Glen's Creek

by Mary Jane Holmes

Owanno heard them to the end, and then, to Orianna’s great delight, he refused to join them, saying he was too old to contend with the pale-face unless himself or family were molested. The old chief would not acknowledge how much this decision was owing to the influence of his gentle daughter. He knew she liked the whites, and he knew, too, another thing—but ’tis not time for that yet.

Orianna had now something to do. A life dearer far than her own was to be saved, and Marian, too,—whose very name had a power to thrill each nerve of that noble Indian girl,—she was in danger.

The next day Charlie waited in vain for his pupil, for she was away on her mission of love, and the stern features of many an Indian relaxed as he welcomed to his cabin the chieftain’s daughter. Ere the sun set, she fully understood their plan of attack, and then, unmindful of the twenty-five miles traversed since the dawn of day, she hied her back to Lexington, to raise its inhabitants, and, as we have seen, to apprise the bridal party of their danger.

Not a moment was to be lost, and while they were consulting as to their best means of safety, the Indian girl again stood among them, saying, “Let me advise you. It is not the town they wish to attack,—they will hardly do that—it is this house—it is you,” laying her hand convulsively on Robert’s arm. “But there is yet time to escape; flee to the town, and leave me here—”

“To be killed?” said Robert.

“To be killed!” she repeated, scornfully. “In all Kentucky there lives not the red man who dares touch a hair of Orianna’s head.”

Her proposition seemed feasible enough, and after a little hesitation it was resolved to adopt it. The negroes had already done so, for at the first alarm they had taken to their heels, and were by this time half way to Lexington. Thither the whites, with the exception of Robert, soon followed. He resolutely refused to go, saying, in answer to his friends entreaties, “No, never will I desert a helpless female. You remove the ladies to a place of safety, and then with others return to my aid.”

So they were left alone, the white man and the Indian. Together, side by side, they watched the coming of the foe. At Orianna’s direction the doors had been barricaded, while the lights were left burning in order to deceive the Indians into a belief that the inmates still were there. A half hour went by, and then, in tones which sent the blood in icy streams through Robert’s veins, Orianna whispered, “They come! Do you see them? Look!”

He did look, and by the light of the moon he discerned the outlines of many dusky forms, moving stealthily through the woods in the direction of the house. The garden fence was passed, and then onward, slowly but surely, they came. So intent was Robert in watching their movements, that he noted not the band of armed men who, in an opposite direction, were advancing to the rescue; neither did he observe in time to prevent it the lightning spring with which Orianna bounded through the window, and went forth to meet the enemy, who, mistaking her for some one else, uttered a yell of savage exultation and pressed on more fiercely. Loud and deafening was the war-cry which echoed through the woods, and louder still was the shout of defiance which rent the air, as the whites came suddenly face to face with the astonished Indians.

It was Orianna’s intention, when she leaped from the window, to reach the leader of the savages, and by telling him the truth of the matter as she had heard it from Robert, she hoped to dissuade him from his murderous design. But her interference was not needed, for the savages were surprised and intimidated by the unexpected resistance, and in the fear and confusion of the moment they greatly magnified the number of their assailants. Accordingly, after a few random shots, they precipitately fled, leaving Orianna alone with those whose lives she had saved.