CHAPTER XXXVII.
The storm, prognosticated from the red aspect of the setting sun onthe night before, had not descended when Edith Prevost left the doorof her father's house. No raindrops fell, no wind even stirred thetrees; and it was only a sort of misty obscurity to the westward whichgave token, to eyes well acquainted with the forest, that the promiseof the preceding sunset would yet be fulfilled. Overhead, all wasclear and blue; and the sun, though some white haze hung round itsbroad disk, was powerful for the season of the year.
Edith's companions were only Chando the negro, the good woman SisterBab, whose kindness, faithfulness, and intelligence had all beentried, and Woodchuck, who refused to take a horse from the stable, butset out on foot by Edith's side.
"You can't canter a step of the way, Miss Edith," he said; "so I cankeep up with you, I guess; for the road, such as it is, is betterfitted for two feet than four."
As she turned from the door, tears were in Edith's eyes, arising frommany a mingled source. She had seen her father and him whom she lovedas well, though differently, depart suddenly to danger and to battle.Her brother was far away, and she could not help thinking him still inperil. Not only was the future of all uncertain--for so the future ofevery one is--but the uncertainty was dark, and, as it were, moretangible than is generally the case with the dim, misty approach ofthe coming time. There was not only a cloud, but the cloud wasthreatening.
Nor was this all. There are times in the course of almost every life,when some little event, some marking point in the journey ofexistence, causes the mind to pause and review the past--to comparethe present state with a state gone by. It is rarely that thecontemplation has not something painful in it, both on account of theheart's self-deceit and waywardness, which teaches us always toestimate gains less than losses; and, also, because in our warfarewith the world (except in very early youth) the gains, however highlywe may estimate them, are, as in all other warfares, really less thanthe losses. We may have attained that which we desire; but, nine timesout of ten, we find that we have over-appreciated the object; and,when we come to sum up the cost in health, happiness, purity of mind,exertion, care, anxiety, and all the pieces of coin with which manpurchases success, we frequently find that we have bought the victorytoo dear--that that which we have obtained was not worth all we haveexchanged for it.
The moment of departure from her father's door was one of thosepausing-places of the mind for Edith Prevost. She did not cast herthoughts far back: she took in but a little range; six months was thelimit. But she remembered how calmly happy she had been in thatdwelling six months before. Her father, her brother, were both therewith her; sweet natural affections had garlanded the doorposts, andtranquil hours of unagitated enjoyment had been the sunshine of herpath. All that was necessary, much that was superfluous, she hadpossessed; and if she, as all other mortal beings, had not beenabsolutely content--if she, like every other girl, had felt a want, avacancy of the heart, a capability of love unexercised, which neitherfilial nor fraternal affection could supply,--still it had been but avague, indefinite feeling that there was something more in life thanshe had yet known--one crowning blessing not yet possessed. She hadbeen very happy, though there had been the one thing wanting.
Now, that one thing had been attained--Heaven knows without herseeking it. She loved, and was beloved. But, oh! how sadly changed wasall the rest! Her brother afar, with a dark fate hanging over him--herfather gone upon a path of peril. And love, what had love left her?Anxiety, keen, terrible anxiety, which might well counterbalance forsome portion, at least, of all the sweetness of the bright blessing.
She mused sadly, gazing down upon the horse's neck, and hardly seeingor thinking of the way she took. In the mean time, Woodchuck trudgedon by her side, with his head erect, his face lifted towards the sky,his pace steady and assured. Edith suddenly and almost unconsciouslyturned her eyes towards him. There was a tranquil elevation in hiscountenance, a lofty resolution in his look, which gave her thoughts,in a moment, another direction. She was parting from a well-loved homeand cherished associations, with some clouds hanging over her, withsome anxieties dogging her path, but with a probability of soonreturning, and with many a sweet promise of future happiness. Yet shewas sad and downcast. Woodchuck was marching onward, wittingly andvoluntarily, to a certain and terrible death; and yet his march wastranquil, firm, and resolute. She felt ashamed of her tears. Nay more,as thought ran on, she said to herself,--
"There is something more in life, something higher, nobler, granderthan any human passion, than any mortal enjoyment, than any mereearthly peace, can give--something that comes from Heaven to aid andsupport us in our struggles here below. My poor companion knows andfeels that he is doing his duty, that he is acting according to thecommandment of his God; and he is calm and firm in the presence ofdeath, and in the separation from all earthly things. And I--what haveI to suffer, what have I to fear, in comparison with him?"
She made a great effort; she shook off her sadness; she wiped thetears from her eyes, and said a few words to Woodchuck in a quiettone. He answered briefly to her actual words, but then turned at onceto the feelings which he believed to be in her heart.
"Ah, Miss Prevost," he said, "it's a sad thing for a young lady likeyou to part, for the first time, with those she loves when they aregoing to battle; and I don't know that a woman's heart ever getsrightly accustomed to it. But it don't do to love anything too well inthis world--no, not even one's own life. It's a sad stumbling-block,both in the way of our duty and our happiness. Not that I'd havepeople keep from loving anything. That would never do. They wouldn'tbe worth having if they couldn't love their friends, and love themvery well; but, I guess, the best way is to recollect always, whenwe've got a thing, that it is but a loan--life itself, all the same aseverything else. It's all lent, and all will be recalled; only, yousee, my dear young lady, we've got a promise that, if we use whatwe've had lent to us well, it shall be given to us for ever hereafter,and that should always be a comfort to us. It is to me."
A slight sigh followed his words, and he walked on in silence for aminute or two, probably pursuing the course which he had laid down forhimself in his very excellent philosophy, of marching on straight to ahigh object, and casting from him all thought of the unavoidablesufferings of the way. Soon after, he looked up to the sky, andsaid,--
"It's getting wonderfully black out there. I should not wonder if wehad a flaw of wind and a good soaking rain. I say, Master Chando, putthat bear-skin over the young lady's baggage, and hold the horsebetter in hand, or you'll have him down amongst these stumps. You ridebetter than you lead, my friend."
The negro grinned at him, but did as he was directed; and, a fewminutes after, they issued out of the wood upon a small open space ofground extending over the side of a slight eminence. The view thencewas prolonged far to the westward in a clear day, showing somebeautiful blue hills at the distance of eight or nine miles. Thosehills, however, had now disappeared; and in their place was seen whatcan only be called a dense black cloud, although those words give avery inadequate idea of the sight which presented itself to Edith'seye. It was like a gigantic wall of black marble, with a faint, white,irregular line at the top. But this wall evidently moved, comingforward with vast rapidity, although, where the travellers were, not abreath of air was felt. On it rushed towards them, swallowing upeverything in its own obscurity. Each instant some tree, someundulation of the ground, some marking object in the prospect,disappeared in its deep gloomy shadow; and for a few moments Edith satstill upon her horse, gazing in awe and even in terror. Woodchuckhimself seemed for an instant overpowered; but then he caught Edith'srein, and turned her horse, exclaiming,--
"Back, Miss Prevost, back, as fast as possible! That's the blackestcloud I ever see in all my days. There, there, to the east'ard! Getunder them big old hemlocks. Keep away from the pines and the smalltrees. A tree had need to have been fastening to the ground for ahundred years to stand what's coming."
As he s
poke, he ran fast on by the side of Edith's horse till theyreached the edge of the wood, and there he checked her progress.
"Not too far in; not too far in! You must be ready to jump out if youfind that these old fellows begin crashing."
He then left her bridle, and walked carefully round several of thetrees, examining their trunks and roots with a very critical eye, toascertain that they were firmly fixed and not decayed; and then,approaching Edith again, he held out his hand, saying,--
"Jump down! Here's one will do. He must ha' stood many a hard stormand bitter blast, and p'r'aps will bear this one too; for he's assound as when he started up a little twig out of the ground, beforethe eye of any mortal man now living winked in the sunshine--ay, orhis father's either. Here, Chando, take the horses and grip them alltight, for depend upon it they'll caper when the wind and rain come.Now, my dear, put yourself on this side of the tree, keep close tohim, and listen well. You may find him shiver and sway a bit, butdon't mind that, for he's not so tall as the rest, and twice as stout;and what makes me trust him is, that in some storm his head has beenbroken off, and yet his feet have stood stout. He won't catch so muchwind as the others, and I think he'd stand it if he did. But if youhear him begin to cranch, jump clear out here to the left into theopen ground. He'll fall t'other way. If you keep close, the brancheswon't strike you when they fall, and the rain won't get at you; forit's taking a long sweep."
The next moment, it came. The wind, blowing with the force of ahurricane, rushed over the valley below; the leaves were torn off, thesmall twigs, with their umbrageous covering, were carried aloft intothe air and scattered; a few large drops of rain fell; and then thewhole force of the tempest struck the hill-side and the more openforest where Edith stood. In an instant, the scene of confusion anddestruction was indescribable. The gusts seemed to hiss as they passedthrough the boughs of the trees and between the tall stems. Largebranches were torn off and scattered far; the young pines and birchesbent before the force of the storm. As in the case of war andpestilence, the weak and the sickly and the young and the decayedsuffered first and most. Wherever the roots had not got a firm hold ofthe ground--wherever the thawing of the spring, or the heavy rains,had washed away the earth or loosened it--the trees came thunderingand crashing down, and the din was awful; the howling wind, thebreaking branches, the falling tree, all joining in the roar; and thepattering rain, rustling and rushing amongst the withered leaves leftby the winter, became at length thicker and more dense, till it seemedas if a river was falling down from the sky, hardly separated intodrops, rather than a fertilizing shower passing over the landscape.
Edith gazed round her in affright, for she could, as Woodchuck hadpredicted, feel the enormous but low-stemmed hemlock against which hehad placed her tremble and quiver with the blast; and a number oflarge trees hard by were rooted up, and cast prostrate, bearing theturf and earth in which they had stood, up into the air; while, hereand there, some more firmly fixed in the ground, but defective higherup, snapped in the midst, and the whole upper part was carried manyyards away. But, though she gazed, little was the distance she couldsee, so thick and black was the covering of the sky; while all around,what between the close-falling deluge and a sudden mist rising up fromthe earth, the sort of twilight that the storm-cloud left, wasrendered hazy and still more obscure.
The two negroes, as usual with that race, were clamorous and excited,adding the noise of their tongues to the roar of the tempest; but thehorses, contrary to the expectation of Woodchuck, seemed cowed andparalyzed by fear. Instead of attempting to break loose and rush away,they merely turned from the wind and rain; and with hoofs set firm,and drooping heads, abode the storm, with now and then a shiveringthrill, showing the terror that they felt. Woodchuck himself stoodsilent close by Edith, leaning his strong shoulder against the tree,and, with his eyes bent down upon the ground, seemed to lose himselfin heavy thought. A man who has parted with the world and the world'shopes, is tempest-proof.
After the first rush of the storm, there came a lull: and then anotherfierce roar, and more falling trees and crashing branches. The wholeforest swayed and bent like a feather in a breeze, and down came thetorrents from the sky more furiously than ever. But, in the midst ofall, Woodchuck started, leaned his head a little on one side, andseemed to listen, with his eyes fixed upon vacancy.
"What is the matter?" asked Edith, alarmed by his look.
"I thought I heard a footfall," he answered.
"In the roar of such a storm!" exclaimed Edith. "It must have beensome falling branch."
He only smiled for an answer; but still he listened, and she could seehim lift his arm a little from the lock of his rifle on which it hadbeen tightly pressed, and look down upon it to see that it was dry.
The next moment, however, he resumed his ordinary attitude, and said,in a quiet tone,--
"It's all nonsense, however. The Indians are all quiet and friendly onthis side of the lake. But you see, Miss Prevost, I have been for somany months on the watch every minute, not knowing whether I shouldnot feel the scalping-knife or the tomahawk the next, that I have gotover-wary. The Mohawks are all on the move about here, and no Huronsor any other of our enemies would venture across, except in a largebody, to fight a regular battle. It must have been the tread of somefriendly Ingian I heard, though they don't usually leave the trail,except when they've some object in view."
"But is it possible you could hear anything distinctly amidst thisawful noise?" asked Edith. "Are you sure you were not mistaken?"
"Oh no, I'm not like to be mistaken," answered Woodchuck. "One's earsget sharp with continual listening. I'm pretty sure it was a foot Iheard, and a man's foot too. It seemed to me as if it had slipped offa loose stone, hidden under the leaves, and come down harder, perhaps,than he expected. But that's no proof that he meant mischief, forthey've all got those cat-like sort of ways, creeping about silently,whether there's 'casion for it or not; and, as I said just now,they're all friendly here on this side of Horicon."
A few moments' silence succeeded; the wind once more swelled up, ragedfor a minute or two, and then fell again a little; and Woodchuck,putting out his head from beyond the shelter of the great trunk,observed, "It seems to me to be getting a little clearer there to thewest'ard. I guess it won't last more nor half an hour longer."
Almost as he spoke, from every side but that which opened upon thehill, came a yell, so loud, so fierce, so fiend-like, that, ere sheknew what she was doing, Edith, under the sudden impulse of terror,darted at once away from the tree into the open space, and ran a fewsteps, till her long riding-dress caught round her feet, and she fellupon the grass. At the same instant, she felt a strong arm seize herby the shoulder, and heard the rattle of a rifle; and, turning herhead in mute terror, she beheld the gleaming eyes and dark countenanceof an Indian, rendered more hideous by the half-washed-off war-paint,bending over her. His tomahawk was in his right hand; her last hourseemed come; but so sudden, so confounding, had been the attack, thatshe could not collect her ideas. She could not speak, she could notthink, she could not pray. The weapon did not fall, however; and thesavage dragged her up from the ground, and gazed upon her, utteringsome of the uncouth exclamations of his people, in tones ofsatisfaction, and even merriment.
One hurried glance around for help, showed Edith that all hope forhelp was vain; and no words can describe her horror at the scene shesaw. At the moment when she looked round, a tomahawk, in the hands ofa gigantic Indian, was falling on the head of the poor negro Chando,and the next instant a wild shrieking yell told that his agony wascome and gone. Woodchuck, hatchet in hand, was battling for lifeagainst another savage, and seemed nearly, if not quite, his match;but eight or ten more Indians were rushing up, yelling like wolves asthey came; and, in the midst of the struggle, while the hatchets wereplaying and flashing round the heads of the combatants, a young andactive Indian sprang upon the poor hunter from behind, and threw himbackwards on the earth.
Woodchuck lay perfectly still and moti
onless, gazing up at thetomahawk lifted over his head; but, at that instant, the young Indianput his arm upon his companion's naked breast, and pushed himviolently back, with a loud exclamation in the Iroquois tongue. Then,seizing the hand of Woodchuck, he pulled up the sleeve of hishunting-shirt, and pointed to a blue stripe tattooed upon his arm.
The lifted hand and tomahawk of the other sunk slowly by his side; andWoodchuck sat up, and gazed around him, but without attempting to risealtogether from the ground.
Five or six of the Indians came quietly up; and, some kneeling, somebending down, gazed upon the blue line, while the savage who hadseized upon Edith, dragged her forward to the spot, and, still holdingher fast, gazed likewise. Several quick and muttered words succeededamongst their captors, a few only of which Edith heard and understood.
"It's the sign! it's the sign!" cried one. Then came a sentence or twothat escaped her ear; and then another vociferated, "Ask him! askhim!"
One of the Indians next seated himself on the ground before Woodchuck,spread out his hands like a fan, and addressed some words to him,which Edith, notwithstanding her perfect knowledge of the Iroquoislanguage in most of its dialects, did not in the least comprehend. Theanswer of Woodchuck was equally unintelligible to her; and the onlyword which she caught was "Honontkoh."
The moment he had spoken, two of the Indians placed their hands underhis arms, and raised him from the ground. They took the precaution ofdisarming him entirely; and then, gathering round, they talked quicklyand eagerly in low tones. But now they spoke a language which Edithunderstood; and, though she did not catch all that was said, she heardenough to show her that they were discussing what was to be done withherself and Woodchuck, whom, it seemed to her, that from some causethey recognized as a brother.
Suddenly, the savage who held her pressed his fingers tighter upon herarm, exclaiming aloud, in a fierce, angry voice,--"She is mine! I willdispose of her as I please!"
"No one will oppose the brother of the Snake," said another and olderman. "Scalp her when thou wilt; where canst thou carry her if thoudost not slay her?"
"Let us all go to the other side of Corlear, Apukwa," said the man whoheld her. "I will take her with me; she shall cook my venison for me;'twas for this I brought you hither."
"What! shall we become women amongst the Hurons?" demanded Apukwa.
"No," replied the brother of the Snake; "there are many of our tribeand order there, men of our own nation, outcasts like ourselves. Wewill become, like them, warriors of the great French king, and fightagainst the accursed Yengees."
"But how shall we cross?" asked Apukwa.
"There are canoes in plenty," replied the other. "Besides, our Canadabrethren are here close at hand, at Che-on-de-ro-ga. They will give ushelp."
A silent pause succeeded; and then Woodchuck, having recovered fromthe confusion which perhaps the suddenness of the attack, perhaps theviolence of his fall, had produced, stretched forth his arm, andaddressed them after their own fashion.
"Are we not brothers?" he said; "are we not all Honontkoh? are we notall bound by the dreadful name to aid each other even unto blood anddeath? I demand, therefore, ye who have lifted the hatchet against usunjustly, to set me and this maiden free; to make our feet as the feetof the panther, to go whither we will. I have spoken the terriblewords; I have uttered the dreadful name; the sign of the order is inmy flesh, and ye dare not refuse."
A look of doubt and hesitation came over the faces of the Indians; andApukwa inquired,--
"Whither wouldst thou go, my brother? We have all sworn the oath, inthe presence of the dark Spirit, that we will aid one another, andthat each of the Honontkoh will defend another of the order, though heshould have eaten fire or shed his brother's blood. Thou hast shed ourbrother's blood, for we know thee, though we knew not that thou wertof our order. But we are Honontkoh, and we will keep the oath. We willdefend thee, we will assist thee. But whither wouldst thou go?"
"I go," answered Woodchuck, with unfortunate frankness and truth, "Igo to lay down my life for your brother's life. I go to the castle ofthe Oneidas, to say, 'Woodchuck is here! Let the hatchet fall upon theold tree, and let the young sapling grow up till its time be come. Ikilled the Snake; take the blood of him who slew him, and set the boyWalter free.' As for this maiden, she is mine; I have adopted her. Iclaim her as brother claims from brother. Ye cannot be Honontkoh andtake her from me. If ye be true to our order, give her into my handand let us go."
While he thus spoke, the countenances of the Indians round betrayed nomark of any emotion whatever, though many and varying feelings wereundoubtedly busy in their breasts.
As he ended, however, a slight and somewhat scornful smile came uponthe cunning face of Apukwa, and he replied,--
"We cannot let our brother go on such an errand. It would be contraryto our laws. We are bound to defend and protect him, and must not lethim make wind of his life. The yellow leaf falls of itself from thebough; the green leaf is torn off by the tempest. We must preserve ourbrother's life, though the young man perish."
Edith's eyes wept fast with the bitterest drops of despair; but Apukwawent on.
"As for the maiden, we will hear and judge more another day. Thousayest thou hast adopted her. We will hear how, for we know her to bethe daughter of the pale-face Prevost. If she be the prize of thebrother of the Snake, the brother of the Snake must have her. But ifshe be thy daughter, she is thine. Let her be with thee till we haveheard all, and judged. We have not room now; for time goes fast, andwe are near danger. The pale-faces are to the rising and the settingsun, towards the cold and towards the soft wind. The Honontkoh is theenemy of the pale-face, the abandoned of the Mohawk, and the outcastof the Oneida. Take the maiden in thy hand, and go on towards therising sun. We come with thee as thy brethren, and will preserve thylife."
Woodchuck gave an anxious glance at Edith's face, and said, in a lowvoice, and in English,--
"We can't resist, but we may outwit them. Come on for the present, forI guess it may be no better. I will shed my blood for _you_, my dear,if I cannot for your brother."
Taking her hand, he led her on towards the north-east, preceded by oneand followed by five or six Indians, who, according to their usualcautious plan, walked singly one after the other, well knowing thattheir prisoners could not escape them. Several remained upon the spotfor a few minutes longer, engaged in stripping the pack-horse of allthat he carried, and taking the saddles and bridles of the otherhorses, which they knew would be valuable in the eyes of the French.
All this was done with extraordinary rapidity, and then the last partyfollowed the first into the depth of the wood.
By this time, the wind had considerably abated, though it still rainedhard. The moment after the Indians had departed, however, the leavesand branches of a large flower-covered bush of the calmia, growingunder a low, spreading hemlock, moved gently, and the next instant ablack face protruded. After one hasty glance around, the whole form ofthe negress, Sister Bab, was drawn slowly out from the bush; and,running from tree to tree with silent speed, she stopped not till shecaught sight again of the retiring Indians, and then followed themquietly and cautiously on their way towards Champlain.