CHAPTER XX.

The morning of the following day broke fresh and beautiful. A bright clearness was in the sky--a brisk elasticity in the air--that had not been seen or felt for weeks. Everything looked sparkling, and sharp, and distinct. Distances were diminished; woods and hills, which had looked dim, seemed near and definite; and the whole world appeared in harmony with energy and effort. The heavy rains of the preceding morning had cleared the overcharged atmosphere, as tears will sometimes relieve the loaded breast; and when Lord H---- and Mr. Prevost mounted their horses to set out, it seemed as if the invigorating air had restored to the latter the firmness and courage of which the grief and horror of the preceding day had deprived him.

Edith embraced her father, and gave her cheek to the warm touch of her lover's lips; and then she watched them as they rode away, till the wood shut them out from her sight.

The soldiers were by this time installed in the part of the house destined for them; and some of the negroes were busy in preparing for their accommodation; but old Agrippa, and the gardener's boy, and a woman-servant, stood near, watching their master and his guest as they departed.

As soon as the little party was out of sight, however, Edith turned to Agrippa, and said,--

"Send Chando to me in the parlour; I wish to speak with him."

When the man appeared, she gazed at him earnestly, saying,--

"How far is it to Oneida Creek, Chando? Have you ever been there?"

"Ah, yes, missa, often, when I was a little boy. Why, you know, my fadder run away and live with Ingins long time, 'cause he had bad master. But Ingins cut him and thump him more nor worst massa in de world, and so he come back again. How far be it? Oh, long way; twice so far as Johnson Castle, or more--oh yes, tree time so far."

Edith knew how vague a negro's ideas of distance are, and she then put her question in a form which would get her a more distinct answer.

"Bethink you, Chando," she said, "how long it would take me to reach the lake--how long it would take any one. Consider it well, and let me know."

"You, missy, you!" cried the negro, in great astonishment; "_you_ never think of going there?"

"I don't know, Chando," she replied: "it might be needful; and I wish to know how long it would take."

"Dat 'pend upon how you go, missy," returned the man. "Ride so far as Johnson Castle; but can't ride no farder. Den walk as I walk? You never do dat; and, if you do, take you five day, and walk hard too."

Poor Edith's heart sank.

"Otaitsa walks," she said, in a desponding tone; "but, it is true, she can do much that I cannot do."

"_She_ walk! Oh dee no, missy," replied the negro; "she walk little bit o' way from what dey call Wood Creek, or from de Mohawk. She walk no farder. All de rest she go in canoe, sometimes on Mohawk, sometimes on lake, sometimes on creek. She come here once in tree day. I hear old Grey Buzzard, de pipe-bearer, say dat, time when de Sachem came wid his warriors."

"And can I do the same?" asked Edith, eagerly.

"Sure you can, if you get canoe," answered Chando; "but oh, missy, tink ob de Ingins. Dey kidnap Massa Walter--dey kill you too."

"There is no fear, Chando," replied Edith. "Even my father owns that I could safely go from one lodge to another through the whole land of the Five Nations, because Black Eagle has put his blanket round me, and made me his daughter."

"Massa know best," said Chando; "but, if so, why dey kidnap Massa Walter?"

"Black Eagle refused to make him his son, or my father his brother," said Edith, with the tears rising in her eyes. "But the truth, Chando, is, that I go to try if I can save poor Walter's life--I go to tell the Blossom that they hold _my_ Walter, _her_ Walter, a prisoner, and see whether we cannot find means to rescue him."

"I see--I see, missy," said the man, gravely; and then, after pausing for a moment, he asked, abruptly, "I go with you?"

"Some one I must have to show me the way," replied Edith. "Are you afraid, Chando?"

"Afraid!" cried the man, bursting into a fit of joyous laughter. "Oh, no, not afraid: Ingins no hurt nigger--kick him, cuff him, no scalp him, cause nigger got no scalp-lock. Ha, ha, ha! I go help save Massa Walter. He never hab no good ting, but he give Chando some. Oh, I manage all for you. We find plenty canoe--Mohawk canoe--Oneida canoe--if we say you Black Eagle's daughter going to see you sister Otaitsa. When you go, missy?"

"Very soon, Chando," replied Edith.

She then proceeded to explain to him her plan still further. She said that she wished to set out that very day, and as soon as possible, in order first to communicate the tidings of Walter's capture to Otaitsa without delay, and secondly to save her father as many hours of anxiety as possible. She did not absolutely tell the man that she had not informed her father of her intention; but he divined it well.

Nevertheless, when he heard somewhat more at large the conduct of Black Eagle towards her on the night of poor Walter's capture, he was quite satisfied of her safety, as far as the Indians were concerned. He urged her, however, to go, in the first place, to Johnson Castle, where she could procure a canoe, or even a _bateau_, he felt certain; and it was long before he comprehended her objection to that course. At length, however, his usual "I see--I see," showed that he had caught a light; and then he was soon ready with his resources.

"Den we walk to de nearest end of little pond--only tree mile," he said; "fishing canoe all ready. Next we go down little pond, and de creek, into lake; keep by nort side, and den walk to Mohawk, tree mile more. I carry canoe cross on my back. Den, Ingin or no Ingin, we get along. If missy like to take oder nigger too, we get on very fast, and he carry bundle."

"I must have one of the women with me," said Edith, in a thoughtful tone; "but which?"

The negro's countenance fell a little. He was very proud of the confidence placed in him, and he did not like to share it with a white woman. His tone, then, was rather dejected, though submissive, when he asked,--

"Do missy take white woman Sally wid her? Sally no walk--Sally no run--Sally no paddle, when Chando is tired."

"No," replied Edith, at once. "I can take no white person with me, Chando, for it would risk her life; and, even to save my poor brother, I must not lure another into such peril. One of your colour, Chando, they will not hurt; for it is a white man's blood they will have for a white man's act."

"Then take Sister Bab!" cried Chando, rubbing his hands, with the peculiar low negro chuckle. "Sister Bab walk, run, carry bundle, and twirl paddle wid anybody."

Now, Bab was a stout negro woman of about forty years of age, with a pleasant countenance, and very fine white teeth, who rejoiced in the cognomen of sister, though, to the best of Edith's knowledge, she was sister to no one in the house, at least. Her usual occupations were in the farmyard, the dairy, and the pigsty; so that Edith had not seen very much of her. But all that she had seen was pleasant; for Sister Bab seemed continually on the watch to do everything for everybody, receiving all orders even from "Massa Walter," who was sometimes a little inconsiderate, with a broad, good-humoured grin. Her constant activity and indefatigable energy promised well for an undertaking such as that in which Edith was engaged.

"Well, Chando," said the young lady, "I do not know that I could make a better choice. Send Sister Bab to me; for where dangers such as these are to be encountered, I will not take any woman without her own free consent."

"Oh, she go; I talk wid her," said Chando; "you nebber trouble yourself, missy. She go to world's end wid Miss Edith, and fight like debbel, if dere be need. I nebber saw woman so good at catching fish; she'll hook 'em out like cabbages."

"That also may be useful to us," said Edith, with a faint smile. "But send her to me, Chando; I must speak with her before we go."

The good woman, when she came, made not the slightest objection; but, on the contrary, looked upon the expedition as something very amusing, which would give her relief from the tedium of her daily labours, and at the same time afford full occupation for her active spirit. She was as ready with suggestions as Chando; told Edith everything she had best take with her; detailed all her own proposed preparations, and even begged for a rifle, declaring that she was as good a shot as "Massa Walter," and had often fired his gun when he had brought it home undischarged.

Edith declined, however, to have a rifle-woman in her train; and having told her two chosen attendants that she would be ready in an hour, retired to make her preparations, and write a few lines to her father and her lover, to account for her absence when they returned. Both letters were brief; but we will only look at that which she left for Mr. Prevost.

"My dear father," she wrote, "I am half afraid I am doing wrong in taking the step I am about to take, without your knowledge or approbation; but I cannot sit still and do nothing, while all are exerting themselves to save my dear brother. I feel that it is absolutely necessary to any hope of his safety, that Otaitsa should be informed immediately of his situation.

"It may be months before any Indian runner is found, and meanwhile my poor brother's fate may be sealed. Were it to cost my life, I should think myself bound to go; but I am the only one who can go in perfect safety, for, while promising his protection to me, and insuring me against all danger, the Black Eagle refused to give any assurance in regard to others. You have yourself acknowledged, my dear father, that I shall be perfectly safe; and I have also the advantage of speaking the Indian language well. In these circumstances, would it not be wrong--would it not be criminal--in me to remain here idle, when I have even a chance of saving my poor brother? Forgive me, then, if I do wrong, on account of the motives which lead me.

"My course is straight to the Mohawk, by the little pond and the lake, and then up the Mohawk and Wood Creek, as far as they will carry me; for, wishing to save myself as much fatigue as possible, I shall venture to take the canoe from the pond.

"I have asked Chando and Sister Bab to accompany me, as I know you would wish me to have protection and assistance on the way, in case of any difficulty. I hope to be back in six days at the furthest; and, if possible, I will send a runner to inform you of my safe arrival amongst the Oneidas.

"Once more, my dear father, think of the great object I have in view, and forgive your affectionate daughter."

When her letters were written, Edith dressed herself in a full Indian costume, which had been given her by Otaitsa; and a beautiful Indian maiden she looked, though the skin was somewhat too fair, and the hair wanted the jetty black. In the Indian pouch, or wallet, she placed some articles of European convenience, and a hunter's large knife. Then making up a small package of clothes for Sister Bab to carry, she descended to the lower story.

Here, however, she met with some impediments which she had not expected. The news of her proposed expedition had spread through the whole household, and caused almost an open revolt. The white women were in tears; old Agrippa was clamorous; and the fat black cook declared loudly that Miss Edith was mad and should not go. So far, indeed, did she carry her opposition, that the young lady was obliged to assume a stern and severe tone, which was seldom heard in Edith's voice, and command her to retire at once from her presence. The poor woman was instantly overawed, for her courage was not very permanent, and, bursting into tears, she left the room, declaring she was sure she should never see Miss Edith again.

Edith then gave all the keys of the house to old Agrippa, with the two letters which she had written. Chando took up the bag of provisions which he had prepared; Sister Bab charged herself with the packet of clothes, and Edith, walking between them, turned away from her father's house, amidst the tears of the white women, and a vociferous burst of grief from the negroes.

Her own heart sank for a moment, and she asked herself,--

"Shall I ever pass that threshold again? Shall I ever be pressed hereafter in the arms of those I so much love?"

But she banished such feelings, and drove away such thoughts; and murmuring,--

"My brother--my poor brother!" she walked on.