There was something beautiful and touching in the mother's grief, and there was something startling, yet thrilling in her occupation. Alone, and in the dark hour of night, searching the forest that she might again behold the face of the dead. Her affection was so pure and deep, that even the hunters felt awed by the holy feeling which influenced her, and forgetting their own situations, sank for a time into silence, overcome by the emotions of the moment. Never was there a scene more striking, never was there one better calculated to make an impression lasting as memory itself.
“Earth,” said Rolfe, “how often have I thought of a battle-field, the scene of glory and of triumphs. While the contest rages, and victory having hovered doubtful of the issue, at last perches on some favoured standard, Oh! what a moment of thrilling interest, of wild delight. Yet view the same field, the day after the battle, how sad the contrast! When the loud thunders of war have given place to deep silence; when the unburied dead still sleep upon the surface, and the helpless dying are seen writhing on the cold ground. So is it here; the border settler who caused the distress we see, was proud of his victory, and perhaps, at this moment, is telling its details; yet, think you, he could look upon the scene before us, and feel happy, in what he deems his hard won laurels?”
“I think not,” said Earth, “I have never seen a sadder sight.”
“And, yet,” said Rolfe, “it is to gaze on a scene like this, that we peril our lives, and our fortunes. I have never felt satisfied, Earth, of the justice of the war we have waged, and perhaps ere a month passes may wage again; and there are moments, when I cannot but think, Heaven will pay us off with a just retribution at last.”
“I know not how it will be,” said Earth, “when I am in open warfare with them, I am clean without conscience, and I haint got much no how, where an Ingen is. Rolfe, I'll tell you some of these days how they sarved me. But in old mad Anthony's time, that was long before you ever heard of an Ingen, we use to use 'em up till I was right sick and tired of the business; and then, when I was so very tired, I use to think it wrong. But what are the opinions of Heaven upon the subject, I don't know, for the Ingens have done some shocking deeds?”
“Nor do I,” said Rolfe, “but we were the aggressors, we have forced them into hostilities, and the time will come, I fear, when they will live only in story.”
“And do you seriously think, Rolfe, that Heaven will hold us accountable for merely killing Ingens?”
“Perhaps not us, Earth, but when we shall sleep with our fathers, and our little republic become the first power upon earth, their fate may then rise up in judgment against it.”
“How; what is to happen?” said Earth, then stopping abruptly, “hush,—hush,—what noise is that?” and the next moment there galloped by a gang of wolves, frightened from their anticipated prey by the torch of the Indian mother, and having fled but a short distance within the forest, their dismal howls broke upon the stillness of night.
“See,” said Rolfe, “those howling beasts have been feeding upon the dead, or else, perhaps, watching for the death of the dying; let us again seek the mother and aid her in her search; her son may yet live.”