The Old Queen carried out the injunctions of her son. She received the prisoners, and every comfort that her simple and primitive mode of life made possible was provided them.
We must now return to the time and place at which our story commences.
Late in the evening of that day the father returned to his dwelling. All around and within was silent and desolate. No trace of a living creature was to be found in the house or throughout the grounds. His nearest neighbors lived at a considerable distance, but to them he hastened, frantically demanding tidings of his family.
As he aroused them from their slumbers, one after another joined him in the search. At length, at one of the houses, the maid servant who had effected her escape was found. Her first place of refuge, she said, had been a large brewing tub in an outer kitchen, under which she had secreted herself until the Indians, who were evidently in haste, departed and gave her the opportunity of fleeing to a place of greater safety. She could give no tidings of her mistress and the children, except that they had not been murdered in her sight or hearing.
At last, having scoured the neighborhood without success, Mr. Lytle thought of an old settler who lived alone, far up the valley. Thither he and his friends immediately repaired, and from him they learned that, while at work in his field just before sunset, he had seen a party of strange Indians passing at a short distance from his cabin. As they wound along the brow of the hill he perceived that they had prisoners with them—a woman and a child. The woman he knew to be white, as she carried her infant in her arms, instead of upon her back, after the manner of the savages.
Day had now begun to break. The night had been passed in fruitless search, and, after consultation with kind friends and neighbors, the agonized father accepted their offer to accompany him to Fort Pitt that they might ask advice and assistance of the commandant and Indian Agent there.
Proceeding down the valley, they approached a hut which the night before they had found apparently deserted, and were startled by seeing two children standing in front of it. In them the delighted father recognized two of his missing flock, but no tidings could they give him of their mother or of the other members of his family.
Their story was simple and touching. They had been playing in the garden when they were alarmed by seeing Indians enter the yard near the house. Unperceived, the brother, who was but six years of age, helped his little sister over the fence into a field overrun with wild blackberry and raspberry bushes. Among these they concealed themselves for awhile, and then, finding all quiet, attempted to force their way to the side of the field farthest from the house. Unfortunately, in her play in the garden the little girl had pulled off her shoes and stockings, and now with the briers pricking and tearing her tender feet, she could with difficulty refrain from crying out. Her brother took off his stockings and put them on her feet, and attempted to protect her with his shoes, also; but they were too large, and kept slipping off, so that she could not wear them. For a time the children persevered in making their escape from what they considered certain death, for, as was said, they had been taught, by the tales they had heard, to regard all strange Indians as ministers of torture and of horrors worse than death. Exhausted with pain and fatigue, the poor little girl at length declared that she could not go any farther.
"Then, Maggie," said her brother, "I must kill you, for I cannot let you be killed by the Indians."
"Oh, no, Thomas!" pleaded she, "do not, do not kill me! I do not think the Indians will find us."