Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 8) (1877 11 09)
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a | Yaa ia ca BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, [Copyrighted 1860, by Beadle & Co.] SETH JONES; The Captives of the Frontier, BY EDWARD 8. ELLIS, CHAPTER I. THE STRANGER. Tue clear ring of an ax was echoing through the arches of a forest, three-quarters of a century ago; and an athletic man was swinging the instrument, burying its glittering blade deep in the heart of the mighty kings of the wood. Ifred Haverland was an American, who, a num- ber of years before, had emigrated from the more settled provinces in the East, to this then remote spot in western New York. Here, in the wilderness, he had reared a humble home, and, with his loving partner and a sister, laid the foundation for a settlement, True, this “settlement ” was still small, consisting only of the persons mentioned, and a beautiful blue-eyed maiden, their daugh- ter; but Haverland saw that the tide of emigration was rolling rapidly and sure- ly to the west, and, ere many years, that villages and cities would take the place of the wild forest, while the Indians would be driven further on toward the setting sun. ; The woodman was a splendid specimen of ‘“nature’s noblemen.’ His heavy coat lay ey a log. a short distance away, and his swelling, ponderous chest was covered only by a close-fitting un- der-garment, with the collar thrown open, showing the glowing neck and heaving breast, Substantial pants met the strong moccasins which incased_ his feet. A small raccoon-skin cap rested on the back of his head, exposing his fore- head, while his black hair swept around his shoulders. His features were regu- lar, and strongly marked. The brow was rather heavy, the nose of the Ro- man cast, and the eyes of a glitteri blackness. So he stood with one foo thrust forward; his muscles, moving and ridging as they were called into play, betrayed their formidable strength. Still the flashing ax sunk deeper and deeper into the oak’s red heart, until it had” one clean through and met the breach upon the Ng Grong side. Then the grand old forest-king began to tot- ter. Haverland stepped back and ran his eyes to the top, as he noticed it yield- ing. Sn it leaned, increasing each second, until if rushed seemingly for- ward, and came down to the earth with a thundering crash and rebound. H= stood a moment, his hot breath issuing like steam from his chest, and then moved forward.toward its branches. At that instant his Be Ad sea a suspicious sound, and dropping ax, he caught up his rifle and stood on the defensive. “How de do? How de do? Ain't iiehtened, I hope; it’s nobody but tr Seth Jones, from New Hampshire,” sai the new-comer in a peculiar accent, . As the woodman looked up he saw @ curi- ous specimen of the genus homo before him. He is what is termed a Yankee, being from New Hampshire; but he was such a person as is rarely met with, and yet which is too often described nowa- days. He. possessed a long, thin Ro- man nose, &@ Small, twinkling gray eye, with a lithe, muscular frame, and long, dangling limbs. His feet were incased | erably s‘prised when I in these parts.” ‘otededa}aaleLala| A Copyrighted in 1877, by BEADLE AND ADAMs. ) 4 4 i! Lc! nt! Ln | f WHR OKT MTK’, ATE, - ORR— Go Zari at nt a a! a No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. in well-fitti such as was in vo which we write. certain state. shoes, while the rest of his dress was e on the frontiers at the time of sounds singular and unimaginable, The woodman, with characteristic penetration, read the man before him at a glance, Changing his rifle to his left hand, he extended the other. “Certainly not, m friend; but then, you know, | these are times in which it behooves us all to use caution and prudence; and where one is placed in such a remote section as this it would be criminal to | be careless, when more than one life is dependent | upon me for support and protection.” “Very true, very true; you’re right there, Mr.—ah! I declare I don’t know your name.” * Haverland.” “You're right, as I said, Mr. Have-your-land, or Haverland, as the case may be. I tell you these are dubious times—no disputin’ that, and I was consid- eard the ring of an ax down SETH JONES. is voice was in that peculiar, un- | : which is sometimes seen when it is | said to be “changing.”’ When excited, it made | ' men No.8. “* And [ was equally surprised to meet your visage when I looked up, Jones, I believe you said was your name?” “Exactly—Seth Jones, from New Hampshire. The Joneses are a numerous family up there— rather too many of them for comfort—so I mi- erhaps?”’ o my knowledge in 5 Cents. ‘Haven't, eh? Thought the Joneses were pretty emg s known through the country. Some re- markable geniuses have sprung from the family. But what under the sun keeps you out in this heath- en country? What brought you here?” “Enterprise, sir; I was tired of the civilized por- | tion of our country, and when such glorious fields | were offered to the emigrant as are here spread _be- | fore him, I considered it a Ke 4 to avail myself of them, and I have done so. And now, sir, be equally frank with me, and let me know what induced you | to visit this perilous region when you had no reason to suppose that a settlement had yet been com- by the whites. You look to me as if you were an Indian-hunter or scout. “Wal, perhaps I am. At any rate I have been. I was a scout among the Green Mountain Boys, under Colonel Allen, and stayed with them till the Revolution was finished. After that I went down on the farm and woiked a while with the old man. Something oc- curred in our neighborhood that led me to think it was best for me to leave: I won't say what it was, but I will say it was no crime I committed, I stopped at the settlement down the river a few days, and then come to the conclusion to take a tramp in these parts.” _ “IT am very glad you have come, for it isn’t often we get sight of a white face. I hope you will take the welcome of a backwoodsman, and make your home with us as long a time as you can —remembering that the longer you stay the more welcome you will be.’ “*T shall probably stay till you git tired of me, at any rate,” laughed the eccen- tric Seth Jones. *“‘ As you are from the East, probably ou can give information of the state of eeling among the Indians between that section and us. From your remarks, I should infer, however, that nothing very serious threatens.”’ “Don't know ‘bout that,’ replied Seth, shaking his head and looking to the und, - M so, my friend?” “I tell you what, you, I heerd orful stories ‘long the way. They say since this war, the darned red-coats have kept the Injins at work, Leastways, it’s pretty sartin they are at work, anyhow,” ‘Are you sure?” asked the woodman, betraying an anxiety in his speech. ‘‘Purty sure. There's a little settle- ment down here some miles, (1 have forgot the name,) sot on by the imps and burned all up.” ‘‘Is it possible? Reports have reached me during the { three or four months of the deadly hostility existing between the whites and reds, but I was glad to doubt it. Although I sometimes felt it was wrong,” “Twas so; and if you vally that ar’ wife of your bussum, and your little cherubims, (as I allow you've got,) you’d better be makin’ tracks for safer quar- ters. Why, how have you stood it so long?” Ay conduct toward the Indians has ever been characterized by honesty and good-will upon my part, and they have ever evinced a friendly feeling toward me and my helpless ones, I place great reliance upon this state of feeling—in fact, my only reliance.”
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a) i = ame denne, “Just so; but I tell you, it won’t do to trust-an /Injin. ‘re obstropertous. Go to putyour finger on them, and they ain’t thar. . Jest so, by gracious.” “T fear there is too much truth in your suspicions,” | | dian ornaments, an I’m glad I’ve tumbled onto you, coz I begin to git | replied Haverland, in a saddened tone. skeerish, and I like to do a feller a turn, and Vl stick to you, bein’ I’ve found you. “Thank you, friénd, and let us now proceed home- ward. I intended to spend the day in work, but your words have taken away all desire.” ‘Sorry to do it; but. it’s best, ain't it?’’ “Oertainly; it would have been wrong had you not | Let us go home.” | warned me of impending danger. So saying, Alfred drew on his coat, slung: his rifle and ax over his shoulder, struck into a path in the ‘forest, which he had worn, and with a thoughtful tread, made his way homeward. Close behind him followed his new-made friend. CHAPTER IL. THE DARK CLOUD. During the walk homeward, Haverland spoke but few words, ens ee his loquacious friend kept up a continual unremitting stream of talk. The wood- man’s heart was too heavy to join him in his humor- -ous, pointless words. Although dark and fearful “suspicions had flitted before him, he had closed his eyes upon them until he could no longer shun them; . they appeared at every turn, and now assumed a terrible certainty. Altbough at the time to which we refer, the Revo- jutionary struggles of the colonies had closed, and their freedom was placed upon a firm basis, yet uni- versal by no means reigned. Dark, sanguin- ary and bloody tragedies were constantly enacted - upon the frontiers for a generation afterward. The mother country failing in her work of subjugation, eontinued to incite the Indians to revolting barbar- ities upon the unoffending inhabitants. They found them too-willing instruments, and, instigated b. them, a protracted war was long maintained; and, when the inciting cause was removed, the savages still continued the unequal conflict, As every one acquainted with our history must know, the war on the frontiers has been an almost interminable one. As the tide of emigration has rolled westward, it has ever met that fiery counter-surge, and only overcome it by incessant battling and effort. And even now, as the distant shores of the Pacific are well-nigh reached, that resisting wave still gives forth its lurid flashes of conflict. In a pleasant valley stood the humble home of Al- | fred Haverland, His own vigorous arm had cleared off a space on all sides so that his residence stood at some distance from the forest, which rolled away for miles. In the clearing still remained the stum of the fallen trees, and in some places the rich vir- gin soil had been broken, and was giving signs of the exhaustless wealth it retained in its bosom, waiting ly for the hand of man to bring it forth. The house itself was such as are generally found in new settlements. A number of heavy logs, placed compactly together, with an opening for a door, and one for a window, were all that could attract atten- tion from the outside. Within, were two apartments the lower and upper. The former was used for all purposes except that of sleeping, which, of course was done in the upper. In building it, Haverland had made little preparation for defense, as he fondl hoped it would never be needed for such, and it seemed to him that the idea of danger would ever be before him, should he construct if thus. And, be- sides, should he use his utmost skill in the purpose mentioned, he knew it would avail him little. He had no means of withstanding a aes siege, and a handful of assailants could bring him to % gy thes As he stepped forth into the clearing, » bi daughter, Ley ined sight of him, and bounded out the eabin to meet him. ; “Oh, father! I am glad you have come back so soon, but dinner isn’t ready. Did you think it was? Ewas just telling mother—” She paused suddenly, as she caught sight of a stranger, and with her hand on her mout , Stood, fearing to approach, and afraid to yield to the im- pulse of turning, and running into the house again. *“ No, I didn’t think dinner-time had come, but as I fiad a friend to visit me, I thought I could entertain him at home better than in the woods. But where is your kiss, dear?” he father stooped, and touched his lips to the ruby ones of his blooming child, and her fiand, moved forward toward the cabin. “Whew! if that ain't a purty flower, then kick me!’ exclaimed Seth Jones, in admiration. ‘ Was she originated in these parts? Darter, I s’pose? Per- haps not, though?” “Yes, she is my daughter, although she was not born in these parts.” “Dew tell. “Darned if she ain’t a beauty, and that makes what I said—” The father motioned to him that the theme was forbidden, and they walked silently toward the house. It was no wonder that Ina Haverland drew forth such encomiums from Seth Jones. She was, indeed, -@ beautiful creature. She had seén some fifteen or sixteen summers, several of which had been s the wilderness, which was now her hoime. e rather small In stature, but graceful as a gazelle, free from the restraints which the conventionalities of life impose on those of her age. She had dark hair, gathered in a roll behind, expressive blue eyes, a perfect Grecian nose, thin lips, and a full chin rendering the profile perfectly st the forehead downward. ee ne heal ht from Her face was oval, and her almost too light for a full enjoyment of h. Her dress was a semi-civilized one, consist- it in |. Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. ing of a short skirt, with leggins beautifully wrought, and a loose sack, similar to the ones worn at the present day. Her small feet were incased in tiny moccasins, elaboratel wpe with beads and In- a string of wampum hung around the neck. pee the way toward the house, and the three en § ; Haverland introduced his friend to his sister and wife, as a man who had chanced down in this direc- tion, and who would probably tarry a few days. But the quick eye of his wife caught the thoughtful ex- pression upon her husband’s face, and she felt there was something yet unrevealed—something deeper and more important that was to be disclosed. e, however, forbore questioning or hinting, knowing that, he would commnnicate what was necessary when he deemed the proper time had come. A commonplace conversation was maintained un- til the meal was prepared by the busy housewife, when they all gathered around the board. An earn- est sgn ihe invoked upon the humble food, and it was en of in silence. ‘‘ Wife,” said Haverland, tenderly, ‘I will depart awhile with this friend here, and you and Mary may busy yourselves as you think ‘best till I return. Probably I will not be back until toward night. Take no anxiety upon my account.”’ **T will endeavor not to; but, dear husband, go not far from home, for strange fears have come over me since morning.”’ Even the usually staid and calm face of Mary be- trayed an unusual expression of anxiety. “Fear not, wife, I will not go far.’’ Haverland now stepped outside, where he saw Seth, all agape, gazing at Ina, as she passed to and fro in the house. “ By gracious, you, I’m goin’ to fall in love with that gal. No *bjections, hope?” ‘*No,” answered Haverland, with a faint smile, ‘her heart is unfettered and hope it will remain so for a long time.” ‘Oh! I don’t mean to love her as woman—yer wife. I mean jest as ter, yer pn dew yer old or five years or more.” “Tl try not to; but let us take a walk. [have something to say, which I would that they should not know for the present.”’ ** All right—but jest hold on a minute.” At this j uncture, Ina appeared with a small vessel, | as if she intended bri spring nigh at hand. “ Hold on a minute, gal, my beauty,” said Seth, stepping forward, and reaching for the pail. ‘‘ That’s too big a load for you to carry.” ng some water from some ‘*No, I have done it often, thank you, but it is no | work for me.” ‘But jest let me fetch it his time, if only to show good will, and my activity.” na laughingly yielded the vessel, and watched him as he took long, awkward strides toward the point where the path led into the forest. ‘* How far is it off?’ he asked, turning round, as he reached the point mentioned. “A short distance,” answered Haverland; “the path leads to it.” Seth made some unintelligible anSwer, as he jerked his head back and disappeared. This simple occurrence that we have just narrated, although trival in itself, was one of the circumstances which often control important acts, and which seem to show that an all-wise Ruler orders them to suit his py and to bring about good in theend. Seth ones had no object other than a little amusement in his cuurse, yet before he returned, he saw how fortunate it was. He strode rapidly forward, and after passing a short distance, reached the spri As he stooped, he was sure he heard a movement in the bushes be- Pere and, as he was about to dip the vessel, he saw, the smooth face of the water, a movement in the shrubbery. Hehad too much cunning and prudence to affect knowledge of it, and he filled the vessel without betraying any signs of suspicion. As herose to the upright position, he tae an apparently care- less sweep of vision, and not twenty feet nt he saw the crouching forms of two In ! As he turned his back, there was a peculiar, uncomfortable feeling, as he knew that it was the easiest matter in the world to receive one or two cold bullets. He, however, quickened his steps not in the least, and manif no uneasiness, as he came to view in the clearing and laughingly handed the water to Ina. “ Come, let us go,” said Haverland, moving toward the spring. ‘ “ Not that ar’ bps by a long shot,” said Seth, with a meaning ae of his head. “ no Lal “TH ‘ou, purty soon.”’ “ Let us the ‘vt then.” specially “That'll do, ” as it ain't fur from your Haverland looked weechingy he , and led the way toward the river. This stream was but a few hundred from the house, and flowed ina ees southerly direction, It was very smooth at point, and not des Bo et a mile or so further down it debouch- ed into a , broad, and deep river. The banks were lined, most of the distance, by close, impene- trable shrubbery, overarched b; lofty trees, which were the edges of the almost interminable wilder- ness that then covered this part of the State ra) which great portions remain unto the present day. Haverland moved to a spot where he had often stood and conversed with wife, when they first would my dar- | now. She’s too small to think about lov- | ers vit. Don’t you let sich a thing git inter her head | and fore his arms over the muzzle, he turned around looked Seth full in the face. * What did you mean by telling me not to go far Jromthe house?” ‘* Jest hol’ on a bit,”’ replied Seth, bending his ear as if to listen. Haverland watched him earnestly, and he also heard something unusual—as if some one were rowing a canoe in the water. His com- panion then stepped down to the water’s edge, and Signaled for him to approach. Haverland did so, and looked down the river. Some hundred yards off, he saw a canoe ra a oe down-stream, three ndians impelled by the oars of dians. “That is what I meant,” said he, in a whisper, stepping back. Fd ou see them,” asked Haverland. ; “Treckon I did. They were at the spring watch- oe for your gal to come, so that they mought run oft er.” OHAPTER III. THE DARK CLOUD BURSTS. “ARE you certain?’ asked Haverland, with a pain- ful eagerness. *“As sure as I live!” ‘“How? when? where did you see them? Pray, an- swer quick, for I feel that the lives of precious ones stand in peril.” “The facts are few—they are. When I wentdown to the spring, Lsee’d them pesky varmints thar, and I knowed they war waitin’ for your little booty, ‘cause if they wa’n’t, they’d have walloped me thunderin’ soon. I see’d ’em sneakin’ ‘round, an aang ie as though I didn’t s’picion nothin’. They’ve | found I’s about, and have gone down for more a | They'll be back here to-night with a whole pack, Fact, by gracious!” “You speak truly; and as matters stand thus, it is time for action.” $ ly so; and what is it you propose to dew?”’ “As you have offered me such signal aid thus far, I must again ask you for advice.” ‘“Pshaw! don’t you know what to dew, man?” **T have a plan, but I would hear yours first.” “Wal, I can give it purty soon. You know well | enough you’re in tight quarters, and the best thing | you can do is to git away from here a leetle quicker nor no time. You know the settlements ain't more nor twenty miles off, and you’d better pack up and be off, and lose no time, neither.” ““That was my plan, exactly. But hold! we must | go by water, and will it not be best to wait and go by | night, when we will have the darkness A ntigeag us? e have just learned that the river contains enough | enemies to frustrate our designs, should they fe | known. Yes, we must wait till night.” “You’re right there; and, as there is no moon, | we'll have a good chance, especially as we have to go | down-stream instead of up. I tell yeou, the war is going on. When I left home, I h an idee things would be fixed so as to stop these infarnal red-skins from committin’ on their depredations, although | they looked mighty squally; but ’tain’t no use, and it won’t do to trust these critters.”’ Shortly after, Haverland turned and entered the house, followed by Seth. He called his wife and sis- ter in, and explained, in a few words, the circum- | stances. It was but a realization of the fears enter- tained, and no time was lost in useless laments. Preparations were immediately made for the re- moval. The woodman owned a large boat, somewhat similar to the flatboats seen at this day upon the western waters. This was hauled in beneath the shrubbery which overhu the bank, and into this their things were placed. During the removal Seth remained along the river-bank, keeping watch of the stream, lest their enemies might return unawares, The removal occupied most of the afternoon, and it was not until the shadows were lengthening across the river that the last article was placed on board. This completed, all seated themselves in the boat, and waited for the rapidly-approaching darkness, to glide out into the stream. “Tt is hard,” said Haverland, somewhat moodily, “to leavo one’s home after all the difficulty in rear- ing it is finished.” ‘Fact, by gracious!” added Seth, whom Mary eyed ve closely; as if not satisfied with the fellow’s ways and looks. “But it is best, dear husband, Let us hope, now that the war is ended, and that, as we have passed h as great dangers as those that now threaten us, the time is not far distant when we may return to this spot with safety.” | “We can die but once,” said Mary, abstractedly, “and Iam ier forany fate.” Seth studied her face with a Yong keen glance then smiled, and said: ‘Oh, you look a-here now. am captain here, by oo, leave, my dears, and I ain’t in’ to allow any sick stomachs in this here crew.” His sunay face seemed greatly to encourage the lit- e “JT wouldn’t fear to remain here now,” said Ina bravely; ‘Iam sure we soon may return. I feel it.” Haverland kissed his c but made no further reply, and all relapsed into stillness, and ceased fur ther conversation. There was eqmerhing in the gath- ering gloom around, something in the By reered situ- ation in which they were p , that im a despondency to all. The boat was still fastened to the shore, and the time for loosening it was close at d. Mrs. Haverland had passed within the rude cabin, the door of which remained open, while Seth and the husband remained in the stern, Ina sat near at hand, and had fallen into the same silence that rested upon the others. *“Doesn’t it look dark and awful, back there?” she asked, in a whisper, of Seth, pointing toward the entered the place, Resting his rifle upon the earth, | shore,
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“Tt does, somewhat, I think.” “ And yet I wouldn’t be afraid to go back to the ouse. “You'd better stay in the boat, young ’un.”’ “You think I am q/raid, do you?” she said, bound- ing out the boat to the shore. Ina! Ina! what do you mean?” asked the father, sternly. 7 “Oh, noting; only I want to take a little run to ease my limbs.” **Come back here, instantly!” **'Yes—oh, father! quick! quick! come and take “Seize the oar and shove out!” commanded Seth, into the water, and shoving the boat off. ‘But, for God’s sake, my Y? “You can’t help her—the Injins have got her. I see ’em; drop quick, they're goin’ to fire! look out!” At that instant there was the ved crack of sever- al rifles from’the shore, and several tongues of fire flamed from the darkness, and the wild yell of a number of Indians out in horrid strength. Had it not been for Seth all would have been lost. He comprehended everything in an instant, and saved the others. “Oh, father! mother! The Indians have got me!” came in accents from the shore. “Merciful God! must I see my child perish with- out heeding her cry?” ed Haverland, in spirit. “No, they won’t hurt her, and we must take care of ourselves while we can. Don’t stand up, for they can see you.” ‘Father, will you leave me?’ came again in heart- rending tones, “Don’t be scart, young ‘un,’ called out Seth; “keep up a good heart. I'll git you ag’in ef you be- have yourself. I will, as sure as I am Seth Jones. Just keep up pluck, little one.” The last words were shouted loudly, for the boat was fast gliding into the stream. The mother had heard all, and said not She comprehended it, and with a groan sunk back upon aseat, Mary’s eyes flashed like a ti at bay; and she did not cease to cast looks of indignation at Seth, for leaving the child to her horrid fate so coolly. But she said nothing—was as quiet and pale as a statue. Seth eyed her like a lynx; his eyeballs seemed like fire. But he was as cool as if at his ease rfectly; and he quickly made all feel that he was rn for such appa ng emergencies, They were now in the center of the stream, and moving quite rapidly. The darkness was so great that the shores were now vailed from sight. And with hearts in as deep a gloom, the fugitives floated downward, CHAPTER IV. THE LOST HOME AND A FOUND FRIEND. Ir was on the more of the day which we have just seen close. As be remembered, the air is clear and the day one of the most beautiful and pleasant of the year. The air was perfectly still, and had that pene, bracing sharpness which is only felt when it is in Ae state of rest. It was such a morning as would make every healthy person feel that to merely Jive was pleasure. That part of the State of New York in which the first scenes of this life-drama are laid, was a coun- try at this time cut up and diversified by numerous streams—the greater number of com nag: cormee size, but a few of considerable magnitude. irti and between these were thousands of acres of thick luxuriant forest, while in some places were plains of great extent entirely devoid of timber. It was about the middle of the day referred to that a single horseman was —s skirting one o these open eset of country, a few miles distant from Haverland’s home. A mere glance would have shown that he had come a great distance, and both he and the animal he bestrode were jaded and well- nigh worn out. He wasa young man, some twenty or twenty-five years of age attired in the costume of a hunter; and although tat ed with his long ride, the watchfulness of motions would have shown any one that he was no stranger to frontier life. He was rather prepossessing in appearance—had fine dark eyes, curly hair and whiskers, an expressive Roman nose, and small and finely-formed mouth. In front, a long, polished rifle rested across the saddle, ready for use at a second’s warning. His horse's sides were steaming and foamy, and the animal made his way Ci gh painfully evident weariness. As the day waned, the traveler looked about him with more st and.eagerness. He carefully ex- amined the streams he crossed, and the pieces of wood, as mi ta searching for some landmark or habitation. At length he manifested a pleasure in what he saw, as though the signs were as he wished, and hurried the lagging steps of his animal. ‘Yes,”’ said he to himself, “the woodman’s house cannot be far from this, I remember this stream, and that wood yonder. I shall then be able to reach it by night. me, my good horse, go ahead with better spirits, for you are near your journey’s end.” A short time after, he crossed a small stream that dashed and foamed over its and entered the broad tract which led to the in front of Haverland’s door. But although he a tolerabl idea of his situation, he had sadly m culated the distance. It was already dusk when he struck the stream several miles above where we have seen the fugitives take it. This river, or creek, he knew led directly by the cabin he was seeking, and he determined ‘to keep it until he had reached his destination. His progress was now quite tardy, from being often ot to pass around the thie undergrowth which lined the river; and, when he reached a point that he knew was a mile distant from Haverland’s cabin, it was far in the nicht. | groans of Seth J ones. “Come, my good horse, we have had a longer tramp than I expected, but we are now very near the termination of our journey. Heigh! what does that mean?’’ This last exclamation, or question, was caused by seeing directly ahead of him, a bright, lurid glare shoot high into the heavens. “Can it be that the woodman’s house is fired? Im- | possible! and yet, that is the precise spot. Heavens! something is wrong!”’ tated by stro Graham (such was his name) now hurried his horse toward the ages from which the light emanated. In a short time he had proceeded as far as he dared with his horse, then mounting, he tied him, and made his way cautiously forward on foot. The hent was so strong that he found it necessary to pick hi way with the greatest care. A few moments sufficed to show him all. He saw the house of Haverland, the one in which he expected to pass the night, but one mass of flame. And around it were a score of dark forms, leaping and dancing, and appearing, in the ghastly light, like fiends in a ghostly revel. Graham & moment spell-bound with horror and amazement. He expected to see the bodies of Haverland and his , or hear their agony; but, as he continued gazing, he be- ced that they were either slain or had escaped, as there were no signs of their presence. He could not think they had ea and was com- lied to. believe they had been tomahawked, and perished in the flames, It was a ghastly and almost unearthly sight—the small cabin, crackling and roaring in one mass of liv- ing flame. throwing nge shadows across the clear- , and lighting up the edges of the forest with a brightness almost as t as the sun at noonday— the score of dusky beings, ne and shouting in wild exultation, and the vast derness, shutting down like an ocean of darkness around. Gradually the flames lessened, and the woods seemed to retreat a the Tae the shouts ~ 4 Sav: onegeny they, , disappeared; and the building, which hitherto was a mass of crackling fire, was now a heap of slumbering coals and em- bers, which glowed with a hot redness in the dark- ness. came con An hour or two afterward, a shadowy form could have been Md mae stealthily and silently around the glowing ruins. He appeared like a r as seen by the reflected light of the slumbering coals, or t have been taken for the shadow of some ruin of the building. At intervals he paused and list- ened as though he half expected to hear the footfall of some one, and then again continued his ghostly march around the ruins. Several times he stopped and peered into the embers, as —_ he supposed the whitened bones of some human being would greet his vision, and then he recoiled and stood as if in deep and painful thought. It was Everard Graham, searching for the remains of Haverland and his y. “*T see nothing,” he said, musingly, “‘and it may be that they have , or their bodies are now book: ing in that heap of coals, and yet something tells me that they are not. And if it is not thus, what can have become of them? How could they have eluded the malignant ae ioe of their savage foes? Who could have warned them? Ah, me! in spite of the unaccountable hope which I feel, my own sense tells me there are no unds for it. Sad is the fate of the unprotected at this time.”’ “Fact, by gracious!’ raham started as though he had been shot, and gazed around, A few yards off he could just dis- cover the outlines of a man standing as if he were contemplating himself. “And who are you?” he asked, “ that appears upon this spot at such a time?” sf gage rere from — Hampshire. Who moug ou own in these at this at is time?” eer ae rf o am I? I am Everard Graham, a friend of the man whose house is in ruins, and who, I fear, has been slaughtered with his family.” “Exactly so; but don’t speak so loud. There mought be others about, you kuow. Jist let’s step back here, where ‘tain’t likely we'll be obsarved.”’ The speaker retreated into the darkness, while Graham followed him, At first he had some slight misgivings, but the tones and voice of tl e stranger reassu: him, and he followed him without distrust or hesitation. “You say you're a friend of Haverland’s, eh?” asked Seth, in a whisper. “Tam, sir; I was uainted with him before he moved out in these P . He was an intimate friend of my father’s, and I promised to pay him a visit as soon as I could possibly do so, and I am here for that “Jest 80; but you took a rayther ticklish time for it, I Pg cael eine re seems; but, if I wished to wait till it would be perfectly safe, I am afraid my visit would never be made,”’ ** Fact, by gracious!” * But allow me to ask whether you know anything e family?” “T reckon tha’ haps, it mought be possible do, seein’ as how ine base arcnndenoon times.”’ “Are they slain, or captives?” “ Ne Tr. “Tg % possible they have escaped?” “* Jest so. Thelped ‘em off myself.”’ ‘Thank Heaven! Where are they?” ‘Down the river, at one of the settlements “Tow far distant is it?” 3 ** 4 dozen miles, p’raps, though it movght be more, and then ag’in it htn’t.” “Well, let us then hasten to them, or, let me, at least, as I have peg ie detain me here.” **7'm willing,’’ said Seth, moving forw: “but I forgot to tell you the darter’s ‘mong the i I didn’t think of that.” Graham started; for, perhaps, the shrewd reader has already suspected he had more than a interest in the fate of Ina. Visions of a fair, and painful 5 me, Mel face had haunted him, and his perilous jo owing much to their enchantment. He had p was ed | with her in childhood, and while they were yet chil- dren they had separated; but they had pledged their hearts to each other, and looked hope’ forward to areunion in later years. Graham dreamed of this meeting a long time; and, now that it was so cruelly thwarted, he felt agonizedindeed. Years be- fore, when still a boy, although quite a “one, he | visited this section, and the memory of that visit ever been a bright dream in the past. He mastered his emotion ina moment, with a strong effort, and asked his companion, — ‘* What tribe has = Ina?” “Them infarnal Mohawks, I believe.” ‘* How long ago did it occur?” a ay a few hours, as you can see by them coals ere.” ed you be kind enough to give me the particu- “ Sartinly. And thereupon Seth proceeded to narrate the inci- dents given in the preceding chapter, adding, how- ever, that the nts and sister were safe. He hed accompanied them himself down to the settlement mentioned, where, leaving them, he had made all haste back again, and had arrived just in time to meet Graham. At first, he said, he mistook him for a savage, and as he was alone, he came very near shooting him; but, as he heard him communing with himself, he discovered at once that he was a white man “And what has —— you back here?” asked Graham, when he had finished. “That's a pooty question to ax me, Iswow! What has brought me back here? Why the same thing, I cac’late as has brought you—to find out what is to be found out "bout Ina, that | aan darter.” ** Ah—pardon me, friend, lam glad to hear it, and Iam free to confess that that inducement has had more in bringin, ng me here than anything else. From our starting alone to rescue her, I presume you en- fertained hopes of ean and, as you, alone, ” entertained such hopes, I ju there is greater room: for a? when oa her 7” Ch are A eats é say, stranger, I ‘spec o git that ga again?’ asked Seth, in a low tone. “You did not say so in words, it is true; but from what you said, I judged such was your intention. Was I mistaken?” “ No, sir; that’s what I meant.” “T see no reason why we should not be friends, as we are both actuated by a desire to rescue an unfor- tunate one from the horrors of Indian captivity, and I trust, without that fact, we would find nothing dis- tasteful in each other.” ais: 1em’s my sentiments, ‘zactly. Give us your nd. The two closed hands with a true friendly gripe, and could each have seen the other’s face in the dark- ness, he would have beheld a radiant ression of friendship. They then retired further into the wood and continued the conversation. We may mention in this place, that the Indians who had So ek Ina were, as Seth had remarked, members of the Mohawk tribe. This tribe itself was a pes we of oe — a mn ee — them the Seneca, the Cayuga, Onon and On tribes, which have become quite famous in history. They are known among the French as the Jroguois, and among the Dutchas Maquas, while at home they are called the Mingoes, or coe agg = peg the United People. The Mohaw or Wabingi, firs existed separately and alone. he Oneidas then joined them, and these, in turn, were followed by the a, Senecas, and Cayugas. In the be- ginning of the last cent the Tuscaroras of the uth — them, after w ich they took the name of the Nations. Of course, they were all united, and war made upon one tribe, was made upon all. ny Bie truly a formidable confederation, and the Revolution testifies to what deeds were suf- ficient when instigated by the British. the redatory warfare which long existed upon the Old mtier, the white settlers relied mainly upon strata- gem to outwit their foes, and it was by this means ean that Seth Jones hoped to rescue Ina from their CHAPTER V. ON THE TRAIL, AND A SUDDEN DEPARTURE FROM IT BY SETH. “Tre Mohawks, Ss aga aay have then captured her?” remarked Graham, after a moment’s pause. “Yes; I know it’s them.” “Did you get a glimpse of them?” “IT came up as soon as possible, and they were leaving at that moment. I saw one or two of them, and know’d it was them, sure *nough. Howsumey- er, that don’t. make so -aeacnets whether it’s the Mohawks, Oneidas, or any of them blasted Five Ne- tion niggers. They are alla set of skunks, and one would as lief run off witha man’s gal as not. There ain't any difference atwixt ’em.”’ “IT suppose not. The same difficulties would have to be surmounted in each case, The point is not whether one shall make an attempt at a rescue, but how shall it be done. I confess laminamaze. The | Mohawks are an exceedingly cunning people.”
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4 ~ Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. “That's a fact—that needn't be disputed.” “But then, you know, if we outwit them, we will a =e e first whites who have done such a thing in id “That's a fact, too. Now. hold on a minute, while I think.” — Graham ceased talking for a moment, while Seth remained as if in deep and anxious thought. Sud- lif up his head, he remarked: ‘1 haveit.”’ : * —— what? The plan which must be pursued yy us?” “I ca’c’late I have.” “ Well, out with it.” “‘Why, it’s this. We've got to git that gal, an’ no mistake.” ite the gloominess which had been upon Gra- ham, he could not help laughing outright at the seri- ous tone in which this was uttered. “What ave you laughing at?’ indignantly de- manded Seth. “Why, I thought we had arrived at that conclu- sion long since.’ “T didn’t think of that; so we did. Howsumever, I've thort further—hey, what's that off yonder? *Nuther buildi puree” Graham gazed in the direction indicated, and saw that day was breaking. This he remarked to his com on, “Yes, so ‘cis; and I’m glad of it, for we want some ht on this subject.”’ na short time, the sun appeared above the forest, and poured a flood of golden light over the woods and streams. Birds were singing their morning songs in ever ae. of the wood, and ene wore as gay a look as though no deed of blood been committed during the night. As soon as it was sufficiently light, Seth and Graham made their way toward the stream. “As we shall shortly start,’’ remarked the latter, “I will attend to my horse, which I brought with me. Heis but a short distance away, and I will be back in a moment.” So saying, he departed in the wood. He found his horse completely worn out, asleep on the ground. H> unloosened his fastening, and as there was abun- dant provender around in the shape of young and tender twigs and luxuriant , he removed the sa idle and bridle, and concluded to allow him free scope of the wood until his return, trusting to the rather doubtful chances of ever recovering him again. This done, he returned to bis companion. Hie found Seth leaning upon his rifle and gazing meditatively into the silent stream flowing before him. Graham looked curiously at him a moment and then said: “Tam ready, Seth, if you are.” The individual addressed turned without a word and strode toward the clearing. When the ruins of the house were reached they both halted, and in an undertone he said: “* Hunt up the trail.” Each bent his head toward the ground and.moved ina circle around the clearing. Suddenly Graham paused and proceeded quickly several yards in the wood, halted and exclaimed: “Here itis, Seth.” The latter histened to his side, and stooping a mo- ment, and running his eye along the ground, both forward and backward, replied: * This is the trail! They ain't very keerful ‘bout it now, but I reckon it’ll make us open our peepers wider to see it, after we get into the wood.”’ “Well, as the starting-point is now reached, we must perfect our arrangements. You must take the lead in folowing this up.” **Oan’t you?” asked Seth, looking up in his eyes. ‘Not as well as you. From what little [have seen of you, 1 am sure you excel me in the knowledg> of the forest. I have had some experience in figitt- ing but very little in tracing a foe through such a wilderness as this.”’ ; ‘Don’t say? That’s just where you an’ I disagree. I was always the one to track the tories or red-coats for old Colonel Allen, and I remember one time—but I guess I won't go to telling stories now, being as I haven't much time; but I can say, though p’raps I oughtn’t to, that Ican foller any red-skin as far as he can go, and I don’t care how much pains he takes to coverup his tracks. You see, if I undertake to foller this, Pve got to keep my nose down to the ground, and won't be likely to see any danger we're running into; that'll have to be your business. You 7 hang close to my heels, and keep your eyes veling all over.” “Tllendeayor to do my part, although I shall ex- pect some aid from you.”’ “TI may give some, as I can tell purty near "bout when the imps have gone over the tracks I’m_look- ing at. And nowwe must start. I promised Haver- land that I wouldn't show myself again uniil I could tell him something about darter, and I swow, I won’t. Come ahead.” With these wo Seth started ahead on a —— aoe He was inclined forward, — is een gray eye was bent with a searching look upon the ground. Graham followed him a few feet dis- tant, with the barrel of his rifle resting in the hollow of his left arm, while the stock was held in his right, so us to be ready at a moment’s ptm | The signs that led Seth Jones fo were faint, and to an ordinary observer, invisible. The Indians, although they had little fears of pursuit, were P bed too ¢ and experienced to neglect any caution that would mislead what enemies might be disposed to follow them. They traveled in Indian file, each one stepping in the track of the one’ before him, so that, judging from the tracks made, it would erpeer that but a single savage had been journeying in these parts. Ina was compelled to walk in this manner, and more than once when she inadvertently made a va a a brine po = = her task. ~ metimes the leaves, as they lay, appeared per- fectly devoid of the slightest depression or disturb- ance, yet, had one stooped and carefully scrutinized the ground, he would have seen the faint ontlines of a moccasin defined upon it, or observed that a leaf had been displaced, or perhaps a slender twig had not yet recovered the position from which it had been forced by the ng of human feet. All these were trifling indications, it is true, yet they were unerring ones ‘to the practiced eye of the hunter, and as plain as the footprints — the dusty roads. Soon Seth paused, and raising his head, turned to- ward Graham. “We are gaining on ’em.” “ Ah—are we? Gilad to hear it. When is it prob- able we shall overtake them!” j ve exactly say, Hes ~ fora ence tak, = et. ey are tramping at a purty good t, an ey only halted last night to raat Iny now and then. Darn ‘em! she'll want rest, T ca’e’late, more’n once afore she’s done with ‘em.’ “Can't you conjecture their number?” “ There's somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty of the best warriors of the Mohawks. Ican tell that by their tracks.” a ps is that? They make but a single one, do t ey 1 “Of course not, but I rayther ca’c’late the that a little different, fur all that, from w would. Are you hungry?’ “Not at all; I can stand it till noon, without the least inconvenience.” “So can I; keep a good look-out, and now ahead in. With these words, Seth again plunged into the woods, and the two prosecuted their journey much as before. The sun was now high in the heavens, and its warm rays pierced the arches of the forest at many points, and there were scattered over the travelers th. Several times they crossed small, sparkling s ms, where some- times could be seen signs of the pursued having slaked their thirst, and more than once the frighten- ed deer bounded ahead, and paused and gazed in wonder at them, then leaped away again. Graham could hardly resist the temptation of bringing one of them down, y as he began to feel a desire to taste them; but he too well knew the danger of risk- ing a shot, when it might bring down their most mortal enemies in a moment upon them. All at once Seth halted and raised his hand. “What does this mean?’ he asked, gazing off in a side direction from the trail. “What is it!’? queried Graham, approaching him. “The trail divides here. They must have separa- ted, though I can’t see what has made them.” make t one hace The two made their way off in a side direction, so as not to be likely to attract notice in the morning, should any of the savages take the back trail. Here a remained until daylight. _ They heard the Indians, as soon as it was fully light, preparing their mornin meal; and as they deemed t “y could see them without incurring great peril, they determined to obtain a glimpse o Kem, n order to assure themselves whether Ina was among them or not. Each had suspicion the company had separated, and that their trail had been overlooked in yi time Yael h ccordingly, the two crept noiselessly to the top. There was a heavy, peculiar sort of brier growing on the summit of the embankment, which was fortu- nately so peipeneeue as to effectually conceal their bodies. Seth pressed against this and peered over, His head just came above the undergrowth and he could plainly see all that was transpiring. Graham, with an unfortunate want of discretion, placed his arm on Seth's wre rena gaz a over him! Yet, larly enough, neither was seen. Graham was fuck | in the act Ot ewering his head, when the briers, which were so matted together as to hold the pres- sure against them like a woyen band, gave wa: , and Seth rolled like a log down the embankment, t~ ly among the savages! _ CHAPTER VIL A RUN FOR LIFE. Wuen the sad event just chronicled took place, and Seth made a rather unceremonious entrance in- to view of the sav , Graham felt that he too was in peril, and his life depended upon his own exer- tions. To have offered resistance would have been madness, as there were fully thirty Indians at hand. Flight was the only resource left, and without wait- ing to see the fate of Seth, our hero made a bound the embankment, alighting at the bottom, and Struck directly across the plain, toward the timber that lined the river. He had gained several hundred yards, when several Prolonged yells told him that he was diseovered, and was a flying fugitive. Cast-
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trained and disciplined, but his ; five of the swiftest runners of the Mohawk nation, and he feared he had at last found his match. Yet he was as skillful and cunning as he was sinewy and fleet of foot. The plain over which he was s was perfectly bare and naked for six or eight miles before him, while it stretched twice that distance on either hand before the slightest refuge was offered. Thus it will be seen that he took the only course which offered hope—a dead run for it, where the pur- suers and pursued possessed equal advantages, He was pretty certain that his pursuers possessed greater endurance than himself, and that in a lo run he stood small chance of escape, while in a sho race he believed he could distance 7 Pape Indian. So he determined to try the speed of his enemies. As he heard‘their yells, he bounded forward al- most at the top of his speed. The pursuers, however, maintained the same regular and rapid motion. Graham continued his exertions for about a half- mile, making such use of his arms and limbs as to ive the impression that he was doing his utmost. oward the latter part of the first mile, his s be- gan to slacken, and his dangling limbs and furtive lances behind him would have convinced any one that he was nigh exhausted. em, and it sueceeded as But this was only a strat. well as he could have wished. The Indians believed he had committed a common and fatal error—that of calling into play the uttermost strength and speed of which he was master at the outset, and that he was wearied out, while they themselves were just warming into the glow of the chase, Seeing t bey sent up a shout of exultation, and darted ah at the top of their speed, each endeavoring to reach and tomahawk him ‘ore his companion. But their surprise was unbounded when they saw the fugitive shoot ahead with the velocity of a race- horse, while his veins, too, were ont ng with the hot blood of exertion. They saw this, and they saw too, that should such speed continue long, he woul be far beyond their reach, and all now ran as they never ran before. We say Graham's stratagem succeeded. It di and it gave him the knowledge he wished. I showed him that he had met his match! His pursu- ers, at least one or two of them, were nearly as fleet as was he; and, sithonsh he might distance them fora time, yet ere the race was finished he would inevitably lose his vantage ground! Could one have stood and gazed upon this race of life, he would have seen a by Lange Pani Far ahead, over a vast plain, a fugitive w man was flying, and his t, steady gait showed that his limbs were well trained and were now put to their severest test. As his feet doubled with such quick- ness beneath him as to be almost invisible, the ground glided like a panorama from under them. Behind were a -dozen oes er their gleaming visages distorted with the passions of exultation, ven- geance, and doubt, their garments flying in the wind, and_ their to its utmost bounds. They were scattered at different distances from each other, and were spreading over the prai- rie, so as to cut off the fugitive’s escape in every di- rection. Two Indians maintained their places side by side, and it was evident that the pursuit would soon be left to them. The others were rapidly falling be- hind, and were already rel. their exertions. Graham saw the state of things, and it thrilled him with hope. Could he not distance these also? Would they not leave him in such a case? And could he not escape ere he was compelled to give out from ex- haustion? “At any rate I will try, and God help me!” he ut- tered prayerfully, sho ahead with almost su- pase velocity. He glanced back and saw his ollowers, and they seemed almost standing still, so rapidly did he leave them behind. t as nature com him to petri? rate at baby gs ae was wearied pursuers aga Lever iene | The parties now und eac e In- dians saw his maneuvers, and avoided the trap, and kept on in the same unremitting, relentless speed, fully certain that this would sooner or later compel him to yield; while Graham knew that the only chance of prolonging the contest rested in his drop- ping into and Sepang his ordinary speed. ey now sunk into the same ee terribly monotonous run. Mile after mile flew beneath them, and still so exact and similar were their relative rates, that they were absolutely stationary with re- gard to each other! The two Indians now remained alone and they were untiring—they were determined to hold out to the end! At last, Graham saw the friendly timber but a short distance from him. The trees seemed beckon- ing him to their friendly shelter, and, gasping, he plunged in among the n— ahead till he stood upon the bank o a lag | stream. _ yhen the Anglo-Saxon’s body is pitted against that of the North American Indian, it sometimes yields; but when his mind takes the place of con- testant, it never loses Graham gazed hurriedly around him, and in the space of a dozen seconds his faculties had Sent enough for a lifetime—wrought enough to save G Throwing his rifle aside, he waded caref into the stream until he stood waist deep. Then sinki upon his face, he swam rapidly upward until he h gone a hundred yards. Here he struck out into the channel, swimming wp-stream as well as across it, so as not to reach the bank at a lower point. The cur- ptm and unged right a large and Seth Jones. 5 | rent was very swift, and required an exhausting out- | lay of his already tainting frame before he reached the opposite bank. Here he immediately sprung upon the shore, ran quickly a short distance down the stream, making and then springing into the water, swam ree up- ward, remaining as close to the shore as possible, so as to avoid the resisting current. The reason of these —o. movements will soon be plain. e shore was lined thickly by overhanging bushes, and after swimming until he supposed it time for his ursuers to come up. he ped neath their friend- fy shelter, and awaited the further development of dings. Almost immediately after, both ene upon the opposite bank, but at a point co erably lower down. Without hesitation, they sprung into the stream and swam across. As they landed, they commenced a search, and a yell announced the dis- covery of the trail. Instantly after, another yell proclaimed their disappointment, as they lost it in the river. The savages supposed that the fugitive had again taken to the water, and had either drowned or reached the other side. At any rate, they had lost what they considered a certain prey, and with feelings of baffi py they sullenly swam back searched the other side an hour or so, and then took their way back to their companions. CHAPTER VIL. THE EXPERIENCE OF SETH. “By gracious! stars and garters! &c.! &c.! This is a new way of introducing one’s self!” exclaimed Seth, as he the council- The consternation of the Indians at this sudden apparition among them may well be imagined. The crac of the undergrowth above had aroused them, yet the advent of Seth was so sudden and almost instantaneous that ere they could form a sus- picion of the true nature of things, he was among them. Their habitual quickness of thought came to them at once. Graham was seen as he wheeled and fled, and as has been shown, a number sprung at once in pursuit, while a dozen leaped upon Seth, and as many tomahawks were raised. “Now jest hold on,” commanded Seth; “there ain't any need of being in a hurry. Plenty time to take my hair. Fact, by gracious.” His serio-comical manner arrested and amused his captors. They all paused and looked at him, as mens another outburst, while he contented with gazing at them with a look of scornful contempt. Seeing this, one sprung forward, and clenching his hair in a twist, “ *“Oh! cuss Yankee! we burn him!" “If you know what's best, ole chap, you'll take yer paw off my head in a hurry. Ef you don't you mought find it rather convenient to.” The savage and Seth’s rifl a moment, and then, with an air of conscious supe- na said: “Tl lend that to you awhile, provided you return it all right. Mind, you be keerful now, ‘cause that ar’ gun cost somet: down in New Ham i From what has ait n written, it doubtless be sus that ‘s conduct was a part which he was p) When thrown into peril by the impa- tience of his companion, he saw at once that an at- ht was useless. Nothing was left but to his misfortune with the best grace ore ble; and yet there was a way in which this submis- sion could be effected which would result better for himself than otherwise. Had he offered resistance, or submitted arene » a8 Many a man would have. done, he would doubtless have been toma- hawked instantly. So, with a readiness of thought which was adtonhing he assumed an air of reckless bravado. This, as we have shown, had the desired result thus far. How it succeeded after, will be seen in the remaining portion of this history. Seth Jones was a man whose character could not he read in an hour, or day. It required a long com- panionship with him to discover the nicely- points, and the characteristics which seemed in many cases so opposite. United witha genial, sport- ive humor and apparent frankness, he was yet far- seeing and cautious, and could read the motives of a man almost ata glance. With a countenance which seemed made expressly to vail his soul, his very looks were deceptive; and, when he chose to play a certain role, he could do it to perfection. Had any one seen him when the conversation above recorded took place, he would have unhesitatingly set him down as a natural-born idiot. “ How Bid like to both. ie RS alt bin a savage, stoo and grinning ho; n his face. “T don’t Cnow: IT never tried it,” replied Seth, with as much nonchalance as though it was a dinner to which he was referring. “ E-e-e-e! you will try i, Yankee.” “Don’t know yet: there are various opinions about that, p’raps. When the thing is did I mought believe it.” “You sizzle nice—nice meat—good for burn!” added another savage, grasping and feeling his arm. ‘* Just please do not pinch, my friend.” The savage closed his fingers like iron rods, and clenched the member till Seth thought it would be crushed. But, though the pain was excruciating, he manifested not the least feeling. The Indian tried again, and again, till he gave up and remarked, expressive of his admiration of the man’s pluck: “ Good Yankee! stand pinch well,” “Oh! you wa’n't pinching me, wasyou? Sorry, I gd ei out among the savages around | re. as if to humor him, removed his hand | e, too. Seth gazed inquiringly at him | “Soft, like squaw’s hand—let me feel it,’’ he re- marked, shutting his own over it like a vise. Seth winced not in the least; but as the Indian in turn was | about to relinquish his attempt at making sport for is trail as plain as he could; | | and didn’t know it. Try again, you mought p’raps do | better.” The savage, however, retired, and another stepped forward and grasped the captive’s hand. | his comrades, Seth said: “Your paws don’t ap very horny,’ and closed over it with a terrific gripe. The savage stood like a martyr, till Seth felt the bones of his hand actuall displacing, and nee UNE an apple. He determined, as he in reality suffered himself, to be revenged, and closed his fingers tighter and more rigid till the poor wretch sprung to his feet, and howled with pain! “Oh! did I hurt you?” he asked, with apparent so- licitude, as the savage’s hand slid from his own with much the appearance of a wet glove. The discom- fited Indian made no reply but retired amid the jeers of his comrades. Seth, without moving a mus- cle, seated himself deliberately upon the ground, coolly asked a savage to lend him a Bi e. It is known, that when an Indian sees such har hood and power, as their captive had just evinced, he does not endeavor to conceal his admiration, Thus it was not strange that Seth’s impudent request was complied with. One handed him a well-filled pipe, with agri in which could be distinctly seen admiration, exulta- tion, and anticipated revenge. From the looks of the others, it was gs they anticipated an immense deal of sport. r present hero continued poppe, lazily watching the volumes of vapor, as they slowly rolled before and around him. His captors sat about him a moment, conversing in their own tongue (every word of which, we may remark, was ere, under- aor by Seth), when one arose and stepped forward ore = “ White man strong; him pinch well, but me make him cry.” So he stooped, and removing the captive’s cap, se along tuft of yellow hair which had its roots at the temple. A stab in the eye would nct have caused an acuter twinge of pain: but, as he jerked it forth by the roots, Seth gave not the Na est indication save a stronger whiff at the pipe. e eave around did not suppress a murmur of ac- miratio . Seeing no effect from this torture, the tor- mentor again stooped and caught another tuft that grew low upon the neck. Each single hair felt like e point of a needle thrust into the skin, and as it came forth, the Indians seated around noticed a livid eness, like the track of a cloud, quickly flash over heir captive’s countenance. He looked up in his tormentor’s eyes with an indescribable lock. For a moment he fixed a gaze upon him, that, sav as he was, caused a strange shiver of dread to run through him, To say that Seth cared nothing for these inflicted onies would be absurd. Had thesavage dreamed what a whirlwind of hate and revenge he had awakened by them he would not have attempted what he did. It was only by an almost unaccounta- ble power that Seth controlled the horrible pains of both body and mind he suffered. He felt as though it was impossible to prevent himself from writhing on the ground in torment, and springing at his per- secutor and —s him limb from limb. But he bad ee to Indian indignities, and bore, them chingly. His tem Me had the ap parc’ ment, with innumerable bloody points in it, as the blood commenced oozin from the wound, and his neck seemed as though the skin had been scraped off! His momentary paleness had been caused b the sickening pain and the intensest passion. look at the savage was to remember him. After the events which have just transpired they remained seated a moment in silence. At last one who ap- ared to be the leader, addressed, in an undertone, the Indian whom we have just seen retire from the post of tormentor, Seth, however, caught tke words, and had he not, it is not probable he would have successfully undergone the last trying ordeal. The same savage again stepped forward in the circle before the helpless oe ea and removing the cap which had been replaced, clinched the long yel- low locks in his left hand and threw the head - ward, Then whipping out his scalping-knife, he sae seed wi Gs Pale hed e aroun w e ra y 0 k The skin was not pierced, and it was only an artifice. Seth never took his eyes from the Indian during this ce of white h- awful minute. The tormentor again retired. The sav were satisfied, but Seth was not. He handed his pipe back, replaced his cap, and rising to his feet, sur- 3 He then veyed for a few seconds the group around. addressed the leader. pe Can the white mannow try the red-man’s cour- age $ 9 The voice sounded like another person’s. Yet the chief noticed it not, and ncdded assent to the re- quest, while the looks of the others showed the eagerness and interest they felt in these dread- ful proceedings. - ) The savage who had inflicted all this agony seated himself directly beside the chief. Seth stepped to him, and grasping his arm pressed moderately. The Indian gave a scornful grunt. Seth then stoo and gently took the tomahawk from his belt. He raised it slowly on high, bent down till his form was like the crouching panther ready to opting. The glittering blade was seen to flash as it circled i2)) the air, and the next instant it crashed clean throug i: the head of the unsuspecting savage! CHAPTER VIII. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. Weartep and exhausted, Graham crawled fort: from the water, and lay down awhile to res’ himself upon the so velvety carpet of grass. Here, overcome by the terrific strain had undergone, he fell imto which his system
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eee — - ———— 6 a deep and lasting sleep. When he awoke, the day had far advanced, and the sun was already past the meridian. _ After dig 8 awakening, and fervently thankmg Heaven for his remarkable preservation and escape, he commenced debating with himself upon the best course for him to pursue. He was now one in the great wilderness, and what step should he next take? Should he endeavor to hunt up his friend Haverland, or should he press on in the pur- | suit of the object which had led him thus far? While these questions were yet unanswered, he mechanically cast his eye up the river, and started as he saw a small canoe coming around a bend quite | a distance from him. He had just time to see that there were two beings in it, when prudence warned him to make himself invisible, eé stepped behind the trunk of a massive king of the forest, and watch- ed with eager interest the approach of the new-com- ers. The Tight canoe shot rapidly over the placid . surface of the river, and in a few moments was abreast of him. He saw that the two occupants were white men, and he scanned their countenances with deep interest. The stronger of the two was seated in the center of the light vessel, and dip the ashen blades deep into the water at every stroke, The other, ee older man, was seated in the stern, and while he controlled the. actions of tre other, scanned either shore with the oe. a be of the frontiersman. Graham believed, though he knew he had been careful, that his presence was sus- pected, as the canoe, apparently without any intent of its occupants, sheered off toward the opposite shore. He remained concealed until it was directly abreast of him, when a sudden suspicion flashed over him that one of the men was Haverland, although it was so long since he had seen him that it was im- possible to satisfy himself upon that point without a closer view. However, they were white men, and he determined to risk the probabilities of their being friends. In a subdued voice, without coming into view himself, he called to them. He knew he was heard, for the man at the oars halted a second, and glancéd furtively toward the shore; but at a slight bent to them, and they ey suspected no danger, “ Hallo, my friends!”* call he, in a louder tone, but still con himself. There was no notice, however, taken of him, save he fancied a quicker pre of the boat forward. He now stepped ldly forth and called: _ “ Do not be suspicious; I am a friend.” . This brought them to a pause, while the one in the stern spoke; “We are not satisfied of that: for what business have you here?” , rs Lnignt with equal justice put that. question to ou sign from the other he again both continued, as though th “Tf you choose to give no answer, we can’t wait to any, words with you. Go ahead, averland.” “Hold! Is that Alfred Haverland with you?” ‘*Suppose it is? What is that to you?” “He is the man whom, above all others, I wish to see. I am Everard Graham; and, perhaps he re- members the name,’’ The woodman now turned to- ward the shore with a stare of wonder. A minute sufficed. “Tt’s he, Ned, sure enough.” With these words he turned the canoe toward shore. A few strokes sent it up against the bank, pect | sprung out and grasped the hand of his young r iend. “Why, Graham, what in the name of the seven wonders has mevague you here? I forgot—you did promise me a visit somewhere about t so many other things have transpired as to make it slip my mind altogether. And I can assure you, I have had enough to break the heart of any ordinary mortal,” he added, in a choking voice. lanations were then given; and the wonder, gratitude, and apprehension, that followed Graham’s | story, may be imagined. Before these were given, i a introduced his companion, Ned Hal- c Beth promised to bring Ina back,”’ said he, ‘* but I could not bear to remain idle while he alone was searching for her, This good friend here, who has had much experience in border warfare, willingly joined me. I suppose you would like to see the mother; but if you did, you would see a well-nigh broken- hearted one, and I cannot bear to meet her until I have learned more of our darling daughter,” “And if them cowardly Mohawks don’t rue the day they commenced their infernal work, then Ned pr e is htily mistaken!’ exclaimed that in- , wa ; » neem Pagel i ae = heearg, stent that with our present number and present fee we ht make an open attack upon them, especially awe have a friend in the camp.” “*No, sir; that'll never do!” replied the hunter, with a shake of the head. ‘‘ They can never be over- come in that way. We could have brought a dozen men with us who could have blown the cowards to atoms, but *twouldn’t do,” “You then rely wholly upon stratagem, eh?” “Nothing else will do with them critters.” “ And Heaven only knows whether that will,’’ re- marked Haverland, in a desponding tone. “Ah! don't give way, Alf; wait till it’s time.” “You must pardon my exhibition of weakness,” said he, recovering himself. “Though I feel the stren, of an army in these limbs of mine, yet I have the heart of a father in this bosom, and I can doany thing for the recovery of m darling daugh- ter. O14! I can hear her screams yet, as she was torn from us on Sp ae anseuad _ Graham an e rem ent, respecting 3 deep and moving grief. Soon the father spoke uzain, and this time his voice and manner were | changed time, but | Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. “But why stand we here idle? Is there nothing | for us todo? Are we to remain desponding, when a single effort may save her?’’ “That’s just what I’ve been thinking ever since we stopped here,” replied Haldidge. “‘I don’t-see any use In waiting, especially when there és use in doing | something.” “Let us depart, then. You will accompany us, of course, Graham?” “Certainly; but I should like to inquire your in- | tentions?” asked he, pausing on the bank a moment, | as the others seated themselves. “T should think you would remember we can have | but one intention,’ answered Haverland, in a tone of _ slight rebuke. ‘That is not exactly what I meant. Of course, I knew your ultimate intention, but I wished to inquire what course you intended to pursue.”’ “Oh, that’s it!” replied Haldidge. ‘I'v been con- siderable among the red-skins of this region, and know that they can be sooner reached by going down the river some distance further—several miles below | this bend—and taking the land.” “But my experience tells me you are mistaken this time. Ina’s captors are now at no great dis- tance, and the shortest course to them, you will find, is a direct line from here, across the open prairie, the other side of the river.” “At any rate, we will cross to the opposite bank; so step in.” “Wait a minute. What does that mean?” As Graham spoke, he pointed ny up the river. From the position of the two within the boat, they could discern nothing. “Jump ashore, quick, and pull the boat out of sight. There’s something afoot, and you mustn’t be seen,’’ exclaimed Graham, exci , in an under- ' tone, as he stooped and grasped the prow of the | canoe, The men sprung ashore, and in an instant | the vessel was hauled up out of sight, while the three | made themselves invisible, and from their hiding- | places eagerly watched the river, The object which had arrested the attention of | Graham was a second canoe, which was just makin, _ its ys tial round the bend above, which h | first brought his friends.to view. This latter one was of about the same size, and could be seen to hold either three or four persons. The dark-tufted heads of the occupants, rising like statues in the boat, showed unmistakably that they were Ind , As it came nearer and nearer, Haldidge w red there was a f person in the stern, and she was a | female. Haverland and Graham breathed hard, for | a wild hope filled the heart of each; but as the canoe came abreast of them, while they could plainly dis- tinguish the features of the three savages, they could not gain a glimpse of the fourth person. She was | covered by an Indian shawl], and her head was bow- = ai upon her bosom, as though in painful thought. ‘* Let us fire and send these three dogs to eternity,” whispered Graham, Haldidge raised his hand. “°Twon't do; there may be others about, and if that other one is Ina, it may only be the means of her destruction, Alf, do you think that is her?” “T can’t tell—yes, by Heaven, *tis her! Look! she has moved her shawl. Let us rescue her at once!’ | exclaimed the father, rising, and about to start. “Hold!” imperativel and_half angrily command- ed Haldidge, *‘ you will spoil all by your rashness. Don't Nae see it is near night? They are now below |.us, and we cannot get them in such a range as to in- sure us each of them, Wait till it is darker, and we will pursue them. I have a plan which I think can- | not fail. Just restrain yourself a short time, and I will bring things about in a manner that will sur- prise them as much as it will you.” Haverland sunk down again de the others. The night was now fast coming on, andin a few minutes | the light birch canoe was shoved noiselessly into the ven on the three made ready for the race for life | and death. CHAPTER IX. THE CHASE. Tue night was even closer at hand than our friends | suspec In the forest, where the withdrawal of | the sun was almost simultaneous with darkness, it | came without much warning. The gloom was al- poco: | settling over the water, and Haverland in- stantly shot the canoe from under the shrubbery out into the stream. There were rowlocks and oars for a second person, and G took up a couple of | them and Moined his labors with his friend, while Hal- di took the steering-oar. they passed boldly anes channel, the canoe ahead was just disap- pearing around a bend below. “Come, this won't do; we mustn't let them keep | out of our sight,” said Havertand, dipping his oars deep into the water, A heavy darkness was fast settling over the river, and our friends noted another thing, A thick, pecu- liar fog, or mist, such as is often seen of summer nights, upon a sheet of water, was a iggy Ma ps to envelop the bank and river, This, as be evident, walle it would allow the pursuers to ap- proach the Indian canoe much closer than otherwise, still gave the latter a much greater chance of elud- ing them, Haldidge hardly knew whether to be pleased with this or not. “Tt ma ar us in the by cert 1 boys, but we've ' got to hold on till it’s fairly down on us. the ras- cals catch a glimpse of us before, they'll give us the | slip as sure as fate. Just lay on your oars a few mainnted. We can float down with the current.” ‘*T allow it’s the best plan, although Iam much in | favor of dashing ahead, and ending the matter at once,” remarked Graham, nervously handling his oars. ‘“And while I think of it,” pursued Haldidge, ‘I don’t see as it would do any hurt to muffle the oars,” Before starting they had abundantly provided themselves with means for this, and in a few mo- ments a quantity of cloth was forced into the row- locks, so as to be able to give full sweep to the oars without making enough noise to attract suspicion from the shore, unless an ear was listening more in- tently than usual, : By this time, too, the thick mist mentioned had enveloped the river in an impenetrable cloud, and they shot boldly into it. The light vessel flew as swiftly and noiselessly as a bird over the water. Hal- didge understood every turn and eddy in the stream, and guided the canoe with unerring certainty around the sharp bends, and by the rocks whose black heads now and then shot backward within a few feet of their side. In this way a mile was passed, when he raised his ae as a signal for them to cease efforts for a mo- ment. “Listen!” he uttered. All did so, and faintly, yet distinctly and distantly, they heard the almost inaudible dip of oars, and the click of the rowlocks, “Ts that above or below?” asked Haverland, bend- ing his head and intently listening. ‘I think we have passed them, sure enough,” re- plied Graham. The sound certainly te to come from above them, and all were constrained to believe that, row- ’ ing as pitty and pores as they did, they must have swept by them in the darkness without suspect- ing their proximity. *Can it be possible?” questioned Haldidge, won- deringly and getoaen. But such was the character of the river-banks at this point, that all had been deceived in listening to the sounds, and the Indians were all the time leaving them far behind. It was not until they heard un- mistakably the sounds receding in the distance that they became conscious of the true state of matters, At that moment, as they were dying out, they all heard them plainly enough far below. “We might haveknown it,’’ said Haldidge, in vexa- tion. ‘* You've got to lay to it, to catch them now.” “But is there not danger of running afoul of them?” “Not if we are careful. I think they will run in to shore, soon, and if so, it will be the eastern bank. I will hug that closely, and keep my ears open.”’ The two now bent to their oars with redoubled powers. They dipped the ashen blades deeply, and pulled until they bent dangerously, while the water arted in foam at the rushing prow, and spread away na foamy pyramid behind. The effect of this was soon apparent. The rattle of the oars ahead grew plainer and plainer at each stroke, a: d it was evident they were gaining finely. Haverland’s arm was thrilled with tenfold ower, as he felt yee he was rushing to the rescue of his only darling id, and he only wished he aight have the chance to spring upon her abductors and rend them limb from limb. Graham's heart beat faster as he reflected that, perhaps, in a few moments, he should be face to face with her who had hovered about his pillow, in visions, for many a night. Haldidge sat perfectly cool and possessed. He had formed his plan and imparted it to the others; it was to pursue the canoe noiselessly until they were almost upon it, when the instant they were near enough to distinguish forms, they would fire OR Se Lani and dash ahead and rescue Ina at This Haldidge, who has been introduced to notice in this chapter, was a middle-aged man, who ten years before had emigrated from the settlements along the Hudson, with a company which had formed the settlement from which he started, and where we saw Haverland and his wife and sister safely domiciled. He was a married man, and his cabin Cod ga to be on the outskirts of the village. He joined and led the whites in several forays against the savages, when the latter became too troublesome; and in this way became a prominent object. for the Indians’ hatred. His dence_be- came known to them, and one dark, stormy night a half-dozen made a descent upon it. By the merest chance, Haldidge was in the v: e at that time, and thus esca) their malignant revenge. Being disap- inted of their ponte prey, they cowardly vented heir hatred upon defenseless wife and child, When the father returned, he found them both tom- ahawked, side by side, and weltering in each other's blood. So silently had this onslaught been made that not a neighbor suspected anything wrong, and were horror-struck to find that such deadly peril had been so near their own doors. Haldidge took a fear- ful vengeance upon the destroyers of his happiness. He succeeded, a ne of years afterward, n dis- covering them, and, before six months were over. shot them all. As may be eopored. his natural aversion to the race was intensified by this tragical occurrence, and had become so distinguished, that his name was a terror to the savages in that section. This will account for his readiness in accompanying Haverland upon his perilous expedition. As was said, our friends were rapidly gaining upon the Indian canoe, At the rate at which they were going, they would be up to them in the course of half an hour. They were so close to the shore, as to see the dark line of the shrubbery along the bank, and several times an nied ett | limb brush- ed over their heads. Suddenly Haldidge raised his hand again, All ceased rowing and listened. To ro their consternation not the slightest sound was heard. Graham leaned over, and his ear almost to the water, but detected nothing but the soft ripple of
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Seth Jones. along the shore. a it be?” he asked, with a painful -whisper, as | he raised his head, “that we have been heard?’ ‘I do not think so,”’ replied Haldidge, apparently in as much doubt as the rest. “Then they have run in to shore, and departed.” “T fear that has been done.”’ “But we not have seen or heard the boat?” “Provided they landed at once. They may have run in this very minute, and may not be more than a few yards off.” “Tf so, we must hear them yet, and it won't do to slide down upon them in the manner we are now go- | ing, or we shall find ourselves in the same fix we ex- pected to get them in.” “Very true, and a ‘ood suggestion,” remarked Haldidge, and as he id so, he reached up and caught an overhanging limb, and held the canoe still. | “Now, boys, if you've got cars—” “Sh! Look there!” interrupted Haverland, in an excited whisper. Each turned his head, and saw what appeared to be a common lighted candle floating upon the sur- face of the stream, It was a small point of light which at intervals glowed with a fuller redness, and which for a time completely confounded our friends. On it came as noiselessly as death, gliding forward with such a smooth, r r motion as to w that it was certainly borne by the current. “What in the name of—” “Stop!” cried Haldidge; “that’s the canoe we're after! It’s the light of one of their pipes we see, Are your guns ready?” nee: replied the two, just loud enough for him to hear, ‘Make right toward it, then, and fire the instant you see your mark. Now!” At the same instant he released his hold upon the limb, and they threw all their force upon the oars. The canoe bounded like a ball directly ahead, and seemed about to cut the other in twain. A minute after, the shadowy outlines of three forms could be dimly seen, and the ml, 2p rifles were already raised, when the beacon-light was suddenly ex- tingu’shed and the Indian canoe vanished as if by magic. fits one of their tricks!" excitedly exclaimed Haldidge. “Dash ahead! Curse them; they can’t be far off,”’ The two dropped their rifles, and again seized the oars, and Hal ice sheered it eed stream, for he fancied they had turned in that direction. He bent his head forward, expecting each moment to see the forms of their enemies loom up to view in the mist, but he was mistaken; no savages greeted his anxious vision. He guided his boat in every direc- tion—across the stream, up and down—but to no purpose. They had surely lost their prey this time. Che Indians had undoubtedly heard the pursuers— had muffled their own oars, and so proceeded as silently as they. ‘‘ Hold a minute!’ commanded Haldidge. As they rested, they listened deeply and intently. eaning breath- “Do you hear one ?”’ he asked, 1 lessly forward. “There! Listen Abert They could disti h the ripple of water, grow- ing fainter and fainter each minute. ‘They are below us again, and now for a trial of speed.” . PThe two needed no more incentives, and for a time the canoe skimmed over the water with astonishing speed. The moon was now up, and there were patches in the stream, where the wind had blown away the fog, and being exposed to the light, were as clear as midday. Now and then they crossed such spots, sometimes but a few feet wide, and at others several rods. At these times the shore on either side was perfectly outlined, and they glided over with a sort of instinctive terror, as they felt how easily an enemy might be concealed. In ——- one of these, broader than ,a glimpse of the Indian canoe showed itself, just dis- appearing upon the opposite side. They were not more than a hundred apart, and they bounded toward it with — rapidity. The patches of light became more frequent. the fog was evidently disap ing. Quite a breeze had ar which was fast sweeping it away. Haldidge kept close in to the eastern shore, feeling sure that their enemies would land upon this side! Suddenly the whole mist lifted from the surface of the water in a volume, and rolled off toward the woods. The bright moon was reflected a long dis- tance, and the pursuers gazed searchingly about, awed ‘pecting to see their enemies nee owen rode . ey were agai ° ment. Not a iy nig ow ya I le their own canoe. The moon was directly overhead, so that there was not a shadow cast along the bank, sufficient to conceal the slightest object. The In- dians had evidently landed, and were far distant in the forest, “Tt’s no use,” remarked Haverland gloomily, “they are gone, and we might as well be too,’’» ‘Tt is a sore disappointment,” said @ ‘And as much so to me as Haldidge, ‘‘ I have an old score been this time; they have eluded us, that iecli-arnee and we must try some other means. No doubt you are wearied in body as well as in mind, and don’t fancy ly this remaining out in the river here, a shot for any one who might possess the will; so le eo ispuriteat —_ have a “7 = talk — a. y and gloomily io ran the canoe the bank and landed, the stream against the roots and dipping branches | | twain (for an arm fired by consuming have kept so close to the shore, would we | disturbed the waters, except | | ind CHAPTER X. A COUPLE OF INDIAN CAPTIVES, So sudden, so mneepeciod, so astonishing was the crash of Seth’s tomahawk through the head of the | doomed savage, that, for a moment after, not an In- dian moved or spoke. The head was nearly cleft in assion had driven it), and the brains were spattered over num- bers of those seated around. Seth himself stood a second to satisfy himself the work was complete, when he turned, walked to his seat, sat down, coolly folded his arms and commenced whistling. A second after, nearly every savage drew a deep breath, as if a load had been removed from his heart; then each looked at his neighbor, and in the scowl- ing, ridged brows, the glitterin, Yineere, the strained breathing the set teeth, coul sat perfectly unagitated. Three Indians arose, and, grasping their knives, stood before him waiting for he expected words. “Touch him not,” said he, with a shake of the head; ‘‘ him no right here.” As the chief spoke, he tapped his forehead signifi- cantly with his nger, meaning that the prisoner was demented. The others believed the same, still it was hard to quell the pent-up fire which was scorchin their breasts. But his word was law inviolate, an without a murmur, they seated themselves on the ground aga, Seth, although his sve appeared vacant and un- meaning, had noted these movements with the keenness of the eagle. He knew that ‘a word or sign from the chief would be sufficient to hack him to a thousand pieces. When he stood before his in- | human tormentor, with the keen tomahawk in his hand, the certainty of instant death or prolonged torture would not have prevented him taking the pest = Baten jroews he did. Now that it was over, he was again. His natural feelings came back and with it the natural desire for life. "The words of the chief convinced him that he was regarded as eith- er insane or idiotic, and consequently as not deserv- ing death. ae although saved for the present, he ever stood in imminen The fallen savage had living friends, who would seize the first opportu- nity to avenge his death. At any rate, let matters stand as they might, Seth felt t he was in hot uarters, and the safest course was to get out of them as soon as possible. It was perhaps ten minutes after the horrid deed, that the savages commenced besti' themselves. While Wedkhers commenced preparstious for Marty w! others commen reparations for up the day’s march. At who had pursued Graham to the water's edge, re- turned, and the tragical occurrence was soon made known tothem, A perfect battery of deadly, gleam- ing eyes were opened upon Seth, but he stood it un- flinchingly. The Indians would have relished well the idea of aa their baffled vengeance upon the helpless captive in their hands; but the command- ing presence of their chief restrained the slightest sonore oy and they contented themselves with m 00) One t did not escape Seth’s notice from the first, and it was an occasion of wonder and , tion to him, Nothing could be seen of Ina. fact, the appearance of t was as to lead one to believe that the savages knew nothing of her. Could it be that he and Graham had been mistaken in the party? Could some other tribe have made off with her? Or, had they se and taken her in another direction? As he upon these questions, he became convinced that the last sug. ested thecertainanswer. They could not have the , as they had never lost sight of the trail since it; and, moreover, he had noticed several slight occurrences, since his advent among them, that satisfied him, beyond a doubt, of the iden- tity of the party with the one which descended — the home of the woodman. From the caution which the aggressors evinced in their flight, together with the haste with which it had been conducted, it was plain they had some fears of pursuit; and to fer their treasure, a number had left them ata avorable point, intending to join the main where pursuit was not to expec or where the pursuers had been sufficiently misled warrant it, As he reflected, Seth was satisfied that this was the only and true explanation of her non-appearance. he preparations were soon completed, and the | forward, If Seth had | Indians commenced tr. entertained any doubts of t prisoner, unless they intended to put him to some use. Accordingly he found himself loaded down with an enormous burden, consisting mostly of f in the shape of deer’s meat, which the savages hac brought with them. They buried their fallen com- rade, without the ceremony and mourning which might be } rarely gives way to his emotions, occasions as the burial of one “ war-dance,”’ or nest of devilish except upon such ‘ of their number, @ something similar, when the whole passions is allowed vent. They in no such ceremonies—if monies oy. may be called—at this time. A comparatively shal- low grave was dug, and into this the fallen one was iran Batibe Pitta tad a Sethe eee e east. . ves, an s clothing were ee ee him. i 5 e day was a suffocating one in A and Seth’s sufferings were truly great. He was natural- ly lithe, wiry, and capable of enduring prolonged exertion, but, unfortunately for him, the savages had become aware of this and loaded him accord- moment the runners. eir intention relating to | | him, they were soon dispelled by his experience. It was not at all likely that he would be reserved as a _ expected. The North American Indian | rough | fast as I durned please, an be read the fearful intention. Every face but | that of the chieftain’s was livid with fury. He alone | |} anda ? ingly. Most of the journey was through the forest, whee’ the arching tree-tops shut out the witheri rays of the sun. Had they encountered any su open plains as the one passed over near their en campment, Seth would have never lived through it. As it was, his load nearly made hm insensible te pain. A consuming thirst was ever tormenting him, although he found abundant means to rlake it in the numberless rills which gurgled through the wilder ness. “How Yankee like it?” nned a savage by his side, stooping and peering fiendishly into his face. “Kirst rate; goes nice. Say, you, s’\posen ycu tire it?” “Ugh! walk faster,” and a whack accompanie® | the word, eyes, the distorted | “Now I cac’late, I’m going to walk just about as if you ain't a mind fe wait, ea can heave ahead. Fact, by gracious.” And Seth did not hasten bis steps in the least Toward noon he found he should be obliged to have a short rest or give out entirely, He knew it woul be useless to ask, and consequently he determina? to take it without asking. So, unlcosing the cords which bound the pack to his back, he let it fall to the ground, and, seating himself upon it, again went to whistling. “Go faster, Yankee—youno keep up!” exclaimed one, giving him a stunning blow, “See here, you, p’raps you don’t know who it mought be you insulted that way. I'm Seth Jones, from New Hampshire, and consequently you'll be keerful of tetching me.” The savage addressed was Sage the point of strik- ing him insolently to the earth, when the chieftain interfered. “No touch pale-face—him tired—rest a little.” Some unaccountable whim had possessed the sav- age, as this mercy was entirely unexpected by Seth, and he knew not how to account for it, unless it might be he was reserving him for scme horrible | torture. The resting-spell was but a mcment, however, and just as Seth had begun to really enjoy it, the chief- tain gave orders for the replacement of the load. Seth felt disposed to tamper awhile, for the cake of prolonging his enjoyment, but, on second thou concluded it the better plan not to cross the chi who had been s0 Jenient to him thus far, So, witha considerable number of original remarks, and much disputation about the placing of the burden, he shouldered it at last and t1udged foi ward, Seth was right in his conjectures about Ina. To- ward the latter part of the day, the three India who had been pursued by our other friends, rejo the main party, bearing her with them. She noticed her companion in captivity at once, but no ccmmu- nication passed ketweenthem. A look of melancholy relief escaped her as she became :ssured that her parents were still safe, and that only she and her new end were left to the sufferings and horrors of captivity. But there was enough in that to damp even such a young and hopeful spirit as was hers Not death alone, but a fate frcm the spears Fen tors far worse than death itself, was to be tg: ed. In the future, there was but one Hand that sustain and safely deliver them, and to that One she looked for deliverance. CHAPTER XI. STILL IN PURSUIT. .i seems the devil himself is dad them imps!” remarked Haldidge, as they landed. “But I trus Heaven is aiding us,” added Haver- ” Heaven will, if we help curselves, and now as I'm in this scrape, I'm bound to see the end. Look 10 te itetek, Ys4hisking wel mak “Tt's wor m ig we'll make, gropin in this moonlight,” said Graham. 2 nite. “While there’s life there's mo Scatter ‘long the bank, and search every foot of land. I'll 1un up- szcgm @ ways, as I’ve an idea they landed not fur ° G op 5 ging the water were carefully lifted up, and the muddy shore examined; the suspicious g or parting of the undergrowth was followed by the minutest scrutiny, ough the heavy darkness was against them, et it would have required a most guarded trail to ave escaped their vision. But their efforts were useless; no trail was detected; and convinced that the savages must have landed upon the opposite side, they turned to retrace their steps. As wd did so, a low whistle from the hunter reached th ears, “What does that mean?” arked Graham, “He has discovered ee Let us hasten.” “What fs it, Haldidge?” asked Haverland, as they reached the hunter. “Here's their tracks as sure as I’m a sinner, and | it’s my Baye opine they ain’t fur off neither.” “Shall we wait till daylight before we undertake to rte a . ‘ seis tnky “Tam much afraid we shall have to, as be signs which we might miss in this darkness Dayan 9 far off,” “Several hours yet.” ‘ha Well, we will ph ourselves comfortable until en.”” With these words the trio seated themselves upon the earth, and kept up a low conversation until morning. As soon as the faint light appeared, they detected the Indian canoe a short distance vp the bank, secreted beneath a heavy, overhanging mas® ergrowth. As it was during the summer sea-
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8 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. son, their pursuit was continued at an early hour, so the savages could have had but a few hours’ start at the most. With Ina they could not proceed very rapidly, and our friends were sanguine of overtaking them ere the day closed. The only apprehension the pursuers felt, was that the three savages, fully conscious now that their enemies were upon their trail, might hasten to re- join the main body, and thus cut off all hope. They could not be many miles apart, and must have made some preparation for this contingency. : The trail to the hunter's eye was distinct and easily followed. He took the lead, striding rapidly for- ward, while Haverland and Graham were continually on the look-out for danger. Haverland was some- what fearful that the savages, finding they could not avoid being overtaken, would halt and form an ambush into which the hunter would blindly lead them. The latter, however, although he appeared culpably rash and heedless, understood Indian tac- tics better; he knew no halt would be made until the savages were compelled to do so. “Ah!—see here!” exclaimed Haldidge, suddenly pausing. | “What's the trouble?’ queried Graham, stepping hastily forward with Haverland. “ Their camping-ground; that is all.” Before them were more visible signs of the trail than they had yet witnessed. A heap of ashes was upon the ground; and as Haverland kicked them apart, he discovered the embers still red and glow- ing. Sticks were broken and scattered around, and - the varied evidences of an Indian camp were to seen, again, the hunter taking the lead as before. The ursuit was kept up without halting until near noon. Jonscious that they were rapidly gaining upon the fugitives, it was necessary to proceed with the ex- tremest caution. The breaking of a twig, the fall- ing of a leaf, startled and arrested their steps, and not a word was exchanged except in the most care- ful whisper. Haldidge was some dozen yards in ad- vance, and the eyes of his companions were upon him, when they saw him sudden y ause and raise his hand as a signal for them to halt. They did so, and stooping downward, he commenced examining the leaves before him. A moment sufficed. He turned and motioned his two companions forward. “ Just as I feared,’’ he moodily exclaimed, in a half "Pin - t’s the matter?” asked Haverland, anxiously. “ The two trails join here,”’ he answered. *“ Are you not mistaken?”’ asked Haverland, know- ing that he was not, and yet catching at the faintest hope held out to him. “No, sir; there’s no mistake. Instead of three In- dians, we've got over forty to follow up now.” ** Shall we do it?” “Shall we do it? Of course we shall; it’s the only chance of ever getting a sight of Ina again.” *T know it, and yet the hope is so faint; they must know we are in pursuit, and what can we do against ten times our number?’ “No telling yet; come, strike ahead again.” With these words, the hunter turned and re. deeper into the forest. Graham and Haverland si- lently followed, and in a few minutes the three were This was unaccountable even to the hunter, and for a few moments our friends stood perfectly non- plused. They had not looked for this, and knew not the slightest reason for it. “This beats all creation!” remarked Haldidge, as he again examined the trail. “Depend upon it, there is something meant in this,’’ observed Haverland, with an air of deep con- cern. “It is some stratagem of the imps which we must understand before going further,” “They must entertain different ideas of us from what we thought. You may safely believe that this is some plan to mislead us, and if there is ever a time when our wits shall be demanded it has now come,” During this fragmentary conversation, the hunter was minutely examining the trail. Graham and Haverland watched him a few seconds in silence, when the latter asked: “Do rou make anything of it?” “ Nothing more. e trail divides here; the main body ee onward in a direct line, while the minor trail leads off to the west. The division must have been very unequal, for as near as I can judge the smaller party does not number over three or four at the most. No efforts have been made to conceal their traces, and there is either a deep-laid scheme afloat, or they don’t care a fig for us.’ ** Very probably both,” remarked Graham. “They care enough for us to take good care to remain out of our reach, when they do not advant. over us, and have ry, shown their skill in not laying but in executing schemes,”’ GRAHAM WAS STOOPING BESIDE A FLAT STONE, ENDEAVORING TO DECIPHER SOME CHARACTERS UPON IT,—Page 9. ‘How long ago was this place vacated?” asked Graham. ‘*Not three hours.” ** We must be close upon them.” “Rather, yes.” “Let us hasten forward, then.” “You see by these coals that they didn't start un- til daylight, and as that gal of Rect Haverland, can’t travel very fast, of course they've had to take their time.” ‘Very true; although disappointment has attend- ed us thus far, I begin to feel a little of my natural hope return. I trust that this opportunity will not escape us.”* “Ah! more signs yet,’’ exclaimed Graham, who had been e the ground for several yards around, ‘“ What now?” “That's a qeme of her dress, is it not?” And he held up a small, fluttering rag in his hands. The father eagerly took it, and examined it. ‘Yes; that is Ina’s; I hope no violence has placed it inour hands,” and several involuntary tears cours- od down his cheek at the illusion, bee tat aking left it there on purpose to guide us,’’ remarked Graham. ‘She must have seen us, of course, and has done all she could to guide us.” “Very probable; but it strikes me rather forcibly that we are gain nothing in particular by remain- ing here. emember, the savages are going all the ime. Thus admonished, the three set rapidly forward daenenapng as carefully and silently asbefore through he dense wood. As yet our friends had partaken of nothing, and began to experience the pangs of hunger; but, of course, in the present instance, these were d - ed. Somewhere near the middle of the afternoon they came upon another spot were the savages had halted. Here, if Haverland and Graham had any lingering doubts of what the hunter had said, they were soon removed. It was plain that a large Indian pea had halted upon this spot but a few hours be- ore, and it was equally evident that they had taken no pains to conceal the traces they had made. If eo 3 had any ig epee of pursuit, they had no ap- prehensions of the consequences, as they were well aware of the disparity between the two forces, and scorned the whites. This was gratifying on the other hand to the hunt- er. He knew well enough that as matters stood at present, he could hope for nothing except through his own cunning and st: em; and, for this reason it was very probable that the Indians were satisfied no attempt would be made, They did not take into con- sideration that there was an ers in their camp. Considerable remains of the meal were discovered, and served to satisfy the wants of our friends for the present. The early time in the afternoon showed them that thus far they had gained quite maples upon the savages. It was the earnest wish of the three that they should come up to the Indian party by nightfall; but this expectation was doomed to a sudden disappointment; for in a few hours they reached a point where the trail divided again. “Tf we could only give that Seth Jones an inklin of our whereabouts and intentions, I should fee pretty san e again,” said Haverland. “Very likely if t Jones could give us an inkling of his whereabouts and experiences, you would lose a little of that expectation,” rejoined the hunter, with a meaning emphasis. “But this is a waste of time and words,” said Gra- ham; “let us lay our heads together and decide at once what is to be done. As for me, I’m in favor of following the smaller party.” “What give you that idea?” asked Haverland. “1 confess I cannot give much reason for the no- tion, but somehow or other it has struck me that Ina is with the smaller party.” ** Hardly probable,” returned Haverland. “Tt don’t seem so, I allow,” remarked the hunter, + ne query enough the same notion has got into my head, ‘ Of course you can then give some reason.” “IT can give what appears to have a show of reason tome. Ihave been doing a big amount of thinking for the last few minutes, and have almost reached a conclusion. I believe that the gal is with the smaller party, and itis the wish of the savages that we shall ollow the main body. We will thus be drawn into ambush, and all further trouble from us would be “Sikoane bable that th “It seems hardly pro e @ savages would run such a risk of losing their captive when there is no occasion for it,’ remarked Haverland, ‘it don’t seem probable, but it ain’t.the first thing they've done (providing of course they’ve done it),
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Seth Jones. that would make you open your eyes. I believe these Mohawks are certain we won’t suspect they’ve let the gal go off with two or three of their number, when there were enough to watch her and keep her out of the hands of a dozen such as we are. Feeling certain of this, I say they have let her go; and being sure also that we'll tramp on after them, they have made arrangements some distance away from here to dispose of us.” ; “Sound reasoning, I admit, but here’s something to offer on the other side,” said Graham, producing another fluttering rag from a bush. ‘ ‘* How is that upon the other side of the question?” queried the hunter. . “Tf you will notice the bush from which I took this, you will see it is upon the trail of the larger party, and consequently Ina must have been with that party to have left it there. “Just show me the exact twig from which you took it,” quietly asked Haldidge. Graham led the way a few yards off and showed him the spot. The hunter stooped and carefully examined the bush. *T’m now satisfied,’ said he, “that I was right. This rag was left there by a savage for the express purpose of misleading us. We must seek Ina in an- other direction.” “ Haldidge,”’ said Haverland, earnestly, ‘I place great reliance upon your skill and judgment, but it strikes me at this moment that you are acting capri- ciously against reason." ‘*There’s but one way to decide it; will you agree to it?” asked the hunter, smilingly, The other two expressed their willingness, and he For fear that some 0: roduced his hunting-knife. our readers cure in their possession, into the hands of one or two of their number, when they were conscious they | were pursued. But the decision of the hunting- | knife could not be appealed from, and in a moody si- lence he followed in the footsteps of the hunter. It was now getting far along in the afternoon, and the pursued savages could be at no great distance. | Their trail was plain, as no efforts had been made to | conceal it; but, although Haldidge strove his utmost | to detect signs of Ina’s delicate moccasin, he failed entirely, and was compelled, in spite of the assur- ance which he manifested at the start, to take some misgivings to himself. The hunter, notwithstanding the consummate cun- ning and skill he had shown thus far in tracing up the savages, had made one sad mistake. He had been misled altogether in the number of the smaller party. Instead of three or four Indians, there were six: he began to think he had undertaken a more difficult matter than he anticipated. Still, there was no time for halting or faltering, and he strode reso- lutely forward. ‘**Ah—some more signs,’’ exclaimed he, stopping aa hat they? ih 1 ‘* What are they ?’’ queried his companions, rly. ** Just notice this bush, if you please, an a os what you make of it?”’ The two friends did so, and saw that one of the branches of some aproute of chestnut, growing round a stump, had been broken short off, and lay pointing toward the trail. “T make it favorable. Ina has done this to guide ” said Haverland. ‘My opinion exactly,"’ added Graham. \ \va> SOW) \ Sa WN \ \Oat \ "» | we haye failed altogether thus far to detect it, is it probable that she is among them?” “IT think so. You must remember that these half- dozen Mohawks are walking promiscuously and not in Ingin file, as is generally their custom. It is very peas that the galisin front, and what tracks her ittle moccasin might make would be entirely cov- ered up with the big feet of the Ingins.” **T hope you are not mistaken,’” returned Haver- land, in such a tone as to show that he still had his lingering doubts. “That matter cannot be decidéd until we get a peep at the coe cowards, and the only course is for us to push ahead.”’ “Tt strikes me that they can be at no great dis- tance, and if we are going to come upon their camp- fire to-night, we have got to do it pretty soon,” “Come on, then.” With this, the hunter again strode forward, but with more stealth and caution than before. He saw in the different signs around them unmistakable proof that the Indians were at no great distance. Just as the sun was setting, the trumvirate reached a small stream which dashed and foamed directly across their trail. They halted a moment. to slake their thirst, and the hunter arose and moved for- ward again. But Graham made it a point tosearch at every halting-place for guiding signs, and he call- ed out to his companion# to wait a moment, “Time is too precious,” replied he, ‘‘and you won't find anything here.” “Won't find anything here, eh? Just come and look at this.” The hunter stepped back over the stones in the WITHOUT LOSING A MOMENT, HE RAISED HIS RIFLE, TOOK QUICK BUT SURE AIM, AND FIRED.—Page 12. may be apprehensive of the use to which he intended putting it, we will describe his modus operandi at once. Stepping back a pace or two, the hunter took the point OF his knife between his thumb and fore- finger, and flung it over his head. As it fell to the earth —_ the point was turned directly toward the trail of lesser rly. ** Just what I thought,”’ remarked the hunter, with another quiet smile. The mooted question was now settled to the satisfaction of all, and our three friends turned unhesitatingly to the westward upon the trail of the smaller party. How much sometimes hangs upon the slightest thread! How small is the point upon which great events often turn! The simple fact of the direction in which the blade of the hunting-knife remained when it fell, decided the fate of every character in this life-drama. Had it pointed to the northward, an hour later the three would have walked into an ambush intended for them, and every one would have been massacred. The hunter was right. Ina Haverland had gone with the smaller party. CHAPTER XT. PENCILINGS BY THE WAY, We have said the hunter was right. By the acci- dental turning of the hunting-knife, he had not only saved his life, but his efforts had been turned in the right direction. i Tt must be confessed that Haverland himself had some misgivings about the course which they were taking. He could not believe that the savages were short-sighted enough to place a captive, who was se- is + dons are mistaken about one thing. Ina did not 0 9 “Did not do it?’ exclaimed the others; ‘and who did then?” “That's the question. I’m of the opinion that that white man you have told me about has done it.” ‘ But it cannot be that he is with them too.” “Surely it is impossible that the Indians would al- low doth of their captives to be in charge of two or three of their number at the same time.” As for two or three, there are six painted Mo- hawks ahead of us for that matter. I haven't de- tected the trail of the gal yet, but have discovered several times pretty convincing evidence that a white man is among them. If you will look at that stick again, you see that it is not likely your gal broke it. Inthe first I don’t believe she is able; for notice how thick it is; and, if she could have done it it would have taken so much time that she would have been prevented.” _ “Very probably Seth is among them, although it is singular, to say the least. Some unaccountable whim has take possession of the Indians.”’ ** But you say you discern nothing of Ina’s trail?’ asked Graham. ‘** Not as yet.” $s you think she is among them?” “T do.” “ Where is her trail, then?” ** Somewhere On the ground, I suppose.” ‘“ Well, why have we not seen it, then?” **T suppose, because it has escaped our eyes. **A good explanation,” smiled Graham; “but if ” brook, and with Haverland a ed Graham, The latter pointed to a broad, flat stone at his feet pees it was scratched, with some softer stone, the following words: “Hurry forward. There are six Indians, and they have got Ina with them. They don’t suspect you are fo Poe. them, and are hurry up for the vil- lage. I think we will camp two or miles from here. Make the noise of the whippowil when you want to do the business, and I will understand. “Yours, respectfully, “Sera Jones.” “Tf IT warn’t afraid the imps would hear it, I would vote three cheers for that Jones.” exclai Hal- didge; “he’s a trump, whoever he is.” “You may d upon that,” added Graham, “for what little I saw of him was sufficient to show me that.”’ “Let me see,” repeated the hunter, again reading the writing upon the stone, “he says they will en- camp two or three miles from here. The sun has now set, but we shall have light for over an hour yet, sufficient to guide us. It’s best for us to be moving forward, as there is no time to e.” It beats my time how this Jones got into that crowd,” said Graham, half to himself, as the three again moved forward. “* Fle’s there, we know, and that is enough for the present; when we have the time to s , we may speculate upon the matter. All ready es “Yes—but a moment. Haldidge, let us have some
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it 10 arrangement about the manner in which we are going to travel. Double caution is now necessary.” “T will keep my eyes upon the trail, as I have done all along, and see that we don’t walk into a hornet’s nest with our ie shut. You can help keep a look-out, while you, Graham, who have been so lucky thus far in stumbling upon what neither of us saw, will watch for more signs. Just as like as not, that Jones has been clever enough to give us some more good directions.”’ Each understanding his duty, now prepared to ful- fill it. The progress was necessarily slow, from the extreme caution exercised. ; The hunter had proceeded but a short distance when he noticed his shadow was cast upon the ground; and, looking up, he saw, to his regret, that the full moon was in the heavens. This was unfor- tunate for them; for, although it discovered the trail with as much certainty as in the day, and thus as- sisted them in the pursuit, yet the chances of their approach being made known to the Indians was al- most certain. “ Hist!” suddenly called Graham, in a whisper. “What's up now?” asked the hunter, turning stealthily around. **Some more writing from Seth.” Haverland and Haldidge approached. Graham was stooping beside a flat stone ore to de- cipher some characters upon it. The light of the moon, athasee quite strong™was hardly sufficient. By dint of patience and perseverance they succeed- in reading the following: “ Be very careful. The imps begin to suspect; they have seen me making signs, and are suspicious. They keep a close watch on the gal. Remember the sig- nal when ro come up with us. Yours, in haste, but nevertheless with great respect, “Sera Jones, Esq.” It was now evident that they were in close proxim- ity to the sav . After a moment’s hurried de- bate, it was decided that Haldidge should walk at a greater distance ahead than heretofore, and com- municate instantly with his companions upon dis- covering the camp. Slowly, silently and cautiously the three moved forward. A half-hour later, Graham touched the shoulder of Haverland and pointed meaningly ahead. | A red reflection was seen in the branches overhead; and as they stood in silence, the glimmer of a light was seen through the trees. The next instant the hunter stood beside them. “We've come to them at last,’’ he whis ; “see that your priming is all right, and make up your mind for hot work.” They had already done ea and were anxious for the contest to be decided. Their hearts beat high, as they d how near the deadly conflict was, and even the hunter’s breath was short and hurried. But there was no faltering or wavering, and they moved stealthily forward. CHAPTER XII. SOME EXPLANATIONS. THE of the Mohawks was at a considerable distance from the spot where had once stood the home of the woodman, and incumbered as they were with plunder, their progress was necessarily slow; besides, knowing As full well that pursuit would be useless upon the part of the whites, their was no oc- easion to hasten their steps. When, however, Seth Jones’ unceremonious entrance among them, to- gether with the escape of his new companion and the su uent report of the smaller party with Ina, was made known, the old chief began to have some mis- givi fy so er ba security. It fh eae to ere a large party the trail, and in such case, his test quired to retain the captives. And here was the trouble. If he was pursued—and upon that point there could be no doubt—his progress must be has- tened. His pursuers would follow with the swiftness of ve’ nce. With the plunder in their possession the thing was impossible, and he saw, at length, that stratagem must be resorted to. He selected six of his bravest and fleetest warriors —two of whom had been Graham’s most troublesome enemies in his fearful chase—and placed Ina in their charge, with instructions to make all hasteto the Indian . Before starting, it occurred to him that the best plan-would be to send the white man also with them, Were he to remain with the larger rty, in case of attack, his presence, he had reason fear, would be their own destruction, while six savages fully armed and ever vigilant, could surely guard an unarmed idiot and a woman, The chief, as stated, was satisfied he was pursued. Hence, if he could throw his pursuers off the scent. their discomfiture would be certain. He believed this could be done. How well he succeeded, has al- ready been shown. The six savages with their ¢ e parted from the larger party, and struck off rapidly in a direction diverging to the north. Their trail was so concealed ee ression that there were but three, and deception we have seen misled the hunter. A piece of Ina’s dress was new mig lodged upon a bush, in the rear of the arger party: and promsecnnreay and hopefully, the noes leisurely continued his way with his dusky fol- owers. After the parties had parted one hastened rapidly forward, harg stalwart, athletic Indian, was kept to the front, the more effectually to conceal her oa, eee Seth kept his position near the center of the file. He was al- lowed the free use of his hands, though, as has been remarked, he was deprived of his weapons. As they yed hastily forward, he made it a point to ‘hten uhem as much as possible by his conver- sation, and certain original remarks, Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. “Tf you have no objection, I wouldn't mind know- ing your idea in thus tig B me other Injins, eh?” he remarked, quizzically, to the savage in front. No si + being given, he continued: : . oo you're thinking about that house you burnt down, and feeling bad—oh, you ain't, eh?” mere remarked Seth, as the Indian glared fierce- y at him. “Tt was a bad trick, I allow,” he continued, “ enough to make a fellur mad, 1 swow. That house, I shouldn’t wonder now, took that Haverland a week to finish; "twas an ugly piece of business—yes, sir.”’ At intervals the savages exchanged a word with each other, and once or twice one of them took the back trail, evidently to ascertain whether they had any pursuers. Finding they had not, they slackened their speed somewhat, as Ina had given signs of fa- tigue, and they believed there was really no occasion for hastening. But the weariness which the fair captive had endured, so increased, that long before the sun had reached its meridian, they halted for a half-hour’s rest. This was at the crossing of a small, sparkling stream. As the sun was now quite hot, and the atmosphere thick and heavy, the rest in the cool shadows of the trees was doubly refreshing. Ina seated herself upon the cool moist earth, her captors preserving, singularly enough, a far more vigilant watch over her than over Seth Jones; but, for that matter, the latter was allowed no very spe- cial freedom. A — of Indians again took the back trail, for prudent reasons, but met with nothing to excite their apprehensions. In the meantime, Seth continued tumbling over the ground, occasionally giving vent to snatches of song, and now and then a — ¥ remark. Without being noticed, he picked a small chalky pebble from the mnarete of the brook, and working his way to a large flat stone, executed, with many flourishes, the writing to which we referred in a agg: chapter. Although cleverly done, this latter act did not es- cape the eyes of the suspicious savages. One imme- diately arose, and walking to him, pointed down and gruffly asked: ““What that?” “Read it fur yourself,” replied Seth, innocently. ‘‘ What that?’ repeated the savage, menacingly. “A little flouris I was executing, jist to pass *WA§eht” grunted the Indi d, dipping his bi “Ugh!” nt e an, and, foot in the hebok, he irreverently shept ‘ across is stone, completely wiping out Seth’s beautiful chiro- graphy. “Much obliged,” said the latter; ‘‘saved me the trouble. I can write it on again when it gits dry.” But no opportunity was given, as a moment after the scouts returned, and tke line of march was taken up. But Seth well knew he had accomplished all that could be desired. He had taken particular pains that the pebble should be flinty enough to scratch into the soft stone every word he wrote. Conse- quently the party had not been gone a half-hour when every letter came out as clear and distinct as been are the wet daub the indignant savage ven it. Their progress for a time was quite rapid. Seth somehow or other, was constantl pitching out of file, breaking down twigs along the way, stumblin against the stones which were not in the way, and, in spite of menaces and occasional blows of his cap- a, making the trail unnecessarily distinct and plain. ° At noon another halt was made, and all partook of some food. Ina was sick at heart, and ate but a mouthful. An apprehension of her dreadful posi- tion came over her, and her soul reeled as she henen picturing what was yet to come, Seth qu with two of. his captors, because, he affirmed, they took more than their share of the dinner; and, take it all in all, affairs were getting into as interes a state as one could well conceive. The meal finished, the set forward. From the whispered consultation of the savages, as well as the words which reached Seth's ears, and their utter disregard of Ina’s painful fatigue, he began to be- lieve that the Indians suspected that their stratagem had not misled their pursuers, and were oy en- sive of pursuit. Finally, Seth became satisfied that such was the case, and when they halted, toward the middle of the afternoon, he again gave vent to his erp. ig upon a friendly stone which offered itself, and this, again, received a fierce wipe from the foot of the same sa and the words in came out to view, and accomplished all that their ardent au- thor could have d 4 These acts of Seth settled the suspicions of his captors into a cae eg lee a closer surveillance was kept upon their tory captive. No further opportunities were given him, and as he himself had expected this turn of matters, there was no need of it upon his pers Although he had but little reason to hope it, he did hope and believe that Haverland and Graham were upon the trail, and he felt that if the words intended for their eyes could only reach them, the fate of Ina and himself was determined. The moon being at its full, and shining in uncloud- ed splendor upon the fore on Meme the way that the savages continued their flight—as it may now be called—for an hour or two in the evening. They would have probably gone further, had it not been pain- fully evident that Ina was ready to give out. The old chief had given them imperative commands not to hasten her too much, and to rest when they saw she needed it. Accordingly, though they were bru- tal enough to insult her with menaces, they were of no avail, and, finally they came to a reluctant halt for the night. It will be n to understand the situation of these savages and their captives, in order to com- prehend the events that followed. A fire was started, and just within the circle of this, half reclining upes the ground, was Ina, with a heavy Indian shawl thrown around her. She had partaken of none of the food offered, and was al- ready in a semi-unconscious state. On either side of her em seated a vigilant savage, well-armed and prepared for any emergency. on the opposite side was Seth, his feet firmly lashed together Myhile his hands were free. Two Indians were upon his right, and upon his left. The remaining one took his station about a hundred yards on the back-trail. Here, lying flat on his face, he silently waited for the approach of the enemy. CHAPTER XIV. IN THE ENEMY’S CAMP. Tue savages, after starting the fire, allowed it to smolder and die cut, for fear of guiding their ene- mies, Now this was the most fortunate thing that could have happened for their pursuers; for, in the first place, it burned long enough to give them a per- fect knowledge of the position of Ina and Seth; and, when its light could no longer be of any assistance, but would materially injure their hopes, the Indians were kind enough to let it fade entirely out. Before giving the signal, the hunter deemed it best to ascertain the whereabouts of the savage missing at the camp-fire ——— rifle in charge of Haver- land, and cautioning them not to move, he crept stealthily forward. So silent and snakelike was his approach, that the savage lying directly in his path had not the slightest suspicion of his proximity. The first thing that attracted his attention was the thought that he heard a slight movement in front of him. Raising his head afew inches, he peered cau- tiously forward. Nothing meeting his keen vision he sunk back again. : The hunter and savage, both being on the ground were in blank darkness, and although their forms if standing on their feet, would have been plainly dis- cernible, ye under the thick shadows of the under- owth, they might have touched each other without snowing it. The hunter, however, as he lay, caught the outlines of the savage’s head against the fading light of the fire behind him, as he raised it. This gave him a knowledge of his position and determined nis own mode of action. Without the least noise, he slid sowir forward un- til he was so close that he could actually hear the In- dian’s breath. Then he purposely made a slight movement. The Indian raised his head, and was gradually coming to his feet, when the hunter bound- ed like a dark ball forward, clutched him by the throat, and bearing him like a giant to the earth, drove his hunting-knife again and again to the hilt in his heart. It was a fearful act, yet there was no hesitation upon the hunter’s part. He felt that it must be done. | A He loosened his gripe upon his victim’s throat, when there was not a of life left. Then casting his body to one side, he made his way back to his com- ee ions. Here, in a few words, he explained what ad taken place. It. was evident that the Indians were so cautious ard alarmed, that the most con- summate skill was required, to accomplish the work in band. . Suddenly an ingenious plan occurred toGraham. It was to dress himself in the fallen Indian's dress, walk bold asto the camp and be guided by circum- stances, ter a moment's consultation, it was ac- uiesced in by all. Haldidge made his way to where the savage lay, and hastily stripping him, returned with his garments. These Graham onned in a few moments, and was ready. It was agreed that he should walk eg | among them, while Haverland and Haldidge would follow him, and remain nigh enough to be eg’ A a moment’s warning. If dis- covered, he was seize Ina and make off in the woods, while his two friends would rush forward, free Seth, and make an onslaught upon the others. The fire was now so low, that Graham had little fear of exposing himself, unless compelled to hold a conversation. he savages started as he came to view, but fortunately said nothing, as they supposed it to be their comrade. Graham walked leisurely to the almost dead fire, and seated himself by Seth. The savages continued placidly smoking their spines. “ Ugh!” grunted Graha noneet th’s face. The latter started slightly; ooked up, and under- stood all in a moment. Seth pointed to his feet; Graham nodded. “Say, you, you was clever enough to tie up my feet, and now just have the kindness to move em a little nearer the fire. Come, do, and I'll remember you in my will.” } Graham mumbled something, and, stooping for- ward, he moved the feet slightly, dexterously cutting the thong at the same moment. “‘ Much obliged,” said Seth; “that’ll dew; needn’t take no further trouble, you old painted heathen.” Graham felt that if he could now put Ina upon her ,oee all that would be necessary was—to act. But t was hardly possible. While ruminating upon the next step to be taken, an Indian addressed him in the Indian tongue. ere was a dilemma, and Graham was already meditating upon making the on- slaught at_once, when the ready wit of Seth came to his aid, sing most completely his voice, the eccentric fellow replied in the indian tongue. This slight stratagem was executed so perfect y that not a savage entertained the eaniee’ suspicion that another than their dead comrade had spoke to them. Another question was put, but before Seth could reply, there came a startling cry of the whippowil close at hand. All the savages s ny vp bs their feet, and one held his tomahawk, ready to brain the cap- tive Ina, in case they could not retain her. Another leaped toward Seth, but his surprise was great, when the man in turn sprung nimbly to his feet, and this
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Seth Jones. ing over Ina. into the wood instant. worth mentioning was received by the assailants, The rout was complete. But there was still danger, as the routed Indians would make all haste to the main body, and would in turn pursue the whites. This Haldidge remarked, as he struck into the forest, and called upon the others not to lose sightof him, There was danger of en :' - bisie 480 “By gracious! yew, Haverland, ngs begin to look up,’’ exclaimed Seth. es, beg “Thank God!” responded the father, with a trem- bling voice. Ina, for a few moments after her recapture, was so bewildered as not to comprehend the true state of affairs. Finally, she realized that she was in the arms of friends. “Am I safe? Where is father?” she asked. “Here, my dearest child,” answered the parent, pressing her to bis heart, ‘Ts mother and aunty safe?” “Yes, all—all are safe, I trust, now.” ” And who are these with you?” “ This is Haldidge, a dear friend of ours, to whom, under Heaven, your rescue is owing, and—” “Just hold on, Alf, now, if you please; that’s plenty,’ interru the hunter. ms course I did not mean to leave out Seth here, and—” “No, b cious, it wouldn't do, jally when you renotec how nice it was me and Gahan gave em the slip.” “You and who?” eagerly asked Ina, “Me and Mr. Graham—that fellow standing there —the one that has come out here to marry you. Haven't you heard of him?” Ina stepped forward and scrutinized the face be- fore her, “Don’t you remember me?” asked Graham, pleas- antly. wei is it you? Iam ha, Se you are here,” she re- peated. placing both her hands in his and looking up “Your tion is hardly necessary,” laughed Graham, ihe business PA referred to shall most certainly be deferred until a more convenient sea- son,’ “Tt gives me great pleasure,” remarked Haver- land, *‘ to witness this reunion of friends, and I thank God that my dear child, so nearly lost forever, has been restored to me; but there is another whose heart is nearly broken, who should not be kept wait- ing, and there is. a long distance between us and perfect safety, which should be shortened as rapidly and quickly as possible.” “ t’s the idea,” added Haldidge; “it won't do to Set yourself safe till you @re, and that isn’t ye 9 “Just. so exactly, and consequently all fall into line of march,” , Our friends now set out on a rapid walk home- ward. As has been remarked, there was yet a lo distance to be passed, and even now, while surround- ed by darkness, it was reckless to halt or lag upon the way. Haldi , 48 well as Seth, resolved that they should not pause until it was evident that Ina needed rest. Both well knew that the Mohawks would not yield up their captives, as long as there was a chance to regain them. Seth’s only fear now was that they would be pur- sued and overtaken by some of the sav. ‘ t this. apprehension was well-grounded, the events which we shall now record will plainly show. CHAPTER XV. MANEUVERING AND SCHEMING, THRovex the entire night, with now and then an occasional halt of a few minutes each, the fugitives —for they may now be prope ly termed such—con- tinued br yl journey, en day broke, they halted ina gd through which a small, kling stream made its way. On either side, it was sur- rounded . by dark, overhanging forest-trees, and heavier undergrowth, through which none but the eagle eye of the hunter or savage could discover their retreat. Seth, when they first halted, made off in the woods, returned with a large and in the course of a half-hour fowl. The feathers were plucked from this, a fire kindled, and in a few moments it was cooked. It furnished all with a hearty, substantial and nourish- ing breakfast—what all needed. r this a short consultation was held, when it was determined that they should halt for an hour or two. Several blankets were spread upon the greensward, as a bed for Ina, and in ten minutes she was sound asleep. Our friends had decided upon making their home- ward journey upon foot for several reasons, any of which was sufficient to influence them. In the first place, their course would be much shorter and more | your mind to that.’ direct, and was really attended with less danger; and even if they desired to take to the river there was no means to do it. “By gracious!”’ remarked Seth, after a few min- utes’ deep thought, ‘‘I feel, boys, as though we're to ee into a scrape before we git home. I tell yeou >”? “And I do, too,” added Haldidge. ‘I don’t know why it is, and yet I believe there is a reason for it. If there is any chance for them Mohawks to play a game of (tit for tat, theyll do it; you can make up ““Do you think the chance is given them?’ queried Haverland. “Tam afraid we can’t help it, any way we choose | to fix it.”’ | | | } t “What do you mean? What do you refer to!” “You see, them Ingins can’t help knowing the way we'll have to take to reach home, and what is to hinder them from getting ahead of us and giving us a little trouble?” “Nothing at all, that’s a fact. lance will be required at ever think, Seth, that one of us shoul Our utmost vigi- step. Don’t you act in the capacity | of scout?” “T know it; not only one, but two. As soon as we start, I shall shoot ahead and pilot you along, while one of you must flourish in the rear to announce any new visitors. . This is the only way we can ever ex- pect to move along with dignity.” r “What course do you suppose the savages will take?’ asked Graham. *I_ guess they ain’t in the bar) a ter though it’s darned hard to tell where they are. You can make up your mind that they'll show themselves be- fore we get any great distance ahead. They’ll be dodging round in the woods till they find out where we are, and then they'll use their wits to draw us into ambush, and I can tell yeou, wo, that cuter om than we have walked right into ‘the infarnal nings.”’ An hour later, when preparations were making for resuming their journey, Ina awoke. She was greatly refreshed by the sleep thus obtained, and the others felt cieared and hopeful at the prospect of a rapid march for the day. The burden and responsibility of this small band of adventurers naturally devolved upon Haldidge and Seth. Haverland, although a thorough hunter and woodsman, had but little or no experience in Indian warfare, and accordingly showed himself to be devoid of that suspicious watchfulness which | makes up the success of the frontier ranger, As for Graham, he was suspicious enough, but he lacked also the great teacher—experience, Seth and Hald- idge thus thrown together, rapidly consulted and de- termined in all’ cases the precautionary measures to be adopted. In the piesa instance, it was decided that Haldi should linger some hundred yards in the rear. use all the opportunities thus afforded of watching the actions or approach of their ene- mies. The same duty was imposed upon Seth at the front, with the additional certainty upon his part, ths the entire safety of the company rested with im, Haverland and Graham gene walked side by side, with Ina between them, and as watchful as though they had none but themselves to depend upon, They seldom ind in conversation, ex- or, now and then to exchange a few words or in- quiries As Seth Jones was well satisfied in his own mind that the post of danger was held by him, we will fol- low his adventures. After emerging from the val- ley, in which the whites had encamped, their way for a considerable distance led them through the un- broken forest, without hill or vale, and pretty thickly crowded with bushy, yielding undergrowth. Had a person chanced to cross. the path of Seth, the only evidence he would have had of the presence of a human being would have been the tee ga of a twig now and then, or the flitting of his form like a shadow from tree to tree, and perhaps the shrill, bird-like whistle as he signaled to those in the rear. Through the forenoon, nothing occurred to excite suspicion upon his part. ‘but at the period mention he arrived at a point where his alarm was excited a: once. The place offered such advantages for an Indian ambush, De wars the oy for those be- hind to halt, and de ned to make a thorough re- connoissance of the whole locality before passing through it. The spot_referred to, had the appear- ance of having formers been the bed of some ane sized lake, the waters of which having dried up years before, left a rich, productive soil, which was now covered over with the rankest undergrowth and vegetation. Not a tree of any size appeared. The hollow, or valley, was so much depressed that. from the stand-point of Seth, he obtained a perfect view of the whole portion. It was about a third of a mile in breadth, and ponare a couple of miles in length, G) Seth stood a Ene. oe Fed over it, pee ev where it seem ely an ene- my might lurk, Hardly a point escaped his keen vision. It was while he stood thus, eagerly scanning the valley, that his looks were widen Afeoacted tow- arda oe near the center of the valley, from which a faint, bluish wreath of smoke was curling Upwey This puzzled our friend groaiiy. He abits so gene ascribed to curious, paths gen h his race, and curiosity was wonde ly excited by this occurrence. That there was some di in it, not understood yet, he was well satisfied, and he determined that, before allowing those behind him to venture into the valley, he would gain all the knowledge possible of it, His first step was to take his own trail backward until he reached Hav- erland and Graham, to whom he imparte d his inten- tion, This done, he set forward again. Having arrived at the point where he first discover- ed this suspicious appearance, he paused again for further consideration. The smoke was still visible, sag very slowly in the clear air, and making so slight an appearance that even his experienced eye searched a long time forit. Seth watched for awhile, until he felt that he could not understand the mean- ing of it without venturing into the valley. This conclusion arrived at, he hesitated no longer, but de- scended and entered at once the luxuriant growth. When fairly within it, he made a detour to the right, so as to pass around the fire, and to avoid the ath that one unsuspicious of danger would be apt to ollow. As he made his way ey and cautiously forward, he paused at interyals and listened intently. Sometimes he bent his ear to the ground and lay for minutes at atime, But as yet not the slightest sound had been heard. Finally he judged that he must be near the fire that had exci his apprehensions. The snapping of a burning ember guided him, and a few minutes later he stood within sight of it. Here he met a sight that chilled him with horror! Some wretched human being was bo.nd to a tree and had been burned to death. He was painted black as death, his scalped head drooped forward, so that, from. where Seth stood, it was impossible fo distin guish his features; but he saw enough to make him shudder at the awful fate he had so narrowly escap- ed,. Every vestige of flesh was burned off to the knees, and the bones, white and glistening, dangled to the Sa Rvs blackened .members above! e hands, tied behind, had passed through the fire un- scathed, but every other part of the y was liter- ally roasted! The smoke in reality was the smoke from this human body, and the nch, which was now horrible, had been noticed by Seth long before he suspected the cause. ‘““Heavens and earth!” he muttered to himself, “this is the first time I ever saw a person burned at the stake, and I hope in God it will be the last time. Can it be a white man?” After some cautious maneuvering, he gained a point from which he could obtain a view of the face, and he rienced considerable relief when he dis- covered that it was not a white man. He was prob- ably some unfortunate Indian, belonging to a hostile tribe, who had been captured by enemies, and Lo whom they had thus wreaked their vengeance. ether he was a Mohawk, or the member of an- other tribe, it was iy 45 for Seth, under the cir- cumstances, to tell. But what was singular and un- accountable to Seth was, that there appeared to be no other savages in the vicinity. He knewit was not their custom to leave a prisoner thus, and the very fact of their being absent upon the present occasion made him doubly cautious and suspicious. It was while he stood meditating upon the terrible scene before him, that he was startled by the report of Haldidge’s rifle. He was satisfied that it was bis asit was from that direction, and he could not be mistaken in its report. He hd noticed it during the conflict the night before as havivg a peculiar sound, entirely different from either his own or the savages’. This was a new source of wonder and perplexity. He was complet puzzled by the extraordinary turn affairs were t ri Some unusval cause must have discharged Haldidge’s rifle. What it was he could only conjecture. Still doubting and cautious, he determined to re- connoiter his own position before returning. Stoo: ing almost to the earth, be made his way stealthi around to the opposite side of the fire. Here he stretched out flat upon the earth, and bent his ear to the ground. A faint tremor was heard. He raised his head and heard the brushing of someb through the wood. The next moment, five Mohaw warriors, in all the horrid panoply of war-paint, stepped into the open space in front of the Indian who had been burned at the stake, The report of the rifle appeared to be the cause of the apprehension among them, They conversed earne in a low tone at first, gesticulating vio- lently, without noticing in the least the heart-sicken- ing spectacle before them. Seth was satisfied that they had no suspicions of his own proximity, for they gradually spoke louder until he managed to hear the most of what they said. As he expected, it was the rifle report. They seemed to understand that it had not been discharged by one of their own number, and ‘were afraid that their presence had been discovered. Seth learned further that there were at least a dozen Indians in the neighborhood, every one of whom was led thither by the one object. Consequently he must have paca the others en- ey! in his movements, or else they were in the rear and had been discovered by Haldidge. That the lat- ter was the case seemed more than probable. A collision in all probability had occurred between them and the hunter, and Seth felt that his press Lce was needed. Accordingly he turned to retrace his ste is presence was indeed required, for r, dark and , Surrounded the little d of whites. OHAPTER XVI. IN WHICH A HUNTER’S NERVES ARE TESTED. i Ae nae, ae cleats a eh a t ’s . as u order tox nst surprise from this direction. e as did Seth any demon- still he was too much of Although expec’ as stratio’ himself to lose any of his mn from this quarter a backwoodsman to allow usual suspicion and watchfulness, Sometimes he would take the back trail for a — distance, and then wander off to the right or of it for per- haps a mile or more. means, he kept a crag tie waehborhood pagar Le, upon the n r or aro it, and, in case of pursuit, made sO many and con-
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fi y| + i ‘ ? , Uy ' : 4 —— “mews a Sle —e De SSS eS | | | | | 12 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. flicting tracks, that it could not but puzzle and delay their enemies, Near noon, and at the very moment that Seth paused to take a survey of the suspicious valley-like depression, and when not more than a furlong in the rear, Haldidge caught sight of three Indians just ahead of him. They were sitting upon the ground, in perfect silence, and seemingly waiting for the ap- proach of some one, The hunter found himself as much papexyt as was Seth to account for what he saw. ether it was some stratagem to entrap himself or not he could not tell, but, before ventur- | ing further, he made up his mind to gain a further | knowledge of their intentions, Haldidge had one formidable difficulty to contend with: the wood at this particular spot was open, and almost devoid of the protecting undergrowth, so that it was about impossible to ap roach them closer without discovering himself to them. He no- ticed lying a short distance behind them a large, heavy log, ap hg Beare decayed. In fact, this was so near them, that could he gain it, he could overhear everything said. He a slight knowl- edge of the Mohawk tongue—not enough to converse in it—but still enough to understand the drift of a conversation. Accordingly he determined to reach the ee at all hazards. : Haldidge desired, if —. to communicate with Haverland and warn him of the proximity of danger. To do this, it was necessary to make a long detour, and upon further consideration he decided not to at- tempt it. Lying flat upon his face, he worked him- self toward the log mentioned, keeping it between himself and the Indians, and approaching it as si- lently and as steadily asa snake. So cautiously and carefully was it done, that it required at least twenty minutes to reach it, and all this time the Indians maintained the same unbroken silence. At length the concealment was reached, and the hunter no- ticed with a that it was hollow. He lost no time in entering it, where, coiling himself up in as small a space as possible, he took himself to listen- ing. As if to completely favor him, there was a small rent in the log, through which even the whis- pers of the sav: could be heard, and which also admitted a thin ray of light. Here Haldidge cramped himself up and listened intently. But not a word was exc between the Indians, who remained as motionless as statues. In the course of a few minutes he heard a footfall upon the leaves, and a second after several savages seated themselves upon the very log in which he had eoncealed himself! He judge that there were at least a half-dozen. Those whom he had first seen 4 peared to have risen, and, meeting the others, ey had all seated themselves upon the log to- | gether. They immediately commenced conversing in so low and guttural tones, that their deep base voices communicated their tremor to the log. Haldidge started as he soon learned that they were conve! about himself and the three fugitives. Of Seth they seemed to have no knowledge. He discovered that they had lain in ambush a short distance ahead to entrap Haverland, Graham, and Ina, and they were debating how he should be disposed of. They knew that he was acting in the capacity of scout and sen- tinel, and were fearful that he might detect the am- bush, or at least escape it himself. At this point, one of the Indians, probably impelled by some whim, stooped and looked into the log. Hal- dge knew, by the darkness thus occasioned, that one of them was ries: ny it, and he scarcely breathed for a few seconds. But the face was re- moved, and the hollow being dark within—the small rent being on the opposite side of the hunter—the savage felt reassu and resumed the conversation. But Haldidge was doomed to have a trial of his nerves, of which he had little dreamed. When he entered the log, it was head foremost, so that his feet were toward the opening, and his face was in the dim light beyond. He ju the rotten cavity extended several feet further back; but, as there was no es entering further, he did not gone to explore it. It was while he lay thus, his whole soul bent to the one act of listening, that he was startled by the deadly warning of a rattlesnake. He comprehended the truth in an instant. There was one pad see dhe byed log beyond him / It is di tto imagine a more fearful situation than the hunter’s at this moment. He was lite environed by death; for it was at his head, his fee and above him, and there was no escape below. He had just learned that his death was one of the objects of the Indians, so that to back out into their clutches would be nothing less than committing suicide. To remain where he was would be to rd the sec- ond and last warning of the coiled rattlesnake. What was to be done? Manifestly nothing but to die like aman. Haldidge decided to risk the bite of the rat- tlesnake. Despite himself, the htnter felt that the reptile was exerting its horrible fascination over Its small eyes, gleaming like tiny yet fiery stars, seemed toemit a magnetic ray—thin, pointed, and palpable, that pierced right into his b There was a ma- lignant subtlety—an irresistible magnetism. Now the small, glittering point of light seemed to recede then to approach and expand, and then to wave and undulate all around him. Sometimes that bright. lightning-like ray would shiver and tremble, an then straighten out with metal-like rigidity, and m- sinuate itself into his very being, like the invisible point of a spear. There was a desire on the part of Haldidge to shake off this influence, which wrapped him like a mantle. There was the desire, we say, and yet there was a | languid listlessness—a repugnance to make the ef- fort. The f was something similar to that produced by a powerful opiate, when we are first re- | covering from it. There was that dim consciousness —that indistinct knowledge of the outer world—that certainty that we can break the bond that holds us, by_one vigorous effort, and yet the same sluggish in- difference that prevents the attempt. Haldidge drew his breath faintly and slowly, yield- | ing more and more to that fatal, subtle infiience. He knew he was charmed, and it. It was now impossible to shake off that weight which pressed him down like an incubus. That outer world—so to spe i another, from which he could not return without help besides his own. He seemed to be moving, flit- ting, sinking, and — through the thin air, borne upward and downward, hither and thither, on a wing of fire. The nary power which instinct shows he can exert over man, the snake now held over the huntér, At this point, from some cause or other, one of the savages struck the log a violent blow with his hatchet. Haldidge heard it. He drew a long breath, closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, looked down at his hands upon which chin had been resting. The charm was broken! the hunter had shaken off the fatal spell! Like the knocking at the dispels the dark, awful world of te oy in which mur- derers have been moving and living, and ushers in our own world, with all its od ge tide of human life and passions; so this blow of the Indian’s toma- hawk broke the subtle, magnetic spell of the serpent, and lifted the heavy mantle-like influence which eyes again, for he knew the same power would again se above him. The se nt, seemingly conscious of to strike. Haldidge stirred not a muscle; in fact, he had scarcely moved since entering the log. But the snake did not strike. The continued death-like still- ness of the hunter evidently seemed to the reptile to be death itself. He coiled and uncoiled himself sey- eral times, and then lifting his head, crawled directly over his neck and body, and passed out of the log! Here he was killed by the Indians. Now that the hunter was himself again, he pre- for further action. The Indians had arisen rom the log and were at some distance. He could hear the mumbling of their voices, but could not ish their words. After awhile these ceased, and he heard no more. eee was now filled with apprehension for the others. He had enough faith in the power and cun- ning of Seth to feel pretty confident that he would pee - arg ieed one into — or a bees exe mself, let repared as skillfully as i i of the Indians in the and Graham at e hunter at length w so restless and uneasy that he emerged from his hiding-place as rapidly and silently as possible. He looked cautiously around, but no savage was in sight. Filled with the most but then he could know nothi rear, who might surprise Haver any moment. painful apprehensio wood, avoiding the trail of his friends, however, and finally came in sight of them. Before making him- self known, he concluded to reconnoiter the place. While doing so, he saw the head of an Indian rise slowly above a bush, and peer over at the uncon- scious whites. Without losing a moment, he raised tala ut Ye Sidvrland and Gran, he sprang’ oul averlan e sprung for an instant into view. ba —. for cover,” he shouted; “the Indians are upon us!” bs n an instant every one of the whites was invisi- le. CHAPTER XVII. ENCOMPASSED BY DANGER. Art the first warning of Haldidge, Hayerland com- hse a the threatened danger in an nt. atching Ina in his arms, he sprung into the wood, sheltering himself behind a tree so quickly that Ina, till that moment, did not comprehend the meaning of the startling movements around her. ‘* What is it, father?’ she whispered. “Keep quiet, daughter, and don’t move.” She said no more, but shrunk beneath his shelter- ing form, believing that his strong arm was capable tY) } eg: to her against any foe, however formid- able. Graham, at the hee na leaped toward Haldidge, and the two sheltered themselves within a few feet of each other. The shot of the hunter had been | fatal, for that yell which the North American In- | d like the animal, gives when he receives his | death-wound, was h “and the fall had also reach- ed his ears. Minute after minute passed away and nothing fur- ther was heard of the savages. This silence was as full of meaning, and as dangerous as any open de- monstration upon the part of the Indians. What | pat ge they might be eons was a mystery | to all but themselves. At length Graham ventured to et he couldn’t help | ak—had now receded, and he was in | ll was complete. That extraordi- | olds over reason—that | sure to bring him.” wonderful superiority which a reptile sometimes | te in Macbeth; which | e hastened through the | | its loss of influence, rattled once more, and pg | ! | | | aim, and fired. Then | a a trouble at least. Where did Alf go with the | ga. » seh | Off yonder, a short distance. Hadn’t we better | get closer together?” | _ “*No; I don’t know as there is any necessity for it. We're as safe, drawn up in this style, as in any other | I can imagine.” . “T am afraid, Haldidge, they will make an attempt to surround us. In such a case, wouldn't Haver- land be in great peril?” “They can’t get around him without running their heads in range with our rifles, and Alf is aman who'll | De pagity sure to discover such a trick without any e p. ” ‘Where can Seth be?” ‘Not very far off; that shot of mine will be pretty “ Haldidge, how was it that you discovered these Mohawks? Did you know of their presence before you fired?” “Yes, long before. I’ve an idea they've been track- ing ou for an hour or two.” ‘Why, then, was their attack deferred?” “They have made no attack, remember. I don’t believe they had any such intention. There is an ambush somewhere ahead that they have laid, and it was their idea to walk you into that.” ‘*What was their notion in watching us so closely?” —- were hunting for me, for I heard them sa | as much, and, I suppose, in case you didn’t wal into par trap, why, they were go: to make the attack.”’ “Can it be that Seth has fallen into the snare?” eered, saw uae I ever came across.” ed to know who he is. It seems to me ntleman would use. At others and most of the time, he uses that nly mode of expression, which, in. itself, is laughable. At any rate, whoever he may be, he isa friend, and the interest which he takes in the safety of Haver- land and his family, is as efficient as it is si Me ‘* Maybe the interest is in Ina,” said Haldidge, with a look. YY understand you, but_you are mistaken. He has assured me as much. No; there seems nothing of that fi at all in him. He loves her as he would a child, but no more.” “ How was it that he made that awkward tumble | into the Indians’ hands, when they gave you such a hard run for it?” “That was all ee my own blundering. *He was cautious enough, but 1 became so impatient and careless that I precipitated him into the danger which would have m fatal to any one else. It was no fault of his.” “T am glad to hear it, for it seemed odd to me.” This conversation which we have recorded, it must not be supposed, was carried on in an ordinary tone, and with that earnestness which would have lessened their habitual caution. It was in whispers, and hardly once during its progress did the two look at each other. Sometimes they would not speak for several minutes, and then exchange but a single question and answer. It was now toward the middle of the afternoon and it became yin evident that the night would have to be spent in this neighborhood. “T do hope that Seth will make his appearance be- fore dark,’ remarked Graham. “Yes; I hope he will, for it will be dangerous when we can’t see him.” ‘‘ He must be aware of the threatened danger.” alee’ I am pretty confident that he is not very nt.” ‘Hallo! what’s that?” whispered Graham. eae keep quiet; there’s something going on ere.” A deathlike silence reigned for a few minutes; then a slight rust! was heard close by Haldidge, and as he turned alarmed gaze toward it, the form of Seth Jones rose to his feet beside him. ‘“Where did you come from?” asked Graham, in astonishment. na been watching you. In a little trouble, eh?’ ‘* We've found out we've got neighbors.” os “They're not very nigh neighbors, leastways. ““What do you mean?” “There isn’t one in a quarter of a mile.” Haldidge and Graham looked at the speaker in as- tonishment. *“*T tell you, it’s so. Hallo, Haverland!’’ he called stepping out from his concealment. “Come out here; there is nothing to be afraid of.” The manner of the speaker was singular, but the others well knew that he was not one to him- self or others to danger, and accordingly all gathered around him, “Are you not running great risk?” asked Haver- ' land, still experiencing some slight misgivings at stepping upon a spot which he well knew was so | dangerous a short time before. “No, sir; Ireckon you needn't be at all ort for if there was any danger of them Mohawks, What do you suppose they’re up to, Haldidge?”’ “ Hatching some ae vilish plot, I expe” mi “Tt seems it requires a good while to do it,” “Don’t get impatient; they'll show themselves in time.” “Have you any idea of their number?” ~ “There was something like a half-dozen prowling around.” “There is one less now, at any rate,” , “T suppose so; but there’s enough left to occasion | | wouldn’t be standing here. “Tt’s getting toward night, Seth, and we should make we our indie at once as to what we are going | to do or how we are going to spend it,”’ pen “Can you shoot a gun?” asked Seth, suddenly, of na. “*T don’t believe you can beat me,” she answered, a Oe good." ‘That is °
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Seth Jones. 13 So saying, he stepped into the bushes, where the dead body of the frdian was lying. Stooping over him, he removed the rifle from igid , took his bullet-pouch and powder-horn and handed them to Ina. “Now, there are five of us, all well armed,” said he, ‘and if any of them infarnal Mohawks gets ahead of us, we all desarve red night-caps for it. ‘“* How are we to prevent it, when there seems to _ _ times our number following us?"’ asked Haver- an “The way on it is this ’ere: there is about a dozen trying to sareumvent us. They’re now ahead of us, and have laid an ambush for us. If we can pass that ambush we're safe as if we was home fair and sure. And there must be no if about it, for that ambush must be passed to-night.” CHAPTER XVIII GETTING OUT OF THE WILDERNESS. scream of the panther. Heavy, tumultuous clouds were bot ge pe, rough the sky, rendering the inky darkness doubly intense, and shrouding even the faintly through the air, and then a Yogi, Sighs of clouds, growing darker and more awful, ward until they seemed to concentrate in the west- ern sky, where they towered aloft like some old em- battled: castle. The thunder grew heavier, until it sounded like the rolling of chariot-wheels over the courts of heaven, and the red streams of liquid fire streamed down the dark walls of the Storm Castle. Now and then the subtle element flamed out into a dazzling, instantaneous flash, and the bolt burst overhead, “Keep close to me, and step light, for I tell you there’s enough lightning.”’ Seth had thoroughly reconnoitered the valley to which we have referred, and had found, as he had expected, that there was an ambush laid for them. There was a sort of footpath, te Empat worn by the passing of wild animals, which nearly crossed the valley. It was here that the Indians supposed the fugitives would be entrapped, until the death of a too daring member of their party led them to sus- pect that their intentions were discovered. The little band was hours in crossing this valley. Seth, with an almost inaudible ‘‘’sh!’’ would often pause, and they would stand for many anxious min- utes listening intent! for the dreaded danger. Then they would resume their march, stepping with pain- ful slowness, It was at least three hours after the fugitives commenced this journey, and when Seth judged that he must be nearly through it, that he suddenly discovered he was walking in the very path he had striven so carefully to avoid. He was considerably startled at this and left at once. ‘““Sh! down!” he whispered, turning’ his face be- hind him. They were not ten feet from the path, when they sunk quietly to the earth. Footsteps were now audible to all. The darkness was too profound to discern anything, but all heard their enemies almost eal enough to touch them with the outstretched hand, The situation of our friends was imminently peri- lous. The Mohawks were not passing along the yen as at first supposed, but evidently searching it! aldidge and Seth felt that they could not be aware of their proximity, and yet they knew a dis- covery was unavoidable. ‘ Seth Jones rose to his feet so silently that even Haldidge, who was within a foot of him, did not hear arustle. He then touched Haverland’s ear with his mouth, and whispered: “Scatter with the gal as quick as lightning, for they must find us out in a minute.” Haveriand lifted Ina in his strong arm—she needed no caution—and stepped forwa It was impossi- ble not to make some noise, when the wet bushes brushed against them. The savages heard it and started cautiously forward. They evidently suspect- ed it was the fugitives, and had no suspicion that any one was lingering in the rear. The first warn- ing Seth had was of a savage running plump against bi ee in owned , each in his 0 leaped to one side, crouched down in his usual panther-like manner, with his rifle in his left hand and his knife in his right, waiting until he could set- tle in his mind the precise spot upon which one of the savages was standing before making a lunge at him, ; It would be tedious to narrate the artifices ana stratagem resorted to by these two opposing forces. Simon Kenton and Danijel Boone once reached the ristic way. opposite sides of the Ohio river at the same moment, and at the same time each became aware of the — of another person upon the opposite side. ese two old hunters and acquaintances reconnoi- tered for over (wenty-four hours, before they discov- ered that they were friends. For nearly two hours, the Mohawks and the whites maneuvered with the most consummate skill against each other; now re- treating and eorage d and eluding, each striving to lead the other into some trap that was as skillfully avoided, until, judging that Haverland was safe, Seth concluded to retreat himself. According- ly, he cautiously withdrew, and ten minutes later ‘ound himself upon the outermost edge of the val- ley. Ten minutes after Seth departed, Haldidge moved off, of course unknown to himself in precisely the same direction. Graham soon adopted the same course. They all came out of the d rous valley within twenty feet of each other. It took them some time before they came together; but, as each sus- pected the identity of the other, this did not require as long as it otherwise would. “Now, boys,’ whispered Seth, ‘‘I cac’late we're out of the Valley of Death. Best give it a wide berth, is the private opinion of Seth Jones.” “But how about Haverland?”’ Graham asked. “T think they must have come out near that point,” replied the other. “Let us move round then, and we've got to be spry, for daylight can’t be far off, and I’m thinkin as how them Ingins will find out that we've abscond- ed; and, my gracious! won’t they feel cheap?” Just as the light of morning appeared in the east, they came upon Haverland, and resumed their jour- ney. No halt was made for breakfast, for they were all too anxious to get forward on their way. the course of an hour or so, they struck a sort of path, made by the passage of wild animals, which, besides bane He hardened as to conceal their trail, was easily raveled. Seth and Haldidge were too experienced woods- men to relax their vigilance. They maintained the same duty as before, the former ing it upon him- self to lead the way through the wilderness, and the latter to guard inst danger from behind. The settlement toward which they were so anxiousl hastening, was still several days distant, and to reac it, it was necessary to cross a river of considerable breadth. This river was reached by Seth at noon. “By ious! I forgot about this!” he exclaimed to himself. ‘ Wonder if the gal can swim? If she can’t, how are we going to get her over? Put her on a chip, I s*pose, and let the breeze blow her across; the rest of us can swim, in course.” A few minutes later, our friends stood consulting upon the banks of the stream. This consultation ended in active preparations for crossing on a raft. Hunting up material for con- structing a raft now was the order of the hour. This was awork of extreme difficulty. They had no in- struments except their hunting-knives, and these were little better than nothing. Large rotten limbs were broken from the trees, and placed together by Hayerland, who took upon himself the of lash- ms pene with withes, while the others collected wood. Haldidge went up the river, and Seth and Graham went down. Graham soon noticed a large, half-de- cayed log, pa ‘ly lying in the water. “ Jus’ the thing, exactly! y, it’s a raft itself. This will save further trouble. Let us launch it at once, and float it up to the spot,” he exclaimed, delightedly. The two approached it, stooped, and were in the very act of lifting it into.the water, when Seth sud- derily removed his shoulder, and arose to the upright position. : “Come, give us a lift,” said Graham. “Graham, I guess I wouldn't take the log, I don't think it will answer.” “Won't answer! Why not? In the name of com- mon sense, give some reason.” ** Let that log alone! Do you understand ?” Graham looked up, and started at the appearance of Seth. His eyes fairly scintillated, and he seemed ped to Spring upon him, for daring to utter a word of dispute. “Come along with me!’ commanded Seth, in a voice hoarse h ion. It wouldn't do to disregard that command; and, taking up his rifle, Graham lost no time in obeying it. But he wondered greatly whether Seth was sud- denly become age 4 or foolish. He followed him a short distance, and then hastened up beside him. Seeing that his face had recovered its expres- sion, he gained courage and asked what he meant by such commands. “ Didn't you take notice that that log was holler?” inne it was, although I did not examine it closely.” “Wal, if you had examined it closely, or even loosely, so that you took a Li i into the iog, you'd new case a big Mohawk curled up there snug and ‘Is it possible? How. came you to see him?” - The minute I see’d the log was holler, I had my s’picions that there might be something or other in it, and I madeup my mind that we shouldn't to lift it till 1 knowed how it was. When I come to look closer, I knowed thar was something sure enough, for the way the bark was scratched at the mouth showed that plain enough. It wouldn’t do, you see, to stoop down and peep in, for like as not the red- skin would blaze away smack into my face. So Ijest dropped my cap, and, as I stoo down to: pick it up, I kind of slewed one eye ‘round over my shoul- der, and, as sure as blazes, I seen a big moccasin! I did, by gracious, I then proceeded to argufy the uestion; and, after considerable discussion, both in the affirmative and negative, I came unanimously to the conclusion that asI’d seen an Ingin’s foot, if I'd foller it up, I'd be pretty sure to find the Ingin him- self, and, moreover, also, if there was one Ingin about, you could make up your mind that there are ——v more not far off. gracious! if *t looked a little ram eous, you wouldn’ ve let go that log so very quick, eh?” ““No; you alarmed me considerably. But.what is rats ar ping und we ne “The cowards are aro’ e woods, out some plan to ambush us again. They've no idea we've smelt the rat that’s brewing in the bud, and re a too cowardly a their faces until they ey’ve got to, or let us slip.” ee Shall we tell Haverland?” “No; I will let Haldidge know of it, if he hasn't found it out already. The raft has got to be made, and we must keep on at it till it’s finished, as though we knowed everything was right. Keep still, now, or Alf will notice our falking.” They were so close to the woodman that they changed their conversation. ““No material?” asked Haverland, looking up. “It’s rather scarce down where we've been,’’ re- plied Graham. “Sha'n’t I help you?” asked In ey. “T guess we won't need your help, as Haldidge seems to have enough y.% r The hunter at this moment eo ea bending under the weight of two hea imbs. They were instantly lashed together, but it was found that the raft was much too weak and light, and more stuff was necessary before it would even float Ina. Ac- cordingly, Haldidge —— into the wood again. Seth walked beside him until they were a few yards away, when he asked: - you understand?” “What?” asked the hunter, in astonishment. “Over there,” answered Seth, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, toward the log mentioned. “*Red-skins?”’ “T rather guess so.” ““T smelt them a while ago. You'd better go back and watch Alf. T'll get enough wood. Danger?” erat they'll try some game; look out for your- With this Seth turned on his heel, and rejoined Haverland. Graham was a short distance away cut- ting withes, which the woodman was as busily using. As Seth came up he noticed Ina. She was sitting upon the ground a few feet from her father, and her attention seemed wholly absorbed with something down the stream. Seth watched her closely. “Isn't that a log yonder?” she asked. Seth looked in the direction indicated. With no small de of astonishment, he saw the identical tree which he and Graham disputed over, afloat in the river. This awoke his apprehensions, and he signaled at once for Pe} : ‘What's the row?” asked the hunter, as he came up. Seth gave his head a toss down-stream, by way of reply, and added: ‘Don’t let °em see you're watching it, for it might scare ‘em.” Nevertheless eee ee turned square around and took a long, searching look at the suspicious object. “What do you make of it?” “ Them Mohawks are the biggest fools I ever heard of, to think that such an old trick as that can amount to anything.” u se What trick do you mean?” asked Haverland. stone you see that log yonder, half-sunk in the water, that we are all looking at? Well, there are four or five Mohawks behind that, waiting for us to launch our raft.” ““Maybe it’s nothing more than a floating tree or log,”’ said the woodman. *Y-e-s,”? drawled the hunter, sarcastically, * smay- be so; I s’pose a log would be very apt to float up- stream, wouldn't it?” “Why is it approaching?” asked Graham. “Not very fast,” answered Seth, “for I guess it's hard work for them fellers to swim up-stream. Ah, by gracious! I understand the game. Look; don’t you see it’s further out than it was? They're going o get as near the middle as they can, and so close to us that when we undertake to cross, the current carry us right down plump st ‘em, when they'll rise up in their wrath and devour us. Fact, sure as you live!” “We might as well understand matters at once,” added Haldidge. ‘‘The plan of the Indians is un- doubtedly the same as Seth suggests. In ? we cannot help drifting downward, and are try- ing to locate themselves so as to make a collision be- tween us. But they will make no attack untli we are in the water. So you may keep at work u the raft, Alf, without any fear, while Seth and I re- connoiter. tome, Graham, te may as well go along with us, Let us enter the wood separately at first, and we'll come together as soon as we can get out of sight. Act as though we didn’t suspicion any- thing, and I'll wager my rifle here against your hat that we'll outwit the cowards after all.” The three entered the wood as proposed. After a few yards they came together again. “Now,” Skeered Seth, “by gracious, you will see fun. Follow close, boys, and keep shady.” Being now fairly within the wood, they iat enna in a direction parallel with the course of the river, e caution, for it was more than probable that some of the Indian scouts were in the wood. Keeping entirely away from the river until Seth judged they were below the yn eats log, they approached it, “A reckless move, at this point, would have been fatal, Fortunately, there was a species of grass growing from the w out to a considerable istance in the water, Through this they made their way much after the fashion of snakes. Seth, as usual, was in the front, and it struck Graham that he
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ee nee Leas cases Kors ee ee ee ae —— 14 Beadle’s HalfDime Library. Se absolutely slid over the ground without any exertion There was no excuse for further delay, and the | party immediately set forward. The sky again gave on his part, In a moment_they were down to the river’s brink. They now slo raised their heads and d over and mn the grass out into the river. was a short distance above, and they had _a perfec view of the side which was o ite to Haverland. Nota of an Indian was visible. The treeseemed anchored in the middle of the stream. “There is something there,’’ whispered Graham. ‘Sh! keep quiet and watch, and you'll see!” ad- monished Seth. A moment more and the log, apparently without — h formed in summer, and which rattle through the any human ney, slightly changed its position. As it did so, ‘eahenn saw somet: glisten on the top of it. He was at a loss to understand what. it meant, and turned php af toward Haldidge. The latter had his keen eyes fixed upon it, and there was a grim, exulting smile upon his face. .He motioned for Graham to preserve silence. As our hero turned his gaze once more toward the river, he saw that the log was still further into the stream. Something like polished metal was seen brighter to view. Up, upit went, until the shoulders were out of the water, when he remained stationary a mo- ment, and red over the lo, ay ed, he guietly s again; but Graham noticed that he did not disap- ar beneath the surface, where he had hithe: ept himself, nestled in so close to the log that al- most any one would have supposed that part of it. His head resembled exactly a large black {not in the wood. Graham now noticed also that there were two other protuberances, precisely like the first. The conclusion was certain. There were three fully-armed Mohawks concealed behind the log, who were doing their utmost to steal upon the fugitives. Just exactly one a iece, as sure as you live,"’ ex- claimed Seth, exultinny. ‘Get ready, each of you, for your man. Graham, take the one nearest this way; you the next one, Haldidge, and I'll pick off the last one in the genuine style. Get ready, quick, for Ny: got to hurrah over the way things is coming round.” The three pointed their ‘deadly instruments to- | ward the unsuspicious savages. h took a long, deliberate and certain aim. “Now, then, together—/ire/”’ Simultaneously the three rifles flashed, but that of Seth missed fire. The others s true to their aim, Two yells of deathly agony broke upon the air, and one of the savages sprung his entire length out of the water, and then sunk like lead to the bottom. The other ene quivering to the log for a moment, and then loosening his hold, disappeared beneath the water. “Thunder and blazes!’ exclaimed Seth, springing to his feet, “‘hand me your rifle, Graham. Some- thing is the matter with mine, and that other imp will get away. ! hand it here!” He took the rifle and commenced loading it as rap- idly as possible, keeping his eye upon the Indian, ae was swimming desperately for the other nk. “Ts yer iron loaded, Haldidge?’’ he asked. “No; I’ve been Mi gee Bee and that chap’s rime: to see who'll get the best, so long, that I didn't th ink of it.” again, for s’posen this should miss fire, too, he’d get off then, sure. Wal, my stars! if he isn’t coming out now!’ The Indian, as if scorning the danger, rose slowly from the water, and walked leisurely toward the shelter of the wood. ‘Now, my fine feller, see if you can dodge this?” Seth énce more aimed at the retreating Indian, and this time pulled the anager but, to his unutter- able c in, the rifle ed in the pan! Before Haldidge could finish loading his , and before Seth could even reprime his, the In had disap- Ta hedioe as key! what’s got into th ? bi okey-pokey | what’s go 6 guns?”’ édkclelmon Seth, Pet pertect fury. ‘‘ That’s ‘ioloe I've been fooled. Worse'n two slaps in the face by a purty woman, I'llswow. Hallo! what’s that?” The discharge of a rifle across the river had sent the bullet so close to him as to whisk off a tuft of his long, sandy hair, : “By ous; that was pretty well done,”’ he ex- claim: scratching his head as though he was slightly wounded, > Look out, for heaven’s sake! Get down!” called him by the skirt of his hunting-dress, shot. There are plenty of about, ain’t there?”’ the im alarmed Havyerland that he desisted The so from his work, and mp fe the shelter of the wood. | By this time, too, the noon was so far advanced that darkness had already commenced settling over the stream and woods, Crossing on the raft The lo " phic heavy, tumultuous clouds, which rendered the , darkness as none 0 at Haverland, Seem- | down into the water | signs of astorm. Several rumbles of thunder were eard, but the lightning was so distant as to be of neither benefit or use to them. The sky was filled rfectly intense and impenetrable; and them understood a foot of the ground over which they were traveling, it may well sup- posed that their progress was neither rapid nor par- icularly pleasant. The booming of the thunder con- tinued, and shortly the rain commenced falling. The drops were of that big kind which are often leaves like a shower of bullets. **Can you look ahead, Seth?” asked Graham. ‘In course I can. The darkness don't make no difference not at allto me. I can see just as well on | a dark night as I can in daylight, and, what is more, han before. He looked | I do. I should like to see me make a misstep or stumble—”’ Further utterrance was checked by the speaker pitching, with aloud splash, head-foremost over or nto something. “ You hurt, Seth?” asked Graham, in alarm, yet half tempted to give way to the mirth that was con- vulsing those behind him. “Hurt!” exclaimed the unfortunate one, scram- | bling to his feet; ‘‘ I believe every bone in my boay _is broken.in two; and by gracious! my h cracked, and both legs put out of joint, the left arm | broke above the elbow, and the right one severed e@ was a | was | reasons for not do completely !’’ A Relig ca these frightful injuries, the speaker was mo about with wonderful dexterity. ly My gracious! what do you suppose I’ve tumbled into?” he suddenly asked. “Intoa pitfall or a hole in the ground,” replied Graham. “It’s my opinion, too, that it be very easy, with this noise we are making, to stumble into the Mohawks’ ds.” ‘*T should think you ought to know that I didn’t fall,’’ retorted Seth, angrily. ‘I happened to see sumthin’, and I opnes forward to see if it would hold my weight. t are you laughing at, Ishould like to know?” oe is that you have stepped into?” asked Hav- er 4 “s ,_ it’s nothing less than a boat, dragged u here by the varmints, I s’pose.”’ . “Such, indeed, was the case. There was a very large-sized canoe directly before them, and not a sign of the presence of others besides themselves. Not a more fortunate thing could have happened. Upon examination, the boat was found to be of un- usual length and breadth, and amply sufficient to carry twenty men. It was quickly pushed back into the stream. “Come, tumble and we'll set sail,’’ said Seth. The saeiees, without any hesitation, entered the boat, and Seth and Haldidge, lending their shoulders it, shoved it into the river, and sprung in as it float- away. 2 CHAPTER XIX. DENOUEMENT. TE whites found in a moment that they had com- mitted a great mistake in launching as they did. In the first place, there was not an oar in the boat, and thus, not being able to “ paddle their own canoe,” they were also deprived of their yet to paddle one belonging to some one else. Besides this, the river was dark as Styx, and the whole sky and air were of the same inky blackness, and not one in the boat had the remotest idea of where they were go- ing, whether it was to pitch over some falls, down some rapids, or into the bank, “I’m going to set down and consider which is the biggest fool, Haldidge, you or me, in starting out in this canoe which we borrowed for a short time.” So saying, Seth made his way to the stern of the canoe, where he rested himself—not upon the bot- tom of it, as he expected, but upon something so/t, which emitted a grunt audible to all, as he did so. iy gracioga! what’s under me?” he exclaimed, reaching his hand down and feeling around in the dark. “A live Ingin, as sure as my name is Seth Jones. Ah, you copper-headed monkey!”’ It was as he said. An Indian had stretched out on his back, with his feet dangling over the edge of the canoe, and Seth, without the faintest suspicion of his presence, had seated himself square upon his breast. As may be supposed, this was not relished at all by the startled savage, and he made several strenuous efforts to roll him off, ‘“* Now, just lay still,” commanded Seth, “ for I’ve an idea that I can’t find a more comfortable seat.” The say: was evidently so thoroughly frightened that he ceased his efforts and lay ectly quiet and mo less. , mn eit} you gota Pay oe here?” asked Hald- e, as he came w ; Bip ate just feel under me, and see if I hain’t." », What are you going to do with him?” “Are you going to let him off? Let’s pitch him overboard.” “No you won't, Haldid; T’ve two or three good suc ieee at . In the first place, n tof the question, for it would have been | there ain’t no need of it, the poor imp hasn't hurt us; aerhing less than Poicide to have attempted it, when | and, for all I detest his whole cowardly race, I don’t their enemies had given them such convincing evi- dence of their skill in the use of the rifle, even at a preter distance than to the middle of the stream. ut the river had to be crossed for all that, and the only course left was to shift their position to some other place, build a new raft, and make another at- tempt. ~» | | believe in killing them, except when they’ve done you some injury or are trying to. The most important reason, orever, is that I don’t want my seat dis- turbed.”” “ He is a cussed fool to let yousit on him that way. T’'d give you a toss if I was in his place, that would send you overboard.” P > Pe if you knew what was best for you. Thun- er!” Perhaps the Indian understood the words of the hunter. At any rate, he made an attempt to carry out his suggestion, and well-nigh did it, too, Just as gave vent to the exclamation recorded, he pitched headlong against Haverland, knocking him over upon his back, and falling upon him, At the same instant the savage sprung Overboard, and swam rapidly away in the darkness. That’s a mean trick,” said Seth, as he recovered his sitting position. “j was just setting on him to keep the rain off. Jest like the ungrateful dog!” e attention of all was now directed to the pro- be of the canoe. Drifting slowly onward through e darkness, no one knowing whither, their situation an to assume a terrible form. There was no power in their hands to — it, and should they run into any of the trees which had caught in the bottom, or upon a rock, they would be instantly swamped. But there was no help for it, and each one seated and braced himself for the shock which might come at a instant. t was while they were proceeding in this manner, that they all heard the bottom of the canoe grate over something, then tremble for a moment, and suddenly come to a stand-still. The stern swung rap- idly round and commenced filling. “Overboard, men, all of you! We're sinking!” commanded didge. Each sp into the water, which was not more than two feet deep, and the canoe, thus lightened of = ae instantly freed itself, and floated off in the rkness. “Don’t move, till I take a few soundings,” said Seth. He naturally supposed that to reach the shore, he must take a direction at right-angles with the cur- rent. A few steps showed him that he was not in the river itself, but was walking in that portion which had overflowed its banks. “Follow on, boys; we're right!”’ he called out, Bushes and grass entangled their feet, and the branches overhead brushed their faces, as they toiled out of the water. A few moments and they were upon solid land again. The canoe had carried them safely across the river, so that this trouble- some task was finished. “Now, if we only had a fire,” Haverland. “Yes; for Ina must be suffering.”’ “Oh! don’t think of me!” replied the brave little girl, cheerfully. Seth discovered with his customary shrewdness that the storm had been very slight in this section, and the wood was comparatively dry. By removing the leaves upon the surface of the ground, there were others beneath which were perfectly free from dampness. A quantity of these were own in a heap, a number of twigs found among them placed upon the top, and some larger branches placed upon these in turn. After great difficulty, Seth managed to catch a spark from his steel and tinder, and ina few moments they had a rousing, roaring, genial fire. “That's fine,” said Graham. “But won't it be pat ots Seth?” * Let it be, then; I’m bound to dry my skin to- night, if there’s any vartue in fire.”’ t_ the Indians didn’t choose to disturb them, al- though it was rather a reckless proceeding es their part. It was more than probable, as Seth Jones remarked, that their pursuers had lost their trail, and would experience some difficulty in regain- ge to follo it, orning at las broke upon the hu , miserable hopeful fugitives. As the light increased they looked about them and discovered that they had camped at the base of a large, heavily-wooded hill. It was also noticed that Haldidge, the hunter, was absent. While wondering at this, the report of his rifle was heard, and in a few moments he was seen descend- ing the hill, bending under the weight of a half- frown deer, This was hastily dre: , Several good- sized pieces skewered and cooked in the flame, and our friends made as hearty and substantial a meal as was ever made in this world. “ Before starting upon our journey ” said Haldidge, “I want you all to go to the top of the hill pare. with me, and see what a fine view we shall ave,”’ “Oh! we've no time for views,’’ replied Seth. “Tam afraid there is little spare time,” added the woodman. ** But this is cularly fine, and I think you will be well pl with it.” ‘one ered yee sO te irate oe were nally obliged consent. ccordin, they com- menced the ascent, Haldidge leading them, and all anxiety, smiles and expectation. s how you like that view!” said he, pointing off to the west. The fugitives gazed in the direction indicated. The poe was one indeed which at that time pleased hem more than could have any other in the universe; for below them, about half a mile distant, was the ve Me toward which they had been so lo atin their way. It looked un beautiful that morning in the clear sunshine. score of cabins nestled closely together, and the heavy smoke was lazily ascending from several chimneys, while here and there a settler could be seen moving about. At one corner of the stood the block-house, and the gaping mouth of its swivel shone in the morning sun like burnished silver. One or two small boats were visible in the water, their ashen paddles flashing brightly as they were dip ed by strong and active hands. e river, down which the woodman and his wife and sister had escaped, flowed at the foot of the Mes be and its windings could be traced by the eye for miles. Here and there, scattered over
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Seth Jones. the country, they peseeen an ep = settler’s cabin, resembling in the distance a tiny ive. “You haven't told me how you are pleased with the landscape,” e hunter. SA, Haldia e, you know better than to ask that question," repli Haverland, in a shaking voice. “Thank God that He has been so merciful to us!” They now commenced descending the hill. Not a | word was.exchanged between them, for their hearts were too full for utterance. A spell seemed to have come over Seth Jones. At sight of the vil- lage, he had suddenly become thoughtful and silent, sehasine even to answer,a question...His head was bent down. Evidently his mind was engrossed upon some all-absorbing subject. Several times he sighed deeply, and pressed his hand to his heart, as though the tumultuous throbbing there pained him. The.ex- pression of his face was wonderfully changed. That quizzing, comical look was entirely gone, while wrinkles at the eyebrows and base of the nose could be seen no more. His face appeared to be peavey hendsome. - It was'a wonderful metamo: i the question passed around unexp : “Is that Seth Jones?” All at’ once, he seemed to become sensible that the eyes of others were upon him, and that he had for- otten himself. That old, peculiar expression came Back to his face, and a few steps of the old strad- dling gait were taken, and Seth Jones was himself ain! “eThe sentinels in the block-house had discovered and recognized the fugitives, and when ee | ar- rived at the palisade which surrounded the village, there were numbers waiting toweceive them. “T will see youall again!”’ said Haldidge, separat- ing from the others and passing toward the upper end of the settlement. ¥ “ After pausing a few moments to answer the in- quiries of their friends, Haverland led the wa ward the cabin where he had left his wife and sister. Here he found the pee settlers had erected and pre- sented him with a house. As he —— softly to the door, atop ding vo give his wife a p yea surprise, she met him. ith a low cry of Joy; she sprung for- ward and was held in his arms, and the next instant she and Ina were ig ‘oo and weeping. “Thank Heaven! thank Heaven! Oh, my dear, dear child, I thought you lost forever.’ r Graham and Seth stood respectfully to one side for afew moments. The latter cleared his throat seve- ral times and brushed his arm across his forehead in a suspicious manner. As the mother regained her- self, she turned and recognized Graham, and greeted | him warmly. ‘** And you, too,”’ she said, taking Seth’s hand, and looking up into his face, ‘‘have been more than a friend tome. May Heaven reward you, for we never can,” “There! by gracious! don’t say no more! boohoo! ahem! I believe I’ve caught a cold, being so exposed to the night air!” But it was no use; the tears would come; and Seth, for a few seconds, wept like a baby, yet smiled even through his tears. They all entered the house. “Our first duty isto thank God for his mercy. Let aT a ae pom Ghelt kn ing in f. 8 evoutly upon their knees, jo er- vent tlfinksgiving to the great Being eye shown his goOdness to them in such a marvelous manner. The settlers, with true politeness of heart, forbore to intrude until they judged the family were desir- ous of seeing them. After they had arisen from their knees, y, the sister of Haverland, entered. Graham chanced to glance at Seth, that moment, and was startled at the emotion he exhibited. He flushed scarlet, and trembled painfully, but, by a song effort, recovered himself in time to greet her. She thanked him again, and began conversing, when she saw that he was emb and ill at ease. A flash of suspicion crossed her fine, calm face, and it became e and flushed by turns. What a riot emotion was making in her heart only she herself knew; her face: soon became passive ‘and pensive; and a pathos gleamed from her sad eyes which sent Seth quickly out of doors to commune with the mys- teries of his own thoughts. The cabin was crowded until near midnight with congratulating friends. Prominent among these, was the man who officiated in the a of minis- ter for the settlement. He was.a portly, genial, good-natured man, of the Methodist persuasion, and a preacher for the times—one who could plow, reap, chop wood, and lead the settlers against their foes, when he deemed it necessary, or preach and prac- tice the gos lbefore them. __. = was a glad—a happy reunion— a night that was long remembered, Just one -week after the reunion the little party was seated in Hayerland’s home, composed of Ina, Seth Jones, the woodman, Mrs. Haverland and Mary. Seth sat in one corner, cony with Ina, while the other three were also ether. There was a happy, look upon each-face, Even: the sweet, mel- ancholy beauty of Mary was lighted up by a smile. She was beautiful—queenly so. Her hair, black as night, was gathered behind, as if to restrain its tendency to curl; but, in ing of this, a refrac to one was constantly intrud itself, A faint oie was visible in es ena 3 her blue eye had in it something of a gleam of the common joy. and. Seth had rafhained most of the ar with ‘the woodman. Several times he had asked Haver- land to walk with him, and yet upon each occasion, when about to start, he became painfully nervous, and begged to be.excused, And then his language was so different at times. Often he would conyerse with words so polished and well-chosen, as to show unmistakably that he was a scholar. Perhaps the reader has noticed this discrepancy in his conversa- to- | , and | ma 15 tion. It attracted attention, and strengthened many in their belief that for some unknown reason he was Playing a part. At the present time there was a nervousness in his manner; and, although he was holding a playful conversation with Ina, his eyes were constantly wandering to the face of Mary Haverland. **And so you and Graham are going to be mar- ried to-morrow night?” he asked. “You know, Seth, that we are. How many times are you going to ask me?” ss be you love him?” he asked, looking her steadily in the face. “What a question ! I have always loved him, and always will.’ “That’s right; then marry him, for if man ever loved woman, he loves you. And, Alf, while I think of it,” he ke in a louder tone, ‘‘ what has that big, red-haired fellow been hanging around here so much for the last day or two?’’ “You will have to ask Mary,” laughed the wood- n. **Oh, I understand, there'll be two weddings to- morrow night, eh? That’s so, Mary?” “Not that I know of; I have no expectation of becoming a wife for any one.” ‘**Hain't, eh? Why, the man seems to love you. Why don’t you marry him?” ‘‘Tam afraid Mary will never marry,’’ Said Haver- land. “She has rejected all offers, though many were from very desirable men.” ‘Queer! I never heard of such a case.”’ ““Her love was buried long ago,’’ replied Haver- land, in a lower tone, to Seth. * After a moment’s silence, Seth arose, took his chair, and seated himself beside her. She did not look at him, nor did any oneelse. He sat a moment; then whispered: “ Mary? ’ She started. Her eyes flashed like meteors in his face a moment; then she turned as as death, and would have fallen from her chair, had not Seth caught her in his arms. Haverland looked up in amazement; the whole family were riveted in won- der. Seth looked up from the face of the fainting woman, and smiled as he said: “*She is mine forever!’ “Merciful Heaven! Eugene Morton!’’ exclaimed Haverland, starting to his feet. “Tt is sol’’ said the one addressed. ‘*Have you risen from the dead?” “T have risen to life, Alf, but have never been with the dead.”’ Instead of the weak, squeaking tone which had heretofore characterized his speech, was now a rich, mellow base, whose tones startled Mary into life again. She raised her head, but he who held her would not permit her to rise. He pressed her fer- vently to his bosom. The ecstasy of that moment, only the angels in Heaven could fathom. aldidge and Graham entered, and the man in his true character, arose to his feet—a tall, dignified, graceful, imposing person. ‘Where is Seth?’’ asked Graham, not noticing the apparent stranger. “ Here is what you have heretofore apes to be that individual, laughed the person before him, en- joying greatly their astonishment. ‘Seth, truly, but not Seth, either,’ exclaimed they both, with astonishment written on their faces. ‘*With a few words,” he commenced, “all will be plain to you. I need not tell you, dear friends, that my character, since my advent among you, has been an assumed one. Seth Jones is a myth, and to my knowledge, no such person ever existed. My real name is Eugene Morton. Ten years Bg0, Mary Haverland and I pledged our love to each other. We were to be married in one year; but, when a few months of that time had ela , the Revolution- td War broke out, and a call was made upon our little village, in New Hampshire, for volunteers. I had no desire nor right to refuse. Our little com- roceeded to Massachusetts, where the war was then raging, In a skirmish, a few days after the battle of Bunker Hill, I was dangerously wound- ed, and was left with a farmer by the wayside. I sent brie ick one of my comrades to Mary, that I was disabled, but ho to see her in a short time. The bearer -of that m was probably killed, for it is certain my words never reached her, though a very different report did. We had a man in our company who was a lover of Mary’s. Know- of tae ortune, he sent her word that I was ed. en I rejoined my company, a few months after, I learned that this man deserted. A suspicion that he had returned home impelled me to obtain leave of absence to visit my native place, I there learned that- Haverland, with his wife and sister, had left the village for the West, One of my friends informed me that this deserter had gone with them, and, it was understood, would marry. oF I could not .doubt the truth of this TEpOKS and, for a time, I feared I should commit cide. To softe once, jomed our company, and lunged into eve battle tas. i ssibly could I often 2 ry 50 pitins e. In the winter of 1776 I foun myself under Gen- eral Washington, at Trenton; I had crossed the Delaware with him, and, bythe time it was fairly light we were engaged in a vy apne fight with the essians. "In the very heat of e battle, the thought suddenly came to me that the story of *s mar- riage was untrue. ‘Singularly enough, when the bat- tle was over, I did not think any more of it. But in the midst. of the following engagement, at Prince- ton, the same thought came to me again, and haunt- ed me from that time until the close of the war. I de- termined to seek out Mary, All that I could learn was that Haverland had ‘emigated ‘out this way. If she had married the deserter, I knew it was under a firm belief that I was dead. Consequent- ly, I had no right to pain her by my presence. or this reason, I assumed a disguise. I discol- ored my now long-untamed hair. It so changed = whole appearancé that I hardly knew myself. ar had cha my youthful color into bronze, and sorrow wrought its —— Tt was not strange, then, that any old friend should not know me, particularly when I could so successf per- sonate the ‘Green Mountain Boy,’ in voice and man- ner. My identity was — secure, I knew, from detection. I came to this section, and, after a lo: and persevering hunt, one day I found Haverlan cutting in the wood. Lintroduced myself to him as Seth Jones. I found Mary. The report which had reached me of her marriage was false; she was still true to her first love. I should have made myself known then, had not the danger which threatened Haverland come upon him almost immediately. As his family were then tormented by the fate of Ina, I thought my recognition would only serve to embar- rass and distract their actions. Besides, I felt some amusement in the part I tere , and often en- joyed the speculation I crea’ by ving you, as it were, a glimpse now and then into my real nature. I varied my actions and language on purpose to in- crease your wonder.” He here paused and smiled, as if at the recollection of his numerous ludicrous escapades. He continued: ‘I have little more to add. Icongratulate you, Graham, on the prize you have won. You are to be married to-morrow night. Mary, will you not marry me at the same time?”’ “Yes,” replied the radiant woman, placing her hands in his. ‘“‘ You have my hand now, as you've had my heart through all these long, sorrowing years.’ Morton kissed her forehead tenderly. P “ Now congratulate me,”’ said he, with a beaming ace. And they gathered around him, and such shaking of hands, and such greetings, we venture to say, were never seen before. Our friends experienced some difficulty at first in believing that Seth Jones was gone forever. They even felt some regrets that his pleasing, eccentric face had away; but they had gained in his place a handsome, noble- hearted man, of whom they were all proud. The next day was spent in preparations for the great double wedding that was to take place that evening. Messengers were sent up and down the river, and back into the woods; there was not a set- tler within twenty miles who had not been invited. At htfall the company began to collect. Some came boats, some on horseback, and others on foot, A double wedding rarely took place in the backwoods, and this occasion was too full of romance to be slighted by any, old or young. When the lights were produced in the woodman’s house there was a ——. assemblage without and within. You could have heard old and middle-aged men talking about the p: t of the crops, and looking up to the sky and wisely predict the probabilities of a cha in the weather, or discus- sing, in anxious tones, the state of feeling among the Indians along the frontier; you could have heard—as they would termed nowadays—“ gawky”’ young men as sagely discoursing upon the same subjects, venturing a playful thrust, now and then, at one of their number about some ‘ Alminy,” or ‘Sera, pheemy,” sweetheart. The woodman’s house had been much e ed for A long shed, amply sufficient to con- the occasion, tain all the guests, was built alongside and connect- ing with it. After participating in a bountiful meal in this,@he tables were removed, and preparation made for the marriage. A sudden hush fell upon the assemb . Alleyes turned toward the door, through which Eugene Mor- ton and Edward Graham, each with his affianced leaning upon his arm, entered. “ Ain’t they eet gy d “Don’t they look bootiful?”’ ‘ bs Golly! if they ain’t some, then there's no use in Such and similar were the whispered remarks of admiration at the couple. Mary Haverland was dressed in a plain, light-colored dress without any ornament, except a single white rose in her hair, which now fell dark masses over her shoulders. Her beauty was of the true regal e. She was = happy, yet seemed as if in a world of her own. orton was clad in gray homespun, which well be- came his graceful form, ' His whole ap was that of the gentleman which he was—a brave soldier, m a true-hea an, Ina, the sweet young heroine, was fascinating. Her dress was of the urest white. Her curls clus- tered around her sh and were confined at the temples by a simple wreath of blue violets. There was a contrast between Ina and Mary, and yet it would have been a difficult task to have judged which was the most beautiful—the pure, ens trusting woman, or the purity and innocence of the young maiden, am was a worthy participant — drama and pleased all by his goodness and In a few moments, a portly gentleman, with a white neckeloth, and all aglow wiih smniles, entered the room. Morton and Mary arose and stood before him, and amid the most perfect silence the ceremo- ny commenced. The questions were put and an- swered in a firm voice, audible to every one in the room. “What God hath joined together let not man put asunder.” And every voice ‘said ‘‘ Amen!” themselves. Haldidge, who had stood as mm now signaled with a quiet smile, for as they reseated sman to Morton, Graham to take
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his position. The young hero did, and Ina, peace deeply, and leaning on the arm of her bridesmaid, followed, and the ceremony commenced. While this was proceeding, an interesting affair was occurring at the opposite end of theroom., A large, bony, red-faced young man sat holding and ry: squeezing the hand of ‘a bouncing, buxom girl, and indulging in several expressive remarks. “T swow, if they don’t look purtv. Wonder how he eg il f lied hi pani , happy, of course,”’ rep is com on. & Ff ‘0, r t he does; I know J would.’ what?”’ ‘* Peel glorious if I was in his place.” ‘* What! marrying Ina Haverland?”’ ‘“*No—I mean—ahem!—why, somebody else—that shy 9 some ody else.” ‘Who else do you mean?” asked the girl, looking him steadily in the face. “ Why—ahem!—why, you! Darn it, now you know, don’t you?” Lu ‘Sh! Don’t talk so loud, Josiah, or they’ll hear you, “S’posen you was in her place, Sal, how would you feel?” you, and the minister talking to us?” 7 Yes—yes; wh exclaimed to himself: ‘ I'll do it, by George!” en turning toward the girl, he said: ‘Sal, let’s you and I get married, won’t you?” ‘“‘Why, Josiah!’ and she hung her head and blushed, charmingly. ‘*Come, Sal, the old folks won't care. Let’s do it, won’t you?” : pam: ey Josiah !’’ she continued, growing nervous and ety. fee say quick, for the dominie is near done, and he’ll go home. Say yes, Sal, do.”’ ‘*Oh, dear! oh, my stars!—yEs!”’ # Good, by jingo! Hurry up there, Mr, Preach- At this point the good minister ceased his benedic- tion upon the couples, and their friends commenced crowding around them. The minister started, not to go home, but to leave the room for a moment, when osiah noticed it, and fearing that he was going, called out: “Say, squire—you, dominie, I mean—just wait, won't you? Here’s another job for you.” “Ah, I am pad to hear it,’’ laughed the minister, turning round. ‘Are you the ha py man?” = , | reckon so, and I cale’late as how Sal Clay- ton there is the happy gal.” All eyes were turned toward the speaker, and he stood their smiles unflinchingly. His face was of a fiery red, and a large flowing necktie hung disre- garded over his breast. “Go in, Josiah—that’s you!” exclaimed several, patting him on the shoulder. “Get out, all of you, till I'm through. Come up here, Sal{ no use scroochin’ now.”’ The females bore the blushing one forward, until ee da near enough to Josiah to get hold of her and, ‘Now, go ahead, squire—you—minister, I mean, and don’t be too thundering long about it,dor I want to get married most terribly.” he company gave way, and the two stepped for- ward, and in a few moments were pronounced man and wife. When Josiah saluted his bride the smack was a telling one, and the congratulations of Morton and Graham were nothing to those which were showered upon the happy man. Now the apse commenced. An old ranger sud- denly made his appearance, bearing a violin under his arm—a ‘‘reg’lar old Cremony,”’ as he termed it. The word was given to “‘make ready for the dance,”’ The old folks disappeared and entered the house, where, with the minister, they indulged in conversa- tion, story-te , nuts, apples and cider. The fiddler coiled himself up on the top of a box, and commenced twisting the screws of his instru- ment, and thumping the strin The operation of ‘‘tuning’’ was evidently a painful one, for it was noticed that at each turn of the screw, he shut one eye and twisted his mouth. The violin was at length tuned, the bow was given two or three sweeps across a lump of | and then drawn across the strings, as if it said “attention!” As the Nag cae were forming, the violinist slid partly down off the box, so that. one foot could beat wu the sanded floor, and then, giving his head a York backward, struck up.a reel that fairly set every heart dances, The floor was immediately filled with the oung folks, Tall, strapping fellows plunged around the room, like skeletons of India rubber, their legs bowed out, and sometimes tripping over each other.. Rousing, solid girls bounded around, up and down, like po of jelly, and ‘‘ all went merry as a marriage- bell. By and by the old folks made their appearance, ‘“‘fust to. see the boys and gals enjoy themselves,’ The fiddler at this moment shot off on the ‘ Devil's Dream.” ; $ { 4 + Ie, 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper. _ By Ed. 8. Ellis. 5c. 7 The Flying Vankee. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. . ; 3 : 4 5c, 8 Seth Jones, By Edward §. Ellis. 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