"And to deliver thee too, my Walter," answered Otaitsa, with a bright smile. "I trust it is certain, my beloved. By the way I came, by that way you can go."
"How came you?" asked Walter, seating her beside him, and pressing her closer with his arm to the bosom on which she leaned. "I thought it was impossible for any one to reach me, so hidden is this place, so close the watch they kept. It must have been very perilous for thee, my Blossom. Art thou not hurt?"
"Oh, no," she answered; "nor was the peril really great. God gave me wings to fly to thee. Love bore me up. But let me tell thee how I came. I have a friend, the wife of one of thine enemies, a young bride to whom his heart is open as the lake. From her I heard of all their plans; how they have filled the wood below the rocks with watchers; how they have set guards on every trail. They never dreamed that from the morning-side a way could be found down over the rock into this dell. I pondered over the tidings, and remembered that, when I was a little happy child, I clambered some way down by the aid of shrubs and crevices in search of fruit; and I laid my plan against theirs. I took two ropes, which I had woven long ago, of the tough bark of the moose-plant; and, making a wide circle round, I reached the upland above the cliffs. My only trouble was to find the exact spot from that side; for I knew that there was a cloud between me and thy enemies, and that I walked unseen. At length, however, I found the rock overlooking the chasm. I cast off all burdens, all that the brambles or branches might snatch at; and, with the ropes wound round me, came down as far as I could find safe footing. There was a tree, a small tree, on the pinnacle; and I tried it before I trusted it. One branch broke; but the root and stump stood firm, griping the rock fast. To them I fixed the end of one rope, and easily swung down to a point below where there was a larger, stronger tree. A stone, however, slipped from under my foot, and fell rattling down. Round the strong tree I twisted the rope again, and thus reached the very ledge overhead; but there, as there had been noise and some crashing of the branches, I stood for a while hidden behind the bushes, to make sure that I was not discovered. At length, however, I was satisfied; and now the other rope was a friend to give me help. I fastened it to the first, knotted it into tight loops, and thus, aiding hands and feet with sometimes the aid of a projecting stone, and sometimes a small shrub, came slowly down. By the same way I shall return, my love; and by it, too, my Walter must go back this night to his own people."
"Why not with you now?" asked Walter eagerly. "Let Otaitsa go with me, and, whenever we reach my father's house, become my wife indeed. Oh, how gladly will he fold her to his heart! how fondly will Edith call her sister!"
"It cannot be, beloved," she answered. "I came to save him I love--to save him who is the husband of my heart, but not to abandon my father till he gives me to you; and, besides, there would be none to help us. This night you must climb by the ropes and boughs up to the top of the cliff, when, as near as you can reckon, there have been six hours of darkness. At the top you will find people waiting. They are but women, yet they all love you, and me likewise; and they have sworn by their Great Spirit, that if it cost their lives they will set you free. Each will help you in some way. One has a canoe upon the creek--another knows the deepest woods on the Mohawk side, and can guide you well. Others will lead you down Wood Creek to Sir William Johnson's Castle, where you are safe. Eat now, my beloved; for you must have strength, and Otaitsa must leave you soon. Before she goes, she must tie your hands again, lest your enemies come ere the night; but she will tie them in such a sort, that with your teeth you can undraw the knot; and she will loosen the fastening of the bar, so that even a weak hand can push it out."
She had hardly uttered the words, when a low, mocking laugh came upon their ears, and two or three dark forms shadowed the doorway. Otaitsa instantly started to her feet, and drew a knife from the belt around her waist.
"Stand back," she cried aloud, in the Iroquois tongue, as the men glided in. "I am your great chief's daughter; and the blood of the Black Eagle will not bear a touch."
"We touch thee not, Blossom," answered Apukwa. "Thou shalt go free; for the Black Eagle is a great chief, a mighty warrior, reverenced by his people. But our prisoner we keep; and though thou hast loosened his bands, we can fasten them again. Put thy tomahawk in thy belt, brother of the Snake. It must taste no blood here, though it is hungry, I know well. He shall die; but not now."
As he spoke, he thrust his arm between the younger Indian and Walter, who had cast himself before Otaitsa as if for one desperate struggle, if he saw any violence offered to her. The words of the medicine-man, however, quieted him on that score; and it was but too plain that all resistance on his part would be in vain. A few hours before, he had sought death as a boon; but the coming of the Blossom had changed all his thoughts and feelings, had relighted hope, and restored firmness and constancy. He was willing to live on for the chances of what some other day might bring; the love and self-devotion of that beautiful creature made existence seem too valuable to cast away the slightest chance of its preservation. He suffered them to bind him then, while Otaitsa turned away her head, and struggled against the tears that sought to rise. It cost her a great effort; but resolution triumphed; and, with a lofty air very different from the tenderness of her demeanour a few moments before, she waved her hand for the Indians to make way, saying--
"Unworthy Oneidas! I go to carry my own tale to my father's feet; to tell him that, with his own blood warm in my heart, I came hither to save my brother, my lover, my husband; and to warn him that the tomahawk which falls on that beloved head severs the chain of Otaitsa's life. But fear not, Walter," she continued, turning towards him, "fear not, my beloved. Live, and laugh thine enemies to scorn. Thou shalt be delivered yet, let these men do what they will. It is written on high, that thou shalt not perish by their hands."