This Haldidge, who has been introduced to notice in this chapter, was a middle-aged man, who ten years before had emigrated from the settlements along the Hudson, with a company which had formed the settlement from which he started, and where we saw Haverland and his wife and sister safely domiciled. He was a married man, and his cabin happened to be upon the outskirts of the village. He joined and led the whites in several forays against the savages, when the latter became too troublesome; and, in this way he at last became a prominent object for the Indian’s hatred. His residence became known to them, and one dark, stormy night a half-dozen made a descent upon it. By the merest chance, Haldidge was in the village at that time, and thus escaped their malignant revenge. Being disappointed of their principal prey, they cowardly vented their hatred upon his defenseless wife and child. When the father returned, he found them both tomahawked, side by side, and weltering in each other’s blood. So silently had this onslaught been made that not a neighbor suspected any thing wrong, and were horror-struck to find that such deadly peril had been so near their own door. Haldidge took a fearful vengeance upon the destroyers of his happiness. He succeeded, a couple of years afterward, in discovering them, and, before six months were over, shot them all! As may be supposed, his natural aversion to the race, was intensified by this tragical occurrence, and had become so distinguished, that his name was as a terror to the savages in that section. This will account for his readiness in accompanying Haverland upon his perilous expedition.
As was said, our friends were rapidly gaining upon the Indian canoe. At the rate at which they were going, they would be up to them in the course of a half hour. They were so close to the shore, as to see the dark line of the shrubbery along the bank, and several times an overhanging limb brushed over their heads. Suddenly Haldidge raised his hand again. All ceased rowing and listened. To their consternation not the slightest sound was heard. Graham leaned over, and placed his ear almost to the water, but detected nothing but the soft ripple of the stream against the roots and dipping branches along the shore.
“Can it be?” he asked, with a painful whisper, as he raised his head, “that we have been heard?”
“I do not think so,” replied Haldidge, apparently in as much doubt as the rest.
“Then they have run into shore, and departed.”
“I fear that has been done.”
“But we have kept so close to the shore, would we not have seen or heard the boat?”
“Provided they had landed alone. They may have run in this very minute, and may not be more than a few yards off.”
“If so, we must hear them yet, and it won’t do to slide down upon them in the manner we are now going or we shall find ourselves in the same fix we expected to get them in.”