At the name of Tecumseh a shade passed over the face of Mr. Foreman, while he recollected the many daring outrages which were said to have been committed by him; but, quickly dispelling it, he said, “Come, come, my son, let us drop this subject; it is idle to anticipate dangers; bad enough to meet them when they come.”
“Then let it be so. But I wish we had not ventured so far down, it has now been nearly a week, and we have seen no living soul. Father, do not the woods seem to you darker than usual? the hills rise higher here than we have yet seen them; I never saw a scene so wild and lonely—father, father, did you not see a light moving?”
“Where, where, my son?”
“On the top of that lofty bluff to our right. There, there, I see it again.”
This annunciation acted like magic upon Mr. Foreman, who grasped his rifle, and nerving himself to meet whatever danger might present itself, gazed long and searchingly at the place pointed out. Still nothing was visible—the banks wore a dark and gloomy aspect, yet they were as quiet as the unrippled surface on which they were floating—no sign indicated the presence of a human being, no signal told that the wild woods were tenanted. Observing this, he drew a long breath or two, relieving himself from the high state of excitement under which he had been labouring, then turning to his son, said, “Hugh, you must have been mistaken.”
“I see nothing now, father,” was the reply, “but I thought I saw a light glimmer on those cliffs for a moment and then disappear.”
The scene, desolate as it was, was so quiet and lonely that its repose seemed a guarantee for security, and both again sunk into a dreamy reverie. Some time elapsed, when Mr. Foreman complained of being sleepy, and turning to his son, said, “I believe I will turn in, call me when your watch is over, and take care to keep near the middle of the stream.” So saying, he went below, leaving to Hugh the sole management of the boat.
When left alone to himself, Hugh forgot danger in the deep stillness around him, for it was of that nature, which by its sublimity hushes up the harsher feelings, and creates a vague pleasure which cannot be defined, and which we feel most generally, only when we look abroad from the mountain tops, or stand above the roar of dashing torrents. There are moments in life in which we cannot control our thoughts, yes, there are very many, and Hugh began to ponder over scenes from which he had been torn, to dwell upon the bright recollections of boyhood, and to feed his heart with the called up image of one, dear to him above all other things.
But while these things were passing in his mind, and by their power destroying all consciousness of the present, there might have been seen a dark and indistinct object on the surface of the water, stealing onward with the noiseless glide of the serpent, when it draws its doubling form along the dewy grass. No apparent motion, not a ripple of the wave announced its passage; yet it was approaching the boat, near, still nearer. Another moment, and it was along side. Then, like tigers crouching for their prey, a band of Indian warriors sprung forth, while the neighbouring hills re-echoed their savage screams. Then were heard cries for mercy, and shrieks of horror;—then might be seen their dark forms glancing in every part of the boat, while from right to left, with deadly sweep, they plied the greedy tomahawk. A moment more, and the splash of falling bodies was heard, then the bubbling groan of the dying,—and all was quiet. Not a sound broke upon the ear, all nature seemed asleep, and the boat still glided along as smoothly as it did an hour before. Another moment, and there rolled forth a volume of dense smoke, followed by lurid flames, which bursting out, wrapped the boat in a blaze of living light, and showed a mass of mangled bodies in its bottom. How ghastly pale are the countenances of the slain, when seen by that bright light. See how that mangled mother hugs her murdered babe!
At the same moment, in the back ground, yet near at hand, might be seen a light bark canoe, filled with Indian warriors, painted and equipped in warlike dresses, who with bright exulting faces were gazing on the scene before them, their hatchets red with slaughter, their hands clammy with the blood of the slain. And that nothing should be wanting to render the scene impressive in the extreme, stretched in one end of the boat, lay the almost lifeless form of Gay Foreman, the sole survivor of her family, with her hands pinioned; and her mouth gagged to silence her cries, while her head lay near a pile of bleeding scalps which had been torn from her butchered family, and from which, the warm blood was still trickling down into the bottom of the boat.