The Frontiersmen Part 14

Singing-Bird--for she it was--was apparently not more than two-and-twenty years of age. She was of small, light stature, yet with a full and healthy development of body. Her features, although they possessed the distinctive Indian cast, were moulded into a beauty admirable to behold. Her complexion was a softening of the tawny-red of the warriors into a delicate tint, while her large, dark eyes were full of a gentle expression, that might, if need be, be exchanged for a wild and pa.s.sionate fire. Her long, dark, glossy hair flowed in graceful waves down her neck, and were gathered in rich folds over her brow. Her costume was that of a young Indian female of the period, beautifully and tastefully decorated with ornaments of beads and flowers. As Ichabod first beheld her, the prevailing expression of her countenance was that of a gentle sorrow.

Ichabod was surprised. He had never beheld the wife of Eagle's-Wing, and never before had he beheld a female figure the beauty of which so much surprised and delighted him. He gazed at her with a pleasure he could not conceal, and then, while a melancholy smile pa.s.sed over her countenance, he said--

"You have heard of me from Eagle's-Wing, perhaps, as an old friend? He and I have known each other as tried friends, in times gone by."

"I have heard of a pale-face," replied Singing-Bird, in a low, silvery voice, "who, on the war-path, saved the life of Eagle's-Wing, when he was in the hands of his enemies. I have heard it from Eagle's-Wing."

"That's a circ.u.mstance not worth mentioning; but Eagle's-Wing and I _are_ friends. He knows he can always rely on me, in any sort of a speculation. But I'm in rather a bad fix here; yet we can always find some way of doing our duty by a friend, if we try. But Eagle's-Wing is free, and isn't far from here--you may depend on that."

Perhaps the slightest trace of an expression of joy pa.s.sed over her countenance for a moment; but it was instantly subdued. With her eyes fixed upon the ground, she slowly said--

"I loved _once_ to look upon Canendesha--but he has pa.s.sed from my eyes."

"What!" exclaimed Ichabod with a start that fairly made the withes snap that were fastened upon his limbs.

A momentary look of agony clouded the face of Singing-Bird. She seemed endeavoring to speak, yet had not the power to command her organs of speech.

"Shall I tell Eagle's-Wing this?" exclaimed Ichabod, with indignation.

"Shall I tell him to go back to the villages of his nation, and forget his squaw? Or shall I tell him to come and deliver himself up to his enemies?"

With an effort that seemed almost to destroy her, but which was lost upon Ichabod, as he had given himself up to the mastery of his indignation--she softly answered--

"I have said. Let the pale-face speak my words to his friend."

It was not merely astonishment--it was shame, uncontrollable disgust, towards the fair being who stood before him, that, for a moment, kept Ichabod silent. When at last he found words to communicate his thoughts, he exclaimed--

"I wouldn't have believed it, if all the Senecas this side of the infarnal regions had told me! Such a beauty! Such a heart. I'll abandon the settlements: I'll thank G.o.d, night and day, that I've no wife! Poor Eagle's-Wing! Go and die. No; I know the heart of Eagle's-Wing. He won't die for a squaw. He'll wince a little, at first: but he'll have the scalps off the heads of the whole tribe of Senecas." Then, as if concentrating all his indignation into one breath, he glanced at Singing-Bird with a look of abhorrence, and exclaimed--"Go, you painted lie!" and threw himself over on his bed, so as to avert his gaze from her.

Meanwhile, Singing-Bird stood with her eyes riveted upon the ground, and her countenance as calm and impa.s.sable as chiseled stone. A look of agony had impressed it for a moment, but that had fled. Not a gesture--not a breath, denoted that she felt the indignant speech of Ichabod. At its close, however, her ear detected a slight rustling among the leaves, near the door of the hut, and Panther glided from among the boughs, and crept towards an adjoining lodge.

Scarcely had she seen the retreat of the Seneca chief, than the whole expression of her countenance changed--her figure became erect--a fire gleamed in her eyes--a look of intense hatred clouded her countenance.

Then, springing towards the bed of Ichabod, she exclaimed--

"It _is_ a lie. Look at me, friend of Eagle's-Wing. It _is_ a lie: the heart of Singing-Bird is with her husband. She thinks only of him. Tell Eagle's-Wing so. Tell him I shall soon fly from the Senecas."

Ichabod gazed on her now with admiration. Such consummate _acting_, though he thought himself skilled in Indian ways, he had never seen before. He had seen warriors die bravely, and, unmoved in the hour of peril, exasperate their enemies by words of reproach and shame: he had seen the Indian smile as the scalping-knife tore from his brow the lock of honor; but never did he imagine that one so young, so beautiful, so loving, could give to her countenance a look so false, with a heart so true.

"G.o.d bless thee, girl!" exclaimed he. "Give me a woman, after all, for stratagem. I don't know _when_ I shall see Eagle's-Wing, but when I do, I'll tell him if he don't s.n.a.t.c.h you from these red devils, he ought to be scalped by Panther himself. Who would have believed it?"

"Eagle's-Wing's friend don't hate Singing-Bird now?"

"Hate you? Lord love you, girl! Give me your hand----- Pshaw! I haven't got a hand to give you: but after this, girl, I'll always believe you, and will find some means to get you out of this sc.r.a.pe. When are these Indians going to leave here?"

"Don't know," said Singing-Bird. "They want to get Eagle's-Wing, first."

"It will be a long while, I reckon, before that happens. But I say,"

asked he, just thinking of the other captive who had been brought in that morning, "what other prisoner have they got here?"

"They brought in a pale-face girl. King George's man got her from cottage. She stays in hut with me."

"Ruth Barton, by all the devils!" exclaimed Ichabod. "Who do you say captured her?"

"King George's man: Guthrie, they call him."

Here was a new cause of wonderment. Guthrie was believed by Ichabod to have been killed by the Tuscarora.

"But I see into it, the white-livered villain. He'll get his pay for this. I say, Singing-Bird, I shall refuse to go on that rascally business for these Senecas. I suppose they'll be terribly mad about it, but I can't help it. Now, you see, you keep up this sham affair between you and Panther, and you can find some means to give me a hint of what's going on: and, I say, if you can, just bring me a knife. It gives a man a world of confidence, sometimes, to have a friend of that sort.

Eagle's-Wing and the Captin won't be idle, and we shall hear something from 'em before long; and, till then----"

He was interrupted by a gesture from Singing Bird, who immediately a.s.sumed the appearance she had worn while Panther had been in hearing of the conversation. At almost the same moment, Panther and Snake-tongue entered the hut; and, at a gesture from the former, she silently departed.

Ichabod had endeavored to a.s.sume the appearance of indignation which his countenance had worn during the early part of his conversation with Singing-Bird, and with some degree of success.

"My brother has heard the Singing-Bird of the Tuscaroras," said Panther; "he has learnt that the Senecas have not got forked tongues."

"I must confess," answered Ichabod, "that I'm ashamed of that girl. I wouldn't have believed it from anybody else, although I'm beginning to have great respect for the word of a Seneca. I wouldn't have believed it, if she hadn't told me so."

"My brother has heard the song he wished to hear," said Panther, allowing a look of triumph to pa.s.s over his countenance. "It is pleasing to my brother. He will now go with my young men, and be free."

"I've no kind of objection to being free, in an honest sort of way,"

answered Ichabod; "but about that business you mentioned, I've been thinking that I've lived pretty nigh fifty years, and I never yet deceived a friend--nor an enemy either, except in a lawful manner--and I guess I won't begin now."

"What does my brother mean?" asked Panther, giving way to anger. "Does he mean to eat his own words? Does my brother mean to lie?"

"Lie!" exclaimed Ichabod. "You can use that word in perfect safety, while you are there and I am here: but you give me a fair chance, and I'd endeavor to teach you better manners. But the plain English of the thing is--I shan't go on that rascally errand, any way."

"My brother is a great warrior," said Panther. "He is cunning as a fox.

He knows it well; but if my brother refuses to go, we will try and see how brave he is."

"If that means tortur' or anything of that sort," said Ichabod, quietly, "all I've got to say is, bring it on. I don't know whether I can stand all of your villainous inventions or not, and I ra'ally don't want to know; but if that is _your_ mind, I'll acquiesce, of course, seeing I can't help it."

"We leave our brother to his thoughts," said Panther. "He is brave, and will think it over, and be braver by-and-bye. We will let our brother know when we are ready."

So saying, the two Indians left the hut; and Ichabod, with a mind somewhat ill at ease, at the prospect before him, endeavored to follow the advice of the Senecas--although given by them for a contrary object--and gain strength of purpose by reflection.

CHAPTER XII.

"No tear relieved the burden of her heart; Stunned with the heavy woe, she felt like one Half-wakened from a midnight dream of blood."

SOUTHEY.

We shall be compelled to return upon the course of our narrative, for the purpose of giving a relation of the manner in which Ruth had fallen into the hands of the savages. Guthrie, who was supposed by Eagle's-Wing to have been slain, was really but little injured. The Tuscarora had followed him down the stairway unnoticed, and guided more by sound than by sight, in the darkness of the room below, he glided after the Tory until the latter had reached the door. He heard the attempt to remove the bar which secured it, when, with a silent but rapid blow of his tomahawk, he had, as he supposed, cloven the head of Guthrie to the brain; but owing to the darkness, in which the form of the latter could with difficulty be distinguished, the blow fell upon his left shoulder.

The pain as well as the surprise of Guthrie, had caused him to give the shriek which attracted the attention of those above, and which was followed by his fall upon the floor. As no further attack was made upon him by the Tuscarora, he rightly concluded that Eagle's-Wing thought the blow already given to have been fatal. With this impression he remained motionless, until the ill-advised _sortie_ of the defenders of the cottage offered him the opportunity to escape, when he sprung to his feet, and although suffering severely from his wound, rushed up the stairway with the intention of leaping from the window--a distance of ten or twelve feet, to the ground. But as he reached the upper floor, he saw Ruth, who had fallen upon her knees in the act of prayer for the a.s.sistance of Heaven towards the brave but few defenders of the cottage.

Instantly, Guthrie planned a scheme of vengeance, which was at once carried into effect. Advancing rapidly towards Ruth he said: