most like daylight; but this it could not be, he reasoned, from the fact that he was wounded just before night-fall—unless—and the idea seemed to startle him—unless he had lain in a senseless state for many hours, and it was indeed again morning. Determined, however, to satisfy himself on this point, he attempted to rise for the purpose; but found, to his no small surprise and regret, that he had not even strength sufficient to lift his body from the bed; and, therefore, that nothing was left him, but to surmise whatever he chose, until some one should appear to solve the riddle; which, he doubted not, would be ere long.
While these reflections and surmises were rapidly passing through the mind of our hero—for such we must acknowledge him to be—he heard no sound indicating the immediate vicinity of any other human being; and turning his thoughts upon this latter, he was beginning to doubt whether, at the moment, he was not the only individual beneath the roof; when he heard a step, as of some one entering another apartment; and, directly following, a female voice addressed to some person within.
"Have ye looked to the stranger agin, Ella, and moisted his bandage?"
"I have, mother," was the answer, in a sweet and silvery voice, which caused our wounded hero to start with a thrill of pleasing astonishment.
"And how appeared he, Ella?" continued the first speaker.
"Why, I thought a little better," answered the same soft, musical voice; "he seemed asleep, and entirely tranquil."
"God send it, gal, for he's had a tougher, sartin. Three days, now, nater's bin tugging away for him; and I'd hate to see him die now, arter all; and being the colonel's recommind, too; for Isaac says the colonel injuncted him strongly to take car o' him; and I'd do any thing to oblege sech a man as him. He didn't appear to have his senses, I reckon?"
"I judged not," answered Ella; "though, from his tranquil sleep, I argued favorably of his case."
"Well," rejoined the other, "it's my opine the crisis is at hand; and that he'll ayther come out o' this lethargick—as they calls it—a rational, or die straight off. 'Spose you look at him agin, Ella; or, stay, I'll look myself. Poor feller! how he did rave and run on 'bout his troubles at home, that's away off, until I all but cried, in reckoning how I'd feel ef it war Isaac as war going on so.".
As the speaker concluded, she advanced to where the object of her remarks was lying; and, drawing aside in a gentle manner, some of the skins near his head, gazed upon him.
As will be surmised by the reader, not a syllable of the foregoing colloquy had been lost upon Reynolds; who heard, with unbounded astonishment, of his narrow escape from that dark valley whence none who enter again return, and that three days had elapsed since he had fallen into an unconscious state. He learned, too, with regret, that he had been communicating matters—to what extent he knew not—to others, which he wished safely locked in his own breast; and judging it best, in the present instance, to dissemble a little, that his informant might not be aware of his having overheard her, he feigned to be asleep on her approach.
"He's sleeping yit, poor creater," continued the hostess, as she bent over the bed of our hero, until he felt her breath upon his face. "I hope it arn't a going to be his final sleep—so young, and so handsome too! but, O dear, thar's no telling what them Injen bullets will do, for folks does say as how they have a knack o' pizening them, that's orful to tell on! O Lord o' marcy, Ella, child, do come here!" cried the dame suddenly: "I do believe he's coming to, for sartin."
This latter speech was occasioned by a movement of the pretended sleeper, and the gradual opening of his eyes, with the rude stare of bewildered surprise natural to one in his supposed situation, and such as he would have exhibited without feigning, had the hostess been present some ten minutes sooner. Discovering, as already intimated, a returning consciousness on the part of her guest, the good woman drew back her head, but still kept her position by the bed, and her eyes fixed upon him, with an expression which betrayed a fear lest her hopes of this important event should prove entirely fallacious. Behind her, with timid step, stole up Ella, and, peeping over her shoulders, encountered the eyes of the young man beaming upon her, with a look which her acute perception told her was any thing but insane; and instantly starting back, the blood rushed upward, crimsoning her neck and face with a beautiful glow. As for Reynolds—in whom, as already stated, the voice of Ella alone was sufficient to awaken a thrill of pleasure—no sooner did he behold her, though but for an instant, than he felt that thrill revived with a sensation, which, in spite of himself, he knew was expressed in his own countenance; and he hastened to speak, in order as much as possible to conceal it.
"Will you have the goodness, madam, to inform me where I am?"
"Thar, thar, Ella, child!" exclaimed the matron, joyously; "I told ye so—I know'd it—he's come to, for sartin—the Lord be praised!" Then addressing herself to Reynolds, she continued: "Whar are you, stranger, do you ax? Why you're in the cabin o' Ben Younker—as honest a man as ever shot a painter—who's my husband, and father of Isaac Younker, what brought ye here, according to the directions of Colonel Boone, arter you war shot by the Injens, the varmints, three days ago; and uncle of Ella Barnwell here, as I calls daughter, 'cause her parents is dead, poor creaters, and she hadn't a home to go to, but come'd to live with us, that are fetching her up in a a dutiful way;" and the good woman concluded her lucid account of family matters with a sound that much resembled a person taking breath after some laborious exertion.
"And is it possible," answered Reynolds, who hastened to reply, in order to conceal a strong inclination he felt for laughing, "that I have lain here three whole days?"
"Three days, and four nights, and part o' another day, jest as true as buffaloes run in cane-brakes, and Injen varmints shoot white folks whensomever they git a chance," replied Mrs. Younker, with great volubility. "And Ella, the darling, has tended on ye like you war her own nateral born brother; and Isaac, and Ben, and myself ha' tended on ye too, while you war raving and running on at an orful rate, though you've had the best bed, and best o' every thing we've got in the house."
"For all of which I am at a loss for terms to express my gratitude," returned Reynolds, coloring slightly as he thought of the assiduous attentions he had unconsciously received from Ella Barnwell, who already began to be an object in his eyes of no little importance.
"Don't mention about gratitude," rejoined the kind hearted Mrs. Younker; "don't talk about gratitude, for a lettle favor sech as every body's got a right to, what comes into this country and gits shot by savages. We havn't done no more for you than we'd a done for any body else in like sarcumstances; and, la, sir, the pleasure o' knowing you're a going to git well agin, arter being shot by Injen's pizen bullets,[3] is enough to pay us twenty times over—Eh! Ella, child—don't you say so?"
"No one, save the gentleman himself, or his dearest friends, can be more rejoiced at his favorable symptoms than myself," responded Ella, timidly, in a voice so low, sweet and touching, that Reynolds, who heard without seeing her—for she kept the rude curtain of skins between them—felt his heart beat strangely, while his eyes involuntarily grew moist.
"That's truly said, gal—truly said, I do believe," rejoined Mrs. Younker; "for she's hung over you, sir, (turning to the wounded man) night and day, like a mother over her child, until we've had to use right smart authority to make her go to bed, for fear as how she'd be sick too."
"And if I live," answered Reynolds, in a voice that trembled with emotion, "and it is ever in my power to repay such disinterested attention and kindness, I will do it, even to the sacrificing that life which she, together with you and your family, good woman, has been the means, under God, of preserving."
"Under God," repeated the matron; "that's true; I like the way you said that, stranger; it sounds reverential—it's just—and it raises my respect for you a good deal; for all our doings is under God's permit;" and she turned her eyes upward, with a devout look, in which position she remained several seconds; while Ella, with her fair hands clasped, followed her example, and seemed, with her moving lips, engaged in prayer.
"But come," resumed the dame, "it won't do for you, stranger,