by Oliver Optic
CHAPTER XVII.
THE NIGHT ATTACK.
Fanny sang "Sweet Home" to the young Indian, with the feeling thatthere was no longer a spot on earth which she could call by thatendearing name. By this time, Mr. Grant, with Bertha and Fanny, were inEurope, and it would be months before she could see them again. Heruncle had probably been killed by the war party of Lean Bear, whilereturning to his home, as the possession of his horses by the Indiansindicated. Her aunt lay mangled and unburied near the house which hadbeen her happy home. The settlement was doubtless broken up anddeserted; for all who had not been killed or captured by the Indiansmust have fled to the woods and the prairies for safety.
The feeling of loneliness in Fanny gave to her song a touching pathos,which, with the sad sweetness of the melody itself, made the greattears roll down the bronzed checks of Ethan, and touched the heart ofeven the young savage. Wahena looked long and earnestly at Fanny, whenhe had finished his breakfast. The music pleased him, and its charmsliterally soothed his savage breast. She sang other songs, and he beganto make friendly demonstrations towards her, which ended in the offerof his hand. She accepted the proffered token of friendship.
Wahena spoke to her, but of course she could not understand a word ofhis language. He made signs, using the earnest gestures peculiar to theIndians. He shook his head, pointed to her, and then to the shore ofthe lake in the direction of the settlement. She thought he meant tosay that he would not permit his father to injure her; but she was notvery sure. The young savage was certainly disposed to be her friend,and manifested his interest in her by all the means within his power.
"Well, Fanny, it's about time for me to go to work," said Ethan, afterhe had observed the demonstrations between her and Wahena for a time.
"What are you going to do, Ethan? I thought you had no work."
"Plenty of it, I reckon. 'Tain't no use to groan over what can't behelped. We may as well make the best on't."
"Of course we will not complain of what we cannot help. Ethan, do youknow what my motto is?"
"Your what?" asked Ethan, with a vacant stare.
"My motto."
"That's sunthin' in Latin, or some outlandish lingo--ain't it?"
"Mine is in plain English."
"I've hearn tell of some Latin stuff they called a motto out inIllinois; I forgit what it was now."
"'_Hope and have_,' is my motto."
"What does that mean? 'Tain't Latin, but it might as well be."
"It means hope for the best, and then you will work the harder to haveit."
"Thet jest fits my case."
"The motto was given me by a very good girl in New York, who was dyingof consumption. They were the last words she spoke, and they wereengraved on her tombstone. I will tell you the whole story about hersome time."
"I should like to hear it, fust rate; but I reckon we've got sunthin'else to do jest now. I hope we shall hev sunthin' like a house for youto sleep in to-night."
"Hoping alone will not build the house, Ethan; besides, we don't hopemuch for that which we are not willing to work for."
"I know thet; and I'm go'n to work on the house right away now,"replied Ethan, as he rose from the ground, and took his shovel.
"I will help you, for I hope we shall have a house to keep us out ofthe wet if it should happen to rain."
"You are nothin' but a gal," said Ethan, rather contemptuously.
"But I can help you. How shall you build a house?"
"Well, I don't quite know."
"I can help you think, if nothing more, Ethan."
"So you kin, Fanny. You are right down smart. I don't know as we shouldever hev got over to this island ef't hadn't been for you."
"Do you think we could get the boat out of the water, Ethan?"
"I reckon we could," replied Ethan, rubbing his head to stimulate hisideas. "I kin cut some rollers, and kinder pry it along."
Fanny minutely detailed her plan for a house, which, after muchexplanation, was adopted. As soon as Ethan comprehended her idea, hebecame very enthusiastic for its execution.
"I reckon we must tie up the young Injin afore we go to work," said he,taking the cord, and moving towards Wahena.
The little savage looked appealingly at Fanny, placed his hand upon hisbreast, shook his head violently, and frequently pointed to the shoreof the lake. She interpreted his signs to mean that he would notattempt to escape, and she so informed Ethan.
"I dassent trust him," said he.
"He can't get away if he tries," replied Fanny.
"But he may take one of the guns and kill one on us."
"Put all the weapons out of the way, then, and I will keep watch ofhim," added Fanny, who wished to conciliate Wahena.
Ethan consented, and climbing the tree with his axe, he commencedcutting off the large branches which were to be used in theconstruction of the house.
The plan which Fanny had devised was a very simple one. The slope ofthe land on the island was about four feet to a rod. The bateau was tobe rolled up the acclivity about thirty feet, and turned bottom upward.The lower end was then to be gradually pried up until it was level withthe upper end, leaving a space of four feet under the higher part.Stakes were to be set in the ground under the gunwale to support theboat, and form the sides of the house. The smaller branches of the treewere to be interlaced in the stakes, beginning at the bottom, and thesods and the dirt thrown from the inside against this network, leavingthe ground level under the roof.
The bateau was sixteen feet long and five feet wide, and the mostdifficult part of the work was getting it out of the water, and movingit up the hill. Ethan and Fanny worked as hard as they could tillsundown with rollers and levers, when they had the boat in position,and the end elevated to the required level. Wahena showed his gratitudefor the freedom granted to him by assisting in the labor, and madehimself very useful.
After the party had taken their suppers, Ethan made a bed of theblankets and quilts for Fanny, under the boat, covering the open sideswith the sail and a coverlet.
"Where are you going to sleep, Ethan?" she asked.
"I ain't go'n to sleep nowhar," replied he.
"You are not going to stay up all night."
"That's jest what I'm go'n to do."
"What for?"
"S'pose'n them Injins should kim over in the night."
"I thought you said they could not get over here."
"I reckon they can't, ef I keep my eyes open."
"But you must sleep."
"Ef I do, I must do my sleepin' in the daytime. Ef we should all go tosleep hyer, we might wake up in the mornin', and find our throats cut.'Tain't safe, nohow."
"You have worked hard to-day, Ethan, and you must be very tired."
"I am kinder tired."
"We will take turns keeping watch, as they do on board a ship."
"I don't know nothin' about a ship."
"I will keep watch the first half of the night, and you may the otherhalf."
"S'pose'n the Injins should kim; what would you do then?"
"I can call you."
"Well, Fanny, ef you ain't very tired, I agree to it, for I feel jestas ef I should go to sleep now."
"I am not so tired as I have been, and not so tired as you are. I willtake the first watch. But do you really think the Indians will come tothe island?"
"I hope not, but they might."
"How do you expect them to come?"
"I dunno; but I shouldn't wonder ef Lean Bear sent some of his redskinsover arter that boy."
Fanny did not see how the savages could reach them at this distancefrom the main land, but she agreed with Ethan that it would be betterto keep watch, and be on the safe side. Wahena's hands were tiedtogether, and he was bound to one of the posts under the boat, in sucha manner that he could lie down and sleep comfortably. Ethan stretchedhimself on the bed he had prepared for his companion, and was soonasleep.
Fanny seated herself under the tree at the top of the hill. It was no
tyet dark, and she had a full view of the water on every side. Until alater hour there was no possibility of a hostile approach by theIndians, and she gave herself up to the melancholy reflections excitedby the tragic events of the day. Though a great many thoughts passedthrough her mind, there was only one which it is important to recordhere; and that was, the feeling that she was better prepared for thebitter experience upon which she had now entered than she would havebeen a few months before. If her friends knew that she was a changedbeing, the fact was still more evident to her own consciousness.
A religious faith and hope had sustained her in those terrible hours,when the shrieks of the mangled and the cries of the dying had piercedher heart, and when torture and death stared her full in the face.Ethan, in his own quaint terms, had confessed that her prayers and herunwavering trust in God had awed him and solemnized his mind, thusraising him to a level with the momentous issues he was to meet. Shefelt that her prayers for herself and the brave prairie boy had beenanswered, not only in their effect upon themselves, but more directlyin the turning aside of the knife which had been pointed at theirhearts. Renewedly she thanked God for his goodness; and renewedly, asshe thought of the dying Jenny, she felt that to hope was to have.
Thus thinking of the past, thus hoping and praying for the future, thedarkness gathered upon her, and with her mind thus illuminated bydivine wisdom, the words of the Psalmist seemed to be literallyverified, and even the darkness became light about her. As the shadesof evening deepened over her, cutting off her view of the distantshores of the lake, she felt the necessity of a more vigilantwatchfulness.
Hour after hour wore heavily away, and still Ethan slept. Fanny had noidea of the time of night, and could not tell whether or not it wastime to call her companion. She knew how hard he had worked during theday, and she resolved not to call him as long as she could keep awakeherself. Her position was by the tree; but in order to rouse her torpidfaculties, she took a walk around the island. When she reached the sideof their narrow domain where they had landed in the morning, she wasstartled by what she thought was a slight splashing in the water, at aconsiderable distance from her. After the manner of the Indians, shelay down upon the ground, and placed her ear near the surface of thelake, listening with trembling interest for any sounds which might beborne over the still waters.
This expedient satisfied her that she had not been mistaken in thesound. She distinctly heard the light dip of a paddle in the water,worked with the utmost caution. She was almost paralyzed with terror atthe thought of a night visit from the savages, and dreaded the sharpcrack of the rifle and the flashing of the knife. She strained her eyesto discover any object on the water, but she could see nothing. Shehastened to the house, and roused Ethan.
"I'm comin'," said he, only half awake, and turned over to finish hisnap.
"Ethan, Ethan!" gasped Fanny, shaking him with all her might, "theIndians are almost upon us."
If she had said Indians before, it would have awakened him in a moment.He sprang to his feet, and rushed out of the house.
"What's the matter?" he demanded.
"The Indians are coming--at least some one is coming, for I heard apaddle on the lake."
THE NIGHT ATTACK. Page 243.]
"The pesky sarpints! I was afeerd they'd kim. Whar be they?"
"They are coming from the settlement."
"Consarn 'em!" added Ethan, as he grasped his two guns, and ran down tothe shore.
He listened, and soon satisfied himself that Fanny's fears were notgroundless. He sent his companion for the revolver, and proceeded withgreat coolness and self-possession to make his preparations forrepelling the assault, for he had no doubt that one was intended. Itwas a full hour--an hour of the most intense anxiety and suspense tothe young exiles--before they discovered the wily foe stealthilyapproaching their retreat.
A little later they could see enough to determine that the assailantsconsisted of four Indians, on a raft. Two of them, on their knees, werepaddling the unwieldy craft, and the others appeared to be gazing atthe island.
Ethan had made a rest for the rifle of a crotched stick, for the piecewas too heavy for him to hold up to his shoulder. He took careful aimat the group of dark forms on the raft, and fired.
