True to the Old Flag (Historical Novels - American Cycle). G. A. Henty

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      Chapter XIV.

       Rescued!

       Table of Contents

      Harold was deeply touched at the evidences of the fate which had befallen the occupants of his cousin's plantation.

      "If there are any more of these to be found," pointing to their remains, "we might learn for a certainty whether the same fate befell them all."

      The Seneca spoke a word to his followers and the four Indians spread themselves over the clearing. One more body was found—it was lying down near the water as if killed in the act of making for the canoe.

      "The others are probably there," Peter said, pointing to the ruins. "The three hands was killed in the fields, and most likely the attack was made at the same moment on the house. I'm pretty sure it was so, for the body by the water lies face downward, with his head toward the lake. He was no doubt shot from behind as he was running. There must have been Injuns round the house then, or he would have made for that instead of the water."

      The Seneca touched Peter on the shoulder and pointed toward the farm. A figure was seen approaching. As it came nearer they could see that he was a tall man, dressed in the deerskin shirt and leggings usually worn by hunters. As he came near Harold gave an exclamation:

      "It is Jack Pearson!"

      "It are Jack Pearson," the hunter said, "but for the moment I can't recollect ye, though yer face seems known. Why!" he exclaimed in changed tones, "it's that boy Harold growed into a man."

      "It is," Harold replied, grasping the frontiersman's hand.

      "And ye may know me, too," Peter Lambton said, "though it's twenty year since we fought side by side against the Mohawks."

      "Why, old hoss, are you above ground still?" the hunter exclaimed heartily. "I'm glad to see you again, old friend. And what are you doing here, you and Harold and these Senecas? For they is Senecas, sure enough. I've been in the woods for the last hour, and have been puzzling myself nigh to death. I seed them Injuns going about over the clearing sarching, and for the life of me I couldn't think what they were a-doing. Then I seed 'em gathered down here, with two white men among 'em, so I guessed it was right to show myself."

      "They were searching to see how many had fallen in this terrible business," Harold said, pointing to the ruins. The hunter shook his head.

      "I'm afeared they've all gone under. I were here a week afterward; it were just as it is now. I found the three hands lying killed and sculped in the fields; the others, I reckon, is there. I has no doubt at all about Bill Welch and his wife, but it may be that the gal has been carried off."

      "Do you think so?" Harold exclaimed eagerly. "If so, we may find her, too, with the other."

      "What other?" Pearson, asked.

      Harold gave briefly an account of the reason which had brought them to the spot and of the object they had in view.

      "You can count me in," Pearson said. "There's just a chance that Nelly Welch may be in their hands still; and in any case I'm longing to draw a bead on some of the varmints to pay 'em for this," and he looked round him, "and a hundred other massacres round this frontier."

      "I'm glad to hear ye say so," Peter replied. "I expected as much of ye, Jack. I don't know much of this country, having only hunted here for a few weeks with a party of Delawares twenty year afore the Iroquois moved so far west."

      "I know pretty nigh every foot of it," Jack Pearson said. "When the Iroquois were quiet I used to do a deal of hunting in their country. It are good country for game."

      "Well! shall we set out at once?" Harold asked, impatient to be off.

      "We can't move to-night," Pearson answered; and Harold saw that Peter and the Indians agreed with him.

      "Why not?" he asked. "Every hour is of importance."

      "That's so," Peter said, "but there's no going out on the lake to-night. In half an hour we'll have our first snowstorm, and by morning it will be two foot deep."

      Harold turned his eyes toward the lake and saw what his companions had noticed long before. The sky was overcast and a thick bank of hidden clouds was rolling up across the lake, and the thick mist seemed to hang between the clouds and the water.

      "That's snow," Peter said. "It's late this year, and I'd give my pension if it was a month later."

      "That's so," Pearson said. "Snow aint never pleasant in the woods, but when you're scouting round among Injuns it are a caution. We'd best make a shelter afore it comes on."

      The two canoes were lifted from the water, unloaded, and turned bottom upward; a few charred planks, which had formed part of the roof of the outhouses, were brought and put up to form a sort of shelter. A fire was lit and a meal prepared. By this time the snow had begun to fall. After the meal was over pipes were lit and the two hunters earnestly talked over their plans, the Seneca chief throwing in a few words occasionally; the others listened quietly. The Indians left the matter in the hands of their chief, while Harold and Cameron knew that the two frontiersmen did not need any suggestion from them. As to Jake, the thought of asking questions never entered his mind. He was just at present less happy than usual, for the negro, like most of his race, hated cold, and the prospect of wandering through the woods in deep snow made him shudder as he crouched close to the great fire they had built.

      Peter and Jack Pearson were of opinion that it was exceedingly probable that the Welches had been destroyed by the very band which had carried off little Janet Cameron. The bodies of Indians who had been on the war-path with the army had retired some six weeks before, and it was about that time, Pearson said, that the attack on the settlements had been made.

      "I heard some parties of redskins who had been with the British troops had passed through the neighborhood, and there was reports that they were greatly onsatisfied with the results of the campaign. As likely as not some of that band may have been consarned in the attack on this place three year ago, and, passing nigh it, may have determined to wipe out that defeat. An Injun never forgives. Many of their braves fell here, and they could scarcely bring a more welcome trophy back to their villages than the scalps of Welch and his men."

      "Now, the СКАЧАТЬ