“Go faster, Yankee—you no keep up,” exclaimed one, giving him a stunning blow.
“See here, you, p’raps you don’t know who it mought be you insulted in that way. I’m Seth Jones, from New Hampshire, and consequently you’ll be keerful of tetching me.”
The savage addressed, was upon the point of striking him insolently to the earth, when the chieftain interfered.
“No touch pale face—him tired—rest a little.”
Some unaccountable whim had possessed the savage, as this mercy was entirely unexpected by Seth, and he knew not how to account for it, unless it might be he was reserving him for some horrible torture.
The resting spell was but a breathing moment, however, and just as Seth had begun to really enjoy it, the chieftain gave orders for the replacement of the load. Seth felt disposed to tamper awhile, for the sake of prolonging his enjoyment, but, on second thought, concluded it the better plan not to cross the chief who had been so lenient to him thus far. So, with a considerable number of original remarks, and much disputation about the placing of the burden, he shouldered it at last and trudged forward.
Seth was right in his conjectures about Ina. Toward the latter part of the day, the three Indians who had been pursued by our other friends, rejoined the main party, bearing her with them. She noticed her companion in captivity at once, but no communication passed between them. A look of melancholy relief escaped her as she became assured that her parents were still safe, and that only she and her new friend were left to the sufferings and horrors of captivity. But there was enough in this to damp even such a young and hopeful spirit as was hers. Not death alone, but a fate from the sensuous captors, far worse than death itself, was to be apprehended. In the future, there was but one Hand that could sustain and safely deliver them, and to that One she looked for deliverance.