," said 
 Eagle's-Wing. " What scalp good for, if they don't know 'nough 
 to keep Tnjin from taking 'era ?" 
 
 '•It may be a small matter to you, Eagle's-Wing," said Bar- 
 ton, laughing, " but these prisoners would probably think their 
 scalps of great importance to- themselves. But if I am not 
 mistaken, I see them approaching through the grove. I would 
 suggest that Ralph and myself be selected for this meeting. You, 
 Ichabod, and the Tuscarora, would be too likely to provoke an 
 unfortunate termination of the matter, by the anger your pres- 
 -ence would excite." 
 
 This selection was agreed to ; and Ralph and Barton walked 
 towards the grove, to the same place where the former consulta- 
 tion had been held. As they arrived at this spot, they saw 
 approaching, at a few rods distance, Bagsley and the Deputy 
 Sheriff", who were only bound by a strong thong passed around 
 the left arm of Bagsley and the right arm of Rogers ; so that 
 they were effectually coupled. As Rogers was much taller than 
 the attorney, the confinement seemed to be equally irksome ; for, 
 while the attorney was compelled to walk in a much more than 
 usually erect position, his companion was compelled to stoop 
 enough to meet him half-way. It was a compromise that did 
 not seem to have the effect of pleasing either, and gave rise to 
 frequent altercations between them ; the attorney insisting that 
 Rogers did not stoop enough, and the bailiff swearing that 
 Bagsley did not lift himself up enough, to divide equally the dif- 
 ficulty. 
 
 They were accompanied by our old acquaintances, Deersfoot and 
 Snake-tongue, who marched beside them with a steady gravity, 
 which no one but an Indian could have preserved. When they 
 peached the small plot of green-sward, the Indians made brief but 
 dignified salutations to Barton and Ralph, who returned them in 
 as brief and dignified a manner. But Bagsley made an effort to 
 rush forward to grasp Barton by the hand, but he was withheld 
 by the weight of his more saturnine companion. 
 
 *'How often am I compelled to inform you. Mi. Rogers," said 
 Bagsley with irritation, " that the line of conduct adopted by 
 you. is neither in accordance with courtesy nor good breeding 7 
 Could yon not see that there is a propriety in accosting our 
 friends with warmth, who are about to relieve us from an 
 unpleasant situation ? I declare, that under no circumstances, 
 will I ever consent to be so closely united with you again. But 
 •zoose mOj gentlemen. You will pardon any seeaung disrespect, 
 
183 THE FRONTIEBSMBN. 
 
 under the circumstances," casting a contemptuous glance OY«if 
 his left shoulder. 
 
 "There's no use in blowing up a fellow in this fashion/ 
 answered Rogers. " You hang down on me so, that it's no 
 wonder I don't stir any more than I'm obliged to." 
 
 " Good day to you both," said Barton. "I am sorry to see you 
 in such a situation ; but you will give me the credit of having 
 prophesied such a result to you." 
 
 " I must say, that the advise you. gave us, was not far from 
 correct," answered Bagsley ; " but I relied upon the majesty of 
 the law, and the sanctity of our persons, as its humble officers, 
 as sufficient to protect us ; and I am well convinced, that were 
 our red friends to suffer me to instruct them in some of its ele- 
 mentary principles, they would see the error of their conduct, 
 and discharge us with a proper acknowledgment in satisfaction 
 of damages. But I am sorry to say, that they have thus far 
 refused to listen to instruction relative to a system of jurispru- 
 dence, adorned by the writings of Bacon and Coke, and illumined 
 and embellished by the lives of Hale and Mansfeld, and I 
 
 really wish, Mr. Rogers, that you would suffer your person to 
 become a little more pliable." This interruption was occasioned 
 by Rogers having risen erect, in an attempt to illustrate the dig- 
 nity of the profession of which he was an officer ; and the conse- 
 quence was, that the attorney found himself lifted from his feet, 
 and suspended in the air. 
 
 " I arn't to blame," said Rogers gruffly, " for your being so 
 small. Lay that to them as it belongs to." 
 
 " After the notice which you have received, gentlemen, " said 
 Bagsley, now opening the business of the meeting, " it cannot be 
 necessary for me to state the object of this consultation. You 
 are aware that Mr. Rogers and myself have fallen into the power 
 of our red friends, without legal warrant or authority on their 
 part ; by which act, they have undoubtedly become liable to us 
 in damages. But they allege, that they are sovereign in them- 
 selves, and only amenable to their own laws ; but as they are 
 now in the county of Tryon, this position is anomalous, to say 
 the least; it is an establishment of an imperium in imperiOf 
 which cannot exist — as I could substantiate by the authority of 
 the best legal writers. But, notwithstanding such points and 
 arguments as I have presented, and — as Mr. Rogers will admit, 
 with considerable force — they adhere to their first expressed 
 opinion as a poinrces adjudicata, and refuse to release us, 
 except upon terms. I have the more readily consented to those 
 terms, as I am not called upon in any way to release our rights 
 of action for damages." 
 
 " May I ask the precise nature of the terms you mention J 
 inquired Ralph. 
 
 " Of course, Captain Weston ; that is a proper subject of inquiiy 
 
TBI ffiONTIEBSMEV. 183 
 
 The terms, in themselres, are easy, and I must say, much easier 
 than could have been expected. They are, that we shall be 
 released, on the delivery to them of a certain Indian and hia 
 squaw, who are somewhere hereabouts." 
 
 " I know the Indian to whom you allude," said Ralph. " The 
 Stnecas have already endeavored to obtain posession of him, after 
 having grievously wronged him ; and we have thus far defended 
 him, at the risk of our lives." 
 
 " I know nothing about the original difficulty between this 
 Indian and the Senecas," said Bagsley, " but whatever it may 
 have been, I think the whole matter can now be amicably adjus 
 ted, and will be. You will deliver him and his squaw, and receive 
 us in exchange : the Senecas will at once depart from this terri- 
 tory, and remove with them that anomaly in our laws of which 
 I have spoken ; while we, having completed the arrest of Mr. 
 Jenkins, will depart also, and the territory will be quiet again." 
 
 The duty which devolved upon Barton and Ralph was becom- 
 ing exceedingly unpleasant. It was hard to undeceive the unfor- 
 tunate attorney, whose confidence in the exchange proposed was 
 so strong. He evidently could not realize that any impediment 
 could stand in the way ; or that Ralph and Barton could hesitate 
 for a moment in releasing them upon terms that seemed so easy,- 
 
 "We have already intimated to you, Mr. Bagsley," said Ralph, 
 with a seriousness that immediately attracted the attention of the 
 attorney, " that the Tuscarora is our friend. He has rendered 
 Mr. Barton and myself services for which we are deeply grateful 
 to him." 
 
 "That, perhaps, complicates the matter, a little," answered 
 Bagsley : " a debt of gratitude, although not strictly a legal obli< 
 gation. and of a nature to be enforced in a court of law, (although 
 it will frequently support an executed contract by way of consid- 
 eration.) is, I must confess, exceedingly hard to be rid of; and 
 perhaps one would not be justifiable in repudiating it upon light 
 occasions ; but the question here presents itself in this manner ; 
 a debt of gratitude upon the one side, which, I have observed, is 
 not actionable, and the lives of two gentlemen of the professio 
 on the other. The preponderance of argument is so obvious, tha 
 I should be wasting time in calling your attention to it." 
 
 " There is an addition to the argument, upon what you. deem 
 the weaker side, that you have forgotten to mention — that is, the 
 lives of our friends, whom you ask us to surrender." 
 
 " That was not a matter unthought-of," said Bagsley, with 
 complacency : " it was merely a point reserved. I cannot bring 
 myself to believe that our red friends would carry matters to the 
 extremity which they have threatened. It was probably only 
 one of those pardonable subterfuges by which we endeavor, in 
 the profession, to bring parties to terms— a matter merely hel4 
 ap in terroremJ^ 
 
134 THK FR0NTIEB3MEK. 
 
 "I hope," «aid Ralph, who was determined to imdeceir© th« 
 attorney at once, " that it may be as you say ; but neither Mr. 
 Barton nor myself, however unpleasant to you or ourselves such 
 a determination may be, can think, for a moment, of surrendering 
 the Tuscarora into the hands of enemies who are thirsting for 
 his blood." 
 
 This announcement, made in a firm tone, but with a look that 
 indicated the sorrow with which it was made, struck the attorney 
 with surprise and fear. A mortal pallor overspread his features. 
 
 " You do not mean, Captain Weston — you cannot mean, Mr. 
 Barton, that you will not release us 1 " 
 
 " Anything that we can do, except the surrender of any of 
 our friends into the hands of the Senecas. we will cheerfully, 
 gladly do. But that, you will yourself see — however unpleasant 
 it may be to you, to acknowledge it — we cannot do." 
 
 " My God ! my God ! " exclaimed Bagsley, forgetting, in his 
 fear, his professional character, " what shall we do ?" 
 
 " I consider it rather hard fare," said Rogers, who being of a 
 more saturnine temperament than the attorney, was not so 
 susceptible to sudden emotions. " If two white men, and pro- 
 fessional gentlemen to boot, arn't reckoned of any more con- 
 sequence than a couple of wild Injins, what's the use of being 
 white folks, I'd like to know 1 " 
 
 Deersfoot and Snake-tongue, who had thus far preserved a per- 
 fect silence, now advanced to take part in the conversation : 
 
 " My brothers know," said Deersfoot, " that they must give us 
 Canendesha and his squaw, or these pale-faces must die. W© 
 have spoken, and so it must be." 
 
 " Deersfoot," said Barton, " I cannot believe that you will put 
 them to death. You are now at peace with the Colonies. These 
 men have done you no harm. Even if you have cause for anger 
 with us, these men are innocent. It would be a murder, for which 
 the Colonists would take ample revenge in burning your villages 
 and destroying your people." 
 
 " They are pale-faces, and that is all we know. If one pale- 
 face does us harm, we will hurt all the pale-faces we can. We 
 have buried the hatchet with the Colonies, and we will not dig 
 it up. We are not on a war-path ; but if we are injured, wt 
 will do what hurt we can. I have spoken." 
 
 " If you do any harm to these men," said Ralph, we will pun- 
 ish you, if we have to follow you to your own country. There 
 are men at the settlements who will take up this quarrel." 
 
 " Let the pale-faces take care of themselves," said Snake- 
 tongue. " They may boast less, by-and-by. We do not boast, 
 but we will do what we can. Our talk is finished. Let us go." 
 
 Deersfoot advanced towards the attorney, who remained as if 
 ■tupified. " Come I" said he, laying his hand upon him. Tli» 
 bttorney shrieked with fear. 
 
THE FRONTISRSMIir. 1S5 
 
 ** For Heavin's sake, Captain Weston — Mr. Barton, do not let 
 these Indians take us back again." 
 
 " We pity you, unfortunate men ; but we cannot help yoa. 
 We wish we could," exclaimed Barton. 
 
 At this moment, Ichabod and the Tuscarora were seen issuing 
 from the door of the cottage, with their rifles in their hands. 
 Their faces expressed a determination that was unmistakable • 
 but at the same instant, a body of Indians was seen ap- 
 proaching at the opposite extremity of the grove. The Indiana 
 had evidently foreseen this result of the consultation, and were 
 now approaching on some mischievous errand. Barton and 
 Ralph immediately departed towards the cottage, into which 
 Ichabod and the Tuscarora also retired, while the attorney and 
 his companion departed in the opposite direction, under guard of 
 the Senecas. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 " And long shall timorous Fancy see 
 The painted chief and pointed spear t 
 And Reason's self shall bow the knee 
 To shadows and delusions here. 
 
 FSIBTBAV. 
 
 DEERsrooT and Snake-tongue, with the two prisoners, after • 
 short distance, met the main body of the Senecas. Beyond the 
 grove was a small strip of partially cleared land, which was 
 covered with a thick green-sward. Here the Indians halted, and 
 immediately held a council, in which to deliberate upon the fate 
 of their prisoners, and upon their future proceedings with refer- 
 ence to the cottage. When the failure of the negotiation was 
 announced, the whole wrath of the Indians was concentrated 
 upon the unfortunate attorney and his companioa. In their eyes, 
 the latter were answerable for all the wrongs which they fancied 
 they had suffered from the pale-faces and their Tuscarora ally at 
 the cottage. 
 
 Bagsley and the bailiff were placed in the centre of a circle of 
 warriors. Rogers maintained a sullen silence, and surveyed the 
 hostile countenances of the Senecas with a look of seeming indif- 
 ference ; but the attorney, trom the moment that the unexpected 
 refusal of Barton and Ralph to exchange him for the Tuscarora 
 had shown him his imminent danger, remained seemingly stupi- 
 fied with ilear. But. as he beheld around him the assemblage of 
 warriors, and a certain appearance of deliberation, he began to 
 recover the use of his faculties. Perhaps he thought that tbt 
 •ot of deliberation implied a doubt of their actual inteution ; 0K| 
 
116 THI FR0NTISR8MI17. 
 
 perhaps, seeing that he might have an opportunity to pi A for 
 his life, he placed some reliance upon his oratorical powers. But, 
 whatever was the cause, it is certam that, in his appearance, he 
 resumed a portion of his professional dignity of demeanor. 
 
 The warriors and their chiefs were assembled in council. 
 Panther, as principal chief, occupied the most prominent situa- 
 tion ; beside him sat Deersfoot and Snake-tongue, and two or 
 three others, who were recognized as superior to the great mass 
 of the Indians. When the assembly had jBnally assumed an 
 appearance of order, the younger chief, whose name was Bears- 
 claw, arose to speak. He had never yet gained a reputation for 
 oratory, and he assumed a modesty and humiliation that were 
 proper to his station. 
 
 " Brothers," said he, " you know my name — it is Bearsclaw ; 
 it is a name which was given to me because I was thought to be 
 strong in struggling with my enemy. I did not deserve it : I 
 should have had a smaller name. I have not the tongue to speak j 
 but I can tell what I think — I think these pale-faces should live, 
 I think that we should keep them prisoners a little while, and 
 then let them go. Shall I tell you why 7 They came to us 
 freely ; we did not take them ! they have not wronged us. Per- 
 haps I do not think right ; I do not know but a little ; but what 
 I think I will speak. I see that you do not like my words, and I 
 am sorry that you do not. If we kill them, we shall get into 
 trouble. The pale-faces from the settlements will come out on 
 the war-path, and will ravage our hunting grounds. I am not a 
 coward — you have seen me in fight. My name is Bearsclaw. 
 I cannot speak much ; but I can tell what I think. I have 
 spoken." 
 
 This speech was received in silence — a silence, perhaps, that 
 implied dissatisfaction. But Bagsley argued from it a favorable 
 result ; for he thought a matter could not be predetermined, 
 about which a chief had spoken, as if there was doubt as to the 
 propriety of the course that had been threatened. "When Bears- 
 claw sat down, Snake-tongue, as the chief next highest in rank, 
 arose and said : 
 
 " Brothers, you have heard the counsel of Bearsclaw : he has 
 a large name. It is a great pity that a warrior with so brave a 
 name, cannot be brave in speech. I do not think as he does. 
 I am an Iroquois — of the nation of the Senecas. I have always 
 been taught not to be afraid. Bearsclaw has said that the pale- 
 faces from the settlements will follow us on the war-path. Let 
 them come ! We want to see them in the woods and fields. We 
 do not want to see them skulking behind walls and log houses. 
 Let them follow us into the woods: there is where I want to 
 see them. 
 
 •' I say that these pale-faces should die. They have been the 
 esase of all our troubles. If it had not been for their fire-wat^ 
 
 ■i' 
 
THE FRONTIERSMEN. 13T 
 
 iO'day we should have tortured the brave that we tortured yes- 
 terday. He was a brave warrior, and it would have done us good 
 to have tortured him. But he escaped ; and how ? The fire- 
 water of these pale-faces made our young warriors careless, and 
 we lost him ; and we lost the pale-face squaw, and the squaw of 
 Canendesha. We have lost, too, our pale-face friend ; he has 
 gone, and no one knows where. He was lost at the same time 
 with the others. They have taken him and killed him. Should 
 we let the pale-faces, who have done all this, go and laugh at us ? 
 No — let them die ! They are not as brave as the warrior we 
 had yesterday ; but they will make sport for our young war- 
 riors. We shall be sorry if we do not take their scalps. We 
 shall always think of it, and wish we had done it, when we think 
 of our young men who have been killed in these forests. I have 
 spoken." 
 
 He sat down amidst loud cheers. He was evidently on the 
 popular side ; and the countenances of Bagsley and Rogers grew 
 pale, as they saw the effect of this speech. But there was some 
 hope yet ; only two of the warriors had spoken, and, so far, the 
 council was equally divided in opinion. It was with the utmost 
 anxiety that they waited for Deersfoot to arise. 
 
 After the noise had subsided, and silence was restored, the 
 latter arose to speak. He stood next to Panther in the estimar 
 tion of the Senecas ; and some there were, who preferred him to 
 that chief, as a braver and more cunning warrior. 
 
 " Brothers," he said in a tranquil tone, " we have come here 
 to decide upon two things. We are to say whether these pale- 
 faces shall die, and we are to say what we shall do about the 
 pale-faces at the cottage. I have no secrets ; my heart is as open 
 as my face. Snake-tongue has said that these pale-faces are the 
 cause of all of our troubles. May be this is so ; but I do not 
 see it as he does. Our young men should not love the fire-water 
 of the pale-faces. If they had not loved it, then the pale-faces 
 could not have done us any harm. I do not know that they are 
 to be blamed. I want to think about it a little while. 
 
 " But the other thing I have thought about. I do not want to 
 think any more about it. The pale-faces at the cottage have 
 killed our young men. They have made us ashamed, that so 
 few pale-faces can escape from so many Injins. I am so 
 ashamed that my heart is sad; and it will not be happy any 
 more until we have taken their scalps. I wish to fight them 
 again. I wish to see if we cannot burn down the cottage, and 
 take them all prisoners. I am sure that we can do it. If we 
 cannot, I shall be much more ashamed : and I shall think that 
 the Senecas, like the Oneidas and Tuscaroras, are squaws. L, 
 for one will never leave the valley of the Pleasant River, until I 
 take with me, the scalp of one of those pale-faces The scalps oi 
 these pale-faces will not do me any good ; for they have not 
 
 
13S TBE FRONTIESSMEir. 
 
 killed our young men. I want to wear in my belt the scalp of 
 the enemy who has taken the scalp of a Seneca. Until that if 
 done, I shall always be ashamed. 
 
 " Let these pale-faces live until we have attacked the cottage. 
 If we take the scalps of our enemies there, we shall have taken 
 enough ; and we shall not want any more. If we do not get 
 them, then we will think about these pale-faces. I have spoken." 
 
 This speech, which had touched the hearts of the Senecas with 
 shame, and kindled in them a wild hope of revenge, was received 
 with shrieks of delight. In the direction which it had given to 
 the thoughts of the Senecas, the prisoners were, for the moment, 
 forgotten ; and the counsel of Deersfoot would doubtless have 
 been acquiesced in, had it not been for the fact that Panther did 
 not share the general enthusiasm. When this was noticed, 
 his more particular adherents at once become silent, and waited 
 to take their cue from him. He was about to arise, when 
 Bagsley, who had also become much excited by this appeal of 
 Deersfoot, in his favor, and who was unable any longer to main- 
 tain silence, deeming this the favorable moment to make a finish 
 of the " case," exclaimed, assuming as much of a forensic posi- 
 tion and demeanor, as his connection with Rogers would allow : 
 
 " If the Court please, gentlemen of the — Council ; for I may 
 denominate this respectable body, a Court, while it is actually 
 sitting in banco, according to the peculiar laws by which it is 
 governed — I have listened thus far, to this summary trial — a trial 
 which, I may say, is unrecognized by any statute of which I am 
 cognizant — with a high opinion of the ability and learning with 
 which it has been conducted. But, as a prisoner on trial for his 
 life, I respectfully submit, whether I have not the right to ask 
 that this trial shall be conducted according to some recognised 
 form. I have as yet seen no bill of indictment ; I have not been 
 called upon to plead ; in other words, I have not had the privilege 
 of alleging my innocence upon the record *, I have not been 
 confronted with witnesses — therefore, in a legal point of view, I 
 may consider this whole proceeding as coram non judice and 
 Toid, and of no binding force whatever. According to the law of 
 the land, as generally understood, I am entitled to all of these 
 rights. I, therefore, upon these grounds, to say nothing about 
 many other points which I consider equally conclusive, wish to 
 raise the question of jurisdiction. I could, doubtless, make a 
 motion in arrest of judgment, non obstante veredicto ; but a 
 question of jurisdiction can be interposed at any time. I there- 
 fore respectfully submit, whether, according to the advice of my 
 friend, Deersfoot, a nolle prosequi should not be entered." 
 
 " Bearsclaw has presented the case upon somewhat different 
 grounds, but he arrives at the same conclusions. He alleges that 
 we are guilty of no offence. He is correct, not only in fact, but 
 Ag matter of law. It is a principle of the law, originating in a 
 
THE FRONTIERSMEN. 139 
 
 benevolent idea of mercy, that a prisoner is to be presumed inno- 
 cent until he is proved g^uiltv. I rely upon this principle, and I 
 hope the court will make a note of it. On examination, it will 
 be found to be a principle admirably adapted to Indian jurispru- 
 dence. Upon all of these grounds, I insist that Mr. Rogers and 
 myself should be discharged." 
 
 At the conclusion of this speech, Rogers, who had listened with 
 great pleasure, and who had a high idea of his friend's eloquence 
 exclaimed with a gesture that lifted the attorney at least a foot 
 from the ground, " Them's my sentiments, and they are good law 
 anywhere," 
 
 The Indians had listened to this voluble speech of the attor- 
 ney with mingled feelings of amazement and disgust. They 
 could comprehend scarcely a word of the discourse, but its gen- 
 eral tenor they understood ; and that was, that he was begging 
 for his life. If the«e is anything in the conduct of a prisoner 
 which removes from an Indian all idea of mercy, it is an exhibi- 
 tion of cowardice, or a desire to escape torture, except by force or 
 stratagem. The current which had set in their favor, on the 
 conclusion of Deersfoot's speech, was effectually checked; and all 
 that was now wanting, was Panther's approval, to decide them 
 in favor of putting the prisoners to immediate torture. 
 
 Panther arose, and the assembly immediately became silent. 
 
 " Brothers," said he, " you have heard the words which have 
 been spoken to you. It is for you to say which are wise, and 
 which are fooiish. Bearsclaw, Snake-tongue and Deersfcot have 
 All told you what they think. The pale-faces, too, have spoken 
 JO you. You have heard their words. I think with Deersfoot, 
 ohat we must have the scalps of the pale-faces at the cottage, and 
 the scalp of Canendesha. There is no warrior here that does not 
 say so. We have thought so from the first. It was not a new 
 thing with Deersfoot ; you have all thought so. That is not the 
 matter we have come here to talk about. We should be ashamed 
 to talk about it. We know what we will do. 
 
 " I say let these pale-faces die. They do not deserve to live. 
 They are bad men — they are bad even among the pale-faces, and 
 the pale-faces hate them. They are like snakes, and have forked 
 tongues ; they do not tell what they think. They lie in the grass, 
 and bite at the foot of the unwary. Even the pale-faces hate 
 them ; but they are worse to the Injins than they are to the pale- 
 faces ; for they steal away our hunting-grounds. Why should 
 we let them loose to lie like snakes in the grass and bite at us? 
 Bearsclaw says that they came to us, and that we did not take 
 them on the war-path. That is true ; but they came to us with 
 forked tongues, to get away our prisoner ; and I do not know but 
 that they did get him away. They came, and he is gone. 
 
 " If we keep them prisoners, we shall have to set some of tk« 
 warriors to watch them. That we ought not to do ; for we sb^M 
 
 kh 
 
140 TBI FRONTIERSMKN. 
 
 want all of our warriors to-night. I have said more than I 
 meant to say. They are not worth talking about ; they are not 
 braves that will laugh at the torture, and please our ears with 
 harsh words. They are cowards that will cry and faint. Such 
 men are not fit to live. Let the pale-faces die." 
 
 This conclusion was received by the Senecas with shouts of 
 savage exultation. The unfortunate prisoners quailed beneath 
 the fiery glances of their enemies. The' attorney endeavored to 
 speak, but his utterance failed — fear deprived him of the power 
 of speech. The bailiff, however, as the danger actually ap- 
 proached, grew firm and brave, and looked at them with that 
 peculiar gaze with which the officer looks into the eyes of the 
 thief. 
 
 The Senecas approached them for the purpose of preparing 
 them for the torture. 
 
 " Stand back, you rascals I" cried the bailiff. " You are now 
 in my bailiwick. Look me in the eyes, if you dare, and see if 
 you can stand the gaze of the law." 
 
 But notwithstanding this effort at overawing them, the Indians 
 rudely tore apart the thongs that bound the attorney and the 
 bailiff together, and dragged them into the woods south of the 
 little clearing in which they were. 
 
 We shall not attempt to narrate the disgusting and horrible 
 scene ; but on that day. the bar of Tryon county lost a dis- 
 tinguished member, and that bailiwick a faithful officer. 
 
 While these scenes of savage cruelty are being enacted, let U3 
 return to the cottage. The presence of the Indians in their 
 neighborhood, was known to the inmates of the cottage; for, 
 occasionally, during the council, the ferocious yells which had 
 cheered the " hit" of some favorite orator, had been heard with 
 distinctness. Neither Ichabod, Eagle's-Wing, nor any one who 
 was acquainted with the customs and habits of the Indians, 
 could doubt as to the nature of the proceedings, of which they 
 heard frequent indications. It was rendered certain, by the fact 
 that the Indians were about to take the lives of the prisoners, 
 that the cottage would be again attacked. 
 
 " With us five inside here," said Ichabod, " I'd risk all the 
 Injins this side of Tophet — provided they didn't set down in 
 reg'lar siege, or set the buildings afire. I reckon that last 
 remark of mine will fe-e found to be a pretty good guess, as to 
 the worst danger we shall run in this attack." 
 
 '- Other time, Seneca want prisoner," said the Tuscarora. 
 " Didn't want pale-face scalp, half so bad as now. They take 
 *em to-night, if they can." 
 
 " I think," said Ralph, " we can guard against danger by fire ; 
 but, nevertheless, we should not be so certain of it as to neglect 
 any proper precautions. The wooden portions of the building are 
 T«ry dry and if the Indians can get fire upon the roo^ we shall. 
 
TRK rBONTIERSMIV. 141 
 
 fcdeed, run a serious danger, for we could not show ourselvet 
 upon the outside, without presenting fair marks for every Indian 
 rifle." 
 
 " The house is we" provided with water," said Barton. " 
 have a large cistern, which is supplied by an unfailing stream 
 that comes down from the west." 
 
 " Yes, but the question is," said Ichabod, " how we're going 
 to get the water upon the roof, in case of necessity ? The diffi- 
 culty, in that business, has been stated by the Captin. Now, I've 
 got an idea about managing the matter, if it comes to the worst ; 
 and that is, to leave the cottage, and take to the water." 
 
 This idea took, the whole party by surprise; and Barton, with 
 a look of incredulity, asked Ichabod how he supposed they 
 should be able to leave the burning building without being ex- 
 posed to the watchful e)^es of the Indians. 
 
 " That's the p'int, Squire, that I've been thinking about ; and 
 Eagle's-Wing and I have been talking it over, and you'll see 
 we'll manage it, in case of necessity. It's rayther risky, sartin ; 
 but I calculate it ain't any more so than it would be to stay here, 
 and be burnt up. The best calculations will fail sometimes, in 
 war, as well as in business matters : but if them Injins should 
 drive us to it, they'll have to show more cunning than the sar- 
 pints have yet shown, to keep our plan from working." 
 
 The manner of the escape — should it be necessary — with as 
 many of the details as could be anticipated, were agreed upon 
 and arranged. Any such anticipation was sufficiently melan- 
 choly, as, if they were driven from the cottage, they would be 
 much more exposed to the danger of capture than they had yet 
 been. On the conclusion of these arrangements, Ralph found 
 himself by the side of Ruth, who seemed to be suffering a great 
 depression of spirits, from the saddening forebodings which she 
 had overheard. She had become attached to her quiet home — 
 she had acquired a fondness for the objects by which she was 
 surrounded ; and she could not think of their destruction, with- 
 out a feeling of exquisite sorrow. 
 
 " If such be the will of Heaven," she said to Ralph, " we must 
 submit." 
 
 " It is but an anticipation. Ruth, against which we must guard. 
 We may succeed in repelling this attack, as easily as we did the 
 former. But it is not to be disguised, that while on the previous 
 attack, the great object of the enmity of the Indians was the 
 Tuscarora ; now, we as well as he are the objects ; and they will 
 resort to the method we have anticipated, if possible." 
 
 " Would it not be better to escape at once ? We could leave 
 the cottage, now, without danger ; but during the attack, it seems 
 to me it will be impossible to do so." 
 
 " We should then certainly abandon the cottage to destructioii, 
 Qod encounter dangers that now are only possible and not oei* 
 
 MM 
 
142 THE FRONTIERSMEN. 
 
 torn. No, I am willing to trust to the plan suggested by Ichabod 
 and Eagle's-Wing. Although they have not given us the full 
 details of it, I think I understand it. We have, thus far, been 
 signally successful, and let us rely upon our good fortune a little 
 farther." 
 
 " Say, rather, Ralph, upon God, It is His power, only, that 
 supports and protects us." 
 
 Ralph at once admitted the propriety of the correction. " In 
 affairs of the world, we use worldly terms. We speak of the 
 protection we receive from our good fortune, without intending 
 to imply any doubt of the protection which we receive from 
 Heaven." 
 
 '* Would it not be better, Ralph, at all times to acknowledge, 
 by a proper use of words, our dependence upon Him from whom 
 good or bad fortune proceeds, than only to acknowledge the 
 results of circumstances?" 
 
 " I do not doubt it. Let us rely upon His assistance, then," 
 said Ralph. " We shall certainly need it, to-night." 
 
 The sun was already sinking behind the western hills, into a 
 rich mass of crimson clouds. The night approached with a mel- 
 ancholy step, and every heart in the cottage beat with anxiety 
 for the first sound that should indicate the presence of the 
 enemy. The aspect of nature was calm and lovely. The setting 
 sun wore the look of yesterday ; familiar objects gazed brightly 
 in the golden garments which were woven around them ; the 
 long shadows pointed eastward, towards the coming to-morrow. 
 But who can foretell, from the look of this day, what shall b« 
 the appearance of the next ? 
 
 ^♦»- 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 " Ah ! whence yon glare, 
 That fires the arch of heaven 1 — that dark-red smoke, 
 Blottmg the silver moon 7" 
 
 Shkllbt. 
 
 An HOUR had passed, and yet there were no indications of 
 an attack. The inmatss of the cottage had taken their places as 
 on the night of the previous conflict ; and, with all their sensea 
 upon the alert, endeavored to detect the approach of an enemy, 
 from whom so much was to be feared. Ruth and Singing-Bird 
 had both taken positions by the loop-holes, and without strenu- 
 ous objection ; for, on a night that threatened to be so danger- 
 ous, they, even, might render important resistance. Another hour 
 passed. Was it possible that the Indians, satisfied with the 
 liTes of their two unfortunate prisoners, had abandoned the idea 
 
TBI FR0NTIEBSMB9. 143 
 
 ©f again attacking the cottage? This query presented itself to 
 the mind of more than one of the little garrison ; and it was with 
 a pleasant thrill of hope, that the idea first occurred to the mind 
 of Ruth. Even Ichabod, with all his experience in Indian char- 
 acter, suggested to Eagle's- Wing the possibility that such a hope 
 might be well-founded. 
 
 '•No," was the answer; ''don't know Injins if you think so. 
 They come, sartin, by'mby. Panther cunning Injin. He mean 
 to get cottage to-night, any way — that what it means." 
 
 '• Do you suppose, Eagle's- Wing, that they're anywhere rouiKi 
 here now '?" asked Ichabod. more to hear what his friend would 
 answer, than for any other purpose. 
 
 " Guess so ; guess that ravine/z<Z/ of Injins. Hear 'em, by'mby. 
 They won't yell nor shoot. Know that don't do any good. Can't 
 shoot through logs ; that they kjow." 
 
 " I reckon you're about right, Eagle's-Wing. They want to 
 put us off our guard ; and by-and-by some miscreant will try to 
 Bet us afire. But if we watch, we can prevent that ; they can't 
 carry fire without our seeing it." 
 
 " Don't know that. Little spark make great fire, sometime. 
 Hide little spark pretty well, if they try." 
 
 The night had now become dark ; the sky was partly ob- 
 scured by clouds — suflBciently so to render it extremely difficult 
 to discern objects no larger than the size of a man, at even a rod's 
 distance. But while the darkness would allow the Indians to ap- 
 proach nearer the building with less chance of detection, it would 
 also render it more difficult for them to conceal any attempt to 
 set the cottage on fire. 
 
 Two, three, or even four hours, might elapse ere any demon- 
 stration on the part of the Senecas would be made. This uncer- 
 tainty, united with the darkness and silence which reigned both 
 within and without, tasked the spirits of the defenders more than 
 any open attack would have done. No anxiety is more over- 
 powering than that of awaiting an event the coming of which is 
 to be dreaded, and yet which will certainly arrive. In the 
 whole range of catastrophes to which mankind are subject, there 
 is, perhaps, but one important exception to this remark, and that 
 is the great catastrophe to which each individual of the human 
 family is subject, which is certain to arrive, and which is univer- 
 sally dreaded. It may arrive soon or late — no one knows when, 
 or how it will come ; yet the anxiety incident to that event, is 
 sasily overcome ; and one by one, a generation passes away, each 
 one knowing well his doom, yet neglecting the least preparation. 
 
 This anxiety at length became so irksome, that a desultory 
 conversation sprung up between the different individuals of the 
 party — yet, without any cessation of watchfulness, Ichabod, who 
 had remained silent sin/ie the last reply of Eagle's-Wing, now 
 agaia ac^drei^st^Kl his compaoiou. 
 
144 THE 7B0NTIKBSMIK. 
 
 " Why wouldn't it be a good idea for one of us to reconnoitrt 
 a little ? We could find out for sartin whether any of the rep- 
 tiles are ra'ally round here or not ?" 
 
 Eagle's-Wing did not answer. His eyes seemed to be strained 
 almost from their sockets in endeavoring to pierce the darkness. 
 Suddenly the silence was broken by the discharge of his rifle ; 
 and at the unexpected sound amidst thp unnatural quiet which 
 reigned around them, every member of the little garrison started 
 simultaneously with the report. A scream was heard from the 
 outside, towards the ravine, and Ichabod saw an Indian fall strug- 
 gling upon the ground, while a small brand of fire fell by his 
 side upon the dry leaves along the edge of the ravine. 
 
 " Well done, Eagle's-Wing ! " exclaimed Ichabod. " It takes 
 an Injin to see an Injin in the dark ; but that rascal won't set 
 fire to the cottage, any way." 
 
 " Plenty more, down yonder, where he come from. They keep 
 still, though ; won't be foolish, this time." 
 
 It was true, that although the Seneca had fallen, and the brand 
 of fire which he had carried concealed, lay by his side ; not a 
 sound indicated the presence of another enemy. They had failed 
 in this attempt ; but another might be more successful. It was 
 evident, that on this occasion, the Senecas would throw away no 
 chances of triumph. 
 
 It has already been mentioned that the forest on the edge of the 
 ravine, approached within three or four rods of the cottage ; and 
 as the ground was strown with dry leaves and dead underbrush, 
 the feelings of safety which the defenders of the cottage, for a 
 moment, had entertained on the detection of this attempt to set 
 the building on fire, was now exchanged for alarm. The brand 
 which had fallen by the side of the Indian, had unfortunately 
 fallen upon a small pile of dry underbrush, which was also cov- 
 ered with dry leaves. A slight wind, which now blew in occa- 
 sional light gusts from the northward, ignited the whole brand 
 into a live coal, and a feeble blaze began to ascend from around it. 
 
 " Cora-found the fire ! " exclaimed Ichabod. " I'll try and stop 
 that enemy, any way." 
 
 He discharged his rifle at the burning brand, and the coal flew 
 scattered in all directions. This was a risk which he foresaw. 
 The scattered coals might fall upon other places which were 
 equally dangerous ; if-^so, the danger would be increased ; but 
 there was a chance, too, that they might fall upon places where 
 they would be extinguished. For a moment, the experiment 
 seemed perfectly successful ; a feeble and flickering blaze, that 
 seemed about to expire, only remained where the brand had 
 originally fallen. But another slight gust of wind now cam«i 
 and the feeble blaze streamed upwards inte a steady fire. 
 
 " Over here, with your rifles," shouted Ichabod ; and five 
 rifles were at once discharged i^to the burning pile. The blazing 
 
THE FBONTIEBSMKir. 145 
 
 brush ^"SiS partially scattered ; but that now seemed to increast 
 the danger. The wiud came in gentle currents, and the dry learei 
 and brush were taking fire in half-a-dozen different places. It 
 was useless to fight an enemy which was only multiplied and 
 made more dangerous by defeat. 
 
 '• I reckon it's bad enough," said Ichabod, " to have to fight 
 them rascally Injins, without being obliged to fight the elements, 
 besides. Wind, fire, and Injins, all at once, are rayther too much 
 for human natur'." 
 
 " What's to be done now ? " inquired Barton, who had become 
 Tery much agitated by this new danger, for it was apparent that 
 should the dry wood in the forest set fire to the trees, as would 
 be most likely, with a northern wind to blow the flames in the 
 direction of the cottage, nothing could prevent the building from 
 taking fire. But there was yet hope ; the fire might be confined 
 to the underbrush, and expire without catching among the trees. 
 
 " I don't know of anything we can do just now. Squire," re- 
 plied Ichabod, to the question ot Barton, " except to wait. I've 
 known things to be as desp'rate before, and come out right in the 
 end. I don't like it, though, that's sartin. I'm afeard, Eagle's- 
 Wing, that we shall have to try that thing we talked about." 
 
 " Think so, too," was the calm reply of the Tuscarora ; " when 
 time come, then I'm ready." 
 
 For a short time, the anxiety felt in the cottage was extreme. 
 It was yet doubtful whether there was any serious danger from 
 this new enemy or not. But the fire steadily increased j it ran 
 along the ground, catching from bush to bush, and among heaps 
 of dry bushes and limbs of trees, which had been collected by 
 the labor of Barton, and soon the light began to penetrate the 
 recesses of the forest. The red rays darted in among the old trees, 
 and lit them up with a strange, wild glare. The flames crept 
 along with steady pace, as the fire increased, until the whole ra- 
 vine was suddenly illumined by a blaze of light, and in its 
 recesses were disclosed the main body of the Senecas, watching 
 with savage delight the insidious approaches of their new ally. 
 When they saw that they were discovered, a wild yell of exulta- 
 tion broke from every throat, and darting from the ravine, they 
 scattered in all directions about the cottage ; but at sufficient dis- 
 tance to be out of reach of the rifles. For a short time, all was 
 silent again, and all were intent upon observing the progress of 
 this new assailant. 
 
 The whole surface of the gronn for four or five rods in extent, 
 immediately north of tha cottage, seemed now to be on fire. At 
 numerous points, the fir raged intensely, and shot up tall spirei 
 of flames among the cra-H.ling branches ; now catching upon the 
 mossy side of a tree, it ran upward, darting with the rapidity of 
 lightning for a moment, then suddenly expiring, leaving a black- 
 taed ciustj instead of the fresh green moss. The wind gradually 
 
^40 TES rSONTIERSUEir. 
 
 blew stronger and wilder. Unluckily, heaps of dry wood had 
 been piled around the trunks of trees, and now the bodies of 
 those trees were seen to be on fire. Up among the branches 
 leaped the flames : points of fire darted here and there, like blazing 
 serpents, while, borne by the wind, thick clouds of sparks began 
 to load the air, and dart towards the doomed roof of the cottage. 
 Soon, a steady stream of flame began to mount the trunk of a 
 tall dead pine, which stood upon the edge of the forest. Upward 
 and upward it crept ; now pausing, as if to gnaw inward into its 
 centre, then darting with a leap like a wild beast, pouncing on 
 its prey. Around the base of the tree, the fire raged intensely, 
 for here a mass of dry limbs and logs had been collected ; and 
 momentarily, the flames from all sides ate inwardly towards its 
 centre. A few dry and leafless limbs stood out from the old 
 trunk, pointing upward ; and along these the fire now crept, and 
 they seemed like tortured arms held bleeding to the sky. 
 
 The cottage was no longer safe. A few moments more, and 
 the pine must fall ; if it fell upon the cottage, it would crush it 
 into a heap of ruins ; and if this danger was avoided, the fire 
 could not be escaped. The intense heat already penetrated the 
 building, and through the loop-holes streamed the light, with a 
 red, unearthly glare. The Indians saw that the inmates must 
 either endeavor to escape or be consumed. The}- had scattered 
 about the cottage in all directions ; not a point was left unguarded, 
 where their victims could escape ; and as the moment of venge- 
 ance approached nearer and nearer, they testified their joy by 
 loud and exulting shrieks. Every window, every door was 
 guarded ; the roof of the cottage stood out against the sky, and 
 every crack and cranny of its thatching was exposed. Suddenly, 
 to their surprise and delight, the door that opened upon the roof 
 was lifted, and their most hated enemy, the Tuscarora, leaped 
 from the glaring rafters with his rifle in his hand, and stood for 
 a moment before their eyes, erect and fearless. In the strong, 
 red light, every feature of his countenance could be traced — every 
 gesture could be marked. With a steady look of indifierence, he 
 gazed about him for a moment, then darting forward, leaped 
 from the roof to the ground. The place selected for the leap was 
 the south-west angle of the building, where he whould fall within 
 the shadow. Thirty rifles had been raised to shoot at him ; but 
 the admiration of the Senecas at this exploit had probably saved 
 his life ; for not a rifile was discharged, until he had darted for- 
 ward in his leap into the darkness. Every Indian rushed for- 
 ward towards the spot where the Tuscarora had been seen to 
 leap ; for this, the most prized, the most hated of their enemies, 
 they deemed to be now inevitably in their power. The Tusca- 
 rora staggered as he struck the ground ; but instantly gathering 
 himself, he darted towards the grove. Two Senecas leaped bo- 
 fore him. who had been stationed at this point — the others no^ 
 
THI FRONTIESSMSir. HJ 
 
 fcaTiDg yet arrived. With a blow from his rifle he knocked 
 down one o.* them, and darting past the other, gained the grovb, 
 The Senecas who had now arrived about the cottage from the 
 different points, set out in chase ; but Panther, who saw that 
 this would afford means for those yet within the building to 
 escape, after the lapse of a few minutes, was able to recall a por- 
 tion of the Senecas, who were again distributed about the cot- 
 tage. 
 
 But these few minutes had accomplished all that the Tusca- 
 rora had designed. Before he ascended the roof, the remainder 
 of the party inside gathered by the window through which Guth- 
 rie bore off Ruth, on the night of the former attack. The ladder 
 was in readiness, and at the moment when the Senecas were 
 seen to rush past the eastern side of the cottage in pursuit of the 
 Tuscarora. the window was opened, the ladder let down, and one 
 by one the party quickly descended — Ichabod descending last. 
 As he stepped out upon the ladder, he closed the window — and 
 when he had reached the ground, the ladder was thrown down by 
 the side of the cottage. The party instantly set out toward the 
 pond, and at a distance of about ten rods, they had descended 
 the hill to a point where they were concealed in the darkness. 
 It was at just about this moment, that Panther had again dis- 
 tributed a portion of the Senecas about the cottage, while an- 
 other portion was in pursuit of the Tuscarora. Their flight had 
 thus far been unobserved ; and now they walked more leisurely 
 towards the shore of the pond, where they expected to find the 
 boat which we described on a former occasion, and the position 
 of which had been noticed by Ichabod, just before dark, from 
 the cottage. After aJittle time, the boat was reached ; the party 
 entered it, and an extra supply of rifles, which had been brought 
 from the cottage, was carefully deposited. They shoved off from 
 the shore, which, at this point might, in the progress of the fire, 
 become exposed — and paddling northward, reached a point where 
 the hill ascended, on the crest, sharply from the shore, but where 
 the land was suflBciently low in a north-westerly direction to 
 allow them to obtain a good and but partially obstructed view 
 of the cottage. 
 
 But a few moments after they had taken up this position, they 
 discovered the roof of the cottage to be on fire. The sparks and 
 pieces of blazing bark which were blown from the ravine had 
 fallen upon the thatching, which was of light and combustible 
 material, and had ignited it at various pomts ; and slowly but 
 surely the flames began to devour this, the only obstacle, as the 
 Senecas believe, to their complete triumph. 
 
 Soon, the fugitives saw the top of the tall, dry pine begin to 
 rock and waves with its blazing crown ; then, slowly bending 
 southward, the huge trunk fell across the cottage, crushing in the 
 burning roof, ami staiting the logs from their places in the sides 
 
148 THK FR0KTISR8UBV. 
 
 of the building. The shrieks of the Indians were horrible, m 
 they now supposed that their victims were fully in their power. 
 Leaping forwards, they broke in the doors, and rushed in among 
 the flames. From room to room, the wandered. Up the stair- 
 way, which was covered with burning coals, they rushed, and 
 gazed in among the fallen and blazing rafters. Not a pale-face 
 was to be seen. The Senecas could not believe that they had 
 escaped ; and again and again every point and portion of the 
 cottage was searched ; until, at length, it became apparent that 
 their victims had fled. But how. and where ? The superstitious 
 feelings of the Indians, for a moment, were excited ; and they 
 thought that their intended victims must have been rescued by 
 the direct interposition of the Great Spirit of the pale-faces. But 
 Panther, saw at once, the manner of the escape ; and that it had 
 been accomplished while the attention of the Senecas was with- 
 drawn by the daring exploit of the Tuscarora. He immediately 
 ordered the Indians to scour the woods in all directions, and par- 
 ticularly the shores of the pond. 
 
 The party in the boat could see, from the gestures of the 
 Indians, the extent of their surprise ; and they also well under- 
 stood the directions of Panther. They carefully paddled the 
 boat farther out into the pond, and more towards the northern 
 shore, where they would be completely hidden, for the present, in 
 the shadows of the hills and trees, from the light of the fire. 
 
 " Them reptiles are deceived this time, any way," said Icha- 
 bod, laughing. "If Eagle's- Wing only gets through his part, 
 according to the programme, we may consider ourselves pretty 
 tolerably lucky ; and I hav'nt any doubt but what he will. We 
 shall hear from him before a great while. I agreed to lay off up 
 here for him." 
 
 " That was a daring act on the part of Eagle's- Wing," said 
 Ralph ; and had I known precisely his purpose, I doubt whether 
 I, for one, should have assented to it. The chances were ten to 
 one, against his escaping with life." 
 
 " Lord love you. Captain," said Ichabod, " Eagle's- Wing knows 
 •njin natur' pretty well, considering he's an lujin himself; and 
 tie knew that them rascals would be so astonished, that they 
 wouldn't fire at him till he had time to get out of their sight. 
 What I was most afeard on, was his getting off the roof; but it's 
 all right, and went oS" according to contract," and Ichabod 
 laughed. 
 
 *' I can easily bear the destruction of my property," said Bar- 
 ton. " if Eagle's- Wing escapes. But I think, as Ralph does, that 
 if you had disclosed the nature of your plan, I should have 
 opposed it. I should, rather, have relied upon fighting our waj 
 through to the shor?." 
 
 " Didn't we know that ?" asked Ichabod, with a laugh. " No- 
 body but Singing-Blid was let into that secret { and she, bleia 
 
fBI FRONTISRSMIW. 149. 
 
 her little soul, ra'ally insisted, for a long time, on going to the 
 roof with him : but she's got reason, and finally consented It 
 the arrangement." 
 
 Singing-Bird, to whom all eyes were now directed, in admira- 
 tion, only answered : 
 
 *' Eagle's- Wing do that for friend. He 'members friend. H« 
 wouldn't be brave Injin if he didn't do sometHng for friend." 
 
 '• He has always been the creditor in an account," answered 
 Barton. " He has given us no opportunity, yet, to repay him for 
 anything." 
 
 Both Barton and Ruth, notwithstanding their thankfulness at 
 this escape, surveyed the destruction of the cottage with feelings 
 of melancholy. To Barton, it was the home of his old age — 
 where he had planted his household gods, with the hope that 
 they would survive him. The cottage had been erected, and had 
 gradually been made a comfortable dwelling, by his labor ; while 
 around it, he had rescued fair fields from the wilderness, from 
 which he had hoped to derive the means of prosperity. To Ruth, 
 it was endeared by other associations ; and they both saw that 
 all the hopes and dreams which they had cherished, were ended, 
 and that this place must again — even if they ultimately succeeded 
 in escaping from their enemies — pass from their possession, if not 
 from their remembrance. Barton continued, in answer to Sing- 
 ing-Bird : 
 
 •*And my power to repay him, is gone. I am now an old 
 man, deprived of everything but my daughter and my life. But 
 I cannot complain. The Lord's will be done." 
 
 " Let as not think about our loss," said Ruth earnestly, '*' since 
 we have saved so much. We truly have need to be thankful to 
 a kind Providence, that we and all our friends have escaped 
 with our lives." 
 
 At this moment, a rifle was heard, at a few rods distance 
 apparently on the western shore ; and at the same instant, there 
 was a sound as of a heavy body falling into the water. The idea 
 occurred to each in the boat, that this might be the Tuscarora , 
 and the boat was instantly moved in that direction. As they 
 approached the shore, they heard some of the enemy talking, 
 and evidently laboring under a great excitement ; and it wa3 
 easy to believe that it was owing to the escape of Eagle's- Wing 
 They had reached, in perfect silence, within eight or ten rods of 
 the shore, when Ichabod discovered an Indian swimming towards 
 the boat. It was the Tuscarora, and he was lifted in, panting 
 with fatigua 
 
 " Long run had this time," said he, " They almost catch me— 
 they shoot me a little ; but better have arm shot, than lose scalp 
 though." 
 
 It was found, on examination, that the ball had merely pen© 
 trated the fleshy part of his arm, without having done any verr 
 
150 THE FRONTIERSMEN. 
 
 lerious injury. It was immediately bandaged by Ralph, wi€ li 
 much care as their means would permit ; while Ichabod and 4k9 
 negro paddled the boat towards the northern shore. 
 
 It has been mentioned before, in the brief description wnich 
 we gave of the pond, that on the north was a low marshy flat, 
 and that the edge of the pond was thickly bordered with willows 
 and other bushes ; but back a short distance from the shore, 
 the bushes were few and stinted in growth, while the marsh was 
 so soft, that it was impassible to one unacquainted with it, even 
 by the aid of day-light. Ichabod and the Tuscarora were both 
 confident that the Senecas had no canoes upon the pond ; and 
 that there was only one upon the river in the possession of the 
 Senecas, and that this one was only capable of carrying three 
 or four persons There were no materials at hand with which a 
 raft could be constructed ; and it was with a feeling of security 
 that the boat was made fast among the willows for the night. 
 
 The fire about the cottage, for a time, kad been gradually 
 diminishing ; and thicker and thicker fell the darkness upon 
 forest and water. Gradually the shrieks and cries of the Indians 
 subsided, and silence at length fell upon the scene. 
 
 ^ ♦» 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " Hence, strangers, to your native shore ! 
 Far from our Indian shades retire." 
 
 Fbemsav. 
 
 When the morning light had rendered objects sufficiently 
 risible, the party in the boat endeavored to get a view of their 
 precise situation. The place where the cottage had stood, co«ld 
 be distincty seen ; but instead of the dwelling, there appeared 
 nothing but a mass of black and smoking ruins. But not an In- 
 dian was to be seen. The party partook of a very frugal break- 
 fast ; for previous to their flight, they had secured a few articles 
 of food — sufficient, if sparingly used, to last them for three or four 
 days. 
 
 " The question now seems to be," said Ichabod, " what we're 
 going to do next. Here we are — the cottage is burnt down- 
 that factory project is blowed up, for a while, at least ; and 
 providing — I say, providing, we can get away from these vil- 
 lainous reptiles, I'm for steering for the settlements." 
 
 " I think that will be the course that we must adopt," said 
 KaJph. " It will be a tedious undertaking, in the face of all 
 our difficulties, as we shall be obliged to walk the whole distancd 
 
TBI FRONTIERSMEir. 101 
 
 th« horses will undoubtedly either be destroyed or captured by 
 the Indians. Could they be saved, so that Miss Barton and 
 Singing-Bird could ride, it would not be so diflBcult." 
 
 Barton assented with a melancholy look. " There's no use," 
 he said, " in my attempting to rebuild the cottage, even if the 
 Senecas abandon the country. I am getting old, and cannot 
 labor as I once could. Yes — we shall have to go to the settle- 
 ments." 
 
 Ruth assured them that she could walk the distance neces- 
 sary with perfect ease. As for Singing-Bird, she laughed at th« 
 idea of riding. 
 
 As all assented to this proposal, the next thing was to find the 
 means of escape from their present diflBculties. It would not be 
 safe to leave their cover in the willows, so long as the Senecai 
 remained ; and it was hoped, th^t not discovering them upon the 
 pond, they would, after searching for them in the woods, for a 
 day or two, finally abandon the hope of capturing them, and 
 either set out on their return to their own country, or remove 
 farther down the valley. 
 
 A feeling of joyful excitement pervaded the party. The ex- 
 treme danger of their situation on the previous night, their for- 
 tunate flight, and the hope of an early escape, served to awaken 
 this feeling, which, even Barton and Ruth, who were so much the 
 greatest sufferers by recent events, shared with the others. 
 
 " I suppose," said Barton, " that Jenkins will most seriously 
 feel the consequences of our removal to the settlements. First, 
 he loses a fortune by the failure of that city-lot and factory 
 speculation ; and next, he runs the risk of escape from the Sene- 
 oes, to be captured and imprisoned by his pale-faced friends." 
 
 "Now, that's rather too hard, Squire," said Ichabod. " That 
 factory business will keep for some years, at least : and as for 
 that other matter, I hope that fellow Parsons will discover from 
 the fate of his two oflBcers, who took up the business on specula- 
 tion, that there's a special Providence agin his collecting it. But 
 if he don't see reason, we'll try and manage it." 
 
 The Tuscarora, who had taken no part in the conversation 
 but who had simply exchanged a few words, at intervals, with 
 Singing-Bird, which seemed to cloud her face with anxiety, now 
 arose, and stretching his arm towards the south, merely uttered 
 the common Indian ejaculation of surprise. 
 
 "Ugh!" 
 
 The others immediately arose, and after a few moments, their 
 eyes became fastened upon a sight, which attracted their atten 
 tion. On the opposite shore of the pond, some half-a-dozen 
 Indians were seen, busily at work, partially hidden behind bushes 
 that grew to the water's edge. It was evident that they wer« 
 engaged in the construction of a raft, with which they probably 
 ntended to search the oortbero shore. Though this afiforded 
 
152 THl FSONTIIBIMlir. 
 
 Bome cause for alarm, yet, as a raft large enough to convey a sti§' 
 ficiently numerous party to attack them with any chance of sue* 
 cess, would be too unwieldy to be moved through the water, 
 except with the greatest labor — they had no fear but that, if 
 their landing-place should be discovered, they would be able^ by 
 the greater ease with which their boat could be managed, to 
 escape from its pursuit. So long as they could reaaain near 
 the northern shore, they would be comparatively safe, as they 
 had no fear of any attack in that quarter, by land. No force 
 sufficiently large could penetrate in that direction, to give them 
 any uneasiness ; but should they be driven by the raft from their 
 present position, they might be compelled, in escaping from it, to 
 pass between it and the shore, at some point where they might 
 be exposed to an attack from either. But for the present, they 
 maintained their position, and awaited the movements of tiie 
 enemy. 
 
 It was probable that their precise position was unknown, al- 
 though the sagacity of the Indians would convince them that the 
 fugitives must be concealed somewhere on the northern shore. 
 The woods had been thoroughly searched, and no traces of the 
 fugitives had been found, while the disappearance of the boat, 
 together with the fact that they could not observe it upon tha 
 pond, was sufficient to induce them to believe that the fugitives 
 were yet in their power, had they any means to reach them. 
 They could not, without days of labor, construct canoes by which 
 they would be able to compete in speed with the boat in the 
 possession of the fugitives ; but by building a large raft, which 
 could be accomplished in two or three hours, they might man it 
 with sufficient numbers to move it readily from place to place, 
 as well as to capture the fugitives, should they overtake them. 
 
 An hour or two had elapsed since Eagle's- Wing discovered the 
 employment of the Senecas, when they saw a large number of 
 Indians collected together at the place where the raft was being 
 constructed. Soon they saw the unwieldy structure moved into 
 the pond ; when about fifteen of the Senecas, some with poles for 
 urging the raft along the shore, and others with paddles for use 
 in the deeper water, got upon it, and forced it into the pond. 
 At first, they kept close to the shore, but soon struck out into 
 the deeper water. Their progress was extremely slow ; but it 
 was sufficiently rapid^o keep pace with the anxiety of the fugi- 
 tives. 
 
 The point was earnestly debated between Ichabod and his 
 companions, whether they should trust to the cover in which 
 they now were, or whether, on the near approach of the Indians, 
 they should pnsh out into the pond. But it was finally agreed, 
 as the safest course, to trust to the water ; as, were they to remain 
 where they now were, and should they be discovered, they would 
 be compelled to fight at great odds ; and besides, there would bf 
 
TMB FRONTIIIIMIV. 153 
 
 •• means of flight ; while, should they adopt the other course, they 
 might keep out of reach of the rifles of the Indians ; or if not, 
 they could, at least, be in a condition to maintain the fight at 
 less odds and with greater chance of escape. 
 
 The raft had been urged to some distance from the shore into 
 the deep water ; it was moved towards the north-east shore, with 
 the intention, evidently, of carrying it thence, along the whole 
 southern side of the pond. It finally reached the shore, at which 
 point, it was from thirty to forty rods from the spot where th* 
 boat was concealed. As the Indians began to move along the 
 shore, partly by the use of poles, and parti)'- by pulling upon the 
 willows, the boat shot out from its cove into the pond. The 
 Indians witnessed it with loud 3^ells of joy both from the raft 
 and the shore ; and three or four rifles from the raft were dis- 
 charged, but the bullets struck in the water, their force being 
 spent before reaching the boat. The fugitives moved leisurely 
 towards the centre of the pond, while the Indians who manned 
 the raft, resumed the use of their paddles, and endeavored to fol- 
 low them. The boat kept its distance from the raft, moving 
 towards the south-west shore. T;.ntil it had reached a position just 
 out of range of the fire of thu 3enecas from the land. As the 
 Indians upon the raft came up almost near enough to use their 
 rifles effectively, the boat, urged by five paddles, passed between 
 it and the south shore. It took no little time and labor to 
 check the motion of the raft, and when that had been accom- 
 plished, the boat was again approaching the northern shore, and 
 had nearly reached the point from which it started. • It was evi- 
 dent to the Indians upon the raft, that they might thus be evaded 
 during the whole day and they now ceased their attempt tc 
 follow the fugitives. 
 
 It was now nearly noon j and both the raft and boat lay motion 
 less upon the water. 
 
 " There's deviltry in tlTis business, somewhere," said Ichabod. 
 
 " Injins done what they should have done this morning," said 
 Eagle's- Wing. " They gone after canoe." 
 
 " That's it, Eagle's- Wing ; and I reckon that when they've 
 got it launched, we shall have our hands full." 
 
 " I am not certain," said Ralph, '• but that we may hold out 
 until night ; and then, perhaps, we should take to the shore, and 
 run our chance in the woods." 
 
 '•'I'm of your opinion, Captin," said Ichabod, "provided we 
 can hold out until night. But I reckon — and I ain't use to giving 
 up a speculation, while there's a chance of making anything out 
 of it — that if we stay here, we shall lose our scalps, and if we go 
 then it will be just about the same thing. I'm blamed if I sefl 
 my way out of it." 
 
 • You must not despair, Ichabod,'* said Ruth — " if you do thaif 
 W$ shall lose heart altogether.'* 
 
154 THE FSONTIERSMIir. 
 
 "Lord bless you, girl, I sV' 1 1 despair till them villainous rep* 
 tiles have got my scalp ;yond the hope of redemptiv/ii ; and 
 when that thing happer I shall have to give it up. But what 
 do you aay, Eagle's- Wi. ^ ?" 
 
 " Guess we lose our f ialps. That's what I say," sententiously 
 replied the Tuscaroia. 
 
 '• But not without a fight for 'em, though," said Ichabod. 
 
 " Has any one ever explored this' swamp ?" suddenly asked 
 Ralph. "Is it not possible that we may find some tolerably safe 
 cover in it ?'* 
 
 " I do not know that it has ever been thoroughly explored," 
 answered Barton ; '' but any place where we can go, those Sen- 
 ecas can follow." 
 
 •' I am not so certain about that," replied Ralph. " If you 
 will put me ashore, I will reconnoitre it." 
 
 The boat again entered the cover, and Ralph stepped out upon 
 the turf, and instantly sank to his knees in the mud. But. cling- 
 ing to the willows, he extricated himself, and, assisted by the 
 roots, which furnished a sure footing, he passed some twenty 
 rods from the shore, when he discovered a little island of hard 
 soil, not 'more than twenty feet across in either direction, and 
 which could only be reached, as he ascertained on examination, 
 by one path, part of which was formed by the trunk of a fallen 
 tree, some forty or fifty feet in length. He returned with a 
 heart relieved of half its load, to the boat ; and he had but 
 just reached it, when the Indians upon the raft set up a loud 
 yell of joy. The cause was soon ascertained ; for immediately 
 afterwards, four Senecas were seen approaching with a canoe, 
 which they had brought from the river. No time was to be lost, 
 as the canoe and raft together would, undoubtedly, be able to 
 outmatch the boat, and either compel them to a fight against 
 great odds, or drive them to the shore. 
 
 Ralph hastily communicated the result of his reconnoisance, 
 and their resolution was instantly formed. The party immedi- 
 ately left the boat ; and in a few minutes, although with great 
 difficulty, they reached the little island which had been discov- 
 ered by Ralph. As soon as it was reached, they saw its capa- 
 bilities as a place of defence. It was surrounded upon all sides 
 by the swamp, and was approachable from na point, except from 
 that at which they j^gached it. Upon the island were two large 
 trees, behind which Ruth and Singing-Bird could remain in safety, 
 in case of an attempt to dislodge them from the only practicable 
 point. There were also thick clumps of willows around it, be- 
 hind which they could remain concealed, except upon a near 
 approach of the enemy, against which they thought themselves 
 able to guard. Ichabod was highly delighted with this new 
 place of defence. 
 
 " We're safe bsre, Captin. I'll risk all the Ii\iiiis this side oi 
 
THE FRONriERSHEN. 155 
 
 Ch© infarnal legions, as long as our ammunition holds out. I'd 
 like to see them red devils poking their heads over them bushes, 
 yonder." 
 
 " You'll see them soon enough," answered Ralph ; '• but I 
 think we shall escape captivity to-night, at least." 
 
 Preparations were now made for the effectual concealment of 
 the women; ani when this was done, the rifles were all exam- 
 ined and put in readiness. Scarcely had their preparations been 
 concluded, when a loud shout from the Indians announced that 
 they had discovered the empty boat. The path of the fugitives 
 could easily be traced ; and the latter did not doubt but that a 
 few moments would bring one or more of their enemies in sight. 
 
 Not more than ten minutes had elapsed, ere Ichabod discovered 
 a Seneca cautiously making his way along the path which they 
 had taken, clinging to the willows. 
 
 " I'll give that fellow a taste of what his companions will get 
 by calling on us," said Ichabod. " It wouldn't be civil to refuse 
 him what he's come so far to get," 
 
 Taking aim, he discharged his rifle, and the Seneca fell lifeless, 
 vainly grasping at the willows for support. The Indians who 
 were behind, endeavored to press forward ; but again and again 
 the rifles of the defenders were discharged, and five or six dead 
 or wounded Indians testified to Ichabod and his companions, that 
 the place could be successfully defended. The Indians them- 
 selves saw the hopelessness of approaching the fugitives directly 
 in the face, and rapidly retreated towards the boats. 
 
 But to the astonishment of the little party on the island, 
 scarcely had the Senecas regained their boat, ere they heard a 
 rapid discharge of rifles on their left, with loud shrieks and yells, 
 testifying the arrival of another party of Indians. Were they 
 friends or foes 1 The Tuscarora rapidly swung himself into one 
 of the trees upon the Island, when with a yell of exultation 
 which was answered from fifty throats he shouted, " the Oneidas, 
 —the Tuscaroras !" 
 
 Rapidly Eagle's-Wing, Ichabod and Ralph retraced their way to 
 the place where they had left the boat ; when they beheld the 
 Senecas moving as swiftly across the pond towards the south-west 
 shore, as the nature of their cumbrous raft would allow. The 
 four Senecas in the canoe had already nearly reached the shore. 
 On the left they beheld a large band of Oneidas and Tuscaroras, 
 forty or fifty in number, who were following the retreating 
 Senecas. In a few moments more the released party had 
 re-entered their boat, and were following the Senecas upon the 
 raft. They had come within fair rifle-shot, as the raft touched 
 the shore ; their rifles were discharged, and the Senecas plunged 
 hastily into the forest. 
 
146 *>> rBoiiTiiRSifiv. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 " How would you bi^ 
 If He, who is Hhe top of judgment, should 
 But judge you as you are 1- 0, think on that ! 
 And mercy then will breathe within your lips 
 Like man new made." 
 
 Measubk for Mbasubi 
 
 The now liberated party left the boat, and with' mingled 
 feelings of joyfulness for their delivery, and of sadness for the 
 waste and desolation caused by the unmerciful savages, proceeded 
 towards the spot where had once stood the dwelling of Barton. 
 Scarcely a trace was left of the cottage, and nothing but a mass 
 of half-consumed and charred and blackened timbers indicated 
 that here had once been the habitation of a happy family. On 
 the north, the trees had been stripped of their leaves, their 
 •trunks and boughs blackened and partially consumed, while the 
 ground appeared to have been covered with a carpet of fire. 
 The lawn about the cottage had been made desolate, and the 
 shubbery and flowers that had began to gladden the wilderness 
 with new and unaccustomed beauties, had been trodd-en down 
 and broken as with a wonton and malicious desire on the part of 
 the Indians to destroy every vestige of civilization. 
 
 A portion of the friendly Oneidas and Tuscaroras had followed 
 in pursuit of the Senecas, accompanied by Eagle's- Wing, who, on 
 reaching the land, had rushed with frantic haste to join and lead 
 the pursuers, over whom he was an acknowledged chief. 
 Another portion, after going around the south shore of the pond, 
 with feelings of curiosity, sought this scene of desolation, where 
 they arrived a little before the party from the boat. The 
 savages moved about the mass of smoking ruins with excited 
 countenances and flashing eyes, and at every discovery of some 
 blackened and despoiled article of domestic use, gave vent to 
 ejeculations, either, of surprise or pleasure. As Barton, and the 
 party from the boat approached, the Oneidas, with a courtesy and 
 delicate appreciation of the feelings of Barton and his daughter, 
 retired from the yuins towards the grove, where, gathered in 
 knots, or lying lazily upon the ground, they gazed upon the 
 pale-faces with mingled looks of curiosity and sympathy. 
 
 The cattle enclosure, which had stood by the side of the cottage 
 had also been mostly destroyed ; that portion of it, however 
 farthest from the dwelling, being least injured. The few cattle 
 which had been shut up in it, had perished, and their bodies 
 more or less consumed, were found among the ruins; but nc 
 4rao«s wer« seen of the horses. The door of the enclosure BoanuMJ^ 
 
 Mil 
 
TH« FRONTIERSMEIf. 157 
 
 from the fact that a portion of it was found on one side, unhannedL 
 to have been broken open, and it was presumed, that the Indians 
 bad taken possession of them. 
 
 The barn, however, which was at a few rods distance, on th« 
 west, was wholly uninjured ; and Tchabod and the negro, assisted 
 by two or three of the Oneidas, began, at once, to put a portion 
 of it in readiness for the temporary occupation of Barton and his 
 daughter. It would, at least, afford a shelter; and however rude 
 and uncomfortable it might be. it was a happy exchange for the 
 mode of life to which they had been compelled on the previous 
 night. 
 
 Tears came into the eyes of Ruth, as she surveyed the desola- 
 tion by which she was surrounded. Scarcely a vestige could be 
 found of those delicate and womanly labors by which she had 
 adorned her dwelling; and it was with a feeling of momentary 
 anguish that her eyes ran over the familiar places, and found 
 nothing upon which to rest but the marks of violence and bru- 
 tality. The whole party shared this feelings, and they surveyed 
 the scene, for a few moments, with a melancholy silence. Ichar 
 bod was the first who gave voice to his feelings : 
 
 " Don't be cast down, Miss Kuth; and you, Squire, keep up 
 a good courage. I've seen many an unfortunate speculation in 
 my day ; but somehow or other, there is always a kind of phi- 
 losophy in these things. The first feeling is a hard one ; it 
 swells up the heart, and is apt to provoke rebellious and un- 
 natural thoughts ; but it comes round all right in the end. You'll 
 yet be happy in another home, and then all these things will be 
 forgotten, except that one lesson, that they teach, and that is, 
 that all speculations are in the hand of Providence." 
 
 " You are right, Ichabod, you are right," said Barton. " In 
 our own escape, the loss shall be forgotten. But the severest 
 reflection is, that we must now leave this valley forever ; but we 
 shall carry away with us, the recollection of many happy days." 
 
 Ruth smiled with a look of joy, that momentarily lit up the 
 melancholy of her countenance, at this feeling on the part of her 
 father. It was for him that she felt the most deeply. Youth, 
 with the prospect of many years, may rise renewed and hopeful 
 from desolation ; but, age, without the means of reparation, is 
 apt to sink beneath the load of misfortune. Seeing, then, that 
 her father bore his loss with resignation, and with a happy idea 
 of conforming to his altered circumstances, she assumed a cheer- 
 fulness which she did not, perhaps, wholly feel. 
 
 Scarcely an hour had elapsed, after the flight of the Senecas, 
 when a yell of exultation from beyond the grove, announced the 
 return of the party who had gone in pursuit of them. Words 
 were heard in the Iroquois tongue, which produced an unusual 
 excitement in the savages, who were wandering about the ruined 
 dwelling. Then could be seen the returning warriors ady&ncing 
 
158 THE FRONTIERSMEN. 
 
 leisurely towards the ruins, while guarded among them, they led 
 an Indian bound as a prisoner. 
 
 Eagle s-Wing came in advance, with a quiet look of triumph 
 upon his countenance, but illy disguised beneath the usual im- 
 mobility of face of the Indian. Mingled with this look, was a 
 glow of satisfied revenge, and savage exultation, lie came up 
 to the party at the ruins, while the rest of the Indians remained 
 in the grove. 
 
 " Well, EagleVWing, what news from the Seaecas V^ asked 
 Ralph. 
 
 " Ask Panther," answered the Tuscarora. He yonder." 
 
 '•' Such is the fortune of war," said Ichabod : " now a victor— 
 now a prisoner. But I am glad to see, Eagle's- Wing, that you're 
 ra'ally improving under my instructions. It's a great step to- 
 wards civilization, that you didn't take the fellow's scalp at 
 once." 
 
 Wild and fiendish was the glance that shot from the dark eye 
 of the Indian ; but no words were given to its terrible signifi- 
 cance. Turning leisurely about, he moved slowly towards the 
 grove. 
 
 In the meantime, Barton and Ruth, together with Singing- 
 Bird, took possession of the temporary dwelling that had been 
 fitted up for them. Sambo, who had gone up through the clear- 
 ing, towards the forest, soon was seen returning with the horses, 
 which he was leading with the most frantic exclamations of joy. 
 He had discovered the marks of their hoofs upon the ground, 
 and had followed on their track, until he found them on the edge 
 of the forest. It was with scarcely less joy than that which 
 Sambo displayed, that Barton beheld them — the only remains of 
 his little property. They had been abandoned by the Senecas in 
 their sudden surprise, and thus the most serious diflSculty in the 
 removal of Barton and his family to the settlements, was 
 obviated. 
 
 But we will follow Eagle's-Wing to the grove where the 
 Indians were now collected. Panther had been securely confined 
 to a tree, and the change which had come over him, under his 
 reverse of fortune, was most wonderful and striking. When in 
 command of his party, he had preserved a quiet dignity of de- 
 meanor — the natural consequence, to a manly mind, of the power 
 of command. His face had worn an expression of solemn gravity, 
 and there was, in all he said and did, an air of courtesy and 
 sincerity, which had struck his prisoners as inconsistent with his 
 reputation for cunning and cruelty. But now, deprived ofvhis 
 freedom, and in the power of his enemies, his whole manner was 
 changed. With head erect — with flashing eyes, and nostrils 
 that quivered with untameable ferocity, he glared upon the 
 Indians by whom he was surrounded. As Eagle's- Wing approach- 
 ed, his glance fell upon him with a look of savage malice. Tht 
 
THE TRONTIERSMEN. 15§ 
 
 Tuscarora came up directly before him, and with folded armS| 
 gazed into the eyes of his prisoner. 
 
 " S«neca," said he, " you are a lying chief of a lying nation. 
 You must die. I have been told that the Senecas have the 
 hearts of girls. I wish to see the tears in your eyes." 
 
 " The Tuscaroras are women," began the Seneca, in a quiet 
 voice, and with a look of contempt. " They once dwelt in the 
 land of the sun, where the snows of the winter never come, and 
 their hearts became soft, and the pale-faces made them slaves. 
 That was all they were fit for. They did not know how to fight 
 their enemies, and the pale-faces took the hatchets and the bows 
 from their hands, and made them work in the fields. Then the 
 Iroquois took pity on them, and wrapped them in their blankets, 
 as the squaws do the pappooses ; and they brought them up into 
 the land of braves, and gave them villages and hunting-grounds ; 
 but they could do nothing but sit shivering by the fire. They 
 were afraid of the rifles of the Colony men, and they deserted 
 the Iroquois. They are worse than women — they are dogs ! 
 They are little dogs, that run barking at our heels, and dare not 
 bite ! It is a shame for a warrior to fall into their hands. The 
 death of the brave warrior, in the midst of his enemies, is the 
 triumph of his glory. The Great Spirit smiles, as the warrior 
 endures the torture, and lifts him up to the happy hunting- 
 grounds with the hand of a father ; while his name goes down 
 in the traditions of his enemies, as a brave who died without 
 fear ! But I am ashamed. The Tuscaroras have no traditions ! 
 They are dogs ! and however so brave I may be, my name will 
 be forgotten, as though I died in the midst of dogs ! 
 
 " The Oneidas are liars ! They have forgotten how to be brave. 
 They live with the dogs of the Tuscaroras, and think they are men. 
 They smile in the faces of the red-men, and throw their hatchets 
 at their backs. They sit down and listen to the medicine-men, 
 (missionaries,) of the pale-faces, and learn new traditions. They 
 forget that they are Indians, and try to worship the Great-Spirit 
 of the pale-faces. They are liars ; and I am ashamed to die in 
 the midst of liars and dogs !" 
 
 These contemptuous words excited the anger of the Oneidas 
 and Tuscaroras to the highest degree; and with a shout of rage, 
 tomahawks were brandished, and knives drawn from their belts, 
 while three or four of them darted forward with the determina- 
 tion of at once terminating the life of the insulting Seneca ; but 
 at a gesture from Eagle's-Wing, they retired. 
 
 " Poor thief of a Seneca !" said Eagle's-Wing, " whose sharp* 
 est weapon is the that of a woman ; he can only hurt his ene- 
 mies with his tongue. If we had him in our villages, we would 
 put on him the dress of a squaw, that he might scold, while the 
 warriors stood around and laughed ! It is a pity that an Iro- 
 quois can only hurt his enemies with his tongue. I have killed 
 
160 THK FBONTIERSMEV. 
 
 ft great many Senecas ; they all die like women, and screini 
 when they feel the knife on their scalps. I have got some of 
 them here," throwing back his blanket, and displaying to the 
 passionate eyes of the Seneca three or four gory scalps. " They 
 are not fit for a warrior to wear ; and I will not hang them in 
 the council-room of my nation. I will give them to the papooses 
 to play with," and turning with a gesture of contempt he walked 
 back into the crowd of Indians. 
 
 But while the preparations were being made for the torture of 
 Panther, Barton and his friends had concluded their arrange- 
 ments for their return on the next day to the settlements. But 
 little preparation was necessary, and the possession of the horses 
 had obviated the greatest difficulty in their removal. There was 
 little or nothing to be transported, as the Senecas had destroyed 
 nearly every valuable upon the premises. 
 
 Their arrangements were all made, and that peculiar and 
 natural solemnity of feeling, which attends the abandonment of 
 a cherished home, laid waste and desolate, prevented any con* 
 tinned conversation. 
 
 " The friendly Indians will accompany us a portion of the way, 
 I suppose," said Barton; "but only for a few miles, as their 
 path lies northward, while ours is more to the eastward. They 
 will, doubtless, take their prisoner with them." 
 
 " That would be an useless trouble, I should think," said Ralph. 
 " It would be better for them to let him go at once. But per- 
 haps, as a matter of pride, they wish to display a Seneca chief in 
 their villages, as a prisoner." 
 
 It was at this moment, that the shout was heard, which attended 
 the ebullition of anger on the part of the Indians at the con- 
 temptuous language of Panther. Each individual of the party, 
 excepting Ichabod and Singing-Bird, started ; — it recalled, for a 
 moment, with vivid distinctness, the memory of the perils from 
 which they had just escaped. 
 
 " What is the meaning of that shout ?" asked Barton. 
 
 "It is, perhaps, an attempt to terrify their prisoner," said 
 Ralph, " or perhaps it may be," and he started at the sudden con- 
 jecture, rising hastily upon his feet, " that they are about to put 
 him to torture." 
 
 " Oh ! they will not do that !" exclaimed Ralph. " It cannot 
 be, that Eagle's- Wing can imitate the cold-blooded cruelty of 
 panther. Say it is not so, Singing-Bird." 
 
 " Eagle's-Wing great chief," said the Indian, quietly. " lie 
 know how to punish enemy." 
 
 Ruth seemed astonished by this unlooked-for confirmation of 
 her fears. 
 
 " Ralph ! Ichabod !" said she, " prevent this murder, if possible. 
 Do not let such a horrid act sully our last reoollections of thii 
 plaoe." 
 
THZ FRONTIERSMEN. 151 
 
 Ichabod bowed his head for a moment with a shudder, and 
 then said: 
 
 " Miss Ruth, all people have their customs ; an Englishman 
 shuts up his prisoners in old hulks, where they die of foul a»ir, 
 and filthiness, and starvation ; and the most civilized people, will 
 punish their prisoners in some way ; and an injin can't be 
 expected to be better than those that have some other light than 
 the light of Natur' to walk by. It's their way, Miss Ruth — it's 
 their way; and there's no use trying to prevent it." 
 
 *' I will go," she answered ; " I will beg for his life ; perhaps 
 I may not plead in vain." 
 
 " Don't do so, Miss Ruth — it's no use. Their blood is up ; and 
 there is no power in this world strong enough to control them, 
 but force, and that we haven't got." 
 
 " But there is a Power above us and them, which may touch 
 their hearts. I will go." 
 
 Seeing that she was determined to venture among the savages, 
 on this — as Ichabod, as well as the others also, thought — bootless 
 errand, the whole party accompanied her, and they proceeded 
 hastily towards the grove. As they reached the place where the 
 Indians were gathered, they found them busy in their prepara- 
 tions. A large number of pine knots had been collected, and a 
 pile of pointed splinters, the object of which was apparent to them 
 all. The Seneca, fastened to the tree, was surveying the prepara- 
 tions with a look of indifference or contempt ; but as Barton 
 and his party came in sight, his eyes rolled over them with 
 glances of uncontrollable hatred. Eagle's-Wing was quietly 
 directing the preparations. 
 
 Barton approached the Tuscarora. " For Heaven's sake, Eagle's- 
 Wing, what do all these arrangements mean ? It cannot be that 
 you will torture this Seneca. Let him go, Eagle's-Wing. You have 
 done me many a friendly deed, lately — add this to the num- 
 ber." 
 
 "The hearts of the pale-faces are soft," said Eagle's-Wing. 
 " Let my father and his friends go back to their dwelling. The 
 Seneca must die." 
 
 Ralph, in turn, besought the Tuscarora to desist from his pur- 
 pose. He used all the arguments which he could summon to his 
 aid, growing out of the present condition of the Colonies, and 
 their desire to keep on peaceful terms with the hostile Indians of 
 the Six Nations ; but to no purpose. Eagle's- Wing listened with 
 courtesy, but declared that the Seneca must die. 
 
 '• Old friend," said Ichabod, " you'll give me credit for under- 
 standing Injin natur' pretty well, and that I never make it a point 
 to interfere in their lawful customs and amusements ; but I can't 
 heip saying, now, that this is a risky speculation. I never meant 
 to call on you for payment of any balance of account between 
 US ; but there's no disguising that you do owe a little to me oo 
 
162 THE FRONTIERSMEN. 
 
 the score of having saved your scalp-lock, ere now ; but give ma 
 that Seneca, and I will balance the books." 
 
 "I owe my brother my life, and it is his." said Eagle's- Wing. 
 " Let my brother take it, if he will ; it is just. But the Seneca 
 shall go with me into the happy hunting-grounds of my nation. 
 He shall go beiore me as my prisoner." 
 
 " Let us go back, Miss Ruth," gaid Ichabod. " These Injins 
 are perfectly set in their way. I knowed it was of no use. 
 They won't imitate white people in their conduct, any more than 
 they will in their clothes." 
 
 At these repeated failures, it must be confessed that Ruth 
 almost despaired of success. Yet she could not suffer the Seneca 
 thus to be murdered, without making one appeal in his behalf. 
 Tears filled her eyes as she approached the Tuscarora. 
 
 " EagleVWing," said she, smiling through her tears, "you 
 have refused Panther to my friends, that you might give him to 
 me. Is it not so ?" 
 
 This pertinacity on the part of the pale-faces seemed partially 
 to irritate the Tuscarora ; but he subdued the momentary flash 
 of anger, and answered quietly : 
 
 " The hearts of the pale-face women are soft : they cannot 
 look on the death of a warrior in the midst of his enemies. Let 
 the pale-face girl go back with her friends." 
 
 " You cannot mean to do this. Eagle's- Wing — you, who have 
 been so gentle and kind to us — cannot do this murder." 
 
 " The Seneca must die," was the answer. 
 
 " Is it right. Eagle's- Wing, to kill Panther thus, in cold blood ? 
 It is a great crime, both by the laws of men and of God." 
 
 " Our traditions have not told us so," answered the Tuscarora. 
 " They tell us that we must do so, if we wish to please the 
 Great Spirit." 
 
 " But have you never heard of any other tradition ? Have 
 you not heard the story of the life and death of the Redeemer of 
 the -world, and of the truths that he taught ? " 
 
 The- Indian seemed struck with a sort of consternation, for a 
 moment. He evidently recollected the teaching of the pious 
 missionary of the Oneidas and Tuscaroras, who had done so 
 much to give the minds of the Indians of those nations a proper 
 direction, just previous to the Revolutionary struggle. After a 
 short pause, he answered : 
 
 " The good missionary from the pale-faces has told us the story; 
 but it was a long while ago ; it was before the war between the 
 Colony men and the Yengeese. I have almost forgotten it. If 
 I was a pale-face, I should love it very much. But an Indian 
 must follow the traditions of his fathers." 
 
 " I know who you mean, Eagle's- Wing. It was Kirtland who 
 taught you that story. I am sorry that you should so soon have 
 forgotten it. He was a good man and told you the truth. Ue told 
 
THE FRONTIERSMEN 163 
 
 yon that you must not persecute your enemies ; but that you nuisl 
 forgive them, and that the Great Spirit will like you belter for it." 
 
 "How know that?" asked Eagle's-Wing abruptl}^, and with a 
 kind of superstitious feeling, that Ruth should be able to repeat 
 the instructions which, in his ignorance, he supposed she could 
 not have understood, without having listened to the missionary, 
 herself. " IIow know that ! That was great many years ago, 
 when the pale-face girl was a child." 
 
 " I know that he told you so," replied Ruth, " because he 
 must have told you what the new tradition was. He told you 
 that the Redeemer came down from Heaven, and how he died 
 because he loved all the nations and people of the world ; and 
 how he told them that they must all love one another like bro- 
 thers. Would it not be better, Eagle's-Wing, if all the pale- 
 faces and all the Indians thought so ?" 
 
 The Tuscarora cast down his eyes, while he answered : '* It 
 would be better, if they would think so ; but they do not. If the 
 pale-faces do not, how can the Indians think so ?" 
 
 '' It is only the bad men among the pale-faces who think other- 
 wise. There are a great many good men who always act upon 
 this truth. If it would be better for everybody to follow this 
 teaching, it is a good thing for those who do, even if a great 
 many do not. Is it not so, Eagle's-Wing ?" 
 
 Eagle's-Wing turned away — his savage heart evidently touched 
 by this re-awakening of old recollections ; but in the act of doing 
 so, his eyes fell upon the Seneca, who was surveying him and 
 Ruth, with a look of curious interest. The bitter taunt of Pan- 
 ther occurred to him. and those cruel instincts which had been 
 nearly overcome, were kindled again with renewed force. Turn- 
 ing towards Ruth, he coldly answered : 
 
 " It is a good tradition. I will not deny it ; but it is a pale-face 
 tradition. The Great-Teacher was not a red man ; he was a pale- 
 face. The pale-face girl must go back with her friends. The 
 Seneca shall die." 
 
 The color fled from the face of Ruth, and for a moment she 
 looked as if she would have fallen to the ground. Ralph was 
 springing forward to assist her, when a new and more heroic 
 strength seemed to sustain and inspire her. Advancing towards 
 Eagle's-Wing, she laid her hand upon his arm and exclaimed — 
 
 " You shall not do this murder, Eagle's-Wing. Your own heart 
 tells you that it is wrong. The Seneca is a bloody, guilt}' man ; 
 but God — the same God who looks down on the pale-face and 
 the Indian — shall punish you. You shall not do it. I will keep 
 this great crime from your soul, and you will thank me for it, 
 some dsiy. See here, you shall see what I will do ;" and she ran 
 to the tree where Panther was confined. The Indians hastened 
 forward, yet seemingly without the intent to resist her purpose. 
 The daring energy which inspired her, and the lofty look of in- 
 
X64 THI FB0NTI1.SSM89. 
 
 QOcent boidness, awed them into silence. With a rapidity sb« 
 could not have equalled at another time, she unfastened the 
 withes with which the Seneca was bound, and as rapidly returned 
 to the side of Eagle's-Wing. " See," she said, " he is free ! " 
 Again she laid her hand upon the arm of the Tuscarora, while 
 all eyes were watching the motions of Panther, who seemed stu- 
 pified with the curious scene. As the withes fell at his feet, he 
 straightened his form, and glared slowly around on the assembled 
 warriors. For a moment his eyes fell upon Riith, with a look of 
 awe, such as a debased human creature might be supposed to cast 
 upon a more exalted being: then slowly, and as if he expected 
 his attempt to be resisted, he moved from the tree, yet with his 
 eyes firmly fastened upon the face of Eagle's-Wing. The latter 
 stood erect, his nostrils dilated, and his eyes flashing, as if about 
 to spring upon the escaping prisone ^et restrained by the gen- 
 tle hand upon his arm, which, witi> . the exertion of physical 
 strength, seemed to bind him to the ground. Creeping as stealth- 
 ily as the animal from which he derived his name, the Seneca 
 still moved away, but with his face partially turned towards the 
 group which he was leaving. A few moments, and he had disap- 
 peared in the forest. 
 
 A spasmodic shudder passed over the frame of the Tuscarora 
 chief; then he turned towards Ruth, with a smile upon his face 
 and a tear in his eye, as he said. " It is well — let the Seneca go.'^ 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 We have brought this narrative, relating to the early history 
 of an interesting portion of New York, nearly to a close ; and 
 all that remains, is to give the reader a brief account of the 
 fortunes of some of the personages in whom he is supposed to 
 have taken some interest. 
 
 After the defeat of the Senecas, Barton and his daughter, 
 together with Ralph, Ichabod and the negro, returned to the 
 settlements, where Barton finally concluded to remain. Hia 
 advanced age prevented him from again undertaking to build 
 himself a house in the wilderness, while another reason, perhaps 
 still more powerful, forced him to the same conclusion. 
 
 He discovered th^^t Ruth, provided he would give his consent 
 to the arrangement, which, under the circumstances, he could 
 aot refuse, had decided upon becoming Mrs. Ralph Weston. That 
 event happened not long after their return to the settlements ; 
 and the old gentleman found, after the lapse of a very few years, 
 that he could not again seek the wilderness without abandoning 
 two little grand-children of whom he had become very fond. 
 Sambo remained with the family ; but in the course of a short 
 time, he was offered his freedom, which he refused. 
 
fHI TBOKTISRSHKV. i^^ 
 
 Icbabod, also, returned to the settlements ; and through the 
 assistance of his friend, the Captain, he was enabled to satisfy 
 ihe rapacious Mr. Parsons for his demand of £25 7s. 6d. He 
 finally embarked in some speculation in what were then deemed 
 western < lands, in which it is believed that he came very near 
 making his fortune. But he never mentioned his adventures of 
 the year 1783, without a sigh over the heavy losses which he 
 sustained in his factory and city-lot projects. 
 
 As for the Tuscarora and his squaw, they returned to their 
 village, and there remained, until the removal of the Tuscaroras 
 to the west, a few years afterwards. 
 
 Of Guthrie — whose fate has been left in some little doubt — 
 nothing certain was ever known. But a few years after, some 
 adventurer, who supposed himself a pioneer in this new country, 
 discovered a human skeleton by the stump of a tree, to which it 
 had been apparently bound, judging from the remnant of a 
 strong cord, which was found by its side. As some portions of 
 the skeleton were found at some distance from the tree, it was 
 supposed that the unfortunate man, ^whoever he was, after 
 having been confined to the tree, had been devoured by wolves. 
 
 Our tale is told ; and seventy years have passed over its 
 scenes and actors. The forests have fallen ; broad, green 
 meadows, enriched with labor and enriching the husbandman. 
 are in their place ; an active, bustling village has efiaced all signs 
 of early hardship and sufiering ; and, as if changed like the 
 pictures in a magic glass, the old scenes about which we have 
 lingered are no more. Occasionally, the children in the village 
 gaze, with a mixture of fear and wonder, upon a wandering 
 Oneidea, as he loiters in the streets, idle and drunken — a vaga- 
 bond where his fathers were lords and rulers. 
 
 But, with all the changes which seventy years have produced 
 and notwithstanding Ichabod's city lots have been laid out and 
 sold, and succeeding speculators are still busy in the same short- 
 handed means of getting money, the woollen factory has never 
 been built. In that respect, his dreams have never been realized. 
 Occasionally some speculative Ichabod has broached the old 
 scheme anew ; but obstacle upon obstacle has conspired to pre- 
 vent its realization ; and although the sheep dot our hills, their 
 wool seeks a foreign market. 
 
 The pond, too, remains ; but that which was once a sylvan 
 lake, surrounded with forests and crystalline in the purity of its 
 waters, has yielded all of its romantic associations to the practi- 
 cal spirit of the age. It has become a portion of a canal, and 
 a teuring-path has been constructed along its eastern and south- 
 ern shores. 
 
 So pass our dreams ; the infancy of Nature has reached ita 
 age J old fashioned modes of life, with their simplicity of mannersi 
 are passing away with our forests. 
 
leg THE FRONTIERSMBW. 
 
 The valley is still, as of old. shut out from the world. Greal 
 thoroughfares of travel are at its either extremity ; but neither 
 across it nor through it is heard the rushing of the •' iron horse ;" 
 still, as of old, come trotting and jogging along, at morning and 
 at night, the lumbering coaches, rocking like cradles, while the 
 weary traveler curses the fortune which compels him to take 
 this antiquated mode of travel. Four miles an hour— ^^re, per- 
 chance, in great emergencies — mish these ancient vehicles ; and 
 therein only, perhaps, we have not degenerated fro^p the sober 
 steadiness of our ancestors. 
 
 But a newly-directed energy is now exulting over the prospect 
 of levelling our hills and elevating our valleys, and building a 
 path upon which shall be heard the scream of the locomotive, and 
 the sweep of travel. City lots are up ; New York is small po- 
 tatoes — half-acre landholders, issuing like the youth in Cole's 
 " Voyage of Life," from the wilderness of long sleepy years, and 
 guided by an angel with money-bags under his wings, and with 
 a voice like the ring of dollars, see castles m the air, in the shapr 
 of depots and engine-houses, settling dowiu i^pon their preioiMf I 
 khabod is alive »gaiL&! 
 
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