On they rode, with as much rapidity as the utmost limit of safety would allow. They well knew that their only hope of safety depended upon their being able to keep mounted and in flight; for were any accident to happen to their horses, they would be left, in the midst of the wilderness, at the mercy of the ferocious beasts that were on their track. But their pursuers gained upon them; the howls which but a few moments since seemed fully half a mile behind, were now evidently within a much less distance. The woods appeared to be alive with their enemies. The discordant cries filled every avenue of sound. Faster, faster ran the horses—but still nearer approached the sound of the cowardly pack—cowardly when few in numbers, but savage in multitude.
The moonlight lay in scattered patches in the forest, but every shadow seemed occupied by an enemy. The pursuers had now approached so near, that Ralph could hear the crackling of the dry underbrush and branches, over and through which they ran, amidst the noise of their cries. Looking behind him, he saw the leaders of the pack leaping upon their track, and in the moonlight saw, with terrible distinctness, their glaring eyes and protruded tongues. The horses strained every muscle, quivering with affright, but the wolves were approaching—were almost upon them! Snatching, with a hurried hand, a shawl from the shoulders of Ruth, he threw it behind them. For a moment the chase ceased; and with wild, ferocious cries, the pack gathered around the object which had been so opportunely offered to them. At that instant, when the last hope had nearly vanished, the eyes of the travelers encountered in the path before them the form of an Indian, who, with outstretched arms, requested them to stop. In a moment they approached him, when with a rapid utterance, he exclaimed:
"Me friend; me Tuscarora—come!" and suddenly seizing the horses by the bits, he led them three or four rods from the path, where they saw before them, in the midst of the forest, a small log hut; although in an extremely ruinous condition, it afforded the protection which, but a few minutes before, seemed utterly withheld from them.
Again were heard the cries of the wolves, and the noise of their approach! Ralph leaped from his horse, and at once lifted Ruth from the saddle, who, until that moment, had preserved her courage and fortitude, but now fell fainting into his arms. He bore her instantly into the hut, where the Tuscarora rapidly brought in the horses after them; and the door was closed, just as the ferocious pack came rushing into the open space before the hut.
CHAPTER VI.
"And then to mark the lord of all,
The forest hero, trained to wars,
Quivered and plumed, and lithe and tall,
And seamed with glorious scars."
BRYANT.
Ralph, as we have said, bore his fainting burden into the hut and the Tuscarora, having secured the frightened horses, at once hastened to his assistance. Ruth, in a few moments, became partially restored; and a blush lit up the pallor of her countenance, as she found herself sustained in the arms of Ralph. Partially withdrawing from his support, she said:
"You must be astonished, Captain Weston, that a woodman's daughter had so little fortitude as to be unable to withstand the ordinary perils of her condition. I almost feel that I owe you an apology."
"You have no reason to be ashamed of your want of fortitude, Miss Barton," answered Ralph. "The courage with which you endured that terrible ride was amazing. You have more, much more, than sustained your reputation as a woodman's daughter."