Part 7 (1/2)
It was now nearly day-light; and the first silvery rays of the morning were beginning to dispel the darkness. The moon had set sometime before, and as in the midst of the forest, it was almost impossible to discern his path, it was necessary that he should proceed with extreme caution.
Following noiselessly the rough path over which Ralph and Miss Barton had journeyed the day before, he hoped to reach the shanty by day-light.
A walk through the forest in a new country by night, to one unaccustomed to it, would not be likely to excite the most agreeable reflections. But Ichabod had in other times been used to all the dangers of the wilderness, and this morning walk had to him sufficient excitement to make it decidedly a pleasure. As he journeyed on, the silence by which he was surrounded was occasionally broken by the distant howl of a wolf.
Scarcely had the melancholy sound died in the echoes of the forest, ere an owlet's shriek would be heard, sharp and piercing, by his side--and in the next moment it would be answered by a cry that came mellowed from the distance. Then, perhaps, the rustling of dry leaves, or the cracking of a dry bough, indicated that some small animal was flying from his presence. Occasionally stopping for a moment, to listen if he could not catch sounds which would indicate the presence of something against which it would be necessary to guard himself he continued to advance in the direction of the hut, where on the evening before he had encountered the Tuscarora.
This hut or shanty, the precise location of which, with reference to the surrounding country, we have not described, was situated about a mile below the residence of Barton, at the foot of a hill which gradually rose on the western side to the height of one hundred and fifty or two hundred feet. On the east, at the distance of about thirty rods, was the river. Beyond the river were flats extending nearly half a mile in width; while nearly opposite the hut, a small stream came from the north-east, down a narrow valley, which gave to the valley just opposite the hut the appearance of a much greater width than it really possessed.
Ichabod arrived at the shanty at just about the hour he had calculated upon. The light of the morning had begun to creep through the woods, giving to objects an uncertain appearance. He approached it cautiously, listening if he might not hear some sound that would indicate the presence of the Tuscarora. Not receiving any such indication, he touched the door, which noiselessly opened, when he entered the hut. It was entirely deserted, and every trace of its recent occupation had been removed.
This caution on the part of the Tuscarora was strong evidence to Ichabod that enemies were near, and he at once saw the object of it. In case the hut should be visited, the Indian wished it to appear as if it had not been disturbed, so that no clue could be obtained to his motions.
Ichabod, who was an adept in the Indian mode of warfare, endeavored to discover in which direction the Tuscarora had departed. But this was no easy undertaking. He looked cautiously about for a trail, but the ground had been so much trodden the night before, it was a long time ere he could discover the print of the occasional foot of the Indian, and then only by the side of the hut where he had conversed with him. At length, moving off to the distance of six or eight rods from the shanty, he commenced walking about it in a circle with his eyes fastened upon the ground. He had proceeded but a few rods in this round before he discovered the footprint for which he was searching. The Indian, on leaving the hut, had evidently gone in a south-easterly direction towards the river.
The point, proceeding in the line taken by the Tuscarora, as which he would reach the river, would be at just about a hundred rods from the shanty. Ichabod followed, at once, in this direction; but advancing with extreme caution. His progress was necessarily slow, as he was obliged not only to examine the ground with great care to discover the footprints which the light step of the Indian had made, but also to observe if there were any signs of other Indians in the vicinity. At length, he approached the river, the margin of which, here, was covered with a thick growth of willows of about eight or ten feet in height, which rendered it almost impossible to get a glimpse of the water.
He had arrived within two rods of the sh.o.r.e, when, at once, he lost all traces of the Tuscarora. He was searching the ground intently to regain the trail he had lost, when he heard a slight sound in the direction of the river, like that made by a paddle slightly rubbing the side of a canoe. Stooping so as to be more thoroughly hidden by the willows, which were much thicker towards the ground, he advanced close to them, and endeavored to get sight of the object which had attracted his attention.
It will be necessary to explain, a little more fully, the precise situation of Ichabod with reference to the river. The line of willows we have mentioned, was about six or eight feet in width, and run in a north and south line, parallel with the course of the river; but immediately below where he stood, there was a thick clump of them, which extended some twenty feet from the apparent course of the river, directly towards the forest; so that Ichabod was not only protected by those in front, but he occupied a sort of cover formed by them in the sudden turn which they took towards the west.
Carefully pulling back a few of the twigs of the willows which skirted the river, and which impeded his observation, he now distinctly heard the sound of a canoe approaching from below. The river was here about six rods in width, and was of considerable depth, although the current was strong; which latter fact accounted for the sound he had heard--some effort being required to urge the canoe against the force of the water.
Shortly the canoe came in sight. Ichabod started as he beheld three Indians in it, whom he at once knew to be Senecas. His first impulse was to raise his rifle; but a moment's reflection taught him that such a course would be unwise. In the first place, although the new government had concluded as yet no formal treaty of peace with the hostile tribes of the Six Nations, yet as it was tacitly understood that such a treaty would soon be made, and all encounters had therefore been mutually suspended it would be criminal and improper to attack them except in self-defence, or the defence of his friends. Another reason, also came to his aid--although it is proper to mention that it was the last one that occurred to him--and that was, that if he succeeded in killing or disabling one of the Indians, he would still have the remaining two upon his hands, without possessing any adequate means of defending himself; while it was more than probable that there were other Senecas in the vicinity.
The Indians were moving very slowly against the current, and were evidently in search of some object which they expected to discover along the sh.o.r.e. Ichabod recognized one of these Indians as a subordinate chief of the Seneca Nation, whom he had encountered in some of the conflicts of the war; but who possessed a high reputation among his people, for boldness and cunning. The name of this chief was Panther, which he had received from the characteristics we have mentioned. As they came in sight, the canoe was not more than twenty feet from the position occupied by Ichabod, and he could distinctly hear the conversation between the chief and his companions, although they conversed in a low tone. Ichabod had learned enough of the dialect which was common to the Six Nations, to understand at once, the purport of the conversation. We will endeavor to translate, for the benefit of the reader, the language of the Senecas:
”Me no understand,” said Panther; ”saw canoe here, somewhere. No get out of water without seeing it.”
”Canoe light; gone up river p'raps,” said one of his companions.
”Canendesha got quick eye,” said the other Seneca; ”he cunning Injin. He won't let scalp go, if he can help it.”
A gleam of ferocity pa.s.sed across the swarthy face of Panther.
”Canendesha _is_ cunning and brave. His enemies will say that; but he has got the scalp of a Seneca, and I shall be ashamed to go back to the wigwams of my nation, if I do not take his. The Senecas are not squaws, to let a Tuscarora run off with their scalps.”
Slowly moving against the current, the three Indians had got both out of sight and hearing of Ichabod. Immediately behind him was a small knoll four or five feet in height. He had commenced moving towards it with the intention of getting a further view of the Senecas, whose business he now understood, when his attention was attracted by a slight waving of the willows in the centre of the clump which we have mentioned. Glancing sharply in that direction, with his rifle raised in a position to fire should it be necessary, he saw an Indian emerging from the willows, whom he knew at once to be the Tuscarora.
”No get _my_ scalp this time;” said Eagle's-Wing. ”I get another scalp first;” and he pointed to a bleeding trophy of a recent encounter, with all the pride with which a victorious general would have pointed to the capture of the standards and munitions of war of a vanquished enemy.
”What's the meaning of all this, Eagle's-Wing?” asked Ichabod, with evident disgust at beholding the bleeding trophy. ”Why has Canendesha dug up the hatchet, when the pale-faces and their Indian allies have buried it?”
”I no dig it up,” answered the Tuscarora, with energy; ”Seneca dig it up. I must have Panther's scalp too,” and he was about following the canoe up the river.
”Stop a moment, Eagle's-Wing,” exclaimed Ichabod, who laid his strong hand on the shoulder of his friend. ”I want to know the meaning of all this; you must not go after them Injins now. I hate a Seneca, on general principles, as much as you do; but it won't do to go scalping round in these days, without good reason for it. Let me know what's the matter, and if it's anything where a friend can help with an easy conscience, I'll rush into the speculation.”
Thus urged, the Indian, after a sufficient time had elapsed to satisfy the dignity of a chief, proceeded to relate one of those romances of the forest, which, in general feature, may not be very dissimilar to those of civilized life--the only difference consisting in the darker and wilder coloring which belongs to pictures of savage life. We will not attempt to give it in the precise words and with the manner of the Tuscarora, although we hope to exhibit in some degree the energy with which some portions of it were related.
It seemed that a short time before, a band of Senecas, for some purpose, had been hanging about the villages of the Oneidas and Tuscaroras, situated some fifty miles north of that portion of the valley about which we are now writing. Their business did not seem to be of a warlike nature, and frequent visits of ceremony had been exchanged between the chiefs of the once hostile tribes: and professions were made by the Senecas of a desire to unite once more the severed bond of union between the different nations of the confederacy. This condition of things existed for a few days, when it was announced by the Senecas that they were about to depart towards their own villages. The Tuscarora, the day before that announced for the departure of the Senecas, made them a visit of ceremony, accompanied by his young wife, whose Indian name, translated into English, was Singing-Bird. The visitors were treated with the utmost distinction, although Eagle's-Wing fancied that on one or two occasions he observed symptoms of a revival of the old feeling of hostility towards him, which the late conflicts had engendered. The band of Senecas consisted of about thirty-five warriors, under the command of Panther, whose treacherous and perfidious nature Eagle's-Wing was well acquainted with.