CHAPTER IX
There is the fate of another connected with the events of that nightof whom some notice must be taken, from the influence which hisdestiny exercised over the destinies of all. With greater promptnessand celerity than had been expected from him, even by those who knewhim best, Walter Prevost had executed the business entrusted to him,and was ready to set out from Albany a full day at least before hisreturn had been expected by his family. Fortune had favored him, it istrue. He had found the commander-in-chief in the city, and at leisure.A man of a prompt and active mind, he had readily appreciated thepromptness and activity of the lad, and his business had beendispatched as readily as circumstances permitted.
A boat sailing up the Hudson with some stores and goods for traffic,was found, to carry him a considerable way on his journey; and he waslanding at a point on the western bank of the river, some seventeenmiles from his father's house, at the very moment that Mr. Prevost,Lord H----, and Edith were mounting by the side of the little lake topursue their journey. The way before him was rough and uneven, andsomewhat intricate, but he thought he knew it sufficiently to make hisway by it, before sunset, to a better known part of the country; andhe hurried on with youthful confidence and vigor. His rifle in hishand, his knapsack on his shoulder, and a good large hunting knife inhis belt, with great agility of limbs and no small portion of bodilyvigor, he would have proved no contemptible opponent in the presenceof any single enemy. But he never thought of enemies, and all in hisbosom was courage, and joy, and expectation.
Whatever great cities, and camps, and courts might have offered,Albany, at least, a small provincial capital, filled with a staid andsomewhat rigid people, and only enlivened by the presence of aregiment or two of soldiers, had no attraction for him, and he washeartily glad to escape from it again to the free life around hispaternal dwelling, and to the society of his father and Edith--andOtaitsa. Steadily he went along, climbed the hills, strode along theplain, and forded the river. The traces of cultivation soon becamefewer, and then ceased; and following resolutely the path before him,two hours passed before he halted even to look around. Then, however,he paused for a minute or two to consider his onward course. Two orthree Indian trails crossed at the spot where he stood, one of them sodeeply indented in the ground as to show that its frequent use existedfrom a very ancient date. Its course seemed to be in the directionwhich he wanted to go; and he thought he remembered having followed itsome months before. Across it ran the settlers' way, broader andbetter marked out, but not very direct to his father's house; and hewas hesitating which he should take when the sound of creaking wheels,and the cry used by ploughmen and teamsters to their cattle, showedhim that someone was coming who was likely to give him betterinformation. That information seemed the more necessary as the day wasalready far on the decline, and he had not yet reached a spot of whichhe could be certain. A moment or two after, coming up a lane in thewood, as it would be called in England, appeared a heavy ox wagondrawn by four steers, and loaded with three women and a number ofboxes, while by the side of the rude vehicle appeared three men onfoot and one on horseback, each very well armed, together with no lessthan five dogs of different descriptions.
Walter instantly recognized in the horseman the good farmer who livedsome ten miles to the southwest of his father's house. The farmer wasa good-humored, kindly-hearted man, honest enough, but somewhatselfish in his way, always wishing to have the best of a bargain, ifit could be obtained without absolute roguery, yet willing enough toshare the fruits of his labor or his cunning with anyone who might bein need.
On the present occasion, however, he was either sullen or stupid, andit was indeed clear that he and his male companions had been drinkingquite enough to dull the edge of intellect in some degree. Those onfoot went on, without even stopping the oxen to speak with their youngneighbor, and the farmer himself only paused for a moment or two toanswer Walter's questions.
"Why, Mr. Whittier," said the young gentleman, "you seem to be movingwith all your family."
"Ay, ay," answered the farmer, a look of dull cunning coming to hisface, "I don't like the look of things. I had a hint. I guess thereare other places better than the forest just now--though not so warm,mayhap."
"Why, what is the matter?" asked Walter. "Has anything happened?"
"Oh, no," answered the farmer, looking uncomfortable, and giving hisbridle a little sort of jerk, as if he wished to pass on. "Theforest's too full of Ingians for my notion; but as you and your fatherare so fond of them and they of you, there's no harm will come to you,I guess."
His manner was almost uncivil, and Walter moved out of his way withouteven asking the question he had intended. The man passed on, butsuddenly he seemed to think better of the matter, and turning round inthe saddle, called out in a voice much louder than necessary,considering the distance between them: "I say, Master Walter, ifyou're going home, you'd better take that deep trail to the right. Iguess it's shorter and safer, and them red devils, or some othervermin, have set fire to the wood on there. It's not much of a thingjust yet, but there's no knowing how it will spread. However, if youkeep to the west you'll get on. I'm going to more civilized parts fora month or two, seeing I've got all my crops in safe."
As soon as these words were uttered he turned and rode after hiswagon, and Walter at once took the Indian trail which the other hadmentioned. About half a mile further on he for the first timeperceived the smell of smoke, and as soon as he reached the summit ofanother hill beyond, the whole scene of the conflagration was beforehis eyes. Between the spot where he stood and his father's housestretched a broad belt of fire and smoke, extending a full mile to thenorth, farther than he had expected from the vague account of thefarmer; and the cloud of brownish vapor had rolled so far up theopposite slope that the lad could neither see the dwelling itself nordistinguish what spot the fire had actually reached.
Ignorant of the absence of Mr. Prevost and Edith, and well aware howrapidly the flame extended when once kindled in a wood, after a longseason of dry weather, Walter's heart sank as he gazed. But he lost notime in useless hesitation. The sun was already setting; the distancewas still considerable, and he resolved at once to break through thefiery circle if it were possible and reach his home at once. Onward heplunged then, down the side of the hill, and the moment he descendedthe whole scene was shut out from his sight so completely that but forthe strong and increasing smell of burning pine wood, and a feeling ofunnatural warmth, he would have had no intimation that a fire wasraging close at hand. As he came nearer and nearer, however, a certainrushing sound met his ear, something like that of a heavy gale of windsweeping the forest, and the smoke became suffocating, while throughthe branches and stems of the trees a red light shone, especiallytoward the south and west, showing where the fire raged with thegreatest fierceness.
Breathing thick and fast, he hurried on, lighted by the flames alone,for the sun had sunk by this time, and the dense cloud of smoke whichhung over this part of the wood shut out every star, till at length hereached the very verge of the conflagration. Some hundreds of acreslay before him, with trees, some fallen one over the other, some stillstanding, but deprived of foliage, masses of brushwood and longtrailing vines, all glowing with intense heat. He felt that to proceedin that direction was death. He could hardly draw his breath; his facefelt scorched and burning, and yet the drops of perspiration rolledheavily from his forehead.
Retreating a little to escape the heat, he turned his steps northward;but by that time he had lost the trail, and he was forcing his waythrough the brushwood, encumbered by his rifle and knapsack, whensuddenly, by the light of the fire shining through the trees, he saw adark figure, some twenty or thirty yards before him, waving to himeagerly, and apparently calling to him, also. The roar and cracklingof the burning wood was too loud for any other sounds to be heard, butthe gestures of the figure seemed to direct him toward the southagain, and obeying the signs, he soon found himself once more upon anIndian trail. The next instant the figure
he had seen was upon thesame path, and a little nearer; but it was that of an Indian, and inthe smoky light Walter Prevost could not distinguish his tribe ornation. He advanced cautiously then, with his thumb upon the cock ofthe rifle; but as soon as he was within hearing the man called to himin the Oneida tongue, and in a friendly tone telling him to follow,and warning him that death lay to the westward.
Thrown off his guard by such signs of interest, the lad advanced witha quick step, and was soon close to his guide, though the man walkedfast.
"Is the house burnt, brother?" asked the youth, eagerly.
"What, the lodge of the paleface?" said the Indian. "No; it standsfast."
"Thank God for that!" said Walter Prevost, in English; but the wordshad hardly passed his lips when he suddenly felt his arms seized frombehind, his rifle was wrested from his hands, and he himself castbackward on the ground.
Two savage faces glared above him, and he expected to see the gleam ofthe deadly tomahawk the next instant.
"What now!" he exclaimed in Oneida. "Am I not your brother? Am I notthe son of the Black Eagle, and a friend of the children of theStone?"
There was no answer, but in dead silence the Indians proceeded withrapid hands to bind his arms with thongs of deerskin, and then,raising him on his feet, forced him to retrace his steps along thevery trail which had brought him thither.