“Mebbe ye thought I’d de-de-desarted ye,” said Hill. “Ye see what I war about. I met the advance of Bradstreet’s army jist in time fur this. Hear that. Thar won’t many of ’em iscape!”
It was now light enough to distinguish objects plainly. Far up the shore came the numerous reports of rifles, showing the Indians were surprised and routed at every point. The noise aroused Devine, who had been laid upon the ground, attended by some of his companions.
“Courage, Tim, my boy!” said Scarred Eagle, bending over him. “Ye’ve got among friends, an’ the inemy ar’ routed.”
“An’ is it y’ursilf to tell me dthat?” he answered, struggling to his feet. “Good! I thought I was dead, so. Phare’s dthe rist? Ah—all here, dthe Vargin be praised! Phat’s dthat?”
“Good music!” said Mace. “It’s the shouts of the retreating reds.”
“Och! musha! I’ve but wan ear,” said Tim, putting up his hand with a grimace; “but it’s wilcome to sich music. Give me a sup of wather, for I’m wake, jist.”
Something stronger was furnished to all of the rescued. As the light increased, those in pursuit came back, forming a numerous company. As the day advanced the main division of the army came up and acting upon the report furnished by the rescued scouts, prepared to advance to the relief of the besieged fort. This was done, and the fort relieved without a struggle. The followers of Pontiac, alarmed and disheartened by repeated reverses, had abandoned the region.
In three days the scouts, now thoroughly recruited in strength, returned to one of the border settlements. Here Brom Vail and the beautiful and brave Miami maiden, whom he loved, were united in Christian marriage. Scarred Eagle and Goodbrand made their home with them, and Mace was always a welcome visitor.
Thus, reader, we have traced one of the episodes of frontier life. And now our story is done.
THE END.