It was now discovered, too, that Guthrie was gone. Could it be that his body had been removed by a Seneca during the conflict? It was not possible; and it was evident, that while in the darkness, he was supposed to have been slain by the Tuscarora, he had counterfeited death, hoping to find some means of escape. With beating hearts, Ralph and Barton proceeded up the stairway. They reached the apartment which they had so recently left: but it was empty. From the window, near which Guthrie had stood, the fastening had been removed from the frame work of bars, and it was certain that through this window Guthrie had escaped, and had carried with him the unfortunate Ruth.
CHAPTER XI.
"'Tis vain to sigh! the wheel must on;
And straws are to the whirlpool drawn
With ships of gallant mien."
FRENEAU
No sooner had Barton realized his loss, than he gave himself up to the bitterest feelings of despair. This interim was succeeded by a burning thirst for revenge. "Come, Ralph!—Come, Eagle's-Wing! let us pursue them—let us destroy them! Oh, my God! thus in my old age to suffer this heavy blow!" and, excited to madness, he fled down the stairway, followed by Ralph and the Tuscarora. Before they could overtake him, he had unbarred the door, and crossed the threshold but no enemy was there.
Ralph, himself overwhelmed with grief, endeavored to console the old man; but there was no balm for such a wound, and he fell fainting into the arms of Ralph.
Ralph, although overborne by grief, possessed a firmness of mind that sought a remedy for affliction, where a remedy was attainable, instead of tamely yielding. Anxiously he and the Tuscarora counseled together upon the course to be pursued. Whether Ruth had been taken prisoner either by Guthrie or the Indians, the result would be the same—she would be a captive among the Senecas. They did not believe any attempt would be made upon her life; but they did fear that the Indians, who had, for the present at least, abandoned their attack upon the cottage, satisfied with the prisoners they had taken, might at once attempt a march to the country of the Senecas, and thus hold their prisoners in a long and tedious captivity. It was, then, with much anxiety that they consulted together upon the course now to be adopted. But we will leave them for the present, to follow the fortunes of Ichabod.
After he had been deserted, unintentionally, by his companions, the strife between him and Deersfoot was no longer equal. Scarcely had the Senecas been foiled in their attempt to follow their intended victims into the cottage, ere Ichabod was seized, and his arms securely pinioned. The Senecas manifested their joy by the most ferocious yells, when they discovered that they had in their possession an enemy so formidable.
"Yell, you red devils!" exclaimed Ichabod: "Ten to one ain't worth crowing about. But I'll tell you what—give me that rifle of mine, and I'll tackle any five of you, any way. But I never did know a Seneca that had a particle of the gentleman about him."
The Indians did not deign any reply to this proposition, but at once made preparations to remove their prisoner. Four of the Senecas were placed as a guard about him, and the march was begun towards their encampment. The remainder of the party bore the dead bodies of their companions, who had been killed in the affray: but Ichabod noticed that there were only fifteen in this party, and consequently there must be eight or ten more either about the cottage, or else already on the march towards their camp.