"Ugh!" ejaculated the sentinel, turning towards the speaker, as she concluded her fierce tirade, at the same time placing his hand on the tomahawk in his belt with an angry gesture: "Ugh! me squaw kill--she no stop much talky!"
"You'd kill me, would ye? you mean, dirty, ripscallious looking varmint of the woods you, that don't know a pin from a powder horn!" rejoined the undaunted Mrs. Younker, in a vehement tone: "You'd kill me for using the freedom of tongue, as these blessed Colonies is this moment fighting for with the tarnal Britishers? You'd kill me, would ye? Well, it's jest my first nateral come at opinion, as I tolled Ben here, not more'n a quarter o' an hour ago, that you war jest mean enough for any thing, as ever war invented, in the whole univarsal yarth o' creation--so ef you do kill me, I won't be in the leastest grain disappinted, no how."
"Don't, Dorothy--don't irritate the savage for nothing at all!" said her husband, who, raising his head at the first remark of the Indian, now saw in his fierce, flashing eyes, angry gestures, and awful contortions of visage, that which boded the sudden fulfillment of his threat: "Don't irritate him, and git murdered for your pains, Dorothy! Why can't you be more quiet?"
"Don't talk to me about being quiet, Benjamin Younker, away out here in the woods, a captive to such imps an them thar, with our house all burnt to nothing like, and our cows and sheeps and hosses destructed, and--"
Here the speech of the good woman was suddenly cut short by the whizzing of a tomahawk past her head, which slightly grazed her cheek, and lodged in the tree a few feet beyond. Whether it was aimed at her life and missed its mark, or whether it was merely done to frighten her, does not appear; though the manner of the savage, after the weapon was thrown, inclines us to the latter supposition; for instead of rushing upon her with his knife, he walked deliberately to the tree, withdrew the tomahawk, and then turning to her, and brandishing it over her head, said:
"Squaw, still be! Speak much, me killum!"
Be the design of the Indian what it might, the whole proceeding certainly produced one result, which nothing had ever been known to do before--it awed to silence the tongue of Mrs. Younker, just at a moment when talking would have been such a relief to her overcharged spirit; and merely muttering, in an under tone, "I do jest believe the ripscallious varmint is in arnest, sure enough!" she held her speech for the extraordinary space of half an hour.
Meantime the other savages finished their repast; and having offered a portion of it to the prisoners, which the latter refused, they proceeded to destroy their fire, by casting the burning brands into the rushing waters of the stream below. This done, they extended their circle somewhat--each placing himself by a tree or rock--and then in the most profound silence stood like bronzed statuary, apparently awaiting the arrival of another party. At last--and just as the sun was beginning to peep over the brow of the steep above them, and let his rays struggle with the matted foliage of the trees, for a glimpse of the roaring waters underneath--one of the Indians started, looked cautiously around, dropped flat upon the earth; and then rising, and motioning with his hand for all to be silent, glided noiselessly away, like the shadow of some evil spirit, into the surrounding thicket. He had scarcely been absen t three minutes, when a slight crackling among the brush was heard near at hand; and immediately after he rejoined his companions, followed by a party of eight Indian warriors, and two white prisoners, headed by a low browed, sinister, blood-thirsty looking white man, in a garb resembling that worn by a subordinate British officer. His coat was red, with facings of another color, underneath which was partially displayed a handsome vest and ruffled shirt. About his waist passed a broad wampum belt, in which were confined a brace of silver mounted pistols, another pair of less finish and value, a silver handled dirk, a scalping knife and tomahawk, on whose blades could be seen traces of blood. Around his neck was a neatly tied cravat, and dangling in front of his vest a gold chain, which connected with a watch hid in a pocket of his breeches, whence depended a larger chain of steel, supporting in turn three splendid gold seals and two keys. His nether garments were breeches, leggins, and moccasins, all of deer skin, and without ornament. His hat, not unlike those of the present day, was on this occasion graced with a red feather, which protruded above the crown, and corresponded well with his general appearance.
The Indian companions of this individual were not remarkable for any thing, unless it might be ferocity of expression. They were habited, with but one exception, like those previously described, and evidently belonged to the same tribe. This exception was a large, athletic, powerful Indian, rather rising of six feet, around whose waist was a finely worked wampum belt, over whose right shoulder, in a transverse direction, extended a red scarf, carelessly tied under the left arm, and in whose nose and ears were large, heavy rings, denoting him to be either a chief or one in command. His age was about thirty; and his features, though perhaps less ferocious than some of his companions, were still enough so to make him an object of dread and fear. His forehead was low, his eye black and piercing, and his nose rather flat and widely distended at the nostrils. He was called Peshewa: Anglice, Wild cat.
As the prisoners of the latter party came in sight of those of the former, there was a general start and exclamation of surprise; while the sad faces of each showed how little pleasure they felt in meeting each other under such painful circumstances. The last comers, as the reader has doubtless conjectured, were Algernon and Ella. Immediately on their entering the ravine, as previously recorded, they had been set upon by savages, their horses shot from under them, and themselves made captives. This result, however, as regards Algernon, had not been effected without considerable effort on the part of his numerous enemies. At the first fire, his horse fell; but disentangling himself, and drawing his pistols, he sprung upon the side of his dying beast, and discharged them both at his nearest foes--one of which took effect, and sent a warrior to his last account. Then leaping in among them, he drew his knife and cut madly about him until secured; though doubtless he would have been tomahawked on the spot, only that he might be reserved for the tortures, when his brutal captors should arrive at their destination. Meantime the animal which bore the lovely Ella, being wounded by the same fire which killed her companion's, bounded forward some twenty paces, when a blow on the head with a tomahawk laid him prostrate, and she was secured also. The party then proceeded to bury the dead, at some little distance, and start upon their journey, to join their companions--which latter we have just seen accomplished.
As soon as mutual recognitions had passed between the prisoners, the individual habited in the British uniform stepped forward, and said, jocosely:
"So, friends, we all meet again, do we, eh?--ha, ha, ha!"
At the sound of his voice, the old man and his wife, both of whom had been too intently occupied with Algernon and Ella to notice him before, started, and turning their eyes suddenly upon him, simultaneously exclaimed:
"Mr. Williams!"
"_Sometimes_ Mr. Williams," answered the other, with a strong emphasis on the first word, accompanying it with a horrible oath; "but now, when disguise is no longer necessary, Simon Girty, the renegade, by ----!--ha, ha, ha!"
As he uttered these words, in a coarse, ruffianly tone, a visible shudder of fear or disgust, or both combined, passed through the frame of each of the prisoners; and Algernon turning to him, with an expression of loathing contempt, said:
"I more than half suspected as much, when I sometime since contemplated your low-browed, hang-dog countenance. Of course we can expect no mercy at such hands."
"Mercy!" cried Girty, turning fiercely upon him, his eyes gleaming savagely, his mouth twisting into a shape intended to express the most withering contempt, while his words fairly hissed from between his tightly set teeth: "Mercy? dog! No, by h----l! for none like you! Hark ye, Mr. Reynolds! Were you in the damnable cells of the Inquisition, accused of heresy, and about to be put to the tortures, you might think yourself in Paradise compared to what you shall yet undergo!"
/> As he uttered these words, Ella shrieked and fell fainting to the earth. Springing to her, Girty raised her in his arms; and pointing to her pale features, as he did so, continued:
"See! Mr. Reynolds, this girl loves you; I love her; we are rivals; and you, my rival, are in my power: and, by ----! and all the powers of darkness, you shall feel my vengeance!"
"You love her?" broke in Mrs. Younker, who, in spite of her previous dangerous warning, could hold her peace no longer: "You love her! you mean, contemptible, red headed puppy! I don't believe as how you knows enough to love nothing! And so you're Simon Girty, hey? that thar sneaking, red-coat renegade? Well, I reckon as how you've told the truth once; for I've hearn tell that he war an orful mean looking imp o' Satan; and I jest don't believe as how a meaner one nor yourself could be skeer'd up in the whole universal yarth o' creation."
"Rail on, old woman!" replied Girty, as he chafed the temples of Ella with his hands; "but in a little lower key; or I shall be under the necessity of ordering a stopper to your mouth; which, saving the tortures of the stake, is the worst punishment for you I can now invent. As for you, Mr. Younker," continued he, turning his face to the old man, with a peculiar expression; "you seem to have nothing to say to an old friend--ha, ha, ha!"
"Whensomever I mention the name o' Simon Girty," replied Younker, in a deliberate and startlingly solemn tone, "I al'ays call down God's curse upon the fiendish renegade--and I do so now."
"By ----! old man," cried Girty, casting Ella roughly from him, and starting upright, the perfect picture of a fiend in human shape; "another word, and your brains shall be scattered to the four winds of heaven!"
As he spoke, he brandished his tomahawk over the other's head; while the child, before noticed, uttered a wild scream, and sprung to Mrs. Younker, at whose side she crouched in absolute terror.
"Strike!" answered Younker, mildly, with an unchanged countenance, his eye resting steadily upon the other, who could not meet his gaze in the same manner. "Strike! Simon Girty; for I'm a man that's never feared death, and don't now; besides, I reiterate all I've said, and with my dying breath pray God to curse ye!"
"Not yet!" rejoined Girty, smothering his rage, as he replaced his weapon. "Not yet, Ben Younker; for you take death too easy; and by ----! I'll make it have terrors for you! But what child is this?" continued he, grasping the little girl fiercely by the arm, causing her to utter a cry of pain and fear. "By heavens! what do we with squalling children? Here, Oshasqua, I give her in your charge; and if she yelp again, brain her, by ----!" and he closed with an oath.
The Indian whom we have previously noticed as the sentinel, stepped forward, with a demoniac gleam of satisfaction on his ugly countenance, and taking the child by the hand, led her away some ten paces, where he amused himself by stripping her of such apparel as he fancied might ornament his own person; while she, poor little thing, afraid to cry aloud, could only sob forth the bitterness of her heart.
Meantime Girty turning to Ella, and finding her gradually recovering, assisted her to rise; and then motioning the chief aside, he held a short consultation with him, in the Indian dialect, regarding their next proceedings, and the disposal of the prisoners.
"Were it not, Peshewa, for his own base words," said the renegade, in reply to some remark of his Indian ally, "I would have spared him; but now," and his features exhibited a concentrated expression of infernal hate and revenge; "but now, Peshewa, he dies! with all the horrors of the stake, that you, a noble master of the art of torture, can invent and inflict. The Long Knife[6] must not curse the red man's friend in his own camp and go unpunished. I commend him to your mercy, Peshewa--ha, ha, ha!" and he ended with a hoarse, fiend-like laugh.
"Ugh!" returned Wild-cat, giving a gutteral grunt of satisfaction, although not a muscle of his rigid features moved, and, save a peculiar gleam of his dark eye, nothing to show that he felt uncommon interest in the sentence of Younker: "Peshewa a chief! The Great Spirit give him memory--the Great Spirit give him invention. He will remember what he has done to prisoners at the stake,--he can invent new tortures. But the squaw?"
"Ay, the squaw!" answered the renegade, musingly; "the old man's wife--she must be disposed of also. Ha! a thought strikes me, Peshewa: You have no wife--(the savage gave a grunt)--suppose you take her?"
Peshewa s tarted, and his eyes flashed fire, as he said, with great energy: "Does the wolf mate with his hunter, that you ask a chief of the Great Spirit's red children to mate with their white destroyer?"
"Then do with her what you ---- please," rejoined Girty, throwing in an oath. "I was only jesting, Peshewa. But come, we must be on the move! for this last job will not be long a secret; and then we shall have the Long Knives after us as hot as h----l. We must divide our party. I will take with me these last prisoners and six warriors, and you the others. A quarter of a mile below here we will separate and break our trail in the stream; you and your party by going up a piece--I and mine by going down. This will perplex them, and give us time. Make your trail conspicuous, Peshewa, and I will be careful to leave none whatever, if I can help it; for, by ----! I must be sure to escape with my prisoners. If you are close pressed, you can brain and scalp yours; but for some important reasons, I want mine to live. We will meet, my noble Peshewa, at the first bend of the Big Miama."
The Indian heard him through, without moving a muscle of his seemingly blank features, and then answered, a little haughtily:
"Kitchokema[7] plans all, and gives his red brother all the danger; but Peshewa is brave, and fears not."
"And do you think it's through fear?" asked Girty, angrily.
"Peshewa makes no charges against his brother," answered Wild-cat, quietly.
"Perhaps it is as well he don't," rejoined Girty, in an under tone, knitting his brows; and then quickly added: "Come, Peshewa, let us move; for while we tarry, we are giving time to our white foes."
Thus ended the conference; and in a few minutes after the whole party was in motion. Following the course of the waters down to the base of the hills, they came to a sloping hollow of some considerable extent, where the stream ran shallow over a smooth, beautiful bed. Into this latter the whole company now entered, for the purpose of breaking the trail, as previously arranged by Girty; and here they divided, according to his former plan also.
If the unhappy prisoners regretted meeting one another in distress, their parting regrets were an hundred fold more poignant; for to them it seemed evidently the last time they would ever behold on earth each others faces; and this thought alone was enough to dim the eyes of Ella and her adopted mother with burning tears, and shake their frames with heart-rending sobs of anguish; while the old man and Algernon, though both strove to be stoical, could not look on unmoved to a similar show of grief. Since their meeting, the captives had managed to converse together sufficiently to learn the manner of each others capture, and give each other some hope of being successfully followed and released by their friends; but now, when they saw the caution displayed by their enemies in breaking the trail, they began to fear for the result. Just before entering the stream, they passed through a cluster of bushes that skirted the river's bank; and Ella, the only prisoner whose hands were unbound, by a quick and sly movement succeeded in detaching a portion of her dress, which she there left as a sign to those who might follow, that she was still alive, and so encourage them to proceed, in case they were about to falter and turn back.
The separation being now speedily effected, the two parties were quickly lost to each other--Girty and his band going down the bed of the stream some two hundred yards before touching the bank; and the others, headed by Wild-cat, going up about half that distance.
Leaving each to their journey, let us now return to the band already in pursuit.
[Footnote 5: Some historians have stated that the Indians here alluded to were Mingoes, and _not_ Senecas; and that they were a remnant of the celebrated Logan's tribe.]
[Footnote 6: Sometimes Big Knife--first applied to
the Virginians by the Indians.]
[Footnote 7: Great Chief--a term sometimes given to Girty by the Indians.]
CHAPTER IX.
THE PURSUERS.
About a hundred yards from where Boone and his young companions set forth, the dog, which was running along before them, paused, and with his nose to the ground, set up a fierce bark. When arrived at the spot, the party halted, and perceived the body of an Indian, slightly covered with earth, leaves, and a few dry bushes. Hastily throwing off the covering from his head, they discovered hideous features, wildly distorted by the last throe of death, and bloody from a wound in his forehead made by a ball. His scalp had been taken off also, by those who buried him--from fear, probably, that he would be found by enemies, and this secured as a trophy--a matter of disgrace which the savage, under all circumstances, ever seeks to avoid, both for himself and friends.
"Well done, Master Reynolds!" observed Boone, musingly, spurning the body with his foot, turning away, and resuming his journey: "You're a brave young man; and I'll bet my life to a bar-skin, did your best under the sarcumstances; and ef it's possible, we'll do somewhat for you in return."
"Well, ef he arn't a brave chap--that thar same Algernon Reynolds--then jest put it down as how Isaac Younker don't know nothing 'bout faces," returned the individual in question, in reply to Boone. "I never seed a man with his fore'ed and eye as would run from danger when a friend war by wanting his sarvice."
"Ay, he is indeed a clever youth!" rejoined Boone.
"Well, Colonel, he's all that," again returned Isaac; "and I'll al'ays look 'pon't in the light o' a sarvice, that you jest placed him in my hands, when he war wounded; for to do sech as him a kindness, al'ays carries along its own reward. And Ella--my poor, sweet cousin, as war raised up in good sarcumstances, and lost her all--she too I reckon feels kind o' grateful to you, Colonel, besides."
Bennett, Emerson - Ella Barnwell Page 11