At this sight, Rolfe forgetting himself, distance, and every thing else, threw up his rifle, cocked it, and was in the act of firing, when Earthquake rudely caught his arm, crying, “hold, are you mad?”
The fiend now shone in the face of the savage, the tomahawk was raised, but, ere it fell, another warrior rushed to her rescue, and Gay was preserved, whether for a better or worse fate, will be learned in the sequel.
Having witnessed the escape of the captive from immediate death, Earth observed, “now, Rolfe, had you fired, your ball would never have reached those cliffs, and its report would have been a signal for their flight, and her certain destruction.”
“But, my dear Earth,” said Rolfe, “how could I look on unmoved.”
“My good fellow, the best intentions often produce the worst effects, when acted upon in the heat of zeal. Remember, keep cool if you can, and let your judgment act in the hour of danger.” He then pressed his head with his hands, as if suffering under intensity of thought, and continued “it is not an entirely hopeless case; we must go in pursuit of them; so fair and young a creature must not writhe at the stake.”
“With all my heart,” said Rolfe, “let us go; quick, how?”
“It matters not how, we must go,—poor girl, were I to leave her alone in her present situation”—here he could say no more, for the tears flowed in a stream, down his rugged and weather beaten face. Is was a lovely sight to see a rough hunter of the west, whose appearance indicated him a stranger to feeling, thus overcome by sympathy for the distressed.
Rolfe, who had hitherto looked on his companion simply as a hunter, bold, frank, and daring, when he saw him thus affected, knew not what to think; and was about to inquire the cause of his emotion, when Earthquake requested him to be silent. His grief was of too holy a nature to be disturbed. Oh! what a flood of recollections must have called forth that gush of feeling.
Descending the hill, they pursued their way to the river, still keeping an eye upon the Indians. Earthquake wiping the tears from his eyes with the cuff of his jacket, observed, “my conduct must seem strange to you, Rolfe. I have been in these woods a long time, and I have seen more than I ever tell of—I once had a father, and a mother, and sis”—but the tears again started, and he added, “let us drop it; perhaps another time,” and in silence they threaded the woods until they stood on the river bank.
Earthquake was now himself again, and he said, “come, Rolfe, their frolic is nearly over; see, they are loosing their captive, and will soon be moving. We must intercept them when they come down from the cliffs, and follow on, watching our chance. Will you venture?”