Chapter 8

THE INDIANS AND THEIR PRISONERS.

While the events just chronicled were enacting in one part of the country, others, of a different nature, but somewhat connected with them, were taking place in another. In a dark, lonely pass or gorge of the hills, some ten miles to the north of the scene of the preceding chapter, where the surrounding trees grew so thick with branches and leaves that they almost entirely excluded the sunlight from the waters of a stream which there rolled foaming and roaring between the hills and over and against the rocks of its precipitous bed, or, plunging down some frightful precipice, lay as if stunned or exhausted by the fall in the chasm below, mirroring in its still bosom with a gloomy reflection the craggy steeps rising majestically above it--in this dark and lonely pass, we say, was a party of human beings, to whom the proper development of our story now calls us.

The company in question was composed of eight persons, five of whom were Indians of the Seneca tribe;[5] the others--a thin-faced, gaunt, stoop-shouldered man past the middle age--a rather corpulent, masculine looking woman, a few years his junior--a little fair-haired, blue-eyed, pretty-faced girl of six--were white captives. Four of the Indians were seated or partly reclining on the ground, with their guns beside them, ready for instant use if necessary, engaged in roasting slices of deer meat before a fire that had been kindled for the purpose. The fifth savage was pacing to and fro, with his rifle on his arm, performing the double duty of sentinel and guard over the prisoners, who were kept in durance by strong cords some ten paces distant. The old man was secured by a stick passing across his back horizontally, to which both wrists and arms were tightly bound with thongs of deer skin. To prevent the possibility of escape, both legs were fastened together by the same material, and a long, stout rope, encircling his neck, was attached to a tree hard by. This latter precaution, and much of the former, seemed unnecessary; for there was a mild look of resigned dejection on his features, as they bent toward the earth, with his chin resting on his bosom, that appeared strongly at variance with any thing like flight or strife. His female companion was fastened in like manner to the tree, but in other respects only bound by a stout thong around the wrists in front. The third member of the white party, the little girl, was seated at the feet of the old man, with her small wrists also bound until they had swollen so as to pain her, looking up from time to time into his face with a heart-rending expression of grief, fear and anxiety.

Of the Indians themselves, we presume it would be difficult to find, among all the tribes of America, five more blood-thirsty, villainous looking beings than the ones in question. They were only partially dressed, after the manner of their tribe, with skins around their loins, extending down to their knees, and moccasins on their feet, leaving the rest of their bodies and limbs bare. Around their waists were belts, for the tomahawk and scalping knife, at three of which now hung freshly taken scalps. Their faces had been hideously painted for the war-path; but heat and perspiration had since out done the artist, by running the composition into streaks, in such a way as to give them the most diabolical appearance imaginable. On each of their heads was a tuft of feathers, some of which had the appearance of having recently been scorched and blackened by fire, while their arms and bodies were here and there besmeared with blood.

The four around the fire were in high glee, as they roasted and devoured their meat, judging from their nods, and grins, and grunts of approbation, whenever their eyes glanced in the direction of their prisoners--the effect of which was far from consoling to the matron of the latter; who, having eyed them for some time in indignant silence, at length burst forth with angry vehemence:

"Well, now, jest grin, and jabber, and grin, like a pesky set o' natural born monkeys, that's ten times better nor you is any day of your good for nothing, sneaking lives. Goodness, gracious, marsy on me alive!" continued the dame, whom the reader has doubtless recognized as Mrs. Younker; "I only jest wish you had to change places with me and Ben here for about five minutes; and ef I didn't make your old daubed, nasty, villainous, unyarthly looking faces grin to another tune, I hope I may never be blessed with liberty agin in creation, as long as I live on the face o' this univarsal yarth!"

"Ugh!" ejaculated the sentinel, turning towards the speaker, as she concluded her fierce tirade, at the same time placing his hand on the tomahawk in his belt with an angry gesture: "Ugh! me squaw kill--she no stop much talky!"

"You'd kill me, would ye? you mean, dirty, ripscallious looking varmint of the woods you, that don't know a pin from a powder horn!" rejoined the undaunted Mrs. Younker, in a vehement tone: "You'd kill me for using the freedom of tongue, as these blessed Colonies is this moment fighting for with the tarnal Britishers? You'd kill me, would ye? Well, it's jest my first nateral come at opinion, as I tolled Ben here, not more'n a quarter o' an hour ago, that you war jest mean enough for any thing, as ever war invented, in the whole univarsal yarth o' creation--so ef you do kill me, I won't be in the leastest grain disappinted, no how."

"Don't, Dorothy--don't irritate the savage for nothing at all!" said her husband, who, raising his head at the first remark of the Indian, now saw in his fierce, flashing eyes, angry gestures, and awful contortions of visage, that which boded the sudden fulfillment of his threat: "Don't irritate him, and git murdered for your pains, Dorothy! Why can't you be more quiet?"

"Don't talk to me about being quiet, Benjamin Younker, away out here in the woods, a captive to such imps an them thar, with our house all burnt to nothing like, and our cows and sheeps and hosses destructed, and--"

Here the speech of the good woman was suddenly cut short by the whizzing of a tomahawk past her head, which slightly grazed her cheek, and lodged in the tree a few feet beyond. Whether it was aimed at her life and missed its mark, or whether it was merely done to frighten her, does not appear; though the manner of the savage, after the weapon was thrown, inclines us to the latter supposition; for instead of rushing upon her with his knife, he walked deliberately to the tree, withdrew the tomahawk, and then turning to her, and brandishing it over her head, said:

"Squaw, still be! Speak much, me killum!"

Be the design of the Indian what it might, the whole proceeding certainly produced one result, which nothing had ever been known to do before--it awed to silence the tongue of Mrs. Younker, just at a moment when talking would have been such a relief to her overcharged spirit; and merely muttering, in an under tone, "I do jest believe the ripscallious varmint is in arnest, sure enough!" she held her speech for the extraordinary space of half an hour.

Meantime the other savages finished their repast; and having offered a portion of it to the prisoners, which the latter refused, they proceeded to destroy their fire, by casting the burning brands into the rushing waters of the stream below. This done, they extended their circle somewhat--each placing himself by a tree or rock--and then in the most profound silence stood like bronzed statuary, apparently awaiting the arrival of another party. At last--and just as the sun was beginning to peep over the brow of the steep above them, and let his rays struggle with the matted foliage of the trees, for a glimpse of the roaring waters underneath--one of the Indians started, looked cautiously around, dropped flat upon the earth; and then rising, and motioning with his hand for all to be silent, glided noiselessly away, like the shadow of some evil spirit, into the surrounding thicket. He had scarcely been absent three minutes, when a slight crackling among the brush was heard near at hand; and immediately after he rejoined his companions, followed by a party of eight Indian warriors, and two white prisoners, headed by a low browed, sinister, blood-thirsty looking white man, in a garb resembling that worn by a subordinate British officer. His coat was red, with facings of another color, underneath which was partially displayed a handsome vest and ruffled shirt. About his waist passed a broad wampum belt, in which were confined a brace of silver mounted pistols, another pair of less finish and value, a silver handled dirk, a scalping knife and tomahawk, on whose blades could be seen traces of blood. Around his neck was a neatly tied cravat, and dangling in front of his vest a gold chain, which connected with a watch hid in a pocket of his breeches, whence depended a larger chain of steel, supporting in turn three splendid gold seals and two keys. His nether garments were breeches, leggins, and moccasins, all of deer skin, and without ornament. His hat, not unlike those of the present day, was on this occasion graced with a red feather, which protruded above the crown, and corresponded well with his general appearance.

The Indian companions of this individual were not remarkable for any thing, unless it might be ferocity of expression. They were habited, with but one exception, like those previously described, and evidently belonged to the same tribe. This exception was a large, athletic, powerful Indian, rather rising of six feet, around whose waist was a finely worked wampum belt, over whose right shoulder, in a transverse direction, extended a red scarf, carelessly tied under the left arm, and in whose nose and ears were large, heavy rings, denoting him to be either a chief or one in command. His age was about thirty; and his features, though perhaps less ferocious than some of his companions, were still enough so to make him an object of dread and fear. His forehead was low, his eye black and piercing, and his nose rather flat and widely distended at the nostrils. He was called Peshewa: Anglice, Wild cat.

As the prisoners of the latter party came in sight of those of the former, there was a general start and exclamation of surprise; while the sad faces of each showed how little pleasure they felt in meeting each other under such painful circumstances. The last comers, as the reader has doubtless conjectured, were Algernon and Ella. Immediately on their entering the ravine, as previously recorded, they had been set upon by savages, their horses shot from under them, and themselves made captives. This result, however, as regards Algernon, had not been effected without considerable effort on the part of his numerous enemies. At the first fire, his horse fell; but disentangling himself, and drawing his pistols, he sprung upon the side of his dying beast, and discharged them both at his nearest foes--one of which took effect, and sent a warrior to his last account. Then leaping in among them, he drew his knife and cut madly about him until secured; though doubtless he would have been tomahawked on the spot, only that he might be reserved for the tortures, when his brutal captors should arrive at their destination. Meantime the animal which bore the lovely Ella, being wounded by the same fire which killed her companion's, bounded forward some twenty paces, when a blow on the head with a tomahawk laid him prostrate, and she was secured also. The party then proceeded to bury the dead, at some little distance, and start upon their journey, to join their companions--which latter we have just seen accomplished.

As soon as mutual recognitions had passed between the prisoners, the individual habited in the British uniform stepped forward, and said, jocosely:

"So, friends, we all meet again, do we, eh?--ha, ha, ha!"

At the sound of his voice, the old man and his wife, both of whom had been too intently occupied with Algernon and Ella to notice him before, started, and turning their eyes suddenly upon him, simultaneously exclaimed:

"Mr. Williams!"

"_Sometimes_ Mr. Williams," answered the other, with a strong emphasis on the first word, accompanying it with a horrible oath; "but now, when disguise is no longer necessary, Simon Girty, the renegade, by ----!--ha, ha, ha!"

As he uttered these words, in a coarse, ruffianly tone, a visible shudder of fear or disgust, or both combined, passed through the frame of each of the prisoners; and Algernon turning to him, with an expression of loathing contempt, said:

"I more than half suspected as much, when I sometime since contemplated your low-browed, hang-dog countenance. Of course we can expect no mercy at such hands."

"Mercy!" cried Girty, turning fiercely upon him, his eyes gleaming savagely, his mouth twisting into a shape intended to express the most withering contempt, while his words fairly hissed from between his tightly set teeth: "Mercy? dog! No, by h----l! for none like you! Hark ye, Mr. Reynolds! Were you in the damnable cells of the Inquisition, accused of heresy, and about to be put to the tortures, you might think yourself in Paradise compared to what you shall yet undergo!"

As he uttered these words, Ella shrieked and fell fainting to the earth. Springing to her, Girty raised her in his arms; and pointing to her pale features, as he did so, continued:

"See! Mr. Reynolds, this girl loves you; I love her; we are rivals; and you, my rival, are in my power: and, by ----! and all the powers of darkness, you shall feel my vengeance!"

"You love her?" broke in Mrs. Younker, who, in spite of her previous dangerous warning, could hold her peace no longer: "You love her! you mean, contemptible, red headed puppy! I don't believe as how you knows enough to love nothing! And so you're Simon Girty, hey? that thar sneaking, red-coat renegade? Well, I reckon as how you've told the truth once; for I've hearn tell that he war an orful mean looking imp o' Satan; and I jest don't believe as how a meaner one nor yourself could be skeer'd up in the whole universal yarth o' creation."

"Rail on, old woman!" replied Girty, as he chafed the temples of Ella with his hands; "but in a little lower key; or I shall be under the necessity of ordering a stopper to your mouth; which, saving the tortures of the stake, is the worst punishment for you I can now invent. As for you, Mr. Younker," continued he, turning his face to the old man, with a peculiar expression; "you seem to have nothing to say to an old friend--ha, ha, ha!"

"Whensomever I mention the name o' Simon Girty," replied Younker, in a deliberate and startlingly solemn tone, "I al'ays call down God's curse upon the fiendish renegade--and I do so now."

"By ----! old man," cried Girty, casting Ella roughly from him, and starting upright, the perfect picture of a fiend in human shape; "another word, and your brains shall be scattered to the four winds of heaven!"

As he spoke, he brandished his tomahawk over the other's head; while the child, before noticed, uttered a wild scream, and sprung to Mrs. Younker, at whose side she crouched in absolute terror.

"Strike!" answered Younker, mildly, with an unchanged countenance, his eye resting steadily upon the other, who could not meet his gaze in the same manner. "Strike! Simon Girty; for I'm a man that's never feared death, and don't now; besides, I reiterate all I've said, and with my dying breath pray God to curse ye!"

"Not yet!" rejoined Girty, smothering his rage, as he replaced his weapon. "Not yet, Ben Younker; for you take death too easy; and by ----! I'll make it have terrors for you! But what child is this?" continued he, grasping the little girl fiercely by the arm, causing her to utter a cry of pain and fear. "By heavens! what do we with squalling children? Here, Oshasqua, I give her in your charge; and if she yelp again, brain her, by ----!" and he closed with an oath.

The Indian whom we have previously noticed as the sentinel, stepped forward, with a demoniac gleam of satisfaction on his ugly countenance, and taking the child by the hand, led her away some ten paces, where he amused himself by stripping her of such apparel as he fancied might ornament his own person; while she, poor little thing, afraid to cry aloud, could only sob forth the bitterness of her heart.

Meantime Girty turning to Ella, and finding her gradually recovering, assisted her to rise; and then motioning the chief aside, he held a short consultation with him, in the Indian dialect, regarding their next proceedings, and the disposal of the prisoners.

"Were it not, Peshewa, for his own base words," said the renegade, in reply to some remark of his Indian ally, "I would have spared him; but now," and his features exhibited a concentrated expression of infernal hate and revenge; "but now, Peshewa, he dies! with all the horrors of the stake, that you, a noble master of the art of torture, can invent and inflict. The Long Knife[6] must not curse the red man's friend in his own camp and go unpunished. I commend him to your mercy, Peshewa--ha, ha, ha!" and he ended with a hoarse, fiend-like laugh.

"Ugh!" returned Wild-cat, giving a gutteral grunt of satisfaction, although not a muscle of his rigid features moved, and, save a peculiar gleam of his dark eye, nothing to show that he felt uncommon interest in the sentence of Younker: "Peshewa a chief! The Great Spirit give him memory--the Great Spirit give him invention. He will remember what he has done to prisoners at the stake,--he can invent new tortures. But the squaw?"

"Ay, the squaw!" answered the renegade, musingly; "the old man's wife--she must be disposed of also. Ha! a thought strikes me, Peshewa: You have no wife--(the savage gave a grunt)--suppose you take her?"

Peshewa started, and his eyes flashed fire, as he said, with great energy: "Does the wolf mate with his hunter, that you ask a chief of the Great Spirit's red children to mate with their white destroyer?"

"Then do with her what you ---- please," rejoined Girty, throwing in an oath. "I was only jesting, Peshewa. But come, we must be on the move! for this last job will not be long a secret; and then we shall have the Long Knives after us as hot as h----l. We must divide our party. I will take with me these last prisoners and six warriors, and you the others. A quarter of a mile below here we will separate and break our trail in the stream; you and your party by going up a piece--I and mine by going down. This will perplex them, and give us time. Make your trail conspicuous, Peshewa, and I will be careful to leave none whatever, if I can help it; for, by ----! I must be sure to escape with my prisoners. If you are close pressed, you can brain and scalp yours; but for some important reasons, I want mine to live. We will meet, my noble Peshewa, at the first bend of the Big Miama."

The Indian heard him through, without moving a muscle of his seemingly blank features, and then answered, a little haughtily:

"Kitchokema[7] plans all, and gives his red brother all the danger; but Peshewa is brave, and fears not."

"And do you think it's through fear?" asked Girty, angrily.

"Peshewa makes no charges against his brother," answered Wild-cat, quietly.

"Perhaps it is as well he don't," rejoined Girty, in an under tone, knitting his brows; and then quickly added: "Come, Peshewa, let us move; for while we tarry, we are giving time to our white foes."

Thus ended the conference; and in a few minutes after the whole party was in motion. Following the course of the waters down to the base of the hills, they came to a sloping hollow of some considerable extent, where the stream ran shallow over a smooth, beautiful bed. Into this latter the whole company now entered, for the purpose of breaking the trail, as previously arranged by Girty; and here they divided, according to his former plan also.

If the unhappy prisoners regretted meeting one another in distress, their parting regrets were an hundred fold more poignant; for to them it seemed evidently the last time they would ever behold on earth each others faces; and this thought alone was enough to dim the eyes of Ella and her adopted mother with burning tears, and shake their frames with heart-rending sobs of anguish; while the old man and Algernon, though both strove to be stoical, could not look on unmoved to a similar show of grief. Since their meeting, the captives had managed to converse together sufficiently to learn the manner of each others capture, and give each other some hope of being successfully followed and released by their friends; but now, when they saw the caution displayed by their enemies in breaking the trail, they began to fear for the result. Just before entering the stream, they passed through a cluster of bushes that skirted the river's bank; and Ella, the only prisoner whose hands were unbound, by a quick and sly movement succeeded in detaching a portion of her dress, which she there left as a sign to those who might follow, that she was still alive, and so encourage them to proceed, in case they were about to falter and turn back.

The separation being now speedily effected, the two parties were quickly lost to each other--Girty and his band going down the bed of the stream some two hundred yards before touching the bank; and the others, headed by Wild-cat, going up about half that distance.

Leaving each to their journey, let us now return to the band already in pursuit.

[Footnote 5: Some historians have stated that the Indians here alluded to were Mingoes, and _not_ Senecas; and that they were a remnant of the celebrated Logan's tribe.]

[Footnote 6: Sometimes Big Knife--first applied to the Virginians by the Indians.]

[Footnote 7: Great Chief--a term sometimes given to Girty by the Indians.]