Hope and Have; or, Fanny Grant Among the Indians: A Story for Young People

by Oliver Optic

  CHAPTER XIV.

  THE INDIAN BOY.

  Above the voices of the other savages, the harsh and heavy tones ofLean Bear were prominent. He spoke in the Indian dialect, and of coursethe anxious fugitives could not understand what he said; but he seemedto be angry and impatient, disappointed and chagrined; and Ethan andFanny readily inferred that, as he was searching for them, he was themore ferocious because he could not find them. They lay silent andmotionless in their hiding-place, hardly daring to breathe, lest asound should reach the quick ears of their relentless foes.

  The Indians searched in every nook and cranny of the barn where a humanbeing could possibly be concealed. They climbed to the top of the mow,pulled over the hay, jumped upon it, and thrust their knives deep down.The fugitives felt the weight of the pursuers pressing heavily downupon them; they realized that the points of the bloody knives werewithin a short distance of their vital organs; but, breathless andsilent, they lay in the most agonizing suspense, expecting to bedragged from their retreat, and subjected to atrocities which it frozetheir blood to think of.

  The remorseless miscreants howled with disappointed rage as the searchwas abandoned. Fanny and Ethan drew a long sigh of relief when theyheard their foes on the floor beneath them. The good Father to whomthey prayed so earnestly had dimmed the eyes of the savages so thatthey could not see, and the danger of that terrible moment passed bythem. Fanny breathed her thanks to God for her safety--she did not dareto speak them.

  The savages consulted together, using brief, sharp, and excitingsentences. Their words were not understood, and no clew to their futurepurposes could be obtained. Lean Bear spoke in tones even more savagethan he had used before, and the steps of the Indians were heard asthey left the barn.

  "Hev they gone?" asked Ethan, in a convulsive whisper.

  "Yes, I think they have," replied Fanny, in a tone not less agitated."Let us thank God that we are still safe."

  "Don't whistle till you get out o' the woods," added Ethan, whoreferred, not to the thanks, but to the exultation which his companionappeared to feel at their apparent safety.

  "We must be thankful and submissive, Ethan. We have been saved thistime, whatever may happen next."

  "I am thankful."

  "I know you are. We must trust in our Father in heaven if we expect himto hear our prayer."

  "'Sh!" interposed Ethan, as he became silent and motionless again.

  The voices of the Indians were heard near the barn again, and othermoments of agonizing suspense were in store for the fugitives. Thegruff tones of Lean Bear rose above those of his companions, and it wasevident that they had not yet given up the search.

  "Ho, ho, ho! He, he, he!" yelled the monsters, which cries were to themexpressions of satisfaction.

  It was painfully clear to Ethan and Fanny that the Indians had madesome important discovery, or done some act which would accomplish theirpurpose. More agonizing than the thought came the reality, a fewmoments afterwards, while the wretches outside of the barn were stillshouting their hideous yells. A smell of smoke, accompanied by a sharp,crackling sound, assured the waiting, trembling couple in the hay-mowthat their worst fears were realized. The Indians had set fire to thebarn.

  "We are lost!" exclaimed Fanny. "They have set fire to the barn!"

  "'Sh! Don't say a word," interposed Ethan.

  "We shall be burned to death!"

  "Don't give up; keep still."

  "Keep still?" repeated Fanny, amazed at the self-possession of hercompanion. "We shall be burned to death in a few minutes."

  "Don't say nothin', Fanny."

  It was not easy to keep still in that terrible moment of peril, butEthan seemed to know what he was about, and his coolness and courageacted as inspiration upon his terrified companion. Fanny prayed again,in a hardly audible whisper; but this time, Ethan, though perhaps hisheart was with her, was thinking of something else. She felt more calmafter her prayer, though the dense smoke and the snapping flamesadmonished her that death was close at hand. The rough prairie boylooked resolute, and seemed to have conquered his fears. She wonderedwhether he had discovered any possible avenue of escape, for nothingbut the promptings of a strong hope, whether real or delusive, couldhave produced such a change in his bearing.

  "Better be burned up, than butchered by the redskins," said he, atlast.

  Was this the explanation of his new-born courage? It was a terriblealternative, but Fanny was forced to believe that what he said wastrue.

  "Is there no escape for us?"

  "Don'no; whar's the Injins now?"

  "I don't hear them," replied Fanny.

  "Nuther do I. We must stay here jest as long as we kin."

  "But the barn is on fire! If we are going to get out at all, we must doso at once."

  "Don't hurry. The fire's all out to t'other end o' the barn. It won'thurt us jest yit," said Ethan, with wonderful coolness. "I s'pose theInjins is in a hurry, and they won't stop no longer'n they want to.Jest as soon as they move off we'll git out."

  "How shall we get out after the barn is all in a blaze?"

  "That's easy enough. I ain't a bit afeered of the fire, but I am peskyskeered of the Injins."

  The confidence of Ethan increased the courage of Fanny. She had more todread from the Indians than he had, and if he preferred to die by theflames, she ought to be willing to share his fate. She commended hersoul and that of her companion to God, and tried to be calm andresolute, and she succeeded to an extent which astonished herself.

  The fire was rapidly leaping upward, and the barn was soon enveloped inflames. The Indians could not now be seen through the cracks, nor couldtheir voices be heard, and the fire-besieged fugitives supposed theyhad gone to new fields of blood and rapine.

  "We can't stand it much longer--kin we?" said Ethan, as they heard thecrash of some falling timbers at the other end of the building.

  "We are not burned yet, but I am nearly suffocated by the smoke,"replied Fanny. "Do you suppose the Indians are gone?"

  "I reckon they be; but they hain't gone fur yit," added Ethan, as heapplied his shoulder to one of the boards on the side of the barn.

  "Let me help you," said Fanny.

  "You ain't nothin' but a gal, and you can't do much," replied Ethan.

  He was a stout boy, and the board, only slightly nailed, gave waybefore the pressure he applied to it; but it required a great deal oflabor to detach it from the timbers above and below. He had not begunthis work a moment too soon, for the flames were sweeping over thesurface of the mow, and the roof was falling in upon them. The barn wasstored full of new hay, which, being partially green, did not burn veryreadily, especially the solid masses of it. The heat was intense, andnothing but a greater peril without could have forced them to remain solong in the building.

  The first board was removed, and then a second, leaving an opening wideenough for them to get out. They were about fifteen feet above thelevel of the ground, but there was no difficulty, even to Fanny, in thedescent, though some young ladies might have regarded this minorobstacle as one of some importance. Ethan thrust his head out at theaperture, and looked in every direction his position commanded a viewof, in search of the Indians, but none of them were in sight.

  "Be quick, Ethan, or the fire will be upon us," said Fanny, who beganto feel the near approach of the flames above her.

  "Where shall we go when we get out? We must understand matters a leetlegrain aforehand."

  "I think we had better go down to the lake. We can take the boat and goover to the island."

  "That's fust rate," replied Ethan, with enthusiasm. "The Injins hain'tgot no boats, and can't foller us. Now we'll go down; but be keerful.It would be miser'ble to break your neck here, arter gittin' clear ofthe fire and the Injins both."

  Ethan descended, holding on at each side of the aperture with hishands, and thrusting his feet into the solid mass of hay in the mow.Fanny, adopting the same method, also reached the ground in safety.

  "'Sh!" said E
than, as he took her arm. "Run for them bushes!" and hepointed to a little thicket near the barn.

  Fanny ran with all her speed to the bushes, and concealed herselfbehind them. She was immediately followed by Ethan. The barn was nownearly consumed; the portion of the roof which had not before fallenin, now sunk down with a crash upon the masses of burning hay. The lakewas beyond the house, which they were obliged to pass in order to reachtheir destination.

  "I s'pose the sooner we start, the sooner we'll git there," said Ethan,after he had carefully surveyed the ground to ascertain if any savageswere near.

  "I am ready, Ethan. I will do whatever you say."

  "We'll go now, then. Foller me, Fanny."

  Ethan led the way, but they had hardly emerged from the bushes beforethey were appalled to find that they were discovered by their savagefoes.

  "Ho, ho, ho!" yelled the Indians from behind them.

  It appeared that Lean Bear and his companions had waited in thevicinity until the burning barn was so far consumed that it was notdeemed possible for a human being to remain concealed in it, and thenmoved off towards another part of the settlement. With watchful eyesbehind as well as before them, they had discovered the young fugitiveswhen they left the clump of bushes.

  "Ho, ho, ho!" shouted the painted wretches, as they gave chase to Fannyand Ethan.

  "Run for the house!" cried Ethan.

  "Why not for the lake?" asked Fanny, in an agony of despair.

  "They'll ketch you afore you git half way there. Run for the house!"

  They were both running with all their might; and Fanny, though againsther judgment, directed her steps to the house. As they approached theback door, an Indian boy and a squaw came out of the building, wherethey had probably been searching for such valuables as might haveescaped the hasty observation of the party who had sacked the premises.The boy was apparently about ten years old, and the woman appeared tobe his mother.

  Fanny, not suspecting any harm from a woman and so young a boy, stillran towards the door, being in advance of Ethan, who was chivalrousenough to place himself in position to cover the retreat of hiscompanion in case of need. To the surprise of Fanny, the squaw placedherself in her path, and attempted to seize her, uttering yells hardlyless savage than those of her male companions. The terrified girlpaused in her rapid flight till Ethan came up. The resolute fellow hadalready picked up a heavy cart stake, and when he saw the new andunexpected peril which menaced Fanny, he rushed forward, and though thesquaw drew a long knife and stood her ground, he dealt her a heavy blowon the head, which felled her to the ground.

  "Run into the house as fast as you kin, Fanny," said Ethan.

  She obeyed, and, in doing so, passed the scalped and mutilated form ofher aunt, which lay near the door. The sight made her sick at heart,and she had almost fainted under the horror induced by a single glanceat the ghastly spectacle. Such might, and probably would be her ownfate, for it was hoping against hope to expect any other issue.

  She reached the door, and clung to the post for support. Then she sawthat Ethan, instead of following her, was pursuing the Indian boy. Itwas but a short chase, for he immediately overtook the youth, and inspite of his yells, dragged him into the house with him. Ethan seemedthen to have a savage spirit, for he handled the boy without mercy,dragging him by the hair of the head, and kicking him to accelerate hismovements.

  The capture of the young Indian had been witnessed by the whole of thepursuing party, who yelled with renewed vigor when they saw him borneinto the house. When they reached the place where the squaw had fallen,they paused. The tall form of Lean Bear was seen bending over her, andit was plain that there was confusion in the counsels of the savages.

  "Hold this boy, Fanny," said Ethan, out of breath with the violence ofhis exertions, as he took from the belt of the little prisoner a smallscalping-knife, and offered it to Fanny. "Don't let him go, no-how;stick him ef he don't keep still."

  "I can hold him; I don't want the knife," replied she, as she graspedthe boy by the arms, bending them back behind him.

  Taking her handkerchief, she tied his arms behind him, so that he waspowerless to do her any mischief. She then cut off a portion of theclothes line, which hung up in the kitchen, and tied his feet together.In this condition, he was secured to a door. The boy looked cool andsavage; he did not cry, and ceased to struggle only when the bondsprevented him from doing so.

  "Now we are ready for sunthin'," said Ethan, as he appeared with twoguns and a revolver, which he had taken from their place of concealmentbehind the oven.