Ella Barnwell Part 13

Right! Mugwaha--right! I thank you for your interference--I was beside myself. The stake--the torture--the stake--ha, ha, ha!" added he in English, with a hoa.r.s.e laugh, which his recent pa.s.sion made sound fiend-like and unearthly; and as he concluded, he smote Algernon on the cheek with the palm of his hand.

The latter winced somewhat, but mastered his feelings and made no reply; and the renegade resuming his former pace, the party again proceeded in silence.

Toward night, Ella became so fatigued and exhausted by the long day's march, that it was with the greatest difficulty she could move forward at all; and Girty, taking some compa.s.sion on her, ordered the party to halt, until a rough kind of litter could be prepared; on which being seated, she was borne forward by four of the Indians. At dark they halted at the base of a hill, where they encamped and found a partial shelter from the wind and rain. At daylight they again resumed their journey; and by four o'clock in the afternoon arrived at the river, which they immediately crossed in their canoes; and, as the water was found in a good stage, did not land until they reached the first bend of the Miami--the place agreed on for the meeting between Girty and Wild-cat.

As the latter chief and his party had not yet made their appearance, Girty and his band went ash.o.r.e with their prisoners, and took shelter under one of the largest trees in the vicinity, to await their coming.

Of this expected meeting, the captives as yet knew nothing; and it was of course not without considerable surprise, mingled with a saddened joy, that they observed the approach, some half an hour later, of their friends and enemies.

Ella, on first perceiving their canoes silently advancing up the stream, started up with a cry of joy, which was the next moment saddened by the thought that she was only welcoming her relatives to a miserable doom.

Still it was a joy to know they were yet alive; and as the sinking heart is ever buoyed up with hope, until completely engulfed in the dark billows of despair--so she could not, or would not, altogether banish the animating feeling, that something might yet interfere to save them all from destruction. As the canoes touched the sh.o.r.e, Ella sprung forward to greet her adopted mother and father; but her course was suddenly checked by one of the Indian warriors, who, grasping her somewhat roughly by the arm, with a gutteral grunt and fierce gesture of displeasure, pointed her back to her former place. Ella, downcast and frightened, tremblingly retraced her steps, and could only observe the pale faces and fatigued looks of her relatives and the little girl at a distance; but she saw enough to send a thrill of anguish to her heart; and Girty, who perceived the expressions of agony her sweet features now displayed, at once advanced to her, and, modulating his voice somewhat from its usual tones, said:

"Grieve not, Ella. I will endeavor to procure you an interview with your friends."

The kindness manifested in the tones of the speaker, caused Ella to look up with a start of surprise and hope; and thinking he might perhaps be moved to mercy, by a direct appeal to his better feelings, she replied, energetically, with a flush on her now animated countenance:

"Oh, sir! I perceive you are not lost to all feelings of humanity." Here the compression of Girty's lips, and a knitting together of his s.h.a.ggy brows, warned Ella she was treading on dangerous ground, and she quickly added: "All of us are liable to err; and there may be circ.u.mstances, unknown to others, that force us to be, or seem to be, that which in our hearts we are not; and to do acts which our calm moments of reason tell us are wrong, and which we afterwards sincerely regret."

"I know not that I understand you," said the renegade, evasively.

"To be more explicit, then," rejoined Ella, "I trust that you, Simon Girty, whose acts. .h.i.therto have been such as to draw down reproaches and even curses upon your head, from many of your own race, may now be induced, by the prayer of her before you, to do an act of justice and generosity."

"Speak out your desire!" returned Girty, as Ella, evidently fearful of broaching the subject too suddenly, paused, in order to observe the effect of what had already been said. "Speak out briefly, girl; for yonder stands Wild-cat awaiting me."

"Oh, then, let me implore you to listen, and G.o.d grant your heart may be touched by my words!" rejoined Ella, eagerly, as she fancied she saw something of relentment in his stern features. "Look yonder! Behold that poor old man!--whose head is already sprinkled with the silvery threads of over fifty winters--beside whom stands the companion of his sorrows--both of whose lives have been spent in quiet, honest pursuits--whose doors have ever stood open--whose board has ever been free to the needy wayfarer. You yourself have been a partaker of their hospitality, in their own home--which, alas! I have since learned is in ashes--and can testify to their liberality and kindness. Is this a proper return therefor, think you?"

"But did not he, yon gray-headed man, then and there curse me to my face?" returned the renegade, fiercely, in whose eye could be seen the cold, sullen gleam of deadly hate; "and shall I, the outcast of my race--I, whose deeds have made the boldest tremble--I, whose name is a by-word for curses--now spare him, that has defied and called down G.o.d's maledictions on me?"

"Oh, yes! yes!" cried Ella, energetically. "Convince him, by your acts of generosity, that you are not deserving of his censure, and he, I a.s.sure you, will be eager to do you justice. Oh, return good for evil, where evil has been done you, and G.o.d's blessing, instead of His curse, will be yours!"

"It may be the _Christian's_ creed to return good for evil," answered Girty, with a strong emphasis on the word Christian, accompanied with a sneer; "but by ----! such belongs not to me, nor to those I mate with!

Hark you, Ella Barnwell! I could be induced to do much for you--for I possess for you a pa.s.sion stronger than I have ever before felt for any human being--but were I ever so much disposed to grant your request, it is now beyond my power."

"As how?" asked Ella, quickly.

"Listen! I will tell you briefly. When first I saw, I felt I loved you, and from that moment resolved you should be mine. Nay, do not shudder so, and turn away, and look so pale--a worse fate than being the wife of a British agent might have been apportioned you. To win you by fair words, I knew at once was out of the question--for one glance showed me my rival. Besides, I was not handsome, I knew--had not an oily tongue, and did not like the plan of venturing too much among those who have good reasons for fearing and hating me--therefore I resolved on your capture. I had already meditated an attack on some of the settlers in the vicinity, and I resolved that both should be accomplished at one time. The result you know. Younker and his wife became my prisoners.

This was done for two purposes. First, to revenge me for the insults heaped upon Simon Girty. Secondly, to spare their lives; for had it not been for my positive injunctions, they would have shared the fate of their neighbors. My design, I say, was to spare their lives and send them back, whenever it could be done with safety, provided they showed any signs of contrition. Did they? No! they again upbraided me to my face. I was again cursed. My blood is hot--my nature revengeful. That moment sealed their doom. I gave them up to Peshewa. They are no longer my prisoners. For their lives you must plead with him. I can do nothing.

Have you more to ask?"

Girty, toward the last, spoke rapidly, in short sentences, as one to whom the conversation was disagreeable; and Ella listened breathlessly, with a pale cheek and trembling form; for she saw, alas! there was nothing favorable to be gained. As he concluded, she suddenly started, clasped her hands together, and looked up into his stern countenance, with a wild, thrilling expression, saying, in a trembling voice:

"You have said you love me!"

"I repeat it."

"Then, for Heaven's sake! as you are a human being, and hope for peace in this world and salvation in the next--restore me--restore us all to our homes--and to my dying day will I bless and pray for you."

"Umph!" returned the renegade, drily; "I had much rather _hear_ your sweet voice, though in anger, than to merely _think_ you may be praying for me at a distance. But I see Wild-cat is getting impatient;" and as he concluded, he turned abruptly on his heel, and advanced to Peshewa--who was now standing with his warriors and prisoners on the bank of the stream, some fifty paces distant, awaiting a consultation with him--while Ella hid her face in her hands and wept convulsively.

"Welcome, Peshewa!" said Girty, as he approached the chief. "You and your band are here safe, I perceive; and by ----! you have timed it well, too, for we have only headed you by half an hour."

"Ugh!" grunted Wild-cat, with that look and gutteral sound peculiar to the Indian. "Kitchokema has learned Peshewa is here!"

"Come! come!" answered the renegade, in a somewhat nettled manner; "no insinuations! I saw Peshewa when he arrived."

"But could not leave the Big Knife squaw to greet him," added the Indian.

"Why, I am not particularly fond of being hurried in my affairs, you know."

"But there may be that which will not leave Kitchokema slow to act, in safety," rejoined Wild-cat, significantly.

"How, chief! what mean you?" asked Girty, quickly.

"The Shemanoes--"[9]

"Well?" said Girty.

"Are on the trail," concluded Wild-cat, briefly.

"Ha!" exclaimed the renegade, with a start, involuntarily placing his hand upon the breech of a pistol in his girdle. "But are you sure, Peshewa?"

"Peshewa speaks only what he knows," returned the chief, quietly.

"Speak out, then--_how_ do you know?" rejoined Girty, in an excited tone.

"Peshewa a chief," answered the Indian, in that somewhat obscure and metaphorical manner peculiar to his race. "He sleeps not soundly on the war-path. He shuts not his eyes when he enters the den of the wolf. He _saw_ the camp-fires of the pale-face."

Such had been the fact. Knowing that his trail was left broad and open, and that in all probability it would soon be followed, Wild-cat had been diligently on the watch and as his course had been shaped in a roundabout, rather than opposite direction (as the reader might at first glance have supposed) from that taken by Boone, he and his band, by reason of this, had encamped, on the night in question, not haif a mile distant from our old hunter, but on the other side of the ridge.

Ascending this himself, to note if any signs of an enemy were visible, Peshewa had discovered the light of Boone's fire, and traced it to its source. Without venturing near enough to expose himself, the wily savage had, nevertheless, gone sufficiently close to ascertain they were the foes of his race. His first idea had been to return, collect a part of his warriors, and attack them; but prudence had soon got the better of his valor; from the fact, as he reasoned, that his band were now in the enemy's country, where their late depredations had already aroused the inhabitants to vengeance; and he neither knew the force of Boone's party--for the reader will remember they were concealed in a cave--nor what other of his foes might be in the vicinity;--besides which, his purpose had been accomplished, and he was now on the return with his prisoners;--the whole of which considerations, had decided him to leave them unmolested, and ere daylight resume his journey; so that, even should they accidentally come upon his trail, he would be far enough in advance to reach and cross the river before them. Such was the substance of what Wild-cat, in his own peculiar way, now made known to Girty; and having inquired out the location distinctly, the latter exclaimed:

"By heavens! I remember leaving that ridge away to the right, which proves that the white dogs must have been on my trail. I took pains enough to conceal it before that night; but if they got the better of me, I don't think they did of the rain that fell afterwards--so that they have doubtless found themselves on a fool's errand, long ere this, and given up the search. Besides, should they reach the river's bank, they have no means of crossing, and therefore we are safe."

Wild-cat seemed to muse on the remarks of Girty, for a moment or two, and then said:

"Why did Mishemenetoc[10] give the chief cunning, but that he might use it against his foes?--why caution, but that he might avoid danger?"

"Why that, of course, is all well enough at times," answered Girty; "but I don't think either particular cunning or caution need be exercised now--from the fact that I don't believe there is any danger. Even should the enemies you saw be fool-hardy enough to follow us, they are not many in number probably, and will only serve to add a few more scalps to our girdles. However, we are safe for to-night, at all events; for if they reach the river, as I said before, they won't be able to cross, unless they make a raft or swim it; and you may rest a.s.sured, Peshewa, they will sleep on the other side, if for nothing else than their own safety."

"What, therefore, does my brother propose?" asked Wild-cat.

"Why, I am for encamping, as soon as we can find a suitable spot--say within a mile of here--for by ----! I am not only hungry but cold, and my very bones ache, from traveling in this untimely storm, which I perceive is on the point of clearing up."

"Peshewa likes not sleeping with danger so near," replied the savage.

"Well, I'm not _afraid_," rejoined Girty, laying particular stress on the latter word; "and so suppose you take the prisoners, with a part of the band, and go forward, while myself and the balance remain behind to reconnoitre in the morning; for by ----! that will be time enough to look for the lazy white dogs. Yet stay!" he added, a moment after, as if struck by a new thought. "Suppose you take the two Big Knives, and leave the squaws with me--for being very tired, they will only be a drag upon your party--and then you can have the stakes ready for the others, if you get in first, so that we can have the music of their groans to make us merry on our second meeting."

To this latter proposition, the chief gave a grunt of a.s.sent, and the whole matter being speedily arranged, the council ended.

The conversation between these two worthies having been carried on in the Indian dialect, was of course wholly unintelligible to Mrs. Younker and her husband, who were standing near; and trying in vain, for some time, to gain a clue to the discussion, the good lady at last gave evidence, that if her body and limbs were weary, her tongue was not; and that with all the warnings she had received, her old habits of volubility had not as yet been entirely superseded by thoughtful silence.