The Black Eagle; or, Ticonderoga
Page 16
CHAPTER XVI.
There was the fate of another connected with the events of that night,of whom some notice must be taken, from the influence which hisdestiny exercised over the destinies of all. With greater promptnessand celerity than had been expected from him, even by those who knewhim best, Walter Prevost had executed the business entrusted to him,and was ready to set out from Albany, a full day, at least, before hisreturn had been expected by his family. Fortune had favoured him, itis true. He had found the commander-in-chief in the city, and atleisure. A man of a prompt and active mind had readily appreciated thepromptitude and activity of the lad; and his business had beendespatched as readily as circumstances permitted.
A boat sailing up the Hudson with some stores and goods for trafficwas found to convey him a considerable way on his journey; and he waslanding at a point on the western bank of the river, some seventeenmiles from his father's house, at the very moment that Mr. Prevost,Lord H----, and Edith, were mounting by the side of the little lake topursue their journey.
The way before him was rough and uneven, and the path somewhatintricate; but he thought he knew it sufficiently to make his way byit, before sunset, to a better known part of the country, and hehurried on with youthful confidence and vigour. His rifle in his hand,his knapsack on his shoulder, and a good large hunting-knife in hisbelt, with great agility of limbs and no small portion of bodilyvigour, he would have proved no contemptible opponent in the presenceof any single enemy. But he never thought of enemies; and all in hisbosom was courage, and joy, and expectation.
Whatever great cities, and camps, and courts might have offered,Albany, at least, a small provincial capital, filled with a staid andsomewhat rigid people, and only enlivened by the presence of aregiment or two of soldiers, had no attraction for him; and he washeartily glad to escape from it again, to the free life around hispaternal dwelling, and to the society of his father and Edith--andOtaitsa.
Steadily he went along, climbed the hills, strode along the plain, andforded the river. The traces of cultivation soon became fewer, andthen ceased; and, following resolutely the path before him, two hourspassed before he halted, even to look around. Then, however, he pausedfor a minute or two to consider his onward course.
Two or three Indian trails crossed at the spot where he stood, one ofthem so deeply indented in the ground as to show that its frequent useexisted from a very ancient date. Its course seemed to lie in thedirection in which he wanted to go, and he thought he rememberedhaving followed it some months before. Across it ran the settlers'way, broader and better marked out, but not very direct to hisfather's house; and he was hesitating which he should take, when thesound of creaking wheels, and the common cry used by ploughmen andteamsters to their cattle, showed him that some one was coming, whowas likely to give him better information. That information seemed themore necessary, as the day was already far on the decline; and he hadnot yet reached a spot of which he could be certain.
A moment or two after, coming up the lane in the wood, as we shouldcall it in England, appeared a heavy ox-waggon, drawn by four stoutsteers, and loaded with three women and a number of boxes; while bythe side of the rude vehicle appeared three men on foot, and one onhorseback, each very well armed, together with no less than five dogsof different descriptions.
Walter instantly recognised in the horseman the farmer who lived someten miles to the south-west of his father's house. The farmer was agood-humoured, kindly-hearted man, honest enough, but somewhat selfishin his way; always wishing to have the best of a bargain, if it couldbe obtained without absolute _roguery_, yet willing enough to sharethe fruits of his labour or his cunning with any one who might be inneed.
On the present occasion, however, he was either sullen or stupid; andit was indeed clear that both he and his male companions had beendrinking quite enough to dull the edge of intellect in some degree.Those on foot went on, without even stopping the oxen to speak withtheir young neighbour; and the farmer himself only paused, for amoment or two, to answer Walter's questions.
"Why, Mr. Whitter," said the young gentleman, "you seem to be movingwith all your family."
"Ay, ay," answered the farmer, a look of dull cunning rising to hisface. "I don't like the look of things. I've had a hint. I guess thereare other places better than the forest just now--though not so warm,mayhap."
"Why, what is the matter?" asked Walter; "has anything happened?"
"Oh no," answered the farmer, looking uncomfortable, and giving hisbridle a little sort of jerk, as if he wished to pass on. "Theforest's too full of Ingians for my notion; but as you and your fatherare so fond of them and they of you, there's no harm will come to you,I guess."
His manner was almost uncivil; and Walter moved out of his way withouteven asking the question he had intended. The man passed on; butsuddenly he seemed to think better of the matter, and turning round inthe saddle called out, in a voice much louder than necessaryconsidering the distance between them--
"I say, Master Walter, if you're going home, you'd better take thatdeep trail to the right, I guess. It's shorter and safer; and them reddevils, or some other vermin, have set fire to the wood on there. It'snot much of a thing just yet, but there's no knowing how it willspread. However, if you keep to the west, you'll get on. I'm going tomore civilized parts for a month or two, seeing I have got all mycrops in safe."
As soon as these words were uttered, he turned and rode after hiswaggon; and Walter at once took the Indian trail which the other hadmentioned. About half a mile farther on, for the first time, heperceived the smell of smoke; and as soon as he reached the summit ofanother hill beyond, the whole scene of the conflagration was beforehis eyes. Between the spot where he stood and his father's housestretched a broad belt of fire and smoke, extending a full mile to thenorth farther than he had expected from the vague account of thefarmer; and the cloud of brownish vapour had rolled so far up theopposite slope, that the lad could neither see the dwelling itself,nor distinguish what spot the fire had actually reached.
Ignorant of the absence of his father and sister, and well aware howrapidly the flame extended when once kindled in a wood after a longseason of dry weather, Walter's heart sank as he gazed. But he lost notime in useless hesitation. The sun was already setting, the distancewas still considerable, and he resolved to break through that fierycircle, if it were possible, and reach his home at once.
Onward he plunged, then down the side of the hill; and the moment hedescended the whole scene was shut out from his sight so completelythat, but for the strong and increasing smell of burning pinewood, anda feeling of unnatural warmth, he would have had no intimation that afire was raging close at hand. As he came nearer and nearer, however,a certain rushing sound met his ear, something like that of a heavygale of wind sweeping the forest, and the smoke became suffocating;while through the branches and stems of the trees a red light shone,especially towards the south and west, showing where the fire ragedwith the greatest fierceness.
Breathing thick and fast, he hurried on, lighted by the flames alone,for the sun had sunk by this time, and the dense cloud of smoke whichhung over this part of the wood shut out every star, till at length hereached the very verge of the conflagration. Some hundreds of acreslay before him, with trees, some fallen one over the other, some stillstanding, but deprived of foliage, and with masses of brushwood andlong trailing parasites, all in fiery confusion and glowing withintense heat.
To proceed in that direction he felt was death. He could hardlybreathe; his face seemed scorched and burning; and yet the drops ofperspiration rolled heavily from his forehead. Retreating a little toescape the heat, he turned his steps northward; but by this time hehad lost the trail, and was forcing his way through the brushwood,encumbered by his rifle and knapsack, when, suddenly, by the light ofthe fire shining through the trees, he saw a dark figure, some twentyor thirty yards before him, waving to him eagerly and apparentlycalling to him also. The roar and crackling of the burning wood weretoo loud for any other so
unds to be heard, but the gestures of thefigure seemed to direct him towards the south again, and obeying thesigns, he soon found himself once more upon an Indian trail.
The next instant, the figure he had seen was upon the same path, and alittle nearer. It was that of an Indian; but, in the smoky light,Walter Prevost could not distinguish the tribe or nation. He advancedcautiously, then, with his thumb upon the cock of the rifle; but, assoon as he was within hearing, the man called to him, in the Oneidatongue, and in a friendly tone, telling him to follow, and warning himthat death lay to the westward.
Thrown off his guard by such signs of interest, the lad advanced witha quick step, and was soon close to his guide, though the man walkedfast.
"Is the house burnt, brother?" asked the youth, eagerly.
"What, the lodge of the pale-face?" returned the Indian. "No--itstands fast."
"Thank God for that!" ejaculated Walter Prevost, in English.
But the words had hardly passed his lips, when he suddenly felt hisarms seized; his rifle was wrested from his hands, and he himself castbackward on the ground. Two savage faces glared above him, and heexpected to see the gleam of the deadly tomahawk the next instant.
"What now?" he exclaimed, in Oneida; "am I not your brother? Am I notthe son of the Black Eagle--the friend of the children of the Stone?"
There was no answer; but in dead silence the Indians proceeded withrapid hands to bind his arms with thongs of deer-skin, and then,raising him on his feet, forced him to retread his steps along thevery trail which had brought him thither.