have fun, now," said the Tuscarora, advancing towards one of the numerous loop-holes of the hut, which had been made by its builder for its defence. "Me shoot – give 'em something to howl for."
His rifle was discharged, and for a moment, the din outside completely ceased; but as the pack saw one of their number fall, their cries increased in ferocity, until they became almost deafening. Ralph advanced to one of the loop-holes, and looked out upon the savage crowd of beasts, which seemed determined to besiege them into a surrender. As well as he could observe in the moonlight, there appeared to be forty or fifty of them, standing before and prowling about the hut, with their faces upturned – and their eyes gleaming like balls of fire.
The North American wolf is naturally a cowardly animal; and never, when alone, dares to attack a man. The animal has become, in the section of country of which we are now writing, entirely extinct. Mean, thievish, cowardly in disposition, they always fled from an encounter with a human creature, except when frenzied with hunger, and gathered in large packs. At such times, they become extremely dangerous; yet, even then, any resistance which seemed able to withstand their attack, at once disconcerted them.
The Indian again loaded his rifle, and again it was discharged. Another wolf was killed; and although they still kept up their clamor, they began to retreat to a distance from an enemy who had so much advantage of them.
"Wolf run," said the Tuscarora; "wolf no like rifle – they got no heart – cowards!" and, as if he disdained the firing upon so mean a foe, after reloading his rifle, he came towards Ralph, and quietly sat down on a rough bench by the side of the hut.
"Wolf run away," said he – "they gone soon – then you go home."
"We have our lives to thank you for, Tuscarora," said Ruth, with a look of gratitude, "and my father will always be glad to welcome you to the cottage. Will you not return with us?"
"Not now – may be by-'m-by."
"Is your nation in this territory now?" asked Ralph.
"Me got no nation," said the Indian, sorrowfully. "Tuscaroras once great – away south. Then had great many warriors – then they great nation – but most all gone, now."
"Are not your people and the Oneidas brethren?"
"Oneidas are brothers – love Oneidas."
"Why are you here in this section alone, Tuscarora, with none of your brethren near you?" abruptly asked Ralph.
The Indian looked at him steadily for a moment, and then replied:
"My young friend is wise. The white men all ask questions – no good for Injin to answer questions;" and he fell into a gloomy and listless posture, and refused, for the time, to hold any further conversation.
The silence of the Tuscarora was somewhat embarrassing to Ralph; and he again went towards the loop-holes to reconnoitre the present position of the enemy. The howls had almost entirely ceased; and what few were heard, seemed to be twenty-five or thirty rods distant. Just as he reached the loop-hole, he heard a rifle discharged on the outside, and a voice which he recognized as that of Ichabod, which made the woods ring again with a loud halloo.
The Indian started abruptly from his seat, and both he and Ralph advanced towards the door. On opening it, they discovered at the distance of ten rods three men who were rapidly approaching the hut. As they came from among the shadows of the trees into the bright moonlight, which lay in the small opening in front of the hut, Ralph recognized Barton and Ichabod accompanied by the negro.
The moment they were discovered by the party, Barton ran towards Ralph, exclaiming, "Is she safe, Ralph – is she safe?"
Scarcely was the question asked, before Ruth was in her father's arms. "God bless thee, girl," said he; "I hardly dared hope ever to see thee again," and the tears rolled down his manly face.
"For this joy, my father, we have to thank this good Indian here. He it was who saved us."
The Indian, during this scene, had silently withdrawn into a deep shadow which fell by the side of the hut. There he stood, leaning upon his rifle, seemingly as passionless and unconcerned as the shadow within which he stood.
Barton went up to him, and grasped him by the hand. "You have this day," said he, "in rescuing my daughter, saved both her life and my own. How can I thank you?"
The Tuscarora remained unmoved. "No thanks," said he. "The Great Spirit smiles when his children do their duty. Tuscarora likes colony pale-face. The Great Spirit sent me here – thank him, not poor Tuscarora."
"You say right, Tuscarora. God hath preserved my child this day. To Him be thanks, who taketh and giveth."
Scarcely had the first sound issued from the mouth of the Tuscarora, when Ichabod rapidly approached him. The Indian gave him a glance of recognition, and silently took his hand.
"Eagle's Wing, as I live!" exclaimed he. "Glad to see you again, old friend. I haven't seen you since we were down here on that last war-path."
Canendesha, as the Tuscarora was named by his own people, bore also the name of Eagle's Wing, which had been bestowed upon him not only for his boldness in fight, but for the keenness and rapidity with which he followed the trail of an enemy. When he heard himself thus called by his name of honor, he drew himself up with pride as he replied:
"Three summers and winters have destroyed the marks of the war-path. I have dwelt in the wigwams of my people, and near by the fires of the Oneidas."
In the meantime Barton had approached Ralph, and testified scarcely less joy at his deliverance than he had at that of Ruth. Ichabod and Eagle's Wing had withdrawn still further from observation into the shadow.
"Eagle's Wing," said Ichabod, imitating the language of the Tuscarora, "is wise. He dwells in peace in the wigwams of his people. But why is he here – two days' march from his friends?"
The Indian remained silent for a few moments. At length he replied:
"I am in the hunting grounds of my people. The heart of Eagle's Wing is filled with peace."
"Yes, yes, old friend," said Ichabod, resuming his usual manner of expression. "You and I have been on a good many warpaths together. I know a Tuscarora and Oneida just as well as I know a Seneca or Mohawk. I know your people are gentlemen born, and I know them others are reptiles. You can't deceive me, Eagle's Wing – you are on a trail?"
"The eyes of my brother are keen – he has followed the war-path. Has he crossed the trail of an enemy?"
The Indian uttered this with a countenance so unmoved, and with such an expression of sincerity, that Ichabod began to think the Tuscarora had nothing to conceal from him. He said, however, in reply:
"I know your heart is true, Eagle's Wing; but I rather thought, at first, you might be following up some devil of a Seneca. But them varmints have left these parts, I s'pose."
"My brother is wise," softly replied the Tuscarora, but at the same time with a quiet expression of victory in the glance which he cast towards Ichabod. The glance was not unnoticed, and the latter at once saw that his original suspicions were correct. But he knew it would be useless to press the Tuscarora with questions. He said to him, however, in a tone that convinced the Indian that Ichabod was not deceived:
"Well, old friend, you and I have been brothers in harder times than these; and if you need the help of this rifle here, which is an old acquaintance of your'n, I shall take it in dudgeon if you don't call on me."
The Indian still remained unmoved; but Ichabod could see that the offer was kindly received.
At this moment, Barton approached, and invited the Tuscarora to accompany him to his dwelling. "You will always be welcome there, and I hope I may have many opportunities to testify to you my gratitude."
The Tuscarora courteously declined the invitation for the present, and the party prepared to depart. The horses were led out, and the party proceeded towards the cottage, while Eagle's Wing, remained as long as he could be observed, still leaning upon his rifle in front of the hut.
The party journeyed for some distance without conversation, until Ralph at length asked Ichabod,