Eagle's-Wing turned away—his savage heart evidently touched by this re-awakening of old recollections; but in the act of doing so, his eyes fell upon the Seneca, who was surveying him and Ruth, with a look of curious interest. The bitter taunt of Panther occurred to him, and those cruel instincts which had been nearly overcome, were kindled again with renewed force. Turning towards Ruth, he coldly answered:
"It is a good tradition. I will not deny it; but it is a pale-face tradition. The Great-Teacher was not a red man; he was a pale-face. The pale-face girl must go back with her friends. The Seneca shall die."
The color fled from the face of Ruth, and for a moment she looked as if she would have fallen to the ground. Ralph was springing forward to assist her, when a new and more heroic strength seemed to sustain and inspire her. Advancing towards Eagle's-Wing, she laid her hand upon his arm and exclaimed—
"You shall not do this murder, Eagle's-Wing. Your own heart tells you that it is wrong. The Seneca is a bloody, guilty man; but God—the same God who looks down on the pale-face and the Indian—shall punish you. You shall not do it. I will keep this great crime from your soul, and you will thank me for it, some day. See here, you shall see what I will do;" and she ran to the tree where Panther was confined. The Indians hastened forward, yet seemingly without the intent to resist her purpose. The daring energy which inspired her, and the lofty look of innocent boldness, awed them into silence. With a rapidity she could not have equalled at another time, she unfastened the withes with which the Seneca was bound, and as rapidly returned to the side of Eagle's-Wing. "See," she said, "he is free!" Again she laid her hand upon the arm of the Tuscarora, while all eyes were watching the motions of Panther, who seemed stupefied with the curious scene. As the withes fell at his feet, he straightened his form, and glared slowly around on the assembled warriors. For a moment his eyes fell upon Ruth, with a look of awe, such as a debased human creature might be supposed to cast upon a more exalted being: then slowly, and as if he expected his attempt to be resisted, he moved from the tree, yet with his eyes firmly fastened upon the face of Eagle's-Wing. The latter stood erect, his nostrils dilated, and his eyes flashing, as if about to spring upon the escaping prisoner, yet restrained by the gentle hand upon his arm, which, without the exertion of physical strength, seemed to bind him to the ground. Creeping as stealthily as the animal from which he derived his name, the Seneca still moved away, but with his face partially turned towards the group which he was leaving. A few moments, and he had disappeared in the forest.
A spasmodic shudder passed over the frame of the Tuscarora chief; then he turned towards Ruth, with a smile upon his face and a tear in his eye, as he said. "It is well—let the Seneca go."
CONCLUSION.
We have brought this narrative, relating to the early history of an interesting portion of New York, nearly to a close; and all that remains, is to give the reader a brief account of the fortunes of some of the personages in whom he is supposed to have taken some interest.
After the defeat of the Senecas, Barton and his daughter, together with Ralph, Ichabod and the negro, returned to the settlements, where Barton finally concluded to remain. His advanced age prevented him from again undertaking to build himself a house in the wilderness, while another reason, perhaps still more powerful, forced him to the same conclusion.
He discovered that Ruth, provided he would give his consent to the arrangement, which, under the circumstances, he could not refuse, had decided upon becoming Mrs. Ralph Weston. That event happened not long after their return to the settlements; and the old gentleman found, after the lapse of a very few years, that he could not again seek the wilderness without abandoning two little grand-children of whom he had become very fond. Sambo remained with the family; but in the course of a short time, he was offered his freedom, which he refused.