Front matter (continued 2)

"Be careful and keep your limbs under water," admonished Waring; "a single splash may betray us."

"Yes, I understand," whispered Hezekiah, kicking around like a frantic frog. "It appears to me that we're going down stream faster than across it."

Such was the case, as Waring found that his efforts alone tended to carry them across, Hezekiah's being as much in one direction as another, amounted to nothing.

"Drat it," muttered the latter, "it's something like that canoe I got into the other night. Never mind, we'll come out somewhere."

A few minutes later the two touched bottom, and pushing their craft carefully before them, came out in the woods, where the blackness was of Egyptian intensity. Hezekiah bumped his head several limes before he dare rise to a perfectly upright position, and then he could only discern the shadowy form of his companion beside him.

"Whatever happens, or whatever you see," whispered Waring, "don't speak or start."

"I know better than to do that—drat that limb! it has nearly sawed my neck off!"

Knowing that the current must have carried them a considerable distance down the river, Waring used the bank as his guide, and ascended a considerable distance before he began to look about him for the savages. After having progressed somewhat over a quarter of a mile, he caught the glimmer of a light through the trees, and touched Hezekiah upon the arm, as a caution for him to be on his guard.

Making their way carefully through the tangled undergrowth, through hollows and over fallen trees, across brooks and miry patches of earth, they at length stood within a hundred yards of the Shawanoe camp-fire.

Waring's heart sank within him, for he understood at once that the Shawanoe war party had divided, and that neither of the captives was before him. When had the separation taken place? What direction had the other taken? How could its trail be gained?

These were questions which instantly presented themselves to the young adventurer's mind, and which for a long time he was unable to answer. Amid the profound darkness which held reign, it was very obvious that nothing could be done. Even the full, bright moon was unable to penetrate with its light the solemn labyrinths of the Dark and Bloody Ground. Nothing could be done until morning.

As neither Waring nor Hezekiah had enjoyed any sleep for many hours they both felt fatigued, despite the exciting situation in which they were placed. Withdrawing a considerable distance further into the forest, they both lay down beside an uprooted tree, and were almost immediately locked in slumber.

The sleep of Waring was deep and dreamless. It was not until the sun had been up several hours that he opened his eyes. As soon as he recovered from his temporary bewilderment he arose, chagrined that he had lost so much valuable time. To his surprise, upon looking around, nothing was seen of Hezekiah Smith. Thinking, however, he could not be far away, Waring seated himself upon the tree and waited for his return.

An hour passed away, and still no sign of his missing companion. The young man had whistled, and gave utterance to all the signals at his command, but had elicited no response. He was now alarmed, and greatly vexed; alarmed at the singular disappearance of his friend, and vexed that now, when every minute was of the utmost value to him, he was thus compelled to remain, and accomplish nothing. At length his patience became insupportable.

"There is no use of remaining behind," he muttered. "The Shawanoes have gone, and every minute places them further from me. I will follow them alone, relying upon my own arm and the kindness of Heaven for success."

Throwing his rifle over his shoulder, he moved resolutely off, resolved never to turn his back upon his enemies until he had learned something of the fair captive they held. It was a desperate proceeding, indeed, for a single man thus to pit himself against a whole party of redskins, but our hero felt no hesitation in doing it.

It was now, too, that Waring began to experience the pangs of hunger. He had fasted a long time, and was so famished that he determined to secure some food at all hazards. At the period of which we write, game was very abundant in this portion of the West, and the decision had scarcely entered his mind when several wild turkeys, their wings outspread and their feet scarcely touching the earth, sped along within a stone's throw of him. As quick as thought the foremost was shot and in his hands.

The instant that Waring had secured his game, he regretted having discharged his piece, for he felt certain he had exposed himself to danger. Some of the Indians must certainly be within hearing, and would be attracted thither by a suspicion of the true state of the case.

To guard against capture Waring made all haste through the woods in the direction of the camp-fire which had been deserted by the savages, in the belief that this would be the last place where his enemies would seek for him. Upon reaching it he was gratified to find a large quantity of live coals, and, without hesitation, he plucked and dressed the turkey, and proceeded to cook it.

The bird afforded him a most needed and nourishing meal, besides furnishing enough for future use; and now that his immediate wants were attended to, Waring set to work in earnest upon the all important object that had brought him thither.

In the first place, it was necessary to discover the trails of the two war parties, and in trying this he failed completely. Although gifted with more than ordinary intelligence, shrewdness, and cunning, he had not yet learned enough of the woods to follow the faint footsteps of the wild Indians through its labyrinths, when the traces left were so faint that the human eye, unless trained by an experience of years, could not detect the least signs of the passage of any one.

Had the Shawanoes proceeded with their usual caution, it would have been absolutely impossible for Waring to have followed them a hundred yards through the wilderness. But, fully conscious that no enemy that need cause them the least uneasiness, was in their vicinity, they straggled forward as carelessly as a party of schoolboys. This only was the reason why our hero was enabled to follow them.

Waring, under the belief that they had penetrated further into Kentucky, for a long time examined the ground only upon that side of the fire. His efforts meeting with no success, he resorted to the opposite side, where the trail was discovered at once.

It being impossible to find any further signs of the passage of the Shawanoes in any other direction, he concluded that both parties must have gone this way, which, somewhat to his surprise, led toward the river. Keeping along on the trail, he found, as he had feared, that they had embarked in their canoes, and gone either up, down, or across the stream.

"And how am I to tell which way?" he muttered. "I must run the risk of getting the wrong choice out of these three." Waring, under ordinary circumstances, would have been discouraged at the formidable obstacles which now rose before him; but one of his temperament could never rest while the object of his choice was a captive in the hands of the savages, and he, therefore, did not once think of turning back.

"They cannot have gone up the river," he reflected, "because they have come from that direction. And yet what reason is that why they should not have done so? Yet it strikes me that they have not taken that course. They could have gone much more rapidly overland. If their destination is in Kentucky, it surely is not on the banks of the Ohio; it must be a good distance back from the river, so that they would only have lengthened their journey by taking to the water. From all that I have ever heard or read of the Shawanoes Indians—to whom this war party surely belongs—I have been led to suppose that although they range at will on both sides of the river, still their towns and villages, and their home, in fact, is in southern Ohio. And what more natural, now that they have secured their prisoner, than that they should return to their home as rapidly as possible? Such, it seems reasonable to believe, is the true state of the case, and I must cross the river again."

Waring was on the point of venturing into the river, when his attention was arrested by a loud splash in the direction of the flat-boat, and to his surprise he descried several Indians upon it. Finding that he was not observed, he drew back and watched their actions.

A glance convinced him that they belonged to the same war party of Shawanoes, and were searching the craft for plunder. They had thrown over a sort of bench, which was fastened, bottom upward, to the stern of a canoe. They were some half dozen savages, who, a moment later, shoved off and paddled down stream.

Their light craft shot rapidly forward, inclining neither to one shore nor the other. From this, Waring's belief that the main body had crossed the river was changed into the conviction that they had all gone down the stream in their canoes; and that all that remained for him to do was to keep these redskins in sight.

This was a difficult task, indeed. Under the skilful guidance of the sinewy Indian, their canoe skimmed like a swallow over the water, and it required the most strenuous efforts of Waring to keep it in sight. Fortunately, indeed, the wood, a few yards from the shore, was open, and his footsteps were not much impeded.

Hurrying thus forward, now and then darting to the river bank, he kept up the pursuit for five or six miles, the canoe all the time gaining upon him, until finally he lost sight of it behind a bend in the river.

Waring was panting and perspiring, and in no pleasant mood, that, after all his efforts, he was compelled to fall behind, and he relaxed into a sullen walk.

"It seems as though everything is conspiring against me," he muttered. "I have done everything in my power, and here I am at last, left entirely alone, without knowing whither a single one of my friends has gone. It matters little what becomes of me. A curse upon the infernal Indians that have persecuted me thus!"

He walked moodily forward for an hour or so, by which time he had passed the bend in the river, around which the canoe had disappeared. The river at this point took a due southwest direction, running so nearly straight that a view of several miles was afforded. Nothing of the canoe, however, had been seen. It had gone, Waring knew not where.

Wearied and dispirited, he threw himself upon the ground, and endeavored to sleep. But he was too excited and nervous to rest; and devouring what he could of the remaining portion of the turkey, he threw the rest from him, and leaned his head on his hand to reflect upon the best course for him to pursue.

He had lost all traces of the Indians and their captives. How he should ever meet Virginia again it was impossible for him to imagine. In the impenetrable depths of the great wilderness which surrounded him, where the merciless red men wandered for miles, how could he, a single, unaided white man, follow them? How——?

The explosion of a rifle broke the stillness of the woods, and springing to his feet, Waring hurried madly forward, scarcely conscious of what he was doing. After running a short distance he paused, and parting the bushes, gazed upon a scene that thrilled his very being with the wildest of thoughts.

CHAPTER XII.

AN EXPLOIT OF HEZEKIAH SMITH'S.

Hezekiah Smith awoke two full hours before Waring. Looking toward him, and noticing that he was still slumbering, he concluded not to disturb him, as he well knew how exhausted his frame must be. Feeling perfectly wakeful himself, he arose to his feet and looked around him. The first sensation experienced by the New Englander was that of hunger—a craving for food immediately. The sun had just risen, and although he was well aware of the abundance of game in the wood, he dare not fire his gun on account of the proximity of his enemies.

"I guess I'll take a tramp down the river," he concluded, "and when I get out of their hearing I'll knock something over, and eat enough to last me a week."

He looked down upon the tranquil face of Waring.

"He appears to sleep very sound, and I guess it's hardly worth while to disturb him. He'll be there when I come back, and all the better for the extra rest he has received."

With this philosophical conclusion, Hezekiah wandered off in the woods. It was his intention to take a southerly direction, penetrating further into Kentucky, and such was his course at first. But, unconsciously to himself, he deviated to the right, parallel with the Ohio.

With no sensation, but that of hunger, with the resolve to attend to that immediately, and at all hazards, Hezekiah hurried forward without once noticing the course he was pursuing, or reflecting that it was more than probable he would be entirely lost in the trackless wilderness.

While still hurrying forward, his excited ear detected a faint gobble in the woods, as if a lost turkey were calling its companions; and proceeding stealthily onward, he suddenly came upon a gobbler, that was wandering about disconsolately, as if indeed lost. Before it could get out of his reach, Hezekiah discharged his piece, but only wounded it.

It started off on a rapid run, and, fearful that it would escape him if he paused to load his rifle, he dashed after it at the top of his speed, and now commenced a most interesting race.

All things considered, perhaps, in the condition of the gobbler, Hezekiah could outrun it, that is, where both were given the same chance; but the bird had a way of slipping through the undergrowth, jumping under the bushes, and trotting over fallen trees, as though they were not there, that gave him an immense advantage over his pursuer.

The latter tore headlong through the bushes, sometimes a rod or two in the rear, sometimes almost upon it, his hope constantly kept up to a most exciting point, by the hairbreadth escapes it made from him. More than once, he made a frenzied leap forward, and, as he fell on his face, caught perhaps the tail feather of the bird, while the bird itself glided through his grasp, leaving a most vivid impression of its tapering form upon his hands, which had slipped over it so neatly. Then, again, he would strike at it with his rifle, and perhaps pin another feather to the ground.

"Drat it," exclaimed Hezekiah, after one of those fruitless attempts. "It's enough to make me swear. I'll chase him as long as I can stand, but what I shall get him."

It is a fact, to which all hunters will testify, that, in the exciting pursuit of their game, they can travel mile after mile, with hardly any sensible fatigue. It is not until they come to retrace their steps, that they realize how great a distance they have passed over. The attendant, perhaps, whose mind does not participate in the same excitement, is exhausted even in following the hunter.

Thus it happened that Hezekiah Smith, who would not have believed he had gone more than half a mile, chased the gobbler for fully ten times that distance, at the end of which it did not seem fatigued in the least, the wild turkey, as our readers are aware, being a noted runner. With no thought of giving it up, Hezekiah still pursued it at the top of his speed, occasionally making a leap forward at it, and the bird as often eluding him, as cleverly as ever.

Suddenly he caught the glimmer of something through the trees, and to his joy, saw that they were approaching the banks of a river. He was now sure of the bird; he had fairly earned it; and his tormenting hunger was about to be satisfied.

Gracefully, and majestically, as the bird reached the edge of the river, it spread out its wings, and, sailing through the air, landed upon the Ohio side, and disappeared in the woods.

"That is unpleasant. If my rifle had only been loaded, I would have finished him."

In chasing the gobbler, with all his turnings and doublings, Hezekiah had become "turned around," himself, so that it seemed to him the Ohio River was running in the wrong direction, and that he was on the other side of it. Concluding however, that such a phenomena would be a miracle, he kept on down the river, having decided that it would be useless to retrace his steps, in the hope of finding Waring.

He was walking slowly forward, panting and fatigued, when it struck him that there was a peculiar smell in the air. It seemed as though something were burning, and, knowing that he was in the midst of an Indian country, he guarded his steps, and kept a more watchful eye upon his surroundings.

It turned out as he had expected. He was close upon an Indian encampment. He caught a glimpse of the gaudy, fantastic costumes of the savages through the trees, and approaching as nigh as he could, he concealed himself, as well as his position would admit.

It was with singular emotions, that Hezekiah recognized this party as the identical Shawanoes who had attacked his party, and who held Pat Mulroony and Virginia Lander as captives. The fact that they must have been here some time, proved that they had broken their last night's encampment at an early hour, and departed even before he himself had awakened.

The party seemed to have lost several of their number—some four or five—but there was no mistaking the others. Hezekiah recognized them at once. What surprised him still more, was that none of the captives were visible. What had become of them? Had they been sent in advance, in chance of a smaller party? What possible cause could the Shawanoes possess for taking such a step?

These questions ran rapidly through the mind of the New Englander, but there was another which constantly presented itself, and that was the one in regard to obtaining food, for satisfying his hunger, which was constantly growing greater. There seemed but one course left for him, and that was to take to the woods again. He was on the point of doing so, when his heart leaped at what appeared a most fortunate occurrence to him.

Several times he thought he had detected the smell of burning meat, and the cause of it was now explained. Some twenty rods to the right of the encampment of the savages, was a smaller fire, at which a single squaw was cooking. At the moment that Hezekiah caught sight of it, this squaw had left it, and the meat was entirely unguarded.

The temptation was too great; Hezekiah was only sensible of his intolerable hunger. Running back into the woods a few rods, he came in the rear of the fire, and totally unmindful of his imminent danger, snatched the meat, and seating himself upon the ground, commenced devouring it like a wolf.

The first mouthful was dropped suddenly upon the lawn, being so hot that his tongue was blistered. But he soon became used to it, and in a few moments had swallowed the entire piece of meat, and was wiping his fingers upon his hair.

"Just as much as I could possibly get down me," he muttered. "I couldn't possibly swallow another mouthful, and—"

A shrill whoop suddenly broke the stillness of the woods, and turning his alarmed gaze behind him, he saw the squaw, standing within a dozen feet of him. She was fairly blue with fury, and was screaming as if to split her lungs.

"Heavens!" exclaimed Hezekiah, who now saw how foolhardy he had been, "the old woman is riled considerably, and if I ain't mistaken them Indians are likewise."

The outcries of the infuriated squaw had attracted the instant attention of the Shawanoes, who had caught a sight of the white man as he was rising to his feet, and three of their fleetest runners started in pursuit.

Hezekiah Smith's frame was gaunt and attenuated, and he was sinewy and muscular. He was not only very fleet, but possessed bottom, and was capable of holding his own against any one, and he now darted into the woods at a rate that excited the admiration of his pursuers. The three separated, so as to make sure of the fugitive, and called all their energies into play to overtake him.

The forest for a considerable distance was open, and afforded a good field for the runners. The distance between Hezekiah and the Shawanoe remained about the same for five or ten minutes, when one of the latter discharged his rifle, and the white sprang high in the air with a loud yell.

But he hadn't been struck. It was only fright. The report of the gun gave an impetus to his flight, and soon carried him far ahead of the redskins. Dodging hither and thither, flitting in and out among the trees, it was impossible for the latter to gain anything like an accurate aim, and they did not repeat the attempt to bring him down.

All was now going well for the fugitive, and he would have escaped had he understood the woods. But his ignorance was fatal. Directly ahead of him was a deep gorge, or ravine, toward which the Shawanoes had managed to turn his face without much difficulty, and unconsciously to himself he was running directly into a trap.

It was not until he was on the very brink that Hezekiah realized his peril. His hair fairly rose on his head, then, as he glanced about him. To the right and left, stretched the deed yawning gorge, too broad to be leaped over, and offering no means of access except a sheer precipice, down which it would have been certain death for him to have gone. Escape was cut off! There was no help for him! He was fairly at bay!

"It's no use of talking," he exclaimed, wheeling round, and placing his back toward the gorge. "I'm cornered this time, and there's going to be a row!"

So saying, he clubbed his rifle, and awaited the onset of the Shawanoes!

CHAPTER XIII.

A STRUGGLE OF LIFE AND DEATH.

The Shawanoes, as we have before stated, had separated during the pursuit, and were now some distance apart. The center one being directly in the rear, was the closest to the fugitive, and came up to him considerably in advance of the others. This was fortunate, in one sense, for Hezekiah Smith, as he then had but a single opponent with which to contend.

The lithe, agile Indian was all eagerness to secure the white as his captive and forgetful of the axiom, "a stag at bay is a dangerous foe," he halted not in the least, but came at full speed toward him. When within a rod or so, he whirled his tomahawk in a circle over his head, and hurled it with tremendous force full at the breast of his dauntless adversary. The latter, from the motion of his arm, comprehended what was coming, and dodging his head with lightning quickness, the weapon flashed over him, and went spinning end over end down the steep ravine.

Both of the combatants had dropped their rifles and drawn their knives. With a demoniac yell of triumph the painted Indian leaped high in air, and swinging his knife, sprang upon his foe. In a twinkling both were disarmed in a singular manner.

It so happened that the two struck at each other at precisely the same moment, the knives encountered with such force that the Shawanoe's shot out of his hand and followed the tomahawk down the ravine, while Hezekiah's was turned so suddenly that it fell to the ground several yards distant. Both were now entirely unarmed, and glaring at each other for a second, like baffled tigers, they closed in the struggle of life and death.

In point of strength the two were very nearly equally matched. In activity the redskin had decidedly the advantage, but the white man being an expert wrestler, and the savage a perfect novice, the former was in a fair way to end the contest in his own favor. The instant he grappled with his dusky adversary, he felt that he was at his power.

By a trick, or rather art, well known to wrestlers, Hezekiah twisted the savage off his feet, and threw him with stunning violence upon the ground, falling heavily upon him. Allowing him to rise, he repeated the performance several times, the redskin becoming more and more exhausted each moment, until it was manifest to himself that he had not the shadow of a chance in such warfare as this.

The cunning Shawanoe had noticed where the knife of his adversary fell, and each time that he went down he managed to work himself nearer to it. Hezekiah did not comprehend what he was at, until the savage clutched it with the quickness of thought, and rising again to his feet, confronted him with the weapon.

Not the least daunted, for he was now terribly excited—he closed again with the Indian, receiving an ugly cut in his arm as he did so. At this moment he heard the yells of the other two Shawanoes, and driven to fury by his imminent peril, he concentrated all his strength in the one mighty effort, and grasping his adversary around the waist, he lifted him clear off his feet, and flung him like an infant over the precipice.

Down, like a meteor, through the dizzy air, shot the Shawanoe, with his arms clutching wildly at space, spinning from crag to crag, with his awful cry coming up like the wail of some spirit!

The struggle occupied scarcely a fifth of the time taken in describing it. Impelled by the most implacable hate on each side, the blows were quick and fierce, and the termination speedy and tragic. A shock when the two encountered, a few blows and strivings, another struggle, more determined than the others, and it was ended.

Hezekiah had secured his knife before throwing the savage into the ravine, and with this single weapon he confronted his two foes. They were both about the same distance from him, and he was in doubt whether to expect their united onset at the same moment, or whether they were going to attack him singly. The latter proved to be the case. One of the Indians seemed to be a sort of chief, or, at least, higher in authority than the other; for waving his hand for him to keep his distance, he advanced upon the white man, with the determination of disposing of him without assistance from any one else.

This savage was a much more formidable foe than the other, and Hezekiah being considerably exhausted from his recent efforts, he was in a poor condition to receive him. Nevertheless, there was no help for him, and he showed an undaunted front. The Shawanoe halted a moment, as if to decide upon the best method of attack, and then, with a yell as demoniac as the other, sprang forward.

He had passed over half the space intervening between him and his adversary, when he uttered another yell—a short, frenzied, agonized one, and throwing his arms aloft, fell dead!

Hezekiah had caught the report of a rifle, and saw a red spot suddenly appear on the forehead of the Shawanoe, so that he understood at once that he had been shot. But who had come up and fired his piece so opportunely? What friend had he in the Dark and Bloody Ground? Why did his friend remain concealed?

The remaining redskin had halted upon seeing his companion fall by the mysterious shot, but he evinced no disposition to flee. On the contrary, he continued to approach, fully resolved that the foe should not escape him.

"By thunder! you're the only one left, and I reckon as how I can dispose of you," exclaimed Hezekiah, preparing to receive him. "Though if there should happen to be another rifle around, it would be mighty welcome just now."

The Shawanoe had learned caution from what he had witnessed, and although as brave as a mortal could possibly be, he deemed it best to use prudence in the case. His mode of attack was peculiar. He commenced slowly circling around his adversary, his black, snake-like eye fixed upon him while the latter kept turning, as if on a pivot, so as to confront him.

In going in this circular manner, the Indian came to the very brink of the precipice, so that his form stood out in relief upon it. More than once when he was in this position, Hezekiah was upon the point of springing forward and shoving him over. His heart throbbed painfully, as he balanced himself for the leap, lest the risk was too great for him to attempt it. He more than half suspected the Indian was manœuvering for that purpose, and would succeed in throwing him over instead.

All at once, with the inevitable whoop, the redskin bounded forward, and struck at Hezekiah with his drawn knife. Singular as it may seem, the two weapons encountered in precisely the same manner as did those of the first two combatants, and both were as suddenly deprived of all arms, except such as nature gave them.

As the two closed in with each other, it seemed to Hezekiah that this Indian was much more powerful and difficult to manage than the other, or possibly his own strength was failing. Remembering, however, that he was the only foe which it was necessary to overcome, and that a prolonged contest might bring some of his companions to the scene, he summoned all his strength to this last conflict.

He succeeded in throwing the Shawanoe, and falling heavily upon him, but it required such an expenditure of strength that he doubted whether this means of exhausting him would not first "use up" himself. Furthermore, he found it impossible to hold his foe. Whether his body was greased or not, he could not tell, but the redskin kept up such a twisting and squirming that he glided from his grasp as easily as an eel could have escaped him.

Concluding that it was vain to hope for any success by means of wrestling, Hezekiah now bent his efforts toward drawing him to the edge of the cliff with the determination of throwing him over. The savage comprehended his intention, and probably believing he could do the same thing with the white man, favored his efforts, and in a few seconds both were upon the very brink of the precipice.

And now commenced the awful struggle. With sinews strained to their utmost tension, with limbs braced and pressed against each other, their chests heaving, with teeth set, and their eyes gleaming with the most implacable hate, the combatants strove together!

In reaching the edge of the ravine, the Shawanoe was on the inside—that is, he was the nearest to it—and Hezekiah succeeded in keeping him there. Gradually working him nigher and nigher to the dread chasm, until he felt his strength going, the New Englander gathered his knee to his breast, and summoning all his power, with one mighty effort he kicked the savage from him and over the cliff!

But horror of horrors! in going over, the Shawanoe caught him with both hands by the ankle, and Hezekiah felt himself following! He clutched with the twigs and stones within his grasp, but they all yielded and came with him, and he could not shake off the dreadful incubus that was drawing him on to death. He screamed and shouted, and blistered his hands in his efforts to stay himself, but it was all useless.

Further, further, further—the Shawanoe's weight seems to increase each second—the white man's outspread hands slide over the earth and rock!—he is going, going, going!—his head slips over! and now down like a meteor, through the dizzying air, with wild, ecstatic thrills shooting through his brain—a second's delirium—an awful, stunning shock—and all was dark! The lifeless forms of Hezekiah Smith and the Shawanoe Indian lay side by side at the bottom of the gorge!

The reader will recollect that Luther Waring, in wandering through the woods, suddenly came upon an unexpected scene, and rushed forward in a state of great excitement. The sight that met his gaze was Hezekiah Smith and the second Indian struggling together. Without a moment's reflection he discharged his piece, killing the savage as before related. He was about to rush forward to the rescue of his friend, when he caught sight of the third Indian; and believing that a party had just arrived, and that he could afford him no assistance, and that he was in imminent danger of his own capture, he turned and fled.

Running some distance, he was considerably surprised to find that he was not pursued, and suspecting that, after all, he might have been mistaken, he cautiously retraced his steps. He arrived at the spot of the tragic scene we have just described, and looking over the brink, descried the two inanimate forms lying below.

With a painfully throbbing heart he hurried through the forest, and by a circuitous route entered the gorge. In a short time he came upon the two Indians and his friend. All three were bruised and bleeding, and as Waring looked above him at the height of the precipice, he took a melancholy consolation in the thought that the death of Hezekiah Smith had been speedy and almost painless.

"Would that I could give him a decent burial," he murmured; "but I cannot. He shall not remain here, however, to rot beside those fiendish savages. I will do what I can for him."

Taking him in his arms he carried him some distance to where there was a mass of debris and stones at the side of the ravine. Here depositing him carefully upon the ground, he first covered him over with brush, and then stones, until his body was entirely hidden from sight. The principal object in doing this was to secure his remains against outrage from the savages.

"Farewell," said Waring, as he turned away. "I have known you but a short time, and have learned but little of you, but I have learned enough to know that you were a FRIEND; and now, a last adieu to you, my FRIEND!"

With a saddened, mournful heart he turned away and walked slowly through the ravine.

CHAPTER XIV.

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

Waring's meditations, as he walked through the gorge, were gloomy and melancholy enough. Now, indeed, he felt he was alone. Two of his companions had been slain, and the other two captured; and what could he, single and unaided, accomplish against these inhuman denizens of the wilderness? Absolutely nothing.

And yet he could not persuade himself to give up the hope of a final rescue of Virginia Lander. That hope gone, life looked dark and gloomy to him. Rather than never see her again, he felt that he could willingly share captivity and death with her.

The plan which Waring at length decided upon, was to make his way to the settlement, and seek the aid of the settlers. He could be no great distance from it; and, as the Shawanoes seemed to linger in the forest, there could be little difficulty in finding and following their trail.

With his head bent, and with feelings saddened and thoughtful, from the frightful scenes he had just witnessed, Waring walked slowly forward until he had emerged from the gorge, and was again threading the shadowy woods. At length he entered a portion where the undergrowth became more tangled and dense, and where from necessity he was compelled to recall his mind from its reverie, and occupy it with his immediate duties.

He had penetrated, perhaps, a third of a mile into this undergrowth, when, becoming exhausted, he threw himself upon the ground for a few minutes' rest. He had scarcely seated himself when he was fairly startled out of his senses by hearing the hum of voices! Listening carefully, he soon distinguished the words:

"Begorrah, it's meself that's thinking this is the most delightful retrate of my life, barring that it was a retrate from necessity. What do you think of it, my leddy?"

"Oh! I am so thankful to be free from those loathsome Indians that have persecuted us so long!"

"If we only had that long-legged Hezekiah Smith, and the handsome young felly that ye calls Waring, how much more pleasant the retrate would seem! Eh, wouldn't it now?"

"I do indeed pray that they may rejoin us. Since my poor father has fallen, I am lonely enough with him also gone. Who knows but that he, too, is in their hands?"

"It's meself that understands yer feelings. I mind the time that I lost Molly McMooney at the Tipperary fair, me heart was broken intirely till I found her agin."

Could Waring believe his ears! Those surely were the voices of Pat Mulroony and Virginia Lander, and, from their words they were alone. Could it be they had escaped? Have the Shawanoes voluntarily freed them? What could it all mean?

He arose and looked around him. Yes; but a few rods away he saw the two seated by a small fire, as comfortably as if on some pleasure excursion. The genial face of the Irishman was wreathed in smiles, as he blinked through the smoke at the girl upon the opposite side. The face of the latter was pale, and she wore a saddened, thoughtful expression, for it was hard for her to smile at the witticisms of her good-natured companion, when her terrible bereavement was so recent.

Hardly able to restrain his emotions, Waring approached the two. As he did so, the back of Virginia was turned toward him, while the Irishman faced him. The latter immediately caught sight of him, and signalling him to stop, said to Virginia:

"Did you ever hear, my leddy, that Pat Mulroony was a magician?"

She looked up as if she did not comprehend his question.

"A magician? What do you mean?" returned Virginia.

"A man who on account of his superior vartues is gifted with more than mortal powers. One who can do anything."

Thinking the words of the Irishman to be nothing more than some jest, intended to divert her attention from her grief, Virginia made no reply.

"Whisht now! ye doesn't belave me, I see. S'pose I should call up that young Waring that belongs to yees out of the ground, would you then belave it?"

"I am in no mood for such trifling," said she, with a reproving look. "I would prefer you not to disturb me."

"Whisht now, jist look."

Pat Mulroony's incantations to convince his fair companion of his supernatural powers were as singular as they were characteristic. Pitching forward, he came down upon his hands so as to invert himself, where balancing himself for a moment, he kicked his feet in the air several times with such vigor that one of his shoes flew off. This accomplished, he came down again, replaced his shoe, and danced what he termed the "Tipperary Reel," after which he suddenly became rigid, and exclaimed:

"Look behind yees! Mr. Waring, appair!"

Virginia would not have obeyed him, had she not detected the laugh of her lover as the Irishman spoke. Starting up and turning around, she was the next instant clasped in his arms.

"Thank God! thank God!" exclaimed the young adventurer, fervently. "Found at last! Oh! how rejoiced I am!"

Virginia could not speak; her joy was too great for words.

During this affecting scene, the Irishman pretended to be busily occupied with the fire. He did not replenish it, but kept displacing the embers, as if to make them burn better. The air being quite warm and genial, it seemed strange that he should have kindled it; but the cause was his excessive politeness and consideration for the fair charge in his hands. Noticing that Waring's actions seemed somewhat restrained, he said, encouragingly:

"Don't be scart, don't be scart. I isn't watching yees. It's point of honor with Pat Mulroony niver to disturb a couple when engaged in courting. Plase proceed."

"We have no disposition to do anything of the kind at present," replied Waring. "I am surprised, Pat, that you should have escaped from the Indians with Virginia here, when, a short time since, you were both prisoners in their hands. Pray, how came it to happen?"

"It didn't happen at all jist. Pat Mulroony is the boy that is up to them same tricks. He is the one that understands the blackguard haythen—he is."

"I do not doubt that; but let me hear the account of this exploit of yours."

"Begorrah! where is the long-legged chap, Hizikiah, that ye had with yees?"

Waring, in a few words, related what is already known to the reader; and then repeated his request to the Irishman for an account of his escape from the Shawanoes.

"Wal, ye saas, the way that it happened was this. I s'pose you know how I was took on that ould flat-boat?"

"Yes; your own foolishness was the cause of it. You need not relate that. Give us what happened subsequently."

"Wal, ye saas, the haythen had us pretty fast, and it was mighty onsartain the way things looked. Whisht! what is that?"

The near report of a rifle suddenly broke the stillness of the woods, and the two speakers instantly sat down where they were better protected by the undergrowth from observation. All interest was immediately centred upon the one thought of safety.

"I am afraid that we are still in imminent peril," whispered Waring. "Those Shawanoes, without doubt, are upon your trail."

"No, be the powers! they ain't."

"Don't be too sure, my friend. Those lynx-eyed savages will follow the lightest footsteps."

"Not if they're made in the water—eh, boy?"

Waring began to comprehend matters. Still he replied:

"You are some distance from the river, remember, and neither you nor Virginia could get to this spot without leaving a trail which these Indians could follow without the least difficulty."

"S'powse they didn't know where to look for the same."

"That may all be," replied Waring, somewhat petulantly, "and yet what I say is true. They are constantly ranging through the wood, and it is by no means improbable that the traces of your passage is discovered. But let us cease talking for the present."

The two listened for several moments, when hearing nothing further, the Irishman cautiously arose, and commenced peering around him. Ere he had half turned his head, he suddenly dropped to the ground again, with a suppressed exclamation:

"He's right out there!" he whispered.

"Where? Who is there? What do you mean?"

"A bloody big Shawanoe, in his war paint, leaning against a tree out there."

Imitating the motion of Pat Mulroony, Waring descried the savage in question, standing as he had remarked. His back was turned toward the whites, so that it was impossible to discern his features. He was rather tall in stature, and appeared to have his arms folded, as if he were exhausted.

"Wait till I show yees a specimen of Pat Mulroony's shooting," said the Irishman, reaching out for the gun of Waring. But the latter refused it.

"It looks too much like murder."

"It's mighty little like murder their dailings with us luks, be the same token."

"His death can do us no good," added Waring. "The report of our rifle would attract the attention of the savages in the vicinity, and we could not again escape their clutches."

"Ye talks now like a raisonable person," said the Irishman, somewhat mollified at the explanation. "Hist a moment till I takes another look at the gintleman."

Pat Mulroony's head commenced slowly rising, while, as his knees gradually straightened, his arms were elbowed, and his hands kept flapping like the flippers of a turtle—the instinctive admonition to the lookers on to maintain a profound silence.

As his head rose to its full height, Waring saw, from the sudden light that filled his eyes, that he had discovered something further. Without removing his gaze, he motioned for his companion to look. The latter did so, and descried the Shawanoe walking away in the woods. In a few moments he had disappeared, and the three were left alone.

Waring turned to Virginia, and assured her that the danger had passed, and that she need feel no further alarm. They would not move from their present position until nightfall, when the chance of escape would amount almost to a certainty. After this, the young adventurer again demanded of the Irishman an account of his flight from the Shawanoes, and he, nothing loth, proceeded to give it.

We choose to relate it in our own words.

CHAPTER XV.

AN EXPLOIT OF PAT MULROONY'S.

During the captivity of Pat Mulroony and Virginia Lander, the Shawanoes kept them sedulously apart. Although Pat ventured to address her several times, he was compelled to do it in tones loud enough for all to hear him, though whether they understood him or not was altogether a different matter.

The Indians remained at their camp, where Waring had seen them through the night. As he had supposed, the party had divided, one division taking both the captives with them. The cause of this was, the Shawanoes were upon the war-path, and the whole company, numbering over twenty warriors, had set out to attack a small village belonging to a hostile tribe. Having inflicted about all the injury that it was possible for them to inflict against the whites, they were now anxious to proceed with their expedition. As their prisoners could be nothing more than an incumbrance to them, eight of their number were detailed to conduct them to one of the Shawanoe towns in southern Ohio.

The separation of the Shawanoes was made early in the evening, and before it was fairly light, the two parties were proceeding in the direction of their respective destinations. The main party proceeded down the river on the Kentucky side, while the eight Indians embarked in separate canoes with their captives.

Six Indians were in one of the boats, and two in the other, excluding the captives. It was intended that the two parties should keep company to prevent any chance of escape by the burly Irishman, although in his present helpless condition, bound and secured as he was, a boy could have taken care of him without assistance.

The grey morning mist was just lifting from the Ohio, as the two canoes shot out from the Kentucky shore, and sped swiftly down the river. The point at which they intended to land upon the other side, was several miles further down, bringing them considerably nearer their town than a direct passage across the stream would have done. The Irishman, who understood a few words of the Shawanoe tongue, had gathered this much from the conversation of the savages before starting.

The two Indians who used the paddles were seated in the stern of the canoe, scarcely a foot apart, while Virginia was near the centre, and Pat Mulroony in the bow, his back being turned down stream, and his face toward his captors. In this position, the captives were constantly under the gaze of the lynx-eyed Shawanoes, and could not converse, even in whispers, without being seen. Nevertheless, the Irishman had no hesitation in attempting it.

"Miss Virginny, how is it ye faals jist now?"

"Sadly enough," she replied. "Our only hope is in Providence."

"If I only had my hands loose," whispered Pat, "I would smash them two copper skins there in the stern, and run into shore, in spite of the haythen in the other vissel."

"Perhaps they would loosen your hands if you requested them to do so."

"Begorrah! but they won't though."

"You might try it, Pat; make believe your bonds hurt you, and I have no doubt they will loosen them."

After a moment's thought, Pat determined to try the artifice which his fair companion had recommended. Accordingly he began groaning and twisting his face into all manner of contortions, in order to enlist their sympathy for his suffering. It was little sympathy the savages felt for him, but his moans and struggles were so persistent and annoying that the foremost Indian, with one blow of his knife, freed his arms, refusing, however, all his entreaties to do the same thing for his feet.

"Ugh! keep still—kill with knife—don't," said he, threateningly.

Pat Mulroony had succeeded far better than he had dared to hope. He felt considerably elated thereby, and, rising up in his seat, commenced "joking" with his grim captors.

"Ye handles them paddles as if yees was used to 'em. Be the same token, maybe ye is. How is it?"

But the stoical Shawanoes deigned not to notice him, and Pat continued:

"Begorrah, but yer mothers must be proud of sich boys as yees, that is if ye has ary mothers. Do you mind that haythen there in the starn, Virginny? Wal, now, ef I had to make a guess about him, I should say he was a cross between an Irish chimney swaap and a monkey from the South Saas. It must be swate for a gal to be hugged by yees."

The canoes were now rather close to the Kentucky shore, and constantly approaching nigher, although Pat Mulroony, who had his eyes about him, was at a loss to conjecture the cause of this movement. The other canoe was considerably in advance—its inmates finding it difficult to time their velocity to the tardy movements of their two companions.

Of course the remarks of the Irishman were not comprehended by either of the Shawanoes, although they now and then caught a word. But it was easy to see from his pleasant eye, his broad grin, and the rollicking expression of his face, that he was in the best of spirits. Despite the stern, gloomy exterior of the foremost savage, there was a spice of waggery in his composition, and his black, snake-like eyes softened somewhat in expression as he looked upon the jovial Irishman.

"Paddle 'um canoe!" suddenly remarked this Indian, handing his paddle to him.

"Of course I will," replied Pat, eagerly taking the proffered paddle.

He dipped it deep into the water, and attempted to make a powerful sweep with it; but it turned in his hand, cutting through the water like a knife, and with such velocity as nearly to throw him overboard. Both savages laughed at his awkward movements, while the Irishman worked all the harder.

"Get in the bow of the boat," he whispered to Virginia, as he kept hard at work. The girl arose and exchanged places with him, the savages looking upon her movement as a voluntary one upon her part, to be safe from the erratic blows of the toiling captive. By and by these became so amusing, that the remaining Shawanoe ceased working in order to watch him.

There were three noticeable facts which entirely escaped the observation of the savages. The first was that the other canoe was a considerable distance in advance of them—much further than they would have been willing to allow, had their attention been called to it. The second was that a few hundred yards down stream, a large creek put in from the Kentucky shore; and the last, and certainly most important one, was that in spite of the awkward, vimless efforts of the Irishman, the canoe was approaching slowly but surely the mouth of this creek. The latter fact might possibly have been merely accidental, but a suspicious observer would not have believed thus. Virginia, too, noticed an expression in the eyes of Pat Mulroony, that made her heart beat faster.

Nearer and nearer approached the canoe to the eddying mouth of the creek. The Indians, grinning and unsuspicious, did not notice it until they were fairly within it. Then one of them reached forward to take the oar.

"Ugh! turn back!"

The Shawanoe suddenly dropped back, having received a stunning blow upon the head from the heaviest end of the oar. So violent was it, that, striking the edge of the canoe, he rolled over as helplessly as a log.

"Begorrah, but I axes yer pardon!" exclaimed Pat, to the struggling savage. "But I handles the paddle so awkwardly, that—holy virgin! if I haven't hit the other haythen a crack, too, and he's gone overboard! What's got into me paws?"

The second savage had sprang up, as his companion went into the water, but, as quick as lightning, he dropped back in his seat, catching the sides of the canoe so firmly, that he did not go out of it. The Irishman's blows being "sidewinders,"—that is, on the side of the head, their natural result was to send the recipients overboard, and the Shawanoe in question saved himself so narrowly, that Pat was mistaken in supposing that he was following his comrade.

"That was another awkward piece of business. Let me tip ye another iligant whack with me shillaleh, in the true style of Pat Mulroony, from Tipperary."

Ere the second blow caught the savage, he gave vent to a screeching yell, loud enough to wake the dead. But it did not save him from whisking over the canoe like a frog, and going down out of sight.

The first Indian had by this time arisen, and was endeavoring to climb into the canoe. His hideous face, painted and agleam with the most deadly ferocity, had appeared over the gunwale, and the frail vessel was in momentary danger of coming apart or sinking.

"Go round to the starn, if ye wants to come in!" exclaimed Pat, striking him a tremendous blow in the face with his fist, that quickly loosened his hold. Dipping the paddle into the water, the Irishman now plied it with a skill fully equal to that of the Shawanoes themselves, sending it with a wonderful velocity directly up the creek.

But the second canoe had seen that something was wrong before the yell of their unfortunate comrade had reached their ears, and they were now fairly flying over the water, toward the captives. The Irishman, with a coolness, and presence of mind that was remarkable under the circumstances, seated himself in the stern, and keeping a sharp eye upon either bank, sent his canoe swiftly up the creek, approaching closely to neither shore.

He had calculated to a second almost, the instant when the pursuing Indians would arrive at the mouth of the creek, and consequently, how long he might ascend it without danger of discovery. Virginia, who kept her gaze fixed toward the river, announced that the two Indians had swam to the mainland, and were evidently awaiting the approach of their companions.

It was the intention of the Irishman, when he had ascended as far as he durst, to sheer the canoe under the right bank, which, fortunately for him, was protected by dense, overhanging undergrowth, and concealing his vessel as well as circumstances would permit, to hurry into the woods; but at the moment he dipped his paddle for the purpose of doing so, he made a discovery which induced him to change his mind.

But a comparatively short distance from the Ohio, the creek divided into four narrow branches, scarcely more than three or four yards in width. Believing that the Indians would have no means of learning the course he had followed, he shot the canoe into the lower one of these, and the next minute had disappeared from view.

The fugitives ascended this branch of the creek for a furlong, when it became so narrow and rapid, that the expenditure of labor was too great to pay them for going further by this means of locomotion. Touching the shore, Virginia sprang out, the Irishman followed, pulling the canoe after him, and rearranging the bushes behind, so as to disarm their pursuers of any suspicion, should they follow as high up the branch as this point.

Determined that the canoe, if discovered, should afford them no good, Pat Mulroony turned it over, and springing upon the bottom, inflicted an irreparable injury, by staving it in.

"Come on, me leddy," said he to Virginia, "and when ye mates Mister Waring, ye can tell him that Pat Mulroony hails from Tipperary, and can taach him how to use the shillaleh."

An hour or so later, they reached a spot in the forest, which, pleasing the fancy of the Irishman, he ordered a halt, for the purpose of resting themselves. Declaring that Virginia must be cold, in spite of her protestations to the contrary, he persisted in kindling a fire, which had been burning but a short time, when Waring made his appearance, as we have already related.

"And now, about how far off is that settlement?" asked Pat Mulroony, at the conclusion of his narration.

"It cannot certainly be over eight or ten miles, at the most, as we have been proceeding toward it all the while. We surely ought to be able to reach it in a few hours."

"And what is there to hinder us from starting this minute? The owld man is dead—hoping the leddy will excuse me—and that long-legged Hezekiah has give up the ghost, and we're all that is left of the party which was on the flat-boat a few days since. Bein' we're all here, I makes the move that we starts at once, and have this blatherin' matter done wid at once."

"There is only one thing that troubles me," said Waring. "I am afraid that a number of those Shawanoes are in the vicinity, and if we venture out, we run too great a risk of being seen."

"Begorrah, but how are we going to manage it after all?" queried the Irishman, with great surprise.

"Wait until darkness, when we will run little chance of being seen by those who are evidently watching for us."

"And how will we find the way to the village, if you've no objection to tell, as that long-legged Hezekiah used to say, when he asked a question of us."

"Easily enough by following the river. As the settlement is upon the banks of the Ohio, we surely shall discover it if we do not stray off into the woods."

"Begorrah, but that's the plan fur yees."

It was decided that the best course was for them to be on the move at once, provided they could do so without incurring any additional danger. The way to the river appeared to be the least frequented by their foes and his plan was to approach this as near as convenient, and follow closely its bank, keeping carefully under the cover of the shrubbery and dense undergrowth.

The river could be reached in half an hour at least, provided no unexpected obstacle should present itself, and, with Waring taking the lead, the three set out.

The gallant guide could not restrain his misgivings, as he cautiously stole through the woods, and, more than once, he debated with himself whether it was not best to turn back, and wait for the cover of darkness before attempting to reach the settlement.

They had gone scarcely half the distance, when a paint-bedaubed Shawanoe was discerned coming toward them. Signalling to those behind him, Waring sank down to the ground, and, clutching the handle of his knife, breathlessly awaited his approach.

The head of the savage was bent, as though he was searching the ground for something, and he was walking slowly, little dreaming that the very ones he was so anxious to discover, were so nigh him. As fortunately, indeed for himself, as for the whites, he changed his direction, and, in a few moments, was out of sight.

The fugitives resumed their painfully laborious flight, and finally reached the river bank, rejoiced enough that, as yet, their enemies had learned nothing of their whereabouts. Here, underneath the almost impervious undergrowth, they felt more at ease than they had since they had been joined by Waring.

"What time might it be?" asked the Irishman.

"Near the middle of the afternoon—if not later."

"We'll stay here then until night. What say ye?"

The proposal of Pat Mulroony coincided with what Waring deemed best for the party, and accordingly, it was determined to remain in their present position until night closed around them.

The few hours that yet remained ere the protecting darkness could come, were hours of the most painful suspense to the fugitives. Neither of them hardly dared to stir from his hiding-place, and when they conversed, it was only in the whispered words of fear.

It may well be a question, whether the Shawanoes were really searching for the whites, for it seemed barely possible that if such were the case, they could have helped finding the trail. It was more probable that the Indians had moved to this portion of the wood, and, those of their number who had been seen, were only wandering hither and thither, without any ostensible object.

Be that as it may, the sun was still in the heavens, when the sharp ears of Virginia Lander caught the sound of a footstep near them. Touching Waring on the shoulder, she communicated the startling fact to him, and he admonished the Irishman to maintain a strict silence.

It was soon evident that an Indian was close at hand, and that he was between the fugitives and the river—a position in which it was barely possible for him to pass them, without both parties discovering each other. It was manifest too, from the carelessness with which he was proceeding, that he had no suspicion of the proximity of the whites.

Soon, the form of the Shawanoe was discerned through the intricacies of the bushes, and the fugitives, sinking down to the earth, kept their eyes intently fixed upon him. From his manner, it was plain he was searching for something, although whether that something was our friends or some other object, they had no means of determining. He kept his head down most of the time, occasionally looking up with a puzzled, curious expression, at which time, so close was he, that the black pupils of his basilisk eyes were plainly visible to the whites.

A remarkable fact in regard to this Indian was, that he had no rifle with him, and nothing except a knife carried in his girdle. This, however, did not make him a less dangerous personage to the fugitives, should they be discovered. A single yell from him would bring a horde of the redskins upon them before even they could extricate themselves from the bushes which sheltered them.

What pen shall describe the emotions of the fugitives as they saw the Shawanoe lower his eyes, and gaze straight through the bushes at them—so straight, in fact, that Waring, who was nearest the river, felt confident that he was looking directly at him.

Still, he uttered no sound, and gave no evidence that he had discovered anything unusual in the undergrowth before him, although Waring could not comprehend how such could be the case, for the gaze of the Indian was fixed steady and penetrating.

Suddenly, the young man heard a movement behind him. He dared not turn his head, but he suspected the meaning of it. It was soon explained by the barrel of the Irishman's rifle appearing beside him. "Whist, till I blow the haythen to the divil!" he whispered, as he cocked it. Waring would not run the risk of reply; his words might be heard by other ears than those for which they were intended. He placed the muzzle of the gun against his side, and held it there firmly, so that it could not be discharged without killing him. Pat Mulroony understood this mute appeal, and relinquished his intention of shooting the savage.

All at once, the Shawanoe gave forth a guttural "Ugh!" and approached the fugitives. Pat tugged at the rifle, but Waring would not loosen his grasp. Just as he was about to do so, under the belief that the critical moment had arrived, the Indian stopped and drew something from the bushes. Relief unspeakable! it was a canoe, and the whites still remained undiscovered.

Picking the frail vessel bodily from the ground, the Shawanoe carried it to the water's edge, when, depositing it in the water, he seated himself in it, and paddled away.

"That Indian had the narrowest escape of his life!" remarked Waring, when he had gone.

"Ye spake the truth there," added Pat Mulroony, "and be the same token, ye had the same narry 'scape yerself. I was on the p'int of aiming at the haythen several times through you, and letting daylight through ye both."

Virginia looked horror-struck at the words of the Irishman, noticing which, he whispered to her, (so loud, however, that Waring also caught the words:)

"It's only a joke, me leddy; I wouldn't hit the spalpeen, to save his neck."

In the course of an hour or so, it began to grow dark, and the fugitives impatiently awaited the time when they could move from their hiding-place. With the exception of the Indian mentioned, they saw nothing of their enemies, although they occasionally heard a whoop or halloo in the woods from them.

The sky, which, up to noon had been clear and propitious, had become, since then, darkened and overcast, and gave every sign of a coming storm. Black, threatening clouds were sweeping tumultuously across the heavens, and piling up in huge masses in the far-off horizon, where they towered like the walls of some old unbattled castle, around whose ramparts the serpentine lightning quivered like streams of blood. Faint murmurings of thunder were constantly borne upon the air, and the roaring of the wind in the forest sounded like the distant ocean.

The darkness came on earlier than usual, thus hastened by the marshaling of the storm-king's forces, and the three fugitives stole from the bushes, and commenced their journey toward the settlement.

The progress of the whites was necessarily slow, from the caution exercised. For a considerable distance Waring led the way, when he yielded to the earnest solicitation of Pat Mulroony, and allowed him to take the advance, while he fell behind, and joined Virginia.

"Keep up courage," he whispered to her. "We will soon be where we shall have fewer obstacles to oppose us."

"I am not tired," she replied. "Do not feel any anxiety upon my account."

The darkness had increased rapidly, and the whites began to take less care as they moved along. Quite a strong wind came up the river, and now and then, the flashes of lightning were vivid enough to reveal the shore and stream to them, so that they were guided in a great measure by this means.

Waring was moving along, holding the hand of Virginia in his own, when he suddenly encountered the Irishman, who had stopped walking. He was about to demand the meaning of his acting thus, when he turned his head, and whispered—

"Whist! I saan something then."

"In what form did it appear?"

"Look straight over me shoulder, and when the lightning shows itself agin, tell me what ye saas."

Waring did as requested. The lightning was incessant, but not sharp enough to reveal the object that had attracted the notice of his companion. All at once, however, a bright flame blazed out, and he saw, but a rod or two away, an Indian seated in a canoe. The canoe lay close under the bank, and the savage was seated in the stern, with his back toward the whites, and, from his appearance, was evidently waiting for some one.

Waring felt sure that he was the Shawanoe that had caused them so much alarm, and that, from his presence in this quarter, it was pretty certain his companions were not far distant. While debating with himself upon the best course for him safely to pass him, he felt the Irishman moving away from him.

"What do you intend to do?" he asked, as he arrested him.

"Get that same canoe."

"Get that canoe? What do you mean? How are you going to do it?"

"Let me alone for that. I'll upset the haythen."

"His friends may be closer at hand than you think."

"Divil a bit does I care how close they be. I'll settle this matter with him."

"Well, go on, but be careful."

The great convenience and advantage the canoe would be to the whites, decided Waring to let the Irishman make an effort to gain possession of it.

Having warned him of the danger he ran, he trusted he had sense enough to use all caution possible in the case. Nevertheless, it was with some misgivings that he saw him glide away and disappear in the darkness.

The flash of lightning which had revealed the solitary Indian to the Irishman, had brought his appearance and situation so vividly to his sight, that he could constantly see him, and felt as much assurance in moving toward him as if it were broad daylight.

Step by step he approached, literally feeling every inch of the way, for a single misstep would prove fatal. The snapping of a twig, a slip of his foot in the water, and the vigilant Indian would be on his guard.

Closer and closer approached the Irishman, until he had gained the proper point. Then straightening himself up, he drew back his ponderous fist, and concentrating all his strength, gave him a blow that sent him heels over head out into the water.

"That's what I call a gentle hint fur yees to l'ave."

A few moments later, the party were in the boat, and gliding rapidly with the current.

After floating a few moments in silence, Waring said—

"You and Hezekiah never knew each other until a few days since, I believe."

"No; nor we don't know each other yit."

"He was a singular character, too—odd and eccentric; but as true and faithful as steel. He made a terrible fight before he gave up to those savages. It seems as though I am partly responsible for his death."

"Hallo!" exclaimed the Irishman. "Look yonder jist!"

As he spoke, he pointed down stream. The canoe had just rounded a bend in the river, and a large camp-fire was visible upon the Kentucky side. It was so large and vigorous, that its light was thrown clear across upon the other bank, the surface of the water glistening like silver. Through this broad band of light, it was necessary, of course, that the fugitives pass, and run a second risk of discovery.

The lightning had almost ceased, but a strong wind was blowing, and the huge flame of the camp-fire could be seen surging to and fro, like the waves of a tempest-tossed sea. Dark figures now and then passed between it and the river, and their huge, grotesque shadows quivered on the surface, like monstrous phantoms.

Slowly and noiselessly, the canoe drifted into the broad belt of light, and the fugitives almost held their breath.

The eyes of Waring and Pat Mulroony were naturally fixed upon the camp-fire and its surroundings, but, from some cause which she could never explain, Virginia felt an apprehension, which amounted to a certainty, that all was not right upon the bank which was so near to them, and she kept her gaze fixed in that direction.

And while thus looking, she discovered, plainly and distinctly, the form of a tall Indian, standing upon the very edge of the river, seemingly intent upon watching the canoe. He did not move, or make any demonstration toward its occupants, and remained perfectly motionless until he had faded out of sight in the darkness.

As the fugitives reached the protecting darkness again, confident that they had not been discovered, Waring drew a sigh of relief, and said:

"We need have no fear now. That fire has never been started by the Shawanoes with the intention of receiving any assistance from it in recapturing us. I think I may safely say we are out of all danger."

"I feel so relieved," said Virginia. "It seems as though I had suffered a hundred deaths since that dreadful night. How soon may we expect to reach the settlement, Luther?"

"I cannot tell you precisely, but in three hours, I should say, at the furthest. What do you think, Pat?"

"Never having been in this region, I find it rather difficult to answer your question, as the minister said, when the old woman axed him how Jonah felt in the whale's belly."

"I forgot; you told me that before. However, I cannot be far out of the way in my guess."

"Is it not singular, Luther, that, if we are so close to the village, these Indians also should be?"

"Not at all. I have no doubt that there are hundreds within half a mile of it. On an exposed frontier it is always thus. Without good defences, brave hearts, and trusty rifles, such a place would not be safe from destruction for a single hour."

"Whisht!" interrupted the Irishman. "If I didn't hear the tramp of one of the haythens on shore, I'll never tip another shillaleh!"

"I heard it, too—the snapping of a twig," added Virginia.

"The same, jist—one of the dogs is follying us."

"That is not probable. What could he gain by such a course?"

"Larn the way to that sittlement of which yees were spaking."

"I should not wonder if Pat were right," said Virginia. "I have heard evidence of his presence several times."

"Let us listen. The wind may have made all the sounds you have heard."

For the space of fifteen or twenty minutes, the whites maintained silence, but there was nothing heard farther, and they fell to conversing again.

The situation of our friends, although not without the grand comforter, hope, was still gloomy and impressive. On either hand, the dark, frowning forests loomed up and the wind sighing through them, made wildly-mournful music—now roaring like a hurricane, and then dying away in a hollow, desolate moaning. Occasionally the sharp scream of some wild animal was borne forward upon the night wind, and once or twice the reports of rifles showed that the Indian, the far wilder animal of the two, was "abroad upon the night."

The wind raised small waves upon the surface of the river, and they rippled along the shore, and around the projecting roots of the trees that grew upon the banks. Even their own voices sounded differently upon this wild night. But they were sustained by the prospect of speedy deliverance and shelter, and were more hopeful than they had been since their first memorable disaster.

In the course of half an hour the river made another bend, and the wind now blew directly up stream. The onward motion of the canoe grew less and less, and finally it stopped altogether.

"This will never do," said Waring, when he had satisfied himself how matters stood. "It will be a long while before we reach the settlement at this rate."

"Let's put into shore, and scare up some kind of paddle for each of us to go to work with."

"I am afraid that we could not accomplish much, Pat; the only course is for us to land, and make the rest of the journey on foot? Do you feel able to walk a mile or two, Virginia?"

"Walk a mile or two?" she repeated, "if necessary, a dozen of them, when cheered by the hope that animates us!"

"A noble girl! Help me in with the canoe, then, Pat."

Using their hands vigorously, as they had done once or twice before, the boat gradually approached the shore, until it had run in under the limb of a tree, which was seized by Pat, and held while the other two disembarked. Then kicking the canoe from beneath him, the Irishman also sprang to land, and stood among his friends.

"Shall we kape close in the wather, or off from it always?" he asked.

"The undergrowth seems to be the densest by the river, and as I see no need of remaining by it, we will go further into the woods, where it will be less difficult to walk."

Accordingly the three moved further away, where the wood was more open, and for some time they encountered little obstruction in their journeying. The Irishman, as usual, brought up the rear, now and then giving vent to some original remark, and occasionally indulging in snatches of song.

Waring was about to speak to his companion, when he felt her grasp his arm with incredible power, and startled nearly out of his senses, he turned toward her:

"What's the matter, Virginia?" he asked.

"Oh!" she gasped in a tremor "I saw that Indian just now."

"Where?"

"Here, right beside me."

"Did you see him, Pat?" asked Waring, grasping his rifle, and peering round in the darkness.

"No, but I heard the hay——"

"There! there he is again!" she interrupted, pointing in front of them.

Waring caught a glimpse of a dark form, and ere he could precisely locate it, he saw Pal Mulroony bound forward like a ball, and the next instant the two were grappled together in a hand-to-hand struggle.

The impetuous onslaught of the Irishman was irresistible, and he bore his opponent to the ground, and seated himself astride of him. Whipping out his knife, he fairly shrieked:

"Say yer prayers quick, for you've got only a second and a half to say 'em in!"

"If you've no objection, I should like to know why ye can't give a little longer time?" asked the familiar, whining voice of Hezekiah Smith!

CHAPTER XVI.

CONCLUSION.

There was no mistaking the voice. It was Hezekiah Smith himself, beyond a doubt. Stooping down so as to obtain a glimpse of his features, the Irishman peered into his face for a moment, and then releasing him, said:

"It's that long-legged chap as was killed, or else I ain't Pat Mulroony!"

"Is it possible that that is you?" asked Waring, placing his hand upon his shoulder, and feeling of his face and arms.

"I've a strong suspicion now that I'm the identical, and precisely the same personage that you took so much pain to kiver up in that same gorge," replied Hezekiah.

"Let us strike a fire, and sit down and have a talk," said Waring. "This is too good fortune, indeed."

Branches and twigs were soon collected, and a fire started. Seating themselves by it, the reunited friends gazed into each other's faces. To the surprise of all, Hezekiah Smith was attired in the dress of a Shawanoe Indian.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Waring, pointing at his costume.

"A stroke of my genius," replied the New Englander; "considered as an idea original with myself, I think it reflects credit upon me."

"But let us hear the particulars of your escape."

"They don't amount to much," said Hezekiah. "The p'int is just here. You know I had an all-fired row on that precipice. Drat me, if that wan't the greatest scrape I ever got into in all my life. I dug, and kicked, and pulled, and twisted, and gouged, and bit, and rolled with that last Injun, but it wan't no use. When he went over, I had to go over, too. Well, there! it was sublime, spinning down through the dizzy air with that Shawanoe fast to me! I had more ecstacy in them one or two seconds, then I've had in all the rest of my life.

"As it happened, the Injin fell under me, and was knocked into a jelly, though, for that matter, I had settled his hash for him before he went over. I'd advise you to believe now that I was bruised slightly, and for a few minutes I seen nothing but stars, and heard nothing but the queerest kind of music in my head.

"When I came to myself somebody was drawing me along the ground. Thinking as how it must be one of the dratted imps, I just kept my eyes shet, and let him pull away. Bimeby he let me drap, and piled me over with dirt and stones. I heard him mutter something, but I kept my eyes closed up all the time; he never thought I was playing possum.

"Arter he'd been gone some time, it struck me all at once that that had been you who had taken sich pains with me. You'd better believe I opened my eyes then, and crawled out of that place in a hurry. The way the stones and dirt flew, you'd have thought a barrel of powder had been tetched off.

"But you'd been gone too long fur me to find you, though I tried hard enough to do it. I follered you a good ways into the woods, and had to give it up at last. I leaned up agin a tree, and was thinking about it——"

"That was you, then, Pat and I saw, and he wanted to shoot so bad. You had a narrow escape."

"I s'pose it was me. I soon found the redskins was too thick in them parts, so I crept down by the river, and waited fur night. Some time after dark, I heerd one of the scamps screech, followed by the crack of their rifles. I knowed you must be in some scrape, so I hurried down the river, but couldn't see anything of you. Walking down the bank some minutes arter, I thought I heard somebody speak on the river, so I kept going down the shore, and listenin' like.

"Opposite where that big fire was, I seen the canoe, but there was three persons in it. I couldn't understand how that could be, and was afraid to show myself."

"I saw you," said Virginia, smiling, "but I told no one of it."

"I kept along by you, howsumever, and at last seen you land."

"You must have known us, then, surely."

"Yes, I did; but just for a little fun, I thought I'd scare you a bit, and, by thunder, I reckon it was me that got the most scart, when Pat pounced upon me out there."

"But you have not told us about this Indian dress."

"I forgot that. It struck me that, being there was so many Injins about, it would be a good idea to put on one of their dresses. It might come handy, you know. One of the dead redskins was just my size, and I changed costumes with him, leaving him, of course, to put the clothes on for himself, as I did with them I got. I believe they have kept me out of danger several times since I put them on. But how about this fire burning here? Ain't there some danger of its being seen?"

"I took pains to screen it from observation, and I have no fears," replied Waring. "I tell you what I propose," he added. "The woods are so dark, and as none of us know the way, it is more likely that we shall be entirely lost if we keep on in this manner. Suppose, therefore, we spend the night here?"

This proposal being agreed to by all, the preparations were made for carrying it out. A couch of boughs and leaves were made near the fire for Virginia, upon which a blanket or two were spread, and upon which, a few minutes later, the wearied and exhausted girl was sound asleep. The others seated themselves around the fire, to spend several hours in chatting and conversation.

"A few hours ago," said Waring, addressing Pat Mulroony, "you were upon the point of explaining something in regard to yourself, when you were interrupted by the discovery of a new danger. Perhaps, while we are seated here, you'll give us the reason that induced you to come into this wild country."

The Irishman smiled:

"It's little I have to tell, as the deaf and dumb man said. It's thrue I niver have been out in these parts before; but I've thraveled over considerable of the wilderness in the last few years. You know there be signs of another Injin war, and I've been sint here as a private agent of Mad Anthony, to larn what is to be larned."

"That's what I am!" exclaimed Hezekiah Smith.

Seeing that his hearers appealed incredulous, Smith added:

"Such is the fact. I had a love adventure at home, which sent me out here, and that's why I'm rather green. I was sent in these parts at my special request."

"Begorrah, but we goes togither after this," said Pat Mulroony.

The two grasped hands.

"It strikes me," said Hezekiah Smith, "that while we've larned considerable of these redskins, it ain't quite enough to suit the General. I propose, therefore, we start out agin."

Despite Waring's protestations, these two eccentric individuals insisted upon departing at once. Although much bruised, Hezekiah would not consent to go to the settlement, until he could fully recover, nor would he allow Virginia Lander to be awakened, in order to bid him good-by. Assuring him whom they left behind, that he should hear from them again, the two worthies arose, and passed out in the darkness together.

At the earliest sign of day, our hero and heroine were again en route, and in the course of an hour, came in sight of the settlement. Their destination—the long wished and prayed for goal—was reached. Painful and terrible had been their sufferings on the way, but they had been rewarded at last. Arm-and-arm the two entered this village of the wilderness, as hand-in-hand they entered upon the great journey of life, and went up the hill-side, and, finally, down through the Dark Valley into the eternal life beyond.

THE END.

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