"That will never do, Eagle's-Wing. You can't do that twice in one hour, and have it succeed; for if he makes the slightest noise, we shall be obliged to take to our heels. No—that won't do. I have it," said he, with a sudden idea, "and I'll do a little business of my own, at the same time;" and, after whispering a few words to his companions, he cautiously crept backwards into the wood, and then proceeded as cautiously in a westward direction, until he had reached a point sufficiently out of the course that it would be necessary for Ralph and Eagle's-Wing to pursue in making their escape.
Guthrie, in the meantime, remained seated in the same position which he had occupied during the conversation with Panther. He was evidently in a better mood; for, with his cap slouched over his eyes, and his head leaning upon his hand, he seemed to be muttering his grievances to himself. All at once, his ears were saluted with the peculiar grunt or growl of a bear. He raised his head, turned slowly round, and looked backwards toward the forest; then, examining his rifle, raised himself upon his feet. Now, a bear, in the days of which we are writing, was not, by any means, a very uncommon object with the hunter in this portion of the State; but those animals were sufficiently scarce, so that the capture of one, while it added largely to one's stock of provisions, also added very much to the reputation of the hunter. Guthrie, notwithstanding the mood which seemed to be upon him, did not choose to neglect so favorable an opportunity of, at the same time, ministering to the appetites of his companions, and to his own reputation as a skilful hunter. He again heard the growl of the bear, and, looking cautiously about to see that no one else had noticed the proximity of the favorite game, he moved slowly forward towards the forest.
When he had advanced to a point where his back was turned towards the position occupied by Ralph and Eagle's-Wing, the latter crept quickly forward in the direction of the lodge; he passed the outer lodge, and halting for a moment to see that he was not observed, moved again rapidly towards the lodge where he expected to find Ruth and her companion.
As Guthrie advanced into the forest, Ichabod, from whom the sounds had proceeded that attracted his attention, moved as cautiously before him, occasionally, however, imitating the growl of the animal he was personating, so as to keep Guthrie from straying from the right direction. In this manner, he had succeeded in leading Guthrie nearly half a mile from the lodges of the Senecas, when, as he believed that before that time, Ralph and Eagle's-Wing must have succeeded in their efforts, as a failure on their part would have been signalled by the cries of the enemy, he determined to end the hunt upon which Guthrie was engaged, by letting him know the precise game of which he had been in pursuit. Secreting himself behind a tree, that he might not be too early discovered by Guthrie, as it was not so dark but that objects at two or three rods' distance might be discerned with tolerable accuracy, he waited the coming of his enemy. As Guthrie was about passing him, slightly bent forward, as in the attempt to pierce into the obscurity of the forest, he leaped upon him and pinioned him in his muscular arms. In a moment more, Guthrie was disarmed, and was lying helplessly upon the ground, his hands being securely fastened by a cord which Ichabod had drawn from his pocket. Guthrie, in his astonishment and fear, had not yet recognized the person of his captor.
"Get up here, you infarnal villain!" cried Ichabod; "what's the use of lying upon the ground, when you can just as well stand on your feet?" and he caught hold of him to assist him in rising. Guthrie now saw that he was in the power of Ichabod—and at once, with the characteristic meanness and cowardice of a rascal, began to beg for life.
"You judge of me, I reckon," said Ichabod, with contempt, "by what you'd do yourself, were you in my place, you white-livered Tory. Stop your howling. I don't intend to kill you. I never do that kind of thing in cold blood; and yet I don't know why a man's conscience should be burdened any by smothering the venom of such a reptile as this, anywhere he can catch him."
Ichabod surveyed the miserable wretch for a few moments, with a mixture of disgust, contempt, and pity. Fear seemed to deprive him of all rational power of speech, and he testified his agony by sobs and shrieks. Ichabod drew from his pocket another cord.
"I'll tell you what, you infarnal traitor, you shall have a touch of the same fare you sarved up for me; only you won't have anybody to guard you from the bears and wolves. You'll be tied up to this tree to-night; and if your friends find you scattered round in pieces in the morning, it will be the fault of the bears and wolves, and not mine."
With this, he fastened him securely to the tree. Then shouldering his rifle, he exclaimed, amidst the shrieks of the miserable wretch for help—
"You're a Tory, a traitor, and a liar; and there's no use in asking God to have marcy on your soul, under any circumstances. All I've got to say is, before bidding you good-night, that if you escape from here, and your miserable carcass ever crosses my path, I'll shoot you as I would a wolf."