Ticonderoga: A Story of Early Frontier Life in the Mohawk Valley

by G. P. R. James

CHAPTER X

Day broke slowly and heavily under a gray cloud, and found Lord H---- and the Indian chief still seated side by side at the entrance of the farmhouse. A word or two had passed between them in the earlier part of the night, but for many hours before dawn they had remained perfectly silent. Only once through the hours of their watch had Black Eagle moved from his seat, and that was nearly at midnight. The ears of Lord H---- had been on the watch as well as his own; but though the young English nobleman heard no sound, the chief caught a distant footfall about a quarter before twelve, and starting up he listened attentively. Then, moving slowly toward the door, he stood there a few moments as still as a statue. Presently Lord H---- caught the sound which had moved him, though it was exceedingly light, and the next instant another dark figure, not quite so tall as that of the chief, darkened the moonlight, and threw its shadow into the doorway. A few words then passed between the two Indians, in their native tongue, at first low and musical in tone, but then rising high, in accents which seemed to the ear of the listener to express grief or anger. Not more than five sentences were spoken on either part, and then the last comer bounded away, with a quick and seemingly reckless step, into the forest, and the old chief returned and seated himself, assuming exactly the same attitude as before.

When day dawned, however, Black Eagle rose and said in English: "It is day, my brother; let the voice of the Cataract awake the maiden, and I will lead you on the way. Her horse has not yet come, but if it have not run with the wind, or fed upon the fire, it will be here speedily."

"Do you know, then, what became of it after it broke away from us?" asked Lord H----.

"Nay," answered the Indian, "I know not; but my steps were in yours from the setting sun till you came hither. I was there for your safety, my brother, and for the safety of the maiden."

"We should often have been glad of your advice," answered Lord H----, "for we were often in sore need of some better information than our own."

"The man who aids himself needs no aid," answered Black Eagle. "Thou wert sufficient for the need; why should I take from thee thy right to act?"

As they were speaking, the light step of Edith was heard upon the stairs, and the eyes of the Black Eagle fixed upon her as she descended, with a look which seemed to Lord H---- to have some significance, though he could not tell exactly in what the peculiarity consisted. It was calm and grave, but there was a sort of tenderness in it which, without knowing why, made the young nobleman fear that the Indian was aware of some evil having befallen Mr. Prevost.

His mind was soon relieved, however, for when Edith had descended, the chief said at once: "Thy father is safe, my daughter. He passed through the fire uninjured, and is in his own lodge."

Edith looked pale and worn, but the words of the chief called a joyful smile upon her face, and the color back upon her cheek. In answer to the inquiries of Lord H---- she admitted that she had slept hardly at all, and added, with a returning look of anxiety: "How could I sleep, so uncertain as I was of my father's safety?"

She expressed an anxious desire to go forward as soon as possible and not to wait for the chance of her horse being caught by the Indians, which she readily comprehended as the meaning of the Black Eagle, when his somewhat ambiguous words were reported to her.

"They may catch him," she said, "or they may not, and my father will be very anxious, I know, till he sees me. I can walk quite well."

The Indian was standing silently at the door, to which he had turned after informing her of her father's safety, and Lord H----, taking her hand, inquired in a low tone if she would be afraid to stay alone with the Black Eagle for a few moments while he sought for some food for herself and him.

"Not in the least," she answered. "After his words last night, and the throwing of his blanket upon me, I am as safe with him as Otaitsa would be. From that moment he looked upon me as his daughter, and would treat me as such in any emergency."

"Well, then, I will not be long," answered Lord H----, and passing the Indian, he said: "I leave her to your care for a few moments, Black Eagle."

The Indian answered only by a sort of guttural sound peculiar to his people, and then, turning back into the house, he seated himself on the ground as before, and seemed inclined to remain in silence, but there were doubts in Edith's mind which she wished to have solved, and she said: "Is not my father thy brother, Black Eagle?"

"He is my brother," answered the Indian, laconically, and relapsed into silence again.

"Will a great chief suffer any harm to happen to his brother?" asked Edith again, after considering for a few moments how to shape her question.

"No warrior of the Totem of the Tortoise dares raise a tomahawk against the brother of the Black Eagle," answered the chief.

"But is he not the great chief of the Oneidas?" said Edith again. "Do not the people of the Stone hear his voice? Is he not to them as the rock on which their house is founded? Whither in the sky could the Oneidas soar if the Black Eagle led them not? And shall they disobey his voice?"

"The people of the Stone have their laws," replied the chief, "which are thongs of leather, to bind each sachem, and each totem, and each warrior; they were whispered into the rolls of wampum, which is in the hands of the great medicine man, or priest, as you would call him, and the voice of the Black Eagle, though it be strong in war, is as the song of the bobolink when compared to the voice of the laws."

Short as this conversation may seem when written down, it had occupied several minutes, for the Indian had made long pauses, and Edith, willing to humor him by adopting the custom of his people, had followed his example. His last reply was hardly given when Lord H---- returned, carrying a dry and somewhat hard loaf and a jug of clear cold water.

"I have not been very successful, for the people have evidently abandoned the place, and all their cupboards but one are locked up. In that, however, I found this loaf."

"They are squirrels, who fly along the boughs at the sound of danger, and leave their stores hidden," said the Black Eagle; "but dip the bread in water, my daughter; it will give you strength by the way."

Lord H---- laid the loaf down upon the table and hurried out of the room again; but Edith had little opportunity of questioning her dusky companion further before the young nobleman returned. He was absent hardly two minutes, and when he came back he led his horse behind him, somewhat differently accoutred from the preceding day. The demi-pique was now covered with a pillow, firmly strapped on with some leathern thongs, which he had found in the house, thus forming it into a sort of pad; and the two stirrups brought to one side, stretched as far apart as possible, and somewhat shortened, were kept extended by a piece of plank passed through the irons, and firmly attached, thus forming a complete rest for the feet of anyone sitting sidewise on the horse. Lord H---- had done many a thing in life on which he might reasonably pride himself. He had resisted temptations to which most men would have yielded; he had done many a gallant and noble deed; he had displayed great powers of mind and high qualities of heart in terrible emergencies and moments of great difficulty; but it may be questioned whether he had looked so complacently on any act of his whole life as on the rapid and successful alteration of his own inconvenient saddle into a comfortable lady's pad; and when he brought out Edith to the door, and she saw how he had been engaged, she could not help rewarding him with a beaming smile, in which amusement had a less share than gratitude. Even over the dark countenance of the Indian, trained to stoical apathy, something flitted not unlike a smile, also. The young nobleman, lifting his fair charge in his arms, seated her lightly on the horse's back, adjusted the rest for her feet with care, and then took the bridle to lead her on the way.

The Indian chief, without a word, walked on before, at a pace with which the horse's swiftest walk could scarcely keep up, and crossing the cleared ground around the house, they were soon once more beneath the branches of the forest. More than once the Black Eagle had to pause and lean upon his rifle, waiting for his two companions; but doubtless it was the difficulties of the narrow path, never made for horse's hoofs, and not the desire of prolonging conversation, nor the pleasure of gazing up the while into a pair of as beautiful eyes as ever shone upon mortal man, or into a face which might have looked out of heaven and not have shamed the sky, that retarded the young nobleman on his way.

Two miles were at length accomplished, and then they came into the solitary high road again, which led within a short distance of Mr. Prevost's cottage. During the whole journey the Indian chief had not uttered a word; but as soon as he had issued forth from the narrow path into the more open road he paused and waited till Edith came up; then, pointing with his hand, he said: "Thou knowest the way, my daughter; thou hast no more need of me. The Black Eagle must wing his way back to his own rock."

"But shall we be safe?" asked Edith.

"As in the happy hunting grounds," replied the chief; and then, turning away, he retraced the trail by which they had come.

Their pace was not much quicker than it had been in the more difficult path. The seal seemed to be taken away from Lord H---'s lips. He felt that Edith was safe, nearer home, no longer left, completely left, to his mercy and his delicacy, and his words were tender and full of strong affection; but she laid her hand gently on his as it rested on the peak of the saddle, and with a face glowing as if the leaves of autumn maples had cast a reflection from their crimson hues upon it, she said: "Oh, not now--not now--spare me a little still."

He gazed up in her face with a look of earnest inquiry, but he saw something there in the half-veiled, swimming eyes, or in the glowing cheek, or in the agitated quivering of the lip, which was enough to satisfy him.

"Forgive me," he said, in a deprecatory tone, but then the moment after he added, with frank, soldierly boldness: "But, dear Edith, I may thank you now, and thank you with my whole heart, for I am not a confident fool, and you are no light coquette, and did you refuse, you would say more."

Edith bent her head almost to the saddlebow, and some bright drops rolled over her cheek.

They remained silent, both conversing with their own thoughts for a short time, and then they were roused from somewhat agitated reveries by a loud and joyous call, and looking up the ascent before them they saw Mr. Prevost on horseback, and two of the negro slaves on foot, coming down as if to meet them. They hurried on fast; father and daughter sprang to the ground, and oh, with what joy she felt herself in his arms.

It is unnecessary to give here the explanations that ensued. Mr. Prevost had little to tell; he had passed safely--though not without scorching his clothes and face, and no small danger--along the course of the stream and through a small part of the thicker wood. He had found his house and all the buildings safe, and even the forest immediately around still free from the fire, and out of danger as long as the wind remained easterly. Satisfied that his daughter would find the farmer's family, and be kindly entertained, he had no anxiety on her account till about an hour before, when her horse had come back to the house with the saddle and housings scorched and blackened, and the hoofs nearly burnt off his feet. The poor animal could give no history, and Mr. Prevost, in great alarm for Edith, had set out to seek her in haste.

Her tale was soon told, and again and again Mr. Prevost shook her protector's hand, thanking him earnestly for what he had done for his child. The distance to the house was now not great, and giving the horses to the negroes, the little party proceeded on foot, talking over the events of the last few hours. When they reached the house there were somewhat obstreperous sounds of joy from the women servants to see their young mistress return, and Edith was speedily carried away to her chamber for rest and refreshment. Breakfast was immediately prepared in the hall for Lord H----, who had tasted no food since the middle of the preceding day; but he ate little even now, and there was a sort of restlessness about him which Mr. Prevost remarked with some anxiety.

"My lord, you hardly taste your food," he said, "and seem not well or not at ease. I trust you have no subject of grief or apprehension pressing upon your mind."

"None whatever," replied Lord H----, with a smile; "but to tell you the truth, my dear sir, I am impatient for a few moments' conversation with you alone, and I could well have spared my breakfast till they are over. Pray let us go into the other room, where we shall not be interrupted."

Mr. Prevost led the way, and closed the door after them with a grave face, for, as is usual in such cases, he had not the faintest idea of what was coming.

"Our acquaintance has been very short, Mr. Prevost," said Lord H----, as soon as they were seated, feeling, indeed, more hesitation and embarrassment than he had imagined he could experience in such circumstances. "But I trust you have seen enough of me, taken together with general repute, to make what I am going to say not very presumptuous."

Mr. Prevost gazed at him in perfect astonishment, unable to perceive where his speech would end. And as the young nobleman paused he answered: "Pray speak on, my lord. Believe me, I have the highest esteem and regard for you; your character and conduct through life have, I well know, added luster to your rank, and your noble blood has justified itself in your noble actions. What on earth can you have to say which could make me think you presumptuous for a moment?"

"Simply this, and perhaps you may think me presumptuous when I have said it," replied Lord H----. "I am going to ask you to give me something which I value very much, and which you rightly value as much at least as anything you possess. I mean your daughter. Nay, do not start and turn so pale. I know all the importance of what I ask, but I have now passed many days entirely in her society; I have gone through some difficulties and dangers with her, as you know--scenes and sensations which endear two persons to each other. I have been much in woman's society. I have known the bright and the beautiful in many lands; perhaps my expectations have been too great, my wishes too exacting, but I never met woman hitherto who touched my heart. I have now found the only one whom I can love, and I now ask her of you with a full consciousness of what it is I ask."

Mr. Prevost had remained profoundly silent, with his eyes bent down, and his cheeks, as Lord H---- had said, very pale. There was a great struggle in his heart, as there must be always in a parent's bosom in such circumstances.

"She is very young--so very young!" he murmured, speaking to himself rather than to his companion.

"I may, indeed, be somewhat too old for her," said Lord H----, thoughtfully, "but yet I trust, in heart and spirit at least, Mr. Prevost, I have still all the freshness of youth about me."

"Oh, it is not that--it is not that at all," answered Edith's father; "it is that she is so very young to take upon herself both cares and duties. True, she is no ordinary girl; and perhaps if ever anyone were fit, at so early an age, for the great responsibilities of such a state, it is Edith. Her education has been singular, unlike that of any other girl----"

He had wandered away, as was his custom, from the immediate question to collateral issues, and was no longer considering whether he should give his consent to Edith's marriage with Lord H----, but whether she was fit for the marriage state at all, and what effect the education she had received would have on her conduct as a wife.

The lover, in the meantime, habitually attaching himself and every thought to one important object, was impatient for something more definite, and he ventured to break across Mr. Prevost's spoken reverie, saying: "Our marriage would be necessarily delayed, Mr. Prevost, for some time, even if I obtained your consent. May I hope that it will be granted me if no personal objection exists toward myself?"

"None in the world!" exclaimed Mr. Prevost, eagerly. "You cannot suppose it for a moment, my dear lord. All I can say is, that I will oppose nothing which Edith calmly and deliberately thinks is for her own happiness. What does she say herself?"

"She says nothing," answered Lord H----, with a smile; "for though she cannot doubt what are my feelings toward her, she has not been put to the trial of giving any answer without your expressed approbation. May I believe, then, that I have your permission to offer her my hand?"

"Beyond a doubt," replied Mr. Prevost. "Let me call her; her answer will soon be given, for she is not one to trifle with anybody."

He rose as he spoke, as if to quit the room, but Lord H---- stopped him, saying: "Not yet, not yet, my dear sir. She had little, if any, rest last night, and has experienced much fatigue and anxiety during the last twenty-four hours; probably she is taking some repose, and I must not allow even a lover's impatience to deprive her of that."

"I had forgotten," said Mr. Prevost. "It is indeed true; the dear child must, indeed, need some repose. It is strange, my lord, how sorrows and joys blend themselves together in all events of mortal life. I had thought, when in years long ago I entwined my fingers in the glossy curls of my Edith's hair, and looking through the liquid crystal of her eyes, seemed to see into the deep foundations of pure emotions in her young heart--I had thought, I say, that few joys would be equal to that of seeing her, at some future day, bestow her hand on some man worthy of her, to make and partake the happiness of a cheerful home; but now I find the thought has its bitter as well as its sweet; and memories of the chilly grave rise up to call a solemn and sobered shade over the bright picture drawn."

His tone dropped gradually as he spoke, and fixing his eyes upon the ground, he again fell into a fit of absent thought, which lasted long.

Lord H---- would not disturb his reverie, and walking quietly out of the room, he gave himself also up to meditation. But his reflective moods were of a different kind from those of his friend--more eager, more active--and they required some employment for the limbs while the mind was so busy. To and fro he walked before the house for nearly an hour, before Mr. Prevost came forth and found him; and then the walk was still continued. But the father's thoughts, though they had wandered for a while, had soon returned to his daughter, and their conversation was of Edith only.

At length, when it was nearly noon, as they turned upon the little open space of ground in front of the dwelling, the eyes of the young nobleman, which had been turned more than once to the door, rested on Edith as she stood in the hall and gazed forth over the prospect.

"The fire seems to be raging there still," she said, pointing with her fair hand over the country toward the southwest, where hung a dense canopy of smoke above the forest. "What a blessing one of our autumnal rains would be!"

Lord H---- made no reply, but suddenly left her father's side, and taking her extended hand in his, led her into the little sitting-room. They remained long enough together--to Mr. Prevost it seemed very long--but when the lover led her to the door again there were once more happy tears in her eyes, glad blushes on her cheek; and though the strong, manly arm was fondly thrown around her waist, she escaped from its warm clasp and cast herself upon the bosom of her father.

"She is mine!" said Lord H----. "She is mine!"

"But none the less mine," answered Mr. Prevost, kissing her cheek.

"Ah, no," said Edith. "No! always yours, my dear father--your child;" and then she added, while the glowing blood rushed over her beautiful face like the gush of morning over a white cloud: "Your child, though his wife."

It cost her an effort to utter the word wife, and yet she was pleased to speak it; but then the moment after, as if to hide it from memory again, she said: "Oh, that dear Walter were here. He would be very happy, I know, and say I had come to the end of my day-dreaming."

"He will be here probably to-night," said her lover.

"We must not count upon it," said her father; "he may meet many things to detain him; and now, my children, I will go in and make up my journal till the dinner hour."

Edith leaned fondly on his bosom, and whispered: "And write that this has been one happy day, my father."

The day went by; night fell, and Walter Prevost did not appear in his father's house. No alarm, however, was entertained, for out of the wide range of chances there were many events which might have occurred to detain him. A shade of anxiety, perhaps, came over Edith's mind; but it passed away the next morning, when she heard from the negro Chaudo (or Alexander), who, having been brought up among the Indians from his infancy, was better acquainted with their habits than any person in the house, that there had not been a single one in the neighborhood since the preceding morning at eight o'clock.

"All gone west, Missy," he said; "the last to go were old Chief Black Eagle. I hear ob him coming to help you, and I go out to see."

Edith asked no questions in regard to the sources of his information, for he was famous for finding out all that was going on in the neighborhood, and with a childlike vanity making somewhat of a secret of the means by which he obtained intelligence; but she argued, reasonably, though wrongly, that as Walter was not to set out from Albany till about the same hour the Indians departed, he could not have fallen in with any of their parties.

Thus passed the morning till about three o'clock; but then, when the lad did not appear, anxiety rose up and became strong, as hour after hour went by and he came not. Each tried to sustain the hopes of the others; each argued against the apprehensions he himself entertained. Lord H---- pointed out that the commander-in-chief, to whom Walter had been sent, might be absent from Albany. Mr. Prevost suggested that the young man might have found no boat coming up the river; and Edith remembered that very often the boatmen were frightfully exorbitant in their charge for bringing anyone on the way who seemed eager to proceed. Knowing her brother's character well, she thought it very likely that he would resist an attempt at imposition, even at the risk of delay. But still she was very, very anxious, and as night again fell, and the hour of repose arrived without his presence, tears gathered in her beautiful eyes and trembled on the silken lashes.

The following morning dawned in heavy rain. A perfect deluge seemed descending from the sky, but still Lord H---- ordered his horse at an early hour, telling Edith and Mr. Prevost in as quiet and easy a tone as he could assume, that he was going to Albany.

"Although I trust and believe," he said, "that my young friend Walter has been detained by some accidental circumstances, yet it will be satisfactory to us all to know what has become of him; and, moreover, it is absolutely necessary that I should have some communication as speedily as possible with the commander-in-chief. I think it likely that Walter may have followed him down the river, as he knows my anxiety for an immediate answer. I must do so, too, if I find him still absent; but you shall hear from me when I reach Albany, and I will be back myself as soon as possible."

Edith gazed at him with a melancholy look, for she felt how much she needed, and how much more she still might need, the comfort of his presence; but she would not say a word to prevent his going. The breakfast that day was a sad and a gloomy meal. The lowering sky, the pouring rain, the thoughts that were in the hearts of all, banished everything like cheerfulness. Various orders were given, for one of the servants to be ready to guide Lord H---- on his way, for ascertaining whether the little river was in flood, and other matters; and the course which Walter was likely to take on his return was considered and discussed, in order that the young nobleman might take the same road, and meet him, if possible; but this was the only conversation that took place.

Just as they were about to rise from table, however, a bustle was heard without, amongst the servants, and Mr. Prevost started up, exclaiming: "Here he is, I do believe!"

But the hope was dispelled the next instant, for a young man in full military costume, but drenched with rain, was ushered into the room, and advanced toward Lord H----, saying in a quiet, commonplace tone: "We arrived last night, my lord, and I thought it better to come up and report myself immediately, as the quarters are very insufficient, and we may expect a great deal of stormy weather, I am told."

Lord H---- looked at him gravely, as if he expected to hear something more, and then replied, after a moment's pause: "I do not exactly understand you, Captain Hammond; you have arrived where?"

"Why, at the boatmen's village, on the points, my lord," replied the young officer, with a look of some surprise; "have you not received Lord London's dispatch in answer to your lordship's own letters?"

"No, sir," replied Lord H----; "but you had better come and confer with me in another room."

"Oh, George, let us hear all!" exclaimed Edith, laying her hand upon his arm, and divining his motives at once. "If there be no professional reason for secrecy, let us hear all."

"Well," said Lord H----, gravely, "pray, Captain Hammond, when were his lordship's letters dispatched, and by whom?"

"By the young gentleman you sent, my lord," replied Captain Hammond; "and he left Albany two days ago, early in the morning. He was a fine, gentlemanly young fellow, who won us all; and I went down to the boat with him myself."

Edith turned very pale, and Mr. Prevost inquired: "Pray, has anything been heard of the boat since?"

"Yes, sir," answered the young officer, beginning to perceive the state of the case. "She returned to Albany the same night, and we came up in her yesterday, as far as we could. I made no inquiries after young Mr. Prevost, for I took it for granted he had arrived with the dispatches."

Lord H---- turned his eyes toward the face of Edith, and saw quite sufficient there to make him instantly draw a chair toward her and seat her in it.

"Do not give way to apprehension," he said, "before we know more. The case is strange, undoubtedly, dear Edith, but still the enigma may be solved in a happier way than you think."

Edith shook her head sadly, saying in a low tone: "You do not know all, dear George--at least I believe not. The Indians have received offence--they never forgive. They were wandering about here on the night we were caught by the fire, disappearing the next morning; and some time during that night my poor brother must have been----"

Tears broke off the sentence; but her lover eagerly caught at some of her words to find some ground of hope for her--whatever he might fear himself. "He may have been turned from his course by the burning forest," he said, "and have found a difficulty in retracing his way. The woods were still burning yesterday, and we cannot tell how far the fire may have extended. At all events, dearest Edith, we have gained some information to guide us. We can now trace poor Walter to the place where he disembarked, and that will narrow the ground we have to search. Take courage, love, and let us all trust in God."

"He says that Walter intended to disembark four miles south of the King's road," said Mr. Prevost, who had been talking earnestly to Captain Hammond. "Let us set out at once and examine the ground between this place and that."

"I think not," said Lord H----, after a moment's thought. "I will ride down as fast as possible to the post, and gain what information I can there. Then, spreading a body of men to the westward, we will sweep all the trails up to this spot. You and as many of your people as can be spared from the house may come on to meet us, setting out in an hour; but for heaven's sake, do not leave this dear girl alone!"

"I fear not--I fear not for myself!" replied Edith. "Only seek for Walter, obtain some news of him, and let us try to save him, if there be yet time to do so."

Covering her eyes with her handkerchief, which was sometimes wetted with her tears, Edith took no more part in what was going on, but gave herself up to bitter thought, and many and complex were the trains which it followed.

While Edith remained plunged in these gloomy reveries, an active, but not less sad, consultation was going on at the other side of the room, which ended in the adoption of the plan proposed by Lord H----, very slightly modified by the suggestions of Mr. Prevost. An orderly whom Captain Hammond had brought with him was left at the house as a sort of guard for Edith, it being believed that the sight of his red coat would act as a sort of intimation to any Indians who might be in the woods that the family was under the protection of the British government. Lord H---- and the young officer set out together for the boatmen's village--whence Walter had departed for Albany, and where a small party of English soldiers were now posted--intending to obtain all the aid they could, and sweep along the forest till they came to the verge of the recent fire, leaving sentinels on the different trails, which, the reader must understand, were so numerous throughout the whole of what the Iroquois called their Long House, as often to be within hail of each other.

Advancing stealthily along these narrow pathways, Lord H---- calculated that he could reconnoitre the whole distance between the great river and the fire with sufficient closeness to prevent any numerous party of Indians passing unseen, at least till he met with the advancing party of Mr. Prevost, who were to search the country thoroughly for some distance round the house, and then to proceed steadily forward in a reverse course to that of the young nobleman and his men.

No time was lost by Lord H---- and Captain Hammond on the road, the path they took being for a considerable distance the same by which Lord H---- had first arrived at Mr. Prevost's home, and throughout its whole length the same which the young officer had followed in the morning. It was somewhat longer, it is true, than the Indian trail by which Woodchuck had led them on his expedition; but its width and better construction more than made up for the difference in distance; and the rain had not been falling long enough to affect its solidity to any great extent. Thus little more than an hour and a half sufficed to bring the two officers to the spot where a company of Lord H----'s regiment was posted; and the first task, that of seeking some intelligence of Walter's movements after landing, was more successful than might have been expected.

A settler, who supplied the boatmen with meal and flour, was even then in the village, and he averred truly that he had seen young Mr. Prevost, and spoken with him, just as he was quitting the cultivated ground on the bank of the river, and entering the forest ground beyond. Thus his course was traced up to a quarter before three o'clock on the Thursday preceding, and to the entrance of a government road which all the boatmen knew well. The distance between that spot and Mr. Prevost's house was about fourteen miles, and from the boatmen's village to the mouth of the road, through the forest, some six or seven. Besides the company of soldiers, numbering some seventy-three or seventy-four men, there were at least forty or fifty stout, able-bodied fellows amongst the boatmen well acquainted with all the intricacies of the roads round about, and fearless and daring from the constant perils and exertions of their mode of life.

These were soon gathered round Lord H----, whose rank and military station they now learned for the first time; and he found that the tidings of the disappearance of Walter Prevost, whom most of them knew and loved, excited a spirit in them which he had little expected. He addressed a few words to them at once, offering a considerable reward to each man who would join in searching thoroughly the whole of that part of the forest which lay between the spot where the young man was last seen and his father's house. But one tall, stout man, of about forty, stepped forward and spoke for the rest, saying: "We want no reward for such work as that, my lord. I guess there's not a man of us who will not turn out to search for young Walter Prevost, if you'll but leave redcoats enough with the old men to protect our wives and children in case of need."

"More than sufficient will remain," replied Lord H----; "I cannot venture for anything not exactly connected with the service, to weaken the post by more than one-quarter of its number; but still we shall make up a sufficient party to search the woods sufficiently, if you will all go with me."

"That we will! that we will!" exclaimed a dozen voices; and everything was soon arranged. Signals and modes of communication and co-operation were speedily agreed upon; and the practical knowledge of the boatmen proved fully as serviceable as the military science of Lord H----. He was far too wise not to avail himself of it to the fullest extent; and soon, with some twenty regular soldiers, and thirty-seven or thirty-eight men from the village, each armed with his invariable rifle and hatchet, and a number of good, big, active boys, who volunteered to act as a sort of runners and keep up the communication between the different parts of the line, he set out upon his way along the edge of the forest, and reached the end of the government road, near which Walter had been last seen, about one o'clock in the day.

Here the men dispersed, the soldiers guided by the boatmen; and the forest was entered at some fourteen different places, wherever an old or a new trail could be discovered. Whenever an opportunity presented itself by the absence of brushwood, or the old trees being wide or far apart, the boys ran across from one party to another, carrying information or directions; and though each little group was often hidden from the other as they advanced steadily onward, still it rarely happened that many minutes elapsed without their catching a sight of some friendly party on the right or left; while whoop and halloo marked their progress to each other. Once or twice the trails crossing, brought two parties to the same spot; but then, separating again, immediately, they sought each a new path, and proceeded as before.

Few traces of any kind could be discovered on the ground, for the rain, though it had now ceased, had so completely washed the face of the earth that every print of shoe or moccasin was obliterated. The tracks of cart wheels, indeed, seemingly recent, and the foot marks of a horse and some oxen, were discovered along the government road, but nothing more, till, at a spot where a large and deeply indented trail left the highway, the ground appeared a good deal trampled by hoof marks, as if a horse had been standing there some little time; and, under a thick hemlock tree at the corner of the trail, sheltering the ground beneath from the rain, the print of a well-made shoe was visible. The step had evidently been turned in the direction of Mr. Prevost's house, and up that trail Lord H---- himself proceeded, with a soldier and two boatmen.

No further step could be traced, however; but the boatman who had been the spokesman a little while before, insisted upon it that they must be on young Master Walter's track. "That's a New York shoe," he said, "made that print, I am sure; and depend upon it, we are right where he went. Keep a sharp look under all the thick trees at the side, my lord. You may catch another track. Keep behind, boys--you'll brush 'em out."

Nothing more was found, however, though the man afterward thought he had discovered the print of a moccasin in the sand, where it had been partly protected; but still some rain had reached it, and there was no certainty.

The trail they were then following was, I have said, large and deeply worn, so that the little party of Lord H---- soon got somewhat in advance of all the others, except that which had continued on the government road.

"Stay a bit, my lord," said the good boatman, at length; "we are too far ahead, and might chance to get a shot, if there be any of them red devils in the wood. I know them well, and all their ways, I guess, having been among them, man and boy, these thirty years; and it was much worse when I first came. They'll lie as close to you as that bush, and the first thing you'll know of it will be a ball whizzing into you; but if we all go on in time they can't keep back, but will creep away like mice. But what I can't understand is, why they should try to hurt young Walter, for they were all as fond of him as if he were one of themselves."

"The fact is, my good friend," replied Lord H----, in a low tone, "the day I came down to your landing last, one of the Oneidas was, unfortunately, killed, and we are told that they will have some white man's blood in retaliation."

"To be sure they will!" said the man, with a look of consternation. "They'll have blood for blood, if all of 'em die for it. But did Walter kill him?"

"No," replied Lord H----; "it was our friend the Woodchuck--but he did it entirely in self-defence."

"What! Brooks?" exclaimed the boatman, in much surprise. "Do let's hear about it, and I guess I can tell you how it will all go, better than any other man between this and Boston;" and he seated himself on the stump of a tree, in an attitude of attention.

Very briefly, but with perfect clearness, Lord H---- related all that had occurred on the occasion referred to. The boatman listened with evident anxiety, and then sat for a moment in silence, with the air of a judge pondering over the merits of a case just pleaded before him.

"I'll tell you how it is, my lord," he said, at length, in an oracular tone; "they've got him, depend on't. They've caught him here in the forest; but you see, they'll not kill him yet--no, no, they won't. They've heard that Woodchuck has got away, and they've kidnapped young Walter to make sure of someone. But they'll stay to see if they can't get Brooks into their clutches somehow. They'll go dodgering about all manner of ways, and try every trick you can think of to have him back. Very like you may hear that they've killed the lad, but don't you believe it for a good many months to come, for I guess it's likely they'll set this story afloat just to get Brooks to come back, for then he'll think that they've had all they wanted, and will know that he's safe from all but the father, or the brother, or the son of the man he has killed. But they'll wait and see. Oh, they're the most cunnin'est set of critters that ever lived, and no doubt of it. But let's get on, for the others are up--there's a redcoat through the trees here--and they may, perhaps, have scalped the boy; though I don't think it's nohow likely."

Thus saying, he rose and led the way again through the dark glades of the wood, till the clearer light of day shining amidst the trunks and branches on before, showed that the party was approaching the spot where the late conflagration had laid the shady monarchs of the forest low. Suddenly, at a spot where another trail crossed, the soldier who was with them stooped down and picked something up off the ground, saying: "Here's a good large knife, anyhow."

"Let me see--let me see!" cried the boatman. "That's his knife, for a score of dollars! Aye--'Warner, London'--that's the maker. It's his knife. But that shows nothing. He might have dropped it. But he's come precious near the fire. He surely would never try to break through and get himself burnt to death. If the Ingians had got him, I should have thought they'd have caught him farther back. Hallo! What are they all doing on there? They've found the corpse, I guess."

The eyes of Lord H---- were bent forward in the same direction, and though his lips uttered no sound, his mind had asked the same question and come to the same conclusion. Three negroes were standing gathered together round some object lying on the ground, and the figure of Mr. Prevost himself, partly seen, partly hidden by the slaves, appeared, sitting on a fallen tree, with his head resting on his hand, contemplating fixedly the same object which seemed to engage all the attention of the negroes.

Lord H---- hurried his pace and reached the spot in a few moments. He was somewhat relieved by what he saw when he came nearer, for the object at which Mr. Prevost was gazing at so earnestly was Walter's knapsack, and not the dead body of his son. The straps which had fastened it to the lad's shoulders had been cut, not unbuckled, and it was, therefore, clear that it was not by his own voluntary act that it had been cast off; but it did not appear to have been opened, and the boatman, looking down at it, muttered: "No, no, they would not steal anything--not they. That was not what they wanted. It's no use looking any farther. The case is clear enough."

"Too clear!" said Mr. Prevost, in a dull, stern tone. "That man Brooks has saved his own life and sacrificed my poor boy!"

The tears gushed into his eyes as he spoke, and he turned away to hide them. Lord H---- motioned to the negroes to take up the knapsack and carry it home, and then, advancing to Mr. Prevost's side, he took his hand, saying in a low tone: "There may yet be hope, my dear sir. Let us not give way to despair, but exert ourselves instantly and strenuously to trace out the poor lad and save him. Much may yet be done--the government may interfere--he may be rescued by a sudden effort."

Mr. Prevost shook his head heavily, and murmuring, "Are all my family destined to perish by Indians?" took his way slowly back toward his house.

Nothing more was said till he was within a quarter of a mile of his own door, but there, just emerging from the cover of the wood, the unhappy father stopped and took the hand of Lord H----. "Break it to her gently," he said, in a low tone; "I am unfit. Misfortunes, disappointments and sorrows have broken the spirit which was once strong, and cast down the energies which used never to fail. It is in such moments as these that I feel how much I am weakened. Prepare her to leave this place, too. My pleasant solitude has become abhorrent to me, and I cannot live here without a dread and memory always upon me. Go forward, my good lord. I will follow you soon."