It was truly an alarming instant. Just as Mabel touched the shoulder of her guide, three of the Iroquois appeared in the water, at the bend of the river, within a hundred yards of the cover, and halted to examine the stream below. They were all naked to the waist, armed for an expedition against their foes, and in their war paint. It was apparent, that they were undecided as to the course they ought to pursue, in order to find the fugitives. One pointed down the river, a second up the stream, and the third towards the opposite bank.
Chapter V
“Death is here, and death is there,
Death is busy every where.”
—Shelley, “Death,” ll. 1–2.
* * *
IT WAS a breathless moment. The only clue the fugitives possessed to the intentions of their pursuers, was in their gestures, and the indications that escaped them in the fury of disappointment. That a party had returned, already, on their own footsteps, by land, was pretty certain, and all the benefit expected from the artifice of the fire was necessarily lost. But that consideration became of little moment, just then, for the secreted were menaced with an immediate discovery, by those who had kept on a level with the river. All the facts presented themselves clearly, and as it might be by intuition, to the mind of Pathfinder, who perceived the necessity of immediate decision, and of being in readiness to act in concert. Without making any noise therefore, he managed to get the two Indians and Jasper near him, when he opened his communications in a whisper.
“We must be ready—we must be ready,” he said. “There are but three of the scalping devils, and we are five, four of whom may be set down as manful warriors for such a skrimmage. Eau douce, do you take the fellow that is painted like death; Chingachgook, I give you the chief, and Arrowhead must keep his eye on the young one. There must be no mistake; for two bullets in the same body would be a sinful waste, with one like the sarjeant’s daughter in danger. I shall hold myself in resarve ag’in accidents, lest a fourth riptyle appear, for one of your hands may prove unsteady. By no means fire until I give the word; we must not let the crack of the rifle be heard except in the last resort, since all the rest of the miscreants are still within its hearing. Jasper, boy, in case of any movement behind us, on the bank, I trust to you to run out the canoe, with the sarjeant’s daughter, and to pull for the garrison, by God’s leave.”
The Pathfinder had no sooner given these directions than the near approach of their enemies, rendered profound silence necessary. The Iroquois in the river were slowly descending the stream, keeping of necessity near the bushes that overhung the water, while the rustling of leaves, and the snapping of twigs soon gave fearful evidence that another party was moving along the bank at an equally graduated pace, and directly abreast of them. In consequence of the distance between the bushes planted by the fugitives and the true shore, the two parties became visible to each other, when opposite that precise point. Both stopped, and a conversation ensued, that may be said to have passed directly over the heads of those who were concealed. Indeed nothing sheltered the travellers, but the branches and leaves of plants so pliant, that they yielded to every current of air, and which a puff of wind, a little stronger than common, would have blown away. Fortunately the line of sight, carried the eyes of the two parties of savages, whether they stood in the water, or on the land, above the bushes, and the leaves appeared blended in a way to excite no suspicion. Perhaps the very boldness of the expedient prevented an exposure. The conversation that took place, was conducted earnestly, but in guarded tones, as if those who spoke wished to defeat the intentions of any listeners. It was in a dialect that both the Indian warriors beneath, as well as the Pathfinder, understood. Even Jasper comprehended a portion of what was said.
“The trail is washed away by the water!” said one from below, who stood so near the artificial cover of the fugitives, that he might have been struck by the salmon spear that lay in the bottom of Jasper’s canoe. “Water has washed it so clean, that a Yengeese hound could not follow.”
“The pale faces have left the shore, in their canoes,” answered the speaker on the bank.
“It cannot be. The rifles of our warriors below, are certain.”
The Pathfinder gave a significant glance at Jasper, and he clenched his teeth in order to suppress the sound of his own breathing.
“Let my young men look as if their eyes were eagles’,” said the eldest warrior among those who were wading in the river. “We have been a whole moon on the war-path, and have found but one scalp. There is a maiden among them, and some of our braves want wives.”
Happily these words were lost on Mabel, but Jasper’s frown became deeper, and his face fiercely flushed.
The savages now ceased speaking, and the party that was concealed, heard the slow and guarded movements of those who were on the bank, as they pushed the bushes aside in their wary progress. It was soon evident that the latter had passed the cover, but the group in the water still remained, scanning the shore, with eyes that glared through their warpaint, like coals of living fire. After a pause of two or three minutes, these three began, also, to descend the stream, though it was step by step, as men move who look for an object that has been lost. In this manner, they passed the artificial screen, and Pathfinder opened his mouth, in that hearty but noiseless laugh, that nature and habit had contributed to render a peculiarity of the man. His triumph, however, was premature; for the last of the retiring party, just at this moment casting a look behind him, suddenly stopped, and his fixed attitude and steady gaze, at once betrayed the appalling fact that some neglected bush had awakened his suspicions.
It was perhaps fortunate for the concealed that the warrior who manifested these fearful signs of distrust was young, and had still a reputation to acquire. He knew the importance of discretion and modesty in one of his years, and most of all did he dread the ridicule and contempt that would certainly follow a false alarm. Without recalling any of his companions, therefore, he turned on his own footsteps, and while the others continued to descend the river, he cautiously approached the bushes, on which his looks were still fastened, as by a charm. Some of the leaves, which were exposed to the sun, had drooped a little, and this slight departure from the usual natural laws, had caught the quick eyes of the Indian, for so practised and acute do the senses of the savage become, more especially when he is on the war-path, that trifles apparently of the most insignificant sort, often prove to be clues to lead him to his object.
The trifling nature of the change which had aroused the suspicion of this youth, was an additional motive for not acquainting his companions with his discovery. Should he really detect any thing, his glory would be the greater for being unshared, and should he not, he might hope to escape that derision which the young Indian so much dreads. Then there were the dangers of an ambush and a surprise, to which every warrior of the woods is ever keenly alive, to render his approach slow and cautious. In consequence of the delay that proceeded from these combined causes, the two parties had descended some fifty, or sixty yards before the young savage was again near enough to the bushes of the Pathfinder to touch them with his hand.
Notwithstanding their critical situation, the whole party behind the cover, had their eyes fastened on the working countenance of the young Iroquois, who was agitated by conflicting feelings. First came the eager hope of obtaining success where some of the most experienced of his tribe had failed, and with it a degree of glory that had seldom fallen to the share of one of his years, or a brave on his first war-path; then followed doubts, as the drooping leaves seemed to rise again, and to revive in the currents of air; and distrust of hidden danger lent its exciting feeling to keep the eloquent features in play. So very slight, however, had been the alteration produced by the heat on bushes, of which the stems were in the water, that when the Iroquois actually laid his hand on the leaves, he fancied that he had been deceived. As no man ever distrusts strongly, without using all convenient means of satisfying his doubts, however, the young warrior cauti
ously pushed aside the branches, and advanced a step within the hiding place, when the forms of the concealed party met his gaze, resembling so many breathing statutes. The low exclamation, the slight start, and the glaring eye, were hardly seen and heard, before the arm of Chingachgook was raised, and the tomahawk of the Delaware descended on the shaven head of his foe. The Iroquois raised his hands, frantically bounded backward, and fell into the water, at a spot where the current swept the body away, the struggling limbs still tossing and writhing in the agony of death. The Delaware made a vigorous but unsuccessful attempt to seize an arm, with the hope of securing the scalp, but the blood-stained waters whirled down their current, carrying with them their quivering burthen.
All this passed in less than a minute, and the events were so sudden and unexpected, that men less accustomed to forest warfare than the Pathfinder and his associates, would have been at a loss how to act.
“There is not a moment to lose,” said Jasper, tearing aside the bushes, as he spoke earnestly, but in a suppressed voice. “Do as I do, Master Cap, if you would save your niece, and you, Mabel, lie at your length in the canoe.”
The words were scarcely uttered, when seizing the bow of the light bark, he dragged it along the shore, wading himself while Cap aided behind, keeping so near the bank as to avoid being seen by the savages below, and striving to gain the turn in the river above him, which would effectually conceal the party from the enemy. The Pathfinder’s canoe lay nearest to the bank, and it was necessarily the last to quit the shore. The Delaware leaped on the narrow strand, and plunged into the forest, it being his assigned duty to watch the foe, in that quarter, while Arrowhead motioned to his white companion to seize the bow of the boat, and to follow Jasper. All this was the work of an instant. But when the Pathfinder reached the current, that was sweeping round the turn, he felt a sudden change in the weight he was dragging, and looking back he found that both the Tuscarora and his wife had deserted him. The thought of treachery flashed upon his mind, but there was no time to pause, for the wailing shout that arose from the party below, proclaimed that the body of the young Iroquois had floated as low as the spot reached by his friends. The report of a rifle followed, and then the guide saw that Jasper, having doubled the bend in the river, was crossing the stream, standing erect, in the stern of the canoe, while Cap was seated forward, both propelling the light boat with vigorous strokes of the paddles. A glance, a thought, and an expedient followed each other quickly, in one so trained in the vicissitudes of the frontier warfare. Springing into the stern of his own canoe, he urged it by a vigorous shove into the current, and commenced crossing the stream himself, at a point so much lower than that of his companions, as to offer his own person for a target to the enemy, well knowing that their keen desire to secure a scalp would control all other feelings.
“Keep well up the current, Jasper,” shouted the gallant guide, as he swept the water with long, steady, vigorous strokes of the paddle—“keep well up the current, and push for the alder bushes opposite. Presarve the sarjeant’s daughter, before all things, and leave these Mingo knaves to the Sarpent and me.”
Jasper flourished his paddle, as a signal of understanding, while shot succeeded shot in quick succession, all now being aimed at the solitary man in the nearest canoe.
“Ay, empty your rifles, like simpletons as you be,” said the Pathfinder, who had acquired a habit of speaking when alone, from passing so much of his time in the solitude of the forest; “empty your rifles, with an onsteady aim, and give me time to put yard upon yard of river atween us. I will not revile you, like a Delaware, or a Mohican, for my gifts are a white man’s gifts, and not an Injin’s; and boasting in battle is no part of a christian warrior; but I may say, here, all alone by myself, that you are little better than so many men from the town, shooting at robins in the orchards! That was well meant—” throwing back his head, as a rifle bullet cut a lock of hair from his temple—“but the lead that misses by an inch, is as useless as the lead that never quits the barrel. Bravely done, Jasper! The Sarjeant’s sweet child must be saved, even if we go in without our own scalps.”
By this time the Pathfinder was in the centre of the river, and almost abreast of his enemies, while the other canoe, impelled by the vigorous arms of Cap and Jasper, had nearly gained the opposite shore, at the precise spot that had been pointed out to them. The old mariner now played his part manfully, for he was on his proper element, loved his niece sincerely, had a proper regard for his own person, and was not unused to fire, though his experience certainly lay in a very different species of warfare. A few strokes of the paddles were given, and the canoe shot into the bushes, Mabel was hurried to the land by Jasper, and, for the present, all three of the fugitives were safe.
Not so with the Pathfinder. His hardy self-devotion had brought him into a situation of unusual exposure, the hazards of which were much increased, by the fact that just as he drifted nearest to the enemy, the party on the shore rushed down the bank, and joined their friends who still stood in the water. The Oswego was about a cable’s length in width at this point, and the canoe being in the centre, the object was only a hundred yards from the rifles, that were constantly discharged at it; or, at the usual target distance for that weapon.
In this extremity the steadiness and skill of the Pathfinder did him good service. He knew that his safety depended altogether on keeping in motion, for a stationary object, at that distance, would have been hit nearly every shot. Nor was motion of itself sufficient, for accustomed to kill the bounding deer, his enemies probably knew how to vary the line of aim, so as to strike him, should he continue to move in any one direction. He was consequently compelled to change the course of the canoe, at one moment shooting down with the current, with the swiftness of an arrow, and at the next checking its progress in that direction, to glance athwart the stream. Luckily the Iroquois could not reload their pieces in the water, and the bushes that everywhere fringed the shore, rendered it difficult to keep the fugitive in view, when on the land. Aided by these circumstances, and having received the fire of all his foes, the Pathfinder was gaining fast in distance, both downwards and across the current, when a new danger suddenly, if not unexpectedly presented itself, by the appearance of the party that had been left in ambush below, with a view to watch the river.
These were the savages alluded to in the short dialogue that has been already related. They were no less than ten in number, and understanding all the advantages of their bloody occupation, they had posted themselves at a spot, where the water dashed among rocks and over shallows, in a way to form a rapid, which in the language of the country, is called a rift. The Pathfinder saw that if he entered this rift, he should be compelled to approach a point where the Iroquois had posted themselves, for the current was irresistible, and the rocks allowed no other safe passage, while death or captivity would be the probable result of the attempt. All his efforts, therefore, were turned towards reaching the western shore, the foe being all on the eastern side of the river. But the exploit surpassed human power, and to attempt to stem the stream, would at once have so far diminished the motion of the canoe, as to render aim certain. In this exigency the guide came to a decision with his usual, cool, promptitude, making his preparations accordingly. Instead of endeavouring to gain the channel, he steered towards the shallowest part of the stream, on reaching which, he seized his rifle and pack, leaped into the water, and began to wade from rock to rock, taking the direction of the western shore. The canoe whirled about in the furious current, now rolling over some slippery stone, now filling, and then emptying itself, until it lodged on the strand, within a few yards of the spot where the Iroquois had posted themselves.
In the meanwhile the Pathfinder was far from being out of danger. For the first minute, admiration of his promptitude and daring, which are high virtues in the mind of an Indian, kept his enemies motionless, but the desire of revenge, and the cravings for the much prized trophy, soon overcame this transient feeling, and aroused
them from their stupor. Rifle flashed after rifle, and the bullets whistled around the head of the fugitive, amid the roar of the waters. Still he proceeded like one who bore a charmed life, for while his rude, frontier garments were more than once cut, his skin was not razed.
As the Pathfinder, in several instances, was compelled to wade in water that rose nearly to his arms, while he kept his rifle and ammunition elevated above the raging current, the toil soon fatigued him, and he was glad to stop at a large stone, or small rock, which rose so high above the river, that its upper surface was dry. On this stone he placed his powder-horn, getting behind it himself, so as to have the advantage of a partial cover for his body. The western shore was only fifty feet distant, but the quiet, swift, dark current that glanced through the interval, sufficiently showed that here he would be compelled to swim.
A short cessation in the firing now took place on the part of the Indians, who gathered about the canoe, and, having found the paddles, were preparing to cross the river.
“Pathfinder,” called a voice from among the bushes, at the point nearest to the person addressed, on the western shore.
The Leatherstocking Tales II Page 8
