CHAPTER XXII.
When Roland recovered his consciousness, he was no longer a prisoner extended beneath the Indian cross. His limbs were unbound, and he himself lying across the knees of a man who was busily engaged sprinkling his head and breast with water from the little well, to which he had been borne while still insensible. He stared around him with eyes yet filmy and vacant. The first objects they fell on were two lifeless figures, the bodies of his late savage masters, stretched near the half-extinguished fire. He looked up to the face of his deliverer, which could be readily seen, for it was now broad day, and beheld, with such a thrill of pleasure as had not visited his bosom for many weary days, the features of his trusty guide and emissary, honest Nathan Slaughter, who was pursuing the work of resuscitation with great apparent zeal, while little dog Peter stood by wagging his tail, as if encouraging him to perseverance.
"What, Nathan!" he cried, grasping at his hand, and endeavouring, though vainly, to rise from his knee, "do I dream! is it you?"
"Verily, thee speaks the truth," replied Nathan;—"it is me,—me and little Peter; and, truly, it is nobody else."
"And I am free again? free, free!—And the savages? the vile, murdering
Piankeshaws? Dead! surprised, killed,—every dog of them!"
"Thee speaks the truth a second time," said Nathan Slaughter, snuffling and hesitating in his speech: "thee wicked enemies and captivators will never trouble thee more."
"And who, who was it that rescued me? Hah! there is blood on your face! your hands are red with it! It was you, then, that saved me? you that killed the accursed cut-throats? Noble Nathan! brave Nathan! true Nathan! how shall I ever requite the act? how shall I ever forget it?" And as he spoke, the soldier, yet lying across Nathan's knees, for his limbs refused to support him, grasped his preserver's hands with a fervour of gratitude that gave new life and vigour to his exhausted spirits.
"And thee does not think then," muttered Nathan, snuffling twice as much as before, but growing bolder as Roland's gratitude reassured him,—"thee does not think,—that is, thee is not of opinion,—that is to say, thee does not altogether hold it to be as a blood-guiltiness, and a wickedness, and a shedding of blood, that I did take to me the weapon of war, and shoot upon thee wicked oppressors, to the saving of thee life? Truly, friend, it was to save thee life,—thee must remember that; it was a thing that was necessary, and not to be helped. Truly, friend, it was my desire to help thee in peace and with a peaceful hand; but, of a truth, there was thee enemies at thee side, with their guns and their knives, ready to start up and knock out thee unfortunate brains. Truly, friend, thee sees it couldn't be helped; and, truly, I don't think thee conscience can condemn me."
"Condemn you indeed!" cried the young man; "it was an act to bind my gratitude for ever,—an act to win you the admiration and respect of the whole world, which I shall take care to make acquainted with it."
"Nay, friend," said Nathan, hastily, "the less thee says of it the better: if thee is theeself satisfied in thee conscience of its lawfulness, it is enough. Do thee, therefore, hold thee tongue on this and all other matters wherein thee has seen me do evil; for truly I am a man of a peaceful faith, and what I have done would be but as a grief and a scandal to the same."
"But my friends,—my poor Edith!—wretch that I am to think of myself or of others, while she is still a captive!" cried Roland, again endeavouring to rise. But his limbs, yet paralysed from the tightness with which thongs had been bound around them, tottered beneath him, and but for Nathan, he must have fallen to the earth. "The emigrants," he continued with incoherent haste;—"you brought them? They are pursuing the savages? they have rescued her? Speak, Nathan,—tell me all; tell me that my cousin is free!"
"Truly, friend," muttered Nathan, his countenance losing much of the equanimity that had begun to cover it, and assuming a darker and disturbed expression, "thee doth confuse both theeself and me with many questions. Do thee be content for awhile, till I chafe thee poor legs, which is like the legs of a dead man, and tie up thee wounds. When thee can stand up and walk, thee shall know all I have to tell thee, both good and bad. It is enough thee is theeself safe."
"Alas, I read it all from your looks," cried the soldier; "Edith is still a prisoner: and I lie here a miserable, crushed worm, incapable of aiding, unable even to die for her! But the emigrants, my friends? they are at least urging the pursuit? there is a hope they will retake her?"
"Truly, friend," said Nathan, "thee shall know all, if thee will have patience, and hold thee tongue. Truly, the many things thee says doth perplex me. If thee loves thee poor kinswoman, and would save her from cruel bondage and sorrow, thee must be quiet till I have put thee again upon thee legs; which is the first thing to be thought about: and after that, thee shall have my counsel and help to do what is good and proper for the maiden's redeeming."
With these words, Nathan again addressed himself to the task of chafing Roland's half-lifeless limbs, and binding up the several light, though painful wounds, which he had received in the conflict; and the soldier submitting in despair, though still entreating Nathan to tell him the worst, the latter began at last to relate his story.
The bold attempt of Nathan to pass the line of besiegers at the ruin, it seemed, he bad accomplished without difficulty, though not without risk; but this part of the narrative he hurried over, as well as his passage of the river at a solitary and dangerous ford in the wildest recesses of the forest. Then striking through the woods, and aiming for the distant Station, he had arrived within but a few miles of it, when it was his fortune to stumble upon the band of Regulators, who, after their memorable exploit at the beech-tree, had joined the emigrants, then on their march through the woods, and convoyed them to the Station. Here passing the night in mirth and frolic, they were startled at an early hour by the alarming intelligence, brought by a volunteer hunter, who had obtained it none could tell how, of the presence of the Indian army on the north side; and leaving their friends to arm and follow as they could, the visitors immediately mounted their horses to return to Bruce's Station, and thence to seek the field of battle. To these unexpected friends, thus opportunely met in the woods, Nathan imparted his story, acquainting them, in the same words, of the presence of enemies so much nearer at hand than was dreamed, and of the unfortunate dilemma of Forrester and his helpless party,—an account that fired the blood of the hot youths as effectually as it could have done if expressed in the blast of a bugle. A council of war being called on the spot, it was resolved to gallop at once to the rescue of the travellers, without wasting time in seeking additional assistance from the emigrants or their neighbours of the Station just left; which indeed, as from Nathan's observations, it did not seem that the numbers of the foe could be more than double their own, the heroic youths held to be entirely needless. Taking Nathan up, therefore, behind him, and bearing him along, to point out the position of the Indians, the gallant Tom Bruce, followed by his equally gallant companions, dashed through the woods, and succeeded by daybreak in reaching the ruin; where, as Nathan averred, so judiciously had they laid their plans for the attack, the Indians, if still there, might have been surprised, entirely worsted, and perhaps the half of them cut off upon the spot; "which," as he rather hastily observed, "would have been a great comfort to all concerned." But the ruin was deserted, besiegers and besieged had alike vanished, as well as the bodies of those assailants who had fallen in the conflict, to find their graves under the ruins, among the rocks, or in the whirling eddies of the river. The tracks of the horses being discovered in the ravine and at the water's edge, it was inferred that the whole party, too desperate, or too wise, to yield themselves prisoners, had been driven into the river, and there drowned; and this idea inflaming the fury of the Kentuckians to the highest pitch, they sought out and easily discovered among the canes, the fresh trail of the Indians, which they followed, resolving to exact the fullest measure of revenge. Nathan, the man of peace, from whom (for he had not thought proper to acquaint the young men with the warlike part he had himself taken in the battles of the night) no further services were expected, was now turned adrift, to follow or protect himself as he might; and the young men betook themselves to the pursuit with as much speed as the wild character of the woods permitted.
But it formed no part of honest Nathan's designs to be left behind. His feelings were too deeply involved in the fate of the unhappy individuals, whose misadventures he could, or thought he could, so clearly trace to his own indiscretion, to suffer him to rest, while it was yet wrapped in obscurity. He had accepted the charge and responsibility of extricating them from their perils; and his conscience could not be appeased until he had determined for himself whether in truth they were yet beyond the reach of assistance. Making his own observations from the appearance of the different tracts in the ravine, and satisfying himself there was among them one more Christian footprint than could be accounted for, he followed after the young men, examining the Indian trail in places where it had not been effaced by the Kentuckians, until he became convinced that the fugitives had, in some unaccountable way, escaped alive from the river, and were still struggling in retreat, led by some friendly guide, although closely pursued by the foe. This discovery, it was also probable, had been made by the Kentuckians, who had in consequence urged their horses to the utmost, and arriving on the hill where the savages lay in ambush, rushed to the attack, and fought and lost the battle, before Nathan could reach them. He met them indeed retreating in full rout before the victors, many wounded, all overcome by panic, and none willing or able to throw any light on the cause of defeat. One indeed, checking his horse a moment to bid the man of peace look to himself and avoid the savages, who were still urging the pursuit, hastily assured him that the defeat was all owing to Captain Ralph's ghost, which had suddenly got among them, yelling for vengeance on his executioners for which reason the conscience-stricken Regulator called Nathan to witness his oath, which he now made, "that he would never Lynch a man again as long as he lived." And the worthy warrior having added, with another oath, which he called a still superior power to attest, "that he had seen Stackpole fly off with Tom Brace's soul on the back of a devil, in shape of a big black horse breathing flames and sulphur," struck spur again into his own charger, not, however, until he had first generously invited Nathan to get up be-him, to escape the savage pursuers, who were now seen close behind. Declining the heroic offer, and bidding the youth effect his own escape, Nathan immediately dived, with his inseparable friend and adviser, little Peter, among the canes; where he lay concealed until well assured the victors had abandoned the pursuit, and returned to the field of battle.
"Then, friend," said the man of peace, who may now be permitted to tell his own story, "I took council of Peter as to what we should do; and truly it was our opinion we should creep after the murdering Shawnee creatures—though verily there was more than Shawnees engaged in this wicked business—and see what had become of thee and thee poor women; seeing that we were in a manner, as I may say, the cause of thee troubles, in carrying thee to the very place where we should not, wicked sinners that we are: that is, wicked sinner that I am, for truly little Peter had nothing to do with that matter, having done his best to keep us from the ruin. Well, friend, as soon as we thought it safe, we crept to the spot on the hill-side; and safe enough it was, the savages having departed, leaving nothing behind them, save two young Kentuckians and the coloured person, whom they had prevailed over and hewn to pieces with their Hatchets; besides four corpses of their own, which they had stuck in a cave, where Peter snuffed them out: truly, friend, thee don't know what a nose little Peter has! Well, friend, I saw then that thee enemies had divided, the main body departing one way over the hill, while a smaller party had crossed the river with a horse and prisoner. Truly it was Peter's opinion that this prisoner was theeself—thee own very self (a thing I could not be so certain of on my part, seeing that I had never tracked thee, save by thee horse-prints only), and that if we followed thee, we might in some way aid thee to escape, thee captivators being so few in number. And so, friend, we waded the river, and followed thee trail until night came, when little Peter undertook to nose thee on in the dark, which he did very successfully, until we reached the place where the savages had killed their horse, and broken their cask of liquor, when truly the scent of the same did so prevail over Peter's nose, that I was in fear he never would smell right again in all his life, which was a great grief to me; for truly Peter's nose is, as I may say, the staff of my life, my defence, and my succour: truly thee don't know the value of little Peter's nose. And, moreover, the savour of the dead horse did somewhat captivate his attention; for truly little Peter is but a dog, and he loves horse-flesh. Well, friend, this was a thing that perplexed me; until, by and by, having brought little Peter to reason in the matter of the horse, and washed his nose in a brook which it was my fortune to discover, he did bethink him what he was after, and so straightway hunt for the track, which being recovered we went on our way until we lighted right on thee captivators' camp-fire, and truly we lighted upon it much sooner than we expected. Well, friend," continued the narrator, "having crept up as near as I durst, I could see how thee was fixed, tied to the poles so thee could not help theeself; and the three savages lying beside thee, with their guns in the hollows of their arms, ready to be seized in a moment. Truly, friend, the sight threw me into another perplexity; and I lay watching thee and thee cruel oppressors for more than an hour, marvelling in what way I could give thee help."
"An hour!" cried Roland; "a friend lying by me during that hour, the most wretched and distracted of my whole existence? Had you but cut the rope, and given me the knife to strike a blow for myself!"
"Truly," said the man of peace, "I did so desire to do, seeing that then thee might have killed the Injuns theeself; which would have been more seemly, as being a thing thee conscience would not disapprove of; whereas mine, as thee may suppose, was quite averse to any such bloody doings on my own part. But, truly, I durst not adventure upon the thing thee speaks of; for, first, I saw by the stick on thee breast, thee was tied so tight and fast, it would be an hour's work to cut thee loose—thee captivators lying by all the while; and, secondly, I knew, by the same reason, thee limbs would be so numb thee could neither stand upon thee legs, nor hold a weapon in thee hand, for just as long a time; and, besides, I feared, in case thee should discover there was help nigh at hand, thee might cry out in thee surprise, and so alarm these sleeping captivators. And so, friend, I was in what thee may call a pucker, not knowing what to do; and so I lay hard by thee, with Peter at the back of me, watching and revolving the matter for that whole hour, as I told thee; when suddenly down fell a stick into the fire, and the same blazing up brightly, I saw two of the savages lying beside thee, their heads so close together thee might have supposed they both grew from the same pair of shoulders, and so nigh to me withal, that, verily, I might have poked them with the muzzle of my gun. Truly, friend," continued Nathan, looking both bewildered and animated, as he arrived at this period of his story, "I can't tell thee how it then happened,—whether it was a sort of nervousness in my fingers' ends, or whether it was all an accident; but, truly, as it happened, my gun went off in my hands, as it might be of its own accord, and, truly, it blew the two evil creatures' brains out! And then, friend, thee sees, there was no stopping, there being the third of thee captivators to look after; and, truly, as I had done so much, I thought I might as well do all,—the killing of three men being but a little worse than the killing of two; and, besides, the creature would have hurt thee, as thee lay at his mercy. And so, friend, I did verily spring upon him, sinner that I am, and strike him a blow with my hatchet, which I had taken from my belt to be ready; whereupon he fled, and I after him, being in great fear lest, if he escaped, he should return upon thee and kill thee, before I could get back to cut thee loose And so, friend, it happened that—that I killed him likewise!—for which I don't think thee can, in thee heart, blame me, seeing that it was all, over and over again, on thee account, and nobody else's. Truly, friend, it is quite amazing, the ill things thee has brought me to!"
"Had there been twenty of the villains, and you had killed them all, I should have held it the noblest and most virtuous act you could have performed," said Roland, too fiercely agitated by his own contending passions to note the strange medley of self-accusing and exculpatory expressions, the shame-faced, conscience-stricken looks, alternating with gleams of military fire and self-complacency, with which the man of peace recounted his bloody exploit, or the adroit attempt, with which he concluded it, to shuffle the responsibility of the crime, if crime it were, from his own to the young Virginian's shoulders. At another moment, the latter might have speculated with as much surprise as approval on the extraordinary metamorphosis of Nathan, the man of amity and good will, into a slayer of Indians, double-dyed in gore; but at that juncture, he had little inclination to dwell on anything save his own liberation and the hapless fate of his cousin.