But all the other prisoners, Grummidge, Stubbs, Blazer, Taylor, and Garnet, were equally reduced and miserable, for the harsh treatment and prolonged journeying through forest and swamp, over hill and dale, on insufficient food, had not only brought them to the verge of the grave, but had killed outright one or two others of the crew who had started with them.
The visitors, owing to their position with their backs to the light of the cave’s mouth, could not be recognised by the prisoners, who regarded them with listless apathy until Captain Trench spoke, swallowing with difficulty a lump of some sort that nearly choked him.
“Hallo! shipmates! how goes it? Glad to have found ye, lads.”
“Och!” exclaimed Squill, starting up, as did all his companions; but no other sound was uttered for a few seconds. Then a deep “thank God” escaped from Grummidge, and Little Stubbs tried to cheer, but with small success; while one or two, sitting down again, laid their thin faces in their hands and wept.
Reader, it were vain to attempt a description of the scene that followed, for the prisoners were not only overwhelmed with joy at a meeting so unexpected, but were raised suddenly from the depths of despair to the heights of confident hope, for they did not doubt that the appearance of their mates as friends of the Indians was equivalent to their deliverance. Even when told that their deliverance was by no means a certainty, their joy was only moderated, and their hope but slightly reduced.
“But tell me,” said Paul, as they all sat down together in the cave, while the Indians stood by and looked silently on, “what is the truth about this Indian who was murdered, and the dog and the woman?”
“The Indian was never murdered,” said Grummidge stoutly. “He had evidently fallen over the precipice. We found him dead and we buried him. His dog came to us at last and made friends with us, though it ran away the day the settlement was attacked. As to the woman, we never saw or heard of any woman at all till this hour!”
When Bearpaw was told how the matter actually stood, he frowned and said sternly—
“The palefaces lie. If they never saw Rising Sun, why did she not come back to us and tell what had happened? She was not a little child. She was strong and active, like the young deer. She could spear fish and snare rabbits as well as our young men. Why did she not return? Where is she? Either she is dead and the palefaces have killed her, or they have her still among them. Not only shall the palefaces answer for her with their lives, but the Bethucks will go on the war-path to the coast and sweep the paleface settlement into the sea!”
It was of no avail that Hendrick pleaded the cause of the prisoners earnestly, and set forth eloquently all that could be said in their favour, especially urging that some of them had been kind to the two Indians who first visited the white men. Rising Sun had been a favourite with the chief; she was dead—and so the palefaces must die!